Jealousy - Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter - PART V II, PART VIII, PART IX
Title: Jealousy: PART VII, PART VIII, PART IX
Author: laughs_muses (fic journal)
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13, PG-13, R
Disclaimer: No they are not mine. I am not mass producing fanfiction. I am not making squillions. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy remain soley the property of J.K Rowling. Lucky B****. Just kidding, I love you, Your Royal Highness.
Summary: A charms class, An invite, And An embarrassed Quidditch!Harry.
Set: Seventh Year
Beta: None…again. *blush*
Authors Notes: Sup y’all? I’ve put three in this time. Now the story actually gets some direction which is always pleasing. *grins* Two of these PARTS are from Harry’s view, which I think I enjoy writing more…maybe.
Jealousy: PART I
Jealousy: PART II
Jealousy: PART III
Jealousy: PART IV
Jealousy: PART V, PART VI
PART VII
Harry didn’t mind charms. He liked that it was simple down to earth magic. Magic that didn’t require mixing things together or remembering dates or physically doing anything. Just learning the spells that made wizarding life what it was.
He was looking intently at the perfume bottle in front of him. The instructions were simple; focus, brush his wand against the cap to the left and say Hylimpia Moreslio. And then it should turn into a handkerchief. Harry’s had materialised into a tissue twice and a scrap of sandpaper once…but it hadn’t quite made it into a handkerchief yet.
Two rows to the front and a seat over, Malfoy was lazily folding and re-folding his perfect, crisp handkerchief. It was green, a vivid green. His long fingers skimmed over the material and slid along the creases.
Harry’s perfume bottle was starting to look a bit worse for wear. The clear glass it had been to begin with was now turning a foggy grey. He gave an exasperated sigh and tried again. Drawing his wand firmly across the cap of the bottle, underneath the spray nozzle he said sharply Hylimpia Moreslio. The bottle gave a shudder and managed a squeaking noise before it flipped and shrunk into a dishcloth.
“No, no!” piped up Professor Flitwick as the tiny wizard bowled over towards him. “Make your movement more fluid. Like so,” the stubby wand was placed against the cap and in a deft movement swept across the clasp while the Professor’s high pitched voice said, “Hylimpia Moreslio”. The bottle shuddered only once, didn’t make a sound and promptly flopped into a folded handkerchief with stitched moving strawberries around it.
“Now, Mr Potter, once you’ve managed that,” Professor Flitwick put his wand back inside his sleeve, “you may try without speaking. Mr Malfoy! Have you managed this charm without saying aloud the incantation?”
Malfoy turned around as the little Professor came tottering towards him. For a moment Malfoy’s dark grey eyes held Harry’s. And for a moment, Harry could swear they lightened slightly to a blue.
“Yes, Professor,”
“Oh, is that the finished product?”
Malfoy displayed the emerald green handkerchief on his palm and looked at it with distaste.
“Obviously.” He drawled and Professor Flitwick took it upon himself to hold it up the light.
“Very fine material, Mr Malfoy,” he said chirpily. “But are you sure you don’t want to put a pattern on it? Yes! Miss Parkinson has a lovely arrangement of Butter Lilies…aren’t they just wonderful?”
“No,” said Malfoy and swiftly took his handkerchief back. “I like it just the way it is. I happen to like this colour.”
Harry felt a jolt in his stomach as he looked at the smoky grey of his perfume bottle. He liked that colour too…he had always liked his eyes…
PART VIII
“Look!”
Draco looked up from his breakfast with a start at the sound of Pansy’s voice. She was bending over a letter that she had spread over the place where her plate had been. The parchment was a thick cream colour, and the writing on it shimmered a delicate purple.
“Draco, we’ve been invited to Lady Fitzpatrick’s Christmas Party! Though,” she leant towards Draco and lowered her voice, “I would hardly call it a party, I mean, it’s really only an event to spice up the Prophet’s social pages.” Draco smiled, and held out his hand for the invite.
