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Breathless by dream_BIG
Chapter 5: Well. This is Awkward.
disclaimer: this is all jo's, al and adele are not being forced, etc etc blah blah blah...
READ ON XD
I am currently being smothered by the largest pair of breasts I have ever seen on a woman. I fear that I may not ever live to tell the tale.
“Oh, you poor dears; getting attacked by a rabid rat on your honeymoon! Well, let me tell you, I will make sure that you have the best time from now on.”
Great! How about you start with dislodging my face from your chest so that I can breathe?
I made a couple of muffled protests, but Joan merely giggled and patted my hair so that I sunk further into her bosom.
Must. Have. Air!
I gulped in a huge amount of sweet, precious oxygen as she finally released my head. I panted heavily, trying to smile at her while also glaring at Al for laughing at me.
I ended up looking like an idiot.
Great job, Adele.
“Well, let’s see you two together, then!” Joan said excitedly, her pretty face stretching into an indulgent smile as she shoved me into Al and gazed happily at the two of us. We stared blankly back, me still blue in the face from being suffocated and Al still trying hard not to burst out laughing.
I’m sure we look absolutely precious right now.
“Oh, you two might just get on the wall!” She said excitedly, pointing behind her at an immense wall with pictures of kissing couples on it.
Oh, hell no.
I smiled at her again. “Er…really, it’s not that big of a deal –”
“You must be famished!” She cut me off, suddenly looking concerned. “Oh, dear, how could I forget? Dinner will be ready in half an hour, loves. David will take you up to your room.”
“Oh, uh, well –”
“And you don’t have any clothing! Oh, god, you must have lost it at the house; it’s alright, I’ll have some spares sent up for you.”
“Thank you so –”
But she turned around and bustled into the kitchen, leaving David standing there and looking thoroughly amused by our shell-shocked expressions.
“She’s a bit excitable.” He winked at us. “But she’ll warm right up after a while.”
“Right,” Al said numbly. We followed David up a set of enormous stairs and onto a third floor landing. Four couples were milling around, acting puke-inducingly cute and doing generally very couple-like things. They stared at us as we came up – I’m sure we looked like hell – and I smiled nervously. Al quickly grabbed my hand.
“Everyone, this is Adele and Al.” David introduced us. Their stares became even more curious. “Our youngest couple here, actually.” He laughed a bit, the noise echoing off the walls.
I’m not quite sure what he finds amusing in this situation.
“I’m Henry,” A brave man finally came forward with a friendly smile, his hand outstretched towards us. His other hand was dragging along his wife, a pretty-ish woman with light brown hair and a sweet smile.
“Nice to meet you,” I said as I politely shook his hand.
“Sarah,” His wife said, beaming as she grasped my hand. “You’ve got beautiful hair.”
I tried not to laugh – my mess of curls probably resembled barbed wires rather than hair at this point.
After we’d been introduced to Jessica and Victor, Jenn and Jason, and Stefanie and John, we were finally permitted into our room to freshen up. I let out a sigh as I collapsed on the bed.
“This is crazy,” I said, staring up at the ceiling. There were patterns of leaves and hearts all over it, along with signatures of various couples.
“I know. But we can deal for about two weeks, right?” Al said awkwardly. I sat up to send him a disbelieving look.
“I’m sorry – did you just say that we’ll be okay with pretending to be in love with each other for two whole weeks?”
He shrugged. “It’s just acting. How hard can it be?”
“Must you be so bloody optimistic?”
“Must you be so bloody pessimistic?”
There was a beat of silence.
“Touché,” I muttered grudgingly.
He smirked suddenly. “I bet you wouldn’t be able to fool them for even an hour.”
I got off the bed, my eyebrow raised. “I bet I could. I bet I could fool them for the whole two weeks.”
He laughed. “You want to put money on that?”
“Twenty galleons,” I challenged.
He grabbed a towel. “You’re on.”
“Are you sure you can do it?” I called after him as he walked into the bathroom.
He poked his head out to wink at me. “Please. You’re talking to the biggest prankster of the age. I’m a Marauder, love. I’m the best actor out there. ”
I snorted. “Right.”
