New Fic: T for Tragedy, Tyranny, Taxonomy, Tactful, but most of all Tricky
Title: T for Tragedy, Tyranny, Taxonomy, Tactful, but most of all Tricky * Now with excerpts from the great Unpublished work V for Villainy!
Rating: R-ish
Pairing:Harr y/Draco, Ron/Hermione + MYSTERY pairings
Notes: Originally requested by slashmod in slashfest.
There must always be a Stubby Boardman. When the current Stubby Boardman gets killed (however you wish), he grasps the nearest warm body to pass on the secrets of the Stubby Boardman who just happens to be Draco. (i.e, sort of like the Dread Pirate Roberts from the Princess Bride but the Stubby Boardman instead)Harry/Draco There must always be a Stubby Boardman. When the current Stubby Boardman gets killed (however you wish), he grasps the nearest warm body to pass on the secrets of Stubby Boardman who just happens to be Draco. (ie, sort of like the Dread Pirate Roberts from Princess Bride but Stubby Boardman instead).
More Notes: The author was pushing the plot cart along at a steady pace only then it slipped and is now plummeting down toward a marketplace filled with compasses and glass. Feel free to leave comments... It's supposed to be a little corny in the beginning, but it will make sense (I hope)! Yes, so I am slow in writing by myself, but look! It's only been two years (or so). There will be more to come.
Summary: Basically crack with some plot? After the war life went on. Harry’s life is not quite going the way he expected it to.
*
I am a villain. Now it’s time for the world to see who I really am.
A villain that is.
*
T.
Harry hadn’t thought that T was a real score until he saw it on his Auror report.
Hermione beamed from the other side of the room. There was no doubt as to her marks.
T? What did even stand for again? Traumatizing? Terrible? Troll?
“Harry! How did you do? I was assigned to the regiment A training -” she said.
“I did… well. Erm, yeah,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck.
She grabbed the paper from his hand. Bugger. She should have been a Seeker… of course they would have to attach a test to the Snitch, but that was simple enough.
“No-Hermione!” he yelped, grabbing it back from her. Too late, she had already seen the score.
“Oh, Harry. I’m sorry. I don’t understand! What happened?”
“Risk Arithmacy happened. I don’t understand why we even need to use that skill. It’s not like it ever helps anyway!” Harry said, crumpling the notice.
“Maybe you can talk to Kingsley. He’s seen you in the field. He knows how good your instinct is.”
Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He had asked Kingsley not to treat him like a celebrity. He had made him make a fucking unbreakable oath.
“I’ll see. I can’t see him being lenient on this,” Harry said finally. “Have fun tonight, I’m still on rounds duty.”
Hermione reached around and hugged him. Harry almost fell back from the suddenness of it all. Her hair tickled the bottom of his chin. God, when was the last time she hugged him? Fourth year? He cautiously put his arms around her. Their height difference was even more prominent now.
“It’ll work out, you’ll see.”
“Yeah…” Harry said, not believing the word as it left his mouth.
*
Villainy is not for the weak or poor. It is a way to enhance social standing in society. Tyranny is a good start on the path toward villainy. The only difference between a tyrant and a villain is about three good haircuts. To begin one’s foray in tyranny I would recommend somehow taking the place of an already prominent member of society through bribes or other methods…
*
There must always be a Stubby Boardman.
That’s what the Stubby Boardman told himself as he stumbled down the dark alley. His hand clutched his belly as though it would somehow quench the flow of blood from the wound. A flash of light raced past him and hit the wall. Particles of brick and mortar rained down on him as the Stubby Boardman tripped and fell to his knees.
“Death is imminent unless you confess to me!” The voice came from behind him. The Stubby Boardman whirled around, but wasn’t fast enough to block the Stunner. His wand rolled away from him.
“Who are you?” The Boardman asked, trying to reach for the wand. The cloaked figure strutted passed him, deliberately taking care to step on the Boardmans’ wand .
“I am someone to remember,” the man said, dramatically lowering his hood. The Boardman started to laugh when he caught sight of the face.
“Mock me not! It will be your last! Aveda Kedevra! the formerly hooded man screamed out.
*
Villainy has a weakness and it is laughter. The more people laugh at you the less power you have. My suggestion to counter this is to kill all those who laugh and bring laughter.
*
The shadows on the walls of the alley were a permanent fixture. It was rumored that the Ministry had executed a group of werewolves by burning them in a silver fire. Their imprints remained because of the heat of the silver.
Then again, perhaps they were merely years of soot piled into the crumbling mortar walls. Draco gave them a cursory glance over as he walked past them and almost fell because he wasn’t looking at the ground (only partially because he was afraid to see what he was stepping on) and so he missed the body that was lying in the middle of his path.
“Bloody hell, man ! It’s four in the afternoon!” Draco said to the inert body. When the body didn’t move he walked away. Really, people like that didn’t deserve to live. They were sucking the money out of the government. Draco would know. Draco was in the committee trying to write the welfare law as well as the Ministry Ethics committee. Pain would be a mild term to use when referring to the welfare bill. It was like trying to draw spinal fluid up through your nose.
Don’t give them food and money, and they would go out into the Muggle world where it was likely their gifts would be discovered.
Stupid ethics, they had a gift and this is how they chose to use it?
“You, man ! Get off the ground; it’s illegal to be-”
Draco noticed a smear of red on the compacted dirt. Pulling out his wand he rolled the man over using a spell.
Shit. The man was dead.
Draco crouched down and prodded the man with his wand. “Are you-?”
Draco yelled as the seemingly dead man came back to life and grabbed a fistful of his robes. His wand rolled out of his surprised fingertips.
“There are two men in the bed and one will say ‘I love you; the other one will say ‘yes’. And herein lay and go and where we flow into the know. I see the bright stage lights and you will sing sing Sing ! Sing for the larked and the sharked and the lonely and the phony because they cannot see the truth, but you can! You must open your eyes to the sky and sing for they must hear your voice! You must go to the House of Boards and there you will find a crew and they will help you. Remember what they say and who said it,” the man rasped, spittle flying out of his mouth. Draco struggled, trying to pry off the fingers on his neck.
“Unhand me!”
The man’s voice faded until it was no more than a wisp of air across Draco’s cheek.
“Let go of who you think you are and embrace who you are meant to be,” he whispered before he collapsed on the ground. Of course, the man would be able to stay alive just long enough for him to finish his crazed speech and not to answer Draco’s questions.
Suddenly, the air crackled with magic. Red sparks. Aurors.
“Hold up! Put down your wand!” A familiar voice came from behind him.
Perfect, simply perfect. It was Potter.
“I’m not hurting him, I swear. He was lying there and I was being a good citizen and making sure he wasn’t dead,” Draco said, raising his arms in the air. There was no point to arguing with them at this point.
“Malfoy?”
“Potter… I have somewhere to be,” Draco said, moving to his wand .
“Don’t move!”
Draco held still as Harry walked around him.
“Bentley, call the team to deal with the man! He needs medical attention. I’ll deal with
Malfoy,” Potter said, a sudden draft blew the overgrown bangs out of Potter’s eyes, revealing
them to be a brilliant green.
