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Le Obscure Prompt War – Round Five

Prompts:  hospital, stubby pencil, box of Smarties, pig heart, corset

Lilith has declared me victor so that should could rush off to Rome on holiday, so we have decided to engage in battle with LOPW II upon her return.  With a Phrase War next time.  This shall be the last installment of this particular war...  Hope you enjoyed it thus far!

Confundus

When Harry woke up, he recognized his surroundings without surprise.  Most people would be somewhat shocked to find themselves regaining consciousness in a hospital, but Harry Potter was not most people, and his first thought was simply, “Hospital again.  Wonder which one?”

He Summoned his glasses and put them on.  His eyes skimmed the room casually while he did a mental check to assess for damage.  He felt pretty good, considering he just woke up in a hospital bed.  Ah, that brickwork was familiar.  St. Mungo’s then.  Harry, of course, had been in and out of St. Mungo’s so many times they had considered keeping a dedicated room open just for him.  They had built a new wing with the proceeds from his many bills.

The door opened and Harry perked up, wondering which nurse he would have today.  Harry knew them all by name.

Draco Malfoy was not one of them.  Harry looked at the blond curiously.

“Did you put me here?” Harry asked.

“Regrettably, no,” Malfoy replied.  “What is the last thing you remember?”

Harry thought back.  “We were at Beckingham Park.  I had the Defense Against the Dark Arts class with me.”

Draco sauntered to the table next to Harry’s bed and peered at a huge bouquet of flowers.  Harry blinked at them in shock.

“Flowers?  How long have I been here?”

“Long enough to have gifts,” Draco said.  “Oh!  Smarties!”  He snatched up the brightly colored package of candies and wrenched it open.  Harry thought he might be dreaming.

“You know those are Muggle sweets, right?”

Draco snorted.  “I prefer to believe a wizard created this confection in order to sell it to unsuspecting Muggles.  He’s probably rolling in Galleons.”  Draco tipped his head back and dropped a huge handful of sweets into his mouth.  Between the slender line of his pale throat and the blissful moan he made, Harry found himself staring at Malfoy quite idiotically.

“You were at the park…” Malfoy reminded him, crunching happily and jiggling the remaining chocolate morsels in one hand.  Harry scowled.

“Aren’t those mine?”

Malfoy smirked.  “They were.  Do go on.”

Harry glared.  He really liked Smarties.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Harry asked.  Malfoy turned his attention to the flowers—white roses, Harry noted with surprise—who the fuck would send him white roses?

“Humor me, Potter.”

Harry snarled, “Fine.  I was at Beckingham Park with the kids.  That horrid Zabini boy—”

“Julian Zabini?  He’s delightful.  Blaise’s nephew.”

“He’s a menace,” Harry snapped.  “He’s like you and the Weasley twins rolled into one evil package.  He smuggled a pig’s heart to the park.  What sort of wretched, demented beast smuggles a pig’s heart on a field trip?”

“A Slytherin beast?” Malfoy offered.

“That bloody well goes without saying.”

Malfoy chuckled.  “Actually, I believe he meant to stage a duel and pretend to rip the heart from one of his friend’s chests.  The Gryffindors would have fainted.”

“So would I,” Harry said.  “How do you know that’s what he planned?”

“Oh, Blaise and I pulled that stunt on a bunch of Hufflepuffs when we were thirteen.  Nearly killed the lot of them from the shock alone.”  Malfoy laughed at the memory and Harry noticed that he had a nice laugh, even if he was pure evil.

“That’s not funny.”

“Come on, Potter.  It’s hilarious.”  Malfoy chuckled a bit longer, and then asked, “What then?”

“You should know.  We were having a picnic lunch in the park when you and Hermione showed up—I still can’t quite get over that, mind you.”

“Over what?”

“You and Hermione.  It boggles.”

“I’ll have you know, I’ve been working with Granger for two full years now.  She’s a fine girl.  A peach.  A paragon of personhood.”

Harry gaped at him.  Malfoy’s eyes narrowed.

“Fine, Potter.  I admit I was a horrid, bigoted, snobbish, not-very-nice person when I was younger.  People change.”

Harry wanted to argue, but he did not want to get into another age-old row with Draco Malfoy.  At least not until he found out what the Slytherin was doing here.

“I’ll ignore that, for now.  Regardless, you and Hermione popped in from the Ministry, because Hermione felt it was vitally necessary to ask me to dinner in person, instead of merely sending me a damned owl or a Patronus…”  Harry still had his doubts, there.  Hermione was up to something.  Harry knew it.

