"Matching" fluffy ficlet
A fluffy ficlet inspired by my art commission from Acidburn.
Title: Matching
Rating: PG
Word Count: 630
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, etc.
Summary: In the morning, this never happened. Drunken fluff.
Everyone was there. Tonight the fact that they were all leaving Hogwarts permanently in two days out-weighted House rivalries. The party was held in one of the long abandoned Potions dungeons. It was an open secret, a tradition unacknowledged but tolerated by the teachers; though Filch lurked nearby to ensure that the celebration didn’t spill over to the rest of the castle.
There was butterbeer, and there was firewhiskey - a lot of it. No one knew where it came from, but everyone drank it. There was loud music and dim lights. Everyone felt friendly, inclined to forgive grudges that had been held for years. Hufflepuffs forgave the Ravenclaws who’d snickered in class when their exam papers were returned. Slytherins forgave Gryffindors for treating them like evil incarnate for seven years.
Angelina forgave Montague for tripping her in the hallway Third Year; for pushing her off her broom Fifth Year; for making an obscene suggestion to her the night of the Yule Ball; and for his campaign of harassment Seventh Year.
He forgave her for telling McGonagall that he’d committed one of Fred and George’s pranks Second Year; for suggesting he and all Slytherins were murderers Fourth Year; and he forgave her for the crimes of her friends.
They forgave each other silently and secretly; neither would have said anything to the other until they found themselves standing next to each other by chance.
Angelina was hot. It was summer, there were over one hundred bodies packed in the room, and there was more alcohol than she’d ever had before coursing through her veins. She tied her shirt at the waist and used her school tie to hold her hair away from her face. Then she turned around and came to face with a similarly disheveled Montague. His shirt was untucked and unbuttoned, and his tie carelessly rested on his shoulder.
Struck by a sudden impulse to make them match, Angelina reached for Montague’s tie. He grabbed her wrist and said something. Unable to hear him, she headed into the hallway. He followed her without releasing her hand.
“What did you say?” Angelina asked, taking care to enunciate clearly.
“I asked what you thought you were doing, and reminded you that I wasn’t a Weasley.”
“I wanted us to match.”
“Huh?” Montague let go of her wrist.
Angelina draped his tie around his head. “There, now we match.”
Montague stared at her. Finally, he said, “No, your shirt’s buttoned.”
Angelina considered this carefully. He was right. She began to unbutton her shirt. She beamed at him when she was finished. “I think everyone should wear their uniforms like this.” She moved to return to the party, but Montague stepped in her way.
“I’m not wearing a bra,” he said seriously.
Angelina blinked. Even drunk, that statement sounded absurd to her. “Of course you’re not.”
He touched the lacy material of her bra. “We don’t match if you’re wearing one.”
It seemed like a perfectly logical point to Angelina. She reached back to unsnap her bra, but Montague still kept touching her bra - and then her bare skin. That felt good. She placed her hand on his chest, mirroring his movements.
And that’s how Filch found them. “You’re breaking the rules! No leaving the classroom! Stripping the hallway…filthy children,” he yelled at them, though his eyes lingered on Angelina’s breasts.
Angelina and Montague jumped apart, and Angelina automatically clutched her shirt closed. With Filch shouting at them and threatening detention - not that they’d be around to serve it, but they instinctively reacted to threats of detention - they had no choice but to head back to the party, where they were promptly separated in the crowd.
They pretended not to remember any of it when they saw each other the next day.
End
Title: Matching
Rating: PG
Word Count: 630
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, etc.
Summary: In the morning, this never happened. Drunken fluff.
Everyone was there. Tonight the fact that they were all leaving Hogwarts permanently in two days out-weighted House rivalries. The party was held in one of the long abandoned Potions dungeons. It was an open secret, a tradition unacknowledged but tolerated by the teachers; though Filch lurked nearby to ensure that the celebration didn’t spill over to the rest of the castle.
There was butterbeer, and there was firewhiskey - a lot of it. No one knew where it came from, but everyone drank it. There was loud music and dim lights. Everyone felt friendly, inclined to forgive grudges that had been held for years. Hufflepuffs forgave the Ravenclaws who’d snickered in class when their exam papers were returned. Slytherins forgave Gryffindors for treating them like evil incarnate for seven years.
Angelina forgave Montague for tripping her in the hallway Third Year; for pushing her off her broom Fifth Year; for making an obscene suggestion to her the night of the Yule Ball; and for his campaign of harassment Seventh Year.
He forgave her for telling McGonagall that he’d committed one of Fred and George’s pranks Second Year; for suggesting he and all Slytherins were murderers Fourth Year; and he forgave her for the crimes of her friends.
They forgave each other silently and secretly; neither would have said anything to the other until they found themselves standing next to each other by chance.
Angelina was hot. It was summer, there were over one hundred bodies packed in the room, and there was more alcohol than she’d ever had before coursing through her veins. She tied her shirt at the waist and used her school tie to hold her hair away from her face. Then she turned around and came to face with a similarly disheveled Montague. His shirt was untucked and unbuttoned, and his tie carelessly rested on his shoulder.
Struck by a sudden impulse to make them match, Angelina reached for Montague’s tie. He grabbed her wrist and said something. Unable to hear him, she headed into the hallway. He followed her without releasing her hand.
“What did you say?” Angelina asked, taking care to enunciate clearly.
“I asked what you thought you were doing, and reminded you that I wasn’t a Weasley.”
“I wanted us to match.”
“Huh?” Montague let go of her wrist.
Angelina draped his tie around his head. “There, now we match.”
Montague stared at her. Finally, he said, “No, your shirt’s buttoned.”
Angelina considered this carefully. He was right. She began to unbutton her shirt. She beamed at him when she was finished. “I think everyone should wear their uniforms like this.” She moved to return to the party, but Montague stepped in her way.
“I’m not wearing a bra,” he said seriously.
Angelina blinked. Even drunk, that statement sounded absurd to her. “Of course you’re not.”
He touched the lacy material of her bra. “We don’t match if you’re wearing one.”
It seemed like a perfectly logical point to Angelina. She reached back to unsnap her bra, but Montague still kept touching her bra - and then her bare skin. That felt good. She placed her hand on his chest, mirroring his movements.
And that’s how Filch found them. “You’re breaking the rules! No leaving the classroom! Stripping the hallway…filthy children,” he yelled at them, though his eyes lingered on Angelina’s breasts.
Angelina and Montague jumped apart, and Angelina automatically clutched her shirt closed. With Filch shouting at them and threatening detention - not that they’d be around to serve it, but they instinctively reacted to threats of detention - they had no choice but to head back to the party, where they were promptly separated in the crowd.
They pretended not to remember any of it when they saw each other the next day.
End