POST 13
Um, there are no words. I am having issues? I live in a dorm? My pants are so heavily laden with salt that they started clunking? I will be making a slightly more insightful post soon... possible Saturday!
Oh, and for people who are from England/know more than I do. Is a bathroom called the loo all the time or do people use bathroom as well? Just out of curiosity....
I will get these beta-ed soon!
Title:Attack
Rating: PG
Pairing: Harry, Draco (eventual romance) gen right now/
Summary: Harry's morning is filled with shit.
First part: Lost
The morning, it turned out, did not mix well with decaf. Hermione was on a health craze and believed that everyone needed to follow in suit.
So instead Harry headed toward the restroom to try and catch an hour of desperately needed sleep in a stall (it was remarkably hard to hide from both Hermione and Kingsley).
Naturally, it hadn’t happened. Natural things like sleep didn’t happen to him. At the moment the most natural thing that was around was the bits of poo flying about.
“Fuck! Get your claws off me!” Harry said desperately grappling for his wand. A fresh surge of the water from the cursed toilet washed it far from his reach.
Concentrating Harry tried to wandlessly call it back. Unfortunately, the toilet chose to time to spew forth an acidic mixture of sewage and tar into his face. He was drowning; the mixture seemed to seep into his body through his skin. Harry never realized how much he loved oxygen until that moment.
Then black spots, like maggots over his eyes, were closing in.
And then-
Draco?
“Potter, I know you were raised in a barbaric Muggle household, but surely even Muggles know how to aim for the hole-” Draco said glancing around. Clearly he missed the fact that Harry was dying on the bathroom floor. The toilet lashed out with its reptilian claws, a mirror-like scale falling on his face as it went over him.
Draco managed to jump out of the way just in time and pulled out his wand. Not bad considering Draco was an Administrator.
“Stupefy!” The claws froze.
“Potter!” Draco did something with his wand that cleared his airways. Harry took a deep breath.
“Thank you,” he croaked out. “Watch out!”
Harry pushed Draco out of the way of the moving claw, but he wasn’t fast enough. The claw managed to grab the edge of one of Draco’s tailored trousers.
“Give me my fucking trousers back!” Draco roared using his wand to sent streams of fire toward the claws. Harry searched for his wand among the sewage and broken porcelain. He saw it like a glimmer of gold in a river of pebbles.
Draco was holding his own with the beast, but it was clear that something had to be done. Harry did the first thing that came to mind…and vanished Draco’s trousers. They sprinted toward the door before the man-eating toilet had time to react.
“Potter! Those were my trousers! Is that any way to treat someone who just saved your life?”
Draco asked after they had successfully locked the door.
Harry eyes fell toward Draco’s hips where a tight fighting pair of pants remained. No trousers.
“I did what I had to do! I’m sorry for keeping you alive!” Harry said attempting to run his hands through his hair. It didn't move, he could feel dried tar. It was crusty and would likely take some sort of chemical treatment to remove.
“Sorry! That wasn’t an apology that was a sorry misguided attempt to take a peek. I had everything under control; there was no need to vanish my trousers like that!” Draco said.
“Someone tried to kill me!” Harry finally burst out.
Silence.
“…with a toilet? I mean I could think of thirty less messy ways off the top of my head,” Draco said.
Harry glared at him and headed down to the Auror training gym.
Today was going to be a long day Harry thought as he stepped into the showers.
The tar wasn’t coming off.
Shit.
Oh, and for people who are from England/know more than I do. Is a bathroom called the loo all the time or do people use bathroom as well? Just out of curiosity....
I will get these beta-ed soon!
Title:Attack
Rating: PG
Pairing: Harry, Draco (eventual romance) gen right now/
Summary: Harry's morning is filled with shit.
First part: Lost
The morning, it turned out, did not mix well with decaf. Hermione was on a health craze and believed that everyone needed to follow in suit.
So instead Harry headed toward the restroom to try and catch an hour of desperately needed sleep in a stall (it was remarkably hard to hide from both Hermione and Kingsley).
Naturally, it hadn’t happened. Natural things like sleep didn’t happen to him. At the moment the most natural thing that was around was the bits of poo flying about.
“Fuck! Get your claws off me!” Harry said desperately grappling for his wand. A fresh surge of the water from the cursed toilet washed it far from his reach.
Concentrating Harry tried to wandlessly call it back. Unfortunately, the toilet chose to time to spew forth an acidic mixture of sewage and tar into his face. He was drowning; the mixture seemed to seep into his body through his skin. Harry never realized how much he loved oxygen until that moment.
Then black spots, like maggots over his eyes, were closing in.
And then-
Draco?
“Potter, I know you were raised in a barbaric Muggle household, but surely even Muggles know how to aim for the hole-” Draco said glancing around. Clearly he missed the fact that Harry was dying on the bathroom floor. The toilet lashed out with its reptilian claws, a mirror-like scale falling on his face as it went over him.
Draco managed to jump out of the way just in time and pulled out his wand. Not bad considering Draco was an Administrator.
“Stupefy!” The claws froze.
“Potter!” Draco did something with his wand that cleared his airways. Harry took a deep breath.
“Thank you,” he croaked out. “Watch out!”
Harry pushed Draco out of the way of the moving claw, but he wasn’t fast enough. The claw managed to grab the edge of one of Draco’s tailored trousers.
“Give me my fucking trousers back!” Draco roared using his wand to sent streams of fire toward the claws. Harry searched for his wand among the sewage and broken porcelain. He saw it like a glimmer of gold in a river of pebbles.
Draco was holding his own with the beast, but it was clear that something had to be done. Harry did the first thing that came to mind…and vanished Draco’s trousers. They sprinted toward the door before the man-eating toilet had time to react.
“Potter! Those were my trousers! Is that any way to treat someone who just saved your life?”
Draco asked after they had successfully locked the door.
Harry eyes fell toward Draco’s hips where a tight fighting pair of pants remained. No trousers.
“I did what I had to do! I’m sorry for keeping you alive!” Harry said attempting to run his hands through his hair. It didn't move, he could feel dried tar. It was crusty and would likely take some sort of chemical treatment to remove.
“Sorry! That wasn’t an apology that was a sorry misguided attempt to take a peek. I had everything under control; there was no need to vanish my trousers like that!” Draco said.
“Someone tried to kill me!” Harry finally burst out.
Silence.
“…with a toilet? I mean I could think of thirty less messy ways off the top of my head,” Draco said.
Harry glared at him and headed down to the Auror training gym.
Today was going to be a long day Harry thought as he stepped into the showers.
The tar wasn’t coming off.
Shit.