Fic: Hunting (Ron/Draco)
Title: Hunting
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Summary: There is something stimulating about hunting
Rating: Any Age
Word Count: 900
ABC Challenge #14: M - Mistletoe for Dustbunnies710
There is something stimulating about hunting. Draco feels like a predator as he hunts his prey, keeping to the shadows as he scans his surroundings with a focused gaze. A flash of red catches his attention but he sneers as he realizes it’s not his prey. He’ll leave that one to Granger since it’s rather obvious her knickers are wet for the dragon bloke, who is so oblivious he’s not sure he’d realize her less than honorable intentions for his rather muscular (Draco’s gaze lingers on broad shoulders) body if she showed up nude with an invitation addressed to him written on her bare body in chocolate sauce.
That thought makes Draco shudder in disgust, not only because it’s Granger, who he can tolerate on a good day and loves to annoy most the time, but because the thought of girl bits has distracted him from his hunt. There is a pause in the chase then so he can get a glass of something alcohol to cleanse his mind. Another flash of red replaces the disgusting thought of Granger’s bits, and he steps back into the shadows.
It’s yet another bloody Weasley that isn’t his prey. He doesn’t remember this one, but thinks he might be the uptight one with the stick up his bum. When the man turns, Draco’s suspicions are confirmed. Well, not stick as he’s heard rumor (from Marcus Flint no less) that Wood is pretty well endowed. Perhaps a large stick stuck up his bum, Draco decides with a grimace. He doesn’t want to think of prissy Weasleys and Scottish Quidditch players.
He’s back on the search for his prey. He’s good at this, he thinks smugly. Perhaps his ancestors were hunters. True, they probably rode brooms through villages hunting Muggles to torture, rape, and kill but it’s a somewhat similar principle. He intends to hunt a certain Redhead to kiss, fuck, and possibly keep around until he grows bored with freckles.
Now if he can just find the annoying prat who was annoyingly at the center of his hunt. If Draco had had his choice, he’d have been searching for different prey. It’s just his luck to survive the bloody war only to find himself infatuated…no, that made it sound like he’s some silly first year Hufflepuff girl, lusting for someone he can’t stand. Yes, lusting is far more appropriate. That describes their relationship perfectly. Urgent, frantic, kisses so rough his lips almost bleed, fucking that leaves his arse sore for days, and never actually saying anything unless it was ‘more’, ‘yes’, ‘now’ lusting.
He sees Potty snogging a redhead but the poor bloke is in denial (there had been wagers around Hogwarts since third year regarding Potter’s sexuality and Draco had lost a few galleons when the bastard dared to shag She-Weasel during sixth year so he’s bitter), which means it had to be She-Weasel. He changes directions suddenly when he notices two red heads huddled together, fully aware that those Devil Weasleys can’t stand him regardless of his brave acts (as Draco thought it took a lot of courage to give information to Shacklebolt and hide until the war was over) and will be very detrimental to his current hunt if they see him.
He scowls as he skulks back into the main room. A hunter without prey is just pathetic. He notices Granger blushing profusely as she speaks to Dragon Weasley and rolls his eyes. He doesn’t think of girl bits because he refuses to become nauseous but he does think she’s not very brave for a Gryffindor. Doesn’t she know that Weasleys are just Not Very Bright and need a little help when it comes to seeing what’s right in front of them?
Draco does not discreetly send a sprig of mistletoe to hover over their heads. His wand is firmly aimed downward and he will deny, even under the influence of any potion they wanted to give him, that he ever did such a ridiculous thing if anyone claims he’s responsible for the rather heated snog currently happening. Dragon Weasley may not be so stupid after all, he decides as he sees hands going places he doesn’t want to think about. It is just a first kiss, though, and Granger isn’t that type of girl at all. He doesn’t send a stinging hex at Dragon Weasley as a warning to keep his hands to himself this soon into things. Nope, not him.
He’s so busy not doing things to help the infuriating Mudblood he now works with obtain her prey, which is somewhat like vicarious hunting, he decides, that he fails to realize that he’s become the hunted. It’s only when he feels familiar hands on his shoulder and hears a chuckle that he knows this means he’s been caught being nice, a word that causes him to cringe with repulsion at his actions, that he finds himself turning to look at his prey.
Only, the look on His Weasley’s face is far from being that of helpless prey. Trust Weasley to ruin his hunt by insisting on being the hunter. There isn’t time to proclaim himself the victor in their hunt because Weasley’s lips on his and there’s a wall behind him and grinding that is far too distracting. Suddenly, it doesn’t matter which one is the hunter and which one is the prey since the result is the same.
