Shoo Witch, Don't Bother Me
Pairing: Draco/Astoria
Summary: Whereby fallenwitch hijacks Black_Alnair’s beautiful fic, In the Garden, and things take an unexpected turn. In the Garden is a prerequisite read for this one.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author’s Notes: _____faith - I hope this suffices.
Shoo Witch, Don’t Bother Me
Draco bolted upright, freezing his wet arse off and gasping for air. Wait… why the hell was he gasping for air? He wasn’t in the lake at Stourhead with Astoria prying secrets out of him. He was home alone in bed with all the oxygen a body could hold streaming in through an open window. The fickle thing had blown open during the fierce late night storm, drenching him in fictitious lake water. He threw several soggy bedcovers aside, reached over to retrieve the wayward window and yanked it closed.
Then he collapsed onto the middle of his sopping bed and stared at the sun creeping past the horizon. He was tired. This was the fifth dream he’d had of her in the past three weeks. Why was he dreaming about Astoria? He had only seen her a time or two, and that was months ago. It was Daphne he had gone to see, hauled his arse all the way from Paris to the backwaters of the English countryside where he allowed her to led him around by his suspicious nose for a time, right until Zacharias Smith showed up trying to hex Draco’s precious bits off.
Her Slytherin Highness had stood there, looking over Smith’s shoulder at Draco, her captivating eyes bright with victory, a wily cat with a witless mouse dangling from her mouth. Draco laughed and backed away, holding his hands up and shaking his head as he went. As delightful as Daphne could be, she wasn’t worth losing his balls over. There wasn’t a witch alive worth losing those jewels over. If Smith wanted her, he was welcome to her. Good riddance and good luck to the blithering Hufflepuff Prince of Fools.
When that fiasco was over, Draco blew out the backdoor, tripped and went flying head over heels. He landed flat on his miserable back with whatever infinitesimal measure of his dignity remained. He lay there stunned and groaning for some moments before regaining enough sense to begin cursing the day and assessing the state of his backside - apparently intact. Then he opened his dazed eyes, half expecting to see Daphne’s yapping terrier on his chest. Instead, he found himself looking into the most extraordinary pair of chestnut eyes he had ever seen.
“Who the hell are you?”
Summary: Whereby fallenwitch hijacks Black_Alnair’s beautiful fic, In the Garden, and things take an unexpected turn. In the Garden is a prerequisite read for this one.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author’s Notes: _____faith - I hope this suffices.
Shoo Witch, Don’t Bother Me
Draco bolted upright, freezing his wet arse off and gasping for air. Wait… why the hell was he gasping for air? He wasn’t in the lake at Stourhead with Astoria prying secrets out of him. He was home alone in bed with all the oxygen a body could hold streaming in through an open window. The fickle thing had blown open during the fierce late night storm, drenching him in fictitious lake water. He threw several soggy bedcovers aside, reached over to retrieve the wayward window and yanked it closed.
Then he collapsed onto the middle of his sopping bed and stared at the sun creeping past the horizon. He was tired. This was the fifth dream he’d had of her in the past three weeks. Why was he dreaming about Astoria? He had only seen her a time or two, and that was months ago. It was Daphne he had gone to see, hauled his arse all the way from Paris to the backwaters of the English countryside where he allowed her to led him around by his suspicious nose for a time, right until Zacharias Smith showed up trying to hex Draco’s precious bits off.
Her Slytherin Highness had stood there, looking over Smith’s shoulder at Draco, her captivating eyes bright with victory, a wily cat with a witless mouse dangling from her mouth. Draco laughed and backed away, holding his hands up and shaking his head as he went. As delightful as Daphne could be, she wasn’t worth losing his balls over. There wasn’t a witch alive worth losing those jewels over. If Smith wanted her, he was welcome to her. Good riddance and good luck to the blithering Hufflepuff Prince of Fools.
When that fiasco was over, Draco blew out the backdoor, tripped and went flying head over heels. He landed flat on his miserable back with whatever infinitesimal measure of his dignity remained. He lay there stunned and groaning for some moments before regaining enough sense to begin cursing the day and assessing the state of his backside - apparently intact. Then he opened his dazed eyes, half expecting to see Daphne’s yapping terrier on his chest. Instead, he found himself looking into the most extraordinary pair of chestnut eyes he had ever seen.
“Who the hell are you?”