This is my first attempt at a Harry Potter story, and any feedback would be greatly appreciated.
The story was inspired by, and takes its name from, a song by the Stereos.
Neither the song nor the characters belong to me.
Rated M for sexual situations and underage drinking. You've been warned.
Pansy was sitting on the couch beside me. Though I suppose the word 'beside' conveys more distance. In reality, she was very nearly sitting on my lap. She leaned against my shoulder, one hand on my leg, the other wrapped possessively around my neck. She was whispering.
"Ohh, Draco, I can't wait to go to your room tonight. Get on my knees, take your big, hard..."
In truth, Pansy's dirty talk had long ceased to excite me. But I contented myself to sit on the couch by the fire, allowing her to trace little circles onto my inner thigh. I know I looked a sight to be envied, but there were a hundred other places I would rather be. Instead, I ignored Pansy's fruitless ministrations and let my eyes graze on the more interesting sights of the Slytherin common room.
The Dark Lord's rise had worked something strange into the school, in more ways than one. The Slytherin girls were – if possible – more willing to be bedded than ever, but the Ravenclaws, who had always been available when necessary, were more distant this year. Not that I minded, of course, with the surplus of girls from my own house, but the eventual lack of choice troubled me.
Lazily, I scanned the room. Millicent met my gaze for an instant before blushing obscenely and lowering her eyes to the book in front of her. Typical. This petty – though I suppose they thought it was pretty – shyness was the norm with all the girls who dared meet my gaze.
All but one.
In a shadowy corner, an almost pretty brunette caught my eye. She looked up from her book lazily and met my gaze. If her tiny stature were any sign, she was young, probably a fourth or fifth year, so I expected her to turn crimson and avert her gaze instantly. When she didn't, I allowed her the pleasure of seeing the corners of my mouth turn up in a smirk. The look she gave me was not one of blushing innocence, but a sneer.
"What are you looking at, my dragon?" Pansy's voice was husky and low in my ear. Her tongue flicked my earlobe in what she thought was a sexual gesture.
"I hate it when you do that." I growled at her, not bothering to answer her question. She lowered her gaze in submission. "Who is that?" I asked her, jerking my head in roughly the same direction as the unblushing girl.
"Her? She's that bitch Daphne's little sister. Her nose is always in a book. Should've been a Ravenclaw, stupid brat. Why?"
I shrugged, feeling no need to elaborate on my curiosity.
When I gave no indication that Pansy's feminine attentions were needed, she left the common room early in the evening. Left with nothing to do, I sought an ally for the night. Zabini would have been my first choice, but he was otherwise engaged, so I found Nott instead. Our conversation, I'll admit, was not blazingly brilliant, but it did have on pleasurable result: a house party had been planned. Nott, apparently, was quite the drinker and had a number of methods of smuggling enough Firewhiskey into the school to get the whole Slytherin house – first years included – pleasurably drunk. Of course, there was no way first years would be invited to the party, and 'pleasurably drunk' was only halfway to the desired result.
When Nott retired, the common room was nearly empty. Not yet tired enough to leave, I remained on the couch, stretched luxuriously before the fire. I'm not sure how long I stayed like that, but when I looked up, the common room was empty, save for 'that bitch Daphne's little sister', the unblushing girl.
Something about her intrigued me, and before I knew what I was doing, I was striding across the room towards her. In her shadowy corner, the girl was so engrossed in her book that she didn't seem to realize I was there until I sat beside her with a loud 'ahem'.
She jumped.
"Can I help you?" she snapped. That kind of confidence was not seen in fourth and fifth years. Perhaps she was a sixth year.
I didn't bother answering her. Instead, I picked up her book and turned it over critically. "Intermediate Dark Arts by Selphyn Proust. You're a fifth year?"
"Apparently." She snatched the book out of my grasp.
"You seem to be struggling a bit with that." I leaned in closer, "If you'd like some help, my bedroom is always available for private tutoring. You don't need to worry that I don't know what I'm doing, I've helped quite a few girls with the more difficult subjects."
She pulled away, "Poor them."
Should have been a Ravenclaw indeed.