The door closed, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d just been baited into doing this whole thing, purely for his entertainment.
“So, how did you two meet each other?”
Oh, you know, we don’t even know each other. Our parents arranged this whole thing so that I could save my father from possible death because of a magical contract. Oops, you didn’t know? I’m a witch, and he’s a wizard. Magic is real! Ta-da!
“We met at school,” I lied smoothly, smiling at Al and twining my fingers through his.
Those twenty galleons are so mine.
“Boarding school,” He continued, after smiling at me for longer than strictly necessary. “We sort of hated each other for a lot of it – for about five years, actually.”
Oh? We’re going with the cliché ‘thin line between love and hate’ story, are we? How very original, Potter.
I laughed. “It was so stupid – we had the same friends, but we absolutely detested each other. I think it was more of a rivalry thing than anything else, to be honest. Our fathers weren’t exactly the best of friends when they went to school, either.”
“I didn’t like anything about her.” Al ‘remembered’. “I didn’t like how she was better than me at po-chemistry, or how her hair always used to shine in the sunlight, or her stupid smile –”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t like your crazy hair, either.” I stuck my tongue out at him. “I also didn’t like your gorgeous green eyes. Not at all.”
Al laughed. “After a little while, the hate turned into grudging respect, and then…fascination. I started noticing her little quirks. The way she bites her lip when she reads, or how she likes smiling at the sky when it’s nice out, or how, in the morning, she needs to have her cup of black coffee, otherwise her day will go completely foul. More than noticing – I started to really like it.”
Okay, I don’t do any of those things, apart from biting my lip when I read.
And I hate black coffee.
Fuck you, Al Potter.
“Excuse me – I wasn’t the only one with the unhealthy obsession for black coffee.” I reminded him. Ha. You make me drink the vile sludge, I’ll make you suffer through the same thing, fool.
He shrugged abashedly. “Okay, fine, I’ll freely admit it: I’m addicted to the stuff.”
I laughed, internally hoping dearly that he didn’t mean it. “I guess that’s when we started a friendship.”
“Yeah,” He agreed. “One morning, in our astronomy tower, I came across her sipping her black coffee and reading a book.”
“Astronomy tower?” Jenn asked breathlessly. The whole table had been hanging to our every word – it was slightly pathetic, and made me want to excuse myself to the bathroom so that I could laugh my guts out.
But I shall restrain and endure. And possibly make Al Potter suffer for making me have to drink black coffee every morning for two weeks.
“We just called it that – it was the roof of one of the buildings.” I invented hastily, prodding Al in the knee so that he wouldn’t give too much away.
“We started talking. Just talking. Pretty soon we were –”
“Best friends.” I shot in. “Always spending time together. I just liked to be with him. Sit there and talk about the smallest things for hours. Tease each other endlessly. It was easy, natural.”
So, I am totally a poet. I think that wins.
“Then,” Al said, his eyes glittering with determination as he gazed around the table. “Our friends got tired of us insisting that we were ‘just friends’.”
Oh, is this a challenge? Who can come up with the better story?
You’re on, Potter.
I laughed. “They bloody locked us in a broom closet for the whole night.”
“What happened?” Stefanie asked, her eyes alight.
“He kissed me.” I tossed out. “Well, first he said something really stupid about my hair and I got pissed at him – started yelling about how he shouldn’t even be talking, because, well, look at that!” I grinned and ran my fingers quickly through his mop of black hair while he pouted at me. It was surprisingly silky, and I had the strong, sudden urge to do it again.
But then I remembered that this was Albus Potter and the urge immediately died out.
“She wouldn’t shut up, even when I tried to explain that I didn’t mean it.” Al added.
“I was insulted! The kid I was possibly in love with told me that my hair looked like something crawled on my head and died on it! How else do you think I would take it?” I asked indignantly.
“It doesn’t.” He assured me. “I love your hair. I tried telling that to you, but you wouldn’t shut up, even for a second!”
I rolled my eyes at him and turned back to the table. “So he kissed me. Just to shut me up.”
