All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are copyrighted trademarks and property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and all peoples associated. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. Ahem Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. Sigh
The AN is at the end as not to spoil anything.
The Mulberry Bush
All around the mulberry bush…
He was sitting by the shore of the lake actually doing his homework. His friends were with him, of course. Each absorbed in their own work.
He looked up when a shadow passed overhead. It was the only cloud in the sky. Out of the corner of his eye he observed a person, just watching them as they worked out their respective homework. The hair on the back of his neck bristled.
The Dragon chased the Weasel…
At breakfast it was the same routine as the day before: he was being watched. The same thing happened again at lunch and dinner and classes. There were no words passed between them, the watcher ignored the watched verbally as the watched tried to avoid the watcher.
The watcher caught up with the watched in the library the week before exams.
The Weasel didn't think it was all for fun until…
They fought. Not in the library of course, but they fought. It started out as a verbal assault then became a physical assault, and finally ending with a sensual assault leaving both boys sticky in blood and sweat. It was still a fight, just on a different premise. Neither had any idea who won.
POP goes the cherry.
end
AN: I'm sure this idea has been done before, well not the banal plot line (because that most defiantly has), but the satire. I suppose I should explain myself: I'm doing research this summer on predation rates of shorebird nests and my most common "customers" are the weasels. I actually ended up chasing one away from one of the Avocet nests and this popped into my head. I could not stop giggling at the absurdity of it all. There I was in the middle of a mudflat thinking about slash… And there were indeed mulberry bushes at the entrance to the bird sanctuary. This fact made me giggle even more.