Grumpy Old Wizards - H/D - PG-13
Starting tomorrow, I plan to work on my Slytherin Sex God story (the winner of the finishathon poll.) However, here is a story that's been lingering on my hard drive despite being super short.
Title: Grumpy Old Wizards
Author: mahaliem
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Length - Approx 1,250 words
Summary: Harry and Draco - many, many, many years later.
Disclaimer: J.K.Rowling owns the characters. No infringement is intended.
Notes: Warning - Unbetad
Grumpy Old Wizards
Harry should've glanced over when he heard a body huff down into the seat next to him. It wouldn't have done any good, but it might've given him a warning.
"Hello, Potter."
Harry knew that voice. It had been plaguing him for well over a hundred years now. "Malfoy," Harry said, turning to face him.
"I won't wish you 'Happy Birthday'. You have more than enough idiots doing that when it's not even your birthday yet," Draco said.
Harry looked around at the Ministry lobby and the numerous people celebrating his birth. When he'd been young, all he'd wanted was a cake and few gifts for his birthday. Funny how that was all he wanted now.
"It was strange enough when they made my birthday a Wizarding holiday, but it's even stranger that they changed the date."
"It just proves that even the Boy Who Offed Voldemort can't compete with the desire for a three-day weekend."
Harry grinned. He was about to say something else when a middle-aged couple approached him.
"Sir." The man reached out to shake Harry's hand. "I am honoured to finally meet you. I intend to follow in your footsteps as much as possible."
"You intend to be a complete git, too?" Malfoy said.
The man looked affronted, but decided against making a scene and backed away. Harry could see him shooting glances back at Malfoy and whispering furiously to his wife.
"Do you know who you just insulted?" Harry asked Draco.
"No. Who was he?"
Harry shrugged. "Haven't a clue. I was curious if you had something against him or if you've taken to insulting random strangers. Random strangers, it is."
Harry's grandson came over to them a moment later. "Whatever did you say to the Head Auror?"
As Draco cackled and thumped his cane on the floor, Harry grinned and shook his head. "I assure you, Severus, it wasn't me. It was this prat sitting next to me."
Severus scowled at Draco and seemed on the verge of rebuking him before deciding that nothing would come of it. "Well, you're needed on stage. It's time for the Minister to give his speech."
"Oh, joy," Harry said, causing Malfoy to cackle again. Batting Severus' helping hand away, he rose and made his way to the stage.
Harry didn't see Malfoy again that evening, which was probably a good thing. He didn't want to hear Malfoy mock him for falling asleep in front of everyone while the Minister praised him.
* * *
The next time Harry saw Draco it was at a fundraising dinner. Ignoring his plate of dry chicken and overcooked vegetables, he peered across the table at him. "You have more hair than you used to."
"I've always had a full head of hair."
"Nope. You were balding. What have you been doing to get your hair back - sacrificing virgins?"
"At my age, what else am I supposed to do with virgins?" Draco asked, causing Harry to snicker. "Besides, their untimely deaths are a more than adequate exchange for an almost full head of Malfoy hair."
Nearby, Harry could hear a gasp as someone took Malfoy seriously. “You could make a fortune selling whatever you’re using,” Harry said.
“I already have a fortune. Besides, I assure you that my hair is only the result of my superior breeding. We Malfoys are the best at everything.”
“Except for winning wars and Quidditch.”
Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”
“I said EXCEPT FOR WINNING WARS AND QUIDDITCH,” Harry shouted. “What’s wrong? Is your Malfoy-bred hearing going?”
“That’s it, Potter! You have gone too far! Meet me at Hogwarts on Saturday and we’ll put an end to this once and for all.”
Harry grinned. “Gladly.”
* * *
“Grandad Ron! Grandad Ron!”
Ron blinked awake. He was actually Madge’s great grandfather, but Grandad was easier to say. He peered toward where her face appeared in the fire. “What’s going on?” Ron asked struggling to straighten up in the chair where he’d fallen asleep again.
“You have to help! Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy are here and the entire staff is in an uproar. We’re certain one of them will be killed.”
Ron relaxed back in his chair again. Madge might have been smart enough to teach Arithmancy at Hogwarts, but if she was worried about Harry, she didn’t possess too much common sense. “Harry could beat that prat in a duel with his eyes closed,” Ron said.
“They’re not dueling!” Madge said. “They’re playing Quidditch! One of them is bound to fall and break his neck.”
“They’re playing Quidditch?” Ron pulled himself to his feet. “The two of them? Well, we’ll see about that.”
Madge, looking relieved, said good-bye and ended the Floo-call.
