Boys Really Need to Learn to Share Their (Boy)Toys
Hermione settled herself on her bed. The dormitory was deserted, everyone either still at breakfast or on their way to the first lesson of the day. Her curiosity well and truly piqued, Hermione turned to the very back of the book on her lap.
February 25th, 2001
Oh my. Wow. That was erm… interesting. Wonder if I have time for a quick cold shower before Potions…
{~~~~~~}
I decided I'd best drop in and check on Draco before class or Merlin knew I'd never hear the last of it!
I knew that he'd merely had one of his (all too common) hissy fits but doubtless Draco had by now elevated it to plague proportions. Sedated! Can you believe that the big sissy had actually had to be sedated? And all because his ickle Weasel had bopped his hideous ginger noggin on a teeny ickle rock. Seriously those two deserve each other!
Of course, Draco had done it in true Malfoy style! I mean, way to 'out' yourself to the entire bloody school… as well as delegations from two other prestigious schools, numerous journalists, oh yes and some rather important members of the Ministry.
Oh dear. Poor Draco must be feeling like crap; perhaps I should have visited him sooner.
I began to quicken my pace – hopefully I'd get to him before he leapt from the nearest window.
As I neared the Infirmary, I spotted a familiar figure a few feet ahead of me and clearly heading in the same direction. I shouldn't have been surprised; as I'd been trying to get through Granger's thick skull Potter's interest in his best friend went way beyond platonic and out the other side. Of course he'd be rushing to mop his beloved's fevered brow. What a bloody waste!
I hung back a little – purely in the hopes of witnessing something that might prove damning at a later date you understand (and I was most definitely not checking out Harry's arse).
I was just behind Potter when he walked onto the ward which meant that we caught sight of Draco and Weasley almost at the exact same time.
And, oh my goodness, what a sight…
Well, this was new. It seems that the sight of two teenage boys wrapped around each other, tongues firmly lodged down each other's throats, is my latest kink. Who knew?
I mean, I've always known Draco was hot; I've been attracted to him since forever and as he's grown older – and taller – he's grown pretty damn sexy too. But the Weasel?! Frankly I've never seen what Draco sees in the ginger idiot… until now.
I swear, together they were brain-meltingly hot.
And this was why I drew my wand and prepared to Avada Kedavra Potter on the spot when the four-eyed little bastard stepped forward and pulled them apart. However, on quieter reflection, I decided to take a more magnanimous view of things. This new approach may have been helped along by the realisation that Harry had apparently had the rather fantastic idea of snogging the arse off his best friend himself. Clever boy that Potter.
I lowered my wand and slid down the wall. I have a very vague recollection of having leant up against it somewhere between Draco putting his hand on Weasley's arse and Weasley shoving his hand up Draco's shirt and it now provided some much needed support.
Sitting there on the floor, I found myself a bit preoccupied by Harry's hand sliding down the back of Weasley's trousers so it came as a bit of a shock to realise that Draco had recovered enough to drag the Gryffindor twosome apart. The selfish little tit.
Immediately I made a very solemn vow: as soon as I recovered the feeling in my legs, I was going to kick the blond shit into an inch of his life.
Sadly, I never got the chance as Potter beat me to it and proceeded to do just that.
I managed to drag my gaze away from Draco and Harry's grappling to take in Weasley's stunned and tousled appearance. And Merlin forgive me, but at that moment I was half inclined to finish the job myself - trust me a half-ravished Ron Weasley is a sight to behold indeed! His hair was mussed, his lips kiss-swollen and wet; add in flushed cheeks, glazed blue eyes and those endearing little huffs of breath and well…
I was just starting to drag myself up off the floor to mount my own attack, when that Irish bastard, Finnigan, appeared from nowhere and jumped the queue.
By this time I got the distinct impression that Weasley had pretty much no idea whose tongue was inside his mouth and frankly I don't think he particularly cared.
At least this latest development did manage to wrest Draco and Potter's attention away from each other.
Actually, it was really rather comical the way they both seemed to become aware of what was going on at the same time.
Having pulled apart to take in the - not bad actually, not bad at all - sight of Finnigan and Weasley kissing and touching, Draco and Harry paused just long enough to exchange looks of matching horror before diverting all their attention and energy away from killing each other and onto separating the other two boys.
