# Dominique Weasley
# anthony mclaggen
# dom baby i love you stupid mclaggen stupid stupid
# YOU’RE USELESS IF YOU CAN’T GET IT UP
“Sod off,” he repeated, glaring at her. Later McLaggen would smack himself for allowing himself to get so verbally beaten by Weasley and doing nothing to defend himself but he really couldn’t give a shit at the moment. He felt like dying. That’d be nice. Die out of this sick body and get reborn into the healthy athletic guy he usually was. How the bloody hell did he even get sick in the first place? Ugh, fuck biology and all its dynamics. “Oi!” he protested when she took the tissues out of his nose. Didn’t she know those kept him from leaking disgustingly? Oh Merlin. He covered his nose with his hand, his glare being replaced by a mix of panic and pout. She was obviously having way to much fun with this. But his eyes widened when she mentioned losing muscle mass, darting down to his stomach and back to her. “It won’t!” he persisted. “My abs will be as hard cut as they were two weeks ago!”
His face settled into a uncharacteristically grumpy expression as Weasley tugged the covers off. Anthony looked down at his chest, poking it to make sure it had the same firmness it usually did. “I’m not going to get flabby,” he insisted childishly. His mouth dropped in mortification at the word ‘tampon.’ How dare she! She was making fun of him! She really was getting a kick out of this wasn’t she?
“I find that highly offens - ” Anthony didn’t even finish his sentence when she smacked a cold wet towel on his forehead, seemingly out of nowhere. Oh, Merlin, that felt GOOD. He let out a contented groan and sunk back against the pillow, even though she’d made him prop up. She smacked his stomach, as if to scold him before handing the Pepper Up Potion. He grabbed it from her, looking at her with newfound appreciation.
“Oh Merlin, Weasley, you are a goddess -” he babbled as he attempted to open the bottle, struggling a bit since his hands were SO DAMN SWEATY.
“Yeah, if you keep sulking around like this, you will so get flabby,” Dom teased, rolling her eyes. “You’re just gonna turn in to a fat lump and no one will ever shag you again, and it’ll be just tragic, won’t it?” This was the most fun she’d had in a long time. Call her evil, but seeing people beaten down just brought her joy sometimes. Schadenfreude. Again, she really just wasn’t in to being Mother Theresa. Mother Theresa was celibate. Gross.
Her heart sort of leaped in her chest, and her breath caught in her throat because he was looking at her in this way that made her blush, and her head spin. And she couldn’t even kiss him, which was what she would usually do in this situation, so she just brought her hair around to her front and worked on plaiting that while he struggled with the bottle. She pushed it all down inside of her and locked it in a trunk and threw the key in to the black lake. “I know,” she grinned, sighing and putting a hand to her chest. “But if you didn’t know that already, I’ve been doing something wrong. Which I definitely haven’t been, because I’m awesome.”
Dom snatched the bottle from him, and opened it with her teeth, handing it back to him with another roll of her eyes. “Pathetic. You’re so pathetic.” She put her hands on her hips and watched him drink, and watched the tension in his body slowly dissipate. Stepping forward, she pressed her lips to his forehead to check his fever. It was something her mum had always done. “God, you’re hot. Temperature wise, because Merlin knows you’re not looking your best right now,” she laughed. “You’re just gonna have to wait it out, I guess. I mean. I dunno, do something to distract yourself. I mean, you can’t shag, and you can’t drink, and you can’t play Quidditch, so what can you do? I mean, I’d give you a strip tease if I didn’t think it’d only serve to depress you.”
Ant made a gagging noise when she said the f word. Ugh flabby ugh he didn’t even want to think about that gross gross gross! “You suck Weasley,” he croaked out. “I am NOT going to get flabby. And I’ll have you know that it’ll be just as tragic when the shag of your life disappears - ” His seemingly witty replying was cut off by another fit of coughing. Bloody brilliant. Coughing was shit because coughing made his chest ache and his throat feel all funny and it was absolute shit.
This bottle was testing him. In his normal state, Anthony would’ve been able to open it with his bloody pinky finger but it just wouldn’t budge. He swore, his already fever flushed face turning redder with aggravation, until suddenly it was taken out of his hands by Weasley. He blinked, watching dumbly when she opened it with her mouth and handed it back to him. “How did you do that?” he asked, seemingly astounded, not even paying attention to the fact that she’d insulted him. He lifted the bottle to his lips and drank, wincing a little at the hot rush the liquid brought, but feeling the ache in his body slow ebb away. He looked at Weasley with a grin that was a little more like his smug self before looking dumbfounded. “When did you braid your hair?”
