The Detective and the Heir of Hairgel - Drarry/Ron x Theo

5. Practice

(lil note: we have now switched to Theo's perspective! it gets worse - and better ;) - than this chapter so get the fuck ready)

This night is going so strangely.

Things are going well with Draco and me, and we're tailing Potter and Weasley down the corridor. After Weasley and his sister have an argument about snogging, I get a grand, brilliant, divinely inspired idea. I quickly tell Draco that I'm going to make a move, then run up to Weasley. He's confused about why I'd be talking to him, but we'll get past that.

"I've got to talk to you about something private," I insist. "It's urgent."

It is urgent, and I try to let genuine desperation slip into my voice. Weasley seems hesitant, which is fair - he probably thinks I'm going to jump him or something - but he's either catching on to my idea or is itching for a fight after his argument, so he tells Potter, "I'll meet you later."

Potter stares for a moment, eyeing me suspiciously before hesitantly walking away. I walk down the corridor, finding an abandoned classroom and pulling Weasley in. He looks suspicious, slapping my hand away.

"What d'you want, Nott?"

"I heard your argument with your sister," I say, and he groans.

"So what, you wanted to have a go in private?" The ginger glares into my soul. "Listen, Nott, I don't need your little petty insults-"

"No, that's not it." Interrupting, stepping closer, seeing the distrust break to reveal confusion. He looks up at me, narrowing his eyes.

"What exactly are you trying here, then?"

I touch his arm, and he looks down at my hand, this time not removing it. "I wanted to give you some practice."

"Practice. With what, snogging?" he asks, really eyeing me suspiciously now. I feel like this maybe isn't going as well as I hoped for, and pray that the Felix Felicis isn't wearing off now, when it's actually desperately fucking needed.

"Exactly, Weasley."

Weasley snorts. "Yeah, right. Listen, I don't know what sort of trick you're trying to pull here, but I've got to-"

Desperate to show him that I'm serious, I drop all pretence of being cool and pull him to me, kissing him hard. He stiffens and shoves me away, looking me up and down quickly with alarm. Panic sirens go off in my head as my body takes in the new taste and my mind starts thinking Shit, was that the wrong move?

"Fuck. Weasley, I-"

He doesn't hear me out. Instead, like the brash individual he is, he kisses me harder than before, slips his tongue into my mouth, and I groan a muffled "shit..."

Weasley chuckles vindictively, and now it's a competition. I hurriedly sweep the objects off the desk behind me, and taking hold of Weasley's collar, I sit him on the desk, standing between his legs so that he's straddling me.

Not to be bested, he thrusts into me, making us both moan. He pulls me down a little, running his hands through my hair and yanking a little, pleasantly shocking me. I kiss down his jawline, biting down lightly on his neck. He stifles a noise, breathing out forcefully before bringing me back up to his mouth. We're making out hard now, and I've never loved the French more. He smells like rained-on grass and pumpkin pie, and I remember learning about pumpkin pie's aphrodisiac qualities in Potions class.

Weasley wraps his legs around my hips, bringing us closer together and eliciting groans from both of us as we collide. I wonder if he's done this before. He breaks away from me, looking slightly shocked but even more confident. His red hair is dishevelled, and he just looks even hotter this way. My heart is beating in my throat as he hops down from the desk, kissing me one more time and biting my lip lightly. A gasp emerges from me, and he smirks, drawing back.

"You still think I need practice?"

He leaves the room, leaving me speechless and horny as hell.

Where did Weasley learn to kiss like that?