A/N: I was playing with magnetic poetry today, with this kid who keeps trying to feel my up, and we had just been analyzing poetry in English, and…wow, you know it's bad when you have to explain why you wrote what you did. Suffice it to say that I just really needed to find a way to apply English to writing, and what better way to do that than with our favorite slash couple? And this is slash, although it's rated for language, nothing else. I guess it ignores HBP, and Draco and Harry are secretly a couple, just to make this work. And they're probably not in character, but they are fluffy and I could see them having this discussion, so maybe they aren't OOC. Whatever. I love it anyway.
Disclaimer: Do as I wood. Muffins my ass. You show oats a room. smile I know I is good. (I told you I was playing with magnetic poetry. What I meant was "I don't own them, I'm just playing, but all the spellings they invent are sole property of me.")
"Fuck," Harry hissed, catching sight of Draco by the door of the great hall.
"Wha' dig ew thay?" Ron asked around a mouthful of food, sending crumbs flying and barely making his words heard over the muffling effects of muffins.
"Nothing important, Ron."
"I would say it sounded like a pretty enraged 'Fuck'," Hermione countered, sliding into a seat on the other side of Ron and propping a book up in front of her. She smiled at Harry innocently. "Of course, I may have been mistaken."
Harry bit his toast a bit more savagely than was needed in response.
"Oh my, the great Potter was caught misbehaving by his best friend's mistress. How in the world did you get out of that one?" Draco circled Harry mischievously, a sly smile creeping across his face.
"Fuck," Harry said again, "Draco, this is the library…what if someone sees you?" He tried hard to keep his voice low, but he wasn't entirely sure he succeeded. One of the Ravenclaws had given him an odd glance from the next table.
"Then I'll just tell them we were having a friendly "chat", you know, about how you've got such a bloody hero complex." Draco lounged back into one of the chairs opposite Harry and rested his feet on the table. He made sure to wink at the Ravenclaw, just to ensure that she noticed his dragon hide boots. She didn't wink back. "And as for that first bit, I hardly think that applies."
"First bit? What first bit?" Harry drew his eyebrows together in confusion and lowered his voice once again. "Draco, you haven't been breathing in those fumes in Snape's class room again, have you? I knew it was a bad idea, keeping all the Slytherins down there with him…"
"Of course I haven't been down there!" Draco said, managing to look insulted, "Well, at least no more than you have, but that's not the point. This is a matter of proper English. I'd bet you don't even know what you said." He twisted one of Harry's quills in his fingers, pretending to be fascinated with the play of light along the edge. Harry wasn't fooled. He'd been secretly dating Draco for a year; he knew that the other boy was only waiting for him to admit that he had no idea what they were talking about.
But not this time. No, this time Harry knew exactly what Draco was referring to.
"The first bit? You mean "fornication under the consent of the king"?"
Draco's face lit up and he even had the decency to remove his feet from the table and lean in. Harry made a great show of burring his nose in his parchment, it would not do to get sucked into Draco's eyes here, not with so many people watching them and expecting Draco to join the Dark Lord.
"Harry Potter actually knows what the word 'fuck' stands for?" he grinned, although he never would have admitted to being physically capable of such a lowly show of emotion. "I am impressed and surprised."
"I can do a great many things that would impress and surprise you," Harry muttered, trying to keep the blood from rising in his cheeks and very grateful that he couldn't see the expression on Malfoy's face.
But Draco was already back in his former position, making no sign that he had heard Harry at all. "Really, it's just proper English," he was saying, familiar bored drawl ringing out. "As we currently have no King, the word hardly applies."
Harry couldn't help but look up, but this time it was Draco who was avoiding eye contact, engrossed in the purloined quill.
"Are you," Harry swallowed and looked suspiciously at the Ravenclaw, "Are you suggesting we replace the 'k' with a 'q'?"
"How in the world are you supposed to pronounce that?" Draco wondered. "I mean f-u-c-q is hardly a word, although it is rather entertaining to spell. F-u-c-q. Still, I don't think that's entirely true."
"What?"
Draco rose languidly to his feet, circling around behind Harry to whisper, "I doubt she we would give her consent to the things we do," be fore strolling out, leaving a very flushed Harry to try and work out something worthwhile to put into a transfiguration essay.
"I was thinking about what you said earlier," Harry announced, removing his cloak and standing fully visible in Draco Malfoy's private bed room.
"Have you?" Draco asked, sounding uninterested. He turned the page of book, not bothering to look up at Harry from his position sprawled across his green and silver adorned bed.
"Mmm," Harry continued, throwing himself down beside his lover. "She wouldn't consent. But neither would the king, should we have had one. But in any case, weather or not they consent, don't you think it should be f-u-c-p-m?"
"Is that even a word?" Draco asked, abandoning his book for Harry's earlobe.
"Wha - mmm, do that again - I mean," Harry sat up quickly, trying to throw off the chills Draco had sent tingling don his spine, "I mean of course it's not a word. But maybe it would be more correct to say 'fornication under the consent of the Prime Minister'."
"I don't pay any attention to Prime Ministers," Draco said, pulling Harry back down towards him, "How very muggle of you. It would make far more sense to say 'fuck 'em'." He reattached himself to Harry's ear.
"How did you get to that?"
"F-u-c-m-m. I prefer the minister of magic over the other. Although…" He drew back and stared up at the ceiling, his brows knit in thought. Harry couldn't believe Draco had willingly abandoned all the possibilities having his boyfriend in his bed could offer to consider the construction of the English language, but he supposed that in all fairness he had brought this on himself. "What if it's 'under' as in 'beneath'?"
"What?"
"You know, like 'fornication beneath the consent of the king'?" Draco looked at Harry expectantly.
"I suppose, he said slowly, "but that just makes it sound wrong…"
"And saying that he wouldn't have given his consent is different?"
"Well, yeah, I mean at least then it didn't sound low, just…untraditional." Harry squirmed uncomfortably. "You know what I mean?"
"Hmm…I suppose." They were silent a moment. "Alright, so we know the royal family wouldn't go for it, we're pretty sure none of the ministers would either, so what does that leave us with? After, we wouldn't want the golden boy to feel sullied…" Draco's smile was caring, blunting his words to nothing more than playful banter.
"I know what we have." Harry grinned, pinning Draco beneath him and kissing his nose just to infuriate him. "Fucked."
"Fucked?"
"F-u-c-d. F-u-c-h just didn't sound right."
Draco sprung lightning quick, rolling the two over so that it was Harry who was pined. "I like the way you think Potter. Maybe we should have more intellectual discussions. You never know, we might end up learning something."
Harry's reply was lost as their lips met in a fiery kiss.