Right, this is posted with no betaing and all that, but I'm willing to make changes if ya'll point them out.
WARNING: This story is considered adult because of the references to masturbation, the F-bomb, and derogatory terms towards homosexuals. If you don't like, at least be nice in your review. If you think I went overboard and have ideas of how to change it, then tell me that instead of yelling at me and reporting me to the admins. Thank you!
DICLAIMER: Not mine, they all belong to the Queen of Harry Potter: J.K. Rowling. I'm merely having a little fun. No profit was made, but I hope you have fun too! Review! And give me some ideas to fleshing it out. This is a tentative foray into slash.
Enigma
Drabble 2
Harry knew.
Still, it wasn't really Ron's fault. Gryffindor tower didn't exactly have any nice private places where you could go and have a good wank. It was either the loo (Which was bloody freezing at all times), or the shared bedroom with the curtains drawn on your bed, hoping no one would come up to check on their robes or something.
There were guidelines to follow, though. If you happened to wander into a room and see someone with their trousers down around their ankles and knickers gaping, moaning "Cho!" or "Fleur!" or "Cedric!" then you wandered right back out again. Even if you'd caught them at the breaking point, where eyes roll back and muscles tense so hard they cramp. Even if you have to go find a secluded corner afterwards and relieve some of your own tension, you just didn't talk about it. No one sauntered up to you in the hall the next day and went, "Oi, caught you at your pocket pool last night! Fucking-A, eh, mate?" When you saw them again, you acted as if nothing had happened. But Harry broke every single rule the Gryffindor boys had about wanking.
When Ron hisses, "Draco," the word pushing out between his teeth before he has a chance to swallow the little bastard back down, Harry freezes in front of the door that he'd opened just a few seconds ago. Ron's arm tenses and relaxes one last time before he sighs and slumps back down, opening his eyes lazily.
"Draco!"
Ron jumps, letting out a small squeak.
"You… what?" Ron says, the blissful lassitude he gets after a good come dissipating much faster than he'd like.
"Fucking Draco?"
Then Ron gets it.
"You heard me?" fuckfuckfuckFUCK
"You stupid faggot, how could you?"
"Bloody hell, Harry! It's not what it seems, I swear!" But what a stupid thing to say, of course it was what it seemed.
Ron lurches to his feet, tucking himself frantically back into his trousers, almost running his sticky hand through his hair before remembering at the last second.
Harry's eyes pin him to some huge, invisible specimen card, the label, "TRAITOR" glaring beside him.
"You shouting 'Draco' when you get off is not what it looks like? That's fucking rich." And he leaves, slamming the door loudly in the echoing silence left by his words.
Hermione will know within the hour. Perhaps not the details, but she'll know.
Bugger it all, what a day. In fact, Ron can only hope the news doesn't reach Draco. Fucking rich, indeed.
fin-
Yep. Open for ideas, here...
