7So hello.
I would like to clear up a few things: Draco Malfoy and Terry Boot probably do not have a very healthy relationship in this, which I am sure you all have noticed since they are both blackmailing each other (this should probably give off a few red flags). Also Draco is being a bit inappropriate by a lot. In my opinion, nobody should go out with a jackass like Draco Malfoy, his apparent attractiveness regardless.
While I believe that Draco Malfoy is an overall toxic person, I'm going to try to make him less so for the purpose of this fic. (However, his Draco-ness will hopefully still be intact because DRACO).
Pairing: Terry Boot X Draco Malfoy
Other Pairings: Chris X Pretty Much Every Straight Girl Ever But Especially Padma
Warnings: I'm attempting to write a dirty talking thing. More OCs, when will I stop NEVER.
Stuff this is being written for: Dance Competition, Sharing A Bed Challenge, yep yep (for REALS this time)
Also, YOUNG THE GIANT IS SO GOOD OMYGAH
Wednesday Morning, 11:00
Double Potions with the Slytherins, oh kill me now, supreme celestial beings.
I wasn't paired with Draco Malfoy, thank goodness, but with Pansy Parkinson, who is a vixen with legs longer than broomsticks, and twice as sexy, according to Chris, who in a fit of sheer insanity decided to fall in lust with this girl one fine day. To this moment, I am still not sure whether he compared her sex appeal to a broomstick or not, but I refuse to ask him, for fear of the mental trauma I might have to face during his rather long dialogues about sex.
Pansy took one disgusted look at me, and turned back to her conversation with Malfoy Junior, leaving me to brew the entire potion by myself. Which isn't a bad thing, of course. This way my grade is in my more than capable hands.
When I was done, I tapped my partner on the shoulder to tell her I was done. Pansy looked me over and said "Draco wants to see you after dinner. Something about a group of things you lost." She smirked at me, because oh god she knows about the pictures and there is a possibility she has seen them.
I think it's safe to say that I'm not going to survive this.
Cordially,
Terry Boot
Thursday Morning, 2:18 am
It seems as if history has a way of repeating itself.
Draco Malfoy is back sharing a bed with me, snoring, and I am still clueless about what is happening.
Dinner was how dinner usually is, except completely different.
There was Chris, talking about eight different girls at once (you wouldn't know he was a Ravenclaw until you see his Arithmancy squares, I assure you), Padma scolding him about how sexist he is and fretting about her grades, and Amira being pissed off at Umbridge for being a bitch, and fretting about her grades (and then normally I would agree with her and then fret about my grades). Yup, we Ravenclaws are the life of the party.
"Oh my gosh, Parvati Patil's ass, though, that is how every girl's ass should look like, I mean-" Obviously Chris.
"That's my sister, and you're objectifying females. Also, she's my identical twin, so you're talking about my ass, which is a topic I would not like to discuss," Padma replied.
"Cho Chang, though, her hair is the most beautiful thing ever, and that skin, and those adorable wrists, and that grace she walks with...perfection," Chris continued, ignoring Padma, although he looked a bit green after hearing what she said.
"Don't waste your breath, she's only looking at Harry Potter," Padma scoffed.
"He's gay, though, so she has no chance." I said. The three stared at me like I was an idiot.
"Gay?" Amira asked.
"Not straight?" Chris stuttered, dumbfounded, sneaking a look at Padma's hindquarters. He will never learn.
"Gay-diddy-gay-gay-gay," I confirmed with a nod.
Padma burst out laughing. "Terry, you're so weird."
Weird, I guess, is better than being humiliated by blackmail, I thought as dinner ended and I took a detour to the History Of Magic room, where Draco was lounging on a desk.
I never knew it was possible to lounge on a desk before, but here he was lounging on a desk.
"Curfew's soon, so hurry up," I said as I entered.
He raised an eyebrow. "Inquiry Squad, remember?"
"Oh."
"So obviously you're wondering why I would ever waste my time talking to an inferior Ravenclaw."
Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of oh-shit-when-is-he-going-to-kill-me, but his statement was close. I gulped and nodded.
"Dumbledore's Army." He said.
Time froze. "I - I have no idea what you are talking about," I blustered.
What he said next shocked me. "I want in."
"In what? Dumbledore's Army?" I asked, not believing my ears.
He looked at the floor. "Why not? Umbridge is a psycho bitch with anger issues, and even I agree that Dumbledore is better for this pathetic excuse for a school than she is."
"Um...that's not my choice to decide."
