Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Knight Dealings ❯ Green Knight ( Chapter 4 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Title: Green Knight

Author: Makoto Sagara

Series: Harry Potter

Archive: The usual suspects; anywhere else, please ask first.

Category: drabble, pre-slash 

Characters/Pairing: Draco/Harry pre-slash, Harry/Ginny

Rating: PG

Warnings: slash, angst, language, ooc, EWE, post-Hogwarts

Disclaimers: I don’t own Harry Potter. No copyright infringement is intended nor is any money made from this piece of fanfiction.

Words: 583

Prompt: cooking oil, vegetarian, chopped

Summary: Blaise tries to console a pouting Draco but trouble always seems to find them on their night out.

Author’s Note: This is the fourth drabble in a series I am referring to in my head as the “Knight Dealings.” Again, the prompt is from hidinginmybones.


“So, she said she was a vegetarian and I just left,” Blaise says, watching his best friend as he watches the door to their favorite pub. It’s Friday night and time for the weekly Slytherin Survivor’s drinking club to get together.

“Who doesn’t eat meat?” Greg’s beefy face looks utterly shocked that someone would do such a thing.

“Yanks, that’s who.” Theo, on the other hand, looks supremely bored and a part of Blaise has to agree. “Look, Draco, I don’t think Potter’s going to come. It’s nearly half-eleven and if I don’t get home, Pansy will start to think I’m cheating on her.”

“Again?” Blaise can’t help but ask that. It seems like every week is another accusation from Pansy to her new husband about him cheating. Just because Blaise did it and Draco dropped her like she was a lost cause for dating after the Yule Ball doesn’t mean that Theo of all people would do something so dumb, especially when it means losing half of the Nott fortune to that acrimonious harpy. And Theo Nott likes his money, despite the fact that he thinks his father is a moron for not negotiating a better marriage contract. “Just go home, Theo. You too, Greg. I take care of this wanker here, make sure he makes it back to his flat before he does something dumb.”

“I don’t need a minder, Zabini,” Draco finally says after their friends have left.

“Of course not, Draco,” he replies smoothly, taking a drink of his third gin and tonic since half-six. Despite the blond’s snippy tones, Blaise is the one who’s most responsible out of the four of them and they all know it. That’s why he’s not a heavy drinker or a womanizer since Hogwarts. “Still can’t get that kiss with Potter out your head then?”

“More like the fact that he kissed me back.

“I thought that Weasley’s head was going to explode.”

That earns him a slow, satisfied smile from the other man as he turns to face the rest of the people in room. “Both Weasleys, thank you, and Finnegan looked as if he couldn’t decide whether to hex me or make a go.”

“I’d pay good Galleons to see him try.” And, well, Blaise would. It’s been a while since he’s seen Draco hex someone for pissing him off. “I’m sure Longbottom would gladly take him to St. Mungo’s when you’re done.”

“Hm, it’s likely.” And because sighing is plebeian, Blaise ignores the huffy little puff of breath Draco gives as they both stand. “Since it’s nearly midnight, I suppose I shall retire as well. Mother has me attending a cooking class with her tomorrow.”

“You know, I still can’t get over the fact that your mother is doing things with chopped vegetables and cooking oil. I mean, you all have house elves for that sort of thing.”

And before Draco can reply, his attention is whipped away and his grey eyes widen before closing. And if Blaise listens very carefully, he can hear his friend whisper one word, almost reverently. “Harry…”

Sure enough, there’s Potter in the doorway, alone, looking fit to strangle someone. And that stormy expression only grows before he spots the man practically drooling on his delicate cashmere sweater. “Draco, wand, now,” Blaise mutters, letting his own wand slip down his robe’s sleeve and praying that the blond at his side isn’t stupid enough to think that Potter won’t try to pummel them by himself, again.