“Mr. Malfoy, I need you to answer a few questions,” he said, his demeanor becoming stiff.
“Potter, I did nothing wrong and thus am entitled to go about my life,” Draco said mockingly.
“You’ll need to answer a few questions before we can let you go,” he said.
Ten minutes later…
“And you were the only one in the alley?” Harry asked.
“I’ve answered this question four times! I wasn’t aware that deafness was a qualification to become an Auror!”
“Answer the question, Malfoy.”
“I didn’t see anyone else in the alley.”
Harry furrowed his brow.
“Why were you in this alley to begin with?”
“I like the scenery,” Draco said. They were being difficult with him just because of his name and position on the council.
Discrimination. That’s what this was. He should sue and told Potter and his fellow Aurors just that.
Potter didn’t say anything, instead continuing to scribble things down on a scrap of parchment.
“Did you know this is a well-used route into Knockturn Alley?” he asked finally.
“No, I did not. Thank you for expanding my horizons. May I leave now?”
“No, since it’s such a highly used path I find it unusual that there was no one around. Admittedly, this section of town is big on nightlife, but still it’s hard to believe that there was no one around.”
Draco stared at him in horror. Come to think of it, it was unusual…Draco was embarrassed to say he was too caught up in his thoughts to have even noticed anyone else.
“Well, there may have been a prostitute-.”
“I see. What was your interest in this prostitute?” Potter asked, a bit too interested.
“Nothing, she was just standing there!” Draco spat out.
“You are telling me that you go through an alley where you know there are prostitutes. You do
realize that purchasing any form of sex is illegal? Bentley! Check the area for prostitutes.
Find out if they saw anyone.” Draco felt bad for Bentley, he couldn’t have been more than
eighteen and looked like he was about to wet himself every time he was addressed by Potter.
“I was taking a shortcut to get to the Chaussers for lunch with my mother and now I’m
late,” Draco lied. He was actually heading to get a massage by a beautiful Chinese woman who
didn’t mind giving him a ‘special’ surprise at the end. His back was a twisted mess of knots
and seeing Potter again wasn’t helping any.
Potter shook his head. “Not slipping in to see any old friends? Or perhaps a quickie before
seeing your mother?”
“My, my, it seems like you know quite a bit about prostitutes yourself. Is the she-Weasel not
cutting it for you anymore? Oh, silly me isn’t she off in Spain with-” Draco shot back.
“I see you keep up with the gossip columns.”
“Part of the job.”
“Society girl?” The sarcasm was dripping off Potter like sugar off a powdered donut.
“Law maker.”
“Right, how could I forget? You were on the committee that refused the budget increase for
defense training,” Potter said.
Draco snorted. “If you had bothered to read the bill you would have realized that they were
rerouting the majority of the funds toward new government agencies who would not be under any
obligation to report their usage. I personally favored knowing where the money is going even
though-”
“Mr. Potter-I mean Auror Potter,” Bentley said and stopped when he saw the expression on
Potter’s face. “I mean H-Harry, I think the man died in the past couple of minutes. He is still
warm.”
Potter nodded.
“Uh, I’ll just finish questioning Mr. Malfoy here. Best call the coroner too,” Potter said.
“I wouldn’t call the Coroner, Bentley. I would wait till the Accidents squad gets here so that
they can make sure he doesn’t have an ounce of life left. I don’t think the Auror department
could handle another lawsuit on their heads.”
“Call the Coroner, Bentley.”
Bentley looked like he was about to faint. His eye darted back and forth between Draco and
Potter like a wild wildebeest.
“The coroner, Bentley!” Potter barked.
Bentley called the coroner and stood next to Potter.
“Well?” Potter asked him.
“Uh, I was instructed to observe…”
“Right… where was I?” Potter muttered, flipping through his notes.
“You were just about to let me go,” Draco interjected.
Potter didn’t respond.
“Don’t leave the country; we will have some more questions for you later,” he said finally.
Draco nodded and headed down toward the alley. He was suddenly jerked back and stumbled. He
fell back against someone’s broad chest.
“Diagon is the other way,” Potter said, his lips moving dangerously close to Draco’s ear.
Potter gave off a slightly aroma of vanilla; Draco took a deep breath before stepping out of
Potter’s grip.
“I have a delicate system and I just missed my lunch reservation,” Draco said.
“Would you like me to escort you, then?” Harry asked. Draco balked; he should have remembered
Potter had a nasty Slytherin streak. He hated that Potter made him feel like he was seventeen
and was doing something immoral!
“No, I have regained my bearing now,” Draco replied, carefully edging away from the scene.
Four years without ever coming into contact with Potter had lowered his immunity-he had
forgotten how compelling and disturbing he was.
A team was examining the body and taking pictures of the surroundings. It wouldn’t make the
papers tomorrow. A homeless man dead? It was hardly news.
Draco went to the edge of the alley and Apparated himself home.
*
Anger is powerful emotion and when harnessed can be turned on any obstacle to break it down.
Finding the anger inside you isn’t a difficult task. Think of how your father treated your
mother. Think of how there are people being killed in other continents for no reason. Think of
the imbalance, think of fate, think of how you felt when you’re best friend won the best hair
competition in primary school when it should have been you! Think of how people should be
thanking you instead of yelling at you to get off the couch!
After a few weeks of forcing yourself to only dwell on your failures and injustice you should
be in a primed state of mind to become a Villain.
*
Harry left the department after filling out about ninety pages of paperwork and Apparated
straight to Ron and Hermione’s flat.
“Hermione! I’m here!” he called out, feeling strangely as though he were in a Muggle movie.
She walked out of the kitchen wiping her hands.
“You’re late! No matter, I’ll just revise whole schedule planned out for us.” Harry wanted to
groan, but since he had asked her to help him it seemed pointless.
“Great,” he said, unenthusiastically.
Two hours later he was drifting in and out of a numbers induced mild catatonic state. If a
perpetrator was goblin, they were forty times more likely to use their nails as a weapon, at
temperature zero degrees Celcius, a hex would travel at the speed of light making it optimal
conditions. Draco smelled like expensive cologne.
“Concentrate Harry .”
Harry resisted the urge to chuck the book across the room.
“I am! What do you think I’ve been doing for the last four hours?”
“Harry, you’re frustrated. Let’s take a short break and eat something,” Hermione said. She
reached behind her and pulled out a tray of lumpy cookies. Harry looked at them for telltale
signs of Hermione’s cooking, such as beets where chocolate should be.
“I made them myself.” Harry took one off the tray and took a bite. Warm chocolate melted into
his mouth.
“Mm, these are delicious!”
She smiled. “I found a recipe.”
He smiled. “Reminds me of these cookies I used to make as a child for the Dursley’s.”
Hermione looked guilty.
“Don’t look at me like that! I always nicked a few while I was baking them so it was fine,”
Harry said, taking another bite.
“Okay. Break over!” Hermione said, after he was finished.
“That’s it?”
“Harry… the retest is in three months- you have to study!”
“I just don’t see the point of this.”
Hermione sighed. “It may not seem important, but you have to know how to react.”