“Pansy, dear,” he said conversationally, accentuating his pretentious and upper-crust accent. “I do hope that Lady Fitzpatrick is aware that it is only the beginning of November.” Pansy gave a grin and took a sip of Draco’s coffee.
“Of course she does, she just wants to make sure the RSVP’s are full, and if anyone can’t make it,” she put her hand dramatically to her forehead. “Merlin forbids! She can get someone else.”
Draco retrieved his coffee cup from her hands and smiled. He had been to Lady Fitzpatrick’s events ever since he had been a child. Pansy had as well. He took a long sip of his black coffee and looked down at the invite. And frowned.
It read; To Lady Pansy Parkinson and Master Draco Malfoy
He picked it up and stared at it. Their names were together. As if they were … expected to arrive together. The fact that they probably would arrive together seemed irrelevant. The names were joined . It made Draco feel like a married man. It gave him a shiver to think that he and Pansy were assumed to be together. Why couldn’t he one by himself? Why couldn’t Pansy get her own?
To Mister Harry Potter and Mister Draco Malfoy.
Or would that be;
To Mister Draco Malfoy and Mister Harry Potter.
“What’s wrong?” Pansy’s voice filtered through Draco’s hazy mind and he looked up quickly.
“What? Nothing. Nothing at all.” He offered a watery smile as his eyes began to hunt out Potter. He was seated next to Ginny and the Weasel at the Gryffindor table and was reading a parchment very like Draco and Pansy’s. Draco mentally slapped himself. Of course Harry Potter would get an invite. He practically was the Prophet’s society page.
He was wearing a tight fitting white shirt today and Draco could see that it accentuated his stomach as the Gryffindor stood up. Low slung jeans hung off his hips and the shirt rode up a little as Potter bent down and pecked the girl Weasel on her cheek.
Draco felt a flush of resentment and watched with narrowed eyes as Potter mimed playing Quidditch and began to walk out of the Great Hall, Lady Fitzpatrick’s invitation now stuffed in his back pocket.
Pansy looked up as Draco pushed his chair up and made as if to stand.
“Where are you off to?”
“I really don’t know, just out for a walk I would imagine,” Draco smiled and shrugged. As he did so, he tucked the invitation in his back trouser pocket just as Potter had done. Pansy gave him a look and licked her lips.
“Want company?” She grinned and Draco felt a spasm in his chest. No he did not want company. He just wanted to watch Potter fly.
“No thank you,” he said and began to walk down towards the exit.
“Hey Draco!” Pansy called and he turned, his stomach sinking. “Don’t I get a kiss goodbye?”
Author’s Notes: I disliked this little chapter, except it was really quite necessary to put it in. *palmhead* What do you think?
PART IX
Harry breathed a deep breath and walked out on the pitch. He smiled and pretended to acknowledge a roaring crowd. He shook imaginary hands with the opposing captain and mounted his broomstick.
As soon as he was in the air the fantasy disappeared. He was flying, and there was no room to think about trivial things. He grinned to himself. That was irony if he’d ever heard it. Flying was the only time he could think about things like that. Usually it was when he just went for a fly, not a practice, when he thought about a wider range of topics than…get-Snitch-now!
He looped the loop a few times to warm up his wrists and ankles and then did a few sprints to get his brain in the right mindset. Right. Gripping tightly with his right hand he flung his left out to the side and swung dangerously. Grinning, he repeated with his right side. He moved slowly and did the same thing up and down the pitch, slowly increasing his pace as he went.
Soon he was tearing up and down the stadium making more and more reckless dives to the sides. It would work better if he at least had a training Snitch. Concentrating hard he summoned a Snitch from the massive trunk of them in the change rooms, and presently the little golden ball shot out from the lockers and straight into his palm.
He let it flutter around him for a moment, letting it get further and further away until wham! he leapt upon it. After awhile he started his session in earnest. He hadn’t quite got the Princeyards Pull right the other day. Well, the grace of it anyway. He could stop pretty quickly in the air, it’s just that the yank that he felt on his penis when he did was excruciating.
He had been flying for a little over forty minutes when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. It was a head. Just under the Slytherin bleachers. He pretended to stretch and go for a race around the pitch. As he headed towards the Slytherin stands he saw that the person was blond. Very blond.
