Weasel KingWord count:
The boys belong to JKR, even though I’m often much nicer to them than she is.Author’s Notes:
This was written for rondracodrabble
’s current prompt, tribute
“You lost.” Ron’s triumphant voice sounded as if he were about to break into laughter.
Heat rose in Draco’s cheeks. He slammed his locker open unnecessarily hard and glared in at his towel and French shampoo.
“The Cannons, the ‘joke of the league’ I think you said, beat your team.”
Draco gritted his teeth. Bloody Weasley. When he was feeling confident, he flew like the wind was his to command.
“It was a fluke.”
“Maybe...” Ron said, the grin evident in his voice. “Or maybe it was because you were too busy staring at me to look for the Snitch.”~*~
Draco whipped round from his locker to face Ron, and he felt his mouth go dry. Ron was sweaty and smiling and so vital that Draco felt overwhelmed.
Still: Draco could always rely on his sneer.
“Been delusional long?”
Ron stalked towards him: that usually-hidden hint of command was suddenly stark. “Quiet, Malfoy.” He put one large hand on the wall by Draco’s head; Draco was surrounded by him. Draco stared up into his blue eyes, breathless. “And if you must insult me... I like the old insults better.”
Draco dropped to his knees, and paid proper tribute to the king.