Fic - Punch Lines - H/D [PG13]
Title: Punch lines
Author: alovelycupoftea
Beta: nursedarry
Prompt Number: hd_career_fair #54
Rating: PG13
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: Harry and Draco are panellists on "I’m Sorry, I’m Not on the Floo. (The Counter-Curse to Panel Games)" which is the flagship show of the new Wizarding Wireless Network.
Warnings: Terrible puns.
Word Count: 4,600.
Author's Notes: wemyss I had so much fun with this. I hope you like it.
You can also read it at hd_career_fair Punch Lines
"I’m Sorry, I Haven’t A Clue" is a classic BBC comedy radio show. Silliness abounds in this show, ‘the antidote to panel games’, which features very few of the traditional characteristics of a normal comedy quiz, like rules or a scoring system.
There are some elements which might seem incomprehensible to the uninitiated. An introduction to the show is here. The famous game ‘Mornington Crescent’ (‘Grimmauld Place’ in this wizarding version) is explained here.
"And thank you to Harry Potter, everyone’s favourite Dark Lord Slayer, for joining me on this special programme to launch the new Wizarding Wireless Network! I’m Lee Jordan, your Director General, and coming up next is Stubby Boardman, with Wizard Hits!"
Lee transferred the amplification spells from himself to Stubby, waiting in the next door studio, with a wave of his wand and stood up. He ushered Harry out of the studio and led him down the corridor.
"Harry, that was fantastic! What a brilliant way to re-launch the Wizarding Wireless Network! I didn’t know you were such a master of puns!"
Harry took the Butterbeer Lee handed him, and sat down on the sofa in Lee’s office. "Er, yes. I suppose I haven’t had much time to show off my sense of humour these past years."
Lee smiled, ruefully. "I think the re-launch of the WWN could be a really good way maintaining our post war optimism. When the Minister asked me to head up this project I did a lot of work researching the BBC, you know, the Muggle network?" Harry nodded. His aunt and uncle had always watched the BBC. Vernon had liked to complain about the sort of programmes they wasted his licence fee on. "I’m in talks to bring one of the BBC’s most popular comedy radio shows to a wizarding audience."
Harry took a deep glug of his Butterbeer. "Oh?"
"Yeah. The only thing is, I need panellists. The creative team are moving over. The chairman is actually a wizard - a Muggleborn, but his family were really upper class and they wouldn’t send him anywhere other than Eton, which was also the case for the chap who writes most of the gags. Two of the regular panellists are Squibs. I just need a pianist, and two more funny wizards. And frankly, after that performance you’ve proved yourself a natural on radio. I want you."
Harry bit his lip. "I’m not sure I’m a comedian. I mean, that was probably a fluke. What show is it?"
Lee leaned forwards in his chair. "It’s called, I’m Sorry, I Haven’t A Clue. It’s the..."
"Antidote to Panel Games. I know." Harry leant back on the sofa. The title brought back one of the few good memories he had of the Dursleys. He’d been locked in the kitchen one bank holiday Monday and told to spring clean it. His aunt had forgotten to take the radio with her, and Radio 4 had spent the bank holiday playing back to back classic episodes of Clue, as aficionados called it. Several times he’d had to stick his head in a cupboard for fear of his hysterical laughter being overheard. He plonked his Butterbeer on the coffee table and stuck his hand out. "I’m in."
Lee shook it enthusiastically. "Brilliant! My secretary will owl you when we have the time for the first recording set up. But it’ll be soon - next week sometime, I hope. I want to get it on the air as soon as possible."
He grinned and left the office. Appearing on Clue was more than he could ever have dreamt of. And actually getting to meet the team! Harry threw the Floo powder in the WWN lobby into the fire a little over-enthusiastically. He was going to home and change clothes before going into Muggle London and buying as many Clue CD box sets as had been released.
Lee stared at the door Harry had walked out of for long minutes after he’d left. Harry hadn’t been on his shortlist of potential players, but his contribution to the re-launch show had been quick-witted and funny. And if Harry was on the show, Lee knew the perfect counterpart. It would be electric. Lee sniggered. With puns like that, perhaps he should join the panel. He retrieved a piece of his new headed parchment from his desk drawer and started writing, whistling the I’m Sorry, I Haven’t A Clue theme tune.
~*~
Harry was lying on his squishy three seater sofa chortling along to one of his new CDs. It was only now he was an adult he fully realised just how filthy some of the jokes were. Hearing the chairmen deliver those lines without any hint of innuendo in his voice was making him cry with laughter. He was wiping tears from his cheeks when he heard the distinctive tap-tap of an owl on his window. As he opened the window he recognised it as Lee’s office owl. Ripping the seal, he unfolded the paper excitedly.
Harry,
We start this Monday, with a creative meeting at 2pm and the first recording starting at 7pm. Merlin’s Theatre, Diagon Alley.
See you there!
Lee.
Harry blinked and reread the note. It was actually happening. He felt a bubble of nerves and excitement begin to form in his stomach. Just two days to go!
~*~
Harry knocked on the stage door and waited for someone to come and open it. A middle-aged man with sandy hair, dressed all in black and carrying a walkie talkie opened it, looked him up and down then nodded. "Follow me, Mr Potter. You’re a bit early." He led Harry through a maze of grubby corridors and stopped abruptly at a door, opening it with a hard push. "Here’s the Green Room. Someone will come for you when we’re ready." Harry turned to ask why on earth it was called the green room when it was a shabby blue colour, only to see the back of his guide retreating swiftly down the corridor.
Entering the room, he saw a tray with tea and coffee pots on and some cups and saucers. He began to pour himself a cup of tea, when a shout of laughter made him jump. Despite him loosing his grip on the teapot, it continued to pour. Sometimes Harry loved magic. He added milk, and then turned to see who had made the noise.
Looking round, he saw an elderly gentleman, very smartly dressed, sipping his tea innocently. The two men sitting opposite him at the table were shaking with laughter and hooting uproariously. Harry recognised the cackle coming from the silver haired man, and knew instantly that he was Barry Cryer. The man next to him, Harry thought, must be Tim Brooke-Taylor, and he knew without a doubt the statesman-like one had to be Humphrey Lyttelton.
Harry nervously ran his hands down his front. He’d agonised about what exactly one wore when meeting one’s heroes, and eventually decided on jeans with a shirt and blazer. He’d added dragonhide boots to try and stop him looking too middle aged. Purposefully, he gripped his saucer more firmly and headed across the room.
