hp_ficathon!
The Slytherin dungeons are always cold. In winter, we freeze. Those who know warming charms slip through winter warm but exhausted from their constant use on themselves and everyone else, and those who don’t wrap up in everything they have and stand in line for a charm, if they can swallow their pride. It takes most only a few weeks of snow and ice to simply join the queue.
And they wonder why Slytherins are cold. None more so than Draco Malfoy. He was one of the few to never join the queue for a warming charm, even in first year. He never shivered, and never showed relief when he entered the warm great hall in the morning. I have never been to Malfoy Manor, but Pansy tells me it’s always cold, even in Summer. Perhaps he’s used to it. Professor Snape says his father was just the same, and Draco is very much like his father.
He isn’t his father, of course, and I shouldn’t have been surprised when I walked into a broom closet and found him underneath Potter against a wall. I shouldn’t have been, but I was. I supposed that I would notice, if something changed, but I didn’t. I don’t think anything really changed: I think they still mean it when they beat each other bloody in the halls, and then they go to detention together and fuck.
So Draco’s got his little Gryffindor lover to keep him warm, now. They rest of us, I suppose, will freeze.
Title: Condemned
Author: celebriangel
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #6 - At the Turn of the Tide
Date: 08/05/06
Summary: Pansy knows she is condemned.
Warning: none
Pairing: mentions of H/D (because I can't not include it)
Notes: I don't know if I've stayed very close to the prompt...oops.
I never wanted to join Voldemort. Few of us, I suppose, really did - most of us knew enough about the last war to realise that Voldemort’s was not the winning side. He was a madman, obviously, and treated his followers little better than his enemies. Still, off most of us marched to get the Dark Mark, either out of a twisted sense of duty or because there was nothing else to do. I was the latter.
Draco was the former. There was something chilling about the way Draco loved Lucius - or maybe it was more the way Lucius coldly, patently, did not love Draco back. In any case Draco only ever loved two people: his father, Voldemort’s right hand man, and Potter. I was amazed that Draco loved anyone at all, but he was a strong person. I suppose something of himself must have survived Lucius. He joined the Death Eaters for Lucius, turned spy for Potter, and died for both of them. Lucius was disappointed; Potter was grief-stricken. He killed Voldemort the following month, and hasn’t been seen since.
I think, if it hadn’t been for Draco, Voldemort wouldn’t be dead, and I wouldn’t be here, awaiting my trial. On the other hand, I would have died sooner or later anyway, and at least I get a trial. I was never high in the Death Eater ranks: it was hardly a sensible idea for continued survival. But we all die in the end. I knew that when I joined the Death Eaters.
“We are here to witness the trial of miss Pansy Parkinson, suspected Death Eater.” I don’t recognise the judge. He’s young, perhaps only a few years older than me. New to the job, I suppose, after his predecessor was murdered.
“Who will speak for the defendant?”
I don’t expect anyone to. My parents are dead and so is Draco. Not that my parents would have spoken for me anyway.
“I will.” Potter’s voice. What is he doing here? He stands up and pulls his hood back, stepping slowly towards the witness box.
I don’t hear what he says. Something about not having a choice, hypocrisy, and survival. I’m not sure what he means to accomplish: I have the Dark Mark. They have to convict me.
They do convict me. With ten years in Azkaban, House arrest afterwards, and confiscation of everything I’ve ever owned, practically. But I won’t be Kissed. It’s hard to believe. I survived. I can survive five years with Voldemort, so I can survive as long as it takes in Azkaban.
Potter comes to see me after the trial.
“Why did you do that?” But I already know.
“You were Draco’s friend.” He says. “And if they want to send people to Azkaban for killing people, mst of the Aurors should be there. I should be there,” he takes a breath, “And Draco should be here.”
“Yes.” I say. He thinks it isn’t fair, but that’s the way it works. The winners punish the losers, and I’m lucky to be alive.
