Here's a little snippet from a WIP I'm working on. Ron is just the right person to talk to when Harry can't quite remember what the hell he got up to last night.
H[arry] waits until Ron pulls on a pair of track-bottoms before he gets up from the floor. Thankfully, he’s fully clothed himself, but he’s definitely still wearing the tight trousers that Ginny dressed him in, and fuck, is that glitter?
“Did you actually make it into the Crossed Wands last night then?” asks Ron, when Harry doesn’t answer. He’s grinning widely at Harry in the mirror, as he runs a hand through his shaggy hair, and examining his very hickey-laden neck and shoulders. “Shit, she really did a number on me last night.”
“I did.”
Ron whirls around, and Harry really wishes he didn’t have to make everything so dramatic -- especially not when his head is starting to spin. “Bloody hell, I was just taking the piss, but you really did?”
Sighing, Harry pulls a hand through his hair, wincing as it gets stuck in a clump of hair gel -- fuck, he hopes it’s hair gel. “I really, really did.”
“Did you pull?”
Incredulous, Harry’s mouth drops open. “That’s the question you ask? Really, of all the things to ask, that’s the thing you ask?”
Ron laughs. “Well, that’s why people go to bars, Harry. To pull. Did you pull?” He turns back to the mirror and smirks at himself. “I pulled.”
“I don’t think it’s really considered ‘pulling’ if it’s your girlfriend,” Harry says, as he manages to get himself back up on the bed. His head spins less when his eyes are closed, he finds.
“Susan’s not really my girlfriend, Harry, it’s just a --”
“--thing,” Harry finishes for him, “yes, I know. Still not really pulling.”
“Stop avoiding my question. I can’t tell if you’re avoiding because you did or because you didn’t.”
“I didn’t,” Harry sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. He would really, very much like this conversation to be over. “And you’re probably going to be late if you don’t get a move on.”
no subject
H[arry] waits until Ron pulls on a pair of track-bottoms before he gets up from the floor. Thankfully, he’s fully clothed himself, but he’s definitely still wearing the tight trousers that Ginny dressed him in, and fuck, is that glitter?
“Did you actually make it into the Crossed Wands last night then?” asks Ron, when Harry doesn’t answer. He’s grinning widely at Harry in the mirror, as he runs a hand through his shaggy hair, and examining his very hickey-laden neck and shoulders. “Shit, she really did a number on me last night.”
“I did.”
Ron whirls around, and Harry really wishes he didn’t have to make everything so dramatic -- especially not when his head is starting to spin. “Bloody hell, I was just taking the piss, but you really did?”
Sighing, Harry pulls a hand through his hair, wincing as it gets stuck in a clump of hair gel -- fuck, he hopes it’s hair gel. “I really, really did.”
“Did you pull?”
Incredulous, Harry’s mouth drops open. “That’s the question you ask? Really, of all the things to ask, that’s the thing you ask?”
Ron laughs. “Well, that’s why people go to bars, Harry. To pull. Did you pull?” He turns back to the mirror and smirks at himself. “I pulled.”
“I don’t think it’s really considered ‘pulling’ if it’s your girlfriend,” Harry says, as he manages to get himself back up on the bed. His head spins less when his eyes are closed, he finds.
“Susan’s not really my girlfriend, Harry, it’s just a --”
“--thing,” Harry finishes for him, “yes, I know. Still not really pulling.”
“Stop avoiding my question. I can’t tell if you’re avoiding because you did or because you didn’t.”
“I didn’t,” Harry sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. He would really, very much like this conversation to be over. “And you’re probably going to be late if you don’t get a move on.”