As he put his cup and saucer down on the square table they were seated round, they turned to face him and stood up.
"Hi." Harry hoped he didn’t sound too nervous. "I’m Harry Potter." He stuck out his hand to Humphrey. The elderly gentleman shook it in a surprisingly firm grip.
His eyes twinkled. "We know who you are, m’boy. I’m Humphrey."
Harry turned slightly to face Barry, who was wearing an alarmingly patterned golfing jumper. "Barry." He winked at Harry as they shook hands.
"Tim. How do you do?" The other man was kindly-looking, with a smile dancing round his lips. "Won’t you sit down?"
"Thank you." Harry sat down next to Humph, butterflies whizzing round his stomach. He’d never seen a picture of Humphrey Lyttelton, but the tall, thin, distinguished-looking man suited the voice he knew so well perfectly.
"We were just talking about how pleased we are to be finally invited on to the WWN." Barry explained. "And wondering who the other panellist is going to be."
Harry frowned. "I never even asked Lee. I have no idea."
"Well, that makes it more exciting then, doesn’t it?" Tim grinned at Harry. "We know Lee wanted it to be someone else well known in the Wizarding world, unlike we three, who’ve spent most of our lives as Muggles." He glanced at Barry. "Both Barry and I had witches for mothers, who married Muggles. And Humph, well, we always knew that no-one could make a trumpet sound like that without some sort of magic."
Humphrey smiled at them beatifically. "You know the only magic that goes into my trumpet is from my mouth." Barry sniggered.
Tim continued, unbothered by their interruption. "Me and Barry are squibs. I’ve got some early memories of being taken into the wizarding world as a child, but as soon as it became apparent that I had no magic, my mother stopped bringing me. I think she thought it was unfair to show me a world I wouldn’t be a part of." He smiled.
"After all these years we finally get to bring the wizarding world what they’ve been missing, however." Barry grinned. "They are not going to know what’s hit ‘em."
The noise of the door opening made Harry look away from his companions. In walked Lee and Neville, with the sandy haired man who had shown Harry to the room, and someone else. Neville waved at Harry tentatively, and made his way over.
"Hi, Harry." Harry did the introductions and Neville sat down with them.
"It’s great to see you, Nev. I’m so pleased you’re the other panellist!" Harry privately thought Neville was an odd choice, but Lee seemed to know what he was doing.
"Oh, no, Harry, no. I’m just here to play the piano. Lee badgered me into it. I’m not a panellist. That’s..."
Neville was cut off by Lee calling to them. "Alright folks! If it’s alright with everyone we’ll stay in here for a while. They’re still setting up all the equipment in the theatre, so we can’t get on the stage just yet. You all seem to have introduced yourselves, but this is Paul, the producer, and Iain Pattinson, the creative consultant. Get yourself another drink if you want one, then we’ll get going."
Harry cleared his throat. "Um, Lee? Who’s the other panellist?"
Lee grinned, and Harry felt his butterflies return. "He’s on his way. No need to ruin the surprise!"
Harry looked at Neville, who seemed to be concentrating on stirring his tea. He looked again at Lee’s mischievous expression and felt that sinking feeling in his stomach. He muttered, almost to himself. "I think I’ll need a coffee."
~*~
They were seated round the table, Lee at the head, looking at the pages he’d passed round. "Right, we’re basically going to go through the games we’ve got planned and make sure everyone knows the rules, in a manner of speaking. Humph doesn’t like to go through his parts in advance, he likes to be, er, fresh, as it were."
"I think you mean that I can only bear to read it once." The deadpan delivery that Harry always associated with Humphrey made him smile and forget some of his nerves. He shifted in his seat and his butterflies began to calm. Just then, the door banged open. All the heads round the table turned to see who had arrived.
The remaining panellist had arrived. The sinking feeling reached Harry’s toes.
In waltzed Draco bloody Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Draco sodding Malfoy. Harry felt his mouth open.
The Malfoy trials had not lived up to the hype they had caused in the press. Malfoy senior pleaded guilty, had a quick trial and was sentenced to ten years in Azkaban. Narcissa Malfoy had got two years probation, mainly as a result of Harry explaining what had happened in the Forest that night. Draco Malfoy had been acquitted on the grounds of coercion as a result of his testimony and Harry’s memories of his visions.
Since then, Draco had been all over the press. He had given interviews to the Daily Prophet and Alohomara!, talking about the donations he’d given to all the restoration charities, and the terror of living with a mad man. Barely a day went by when he wasn’t featured on the society pages for attending charity balls or events, and more often, pictured coming out of clubs and parties, usually with an attractive man on his arm. He had single-mindedly transformed the Malfoy image to one of a family forced into misdeeds who were now willingly and tirelessly working for the good of wizardkind.
Harry avoided high profile events whenever possible, and avoided Malfoy at the ones he was persuaded into attending. Harry was only doing this radio show because these people had been his salvation one miserable day. And now Draco bloody Malfoy was here to ruin it for him.
He was startled out of his internal grumbling by Lee, who was introducing Malfoy to everyone. "Of course, you know Potter." Harry didn’t miss the downright wicked look on Lee’s face as he said that.
Malfoy extended his hand, just as he had to everyone else. "Potter."
Harry stood up and shook it. "Malfoy."
Lee grinned. "Let’s carry on, shall we? Malfoy, this is for you." He handed the sheaf of papers to him. "Right!"
~*~
Harry was relieved when they took a tea break. Malfoy had listened attentively and made funny suggestions. He seemed to be genuinely enthusiastic. Harry figured he’d just realised how popular this show was bound to be, and saw it as another element of his charm offensive. He was determined not to be taken in by the charming façade. He stomped off to the loo to try and get some peace and quiet.
Arriving back in the room, Harry was pouring himself another cup of tea when he heard someone approach. "It appears we’re going to be on opposing teams once again, Potter."
Harry gripped his spoon. "So it seems, Malfoy."
~*~
"We present I’m Sorry, I’m Not on the Floo, the Counter-Curse to Panel Games! At the piano is Neville Longbottom, and your chairman is Humphrey Lyttelton!"
HL: Hello and welcome to the first show in the first series of I’m Sorry, I’m Not on the Floo, the Counter-Curse to Panel Games. Hmm. First series. That rather implies there is going to be more than one. Botheration.