The End
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Summary: There is something stimulating about hunting
Rating: Any Age
Word Count: 900
ABC Challenge #14: M - Mistletoe for Dustbunnies710
There is something stimulating about hunting. Draco feels like a predator as he hunts his prey, keeping to the shadows as he scans his surroundings with a focused gaze. A flash of red catches his attention but he sneers as he realizes it’s not his prey. He’ll leave that one to Granger since it’s rather obvious her knickers are wet for the dragon bloke, who is so oblivious he’s not sure he’d realize her less than honorable intentions for his rather muscular (Draco’s gaze lingers on broad shoulders) body if she showed up nude with an invitation addressed to him written on her bare body in chocolate sauce.
That thought makes Draco shudder in disgust, not only because it’s Granger, who he can tolerate on a good day and loves to annoy most the time, but because the thought of girl bits has distracted him from his hunt. There is a pause in the chase then so he can get a glass of something alcohol to cleanse his mind. Another flash of red replaces the disgusting thought of Granger’s bits, and he steps back into the shadows.
It’s yet another bloody Weasley that isn’t his prey. He doesn’t remember this one, but thinks he might be the uptight one with the stick up his bum. When the man turns, Draco’s suspicions are confirmed. Well, not stick as he’s heard rumor (from Marcus Flint no less) that Wood is pretty well endowed. Perhaps a large stick stuck up his bum, Draco decides with a grimace. He doesn’t want to think of prissy Weasleys and Scottish Quidditch players.
He’s back on the search for his prey. He’s good at this, he thinks smugly. Perhaps his ancestors were hunters. True, they probably rode brooms through villages hunting Muggles to torture, rape, and kill but it’s a somewhat similar principle. He intends to hunt a certain Redhead to kiss, fuck, and possibly keep around until he grows bored with freckles.
Now if he can just find the annoying prat who was annoyingly at the center of his hunt. If Draco had had his choice, he’d have been searching for different prey. It’s just his luck to survive the bloody war only to find himself infatuated…no, that made it sound like he’s some silly first year Hufflepuff girl, lusting for someone he can’t stand. Yes, lusting is far more appropriate. That describes their relationship perfectly. Urgent, frantic, kisses so rough his lips almost bleed, fucking that leaves his arse sore for days, and never actually saying anything unless it was ‘more’, ‘yes’, ‘now’ lusting.
He sees Potty snogging a redhead but the poor bloke is in denial (there had been wagers around Hogwarts since third year regarding Potter’s sexuality and Draco had lost a few galleons when the bastard dared to shag She-Weasel during sixth year so he’s bitter), which means it had to be She-Weasel. He changes directions suddenly when he notices two red heads huddled together, fully aware that those Devil Weasleys can’t stand him regardless of his brave acts (as Draco thought it took a lot of courage to give information to Shacklebolt and hide until the war was over) and will be very detrimental to his current hunt if they see him.
He scowls as he skulks back into the main room. A hunter without prey is just pathetic. He notices Granger blushing profusely as she speaks to Dragon Weasley and rolls his eyes. He doesn’t think of girl bits because he refuses to become nauseous but he does think she’s not very brave for a Gryffindor. Doesn’t she know that Weasleys are just Not Very Bright and need a little help when it comes to seeing what’s right in front of them?
Draco does not discreetly send a sprig of mistletoe to hover over their heads. His wand is firmly aimed downward and he will deny, even under the influence of any potion they wanted to give him, that he ever did such a ridiculous thing if anyone claims he’s responsible for the rather heated snog currently happening. Dragon Weasley may not be so stupid after all, he decides as he sees hands going places he doesn’t want to think about. It is just a first kiss, though, and Granger isn’t that type of girl at all. He doesn’t send a stinging hex at Dragon Weasley as a warning to keep his hands to himself this soon into things. Nope, not him.
He’s so busy not doing things to help the infuriating Mudblood he now works with obtain her prey, which is somewhat like vicarious hunting, he decides, that he fails to realize that he’s become the hunted. It’s only when he feels familiar hands on his shoulder and hears a chuckle that he knows this means he’s been caught being nice, a word that causes him to cringe with repulsion at his actions, that he finds himself turning to look at his prey.
Only, the look on His Weasley’s face is far from being that of helpless prey. Trust Weasley to ruin his hunt by insisting on being the hunter. There isn’t time to proclaim himself the victor in their hunt because Weasley’s lips on his and there’s a wall behind him and grinding that is far too distracting. Suddenly, it doesn’t matter which one is the hunter and which one is the prey since the result is the same.
The End