TITLE:
Scottish Pride

 RATING:
NC-17

 SUMMARY:
Harry and Draco learn a little about Scottish traditions…

 WARNINGS:
PWP, Sexual content (not overly graphic), adult language, exhibitionism

NOTES:
Written for The Hex Files January 2006 Challenge, which required: the fic must be 1000 words and must include a piece of poetry (either already published or original) and some tradition of Burns night

 WORDS:
1,000

* * * * *

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. JKR owns everything.

“What is it?” Draco sneered, poking his fork gingerly into the substance on his plate. He leant over to sniff it, screwing up his nose and glaring at his boyfriend.

“Just try it,” Harry urged, attempting to stifle a laugh.

“It looks appalling!” Draco argued. “People actually ingest this?”

“Apparently,” Harry replied.

“You try it first,” Draco bargained, still eying his plate warily.

Harry rolled his eyes, smiling across the table at Hermione’s elderly Scottish grandparents, who were grinning encouragingly at Draco. “Just eat it and don’t make a scene!” he hissed into Draco’s ear.

“I think it’s looking at me, Harry,” Draco muttered.

“I don’t know about it, but other people at the table are starting to stare!”

Draco looked up and smiled charmingly at the couple. “Mmmm,” he said, holding up his fork and nodding at them.

“A wee bit ‘o haggis will do ya’ good, lad,” Hermione’s granddad said proudly. “That’ll put hair on ya’ chest, it will!”

Draco looked horrified. “Is he serious?” he whispered to Harry. “Is this laced with a Hair Growth Potion? I hope not! I pay a fortune to get my chest waxed!”

“He’s a Muggle, Draco,” Harry muttered through gritted teeth. “Eat the fucking haggis!”

Draco scowled and cut into the haggis painfully slowly. He was thankfully interrupted when Hermione’s father stood and tapped his fork on the side of his glass. “Thank you all for coming to our Burns’ Night celebration! It’s been a tradition in the Granger family for many years. We’d like to especially welcome Hermione and Ron’s special friends, who are new to Burns’ celebrations – welcome Harry and Draco!” Mr Granger tipped his glass to the young couple. Harry nodded and waved to people around the table, while Draco just flashed his perfect smile, before tipping his own glass. “Before you all finish your beautiful haggis, neeps and tatties,” Draco pursed his lips and muttered something about the dish looking like a big ball of snot, earning a kick under the table from Harry, “it’s time for the part of the night that no Burns’ night forgets! The Address to a Haggis!”

Draco snorted. “What?” he said in disbelief. “They worship this rot, as well?”

Mr Granger started reciting the poem, so Harry couldn’t snap at Draco. He smiled and tried to pretend he was listening, but nudged Draco pointedly. “If you don’t stop being such an arsewipe, I will have to hurt you,” he hissed out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Is that a promise?” Draco purred. Mr Granger was enthusiastically reading out the poem with dramatic hand gestures and winks at his guests.

“His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An cut you up wi ready slight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like onie ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reeking, rich!”

“Reeking,” Draco sneered. “He got that right.” Harry frowned, slipping his hand under the table to pinch Draco painfully on the thigh. “Ow, fuck off!” Draco snapped, causing those in the seats around them to stare. Draco dropped his voice to whisper. “That isn’t the sort of pain I meant!”

“Ye Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu prayer,
Gie her a Haggis!”

Mr. Granger finished the poem and earned polite claps around the table. “Tuck in, everyone!” he said, sitting back down. Hermione was beaming at her father, and looking eagerly at Harry and Draco for approval. Harry just sent her a thumbs-up, while Draco continued to glare daggers at Harry.

In his sulking, Draco furiously picked up his knife and fork, cutting viciously into the haggis and shoving the first bite into his mouth. Harry gaped and then smirked. Draco stopped mid-chew and gagged. “Fucking hell!” Draco choked, slapping a hand over his mouth. He somehow managed to swallow before dropping his knife and fork onto his plate, wiping his mouth roughly.

Hermione’s grandparents were sniggering across the table. Draco sneered at them as he painfully grabbed Harry’s hand. “Can I have a word outside, darling?” he spat, yanking Harry up from the table.

“Excuse us,” Harry said politely as he was dragged forcefully from the room.

When they got out into the hallway, Draco let go of Harry and gagged into the nearest pot plant, only just managing not to vomit. He regained his composure and pounced on Harry. “You agreed to us coming here tonight, so you are going to pay for my unfortunate necessity of having to ingest that… that…”

“Delicacy?” Harry suggested with a smirk, causing him to be slammed into the nearest wall.

“I’ll show you delicacy,” Draco purred and crashed his lips to Harry’s. He pushed his tongue forcefully into Harry’s mouth, earning a deep moan from his boyfriend.

Harry pulled back, panting. “Not here! Anyone could come out!” he gasped.

“And they’ll see just what haggis does to a Burns’ Night virgin.” Draco lapped at the side of Harry’s throat at his pulse point, and Harry’s breath hitched in response. The next thing he knew, Draco’s hands were down the front of his loose dress pants.

“No underwear, Harry? My, my, we are a naughty boy,” Draco said huskily. He slipped his fingers around Harry’s erection and started smoothing his hands up and down insistently. Harry was beyond protesting. He dropped his head against the wall and groaned. “You’re going to come for me, lover…” Draco leant in and sucked Harry’s bottom lip. Harry’s tongue darted out and they melted into another kiss.

“Oh god,” Harry rasped and then keened before he gripped painfully onto Draco’s waist and came forcefully, feeling the warm liquid pool into his trousers.

“Holy Hell!”

Both Harry and Draco’s heads whipped around, Draco’s hand still lodged down Harry’s pants. Hermione’s grandfather was standing there smirking with his hand on his hip. “I see you’ve learnt, lads, why us Scotsman wear nothin’ under tha’ kilt!”

- fin -