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Dec. 21st, 2008 11:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gala_applesi finally write fic again! haha!
and because i'm really all about the threesome, i'm thinking about adding a second part where cormac confronts harry and ron the next time they come to his pub.
Title: Liars, and other horrible things
Rating: R
Summary: Cormac owns a bar, and Harry and Ron are patrons.
Wordcount: 1520
Warnings: told from Cormac's pov. Which is sexist, homophobic, and kind of ignorant in general. I'd say it's H/R centric enough to be here though.
Author's notes: this is a salvaged bit from one of my attempts at bestmates_xmas. There are many more fics like this to come, paragraphs turned into fics. Oh, and a huge nanowrimo sized fic that I couldn't finish in time.
If there was one thing Cormac hated, it was when people lied to him.
His momma always said hold your cards to your chest. Never let anyone know what you don't like, because there are some people as cruel enough to do it, just because you wish them not to. When he was younger, it had been a game to do it, find out the exact thing his neighbours didn't like, then pretend they did. It was why he brought Ms Cleo a pie every week, she was trying to diet. He also told his momma his brother liked peas, when his brother couldn't stand them. That had been the turning point. When she found out Connor didn't truly like peas, Cormac had gotten a whooping like no one had ever seen before. She'd refused him a healing charm, or even Dr Billy's Magical Balm.
After that, after lying on his stomach to sleep for three whole nights, he smartened up. He realised that what he'd been doing to everyone because they were inferior could easily be done to him by someone more superior then himself. All it took was a person observing, and listening. The only way to protect himself was to talk about something innocuous.
He found a topic that everyone wanted to hear about- Quidditch - and learned all about it. Halfway through school he began to play it, so he'd have a reason to talk about it, and not be viewed as overcompensating. Because that was part of his younger days too, noticing when people were overcompensating, and poking at those parts. Except he missed try outs two years in a row, being dared that he was scared of something. When someone dares you to do something that terrifies you, you must do it or they'll see you're terrified and use it. That much was clear in his upbringing.
That much was as clear in the world around him. All the poor bastards fighting Death Eaters. Not just fighting them if they happened to be kicking around, but seeking them out. Cormac knew himself, he knew he wasn't brave enough to join an army where he'd be guaranteed certain death. So there was only one thing to do; join the Order. Funny enough, he could have joined earlier if he'd paid attention to Harry Potter and his stupid self teaching DADA class. But there'd been no reason to, why would he join a fight against Umbridge when he couldn't possibly be scared of her?
All the same members had been in that, as had been in the war. As were now in this pub.
Momma would have been proud of him. She would have drunk the first drink of scotch, then smashed the glass on the floor, and declared her son a quality member of the family. Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to, on account of Connor killing her. When Cormac had tracked him down, he'd claimed Imperius. It didn't matter the reason, what mattered was the outcome. So before justice couldn't be done in the court, he had done what needed to be done.
The most important factor of a pub was having a good atmosphere. The Drinking Doxy didn't look any different then any other pub. Fat man behind the counter with a permanent towel featured draped on his shoulder, a wall of alcohols, both muggle and wizard. Slightly sticky floors, a magical pool table. But it felt comfortable, in a way that Hog's Head certainly did not.
As owner, his main duty was to worry about bills and clean the room. But his preference was to do that after the till was closed for the night, and before that just survey the room. There were a group of Aurors drinking on the stools at the bar, a paid-his-debt-to-society ex-Death Eater hovering behind them, too nervous to get a second drink. He'd have to sort that out in a moment. For now he was busy staring at a particular patron.
Ron Weasley was playing pool with Harry Potter. No surprise there. As with most games of strategy, Ron was sweeping up. Every time Harry managed to hit a ball, it would shout "bad angle" or "poor choice". What was a surprise was the way Ron was trying to show Harry how to hold the cue. Most men would demonstrate their grip, and offer suggestions. Ron was standing behind Harry, fingers on fingers, modifying his grip. Their bodies were nestled close together, and Harry was smiling.
Cormac hated when people lied. He'd asked Hermione more then once in their short period of dating if Harry Potter was a poofter. Otherwise, why wouldn't he be shagging the fine piece of arse that Ginny Weasley was? She'd always said no, and added that Harry had a lot to do before he could relax and have a normal life.
Stupid lying bitch. Clearly they were both poofs, and just as clearly, they'd never have a normal life. How could someone consider themselves normal, when they liked things put up their arse? Still, they were customers, it'd be better for business if he was pleasant. And it was what Momma would have wanted, him to stay silent against what he didn't like.
He walked to the wall where the cue sticks were leaning, and picked out one. Then he turned and joined the two. Thankfully he didn't have to cough loudly, they separated on their own.
"Harry, chap, if you're having problems, I recommend this red cue here. It's got a light automatic sticking charm on it, if you put your hand on it, your hand will move to the place it's supposed to be holding. Then all you have to do is strike the ball in the middle. Basic rules, mate."
