Thoroughly
Title: Thoroughly
Author: dana-chaaan
Rating: PG-13
Prompt Set: 50.4
Prompt: 20. Talk
Word Count: 1207
Summary: Draco and Pansy discuss a certain redhead's private life. Blaise involuntarily intrudes.
Warnings: Slash. Implied Mature Situations?
Notes: Executing another of Blaise's imaginary personalities.
Seething silently, Draco paced the Slytherin common room, the fury radiating off him making all but the abnormally brave leave the room. However, he didn't seem to know this as his mind was lost in his hatred-filled thoughts. His hands were fisted by his side as his feet worked holes into the expensive rug in the middle of the common room.
“You're going to wear out that rug, dear. Please, just sit down,” Pansy said in that sickening tone, obvious thinking she sounded rather flirtatious that way. Draco only paused to glare at her before starting to walk again.
Blaise sighed in disinterest, calling out to his schoolmate, “She's right, you know.” He sat comfortably in the armchair, a hard-cover book held loosely in his hands. He had no idea why he was reading it after the first few chapters proved it to be fruitless, but he remembered how he'd acquired the book and forced himself to read. Besides, it was a way to ignore the other two in the room. Himself, Parkinson, and Draco being the only ones, the others having departed at the obviously enraged blonde.
“Shut up, both of you!” Malfoy spat venomously, still pacing furiously, fiery eyes glaring at whatever was in the distance. Zabini only shrugged at the other boy, although concealing the inappropriate action and letting his dark eyes skim through the words on the page in front of him.
“You're going to wrinkle your flawless skin if you keep glaring like that,” Pansy pointed out simply, sighing dramatically from her spot on the couch.
“I just believe he would say that to me. To me! I'm a Malfoy. We're stunningly attractive and able to snatch anyone. How dare he.” The blonde grumbled, his words dripping with hatred. Blaise only rolled his eyes mentally and recalled the earlier events that day.
Just like any normal encounter, Malfoy chose to provoke his arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. However, it seemed that that day neither of the three in the Golden Trio were in the mood for any such verbal fight. So, they had let Draco throw his petty, yet sharp, insults without a single thing in response. That was, of course, until Ron's choice of bed-mates, or “lack thereof” came into play; the redhead never was one to hold back his rash tongue. Malfoy had sneeringly insinuated that “the petty, poor, and vile Weasel” would never be able to bed someone in his “entire, pathetic existence”, desperate to get a negative reaction. And, oh boy, did he get one.
Ron had, without a second thought or a word from his friends, landed a hook-punch on flawless, porcelain skin and shouted a few obstinate insults in reply. Those of which had, fortunately for Ron, actually struck a chord in the blonde. He'd been pacing over that damned rug ever since they'd gotten back from the verbal, and slightly physical, battle.
“Besides,” Pansy started, trying to ease Draco's nerves, “What would the Weasel know about sex? The boy's never even slept with someone in his life.”
The blonde's pacing slowed as he looked at the pug-faced female, a slow half-sneer half-smirk crawling over his facial expression. “You're right. He's probably been turned down by everyone, even that pathetic mudblood.”
In an even and nonchalant tone, Blaise said, “Don't be too sure about that.” Even though the dark-haired boy possessed Slytherin traits, there were moments in time where his bad habit caught up to him. The reason he rarely talked: things always seemed to just slip out of his mouth.
The second those words left his lips, however, he inwardly cringed. This would most definitely bring about new problems; ones he definitely didn't need at the moment. Outwardly, though, he kept up his front and held his eyes attached to the printed page, lifting a mental eyebrow at the sentence he just read. “He never should have said those irrational words?” he thought, mulling the words he read once more, to make sure they weren't just a hallucination, “Ironic.”
“And what exactly do you mean by that, Blaise?” Draco inquired, a delicate eyebrow raising in suspicion. “Are you insinuating you know about the Weasley's sex life?”
Desperately, Zabini clamped his teeth shut, fearful of saying something along the lines of “I am Weasley's sex life.” However, as he felt himself push the thought aside, he looked up to his house-mates and kept his lips in a firm line. “And if I am?”
