𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓 2008

Bed of Roses

Author: accioscar
Title: Bed of Roses
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, Harry/Ginny (possibly implied but in no way explicit - Miss Weasley gets no screen time in this movie!)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: It’s the Hogwarts Reunion and there’s only one way to survive: Getting drunk!
Warnings: EWE; some swearing/cussing; man-on-man sexin (obviously! ;D); features drunk!Draco, bottom!Draco, sarcastic!Draco, jealous!Draco and slightly Hermione-like!Draco (but don’t tell him I said that!); the Harry/Ginny implication kinda leads to implied infidelity - but it really depends how you look at it. (In my head, at least, Harry is not really with Ginny - everyone just assumes he is.)
Total word count: Approx 3,000

Fucking treacle tart. Treacle FUCKING tart! It was obviously some huge cosmic joke at his expense. The universe was mocking him, he was sure.

Although… knowing this place, the Great Harry Potter himself had probably specially requested it.

And what had he expected? Nothing else had changed.

The same wooden tables, laid out in the same rows, piled high with the same food they’d eaten over five years ago. And what sort of school held a five-year reunion, anyway? He had just about managed to block out all memory of most of his former classmates - he really didn’t need reminding of how much of a bumbling fool Longbottom was or how much more of an obnoxious know-it-all Granger was.

Draco sighed, bemoaning his luck at being dragged to this thing by Pansy as he looked up at the ceiling. Same old house colours? Check. (Although now they seemed to be intertwined in intricate patterns, no doubt meant to symbolise house unity or some such drivel!) Floating candles? Check. Hogwarts ghosts floating about? Check. Merlin, he wouldn’t be surprised if the cloud formations on the enchanted ceiling were exactly the same as the last time he’d sat right here! The only new addition was the giant banner stretched out across the entire width of the vast hall, declaring:

WELCOME BACK CLASS OF 1998

And technically, that was inaccurate anyway. Most of the people in the room hadn’t graduated at all (and half of them weren’t even in Draco’s year) and those that had, had taken remedial classes at the Ministry of Magic whilst the castle was being rebuilt and had actually sat their N.E.W.T.s in early 1999. Not that he was being pedantic, of course.

But really, treacle fucking tart!? The universe was definitely mocking him.

***

Draco was still inwardly cursing his luck an hour later, when the tables had been cleared to make way for a dance floor and the band had started to play. He stood on the periphery – Pansy next to him, tap tap tapping her foot in time to the latest Weird Sisters tune whilst he tried not to throw up his dinner at the sight of Longbottom with his tongue down that Loony Lovegood’s throat.

“Aw… come on, Drake,” Pansy whined, not for the first time that night.

“Pansy,” Draco snapped. “Do I look like a fucking duck to you?”

She smirked.

“No, no, on second thoughts,” Draco said, holding up his hand to silence Pansy before she could come up with some sarcastic reply, “don’t answer that. Not if you want to live.”

“Oh come on, just one dance.” Pansy wasn’t about to give up. “You know you want to,” she simpered, batting her eyelashes at him.