You find us in Merlin’s Theatre in Diagon Alley, London. Merlin is, of course, so famous that his name has become a swear word. Despite having defeated Voldemort, Harry Potter still hasn’t had anyone shout his name at a climactic moment.
As wizarding London’s largest shopping area, Diagon Alley is home to the old, the ridiculous, the obsolete and the tawdry. Let’s meet the teams!
On my left are Barry Cryer and Harry Potter, and on my right are Tim Brooke-Taylor and Draco Malfoy! And making herself comfortable on the desk next to me is our lovely scorer, Samantha.
Neville plays Samantha’s tune
HL: Best get started, I suppose. Our first game is called Close Quotes. The game works as follows. I give each team member the first half of a common saying or famous quote. They have to finish it off. If they get it right, I’ll dock points for being a smart-alec.
Here’s one for you, Barry. "He who hesitates..."
BC: ...Is Minister for Magic.
HL: Very good.
Tim, "Keep your friends close..."
TBT: ...And your wallet closer!
HL: The correct answer is "Keep your friends close and your enemies stupefied."
Harry, here’s one for you. "One swallow..."
HP: ...doesn’t make a commitment. At least not according to Malfoy!
HL: Too true.
Draco, "If at first you don’t succeed..."
DM: ...You’re not the Malfoy heir.
HL: Yes.
Barry, this is for you. "Neither a borrower nor a lender be..."
BC: ...Work at Gringotts!
HL: Absolutely right.
Tim, "A fate worse than..."
TBT: ...an evening with Celestia Warbuck.
HL: The actual answer is "A fate worse than a Dementor’s Kiss." So well done for getting it right.
Harry, how does the phrase "A snitch in time..." end?
HP: A snitch in time is never caught by Malfoy.
HL: Quite right. "A snitch in time saves nine hours of Quidditch."
Draco, "Happier than..."
DM: ...Potter in a second hand clothes shop.
HL: The correct answer is "Happier than a niffler in a Gringotts vault."
Well done, everyone. I hope we play that round again. Not.
The next game is called "Grimmauld Place." Barry and Tim have played this game in its Muggle incarnation as "Mornington Crescent". However, as neither Harry nor Draco have played the game before we will be playing by the Standard Ancient and Modern Wizarding rules which mean that Morgana’s law is not to be invoked and all moves have to be within apparating distance.
Barry, will you please start?
BC: Diagon Alley.
HL: Tim?
TBT: Kings Cross Station.
HL: Harry?
HP: Knockturn Alley.
HL: Draco?
DM: Charing Cross Rd.
BC: Vauxhall.
TBT: Ministry of Magic.
BC: Humph, you said Morgana’s law is not to be invoked.
HL: Did I? I did. Carry on, Harry.
HP: Russell Square.
DM: Embankment.
BC: Euston Road.
TBT: Oxford Street.
HP: Piccadilly Circus.
DM: Grimmauld Place!
HL: Well done, Draco. You showed verve and skill in that round.
Lee held up his hand to stop proceedings, and cast Sonorus "Fantastic, chaps. We’re going to have a short break now and check that all the recording spells are working as we’d hoped. Audience members, teams, back in twenty minutes please!"
Harry stretched out his legs and took a gulp of water from the glass in front of him. He was literally shaking with excitement. Malfoy stood up from his seat and stretched lazily. Harry didn’t even hear Barry begin to speak, he was fascinated by the sliver of pale skin that emerged above Malfoy’s jeans as his jumper rode up.
"Harry. Harry?"
He shook his head. "Sorry, Barry, what did you say?"
"That insult thing you’ve got with Malfoy really gives the programme another dimension. Keep it up!"
Harry frowned. "Sorry?"
"Those lines you direct at each other! One swallow doesn’t make a commitment for a Malfoy!" Barry chuckled. "It’s a wonderful comic touch. I didn’t hear you mention it in the meeting though, but that was good because it meant it got spontaneous laughter from me and Tim."
Harry frowned again. "What? No! It’s not a comedy thing. We really do hate each other!"
Barry stood up and clapped him on the back. "Sure you do. D’ya reckon I can get someone to rustle me up a glass of wine?" He wandered off backstage. Harry stared after him.
He didn’t notice that Malfoy had walked over to him until a voice next to his chair made him jump. "Good work on Grimmauld Place, Potter. Can’t even win the game that’s based around your own house?"
"Shut up, Malfoy." Harry glared at him.
"Witty comeback. I’d ask if you are saving all your wit for the show, but it’s clear you’re not." Malfoy sauntered off the stage before Harry could retort.
He decided to go and see if the green room could furnish him with any more coffee. If Lee stopped them every two rounds, this was going to be a long night.
~*~
The theatre bell rang as Harry was already back in his seat on stage. Barry hurriedly rejoined him, clutching a glass of wine. "You’ve thought up some more lines to use on Malfoy, Harry?"
Harry turned to face him. "They’re not lines! We really do hate each other!"
A rich throaty chuckle greeted that remark, only stopping when Humph coughed.
"I hope we’re not going to stop every two rounds, Lee. Some of us have homes to go to, you know." Everyone laughed.
"I know, Humph. We’re going straight through now to the end of the show." Lee signalled to the crew and the audience fell silent.
~*~
HL: Next is a round called Uxbridge English Dictionary. English is a subtle language, and there are those who don't fully appreciate its complexity.
For example, many people don't understand the difference between the words 'atrophy' and 'emaciation'. Well, those of you who went to Hogwarts know that 'emaciation' is the state of being abnormally thin due to the lack of nutrition or disease, whereas 'atrophy' is what Harry beat Draco to for Quidditch.
Teams, I want you to suggest some other entries to the Uxbridge English Dictionary. Barry?
BC: Realist: a catalogue of bottoms.
HL: Draco?
DM: Divination: a country of idiots.
HL: Very good. Harry?
HP: Draconian: one of Draco’s conquests.
HL: Absolutely. Tim?
TBT: Profit: the best looking teacher at Hogwarts.
HL: Yes. Barry?
BC: Muggle: a cuddle from a robber.
HL: Draco?
DM: Pottering: to wander round aimlessly doing nothing.
HL: Too true. Harry?
HP: Diagon Alley: to move forwards and sideways at the same time.
HL: Yes. Tim?
TBT: Boomerang: show displeasure to a dessert.
HL: Now any of you feel free to chime in while I have a little nap.
BC: Bipolar: a bear who is grizzly one day and super the next.
TBT: Broadcasting: spells being done by witches.