Before Draco got the chance to reply, Pansy interjected, “We could definitely use this to our advantage, Draco-dear. No doubt he didn't sleep with anybody good.” She looked back to Blaise, “So, tell us, who'd he bed?”
“More like who bed him,” Zabini scoffed with a partially amused tone, obviously forgetting that wasn't the thing to be telling those two. He truly wasn't interested in this conversation, but he had walked himself directly into it and had to play a part now, if only because the cat was out of the bag. He smirked at the words on the page - this character was rather familiar, if he admitted to such a thing.
“You mean to say the Weasel's gay?” Draco smirked, stopping fully in his pacing and staring at his male friend.
“Why did I stay down here, again?” Blaise asked himself mentally before answering aloud, “Maybe not. But he did get thoroughly shagged.”
“This is bloody rich!” Pansy voiced. “Who was it?”
Now effectively holding their undivided attention, Blaise blanched inwardly while smirking on the surface. There wasn't much he could do now. He had, at most, three choices: don't answer, which would prove to be futile; lie, which would complicate his relationship with the redhead; or tell the truth, which would complicate his relationship with the two and the redhead. Ever the Slytherin, or at least trying to compensate for his recent slip, Blaise dodged the subject entirely.
“First, what time is it?” It wasn't a topic completely random, at least, not to him. He did have a meeting he'd rather not miss at eleven o'clock. Just because he had involuntarily stepped into this predicament didn't mean he could willingly step right back out. This secretive-yet-not-so-much meeting was more important than his obsessing friends at the moment, or any other moment for that matter.
“Ten to eleven,” Pansy answered, mildly bewildering Zabini as to how she found out that quickly. However, he pushed that train of thought away and stood from his seat, brushing off his clothing instinctively. He folded the corner of the page he was on and shut the book, walking right past his friends to the common room exit.
“Where are you going? It's past curfew and you haven't answered our question yet,” Draco said matter-of-factly. The dark-haired Slytherin only looked back at the blonde with an amused expression ebbing across his face.
“I'm off to thoroughly shag the ever-famous Weasel,” he stated simply with a trademark smirk. Seeing their surprised face, Blaise turned around and walked out through the portrait without another word.
End.
Author: dana-chaaan
Rating: PG-13
Prompt Set: 50.4
Prompt: 20. Talk
Word Count: 1207
Summary: Draco and Pansy discuss a certain redhead's private life. Blaise involuntarily intrudes.
Warnings: Slash. Implied Mature Situations?
Notes: Executing another of Blaise's imaginary personalities.
Seething silently, Draco paced the Slytherin common room, the fury radiating off him making all but the abnormally brave leave the room. However, he didn't seem to know this as his mind was lost in his hatred-filled thoughts. His hands were fisted by his side as his feet worked holes into the expensive rug in the middle of the common room.
“You're going to wear out that rug, dear. Please, just sit down,” Pansy said in that sickening tone, obvious thinking she sounded rather flirtatious that way. Draco only paused to glare at her before starting to walk again.
Blaise sighed in disinterest, calling out to his schoolmate, “She's right, you know.” He sat comfortably in the armchair, a hard-cover book held loosely in his hands. He had no idea why he was reading it after the first few chapters proved it to be fruitless, but he remembered how he'd acquired the book and forced himself to read. Besides, it was a way to ignore the other two in the room. Himself, Parkinson, and Draco being the only ones, the others having departed at the obviously enraged blonde.
“Shut up, both of you!” Malfoy spat venomously, still pacing furiously, fiery eyes glaring at whatever was in the distance. Zabini only shrugged at the other boy, although concealing the inappropriate action and letting his dark eyes skim through the words on the page in front of him.
“You're going to wrinkle your flawless skin if you keep glaring like that,” Pansy pointed out simply, sighing dramatically from her spot on the couch.
“I just believe he would say that to me. To me! I'm a Malfoy. We're stunningly attractive and able to snatch anyone. How dare he.” The blonde grumbled, his words dripping with hatred. Blaise only rolled his eyes mentally and recalled the earlier events that day.
