Dirty BoyWord count:
200 - 2 drabblesDisclaimer:
The boys belong to JKR, though I think I'm sometimes nicer to them than she is.A/N:
Written for hd100
's challenge "devil". I wrote this on Friday: finally posting it is a celebration of getting my interwebs back at last. DIE, you stupid bloody wireless.
Malfoy was always buffed and polished and gleaming in appearance. Harry assumed this meant he was neat, until the day he saw Malfoy’s cubicle.
The mess was epic. If one of the towers of files collapsed, they’d never make it out alive.
“What the hell happened here? It looks like a dust devil blew through!”
Malfoy scowled at him. “I’m not used to picking up after myself. We didn’t all have your benighted childhood; I had house-elves.”
Harry snorted, and went to tell Ron about this.
Ron grinned nastily. A little later, Shacklebolt told Malfoy to tidy up, or else.
Harry watched as Malfoy sat back on his heels, sighing and running a hand through his already mussed hair. The cubicle was tidier, but he was nowhere near finished.
Malfoy turned with a cobra’s speed. “You! You idiot, you told bloody Weasley – ”
He got up to continue haranguing him. Malfoy’s face was flushed with effort and indignation, and his robes were smudged with dirt. Harry found himself reaching out to straighten Malfoy’s collar, determinedly ignoring the way Malfoy’s eyes widened, then narrowed speculatively.
“You’re a mess.”
Malfoy smirked, the devil dancing in his eyes. “I’m just a dirty boy.”