“I know how to react. I’ve always done well in fieldwork.”
“Or you’ve gotten lucky. You are excellent in action; I’m not disputing that, but you have to
understand the difference between reacting reflexively and reacting with thought. What if
something goes wrong and you’re called to court?”
“I’ll just tell them the truth... or something close to it,” Harry said, leaning against the chair.
“What if you did overreact? You could lose your job. If you can at least back up your actions
with risk analysis then you are less likely to make a mistake,” Harry’s knuckles turned white
as he clenched the chair. This stuff was like a semi-legitimate form of divination. Training
the muscles and mind was one thing, but this was just… stupid sometimes.
“Fine, let’s do this,” Harry said, sitting back down on the chair. He had to do well, no
matter what the cost.
“That’s the spirit, Harry!” Hermione said. “The trick to force yourself to keep using it. You
did fine on all written tests, but then you didn’t really apply it.”
Harry snorted. “When do you ever use this stuff?”
Hermione looked like she was going bug-eyed at the rate her eyeballs seemed to pop out of her
head.
“That’s the wonderful thing, Harry! It can be applied to anything; you just have to think about
it!”
Harry stared at her. He sometimes wondered if he should have done what Ron did and go into
another profession. Ron had graduated a year earlier and was already practicing. It wasn’t that
that was particularly a bad thing, but Ron seemed so happy whereas Harry seemed to only be able
to construct himself a net of happiness.
It was a thin net that frequently ripped and it was getting harder and harder to repair it.
Harry threw his arms up in the air. “You’re telling me to apply the Critical Analysis Step Pattern theory to the person in front of me when I’m standing in line? While I stand there trying to figure out what the measure of psi is a Death Eater could dance in front of me naked and I wouldn’t notice!”
“Harry, I promise it’ll help. Even if it seems stupid,” Hermione finished.
*
True villainy occurs unplanned. Essentially in pretending you are a true villain, you become
one. Soon you will find yourself eliminating your enemies with a mere sneeze. Imagine yourself
growing into the power of being able to kill with sneeze. Imagine power.
Now breathe.
*
For all Draco appeared aloof, he noticed everything and everyone. He knew what they wore, who
they talked to, and more importantly, what they wanted.
Of course the art of being aloof was dependent on knowing these details and revealing them
without appearing as though he knew them…
It was an art form really.
“Malfoy!” Granger yelled, barging into his office without as much as a knock.
“Ah, if it isn’t the love of my life, the bane of my existence, Ms. Granger-.”
“Did you draft this?” She said throwing the latest copy of the welfare bill onto his desk.
“Granger, Langley’s name is clearly on the bill not mine.”
“And it is within the power of the Ministry to sell success without permission to enhance the
abilities of the people within one nation in liberty and pursuit of justice! The retirement
plan of the janitorial staff will be transferred to the department of ethical pursuit of
hunting as a measure to prevent bankruptcy. I seem to recall the line “one nation in liberty
and pursuit of justice” being mentioned by you before.”
“Granger, that doesn’t even make sense or sound like me, you should know my writing style…
unless you haven’t been reading my love letters to you!”
Granger’s eyes narrowed into slits. “If you’re referring to those disgusting poetry books you
sent me-”
“I thought it would make you see how wasted you were on the Wizardkind in general. Let’s face
it Granger, as a Mu-ggleborn you just can’t keep up with Wizard sex.”
“I don’t like Langley,” Granger said, ignoring his comment.
“That puts you in the majority for once! How does it feel to be one of the crowd, eh?”
“He wants to revise the Auror code, so that there isn’t a mental health evaluation.”
“Congratulations on being assigned to regiment A! I don’t think anyone has been assigned to
that particular regiment without at least ten years on the job.”
“He’s trying to get his son in! You of all people shouldn’t want Joseph Langley anywhere near
you!”
“I seem to recall a pretty blonde on Langley’s staff who was working quite hard one night and I
just happened to be passing through and offered to revise the bill for her since Langley had
left for vacation the previous day. I am a gentleman after all. I also seem to recall a rather
unfortunate habit of Kingsley’s to read things before he signs them and Langley is just the
opposite.” Draco let a smile creep on his face recalling what happened after the blonde had
fallen asleep on his couch, her long hair spread across her breasts."Now, according to the code, I get a tidbit from your office."
Granger actually smiled at him. “Well, I happened to hear some mysterious noises coming from
King-?” She was interrupted by the door opening.
“Malfoy- oh, hi Hermione!”
“I’ll just leave then,” she said, still smiling. Curse Potter! He would have to track her down
later and find out what was happening in Kingsley’s office! He was also going to have to fire
his secretary soon. She was spending far too much time spying on the Auror sparring sessions to
actually filter people out of Draco’s office!
“What do you need?” Draco snapped.
“I want to talk to you one more time about the incident this morning.”
“Is this really necessary?” Draco asked Potter from behind his desk.
“For me to talk to you? Yes, deal with it,” Potter said, making another note in his frayed and
beaten notepad.
“Is it some sort of requirement that you can’t have a single crisp and clean looking thing?”
Draco asked out loud instead of in his head.
“Well, unlike many people I use the things I buy. They are entirely functional not ornamental,”
Potter responded, looking around Draco’s office. It was filled with French antiques, not that
Potter would know that, but it wasn’t the standard Ministry issued furniture. “Let’s start at
the beginning.”
“I walked, I saw a dead body, and the Auror’s came, this isn’t a difficult story,” Draco said.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my work.”
“Terribly sorry, but I’m trying to solve a murder here and I have a few more questions,” Potter
replied flipping the pages in his notebook. “Now there was one thing you mentioned that was
different from the other witnesses in the alley. You had contact with the victim. Did he say
anything about his murderer?”
“No, he was dead when I got there,” Draco said, attempting to concentrate on the brief.
“Funny because one of the other people in the alley swears that they saw the man grab you
before we got there.”
“Dead bodies do strange things,” Draco responded. “And clearly this person was mistaken.”
“Last I checked the Killing Curse leaves nothing left behind to grab people with.” Potter
scribbled furiously in his notebook. Draco wondered if he could even read what he wrote
afterwards.
“You remind me of the wall in my bedroom,” Draco said.
Potter gave him a puzzled look. Draco noticed that his cheeks were flushed and his hair was
wet. Perhaps he had just come from sparring? “What?”
“Well, you hardly see sane people, such as myself, talking to walls,” Draco responded, before
turning his attention to the parchment on his desk. It was actually a letter to his mother, but
Potter didn’t have to know that.
*
Waking up wasn’t a problem for Draco, it was sleeping. Draco lay in his large, empty four
poster bed fuming over the events of the day. He unconsciously rubbed his neck where the dead
man’s fingers had dug in. After a few more hours of pondering the Potter’s complete frivolity
in the world, he fell asleep.
At least his consciousness did.
The clock struck 10:13 and then Draco rose from his bed and pulled off his pajamas.
To anyone watching the act, it would seem unusual because his eyes were closed.
He then went to his closet where he stood starker for some time just running his hand along the
stacks of clothes sitting on the shelves. He eventually put on a pair of white leather trousers
and went out.
