The Perfect Pumpkin
Title: The Perfect Pumpkin
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 1,300
Summary: Draco is on a pumpkin carving mission and Harry needs to stop it.
Warnings: Fluff. I has it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Author’s notes: Written for-
awdt’s Halloween Quickies Prompt 7: Why did you carve the pumpkin like that?
slythindor100’s Halloween challenge: Picture Prompt
Sanshine7 At Fanfiction.net who asked for the prompt: ‘Pumpkins’
Also part 4 of the Competition Arc
Pansy strode into the eighth year common room, a furious expression painted across her delicate features. “Alright, which one of you tossers gave Draco a pumpkin?”
Immediately, every eye in the common room swiveled over to Blaise Zabini.
“What?” the Slytherin demanded, looking highly affronted. “So we’re just going to assume that everything is Blaise’s fault? What happened to the concept of a fair trial? Well, I will not stand for this persecution! How dare you accuse me of…”
“Did you give Malfoy a pumpkin?” Hermione cut in dryly.
“Yes,” Blaise admitted, as Theo groaned and Pansy’s right eye twitched dangerously. “But in my defence, he had a carving knife. Jack o’ lantern or Blaise o’ lantern- take your pick. That was a rhetorical poll, Weasley!” he added with a scowl as Ron raised a hopeful hand. The redhead subsided sulkily.
“This is a disaster,” groaned Pansy, hiding her face in her hands.
“Sorry, but is there a reason we can’t give Malfoy a pumpkin?” Harry queried curiously. He had a feeling this would be interesting - Malfoy hadn't disappointed him yet.
Nott shrugged wearily. “The same reason we can’t give him a cross bow. You do remember that incident, don’t you Potter?”
Harry winced. He’d experienced Malfoy’s competitive nature first hand and knew exactly what the blond was capable of when he wanted to excel at something. To be fair, he did find Malfoy’s compulsive attitude somewhat… charming, maybe even cute. But there was no doubt that he had serious issues.
“Oh well,” Blaise shrugged cheerfully at his sulking classmates. “No pumpkins this year. Who wants to go carve up some Hufflepuffs instead?”
Pansy gave him a stern look. “You didn’t take your medicine this morning, did you?”
“What are you, my mother?”
Harry shook his head and slipped out of the room, leaving the rest to deal with Zabini’s homicidal tendencies.
There was only room for so many crazy Slytherins in his day, and Harry was completely booked.
****
It took him ten minutes to track down Malfoy. The pumpkin patch looked rather nice at this time of year. Hagrid had been hard at work and the pumpkins were enormous. Some of them were large enough to dwarf the slender blond who sat cross legged in the dirt; working diligently on what Harry estimated was his thirty fifth pumpkin. A huge pile of carved up, discarded jack o’ lanterns loomed behind Malfoy.
Oh Dear Lord…
“Malfoy?”
The blond looked up at him, apparently startled. Harry blinked in surprise himself. Seeing Malfoy sitting unabashedly in the dirt, staring at him with large, grey eyes and haphazard hair was enough to take a bloke by surprise. That was all. It certainly didn’t warm Harry’s heart a little or make him want to smooth said hair with his fingers.
Nope. Not even a little bit.
He cleared his throat uncomfortably and approached the blond. “What are you doing?” he asked.
Malfoy sneered, giving Harry some familiar ground to work with. “What does it look like I’m doing, Potter? Surely even you can discern pumpkin carving when you see it.” He went back to his meticulous task, ignoring the Gryffindor as he came closer to peer at his work. Harry’s eyebrows rose in amazement at the sight of the intricate dragon carving Malfoy was working on. The detailing was spectacular. Malfoy had even managed to get the slit of the eye and the formidable expression just right. Before he could voice his appreciation, Malfoy sighed, scowled at the pumpkin and chucked it away.
“Oi!” Harry cried, casting a hurried Leviosa at the pumpkin and bringing it down gently. It landed unharmed a few feet away.
“Why did you do that?” Harry demanded.
“I got the hind leg all wrong,” Malfoy shrugged, reaching for another pumpkin. “It’s not perfect.”
Harry stared, somewhat flummoxed. “It looked pretty perfect to me!”
Malfoy smirked. “You’re just easily impressed.”
Harry rolled his eyes and sat down next to Malfoy, summoning the pumpkin as he did. It landed in his lap gently and he trailed a finger over the dragon, admiring the spikes of its tail and the arch of its body. Malfoy huffed, but continued his pumpkin mutilation in silence.
Harry sat quietly as well, before he was compelled to voice another question. “Why did you carve the pumpkin like that?”
“I got bored carving out those asinine faces when I was six,” Malfoy replied, haughtily cutting away pumpkin chunks. “I can do better. So I do.”
“And you’re still not happy,” Harry replied with a snort. He clutched possessively at his dragon pumpkin, as if Malfoy might just snatch it and chuck it away again.
The blond arched an eyebrow at him. “Perfection has nothing to do with being happy,” he replied finally.
“Sounds like something your father would say,” Harry replied with a grin.
Malfoy stopped his carving and turned to Harry. “He did, actually,” he replied quietly. Harry raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He had a feeling that this was one of those times when anything he said would either result in Malfoy clamming up or storming off and neither was very desirable. So he just let the blond open up on his own.
Malfoy replied haltingly, the self assured confidence with which he did everything- including pumpkin slaughter- somehow missing in this simple, natural act of confiding in someone else.
“I used to…you know, just make them for fun. I’d just hack them any which way and they’d come out sort of wonky. But…but then Father would see them and he…he thought I should do better. So I started with…” he gestured vaguely at the heap of pumpkins behind him. All beautifully carved, intricately sculpted and then cruelly discarded.
Harry felt an irrational surge of anger at Lucius Malfoy. Suddenly, a lot of Draco’s irrational impulses were making sense- the constant competition, the need to excel at everything, the anger and frustration when he couldn't. Even at something as asinine as pumpkin carving, for Merlin’s sake.
Was that what all of this was about? Did he really not feel good enough because of his father?
Harry decided then and there that all Malfoys were idiots. Especially the one sitting next to him scowling at the rose shaped pattern cut across his pumpkin.
“Damn it,” Malfoy muttered, preparing to throw it away. Harry caught hold of his wrist just in time. “Don’t you dare,” he ordered quietly. “It’s perfect.”
Malfoy glared at him, grey eyes sparking with irritation and a hint of pain. “No, it isn't,” he replied stubbornly. "It's never perfect."
Harry smiled and placed a hand at the back of Malfoy’s head, pulling him in for a firm kiss. Draco’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheek as he blinked in surprise and Harry grinned against his mouth. When he finally released Draco, the blond just stared at him- flushed and stunned into silence. Quite a good look for him, Harry thought. He traced a finger against Draco’s swollen lips and repeated himself in a tone that brooked no argument.
“Perfect.”
For once a miracle occurred because Draco didn't argue with him. “If you say so, Potter” he mumbled, returning to poke at another pumpkin with a light flush tinting his cheeks.
Harry chuckled and started helping him with another masterpiece. The eyes turned out too slanted, the mouth was lopsided and somewhere along the line they decided it would be a good idea to spell the pumpkin blue.
But it didn’t matter. As far as Harry was concerned, nothing could be more perfect.