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I dislike buses at the best of times. When surrounded by hordes of screaming children on a minibus stuck in the middle of a mass traffic jam at midnight on the way to London I can safely say that I hate buses. Our 'group', all eleven squealing brats, had set up camp in the back seats and were excitedly swapping playing cards that, joy of joy, didn't explode! Or taking strange still photographs with a polaroid camera, and showing not the sightest sign of drowsiness. This was going to be a long three days.
Malfoy idly watched them from the corner of his eyes, slouched right down next to me on the front seat, knowing with a smug certainty that one glare from him could shut up any of them. Me, meanwhile, they had accepted as a subsitute elder brother who could tell them stories, laugh with them and ultimately be wound up good naturedly by them. Fun. All except one little girl, Lola Brecken, who was actually trying to come on to me. With all the seductiveness of a chubby twelve year old. Needless to say, Malfoy found this hysterical.
Lola snuggled up to me and seemed to go to sleep. I cringed away slightly, moving her to an unoccupied seat. She pouted and went to join her giggling classmates.
"Jeez Potter, I can see why you never keep girlfriends."
"Yeah, shut up Malfoy. Like you know anything."
He smiled at me, that lazy, slow smile of his. "I just know the lovely Cho dumped you, Mud Blood left you for Weasel, but you do look like you're going to get laid this weekend if Pork Chops there has any say in the matter."
"You're sick. She's a kid. They don't have any clue at that age." A shadow flitted across Malfoy's face. Probably just the bridge we went under or a trick of the light. I continued. "Anyhow, that's rich coming from someone who has 'Property of Pansy Parkinson'tattooed across his forehead."
"Whatever." But still, it threw him. The first and probably last time I have ever unsettled him. He shuddered almost imperceptibly, repulsed.
I would have liked to push the line of thinking, but then we arrived at the hostel and started the tedious process of hustling eleven hyper children to their dorms.
"Take the girls Potter. You might pull enough that their combined ages make them legal." He grinned maliciously.
"Take the boys Malfoy." I minicked his tone. "Whatever floats your boat." Anger flashed in pale eyes.
Potter one, Malfoy nil. I rock.
As Malfoy stormed away I counted off the girls: Sal, little kid, big glasses, Hermione lookalikee. Check Malisha, fashion victim, pink hair. Check. Tish and Jordan, inseparable best friends. Check. Check. That makes four. I should have five. Four, need five. Damn, no Lola.
This was going to end up with my humiliation. "Malfoy?" I called. Reluctantly admittedly, but I still had to ask him. "I'm missing a kid. Have you seen Lola?"
Silky laugh right in my ear. I jumped all the same. "Lost one already? She's in here. Flirting with Eric. She seems to have 'a clue' especially at this age."
Potter one, Malfoy one. I rock decidedly less.
I let it drop.
It took a while to get them all settled and in bed so by the time we headed to reception to collect our key I was exhaused.
I let Malfoy handle the formalities. As much as a hate to admit it, he's far better at politeness. The receptionist was young, fake blonde and pretty. Malfoy turned on the family charm and when this happens there's about as much anyone can do to resist him as to stop a runaway train from sailing off a cliff. Both are dangerous and hazardous your health. "We're here to collect our room key. We're the chaperones for a school trip. Under the name of Weasley." Long eyelashes batted in the girls direction, and though flattered and clearly attracted, she looked slightly bemused.
"Room thirteen. Last room avaliable. Very...secluded. Hope you have a good night, sirs." Handing over the key, she gave us both a speculative look.
"What's with her?" Malfoy grumbled. "The kind of female that eats out of the palm of my hand normally. You're bleeding over onto my pulling skills-" He opened the door. "Shit."
I followed his dismayed gaze. A small, clean little hotel room: nice, homely and most importantly with a double bed. Only a double bed.
"Shit." I echoed. "She said it was the last room, didn't she?"
Malfoy had recovered completely. "Oh, get over yourself Potter. It's only for three nights. I personally am so tired I couldn't care less where I sleep so long as it's warm, dry and has a soft mattress." And with that he tugged off his shoes, closely followed by jeans and shirt. I watched him in silence. "I'm not sleeping in my clothes. That's just plain dirty. And unless you're planning on taking the floor, neither are you." I copied, sliding under the covers as far as humanly possible away from him.
"Hey, at least we know why the girl was looking at us funny." I told him.
"Hmmm?" Malfoy asked drowsily.
"She thought we were together." He snorted at the very idea.
