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kennahijjaMerry Christmas, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
liriaen!
Disorganised me sent off that envelope way too late, so - at least it'll be online in time for X-mas :).
Love you! Lots! :)
Title: Habit, Mostly
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Ron Weasley was happy with the world as it was. He was winding his way home through Diagon Alley towards the flat he shared with Harry and Hermione with a distinct spring in his step. The autumn afternoon was clear and crisp, and the Chudley Cannons had battled the Appleby Arrows to a respectable draw in today's game. The celebratory butterbeers at the Leaky Cauldron, kept company by a couple of firewhiskeys, still warmed his insides.
He only realised he was grinning like a fool at random passers-by when a wizard in pinstriped robes raised an eyebrow at him. A young witch cocked her head and returned his smile with a saucy grin, while the elderly matron hurrying along in her wake frowned at Ron as if he had designs on her bags, already bulging with early Christmas shopping.
It didn't spoil his mood; if anything, he grinned even more broadly as he rounded the corner at Madam Malkin's, smiling at a slender blond boy coming towards him.
His smile morphed into a scowl when he recognised whom he was beaming at. The pointed chin, the silly long bangs, the restless, provocative grey eyes... For half a second, Draco Malfoy looked surprised. Then his expression settled into a familiar sneer.
It was typical, really – here was Ron, enjoying himself, and up came Malfoy to spoil it.
"Malfoy…" Ron drew the name out, layering it with contempt out of long habit. "Have they lifted your house arrest already, or are you running for it?"
Ron had neither seen nor heard of the ferret since the battle and the trials, but he knew Harry had negotiated a short period of confinement at home for Malfoy, and an even shorter one for his mother. Had it really been a year already?
The ferret's mouth curled in disgust, answering the question eloquently. Pity, that. Ron's fingers twitched at the thought of dragging Malfoy down to Auror Headquarters, just for the sheer pleasure of it.
Disgust deepened as Malfoy looked him over, and Ron could feel his ears heat. He knew how badly the loud orange Chudley Cannons scarf clashed with his hair, and his beloved old Quidditch robes were ratty. But who'd wear dress robes to a Quidditch game – well, apart from the ferret, probably.
Malfoy looked more his daddy's son than ever right down to the black silk hair tie, but a bit older, sharper. Figured – he'd probably had grief enough for having been a Death Eater. If the Ministry hadn't fined the Malfoys out of their Manor after the Battle of Hogwarts, it hadn't been for lack of trying. Not that you could tell from the ferret's getup – all rune-ornamented velvet with a poncy silver cloak that practically screeched 'wealth'.
"I hope your superiors are making sure you're not letting your Auror robes go to seed quite as badly, 'war hero' or not," Malfoy commented spitefully after giving Ron a lingering once-over that came close to earning him a hex.
"Still sore that we saved your arse – twice – in the battle of Hogwarts?" Ron shot back.
His body was gravitating towards a small thoroughfare between Madam Malkin's and the adjacent magical oddities shop, and Malfoy obliged him with a wide step of his own. If they came to hexes or blows, Ron would rather not be seen brawling in the middle of Diagon Alley. Kingsley Shacklebolt could get pretty shirty with Junior Aurors who made a spectacle out of themselves in public.
"You punched me from under an invisibility cloak," Malfoy pointed out.
Ron flushed a little. "We still saved your life, ferret face."
"Yes," Malfoy drawled, his grin as fleeting and sharp as a slash with a knife. "You did. And I haven't thanked you properly, have I?"
Ron was prepared for Malfoy's fist to come flying at his face, but not for the ferret to move up and against him. Malfoy's hand fisted in Ron's robe collar, twisting the scarf at his throat, backing him into the pathway and pushing him into the brick wall of Odric's Wizarding Oddities. Then he forced his mouth onto Ron's.
Ron felt as if a curse had hit him, right in the breastbone. His hands went icy, and the blood suddenly started to bubble in his veins. It was a lot like taking a faulty dose of Pepperup on top of being sick with the flu – hot and cold at the same time, sickness fluttering in his stomach, his head full of cotton. He watched his body's sluggish response as if he were standing next to it - his hand rose to push Malfoy away, then came to a halting stop somewhere between a brush and a shove.
Malfoy just leaned into him with all his body weight - and he wasn't a featherweight despite his slight looks - trapping Ron against the wall.
There was none of the tentative sweetness of kissing a girl. Malfoy kissed as dirty as he played, a sharp nip to Ron's bottom lip when Ron tried to press his lips together against the onslaught. Malfoy's chest was all hard angles where Ron was used to soft breasts, and Ron felt Malfoy's sharp hipbone where he'd inserted one knee between Ron's thighs to trap him more securely. Part of Ron wanted to nudge his groin forward to see if the bastard got off on this, but the hard heat inside his own trousers warned him that he'd give away far too much.
Ron gulped in a sharp lungful of air, then felt Malfoy breathe and suck it right out of him until Ron swayed, light-headed. Then Malfoy's tongue touched the inside of his bottom lip, and all Ron's thoughts went up in ashes like a phoenix on a burning day.
