*Bend Me*
author: lodestar (pka blackswan15)
The problem with this sort of story, Draco thought angrily, kicking savagely at the slushy snow, was that the author never adequately explained what the hell he was doing at Hogwarts over Christmas break anyway. Not only that, in this case, the whole mess had been elevated to the status of a bloody *plothole.*
He absolutely detested this author.
It all started a few weeks before break began. Looking back, he had an overwhelming sense of some giant, diabolical cuckoo clock stirring and grinding its way to feverish life. Nights had become magical, days glorious. The proverbial cup of holiday cheer (actually the Goblet of Fire cleverly recycled into a new plot) had overflowed and become to leave puddles of what looked for all the world like wassail in the entrance hall. Mistletoe, which had never been an essential part of the festive decorations before, began cropping up everywhere- over doorways, in classrooms, inside a few dark and deserted linen closets, even on the evergreens in the forbidden forest. There had been talk of having a Yule Ball, and only Draco's determined shouting had alerted everyone to the fact that as there wasn't a Tournament going on there really couldn't be a dance.
But all of this was just the earmarks of the usual yuletide ficlet. It wasn't until a few days later that Draco realized that the situation was far more grave. Finnigan and Longbottom were seen wandering through the halls, holding hands and running into walls as they gazed deeply into each other's eyes. The next day, Colin Creevy and Justin Finch-Fletchly were found in the Astronomy Tower. The situation deteriorated rapidly from that moment on. It was discovered that Professors Trelawney and McGonnigal had been in love (and denial) with each other since their schooldays. Lee Jordan jumped Fred Weasley on his way to transfiguration, and in a hallway that had been almost completely devoid of mistletoe to boot! His twin had sulked about the whole thing for about half a day before hooking up with Professor Snape. Cho Chang had put aside her grief at the death of Cedric Diggory and announced her engagement to Fluer, with whom she had been secretly corresponding. She did still wear black, but that could easily have been a side effect of Hogwart's required uniform. Even the mysterious Blaise was rumored to be involved with Terry Boot, or possibly Lavender Brown, depending on which sex he. she. whatever, was.
Judging by the unusually high percentage of students who had suddenly decided to come out of the closet (sometimes without ever having realized they'd been in it) there was only one conclusion to be made. Someone out there was a slash fan. It was an unfortunate fact that such writers were never content with having one interesting couple, and instead of quality went for staggering quantity.
Draco was really surprised at how long it'd taken him to put two and two together. Looking around, he should have seen that every student with a recognizable name had been paired off. except for one.
The realization had hit him halfway through a bowl of soggy cereal one morning a few days before break. He'd been sniggering at the fact that he seemed to be the only one with an accurate food to mouth ratio, due to the number of searing glances being tossed back and forth between tables, when he'd discovered that someone else was calmly eating his breakfast in the midst of all these hormones. A certain black-haired, green-eyed, worst, most hated enemy of his life someone.
Draco's spoon hit his nose.
"Bugger!" he shouted, standing and tipping his bowl all over Pansy, who didn't even bother to stop making eyes at Padma Patil, and fled the room.
From that moment on Draco began an active crusade against this ridiculous Christmas romance. He spent as little time as possible in the hallways, threw away unmarked letters without opening them, and generally made himself as scarce as possible. He even resorted to feigning illness to get out of the last double potions class of the year. He corresponded daily with his parents, reminding them that they had made no plans to go away, just the two of them, that it was highly unlikely Draco would *want* to stay at school for the break, and that free tickets for an Alaskan cruise (the writer's last, desperate, attempt) were not to be trusted.
So he was more than a little annoyed when, not two hours before the departure of the Hogwarts Express, he had received a letter.
Dear Son,
Have conveniently dropped off the face of the earth for a few days. Hope you'll have a good time at Hogwarts this Christmas.
Your loving parents.
That was it? *This* was the author's clever way of getting rid of his parents? Not even bothering to think up some harebrained explanation? It was ridiculous, a tribute to how low a dedicated fan would go. And the day Lucius described himself as loving would be a cold one in hell. Draco's boots (the only leather he would ever wear, he swore to himself) crushed the unoffending snow to slick ice as he stomped back and forth over the ground.