The following evening, I found myself once again alone with Daphne's sister. She was bent over a book in the same shadowy corner as the night before. There was something about her that compelled me to her, and I knew I wouldn't be able to rest until I added her to the list of my accomplishments.
I dropped myself beside her, "Astoria, what a pleasure seeing you again." Some perfectly sanctioned eavesdropping at breakfast had informed me of her name.
"Malfoy." She said flatly, by way of greeting.
I smiled at her, and took it as a good sign when she closed her book and looked up at me.
"You know, Theodore Nott and I have been planning a party." She nodded. "Strictly for the seventh years," another nod, "But we'd be willing to bend the rules for you." Her eyes were expressionless. "Would you like to come to a seventh year party?"
She sat in silence for a moment, watching me.
"No."
Over the following few weeks, I found that I was seeing Astoria every evening, and that she was just as stand-offish as the first night. Flirting with her was a fruitless endeavour, so I found instead that we took to exchanging insults. I hoped instead to convince her of coming to the party, and getting her so drunk she wouldn't be able to resist the comfort of my bed.
"Up so late again? Merlin knows you need your beauty rest."
She looked up from her book to glare at me.
"What are we reading tonight?"
"None of your damn business." She snapped.
"Ah, ah. Manners, Greengrass. You'd think you were raised by muggles."
She didn't bother looking up that time. I laughed.
"Greengrass."
"What?"
"The date of the party is fast approaching. Have you reconsidered my offer?"
"No."
I smirked, "Why? Afraid you might like it?"
"I'm not afraid of anything." She said, meeting my gaze levelly.
"Well then, Greengrass, you really should come."
"Is Daphne coming?"
"All seventh years will be there." I told her.
She took a moment to contemplate. "If I come, will you leave me alone?"
I could hardly contain the twist of my mouth, "Of course."
"Fine."
On the eve of the party, Pansy had taken pains to decorate the room with green and silver balloons and streamers. I don't think I'd ever seen anything so tacky, but I figured that everyone would be so drunk they wouldn't notice the atrocities that adorned the walls.
"Oh Draco, tonight is going to be wonderful." She purred into my ear.
"It damn well better be, with all the effort I put into this." I pushed her away, in no mood for her advances.
"Malfoy!" Nott's deep voice interrupted my musings. "I need a partner to bring the goods from the kitchen. Care to help?"
"No, but I'll come anyway."
"Excellent." He grinned wolfishly over my shoulder at the girl who was currently warming his bed at night.
Even with magic, bringing the Firewhisky from the kitchens to the common room had been an ordeal. But it would be worth it.
At a quarter past nine, Zabini detached himself from his mirror to banish the younger students to their dormitories.
"Merlin help you if you think you can sneak out tonight." He boomed, "Since I don't think many of you would like walking around with a face that resembles rice pudding, I suggest you stay in your beds. Do I make myself clear?"
The general exodus of small bodies seemed to answer his question.
A pleased smirk passed over my face as I surveyed our room. Crates of Firewhiskey were stacked haphazardly in corners, some already opened. The seventh year boys, myself included, took the time before the girls arrive, properly dressed, to get a head start on the drinks. This meant, of course, that by the time the girls began to descend their staircase, there was a soft buzzing in my head that seemed to make everything more agreeable – even Pansy's decorations.
The girls didn't all come down at once, opting instead to descend in safe groups of three or four. Astoria was among the last to emerge, with her sister and another girl who, even half drunk, looked as ugly as an inbred.
She probably was.
Astoria, on the other hand, looked – dare I say – nice. Although, I reasoned, she would look even nicer naked, in my bed. But there was still time.
Pansy was the last to descend, looking more like a cheap whore than a proper pureblooded lady. I know she dressed that was to impress me, and I daresay had she done so two years ago I no doubt would have been impressed. But now, with her charm wearing thin, I was about as impressed with her clothing as I was with her decorative abilities.
"Do you like it, Draco?"
I decided it would be beneficial to lie. Pulling her close, I whispered, "I love it."
She positively glowed. "Dance with me."
