Flirting is Mandatory
Title: Flirting Is Mandatory
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 1,600
Summary: The boys go to a Weird Sisters Concert. Merton Graves is a prick, Harry is miffed and Draco is a fanboy.
Author’s notes: Written for dove_drabbles' April prompt: Flirting is mandatory, hd_fluff's prompt #91: April Showers
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Harry Potter did not like the Weird Sisters. They were trite and unoriginal and frankly, if he wanted to hear someone howl and screech and lament over the futility of life for over six minutes at a time, he would visit Moaning Myrtle. At least, she took a break every now and then by jumping into the toilet. Which incidentally, was exactly where the Weird Sisters’ Greatest Hits Anthology belonged.
He liked their concerts even less. Everything was bright and chaotic and…and screamy. A shrieking girl practically catapulted over three people to get to the stage. Harry winced as she got a face full of concrete. Why was he here again?
“I can’t believe we’re seeing the Sisters live! Live, Potter! Merlin’s pants, this is awesome! Shag me, Kirley Duke!”
Right. That’s why.
“Calm down, Draco,” he muttered, trying to get a hold of his rival turned roommate as he clambered over another unfortunate concert goer to get a better look at the stage. The crowd roared around them and he had to shout to be heard. “Honestly, must you be such a fan-boy?”
Draco abandoned his expedition to the top of Mount Pissed-Off-Ginger and glowered at Harry. “The Weird Sisters, Potter” he announced as if this justified everything. “Have you even heard Flirting is Mandatory?”
“How could I not? You play it nonstop at least four hours a day,” Harry snapped back. “I’m starting to sing it in my sleep!”
“And you’re hopelessly off-key,” Draco replied, lifting his chin haughtily. It would have had more of an effect if he didn’t have the words Naked Twister with the Sisters emblazoned on his shirt.
Harry groaned. He was seriously considering just taking off. Draco hardly needed him here; he was far too busy fawning over the Weird sodding Sisters. Harry was feeling rather put off about it. He was used to Draco teasing him, scolding him for not doing his homework and nicking his stuff. He was not used to Draco ignoring him.
“Oi, Heathcote!” the blond bellowed at the top his lungs. “Take off your shirt!”
The crowd roared its approval and Draco cheered with them. Harry clenched his teeth. To hell with leaving. He was staying right here.
****
“What do you mean we can’t go backstage?” Draco snarled, stamping his foot.
The seven foot something bouncer appeared unimpressed. He was regarding Draco with an expression one would probably use for a particularly hissy kitten. “No pass, no entrance. Sorry, kid.”
Harry groaned as Draco opened his mouth to argue. He was never going to get home. Draco scowled at him and then his eyes narrowed speculatively. Harry yelped as the blond reached out and snagged his arm, pulling him towards the bouncer. “I’ll trade you one Harry Potter for a free pass,” he declared.
“You’re giving me away for a sodding pass?” Harry shrilled indignantly.
“Be quiet, Potter. I’m trying to negotiate.”
Harry gaped and the bouncer gave him a commiserating look. “No dice,” he declared, shrugging at the fuming blond. Draco looked about one step from throwing the mother of all hissy fits, and Harry hastened to intervene. “Come on, Draco. Let’s go.”
“No!” the blond argued. “I came to see the Sisters and I am not leaving until they autograph every part of my…”
“He said no!” Harry snapped, inexplicably irritated at the thought of anyone autographing Draco. “The concert’s over. We’re leaving now!”
“No, we’re not!” Draco snapped back. “I told you I’m…”
“’Scuse me, is there a problem here?”
Harry turned around, coming face to face with a lean, brown haired bloke holding a cello. Draco turned as well and promptly gasped. His eyes widened and he grabbed hold of Harry’s shoulder, visibly staggering. “No way,” he blurted. “No fucking way!”
“Not a problem, Mr. Graves,” the bouncer replied. “Just a couple fans trying to get in again.”
“Really?” the bloke grinned. His eyes flicked over to Draco with lazy interest and Harry’s jaw clenched. Graves grinned and held his hand out to the blond, smoothly disengaging him from Harry. “Merton Graves from the Weird Sisters at your service,” he purred. “You lads enjoy the concert?”
“Oh Merlin,” Draco replied breathlessly, eyes still wide and unblinking. Harry growled and gave him a light shove. That seemed to bring the blond back. He shook his head and gawked unabashedly at their new companion, still stuttering. “Merlin on a pogo stick! I…I mean, its…you…you’re Merton Graves…I…oh bollocks…”
“Smooth,” Harry muttered, earning an elbow in the ribs and a scowl from his roommate. He subsided sullenly. Merton Graves just chuckled and swooped up Draco’s slim hand, pressing his lips to the blond’s knuckles. “That I am,” he said. “You got a name, cutie?”
