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On second thought, Malfoy isn’t a albino spider-boy freak. More like some Chihuahua. That suited Malfoy; because Malfoy came up to Harry’s nose (much to Malfoy’s consternation) and was vicious in that whiny little woofy voice.
Harry could have sworn Malfoy had a collar around his own neck with the words: Property of the Malfoy Family on it, but he couldn’t be sure. Malfoy was such a bloody prude; didn’t even loosen his tie in summer. And he was positive that he’d seen Malfoy glance at the exposed hollow of his throat, when Harry had slung his tie around his neck and walked around Hogwarts with his shirt unbuttoned all the way into the V of his ribboned vest. Perv. Voyeur. Little blond Chihuahua voyeur. And Harry knows he’s cute, not just semi-cute, but cute in the way that means girls giggle when he holds the door open for them. Also, more flatteringly, cute in the way that even Muggle guys from the prep school check him out in the supermarket freezer section when Harry shops for the Dursleys. It’s not as if Harry’s a slut or anything; but he’d like to try and kiss them, pressed against cold freezer slide doors with wetness dripping down his back. Because whereas the Muggle world has television, and books, and porn and even Playstation 2 games, the Wizarding world doesn’t even have trashy romance novellas. Except those with the ridiculous metaphors. Elisabetha writed in ecstasy like a Flobberworm against his Wizard’s staff-wood, not even caring she was making noises like a centaur in heat. Her skin burned like Polyjuice Potion scalding her loins. Harry got the vague feeling witches in Wizarding erotica were always either humping a broomstick or a chicken. Well, the footie club that rejected Dudley on the grounds that they weren’t sure if they’d end up “kicking him around the field instead of the ball” that meets every Friday, when Harry is sent out of Privet Drive with a few pounds to buy groceries. They’re kind of muddy, and sweaty, and even with freezer air pouring out Harry can still smell them. He wants to bury his head in the frozen peas whenever they pass, but that would mean his naked arse would be exposed. (which might make them ogle more, but a boy’s got to have dignity). So, Malfoy might think he was cute too. It was a bit intoxicating and thrilling all at once, like making eye contact with a dangerous looking punk wearing low slung jeans and swaying hips on the street and smiling. More dangerous if you take into consideration Lucius Malfoy, who would probably like to kill Harry. Dangerous like putting a Chihuahua in a pound with Dobermans. Dangerous like having sex with dogs in front of a church. Harry remembers what Wood told them before one Slytherin match: “Go out and massacre them! I don’t care! They are, are, are, terriers in stupid little kilts. Poodles with pink hair bows. Chihuahuas with no clothes on! Oh, come on, just win, okay?” Chihuahuas with no clothes on. Harry grins and loosens his tie. |
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