Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my imagination. I was inspired by another romance novel i read and J.K. Rowlings wonderful world. Enjoy!
Chapter 48
"Wrapped so Pretty"
Two days had passed since he'd receive word of his parents meeting, and he wasn't sure if he should worry about their little get together or not. There had been no letter, nor a response to Draco's owl yesterday. However he had received a different type of letter, this one he had been expecting; it was a party invitation.
To get his mind off the troubles with his parent, Hermione insisted that he take up the offer. Hermione read the letter to him, while he made their evening sandwiches. There was a party being thrown by the guys. The new players for the season had been chosen, and Draco made the team for another year.
Slicing their lunch in half, he passed a plate sided with fruit over to his wife. He didn't feel much like facing his team just yet, not since the last disaster, and the way it nearly left the two newcomers with their noggins nearly knocked off. And then there was the marshmallow prank Hermione pulled on him in the locker room, that was surely still a fresh one with the guys.
Sunlight streamed through the bathroom window, and in the next room she was humming a soft tune as she laid his clothes out on the bed. He made up his mind with a great deal of influence from her, that he would at the least make an appearance at the party. Draco agreed, partly due to the fact that he'd never missed a pre-season bash before.
After washing and grooming his hair, he stared at his partial nudeness in the mirror.
Turning his arms, he examined their muscles.
He inhaled, deeply, tightening in his abs, and it form the solid v-cut just below his mid.
He was fit, tight and lean as always. He tried to imagine what a dad was suppose to look like, especially how he would look as a father when the years rolled by. But all he think about was how he didn't look now. He lost that boyish appeal ages ago. He was definitely a full man now, but Draco had always suspected that when the time came, that he would look more like his own father? Perhaps he'd grow his hair longer.
It occurred to him as he sat at the bar, sipping on a glass of brandy, that is was part of the reason he didn't want to show up today, loud music, hard boos, and girls, a shit load of girls. Blonde ones, bouncy red heads, overly-easy brunettes.
A group of young witches huddled over one of his team mates Tupper, in one corner of the room, three of them not old enough to be out of wizarding school, and yet Draco had to admit, they showed all the signs of future man killers.
There was one in particular, she was newly eighteen, blonde, beautiful and had the body of a goddess. She was a foreign-witch and called herself Amazing Gracie. Gracie came strolling in glued under the armpit of a new Falcon recruitee from Durmstrang.
As far as Draco could tell the only thing amazing about her was the way she skillfully hand painted her tits with the artwork of stars and stripes so that they looked like a bikini top.
Pulanski came up beside him. "Did Grace show you what she could do with a broom stick yet?" he asked, slapping Draco on the back and redirecting him back to the bar.
"No, but I beat you've seen it."
"Shit yeh, more than once" laughed Pulanski.
Pulanski shouted over the music, for the bartender. Turning around, he leaned back against the bar. "With a body like that, anything goes." he said. "Plus there one here that's dying to meet yer. Look I know yer all married and what not, but Draco ye got to meet her."
To his surprise, his friend gave a loud whistle to another group of really young looking witches across the room. "Now, —oh yeah nearly forgot, she says she knows ye. We call her La la, but does the name Delacour sound familiar. Says she the kid sister or something like that?"
Draco shook his head and glanced around looking for an escape route out, but couldn't find one.
"She's a real frenchy-type," said Pulanski "she speaks all fancy like. But mate is she a looker, part-veela too. —HEY! YA YOU, YEAH COME OVER HERE FOR A SEC! —Draco, she does this thing, when she takes her knickers off! and ye have to put a cherry in her. . .well, ye know . . .mate — she calls it the P.T., and I've never seen anything like it ever."
Draco always hung with these guys, and had always found them a shit loud of laughs. But he wasn't sure he wanted to see La la's famous PT show any more than he wanted to be at this party. He decided it was time to put his skills into action. Here's the way this works. Witches have to have rules. It was a lot like Quidditch and he should know, he lived by these skillful tricks of avoiding groupies so well, that he had it patented, sealed and validated.
When a girl like La la, has you as her target, there are some simple actions you should follow. Rule one, direct contact should be avoided whenever possible. If unavoidable, blame any form of touching or vague brushing as a state of active passivity. Rule two, in most cases the best form of defense is always absolute and complete avoidance. If this isn't possible, then you had to revert back to rule one.
Rule three, be damn careful what you say or do and never give her anything worth talking to her friends about, or the reporters!
This gives her complete control over the situation, without you ever being aware she's out spreading lies on how good or how bad her sagging session with you really was.
People are dumb, and have a habit of thinking that if its printed, then it must be legit. So in Draco's little book of know how to rules. It clearly states that by following rules one through three there's no chance in inadvertently initiating any misguided messages. Cooperate with the flow, but initiate nothing.
The final and most important rule of all, was the fourth. These girls were vicious, collecting player numbers was what they lived for. So it was in your best interest to never intentionally piss them off, or embarrass them.
"Hey where's Blaise? I haven't seen him." asked Draco, drawing his attention back to the party and the music.
"Aaaaw he's not coming," said Pulanski "something about needing to put in a new floor."
Draco looked at Pulanski oddly for a moment.
"Yeah I know, it's a bummer. Gone and got himself hitched, and now he's doing home remodeling an` what have ye. Glad you haven't gone all soft on us. Ye kno he's leaving the team! Yep, turned in his resignation last week the bugger. I suppose that leaves a big gapping hole for ye to fill Draco."
Draco was caught a little off guard by the news, wondering why hadn't he heard of it until now.
"I know they haven't talked to you yet, but it's in the bag mate. Tupper turned'em down flat, says he ain't up for the responsibility. So the way I see it, that leaves me and your's truly." Pulanski jabbed his thumb in Draco's direction.
The bartender slide his glass across the slick countertop and it began to fill up with a golden buttery liquor. "I vote for ye Draco," said Pulanski after picking up his glass. "ye'd be a better fellow for coaching an`what have ye. I need me space ye know. I need me freedom too, hell mate, I've just started counting this seasons new pussy-line up, I ain't no coach!"
Draco nodded in agreement, then once Pulanski was distracted, he slipped behind the bar and out a back door.