The streets of his posh neighborhood were silent save for the subtle sound of rustling papers.
Had they even bothered to look out of their windows, they would have seen a pale haired man
walking the streets in nothing but trousers.
The sleeping man walked a mile or so before turning into a small alley lined with doors. He
went into the first one where a group of disreputable men stood tuning a instruments. In fact,
there were instruments everywhere. From pianos to banjos to spoons the walls of the room was
covered and other instruments hung suspended in space by magic.
The men fell to their knees.
The Stubby Boardman had returned.
*
In a lair, there was a bear shag rug on the ground. A villain stood in the center of the room.
a body hanging limp in the air in front of him.”
“Tell me how to take his power again.”
“You cannot steal a curse!”
“Tell me why I do not have his power, then? I killed him! It is rightfully mine!”
The old man laughed. It was a wheezy sort of noise.
“How did you kill him?”
“I did the killing curse!”
“Someone else must have been around to absorb the curse then.”
“No!” the villain screamed, lashing out with a whip. The old man jerked back, but didn’t make
a noise.
“Hurting me won’t help you. Keep an eye out for new singers that have all the charisma of gods
reincarnated.”
*
Harry walked into the bar.
“Ow!” he exclaimed rubbing his face. Ron came up behind him and patted his back.
“You okay, Mate?”
“Yes, I’m perfect. Always. Lovely,” Harry said in a falsely cheery tone.
Ron smiled at him.
“Well, past this bar there is a pub wherein there are drinks that’ll cure even the most painful
of heartaches.”
Harry nodded in agreement and they both went at sat at the bar area.
Two drinks later…
“…and then she asks me if I want to have oral sex. What kind of man says no to oral sex?” Ron paused to take a sip of his drink. Harry threw back another shot. Harry debated the merits of alcohol poisoning against listening to his best friend talk about his sex life with his other best friend.
“Ron, I don’t see the problem yet…”
“That’s the thing! Hermione is all about organizing her life, but when it comes to taking care of her body… she’s terrible. There was hair everywhere! Her pubes reminded me of a thousand daddy long legs mocking me from behind their cotton cage!” Ron gesticulated before burying his head in his arms.
Harry patted Ron on the shoulder awkwardly.
“Er...that is far more than I ever need to hear about your love life, but have you considered talking to Hermione about it?” he asked, offering the only advice that was ever given to him.
“Talk about it? It’s a bit hard to talk when you’ve got spiders crawling into your mouth!” Ron said.
Harry actually choked at that one.
“Look, Ron. I’m no expert with relationships. Look at Ginny and I,” Ron thwacked him upside the head. “I’m just telling you from my limited experience.”
“She liked you and you let her…” Ron said.
“I know, I know, it’s too late now so… yeah.”
“So what? Giving up so easily?”
“It’s not giving up! It’s cutting my losses! If there is something I learned from the war it’s to cut your losses,” Harry said, wiping the thin layer of sweat from his forehead.
“Coward,” Ron said, his face unsmiling.
Harry could feel the barely contained anger of every single mistake he had made in the past few months boiling back to the surface.
“I suppose that makes you a traitor then,” Harry blurted out.
“I made my mistakes, you made yours too. Get over them and stop playing martyr to a war which you won!” Ron said, surprisingly calm.
He looked over at Ron. It was apparent that he was furious, but was controlling it. A large difference from the Ron at school. Hell, everything was different from the way he pictured it when he was at school. Where were the suburbs? The children? Where was the justice?
“No,” Harry said before punching Ron in the stomach. He fell off his chair with a surprised rush of air on onto the floor with a heavy thud.
“That was for leaving Hermione behind in the forest with me.”
Ron stood up and punched him in the jaw. Harry’s head snapped back so fast he was afraid that his jaw was dislocated.
“That was for leaving my sister.”
The room around them had gone silent.
Just then the music started.
And Draco Malfoy stepped onto the stage clad in white trousers.
White, leather trousers.
White, leather, tight trousers.
Harry’s eyes were drawn to the bulges in the trousers. The tight line of his arse against the raving multi-colored lights, the long line of his muscles, the outline of his cock.
“Freud,” Ron’s voice came from his right side.
Christ on a dragon. What the fuck was Draco Malfoy doing on stage? Malfoy, the annoying stupid committee member who managed to get around and weasel himself out of any situation that required him to do anything he didn’t want to do? Malfoy, who was the number one suspect in his murder case.
“Huh?” Confusion didn’t even begin to cover his mood tonight. All he wanted to do was get smashed with his best friend who was getting married in two months and not think about what a failure he was.
Christ, it was like Draco didn’t have a bone in his body, the way he was moving to the music.
“Freud had this theory about how sons always try to marry their mothers,” Ron said.
“Sounds like a stupid idea. I mean you moved out of the house to get out of your mother’s permanent mothering. I love your mother, but I couldn’t live with her.”
“Exactly. What if you considered Ginny a type of mother figure? What if that’s why entering a heavily physical relationship with her bothered you so much?” Ron said, thoughtfully.
The trousers were lace up. They slipped down a millimeter every couple of beats. At this rate they would hit the base of his cock at approximately… assuming that there were what was that?
Three centimeters? Between his hips and his cock.
Shit. Harry glanced down and tried to estimate the distance between his hips and his cock. Curse maths! Harry’s mind was clouded with numbers. One millimeter a minute if he continued to shake his hips like that for three-fourths of each song. Assuming he was performing five song set that meant that Draco’s trousers would fall down in-
“Harry, are you listening to me?” Harry glanced up distractedly from the complex calculations that were occurring in his head.
“Um…”
“I was saying-”
“I love Ginny. She dumped me! She threw a lampshade at my head and told me she was leaving.” Harry said hoping to distract from the point that Harry had no idea what the question or statement had been.
“She threw a lampshade at your head?” Ron said, a smile creeping onto his face.
“Yes, and she’s got quite an arm.”
“What’d you do anyway?”
“I thought you were drunk, how are you forming such complete thoughts?”
“Drunkenness is a state of mind.”
“Ron! Have you been lying to me?” Harry asked grabbing Ron’s cup and taking a sip of the contents. The tip of Ron’s ears went a burnt pink.
“Gillywater?”
“I thought it would help you relax.”
“I’m fine. Really, I don’t need this!” Harry said raising his arms in the classic defeatist stance. Out of nowhere a flying pint hit Harry in the head. Harry turned around only to catch a glimpse of the stage. Draco was shimmying away. On the right side of the stage-or was it stage right-a group of screaming girls were trying to climb up on the stage. They had managed to knock over on the speakers shatter it. Magic sparks leaped out everywhere.
Shit, that was resonance magic which was rather like polluted water. It would not be good if anyone was hit with a spark.
People were climbing on top of each other, hitting, biting, screaming trying to get to the front of the room.
“No!” Harry yelled, helpless to stop the inevitable riot. He fumbled with his wand trying to cast a stasis spell. It clattered to the ground. He wandlessly summoned it back and tried to work his way to the stage.
A spark hit Draco in his side and Draco fell forward toward the crowd.