*He* had stayed, of course. Almost the only Gryffindor to do so. But Draco hadn't actually seen him for a few days. He'd made sure of that.
Actually, despite his dreadful predicament, Draco was feeling pretty good about all this. With only a few more days to go until Christmas, he'd managed to effectively nip all attempts at romance before the plant had even sprouted. In fact, there hadn't even been any cliched attempts since Tuesday. Draco was beginning to hope that perhaps the author had given up, leaving him to spend his holiday in (comparative) peace. Maybe he wouldn't bother skipping dinner tonight.
Something distinctly Harry Potter-Shaped bowled him over. "Got you!"
"Oh for goodness sake!" Draco muttered around a mouthful of powdery snow. "Potter, get off me!"
"No." Harry's breath was tickling the back of his neck. Deliberately, he was sure. "You've been sulking all week, and I want to know why."
"Under normal circumstances," said Draco, trying not to wiggle for fear of contributing to the already charged atmosphere. "I'd ask why the hell you cared. Unfortunately."
"What are you talking about?"
Draco sighed into the ice under his nose. "Even you can't be that dense. Look around you. We've obviously stumbled into a badfic."
"Oh, that. Well yeah."
"So."
"So what?"
"So get off me!"
Harry considered. He let out a considering sort of contented sigh. He placed a considering kiss at the nape of Draco's neck.
"Stop that."
He nuzzled a thoughtful route upwards towards the other boy's ear.
"Oh, yuck. Cut it out, Potter!" Draco thrust the elbow that hadn't been trapped by his fall upwards into his enemy's ribs and was rewarded with a muffled ouch, and angry bite, and, thankfully, the termination of extra warmth and weight and Harry rolled of him. Now if he'd just take it one step further and go away all together. Draco wanted nothing more than to stay undisturbed in the snow and die.
But Harry didn't seem inclined towards this infinitely logical conclusion. He just lay like a lump in the snow next to Draco. Eventually he turned his head towards the blonde. "I'm sorry."
"No you're not." Was the despondent reply.
"Okay, fine." Harry sat up. "Maybe I'm not."
"I can't believe you, Potter. We're at the mercy of a person who may be the worst author since Rita Skeeter, and you're going along with it!" Draco snapped.
"Malfoy."
"I try to be understanding. I mean, it's not your fault you're most idiotically adorable wizard ever to-"
"Malfoy."
"-but I have my limits. What the hell possessed you-"
"Malfoy!"
"Sorry?" Draco asked.
"You just called me adorable."
"Did I?" said Draco. "Damn."
There was a moment of silence. Followed by a second. Just when a third was thinking about putting in an appearance.
"Are you going to get up?"
"No." said Draco. "I'm going to stay right here until you go away."
"That's not very practical."
"I'll probably catch hypothermia." Draco agreed.
"Because I'm not going anywhere."
"I bet the author would just adore that plot twist."
"Because I love you."
Moment of silence number three burst in triumphantly.
After it had had its time in the spotlight, Draco sat up. His hair was covered with snow and one half of his face was wet with melted ice and red with cold. Unfortunately, he looked more like a spoiled child who had fallen down while ice skating than a beautiful ice sculpture, fallen angel, or any other quick metaphor the author could think up. "That," he said finally. "Was the fic talking."
"Will you forget about that? I agree that the author's doing a gawdawful job of it, but that doesn't change a thing about you and me."
"You're right." Draco agreed, standing up. "Even if it was bloody Shakespeare I'd still hate you."
And with that, he was gone.
Harry looked up at the sky, shrugged expressively, and wandered back inside.
I the relative safety of the dungeons, Draco stopped to catch his breath. "That was just sneaky" he muttered to the wall, certain the author would hear. "Definite foul play." But who would have thought Potter would have turned out to be so weak-willed? The bite on his ear burned. "Stupid Potter."
And yet, if he was being totally honest, he had to admit it wasn't disgust that made him shiver when he thought about the kisses that had wandered along his neck.
Cold. He'd never said it wasn't cold. He'd probably caught a chill. That was it.
He found a large clump of mistletoe hung over his bed.
"Vince?"
Crabbe looked up from the textbook he was halfheartedly pretending he didn't know how to read. "What?"