“Darn fools,” Ron muttered. “Can’t believe they’re playing Quidditch and didn’t invite me.” In a louder voice, he called out, “Hermione - where did I put my broom?”
* * *
Hermione rose from her seat in the Quidditch stands, then Apparated to the ground. Over the last few weekends, she'd learned it was much easier than taking the stairs. She was tucking away the Portkey she’d prepared that would take them to St. Mungo’s in the event of an emergency (thankfully unused once again) when her great, great grandson, Aloysius Goyle stumbled out of the Quidditch locker room.
“Argh! My eyes!”
Hermione approached him and put her hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“I was in the Quidditch locker room and saw Great Uncle Harry and Mr. Malfoy.”
Hermione tsked. Although the Goyle children tended to have their great grandmother Rose's intelligence, Hermione was always alert to possible thuggish tendencies. “Really, Aloysius. I know the sight of elderly people, especially naked, extremely elderly people may not be the most pleasant in the world, but it’s no reason for you to make such a scene and is rather insulting to those involved.”
“It wasn’t that! Well, not just that. It’s what they were doing.” When Hermione looked at him blankly, he added. “Together.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, dear! Quick - where’s my husband? We have to stop him before-“
“Argh! My eyes!” Ron yelled as he exited the Quidditch locker room.
* * *
Sitting in the Malfoy Manor's study, Draco put aside his book and glanced to where Potter sat reading the newspaper. He was glad he’d managed to convince him to move into the Manor.
When Potter’s wife had been alive, she’d wanted the children to live with them so now all manner of relatives were constantly coming and going. Draco had made it a habit to gift his grandchildren with estates near enough that they could visit, but far enough away that he could send them home when they got on his nerves. This resulted in the Manor being much quieter than the Potter home, though the Manor still wasn’t quite perfect.
“I think I’ll take a nap,” Draco said.
Potter raised his head from where he’d been reading the latest Quidditch scores. “A nap? That's a good idea. I’ll join you.”
“I plan to actually nap," Draco said, pulling himself up to a stand.
"So do I," said Potter. He, too, rose to his feet, though with more ease (damn it) than Draco had.
Draco's gaze ran over him and he leered. "Maybe we can nap afterwards."
Leaning forward, Harry nuzzled Draco's jaw line. "Sounds like a plan." Harry's right hand wandered down Draco's chest to his waist, then continued lower still.
"Argh! My eyes!" yelled Lucius.
The End
Title: Grumpy Old Wizards
Author: mahaliem
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Length - Approx 1,250 words
Summary: Harry and Draco - many, many, many years later.
Disclaimer: J.K.Rowling owns the characters. No infringement is intended.
Notes: Warning - Unbetad
Grumpy Old Wizards
Harry should've glanced over when he heard a body huff down into the seat next to him. It wouldn't have done any good, but it might've given him a warning.
"Hello, Potter."
Harry knew that voice. It had been plaguing him for well over a hundred years now. "Malfoy," Harry said, turning to face him.
"I won't wish you 'Happy Birthday'. You have more than enough idiots doing that when it's not even your birthday yet," Draco said.
Harry looked around at the Ministry lobby and the numerous people celebrating his birth. When he'd been young, all he'd wanted was a cake and few gifts for his birthday. Funny how that was all he wanted now.
"It was strange enough when they made my birthday a Wizarding holiday, but it's even stranger that they changed the date."
"It just proves that even the Boy Who Offed Voldemort can't compete with the desire for a three-day weekend."
Harry grinned. He was about to say something else when a middle-aged couple approached him.
"Sir." The man reached out to shake Harry's hand. "I am honoured to finally meet you. I intend to follow in your footsteps as much as possible."
"You intend to be a complete git, too?" Malfoy said.
The man looked affronted, but decided against making a scene and backed away. Harry could see him shooting glances back at Malfoy and whispering furiously to his wife.
"Do you know who you just insulted?" Harry asked Draco.
"No. Who was he?"
Harry shrugged. "Haven't a clue. I was curious if you had something against him or if you've taken to insulting random strangers. Random strangers, it is."
Harry's grandson came over to them a moment later. "Whatever did you say to the Head Auror?"
As Draco cackled and thumped his cane on the floor, Harry grinned and shook his head. "I assure you, Severus, it wasn't me. It was this prat sitting next to me."
Severus scowled at Draco and seemed on the verge of rebuking him before deciding that nothing would come of it. "Well, you're needed on stage. It's time for the Minister to give his speech."
"Oh, joy," Harry said, causing Malfoy to cackle again. Batting Severus' helping hand away, he rose and made his way to the stage.
