tellyfone
Title: Tellyfone
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Rating: PG
Word Count: 937
Summary: An endlessly ringing phone, stuffed toys, the left side, the right side, Kitty, the color of your knickers and a sock--that's 10 AM in the Potter flat for you.
Notes: Written for the miettes_desmots challenge.
The phone rang at ten in the morning.
The two figures on the bed stirred resolutely, obviously letting each other know that under no circumstances was it going to be them that answered the thing. One of them, the blonde, gave an extra-loud snore and turned his back to the cordless on the bedside table, giving his partner a little nudge with his foot.
“No,” answered the other, who particularly did not have a foot fetish in the morning (however, the hours after seven o’clock in the evening were a completely different story). “I’m not answering it, Draco.”
Someone sniffled. It was hard to tell whom, as both were by now submerged underneath blanket and pillow and stuffed toy in an attempt to block out the noise.
“But Harrrreeeeeeeee…”
“You’re right next to the goddamn phone, pick it up yourself.”
“It’s sooo dark. How could I see it?”
“Draco, it’s ten in the morning. And it’s summer.”
“So?”
“So it’s shining brilliantly outside.”
“It could be raining. That’d be…wonderfully awful. Summer rain, that is.”
“What is your point? Just pick up the phone.”
There was a pause, and the two on the bed listened to the shrill ring of the phone. Perhaps they were waiting for it to stop-after all, most people would hang up after the first five rings or, if they were particularly earnest, after ten-but it did not, and kept on screaming.
“Who do you think it is? And what would they want, at this hour?”
“I don’t know, Draco. Nor do I particularly care-“
“Well, why not? It’s your flat. Your phone.”
“Bloody-you put the phone in!”
“You wanted it.”
“I never! When did I say this?”
“…You insinuated it.”
A tanned hand poked out from under the right side of the bed and flipped the bird to the left side.
“I hope you can see that!”
“Harry! That’s vulgar.”
“Don’t act like you’ve never done it!” And before the left side could answer, “Look, we could just lie here all day and wait for the answer machine to pick up...”
The ringing, it seemed, began to grow in pitch.
“...Or we could pick it up.”
“I like the first one. I don’t mind it, really.”
“You’re a liar. I know you hate it. You threw it at the cat last time.”
“I was training Kitty, she needed to know when to run when objects were flung at her-“
“Like you don’t?”
“Stop it, we are not to mention my masochistic kink at this hour-“
Finally, the phone stopped ringing and the answer machine, strategically placed (by Draco) way across the room, picked up. The familiar crackling began (which was, in truth, candy wrapper being crinkled against the speaker), and then Harry spoke out.
“You’ve reached…Potter. Harry. Harry Potter, Otter Arry. He’s not home, due to…well, I’m sure he is occupied, at any rate. Your imagination is free to roam from there. Leave your name, number…color of knickers. Haha, just kidding. Please don’t hurt me, Hermione.”
(After that there was the dying-cow-like sound of Draco guffawing in the background and then the beep, which, Harry was told, dragged on much longer than any normal answer machine should. He thought it had something to do with Draco trying to throw a rubber mouse at Kitty and hitting the machine instead, but he never told anyone that story.)
Both occupants of the bed listened intently as the beep resided, leaving an unsteady silence behind.
“Is anyone there?”
“Shut up, shut up, someone might talk!”
“I don’t hear anything. Is it broken? Did you break it?”
“I didn’t break it. Don’t give me that look! Kitty is fine, isn’t she?”
“If you ever threw something like that at Kitty, I’d definitely have to…”
And then someone began to speak.
“HARRY? THIS IS RON.”
The left side of the bed quickly began to sing.
“GREAT MESSAGE, MATE. LISTEN, I DON’T QUITE UNDERSTAND THIS TELLY-FONE THING YET…”
“-do a ditty ditty dum ditty DOOH-well, that doesn’t surprise me one bit, Weasley-”
“SO HERMIONE TOLD ME TO CALL YOU AND HAVE YOU TEACH ME ABOUT IT. SHE SAID MOST PEOPLE PICK UP AFTER FIVE RINGS. GUESS YOU’RE NOT REALLY GOOD AT FIVE, MATE. YOU A BIT OCCUPIED?”
“-and I said DOOOH a ditty-”
“NEVERMIND, DON’T TELL ME. ANYWAY, I’LL CALL YOU LATER SO WE CAN ARRANGE THE TIME AND STUFF. BYE, HARRY!”
The answer machine clicked off and Draco stopped in the middle of a dooh to fall into peals of laughter. Harry, meanwhile, was cursing into his pillow.
“Well, I’ll be going out today, if that’s the case…”
“No. Draco. You installed the bloody thing, you know it better than I do-“
“Nonsense. That’s utter nonsense. In fact that’s crap. I can’t teach Weasley how to use a, a what did he call it? A telly-fone…”
He began to giggle, and could not stop. Underneath the blankets still, Harry kicked the other side of the bed forcefully.
“Ow!”
“That’s what you get, you-you heathen.”
“I am not a heathen! That is scandalous!”
“Everything is scandalous. And weren’t you going out?”
“Yes, yes I was. I was. And see if I ever come back.”
Draco slipped out of the covers and stuck his tongue out at the mass of blankets piled on Harry’s side.
“Oh, you’ll come back,” said the blankets. “You’ll come back…”
And then the phone began to ring, just as Draco had bent down to retrieve a sock.
“…but before you leave, I mean, could you get that? Before the answer phone does.”
Harry had the blankets off him and a dirty sock down his pants in seconds.
