Title: Rogue Knight
Author: Makoto Sagara
Series: Harry Potter
Archive: The usual suspects; anywhere else, please ask first.
Category: drabble, pre-slash
Characters/Pairing: Draco/Harry pre-slash, Harry/Ginny
Warnings: slash, angst, language, ooc, EWE, post-Hogwarts
Disclaimers: I don’t own Harry Potter. No copyright infringement is intended nor is any money made from this piece of fanfiction.
Prompt: colour, vision, network
Summary: Harry is out for blood when Malfoy kisses him in front of everyone. Or so he thinks.
Author’s Note: This is the fifth drabble in a series I am referring to in my head as the “Knight Dealings.” The prompt is from my friend AxiomaticGrue.
When this whole mess started two months ago, the dreams, the thoughts about a stupid blond ponce, the need to avoid the Potion Masters at the Ministry, I would have laughed if anyone would’ve said that I’d willingly kiss Draco bloody Malfoy for even a second. And then I’d probably have hexed them or thrown a nice right cross to make them take it back.
But, no, the soft touch of his thin, velveteen lips against mine felt…sweet, even though he was kissing me like he needed me for living. And it was in a pub full of blokes and our mutual groups of friends. A fire settled in my belly as his hand in my hair massaged my scalp and his tongue tried to pry open my lips gently. It was all so gentle, so unexpected, so…much like that dream I’d had about the Knight Bus so long ago.
And then I heard Ron’s roar and I ripped myself away from Malfoy as if burned. “What the fuck?”
A light pink colour dusted his high cheekbones and it actually suited the bastard. The self-satisfied smirk on his lips wasn’t even a surprise either. Those obnoxiously grey eyes open and they’re nearly black against his pale skin and lashes. “I was merely showing your friend here the proper way to show interest in someone, instead of hanging off of them like some sort of barnacle.”
I could hear Seamus making disgruntled noises as his chair scraped against the floor and some shuffling behind me. George whispered something and two pairs of hands pulled me back. It was probably for the best, considering I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but the longer Malfoy stood there looking so pleased with himself, the more I could feel my anger growing.
Lucky for him, someone came and pulled on his arm, dragging him towards the pub’s door. Later, Neville told me it was Blaise Zabini. It didn’t really register until I thought back to Hogwarts and Slughorn’s Slug Club – the Slytherin who was there because his mother had been widowed seven times under suspicious circumstances. That was literally the only thing I could remember about him, since he hadn’t appeared to be close to the rest of his Housemates and neither of his parents were Death Eaters.
As soon as they were gone, all of my friends sort of looked at one another before Ron pulled me to the closest Apparation point, muttering under his breath about slimy Slytherins and pointy ferrets the whole time. “Why didn’t you hit him? Or let me?”
“Who the hell had time before his friend came up to drag Malfoy off? Besides, even if he doesn’t give a shit about things, I’ve got to work with him. Kingsley made it very obvious that I had to play nice with him because we’re grownups now.”
“Shit,” Ron muttered before sighing. “Well, I guess that makes sense, but you know that you should report him. I’m sure that Robards and Kingsley would be willing to let you stay away from Malfoy if they knew he was harassing you outside of work.”
“I’ll think about it.” I mean, what else could I say? It all made sense and if Malfoy kept at it, it would have to happen, wouldn’t it? But he was too smart for that. At work, he was professional and this was really the first time we’d exchanged words that weren’t about the potions he brewed for the Auror Corps since that day I’d walked into the Ministries laboratories. “Let’s just get home. I’m sure Gin and Mione are ready to send out more Aurors after us.”
“Yeah, mate. I don’t wanna end up on the couch again.”
Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ~~~~ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ
If only it had rested with that one (nearly) unwanted kiss from Malfoy. If only he’d gotten that I didn’t want to deal with him again. We’d never been friends. We’d saved one another a few times over the war and had ended as people who could work in the same building without someone dying. It was a good existence.
However, that damn kiss haunted me every night as I tried to sleep. I could still feel the softness of his lips, the subtle way he tried to get me to open my mouth and the soft scraping of his perfectly manicured nails in my scalp as he petted my hair. For two weeks, it kept me from getting enough rest that Gin and I ended up arguing. She went to stay with her parents, but that only made me feel worse, considering our wedding was three weeks away.
Despite the fact that the media had backed off to only reporting on my every movement to once a week, it didn’t take long for the Daily Prophet to find out that there was trouble with my fiancée and I, splashing our private lives all over the front page. And it was only made better by walking into a love letter, from Malfoy, in my bloody locker while changing after a particularly dangerous mission.
How awful it is to hear about you and the Weasley girl having issues in the romance department. Do hope this won’t stop your upcoming wedding. I know that most of the Wizarding World is waiting on tenterhooks for the moment you two exchange vows and she finally becomes “Mrs Potter”.
Not that I’m one of them. I can’t stop thinking about the way your eyes slowly opened after I kissed you. Your lips are softer than I imagined and your hair is perfect just the way it is. I want to do it again. You know where to find me if you’re ready.
I read through it over and over again until my vision crossed the words made no sense. He made no sense. What the hell was his game? Once I got over the shock, I balled up the parchment and attempted to set it on fire with a well-timed Incendio, but for some reason, the paper wouldn’t catch on fire and when I tried to throw it in the trash, it popped right back up to hit me in the face. Finally, I gave up and shoved the damned thing into my coat’s pocket before trying to calm down.
It wasn’t going to happen.
Of course, it being Friday night, he was probably with his stupid friends at that pub, The Dragon and the Cauldron. Because of course he would, right? It didn’t even take a second thought to figure out where he’d be, let alone some sort of intricate informant network. And there he was with Zabini, looking pleased and ridiculous and I wanted to hex that placid little smile right off his pointy face.
“Malfoy, we need to talk.”