Ron yelped, a thoroughly embarrassing mewl half-muffled by Malfoy's mouth, and shoved Malfoy back, both palms pushing against his chest. The bastard caught himself with one hand against the wall while Ron took two huge steps away from him, shaking his robes out to make sure the folds would hide any inappropriate evidence.
His lips burned as if Malfoy's saliva had contained acid. Ron wanted to punch him in the mouth until he bled, then lean in to lick off the blood and draw more with his teeth. The image was so strong – so wrong - that Ron's stomach twisted and the pressure mounted in his groin.
He flinched when Malfoy closed the distance between them again, and watched the bastard's smirk deepen. Malfoy reached up to touch his cheek, not a patronising pat Ron could've understood and slap away, but stroking his stubbly cheek once, unsettlingly gentle.
"Well, thank you very much indeed, Weasley," the molesting little shite drawled, and Ron wanted nothing more than to whip out his wand, stun him and float him back to Auror Headquarters all the way through Diagon Alley, preferably upside-down. But what could he tell Kingsley? 'I brought him in because he waylaid and snogged me'?
"Let nobody say Malfoys aren't properly grateful." The bastard dipped his head so Ron could see a flash of pale lashes. "If you want more 'thanks', Weasley, you know where to find me."
He turned, robe hem swishing as if to invite Ron to hex him to kingdom come from behind. As much as he wanted to, Ron couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd walked into this, and he hadn't fought it - not hard enough, anyway.
He watched until Malfoy's robed form disappeared into a side street, never once looking back.
You know where to find me.
Ron remained rooted to the spot until he was sure Malfoy wouldn't come back. Around him, afternoon muted into evening. The magical lights in Diagon's shop windows were readying for battle with the encroaching dark while late shoppers made for the public Floo and early drinkers for the Cauldron. Just another wizarding night at the onset of the Christmas season.
And yet somewhere in the middle of it all, Ron's cosy, familiar world had flipped upside-down, and turned into a foreign country.
~ finis ~
liriaen! Disorganised me sent off that envelope way too late, so - at least it'll be online in time for X-mas :).
Love you! Lots! :)
Title: Habit, Mostly
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Ron Weasley was happy with the world as it was. He was winding his way home through Diagon Alley towards the flat he shared with Harry and Hermione with a distinct spring in his step. The autumn afternoon was clear and crisp, and the Chudley Cannons had battled the Appleby Arrows to a respectable draw in today's game. The celebratory butterbeers at the Leaky Cauldron, kept company by a couple of firewhiskeys, still warmed his insides.
He only realised he was grinning like a fool at random passers-by when a wizard in pinstriped robes raised an eyebrow at him. A young witch cocked her head and returned his smile with a saucy grin, while the elderly matron hurrying along in her wake frowned at Ron as if he had designs on her bags, already bulging with early Christmas shopping.
It didn't spoil his mood; if anything, he grinned even more broadly as he rounded the corner at Madam Malkin's, smiling at a slender blond boy coming towards him.
His smile morphed into a scowl when he recognised whom he was beaming at. The pointed chin, the silly long bangs, the restless, provocative grey eyes... For half a second, Draco Malfoy looked surprised. Then his expression settled into a familiar sneer.
It was typical, really – here was Ron, enjoying himself, and up came Malfoy to spoil it.
"Malfoy…" Ron drew the name out, layering it with contempt out of long habit. "Have they lifted your house arrest already, or are you running for it?"
Ron had neither seen nor heard of the ferret since the battle and the trials, but he knew Harry had negotiated a short period of confinement at home for Malfoy, and an even shorter one for his mother. Had it really been a year already?
The ferret's mouth curled in disgust, answering the question eloquently. Pity, that. Ron's fingers twitched at the thought of dragging Malfoy down to Auror Headquarters, just for the sheer pleasure of it.
Disgust deepened as Malfoy looked him over, and Ron could feel his ears heat. He knew how badly the loud orange Chudley Cannons scarf clashed with his hair, and his beloved old Quidditch robes were ratty. But who'd wear dress robes to a Quidditch game – well, apart from the ferret, probably.
Malfoy looked more his daddy's son than ever right down to the black silk hair tie, but a bit older, sharper. Figured – he'd probably had grief enough for having been a Death Eater. If the Ministry hadn't fined the Malfoys out of their Manor after the Battle of Hogwarts, it hadn't been for lack of trying. Not that you could tell from the ferret's getup – all rune-ornamented velvet with a poncy silver cloak that practically screeched 'wealth'.
"I hope your superiors are making sure you're not letting your Auror robes go to seed quite as badly, 'war hero' or not," Malfoy commented spitefully after giving Ron a lingering once-over that came close to earning him a hex.
"Still sore that we saved your arse – twice – in the battle of Hogwarts?" Ron shot back.
His body was gravitating towards a small thoroughfare between Madam Malkin's and the adjacent magical oddities shop, and Malfoy obliged him with a wide step of his own. If they came to hexes or blows, Ron would rather not be seen brawling in the middle of Diagon Alley. Kingsley Shacklebolt could get pretty shirty with Junior Aurors who made a spectacle out of themselves in public.
"You punched me from under an invisibility cloak," Malfoy pointed out.