It was Malfoy.
Jesus fucking Christ! thought Harry, He better have not been there my entire session. What if he had seen Harry play-acting at the start? Harry sprinted back to the centre of the pitch where his Snitch was waiting patiently. Harry felt a warm glow through his stomach. Malfoy had come to watch him play. Not even play; train!
Harry began to … exaggerate. His dives became steeper, his reflexes more pronounced and his flying pace increased considerably. Suddenly, he was forcing the training Snitch to dart at impossible angles and he was practically throwing himself to snatch it. He summoned one of the newer high class ones that he had been given to him by Jack Masters, the current captain of the Montrose Magpies.
It shot towards the end of the stadium and Harry tore after it, twisting and bucking as if he had an army behind him. The little bugger dipped and weaved, but Harry made sure he stayed right on its tail. He was flying so quickly his eyes were beginning to sting, his glasses pressing right into the bridge of his nose.
It suddenly plunged and Harry plummeted after it, left hand stretching, his limbs extending and his posture flattening. The golden ball suddenly veered to the right and soared off at shoulder level above the grass. Without thinking, Harry Pulled and streaked after it. He threw himself bodily off his broom and caught it, toppling harshly onto the grass.
He stood up, brushed the grass off and looked towards Malfoy. The Slytherin was standing up now, just behind the bleachers. As Harry watched the tall boy raised a hand directly in front of him and…bowed. Harry was maybe thirty meters away and felt the blush rising from his collar up into his cheeks. He realized why he had executed such a perfect Princeyards Pull and not felt it.
He had an erection.
~~~
Author’s Notes: *laughs* Poor little Harry.
So…you want to like…if you’re not too busy…and since you kinda maybe like me…and I sorta like you…we could…I dunno…comment together sometime?
Say, I pick you up…now?
LOL GO COMMENT AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK SEXY AND ATTRACTIVE HARRY/DRACONIANS! *loves*
Jess
Hurry...what for?...I cannot say...Jealousy: PART X, PART XI, PART XII
Author: laughs_muses (fic journal)
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13, PG-13, R
Disclaimer: No they are not mine. I am not mass producing fanfiction. I am not making squillions. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy remain soley the property of J.K Rowling. Lucky B****. Just kidding, I love you, Your Royal Highness.
Summary: A charms class, An invite, And An embarrassed Quidditch!Harry.
Set: Seventh Year
Beta: None…again. *blush*
Authors Notes: Sup y’all? I’ve put three in this time. Now the story actually gets some direction which is always pleasing. *grins* Two of these PARTS are from Harry’s view, which I think I enjoy writing more…maybe.
Jealousy: PART I
Jealousy: PART II
Jealousy: PART III
Jealousy: PART IV
Jealousy: PART V, PART VI
PART VII
Harry didn’t mind charms. He liked that it was simple down to earth magic. Magic that didn’t require mixing things together or remembering dates or physically doing anything. Just learning the spells that made wizarding life what it was.
He was looking intently at the perfume bottle in front of him. The instructions were simple; focus, brush his wand against the cap to the left and say Hylimpia Moreslio. And then it should turn into a handkerchief. Harry’s had materialised into a tissue twice and a scrap of sandpaper once…but it hadn’t quite made it into a handkerchief yet.
Two rows to the front and a seat over, Malfoy was lazily folding and re-folding his perfect, crisp handkerchief. It was green, a vivid green. His long fingers skimmed over the material and slid along the creases.
Harry’s perfume bottle was starting to look a bit worse for wear. The clear glass it had been to begin with was now turning a foggy grey. He gave an exasperated sigh and tried again. Drawing his wand firmly across the cap of the bottle, underneath the spray nozzle he said sharply Hylimpia Moreslio. The bottle gave a shudder and managed a squeaking noise before it flipped and shrunk into a dishcloth.
