Because Shannon asked....The Wanker Part 1
This one-shot was inspired by “Los Feliz” by Neil LaBute, truly a great writer and all around funny guy.
“The Wanker”
By Mrspadf00t
Tell me she’s not fucking him, please, Merlin, no. I know it’s been years, seven in fact, but her taste couldn’t have changed all that much. Look at him. He’s a fucking tosser, with his long ponytail and leather jacket that went out of style before the Weird Sisters were cool. He’s not even wearing robes! If she’s fucking him, I’m going to bleeding kill myself. I should have done that long ago anyway, years before now, the night she turned me down. Okay, so she didn’t turn me down, I turned her down, but what could I do? She came to me one night, the night after I graduated from the Auror academy. She poured her heart out to me, told me she loved me, and what did I do? I was scared, had no stones. I sent her packing, tossed her out of my room, leaving her to wallow in her heartache and dwell on what could never be.
Fuck, I’m a prat. But at least I’m nothing like him. He’s a wanker. I could tell that from the moment they walked in. Knew it as fact the second she introduced us. He took my hand and his grip just screamed ‘wanker!’… Weak and ineffectual. She doesn’t know, of course; she can’t read blokes like I can. She’s staring up at him like he’s some sort of mythical god. She’s giving him that look, the look she once reserved for me, the one that conveyed all that she felt. She never could hide her feelings; she was always too easy to read. It was that look that tipped me off. There they were, drifting around the room; she introduced him to all of our former classmates and Professors; he even made McGonagall laugh, that’s what did it. That was the first sign and it was as bright as one of Lupin’s full moons. Wanker… wanker… wanker!
I knew it… what’s this… he’s got his fucking hand wrapped around the back of her neck? Oh… Merlin, he doesn’t even know how to touch her. A witch like her needs a passionate touch, one that let’s her know she’s being protected, that she’s wanted, not that chaste, unemotional Nancy-boy touch he’s giving her. Godric, look at her. She’s timeless… still. She hasn’t changed a bit. Her eyes are still chocolate, deep, round and riveting, completely embedded with confidence and passion. The hair’s different, but it’s still wild, still wavy and still the colour of coffee. That what she is, like coffee, warm and reassuring she was home, but not any home I’d ever known before.
Now he’s doing that subtle whisper thing, the smarmy bastard. He’s leaning over, like they're intimate friends… oh Merlin, I bet they are… he’s saying something to her and she’s laughing, unabashed, like she used to do with me. I used to make her laugh like that, I used make her eyes sparkle with my cheeky retorts and subtle innuendos. But that was then. That was before I proved myself to be a complete and utter spineless git. She’s forgotten me, as she should have. And here comes, this slick wanker with his Lockhart smile and a quip for every occasion. And she’s loving it, loving everything he says. She’s smiling at him and it’s genuine. It’s not some patronizing, ‘I’m only smiling at you because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,’ smiles, it’s authentic, just like her. She couldn’t fake a smile like that, no not her. She’s devouring his humour, gulping it down, and dropping in front of him, begging for more… oh, Merlin, why did I think of that? Now I can’t get the image out of my head… . Damnit… there I go again! Stop it… just stop it now!
She’s doing it for him. I know she is. He’s filling her mouth every night; I just know it. She’s making him moan; he probably growls like an idiot and he doesn’t even know what he’s got. He doesn’t know her, not like I did. He’s never studied her flawless face. He’s never gotten lost in some sort of eternal time warp just by staring in those chocolate pools. Damn him. Damn her… and fuck me!
Oh now she’s introducing him to Harry. He’ll see it. He’ll see right through the wanker. I can hear them… bloody hell, Harry, not that stupid joke again.
“So, you’re Harry?” the wanker asked.
“Nah… not really, just on my bits.”
He’s not laughing. The fucking wanker didn’t get it. Gods, why is she with him? She should be with me. I should have realized…
“What’s up, mate… you looked like you’re about to bust.”?
“No… nothing, Harry, just scanning the room.”
“Oh… I see.” Stop looking around… no… no don’t start. “Still jealous, huh?”
“Nope.”
“Liar. Look, why don’t you just go talk to her?”
“She looks occupied.”