Harry didn't see Malfoy again that evening, which was probably a good thing. He didn't want to hear Malfoy mock him for falling asleep in front of everyone while the Minister praised him.
* * *
The next time Harry saw Draco it was at a fundraising dinner. Ignoring his plate of dry chicken and overcooked vegetables, he peered across the table at him. "You have more hair than you used to."
"I've always had a full head of hair."
"Nope. You were balding. What have you been doing to get your hair back - sacrificing virgins?"
"At my age, what else am I supposed to do with virgins?" Draco asked, causing Harry to snicker. "Besides, their untimely deaths are a more than adequate exchange for an almost full head of Malfoy hair."
Nearby, Harry could hear a gasp as someone took Malfoy seriously. “You could make a fortune selling whatever you’re using,” Harry said.
“I already have a fortune. Besides, I assure you that my hair is only the result of my superior breeding. We Malfoys are the best at everything.”
“Except for winning wars and Quidditch.”
Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”
“I said EXCEPT FOR WINNING WARS AND QUIDDITCH,” Harry shouted. “What’s wrong? Is your Malfoy-bred hearing going?”
“That’s it, Potter! You have gone too far! Meet me at Hogwarts on Saturday and we’ll put an end to this once and for all.”
Harry grinned. “Gladly.”
* * *
“Grandad Ron! Grandad Ron!”
Ron blinked awake. He was actually Madge’s great grandfather, but Grandad was easier to say. He peered toward where her face appeared in the fire. “What’s going on?” Ron asked struggling to straighten up in the chair where he’d fallen asleep again.
“You have to help! Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy are here and the entire staff is in an uproar. We’re certain one of them will be killed.”
Ron relaxed back in his chair again. Madge might have been smart enough to teach Arithmancy at Hogwarts, but if she was worried about Harry, she didn’t possess too much common sense. “Harry could beat that prat in a duel with his eyes closed,” Ron said.
“They’re not dueling!” Madge said. “They’re playing Quidditch! One of them is bound to fall and break his neck.”
“They’re playing Quidditch?” Ron pulled himself to his feet. “The two of them? Well, we’ll see about that.”
Madge, looking relieved, said good-bye and ended the Floo-call.
“Darn fools,” Ron muttered. “Can’t believe they’re playing Quidditch and didn’t invite me.” In a louder voice, he called out, “Hermione - where did I put my broom?”
* * *
Hermione rose from her seat in the Quidditch stands, then Apparated to the ground. Over the last few weekends, she'd learned it was much easier than taking the stairs. She was tucking away the Portkey she’d prepared that would take them to St. Mungo’s in the event of an emergency (thankfully unused once again) when her great, great grandson, Aloysius Goyle stumbled out of the Quidditch locker room.
“Argh! My eyes!”
Hermione approached him and put her hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“I was in the Quidditch locker room and saw Great Uncle Harry and Mr. Malfoy.”
Hermione tsked. Although the Goyle children tended to have their great grandmother Rose's intelligence, Hermione was always alert to possible thuggish tendencies. “Really, Aloysius. I know the sight of elderly people, especially naked, extremely elderly people may not be the most pleasant in the world, but it’s no reason for you to make such a scene and is rather insulting to those involved.”
“It wasn’t that! Well, not just that. It’s what they were doing.” When Hermione looked at him blankly, he added. “Together.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, dear! Quick - where’s my husband? We have to stop him before-“
“Argh! My eyes!” Ron yelled as he exited the Quidditch locker room.
* * *
Sitting in the Malfoy Manor's study, Draco put aside his book and glanced to where Potter sat reading the newspaper. He was glad he’d managed to convince him to move into the Manor.
When Potter’s wife had been alive, she’d wanted the children to live with them so now all manner of relatives were constantly coming and going. Draco had made it a habit to gift his grandchildren with estates near enough that they could visit, but far enough away that he could send them home when they got on his nerves. This resulted in the Manor being much quieter than the Potter home, though the Manor still wasn’t quite perfect.
“I think I’ll take a nap,” Draco said.
Potter raised his head from where he’d been reading the latest Quidditch scores. “A nap? That's a good idea. I’ll join you.”
“I plan to actually nap," Draco said, pulling himself up to a stand.
"So do I," said Potter. He, too, rose to his feet, though with more ease (damn it) than Draco had.
Draco's gaze ran over him and he leered. "Maybe we can nap afterwards."
Leaning forward, Harry nuzzled Draco's jaw line. "Sounds like a plan." Harry's right hand wandered down Draco's chest to his waist, then continued lower still.
"Argh! My eyes!" yelled Lucius.
The End