Glancing to his side, he watched his best friend's winter-grey gaze zero-in on Granger. "Patience," he cautioned under his breath to his friend, low enough for only the two of them to hear. Unlike Blaise's temper, which was usually reserved and outwardly rational, Malfoy's was fireworks-in-the-sky volatile. The last thing they needed was be called 'foul' by the other team and be disqualified for provoking pre-game fighting, thus losing before the contest could commence. "And more care, if you don't mind. We've both read the rules of the game. Your little stunt this morning in class could have cost us." Draco's lids lowered in an unspoken warning. He didn't take well to being chastised, Blaise knew. "I'm well aware of how much skirting the edge I can do. Besides, it's all a bit of fun. I like riling her up. I love watching what it does to her."
Blaise nodded, turning his attention to slicing up his pot roast, smearing a daub of gravy on it with his knife. "Just don't anger her enough into crossing a line. I wantto play this one out to the end."
Malfoy speared a potato wedge and held it up, focusing on it before popping it into his mouth. Once he'd finished chewing and swallowing, his smirk returned. "Eager to get at our little red bird, are we?"
"My little red bird," he growled under his breath, clenching his jaw at the man's audacity. His grip on his silverware tightened. "Don't forget that." Glancing through dark-gold lashes, Draco grinned at him. "Wouldn't dare," he cheekily replied, popping another chip in his mouth.
They shared a moment more in silent understanding: he would not interfere with Draco's pursuit of Granger, and in return, his friend would show him the same courtesy in regards to the Weasley girl, his lioness. That agreement made, Blaise consumed the rest of his meal in quiet introspection and with restraint, refusing to look back up at his little firebrand's goings-on, not wanting to appear soppish or imprudent. He'd leave that sort of thing to Draco, who was clearly besotted with Gryffindor's Princess.
X~~~~~~~~~X
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland Seventh Year's Charms Classroom Thursday, June 11, 1998 (afternoon)
Pulling the Pixie Pop from his mouth, relishing its honey flavour across his tongue, Seamus drifted in and out of the conversation he was sharing with his mate, Michael Corner. His attention was currently fixated on the front of the classroom, where Flitwick was going over Lavender's final exam results with her in a semi-private interview.
Even as he half-cocked listed to his friend brag on and on about applying for a position within Magical Law Enforcement over the summer, Seamus' eyes meandered of their own accord over the curve and dip of his ex-girlfriend's long, graceful neck. Absently, he wondered what it would feel like to touch that soft-looking skin of hers again…
Lavender Renelle Brown. For some unfathomable reason, this one witch had driven him fair mad since his first wet dream. Something about her kept drawing him back in, no matter how many others he'd taken to bed since their one-off in fifth year. He'd been the lucky bloke to win her virginity back then, and although the event hadn't been all roses and romance, it had definitely haunted him since - and not in a good way.
Alright, so admittedly, his technique had seriously sucked back then, and he could understand why she would pretend as if shagging him had never happened. In his defence, though, it had only been his second time having sex. Yeah, he knew he'd hurt the lass with his lack of skill, his over-eagerness, and his size, but he'd also known that it always hurt for a girl the first time. He'd tried to make it right afterwards, though, by cuddling with Lavender, but she'd been strangely stiff in his arms. It was as if she didn't want him touching her anymore. She hadn't returned any of his kisses either. In fact, she'd cringed from him. So, he'd taken the hint, picked his seriously bruised ego up off of the floor, and left. He'd wanted to respect her need for privacy, so she could take care of the more feminine, delicate matters of her clean-up. He'd also needed to retreat so he could cover up his embarrassment at having failed to make her come, and being little more than a 'two-pump chump' himself.
Of course, he'd learned since how to properly minimize the pain for the girl if it was her first time, how to last while inside a woman, and he'd also come to appreciate the finer points of bedroom etiquette specifically, assuring his partner's care-taking in the afters. It was knowledge that he wished he'd had back then, however, as it continued to be a major regret of his that he hadn't had such proficiency available to make Lavender's first time all it should have been. He'd wanted her to scream with pleasure, not moan with pain.
He still regretted the fallout from the event, too – specifically, that she'd written off both him and their budding friendship. He'd really been head over boots for Brown then, but she'd made it very clear that she wasn't having anything to do with him after their one night together.
At the time, he'd been brassed off at her for deliberately avoiding his sincere attempts to apologize the next day. He'd meant to make up his inept treatment of her the night before by going down on her and giving her some pleasure, but she had flatly refused to meet him again. After a week of repeated rejections, he'd finally given up, assumed she'd had her piece of him, and was moving on - which had, at the time, stung his pride and made him feel quite used. He hadn't bothered to approach her again for any reason thereafter, and for the next year and a half, things had remained severely strained between them–to the point where they were never alone, she'd hardly glanced in his direction, and she'd made sure to keep at least one person between them at all times. It had only been since she'd hooked-up as Ron's casual bedmate this year that she'd marginally relaxed in Seamus' presence.
Feeling a bit petulant over the memories, he shoved the Pixie Pop back in his mouth and took another good suck at it. The sweet, addicting taste helped his mood, somewhat. As he considered the upcoming challenge this weekend, an exciting idea occurred to him: perhaps he'd get a second chance this Saturday night to make up for their first time! If he drew Lavender for a partner, he'd have the opportunity to not only apologize for the rough treatment she'd experienced under him back when they'd both been fifteen, but also to give her that orgasm he'd been dying to give her for the last two years. Maybe even multiple orgasms!
Ah, the luck of the Irish would tell, as his Mam was so fond of saying. He'd cross his fingers and toes, and hope for the match.
"Mate, you all right?" Michael asked, looking at him askance.
Seamus turned his head and focused on his friend, pulling his mind back into the here and now for the moment. "Sorry, was thinkin' o' next week's graduation. Whaddya say?" Corner accepted his excuse and picked up right where he'd left off, so engrossed in talking about himself that he hardly noticed that his audience's attention was not wholly recaptured. In fact, thereafter Seamus' responses to him consisted of little more than a series of party nods.
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