L'amore del Drago

L'amore del Drago

Chapter One: In which Draco has Dreams of Delectable Desire, and Blaise's Black Beverage is Badly Bewitched.

The tall, dark, and stunningly gorgeous man lounged in the doorway of Draco's dormitory.

"Hello, Draco," he said in a silky voice. The stranger seemed to ooze charisma, and reeked of the promise of seduction and wicked deeds.

"What do you want?" Draco demanded, although his brain was melting in the mere presence of the unknown man.

The man gazed smoulderingly at him, brilliant green eyes sending shivers down Draco's spine.

"You," he breathed huskily, "always you."

With three quick strides he had reached Draco's side. Seizing him in his strong, muscular arms, the stranger gazed at him for only a moment longer before claiming Draco's lips with his own.

"Who are you?" Draco managed to gasp between searing, passionate kisses.

The man pulled back and flashed Draco a dazzling grin that would have made him fall over if he hadn't been held upright.

"They call me the Boy Who Lived," he murmured in sultry tones. "But you can call me..." he paused, and ran his tongue over Draco's bottom lip, "...Hal."

Bzzz.

"Huh?"

Bzzz.

"What? Oh..."

Bzzz.

"...bugger!" Draco swore, rolling over and slamming his fist into the pillow. Fumbling for his wand, he cast Silencio on his Alarm-Charm, and snuggled back under the covers.

Now where were we? Ah yes...

"MALFOY!" came a resounding bellow from outside the curtains. Draco sat bolt upright, eyes wide and heart pounding.

"Malfoy, you ratfink," the voice continued, "if you don't show your pointed little arse now, I'll hex you into next Thursday!"

Who have I annoyed lately? Draco wondered, frantically. Cautiously, he stuck his head out between the curtains around his bed.

He was met with the sight of one Blaise Zabini standing in the middle of the dorm, hair in disarray. One hand was holding up his duck-printed pyjama trousers, while the other--

Draco blinked. Blaise's other hand appeared to be holding a steaming coffee pot. While this was not an unusual thing for Blaise to be holding (in fact, it was more unusual to find him without coffee nearby), Draco's experience told him that Blaise did not normally wave the pot around without showing any signs of drinking it.

Or absorbing it straight into the bloodstream.

"Ah, there you are," Blaise spat, on spotting Draco. "I suppose this was your idea, was it? Well I don't find it funny, Malfoy!" He waved a finger in the air for more emphasis; then made a wild grab for his slipping pyjamas.

"Er, sorry," Draco said, brushing his hair out of his eyes, "what are we talking about here?"

Blaise said nothing, but scowled ferociously at the blond boy.

"Something wrong with your coffee?" Draco hazarded.

It felt as though a howler had exploded in the room.

"OH, IS THERE EVER SOMETHING WRONG WITH MY COFFEE, YOU SOD! VERY FUNNY, I DON'T THINK!"

"But..."

"NEVER MIND THAT I'VE BEEN YOUR FRIEND FOR YEARS, NEVER MIND THAT I'VE STUCK BY YOU THROUGH THICK AND THIN..."

"ZABINI!" Draco bawled, cutting through Blaise's flow of vituperation. The Italian wizard stopped abruptly.

"Thank you," Draco said into the resounding silence. "Now let me make one thing clear. I have not done anything to your coffee. Nor," he added raising a finger, as Blaise drew breath to continue, "did I order anyone else to do anything to your coffee. I don't know anything about it!"

Blaise glared suspiciously at him.

"Blaise, if I'd decided to get between you and your coffee, do you really think I'd be stupid enough to still be here?" Draco demanded, exasperated.

"Well," Blaise conceded grudgingly, "Okay. No. Point."

"You're lapsing into Troll again," Draco said dryly.

Blaise mumbled something, the only intelligible words of which were "morning" and "caffeine". His rage exhausted, the young wizard was visibly drooping on his feet.

Feeling somewhat compassionate - and also not wanting to be held responsible for Blaise concussing himself on the flagstones - Draco slid out of bed.

Aaaargh!

He hopped desperately from one foot to the other in an attempt not to touch the stone floor.

Cold - feet - floor - freezing!

Locating his slippers, Draco drew them on thankfully. He then made his way over to Blaise, who by this time appeared to be comatose.

"Come on, you," Draco said, slipping his arm through Blaise's and leading the taller boy over to the bed opposite Draco's. Blaise's head hit the pillow almost immediately, and Draco, with some difficulty, hoisted his legs and feet up onto the mattress.

The feel of something wet dripping onto his feet made Draco recoil in horror. Looking down, he saw with some relief that the spout of the coffee jug, which Blaise was still holding, was pouring a thin trickle of the liquid onto the place where Draco's slippered foot had been only moments before.

Wrinkling his nose slightly, Draco carefully removed the coffee jug from Blaise's sleeping grasp. This involved a minor struggle, as Blaise's reflexes appeared to clamp down at the slightest suggestion of its removal, and it was a somewhat more dishevelled Draco who made his way back to his own bed.

Sitting on the edge of his mattress, he contemplated the jug on his lap.

I wonder what's wrong with it? he mused idly. Suddenly curious, he pulled the tooth-mug from his bedside table and poured some of the liquid into it.

Looks a bit... pale.

Draco sniffed it, cautiously; then, with an impending sense of crashing realisation, took a small sip.

He almost spat it out in sheer horror at having his suspicions confirmed.

That isn't even coffee!

At least he knew now why Blaise had reacted so explosively to the - beverage, as he mentally dubbed it with a shudder.

Weak.

Decaffeinated.

Tea, Draco thought gloomily, bloody herbal tea.