Dirty deeds

2 January – dinner

Dinner was fun. Severus and I slipped into our seats just before the soup course started. Everyone was really polite and pretended that they didn’t think that we had been shagging like animals for eight hours solid. Severus, bless him, had a slightly stunned expression on his face, as if he couldn’t quite believe his luck, not to mention nearly falling asleep during the fish course. For some reason I was absolutely starving.

Lucius of course smirked his way through the meal, and Draco adopted a very similar expression. He’s a little too young to be really convincing with the supercilious sneer, but you can see in ten or twenty years time he will be able to reduce babies to tears with a glance.

Once dinner was over Lucius dragged Severus off to the Library – and that was a prospect to make anyone shiver. What was he up to? But it seemed that it was part of some plan to give Ron and me some quality time together so we could ‘talk’.

After staring at each other across the table for some minutes in stony silence I broke the silence by saying, ‘So, Pansy couldn’t stay for dinner?’ He pokered up, thinking I was going to be snotty and then decided to take it at face value. Dear old Ron, so very uncomplicated, so very SIMPLE. He explained how he had brought her back from the party, and how they had stayed up all night talking, and how she was really interesting and everything, and they had talked and talked, and it was a real meeting of minds – dear god, I didn’t know Pansy Parkinson had a mind – and how he couldn’t wait to see her again.

It seemed he liked her personality.

So, to put it bluntly, no shagging then.

I didn’t put the question in those terms as poor Ron does blush dreadfully, but it turned out there had been a little light snogging – with tongues - but no actual poke per se. All strictly above the waist. Bit surprised at this as Pansy not noted for being backward at coming forward. Turns out she was all for it, but Ron was playing shy virgin that night. Better suited to the role than dear old Pansy.

He ummed and aahed for a bit and then asked the question – the one that explained why he didn’t shag Pansy – was he really all that bad in bed? Well the truth is of course he bloody well was, but decided that truth bad idea. In first place, could put him off sex for rest of his life; and in the second place, much as it hurts me to admit it, this was at least partly my fault. I should have taken a much firmer hand at the start instead of worrying about hurting his feelings.

Almost felt sorry for Pansy, as she would have to sort out all his little problems. Bit like taking on a rescue dog – it looks cute and cuddly behind the chain link fencing, but then you get it home and it wees up all the furniture, chews the furniture and wants to sleep in your bed and whines all night when it doesn’t get its own way.

Only the first two are metaphors, the last two were literal truth.

So decided on half truth – a little bit of honesty to a whole sack load of lies. As much my fault as his – blah blah blah – obviously we weren’t meant to be anything other than friends – blah blah blah – he had made just as much effort as me to try to spic our our dull lives – but pointed out that suggestions as to buggery should be made when lady in question lying in post-orgasmic glow and suggestible rather than after particularly disastrous shag. Don’t want to give your partner the impression that any orifice will do for your gratification, and that you are selfish bastard.

Not using such long words though.

He had a little crisis of confidence, and wondered what Pansy could see in him. Pointed out that actually talking to her had advantage of novelty, and that she probably had never been treated decently by any of her previous boyfriends. Ron much struck by this argument. Said that thought would be good idea to take things slowly, and treat her with respect. And not to get involved with poor cow if just looking for a rebound shag.

Then he asked me about ‘Snape’, and whether I was serious about him. The groan he made when I confirmed that I was suggested that he was less concerned about any potential damage to Severus’s feelings than the possibility of having to be civil to him on a more or less permanent basis.

Could be worse I pointed out, could be Lucius. Didn’t mention to Ron that technically could consider Lucius my rebound shag. Also was possibility that getting laid on a regular basis would improve his mood. Ron conceded that Severus had been almost pleasant that evening – too shagged out to be sarcastic – but thought that such herculanean efforts couldn’t betaintained over the long term.

So lied by inference if not actual content of words, and said that had spent previous night in chaste embrace (true) and had spent afternoon talking (Yes! Yes! Yes!) and holding hands – was particularly exciting when he pinned my hands down over my head whilst he was moving in me – and discussing the future (Do that again! Now!).

Don’t think he necessarily believed me, but was happier with the nice cozy blindfold of the lie rather than the glaring honesty of twenty twenty full colour vision.

So parted amicably enough to go to bed.

Was sitting in room brushing hair when Severus sidled in. Smell of brandy on breath, and tasted of it too. Wouldn’t say what he had been talking to Lucius about but did look a little flushed so think it was boy’s boasting session. As Severus still talking to me, believe that Lucius kept quiet about our little encounters.

Decided that honesty was important in a relationship so explained was feeling a little worn out and would appreciate a decent night’s sleep to recuperate. Obviously not going to be honest about the Lucius thing, blimey! There’s Gryffindor honesty, and there’s rank bloody stupidity! He looked relieved, poor thing, that wasn’t going to be called upon to perform Olympian feats again. And even more relieved when I suggested that it might be nice to wake up together tomorrow anyway.

So curled up in bed together and dozed off. Mercifully seemed to be no snoring, so seems to be Firewhiskey thing.