I dislike buses at the best of times. When surrounded by hordes of screaming children on a minibus stuck in the middle of a mass traffic jam at midnight on the way to London I can safely say that I hate buses. Our 'group', all eleven squealing brats, had set up camp in the back seats and were excitedly swapping playing cards that, joy of joy, didn't explode! Or taking strange still photographs with a polaroid camera, and showing not the sightest sign of drowsiness. This was going to be a long three days.
Malfoy idly watched them from the corner of his eyes, slouched right down next to me on the front seat, knowing with a smug certainty that one glare from him could shut up any of them. Me, meanwhile, they had accepted as a subsitute elder brother who could tell them stories, laugh with them and ultimately be wound up good naturedly by them. Fun. All except one little girl, Lola Brecken, who was actually trying to come on to me. With all the seductiveness of a chubby twelve year old. Needless to say, Malfoy found this hysterical.
Lola snuggled up to me and seemed to go to sleep. I cringed away slightly, moving her to an unoccupied seat. She pouted and went to join her giggling classmates.
"Jeez Potter, I can see why you never keep girlfriends."
"Yeah, shut up Malfoy. Like you know anything."
He smiled at me, that lazy, slow smile of his. "I just know the lovely Cho dumped you, Mud Blood left you for Weasel, but you do look like you're going to get laid this weekend if Pork Chops there has any say in the matter."
"You're sick. She's a kid. They don't have any clue at that age." A shadow flitted across Malfoy's face. Probably just the bridge we went under or a trick of the light. I continued. "Anyhow, that's rich coming from someone who has 'Property of Pansy Parkinson'tattooed across his forehead."
"Whatever." But still, it threw him. The first and probably last time I have ever unsettled him. He shuddered almost imperceptibly, repulsed.
I would have liked to push the line of thinking, but then we arrived at the hostel and started the tedious process of hustling eleven hyper children to their dorms.
"Take the girls Potter. You might pull enough that their combined ages make them legal." He grinned maliciously.
"Take the boys Malfoy." I minicked his tone. "Whatever floats your boat." Anger flashed in pale eyes.
Potter one, Malfoy nil. I rock.
As Malfoy stormed away I counted off the girls: Sal, little kid, big glasses, Hermione lookalikee. Check Malisha, fashion victim, pink hair. Check. Tish and Jordan, inseparable best friends. Check. Check. That makes four. I should have five. Four, need five. Damn, no Lola.
This was going to end up with my humiliation. "Malfoy?" I called. Reluctantly admittedly, but I still had to ask him. "I'm missing a kid. Have you seen Lola?"
Silky laugh right in my ear. I jumped all the same. "Lost one already? She's in here. Flirting with Eric. She seems to have 'a clue' especially at this age."
Potter one, Malfoy one. I rock decidedly less.
I let it drop.
It took a while to get them all settled and in bed so by the time we headed to reception to collect our key I was exhaused.
I let Malfoy handle the formalities. As much as a hate to admit it, he's far better at politeness. The receptionist was young, fake blonde and pretty. Malfoy turned on the family charm and when this happens there's about as much anyone can do to resist him as to stop a runaway train from sailing off a cliff. Both are dangerous and hazardous your health. "We're here to collect our room key. We're the chaperones for a school trip. Under the name of Weasley." Long eyelashes batted in the girls direction, and though flattered and clearly attracted, she looked slightly bemused.
"Room thirteen. Last room avaliable. Very...secluded. Hope you have a good night, sirs." Handing over the key, she gave us both a speculative look.
"What's with her?" Malfoy grumbled. "The kind of female that eats out of the palm of my hand normally. You're bleeding over onto my pulling skills-" He opened the door. "Shit."
I followed his dismayed gaze. A small, clean little hotel room: nice, homely and most importantly with a double bed. Only a double bed.
"Shit." I echoed. "She said it was the last room, didn't she?"
Malfoy had recovered completely. "Oh, get over yourself Potter. It's only for three nights. I personally am so tired I couldn't care less where I sleep so long as it's warm, dry and has a soft mattress." And with that he tugged off his shoes, closely followed by jeans and shirt. I watched him in silence. "I'm not sleeping in my clothes. That's just plain dirty. And unless you're planning on taking the floor, neither are you." I copied, sliding under the covers as far as humanly possible away from him.
"Hey, at least we know why the girl was looking at us funny." I told him.
"Hmmm?" Malfoy asked drowsily.
"She thought we were together." He snorted at the very idea.