Draco gave the smarmy bloke a shy smile that made Harry’s blood boil. “Draco,” he mumbled, his cheeks tinged with a light pink.
“Draco,” Graves echoed, letting the name roll off his tongue almost obscenely. “Posh. Just how I like ‘em.”
Draco went a pretty shade of scarlet and bit his lip and Harry felt a growl rumble in his throat. He slipped between Draco and the Weird Sisters Wanker, holding out his hand to Graves. “Harry Potter,” he said curtly. “It’s a pleasure.”
Graves’ smile faded. “Oh, of course” he replied, shaking his hand far less enthusiastically than Draco’s. “From all that You Know Who business a few years ago. Big fan.” He let go of Harry’s hand abruptly and turned a discerning eye to the blond again. “So together, are you?”
“We…”
“No,” Draco cut in immediately. “We’re just… friends.”
Harry’s heart sank but Graves’ looked like Christmas had come early.
“I see,” he purred. The smarmy grin was back. He slipped an arm around Draco and drew him closer. Harry clenched his fists almost automatically.
“Then I suppose you wouldn’t mind accompanying me backstage? The band is throwing a little after party and I hate going to these things by myself.”
Draco looked like a four year old who’d just been offered the keys to Honeydukes. “The…the band?” he blurted. “We can meet the whole band?”
“Ah well…” Graves trailed an awkward hand through his hair and mussed it up. Harry was willing to bet every galleon he had that he practiced that move in front of a mirror every morning. Graves shrugged apologetically at them, looking embarrassed. “I’d love to have both of you of course, but the thing is… I’m only allowed a few, select guests. Security and all, don’t you know. Horribly awkward, the whole thing. Oh well, what can you do?” He flashed a billion galleon smile at Harry and slipped an arm around Draco’s waist again. “Terribly sorry, Potter. Maybe next time, yeah? I’ll make sure your little friend here has a good time.”
“I’ll bet,” Harry muttered. Graves responded with an insincere grin and wrapped his arm securely around Draco.
Draco stared at both of them, looking somewhat caught in headlights. “Harry…” he began uncertainly.
“Its fine,” Harry replied with a tight smile. “Go on, have a good time. I’ll see you at home.”
“But…”
Harry turned on his heel and left abruptly, not entirely sure if he could deal with the sight of Graves wrapped around Draco without setting something on fire. Preferably Merton Graves. He was barely aware of exiting the building and soon found himself stomping down the street. His stomach was twisting in knots and he scowled and kicked at a rock, pretending that it was Graves’ big, stupid head. He felt just a little bit better as he watched it skitter down the street.
He stormed around a bit more before the depression set in. Harry sighed and slumped down on the pavement, glowering angrily at a lamppost and resolutely ignoring the urge to run back and snatch Draco away from that tosser. Why should he? Draco obviously wanted to be there. Hell, he was probably having the time of his life. He certainly didn’t give a rat’s arse about how Harry felt or…
And then it started raining. Rain splattered around him and Harry sighed as he found himself summarily doused. A wet trail seeped its uncomfortable way into his clothes.
Perfect.
“Stupid April showers,” he muttered, scrubbing at his drenched hair viciously. “Does it get any worse?”
“Well, we could be struck by lightning,” a voice replied.
Harry turned around at once and his eyes widened as Draco grinned and sprawled elegantly beside him. “What are you doing here?” Harry demanded.
“Apparently, getting soaked,” Draco replied, shaking his head and spraying Harry with water. That god awful shirt was drenched and clung to his slim frame and his blond bangs were plastered to his face, making him look utterly ridiculous (and maybe just a tiny bit attractive, not that Harry noticed or anything). “Honestly Potter, couldn’t you find a drier place to brood?”
“I wasn’t brooding.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Draco drawled. But he made no move to get up and leave, and Harry felt something tight and fluttery thrum in his chest. “Why…why are you here?” he asked tentatively. “I thought you wanted to stay with...”
“Please,” Draco retorted, making a show of studying his nails. “He plays the bloody cello.” He gave Harry another lopsided grin and nudged his shoulder. “But don’t expect me to give up a guitarist or a lead singer for you, Scarhead.”
“Prat,” Harry chuckled, giving him a playful shove in retaliation. His hand slipped against Draco’s warm, wet skin and Harry felt his breath catch. Instinctively he looked up at Draco. The blond favoured him with a light smirk and Harry grinned back, wrapping his fingers around Draco’s slim wrist to pull him closer. “I’m soaked to the bone,” he whispered. “Do you…maybe want to go somewhere?”
“Asking me out on a date, Potter?”
Harry’s fingers tightened around his wrist, just a fraction. “Maybe,” he replied. “What do you say?”
“On one condition,” Draco whispered, leaning into him. Harry shivered as the blond’s lips brushed his ear.
“Flirting is mandatory.”