“I pulled away after like, three seconds and got really apologetic. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship or anything –”
“But then I kissed him again, and he stopped his mindless babbling and just snogged me.” I finished.
“That story might just get you on the wall.” Joan told us, after she was done dabbing at her eyes. I had to literally stop myself from bursting out into laughter by thinking about dying puppies.
You know it’s a case of really bad giggles when you have to resort to imagining dying puppies. Puppies shouldn’t die. It’s an atrocious crime to even mentally kill puppies.
I bet Hitler and Voldemort mentally killed puppies.
That explains so much – like, for example, why I’mso incredibly screwed up. It’s all this negative energy from those awful past reincarnations.
I mean, honestly – who kills puppies in their head to stop laughter? I’m a horrible person.
“The wall?” I asked. You mean the wall with the kissing couples on it? Um, no thanks. We’ll pass.
“Yes.” Sarah piped up. “Every year, she picks the couple that she thinks is the cutest, and the couple goes on the wall. It’s a bit of a competition.”
Competition, did you say?
“Make it thirty. I want to win this thing.” Al leaned down to whisper in my ear as soon as everyone’s attention was diverted.
“Perfect.” I grinned deviously at him. “I love winning.”
“I love it more.” He shot back.
“Well. This is awkward.”
…I shouldn’t be allowed to speak. Ever.
“So, I guess I’ll sleep on the floor, then?” Al said, acting as though he hadn’t heard my blatant, yet still unnecessary, declaration of how extremely awkward this situation was.
I mean, how many of you would like to sleep on the same bed as Albus Potter?
Um. Don’t answer that.
“Er, sure, I guess. I mean, I’m perfectly fine with sleeping there, if you –” I started uncomfortably.
“No, I’m okay.” He cut across, looking slightly scandalized that I’d even offered. Well, if you’re going to let your stupid Gryffindor chivalry get in the way then – okay, fine, I’ll freely admit it: chivalry is hot.
“Because, I mean, that looks really uncomfortable –”
“Seriously, I’ll be fine.”
“I mean, I honestly don’t mind –”
“Merlin, Malfoy, you make it seem like you want me to sleep on the bed with you.”
That shut me up. I glared at him, desperately hoping he could feel the force of my intense glower.
“I was just trying to be nice.” I muttered mutinously.
“You seemed a little too eager there, love.” Came his amused reply.
My jaw locked.
“Toss me a pillow, will you?” He continued, clearly pleased with himself. Bloody wanker.
I chucked it at his face, satisfied when he yelped in surprise and promptly fell backwards off the bed with a loud, resounding thud.
“Bloody Chaser.” He muttered, climbing back onto the foot of the bed and rubbing his head angrily.
“Should have known not to mess with me, then.” I shot back.
“You better watch it, Malfoy, or I’ll –”
“What are you going to do, seek me?” I mocked.
“No. I’ll make you fall in love with me.” He declared, his voice confident.
There was a full three minutes silence as those words echoed around the stillness.
“BAHAHAHA!” I burst out, clutching my stomach as I rolled around in the bed, unable to control my hysterical laughter. Tears of mirth rolled down my cheeks as I gasped for air.
Oh, god. Priceless. He’ll make me fall in love with him? Absurd. Impossible.
“Think it’s funny, do you, love?” His voice, silky and smooth, was right by my ear, and I abruptly stopped laughing.
Why am I nervous? I shouldn’t be nervous. He’s not going to do anything to me. Heaven forbid I say something mean to him, otherwise he’ll – oh, dear – make me fall in love with him! Oh, the horror!
“I think it’s bloody hilarious, actually.” I stated, wiping my cheeks. “Aw, god. I’ve never laughed that hard in my life, Potter. Thanks.”
“What makes you think you won’t fall in love with me?” He asked.
“What makes you think I will?” I shot back, raising an eyebrow at him.
“I’m irresistible.” He shot me a cocky grin, and for a moment, I could see where he was getting that statement from.
…and then reality welcomed me back into her arms and mentally shook me until I started to see sense again.
“You’re delusional, that’s what you are.” I said, amused.