"Draco won't get out of bed."
Vincent looked up at his best friend. "So? It's the holidays. He doesn't have to if he doesn't want to."
"But he says he's not coming out at all until school starts again."
"What, not even to eat?"
Goyle paused. "I don't know. Probably not. Should I ask him?"
The curse that slammed into the doorframe as he approached rather made up his mind.
"Wake up, Greg! Look presents!"
"Ooooh. Oh, and I got this for you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Get a room!" Draco shouted.
Vincent looked confused. "Be we have got a room."
"Then get one I'm not in!"
Draco turned his attention to the pile of presents conveniently places at the bottom of his bed. There was a postcard on top from his parents. "Having a great time, wish you were. wherever we are." He had the feeling he was being deliberately taunted.
Buried underneath a large box of what would probably turn out to be underwear was a small package of red tissue paper and golden ribbon. *His* colors.
"Oh be a little more obvious," Draco muttered. But he opened it anyway.
It was a tiny statue, made of flawless crystal. As he watched, it uncurled itself and became a tiny dragon, yawning hugely.
"Of course," Draco muttered. "You do realize you're hopelessly cliché?" He asked it.
It bit him gently on the finger and went back to sleep.
He should have thrown it away. Instead he set it on his nightstand.
"Hey. Draco. Wake up, Draco."
"For crissakes, Greg, it's past midnight. What are you?- nevermind, don't tell me."
Draco, there's something glowing over your head.
Draco looked up. He groaned. He slammed his head back into the pillow and fell back asleep.
Floating over the top of his headboard, writing in something glowing and bright green, were the letters *T, B, C.*
*Warning*: If you don't warn me about hetfic why should I warn you about slash? Do you know how much time I've wasted reading the start of Draco/Hermione fics? Well, actually, some of them were just fine. but that's hardly the point!
*Disclaimer*: This has all been wickedly stolen from JKR. Also, you should be aware that it is indeed a parody, but it's all in fun. I adore slash. I adore slash writers. I just don't always adore their methods. And don't think I mind the plot elements I'm making fun of. As long as they're well- written. Unlike this. ^_~
author: lodestar (pka blackswan15)
The problem with this sort of story, Draco thought angrily, kicking savagely at the slushy snow, was that the author never adequately explained what the hell he was doing at Hogwarts over Christmas break anyway. Not only that, in this case, the whole mess had been elevated to the status of a bloody *plothole.*
He absolutely detested this author.
It all started a few weeks before break began. Looking back, he had an overwhelming sense of some giant, diabolical cuckoo clock stirring and grinding its way to feverish life. Nights had become magical, days glorious. The proverbial cup of holiday cheer (actually the Goblet of Fire cleverly recycled into a new plot) had overflowed and become to leave puddles of what looked for all the world like wassail in the entrance hall. Mistletoe, which had never been an essential part of the festive decorations before, began cropping up everywhere- over doorways, in classrooms, inside a few dark and deserted linen closets, even on the evergreens in the forbidden forest. There had been talk of having a Yule Ball, and only Draco's determined shouting had alerted everyone to the fact that as there wasn't a Tournament going on there really couldn't be a dance.
But all of this was just the earmarks of the usual yuletide ficlet. It wasn't until a few days later that Draco realized that the situation was far more grave. Finnigan and Longbottom were seen wandering through the halls, holding hands and running into walls as they gazed deeply into each other's eyes. The next day, Colin Creevy and Justin Finch-Fletchly were found in the Astronomy Tower. The situation deteriorated rapidly from that moment on. It was discovered that Professors Trelawney and McGonnigal had been in love (and denial) with each other since their schooldays. Lee Jordan jumped Fred Weasley on his way to transfiguration, and in a hallway that had been almost completely devoid of mistletoe to boot! His twin had sulked about the whole thing for about half a day before hooking up with Professor Snape. Cho Chang had put aside her grief at the death of Cedric Diggory and announced her engagement to Fluer, with whom she had been secretly corresponding. She did still wear black, but that could easily have been a side effect of Hogwart's required uniform. Even the mysterious Blaise was rumored to be involved with Terry Boot, or possibly Lavender Brown, depending on which sex he. she. whatever, was.
