a Harry Potter AU by SkoosiePants (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} dirtytrousers) wrote,@ 2005-07-03 16:46:00 |
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In which Ron is clearly a masochist
start at the beginning | what went before | this installment | next installment
Ron figured he must’ve been a masochist of some sort to show up at Malfoy’s office for work on Monday morning. Though he honestly needed the money. And the professor’s odd behavior of late was certainly intriguing, to say the least.
But whatever sight Ron had been expecting when he pushed open the half-ajar door, it wasn’t the blond’s arse tipped up in the air, down on his hands and knees, peering under his desk and… cooing softly?
“Er… Professor?” Ron asked tentatively, and Malfoy jerked his head up, slamming it into the underside of the desk. Ron flinched and backed up a step.
“Fuck,” Draco growled, then sent a glare over his shoulder. “Ever hear of knocking, Weasley?”
Ron shrugged, failing to suppress a small, amused smile at Malfoy’s disgruntlement. “Door was open.”
Draco flicked his gaze under the desk, then back at Ron. “Yes, well.”
“Well.” Ron nodded. The blond seemed more uncomfortable than anything else, and Ron prodded him with a, “Work?”
“Right, right,” he said distractedly, eyes drawn back towards the desk, bottom lip pulled into his mouth, gnawing thoughtfully.
Ron sighed. “Is there something wrong?” he asked, not entirely sure why he cared. Or maybe ‘care’ wasn’t the right word. He was curious, though, since Malfoy had yet to insult him, and he’d been standing there for a good five minutes.
Draco was trying very hard not to let on that he had a kitten under his desk.
A dark tabby with green eyes and a snaggletooth that gave him a mean street edge. A tabby kitten that hissed at him every time he came near, was glowering at him from its semi-hidden position, and made Draco’s heart soften to the point of smiling. It wouldn’t do for Weasley to see him in that state.
Pansy had been in a royal snit the night before. So much so, actually, that she hadn’t made any sense at all, groused darkly about Potter and idiot boys, handed him a spitting kitten, and told him that if he didn’t bring the feline to his office in the morning, she’d bare-handedly rip out his heart and feed it to Malcolm. Which wasn’t entirely threatening, really, considering it was Malcolm, but still. Ew.
Of course, he knew exactly what her game was. Kittens. Weasley. Kittens and Weasley. A redhead and a roly-poly fuzzy feline. Oh, look how adorably cute and hot! It was rather predictable and trite, really, but damn it if it didn’t work amazingly well.
Because the kitten, seeing that Draco’s attention was diverted, darted for the office door, but took a terribly fortunate detour up Ron’s trouser leg.
Ron yelped and automatically grabbed for it, and instead of hissing and clawing at him, the little darling waved a tiny paw and mewed.
Draco felt his heart lurch inside his rib cage.
“What’ve we here?” Ron asked, voice low and soft.
My bachelor days crumbling before my very eyes, Draco answered in his head. Lord above, he had a tremendous gay crush on the bloke. There was absolutely no doubting that at all. And what was it that Macmillan said? That he had to figure out what he was doing with Ron and just… do it?
“Weasley,” Draco said, surprised that his throat still worked passably and that he only sounded vaguely out of breath.
Ron’s head snapped up, clear blue eyes questioning. “Yeah?”
“Would you care to join me for dinner Thursday night?”
Brows rising ‘til they almost disappeared beneath his fringe, Ron echoed incredulously, “Dinner?”
Letting out an impatient huff, Draco rolled his wrist in the air. “Yes, dinner. Food. A date,” he clarified. He wasn’t leaving anything to chance.
Ron stared at him with a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if he’d just thrown up, and his mouth felt as if he’d swallowed about ten cotton balls. Really, it wasn’t unlike a mild hangover. Draco Malfoy had asked him out on a date. Professor Draco Malfoy, evil incarnate and all around bastard, had asked him out on a date. It must’ve been some sort of trick; get him out, then trip him up verbally and physically.
Well, there was no way in hell he was going to willingly subject himself to that. Ron wasn’t that stupid - that was just begging for a public whipping right there. “Um. Yes?”
“Excellent,” Draco said stiffly, relief seeping down his spine. For a moment there he thought the redhead would refuse. He pointed to a stack of papers on the edge of his desk. “You can start marking those today. I’m off to class.”
Ron nodded dumbly, kitten held up almost defensively, close to his neck.
Draco spared the fuzzy animal a small scritch behind its ears as he passed, earning a menacing growl from the cute bugger, and he gave Ron a smirk and a nod, taking in his slightly stunned expression with a measure of satisfaction. He really should buy Pansy something lovely in appreciation.