“Lucky for you Granger is impulsive.”

Impulsive was hardly the word Harry would use to describe Hermione, but it was fortuitous that they had arrived, because shortly thereafter, Harry lost all control.

“Yes, well at that point the blasted Zabini boy started a food fight.”

“You saw him do it?”

“I know he did it!” Harry snapped.

“I stand corrected, Professor Snape.”

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Harry said, but he flushed at the reprimand.  Slytherin bastard.  “Fine.  Someone started a food fight.”

Malfoy grinned.  “Much better.  Then what?”

“Well, I remember running forward to intercept a bottle being thrown at Roger Dawkins… and that’s it.  Everything is blank after that.  You were there—what happened?”

Malfoy snatched up a large, flat box from the table.

“A present?  You have a present, Potter.  Who is it from?”

Harry thought Malfoy’s voice was a bit more snappish than warranted.  It almost sounded accusatory.

“How should I know?  I just woke up.  Isn’t there a card?”

Malfoy rifled around until he held up a card.

“Well, well, well.  It’s from Zacharias Smith.”

Harry paled.  “Oh god!  Don’t open it!”

The admonition was too late.  Malfoy had wrenched open the box.  His pale eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hair as he held up a curious bit of silk, lace, and whalebone.  Bright red.

“A corset?” Malfoy asked.  Harry buried his face in his hands.  “Is there something you want to tell me, Potter?”

Harry mumbled through his hands.  “Put it away!”

“Which of you is supposed to wear it?  You, or Smith?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care!” Harry yelled, mortified.  “Just get rid of it!”

Malfoy huffed and replaced the garment in the box.

“All right, Potter.  I didn’t know you were that kinky.  And Zacharias Smith?  A Hufflepuff?  What were you thinking?”

Harry gaped at him for a moment, until his brain caught up with Malfoy’s wretched train of thought.

“What?  You think I…?  And… and Smith?  We…?  No!  No, no, no!  God, nothing like that!”

Malfoy watched him as though Harry’s protests were bald-faced lies.

“Really!  I only kissed him once, years ago!  When I was drunk!  The bastard has been stalking me ever since!  He sends me twenty owls a week.  How did he even know I was here?”  Harry leaped on a subject change like a rabid dog.  “Weren’t you telling me what happened?”

Malfoy tossed the incriminating box aside.  He took a stubby pencil from the table and absently picked up Harry’s medical chart.

“Yes, well, after you rushed over to sacrifice yourself and save the worthless Dawkins boy, you were hit with a Confundus Charm,” Malfoy said while reading the chart.

“A… what?  Who hit me with a Charm?  The wands were all left at Hogwarts.”

“Apparently one of the little darlings smuggled one along.”

Zabini! Harry thought, but clamped his jaw shut.  Malfoy made a notation on Harry’s chart with the pencil.  Harry refused to ask.  He refused.

“What happened then?” he asked instead.

“You were completely giddy—made me rather curious to see you drunk, actually—and you immediately flung yourself on my neck and declared your undying love for me.”

Harry thought he must have stepped into an alternate universe for a moment.  Perhaps he was still sleeping and this was all a very bizarre dream.

“I did what?” he managed to squeak.  Malfoy made another quick note to his chart before glancing at Harry and nodding.

“Oh yes.  And then you kissed me quite passionately.”

Malfoy finished his assault on Harry’s chart and replaced it into the holder before tossing the stubby pencil aside.

“I… I kissed you,” Harry repeated.  Malfoy put both hands on the mattress and leaned over Harry, who shrank back against the pillows.

“You don’t remember, Potter?”

“No.”

“Perhaps this will remind you,” Malfoy said and leaned closer.  Harry forgot to breathe, luckily, because Malfoy’s lips choked off his access to air.  Malfoy crushed his head into the pillow as his mouth pressed over Harry’s roughly, but his lips were pulling, sucking gently at Harry’s mouth.  The kiss was both gentle and demanding, and Harry thought he might faint from an overload of sensation.

He clenched his fists into the bedclothes to keep from wrapping them into Malfoy’s hair and pulling him into a kiss from which he would never escape.  Malfoy’s tongue slipped languidly over Harry’s lips, sending shockwaves of desire pounding through Harry’s blood.  Malfoy nibbled Harry’s lower lip, bit it slightly, and drew back.  Harry tried to focus.

“Remember now?” Malfoy asked in a voice that rolled over Harry like a warm blanket.

“No,” Harry admitted miserably.

