Special Delivery for deathjunke Title: Whatever You Like. Author: Recipient's LJ name:deathjunke Pairing(s): Ron Weasley/Millicent Bulstrode. Rating:NC-17 Summary Ron isn't at all happy when unfortunate circumstances mean he has to pair up with Millicent in Potions, but he gets to know her a little bit better than he intended. Word Count: 1859. Warnings/Content: Smut and pain, baby. Disclaimer: Wouldn't it be funny if JKR participated in smut fests? But srsly. I'm not her. Author's notes: This is not a pairing that I had ever considered before, but as soon as I saw it listed, I knew I would like it ^_^
Ron cursed everything he could think of for the rain. The rain had made his two best friends sick, and he was going to get back at it somehow. The urgency of the moment was lost temporarily as he drifted into thoughts of how to punish something that couldn't feel. He laughed, which was a mistake, since it made the creature – and yes, she had to be a creature with that awful scowl permanently pinned on her face – next to him look over, and reality bit him in the ass yet again.
Of course Harry and Hermione would catch colds and leave him searching for someone who didn't already have a group. Of course Millicent Bulstrode would be that person. It all made so much sense. So much inconvenient, terrible, embarrassing sense.
Still, there might have been a hint of decency behind those narrowed, angry eyes.
Ron sighed deeply and turned to page 567, memory potions, trying not to think about having to work with a Slytherin, especially one so miserable, for the next week.
-
Tuesday he fared no better, barely getting a grunt out of her as he talked at her. It was definitely at her, rather than to her, since he was sure she didn't hear a word he was saying.
Even so, he spoke politely and tried a joke or two. Nothing fazed her, eyes staring darkly at a supply cupboard that wasn't interesting in the least.
-
On Wednesday he wouldn't have said a thing, but Millicent's constant yawning just begged to be commented on.
“Didn't get much sleep, then?” he asked, stirring the boiling potion with his left hand while holding his textbook open with his right. In a moment of distraction, his hand slipped and the book slapped shut.
Ron cursed under his breath. “Was it 569? Or 596?”
Millicent started, turning to face her partner. Her eyes were trying to slide closed, and she seemed to be barely keeping her head off of the table. “Ninety-six,” she said through another yawn.
Ron paused as her eyes fluttered closed, surprised at the dark circles under her eyes.
“How come you're so tired?” He tried in vain to make conversation, but Millicent didn't answer, simply pulling her robes closer around herself and settling her head into folded arms.
-
On Thursday, she didn't show at all. It was a relief for only a minute, until Snape sent Ron to work with Crabbe and Goyle, who thought it was hilarious to try to turn the potion poisonous.
Ron did not appreciate their willingness to make him their test subject, and had never been more grateful for the fact that their stupidity outweighed any hatred they might have for him.
The potion was not lethal, but it did taste something like the smell of his father's shoes, and so it was with gratitude he didn't know he was capable of that he welcomed Millicent back the next day.
-
He considered asking why she had been out the day before.
He also considered asking her to explain what was so funny, until he realized that the potion was pink and frothy, when it was supposed to have been blue and slimy.
Still, seeing her laugh was bizarre enough to make Ron laugh, even through Snape deducting five points from Gryffindor for creating, in his words, “essentially soap”.
When class was over, Ron chased Millicent down the hall, completely unsure of what to say, but still entirely sure that something should be said.
She stopped when he called her name, turning with such an incredulous expression that he wouldn't have been surprised if there was an ogre standing behind him.
He checked. The hall was ogre-free.
“What do you want?” There it was again, the harsh, grunting voice that sounded nothing like her laugh.
He jogged over to her, smiling in spite of himself. “I just wanted to say, er, it's been nice working with you this week.”
She rolled her eyes, which he didn't think he deserved, but he pressed on.
“And getting to know you.”
She huffed, nostrils flaring like an angry bull. “Yeah. Sure.” She turned and kept walking, Ron running behind to keep up with her long strides.
“Why do you hate me so much?”
When she whipped around, her eyes were blazing. “I hate you? I think it was you who said I looked like a hag.”
“That wasn't me, that was Ha-” Ron caught himself, but the damage was done. He knew the look that was crossing her features in flashes. He tried to hold back tears too, sometimes. “Look, that was really stupid.”
She turned again, walking a bit more determinedly towards the Slytherin common room.
“You don't look like a hag!” He called.
She stood still. A group of third-year girls passed by giggling.
He rubbed his forehead hard, hoping that he could just crush all of the stupid, tactless comments in his mind right through his skull. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“I bet you are.” When he looked up, she was rubbing her eyes with her fingertips, breathing in deep.