He smirked. "Oh, but, you see, it is." I stared at him. "I have your pictures, remember? They'll be destroyed the minute I'm in the Army."
"Um...I'm not s-" I don't even know what I was trying to say.
"That's all I need to say, and I am not wasting another second of my time talking to you." He cut me off without emotion, but I detected a hint of a tremble in his voice. He exited the room quickly and efficiently, and was halfway down the hall before I unfroze myself and ran after him.
'Wait, Malf-" I screamed as he opened the Slytherin dungeon with a whispered word.
He pushed me in. 'Are you stupid?" He hissed. "Why are you running after me? And yelling my name in the middle of the night in a deserted hallway?"
My pride was bruised from his calling me stupid, but I guess that was true. "I just had a question." I muttered.
He ran a hand through his weirdly-perfect hair and sighed. It seemed as if all of the vigour left him in that one breath. "You're going to ask me why I want to join, aren't you. I want to join for personal reasons that I don't have to tell you, but I assure you that it will be a win-win situation for both of us. Now, Bulstrode will be patrolling the Ravenclaw area from now for the next hour."
"...Okay."
He sighed, but this time, it was with exasperation. Rolling his eyes, he said "You really are clueless. Fine, I'll say it like a Ravenclaw. Terry Boot, I Draco Malfoy cordially invite you to spend the night in the Slytherin Boy's Dorm-platonically."
Oh. For a brief second, I admit I felt a prick of disappointment when he included the last five syllables, but it was only there for a nanosecond, I swear.
I entered the room with him, half a step behind him.
The Slytherin Dorm Room is similar to the Ravenclaw dorm, except with an air of if-you-look-at-me-wrong-I-will-incinerate-you infused into the furniture. I edged nearer to his bed as he stepped out of his robes with a sinuous grace known only to the sexiest of the sexy.
I had no time to see what he hid under his shirt, because he said in a slightly muffled voice "I don't want you ogling me, Boot."
"I'm not ogling you!" I wasn't.
I gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, head turned away and looking at some breathing lumps of blankets until I felt the mattress shift as Malfoy got on the bed.
He pulled the blankets over himself and gave me a look when I hesitated. "Only one of us is gay here, Boot. Nothing's going to happen under these blankets, you're acting like a twelve year old."
So he basically confirmed he was gay then, which I could also use to blackmai- never mind.
I got in and he turned so his back was facing me. "Anyhow, I'd never sleep with a little kid," he said.
"I'm not little, I'm in your year!" I am not little, I am just a bit on the short side, and a bit on the underweight side, and a bit on the not-very-muscular side, okay?
He craned his neck to look at me with one skeptical gray eye. We were almost touching...until we weren't.
"So maybe I got put up a year in Charm School," I grumbled. "That means nothing. Maturity wise, I'm probably more stable than a seventh year Hufflepuff."
He scoffed (why did he scoff? why did he scoff?) and turned over again, so I was left to face his back.
I replayed the conversation through my head, and one part stuck:
Nothing's going to happen under these blankets.
And then, my mind started to play with these words very graphically.
"Nothing's going to happen under these blankets."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing except for-"
"Omygosh it's so big."
"Do you want it inside of you?"
"Mm, it'll taste so good..."
"But not as good as the grape flavour."
"Really? I like strawberry best."
"You know what they use to colour that? TINY RED BUGS."
Let's just leave it at that, because it ended with a rather vicious brawl over which popsicle flavour was best.
I am very opinionated on popsicle flavours, obviously.
Of course, I am not saying 100% that I was talking about popsicle flavours, because I might not have been.
...But I might have.
Let's just leave it at that.
Now, I have a very big problem to take care of, but I'm not sure how I can with someone else in this bed here. I'm not even sure how it happened, because hell-o, straight boy here.
Dammit.
Cordially,
Terry Boot
Thursday Morning, 7:00 am
Sneaked out of the dorm before anyone woke up.
I am just pretending that last night never happened ever.
Even though I have written documented proof that it did.
And that problem I mentioned? It resolved by itself.
A minor blessing, indeed.
Cordially,
Terry Boot
Okay so I chickened out with the talking dirty, because even though this story has a lot of innuendo, that's about as far as I go with sex. The real thing can just go screw itself or something, because I don't want to think about top-bottom whatevers with the whatevers and also Terry is fourteen, and although I believe that you should have sex whenever you feel ready and an arbitrary law or social stigma should not tell you when you should have it, come on, how mature do you think Terry is on this note? NOT AT ALL.
Also, the popsicle bit made me giggle like a ten year old again XD
Cheers!
xxCJxx