“Were you lying when you said you were in love with me?” Malfoy asked.  His eyes were silver pools Harry wanted to dive into.  He could not look away, even though he reddened in mortification.

“No,” he said softly.

Malfoy grinned wickedly.  Harry spoke, even though his throat had gone as dry as the Sahara.  “So, after I kissed you, you hexed me into oblivion?”

“No.  After you kissed me, I did this,” Malfoy said and leaned in to capture Harry’s lips again.  Harry made a sound of astonishment that came out as a highly undignified squeak, but the shock lasted only as long as it took Harry to raise his arms and wrap them around Malfoy’s neck.

A stern throat-clearing noise came to Harry and he whimpered in disappointment as Malfoy slowly detached from Harry’s clinging grip.  Harry managed to let go, even though the urge to wrap himself around the Slytherin permanently was strong.

Hermione stood in the doorway with her arms crossed.

“It’s about time, but maybe you two can pick a less public place to snog?  How’s your head, Harry?”

“Erm, still Obliviated, apparently, but I feel fine.  Who hit me with that spell, anyway?  I still can’t remember anything.”

Hermione quirked a brow at him.  “What spell?  You ran to catch the bottle and tripped on that foul pig’s heart.  Slammed your head straight into a stone bench and knocked yourself cold.  Malfoy brought you here while I took your class back to Hogwarts.”

Harry glared at Malfoy.  “I was never hit with a Confundus?”

“No,” said Hermione, sounding curious.

“And I never kissed Malfoy and professed my undying love?” Harry demanded.  His voice was going strident.  Hermione giggled.

“Certainly not!  You were too severely in denial for that.  Er… what changed?”

Harry’s eyes were fixed on Malfoy, who grinned at him wickedly.

“Well, it should have happened that way,” Malfoy said and shrugged.  He brushed a hand over Harry’s forehead before sliding it down to cup his jaw.  “I’ll be at your place in an hour, Potter.  Don’t be late.”

With that, Malfoy went to the door and out.

“Oh, how sweet,” Hermione squealed, holding the card from the bouquet.  “Malfoy sent you white roses.  So cute!  What’s in the box?”

Harry ignored her and snatched at his medical chart.  Under TREATMENT, Malfoy had written: Shag Draco Malfoy six times daily.

Description
Le Obscure Prompt War – Round Five

Prompts:  hospital, stubby pencil, box of Smarties, pig heart, corset

Lilith has declared me victor so that should could rush off to Rome on holiday, so we have decided to engage in battle with LOPW II upon her return.  With a Phrase War next time.  This shall be the last installment of this particular war...  Hope you enjoyed it thus far!

Confundus

When Harry woke up, he recognized his surroundings without surprise.  Most people would be somewhat shocked to find themselves regaining consciousness in a hospital, but Harry Potter was not most people, and his first thought was simply, “Hospital again.  Wonder which one?”

He Summoned his glasses and put them on.  His eyes skimmed the room casually while he did a mental check to assess for damage.  He felt pretty good, considering he just woke up in a hospital bed.  Ah, that brickwork was familiar.  St. Mungo’s then.  Harry, of course, had been in and out of St. Mungo’s so many times they had considered keeping a dedicated room open just for him.  They had built a new wing with the proceeds from his many bills.

The door opened and Harry perked up, wondering which nurse he would have today.  Harry knew them all by name.

Draco Malfoy was not one of them.  Harry looked at the blond curiously.

“Did you put me here?” Harry asked.

“Regrettably, no,” Malfoy replied.  “What is the last thing you remember?”

Harry thought back.  “We were at Beckingham Park.  I had the Defense Against the Dark Arts class with me.”

Draco sauntered to the table next to Harry’s bed and peered at a huge bouquet of flowers.  Harry blinked at them in shock.

“Flowers?  How long have I been here?”

“Long enough to have gifts,” Draco said.  “Oh!  Smarties!”  He snatched up the brightly colored package of candies and wrenched it open.  Harry thought he might be dreaming.

“You know those are Muggle sweets, right?”

Draco snorted.  “I prefer to believe a wizard created this confection in order to sell it to unsuspecting Muggles.  He’s probably rolling in Galleons.”  Draco tipped his head back and dropped a huge handful of sweets into his mouth.  Between the slender line of his pale throat and the blissful moan he made, Harry found himself staring at Malfoy quite idiotically.

“You were at the park…” Malfoy reminded him, crunching happily and jiggling the remaining chocolate morsels in one hand.  Harry scowled.

“Aren’t those mine?”

