Undefined

Chapter 30

Foreplay as Interpreted by Ron Weasley

"Hermione!"

Hermione turned, her arms laden with books. Draco was relieved to see that Ron and Harry were nowhere in sight. Draco'd spent the whole night pondering how he could effectively force Harry into mastering Occlumency, each idea as futile as the last, until he finally thought of Hermione. If anyone would listen to reason, if anyone would understand the importance of the matter, it was Hermione.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, her eyes lined with dark circles.

"It's Harry," Draco said, walking briskly into the library.

She sighed heavily and shuffled after him. He walked past tables filled with students and stood near the Restricted Section, waiting for Hermione to deposit her books on an empty table.

"What's he gone and done now?" she asked.

"It's not what he's done; it's what he's not doing."

"Occlumency," Hermione said, sighing.

"It's more dangerous than you know," Draco said lowly. "He has to do it."

"What do you mean?" Hermione said, looking deathly pale.

"Voldemort needs Harry to get something for him, and he can manipulate his thoughts to make him do it."

Hermione sighed deeply, her forehead creased. "I was afraid of something like this."

"He's stubborn," Draco said.

"Yes," Hermione said.

"You'll have to help me."

"Yes," she said, nodding.

"I'll do everything I can; I've been giving him lessons but he still needs practice. Help me convince him how dangerous the situation is."

"I will," she said, frowning.

"You look tired," Draco said.

"I am."

"Is it Ron?"

"No," she said, smiling.

"You push yourself too much."

"I know," Hermione said, stifling a yawn.

"You need to relax."

"I do relax," Hermione said.

"How often do you and Ron shag?"

Hermione cleared her throat and blushed. "I don't know."

"You have to," Draco said, grinning.

"That's a bit personal," Hermione said, her cheeks crimson.

"Of course it is," Draco said. "That's why I'm asking."

"Often enough, I suppose."

"You suppose?"

"Well, yes, I mean"-- Hermione flitted her eyes from side to side--"he seems to want to do it...well...a bit more than I'm keen on."

"Ah, yes," Draco said, understanding all too well.

"And, well, last night we had a row about it, because I was so exhausted from studying for these ruddy O.W.L.s and he insisted that we ... go on and do it...and I said no...and before I knew it he was screaming at me, saying how frigid I'd become lately and that I acted like I didn't want him to touch me."

"You're under stress," Draco said sympathetically.

"Yes!" Hermione breathed, sounding immensely relieved. "That's all it is! He just doesn't understand because he's never cared about his studies as much as I have."

"Clearly," Draco said, smirking.

"So I'm not...you don't think I'm...frigid or anything, do you?" Hermione asked, looking uncertain.

"No," Draco said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Harry's like that too sometimes. It's normal. Want me to talk to Ron?"

"No," Hermione said, blushing. "No you don't--"

"Yeah I should; sometimes a bloke needs to be talked to about these things. Don't worry, Hermione, I'll set him straight."

"Oh, don't hurt him or anything..." Hermione began.

"I won't, not physically," Draco said, patting her shoulder and turning to leave.

He cornered Ron on the third floor corridor outside the trophy room.

"Weasley," he drawled, glancing left and right.

"Yeah?" Ron said uncertainly.

It was not often the two shared an exclusive conversation without Harry or Hermione around to act as buffers. Under the circumstances, Draco felt it was best if he talked to Ron alone.

"Can I have a word?" Draco said, motioning towards the room.

"Sure," Ron said, and followed him inside.

Draco stopped near a display case full of tarnished cups as Ron closed the door and followed, still looking uncertain.

"Are you giving Granger a hard time?" Draco said, crossing his arms.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked fiercely, his protectiveness of Hermione spiking instantly.

"Just because she's a bit stressed doesn't mean you can call her frigid," Draco said simply.

Ron looked at him dumbstruck for a moment, then licked his lips and folded his arms. "She told you about that?"

"Yes," Draco said. "And you of all people should know how important O.W.L.s are to her."

"I do," Ron said defensively.

"Doesn't sound like it."

"Well, I mean...oh Christ I can't believe I'm talking to you about this," Ron muttered, glancing at the contents of the display case. "She's not up to it as much as I'd like."

"Well, what do you do to get her in the mood?" Draco asked.

Ron looked at him surprised.

"Oh, God," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Please tell me you understand foreplay, Weasley."

"What's golf got to do with anything?"

Draco laughed, unable to stop himself.

"What's so funny?" Ron said furiously.

"It's got nothing to do with golf, you idiot!" Draco said.

"Well, then, what is this fore-thingy?"