HP: Dictator: a humorously shaped root vegetable.
DM: Artery: shooting arrows at paintings.
TBT: Implication: an ointment for little goblins.
BC: Dunderhead: what a sculptor says when he's finished the top part of a bust.
DM: Impermeable: hair that is impossible to style; Potter’s hair.
HP: Negligent: a man who wears lingerie.
TBT: Lactose: the effect of frostbite.
HP: Comatose: my foot’s gone to sleep.
DM: Sweet Trolley: an abundance of delightful trolls.
BC: Piccaninny: The voting system for the Wizengamot.
HL: Oh, are you still going? Nevermind. Let’s end there.
The post owl nearly expired with the burden of delivering our post. There was a parcel from a Mrs Trellis of North Wales. The accompanying letter reads,
"Dear Bertie Botts,
I am unable to identify the flavour of this bean. Please return it labelled.
Yours sincerely,
Mrs Trellis."
It's time for a musical game now, in which the teams sing One Incantation To The Tune Of Another - and even as those words crossed my lips, I could sense the teams thinking "sing one incantation to the tune of another - what on earth are we supposed to do here then?"
Well if explained properly, this is actually much less complicated than it might seem. You see teams, although we say 'one incantation', that one incantation can actually be divided in two. I'm sorry to throw all these technical terms at you, but two is what's known as a 'prime number' as it is the integer that is the sum of one and one. As you know, one is also a prime number, but it is also a cardinal numeral. An integer is defined as a number that cannot be factorised into other integers but is only divisible by itself or one, whereas a cardinal is a butterfly of the genus 'pandoriana pandora', commonly found in the meadows of the temperate regions of Southern Europe.
Now I can sense, teams, that you're eager to learn more. One plus two equals three, and the numbers one, two, three, usually expressed in that order by experts, are the factors of six, which is what's known as the first perfect number - and the only thing I know for certain about a perfect number is that we've never yet heard one from Neville Longbottom. It was back in 1986 that Neville first started to learn the piano. Within two or three weeks he could manage to tap out a few basic tunes with one finger; obviously his later career never fulfilled that early promise...
Tim, I would like, well, I wouldn’t like, actually. Please sing the theme from "Scooby Doo" to "Guide Me, O Thou Great Redeemer".
TBT: "Guide Me, O Thou Great Redeemer"
HL: Barry, will you please sing "Don’t Blame it on the Boogie" to the tune of "Scotland the Brave?
BC: "Scotland the Brave"
HL: Crikey. Draco, please sing "The Teddy Bears’ Picnic" to the tune of "She".
DM: "She"
HL: And finally, Harry. Please sing "We Will Gather Lilacs" to the tune of the popular Muggle TV show, "Hawaii 5-0".
HP: "Hawaii 5-0"
HL: I’m sorry to say that we’re running out of time. Hang on a minute, no, I’m not.
There is just time, however, for our final round, Aurors’ Songbook. Teams please suggest songs suitable for the fine witches and wizards of Magical Law Enforcement.
Barry?
BC: Suspicious Minds.
HL: Tim?
TBT: Jailhouse Rock.
HL: Harry?
HP: Baby, Can I Hex You?
HL: Draco?
DM: Wonderwand.
HL: Barry?
BC: Don’t Cry For Me, Sergeant Tina.
HL: Tim?
TBT: Everybody Hexes.
HL: Harry?
HP: Love Is A Battlefield.
HL: Draco?
DM: All Cursed Out.
HL: Any other suggestions?
BC: Please Police Me?
HP: Anything with the accompaniment of the Azkabanjo?
HL: On that note I think we should stop. As the floo cleaner of time coughs soot all over the housewife of destiny and the shagpile rug of fate is dirtied by the coals of eternity, I notice it’s the end of the show. Goodnight!
~*~
Lee recorded a couple of minutes of applause before ending the spells and bounding onto the stage.
"Fantastic! Well done everyone. As I am sure the audience reaction proved this is going to be a big hit! We’ll be back next week to record more episodes. I can’t wait!"
Harry grinned, widely. He’d done it. Barry offered him his hand across the desk. "Well done, Harry. As soon as I saw you and Draco interact I knew you two would add something special to the show. I’m really looking forward to recording the rest of the series. Now, where’s the nearest pub? We should go for drinks!"
He watched Barry saunter off stage. He wanted to gather himself for a moment before joining everyone in the pub. He shook hands with Tim and Humph as they went off stage, no doubt following Barry to the Leaky Cauldron. He looked around. Where was Draco?
Harry walked past the door to the Green Room and headed to the gents. Staring in the mirror, he splashed some water on his face. He still couldn’t believe that he’d just done Clue! Leaving the toilets, he turned right and headed down a corridor. Looking round, he realised he had not retraced his steps and was somewhere in the backstage area. As he was trying to find his way back he heard footsteps behind him, echoing on the stone floor.
"How does it feel to be beaten by me, Potter?" Malfoy backed him into a corner in the maze of corridors backstage.
"Malfoy, the scoring system is deliberately non-existent; there are no winners." Harry shifted from foot to foot, unsettled by Malfoy’s closeness.
"Whatever. I think it’s clear I kicked your arse in the contest of one-liners." Malfoy smirked.
Harry attempted to look bored. He didn’t know if he managed it. "Yeah, yeah. You came out on top. It was a brilliant team show, that’s all that matters."
Malfoy advanced even closer. "Potter. I always come out on top." His voice had dropped somehow; it seemed lower than his normal speaking voice.
Determinedly, Harry met Malfoy’s gaze. He bit his lip.
"Is that so, Malfoy?"
"That’s so, Potter." Malfoy’s eyes flickered down to Harry’s chewed lip.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Harry didn’t know which of them moved first, but he did know that Malfoy’s lips crashing against his, pulling his chewed bottom lip between his teeth and gently nibbling on it before soothing it with his tongue felt amazing. He knew that a much, much better use of Malfoy’s tongue was tracing his lips before pushing into his mouth, rather than spitting cutting witticisms at him.
Malfoy pressed even closer, trapping Harry against the wall and bringing his hard chest against Harry’s. When Malfoy moved so they were pressed hip to hip, Harry gasped and pulled away.
"Remember this, Malfoy."
Malfoy blinked and looked down into Harry’s eyes.
"You only come out on top when I let you."
A genuine smile quirked the edges of Malfoy’s lips. He breathed against Harry’s mouth. "Is everything going to be a competition between us?"
