HDFluff Prompt #60: Magic on Michigan Avenue
Title: Magic on Michigan Avenue
Author: enchanted_jae
Characters: Harry/Draco, OMC
Rating: PG13
Warning(s): Suggestion
Word count: 765
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This was written for fun, not for profit.
Author's note: Written for hd_fluff Prompt #60 - foreign theme/your own culture.
Summary: Intrepid reporters cover a Muggle sporting championship.
"Why are we here again?" Harry asked.
Draco glanced up from the camera he was fiddling with. "You've been wanting to visit the States," he said. "I should think you would enjoy a large, bustling city like Chicago."
"It is a lovely city," Harry replied. They had portkeyed in the night before and checked into the elegant W Chicago Lakeshore before venturing out to do a little sightseeing. Harry had enjoyed the El--Chicago's famous public transport system--but Draco had found it intimidating. Nevertheless, they had managed to get around the city via the Muggle means. They had eaten dinner at Blackbird and enjoyed its excellent cuisine. The city itself was electrified with the excitement generated by a recent sports championship.
"I don't understand why we're here to cover a victory parade," Harry persisted. "Hockey is a Muggle sport, yeah?" Harry and Draco normally covered Quidditch for the Quibbler, but their boss Rolf had dispatched them to the States for this particular celebration.
"Yes, it is," Draco concurred, "but Lord Stanley of Preston was a wizard, and the Cup he commissioned as a trophy for ice hockey is a powerful magical artefact, crafted by goblins."
"It is?!" Harry boggled.
Draco nodded. "Of course, the original bowl is kept in a vault at hockey's Hall of Fame in Toronto. The replica does contain trace magic, however, thanks to the wizards who pose as Muggles and engrave it each year." Draco was jostled by someone in the crowd, and he stumbled into Harry who reached to steady him.
"Hello, gorgeous," Harry teased, taking advantage of the situation to squeeze Draco's bum.
"There will be none of that until later," Draco scolded, stepping back.
"Bugger," sighed Harry. A cheer erupted from the crowd around them, and Harry turned his attention to the street. Double-decker buses that reminded him of home rumbled past with the victorious athletes riding in the open tops and waving at their throngs of fans. The lead bus contained the vaunted magical Cup, and a tingle swept through Harry as it passed.
Beside him, Draco's camera clicked away until the Cup was out of sight. Draco lowered his camera. "Did you feel it, too?" he asked.
"Yes," Harry murmured. "I can only imagine how powerful the original artefact must be. Shouldn't it be in the Ministry of Magic?"
Draco chuckled as he replaced the lens cap on his camera. "We suggested it to the Canadian Magical Ministry."
"To no avail, I take it?"
"You could say that," Draco snorted. "I believe there were threats of bodily harm as well."
Harry laughed and began to follow Draco as they made their winding way through the milling crowd.
"We don't leave until tomorrow morning," Draco commented. "We still have plenty of time to take in more of the city. We could visit the Shedd Aquarium or shop at Water Tower Place or go to the Sears Tower and walk out on the observation deck or-"
"Or we could go back to our room and shag," Harry cut in.
Draco turned to him with a grin. "Or we could shag," he nodded.
"I vote shag!" declared Harry. Draco just grinned and shook his head. They came upon a street vendor selling championship merchandise. "Hold up," Harry said. "I want a T-shirt." He reached for one on the pile of shirts and shook it out. "Why are they called the Black Hawks when their logo is of a native American?" he wondered aloud.
"You boys ain't from around here, are ya?" the vendor observed.
"We're visiting," Draco replied. "Where would you recommend we have dinner tonight?"
"Well, you gotta try our famous deep dish pizza!" exclaimed the vendor.
"Where might we find some of this deep dish pizza?" Draco asked.
"You gotta go to Giordano's," said the man. He provided the address and a couple menu suggestions.
Draco thanked him, and Harry paid for the shirt he had selected. As they walked back to their hotel, Harry commented, "That deep dish pizza sounds divine."
"I'm not so sure about it," Draco hedged. "It seems like the most unhealthy thing we could eat."
"Who cares?" countered Harry. "It's part of the local cuisine, and I think we should give it a try." When Draco still appeared skeptical, Harry tipped the scales in his favor. He leaned close and whispered, "We can go out for deep dish, then return to the hotel for some deep throating."