He shrugged. “Say what you want to say, but I’ve got the spirit of James Potter Senior on my side.”
I stared at him. “Didn’t he tactlessly chase after your grandmother for seven years before she finally caved?”
He thought for a moment. “Okay, not the best example. Either way, he won the girl in the end, didn’t he?”
“He bloody stalked her, Potter.”
“Taking an interest in our family history now, are we?” He smirked.
“I learned about it in History of Magic, you turd. In fact, so did you. Tell me, how did it feel to learn about the love-lives of both your grandparents and your parents, hmmm? I’m sure you were thrilled to learn about your parents’ first sno –”
“Stop talking.” He said in a strained voice, covering my mouth with his hand. I laughed against his palm, my eyes glittering deviously up at him.
“Don’t mess with me, Potter. I’m a Malfoy – I’ve got the irresistible charm here.” I said smugly, once I’d removed his hand from my face.
He snorted. “Right. Very irresistible, you are.”
My mouth dropped open in indignation. “Excuse me – just because I don’t try to be appealing for you doesn’t mean I’m not an appealing person!”
His eyes seemed to dance in laughter as he slowly looked me up and down. I fidgeted under his gaze, trying to pull down the overlarge shirt that had been provided to me as a nightdress. Stopping about mid-thigh with the fabric cinched around my legs, one sleeve falling off of my shoulder, it wasn’t exactly what one would call ‘decent’.
In short, I looked like a bloody slag.
“Staring, Potter?” I asked lazily, the tone of my voice smug. I was relieved to hear that not a single note of my discomfort ran through the words.
“Don’t you wish.” His eyes snapped back to my face, a smirk curling on the corners of his mouth. “I was merely observing –”
“Which basically means staring.”
“ – and came to the conclusion that although you do have nice legs, you’re really not very appealing at all.”
I glared at him. “Yeah, well, you’re not exactly gorgeous either, Potter.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, that is so.” I snapped.
“Well, when you declared that I was – what were your words, again? Oh, right – pretty, I’m sure that you weren’t thinking along those lines at all.” His expression was smug.
I scowled. Arrogant arse.
“I was drunk, Potter.”
“Well, they do say that intoxication helps speak the truth.”
“Intoxication also helps speak utter delusional nonsense.” I pointed out.
“You know what I think?” He asked softly, leaning towards me with a small smirk flickering at his mouth.
“Frankly, I don’t care what you think.”
“I think this is all an act.” He continued anyway, his expression daring, intense. “That, behind those sharp words and sarcastic remarks and angry scowls is an actual person.”
“What else would I be, a freaking robot?” I snapped sarcastically. “Of course I’m a bloody person – and has it ever occurred to you that those sharp words and sarcastic remarks and angry scowls are because of you?”
“What have I ever done?” He asked, suddenly irritated. “I’m bloody helping you guys, here. I’m giving up my own life so that your dad’s arse can get saved, again –”
“Shut up.” I said in a low, angry voice. “Just shut up, Albus Potter. You don’t know anything – anything – about my dad.”
“I know enough.” He said harshly.
“Yeah? What’s that?” I shot back, my eyes narrowed.
“I know that he’s a cold, heartless, Slytherin coward –”
“Don’t say another word.” I hissed, grabbing the front of his shirt and fisting it into a knot. “You don’t know anything about us.”
“So you’re saying that the history textbooks lied?” He asked.
“I’m saying that he didn’t have a choice. That he was being influenced by the wrong people, that he was scared for his family, for his life. He didn’t want it.” I said, a slight tremor running through my words. “He didn’t ask for any of it – he didn’t want to be bad. But when everyone that he loved was being put in danger, he had no other choice. What would you have done?” I finished.
“I would have died rather than join the dark side.” He declared.
“You would let your whole family die?”
He faltered slightly. “I would…I would have found a way around it.”
“How? Can you think of something? Okay, Voldemort is standing right in front of you, torturing you, saying that you have to go out there and fight, otherwise he’s going to torture and kill your mother, your sister, your cousins and uncles and aunts…what would you do?”
“I would have fought.” He said, his jaw locked.
“Against Voldemort? And you would have expected to win – are you daft?”