Harry reached out for the cue, and startled a bit as his hand jerked to the butt of the stick. Cormac wondered why he startled, had he thought he was lying about the red cues? Maybe someone that always lied saw it in other people. It was irritating, but he didn't have to be friends with the man. He only had to make the man comfortable enough to drink more in his pub.
He gave them a quick smile, and walked back to the bar. Now it was time to deal with the next problem of the night.
Hours later, the customers were gone. The group of Aurors were long gone, the pretty blonde girls and the muscled men had all left together accordingly. Steven had cleaned the tables and the steins, and had left. All Cormac had to do was mop the floor, extinguish all the lights, and leave. He charmed the mop to wave itself over the floor, and went about the room putting the candles and light orbs out. When the main room was dark, he entered the loo.
He absently Noxed the light orbs in the three stall loo. Before he could leave the room, he heard a male say "What the hell?"
"Pub's closed, mate. If you're ill, I can help you to the floo." It was one of the parts he hated about owning a pub, the occasion piles of sick left in the bathroom. Chances were once the poor man went out the other side of the floo, he'd vomit everywhere. The floo network made sober people nauseous, it certainly wouldn't be good for someone already vomiting. But that wasn't Cormac's problem, it belonged to whomever was on the other side of the floo.
"No. We're alright." it was a different man's voice. And now that Cormac thought about it, they were both familiar. Ugh. Gross.
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley came out of the bathroom stall. Ron had misbuttoned his shirt, and Harry's hair was tousled. Ugh. Cormac tried not to wince as he escorted them to the floo. Ron called an address, and they both went in together. Which meant they were living together. Ugh.
But when all the lights were off, he slipped back into the pitch-black loo. He leaned against where he imagined Ron had been leaning, to his tingling nerves the metal still felt warm. He put his hand down his trousers like Harry would have done to Ron. He bit his lip and thought of Harry pulling down Ron's trousers, kneading him outside his pants until they grew wet with precome. Harry fell to his knees and the pants dropped to the floor. His mouth descended and from the way Ron moaned it was obvious Harry was a great cocksucker. Better then the blondes that left with the muscled men earlier in the night. Harry's head bobbed, his movement not in the least bit hampered by Ron's fingers clenched in his hair.
Before Ron had a chance to come, Cormac did. The scene dissolved, and he was left with a wet hand and a sinking feeling. How could he have done that? How could he have gotten off to the idea of Harry fucking Potter and Ron bloody Weasley? He couldn't even wrap himself up in safe and comfortable denial, saying it had never happened, as denial was a form of lying. Cormac McLaggen might be a poof, but he'd never be a liar.
and because i'm really all about the threesome, i'm thinking about adding a second part where cormac confronts harry and ron the next time they come to his pub.
Title: Liars, and other horrible things
Rating: R
Summary: Cormac owns a bar, and Harry and Ron are patrons.
Wordcount: 1520
Warnings: told from Cormac's pov. Which is sexist, homophobic, and kind of ignorant in general. I'd say it's H/R centric enough to be here though.
Author's notes: this is a salvaged bit from one of my attempts at bestmates_xmas. There are many more fics like this to come, paragraphs turned into fics. Oh, and a huge nanowrimo sized fic that I couldn't finish in time.
If there was one thing Cormac hated, it was when people lied to him.
His momma always said hold your cards to your chest. Never let anyone know what you don't like, because there are some people as cruel enough to do it, just because you wish them not to. When he was younger, it had been a game to do it, find out the exact thing his neighbours didn't like, then pretend they did. It was why he brought Ms Cleo a pie every week, she was trying to diet. He also told his momma his brother liked peas, when his brother couldn't stand them. That had been the turning point. When she found out Connor didn't truly like peas, Cormac had gotten a whooping like no one had ever seen before. She'd refused him a healing charm, or even Dr Billy's Magical Balm.
After that, after lying on his stomach to sleep for three whole nights, he smartened up. He realised that what he'd been doing to everyone because they were inferior could easily be done to him by someone more superior then himself. All it took was a person observing, and listening. The only way to protect himself was to talk about something innocuous.
He found a topic that everyone wanted to hear about- Quidditch - and learned all about it. Halfway through school he began to play it, so he'd have a reason to talk about it, and not be viewed as overcompensating. Because that was part of his younger days too, noticing when people were overcompensating, and poking at those parts. Except he missed try outs two years in a row, being dared that he was scared of something. When someone dares you to do something that terrifies you, you must do it or they'll see you're terrified and use it. That much was clear in his upbringing.
That much was as clear in the world around him. All the poor bastards fighting Death Eaters. Not just fighting them if they happened to be kicking around, but seeking them out. Cormac knew himself, he knew he wasn't brave enough to join an army where he'd be guaranteed certain death. So there was only one thing to do; join the Order. Funny enough, he could have joined earlier if he'd paid attention to Harry Potter and his stupid self teaching DADA class. But there'd been no reason to, why would he join a fight against Umbridge when he couldn't possibly be scared of her?
All the same members had been in that, as had been in the war. As were now in this pub.