“What's that supposed to mean?” He could feel the tips of his ears going red, though he didn't know whether it was from anger or embarrassment.
“Look, I'm trying really hard not to hit you, and you're not making it easy.”
He gulped. “Quickly, then. I'm sorry that I insulted you. You don't look like a hag.”
She dropped her hands to her sides, glaring at the floor. “I'll take the apology. But you don't mean it.”
“I do.”
“Prove it.”
“What?”
“Prove that you don't think I look like a hag.”
It took all of Ron's willpower not the run in the opposite direction. “What – I – how?”
She inched closer, looking over his shoulders one at a time. He could feel her breath on his neck.
“What are you -”
Her lips were minty. That thought alone surprised him enough that it took him three seconds to realize that Millicent was kissing him. When she broke away, red-faced, he finally processed it.
“You just -”
She covered her face with her hands, and bent to pick up her bag and leave, but he caught her arm and pulled her back up.
“You kissed me.”
She nodded, face still mostly flushed. It was beautiful, he noticed with a pang of guilt. Her face, free of its customary scowl and wide-eyed, had an earthy charm to it. Her lips especially looked like clay, or berries, or something smooth and pinkish that he very much wanted to put his lips on.
And when he did, it felt wonderful.
This kiss was quicker, more of a taste than the last.
“Do you like mint?” he asked as they separated.
“Peppermint toads,” she answered, nodding. “You kissed me back.”
“I realized you were pretty.” Well, he thought, it sounded stupid all out in the open like that.
She lowered her eyebrows and backed away. “Very funny.”
He knew that anything he could possibly think to say wouldn't convince her. He kissed her again.
She couldn't help giggling. She raised her hands to put them on his, which were working through her thick hair.
“I'd really like to get to know you,” he said at twice his usual speed, between kisses.
There was some evidence, however, that was already proving that. It pressed into Millicent's leg, and she choked into the kiss.
“Sorry.” It was sincere, but he kissed her again.
“It's okay.”
There was something taking over her, sending jolts through her body, and she wanted to take advantage of it.
It wasn't long before the two found an unused broom closet. Millicent had Ron's shirt off before he could think. His pants and underwear took a bit more time, but her determination still had him shocked and naked in no time. Taking control, she pressed herself against him.
He groaned deeply, and took a shaking breath like he was trying to say something.
He could feel her body through her clothes, all curves and far more touchable than he ever would have imagined. Her hands snaked around his wrists, bringing them around to her ass. She pushed him down onto the radiator, pulling her shirt over her head.
Undressing her was messy and frenzied, punctuated with kisses to her collarbone, chest, and neck. Naked, she used the light from the cracks in the door to turn around without tripping.
“I don't know what I'm doing,” she admitted nervously.
“Neither do I.” He took hold of her hips and pulled her backwards, plunging inside of her without a second thought.
“Ah!” She sucked in the air that had been knocked out of her and sniffled.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, it just hurts.”
He tried not to move, but his hormones were getting the best of him. His hips rocked without his permission.
“You can move,” she said quietly, not sure if she really wanted him to.
“I need you to – uh -” He bucked his hips upward, and she got the message. She moved her hips up and down, trying to ignore the uncomfortable pressure.
“Does it still hurt?”
Her reply was muffled.
“What are you doing?”
“Biting my hand,” he managed to make out.
“Why?”
“If my hand hurts, you in me feels better,” she stated bluntly.
The idea struck. With the palm of his hand, he hit one of her plump ass cheeks as hard as he could.
“Ah! Wha-” Even though she was surprised, she couldn't keep the sudden rush of lust out of her voice.
“Do you like that?” he asked, disbelieving. He tried again.
“Mmahyes.” She picked up speed.
“You do.” He laughed wickedly and slapped her again, desperate to hear her beg. He kneaded a bit of her skin in one hand while scratching with the other.
She let out a squeak. Another hit, and her movements got faster and needier.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Please what?”
“Please.”
“You want more of that?”
“Yes.”
He felt warm tension pooling in his stomach, and pinched down hard on her hip.
She jumped, allowing him to get deeper, and it pushed him over the edge. Blinding white exploded, and he vaguely registered her tightening around him seconds later.
-
It had been nearly half an hour since they had redressed and laid down on the floor of the closet. Ron had busied himself in Millicent's hair, and was never quite sure whether she was asleep or awake. Still, banking on the latter, he leaned down towards her ear and whispered, “You really are beautiful, you know.”
A hand pushed his face away, and Millicent's laugh rang and echoed in the small space.
As she snuggled into his shoulder, he knew she had heard him loud and clear.