Thread & Dread
Disclaimer: The very notion is laughable.
It was past two o'clock but he didn't really care, she looked much too good panting and moaning, her red hair spread across the pillows, one of her hands bunching on the decidedly unmade sheets of his bed and the other tangling in his short hair, pushing him down as he ate her out with gusto.
He had had a shite week so far so when he found her finishing her prefect patrol down in the dungeons he had unceremoniously hauled her over his shoulder taking long strides until he made it to his chamber, depositing her without much care onto the bed where she growled at him, pulling him down by the tie and pouncing on top of him. She had proceeded to tie his arms to the bedpost with said tie and then slowly unbuttoned his once perfectly pressed white shirt, asking rather innocently what had inspired such vicious attack upon her innocent person. The slow movement of her hips on his lap betrayed her expression, her dampening knickers pressing against his trouser-clad crotch. Minx.
The next couple of hours had continued in much the same fashion of utterly delicious debauchery and now she had recovered a sufficient amount of bone density to sit up by the elbows as he slid forward to give her a scorching kiss, groaning deep form within his chest as she tasted herself in his mouth.
"I would suggest going to bed now as we are nearing dawn but I can tell you've got a slightly, er, more pressing matter at hand" she noted slyly, one of her hands guiding his painfully stiff cock towards her entrance once more. He had a lesson first block in a few hours but as she let herself fall back into the pillows again, locking her legs behind his back to press him fully in her, he thought that a few hours of sleep should really be plenty enough.
She gasped as he pushed one of her knees up towards her chest and she swung her leg over his shoulder and, really, what other logical choice existed but to continue?
Yeah, one last round and that'd be it.
He woke up with the stupidest grin on his face, his muscles were a bit sore at the tad, ehem, overexertion of the night's activities and he could feel the prickle of the scratches on his back and abdomen she had donned him with. He really couldn't help the disgusting rush of warmth she liked to dub affection that formed in his chest.
He turned over to gently wake the witch that was pressed warm and welcoming on his side (perhaps even convince her to share a shower with him). A bright beam of sunlight was seeping, obtrusively might he add, through the small gap in the curtains, blinding him momentarily. A few seconds passed when he realized that was out of place.
"Weasley pass me my watch," he shoved her none-to-gently.
She groaned, reaching behind her back for the watch resting on his bedside table and tossing it at his head, then proceeding to sink deeper into the pillow. The lazy wench had a free first block and smirked against said pillow as he scrambled about for his clothes and wand, casting a quick cleaning charm on himself and grabbing the first items that he saw.
His stomach growled and he ignored Ginny's giggle from the bed.
"Weasley, I hope you know McGonagall will have my head if I am late one more time this term."
And it was true. Draco had had several incidents with the particular timing of that class and had cut it too close to tardy for the Professor's liking on more than one occasion.
It didn't help that the uptight, old witch didn't like him very much to begin with.
He swung his dragon hide school bag over his shoulder and hurriedly strode towards the bed.
"Bye Gin," he leaned down to give her a quick peck on the mouth and turned to leave, his tie smacking her in the face and grabbing his robe at the last minute to buckle along the way. Her eyes widened a moment later and she sat up abruptly, "Draco, wait!" But he had already gone.
Draco broke into a sprint, rounding corners at an impossible speed, jumping sets of three steps as he climbed the stairwell towards Transfiguration.
He slammed the door behind him, barely in time for class, eyes scanning for a spot to sit as he removed his outer robe in an attempt to cool himself off.
"Nice of you to join us Mr. Mal–," McGonagall froze on the spot as she turned from the board, the heads of the other student following suit as a deathly silence fell upon the room.
Seconds passed until an amused voice cut through "you never told me you changed houses Malfoy, why such secrecy?" Blaise smirked from the far right of the room, lounging back on his chair as a scattering of snickers spread about the class. At Draco's raised brow he nodded pointedly at his mate's chest and his face broke into a full-blown grin as realization dawned on the blonde.
A crumpled red and gold stripped tie was wound haphazardly around his neck. His hand itched to rip the blasted, obnoxious strip of fabric from his person but he resisted the urge, humiliated enough as it were.
"All chair legs on the ground now, Mr. Zabini and will you sit down Mr. Malfoy so I may once and for all begin today's lesson. I suggest that in future you stick to your own house's uniform as much as the Headmaster would enjoy this display of inter-house unity."