“With the wanker, you mean?”
“Spotted that too, did you?” Stop laughing at me, Harry… really.
“Yeah… yeah, I did. I don’t think it’s serious.”
But she’s fucking him… I can tell.
“I need another drink.”
Even Harry sees… why can’t she? What’s her problem? Damn it, this isn’t even good Ogden’s. I wish it were… maybe even something stronger. That way I could drown myself, forget all about that gorgeous creature over there, the one that’s fucking the wanker. Oh… shite… he’s rubbing her back now. I can’t take this! This is ridiculous! Where’s my wand? I bet I could hex him from here… I’m a bleeding Auror, after all. It wouldn’t be a problem; no one would see me. I’m huddled up at the bar, well hidden. Fuck! Why did I even agree to come to this thing? Victory anniversary, indeed… It's been ten years Voldemort’s been dead, ten years since Harry annihilated that maniac and here I am, stuck, staring at Princess Coffee and the Wanker. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I promised Dad… that’s why I’m here. ‘Give a good impression,’ he said. ‘Let the wizarding world know that the Minister and his family are united,’ he said. Bollocks! All of it! I can’t even talk to her, even though she’s looked over her shoulder at me several times. Why does she do that? She’s killing me. He’s killing me!
I should go home. There’s a nice lovely flat waiting for me. I wouldn’t be lonely, either. I’m Ron Weasley, Auror. Ron Weasley, dead sexy god of a wizard. Ron Weasley-complete prick. I could pick up one of the slags drifting around here. Lavender Brown’s looking good, but she’s not her. No one could ever be her. Fuck! Stop looking at me and tell him to get his bloody hands off of you!
He’s groping her! That fucking prick! His finger is sliding up and down her arm… that gorgeous, firm, tanned bicep is being rubbed by that fat, Peeves-white, wanker’s digit. Where else have those fingers been? Bloody hell… I don’t want to think about.
I can’t take it… not another second of it.
So I don’t.
He’s got his hand at the small of her back now and she doesn’t even notice that he’s ogling that slag Brown. Is she blind? I approach them, slowly but not calmly. They both turn and she gives me that smile… You can do it, Weasley… it’s for her own good.
He looks past me like I’m some sort of pixie, like I’m some insignificant insect that needs swatting. I push my finger into his chest. The noise of the crowd silences a bit, but I don’t care. He gives me that indifferent glare, the looks down at my finger probing his chest.
“Can I help you… Rick, was it?”
“It’s Ron, actually, Clive… Ron Weasley,” she corrects him. He just nods and stares at me blankly. Clive? That’s a wanker name if ever I heard one.
“Yeah… ” I say, “Yeah you can help me… why don’t you two go get a bloody room?”
Her face plunges in segments, like rain dripping down onto the lake in front of the castle.
“What did you say?” she asks. I ignore her and focus on the wanker prick who's fucking my former best friend.
“I said… why don’t you two go get a bloody room?”
He smirks quickly, incensing my rage, then he calmly shakes his head.
“That would be no problem. However, it’s been years since my cousin and I have had to bunk up together… not since summer camp when we were nine.”
My stomach plummets. That's great, Weasley, just fucking outstanding. I don’t say anything; I can’t even look at her. I turn quickly from the hall and dart out the entrance. I’ve got to get away. I’ve got to go back to my flat and hex myself. I’ve got to…
“Ron?”
Shite. She’s going to flay me. I nod, still not looking in her eyes.
“Are you okay?”
Fuck! She’s not mad… that’s even worse. She’s trying to check up on me after what I did? Is she mad? She walks nearer to me, then deftly locks her arm into mine. I give her a bemused stare. She’s going to throw me to the ground. I won’t even stop her. I deserve worse.
“Hermione, what are you doing?”
She smiles. There it is. That genuine smile, lighting up her face again. I look around, trying to see if the wanker… shite, her cousin, is behind me, but no one’s there. What’s she playing at?
“I’m taking your advice.”
“My advice?”
“Yeah, you tosser, I’m getting a room.”
“But… but… with… with whom?”
She gives me a wink then bites her lips, oh, Merlin, I just about get hard when she does that!
“With you.” .