makotosagara: (H/D)
[personal profile] makotosagara
Title: Knight Errant
Author: Makoto Sagara
Series: Harry Potter
Archive: The usual suspects; anywhere else, please ask first.
Category: drabble, pre-slash
Characters/Pairing: Draco/Harry pre-slash, Harry/Ginny
Rating: PG
Warnings: slash, angst, language, ooc, EWE, post-Hogwarts
Disclaimers: I don’t own Harry Potter. No copyright infringement is intended nor is any money made from this piece of fanfiction.
Words: 502
Prompt: philosophy, shots, giggling
Summary: Draco keeps running into Potter. And he looks like he needs a little rescuing.

Author’s Note: This is the third drabble in a series I am referring to in my head as the “Knight Dealings.” The prompt is from hidinginmybones, again. Thank you! *loves on* The name comes from Skeren Dreamera.

~ * * * ~

When Hermione had suggested that Ron and Harry go out on a guys’ night, Ron hadn’t wasted any time in dragging his best friend out of the house. The girls were having a few others over to talk about the upcoming wedding and kids. And as much as Ron loved his wife, he was tired of it.

He’d been so sure that it was over after Percy, George and he finally got married, but he’d forgotten that his mom was determined to have Harry and Ginny joined in blessed nuptials before the end of the year. Drinks were in order!

~ * * * ~

Harry hadn’t really fought that much when Ginny and Hermione practically kicked him out of his own house so they could have a girls’ night, complete with their babies and other female issues that were so pressing to them. He hadn’t really minded even that Ron had called up Neville, Dean, Seamus and George to go out drinking with them either. The more, the merrier, right?

By the third bar, he couldn’t remember why he’d wanted to go out drinking. All he knew was that he was happy, giggling even. And when they got to a table at their last place of the night, Neville, Seamus and he were talking philosophy over shots of Ogden’s Finest. It had been nice, until…

~ * * * ~

Draco had looked up as the rowdy group of Gryffindor males walked through the door of his usual Friday night hang out spot with Blaise, Theodore, and Greg. To say that he was surprised to see Potter so soon after their run-in at the Ministry was an understatement. He was expecting his boyhood rival to stay as far away from him as if he’d caught Dragon Pox.

He kept a cool eye on the group of giggling buffoons, watching as the blond Irishman got louder and more advanced in his attempts to hit on his companion while they talked about someone named Nietzsche. He didn’t really care much about Germans. They tended to be boring and loutish, in his opinion. Really, Italians and French were much better as lovers. Or, once in a while, a nice repressed Englishman was in order.

However, the group left not long after Longbottom shouting something about the abyss and then fell on his round arse. Really, and he was a pureblood.

~ * * * ~

The weekly invasion continued. Draco was starting to get rather annoyed. Finnegan—he’d learned the arsehole’s name from Blaise, thank you very much—kept trying his hardest to steal a kiss from Potter, while Potter seemed oblivious to the other man’s attentions. After the third week of watching his secret wank fantasy being all drooled over like some slobber rag, Draco set down his shot of vodka and stalked over to Potter’s table.

While the others were starting to turn to blink owlishly at him, he leaned in Finnegan’s stupid face and snarled. “This is how you let a man know you’re interested, you idiot,” he snapped before kissing Potter full on the lips.
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