Title: The Firing Squad
Author: sordid humor
Rating: Mature (language, execution, suggestions of rape, slander, admiration of Snape)
Disclaimer:
I do not own them in a box,
I do not own them with a fox,
I do not own them while I'm bowling,
They all belong to J.K. Rowling.
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Author's Note: A conversation that blipped through my mind. Draco and Blaise waiting in line to be executed shortly following the fall of Lord Voldemort.
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The firing squad went off again in the near distance. Goodbye Theodore Nott. Those Ministry Execution Curses were too close for comfort. The line was short, too short; if you can hear the bodies drop, chances are you're next. Draco shuddered.
Blaise sat next to him. They were blindfolded and bound at the hands but Draco knew the man by breath, by heart rate, by sweat. Blaise crouched with him against a stone wall. They were waiting.
"So," Blaise said in a chipper voice, as though they were playing truth or dare and chanced to be crouching and blindfolded for laughs, "if you had to be fucked in the ass by a man, who would it be?"
"Hmm, I'd have to say Snape," Draco said in a clear voice. His head was tilted slightly to the side as he spoke, as though Blaise could see his dirt-streaked face and read the earnest expression etched upon it. "He's the only man I know able to keep a professional veneer during anything of that nature. The man could lie to Dumbledore and the Dark Lord at the same time without being detected. Perhaps he could fool me into enjoying myself," Malfoy chuckled bitterly.
"Good reasoning, there," Blaise nodded. "I can see your point."
"Who would you chose?" Draco asked.
"I'd been thinking either Longbottom or Weasley," Blaise admitted. "But your arguments may have me swayed."
"I should hope that they have!" Draco was genuinely affronted. He even managed a sneer in Blaise's direction. "How could you betray me with such a thought?"
"I was thinking: if the prick was small enough I might not even feel it."
"You could be right..."
Another round of curses went off and the faint sound of bodies hitting the dirt was not as faint as either Draco nor Blaise would have hoped it to be. The sound of shuffling footsteps grew dangerously close.
"So," Blaise asked quietly, almost reverently, head bowed and speaking to his knees as another Ministry Executioner blew past, cloak billowing, "if it came down to it, who would you never let fuck you?
"Oh, no," Draco sighed. He wouldn't play this game. "You first this time."
"Alright," Blaise whispered. "Pansy."
"What?!" Immediately they both felt Executioner's eyes upon them and froze.
"You see," Blaise muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "she may be beautiful but I'll never know where she's been." Draco would have laughed had he not been frozen solid by a sudden fear of impending doom. "Now you."
Draco dared to breathe despite the shadow looming over him.
"Potter. He'd apologize... or try to convince you that he was in love. He could never rape someone and be done with it."
A pair of warm hands seized Blaise and he was carried away.