Anthony blinked when Weasley came over and pressed her lips to his forehead. He involuntarily closed his eyes. When was the last time he’d gotten kissed on the forehead? His mum did it to him when he was younger but around the time puberty hit, he ducked away to avoid most of her kisses. Deacon was the one who got showered with them. It was weird. It was strange. It was…intimate. Weasley pulled away before he could even start to make sense of his fever addled thoughts. He opened his eyes and glared weakly at her. “Of course I’m hot. Always hot.” He slumped back into his pillows with a sigh. “Bloody hate being sick.” He twitched a little at her comments. She was right though, no shagging, no drinking, no Quidditch. Everyone was useless shit when they were sick though so. Ugh.
“Oh, my God,” Dominique sarcasmed, raising her eyebrows. “I am so offended right now. Wow. Wow, McLaggen, you’ve cut me so deep, I just don’t know what I’m going to do anymore. I could die right here on the spot, and you’d be to blame. Wow. Just. Wow.” She shook her head, shrugging, as she rolled to sit on the edge of his bed. Effectively dodging a huge sneeze. She burst out in to a round of laughter, throwing her head back and covering her hand with her mouth.
“You’re pathetic,” she managed through giggles at his half-hearted attempt to get him to leave. She reached over to yank the tissues out of his nose. “I, as any other self-respecting woman, am trying to subvert the patriarchal paradigm, but honestly, you are the most pathetic creature right now. If I were not to help you, I would essentially be leaving a small animal to die.” She shook her head as she looked at him. Alright nurse Dominique. Jump in to action.”By the way, if you continue to lay here,” she dropped her voice down to a whisper, “you’re gonna loose muscle mass.” Obviously not that quickly. But his reaction was priceless.
“Okay, so, contrary to popular belief, sweating a fever is not a good idea.” She ripped his covers off, revealing his shirtless body, which she obviously took a moment to look at. Prepared to help? Yes. Mother Theresa? No. She grabbed his hand and yanked him forward off the pillows, rolling her eyes as he winced and coughed and gagged. “Man up, McLaggen. Or do I need to borrow some tampons from Molly?” She rearranged his pillows so he could sit propped up, and went to the bathroom to wet a towel. Upon her return, Dom draped it over his forehead and went fishing through her bag quick-smart. “Here,” she said. “Pepper-up potion. It’ll only be a temporary fix, and you’re not supposed to use it for colds, but it usually helps me.” Oh, she was such a god. Such. A. God.
“Sod off,” he repeated, glaring at her. Later McLaggen would smack himself for allowing himself to get so verbally beaten by Weasley and doing nothing to defend himself but he really couldn’t give a shit at the moment. He felt like dying. That’d be nice. Die out of this sick body and get reborn into the healthy athletic guy he usually was. How the bloody hell did he even get sick in the first place? Ugh, fuck biology and all its dynamics. “Oi!” he protested when she took the tissues out of his nose. Didn’t she know those kept him from leaking disgustingly? Oh Merlin. He covered his nose with his hand, his glare being replaced by a mix of panic and pout. She was obviously having way to much fun with this. But his eyes widened when she mentioned losing muscle mass, darting down to his stomach and back to her. “It won’t!” he persisted. “My abs will be as hard cut as they were two weeks ago!”
His face settled into a uncharacteristically grumpy expression as Weasley tugged the covers off. Anthony looked down at his chest, poking it to make sure it had the same firmness it usually did. “I’m not going to get flabby,” he insisted childishly. His mouth dropped in mortification at the word ‘tampon.’ How dare she! She was making fun of him! She really was getting a kick out of this wasn’t she?
“I find that highly offens - ” Anthony didn’t even finish his sentence when she smacked a cold wet towel on his forehead, seemingly out of nowhere. Oh, Merlin, that felt GOOD. He let out a contented groan and sunk back against the pillow, even though she’d made him prop up. She smacked his stomach, as if to scold him before handing the Pepper Up Potion. He grabbed it from her, looking at her with newfound appreciation.
“Oh Merlin, Weasley, you are a goddess -” he babbled as he attempted to open the bottle, struggling a bit since his hands were SO DAMN SWEATY.
Oh, this was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. The best thing that had ever happened in the history of the entire universe combined. Anthony McLaggen was sick. Sick. Literally reduced to a whimpering mess because he had a bit of a cold. Pah-thetic. Absolutely pathetic. He had ‘man flu’. A phrase that her sister had taught her when she was young, talking about Teddy. It was a ‘man flu’ because whenever men got it, it was just a whole lot worse. Because men were weak. Weak! And like Dom didn’t already know that.
