When in Venice (Chap 9)
Title: When in Venice... (Chapter Nine)
Beta: Cool September
Rating: NC17 Eventually
Disclaimer: Only the flesh wands are mine - Everything, including copyright is JKs! Lucky bwitch...
Warnings: Slightly Crack!fic, graphic scenes, angst, language, drinking habits, UST, other pairings, original character, hufflepuff bashing, AU I suppose, obsession, voyeurism, torture, exhabitionism...and some other stuff.
<--Previous Chapter
Chapter Nine
Harry had thought about dropping the ugly bird to the floor, casting a disillusion charm and blending in with the nearest wall. It was a good plan despite the animal cruelty involved, and Harry would have deployed it if he had time enough to act before the door opened. Justin’s lips formed a soft ‘o’ of astonishment, his eyes darting from Harry’s face to the squirming poultry that was still chirping for freedom from Harry’s grasp.
Harry’s attention was otherwise occupied from the constipated expressions Justin was pulling. Draco stood by the door to the bathroom, pinstriped trousers unbuttoned with the tails of an Oxford shirt stuck in his flies, a blue tie hanging skewiff around his neck. The top three buttons were still not done up and his fringe static from changing.
It was the most unkempt Harry had ever seen Draco after his first cup of tea. Draco looked horribly ruffled overall, and Harry was surprised Draco would permit Justin to see him in such a way.
The opportunity was suspicious and therefore, gold.
“Nice tie.”
“Harry!” called Justin, trying to step over the dropped bird and run after his boyfriend.
Draco just smirked, finished tucking his shirt in his trousers and thought, about bloody time!
**
Seated on the steps of the church, Draco watched a little boy chalking up the pavements of the square with his sister, the parents casting the occasional watchful glance in their direction from the café. He had watched the same two children defiling the stones for the past four months, usually through the veil of foliage his balcony provided him. He loved his balcony, but to sit in the sun…not run for his life, to not worry about a wand trained on his back…for just five minutes, it was nice to bask in the sun and pretend he was there on holiday.
The boy was chalking some sort of Loch Ness monster with a pink crayon, and Draco slipped his wand down the side of his sleeve. He cast a quick Evanesco on the drawing and the boy began to cry abruptly from the shock.
Draco was most gratified when the girl silenced her brother by whacking him over the head with a piece of her yellow chalk. In his head, he named her Pansy.
Draco shivered. The shift of magic nearby was his cue to get off his arse. Tucking his wand safely away, he stood up and, concealed in the arch of the church entrance, dusted his trousers down. When he saw Potter appear out of a dark shadowed corner that none of the Muggles drew their eyes to, Draco took one step into the sun again.
Squinting at Potter, Draco tried to keep his face neutral. “Do you feel any lighter without the ball and chain?”
“Much.” said Potter shortly. He seemed surprised at the Muggle attire, or maybe he was stunned by the unknown concept of a suit, the scruffy git. He gave Draco a once over and nodded. “Let’s go.”
“Right-o.”
The little boy threw the yellow chalk back at his sister’s eye, but he never got named because Draco and Harry were already atoms in the air.
**
"So let me get this straight," Draco sneered at the wood rot on the skirting boards, "My superior is a know-it-all Mudblood?"
Kingsley had a twisted sense of humour it seemed. "Oh yes."
"Great." Draco wanted to turn heel and go back to the other camp. Surely Voldemort would let him off just this once. After all, what's a little spying matter anyhow?! Kingsley gestured to the stairs on the right of the corridor and as they ascended them, the chuckle the Auror let out before continuing his informative welcome was less than assuring.
"Unfortunately, the only room we have available at the moment is on the third floor."
"...so? Better than the first floor, surely." Draco hated canals. What was the point of building houses in water? When Kingsley didn't contradict him, Draco wondered if he really would prefer to be at canal-level accommodation.
"The rest of HQ were briefed about your arrival, and I'm sorry to say that there are only two people not partnered off already. However, Ronald Weasley is our greatest weaponry man and therefore cannot be put at risk in the field, so you're left with one option."
"Weasley?" Draco felt himself becoming nauseated. "Is this whole place overwrought with Gryffindors?!"
They climbed three flights before coming to a chaotic landing that was covered in screws and green gloop. He followed Kingsley across the way, and was led to the only plain door at the end of the corridor. Raising one eyebrow, he shifted his bag and pushed open the door, blinking into the sunlit room to the open French windows to the balcony beyond. "...Wow."