Harry Apparated to the stage, managing to catch Draco before he fell into the crowd. Struggling to move Draco’s inert body, Harry glanced up and found himself on a small island surrounded by rioting people.
Shit.
Rating: R-ish
Pairing:Harr y/Draco, Ron/Hermione + MYSTERY pairings
Notes: Originally requested by slashmod in slashfest.
There must always be a Stubby Boardman. When the current Stubby Boardman gets killed (however you wish), he grasps the nearest warm body to pass on the secrets of the Stubby Boardman who just happens to be Draco. (i.e, sort of like the Dread Pirate Roberts from the Princess Bride but the Stubby Boardman instead)Harry/Draco There must always be a Stubby Boardman. When the current Stubby Boardman gets killed (however you wish), he grasps the nearest warm body to pass on the secrets of Stubby Boardman who just happens to be Draco. (ie, sort of like the Dread Pirate Roberts from Princess Bride but Stubby Boardman instead).
More Notes: The author was pushing the plot cart along at a steady pace only then it slipped and is now plummeting down toward a marketplace filled with compasses and glass. Feel free to leave comments... It's supposed to be a little corny in the beginning, but it will make sense (I hope)! Yes, so I am slow in writing by myself, but look! It's only been two years (or so). There will be more to come.
Summary: Basically crack with some plot? After the war life went on. Harry’s life is not quite going the way he expected it to.
*
I am a villain. Now it’s time for the world to see who I really am.
A villain that is.
*
T.
Harry hadn’t thought that T was a real score until he saw it on his Auror report.
Hermione beamed from the other side of the room. There was no doubt as to her marks.
T? What did even stand for again? Traumatizing? Terrible? Troll?
“Harry! How did you do? I was assigned to the regiment A training -” she said.
“I did… well. Erm, yeah,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck.
She grabbed the paper from his hand. Bugger. She should have been a Seeker… of course they would have to attach a test to the Snitch, but that was simple enough.
“No-Hermione!” he yelped, grabbing it back from her. Too late, she had already seen the score.
“Oh, Harry. I’m sorry. I don’t understand! What happened?”
“Risk Arithmacy happened. I don’t understand why we even need to use that skill. It’s not like it ever helps anyway!” Harry said, crumpling the notice.
“Maybe you can talk to Kingsley. He’s seen you in the field. He knows how good your instinct is.”
Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He had asked Kingsley not to treat him like a celebrity. He had made him make a fucking unbreakable oath.
“I’ll see. I can’t see him being lenient on this,” Harry said finally. “Have fun tonight, I’m still on rounds duty.”
Hermione reached around and hugged him. Harry almost fell back from the suddenness of it all. Her hair tickled the bottom of his chin. God, when was the last time she hugged him? Fourth year? He cautiously put his arms around her. Their height difference was even more prominent now.
“It’ll work out, you’ll see.”
“Yeah…” Harry said, not believing the word as it left his mouth.
*
Villainy is not for the weak or poor. It is a way to enhance social standing in society. Tyranny is a good start on the path toward villainy. The only difference between a tyrant and a villain is about three good haircuts. To begin one’s foray in tyranny I would recommend somehow taking the place of an already prominent member of society through bribes or other methods…
*
There must always be a Stubby Boardman.
That’s what the Stubby Boardman told himself as he stumbled down the dark alley. His hand clutched his belly as though it would somehow quench the flow of blood from the wound. A flash of light raced past him and hit the wall. Particles of brick and mortar rained down on him as the Stubby Boardman tripped and fell to his knees.
“Death is imminent unless you confess to me!” The voice came from behind him. The Stubby Boardman whirled around, but wasn’t fast enough to block the Stunner. His wand rolled away from him.
“Who are you?” The Boardman asked, trying to reach for the wand. The cloaked figure strutted passed him, deliberately taking care to step on the Boardmans’ wand .
“I am someone to remember,” the man said, dramatically lowering his hood. The Boardman started to laugh when he caught sight of the face.
“Mock me not! It will be your last! Aveda Kedevra! the formerly hooded man screamed out.
*
Villainy has a weakness and it is laughter. The more people laugh at you the less power you have. My suggestion to counter this is to kill all those who laugh and bring laughter.
*
The shadows on the walls of the alley were a permanent fixture. It was rumored that the Ministry had executed a group of werewolves by burning them in a silver fire. Their imprints remained because of the heat of the silver.
Then again, perhaps they were merely years of soot piled into the crumbling mortar walls. Draco gave them a cursory glance over as he walked past them and almost fell because he wasn’t looking at the ground (only partially because he was afraid to see what he was stepping on) and so he missed the body that was lying in the middle of his path.
“Bloody hell, man ! It’s four in the afternoon!” Draco said to the inert body. When the body didn’t move he walked away. Really, people like that didn’t deserve to live. They were sucking the money out of the government. Draco would know. Draco was in the committee trying to write the welfare law as well as the Ministry Ethics committee. Pain would be a mild term to use when referring to the welfare bill. It was like trying to draw spinal fluid up through your nose.
Don’t give them food and money, and they would go out into the Muggle world where it was likely their gifts would be discovered.
Stupid ethics, they had a gift and this is how they chose to use it?
“You, man ! Get off the ground; it’s illegal to be-”
Draco noticed a smear of red on the compacted dirt. Pulling out his wand he rolled the man over using a spell.
Shit. The man was dead.
Draco crouched down and prodded the man with his wand. “Are you-?”
Draco yelled as the seemingly dead man came back to life and grabbed a fistful of his robes. His wand rolled out of his surprised fingertips.
“There are two men in the bed and one will say ‘I love you; the other one will say ‘yes’. And herein lay and go and where we flow into the know. I see the bright stage lights and you will sing sing Sing ! Sing for the larked and the sharked and the lonely and the phony because they cannot see the truth, but you can! You must open your eyes to the sky and sing for they must hear your voice! You must go to the House of Boards and there you will find a crew and they will help you. Remember what they say and who said it,” the man rasped, spittle flying out of his mouth. Draco struggled, trying to pry off the fingers on his neck.
“Unhand me!”
The man’s voice faded until it was no more than a wisp of air across Draco’s cheek.
“Let go of who you think you are and embrace who you are meant to be,” he whispered before he collapsed on the ground. Of course, the man would be able to stay alive just long enough for him to finish his crazed speech and not to answer Draco’s questions.
Suddenly, the air crackled with magic. Red sparks. Aurors.
“Hold up! Put down your wand!” A familiar voice came from behind him.
Perfect, simply perfect. It was Potter.
“I’m not hurting him, I swear. He was lying there and I was being a good citizen and making sure he wasn’t dead,” Draco said, raising his arms in the air. There was no point to arguing with them at this point.
“Malfoy?”
“Potter… I have somewhere to be,” Draco said, moving to his wand .
“Don’t move!”
Draco held still as Harry walked around him.
“Bentley, call the team to deal with the man! He needs medical attention. I’ll deal with
Malfoy,” Potter said, a sudden draft blew the overgrown bangs out of Potter’s eyes, revealing
them to be a brilliant green.
“Mr. Malfoy, I need you to answer a few questions,” he said, his demeanor becoming stiff.