Or perhaps he should just have a friendly chat with that Potter fellow.
next installment
start at the beginning | what went before | this installment | next installment
Ron figured he must’ve been a masochist of some sort to show up at Malfoy’s office for work on Monday morning. Though he honestly needed the money. And the professor’s odd behavior of late was certainly intriguing, to say the least.
But whatever sight Ron had been expecting when he pushed open the half-ajar door, it wasn’t the blond’s arse tipped up in the air, down on his hands and knees, peering under his desk and… cooing softly?
“Er… Professor?” Ron asked tentatively, and Malfoy jerked his head up, slamming it into the underside of the desk. Ron flinched and backed up a step.
“Fuck,” Draco growled, then sent a glare over his shoulder. “Ever hear of knocking, Weasley?”
Ron shrugged, failing to suppress a small, amused smile at Malfoy’s disgruntlement. “Door was open.”
Draco flicked his gaze under the desk, then back at Ron. “Yes, well.”
“Well.” Ron nodded. The blond seemed more uncomfortable than anything else, and Ron prodded him with a, “Work?”
“Right, right,” he said distractedly, eyes drawn back towards the desk, bottom lip pulled into his mouth, gnawing thoughtfully.
Ron sighed. “Is there something wrong?” he asked, not entirely sure why he cared. Or maybe ‘care’ wasn’t the right word. He was curious, though, since Malfoy had yet to insult him, and he’d been standing there for a good five minutes.
Draco was trying very hard not to let on that he had a kitten under his desk.
A dark tabby with green eyes and a snaggletooth that gave him a mean street edge. A tabby kitten that hissed at him every time he came near, was glowering at him from its semi-hidden position, and made Draco’s heart soften to the point of smiling. It wouldn’t do for Weasley to see him in that state.
Pansy had been in a royal snit the night before. So much so, actually, that she hadn’t made any sense at all, groused darkly about Potter and idiot boys, handed him a spitting kitten, and told him that if he didn’t bring the feline to his office in the morning, she’d bare-handedly rip out his heart and feed it to Malcolm. Which wasn’t entirely threatening, really, considering it was Malcolm, but still. Ew.
Of course, he knew exactly what her game was. Kittens. Weasley. Kittens and Weasley. A redhead and a roly-poly fuzzy feline. Oh, look how adorably cute and hot! It was rather predictable and trite, really, but damn it if it didn’t work amazingly well.
Because the kitten, seeing that Draco’s attention was diverted, darted for the office door, but took a terribly fortunate detour up Ron’s trouser leg.
Ron yelped and automatically grabbed for it, and instead of hissing and clawing at him, the little darling waved a tiny paw and mewed.
Draco felt his heart lurch inside his rib cage.
“What’ve we here?” Ron asked, voice low and soft.
My bachelor days crumbling before my very eyes, Draco answered in his head. Lord above, he had a tremendous gay crush on the bloke. There was absolutely no doubting that at all. And what was it that Macmillan said? That he had to figure out what he was doing with Ron and just… do it?
“Weasley,” Draco said, surprised that his throat still worked passably and that he only sounded vaguely out of breath.
Ron’s head snapped up, clear blue eyes questioning. “Yeah?”
“Would you care to join me for dinner Thursday night?”
Brows rising ‘til they almost disappeared beneath his fringe, Ron echoed incredulously, “Dinner?”
Letting out an impatient huff, Draco rolled his wrist in the air. “Yes, dinner. Food. A date,” he clarified. He wasn’t leaving anything to chance.
Ron stared at him with a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if he’d just thrown up, and his mouth felt as if he’d swallowed about ten cotton balls. Really, it wasn’t unlike a mild hangover. Draco Malfoy had asked him out on a date. Professor Draco Malfoy, evil incarnate and all around bastard, had asked him out on a date. It must’ve been some sort of trick; get him out, then trip him up verbally and physically.
Well, there was no way in hell he was going to willingly subject himself to that. Ron wasn’t that stupid - that was just begging for a public whipping right there. “Um. Yes?”
“Excellent,” Draco said stiffly, relief seeping down his spine. For a moment there he thought the redhead would refuse. He pointed to a stack of papers on the edge of his desk. “You can start marking those today. I’m off to class.”
Ron nodded dumbly, kitten held up almost defensively, close to his neck.
Draco spared the fuzzy animal a small scritch behind its ears as he passed, earning a menacing growl from the cute bugger, and he gave Ron a smirk and a nod, taking in his slightly stunned expression with a measure of satisfaction. He really should buy Pansy something lovely in appreciation.
Or perhaps he should just have a friendly chat with that Potter fellow.
next installment