Too overcome with exploring his new balcony, becoming intimately acquainted with the vines and shrubbery, Draco completely forgot to ask who was the only other unpartnered Auror in the joint. This was his first mistake. When Harry Potter stepped out onto Draco’s new veranda, he almost fell over the side of it with shock.
Kingsley had a twisted sense of humour because he more than let out a stray chuckle. Sadistic bastard.
**
“So…” began Harry, a few paces behind Draco as they weaved through the alleys. “You and Justin, eh?” Malfoy just smirked over his shoulder while Harry tried to avert his eyes and be subtle. “…you never mentioned you were gay.”
“I’m not gay.”
“Oh, so fucking my boyfriend had -”
“I have never had sex with your boyfriend.” stated Draco, turning the corner to the back of the warehouse.
“Justin told me about your ‘liaisons’!” hissed Harry, flattening himself against the outer wall of the warehouse.
Draco smirked, “He wasn’t your boyfriend at the time.”
Harry's teeth clicked loudly as he shut his mouth firmly. “Well…well, you’re definitely not ‘straight’.”
“I am bisexual.”
Harry snorted. What bollocks. “You either like cock or not.”
Malfoy turned around to look at Harry and raised an eyebrow. “I like cock. And I like boobs.”
“Then maybe you should go out with a fat man.” Harry almost cupped his own chest to show that he had the capacity to fill an A cup, but decided that insanity was only a long stride off a very short pier. And on reflection, he didn’t have the capacity to fill an A cup.
“A fat man?” repeated Draco, looking at Harry suspiciously, his nose screwed up, “Are you trying to set me up with your cousin again?”
“You have the same sense of humour.” Stated Harry. He would bet his left nut that Draco would never let Dudley touch him. They rounded the side of the warehouse where the window that they had previously peered through came into view. The box that they had stood on was still there and security seemed somewhat lax because the pane had not been returned to it’s window frame.
Draco stepped onto the box first and Harry had to elbow him in the ribs to get enough foot space for himself, nudging the blonde over so he could see inside the warehouse. “Move over, you closet!”
Draco made a noise of indignation. “Closet? What is Jessica then? A beard?”
“Yes! You can’t use her as an excuse when you’ve been sticking it to Justin!” hissed Harry, digging another elbow into the warm side, “Besides, you’ve only kissed her once!”
Jessica had been around for almost a fortnight now, but the more times he saw her in the corridor, or Draco hanging around her like she’d dipped her bra in Earl Gray was making those two weeks stretch like an eternity.
“Three kisses.” corrected Draco, smiling somewhat to himself. “She’s going to be a firecracker in bed, I can tell.”
“From three kisses?”
“And a love bite.”
“A love bite.” He did remember the red mark Draco had flashed so proudly the last time they were on this part of the island, and the hot nausea that had settled in his stomach.
“…Okay, I got it from Jeff.” admitted Draco, a nice flush creeping over his face.
“Oh, do tell!” smirked Harry as he mentally added Jeff to his list.
Draco was looking studiously inside the warehouse for any Death Eaters, and when he decided the coast was clear, scrambled one foot up to the windowsill. “The day Jessica came to have tea with me on the balcony, I had ran out of biscuits and went to get some from the fourth floor kitchen. Jeff caught me on the shoulder with a packet of digestives. That man was a Chaser in his younger days, I’m sure of it.”
“You showed me a bruise and pretended it was a love bite?” asked Harry once they had both clambered through the window, dropping down a couple of feet to the dusty floor of the warehouse. The unidentifiable smell that had tickled their senses the last time they had been there was indefinitely stronger on the other side of the privacy spells. Hot and humid, the overhead yellow lighting reminded Harry of a cocaine shed in Cuba. He expected a greasy Cuban to pop out any minute and inspect their nostrils for white rings.
Draco moved through the rows of boxes, heading towards the centre, and Harry followed closely behind, wondering
“It amuses me deeply to see you turn that funny colour you do when you're jealous,” informed Draco, letting out a small smirk before turning back to watch Snape. Harry was speechless.
What do I do, what do I do?! Say I’m jealous? Say that I’m so jealous I want to lick his nipples that are always sodding sticking through his top?! Damn him and his nipples!