Additional author's note: I wrote this the day of the Chicago Blackhawks' Stanley Cup parade, but delays kept me from posting it until now. *sulks*
Author: enchanted_jae
Characters: Harry/Draco, OMC
Rating: PG13
Warning(s): Suggestion
Word count: 765
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This was written for fun, not for profit.
Author's note: Written for hd_fluff Prompt #60 - foreign theme/your own culture.
Summary: Intrepid reporters cover a Muggle sporting championship.
"Why are we here again?" Harry asked.
Draco glanced up from the camera he was fiddling with. "You've been wanting to visit the States," he said. "I should think you would enjoy a large, bustling city like Chicago."
"It is a lovely city," Harry replied. They had portkeyed in the night before and checked into the elegant W Chicago Lakeshore before venturing out to do a little sightseeing. Harry had enjoyed the El--Chicago's famous public transport system--but Draco had found it intimidating. Nevertheless, they had managed to get around the city via the Muggle means. They had eaten dinner at Blackbird and enjoyed its excellent cuisine. The city itself was electrified with the excitement generated by a recent sports championship.
"I don't understand why we're here to cover a victory parade," Harry persisted. "Hockey is a Muggle sport, yeah?" Harry and Draco normally covered Quidditch for the Quibbler, but their boss Rolf had dispatched them to the States for this particular celebration.
"Yes, it is," Draco concurred, "but Lord Stanley of Preston was a wizard, and the Cup he commissioned as a trophy for ice hockey is a powerful magical artefact, crafted by goblins."
"It is?!" Harry boggled.
Draco nodded. "Of course, the original bowl is kept in a vault at hockey's Hall of Fame in Toronto. The replica does contain trace magic, however, thanks to the wizards who pose as Muggles and engrave it each year." Draco was jostled by someone in the crowd, and he stumbled into Harry who reached to steady him.
"Hello, gorgeous," Harry teased, taking advantage of the situation to squeeze Draco's bum.
"There will be none of that until later," Draco scolded, stepping back.
"Bugger," sighed Harry. A cheer erupted from the crowd around them, and Harry turned his attention to the street. Double-decker buses that reminded him of home rumbled past with the victorious athletes riding in the open tops and waving at their throngs of fans. The lead bus contained the vaunted magical Cup, and a tingle swept through Harry as it passed.
Beside him, Draco's camera clicked away until the Cup was out of sight. Draco lowered his camera. "Did you feel it, too?" he asked.
"Yes," Harry murmured. "I can only imagine how powerful the original artefact must be. Shouldn't it be in the Ministry of Magic?"
Draco chuckled as he replaced the lens cap on his camera. "We suggested it to the Canadian Magical Ministry."
"To no avail, I take it?"
"You could say that," Draco snorted. "I believe there were threats of bodily harm as well."
Harry laughed and began to follow Draco as they made their winding way through the milling crowd.
"We don't leave until tomorrow morning," Draco commented. "We still have plenty of time to take in more of the city. We could visit the Shedd Aquarium or shop at Water Tower Place or go to the Sears Tower and walk out on the observation deck or-"
"Or we could go back to our room and shag," Harry cut in.
Draco turned to him with a grin. "Or we could shag," he nodded.
"I vote shag!" declared Harry. Draco just grinned and shook his head. They came upon a street vendor selling championship merchandise. "Hold up," Harry said. "I want a T-shirt." He reached for one on the pile of shirts and shook it out. "Why are they called the Black Hawks when their logo is of a native American?" he wondered aloud.
"You boys ain't from around here, are ya?" the vendor observed.
"We're visiting," Draco replied. "Where would you recommend we have dinner tonight?"
"Well, you gotta try our famous deep dish pizza!" exclaimed the vendor.
"Where might we find some of this deep dish pizza?" Draco asked.
"You gotta go to Giordano's," said the man. He provided the address and a couple menu suggestions.
Draco thanked him, and Harry paid for the shirt he had selected. As they walked back to their hotel, Harry commented, "That deep dish pizza sounds divine."
"I'm not so sure about it," Draco hedged. "It seems like the most unhealthy thing we could eat."
"Who cares?" countered Harry. "It's part of the local cuisine, and I think we should give it a try." When Draco still appeared skeptical, Harry tipped the scales in his favor. He leaned close and whispered, "We can go out for deep dish, then return to the hotel for some deep throating."
Additional author's note: I wrote this the day of the Chicago Blackhawks' Stanley Cup parade, but delays kept me from posting it until now. *sulks*