Drabble: The Most Kissable Pink Lips
Title: The Most Kissable Pink Lips
Author: enchanted_jae
Characters: Harry and the Gryffindors
Rating: PG
Warning(s): None
Word count: 430
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This drabble/fic was written for fun, not for profit.
Author's note: This was written off-the-cuff in response to an off-the-cuff prompt that ladybahiya posted in her journal: You know how when a group of people get together, there's always one guy in the bunch talking smack about someone who isn't even in the room? But the minute the mentioned person does come in the room, everyone is making the sign to "cut it out" and making vague hand gestures. The bad-mouther is going on and on and finally notices the looks and hand gestures and trails off with "...and he/she's standing right behind me, isn't he/she?" I tweaked it up a wee bit. *grins*
Summary: Harry's friends ask whom he likes and why.
It was a lovely Saturday in spring, and Harry was seated outside with a small group of his friends. Seamus was practically sitting in Dean's lap, and Harry felt a small amount of envy for their easy, open relationship. Even Neville, to his left, had been seeing Romilda for several months now, although she was not present. Ron and Hermione were seated to Harry's right, holding hands.
"What about you, Harry?" teased Dean. "Surely you have your eye on some fine bloke?" Harry had come out to his friends at the beginning of this, their final year, and he had been pleasantly surprised when most of them shrugged it off and treated him no differently than usual.
Harry flushed, and the goofy grin on his face gave him away. The others began clamoring to know who the guy was. "Alright, alright," Harry laughed, holding up his hands. "Yes, there is someone I fancy, but I don't think it's mutual."
"Oh, Harry, what's not to like about you?" protested Hermione.
"Yeah, mate," added Ron. "Who would be daft enough not to be interested in you?"
"Tell us," prodded Neville.
Harry ran a nervous hand through his hair, but he decided to go ahead with it. Clearing his throat, he said quietly, "It's Malfoy."
Hermione and Neville grinned, Dean and Seamus squealed, and Ron made gagging noises.
"I suspected as much!" Hermione crowed.
"You have good taste, my friend," approved Dean.
"What could you possibly see in that ferret?" demanded Ron.
Harry leaned back on the bench he was seated on and thought it over. "He's intelligent and witty, when he's not being a prat," Harry mused. "He dresses nice, and he smells nice, too."
Ron looked queasy.
"But what most attracts me is his looks," Harry continued, warming now to his subject. "Malfoy has the most beautiful, silvery-grey eyes," he sighed, completely ignoring the varying expressions of horror that appeared on his friends' faces. "And he has that silky blond hair that I'd just love to run my fingers through." By now, the others were making shushing motions with their hands, but Harry was undeterred. "And those lips!" he exclaimed. "Malfoy has the most kissable pink lips. I'd love to kiss the sneer right off of them..." The others were no longer looking at him. Instead, they were staring anxiously over Harry's left shoulder, where he suddenly felt the presence of another. Harry felt his stomach drop. "...and he's standing right behind me, isn't he?"
Sequel: Speak of the Devil
Author: enchanted_jae
Characters: Harry and the Gryffindors
Rating: PG
Warning(s): None
Word count: 430
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This drabble/fic was written for fun, not for profit.
Author's note: This was written off-the-cuff in response to an off-the-cuff prompt that ladybahiya posted in her journal: You know how when a group of people get together, there's always one guy in the bunch talking smack about someone who isn't even in the room? But the minute the mentioned person does come in the room, everyone is making the sign to "cut it out" and making vague hand gestures. The bad-mouther is going on and on and finally notices the looks and hand gestures and trails off with "...and he/she's standing right behind me, isn't he/she?" I tweaked it up a wee bit. *grins*
Summary: Harry's friends ask whom he likes and why.
It was a lovely Saturday in spring, and Harry was seated outside with a small group of his friends. Seamus was practically sitting in Dean's lap, and Harry felt a small amount of envy for their easy, open relationship. Even Neville, to his left, had been seeing Romilda for several months now, although she was not present. Ron and Hermione were seated to Harry's right, holding hands.
"What about you, Harry?" teased Dean. "Surely you have your eye on some fine bloke?" Harry had come out to his friends at the beginning of this, their final year, and he had been pleasantly surprised when most of them shrugged it off and treated him no differently than usual.
Harry flushed, and the goofy grin on his face gave him away. The others began clamoring to know who the guy was. "Alright, alright," Harry laughed, holding up his hands. "Yes, there is someone I fancy, but I don't think it's mutual."
"Oh, Harry, what's not to like about you?" protested Hermione.
"Yeah, mate," added Ron. "Who would be daft enough not to be interested in you?"
"Tell us," prodded Neville.
Harry ran a nervous hand through his hair, but he decided to go ahead with it. Clearing his throat, he said quietly, "It's Malfoy."
Hermione and Neville grinned, Dean and Seamus squealed, and Ron made gagging noises.
"I suspected as much!" Hermione crowed.
"You have good taste, my friend," approved Dean.
"What could you possibly see in that ferret?" demanded Ron.
Harry leaned back on the bench he was seated on and thought it over. "He's intelligent and witty, when he's not being a prat," Harry mused. "He dresses nice, and he smells nice, too."
Ron looked queasy.
"But what most attracts me is his looks," Harry continued, warming now to his subject. "Malfoy has the most beautiful, silvery-grey eyes," he sighed, completely ignoring the varying expressions of horror that appeared on his friends' faces. "And he has that silky blond hair that I'd just love to run my fingers through." By now, the others were making shushing motions with their hands, but Harry was undeterred. "And those lips!" he exclaimed. "Malfoy has the most kissable pink lips. I'd love to kiss the sneer right off of them..." The others were no longer looking at him. Instead, they were staring anxiously over Harry's left shoulder, where he suddenly felt the presence of another. Harry felt his stomach drop. "...and he's standing right behind me, isn't he?"
Sequel: Speak of the Devil