Disclaimer: I hate these things. But I must do one. Okay, Malfoy,
Ron, and other HP characters are property of JK Rowling. Matilda,
Esmarelda, and The RED Cherry are based a good bit on characters
and locations that are property of my favorite female author,
Francesca Lia Block. Rat and characters besides Esma and Matilda
mentioned are property of me, because Rat is a recurring character
based very closely on myself.
This contains HOMO elements, men in love with men, and no, this is
not a sex-free story. Sex is a part of love, and I think that, when the
participants are TRULY in LOVE, there is nothing more beautiful.
Unless it's between Hetros, yucky! Hehe, okay, I'm sorry. So
basically if it's illegal for you to be reading this
*cough*don'tgetcaught*cough*. That rule is doubled if you are, like I
did, growing up in a severely homophobic household. Now, enjoy!
Ohyeah, if you're reading the notes or first rough draft, then yes, I
stole half of the 'bedhopper''s speech from Kevin Smith. I wish I
could keep it...but I have to be creative,
The night had never seemed more cold and restless. Draco
Malfoy, in his Slytherin fourposter, just could not seem to keep his
mind wiped clean of thoughts. A million thoughts racing about
like...like...gah, so many thoughts he couldn't even think of a proper
metaphor. This was insane. Why was he all of a sudden feeling this
way?
Ron was his worst enemy, and now he was starting feel a
strange longing to hold him tightly, feel the warmth radiating from
his body, listen to his heartbeat. He also wanted to throw away all
tenderness and fuck him sensless beneath the long dark emerald
curtains surrounding his bed. Maybe then he could get some sleep.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate during
his lessons whilst picturing that thoughtful profile as it gazed down
at the given work. He found himself not going to meals because of
this ache. It was as though some kind of hole was emptying inside
him, and he couldn't ignore it.
He rolled onto his stomach, holding his pillow beneath his
chin. He had a friend he usually turned to when he had problems
during the summer, Rat. A girl who needed not the education of
Hogworts, nor would she even be accepted if she tried. Yes, that was
one string Dumbledore couldn't pull. He wondered if she would be
home, or if a broomstick could make it to her shack. It was a good
bit far off...
Reaching his resolution, he threw open his coverings and slid
his robes over his naked form. He grabbed a broomstick without
checking who's it was, and snuck out with ease.
Draco hugged his robes around him. It was always almost
freezing around her house. Not that you could really call it a house.
He knocked heavily on the door. There was a long pause before he
tried again. No answer came to greet his attempts. //Shit,// he
thought, //She's probably at that damn bar. And god knows it's
hard getting there...// He looked at his watch, brushing off most of
the frost gather on the face, and saw he did have time left in the
night.
He pushed the wooden door aside with mild difficulty, and
caught his breath best he could. The adult section of town was
almost too well hidden. He slammed it shut, and looked before him.
The entrance to The RED Cherry lay before him.
The RED Cherry, a notorious bar for transvestite wizards, and
on occasion, lipstick lesbians witches. Rat was close friends with
a
few of the owners and loved to kick back with the regulars. Malfoy
saw Matilda, one of the owners, tall, built, African-Italian
transvestive with a bleached blonde synthetic wig and
cream-colored stockings over 'her' long coffee-coloured legs
(Matilda, as like many regulars, insisted on being refered to as a
woman). She stood in front of the club in her infamous
yellow-sequined dress, arms crossed over her ripped chest. She
looked around and spotted Draco. "Oh, is that you, boy?" she said,
trotting towards him gingerly in her yellow pumps, "I haven't seen
you in a dog's age! Getch'yo self over here, hon, let me look at you!"
She grabbed Draco by the shoulder's and looked him up and down
appraisingly. "Ooh, honey, with yo' hair, you could be just de-VINE!
Esmarelda's got some old dresses she cain't wear no more, you
should try them on!"
"Ahem, thanks, Matilda, but I prefer my own attire." Many of
the regs would beg to dress him up, but their attemps were purley
in vain.
"Aw, that is just too bad," Matilda said sadly, letting her stong
arms drop and sticking her cherry-red bottom lip out in a pout.
"Well, you're pro'lly lookin' for Rat, aren't ya? C'mon, sugar, she's
in
here." Matilda grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into the
club.
The music pulsed all around him. He spotted Esmarelda in
her wheel-chair with a plastic bubble-gum pink wig on, entertaining
some guests waiting for their drinks. One of the regs, Johanne,
spotted Draco and waved, her cocktail dress almost pulling up to
reveal the only thing keeping her from really being a she.
Ah, there was Rat. She was dancing with a statuesque
transvestite to some disco-style song by a closet witch named Cher
who was rather popular among muggles. Matilda pranced onto the
dancefloor and tapped Rat on the shoulder. She pointed at Draco,
who waved a little, and Rat looked delighted. She ran over to him
and embraced him hard. He made the hug mutual, and inhaled her
hair, probably the only natural blonde in the entire club, smelling
that familiar musky scent he missed so much. When he let her go, he
saw that Esmarelda had wheeled her way over to them, her
emaciated, twisted body in a revealing shimmery black dress, her
gnarled feet in stlyish black platforms. "Aw, honey, we all missed
you!" she squealed, "Too bad you still ain't dressed th' part..."
"Malfoy, m'love! What brings you here?" Rat said, a huge grin
on her face.
"Ooh, is it boy trouble?" Matilda teased.
Draco shocked them all with, "Actually, yes."
Rat looked at the surrounding drag queens. "Girls, I'm sorry.
I
think I'm needed." She pulled Draco towards the 'office', which was
a
bedroom, while Matilda and Esmarelda bustled close behind them.
"Ooh, girlfr'en, I ALWAYS knew it! I ALWAYS knew he had to
be!" Matilda squealed as she practically danced into the office. Rat,
professional achohol mixer, was at the wetbar making what she
recalled as being Draco's favorite. "Tell us ALL about it, sugar, leave
NOTHIN' out!"
Draco spent the next quarter of an hour spilling his story,
about how he had hated Weasley for so long, but now he simply
longed to be with him. Matilda and Esmarelda listened keenly,
shrieking with glee when he said some of the things he wanted to do
to Ron.
Rat was still moving around briskly, making the more
'advanced' drinks that Matilda and Esmarelda preffered. At the end
of Malfoy's speech, she said, "Does he know you're falling for him?"
"Huh?"
"Well, by what you're saying you are."
"But I'm not."
Rat looked at him with mild scrutiny, a smile on her face.
"I'm not!"
"Look, there are a lot of thin lines in life. Such as between
art
and...bullshit. But perhaps the thinnest is that between love and
hate. You despise someone so much that you want to get to them.
You want to have an impact on them. You want to be a part of their
misery. It become some warped kind of love. And soon you want
them to gratify your crave for attention so much that it evolves until
you want them to see only you, hear only you. Think of only you."
Draco sat stunned by her words. He groped his mind for proper
words to
express himself at this point. But then he realized that, like she
usually was with
matters of confusion, Rat was correct.