“No, no!” piped up Professor Flitwick as the tiny wizard bowled over towards him. “Make your movement more fluid. Like so,” the stubby wand was placed against the cap and in a deft movement swept across the clasp while the Professor’s high pitched voice said, “Hylimpia Moreslio”. The bottle shuddered only once, didn’t make a sound and promptly flopped into a folded handkerchief with stitched moving strawberries around it.
“Now, Mr Potter, once you’ve managed that,” Professor Flitwick put his wand back inside his sleeve, “you may try without speaking. Mr Malfoy! Have you managed this charm without saying aloud the incantation?”
Malfoy turned around as the little Professor came tottering towards him. For a moment Malfoy’s dark grey eyes held Harry’s. And for a moment, Harry could swear they lightened slightly to a blue.
“Yes, Professor,”
“Oh, is that the finished product?”
Malfoy displayed the emerald green handkerchief on his palm and looked at it with distaste.
“Obviously.” He drawled and Professor Flitwick took it upon himself to hold it up the light.
“Very fine material, Mr Malfoy,” he said chirpily. “But are you sure you don’t want to put a pattern on it? Yes! Miss Parkinson has a lovely arrangement of Butter Lilies…aren’t they just wonderful?”
“No,” said Malfoy and swiftly took his handkerchief back. “I like it just the way it is. I happen to like this colour.”
Harry felt a jolt in his stomach as he looked at the smoky grey of his perfume bottle. He liked that colour too…he had always liked his eyes…
PART VIII
“Look!”
Draco looked up from his breakfast with a start at the sound of Pansy’s voice. She was bending over a letter that she had spread over the place where her plate had been. The parchment was a thick cream colour, and the writing on it shimmered a delicate purple.
“Draco, we’ve been invited to Lady Fitzpatrick’s Christmas Party! Though,” she leant towards Draco and lowered her voice, “I would hardly call it a party, I mean, it’s really only an event to spice up the Prophet’s social pages.” Draco smiled, and held out his hand for the invite.
“Pansy, dear,” he said conversationally, accentuating his pretentious and upper-crust accent. “I do hope that Lady Fitzpatrick is aware that it is only the beginning of November.” Pansy gave a grin and took a sip of Draco’s coffee.
“Of course she does, she just wants to make sure the RSVP’s are full, and if anyone can’t make it,” she put her hand dramatically to her forehead. “Merlin forbids! She can get someone else.”
Draco retrieved his coffee cup from her hands and smiled. He had been to Lady Fitzpatrick’s events ever since he had been a child. Pansy had as well. He took a long sip of his black coffee and looked down at the invite. And frowned.
It read; To Lady Pansy Parkinson and Master Draco Malfoy
He picked it up and stared at it. Their names were together. As if they were … expected to arrive together. The fact that they probably would arrive together seemed irrelevant. The names were joined . It made Draco feel like a married man. It gave him a shiver to think that he and Pansy were assumed to be together. Why couldn’t he one by himself? Why couldn’t Pansy get her own?
To Mister Harry Potter and Mister Draco Malfoy.
Or would that be;
To Mister Draco Malfoy and Mister Harry Potter.
“What’s wrong?” Pansy’s voice filtered through Draco’s hazy mind and he looked up quickly.
“What? Nothing. Nothing at all.” He offered a watery smile as his eyes began to hunt out Potter. He was seated next to Ginny and the Weasel at the Gryffindor table and was reading a parchment very like Draco and Pansy’s. Draco mentally slapped himself. Of course Harry Potter would get an invite. He practically was the Prophet’s society page.
He was wearing a tight fitting white shirt today and Draco could see that it accentuated his stomach as the Gryffindor stood up. Low slung jeans hung off his hips and the shirt rode up a little as Potter bent down and pecked the girl Weasel on her cheek.
Draco felt a flush of resentment and watched with narrowed eyes as Potter mimed playing Quidditch and began to walk out of the Great Hall, Lady Fitzpatrick’s invitation now stuffed in his back pocket.
Pansy looked up as Draco pushed his chair up and made as if to stand.
“Where are you off to?”
“I really don’t know, just out for a walk I would imagine,” Draco smiled and shrugged. As he did so, he tucked the invitation in his back trouser pocket just as Potter had done. Pansy gave him a look and licked her lips.
