Apple Wars #3
Title: Apple Wars #3
Rating: PG
Word count: 280
Summary: Apples, apples apples
A/N: None :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Ron had long ago accepted that his best mate was head over heels for that ferrety, Slytherin, git, Draco Malfoy. He’d smiled and clapped Harry on the back when the man had finally grown a set and asked the prat out on a date, successfully ending their little flirting dance. Ron had even helped Harry pack up Grimmauld Place when they got their own house together in the suburbs. Not only did he continue to invite Harry and the ferret over at least once a week for dinner, he had gone to the jewelers with Harry a week before to help him pick out “the right ring.”
Ron was nothing if not the greatest friend that someone could ever have.
He had taken all of Harry’s life decisions in stride and supported him every step of the way. But this? This was pushing things too far.
Draco Malfoy, prat extraordinaire, had covered Ron’s office in apples. Green apples, red apples, yellow apples, rainbow apples, diamond apples-apples that had little faces carved into them, apples that wolf whistled when he walked into the room, and apples that chorused, “Ron is a Weasel.” There were some that sprouted confetti, and some that spun in circles-there were even some hanging from the ceiling.
Everywhere Ron looked there were bloody apples.
“Well, mate,” Harry proclaimed with a conspiratorial wink and a pat on the back, “an apple a day keeps the doctor away.”
The shout Harry let out when a stray hex was sent his way was loud enough to trigger an exploding mechanism in some of the apples, sending mushed fruit all over his office.
Ha bloody ha. Duck Draco, the bloody horse.
Rating: PG
Word count: 280
Summary: Apples, apples apples
A/N: None :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Ron had long ago accepted that his best mate was head over heels for that ferrety, Slytherin, git, Draco Malfoy. He’d smiled and clapped Harry on the back when the man had finally grown a set and asked the prat out on a date, successfully ending their little flirting dance. Ron had even helped Harry pack up Grimmauld Place when they got their own house together in the suburbs. Not only did he continue to invite Harry and the ferret over at least once a week for dinner, he had gone to the jewelers with Harry a week before to help him pick out “the right ring.”
Ron was nothing if not the greatest friend that someone could ever have.
He had taken all of Harry’s life decisions in stride and supported him every step of the way. But this? This was pushing things too far.
Draco Malfoy, prat extraordinaire, had covered Ron’s office in apples. Green apples, red apples, yellow apples, rainbow apples, diamond apples-apples that had little faces carved into them, apples that wolf whistled when he walked into the room, and apples that chorused, “Ron is a Weasel.” There were some that sprouted confetti, and some that spun in circles-there were even some hanging from the ceiling.
Everywhere Ron looked there were bloody apples.
“Well, mate,” Harry proclaimed with a conspiratorial wink and a pat on the back, “an apple a day keeps the doctor away.”
The shout Harry let out when a stray hex was sent his way was loud enough to trigger an exploding mechanism in some of the apples, sending mushed fruit all over his office.
Ha bloody ha. Duck Draco, the bloody horse.