Ron and Hermione come up behind him. “Why did you do that?” Ron says. “She’s a Death Eater; she deserves to be Kissed!”
“No.” he says. They don’t know about Draco. Maybe they don’t know why he’s been hiding for six months.
“What will you do now?” I ask.
He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a shard of his wand. “Take care, Pansy,” he says, and kisses me on the cheek. “I’m finished with the Wizarding World.” He walks out of the door. I think, for a minute, that he’s more condemned than I.
Title: Savage
Author: celebriangel
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #16 - Savage
Date: 08/05/06
Summary: There's something savage about Draco's mouth
Warning: mentions of naughty things.
Pairing: H/D
There’s something savage about Draco’s mouth. It's hard, made for smirking and sneering, even if his lips are unexpectedly full and girlish. Whenever he opens it a stream of vitriol comes out, and whatever is said about sticks and stones, Draco’s words are good at making him angry. He wonders why.
It is dinnertime, and Harry is not hungry. He rarely is, now. He wanders Hogwarts, liking its emptiness, and that he needs neither map nor cloak.
“Potter, what are you doing here?”
“Walking. Is that a problem?”
Malfoy seems to think. “Well. As long as you avoid me. I wouldn’t want to get your mudblood mother’s filth all over me.” He smiles viciously, and Harry runs and pins him to the wall, not bothering to check if there are any Professors around.He pressed his whole body to press Draco against the wall, needing all his strangth to keep the larger boy from escaping, and forces one arm under his chin.
But Draco only smirks that horrible smirk of his, and he’s still won. “Isn’t this interesting, Potter? Perhaps you’re more fond of me that you’d care to admit.”
Harry flushes, realising that his hips are pinning Draco’s to the wall and that he’s never been so close to another person before. He lets go a little and Draco lunges forward and kisses him as hard as he can, so that Harry can taste his own blood. He is suddenly glad of the pressure of their hips grinding painfully, and Draco leaves his bruised mouth and traces a path of red marks down his neck, and then down his chest.
An hour later, Harry stumbles out of a broom closet, hurting all over and covered in bruises.
Now he knows that Draco’s mouth is better at making him come.
And they wonder why Slytherins are cold. None more so than Draco Malfoy. He was one of the few to never join the queue for a warming charm, even in first year. He never shivered, and never showed relief when he entered the warm great hall in the morning. I have never been to Malfoy Manor, but Pansy tells me it’s always cold, even in Summer. Perhaps he’s used to it. Professor Snape says his father was just the same, and Draco is very much like his father.
He isn’t his father, of course, and I shouldn’t have been surprised when I walked into a broom closet and found him underneath Potter against a wall. I shouldn’t have been, but I was. I supposed that I would notice, if something changed, but I didn’t. I don’t think anything really changed: I think they still mean it when they beat each other bloody in the halls, and then they go to detention together and fuck.
So Draco’s got his little Gryffindor lover to keep him warm, now. They rest of us, I suppose, will freeze.
Title: Condemned
Author: celebriangel
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #6 - At the Turn of the Tide
Date: 08/05/06
Summary: Pansy knows she is condemned.
Warning: none
Pairing: mentions of H/D (because I can't not include it)
Notes: I don't know if I've stayed very close to the prompt...oops.
I never wanted to join Voldemort. Few of us, I suppose, really did - most of us knew enough about the last war to realise that Voldemort’s was not the winning side. He was a madman, obviously, and treated his followers little better than his enemies. Still, off most of us marched to get the Dark Mark, either out of a twisted sense of duty or because there was nothing else to do. I was the latter.
Draco was the former. There was something chilling about the way Draco loved Lucius - or maybe it was more the way Lucius coldly, patently, did not love Draco back. In any case Draco only ever loved two people: his father, Voldemort’s right hand man, and Potter. I was amazed that Draco loved anyone at all, but he was a strong person. I suppose something of himself must have survived Lucius. He joined the Death Eaters for Lucius, turned spy for Potter, and died for both of them. Lucius was disappointed; Potter was grief-stricken. He killed Voldemort the following month, and hasn’t been seen since.