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Rating: PG
Word Count: 937
Summary: An endlessly ringing phone, stuffed toys, the left side, the right side, Kitty, the color of your knickers and a sock--that's 10 AM in the Potter flat for you.
Notes: Written for the miettes_desmots challenge.
The phone rang at ten in the morning.
The two figures on the bed stirred resolutely, obviously letting each other know that under no circumstances was it going to be them that answered the thing. One of them, the blonde, gave an extra-loud snore and turned his back to the cordless on the bedside table, giving his partner a little nudge with his foot.
“No,” answered the other, who particularly did not have a foot fetish in the morning (however, the hours after seven o’clock in the evening were a completely different story). “I’m not answering it, Draco.”
Someone sniffled. It was hard to tell whom, as both were by now submerged underneath blanket and pillow and stuffed toy in an attempt to block out the noise.
“But Harrrreeeeeeeee…”
“You’re right next to the goddamn phone, pick it up yourself.”
“It’s sooo dark. How could I see it?”
“Draco, it’s ten in the morning. And it’s summer.”
“So?”
“So it’s shining brilliantly outside.”
“It could be raining. That’d be…wonderfully awful. Summer rain, that is.”
“What is your point? Just pick up the phone.”
There was a pause, and the two on the bed listened to the shrill ring of the phone. Perhaps they were waiting for it to stop-after all, most people would hang up after the first five rings or, if they were particularly earnest, after ten-but it did not, and kept on screaming.
“Who do you think it is? And what would they want, at this hour?”
“I don’t know, Draco. Nor do I particularly care-“
“Well, why not? It’s your flat. Your phone.”
“Bloody-you put the phone in!”
“You wanted it.”
“I never! When did I say this?”
“…You insinuated it.”
A tanned hand poked out from under the right side of the bed and flipped the bird to the left side.
“I hope you can see that!”
“Harry! That’s vulgar.”
“Don’t act like you’ve never done it!” And before the left side could answer, “Look, we could just lie here all day and wait for the answer machine to pick up...”
The ringing, it seemed, began to grow in pitch.
“...Or we could pick it up.”
“I like the first one. I don’t mind it, really.”
“You’re a liar. I know you hate it. You threw it at the cat last time.”
“I was training Kitty, she needed to know when to run when objects were flung at her-“
“Like you don’t?”
“Stop it, we are not to mention my masochistic kink at this hour-“
Finally, the phone stopped ringing and the answer machine, strategically placed (by Draco) way across the room, picked up. The familiar crackling began (which was, in truth, candy wrapper being crinkled against the speaker), and then Harry spoke out.
“You’ve reached…Potter. Harry. Harry Potter, Otter Arry. He’s not home, due to…well, I’m sure he is occupied, at any rate. Your imagination is free to roam from there. Leave your name, number…color of knickers. Haha, just kidding. Please don’t hurt me, Hermione.”
(After that there was the dying-cow-like sound of Draco guffawing in the background and then the beep, which, Harry was told, dragged on much longer than any normal answer machine should. He thought it had something to do with Draco trying to throw a rubber mouse at Kitty and hitting the machine instead, but he never told anyone that story.)
Both occupants of the bed listened intently as the beep resided, leaving an unsteady silence behind.
“Is anyone there?”
“Shut up, shut up, someone might talk!”
“I don’t hear anything. Is it broken? Did you break it?”
“I didn’t break it. Don’t give me that look! Kitty is fine, isn’t she?”
“If you ever threw something like that at Kitty, I’d definitely have to…”
And then someone began to speak.
“HARRY? THIS IS RON.”
The left side of the bed quickly began to sing.
“GREAT MESSAGE, MATE. LISTEN, I DON’T QUITE UNDERSTAND THIS TELLY-FONE THING YET…”
“-do a ditty ditty dum ditty DOOH-well, that doesn’t surprise me one bit, Weasley-”
“SO HERMIONE TOLD ME TO CALL YOU AND HAVE YOU TEACH ME ABOUT IT. SHE SAID MOST PEOPLE PICK UP AFTER FIVE RINGS. GUESS YOU’RE NOT REALLY GOOD AT FIVE, MATE. YOU A BIT OCCUPIED?”
“-and I said DOOOH a ditty-”
“NEVERMIND, DON’T TELL ME. ANYWAY, I’LL CALL YOU LATER SO WE CAN ARRANGE THE TIME AND STUFF. BYE, HARRY!”
The answer machine clicked off and Draco stopped in the middle of a dooh to fall into peals of laughter. Harry, meanwhile, was cursing into his pillow.
“Well, I’ll be going out today, if that’s the case…”
“No. Draco. You installed the bloody thing, you know it better than I do-“
“Nonsense. That’s utter nonsense. In fact that’s crap. I can’t teach Weasley how to use a, a what did he call it? A telly-fone…”
He began to giggle, and could not stop. Underneath the blankets still, Harry kicked the other side of the bed forcefully.
“Ow!”
“That’s what you get, you-you heathen.”
“I am not a heathen! That is scandalous!”
“Everything is scandalous. And weren’t you going out?”
“Yes, yes I was. I was. And see if I ever come back.”
Draco slipped out of the covers and stuck his tongue out at the mass of blankets piled on Harry’s side.
“Oh, you’ll come back,” said the blankets. “You’ll come back…”
And then the phone began to ring, just as Draco had bent down to retrieve a sock.
“…but before you leave, I mean, could you get that? Before the answer phone does.”
Harry had the blankets off him and a dirty sock down his pants in seconds.