Just like any normal encounter, Malfoy chose to provoke his arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. However, it seemed that that day neither of the three in the Golden Trio were in the mood for any such verbal fight. So, they had let Draco throw his petty, yet sharp, insults without a single thing in response. That was, of course, until Ron's choice of bed-mates, or “lack thereof” came into play; the redhead never was one to hold back his rash tongue. Malfoy had sneeringly insinuated that “the petty, poor, and vile Weasel” would never be able to bed someone in his “entire, pathetic existence”, desperate to get a negative reaction. And, oh boy, did he get one.
Ron had, without a second thought or a word from his friends, landed a hook-punch on flawless, porcelain skin and shouted a few obstinate insults in reply. Those of which had, fortunately for Ron, actually struck a chord in the blonde. He'd been pacing over that damned rug ever since they'd gotten back from the verbal, and slightly physical, battle.
“Besides,” Pansy started, trying to ease Draco's nerves, “What would the Weasel know about sex? The boy's never even slept with someone in his life.”
The blonde's pacing slowed as he looked at the pug-faced female, a slow half-sneer half-smirk crawling over his facial expression. “You're right. He's probably been turned down by everyone, even that pathetic mudblood.”
In an even and nonchalant tone, Blaise said, “Don't be too sure about that.” Even though the dark-haired boy possessed Slytherin traits, there were moments in time where his bad habit caught up to him. The reason he rarely talked: things always seemed to just slip out of his mouth.
The second those words left his lips, however, he inwardly cringed. This would most definitely bring about new problems; ones he definitely didn't need at the moment. Outwardly, though, he kept up his front and held his eyes attached to the printed page, lifting a mental eyebrow at the sentence he just read. “He never should have said those irrational words?” he thought, mulling the words he read once more, to make sure they weren't just a hallucination, “Ironic.”
“And what exactly do you mean by that, Blaise?” Draco inquired, a delicate eyebrow raising in suspicion. “Are you insinuating you know about the Weasley's sex life?”
Desperately, Zabini clamped his teeth shut, fearful of saying something along the lines of “I am Weasley's sex life.” However, as he felt himself push the thought aside, he looked up to his house-mates and kept his lips in a firm line. “And if I am?”
Before Draco got the chance to reply, Pansy interjected, “We could definitely use this to our advantage, Draco-dear. No doubt he didn't sleep with anybody good.” She looked back to Blaise, “So, tell us, who'd he bed?”
“More like who bed him,” Zabini scoffed with a partially amused tone, obviously forgetting that wasn't the thing to be telling those two. He truly wasn't interested in this conversation, but he had walked himself directly into it and had to play a part now, if only because the cat was out of the bag. He smirked at the words on the page - this character was rather familiar, if he admitted to such a thing.
“You mean to say the Weasel's gay?” Draco smirked, stopping fully in his pacing and staring at his male friend.
“Why did I stay down here, again?” Blaise asked himself mentally before answering aloud, “Maybe not. But he did get thoroughly shagged.”
“This is bloody rich!” Pansy voiced. “Who was it?”
Now effectively holding their undivided attention, Blaise blanched inwardly while smirking on the surface. There wasn't much he could do now. He had, at most, three choices: don't answer, which would prove to be futile; lie, which would complicate his relationship with the redhead; or tell the truth, which would complicate his relationship with the two and the redhead. Ever the Slytherin, or at least trying to compensate for his recent slip, Blaise dodged the subject entirely.
“First, what time is it?” It wasn't a topic completely random, at least, not to him. He did have a meeting he'd rather not miss at eleven o'clock. Just because he had involuntarily stepped into this predicament didn't mean he could willingly step right back out. This secretive-yet-not-so-much meeting was more important than his obsessing friends at the moment, or any other moment for that matter.
“Ten to eleven,” Pansy answered, mildly bewildering Zabini as to how she found out that quickly. However, he pushed that train of thought away and stood from his seat, brushing off his clothing instinctively. He folded the corner of the page he was on and shut the book, walking right past his friends to the common room exit.
“Where are you going? It's past curfew and you haven't answered our question yet,” Draco said matter-of-factly. The dark-haired Slytherin only looked back at the blonde with an amused expression ebbing across his face.
“I'm off to thoroughly shag the ever-famous Weasel,” he stated simply with a trademark smirk. Seeing their surprised face, Blaise turned around and walked out through the portrait without another word.
End.