I think, if it hadn’t been for Draco, Voldemort wouldn’t be dead, and I wouldn’t be here, awaiting my trial. On the other hand, I would have died sooner or later anyway, and at least I get a trial. I was never high in the Death Eater ranks: it was hardly a sensible idea for continued survival. But we all die in the end. I knew that when I joined the Death Eaters.
“We are here to witness the trial of miss Pansy Parkinson, suspected Death Eater.” I don’t recognise the judge. He’s young, perhaps only a few years older than me. New to the job, I suppose, after his predecessor was murdered.
“Who will speak for the defendant?”
I don’t expect anyone to. My parents are dead and so is Draco. Not that my parents would have spoken for me anyway.
“I will.” Potter’s voice. What is he doing here? He stands up and pulls his hood back, stepping slowly towards the witness box.
I don’t hear what he says. Something about not having a choice, hypocrisy, and survival. I’m not sure what he means to accomplish: I have the Dark Mark. They have to convict me.
They do convict me. With ten years in Azkaban, House arrest afterwards, and confiscation of everything I’ve ever owned, practically. But I won’t be Kissed. It’s hard to believe. I survived. I can survive five years with Voldemort, so I can survive as long as it takes in Azkaban.
Potter comes to see me after the trial.
“Why did you do that?” But I already know.
“You were Draco’s friend.” He says. “And if they want to send people to Azkaban for killing people, mst of the Aurors should be there. I should be there,” he takes a breath, “And Draco should be here.”
“Yes.” I say. He thinks it isn’t fair, but that’s the way it works. The winners punish the losers, and I’m lucky to be alive.
Ron and Hermione come up behind him. “Why did you do that?” Ron says. “She’s a Death Eater; she deserves to be Kissed!”
“No.” he says. They don’t know about Draco. Maybe they don’t know why he’s been hiding for six months.
“What will you do now?” I ask.
He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a shard of his wand. “Take care, Pansy,” he says, and kisses me on the cheek. “I’m finished with the Wizarding World.” He walks out of the door. I think, for a minute, that he’s more condemned than I.
Title: Savage
Author: celebriangel
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #16 - Savage
Date: 08/05/06
Summary: There's something savage about Draco's mouth
Warning: mentions of naughty things.
Pairing: H/D
There’s something savage about Draco’s mouth. It's hard, made for smirking and sneering, even if his lips are unexpectedly full and girlish. Whenever he opens it a stream of vitriol comes out, and whatever is said about sticks and stones, Draco’s words are good at making him angry. He wonders why.
It is dinnertime, and Harry is not hungry. He rarely is, now. He wanders Hogwarts, liking its emptiness, and that he needs neither map nor cloak.
“Potter, what are you doing here?”
“Walking. Is that a problem?”
Malfoy seems to think. “Well. As long as you avoid me. I wouldn’t want to get your mudblood mother’s filth all over me.” He smiles viciously, and Harry runs and pins him to the wall, not bothering to check if there are any Professors around.He pressed his whole body to press Draco against the wall, needing all his strangth to keep the larger boy from escaping, and forces one arm under his chin.
But Draco only smirks that horrible smirk of his, and he’s still won. “Isn’t this interesting, Potter? Perhaps you’re more fond of me that you’d care to admit.”
Harry flushes, realising that his hips are pinning Draco’s to the wall and that he’s never been so close to another person before. He lets go a little and Draco lunges forward and kisses him as hard as he can, so that Harry can taste his own blood. He is suddenly glad of the pressure of their hips grinding painfully, and Draco leaves his bruised mouth and traces a path of red marks down his neck, and then down his chest.
An hour later, Harry stumbles out of a broom closet, hurting all over and covered in bruises.
Now he knows that Draco’s mouth is better at making him come.