Propositioning a Champion (Hades/Deon)

[Deon LeBeau]

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D E O N • A M A R I • L E B E A U

Cuz I do not accept any less than someone just as real, as fabulous.
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Deon was in heaven. It couldn't have been in a better time in his life that Hogwarts was to host the Triwizard Tournament, in turn harboring many wonderful guests of the school. Guests who came sailing in on their ship and marching through like statuesque figures from Greek paintings and sculptures. New heroes of their age, amongst them a Champion. Deon's heart throbbed...well...more than his heart, honestly, and it was nothing he was ashamed to admit as he spent his free time gazing at them, waving, smiling, and flirting freely. They took sport in entertaining his infatuation, one or two having tried a taste of him, curiously, secretively, snogging in hidden corners to explore new things. It was Deon's specialty.

However, he was a creature of luxurious grandeur. He did not want just any Durmstrang boy, but the Durmstrang boy. Mister Hades Grigori himself. Buzz about the Yule Ball had become a steady hum these days, always the hottest topic. Who was going? With whom? Who were the Champions taking? Deon wanted to be the one people gasped at when they saw him sweeping into the ball with Hades on his arm. Many would doubt it, mock his silly fantasies, but he wouldn't be discouraged. It was why he was boarding the Durmstrang ship, cowboy style heeled boots click-clacking along the wood with every careful step, arms wrapped around his middle to shield himself from the cold lake mist. His usually lush pink lips were a bit pale, but unwavering with determination. He would do this. He would ask Hades to go to the Yule Ball with him.

"What business do you have here?"

Deon turned to the sound of the Bulgarian voice to see a guy dressed in a blood red cloak with a fur collar staring down at him with dark eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but the other male seemed to have a realization.

"You are boy?" his brows shifted quizzically.

"I am," Deon answered proudly. It didn't matter how he dressed or carried himself, he knew he was a boy. A very fabulous boy.

"You dress..." the Bulgarian searched for the appropriate word.

"What? Like a super model?"

"Cold," he corrected.

Deon shivered, face deadpan. "I was in a hurry. I'm actually looking for Hades Grigori."

"Ah, Hades. He is inside on lower levels. Come with me." The Bulgarian turned and headed for the doors and Deon shivered once more and followed after him. He didn't know what he was to expect when entering the interior of the ship, but he was quite impressed with the vastness of it, like having entered a castle. There was a staircase that descended into the bowels of the ship, its rails scaly like the back of a dragon. There was also a large fireplace like the mouth of a lion where the flames blazed boldly, warm and strong.

"Wait here. I get Hades."

Despite the warmth of the fire, which he stood closer to, hovering his hands over the flames, he asked, "Why can't I go with you?"

"Students of other schools not allowed inside. Steal secrets. Forbidden."

Deon smirked in that provocative way of his. "I won't steal anything...maybe a few hearts."

The male looked at him, having not truly processed what he just said. "Wait here."

Not wanting to have to explain himself, Deon simply smiled and gave a nod, giving in to the request as he would rather get warm by the fire anyway. "Of course." Though his next words were murmured beneath his breath once the other had walked away, "Une telle tête dense...*" He sighed, rubbing his hands together, taking a look around. He wondered how long their travel, then began wondering what the Durmstrang champion would say to his request. He wore his favorite bondage pants just for this occasion, though it didn't really fair well in the cold weather. He would gladly suffer for it, though. It was for the way the pants hugged his hips, bits of pale flesh peeking through the flesh. He wore a sweater, but it was cropped, designed to show his mid-section, however he wore a white undershirt beneath. It was thin, though, nothing against the cool winds. He would make sure to brew up a potion when he got back to the castle to prevent getting sick. He refused. Not this close to the ball.

"Where is Hades?" he asked when he was warm enough, the color back in his face, his back straight and his muscles no longer tense. Dark pools of eyes gazed over at the staircase and he got the urge to journey down them into the mystery of the ship to find his prize himself. Any longer and I just might...



Translation: Such a dense head.*
Clothes: Here
Muse: Paper Gangsta by Lady Gaga
Tagged: Hades Grigori
Words: 804
Credit: CaeJae@Caution2.0