Crack Fic: Padding the Coffers
It's been awhile since I've written crack!fic but I thought I'd give it a go.
Title: Padding the Coffers
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Gregory Goyle
Prompt: 23 - Greg Goyle. Behemoth of lurve. Available for personal visits at the Crack Cliche Prompts at azkatrazathome
Rating: Hard R? I wouldn't put it at a NC-17 but some people might just for the weirdness of it. No true squicks but a lot of innuendo.
Word Count: 1421
It was clear that they’d run out of good ideas and had moved on to the list of “these might work in a pinch” ideas they’d come up with while chugging expired pumpkin juice. They’d already tried beating people up for money their Second Year. It hadn’t worked then. Odds were good it wouldn’t work now. That had been the only other thing on the short list.
“It’s up to you, Goyle.” Draco wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, hoping to get rid of the bad taste in his mouth this idea caused. It hadn’t helped that he’d sampled some of what they’d be offering but he had to be sure this would work. He dearly hated putting the fate of his family’s money woes into the hand of a man who still couldn’t spell his name correctly. Book learning wasn’t the same as knowledge and even he had to admit that Goyle knew what he was doing. Amazing that he’d kept this skill hidden all these years.
“Leave it to me. I’ll have money flowing into our pockets by dawn.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. Someone might actually fall for this idea.”
Goyle had enough sense to look affronted but he zipped up his trousers, trying very hard to hold his head high but finding it impossible to both things at once. Instead, he finished dressing before trying to hold onto his dignity. One thing at a time, he reminded himself. First get dressed. Then go make a lot of money. Lastly, come back with proof that he could do some good with something other than his fists.
As he walked toward the fireplace of the still regal house the Black family had been able to hold onto by wheedling and calling in favours, Goyle looked over his shoulder one last time. There was an expression on Draco’s face that looked rather out of place. It was… a smile? He’d never seen a real smile on that thin face.
“I’ll make you proud.”
“Worry about making me rich,” Draco called back, glowering once again.
They had worried about where to find someone to pay for the services Goyle was offering. It wasn’t like he could walk out onto Diagon Alley and just begin shouting his intent to anyone in ear shot. This was the part of the plan that could ruin the whole thing. No takers… no money… a very angry Draco when he returned to Black Manor.
Things were always clearer when he talked them out. He missed Crabbe in moments like this. “Draco smiled after I was done with him and he never smiles. Bet he would have paid me if he’d had money which he don’t. But if I find someone just like him with money, I bet they’d like it just as much as he did.” Goyle looked around for inspiration but only saw the same Diagon Alley he’d always seen. Backtracking, he went to find Tom at the Leaky Cauldron. Surely the barman would have some ideas where he could start.
After Tom stopped laughing, which took up more time than Goyle would have liked, he came up with a good idea. “How about you offer your services here? I’d love to watch this, just for the sport of it. Besides, it’s Friday night and people are looking for a good time. Your offer, even if they don’t take you up on it, is bound to give people a good chuckle or two.”
“Thanks, mate.” Before he could talk himself out of the idea, which didn’t seem all that great to him, Goyle moved to the middle of the crowded room. “Oy!” When no one looked at him, he tried decided to try a different tactic.
His shirt gave way with a loud ripping sound that did get him some attention. Climbing onto the nearest table, he threw the ruined piece of clothing into a crowd of witches huddled over their large Piskie Potions (complete with paper umbrella) and misery at being along on a Friday night.
“Oy! I’m the answer to all your problems, ladies and gents. Gregory Goyle. Behemoth of lurve. Available for personal visits and parties of all sizes.”
Silence. For a brief moment, he thought about retrieving his shirt, along with a goodly portion of the pride he had left, and slinking back to Draco. Perhaps he could knock over a couple blokes along the way and steal their money. It would be a start and he wouldn’t be empty handed. It was better than the deafening silence he faced.
But one of the witches shrieked. Not a “get away, you big lout” sort of scream but the kind that he’d heard at The Weird Sister concerts when Myron Wagtail took the stage. I’m a rock star, he thought to himself.
“Take it all off,” a witch across the room screamed. “A galleon to see all of you.”
Tom tugged at his trouser leg to get his attention. “None of that here. You can use the last room on the left but I get a fourth of the profits and no one hears who gave you the idea to come here. The Ministry doesn’t actually allow this sort of thing, boy. Keep your trap shut and we can do business just fine.”
Goyle jumped off the table, still in shock that it had worked. A flock of witches, and even a few wizards, crowded around him. “Come on then. Get your wallets out. I’m not free.”