Ron flushed a little. "We still saved your life, ferret face."
"Yes," Malfoy drawled, his grin as fleeting and sharp as a slash with a knife. "You did. And I haven't thanked you properly, have I?"
Ron was prepared for Malfoy's fist to come flying at his face, but not for the ferret to move up and against him. Malfoy's hand fisted in Ron's robe collar, twisting the scarf at his throat, backing him into the pathway and pushing him into the brick wall of Odric's Wizarding Oddities. Then he forced his mouth onto Ron's.
Ron felt as if a curse had hit him, right in the breastbone. His hands went icy, and the blood suddenly started to bubble in his veins. It was a lot like taking a faulty dose of Pepperup on top of being sick with the flu – hot and cold at the same time, sickness fluttering in his stomach, his head full of cotton. He watched his body's sluggish response as if he were standing next to it - his hand rose to push Malfoy away, then came to a halting stop somewhere between a brush and a shove.
Malfoy just leaned into him with all his body weight - and he wasn't a featherweight despite his slight looks - trapping Ron against the wall.
There was none of the tentative sweetness of kissing a girl. Malfoy kissed as dirty as he played, a sharp nip to Ron's bottom lip when Ron tried to press his lips together against the onslaught. Malfoy's chest was all hard angles where Ron was used to soft breasts, and Ron felt Malfoy's sharp hipbone where he'd inserted one knee between Ron's thighs to trap him more securely. Part of Ron wanted to nudge his groin forward to see if the bastard got off on this, but the hard heat inside his own trousers warned him that he'd give away far too much.
Ron gulped in a sharp lungful of air, then felt Malfoy breathe and suck it right out of him until Ron swayed, light-headed. Then Malfoy's tongue touched the inside of his bottom lip, and all Ron's thoughts went up in ashes like a phoenix on a burning day.
Ron yelped, a thoroughly embarrassing mewl half-muffled by Malfoy's mouth, and shoved Malfoy back, both palms pushing against his chest. The bastard caught himself with one hand against the wall while Ron took two huge steps away from him, shaking his robes out to make sure the folds would hide any inappropriate evidence.
His lips burned as if Malfoy's saliva had contained acid. Ron wanted to punch him in the mouth until he bled, then lean in to lick off the blood and draw more with his teeth. The image was so strong – so wrong - that Ron's stomach twisted and the pressure mounted in his groin.
He flinched when Malfoy closed the distance between them again, and watched the bastard's smirk deepen. Malfoy reached up to touch his cheek, not a patronising pat Ron could've understood and slap away, but stroking his stubbly cheek once, unsettlingly gentle.
"Well, thank you very much indeed, Weasley," the molesting little shite drawled, and Ron wanted nothing more than to whip out his wand, stun him and float him back to Auror Headquarters all the way through Diagon Alley, preferably upside-down. But what could he tell Kingsley? 'I brought him in because he waylaid and snogged me'?
"Let nobody say Malfoys aren't properly grateful." The bastard dipped his head so Ron could see a flash of pale lashes. "If you want more 'thanks', Weasley, you know where to find me."
He turned, robe hem swishing as if to invite Ron to hex him to kingdom come from behind. As much as he wanted to, Ron couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd walked into this, and he hadn't fought it - not hard enough, anyway.
He watched until Malfoy's robed form disappeared into a side street, never once looking back.
You know where to find me.
Ron remained rooted to the spot until he was sure Malfoy wouldn't come back. Around him, afternoon muted into evening. The magical lights in Diagon's shop windows were readying for battle with the encroaching dark while late shoppers made for the public Floo and early drinkers for the Cauldron. Just another wizarding night at the onset of the Christmas season.
And yet somewhere in the middle of it all, Ron's cosy, familiar world had flipped upside-down, and turned into a foreign country.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-24 03:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-27 03:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-24 04:17 pm (UTC)Thank you, dear!!! ♥
no subject
Date: 2007-12-27 03:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-27 03:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-26 01:41 pm (UTC)Yum! Just how I like it.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-27 03:21 pm (UTC)And seeing your most recent fic posted sent my heart ahopping (I'll get around to it, swear!).
Habit, Mostly
Date: 2007-12-27 02:31 am (UTC)The flipping of Ron's world was reflected so very well in the tone of your words - all went from warm and fuzzy to this feeling of cold dread and seduction in the end.
Re: Habit, Mostly
Date: 2007-12-27 03:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-29 11:57 am (UTC)Yes. Nom. Thank you again, lovely!
And I want rune-ornamented velvet, too.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-29 09:06 pm (UTC)Not a brilliant fic, granted, but I finally got to try R/D without Lucius!embellishments :).
Oh yes, me too... dunno why, but I kink out on Lucius!robes to no end ;). Everybody else drools over the pimpstick, but the robes... mmh.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-29 09:18 pm (UTC)No - it's always clothes, always. One of the perks of being into Cesare, I'd say. :)
no subject
Date: 2008-01-31 06:50 am (UTC)Love, love, love. Then again I'm hooked on your Ron...so I'd read whatever you have him as the star. Draco being the predator, was delicious. Love that