Judging by the unusually high percentage of students who had suddenly decided to come out of the closet (sometimes without ever having realized they'd been in it) there was only one conclusion to be made. Someone out there was a slash fan. It was an unfortunate fact that such writers were never content with having one interesting couple, and instead of quality went for staggering quantity.
Draco was really surprised at how long it'd taken him to put two and two together. Looking around, he should have seen that every student with a recognizable name had been paired off. except for one.
The realization had hit him halfway through a bowl of soggy cereal one morning a few days before break. He'd been sniggering at the fact that he seemed to be the only one with an accurate food to mouth ratio, due to the number of searing glances being tossed back and forth between tables, when he'd discovered that someone else was calmly eating his breakfast in the midst of all these hormones. A certain black-haired, green-eyed, worst, most hated enemy of his life someone.
Draco's spoon hit his nose.
"Bugger!" he shouted, standing and tipping his bowl all over Pansy, who didn't even bother to stop making eyes at Padma Patil, and fled the room.
From that moment on Draco began an active crusade against this ridiculous Christmas romance. He spent as little time as possible in the hallways, threw away unmarked letters without opening them, and generally made himself as scarce as possible. He even resorted to feigning illness to get out of the last double potions class of the year. He corresponded daily with his parents, reminding them that they had made no plans to go away, just the two of them, that it was highly unlikely Draco would *want* to stay at school for the break, and that free tickets for an Alaskan cruise (the writer's last, desperate, attempt) were not to be trusted.
So he was more than a little annoyed when, not two hours before the departure of the Hogwarts Express, he had received a letter.
Dear Son,
Have conveniently dropped off the face of the earth for a few days. Hope you'll have a good time at Hogwarts this Christmas.
Your loving parents.
That was it? *This* was the author's clever way of getting rid of his parents? Not even bothering to think up some harebrained explanation? It was ridiculous, a tribute to how low a dedicated fan would go. And the day Lucius described himself as loving would be a cold one in hell. Draco's boots (the only leather he would ever wear, he swore to himself) crushed the unoffending snow to slick ice as he stomped back and forth over the ground.
*He* had stayed, of course. Almost the only Gryffindor to do so. But Draco hadn't actually seen him for a few days. He'd made sure of that.
Actually, despite his dreadful predicament, Draco was feeling pretty good about all this. With only a few more days to go until Christmas, he'd managed to effectively nip all attempts at romance before the plant had even sprouted. In fact, there hadn't even been any cliched attempts since Tuesday. Draco was beginning to hope that perhaps the author had given up, leaving him to spend his holiday in (comparative) peace. Maybe he wouldn't bother skipping dinner tonight.
Something distinctly Harry Potter-Shaped bowled him over. "Got you!"
"Oh for goodness sake!" Draco muttered around a mouthful of powdery snow. "Potter, get off me!"
"No." Harry's breath was tickling the back of his neck. Deliberately, he was sure. "You've been sulking all week, and I want to know why."
"Under normal circumstances," said Draco, trying not to wiggle for fear of contributing to the already charged atmosphere. "I'd ask why the hell you cared. Unfortunately."
"What are you talking about?"
Draco sighed into the ice under his nose. "Even you can't be that dense. Look around you. We've obviously stumbled into a badfic."
"Oh, that. Well yeah."
"So."
"So what?"
"So get off me!"
Harry considered. He let out a considering sort of contented sigh. He placed a considering kiss at the nape of Draco's neck.
"Stop that."
He nuzzled a thoughtful route upwards towards the other boy's ear.
"Oh, yuck. Cut it out, Potter!" Draco thrust the elbow that hadn't been trapped by his fall upwards into his enemy's ribs and was rewarded with a muffled ouch, and angry bite, and, thankfully, the termination of extra warmth and weight and Harry rolled of him. Now if he'd just take it one step further and go away all together. Draco wanted nothing more than to stay undisturbed in the snow and die.
But Harry didn't seem inclined towards this infinitely logical conclusion. He just lay like a lump in the snow next to Draco. Eventually he turned his head towards the blonde. "I'm sorry."
"No you're not." Was the despondent reply.
"Okay, fine." Harry sat up. "Maybe I'm not."