Malfoy smirked.  “They were.  Do go on.”

Harry glared.  He really liked Smarties.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Harry asked.  Malfoy turned his attention to the flowers—white roses, Harry noted with surprise—who the fuck would send him white roses?

“Humor me, Potter.”

Harry snarled, “Fine.  I was at Beckingham Park with the kids.  That horrid Zabini boy—”

“Julian Zabini?  He’s delightful.  Blaise’s nephew.”

“He’s a menace,” Harry snapped.  “He’s like you and the Weasley twins rolled into one evil package.  He smuggled a pig’s heart to the park.  What sort of wretched, demented beast smuggles a pig’s heart on a field trip?”

“A Slytherin beast?” Malfoy offered.

“That bloody well goes without saying.”

Malfoy chuckled.  “Actually, I believe he meant to stage a duel and pretend to rip the heart from one of his friend’s chests.  The Gryffindors would have fainted.”

“So would I,” Harry said.  “How do you know that’s what he planned?”

“Oh, Blaise and I pulled that stunt on a bunch of Hufflepuffs when we were thirteen.  Nearly killed the lot of them from the shock alone.”  Malfoy laughed at the memory and Harry noticed that he had a nice laugh, even if he was pure evil.

“That’s not funny.”

“Come on, Potter.  It’s hilarious.”  Malfoy chuckled a bit longer, and then asked, “What then?”

“You should know.  We were having a picnic lunch in the park when you and Hermione showed up—I still can’t quite get over that, mind you.”

“Over what?”

“You and Hermione.  It boggles.”

“I’ll have you know, I’ve been working with Granger for two full years now.  She’s a fine girl.  A peach.  A paragon of personhood.”

Harry gaped at him.  Malfoy’s eyes narrowed.

“Fine, Potter.  I admit I was a horrid, bigoted, snobbish, not-very-nice person when I was younger.  People change.”

Harry wanted to argue, but he did not want to get into another age-old row with Draco Malfoy.  At least not until he found out what the Slytherin was doing here.

“I’ll ignore that, for now.  Regardless, you and Hermione popped in from the Ministry, because Hermione felt it was vitally necessary to ask me to dinner in person, instead of merely sending me a damned owl or a Patronus…”  Harry still had his doubts, there.  Hermione was up to something.  Harry knew it.

“Lucky for you Granger is impulsive.”

Impulsive was hardly the word Harry would use to describe Hermione, but it was fortuitous that they had arrived, because shortly thereafter, Harry lost all control.

“Yes, well at that point the blasted Zabini boy started a food fight.”

“You saw him do it?”

“I know he did it!” Harry snapped.

“I stand corrected, Professor Snape.”

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Harry said, but he flushed at the reprimand.  Slytherin bastard.  “Fine.  Someone started a food fight.”

Malfoy grinned.  “Much better.  Then what?”

“Well, I remember running forward to intercept a bottle being thrown at Roger Dawkins… and that’s it.  Everything is blank after that.  You were there—what happened?”

Malfoy snatched up a large, flat box from the table.

“A present?  You have a present, Potter.  Who is it from?”

Harry thought Malfoy’s voice was a bit more snappish than warranted.  It almost sounded accusatory.

“How should I know?  I just woke up.  Isn’t there a card?”

Malfoy rifled around until he held up a card.

“Well, well, well.  It’s from Zacharias Smith.”

Harry paled.  “Oh god!  Don’t open it!”

The admonition was too late.  Malfoy had wrenched open the box.  His pale eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hair as he held up a curious bit of silk, lace, and whalebone.  Bright red.

“A corset?” Malfoy asked.  Harry buried his face in his hands.  “Is there something you want to tell me, Potter?”

Harry mumbled through his hands.  “Put it away!”

“Which of you is supposed to wear it?  You, or Smith?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care!” Harry yelled, mortified.  “Just get rid of it!”

Malfoy huffed and replaced the garment in the box.

“All right, Potter.  I didn’t know you were that kinky.  And Zacharias Smith?  A Hufflepuff?  What were you thinking?”

Harry gaped at him for a moment, until his brain caught up with Malfoy’s wretched train of thought.

“What?  You think I…?  And… and Smith?  We…?  No!  No, no, no!  God, nothing like that!”

Malfoy watched him as though Harry’s protests were bald-faced lies.

“Really!  I only kissed him once, years ago!  When I was drunk!  The bastard has been stalking me ever since!  He sends me twenty owls a week.  How did he even know I was here?”  Harry leaped on a subject change like a rabid dog.  “Weren’t you telling me what happened?”