“Potter, I did nothing wrong and thus am entitled to go about my life,” Draco said mockingly.
“You’ll need to answer a few questions before we can let you go,” he said.
Ten minutes later…
“And you were the only one in the alley?” Harry asked.
“I’ve answered this question four times! I wasn’t aware that deafness was a qualification to become an Auror!”
“Answer the question, Malfoy.”
“I didn’t see anyone else in the alley.”
Harry furrowed his brow.
“Why were you in this alley to begin with?”
“I like the scenery,” Draco said. They were being difficult with him just because of his name and position on the council.
Discrimination. That’s what this was. He should sue and told Potter and his fellow Aurors just that.
Potter didn’t say anything, instead continuing to scribble things down on a scrap of parchment.
“Did you know this is a well-used route into Knockturn Alley?” he asked finally.
“No, I did not. Thank you for expanding my horizons. May I leave now?”
“No, since it’s such a highly used path I find it unusual that there was no one around. Admittedly, this section of town is big on nightlife, but still it’s hard to believe that there was no one around.”
Draco stared at him in horror. Come to think of it, it was unusual…Draco was embarrassed to say he was too caught up in his thoughts to have even noticed anyone else.
“Well, there may have been a prostitute-.”
“I see. What was your interest in this prostitute?” Potter asked, a bit too interested.
“Nothing, she was just standing there!” Draco spat out.
“You are telling me that you go through an alley where you know there are prostitutes. You do
realize that purchasing any form of sex is illegal? Bentley! Check the area for prostitutes.
Find out if they saw anyone.” Draco felt bad for Bentley, he couldn’t have been more than
eighteen and looked like he was about to wet himself every time he was addressed by Potter.
“I was taking a shortcut to get to the Chaussers for lunch with my mother and now I’m
late,” Draco lied. He was actually heading to get a massage by a beautiful Chinese woman who
didn’t mind giving him a ‘special’ surprise at the end. His back was a twisted mess of knots
and seeing Potter again wasn’t helping any.
Potter shook his head. “Not slipping in to see any old friends? Or perhaps a quickie before
seeing your mother?”
“My, my, it seems like you know quite a bit about prostitutes yourself. Is the she-Weasel not
cutting it for you anymore? Oh, silly me isn’t she off in Spain with-” Draco shot back.
“I see you keep up with the gossip columns.”
“Part of the job.”
“Society girl?” The sarcasm was dripping off Potter like sugar off a powdered donut.
“Law maker.”
“Right, how could I forget? You were on the committee that refused the budget increase for
defense training,” Potter said.
Draco snorted. “If you had bothered to read the bill you would have realized that they were
rerouting the majority of the funds toward new government agencies who would not be under any
obligation to report their usage. I personally favored knowing where the money is going even
though-”
“Mr. Potter-I mean Auror Potter,” Bentley said and stopped when he saw the expression on
Potter’s face. “I mean H-Harry, I think the man died in the past couple of minutes. He is still
warm.”
Potter nodded.
“Uh, I’ll just finish questioning Mr. Malfoy here. Best call the coroner too,” Potter said.
“I wouldn’t call the Coroner, Bentley. I would wait till the Accidents squad gets here so that
they can make sure he doesn’t have an ounce of life left. I don’t think the Auror department
could handle another lawsuit on their heads.”
“Call the Coroner, Bentley.”
Bentley looked like he was about to faint. His eye darted back and forth between Draco and
Potter like a wild wildebeest.
“The coroner, Bentley!” Potter barked.
Bentley called the coroner and stood next to Potter.
“Well?” Potter asked him.
“Uh, I was instructed to observe…”
“Right… where was I?” Potter muttered, flipping through his notes.
“You were just about to let me go,” Draco interjected.
Potter didn’t respond.
“Don’t leave the country; we will have some more questions for you later,” he said finally.
Draco nodded and headed down toward the alley. He was suddenly jerked back and stumbled. He
fell back against someone’s broad chest.
“Diagon is the other way,” Potter said, his lips moving dangerously close to Draco’s ear.
Potter gave off a slightly aroma of vanilla; Draco took a deep breath before stepping out of
Potter’s grip.
“I have a delicate system and I just missed my lunch reservation,” Draco said.
“Would you like me to escort you, then?” Harry asked. Draco balked; he should have remembered
Potter had a nasty Slytherin streak. He hated that Potter made him feel like he was seventeen
and was doing something immoral!
“No, I have regained my bearing now,” Draco replied, carefully edging away from the scene.
Four years without ever coming into contact with Potter had lowered his immunity-he had
forgotten how compelling and disturbing he was.
A team was examining the body and taking pictures of the surroundings. It wouldn’t make the
papers tomorrow. A homeless man dead? It was hardly news.
Draco went to the edge of the alley and Apparated himself home.
*
Anger is powerful emotion and when harnessed can be turned on any obstacle to break it down.
Finding the anger inside you isn’t a difficult task. Think of how your father treated your
mother. Think of how there are people being killed in other continents for no reason. Think of
the imbalance, think of fate, think of how you felt when you’re best friend won the best hair
competition in primary school when it should have been you! Think of how people should be
thanking you instead of yelling at you to get off the couch!
After a few weeks of forcing yourself to only dwell on your failures and injustice you should
be in a primed state of mind to become a Villain.
*
Harry left the department after filling out about ninety pages of paperwork and Apparated
straight to Ron and Hermione’s flat.
“Hermione! I’m here!” he called out, feeling strangely as though he were in a Muggle movie.
She walked out of the kitchen wiping her hands.
“You’re late! No matter, I’ll just revise whole schedule planned out for us.” Harry wanted to
groan, but since he had asked her to help him it seemed pointless.
“Great,” he said, unenthusiastically.
Two hours later he was drifting in and out of a numbers induced mild catatonic state. If a
perpetrator was goblin, they were forty times more likely to use their nails as a weapon, at
temperature zero degrees Celcius, a hex would travel at the speed of light making it optimal
conditions. Draco smelled like expensive cologne.
“Concentrate Harry .”
Harry resisted the urge to chuck the book across the room.
“I am! What do you think I’ve been doing for the last four hours?”
“Harry, you’re frustrated. Let’s take a short break and eat something,” Hermione said. She
reached behind her and pulled out a tray of lumpy cookies. Harry looked at them for telltale
signs of Hermione’s cooking, such as beets where chocolate should be.
“I made them myself.” Harry took one off the tray and took a bite. Warm chocolate melted into
his mouth.
“Mm, these are delicious!”
She smiled. “I found a recipe.”
He smiled. “Reminds me of these cookies I used to make as a child for the Dursley’s.”
Hermione looked guilty.
“Don’t look at me like that! I always nicked a few while I was baking them so it was fine,”
Harry said, taking another bite.
“Okay. Break over!” Hermione said, after he was finished.
“That’s it?”
“Harry… the retest is in three months- you have to study!”
“I just don’t see the point of this.”
Hermione sighed. “It may not seem important, but you have to know how to react.”
“I know how to react. I’ve always done well in fieldwork.”
