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After The War

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Draco stood apart from all the festivities, glass of Gillywater in his hand and a scowl on his lips. It was ridiculous really. What did he care if the Weasel was letting Zabini fawn all over him? It wasn't like there was anything serious between them.

Then why did he feel like strangling Zabini with his tie every time his fellow Slytherin slumped closer to Weasley?

Everyone knew Malfoys didn't share but Draco was surprised by his knee jerk reaction. He hadn't realized the Weasel had somehow made it to the number one spot on his 'mine' list. How annoying.

His glare upped a notch as two heads, one red and one black, leaned closer together. If Zabini got any drunker, he'd end up in Weasely's lap. Draco's frown deepened and his fingers tightened on the glass he was holding.

He was going to kill Zabini. Right after he killed the Weasel.

He was drawn out of his murderous thoughts by the hush that had fallen over the Great Hall. Refocusing his gaze, Draco's eyebrow arched in surprise as Snape rose from his seat and stalked over to the band. When his Head of House moved away to walk over to where professor McGonagall was sitting, Draco's other brow rose.

What on earth was professor Snape thinking?

It soon became clear when professor McGonagall stood and joined Snape on the dance floor. Draco blinked and then looked down at his glass of Gillywater. Perhaps he shouldn't have had so much to drink.

When he looked up again, Snape and McGonagall were still moving across the floor. Draco had to admit that they looked good together. From a purely technical stand point of course. Professor McGonagall was matching professor Snape's moves effortlessly.

Draco sipped at his drink almost absentmindedly as the dance went on. Gryffindors and Slytherins... Then he shook his head. Why was he thinking about this anyway? He had nothing in common with Weasley. Well... Except fighting on the same side of the war. Which had changed his perspective quite a lot.

Taking another sip as he tried to escape his thoughts, Draco nearly choked when he saw Potter rise from the table and approach Snape. Gryffindors and Slytherins indeed!

He watched them dancing together for a few minutes until the dance floor began to fill. His gaze swung back to where Weasley was sitting. He supposed the Weasel would be dancing with the Mudblood; the music was the sort of vomit-inducing mush Gryffindors probably preferred.

A growl slipped out when he saw that Zabini was now resting his head on Weasley's shoulder. Okay, that was it. He didn't care if he couldn't understand why he wanted to rip Zabini's tongue out and beat him to death with it. It didn't matter that they weren't exclusive. The Weasel was his until he was done with him. And nobody got to play with his toys until he'd discarded them or they broke.

Tossing back the last of his drink, Draco strode toward the Gryffindor Table, a glint in his eye. Ron and Blaise were too busy slouching against each other to take note of his approach, so when he banged his empty glass on the table, they both jumped.

"What do you want, Malfoy?' Ron asked as Blaise just looked up at Draco blearily.

Draco smirked. "May I have this dance?" Not waiting for Ron to finish his spluttering, Draco grabbed his arm and hauled him out of his seat.

Blaise waved goodbye morosely as Draco dragged Ron toward one of the exits.

"Whu.. What the hell? Malfoy! Let go! I don't want to dance with you and the dance floor is that way, you moron!"

Pulling Ron through the exit, Draco pushed him up against the wall. "I didn't hear you complaining about my dancing before, Weasel." Then he did what he'd wanted to do all evening. He kissed Weasley hard.

He felt Ron freeze for a moment before he relaxed into the kiss and started kissing back. After a few minutes, he had to draw back in order to breathe. Weasley was wide-eyed, flushed and panting. Just the way Draco liked him.

"So," he drawled. "Want to dance?"

His laughter rang out in the corridor when Ron blinked at him and then started tugging him down the hallway away from the Great Hall.