END
Cross posted to harrydraco here
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 1,600
Summary: The boys go to a Weird Sisters Concert. Merton Graves is a prick, Harry is miffed and Draco is a fanboy.
Author’s notes: Written for dove_drabbles' April prompt: Flirting is mandatory, hd_fluff's prompt #91: April Showers
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Harry Potter did not like the Weird Sisters. They were trite and unoriginal and frankly, if he wanted to hear someone howl and screech and lament over the futility of life for over six minutes at a time, he would visit Moaning Myrtle. At least, she took a break every now and then by jumping into the toilet. Which incidentally, was exactly where the Weird Sisters’ Greatest Hits Anthology belonged.
He liked their concerts even less. Everything was bright and chaotic and…and screamy. A shrieking girl practically catapulted over three people to get to the stage. Harry winced as she got a face full of concrete. Why was he here again?
“I can’t believe we’re seeing the Sisters live! Live, Potter! Merlin’s pants, this is awesome! Shag me, Kirley Duke!”
Right. That’s why.
“Calm down, Draco,” he muttered, trying to get a hold of his rival turned roommate as he clambered over another unfortunate concert goer to get a better look at the stage. The crowd roared around them and he had to shout to be heard. “Honestly, must you be such a fan-boy?”
Draco abandoned his expedition to the top of Mount Pissed-Off-Ginger and glowered at Harry. “The Weird Sisters, Potter” he announced as if this justified everything. “Have you even heard Flirting is Mandatory?”
“How could I not? You play it nonstop at least four hours a day,” Harry snapped back. “I’m starting to sing it in my sleep!”
“And you’re hopelessly off-key,” Draco replied, lifting his chin haughtily. It would have had more of an effect if he didn’t have the words Naked Twister with the Sisters emblazoned on his shirt.
Harry groaned. He was seriously considering just taking off. Draco hardly needed him here; he was far too busy fawning over the Weird sodding Sisters. Harry was feeling rather put off about it. He was used to Draco teasing him, scolding him for not doing his homework and nicking his stuff. He was not used to Draco ignoring him.
“Oi, Heathcote!” the blond bellowed at the top his lungs. “Take off your shirt!”
The crowd roared its approval and Draco cheered with them. Harry clenched his teeth. To hell with leaving. He was staying right here.
****
“What do you mean we can’t go backstage?” Draco snarled, stamping his foot.
The seven foot something bouncer appeared unimpressed. He was regarding Draco with an expression one would probably use for a particularly hissy kitten. “No pass, no entrance. Sorry, kid.”
Harry groaned as Draco opened his mouth to argue. He was never going to get home. Draco scowled at him and then his eyes narrowed speculatively. Harry yelped as the blond reached out and snagged his arm, pulling him towards the bouncer. “I’ll trade you one Harry Potter for a free pass,” he declared.
“You’re giving me away for a sodding pass?” Harry shrilled indignantly.
“Be quiet, Potter. I’m trying to negotiate.”
Harry gaped and the bouncer gave him a commiserating look. “No dice,” he declared, shrugging at the fuming blond. Draco looked about one step from throwing the mother of all hissy fits, and Harry hastened to intervene. “Come on, Draco. Let’s go.”
“No!” the blond argued. “I came to see the Sisters and I am not leaving until they autograph every part of my…”
“He said no!” Harry snapped, inexplicably irritated at the thought of anyone autographing Draco. “The concert’s over. We’re leaving now!”
“No, we’re not!” Draco snapped back. “I told you I’m…”
“’Scuse me, is there a problem here?”
Harry turned around, coming face to face with a lean, brown haired bloke holding a cello. Draco turned as well and promptly gasped. His eyes widened and he grabbed hold of Harry’s shoulder, visibly staggering. “No way,” he blurted. “No fucking way!”
“Not a problem, Mr. Graves,” the bouncer replied. “Just a couple fans trying to get in again.”
“Really?” the bloke grinned. His eyes flicked over to Draco with lazy interest and Harry’s jaw clenched. Graves grinned and held his hand out to the blond, smoothly disengaging him from Harry. “Merton Graves from the Weird Sisters at your service,” he purred. “You lads enjoy the concert?”
“Oh Merlin,” Draco replied breathlessly, eyes still wide and unblinking. Harry growled and gave him a light shove. That seemed to bring the blond back. He shook his head and gawked unabashedly at their new companion, still stuttering. “Merlin on a pogo stick! I…I mean, its…you…you’re Merton Graves…I…oh bollocks…”
“Smooth,” Harry muttered, earning an elbow in the ribs and a scowl from his roommate. He subsided sullenly. Merton Graves just chuckled and swooped up Draco’s slim hand, pressing his lips to the blond’s knuckles. “That I am,” he said. “You got a name, cutie?”
