InsaneJournal

Current mood:	crazy
Current music:	Jingle Balls. ;-)

Happy Holidays!
A couple of holiday ficlets for your amusement. You may have read these before over on my Live Journal -- sorry but it's a madhouse around here and I haven't had time for anything new. Not putting them behind cuts 'cuz they're (a) short and (b) not very smutty, say PG-13 or thereabouts if this were a movie. Here's hoping my muse gets a visit from the Porn Fairy come New Year. Merlin knows the lazy thing needs it!
 

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YULETIDE INTERLUDE

"Come on, Sev, it'll be fun."

Snape shot him the look. The one that said "bugger off and drop dead, you insolent little arsehole". As usual, it bounced off Harry like Avada Kedavra. He shrugged and dipped his quill in the pot of green ink. Oh well, it was worth a try.

Harry made a beeline for his right earlobe and started nibbling. Severus tensed and tried – admittedly not too hard –  to pull away. "Mister Potter. Unlike some people, I have work to do. Textbooks do not write themselves." Actually, the fifth year potions book was already written. He just wanted to make a handful of minor adjustments to the proof scroll before owling it to his publisher, Fintan & Sons. Unlike most Muggle firms and even a few magical ones they weren't in any big hurry to get it back. The book wouldn't even be printed until next September, just before school started.

A soft chuckle. "That's Potter-Snape to you. And you know what they say about all work and no play. Besides, you missed it last time."

The potions master shuddered. Thank all the gods he had, or he'd have ended up with his lustrous raven hair dyed holly berry red for a whole month, thanks to the hex a certain pair of hooligans had cast on the mulled cider. What they'd done to the plum pudding the year before ... Safe to say, not all of his nightmares involved being hideously tortured by Malfoy Senior and Voldemort following his exposure as a spy. "Brat. Since when have I ever cared for what they say? And I do believe it was a Gryffindor who came up with that proverb. One of Albus's lunatic ancestors, no doubt. He comes from a long line of court jesters and clowns ... even if he is among the three most powerful wizards since Merlin."

Okay, time to switch tactics. Harry got in touch with his inner Slytherin. "You mean you're not in the least bit least curious to see what Ron and Draco have planned by way of announcing their engagement?" He added, "I can hardly wait to see the fireworks."

Snape snorted. Everybody knew those two were an item, even before they had. No fireworks there: unlike Sirius Black, Lucius Malfoy was not about to show up in the middle of the night screaming the most vile insults and challenging Ron Weasley to an illegal wizard's duel. He was much too busy entertaining the few Dementors that hadn't gone over to Voldemort during the final battle. And as for Narcissa ... Severus ground his teeth. His self-centered little whore of a stepsister couldn't care less what became of her only child after Draco refused the Dark Mark, turning to Dumbledore, his uncle, and the Light. Molly and Arthur Weasley gave the boy refuge and before summer was even halfway over he was bedding their youngest son. By Lammastide he was with child by his lover. The new grandparents-to-be were ecstatic, having long given up hope of that Granger girl ever mothering any of their brood. Now if she were to attend the so-called festivities...

"It might provide momentary respite from an otherwise boring affair," he allowed. Careful there, Severus, his little voice told him. Mustn't seem too eager or he'll walk all over you. What was he thinking? Potter already walked all over him. The beautiful brat had only to lift a finger and his stern, forbidding professor became little more than a carpet spread out for his use. Worse, and Snape did his best to hide the fact, especially from his husband, he wouldn't have it any other way. True, he couldn't make up for all the years of neglect and abuse Harry had suffered – some of it at his hands, back when it was necessary to pretend they were enemies – but he could try.

Yes! Harry was doing mental somersaults. Finally, he was going to go to the Yule Ball with the date of his choosing. The one, true love of his life, not some cute little teenybopper witch or wizard the rest of society deemed a fit companion for The Boy Who Lived –  gods, how he hated that ridiculous title. It made him feel like the freak the Dursleys had always accused him of being. Worse, a storybook character that couldn't be hurt no matter what you did to him, not a real person at all. He quickly smothered that dismal thought and, with a mischievous smile, resumed teasing his mate. Not that it was really teasing, they both knew he was ready and willing to make good on all his promises. Now and later on tonight, just as soon last dance was over. They might even leave earlier, if things got out of hand. Or, as he suspected but hoped she wouldn't, 'Mione threw a fit when she found out about the baby. Speaking of which...

"You know, I still can't figure out how Ron managed to get Draco up the duff. We learned about reproduction and safe sex way back in fourth year. A birth control spell takes only a minute. And it won't have nasty side effects or ruin the mood, the way Madam Pomfrey told us non-magical methods can often do."


Severus laughed, he couldn't help it. "You are such an innocent, my love."

Harry tried to look indignant; he only managed to look twice as edible. Snape's quill and parchment were tossed unceremoniously aside in favor of the tasty holiday treat sitting in his lap. What? The little minx was talking dirty to him in Parseltongue, an even bigger turn-on now that Sev could understand it, thanks to a certain permanent curse inflicted upon upon him by that magical menace, Gilderoy Lockehart. He hissed back with equal fervor as his cock rose to attention. Before long, they were both naked and thrusting hard against each other.

After their impromptu bout of lovemaking and the cleanup and cuddle session that followed, Severus explained. "Unless they avoided sexual intercourse altogether, it was bound to happen. And perhaps not even then, if half of what I've heard about the matter is true." Harry raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "It's not a widely known fact, you won't find it in Hogwarts: A History – not in the student edition, anyway –  but back in the Middle Ages, it was a Weasley who invented the Fecundus Maximus charm. And no contraceptive, be it magic or muggle made, can stand up to the likes of that."