“Or you’ve gotten lucky. You are excellent in action; I’m not disputing that, but you have to
understand the difference between reacting reflexively and reacting with thought. What if
something goes wrong and you’re called to court?”
“I’ll just tell them the truth... or something close to it,” Harry said, leaning against the chair.
“What if you did overreact? You could lose your job. If you can at least back up your actions
with risk analysis then you are less likely to make a mistake,” Harry’s knuckles turned white
as he clenched the chair. This stuff was like a semi-legitimate form of divination. Training
the muscles and mind was one thing, but this was just… stupid sometimes.
“Fine, let’s do this,” Harry said, sitting back down on the chair. He had to do well, no
matter what the cost.
“That’s the spirit, Harry!” Hermione said. “The trick to force yourself to keep using it. You
did fine on all written tests, but then you didn’t really apply it.”
Harry snorted. “When do you ever use this stuff?”
Hermione looked like she was going bug-eyed at the rate her eyeballs seemed to pop out of her
head.
“That’s the wonderful thing, Harry! It can be applied to anything; you just have to think about
it!”
Harry stared at her. He sometimes wondered if he should have done what Ron did and go into
another profession. Ron had graduated a year earlier and was already practicing. It wasn’t that
that was particularly a bad thing, but Ron seemed so happy whereas Harry seemed to only be able
to construct himself a net of happiness.
It was a thin net that frequently ripped and it was getting harder and harder to repair it.
Harry threw his arms up in the air. “You’re telling me to apply the Critical Analysis Step Pattern theory to the person in front of me when I’m standing in line? While I stand there trying to figure out what the measure of psi is a Death Eater could dance in front of me naked and I wouldn’t notice!”
“Harry, I promise it’ll help. Even if it seems stupid,” Hermione finished.
*
True villainy occurs unplanned. Essentially in pretending you are a true villain, you become
one. Soon you will find yourself eliminating your enemies with a mere sneeze. Imagine yourself
growing into the power of being able to kill with sneeze. Imagine power.
Now breathe.
*
For all Draco appeared aloof, he noticed everything and everyone. He knew what they wore, who
they talked to, and more importantly, what they wanted.
Of course the art of being aloof was dependent on knowing these details and revealing them
without appearing as though he knew them…
It was an art form really.
“Malfoy!” Granger yelled, barging into his office without as much as a knock.
“Ah, if it isn’t the love of my life, the bane of my existence, Ms. Granger-.”
“Did you draft this?” She said throwing the latest copy of the welfare bill onto his desk.
“Granger, Langley’s name is clearly on the bill not mine.”
“And it is within the power of the Ministry to sell success without permission to enhance the
abilities of the people within one nation in liberty and pursuit of justice! The retirement
plan of the janitorial staff will be transferred to the department of ethical pursuit of
hunting as a measure to prevent bankruptcy. I seem to recall the line “one nation in liberty
and pursuit of justice” being mentioned by you before.”
“Granger, that doesn’t even make sense or sound like me, you should know my writing style…
unless you haven’t been reading my love letters to you!”
Granger’s eyes narrowed into slits. “If you’re referring to those disgusting poetry books you
sent me-”
“I thought it would make you see how wasted you were on the Wizardkind in general. Let’s face
it Granger, as a Mu-ggleborn you just can’t keep up with Wizard sex.”
“I don’t like Langley,” Granger said, ignoring his comment.
“That puts you in the majority for once! How does it feel to be one of the crowd, eh?”
“He wants to revise the Auror code, so that there isn’t a mental health evaluation.”
“Congratulations on being assigned to regiment A! I don’t think anyone has been assigned to
that particular regiment without at least ten years on the job.”
“He’s trying to get his son in! You of all people shouldn’t want Joseph Langley anywhere near
you!”
“I seem to recall a pretty blonde on Langley’s staff who was working quite hard one night and I
just happened to be passing through and offered to revise the bill for her since Langley had
left for vacation the previous day. I am a gentleman after all. I also seem to recall a rather
unfortunate habit of Kingsley’s to read things before he signs them and Langley is just the
opposite.” Draco let a smile creep on his face recalling what happened after the blonde had
fallen asleep on his couch, her long hair spread across her breasts."Now, according to the code, I get a tidbit from your office."
Granger actually smiled at him. “Well, I happened to hear some mysterious noises coming from
King-?” She was interrupted by the door opening.
“Malfoy- oh, hi Hermione!”
“I’ll just leave then,” she said, still smiling. Curse Potter! He would have to track her down
later and find out what was happening in Kingsley’s office! He was also going to have to fire
his secretary soon. She was spending far too much time spying on the Auror sparring sessions to
actually filter people out of Draco’s office!
“What do you need?” Draco snapped.
“I want to talk to you one more time about the incident this morning.”
“Is this really necessary?” Draco asked Potter from behind his desk.
“For me to talk to you? Yes, deal with it,” Potter said, making another note in his frayed and
beaten notepad.
“Is it some sort of requirement that you can’t have a single crisp and clean looking thing?”
Draco asked out loud instead of in his head.
“Well, unlike many people I use the things I buy. They are entirely functional not ornamental,”
Potter responded, looking around Draco’s office. It was filled with French antiques, not that
Potter would know that, but it wasn’t the standard Ministry issued furniture. “Let’s start at
the beginning.”
“I walked, I saw a dead body, and the Auror’s came, this isn’t a difficult story,” Draco said.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my work.”
“Terribly sorry, but I’m trying to solve a murder here and I have a few more questions,” Potter
replied flipping the pages in his notebook. “Now there was one thing you mentioned that was
different from the other witnesses in the alley. You had contact with the victim. Did he say
anything about his murderer?”
“No, he was dead when I got there,” Draco said, attempting to concentrate on the brief.
“Funny because one of the other people in the alley swears that they saw the man grab you
before we got there.”
“Dead bodies do strange things,” Draco responded. “And clearly this person was mistaken.”
“Last I checked the Killing Curse leaves nothing left behind to grab people with.” Potter
scribbled furiously in his notebook. Draco wondered if he could even read what he wrote
afterwards.
“You remind me of the wall in my bedroom,” Draco said.
Potter gave him a puzzled look. Draco noticed that his cheeks were flushed and his hair was
wet. Perhaps he had just come from sparring? “What?”
“Well, you hardly see sane people, such as myself, talking to walls,” Draco responded, before
turning his attention to the parchment on his desk. It was actually a letter to his mother, but
Potter didn’t have to know that.
*
Waking up wasn’t a problem for Draco, it was sleeping. Draco lay in his large, empty four
poster bed fuming over the events of the day. He unconsciously rubbed his neck where the dead
man’s fingers had dug in. After a few more hours of pondering the Potter’s complete frivolity
in the world, he fell asleep.
At least his consciousness did.
The clock struck 10:13 and then Draco rose from his bed and pulled off his pajamas.
To anyone watching the act, it would seem unusual because his eyes were closed.
He then went to his closet where he stood starker for some time just running his hand along the
stacks of clothes sitting on the shelves. He eventually put on a pair of white leather trousers
and went out.
The streets of his posh neighborhood were silent save for the subtle sound of rustling papers.
Had they even bothered to look out of their windows, they would have seen a pale haired man
walking the streets in nothing but trousers.