But now she, Dominique Weasley, woman, conqueror, got to rub that in McLaggen’s face. Which was brilliant. Ha! Ha. Ha. The minute she’d found out he was back in his dorm, she decided to shimmy right on down to his room and laugh. Just laugh. She jumped out of bed, throwing on her Weasley Sweater, bright blue with a white ‘D’ in the middle, and black leggings and ran, giddy like a kid on Christmas, to the boys hallway.
She was planning on knocking on the door, really only hoping to make the noise reverberate around his skull, but she decided against it and just barged right in there. She was met with a tissue box being thrown almost in her direction. “Horrible aim,” she chided, as she caught the box in one hand. “Heads up,” Dom laughed, before she threw it right back at him, hitting him square in the forehead. “Oops,” she laughed as she bounded over to his bed and plonked herself down, grinning. She crawled up next to him and put up an exaggerated frown. “I said heads up!”
Anthony made a face, nose wrinkled up in annoyance, at the sight of Weasley. Usually he - and his dick - would be more than happy to see the gorgeous spitfire of a girl but he honestly wasn’t in the mood. And just seeing Weasley reminded him of the fact that when he was sick, he couldn’t shag. His cock didn’t work! Damn everything to the fiery pits of hell. “Sod off,” he replied hoarsely, hating how his stuffed up nose made his voice so damn nasally. Donna Kirke had told him before he’d slipped his hands under his skirt that his voice was probably the third sexiest thing about him. Now it was definitely the most UNSEXY thing about him. God.
He let out a groan when the tissue box hit him, slumping back on the pillows. “No,” he groaned, turning away from her when she slipped up next to him. “I really really really really don’t want to see your face right now. No offense. I don’t want to see anyone.” Just then he sneezed, a really huge, really unattractive sneeze. Merlin. Merlin. He reached behind and grabbed a couple of tissues, rubbing his nose on them. He glared at Weasley over the tissues.
“Get. Out.” He would’ve sounded a lot more threatening if he didn’t have two tissues up his nose and if he didn’t sound like he was holding enough phlegm for the country of Prague to have.
Anthony was sick. Not sick as in, I’m sick of this bullshit, he was legitimately sick with a fever running high, snot dripping from his nose, and coughs wracking out of his body. Yes he was sick and it sucked. It royally sucked. Being sick was the worst thing in the bloody universe and he cursed every magical being in the universe for passing the damn flu to him. “Suck it up man,” Alfie told him with a grimace, setting aside a huge tissue box and lemon lozenges beside his bed. “You need to stay in here - Pomfrey’s orders.”
“Fuck Pomfrey,” he croaked but Alfie was already out the door, not wanting to deal with his sick friend. A sick McLaggen was a whiny McLaggen. And a whiny McLaggen was probably the worst thing to deal with in the universe. If Ant was thinking clearly, he might’ve felt sorry for everyone that he’d bitched to so far - the entire Gryffindor house, Madame Pomfrey, and Professor Flitwick. If he actually cared. But he didn’t. He tossed and turned in his bed - he was so damn hot and sweating and disgusting - he was disgusting, Merlin help him. He was Anthony McLaggen, body like Adonis, hair like silk, reduced to a sweaty, snot-filled excuse of a human being.
And worst of all, he couldn’t get it up. Just the thought that he couldn’t reduce a girl to a whimpering mess with just a flex of his muscles made him SO DAMN IRRITATED.
There was a the sound of the door opening, and in a hissy fit, Anthony grabbed the tissue box and tossed it in the direction of the door. He didn’t want to see anyone right now, absolutely no one.
He blinked at her reaction, tilting his head slightly to the side as she continued with her incredulous talking bit. He didn’t even take any offense to what she was saying, too concerned with her actual answer to his original question. “So, is that a no?” he asked hopefully. “Because, you were acting weird earlier, so I supposed the only explanation would be you on your period but that would suck because then we couldn’t shag and that - ” his rambling was stopped with her sudden kiss, his relief only increasing with her laugh. “No you don’t,” he mumbled back, leaning into her once she pulled him closer with her leg.
His position was a bit uncomfortable, half bent over her with his hands on the arms of the chair barely supporting him, but he was too occupied with pressing kisses down her neck to really care. He grinned against her skin when he heard her breath hitch, biting lightly at where her pulse was before sucking hard. That was definitely going to leave a mark. He trailed kisses across her collarbone, before pulling up, looking at her with a mischevious grin. “Bedroom?” he prompted her. “I’d hate to scar any first years walking in on us.” He really didn’t though. That was probably why he was going to hell. Oh well.
