| a Harry Potter AU by SkoosiePants ( @ 2006-11-13 14:20:00 |
In which Ron isn't a leggy Greyhound named Di
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Draco paced the length of his hallway, phone against his ear. “I’m happy for you,” he said.
“No, you’re not,” Pansy countered sunily.
“No, of course I’m not,” he snapped. “You’re dating a complete mess. Less than ten minutes in his company and I wanted to tear my hair out.” He wouldn’t have, of course, because it was his hair, but he’d been sorely tempted.
There was a pause. Then a low, dangerous, “What do you mean, Draco?”
“Um.” Draco pressed his lips together, mind frantically searching for any way the conversation wouldn’t end up with him dead. And then his intercom buzzed and he tripped over, “Oh, the door, must fly, talk to you soon, Pans,” and fumbled for the off button. He’d deal with that aftermath much, much later.
Thumbing the intercom with near relief, he said, “Yes?” much more cheerily than normal.
Silence.
Draco’s brows knit together and he leaned into the button again. “Di? Are you out again?” he asked, waiting for an answering woof. He still couldn’t quite figure out how his neighbor’s Greyhound learned to buzz his flat, but it happened at least once a week.
“Di?”
“Weasley? Why didn’t you just say?” Draco huffed in only slight annoyance.
“I—”
“Just come up,” he growled, unlocking the door. The back and forth was ridiculous. His heart fluttered a little in his rib cage. It was disconcerting, but he couldn’t bring himself to overly care.
He cracked his door and debated a pose - slouching against the wall? Lounging on the couch? - but before he could decide which would properly display his best attributes, Ron was there, pushing the door open with a wide palm and a tentative, “Draco?”
Henry, hearing his voice, darted out from under the recliner and wound his way around Ron’s boots as he stepped inside, and Draco fought the embarrassing compulsion to do the same.
As it was, he moved towards him and slid a hand up to cup his nape and tugged him down so their foreheads touched. “This is bound to end horribly, you know,” he pointed out.
Ron nodded, a smile slowly creeping over his face. “Yeah.”
next installment
start at the beginning | what went before | this installment | next installment
Draco paced the length of his hallway, phone against his ear. “I’m happy for you,” he said.
“No, you’re not,” Pansy countered sunily.
“No, of course I’m not,” he snapped. “You’re dating a complete mess. Less than ten minutes in his company and I wanted to tear my hair out.” He wouldn’t have, of course, because it was his hair, but he’d been sorely tempted.
There was a pause. Then a low, dangerous, “What do you mean, Draco?”
“Um.” Draco pressed his lips together, mind frantically searching for any way the conversation wouldn’t end up with him dead. And then his intercom buzzed and he tripped over, “Oh, the door, must fly, talk to you soon, Pans,” and fumbled for the off button. He’d deal with that aftermath much, much later.
Thumbing the intercom with near relief, he said, “Yes?” much more cheerily than normal.
Silence.
Draco’s brows knit together and he leaned into the button again. “Di? Are you out again?” he asked, waiting for an answering woof. He still couldn’t quite figure out how his neighbor’s Greyhound learned to buzz his flat, but it happened at least once a week.
“Di?”
“Weasley? Why didn’t you just say?” Draco huffed in only slight annoyance.
“I—”
“Just come up,” he growled, unlocking the door. The back and forth was ridiculous. His heart fluttered a little in his rib cage. It was disconcerting, but he couldn’t bring himself to overly care.
He cracked his door and debated a pose - slouching against the wall? Lounging on the couch? - but before he could decide which would properly display his best attributes, Ron was there, pushing the door open with a wide palm and a tentative, “Draco?”
Henry, hearing his voice, darted out from under the recliner and wound his way around Ron’s boots as he stepped inside, and Draco fought the embarrassing compulsion to do the same.
As it was, he moved towards him and slid a hand up to cup his nape and tugged him down so their foreheads touched. “This is bound to end horribly, you know,” he pointed out.
Ron nodded, a smile slowly creeping over his face. “Yeah.”
next installment