One violent tussle later and Finnigan had been removed from Weasley's mouth and various other body parts. Harry and Draco then proceeded to mount a joint attack on the Irish boy, occasionally seizing the opportunity to kick, gouge and bite each other in the ensuing melee.
Weasley, meanwhile, was doing that sexy panting thing again and well to be honest had I got to him in time then it would have all been over but for the mopping up; tragically the ginger one seemed to suddenly come to his senses and with a last quick glance at the fighting boys he beat a hasty retreat.
Bastard.
I turned to glare at the flailing threesome.
Why couldn't they just learn to share?
As I left I noticed that Potter had Finnigan pinned by his nostrils, while Draco was holding one hand up to protect his face as Finnigan tried to brain him with a bedpan.
Boys.
Hermione took a deep breath. And another.
Okay, perhaps it was time to ask Pansy to rate her journal entries 'cos lordy that was… oh yeah.
Hermione was probably going to be even later to Transfiguration than she'd calculated. Oh well, McGonagall wasn't that scary. Now she'd better just re-read a line or two, just to make sure that she'd not missed any important details…
Ron had slipped away from breakfast while Harry and Seamus were still trying to kill each other. Those two had been driving him mental all weekend. Ron was actually looking forward to going to class just so he wouldn't have to put up with their constant hovering. His stomach fluttered nervously and Ron suddenly felt warm all over as he thought of the other reason he'd be glad to get to class that morning.
He'd come back to the dorm knowing it would be empty at this time of day. Soon he'd have to gather up his books and head to Transfiguration but for now Ron just needed a few minutes alone. He was lying on his bed looking up at the ceiling wondering what Malf-Draco was doing. Ron absently lifted his fingers to touch his lips as he thought of the other boy. He smiled as he remembered; had it really only been three days since the Second Task and Draco's ill-advised assault? Ron's lips had certainly seen a lot of action since then; Draco's response seemed to have been a catalyst, spurring on a couple of other fairly rash responses.
Ron still wasn't sure how he felt about Seamus and Harry's rather spectacular responses. Surprised certainly and also a little flattered – Ron had gone from zero romantic prospects to suddenly having three boys vying for his attention. It was fairly overwhelming.
And more than a little annoying.
Harry and Seamus were acting like right gits and getting on Ron's last nerve. Harry was his friend, his best friend and Ron had never thought of him in any other terms. And he didn't want to. Harry's kiss might not have actually been repulsive while it was happening but that didn't mean that Ron wanted to repeat it. It just felt wrong, like kissing Fred or George. Urgh. And Ron really could have done without that image, thank you very much.
Of course, Seamus was his friend too, but Ron had discovered (possibly mid-snog) that his feelings for the Irish boy weren't quite as clear cut as his feelings for Harry. In fact, Ron suspected that if Draco wasn't in the picture, then he would likely be more than a bit willing to pursue matters with Seamus.
But Draco was in the picture and Ron couldn't see beyond that. What's more he was beginning to think that he hadn't been able to see beyond Draco for quite some time. He'd like to claim that this was purely due to his preoccupation with wanting to throttle the little shit; just like he'd like to claim that he'd known all along exactly how he felt about the other boy. But well, sadly the truth was that Ron had once again been totally clueless. To his own feelings, Draco's feelings, and now it seemed, Seamus and Harry's too. Teaspoons came to mind. Hermione was going to have a field day.
Ron rolled his eyes and sat up. There was no point putting it off any longer, it was time to go to class.
Draco sat on his bed and rubbed at his abused foot. Stupid bloody wall. And Pansy could just sod off too. This was all her fault. Why hadn't she stopped him from making such a big bloody fool of himself in the first place? She had been right there. All it would have taken was a quick spell, or failing that she could have sat on him. Merlin knows he wouldn't have been able to shift from under her fat arse. He glared up at her, silently daring her to say anything.
"Don't you look at me like that," Pansy said with an irritated shake of her head. "You only have yourself to blame, Draco, so stop trying to pin this on me."
She raised her hand as he opened his mouth to protest. "And don't you dare try to deny that's exactly what was going through your tiny little mind."
Draco snapped his mouth shut. Stupid bloody girls and their stupid bloody clairvoyance.
Pansy walked over to the bed and sat down next to him. Draco manfully resisted the urge to push her off (as well as the much more annoying urge to rest his head on her shoulder and demand she make it all better).
