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lesyeuxverts) wrote2007-02-20 11:50 pm
lesyeuxverts) wrote2007-02-20 11:50 pm
Entry tags:
Forbidden Flirtation
Title: Forbidden Flirtation
Author: lesyeuxverts00
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Harry/Draco (With mention of Draco/Pansy ... but it's not going to actually happen, I promise. This is just some angst for the boys to work through.)
Challenge:![[insanejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/ij-community.gif)
slythindor100 challenge #41, Reality
Disclaimer: Not mine.
AN: Sequel to No Flirtation
The last of the Slytherins to leave, Draco smirks, and the cruel curve of his perfect lips is more torment to Harry than the prospect of another detention with Snape. Draco licks his lips and swaggers out the door, hips swaying and laughter ringing.
With the sound of Draco's footsteps fading, Snape leads Harry into his private office, closing the door and setting his wards.
"Do you know what I most despise about Gryffindors, Mr. Potter?" Snape asks. He reaches into one of the cabinets, between the jar of black beetle eyes and the pickled snails, and retrieves a crystal decanter. Tawny amber liquid shines in the dim light, reflecting the pale, twisted bodies of the snails. Pouring two glasses, Snape offers one to Harry.
"The Gryffindor psyche," Snape says, tapping his long fingernails on the desk, "suffers from a fatal flaw."
Never looking away from Snape, Harry sniffs the drink and grimaces.
"It's whiskey, not poison."
Snape takes a deep swallow of his drink. "The Gryffindor psyche is entirely unconnected with reality. Gryffindors live in a half-world of dreams and naivete, haunted by hopeless, unfulfilled idealism. Unlike Slytherins, they cannot adapt to changing circumstances, political exigencies, or natural laws."
Harry blinks, his leg twitching in a jerky circle. He sets the glass of whiskey on Snape's desk, his fingers curled around the etched crystal.
"A Slytherin accepts reality and will change his plans or hide his true intentions as necessary. A true Slytherin would have accepted the reality of the exacting standards of the Malfoy family with regards to marriage, their need for strong alliances and heirs.
"Unfortunately, your peculiar brand of Gryffindor blindness has infected Draco and fostered his own delusions and pretty fantasies."
Snape comes around the desk, swirling his whiskey before taking a slow sip. He perches on the corner of the desk, staring at Harry. The pickled snails float in their jar, darkened by Snape's shadow.
Harry closes his eyes. Draco's lips, his perfect cheekbones, his smooth hair, his sweet flirtations – he's everything that Harry wants to touch and worship and own. He is perfect.
"Do you understand? Your misguided flirtation with Draco cannot continue. Lucius Malfoy announces Draco's betrothal tomorrow."
Reaching for the whiskey, Harry spills most of it on Snape's desk. He winces, but Snape banishes it and waits for him to drink before continuing.
"Draco will marry Pansy Parkinson, a pure-blood who will give the Malfoy family the necessary heir, the fortune and social status lost during the war."
His lips pinched together in a hard line, his fingers white on the edge of the desk, Snape says, "I'm sorry, Harry, but you have to accept reality."
Harry stares past Snape, at the black beetle eyes and at the snails shielded from the cold dungeon in their thick glass jar. He downs the rest of his whiskey, setting the glass down with a thump, leaving without a glance at Snape.
His heart thudding, Harry runs down the corridor in pursuit of Draco.
Author: lesyeuxverts00
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Harry/Draco (With mention of Draco/Pansy ... but it's not going to actually happen, I promise. This is just some angst for the boys to work through.)
Challenge:
slythindor100 challenge #41, RealityDisclaimer: Not mine.
AN: Sequel to No Flirtation
The last of the Slytherins to leave, Draco smirks, and the cruel curve of his perfect lips is more torment to Harry than the prospect of another detention with Snape. Draco licks his lips and swaggers out the door, hips swaying and laughter ringing.
With the sound of Draco's footsteps fading, Snape leads Harry into his private office, closing the door and setting his wards.
"Do you know what I most despise about Gryffindors, Mr. Potter?" Snape asks. He reaches into one of the cabinets, between the jar of black beetle eyes and the pickled snails, and retrieves a crystal decanter. Tawny amber liquid shines in the dim light, reflecting the pale, twisted bodies of the snails. Pouring two glasses, Snape offers one to Harry.
"The Gryffindor psyche," Snape says, tapping his long fingernails on the desk, "suffers from a fatal flaw."
Never looking away from Snape, Harry sniffs the drink and grimaces.
"It's whiskey, not poison."
Snape takes a deep swallow of his drink. "The Gryffindor psyche is entirely unconnected with reality. Gryffindors live in a half-world of dreams and naivete, haunted by hopeless, unfulfilled idealism. Unlike Slytherins, they cannot adapt to changing circumstances, political exigencies, or natural laws."
Harry blinks, his leg twitching in a jerky circle. He sets the glass of whiskey on Snape's desk, his fingers curled around the etched crystal.
"A Slytherin accepts reality and will change his plans or hide his true intentions as necessary. A true Slytherin would have accepted the reality of the exacting standards of the Malfoy family with regards to marriage, their need for strong alliances and heirs.
"Unfortunately, your peculiar brand of Gryffindor blindness has infected Draco and fostered his own delusions and pretty fantasies."
Snape comes around the desk, swirling his whiskey before taking a slow sip. He perches on the corner of the desk, staring at Harry. The pickled snails float in their jar, darkened by Snape's shadow.
Harry closes his eyes. Draco's lips, his perfect cheekbones, his smooth hair, his sweet flirtations – he's everything that Harry wants to touch and worship and own. He is perfect.
"Do you understand? Your misguided flirtation with Draco cannot continue. Lucius Malfoy announces Draco's betrothal tomorrow."
Reaching for the whiskey, Harry spills most of it on Snape's desk. He winces, but Snape banishes it and waits for him to drink before continuing.
"Draco will marry Pansy Parkinson, a pure-blood who will give the Malfoy family the necessary heir, the fortune and social status lost during the war."
His lips pinched together in a hard line, his fingers white on the edge of the desk, Snape says, "I'm sorry, Harry, but you have to accept reality."
Harry stares past Snape, at the black beetle eyes and at the snails shielded from the cold dungeon in their thick glass jar. He downs the rest of his whiskey, setting the glass down with a thump, leaving without a glance at Snape.
His heart thudding, Harry runs down the corridor in pursuit of Draco.