“You don’t have any way out of it, Potter. You’ve been backed into a corner, and the only way out is to do whatever he says, because you’re hoping that one day it’ll all be over. That’s all you have, that hope that someday, all of this will be nothing more than a distant nightmare…you have no idea. You have no idea. You don’t know what he had to go through, and frankly, my dad doesn’t need people like you to be judging him for it.”
“Go to sleep wherever you want; I don’t care. Turn off the lights, will you?” I said coldly, turning around and climbing under the covers. I rolled onto my side and moved as far away from him as possible on the pillow, my hair a tangled mass of curls splaying out behind my head.
The lights remained on.
Does he have a comprehension issue, or what? Does he not understand that I want him to turn the lights off so that I can bloody sleep –
“I didn’t mean it.” Al’s voice, laced with regret, broke through the silence.
I was surprised into turning around, and I gazed up at him in confusion from my position on the bed.
I mean, I must have heard him wrong. He didn’t just…just…
“I’m sorry – I didn’t mean it.”
“I – you – um.” I said oh-so-coherently, sitting up slightly so that I didn’t have to look straight up at his face. “You…are you apologizing?”
Clearly, you nitwit.
Shut up, brain. I wasn’t talking to you!
“Yeah. I – that was way out of line. I honestly didn’t mean any of that. I actually really respect your father for what he’s done, I –” The words tumbled out of his mouth, and I continued to gaze vacantly at him, in shock because of his sudden change of character.
It was like, PRATbamNORMAL!
How is someone supposed to keep up with that?
“Stop.” I said quietly, and he immediately fell silent. “You’re sorry?”
“I’m sorry.” He repeated.
I must be the one with comprehension issues here, since I cannot seem to grasp the fact that yes, he’s sorry.
“Because that was rude and I honestly didn’t mean it.”
There was a short silence.
“So…we cool, then?” He finally asked.
I looked at him. “Since when have we ever been ‘cool’ with each other?”
He rolled his eyes, looking amused and slightly relieved. “Right, I meant ‘We back to our normal mutual dislike for each other, then?’”
I frowned slightly – I wasn’t aware of this ‘mutual dislike’. But I guess, when I look at it from his point of view, I do act like I hate him.
So I agreed. “Definitely.”
“Great.” He flopped back down on the bed and stretched languorously. “Turn off the lights, will you?”
I gaped incredulously at him. Okay, so first he goes and insults my father, bloody guilts me into forgiving him, declares our mutual dislike for each other, and now he expects me to turn off the lights for him?
Hell. No. I’ll bloody off myself before I get out of this bed.
“You’re sleeping right next to it!” I cried. “All you need to do is reach over and flick it off, Potter!”
“Don’t feel like it.” He muttered, closing his eyes. “I’m already asleep; you go and do it.”
“I’m not getting out of this bed.” I said stubbornly.
“Fine, we’ll just leave it on, then.”
“That’s fine with me.” I replied, punching my pillow a couple of times to get it fluffy and plopping my face into it. I turned to my side and moved as far away from him as possible. He stretched wider, taking up the excess space, and my teeth gritted.
I tried closing my eyes and slipping into sleep, but the lights danced beneath my eyelids, constantly flickering through my vision. With an angry growl, I sat up and shoved his arm.
“Potter. Just turn off the lights.” I told him. He ignored me, save from a slight smirk tugging at his mouth. I scowled heavily, my teeth gritted again.
“Potter,” Poke. “Potter,” Poke, poke. “Potter,” Sharp poke. “POTTER.” Vicious jab. “POTTER!” Pokepokepoke.
Nothing. I let out a short scream of frustration, and his smirk grew.
“Fine,” I said angrily, breathing heavily. “Just fine. You want me to turn off the lights? Let me make myself clear, then: I’m not getting out of this bed. You can turn them off, or sleep with them on.”
When he didn’t respond, I hit him one more time (just for luck) and fell heavily back onto my pillow, making sure that my movements jostled the bed before I finally went back to my comfortable position of ‘as far away from him as bloody possible’ and closed my eyes tightly.