"I can't believe you, Potter. We're at the mercy of a person who may be the worst author since Rita Skeeter, and you're going along with it!" Draco snapped.
"Malfoy."
"I try to be understanding. I mean, it's not your fault you're most idiotically adorable wizard ever to-"
"Malfoy."
"-but I have my limits. What the hell possessed you-"
"Malfoy!"
"Sorry?" Draco asked.
"You just called me adorable."
"Did I?" said Draco. "Damn."
There was a moment of silence. Followed by a second. Just when a third was thinking about putting in an appearance.
"Are you going to get up?"
"No." said Draco. "I'm going to stay right here until you go away."
"That's not very practical."
"I'll probably catch hypothermia." Draco agreed.
"Because I'm not going anywhere."
"I bet the author would just adore that plot twist."
"Because I love you."
Moment of silence number three burst in triumphantly.
After it had had its time in the spotlight, Draco sat up. His hair was covered with snow and one half of his face was wet with melted ice and red with cold. Unfortunately, he looked more like a spoiled child who had fallen down while ice skating than a beautiful ice sculpture, fallen angel, or any other quick metaphor the author could think up. "That," he said finally. "Was the fic talking."
"Will you forget about that? I agree that the author's doing a gawdawful job of it, but that doesn't change a thing about you and me."
"You're right." Draco agreed, standing up. "Even if it was bloody Shakespeare I'd still hate you."
And with that, he was gone.
Harry looked up at the sky, shrugged expressively, and wandered back inside.
I the relative safety of the dungeons, Draco stopped to catch his breath. "That was just sneaky" he muttered to the wall, certain the author would hear. "Definite foul play." But who would have thought Potter would have turned out to be so weak-willed? The bite on his ear burned. "Stupid Potter."
And yet, if he was being totally honest, he had to admit it wasn't disgust that made him shiver when he thought about the kisses that had wandered along his neck.
Cold. He'd never said it wasn't cold. He'd probably caught a chill. That was it.
He found a large clump of mistletoe hung over his bed.
"Vince?"
Crabbe looked up from the textbook he was halfheartedly pretending he didn't know how to read. "What?"
"Draco won't get out of bed."
Vincent looked up at his best friend. "So? It's the holidays. He doesn't have to if he doesn't want to."
"But he says he's not coming out at all until school starts again."
"What, not even to eat?"
Goyle paused. "I don't know. Probably not. Should I ask him?"
The curse that slammed into the doorframe as he approached rather made up his mind.
"Wake up, Greg! Look presents!"
"Ooooh. Oh, and I got this for you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Get a room!" Draco shouted.
Vincent looked confused. "Be we have got a room."
"Then get one I'm not in!"
Draco turned his attention to the pile of presents conveniently places at the bottom of his bed. There was a postcard on top from his parents. "Having a great time, wish you were. wherever we are." He had the feeling he was being deliberately taunted.
Buried underneath a large box of what would probably turn out to be underwear was a small package of red tissue paper and golden ribbon. *His* colors.
"Oh be a little more obvious," Draco muttered. But he opened it anyway.
It was a tiny statue, made of flawless crystal. As he watched, it uncurled itself and became a tiny dragon, yawning hugely.
"Of course," Draco muttered. "You do realize you're hopelessly cliché?" He asked it.
It bit him gently on the finger and went back to sleep.
He should have thrown it away. Instead he set it on his nightstand.
"Hey. Draco. Wake up, Draco."
"For crissakes, Greg, it's past midnight. What are you?- nevermind, don't tell me."
Draco, there's something glowing over your head.
Draco looked up. He groaned. He slammed his head back into the pillow and fell back asleep.
Floating over the top of his headboard, writing in something glowing and bright green, were the letters *T, B, C.*
*Warning*: If you don't warn me about hetfic why should I warn you about slash? Do you know how much time I've wasted reading the start of Draco/Hermione fics? Well, actually, some of them were just fine. but that's hardly the point!
*Disclaimer*: This has all been wickedly stolen from JKR. Also, you should be aware that it is indeed a parody, but it's all in fun. I adore slash. I adore slash writers. I just don't always adore their methods. And don't think I mind the plot elements I'm making fun of. As long as they're well- written. Unlike this. ^_~