Snape was holding court again on what looked like another coffee break, all the men were slung carelessly over crates, nursing steaming cups. This time however, Snape’s cup was not generic, but hand-painted and cracked, the words ‘the world’ and ‘stupid scar’ peeking through his slender fingers as he informed Macnair that he was a blundering fool.
“You are a blundering fool.” stated Snape, “You have to pack the boxes properly! Do you want to get caught?”
“Why can’t you do it?” snarled Macnair as he threw his cup away from him, clearly not enjoying whatever concoction he was drinking. Harry watched as Draco edged forward, towards an open crate that was behind Snape’s billowing cloaked form. How his cloak managed to ruffle in a warehouse left Harry to ponder other things than his partner’s pert bum which was wiggling in his direction.
“Why bother when you idiots should be able to do a simple task. How are you going to explain to the Dark Lord that you couldn’t even fill a few boxes with some t-”
Often full of aristocratic grace and elegance, Draco’s nose dive into the crate as he skidded on a dark mass scattered on the floor completely ruined their stealth plan. Snape paused in mid-sentence to blink down at Draco’s scrambling form, his legs flailing as he tried to extract himself from the wooden box. The box was upended onto its side and the smaller contents avalanched onto Draco. “Eugh, they stink!” cried Draco, trying to extract himself from the mountain of flesh wands and the box itself. Everyone watched, stunned, and only Harry had the forethought to whip out his wand. Moving from where he was hidden, he approached the circle of Death Eaters. Wand pointed at Snape, Harry grabbed Draco’s elbow and extracted him from the crate.
Pink in the face, Draco jerked out of Harry’s grip and grabbed his own wand to hold pointed at Macnair. None of the Death Eaters had moved for their own weapons, instead they stared blankly at the two Aurors and clutched their mugs in disbelief.
The moment was extremely anticlimactic.
**
Severus was the first to recover, feeling his senses adjust to the sheer idiocy of his apprenticed spy, and pulled out his wand to thrust at Potter’s features in return.
“Mister Malfoy. What a delight. To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” He briefly glanced at the Gryffindor and felt his lip curl but said nothing. They had gotten themselves into this mess, they could get themselves out of it. Out the corner of his eye, he could see Macnair coming back from his astonishment, flesh wand at the ready.
Draco tugged the collar of his suit and straightened his cuffs. Potter merely held his aim taut and stood in bland jeans and a scruffy orange top. His hair and shirt clashed like a Greek vase.
“Evening, Severus. No welcome-back hug?”
“I’m not the hugging type.” consoled Snape, “I’m assuming you're here for some sort of official business…?”
Snape watched Potter’s eyes drift to the pile of dark organic mass underfoot, and felt almost relieved until the stupid oaf’s brow crinkled in confusion. Evidently, Potter couldn’t recognise a simple herb, a skill left un-acquired since Hogwarts. If only the other potion-competent person in the room would look down. Look, you fool!
“Actually, it’s not that official. Let not the suit fool you.” said Draco, “We’re merely here for a little peek at this year’s wand collection.”
“You made a mistake coming back here, Malfoy.” snarled Macnair dramatically, shooting a red jet out of his wand.
A brief scuffle of spells rained through the warehouse, lighting up the aluminium walls, until all but Snape were incapacitated. Harry settled his aim back on Snape, and allowed Draco and his favourite greasy haired git to continue their conversation.
“He’s right,” said Snape, inclining his head toward Macnair’s petrified form. “Unless you're here to beg our Lord’s forgiveness, then you're just asking for trouble.”
With his back to the petrified party, Snape waggled his eyebrows and Harry became extremely disturbed. His wand wavered in his hand as he watched his old professor make sexual advances with his forehead muscles, and Draco respond with one of his own patented eyebrow raises.
A secret conversation seemed to commence between the two Slytherins and Draco finally burst into speech, “Right, well…yes. We must be going now. Erm, and…you cannot stop us, you evil Death Eater man! Erm…spell…” Draco pointed his wand at Snape and gave a familiar wiggle with it, but Snape didn’t move. Snape’s face didn’t move into the frozen constipated look that most people got when they were hit with Petrificus Totalus, but remained unmoving. Harry was left to question whether Snape always looked constipated.
Scooping down on the floor, Draco grabbed two flesh wands. Throwing one to Harry and giving Snape an insolent wink, he turned heel. Harry followed, frowning over his shoulder at the stationary Death Eaters. Snape’s billowing cloak was the only sign of movement.
**
TBC