“No,” she said, as his lips left hers to burn a trail down her neck. “No, I do not.” She closed her eyes and tangled her long fingers into his hair, pressing his lips harder toward her flesh. She gave a small moan as he left his mark on her neck, and continued across the pale flesh of her collar bone. “Bedroom,” she confirmed with a short laugh.
He pulled her up and she grinned against his lips, before he lifted her, arms coming to hold her securely around her waist. She continued to kiss him as she tightened her long legs around his hips. He carried her up the stairs, and she never stopped kissing him. On his lips, down his throat, across his jaw, hungry and urgent.
He kicked the door to his dorm open and she was thrown to her bed. Her stomach clenched and unclenched and a heat filled her entire being. Sparks traveled down her spine, and to every nerve in her body. All was forgotten. And it was fucking fantastic. She frantically grabbed at him and pulled him flush against her. She tugged at the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off over his head. She dragged her nails across his back as he pressed kisses down her throat.
Anthony stared at Weasley in bewilderment. He didn’t know what was going on. Her expression was mixed between anger, uncertainty, and relief? What in the world? Was Weasley on something? Was she - Merlin was she on her period? He had no intention of shagging her if she was. He would stay far far away. “Because you?” he asked with some hesitation, stopping when she suddenly turned away. There was an awkward silence for a long moment and Anthony shuffled around a bit. This uncomfortable feeling, he didn’t really do well with. It was weird. This was weird.
So he couldn’t help the intense feeling of relief that flooded him when she went over to sit on the chair. He couldn’t help but blink at her words. Make it up to her? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? He was the one that was exceptionally weirded out. But, not wanting to deal with any more weird girly emotions, he walked over to her, placing either hand on the arms of the chair. He leaned into her, face directly about hers. “Just one question,” he breathed. “You’re not on your period, are you?”
She stared into his eyes through his eyelashes, hoping to god the next thing out of his mouth wasn’t going to be something completely disastrous and horrible. She raised her eyebrow inquisitively, before giving him a blank stare. You’re. Not. On. Your. Period. Are you? “For fuck’s sake,” she said, shaking her head, too incredulous to be mad. “You’re fucking hopless, aren’t you?”
“What on this earth would possess you to say that?” she was laughing, brushing her hair our of her eyes. “I am so shocked right now that I’m laughing.” Dom shrugged, her mouth open, but unable to form words. She shook her head and widened her eyes. “I don’t even… Do you… Do you think before you speak or is it just sounds? Oh, Merlin.”
She pulled him in to her and kissed him, still laughing quietly against his lips. She hated him. But she also really didn’t. “I hate you,” she said, against his mouth, before quickly hooking her leg up around his waist and pulling him down to her further.
He blinked at her reaction, tilting his head slightly to the side as she continued with her incredulous talking bit. He didn’t even take any offense to what she was saying, too concerned with her actual answer to his original question. “So, is that a no?” he asked hopefully. “Because, you were acting weird earlier, so I supposed the only explanation would be you on your period but that would suck because then we couldn’t shag and that - ” his rambling was stopped with her sudden kiss, his relief only increasing with her laugh. “No you don’t,” he mumbled back, leaning into her once she pulled him closer with her leg.
His position was a bit uncomfortable, half bent over her with his hands on the arms of the chair barely supporting him, but he was too occupied with pressing kisses down her neck to really care. He grinned against her skin when he heard her breath hitch, biting lightly at where her pulse was before sucking hard. That was definitely going to leave a mark. He trailed kisses across her collarbone, before pulling up, looking at her with a mischevious grin. “Bedroom?” he prompted her. “I’d hate to scar any first years walking in on us.” He really didn’t though. That was probably why he was going to hell. Oh well.
He laughed at her, he did that often, because Weasley really was a wonderful creature. So much so, it was ridiculous. Great legs too. She had them wrapped nicely around him and he let one hand run up from her knee to her thigh, stroking her soft, smooth skin slowly. “Well, I’m sure I can give you several reasons to miss you…” he drawled teasingly, pulling his hand away from her leg to go back to its original position on her waist.
He kissed her back slowly, letting the hot, intense sensation fill him up. That familiar heat he’d went crazy over so much last year, started back up again. Merlin, he’d missed this. His grip on her waist tightened as her legs wrapped around him even more, pulling them even closer. He could feel every bit of her curves pressing against him and it was possibly the most fantastic feeling in the world. As she nipped and kissed across his jaw, he bit the inside of his cheek to keep a light groan in. As good as that felt, they still were in the middle of a bloody corridor.