Draco continued, trying hard not to break into laughter as he went to explain. "It's foreplay and it's what you do to get the girl in the mood." Ron looked still looked confused. "Look, it's just...you just tease her a bit to get her ready. Use your fingers or tongue to make her moan."

Ron flushed and nodded.

"How do you usually go about it?" Draco asked.

"Well, erm, we usually kiss then we just sort of do it," Ron said, shrugging.

"There's the problem. You have to make her want it, make her beg for it. Tell her how badly you want her, how much she turns on, how sexy she is. Then touch her body lightly, but not where you usually start off. Tease around a bit."

Ron still looked confused.

Draco continued, "Graze your fingers over her breasts and nipples, run them lightly over her vagina...OK, from the look on your face I won't use that word again...tease her until she's wet and moaning. Have you fingered her?"

"Erm," Ron said, "I tried once, but she said it hurt."

"Was she wet?"

"Erm," Ron said again, glancing once again at the tarnished trophies littering the display case.

"She has to be wet, Weasley," Draco sighed. "If you just ram them up there it hurts a girl."

"Exactly how many girls have you been with?" Ron said fiercely.

"More than a few," Draco said, "but don't change the subject. Does she get off?"

"Yes. Well, she says she does," said Ron.

Draco nodded, knowing more than likely Hermione didn't want to hurt Ron's feelings.

"First, and most important, don't call her frigid. Girls hate that shit."

"I shouldn't have done that," Ron said. "I was just annoyed. Lately she's been too tired to do anything."

"She's stressed," Draco said.

"I know!" Ron said, exasperated.

"It's your job to make her relax," Draco said. "Then she'll be up for it."

"All right, but how do I go about that?" Ron asked grudgingly.

"When you get her into bed, don't start anything immediately. Just lay there with her and stroke her hair and tell her how much you care about her and all that. Then, start to gently kiss her."

"Is that when I start the fore-thingy?" Ron asked.

"Yes," Draco said, trying hard not to laugh. "As your kissing her, slowly undress her and tell her everything you want to do to her. Once she's starkers don't go into it right away; do what I told you earlier. Think you can remember that?" Ron nodded. "Good, and the most important thing: don't stick anything into her unless she's wet."

"OK." Ron blushed.

"And what's the most important thing?" Draco said.

"Don't call her frigid."

"Good," Draco said, slapping Ron on the back. "You catch on quick enough."

Draco was quite ready to get Harry alone following his conversation with Ron. Just the thought of foreplay made Draco realize he hadn't been alone with Harry in that way for too long. It took everything he had to restrain himself when he passed Harry in the corridors or sat with him in the same classroom. Draco realized, too late, the consequences of his thoughts in Transfiguration when McGonagall called him to the front of the classroom.

"Hell," Draco groaned, adjusting his robes and thinking of the unsexiest thing in the world in an effort to eradicate his erection. Think of something, anything; think of mother, Dumbledore, Snape...ah yes he realized, that seemed to do the trick. But then he caught sight of Harry, sitting next to Ron, gazing blankly out the window, deep in thought. Draco's stomach gave a lurch when he realized Harry's glasses were not on his face, but in his hand, one of the ends sticking loosely in his mouth. Oh shit, Draco thought, OK, concentrate on Snape.

"Mr. Malfoy, assuming you completed your assigned homework for today," McGonagall said, but he continued to watch as Harry nibbled and sucked on the end of his glasses.

Snape, think of Snape, Snape...

"...the Protean charm relates to this class."

"Sorry?" Draco said. "What was that?"

"I asked you to please explain the manner in which the Protean Charm relates to this class."

"Oh," he said, stealing another sidelong glance at Harry, who was still deep in thought. "Um, it um...makes objects change form."

He glanced once again at Harry, and nearly gasped when he saw his tongue swirl around the wire tip of his glasses. Snape starkers, Draco thought, feeling his erection pulsate sharply.

He gritted his teeth and told himself furiously, "Snape starkers!"

He didn't realize until too late he'd said it aloud. The laugher in the classroom was deafening. Ron sat laughing uncontrollably next to Harry, beating his fists on the desk. Hermione covered her mouth with her hand and giggled furiously, her tired eyes catching Draco's. By then, Harry had placed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose and looked at Draco quizzically, not knowing why everyone was laughing. Ron leant over and whispered something into Harry's ear, causing his face break into a broad grin.

"Excuse me?" McGonagall barked, looking quite bewildered as the laughter slowly died out.

"No, no I didn't mean..." Draco said jumping.

"That will be all, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said coolly.

Draco flushed crimson and returned to his seat, scowling at Harry as he walked past.

"Snape starkers?" Crabbe mouthed as Draco walked by, but he said nothing as he plopped violently into his seat, fully intending on making Harry pay later.