~~~
Draco was growing worried. He knew Goyle could handle himself but it had been twelve hours and not a peep. There was no way the lug would think to take any money he’d earned and run off. The idea that he might have been taken advantage of by someone even less scrupulous than himself or jailed had run through his mind, though.
The fireplace suddenly exploded in a massive cloud of green, red and yellow. Reaching for his wand, Draco was ready for whoever had finally come for him. He knew it was inevitable.
“Come on, girls. Step lightly. You have to meet my friend. Told you I knew Draco Malfoy, didn’t I? See, that’s him there. In the flesh. Not that you can see much of it right now but it’s there and as glorious as I told you. Jemmy, come here. Come say hello to Draco.”
With his mouth hanging open in a the most undignified of ways, Draco watched as a crowd of twenty witches and wizards, all in a state of undress, came throug the Floo into the front room. At the very front of the line was Goyle, his chest scratched and some of his hair gone but still smiling that slightly confused smile he got when he was having too much fun to think straight.
“I brought the fun to you, Draco. We were having such a good party and I told them I could give them something even more fun. Just a few extra galleons was all. Every one of them handed their money over with no questions asked. Well, that’s not true. They had a lot of questions about you but I assured them you were better than me. Go get your money, I told ‘em all. He’s double, is Draco Malfoy.”
“I get him first,” one of the taller witches shreiked. “One hundred galleons. Worth every penny.”
“One hundred galleons?” Draco looked at Goyle with wonderment. “They paid you fifty galleons to… what we talked about you doing?”
Goyle thumped his chest, wincing only slightly as he hit a rather deep scratch. “I’m Goyle. Behemoth of lurve. Fifty was for the normal stuff. That bloke over there, lounging on your settee? He gave me two hundred for what he called the weird stuff but it wasn’t anything we hadn’t alre-“
Draco pushed a hand against Goyle’s mouth in an attempt to shut him up. Already a few sheets to the wind, the larger boy took it as an invitation and licked his palm.
“Ew! What did you do that for?”
Goyle winked. “Maybe we better keep that for later. These people are paying right now. Who knows when we might find people like this again? But I’ll still have plenty left for you after they leave.”
With another genuine smile and a rueful shake of his head, Draco pushed past the tall witch and walked over to the lounging wizard. “For the right price, I can show you some truly weird stuff.”
Title: Padding the Coffers
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Gregory Goyle
Prompt: 23 - Greg Goyle. Behemoth of lurve. Available for personal visits at the Crack Cliche Prompts at azkatrazathome
Rating: Hard R? I wouldn't put it at a NC-17 but some people might just for the weirdness of it. No true squicks but a lot of innuendo.
Word Count: 1421
It was clear that they’d run out of good ideas and had moved on to the list of “these might work in a pinch” ideas they’d come up with while chugging expired pumpkin juice. They’d already tried beating people up for money their Second Year. It hadn’t worked then. Odds were good it wouldn’t work now. That had been the only other thing on the short list.
“It’s up to you, Goyle.” Draco wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, hoping to get rid of the bad taste in his mouth this idea caused. It hadn’t helped that he’d sampled some of what they’d be offering but he had to be sure this would work. He dearly hated putting the fate of his family’s money woes into the hand of a man who still couldn’t spell his name correctly. Book learning wasn’t the same as knowledge and even he had to admit that Goyle knew what he was doing. Amazing that he’d kept this skill hidden all these years.
“Leave it to me. I’ll have money flowing into our pockets by dawn.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. Someone might actually fall for this idea.”
Goyle had enough sense to look affronted but he zipped up his trousers, trying very hard to hold his head high but finding it impossible to both things at once. Instead, he finished dressing before trying to hold onto his dignity. One thing at a time, he reminded himself. First get dressed. Then go make a lot of money. Lastly, come back with proof that he could do some good with something other than his fists.
As he walked toward the fireplace of the still regal house the Black family had been able to hold onto by wheedling and calling in favours, Goyle looked over his shoulder one last time. There was an expression on Draco’s face that looked rather out of place. It was… a smile? He’d never seen a real smile on that thin face.
“I’ll make you proud.”
“Worry about making me rich,” Draco called back, glowering once again.
They had worried about where to find someone to pay for the services Goyle was offering. It wasn’t like he could walk out onto Diagon Alley and just begin shouting his intent to anyone in ear shot. This was the part of the plan that could ruin the whole thing. No takers… no money… a very angry Draco when he returned to Black Manor.