Five minutes of fruitless attempts at sleep later, I had finally sat up and was desperately trying to reach over his face for the lights. I scrabbled at the air, but my fingers fell annoyingly short.
I am absolutely pathetic. I make myself want to cry.
I growled angrily under my breath and stretched farther, positive that the bumpy thing underneath my chest was Potter’s face.
Lovely. I have my boobs pressed into Potter’s face like some regular old slut.
“Merlin, Malfoy, I didn’t know you were into whoring with sleeping blokes in the middle of the night.”
I swiftly jerked back, my face already set into the dark glare that, before this, I didn’t even know that I possessed.
“If you would just turn off the bloody lights –”
“Life would be much easier if you got out of the bed.”
“Correction: It would be even easier if you just jumped off of the Eiffel Tower. Or, you know, reached over and turned off the bloody lights. Your pick.”
He smirked lazily. “I chose option three –”
“I don’t remember giving you one.” I told him icily.
“ – watching you suffer.”
I growled angrily again. “Fine. You know what? I don’t even care anymore. I’m bloody turning those lights off and I won’t get out of bed.”
“Have fun.” He closed his eyes again, and I made sure to make a face at him before sitting up, swinging my leg over him, and bracing myself on one hand against the mattress by his face as I reached for the lights.
“What are you doing?!” He yelped suddenly, and I jumped in surprise and pulled back. Damn – so close, too. Fuck you, Potter.
I looked at him. “What does it look like I’m doing, you prat, running a bloody marathon?”
“It looks like you’re straddling me on the bed!” He accused, his eyes wide as he looked up at me.
“Oh, I am not –” I scoffed, then paused as I assessed the situation.
Leg on each side of his body, sitting on his abdomen…
Shit. I am straddling him.
You know what? Fuck it. I am going to get those bloody lights off no matter what it takes.
“Enjoying yourself?” I asked him lazily, leaning over nonchalantly to get to the lights.
“I’d enjoy myself more if you were sleeping on the other side of the world.” He told me.
Without looking, I flashed my hand to the side so that I could slap him across the head, but he grabbed my arm and tossed it away from his face, towards my pillow. With a yelp of surprise, I crashed against him, having nothing else to hold me up.
“What are you doing?” I wheezed, trying to get some air into my lungs after having them smashed into Potter’s rather hard face.
The gods must really hate me right now; that’s twice in one night that I’ve had Potter’s bloody face shoved up my boobs.
Lovely. Just bloody fantastic.
As this realization dawned on me, the door flew open.
“Hello, loves, I just wanted make sure that you were – oh!”
Fuck my life.
Joan’s eyes were wide as she took in the situation, which I am positive didn’t look the least bit like it truly was.
“Erm – we were just…uh…” I stuttered, my face turning bright red as I quickly shot to my end of the bed. “Uhh…”
Al seemed to be holding in his laughter, and I kicked him discreetly in the leg. What the bloody hell is wrong with him?! I don’t find anything even remotely humorous in this situation. If he finds this funny (which he clearly does), then he is one severely messed up little bugger (which he clearly is) with a terrible sense of humor (which he clearly doesn’t have).
What a git.
“Oh, dear.” She tittered, her face also pink. “Wrong time, I see. Well, don’t let me interrupt, I just wanted to leave your clothes for tomorrow. Have a nice night!”
She winked at us and closed the door, and I let my face fall into my pillow with a groan.
Great. An old lady thinks she just walked in on us having sex. Ergo, that old lady thinks she’s aware of my sex life. No old lady should be aware of my sex life, even if there isn’t ever any sex involved. That is just sick on so many levels.
“This is so embarrassing.” I moaned into the blankets. “If you’d just turned off the lights, none of this would have happened –”
“Aw, lighten up, Malfoy,” Al laughed good-naturedly. “You have to admit that was pretty hilarious.”
I raised my head to sputter indignantly at him. “Are you insane – that woman just thinks she walked in on us having sex!”
Instead of being scandalized and violated like he was supposed to, he started laughing even harder.
I wonder if his mother dropped him on his head a lot when he was a baby. There is clearly something neurologically wrong with him.
