Harry Potter - Foresight Reawakened - ch4: long staring
HP - foresight reawakened: (4) long staring
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Is descaid seirce sirshilliud. ~long staring is a sign of love (Irish proverb)
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Not-Potter wrapped his arms around not-Draco and not-Draco let him. They stood so close that when one moved the other moved with him. Not-Harry guided them until not-Draco’s back was pressed against the alcove wall, nearly hidden to Draco by the stone centaur raised proudly on its hind legs. The centaur blocked most of the action from view, but Draco could hear the sounds filtering from behind it, and they disturbed him.
Draco left the not-yets to their…dubious fun. Walking to the Great Hall from a different route, he resolved to get laid before starting the seemingly inevitable relationship with that low-breed Potter. It wouldn’t do to enter the relationship a virgin, especially given the suspicion that his mother was purposely keeping something about Potter from him. Perhaps over the summer he could find some second or third pureblood daughter in the mood for a bit of fun. He was a Malfoy-it shouldn’t be too difficult, especially among the Dark families.
When Draco got to the hall the only open space at the end of the table faced Gryffindor. “Saved it for you,” Pansy said, daintily reaching for her glass and nodding to the seat beside her. She knew he liked to see the whole of the Hall while he ate. And they should be able to see him.
Today Draco didn’t want to see anyone. He wanted his back facing the Hall as he ate his dinner, but Crabbe and Goyle were the only people in sixth and seventh year who would move at his order without a fight, and their spots were both messy with the bits of guzzled food that fell out their gaping mouths. There was nothing for it, Draco thought. He dished himself some food.
Across the hall, Potter was laughing with his friends. Something was going on at that end of the table; the Gryffindor boys were all huddled around Weasley and poking at something on the table. The girls were rolling their eyes and ignoring them, for the most part. Granger was staring at Weasley though.
“It’s disgusting,” Draco said. He stabbed his mutton with his fork. A knife. Where was his knife? Stupid house elves. Or someone’d stolen it. He glared around the table looking for the culprit.
“What’s disgusting?” Pansy asked, handing him her knife without a word. There was butter on it from her biscuit. Draco wiped the butter off on the side of his plate.
“Gryffindors,” he said, looking at Potter. His messy black hair looked like a tornado had landed square on his head, and his glasses looked the same. How much tape was on them? Shouldn’t Granger have fixed them by now?
“Draco!”
“What?” Blaise was smirking at him, the weedy little rodent. Draco sneered at him. Blaise smirked wider.
“I’ve asked you three times-are you going home for winter hols?” Pansy’s voice was annoying. Across the hall, Potter was laughing, mouth wide, teeth glinting in the sunset beaming down from the ceiling.
“Of course I’m going home,” Draco replied, annoyed. She was like a mosquito sometimes, always buzzing when you wanted her to just leave you alone. He stabbed his mutton with his fork and sawed at it with his knife the way he wanted to saw into Potter’s head, right under the nostrils and straight out the other side. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well…Draco, don’t do that.”
And then he’s break Potter’s perfect white teeth. “Do what?”
“You look like you’re going to kill something,” Pansy said.
Potter returned to his seat, facing away from Draco. A wide smile split the Gryffindor’s face as he sat down. Draco wanted to stab his fork into Potter’s mouth. See how not-Draco liked that. Not so easy to kiss someone with a fork sticking out their throat. Draco chortled.
“Alright, now you’re scaring me,” Pansy said.
Draco laughed.
*
Is descaid seirce sirshilliud. ~long staring is a sign of love (Irish proverb)
*
Not-Potter wrapped his arms around not-Draco and not-Draco let him. They stood so close that when one moved the other moved with him. Not-Harry guided them until not-Draco’s back was pressed against the alcove wall, nearly hidden to Draco by the stone centaur raised proudly on its hind legs. The centaur blocked most of the action from view, but Draco could hear the sounds filtering from behind it, and they disturbed him.
Draco left the not-yets to their…dubious fun. Walking to the Great Hall from a different route, he resolved to get laid before starting the seemingly inevitable relationship with that low-breed Potter. It wouldn’t do to enter the relationship a virgin, especially given the suspicion that his mother was purposely keeping something about Potter from him. Perhaps over the summer he could find some second or third pureblood daughter in the mood for a bit of fun. He was a Malfoy-it shouldn’t be too difficult, especially among the Dark families.
When Draco got to the hall the only open space at the end of the table faced Gryffindor. “Saved it for you,” Pansy said, daintily reaching for her glass and nodding to the seat beside her. She knew he liked to see the whole of the Hall while he ate. And they should be able to see him.
Today Draco didn’t want to see anyone. He wanted his back facing the Hall as he ate his dinner, but Crabbe and Goyle were the only people in sixth and seventh year who would move at his order without a fight, and their spots were both messy with the bits of guzzled food that fell out their gaping mouths. There was nothing for it, Draco thought. He dished himself some food.
Across the hall, Potter was laughing with his friends. Something was going on at that end of the table; the Gryffindor boys were all huddled around Weasley and poking at something on the table. The girls were rolling their eyes and ignoring them, for the most part. Granger was staring at Weasley though.
“It’s disgusting,” Draco said. He stabbed his mutton with his fork. A knife. Where was his knife? Stupid house elves. Or someone’d stolen it. He glared around the table looking for the culprit.
“What’s disgusting?” Pansy asked, handing him her knife without a word. There was butter on it from her biscuit. Draco wiped the butter off on the side of his plate.
“Gryffindors,” he said, looking at Potter. His messy black hair looked like a tornado had landed square on his head, and his glasses looked the same. How much tape was on them? Shouldn’t Granger have fixed them by now?
“Draco!”
“What?” Blaise was smirking at him, the weedy little rodent. Draco sneered at him. Blaise smirked wider.
“I’ve asked you three times-are you going home for winter hols?” Pansy’s voice was annoying. Across the hall, Potter was laughing, mouth wide, teeth glinting in the sunset beaming down from the ceiling.
“Of course I’m going home,” Draco replied, annoyed. She was like a mosquito sometimes, always buzzing when you wanted her to just leave you alone. He stabbed his mutton with his fork and sawed at it with his knife the way he wanted to saw into Potter’s head, right under the nostrils and straight out the other side. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well…Draco, don’t do that.”
And then he’s break Potter’s perfect white teeth. “Do what?”
“You look like you’re going to kill something,” Pansy said.
Potter returned to his seat, facing away from Draco. A wide smile split the Gryffindor’s face as he sat down. Draco wanted to stab his fork into Potter’s mouth. See how not-Draco liked that. Not so easy to kiss someone with a fork sticking out their throat. Draco chortled.
“Alright, now you’re scaring me,” Pansy said.
Draco laughed.