He smirked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Why don’t I let you decide that for yourself?” He adjusted his hold on her, sliding his hands up to her mid-back, and shifted so that in one sudden move, Weasley was hanging over his shoulder. His smirk widened as he started to walk off, heading off for the nearest broom closet.
She narrowed her eyebrows skeptically at his raised eyebrow. She was about to say ‘what are you planning?’ but she only managed to get out the ‘Wha-!” before it turned into a yelp of surprise and she was being hoisted over his shoulder. “Oh, Merlin,” she mutered in to his back. “You know, I have been carried in many ways and this is by far the worst,” she laughed, attempting to wriggle out of the position, but his arm was by her middle in like some iron grip. “You’re the worst. I hate you,” she said, finally defeated and slumping against his body. “I would say,” she muttered, again into his back, but loud enough for him to hear, “that I don’t like to be man-handled, but we all know that’s a lie.”
She let out another surprised “Oh!” and she was back at his front. Her expression was that of surprise for clearly a little too long, because he started laughing at her. She locked her jaw and shook her head. “Shut up, you barbarian.”
She noticed, now the right way up, that he was taking her toward a broom closet. She shook her head rapidly, her hair flying in all sorts of different directions, before she yelled “No!” she lowered her voice significantly for the next part. “The whole bloody schools in the sorting ceremony, we could use a bed.” She grinned at her revelation and used her hand to bow. “Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all week.”
“Struggling is futile,” he told her laughing as he felt her squirm in his grip. It really was no use - Weasley wasn’t exactly small, but she was no match for him. And his manly muscles. Yeah, the gun show wasn’t just for show, baby, it’s all natural. He snickered to himself as he walked, his smug amusement only fueled by her mutterings. “You really are a liar,” he declared. “I know you love being handled by me.” That was definitely meant to sound dirty and filled with innuendo. It was just the way he was. No use in changing that.
He decided to keep her on her toes by surprising her, stopping in his tracks to hoist her back to his front. And boy did he surprise her! Her blue eyes were wide and her red lips had parted into a rather befuddled ‘o.’ He couldn’t help but laugh again, amused by her reaction, as well as her snark to his laughing. “Surprised is a good look for you, Weasley,” he told her cheekily.
Ant paused again when she shouted ‘no!’, looking at her expectantly. He listened and immediately brightened up. Shagging times was always best done in a bed after all! “You, Weasley, are a genius.” He turned away from the direction he had originally been walking in, and started down the corridor. “So, want to use those brains, and tell us where we ought to go?”
Dom had the whole flipping summer to think about her and that dumb McLaggen and her feelings toward him. She had the whole summer. Didn’t mean she used the whole summer. In fact, she was able to push it all to the back of her head, and not think of it at all until she was alone in her bed (alone in her bed all summer, athankyou) and then she just missed him like a gaping bloody whole in her side. Like a missing limb.
Because when she was alone, she had nothing to distract her. And she thought about how she… how. She. How she felt about him. And how he didn’t feel that way about her. Because really, nobody feels that way about Dominique Weasley, because she’s shit and she’s used.
And then when she woke up she was determined to have fun while it lasted. So she apparated to France with her sister and her brother and her maman and her dad. And then she apparated there again with Rox and got super smashed (and okay, yeah, she had sex with one French boy named James Valois).
But what she didn’t expect was when she for the first time, in the corridor, before the feast, and he’d gotten a hair cut, and oh my god, her memory had not done him justice, to run as fast as her feet would take her and launch her self on him and kiss him senseless.
Last year had possibly been the most brilliant year of Anthony McLaggen’s life. All because he managed to snag THE Dominique Weasley as his consistent shag partner for the majority of the latter half of the year. It was probably the best thing that could’ve ever happened to him. Dom Weasley was smoking hot. Dom Weasley was beyond perfect. And even better than that, Dom Weasley understood him. She understood the no strings attached no messy emotions that came with the copious amounts of casual sex that they had. Besides, she was a pretty cool girl. She was almost like a bro. So he was getting the best of both worlds.
His summer was pretty cool. He spent the majority of his time up to his usual stupid antics with one of his many bros. So it was a blast. He didn’t really do a lot of consistent shagging - maybe a random girl he’d meet at a party, if he was in the mood. And - he was almost always in the mood. Still, none of them compared to Weasley.
So, when he heard the sound of pounding footsteps and was suddenly kissing a long legged, curvy, ginger girl, he simply grinned against her lips and kissed her right back, hands going to wrap around her waist. His arm muscles had gotten more defined as well! So this lifting and kissing thing? No problem. When he pulled away, he flashed a cheesy grin. “Missed me, then?”
