||[Sep. 10th, 2006|03:02 pm]
Title: Excerpts 2/2
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Ron/Draco (vague, minor: Hermione/Blaise, Harry/Pansy)
Rating: Teen, for the odd swearword
Word count: ~3200 (total)
Beta: the wonderful raisinous_fiend
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.
Draco had, had it. Everyone around him had gone insane… and mean. Well dammit, he would show them! He marched up to Potter. “The rumours are true, I fancy you.” Potter gawped at him. God, what a moron. Out of the corner of his eye Draco saw Weasley splutter and flush an attractive shade of red. “Will you go out with me?” Draco thought it best to clarify the matter, since it was Potter he was talking to.
“But… I’m not gay, Malfoy.”
Weasley was looking furious; Draco felt his breath hitch. “Neither am I,” he snapped. Grabbing Potter’s arm, he pulled him out of the Great Hall.
“Why is Draco kidnapping Potter?” Pansy slid into a seat opposite Hermione, and yanked Blaise down next to her when he dithered. God, Blaise didn’t dither; he slunk, stalked, lounged… graceful and attractive were the key adjectives here; he really was a lost cause.
Hermione felt it necessary to answer Pansy, since Ron was possibly apoplectic. “They’re going on a date.” Ron flinched.
“Draco and Potter?” It was the first time Hermione had seen Pansy looking anything close to shaken. “But Potter’s straight! Isn’t he?” she snapped.
Hermione nodded. “If it helps, I’m not too sure Harry’s pleased about the situation.”
Harry was on a date with Draco Malfoy. There was a sentence he never thought he’d say. In fact, had he known this would happen, there was a very high probability he would have thrown himself off the owlery that morning. He shuddered. Horror flooded through him: would there be kissing? He shook himself. Get a grip, he thought. He was not a pawn of Malfoy’s, he had control over his own actions. “There will be no kissing!” Harry yelled, sounding, he thought proudly, only slightly desperate.
Draco turned to him. “God, no!” he muttered, looking decidedly green around the gills.
They were in Madam Puddifoot’s. Harry was sitting at a pink laced table with Malfoy, and worse, feeling sorry for him. Harry had been shanghaied into a date with an evil narcissistic male and he was feeling sorry for him. God, he might as well tattoo ‘doormat’ onto his forehead and have done with it. Malfoy had ordered for them both, snapping at the bemused waitress, and was now rapidly making his way through a giant bag of M&Ms. In fact, he might as well be inhaling them.
Draco saw the look Harry gave the M&Ms and snapped, “Look, it’s comfort food, all right? I’m on a date with Harry Potter for fuck’s sake.” Well that just took the biscuit, that did. Now Malfoy was blaming him for this situation? Harry gawped at him.
“Close your mouth, Potter, do you have any idea how unattractive that look is?”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a nice way to treat your date, Malfoy?”
Draco huffed. “Don’t think you’re getting a blow job out of this.” Harry’s eyes widened. Oh God, there was a horrifying possibility that, that image would be scarred onto his cerebrum for life. He was traumatised. He was going to need therapy for years.
“The idea of male/male relations is that disgusting to you?” Draco bit out.
“No,” Harry said simply, having recovered his equilibrium slightly, “it’s the idea of you.”
“Thanks a lot, Potter,” Draco grumbled, actually looking hurt, as he hunched up in his seat.
“Oh, stop pouting, Malfoy, I’m sure you are very attractive to the right person.”
Malfoy slumped on the table. “Bloody hell, this is worse than Blaise and Pansy. I’m a swine! A hideous, unattractive swine!” The last part was said in somewhat of a wail and Harry was now getting vicious looks from other patrons for upsetting his date.
“We have to go rescue Potter,” Pansy declared. “Draco has clearly lost his reasoning. I blame you,” she snapped at Blaise.
Ron, still flushed red with anger, fists clenched, ground out, “Just let them go on their fucking date. One happy little couple.”
Hermione laid her arm soothingly on Ron’s shoulder. “It’s not a date, Ron. Harry would never date Draco. Malfoy has, as Pansy said, gone insane, and we have to go save Harry now.” Pansy exchanged a look with Blaise. Hermione had been explaining the situation to Ron as if he was a petulant two year old.
“And then I can smash Malfoy’s face in,” added Ron.
“Yes, then you can,” Hermione paused, “No! Wait! Ron!” But he was already striding towards the doors.
Ron slammed open the doors to Madam Puddifoot’s and finally spotted Malfoy’s glaringly blond head. God, of course the ponce would pick a place like this. It was the last place Ron had looked. He towered over the table Harry and Draco were sitting at. Draco glanced up. Ron was bright red and anger was rolling off him in waves. Draco swallowed thickly.
Harry took in Draco’s reaction to Ron’s presence: the subtle flush of his cheeks, the fact that he seemed frozen to the spot, the wide eyes, and wondered how the hell he’d never noticed it before. “Get up, Malfoy,” Ron hissed, grabbing his shirt collar and trying to haul him to his feet. Draco clutched at the table.
“Ron!” Hermione admonished, bursting through the doors of the café with Pansy and Blaise in tow just as Harry had leapt to his feet. Ignoring them all, Ron practically dragged Malfoy outside.
Hermione was rocking back on her heels. “Do we follow them?” she asked nervously.