Momma would have been proud of him. She would have drunk the first drink of scotch, then smashed the glass on the floor, and declared her son a quality member of the family. Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to, on account of Connor killing her. When Cormac had tracked him down, he'd claimed Imperius. It didn't matter the reason, what mattered was the outcome. So before justice couldn't be done in the court, he had done what needed to be done.
The most important factor of a pub was having a good atmosphere. The Drinking Doxy didn't look any different then any other pub. Fat man behind the counter with a permanent towel featured draped on his shoulder, a wall of alcohols, both muggle and wizard. Slightly sticky floors, a magical pool table. But it felt comfortable, in a way that Hog's Head certainly did not.
As owner, his main duty was to worry about bills and clean the room. But his preference was to do that after the till was closed for the night, and before that just survey the room. There were a group of Aurors drinking on the stools at the bar, a paid-his-debt-to-society ex-Death Eater hovering behind them, too nervous to get a second drink. He'd have to sort that out in a moment. For now he was busy staring at a particular patron.
Ron Weasley was playing pool with Harry Potter. No surprise there. As with most games of strategy, Ron was sweeping up. Every time Harry managed to hit a ball, it would shout "bad angle" or "poor choice". What was a surprise was the way Ron was trying to show Harry how to hold the cue. Most men would demonstrate their grip, and offer suggestions. Ron was standing behind Harry, fingers on fingers, modifying his grip. Their bodies were nestled close together, and Harry was smiling.
Cormac hated when people lied. He'd asked Hermione more then once in their short period of dating if Harry Potter was a poofter. Otherwise, why wouldn't he be shagging the fine piece of arse that Ginny Weasley was? She'd always said no, and added that Harry had a lot to do before he could relax and have a normal life.
Stupid lying bitch. Clearly they were both poofs, and just as clearly, they'd never have a normal life. How could someone consider themselves normal, when they liked things put up their arse? Still, they were customers, it'd be better for business if he was pleasant. And it was what Momma would have wanted, him to stay silent against what he didn't like.
He walked to the wall where the cue sticks were leaning, and picked out one. Then he turned and joined the two. Thankfully he didn't have to cough loudly, they separated on their own.
"Harry, chap, if you're having problems, I recommend this red cue here. It's got a light automatic sticking charm on it, if you put your hand on it, your hand will move to the place it's supposed to be holding. Then all you have to do is strike the ball in the middle. Basic rules, mate."
Harry reached out for the cue, and startled a bit as his hand jerked to the butt of the stick. Cormac wondered why he startled, had he thought he was lying about the red cues? Maybe someone that always lied saw it in other people. It was irritating, but he didn't have to be friends with the man. He only had to make the man comfortable enough to drink more in his pub.
He gave them a quick smile, and walked back to the bar. Now it was time to deal with the next problem of the night.
Hours later, the customers were gone. The group of Aurors were long gone, the pretty blonde girls and the muscled men had all left together accordingly. Steven had cleaned the tables and the steins, and had left. All Cormac had to do was mop the floor, extinguish all the lights, and leave. He charmed the mop to wave itself over the floor, and went about the room putting the candles and light orbs out. When the main room was dark, he entered the loo.
He absently Noxed the light orbs in the three stall loo. Before he could leave the room, he heard a male say "What the hell?"
"Pub's closed, mate. If you're ill, I can help you to the floo." It was one of the parts he hated about owning a pub, the occasion piles of sick left in the bathroom. Chances were once the poor man went out the other side of the floo, he'd vomit everywhere. The floo network made sober people nauseous, it certainly wouldn't be good for someone already vomiting. But that wasn't Cormac's problem, it belonged to whomever was on the other side of the floo.
"No. We're alright." it was a different man's voice. And now that Cormac thought about it, they were both familiar. Ugh. Gross.
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley came out of the bathroom stall. Ron had misbuttoned his shirt, and Harry's hair was tousled. Ugh. Cormac tried not to wince as he escorted them to the floo. Ron called an address, and they both went in together. Which meant they were living together. Ugh.
But when all the lights were off, he slipped back into the pitch-black loo. He leaned against where he imagined Ron had been leaning, to his tingling nerves the metal still felt warm. He put his hand down his trousers like Harry would have done to Ron. He bit his lip and thought of Harry pulling down Ron's trousers, kneading him outside his pants until they grew wet with precome. Harry fell to his knees and the pants dropped to the floor. His mouth descended and from the way Ron moaned it was obvious Harry was a great cocksucker. Better then the blondes that left with the muscled men earlier in the night. Harry's head bobbed, his movement not in the least bit hampered by Ron's fingers clenched in his hair.
Before Ron had a chance to come, Cormac did. The scene dissolved, and he was left with a wet hand and a sinking feeling. How could he have done that? How could he have gotten off to the idea of Harry fucking Potter and Ron bloody Weasley? He couldn't even wrap himself up in safe and comfortable denial, saying it had never happened, as denial was a form of lying. Cormac McLaggen might be a poof, but he'd never be a liar.