honestly, this phrase has been on my mind more times than i can count. i've kidnapped it, taken it as a hostage with no ransom money because i need it to live permanently in my head.
C’MON internet we have to be able to find Ronald’s roommate from the Navy. Seventy-two isn’t that old everybody go ask your gay uncle if he was Ronald Babb’s roommate
Drarry where the Golden Trio are having a slightly tipsy 'Hear me out' conversation as they passed around a bottle of Elvish wine that they nicked from Slughorn's office.
"What about Gordon Horton?"
Harry and Hermione shared a confused look.
"Come on! Keeper for the Chudley Canons?"
"You're supposed to pick people we know, Ronald."
"Well excuse me," Ron said, throwing his hands in the air. "I forgot that you two have no taste."
"No taste! I will have you know that my taste is sophisticated and refined. Clearly something you don't relate to."
"Oh, oh, I see. Well since your taste is so sophisticated then by all means tell us who is your pick."
"There's Merrill Medlar. She's the chief editor of—"
"Who the hell is that? What happened to people we know?"
Harry hadn't had enough wine to tolerate their constant bickering.
"Malfoy," Harry said loudly, interrupting what would have surely been a row. "What about Malfoy?"
"Which one?" Ron and Hermione said at the same time before glaring at each other.
"What do you mean which one?" Harry frowned. "The choice is obviously—"
"Lucius." They said in unison again.
"What?" Harry gaped at them. "Lucius is a right piece of—"
"Wait," Hermione held up her hands, eyes wide. "You can't mean Draco then?"
"Of course I meant—"
"Don't say his name! Ugh, I never want to know him as Draco," Ron said, shuddering.
"Maybe I do!" Harry said, unsure why he was getting heated.
The two of them shared a long look that said a lot more than he could translate and he kind of wished they were back to arguing. At least that was familiar.
"I think I would've rather you had said Snape."
Harry's mouth parted before it closed, and he gave a considering hum. "You know, in the spirit of a true hear me out, Snape would fit."
Hermione snickered as a choked gurgle escaped Ron.
"I was joking!" Ron cried, head in his hands. "Merlin if you ever shag Snape—"
"Shag?" Harry let out a strangled meep. "If I'm going to shag someone it would be—"
"Malfoy," they said together, and part of him wondered if they were really Fred and George under Polyjuice because it was getting freaky.
"I think I'm going to be sick," muttered Ron. "I knew we'd uncover some more about each other, but I'd honestly like to cover it right back up."
"We can pretend it didn't happen," Harry offered, biting his lip as he tried to think of someone else. "What about Charlie?"
"Charlie?" Ron frowned. "My Charlie?"
"Oh," Hermione said, brows lifting. "Yes, I can see it."
"No no," Ron shook his head. "We aren't doing this. Let's get back to Harry wanting to shag Malfoy."
"It's not that I want to shag—"
"I think it's more than that," Hermione said, voice low as if she was sharing a secret. "I think he likes Malfoy."
Ron collapsed backward as if he had been shot, groaned as if he had been too. "This is too much for me."
Harry rolled his eyes, taking a large mouthful of wine. He was going to need it.
"It's not that bad."
"Yes, it is, Hermione. If Harry wants to shag Malfoy and he likes him then they'll get married and have little spawns that look like Malfoy and they'll call me Uncle Ron and then I'll just have to like them because I can't be mean to a child, but they'll look just like him and then I'm going to have a complex—"
"I think you're having a complex right now."
"And whose fault is that? Huh, Harry?"
"I never said I wanted to marry him."
"You never said you didn't though," Hermione argued, tone suggesting she was on to something.
Harry sighed loudly as they continued to debate his future. A future that held Malfoy in it. The longer they talked the more he considered it.
It was true that he wanted to shag Malfoy, but it was also true that he liked him. He just hadn't really let himself think of how much.
"I think I'm going to find Malfoy," Harry said, staggering to his feet and rather proud that he hadn't fallen over. Maybe he hadn't drank as much as he thought he had.
"Great, just great," Ron cried. "My life is over. Might as well start calling me Uncle Ron."
The portrait closed right as Hermione said,
"I think you're being rather dramatic, Uncle Ron."
I keep thinking about this post. Did you let me? As in did you not save me? and Did you let me? as in did you allow me the comfort of your embrace at the expense of your own pain, knowing tomorrow I would be back and fine but you’d still be feeling my blood against your skin?
100% REALLY I hunted this whale noise-wolf howl combo for twenty minutes while it seemed to come from every direction at once before getting close enough to confirm it had a tune by trespassing into a bog.
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