Wow! Talk about your lucky escapes!

"What lucky escapes?" Whoops, Harry really had to work on keeping his shields more firmly in place. That wasn't a thought he'd wanted to share while in bed with his husband, especially right after they'd had mind-blowing sex. "Uhhh---"

"Harr-ry ..." That tone. He swallowed hard. Oh well, in for a penny ... "Promise you won't kill him? Draco'll never speak to you again if you kill him." He let his bottom lip quiver, just a little bit. A Snape, no matter how angry, had no defense against a patented Harry Potter lip quiver.

"I promise, on my honor as head of Slytherin. I will not kill my nephew's pet weasel." THUMP. "Ouch! Harry! My ribs. Very well, I won't kill Mr. Weasley. However, I do reserve the right to hex him polka-dotted the next time...oh all right, no hexes either. Now then, you were saying?"

"I was saying, in that case it's a darn good thing I ran away when he tried snogging me under the mistletoe Christmas Eve before last."


Severus gaped. "He tried ... and you ran away? Harry, he's your closest friend. Why, even I let Malfoy Senior have a snog or two –  before I found out what a good for nothing louse he really was. And it was certainly no secret what Remus Lupin and your flea bitten mutt of a godfather got up to on St. Stephen's night in the broom shed, the year we graduated." What he did not add, and kept tightly shielded too, was that James Potter had later sneaked off to said broom shed, following a spectacular row with Lily. "Everybody experiments with their friends, it's a perfectly natural thing."

Harry shook his head. "That may very well be, but I never felt the urge. You see, my love," he whispered, leaning in to claim a kiss, "I knew all along that you were the only one for me."

*************

The End.

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Can't Blame The Mistletoe


Hermione entered the Great Hall and stopped dead in her tracks. The house-elves had gone totally overboard as only they could do with the decorations, but that wasn't it. Dumbledore and McGonnigal were wearing Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus outfits -- trust those bloody Yanks to "improve" on good old Father Christmas! -- but that wasn't it either. Fred and George were over by the punch bowl and very obviously up to no good, as anyone who'd attended the last Yule Ball (which meant everyone except Professor Snape, who'd been away on urgent Order of the Phoenix business and didn't get back until Hogmanay) could certainly attest, but that still wasn't it.

And there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about Harry Potter sitting at the teacher's table (he'd chosen to Apprentice, in potions of all things, in addition to his NEWTs) with a huge black python wrapped rather seductively around him. Both were lost in their own little world -- nothing strange there -- and once again she gave thanks that she didn't speak Parseltongue, because obviously they were discussing rather intimate matters. She didn't bat an eyelash when the snake slid sinuously down Harry's shoulder, transformed into Severus Snape and sashayed off in the direction of the dungeons ... with a panting, drooling and -- Lordy, was that his wand? No wonder Snape walked funny in the mornings! -- Boy Who Lived hot on his round little heels.

Perfectly normal, that.

No, what held her fast as if she'd been hit with Petrificus Totalis was seeing Draco Malfoy sitting at ::gasp:: the Gryffindor table. To be precise about it (and Ms. Granger was nothing if not precise) he was sitting at the Gryffindor table in Ron Weasley's lap with his tongue probing the other boy's tonsils. And Ron, her Ron or so she'd always thought, was eagerly -- make that voraciously -- snogging him back.

And there wasn't a mistletoe in sight. Tons of greenery but not a single sprig of mistletoe.

'Mione blinked and shook her head. What the hell was in that eggnog anyway? Not even Trelawney's weird incense and very funny herbs could conjure up a stranger vision. Come to think of it, her Divinations teacher looked as gobsmacked by the display as she was. Not a hallucination, then. It had to be a charm, a hex or an attraction spell of doubtful legality.

In other words, a typical Slytherin ploy crafted for the sole purpose of embarrassing the rival House. At her best friend's expense -- and Ron was still her friend, even if she'd been ignoring him lately in favor of her own pursuits. Besides, he'd always known how important her career was; after all she was a modern, liberated witch. Surely he hadn't expected ...

Oh. My. God. Was that ... on Draco's left hand... it couldn't be. But it was. A diamond engagement ring. And not just any engagement ring either; this was the Weasley diamond, a family heirloom handed down for...for as many generations as there were Weasleys.

And there were a lot of Weasleys. All of a sudden, Hermione felt ill.

The steamy kiss finally ended -- they must be running out of air, she thought -- but Draco made no attempt to move, indeed to do anything but cuddle even closer and purr. Oh, and gaze adoringly up at Ron from behind a veil of long, golden lashes. She swallowed hard. Ron was gazing back at him with equal adoration. He smiled more lovingly than she had ever seen anyone do except her Dad when he looked at Mum that special way, and tenderly stroked Malfoy's cheek. As Draco leaned into the caress, Ron's other hand pressed ever so gently against his slightly rounded belly.

His four months pregnant belly.

KA-THUMP!!! Out she went like the proverbial light. Maybe even a bit faster, so great was the blow to her feminine ego. McGonnigal tsk-tsked and levitated her out of the way. Too much holiday cheer; it happened all the time.

A pair of house elves popped in, skinny arms overflowing with holly, ivy, and ...

"Mistletoe. Dobby is forgetting the mistletoe." With that he pinned the biggest, greenest, most berry-laden bunch right over the Gryffindor table, not at all coincidently where the newly betrothed couple were sitting. "Happy Christmas."

Ronald Weasley, soon to be Weasley-Malfoy, laughed and kissed his beloved's pert little nose. Happy Christmas indeed!

*****

The End!

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Whatever holidays you celebrate, I wish you all much love and joy. :-)