"Is it really so bad?" She asked in a gentler voice.
Draco was just about to point out his bruised big toe, but before he got the chance, Pansy rolled her eyes at him and shoved him off the bed and onto the floor.
"Not your bloody foot, you twit!"
She slid to the floor next to him and they both leaned back against the bed. Draco rested his head on the mattress and sighed. He knew what she was getting at, of course, he just wasn't sure he wanted to talk about it.
"I saw you, you know?" Pansy nudged his shoulder. "At the infirmary," she added slyly.
Draco couldn't help it. He bit down on his bottom lip in a valiant attempt to stifle his reaction but it was no good. His face broke out into a huge grin. Stupid idiot face.
Pansy nudged him harder. "You sly old dog," she said clearly laughing at him now.
And for the first time in his life Draco found he didn't care. About any of it. He rolled his head to look at her and they both started to snigger.
"Best snog ever," he gasped out between giggles.
And that did it. They both collapsed into uncontrolled laughter.
When they had settled down and the intermittent giggles had finally faded out, Pansy pressed her shoulder up against Draco's again and said, "Why are you still afraid? You finally did something, Draco. And, hey look, the world didn't end."
Draco turned his head to look at her. "I did, didn't I?" And it was strange to realise it, but he no longer wanted to smack her in the head for letting it happen.
"There's no going back now."
Draco closed his eyes and let the truth of her words sink in.
Most of the class was already there when Ron got to Transfiguration. Harry and Seamus both sat up a little straighter as he walked through the door, Ron ignored them and took his usual seat, grateful that Hermione wasn't there yet so he didn't have to face her careful scrutiny too. She seemed to have calmed down about the whole Draco thing, but ever since he'd returned from the Infirmary Ron felt that she was watching his every move and her constant gaze was becoming unnerving. He felt awkward enough about seeing Draco again without having to worry about Hermione watching.
Draco wasn't there either. As he stared at the empty chair behind his own, Ron found himself warring with relief and disappointment. At least this way he would be seated safely behind his desk and hopefully in control of his reactions when the other boy did turn up. With that thought, Ron turned back around and placed his arms on the desk, slumping forward he rested his chin on them, determined to stay that way until he heard Professor McGonagall begin the lesson.
He broke his vow less than a minute later. Hearing footsteps hurrying towards the open door, Ron was unable to resist sitting back up and looking anxiously toward the entrance, his stomach tying itself in knots and his heart beating rapidly in his chest.
Draco walked into the room, swept past Ron's desk and strode to the back of the classroom. Ron didn't dare turn to see what was happening but he couldn't fail to hear the loud "Move!" that was barked out (or fail to recognise the voice that said it). There was a shuffle of feet, the scrape of a chair and Ron knew someone had taken Draco's seat behind him. He didn't know who it was but he had a fucking good idea who it wasn't.
Hermione chose that moment to arrive and if she saw the devastation Ron was feeling written clear across his face, well, he really didn't give a shit.
He didn't give a shit about anything.
Hermione looked across the table at Harry and Seamus and shrugged. It was becoming clear to all of them that Ron wasn't going to come to lunch. She had no idea where he was. Harry had checked out the tower and Seamus had wandered around the grounds but neither had seen the other boy. The truth was that Hogwarts was so vast that anyone not wanting to be found could easily conceal themselves. They would just have to wait for Ron to come out of hiding.
Draco and Pansy were also missing from the Great Hall. Hermione hoped Pansy was talking some sense into Draco (and hoped it involved something sharp and painful). Sighing she returned her attention to the book on her lap; she'd be meeting Pansy soon and learning Draco's fate would have to wait until then. She didn't dare re-read Pansy's last instalment again in public, selecting an innocent looking early entry instead.
July 23rd
Finally I've finished packing and can spend some time catching up with you dear journal. Sometimes I think you're the only one I can turn to, the only one who understands what a complete wanker Draco is. Well, okay that's not quite true. Most of the school knows he's a wanker but you're the only one I can confide in on this matter. Everyone else would immediately go tattle to Draco and then I'd probably end up at the bottom of the lake, my feet weighed down with bludgers.
You'd think I'd at least be allowed to enjoy the Leaving Feast in peace after what I've had to put up with the rest of the year. But, oh no, that would just be too much to ask! Bloody Draco and his stupid Weasley obsession.