"I wouldn’t have it any other way."
fin
Author: alovelycupoftea
Beta: nursedarry
Prompt Number: hd_career_fair #54
Rating: PG13
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: Harry and Draco are panellists on "I’m Sorry, I’m Not on the Floo. (The Counter-Curse to Panel Games)" which is the flagship show of the new Wizarding Wireless Network.
Warnings: Terrible puns.
Word Count: 4,600.
Author's Notes: wemyss I had so much fun with this. I hope you like it.
You can also read it at hd_career_fair Punch Lines
"I’m Sorry, I Haven’t A Clue" is a classic BBC comedy radio show. Silliness abounds in this show, ‘the antidote to panel games’, which features very few of the traditional characteristics of a normal comedy quiz, like rules or a scoring system.
There are some elements which might seem incomprehensible to the uninitiated. An introduction to the show is here. The famous game ‘Mornington Crescent’ (‘Grimmauld Place’ in this wizarding version) is explained here.
"And thank you to Harry Potter, everyone’s favourite Dark Lord Slayer, for joining me on this special programme to launch the new Wizarding Wireless Network! I’m Lee Jordan, your Director General, and coming up next is Stubby Boardman, with Wizard Hits!"
Lee transferred the amplification spells from himself to Stubby, waiting in the next door studio, with a wave of his wand and stood up. He ushered Harry out of the studio and led him down the corridor.
"Harry, that was fantastic! What a brilliant way to re-launch the Wizarding Wireless Network! I didn’t know you were such a master of puns!"
Harry took the Butterbeer Lee handed him, and sat down on the sofa in Lee’s office. "Er, yes. I suppose I haven’t had much time to show off my sense of humour these past years."
Lee smiled, ruefully. "I think the re-launch of the WWN could be a really good way maintaining our post war optimism. When the Minister asked me to head up this project I did a lot of work researching the BBC, you know, the Muggle network?" Harry nodded. His aunt and uncle had always watched the BBC. Vernon had liked to complain about the sort of programmes they wasted his licence fee on. "I’m in talks to bring one of the BBC’s most popular comedy radio shows to a wizarding audience."
Harry took a deep glug of his Butterbeer. "Oh?"
"Yeah. The only thing is, I need panellists. The creative team are moving over. The chairman is actually a wizard - a Muggleborn, but his family were really upper class and they wouldn’t send him anywhere other than Eton, which was also the case for the chap who writes most of the gags. Two of the regular panellists are Squibs. I just need a pianist, and two more funny wizards. And frankly, after that performance you’ve proved yourself a natural on radio. I want you."
Harry bit his lip. "I’m not sure I’m a comedian. I mean, that was probably a fluke. What show is it?"
Lee leaned forwards in his chair. "It’s called, I’m Sorry, I Haven’t A Clue. It’s the..."
"Antidote to Panel Games. I know." Harry leant back on the sofa. The title brought back one of the few good memories he had of the Dursleys. He’d been locked in the kitchen one bank holiday Monday and told to spring clean it. His aunt had forgotten to take the radio with her, and Radio 4 had spent the bank holiday playing back to back classic episodes of Clue, as aficionados called it. Several times he’d had to stick his head in a cupboard for fear of his hysterical laughter being overheard. He plonked his Butterbeer on the coffee table and stuck his hand out. "I’m in."
Lee shook it enthusiastically. "Brilliant! My secretary will owl you when we have the time for the first recording set up. But it’ll be soon - next week sometime, I hope. I want to get it on the air as soon as possible."
He grinned and left the office. Appearing on Clue was more than he could ever have dreamt of. And actually getting to meet the team! Harry threw the Floo powder in the WWN lobby into the fire a little over-enthusiastically. He was going to home and change clothes before going into Muggle London and buying as many Clue CD box sets as had been released.
Lee stared at the door Harry had walked out of for long minutes after he’d left. Harry hadn’t been on his shortlist of potential players, but his contribution to the re-launch show had been quick-witted and funny. And if Harry was on the show, Lee knew the perfect counterpart. It would be electric. Lee sniggered. With puns like that, perhaps he should join the panel. He retrieved a piece of his new headed parchment from his desk drawer and started writing, whistling the I’m Sorry, I Haven’t A Clue theme tune.
~*~
Harry was lying on his squishy three seater sofa chortling along to one of his new CDs. It was only now he was an adult he fully realised just how filthy some of the jokes were. Hearing the chairmen deliver those lines without any hint of innuendo in his voice was making him cry with laughter. He was wiping tears from his cheeks when he heard the distinctive tap-tap of an owl on his window. As he opened the window he recognised it as Lee’s office owl. Ripping the seal, he unfolded the paper excitedly.
Harry,
We start this Monday, with a creative meeting at 2pm and the first recording starting at 7pm. Merlin’s Theatre, Diagon Alley.
See you there!
Lee.
Harry blinked and reread the note. It was actually happening. He felt a bubble of nerves and excitement begin to form in his stomach. Just two days to go!
~*~
Harry knocked on the stage door and waited for someone to come and open it. A middle-aged man with sandy hair, dressed all in black and carrying a walkie talkie opened it, looked him up and down then nodded. "Follow me, Mr Potter. You’re a bit early." He led Harry through a maze of grubby corridors and stopped abruptly at a door, opening it with a hard push. "Here’s the Green Room. Someone will come for you when we’re ready." Harry turned to ask why on earth it was called the green room when it was a shabby blue colour, only to see the back of his guide retreating swiftly down the corridor.
Entering the room, he saw a tray with tea and coffee pots on and some cups and saucers. He began to pour himself a cup of tea, when a shout of laughter made him jump. Despite him loosing his grip on the teapot, it continued to pour. Sometimes Harry loved magic. He added milk, and then turned to see who had made the noise.
Looking round, he saw an elderly gentleman, very smartly dressed, sipping his tea innocently. The two men sitting opposite him at the table were shaking with laughter and hooting uproariously. Harry recognised the cackle coming from the silver haired man, and knew instantly that he was Barry Cryer. The man next to him, Harry thought, must be Tim Brooke-Taylor, and he knew without a doubt the statesman-like one had to be Humphrey Lyttelton.
Harry nervously ran his hands down his front. He’d agonised about what exactly one wore when meeting one’s heroes, and eventually decided on jeans with a shirt and blazer. He’d added dragonhide boots to try and stop him looking too middle aged. Purposefully, he gripped his saucer more firmly and headed across the room.