Things were always clearer when he talked them out. He missed Crabbe in moments like this. “Draco smiled after I was done with him and he never smiles. Bet he would have paid me if he’d had money which he don’t. But if I find someone just like him with money, I bet they’d like it just as much as he did.” Goyle looked around for inspiration but only saw the same Diagon Alley he’d always seen. Backtracking, he went to find Tom at the Leaky Cauldron. Surely the barman would have some ideas where he could start.
After Tom stopped laughing, which took up more time than Goyle would have liked, he came up with a good idea. “How about you offer your services here? I’d love to watch this, just for the sport of it. Besides, it’s Friday night and people are looking for a good time. Your offer, even if they don’t take you up on it, is bound to give people a good chuckle or two.”
“Thanks, mate.” Before he could talk himself out of the idea, which didn’t seem all that great to him, Goyle moved to the middle of the crowded room. “Oy!” When no one looked at him, he tried decided to try a different tactic.
His shirt gave way with a loud ripping sound that did get him some attention. Climbing onto the nearest table, he threw the ruined piece of clothing into a crowd of witches huddled over their large Piskie Potions (complete with paper umbrella) and misery at being along on a Friday night.
“Oy! I’m the answer to all your problems, ladies and gents. Gregory Goyle. Behemoth of lurve. Available for personal visits and parties of all sizes.”
Silence. For a brief moment, he thought about retrieving his shirt, along with a goodly portion of the pride he had left, and slinking back to Draco. Perhaps he could knock over a couple blokes along the way and steal their money. It would be a start and he wouldn’t be empty handed. It was better than the deafening silence he faced.
But one of the witches shrieked. Not a “get away, you big lout” sort of scream but the kind that he’d heard at The Weird Sister concerts when Myron Wagtail took the stage. I’m a rock star, he thought to himself.
“Take it all off,” a witch across the room screamed. “A galleon to see all of you.”
Tom tugged at his trouser leg to get his attention. “None of that here. You can use the last room on the left but I get a fourth of the profits and no one hears who gave you the idea to come here. The Ministry doesn’t actually allow this sort of thing, boy. Keep your trap shut and we can do business just fine.”
Goyle jumped off the table, still in shock that it had worked. A flock of witches, and even a few wizards, crowded around him. “Come on then. Get your wallets out. I’m not free.”
~~~
Draco was growing worried. He knew Goyle could handle himself but it had been twelve hours and not a peep. There was no way the lug would think to take any money he’d earned and run off. The idea that he might have been taken advantage of by someone even less scrupulous than himself or jailed had run through his mind, though.
The fireplace suddenly exploded in a massive cloud of green, red and yellow. Reaching for his wand, Draco was ready for whoever had finally come for him. He knew it was inevitable.
“Come on, girls. Step lightly. You have to meet my friend. Told you I knew Draco Malfoy, didn’t I? See, that’s him there. In the flesh. Not that you can see much of it right now but it’s there and as glorious as I told you. Jemmy, come here. Come say hello to Draco.”
With his mouth hanging open in a the most undignified of ways, Draco watched as a crowd of twenty witches and wizards, all in a state of undress, came throug the Floo into the front room. At the very front of the line was Goyle, his chest scratched and some of his hair gone but still smiling that slightly confused smile he got when he was having too much fun to think straight.
“I brought the fun to you, Draco. We were having such a good party and I told them I could give them something even more fun. Just a few extra galleons was all. Every one of them handed their money over with no questions asked. Well, that’s not true. They had a lot of questions about you but I assured them you were better than me. Go get your money, I told ‘em all. He’s double, is Draco Malfoy.”
“I get him first,” one of the taller witches shreiked. “One hundred galleons. Worth every penny.”
“One hundred galleons?” Draco looked at Goyle with wonderment. “They paid you fifty galleons to… what we talked about you doing?”
Goyle thumped his chest, wincing only slightly as he hit a rather deep scratch. “I’m Goyle. Behemoth of lurve. Fifty was for the normal stuff. That bloke over there, lounging on your settee? He gave me two hundred for what he called the weird stuff but it wasn’t anything we hadn’t alre-“
Draco pushed a hand against Goyle’s mouth in an attempt to shut him up. Already a few sheets to the wind, the larger boy took it as an invitation and licked his palm.
“Ew! What did you do that for?”
Goyle winked. “Maybe we better keep that for later. These people are paying right now. Who knows when we might find people like this again? But I’ll still have plenty left for you after they leave.”
With another genuine smile and a rueful shake of his head, Draco pushed past the tall witch and walked over to the lounging wizard. “For the right price, I can show you some truly weird stuff.”