mini_fest | Fic: Quite Ideal

Title: Quite Ideal
Author:

moonlitdark
Disclaimer: They're not mine.
Rating: Maybe a mild R
Pairing: Draco/Ron, Harry/Random Girl
Warnings: Rhyming. Sexual content.
Wordcount: 528
Prompts: Prompt list #1: prompt #47, Draco remembers the first time he kissed Ron beneath the mistletoe.

Beside the fireplace, Draco lay prone to reflect,
How his life was not what he’d come to expect,
But, strange as it was,
Life had not many flaws,
And the imminent Christmas was almost perfect.

Draco saw Potter under the mistletoe with a girl,
Who it seemed had found the confidence to hurl,
Her body at the champ,
And securely clamp,
Red lips to Potter’s as she gave seduction a whirl.

The girl’s attempt was quickly met with success,
And Draco silently admired her speedy progress,
Potter appeared fairly content,
With this unexpected event,
And proceeded to creep fingers under her dress.

Looking up, Draco saw Ron’s brief knowing glance,
And recalled a similarly abrupt start to romance,
Draco remembered a time,
(An embarrassment sublime),
When Ron had taken advantage of an opportune chance.

It was during the last Hogwarts Inter-House bash,
Where diverse students attempted not to clash,
In a post-war haze of glee,
Draco had felt finally free,
And thus his actions might have been rather rash.

Standing under mistletoe with no intention to score,
Draco had been preparing to exit through the door,
But a random clumsy shove,
Had initiated a bizarre love,
When lips mashed with his and began to explore.

The Weasel was obviously beyond stinking drunk,
And hardly the ideal chiselled poster-boy hunk,
Draco should’ve choked,
When Weasley’s tongue poked,
But instead he squealed as Ron fondled his junk.

This had initiated a swift change of Draco’s heart,
Snogging Weasley was an enticing fresh start,
The liplock was so tight,
That, try as they might,
Even Crabbe and Goyle had failed to tug them apart.

Maybe it was the adverse effects of mulled wine,
But Draco thought freckles tasted simply divine,
Excitement tented his trews,
Draco had a reputation to lose,
But to the Weasel, Draco had taken quite a shine.

Although the crowd had become notably hushed,
Interesting explorations should never be rushed,
Draco slid his hand under a belt,
To stroke Weasley’s fine pelt,
And admired how speckled cheeks delightfully flushed.

A pointed cough echoed loudly in the large room,
Breaking the kiss, Draco had a portent of doom,
Nervous, he glanced around,
But students’ cheers did abound,
So eager necking Draco and Ron promptly resumed.

Under the Gryffindor tree in the cold light of day,
Draco struggled to find the right words to say,
Wrapped in limbs, long and lanky,
Feeling not at all cranky,
Draco smiled when the ginger asked him to stay.

A year later, Lucius remained deeply unimpressed,
But Draco didn’t see the need to become stressed,
As a son, Draco might be bad,
But his father was certainly mad,
And of his own sanity Draco didn’t attempt to attest.

People liked to scorn a Malfoy who was openly bent,
No matter, his contentment Draco refused to repent,
Weasley was kind of funny,
And now Draco’s honey,
But Draco would never admit to such soppy sentiment.

Watching the girl’s Yuletide conquest had lost its appeal,
When she let out a most unattractive giggling squeal,
Draco rested his head on Ron’s lap,
Happy enough with his chap,
Snuggling in closer, he revelled in his life, quite ideal.