As he put his cup and saucer down on the square table they were seated round, they turned to face him and stood up.
"Hi." Harry hoped he didn’t sound too nervous. "I’m Harry Potter." He stuck out his hand to Humphrey. The elderly gentleman shook it in a surprisingly firm grip.
His eyes twinkled. "We know who you are, m’boy. I’m Humphrey."
Harry turned slightly to face Barry, who was wearing an alarmingly patterned golfing jumper. "Barry." He winked at Harry as they shook hands.
"Tim. How do you do?" The other man was kindly-looking, with a smile dancing round his lips. "Won’t you sit down?"
"Thank you." Harry sat down next to Humph, butterflies whizzing round his stomach. He’d never seen a picture of Humphrey Lyttelton, but the tall, thin, distinguished-looking man suited the voice he knew so well perfectly.
"We were just talking about how pleased we are to be finally invited on to the WWN." Barry explained. "And wondering who the other panellist is going to be."
Harry frowned. "I never even asked Lee. I have no idea."
"Well, that makes it more exciting then, doesn’t it?" Tim grinned at Harry. "We know Lee wanted it to be someone else well known in the Wizarding world, unlike we three, who’ve spent most of our lives as Muggles." He glanced at Barry. "Both Barry and I had witches for mothers, who married Muggles. And Humph, well, we always knew that no-one could make a trumpet sound like that without some sort of magic."
Humphrey smiled at them beatifically. "You know the only magic that goes into my trumpet is from my mouth." Barry sniggered.
Tim continued, unbothered by their interruption. "Me and Barry are squibs. I’ve got some early memories of being taken into the wizarding world as a child, but as soon as it became apparent that I had no magic, my mother stopped bringing me. I think she thought it was unfair to show me a world I wouldn’t be a part of." He smiled.
"After all these years we finally get to bring the wizarding world what they’ve been missing, however." Barry grinned. "They are not going to know what’s hit ‘em."
The noise of the door opening made Harry look away from his companions. In walked Lee and Neville, with the sandy haired man who had shown Harry to the room, and someone else. Neville waved at Harry tentatively, and made his way over.
"Hi, Harry." Harry did the introductions and Neville sat down with them.
"It’s great to see you, Nev. I’m so pleased you’re the other panellist!" Harry privately thought Neville was an odd choice, but Lee seemed to know what he was doing.
"Oh, no, Harry, no. I’m just here to play the piano. Lee badgered me into it. I’m not a panellist. That’s..."
Neville was cut off by Lee calling to them. "Alright folks! If it’s alright with everyone we’ll stay in here for a while. They’re still setting up all the equipment in the theatre, so we can’t get on the stage just yet. You all seem to have introduced yourselves, but this is Paul, the producer, and Iain Pattinson, the creative consultant. Get yourself another drink if you want one, then we’ll get going."
Harry cleared his throat. "Um, Lee? Who’s the other panellist?"
Lee grinned, and Harry felt his butterflies return. "He’s on his way. No need to ruin the surprise!"
Harry looked at Neville, who seemed to be concentrating on stirring his tea. He looked again at Lee’s mischievous expression and felt that sinking feeling in his stomach. He muttered, almost to himself. "I think I’ll need a coffee."
~*~
They were seated round the table, Lee at the head, looking at the pages he’d passed round. "Right, we’re basically going to go through the games we’ve got planned and make sure everyone knows the rules, in a manner of speaking. Humph doesn’t like to go through his parts in advance, he likes to be, er, fresh, as it were."
"I think you mean that I can only bear to read it once." The deadpan delivery that Harry always associated with Humphrey made him smile and forget some of his nerves. He shifted in his seat and his butterflies began to calm. Just then, the door banged open. All the heads round the table turned to see who had arrived.
The remaining panellist had arrived. The sinking feeling reached Harry’s toes.
In waltzed Draco bloody Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Draco sodding Malfoy. Harry felt his mouth open.
The Malfoy trials had not lived up to the hype they had caused in the press. Malfoy senior pleaded guilty, had a quick trial and was sentenced to ten years in Azkaban. Narcissa Malfoy had got two years probation, mainly as a result of Harry explaining what had happened in the Forest that night. Draco Malfoy had been acquitted on the grounds of coercion as a result of his testimony and Harry’s memories of his visions.
Since then, Draco had been all over the press. He had given interviews to the Daily Prophet and Alohomara!, talking about the donations he’d given to all the restoration charities, and the terror of living with a mad man. Barely a day went by when he wasn’t featured on the society pages for attending charity balls or events, and more often, pictured coming out of clubs and parties, usually with an attractive man on his arm. He had single-mindedly transformed the Malfoy image to one of a family forced into misdeeds who were now willingly and tirelessly working for the good of wizardkind.
Harry avoided high profile events whenever possible, and avoided Malfoy at the ones he was persuaded into attending. Harry was only doing this radio show because these people had been his salvation one miserable day. And now Draco bloody Malfoy was here to ruin it for him.
He was startled out of his internal grumbling by Lee, who was introducing Malfoy to everyone. "Of course, you know Potter." Harry didn’t miss the downright wicked look on Lee’s face as he said that.
Malfoy extended his hand, just as he had to everyone else. "Potter."
Harry stood up and shook it. "Malfoy."
Lee grinned. "Let’s carry on, shall we? Malfoy, this is for you." He handed the sheaf of papers to him. "Right!"
~*~
Harry was relieved when they took a tea break. Malfoy had listened attentively and made funny suggestions. He seemed to be genuinely enthusiastic. Harry figured he’d just realised how popular this show was bound to be, and saw it as another element of his charm offensive. He was determined not to be taken in by the charming façade. He stomped off to the loo to try and get some peace and quiet.
Arriving back in the room, Harry was pouring himself another cup of tea when he heard someone approach. "It appears we’re going to be on opposing teams once again, Potter."
Harry gripped his spoon. "So it seems, Malfoy."
~*~
"We present I’m Sorry, I’m Not on the Floo, the Counter-Curse to Panel Games! At the piano is Neville Longbottom, and your chairman is Humphrey Lyttelton!"
HL: Hello and welcome to the first show in the first series of I’m Sorry, I’m Not on the Floo, the Counter-Curse to Panel Games. Hmm. First series. That rather implies there is going to be more than one. Botheration.
You find us in Merlin’s Theatre in Diagon Alley, London. Merlin is, of course, so famous that his name has become a swear word. Despite having defeated Voldemort, Harry Potter still hasn’t had anyone shout his name at a climactic moment.