The sleeping man walked a mile or so before turning into a small alley lined with doors. He
went into the first one where a group of disreputable men stood tuning a instruments. In fact,
there were instruments everywhere. From pianos to banjos to spoons the walls of the room was
covered and other instruments hung suspended in space by magic.
The men fell to their knees.
The Stubby Boardman had returned.
*
In a lair, there was a bear shag rug on the ground. A villain stood in the center of the room.
a body hanging limp in the air in front of him.”
“Tell me how to take his power again.”
“You cannot steal a curse!”
“Tell me why I do not have his power, then? I killed him! It is rightfully mine!”
The old man laughed. It was a wheezy sort of noise.
“How did you kill him?”
“I did the killing curse!”
“Someone else must have been around to absorb the curse then.”
“No!” the villain screamed, lashing out with a whip. The old man jerked back, but didn’t make
a noise.
“Hurting me won’t help you. Keep an eye out for new singers that have all the charisma of gods
reincarnated.”
*
Harry walked into the bar.
“Ow!” he exclaimed rubbing his face. Ron came up behind him and patted his back.
“You okay, Mate?”
“Yes, I’m perfect. Always. Lovely,” Harry said in a falsely cheery tone.
Ron smiled at him.
“Well, past this bar there is a pub wherein there are drinks that’ll cure even the most painful
of heartaches.”
Harry nodded in agreement and they both went at sat at the bar area.
Two drinks later…
“…and then she asks me if I want to have oral sex. What kind of man says no to oral sex?” Ron paused to take a sip of his drink. Harry threw back another shot. Harry debated the merits of alcohol poisoning against listening to his best friend talk about his sex life with his other best friend.
“Ron, I don’t see the problem yet…”
“That’s the thing! Hermione is all about organizing her life, but when it comes to taking care of her body… she’s terrible. There was hair everywhere! Her pubes reminded me of a thousand daddy long legs mocking me from behind their cotton cage!” Ron gesticulated before burying his head in his arms.
Harry patted Ron on the shoulder awkwardly.
“Er...that is far more than I ever need to hear about your love life, but have you considered talking to Hermione about it?” he asked, offering the only advice that was ever given to him.
“Talk about it? It’s a bit hard to talk when you’ve got spiders crawling into your mouth!” Ron said.
Harry actually choked at that one.
“Look, Ron. I’m no expert with relationships. Look at Ginny and I,” Ron thwacked him upside the head. “I’m just telling you from my limited experience.”
“She liked you and you let her…” Ron said.
“I know, I know, it’s too late now so… yeah.”
“So what? Giving up so easily?”
“It’s not giving up! It’s cutting my losses! If there is something I learned from the war it’s to cut your losses,” Harry said, wiping the thin layer of sweat from his forehead.
“Coward,” Ron said, his face unsmiling.
Harry could feel the barely contained anger of every single mistake he had made in the past few months boiling back to the surface.
“I suppose that makes you a traitor then,” Harry blurted out.
“I made my mistakes, you made yours too. Get over them and stop playing martyr to a war which you won!” Ron said, surprisingly calm.
He looked over at Ron. It was apparent that he was furious, but was controlling it. A large difference from the Ron at school. Hell, everything was different from the way he pictured it when he was at school. Where were the suburbs? The children? Where was the justice?
“No,” Harry said before punching Ron in the stomach. He fell off his chair with a surprised rush of air on onto the floor with a heavy thud.
“That was for leaving Hermione behind in the forest with me.”
Ron stood up and punched him in the jaw. Harry’s head snapped back so fast he was afraid that his jaw was dislocated.
“That was for leaving my sister.”
The room around them had gone silent.
Just then the music started.
And Draco Malfoy stepped onto the stage clad in white trousers.
White, leather trousers.
White, leather, tight trousers.
Harry’s eyes were drawn to the bulges in the trousers. The tight line of his arse against the raving multi-colored lights, the long line of his muscles, the outline of his cock.
“Freud,” Ron’s voice came from his right side.
Christ on a dragon. What the fuck was Draco Malfoy doing on stage? Malfoy, the annoying stupid committee member who managed to get around and weasel himself out of any situation that required him to do anything he didn’t want to do? Malfoy, who was the number one suspect in his murder case.
“Huh?” Confusion didn’t even begin to cover his mood tonight. All he wanted to do was get smashed with his best friend who was getting married in two months and not think about what a failure he was.
Christ, it was like Draco didn’t have a bone in his body, the way he was moving to the music.
“Freud had this theory about how sons always try to marry their mothers,” Ron said.
“Sounds like a stupid idea. I mean you moved out of the house to get out of your mother’s permanent mothering. I love your mother, but I couldn’t live with her.”
“Exactly. What if you considered Ginny a type of mother figure? What if that’s why entering a heavily physical relationship with her bothered you so much?” Ron said, thoughtfully.
The trousers were lace up. They slipped down a millimeter every couple of beats. At this rate they would hit the base of his cock at approximately… assuming that there were what was that?
Three centimeters? Between his hips and his cock.
Shit. Harry glanced down and tried to estimate the distance between his hips and his cock. Curse maths! Harry’s mind was clouded with numbers. One millimeter a minute if he continued to shake his hips like that for three-fourths of each song. Assuming he was performing five song set that meant that Draco’s trousers would fall down in-
“Harry, are you listening to me?” Harry glanced up distractedly from the complex calculations that were occurring in his head.
“Um…”
“I was saying-”
“I love Ginny. She dumped me! She threw a lampshade at my head and told me she was leaving.” Harry said hoping to distract from the point that Harry had no idea what the question or statement had been.
“She threw a lampshade at your head?” Ron said, a smile creeping onto his face.
“Yes, and she’s got quite an arm.”
“What’d you do anyway?”
“I thought you were drunk, how are you forming such complete thoughts?”
“Drunkenness is a state of mind.”
“Ron! Have you been lying to me?” Harry asked grabbing Ron’s cup and taking a sip of the contents. The tip of Ron’s ears went a burnt pink.
“Gillywater?”
“I thought it would help you relax.”
“I’m fine. Really, I don’t need this!” Harry said raising his arms in the classic defeatist stance. Out of nowhere a flying pint hit Harry in the head. Harry turned around only to catch a glimpse of the stage. Draco was shimmying away. On the right side of the stage-or was it stage right-a group of screaming girls were trying to climb up on the stage. They had managed to knock over on the speakers shatter it. Magic sparks leaped out everywhere.
Shit, that was resonance magic which was rather like polluted water. It would not be good if anyone was hit with a spark.
People were climbing on top of each other, hitting, biting, screaming trying to get to the front of the room.
“No!” Harry yelled, helpless to stop the inevitable riot. He fumbled with his wand trying to cast a stasis spell. It clattered to the ground. He wandlessly summoned it back and tried to work his way to the stage.
A spark hit Draco in his side and Draco fell forward toward the crowd.
Harry Apparated to the stage, managing to catch Draco before he fell into the crowd. Struggling to move Draco’s inert body, Harry glanced up and found himself on a small island surrounded by rioting people.
Shit.