“Want company?” She grinned and Draco felt a spasm in his chest. No he did not want company. He just wanted to watch Potter fly.
“No thank you,” he said and began to walk down towards the exit.
“Hey Draco!” Pansy called and he turned, his stomach sinking. “Don’t I get a kiss goodbye?”
Author’s Notes: I disliked this little chapter, except it was really quite necessary to put it in. *palmhead* What do you think?
PART IX
Harry breathed a deep breath and walked out on the pitch. He smiled and pretended to acknowledge a roaring crowd. He shook imaginary hands with the opposing captain and mounted his broomstick.
As soon as he was in the air the fantasy disappeared. He was flying, and there was no room to think about trivial things. He grinned to himself. That was irony if he’d ever heard it. Flying was the only time he could think about things like that. Usually it was when he just went for a fly, not a practice, when he thought about a wider range of topics than…get-Snitch-now!
He looped the loop a few times to warm up his wrists and ankles and then did a few sprints to get his brain in the right mindset. Right. Gripping tightly with his right hand he flung his left out to the side and swung dangerously. Grinning, he repeated with his right side. He moved slowly and did the same thing up and down the pitch, slowly increasing his pace as he went.
Soon he was tearing up and down the stadium making more and more reckless dives to the sides. It would work better if he at least had a training Snitch. Concentrating hard he summoned a Snitch from the massive trunk of them in the change rooms, and presently the little golden ball shot out from the lockers and straight into his palm.
He let it flutter around him for a moment, letting it get further and further away until wham! he leapt upon it. After awhile he started his session in earnest. He hadn’t quite got the Princeyards Pull right the other day. Well, the grace of it anyway. He could stop pretty quickly in the air, it’s just that the yank that he felt on his penis when he did was excruciating.
He had been flying for a little over forty minutes when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. It was a head. Just under the Slytherin bleachers. He pretended to stretch and go for a race around the pitch. As he headed towards the Slytherin stands he saw that the person was blond. Very blond.
It was Malfoy.
Jesus fucking Christ! thought Harry, He better have not been there my entire session. What if he had seen Harry play-acting at the start? Harry sprinted back to the centre of the pitch where his Snitch was waiting patiently. Harry felt a warm glow through his stomach. Malfoy had come to watch him play. Not even play; train!
Harry began to … exaggerate. His dives became steeper, his reflexes more pronounced and his flying pace increased considerably. Suddenly, he was forcing the training Snitch to dart at impossible angles and he was practically throwing himself to snatch it. He summoned one of the newer high class ones that he had been given to him by Jack Masters, the current captain of the Montrose Magpies.
It shot towards the end of the stadium and Harry tore after it, twisting and bucking as if he had an army behind him. The little bugger dipped and weaved, but Harry made sure he stayed right on its tail. He was flying so quickly his eyes were beginning to sting, his glasses pressing right into the bridge of his nose.
It suddenly plunged and Harry plummeted after it, left hand stretching, his limbs extending and his posture flattening. The golden ball suddenly veered to the right and soared off at shoulder level above the grass. Without thinking, Harry Pulled and streaked after it. He threw himself bodily off his broom and caught it, toppling harshly onto the grass.
He stood up, brushed the grass off and looked towards Malfoy. The Slytherin was standing up now, just behind the bleachers. As Harry watched the tall boy raised a hand directly in front of him and…bowed. Harry was maybe thirty meters away and felt the blush rising from his collar up into his cheeks. He realized why he had executed such a perfect Princeyards Pull and not felt it.
He had an erection.
~~~
Author’s Notes: *laughs* Poor little Harry.
So…you want to like…if you’re not too busy…and since you kinda maybe like me…and I sorta like you…we could…I dunno…comment together sometime?
Say, I pick you up…now?
LOL GO COMMENT AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK SEXY AND ATTRACTIVE HARRY/DRACONIANS! *loves*
Jess
Hurry...what for?...I cannot say...Jealousy: PART X, PART XI, PART XII