Had a rough week and can't seem to work on any of my chaptered fics at the moment, so here's a DG one-shot. It's pure fluff, but at least it's something.

The Problem with Weasley

Draco's eyes snapped open. The fog of sleep still clung to him, but somehow he had the impression that someone had just appeared in his room. A scuffing sound and a muffled curse confirmed his suspicion. He grabbed his wand, though with less urgency than one might have expected for a person who had just woken up to an intruder. Instead, he sighed and muttered Lumos to light the tip of his wand. A redheaded woman wearing a black cocktail dress stood near his bed, just as he had expected. He would always recognise her voice.

"Weasley," Draco said, raising his eyebrow. "What the hell are you doing in my room?"

She swayed a bit and her brow furrowed. "Oh, this is your room? I wondered why I couldn't find the bed."

Draco pressed a hand to his forehead. That hint of a slur to her voice just confirmed his other suspicion. Damn it. Drunk Weasley was such a pain in the arse to deal with.

"The exit is that way," he said, pointing to the door.

She kicked off her heels and started unzipping her dress. His eyes bugged wide open.

"What the—why are you taking your clothes off?"

Weasley paused and threw him an exasperated glance. "I can't sleep in this. It's uncomfortable."

Draco's temple twitched. "I meant why are you taking your clothes off in front of me?"

"Because I want to sleep."

She said it like it was perfectly normal to get undressed in front of a flatmate who had never had any romantic relation to her. He wondered if she had ever done the same to Theo or Blaise. Somehow, the thought annoyed him.

Weasley let the dress fall to a pool of fabric at her feet, then made her way towards the bed. Draco could only blink for a moment. Weasley was wearing nothing but lacy knickers and a bra. True, she was built on the petite side, so it wasn't like he had got an eyeful of curves and cleavage, but the toned body she was exposing to him still got him a bit hot and bothered. It had been a while since he'd been with a woman, and it wasn't like Weasley was ugly. Not his usual type, but still not ugly. He swallowed and shifted under the blankets.

"Er, Weasley, what are you—"

She crawled onto the bed and pressed her hand to his mouth. "You talk too much."

Draco was annoyed to feel a trace of heat spread on his cheeks. Weasley was so forward; it had caught him off guard.

She took his wand from his unresisting grasp and stopped the spell. Darkness swallowed his vision. The next moment he felt the covers get pulled back and her body slip in beside him. Draco was still too stunned to do anything except blink. What in the actual hell? What was this woman up to? Drunk Weasley had always been a stubborn pain in the arse, but never had drunk Weasley crawled into his bed with him while only wearing her underwear. In fact, he had been quite certain she hated him.


"Shhh," she said in a voice that vividly painted for him the scowl she was no doubt wearing. "I'm trying to sleep here."

Something deflated within him. Ah, so she just wanted to sleep. Wait, why did that matter? He shouldn't even be letting her into his bed.

Weasley gripped his T-shirt and tugged him down with surprising strength. His back hit the mattress and he made a small "oomph" sound.

"Damn it, Weasley," he growled, rounding on her. "You just can't—"

"You're creating a draft sitting up like that," she mumbled, even as she tugged the blankets up over them more. "I'm cold."

That petulant little tone had him gritting his teeth. This was the drunk Weasley he knew: every annoying, childish bit of her.

"Get out of my bed," he ordered.


"What do you mean 'no'?" He rolled so that he was facing her, though the darkness meant he couldn't see anything but a faint outline. "Your bedroom is just down the hall. I don't need or want your drunk arse in my bed, so—"

Weasley ignored his rant. Instead, she snuggled up against him, slipping one hand up under his T-shirt and tangling her legs with his. Draco was startled into an unmanly sound. Her hands and feet were like ice.

"Get off!" he snapped, pushing at her hands and trying to wriggle away from her.

Weasley cackled—actually cackled—and snuggled even more against him. Draco was annoyed to feel his pulse quicken, even as his heart pumped blood faster and faster through his veins. Weasley might not have the most amazing curves in the world, but he was still conscious of the softness of her body pressed all up against his. She smelt nice as well: a blend of musk and flowers, even if there was a lingering trace of booze.

"You're so annoying," Draco muttered.

Weasley made a soft noise and nuzzled her nose into his neck. Her lips brushed his skin, though it seemed more accidental than intentional. Draco sighed and let his head drop back against the pillow. He knew he could have pushed her off if he used his full strength; even could have just used magic. The problem was Weasley. It would feel too much like tossing away a particularly snuggly kitten. She seemed so happy and content all curled up against him—a far cry from her usual shrewish behaviour. That and he knew that neither of them would get any sleep if he tried to remove her. She was so stubborn when she was drunk. Once she had decided something—no matter how ridiculous—there was no changing her mind without creating a huge fuss. Draco really hated drunk Weasley.

"I don't know why you're so determined to share a bed with me," he said, scowling in the dark. "You've never liked me."

"Mm, yeah, you're a git."

His temple twitched faster. That little brat.

"But I don't hate you," Weasley continued. "You fuss and complain a lot, but you're always there for me when I need it." Her voice got softer as sleepiness took hold. "I like how safe I feel when I'm with you."

Draco stilled. A flicker of something warm and decidedly mushy settled in his heart. That annoyed him too. He huffed and glowered in the direction of the ceiling. "That doesn't mean you can just come crawling into my bed whenever you like."


"I'm serious."

Weasley curled her fingers into his shirt, burrowing even closer against him. He could feel the imprint of her smile on his neck. They both knew that his complaints were empty at best. For whatever reason, he could never bring himself to turn her away. It was why, even though she had always got on his nerves, he was indeed there for her when she needed it. Reluctantly, snarkily, but there all the same.

He wondered what had happened tonight to make her want to be with him.

Draco sighed and closed his eyes. He told himself that it meant nothing when he wrapped his arm around her or stroked her hair. It wasn't as if he liked her. Not in that way. She was just an annoying bint; a she-demon who had forced her way into his life in the guise of an unwanted flatmate. He only looked out for her because she was an idiot and got herself into trouble so much.

It didn't mean anything. It really didn't.

Still, his heartbeat continued to thrum a little faster as he lay with her, and that mushy warmth in his chest never did quite fade. Draco had not been with a girl like this: intimate without the sex. It was different. It was strange. No matter how much he told himself otherwise, he also knew it was most definitely not nothing.