As wizarding London’s largest shopping area, Diagon Alley is home to the old, the ridiculous, the obsolete and the tawdry. Let’s meet the teams!
On my left are Barry Cryer and Harry Potter, and on my right are Tim Brooke-Taylor and Draco Malfoy! And making herself comfortable on the desk next to me is our lovely scorer, Samantha.
Neville plays Samantha’s tune
HL: Best get started, I suppose. Our first game is called Close Quotes. The game works as follows. I give each team member the first half of a common saying or famous quote. They have to finish it off. If they get it right, I’ll dock points for being a smart-alec.
Here’s one for you, Barry. "He who hesitates..."
BC: ...Is Minister for Magic.
HL: Very good.
Tim, "Keep your friends close..."
TBT: ...And your wallet closer!
HL: The correct answer is "Keep your friends close and your enemies stupefied."
Harry, here’s one for you. "One swallow..."
HP: ...doesn’t make a commitment. At least not according to Malfoy!
HL: Too true.
Draco, "If at first you don’t succeed..."
DM: ...You’re not the Malfoy heir.
HL: Yes.
Barry, this is for you. "Neither a borrower nor a lender be..."
BC: ...Work at Gringotts!
HL: Absolutely right.
Tim, "A fate worse than..."
TBT: ...an evening with Celestia Warbuck.
HL: The actual answer is "A fate worse than a Dementor’s Kiss." So well done for getting it right.
Harry, how does the phrase "A snitch in time..." end?
HP: A snitch in time is never caught by Malfoy.
HL: Quite right. "A snitch in time saves nine hours of Quidditch."
Draco, "Happier than..."
DM: ...Potter in a second hand clothes shop.
HL: The correct answer is "Happier than a niffler in a Gringotts vault."
Well done, everyone. I hope we play that round again. Not.
The next game is called "Grimmauld Place." Barry and Tim have played this game in its Muggle incarnation as "Mornington Crescent". However, as neither Harry nor Draco have played the game before we will be playing by the Standard Ancient and Modern Wizarding rules which mean that Morgana’s law is not to be invoked and all moves have to be within apparating distance.
Barry, will you please start?
BC: Diagon Alley.
HL: Tim?
TBT: Kings Cross Station.
HL: Harry?
HP: Knockturn Alley.
HL: Draco?
DM: Charing Cross Rd.
BC: Vauxhall.
TBT: Ministry of Magic.
BC: Humph, you said Morgana’s law is not to be invoked.
HL: Did I? I did. Carry on, Harry.
HP: Russell Square.
DM: Embankment.
BC: Euston Road.
TBT: Oxford Street.
HP: Piccadilly Circus.
DM: Grimmauld Place!
HL: Well done, Draco. You showed verve and skill in that round.
Lee held up his hand to stop proceedings, and cast Sonorus "Fantastic, chaps. We’re going to have a short break now and check that all the recording spells are working as we’d hoped. Audience members, teams, back in twenty minutes please!"
Harry stretched out his legs and took a gulp of water from the glass in front of him. He was literally shaking with excitement. Malfoy stood up from his seat and stretched lazily. Harry didn’t even hear Barry begin to speak, he was fascinated by the sliver of pale skin that emerged above Malfoy’s jeans as his jumper rode up.
"Harry. Harry?"
He shook his head. "Sorry, Barry, what did you say?"
"That insult thing you’ve got with Malfoy really gives the programme another dimension. Keep it up!"
Harry frowned. "Sorry?"
"Those lines you direct at each other! One swallow doesn’t make a commitment for a Malfoy!" Barry chuckled. "It’s a wonderful comic touch. I didn’t hear you mention it in the meeting though, but that was good because it meant it got spontaneous laughter from me and Tim."
Harry frowned again. "What? No! It’s not a comedy thing. We really do hate each other!"
Barry stood up and clapped him on the back. "Sure you do. D’ya reckon I can get someone to rustle me up a glass of wine?" He wandered off backstage. Harry stared after him.
He didn’t notice that Malfoy had walked over to him until a voice next to his chair made him jump. "Good work on Grimmauld Place, Potter. Can’t even win the game that’s based around your own house?"
"Shut up, Malfoy." Harry glared at him.
"Witty comeback. I’d ask if you are saving all your wit for the show, but it’s clear you’re not." Malfoy sauntered off the stage before Harry could retort.
He decided to go and see if the green room could furnish him with any more coffee. If Lee stopped them every two rounds, this was going to be a long night.
~*~
The theatre bell rang as Harry was already back in his seat on stage. Barry hurriedly rejoined him, clutching a glass of wine. "You’ve thought up some more lines to use on Malfoy, Harry?"
Harry turned to face him. "They’re not lines! We really do hate each other!"
A rich throaty chuckle greeted that remark, only stopping when Humph coughed.
"I hope we’re not going to stop every two rounds, Lee. Some of us have homes to go to, you know." Everyone laughed.
"I know, Humph. We’re going straight through now to the end of the show." Lee signalled to the crew and the audience fell silent.
~*~
HL: Next is a round called Uxbridge English Dictionary. English is a subtle language, and there are those who don't fully appreciate its complexity.
For example, many people don't understand the difference between the words 'atrophy' and 'emaciation'. Well, those of you who went to Hogwarts know that 'emaciation' is the state of being abnormally thin due to the lack of nutrition or disease, whereas 'atrophy' is what Harry beat Draco to for Quidditch.
Teams, I want you to suggest some other entries to the Uxbridge English Dictionary. Barry?
BC: Realist: a catalogue of bottoms.
HL: Draco?
DM: Divination: a country of idiots.
HL: Very good. Harry?
HP: Draconian: one of Draco’s conquests.
HL: Absolutely. Tim?
TBT: Profit: the best looking teacher at Hogwarts.
HL: Yes. Barry?
BC: Muggle: a cuddle from a robber.
HL: Draco?
DM: Pottering: to wander round aimlessly doing nothing.
HL: Too true. Harry?
HP: Diagon Alley: to move forwards and sideways at the same time.
HL: Yes. Tim?
TBT: Boomerang: show displeasure to a dessert.
HL: Now any of you feel free to chime in while I have a little nap.
BC: Bipolar: a bear who is grizzly one day and super the next.
TBT: Broadcasting: spells being done by witches.
HP: Dictator: a humorously shaped root vegetable.