Malfoy tossed the incriminating box aside.  He took a stubby pencil from the table and absently picked up Harry’s medical chart.

“Yes, well, after you rushed over to sacrifice yourself and save the worthless Dawkins boy, you were hit with a Confundus Charm,” Malfoy said while reading the chart.

“A… what?  Who hit me with a Charm?  The wands were all left at Hogwarts.”

“Apparently one of the little darlings smuggled one along.”

Zabini! Harry thought, but clamped his jaw shut.  Malfoy made a notation on Harry’s chart with the pencil.  Harry refused to ask.  He refused.

“What happened then?” he asked instead.

“You were completely giddy—made me rather curious to see you drunk, actually—and you immediately flung yourself on my neck and declared your undying love for me.”

Harry thought he must have stepped into an alternate universe for a moment.  Perhaps he was still sleeping and this was all a very bizarre dream.

“I did what?” he managed to squeak.  Malfoy made another quick note to his chart before glancing at Harry and nodding.

“Oh yes.  And then you kissed me quite passionately.”

Malfoy finished his assault on Harry’s chart and replaced it into the holder before tossing the stubby pencil aside.

“I… I kissed you,” Harry repeated.  Malfoy put both hands on the mattress and leaned over Harry, who shrank back against the pillows.

“You don’t remember, Potter?”

“No.”

“Perhaps this will remind you,” Malfoy said and leaned closer.  Harry forgot to breathe, luckily, because Malfoy’s lips choked off his access to air.  Malfoy crushed his head into the pillow as his mouth pressed over Harry’s roughly, but his lips were pulling, sucking gently at Harry’s mouth.  The kiss was both gentle and demanding, and Harry thought he might faint from an overload of sensation.

He clenched his fists into the bedclothes to keep from wrapping them into Malfoy’s hair and pulling him into a kiss from which he would never escape.  Malfoy’s tongue slipped languidly over Harry’s lips, sending shockwaves of desire pounding through Harry’s blood.  Malfoy nibbled Harry’s lower lip, bit it slightly, and drew back.  Harry tried to focus.

“Remember now?” Malfoy asked in a voice that rolled over Harry like a warm blanket.

“No,” Harry admitted miserably.

“Were you lying when you said you were in love with me?” Malfoy asked.  His eyes were silver pools Harry wanted to dive into.  He could not look away, even though he reddened in mortification.

“No,” he said softly.

Malfoy grinned wickedly.  Harry spoke, even though his throat had gone as dry as the Sahara.  “So, after I kissed you, you hexed me into oblivion?”

“No.  After you kissed me, I did this,” Malfoy said and leaned in to capture Harry’s lips again.  Harry made a sound of astonishment that came out as a highly undignified squeak, but the shock lasted only as long as it took Harry to raise his arms and wrap them around Malfoy’s neck.

A stern throat-clearing noise came to Harry and he whimpered in disappointment as Malfoy slowly detached from Harry’s clinging grip.  Harry managed to let go, even though the urge to wrap himself around the Slytherin permanently was strong.

Hermione stood in the doorway with her arms crossed.

“It’s about time, but maybe you two can pick a less public place to snog?  How’s your head, Harry?”

“Erm, still Obliviated, apparently, but I feel fine.  Who hit me with that spell, anyway?  I still can’t remember anything.”

Hermione quirked a brow at him.  “What spell?  You ran to catch the bottle and tripped on that foul pig’s heart.  Slammed your head straight into a stone bench and knocked yourself cold.  Malfoy brought you here while I took your class back to Hogwarts.”

Harry glared at Malfoy.  “I was never hit with a Confundus?”

“No,” said Hermione, sounding curious.

“And I never kissed Malfoy and professed my undying love?” Harry demanded.  His voice was going strident.  Hermione giggled.

“Certainly not!  You were too severely in denial for that.  Er… what changed?”

Harry’s eyes were fixed on Malfoy, who grinned at him wickedly.

“Well, it should have happened that way,” Malfoy said and shrugged.  He brushed a hand over Harry’s forehead before sliding it down to cup his jaw.  “I’ll be at your place in an hour, Potter.  Don’t be late.”

With that, Malfoy went to the door and out.

“Oh, how sweet,” Hermione squealed, holding the card from the bouquet.  “Malfoy sent you white roses.  So cute!  What’s in the box?”

Harry ignored her and snatched at his medical chart.  Under TREATMENT, Malfoy had written: Shag Draco Malfoy six times daily.