"For Pride" -- Harry Potter, Ron x Draco [10_quotes]
Title: For Pride
Rating: Bordering PG-13
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Ron Weasley
Movie/quote: Singing in the Rain-“You couldn't kiss me like that and not mean it just a teensy bit!” - “Meet the greatest actor in the world! I'd rather kiss a tarantula.”
Summary: A kissing bet brings Draco frustration, Pansy amusement, and Ron complete confusion.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters do not belong to me.
Draco’s bloody pride was ruining him.
Generally, Draco steered clear of things like bets and gambling. After all, he didn’t need money and he had better things to do with his time. But sometimes it couldn’t be avoided. And even Slytherins, he found, could be as silly and immature as a first year Hufflepuff, especially with the excitement and restlessness that accompanied the approach of the holidays. A kissing bet. How elementary could one get? Draco wasn’t afraid of kisses, but he did want to have some say in who he kissed. He had a reputation to uphold. It was the anonymity that was killing him: “the next Gryffindor to walk in the Great Hall.” Merlin, it could be anyone! But he couldn’t refuse, couldn’t turn the bet down or try to dismiss it and hope his peers would leave it at that.
He watched the Great Hall entrance over his breakfast with a look he hoped was more disinterested than disdainful. He just hoped it didn’t turn out to be Potter. He’d rather kiss that Mudblood, Granger, than Potter. Hell, he’d rather kiss Longbottom than Potter. Nothing, absolutely nothing, would be worse.
And then he walked in.
Tall, freckled, with a head of flaming red hair, it was Draco’s most frightening nightmare come true.
He was going to have to kiss Ronald Weasley.
He tried to talk himself out of it. Surely they would understand that having him kiss a Weasley where the whole school would see would tarnish not only his name, but would be a source of embarrassment for the entire house of Slytherin. But that only succeeded in biding him some time; the kiss could occur at any place, any time during the day, so long as there was one Slytherin present to bear witness.
Sometimes, just sometimes, being a Malfoy was extremely inconvenient.
-
Pansy Parkinson had never seen two boys kiss.
She wasn’t sure if the thought was an appealing one or not. She’d never considered it, really. Well, maybe once or twice in the middle of hot, sweaty nights. But she supposed she should’ve been disgusted-angry, even-at the thought of Draco kissing Ron Weasley.
Instead, she found the whole thing utterly hilarious.
“Stop smirking and bugger off,” Draco said as she followed him down one of the corridors.
The irritation he felt at his situation was written clearly all over his face, but she merely shrugged.
“I can’t leave until I see you ki-”
“Don’t say it.”
She sniggered and he positively glowered at her. She couldn’t contain herself. The thought was too ridiculous. She wondered how he was going to pull it off; it wasn’t as if the two boys were alone together often, and when they were, it wasn’t long before they started trying to hex each other. It was hard for her to imagine either of them standing still or being quiet long enough to kiss.
Them. Kiss.
She laughed again and Draco growled, “Oh, shut up!”
-
It was chilly in the Owlery, though a rather pleasant sort of chilly, and so Ronald Weasley was in no hurry to leave after watching-with a mixture of pity and bemusement-as Pigwidgeon bobbed out into the coming twilight, laden with the packages of Honeydukes sweets he was sending to Bill and Charlie for Christmas. Instead, he rested his crossed arms on one of the windowsills and let the breeze ruffle his red hair and cool his face as the sun set, quite content.
“There you are!”
He cringed at the unfortunately familiar voice, peaceful moment shattered. Turning from the window, he saw Draco Malfoy standing in the entrance. He looked tense, his face scrunched up in frustration and faintly flushed; he was out of breath, his hair and robes disheveled, looking like he’d run all the way up the West Tower. If Ron was going to be perfectly honest with himself, he thought Malfoy actually looked pretty good.
Luckily, he was almost never perfectly honest with himself when it came to Malfoy.
“What are you doing here?” asked Malfoy, like he had the right to know wherever Ron went.
“What do you think?” Ron snapped back, indignant.
Malfoy scowled at him, and then suddenly stumbled forward as if he’d been pushed. He shot a glare somewhere over his shoulder before his grey eyes darted distractedly around the room and finally focused on the floor. Ron watched him, confused and a little annoyed. It seemed to him that Malfoy had purposefully sought him out, but he was just standing there looking pissy and asking stupid questions. He had a right mind to just walk out; it wasn’t like he cared what the Slytherin had to say to him anyway. Well, he didn’t really care. Not enough to hang around and put up with his mysterious fuming.
And yet, said an irritating voice in the back of his mind, you aren’t leaving, now are you?
“I don’t really like it in here,” Malfoy said presently. “It’s drafty.”
Ron knew he was gaping at the other boy, but he couldn’t really help it. Was Draco Malfoy attempting conversation? With him?
“It’s dirty, besides, and it reeks. But you’re probably used to that, Weasley.”
Now that was more like it.
“I don’t care what you like or don’t like, Malfoy,” Ron snarled. He could feel his ears burning and hated how Malfoy could rile him up so easily. “Why were you looking for me?”
“I wasn’t,” Draco spat, eyes narrowing; Ron barely managed to resist throwing his hands up in exasperation.
“Then what do you want?!”
And then Draco kissed him. Just like that. Just took a deep breath and closed the few feet of space between them-and Ron had been so sure they’d been farther apart than that-and kissed him.
Any aggravation or confusion or anger quickly joined the jumbled mess his thoughts and feelings became at the touch of lips and he couldn’t concentrate on anything-not running away, not punching Malfoy in the face, not wondering why Malfoy was doing this in the first place, not the hoots of the owls around them. But after what felt like several moments and was really only three seconds, he came to his senses.
And kissed Malfoy back.
After that, it only got better. Malfoy’s hands gripped his arms then slid up to his shoulders, while his own slipped around and clutched at the back of the Slytherin’s robes. They were so close and Malfoy tasted so good and the room felt hot for the first time and Ron never wanted it to ever end, because then he would have to think again and nothing good would come from that.
But then Malfoy released him, pulling away so fast he almost fell backwards, red-faced and silent, and he fled from the Owlery with a speed he usually reserved for his broom on the Quidditch pitch. Ron was left alone with the owls watching him curiously and the unhelpful night breeze.
-
Bloody, stupid pride.
Pansy had refrained from sharing the more embarrassing details in her retelling of the kiss, and Draco would feel grateful when he was in a better mood. He ignored the incredulous laughs and the offered admiration of his fellow Slytherins, choosing instead to stare moodily into the fire that blazed in the common room fireplace.
He reminded himself of all the reasons he hated Ron Weasley (too many to count) and how glad he was that the stupid bet was over and done with (so extremely glad) and how relieved he was that he would never have to kiss the Gryffindor again (now that was the one he was having trouble with).
With an inaudible groan, Draco closed his eyes. He brushed the knuckles of his hand over his lips and thought of Weasley and how warm he felt against him, how much he’d enjoyed himself, and how quickly he’d run away when he’d realized that fact.
And he didn’t very feel proud at all.