DM: Artery: shooting arrows at paintings.
TBT: Implication: an ointment for little goblins.
BC: Dunderhead: what a sculptor says when he's finished the top part of a bust.
DM: Impermeable: hair that is impossible to style; Potter’s hair.
HP: Negligent: a man who wears lingerie.
TBT: Lactose: the effect of frostbite.
HP: Comatose: my foot’s gone to sleep.
DM: Sweet Trolley: an abundance of delightful trolls.
BC: Piccaninny: The voting system for the Wizengamot.
HL: Oh, are you still going? Nevermind. Let’s end there.
The post owl nearly expired with the burden of delivering our post. There was a parcel from a Mrs Trellis of North Wales. The accompanying letter reads,
"Dear Bertie Botts,
I am unable to identify the flavour of this bean. Please return it labelled.
Yours sincerely,
Mrs Trellis."
It's time for a musical game now, in which the teams sing One Incantation To The Tune Of Another - and even as those words crossed my lips, I could sense the teams thinking "sing one incantation to the tune of another - what on earth are we supposed to do here then?"
Well if explained properly, this is actually much less complicated than it might seem. You see teams, although we say 'one incantation', that one incantation can actually be divided in two. I'm sorry to throw all these technical terms at you, but two is what's known as a 'prime number' as it is the integer that is the sum of one and one. As you know, one is also a prime number, but it is also a cardinal numeral. An integer is defined as a number that cannot be factorised into other integers but is only divisible by itself or one, whereas a cardinal is a butterfly of the genus 'pandoriana pandora', commonly found in the meadows of the temperate regions of Southern Europe.
Now I can sense, teams, that you're eager to learn more. One plus two equals three, and the numbers one, two, three, usually expressed in that order by experts, are the factors of six, which is what's known as the first perfect number - and the only thing I know for certain about a perfect number is that we've never yet heard one from Neville Longbottom. It was back in 1986 that Neville first started to learn the piano. Within two or three weeks he could manage to tap out a few basic tunes with one finger; obviously his later career never fulfilled that early promise...
Tim, I would like, well, I wouldn’t like, actually. Please sing the theme from "Scooby Doo" to "Guide Me, O Thou Great Redeemer".
TBT: "Guide Me, O Thou Great Redeemer"
HL: Barry, will you please sing "Don’t Blame it on the Boogie" to the tune of "Scotland the Brave?
BC: "Scotland the Brave"
HL: Crikey. Draco, please sing "The Teddy Bears’ Picnic" to the tune of "She".
DM: "She"
HL: And finally, Harry. Please sing "We Will Gather Lilacs" to the tune of the popular Muggle TV show, "Hawaii 5-0".
HP: "Hawaii 5-0"
HL: I’m sorry to say that we’re running out of time. Hang on a minute, no, I’m not.
There is just time, however, for our final round, Aurors’ Songbook. Teams please suggest songs suitable for the fine witches and wizards of Magical Law Enforcement.
Barry?
BC: Suspicious Minds.
HL: Tim?
TBT: Jailhouse Rock.
HL: Harry?
HP: Baby, Can I Hex You?
HL: Draco?
DM: Wonderwand.
HL: Barry?
BC: Don’t Cry For Me, Sergeant Tina.
HL: Tim?
TBT: Everybody Hexes.
HL: Harry?
HP: Love Is A Battlefield.
HL: Draco?
DM: All Cursed Out.
HL: Any other suggestions?
BC: Please Police Me?
HP: Anything with the accompaniment of the Azkabanjo?
HL: On that note I think we should stop. As the floo cleaner of time coughs soot all over the housewife of destiny and the shagpile rug of fate is dirtied by the coals of eternity, I notice it’s the end of the show. Goodnight!
~*~
Lee recorded a couple of minutes of applause before ending the spells and bounding onto the stage.
"Fantastic! Well done everyone. As I am sure the audience reaction proved this is going to be a big hit! We’ll be back next week to record more episodes. I can’t wait!"
Harry grinned, widely. He’d done it. Barry offered him his hand across the desk. "Well done, Harry. As soon as I saw you and Draco interact I knew you two would add something special to the show. I’m really looking forward to recording the rest of the series. Now, where’s the nearest pub? We should go for drinks!"
He watched Barry saunter off stage. He wanted to gather himself for a moment before joining everyone in the pub. He shook hands with Tim and Humph as they went off stage, no doubt following Barry to the Leaky Cauldron. He looked around. Where was Draco?
Harry walked past the door to the Green Room and headed to the gents. Staring in the mirror, he splashed some water on his face. He still couldn’t believe that he’d just done Clue! Leaving the toilets, he turned right and headed down a corridor. Looking round, he realised he had not retraced his steps and was somewhere in the backstage area. As he was trying to find his way back he heard footsteps behind him, echoing on the stone floor.
"How does it feel to be beaten by me, Potter?" Malfoy backed him into a corner in the maze of corridors backstage.
"Malfoy, the scoring system is deliberately non-existent; there are no winners." Harry shifted from foot to foot, unsettled by Malfoy’s closeness.
"Whatever. I think it’s clear I kicked your arse in the contest of one-liners." Malfoy smirked.
Harry attempted to look bored. He didn’t know if he managed it. "Yeah, yeah. You came out on top. It was a brilliant team show, that’s all that matters."
Malfoy advanced even closer. "Potter. I always come out on top." His voice had dropped somehow; it seemed lower than his normal speaking voice.
Determinedly, Harry met Malfoy’s gaze. He bit his lip.
"Is that so, Malfoy?"
"That’s so, Potter." Malfoy’s eyes flickered down to Harry’s chewed lip.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Harry didn’t know which of them moved first, but he did know that Malfoy’s lips crashing against his, pulling his chewed bottom lip between his teeth and gently nibbling on it before soothing it with his tongue felt amazing. He knew that a much, much better use of Malfoy’s tongue was tracing his lips before pushing into his mouth, rather than spitting cutting witticisms at him.
Malfoy pressed even closer, trapping Harry against the wall and bringing his hard chest against Harry’s. When Malfoy moved so they were pressed hip to hip, Harry gasped and pulled away.
"Remember this, Malfoy."
Malfoy blinked and looked down into Harry’s eyes.
"You only come out on top when I let you."
A genuine smile quirked the edges of Malfoy’s lips. He breathed against Harry’s mouth. "Is everything going to be a competition between us?"
"I wouldn’t have it any other way."
fin