Draco gave the smarmy bloke a shy smile that made Harry’s blood boil. “Draco,” he mumbled, his cheeks tinged with a light pink.
“Draco,” Graves echoed, letting the name roll off his tongue almost obscenely. “Posh. Just how I like ‘em.”
Draco went a pretty shade of scarlet and bit his lip and Harry felt a growl rumble in his throat. He slipped between Draco and the Weird Sisters Wanker, holding out his hand to Graves. “Harry Potter,” he said curtly. “It’s a pleasure.”
Graves’ smile faded. “Oh, of course” he replied, shaking his hand far less enthusiastically than Draco’s. “From all that You Know Who business a few years ago. Big fan.” He let go of Harry’s hand abruptly and turned a discerning eye to the blond again. “So together, are you?”
“We…”
“No,” Draco cut in immediately. “We’re just… friends.”
Harry’s heart sank but Graves’ looked like Christmas had come early.
“I see,” he purred. The smarmy grin was back. He slipped an arm around Draco and drew him closer. Harry clenched his fists almost automatically.
“Then I suppose you wouldn’t mind accompanying me backstage? The band is throwing a little after party and I hate going to these things by myself.”
Draco looked like a four year old who’d just been offered the keys to Honeydukes. “The…the band?” he blurted. “We can meet the whole band?”
“Ah well…” Graves trailed an awkward hand through his hair and mussed it up. Harry was willing to bet every galleon he had that he practiced that move in front of a mirror every morning. Graves shrugged apologetically at them, looking embarrassed. “I’d love to have both of you of course, but the thing is… I’m only allowed a few, select guests. Security and all, don’t you know. Horribly awkward, the whole thing. Oh well, what can you do?” He flashed a billion galleon smile at Harry and slipped an arm around Draco’s waist again. “Terribly sorry, Potter. Maybe next time, yeah? I’ll make sure your little friend here has a good time.”
“I’ll bet,” Harry muttered. Graves responded with an insincere grin and wrapped his arm securely around Draco.
Draco stared at both of them, looking somewhat caught in headlights. “Harry…” he began uncertainly.
“Its fine,” Harry replied with a tight smile. “Go on, have a good time. I’ll see you at home.”
“But…”
Harry turned on his heel and left abruptly, not entirely sure if he could deal with the sight of Graves wrapped around Draco without setting something on fire. Preferably Merton Graves. He was barely aware of exiting the building and soon found himself stomping down the street. His stomach was twisting in knots and he scowled and kicked at a rock, pretending that it was Graves’ big, stupid head. He felt just a little bit better as he watched it skitter down the street.
He stormed around a bit more before the depression set in. Harry sighed and slumped down on the pavement, glowering angrily at a lamppost and resolutely ignoring the urge to run back and snatch Draco away from that tosser. Why should he? Draco obviously wanted to be there. Hell, he was probably having the time of his life. He certainly didn’t give a rat’s arse about how Harry felt or…
And then it started raining. Rain splattered around him and Harry sighed as he found himself summarily doused. A wet trail seeped its uncomfortable way into his clothes.
Perfect.
“Stupid April showers,” he muttered, scrubbing at his drenched hair viciously. “Does it get any worse?”
“Well, we could be struck by lightning,” a voice replied.
Harry turned around at once and his eyes widened as Draco grinned and sprawled elegantly beside him. “What are you doing here?” Harry demanded.
“Apparently, getting soaked,” Draco replied, shaking his head and spraying Harry with water. That god awful shirt was drenched and clung to his slim frame and his blond bangs were plastered to his face, making him look utterly ridiculous (and maybe just a tiny bit attractive, not that Harry noticed or anything). “Honestly Potter, couldn’t you find a drier place to brood?”
“I wasn’t brooding.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Draco drawled. But he made no move to get up and leave, and Harry felt something tight and fluttery thrum in his chest. “Why…why are you here?” he asked tentatively. “I thought you wanted to stay with...”
“Please,” Draco retorted, making a show of studying his nails. “He plays the bloody cello.” He gave Harry another lopsided grin and nudged his shoulder. “But don’t expect me to give up a guitarist or a lead singer for you, Scarhead.”
“Prat,” Harry chuckled, giving him a playful shove in retaliation. His hand slipped against Draco’s warm, wet skin and Harry felt his breath catch. Instinctively he looked up at Draco. The blond favoured him with a light smirk and Harry grinned back, wrapping his fingers around Draco’s slim wrist to pull him closer. “I’m soaked to the bone,” he whispered. “Do you…maybe want to go somewhere?”
“Asking me out on a date, Potter?”
Harry’s fingers tightened around his wrist, just a fraction. “Maybe,” he replied. “What do you say?”
“On one condition,” Draco whispered, leaning into him. Harry shivered as the blond’s lips brushed his ear.
“Flirting is mandatory.”
END
Cross posted to harrydraco here