“Yes,” Pansy responded immediately.
“Voyeur,” Blaise said.
“Pissant,” she retorted.
Ron pushed Draco up against the wall of the house next door. Oh God. Draco was close to panicking. Ron’s harsh breaths were flushing down the front of his shirt. Ron’s body was pressing against him in all the right places. Wrong places. Horror presented itself as a lead ball in Draco’s stomach. He tried to glance around Ron; where was everyone? They needed to drag Ron off him. Now. Before Ron found out. Before Ron realised. Draco tried desperately to control his own breathing. Voldemort with a pimp cane. Voldemort washing Snape’s hair…
Ron threw himself off Draco and stormed up to the castle. He heard Pansy’s vehement ‘Dammit, we missed the show.’
He pulled the curtains around his bed and curled up in a ball. Shit. Draco had been trembling. Trembling. And Ron was almost certain it wasn’t through fear. He had tried to block out the last couple of weeks, but everything in his life seemed to have revolved around Draco fucking Malfoy. Watching him! How dare he? Anger coiled through Ron, and so did something else. Oh God. Ron almost whimpered; the thought of Draco watching him was a turn on. So, Ron contemplated, there was a small possibility he was attracted to Malfoy. His life was over. What did he expect? Snogging? Yes. He wanted to kiss Draco Malfoy. Shit. He had to get out of here. He needed a shower. A bloody cold one.
As soon as he entered the Great Hall, Harry grabbed his arm. “You’re going to date Malfoy, right?”
“Draco,” Hermione corrected.
“Right, Draco,” Harry nodded. Ron’s eyes widened. “’Cause I am not sure I could cope if he shanghaied me again in a blatant attempt to get your attention.” Harry didn’t seem to think Ron was grasping the seriousness of his situation. “I was his date Ron! The customers at Puddifoot’s thought I called him fat. They were positively going to lynch me!” Oh God. It was worse than Ron thought. They were being supportive.
Draco moaned; Ron slid against him, his weight pressing Draco into the bed, his breasts… wait, what?! Draco’s eyes shot open. “Bugger off, Pansy.”
“Nice dream?” she asked.
He shoved her sideways so he could sit up and watch her giggle. “I’m still going to marry you, you know,” Draco said mildly.
Pansy nodded. “Yup, same old dream: you, me, separate wings of the house and Ron chained up in the basement.”
“Bitch,” Draco grumbled. “And Potter cleaning the pool,” he added.
“In a thong,” Pansy clarified with a grin.
“Ew, thank you very much for that image.” Draco wagged his finger at her. “There will be no ogling Potter; the very idea is disturbing.”
“You were the one on a date with him!”
For a moment Draco looked contrite. “Yes, I went on a date with a very straight Potter. This proves I must be completely losing my mental capacities and should never leave this room again.”
“You would starve to death,” Blaise said as he plonked himself down on the bed.
“I didn’t give you two the password to my room so you could harass me at an ungodly hour in the morning… just so Pansy would feed me.”
To this Pansy rolled her eyes and jumped off the bed. “Up! Time to face the music.”
Draco clutched at his covers. “That’s a ridiculous saying and I’m not going anywhere. Go get me food,” he commanded.
Grumbling, Blaise snatched fruit off the Slytherin table and slammed it into a bowl, taking great care to bruise it. “Why are we letting Draco get his way again?” he growled.
“We’re not,” Pansy corrected.
“And yet,” Blaise pointed out, “we are doing exactly what he said.”
Snatching the bowl out of Blaise’s hands, Pansy stalked across the hall.
Ron paused in moving his breakfast around his plate to watch warily as Pansy and Blaise strode towards them. “Draco is refusing to get out of bed,” Pansy said, apropos of nothing, “and he is demanding food.” She shoved the bowl into Ron’s hands. “His password is python.” Ron looked down at the fruit with great trepidation.
Five minutes later, after much encouragement and shoving from Harry and Hermione, Ron was standing outside Draco’s door. He knocked on it quietly, in a desperate attempt to be unheard. Draco yanked open the door with a rude, “What took you so long?” He was clasping a sheet around his otherwise naked self and his hair was sticking up, Ron noted. Seeing exactly who was behind the door, the dishevelled blond slammed it in Ron’s face. Draco took several deep breaths, his hand still on the door handle. Shit. He was going to kill Pansy and Blaise. They had sent him Ron… with food. Slowly, absolutely sure he was flushed scarlet and had the sheet hiked up under his arms, he opened the door again…
“You remember how we got together?” Ron asked, reaching for the cafetiere.
“What am I? Brain dead?” snapped Draco. “I was very seductive,” he added.
Ron snorted. “You went on a date with Harry.”
“My mind was obviously addled: I was refusing to admit I was gay!”
Ron grinned. “So you went on a date with Harry.”
“Look,” Draco growled, “I was not at my best. I was trying to get your attention.” Draco was smiling now. “And it worked, didn’t it? You pushed me against a wall.”
“I was rescuing Harry, and in the end it was I who seduced you,” Ron pointed out.
Draco looked aghast. “Didn’t,” he whined.
“Mphf.” Ron was kissing Draco. “Bed,” he murmured.
“Coffee first,” Draco teased.
Ron growled. “Screw the coffee.”