{~~~~~~}
I closed my eyes and prepared to duck. Draco was going to lose his shit so bad.
I can't believe Dumbledore just did that! We had won. The House Cup was ours. And then that silly old coot had actually had the gall to stand up and calmly announce that he'd decided to hand out some more points just so he could make sure that his precious Gryffindor won instead. How unfair is that?!
Oh yes, Draco was definitely going to go ballistic.
I scooted along the bench as far as I could (no point in getting caught in the cross fire).
"What the fuck was that?"
Yep, shit losing definitely about to happen.
I risked opening one eye. Draco looked furious (no surprise there) and was glaring over at the Gryffindor table where Potter and his little gang were grinning and cheering like idiots.
"Why did Potter get more points than Weasley? If it wasn't for the Weasel he wouldn't have even made it past the chess board. It was Weasley who sacrificed himself so Potter could go on. He should have got more points."
Wait. What?
I looked around and saw that Blaise was looking as confused as I felt.
"Draco," Blaise said slowly. "Why are you arguing in favour of Weasley?"
Draco tore his eyes away from the Gryffindors and glared at Blaise instead.
"I'm not!" he spat out. "I'm arguing against Potter."
Blaise turned raised eyebrows to me. Why do all these silly boys always expect me to sort Draco out? It's really starting to get very tiresome. I wanted to eat my dessert. I rolled my eyes at Blaise and moved back down the bench.
"Of course you are, dear," I said patting Draco on the arm. "Leave Draco alone, Blaise," I continued, turning to give Blaise an appropriately sour look. Really if the stupid boy was unwilling to deal with Draco's bizarre utterances then he shouldn't have opened his big bloody mouth in the first place.
At least my comforting words seemed to have calmed Draco and for a blissful few moments I was able to enjoy my profiteroles in peace. It didn't last of course.
"Why do we have to go home?" Draco suddenly asked, sounding even more peevish than usual. I was surprised, I thought he'd still be preoccupied with the loss of the Cup but he hadn't even bothered to look up when the banners had changed to Gryffindor colours. And why on earth wouldn't he want to go home?
"It will be so boring," he went on, digging his spoon into his dish and massacring the remains of his dessert. "There'll be no one to look at. Or sneer at."
He let out a loud sigh, dropped the spoon into the bowl and pushed the dish away. "I'm really going to miss Weasley," he said miserably and looked over to where the ginger boy was sitting.
This time Blaise wasn't the only one with raised eyebrows. It had gone very quiet all along our table.
Draco turned to look at us and suddenly seemed to realise that perhaps his words required further clarification. "You know," he said crossly. "Because he's so easy to rile. I'll miss making Weasley angry that's all. What else did you think, cretins?"
I narrowed my eyes and glared at the irritating little tit. I didn't know about anyone else but I knew what I was thinking at that precise moment…
But exactly where was I going to get my hands on a red hot poker at this time of night?
Draco was hiding. He knew it and he didn't even feel remotely ashamed or embarrassed about it.
Pansy was going to murder him when she got her hands on him. Although, Granger might well beat her to it (the look the Mudblood had given him as he'd left Transfiguration that morning had definitely held a promise of painful, bloody things to come).
Frankly he couldn't blame either of them; he rather wanted to smack himself around a bit too.
Merlin, he was such a moron. No, that was wrong, that implied ignorance and Draco had known exactly what he was doing. No, he was a coward that's what he was, a sniveling and pathetic coward. He deserved a good kicking.
Draco was furious with himself. What had happened to his resolve? Where had all his bluster and swagger gone? Draco had never had a problem pursuing what he wanted before, had never doubted his appeal and ability to reel in anyone he chose. Bloody Weasley.
After his talk with Pansy, Draco had been determined to see this thing through. Her words had bolstered his resolve and he'd left her feeling more than equal to the task. He'd fully intended to walk into that room and leave Weasley (and anyone foolish enough to try to stake their own claim – stupid fucking Potter and Finnigan) in no doubt as to what he wanted. But somewhere between leaving the Slytherin dungeon and reaching the classroom his nerve had failed him and instead he'd crawled to the back of the room, too scared to sit close, too afraid to look, to speak.
Too afraid of… everything.