Sneering at the back of the Professor's head as she resumed the notes for the simultaneous transfiguration of similar objects he took the seat next to Blaise, throwing him a vicious glare before the darker boy had a chance to pitch in any more of his unwarranted observations.
The only good thing about this entire mess of a morning and blasted scrap of fabric was the he could at least still smell Ginny.
The rumor that Draco Malfoy was wearing a Gryffindor tie spread like wildfire, to every last broom cupboard and cob-webbed crevice of the castle.
Of course, speculation readily blossomed throughout the student body as to how such an occurrence came to be. Everything from sordid affairs, to spy work for some Ministry sect, even the notion of a sudden change of heart due to the practice of yogi meditations in the Tibetan mountains during the summer break had circulated as viable reasons for the wardrobe malfunction.
One twit had even fabricated that he had seen Draco Malfoy ask Loony Lovegood if he could borrow her lion headpiece so that he could wear it to the next Gryffindor game.
Between his first lessons Draco discreetly removed and pocketed the tie, seeking to avert any more attention. However, during Charms Flitwick had ducked points at Draco's incomplete uniform and then proceeded to stumble off his stool halfway through the block when Draco answered his question on the Anapneo charm correctly, sporting the Gryffindor tie once more.
He hadn't had time to return to his room during the day as his schedule was packed on Thursdays and apparently the issued school ties could not be tampered with in order for them to change colour, thus he was stuck with the stupid item of clothing for the rest of the day unless he wanted to lose yet more points. So much for Head Boy privileges.
Thankfully he had a Head meeting during lunch in Dumbledore's office, only having to suffer through the Mudblood's questioning gaze and the irritatingly knowing looks from the Headmaster's penetrating blue eyes.
He had pilfered approximately twenty lemon sherbets from the batty old man which he hoped would sustain him through the day as he adamantly refused to head off to lunch in the Great Hall to be ogled at for reasons other than his irresistible good looks.
"I thought stealing was a petty act below the likes of the pure-blood rich, Ferret," a ripple of laughter broke through the hall as the lanky ginger idiot shouted at him through the dispersing crowd. He stood beside the speckled git that was Potter and was holding hands (gross!) with the bossy bush-head Ginny insisted he call Granger.
How he wanted nothing more than to tell the stupid git of her brother that had it not been for the fact that he had been far too busy plundering his sister's quim the night before none of this would have been happening but he refrained. Just barely.
Instead he chose the tried and tested response knowing it would have the desired effect.
"I am sure you know all about stealing Weasel since the only way the peasants of your parents would have been able to feed all the offspring they damnably birthed would naturally be through theft."
"You bloody prick I will wring your neck–" but Potter was quick at holding him back muttering something along the lines of Slytherin scum or something equally as creative.
It was funny how such petty retorts still got to them.
"Leave it Ron," the Mudblood soothed the great idiot that was her boyfriend. "After all, it goes without saying that the Malfoy's wealth could have only been attained via lying and cheating other's blind rather than honest hard work." She looked inordinately pleased with herself at that and the oaf looked at her adoringly, Potter laughing like the imbecile that he was.
Had he eaten any food earlier he was positive he would have been sick at the sight.
The remaining crowed ooh-ed in his direction and scampered at his glare but the three dunderheads had stalked off before he could properly retaliate.
By the end of the day he was both painfully exhausted and positively famished. History of Magic had been a battle to stay awake, well, more than it usually was, but at least Binns had made no comment whatsoever about Draco's new look. Not that he ever paid any mind to the students he was lulling to sleep. Arithmancy remained equally as uneventful, with only a pair of dramatically raised brows from Professor Vector at initial inspection but nothing else. Nonetheless, the day had dragged infinitely and as much as he wanted to wait for dinner to finish and go to the kitchens instead (knowing he'd be kicked out otherwise by the busy Houselves if he went now) his stomach simply wouldn't tolerate that. Besides, he had a reputation to uphold and his pride would not allow for some tacky, outdated, school norm to mess with it.
He thought he heard a giggle from behind him before sauntering into the Great Hall, but he ignored it. His open robes billowed as he turned to the Slytherin table, head held high and proud. He felt the burn of hundreds of eyes staring at him but nothing much else as the raucous conversation of dinner remained as usual.
It was a few minutes later that the doors of the Great Hall opened once more, this time to display a petite girl with a glorious, wild titian head of hair sporting a crumpled silver and green tie of her own. You could have heard a toothpick drop from the far end of the faculty table. Ginevra Molly Weasley raised a single brow at the sudden silence but continued on her way, taking the same turn towards the Slytherin table as Draco had and looking for all the world like a predator on the prowl.