“That’s not funny!” I cried. “Why are you laughing?”
He just shook his head at me, still chuckling. “Don’t be such a prude, Malfoy. Learn to live a little.”
I scowled. “I am perfectly acquainted with the art of living, thank you very much. Just because I actually have a sense of pride and class doesn’t mean that I’m incapable of letting go and having fun.”
He looked thoroughly amused. “Alright, then; what’s your idea of having fun?”
I gazed blankly at him. “What’s – we aren’t talking about this right now, Potter! We’re discussing the extremely embarrassing situation that that woman just walked into!”
“Let it go, love.” He said patiently, like I was a small child throwing a temper tantrum. “It happened. There’s nothing we can do about it now.”
“It’s still embarrassing!”
“And is that embarrassment going to make it any better?”
“What, so, I’m not allowed to be embarrassed anymore?”
“I’m just saying that instead of being irrationally embarrassed by something as trivial as this, you let it go and laugh it off.” He said mildly.
“I – you’re insane!” I spluttered. No class, I tell you. Not a shred of dignity or self-respect in this boy. Despicable.
Holy god, I sound like my freaking grandmother.
This is bad. Very bad.
Let’s just pretend that never happened, alright?
He shrugged. “I personally find that you’re the insane one here, but to each his own, I guess.”
I sighed heavily. “How is this going to work?”
“Frankly, I don’t care.” He said lightly, turning over and reaching out to flick off the lights. My jaw dropped in outrage. “Sleep tight, Malfoy.”
I sat there for a full three minutes in overwhelming indignation. If he had just turned the bloody lights off in the first place –!
Argh. I’m going to develop hypertension before this week is over, I just know it.
“Oi, get up.”
Gee, what a loving wake-up call. I’m so lucky to have such a wonderful and caring husband.
Wow – is it bad that I’m sarcastic even while half-asleep? I think I need to re-evaluate my personality.
Eh. Maybe not.
I sighed heavily through my nose and slowly opened my eyes, squinting against the morning light that was filtering through the window.
“What time is it?” I asked groggily, sitting up in bed and scratching at my head. My curls bounced up and down around me, and I couldn’t help but mentally curse my mother for giving me such atrocious hair genes.
“Time for you to get your arse out of bed,” Was his smart reply, followed by a wad of fabric thrown at my head. Scowling, I pulled it off and looked blearily at it.
“Merlin, are you always this dense in the morning? They’re clothes, you turd.” He asked exasperatedly.
“Leave me alone.” I moaned, falling back against the bed. “I’m tired. Don’t judge me.”
He heaved another heavy sigh as I rolled over and pulled the blankets over my head. “Will you get up?”
“No,” Was my very muffled and stubborn reply.
Suddenly, there was a sharp tug on the blanket, and with a shriek of indignation and surprise, I tumbled off of the bed and onto the floor, landing very heavily on my not-nearly-padded-enough arse.
“What the fuck!” I screeched, throwing a pillow at him. He dodged it with ease, smirking at me.
“Go take a shower.”
“Go to hell.”
“You asked for it.” He said, coming at me.
“What do you mean, I – Oi! Put me down!” I yelled as he suddenly stooped down, picked me up, and slung me across his shoulder like I was a potato sack.
This is so fucking demeaning. I swear I’ll get back at him if it’s the last thing I do.
“Merlin, you’re light.” He said in astonishment, bouncing me up and down a little. I shrieked and steadied myself. Excuse me, you prat, that hurts! What do I look like, some sort of rag doll or something?
Note to self: Gain more weight. Preferably in muscle.
Ignoring my back-pounding, leg kicking, and continued screeches of protest, he calmly carried me into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and dumped me into it, fully clothed. He then proceeded to stroll out of the bathroom, whistling merrily to himself and cheerfully disregarding the threats and curses that I screamed after him.
*hides behind purple blankie even though considered undignified for teenaged girl* it hasn't been that long, has it?
please leave review-candies! i'll try to update faster next time, i promise! in fact, i PINKIE promise! and that's saying a lot. pinkie promises are legit, man.