I don't know how long I spent dancing with Pansy, but it felt like years. Sometime during our dancing she had managed to take hold of a bottle, from which she took liberal mouthfuls at regular intervals. She got tired eventually – of me or of dancing, I couldn't be too sure – and threw herself on the couch to enjoy the company of another incredibly drunk girl. Very much involved in her new friend, I didn't have to worry about Pansy's prying eyes as I sought Astoria.
I found her standing awkwardly by the wall, watching the various degrees of debauchery before her. Really, she was only a few feet away from the nearest entwined bodies, but it seemed as though she and everyone else were miles apart.
"Having fun?" I leaned against the wall beside her.
She looked up at me, eyebrows raised. Apparently not.
With a lazy flick of my wand, a bottle of Firewhiskey flew into my outstretched hand. "Here." I handed it to her. She took it, but didn't drink. It occurred to me that she may have never had alcohol before.
I smirked. "You drink it." I informed her.
"I know that." She snapped at me, raising the bottle to her lips and taking a long time to let a few drops trickle in. I noticed a fleeting look of disgust pass over her face as she swallowed it.
I laughed and she scowled at me. "I'll leave you to it, then. At this rate the bottle will last 'til Christmas."
I had taken a few steps towards the couch when I heard her.
"Malfoy!"
I turned, and watched her take a swig, then wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. Apparently she had taken my words as a challenge.
I smiled in appreciation and returned to her side. "Don't tell me that was your first?"
"Of course not." I knew she was lying.
We stood in silence for a few minutes. She raised the bottle to her lips a few times, and I noticed that with each mouthful she was getting a bit more flushed.
It was her that broke the silence.
"Would you like to dance?"
I grinned and let her lead me to the makeshift dance floor. Like Pansy, she took the bottle with her, and continued to drink. Unlike Pansy, however, she offered some to me. Normally I would have taken my own – I've never been fond of sharing – but even drunk I had the sense to realise that if she drank the whole bottle herself, she would be a mess before the party was even half over.
Although we were dancing together, she was fairly far away, and I assumed that she was simply as stand-offish, though rather more dance-inclined, when drunk. But sometime in the middle of a song that sounded disturbingly muggle, I noticed a change in Astoria. The gap that could have fit another two people was closed, and a hand was slung lazily over my shoulder.
She grinned at me through half closed eyes, "You're cute." Her vowels took years to end, and she was giggling stupidly, but I wasn't about to complain.
The hand holding her bottle sought my face, but sometime in the middle of this search, her grasp loosened and the bottle fell to the floor.
"Oops." She laughed and didn't bother to fix it. Her laughter was contagious, and I found myself chuckling at her clumsiness too. I laughed until she started kissing me sloppily, always missing my mouth.
"Draco?"
"Hm?" I tried to focus on her face.
"I think I need some help with my classes. Is your breadroom still avai- availabable?"
Triumphant, I smirked and lead her upstairs. The journey took an inordinate amount of time, because she kept slipping out of my grasp. When we finally managed to get upstairs, she threw herself on my bed and smiled at me. I think she was trying to look sexy, but the flood of giggles ruined the effect.
As I watched her on my bed, eyes glowing, cheeks pink, giggling, pulling at her clothes, I stopped. I stopped and watched her drunken attempts to remove her clothing – all entirely unsuccessful – and I couldn't do it.
When she realized I wasn't helping with her undressing, she scowled melodramatically at me, looking like a petulant child. A sudden lucidity broke through my drunken stupor, and I said,
"You can sleep here tonight, but that's it. I don't want you doing anything you'll regret in the morning." Or, at least, I tried to say it. The confused look on her face made me question whether I'd actually said anything that made any sense. Nevertheless, she consented and lay down, kicking off her shoes and wrapping herself into a tangled mess.
I watched her for a moment, before sitting down on the trunk at the foot of my bed, my head in my hands.
I was suddenly very, very tired.
I'm afraid I might not have captured Draco very well, and I don't know if the story moved too quickly. So please, even if you have nothing else to say, could you tell me whether either (or heaven forbid, both) are true?
I would love to hear any feedback you have on this. Love it? Hate it? Indifferent?