Each of her footsteps echoed in the immense room until she reached the spot beside Draco at which point the boy turned, his quintessential smirk firmly in place and an unusual twinkle in his eyes.
Lifting him by his, well her in all technicality, tie to plant an open-mouthed kiss on his unsuspecting form. But a fraction of a second later he had her pressed firmly against his chest, one hand at the small of her back, the other angling her head for better access.
Wolf-whistles, catcalls, and sighs abounded, breaking through the silence. Scattered cheers from down the table, a hearty laugh from Blaise accompanied by a roll of his eyes, and a lofty voice that was most probably Lovegood saying "well done Ginny!" carried from across the hall until Dumbledore tapped his crystal goblet (with his favourite Muggle spork) twice breaking the couple apart and restoring conversation once more.
Looking equally flushed, with lips equally swollen, the two teens sat back down for some dinner, Draco pushing Nott aside so that Ginny could sit more comfortably and Ginny sending a slightly apologetic look to the disgruntled boy.
At the Gryffindor table the Weasley git was purple in a silent fit of rage, the goblet he was holding spilling pumpkin juice all around him as he shook. Potter, who was looking quite put out, much to Draco's delight, scooted to the side to avoid a generous splatter of orange liquid as the bushy know-it-all tried to comfort the fuming, yet progressively deflating, boy. Oh yes, Draco was enjoying himself immensely.
He wrapped his arm around the redhead's small frame and she turned to him, offering a dazzling smile.
"Where were you all day?" He asked now wondering as to why, if she was wearing his Slytherin tie nobody had mentioned it.
She laughed at his fleeting look of confusion and stole a chip from his plate. "Well some of us had plenty of time to get ready properly for lessons so I returned to my room not long after you left. I figured most everyone would be in class by then so I wouldn't get caught.'
'Sadly, you are wearing the only tie I own you great pillock, so I had to nick one form one of my roommates but none of them noticed," she grinned with pride at her stealth.
He couldn't deny the effect the mischievous look in her eyes had on him, damnable witch.
"For the most part I thought it served you right for being so unbearably perfect at all times,' she added as an afterthought. He didn't know if he felt insulted or flattered at her assessment but decided to keep quite at her sudden frown.
'That was until I heard some stupid bints in the third floor corridor bragging about how it was one of their ties. Some of them weren't even in Gryffindor!"
"Jealous Gin?"
She gave him an unfathomably penetrating look. "Tremendously."
He felt his heart swell at the admission wanting nothing more than to snog her senseless once again. Instead, he focused once more on what she was saying.
"…and I snuck back into your room to search for your tie, seeing as I knew you probably hadn't had enough time to go back and retrieve it."
They both new each other's timetables pretty well as it allowed for optimal snogging-in-between-classes opportunities which they did not like to let go to waste.
She scooted closer to him and gave him that pouty look he knew meant trouble. "Want to know where I found it?" She leaned in until he could feel her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "still partly knotted on the bedpost." He felt his trousers tighten and she lightly brushed her hand right there not helping matters, or rather, helping matters along very well as he squirmed under her touch.
She laughed uproariously, her head thrown back in joy and he saw more than a few stupid wankers gaping at her from his peripheral vision.
"Well I reckon we should make the most of our change of look," he quipped with what he was proud to note was a steady voice, though still shifting slightly in his seat.
Her smile was infectious. "I think we've done pretty well so far, don't you?"
"I think we should take it one smidgen of a step forward though.' He turned fully to face her. "A little bit more… avant-garde, if you will."
"Shall the show be held at your place?" She scooted forward, their noses almost pressed together.
"Midnight sharp," he informed her in mock seriousness and she nodded. He then slightly arched his neck to the side to whisper in her ear, "Only ties allowed," whilst skimming his fingers slightly up her skirt, feeling goose-flesh rise on her soft skin.
"I can do that," she smiled coyly, and he did not doubt her for a second.
The End.
A/N: A royally stupid title but I just really couldn't be bothered. If anybody has a better idea drop me a line and I'll change it (please help!)
Also, I am still working on Fulgurite (soundtrack link is up on my profile, go listen and leave me a comment!) but I've been royally busy as the holidays are ending and I need to get some Uni stuff sorted. However, I got attacked by a rabid plot bunny Holy Grail-style and decided to embrace the cliche.
Hope it distracted you from your own mundane chores, many kisses *muah, muah*
andes & sea.