Having a little fun with Dungeon Watch

[icarus]

lizardspots got me in the mood to write Ron/Draco, and my research paper is not moving along very well. I'm in a rotten Malfoy-esque mood.



"Oh holy FUCK!"

The shout caused house-elves up and down the ringing halls to look up from their afternoon chores, blinking. Then Inky returned to restacking the books in the Malfoy third floor library, hovering cautiously out of reach; Ipsquick resumed firing quelling charms on the Ferns in the second floor hall, genus ichathi malignus, to water them. Lickspittle continued to squeak for help - alas, the others were far too busy - as she was dragged down those steps to her doom.

Aside from the shout, it was a normal morning at the Manor.

"Weasley..." a voice drawled. "You are not walking out of my house wearing a sheet, so sit down."

"WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY CLOTHES!?"

"The house-elves probably picked them up from where you threw them -"

"--Awk!"

"Nice show, Weasel. Yeah, that's the other reason you're not leaving with my sheet: magical hospital corners. They keep you from rolling out of bed."

"WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING HERE?"

There was a moment's stunned silence. Then a short laugh. "You mean to tell me that you don't remember anything from Potter's party?"

"No!" Ron's voice was emphatic. "Do you think I'd be here if I did?"

The next pause was thoughtful, and long. One could almost hear Draco Malfoy's eyes glitter.

"Oh..." There was a quick intake of breath. "We didn't... we couldn't --"

"You're as slow as ever, Weasley." There was a snide pause, "or should I say 'Ron' now?"

"-- oh, fuck, you can't tell a soul! God help me," a thump-thump of bare footsteps, "if you tell anyone, Malfoy, you're gonna regret it."

"You're in no position to make threats, Weasley." The sheets rustled with a sound much like someone folding their arms behind their head. "But I'll tell you what you can do."

Draco licked his lips and couldn't believe his good luck. This had been a monumental blunder. But it seemed that Weasley did not remember he had been too drunk to fly when Mister-Gryffindor-In-Shining-Armor offered to take him home; nor that he, a Malfoy, couldn't get it up the night before. Now if he played his cards right.... well. This might even last till the end of term.



I think I'll go squash some house elves now.

ETA: Here's a rough context for the story Voldemort's dead, the Malfoys switched sides (conveniently) and Draco had to suck it up and go to Harry's party.

Comments

[icarusancalion.livejournal.com]

*Icarus pins Ron to the floor.*

"Have at him, Draco." Draco smiles.

"Nooooo!"

Yes. I am evil.


Icarus

[nataliadarimini.livejournal.com]

*laughs and points and does generally nothing to help poor Ron*