Draco Dials It Up A Notch (AKA The Case of the Screwy, Turny Thing)
Title: Draco Dials It Up A Notch (AKA The Case of the Screwy, Turny Thing)
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 700
Summary: Auror Potter has a 6 AM emergency to handle.
Author's notes: Written for a prompt by SoVayne on FFNet that suited me just dandy: Draco struggling with a muggle device. Naturally, this is part of my Malfoy's Muggle Misadventures Verse
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
A shrill, insistent ringing roused Harry Potter from the depths of slumber. Not one to give in without a fight (ask a certain Dark Lord for further details), he whined, buried his head under his pillow and tried with single-minded determination to return to a very pleasant dreams involving snarky, snappy blonds and about two gallons of chocolate sauce.
Unfortunately, the cell phone was a worthier adversary than Voldemort could ever hope to be and eventually Harry found himself surrendering to the chilling call of reality.
“Whassamatter?” he yawned, trying to manhandle the accursed device over to his ear. The next second, he really wished he hadn’t.
“Potter! Get your arse over here NOW!”
Harry groaned and chucked the phone away, trudging off and into the shower. He stopped to give his bed a longing look. In his dreams at least, Malfoy was a lot more manageable.
****
He apparated into the blond’s flat, immediately finding himself face to face with a furious (not to mention stunning) pair of silver eyes. Malfoy glowered at him, dressed in a plain t-shirt, jeans and…an apron. Harry tried not to swallow.
“Oh, sure. Apparate in here,” Malfoy sneered. “Mock me, why don’t you?”
“I’m not mocking you,” Harry replied, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “I don’t mock anyone before 7 AM.”
“It was an emergency,” Malfoy sniffed.
“What? Your hair dryer isn’t working?” Harry asked, before he could stop himself.
Malfoy pointed an accusing finger in his face. “See? Right there! Mocking!”
Harry didn’t reply save for a semi guilty shrug which left Malfoy rather unimpressed. He crossed his arms and scowled at his guest. “Unless I am very much mistaken Potter, you’re the Auror in-charge of my probation. You’re the reason I am forbidden to use magic for the next two years, you’re responsible for re-educating me on the workings of the muggle world and you’re obligated to assist me should I face any encumbrance during the period of my sentence. Well, I’m encumbered and I demand you assist me!”
Harry groaned. Trust Malfoy to read every single snippet of his parole statement and use it in his favour. Wasn’t this supposed to be a punishment? That being said, the brat had the right of it and Harry just wanted this over with so he could go back to bed. “What seems to be the problem?” he asked heavily.
Malfoy smirked. “Follow me, Potter.”
“It is way too early for follow me, Potter,” Harry muttered resentfully. Nevertheless, he dutifully trudged behind Malfoy into the kitchen.
****
Ten minutes later, Harry had- in true form- saved the day again. “There you go,” he muttered, abandoning the toaster and thrusting two helpings of perfectly golden brown toast at Draco. The blond swooped in with a small cry of delight and claimed his breakfast, much to Harry’s displeasure.
“What sort of lunatic wants toast at 6 AM?” he demanded.
“A hungry one,” Draco smirked, still busy demolishing his toast. “I wouldn’t have called on your services, Potter. But that screwy, turny thing throws me off.”
“You mean the dial?” Harry enquired dryly. Honestly, considering that the git could operate a laptop, an oven and even a car with minimal trouble, it truly astounded him that Malfoy could be such a dunce with an innocent little dial.
“That’s the one,” Malfoy shrugged, wiping his mouth on a serviette. “Thanks for breakfast, Potter.”
Harry muttered under his breath, preparing to stomp off and apparate home. Perhaps he could still get an hour of sleep before going to work.
“There’s something else I need you for, Potter.”
Harry cursed under his breath. “What?” he snapped, turning to the infuriating blond.
Malfoy fiddled with the tablecloth, before raising his head to look at Harry through uncharacteristically bashful eyes. Harry blinked in surprise as Malfoy bit his lip. “My...my shower has a screwy, turny thing too,” he practically whispered, going scarlet in the process.
Harry staggered and his mouth went dry. “A dial?” he asked throatily.
“That’s the one,” Draco grinned, getting up and sliding off towards the bathroom. Suddenly, he halted and turned back, facing Harry with a doubtful frown. “Unless of course, you’d rather go home to bed…”
“I’m not tired,” Harry cut in quickly.
Then he grabbed hold of the blond and raced off into the shower before Draco could change his mind.
Follow up: The Return of the Screwy, Turny Thing
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 700
Summary: Auror Potter has a 6 AM emergency to handle.
Author's notes: Written for a prompt by SoVayne on FFNet that suited me just dandy: Draco struggling with a muggle device. Naturally, this is part of my Malfoy's Muggle Misadventures Verse
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
A shrill, insistent ringing roused Harry Potter from the depths of slumber. Not one to give in without a fight (ask a certain Dark Lord for further details), he whined, buried his head under his pillow and tried with single-minded determination to return to a very pleasant dreams involving snarky, snappy blonds and about two gallons of chocolate sauce.
Unfortunately, the cell phone was a worthier adversary than Voldemort could ever hope to be and eventually Harry found himself surrendering to the chilling call of reality.
“Whassamatter?” he yawned, trying to manhandle the accursed device over to his ear. The next second, he really wished he hadn’t.
“Potter! Get your arse over here NOW!”
Harry groaned and chucked the phone away, trudging off and into the shower. He stopped to give his bed a longing look. In his dreams at least, Malfoy was a lot more manageable.
****
He apparated into the blond’s flat, immediately finding himself face to face with a furious (not to mention stunning) pair of silver eyes. Malfoy glowered at him, dressed in a plain t-shirt, jeans and…an apron. Harry tried not to swallow.
“Oh, sure. Apparate in here,” Malfoy sneered. “Mock me, why don’t you?”
“I’m not mocking you,” Harry replied, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “I don’t mock anyone before 7 AM.”
“It was an emergency,” Malfoy sniffed.
“What? Your hair dryer isn’t working?” Harry asked, before he could stop himself.
Malfoy pointed an accusing finger in his face. “See? Right there! Mocking!”
Harry didn’t reply save for a semi guilty shrug which left Malfoy rather unimpressed. He crossed his arms and scowled at his guest. “Unless I am very much mistaken Potter, you’re the Auror in-charge of my probation. You’re the reason I am forbidden to use magic for the next two years, you’re responsible for re-educating me on the workings of the muggle world and you’re obligated to assist me should I face any encumbrance during the period of my sentence. Well, I’m encumbered and I demand you assist me!”
Harry groaned. Trust Malfoy to read every single snippet of his parole statement and use it in his favour. Wasn’t this supposed to be a punishment? That being said, the brat had the right of it and Harry just wanted this over with so he could go back to bed. “What seems to be the problem?” he asked heavily.
Malfoy smirked. “Follow me, Potter.”
“It is way too early for follow me, Potter,” Harry muttered resentfully. Nevertheless, he dutifully trudged behind Malfoy into the kitchen.
****
Ten minutes later, Harry had- in true form- saved the day again. “There you go,” he muttered, abandoning the toaster and thrusting two helpings of perfectly golden brown toast at Draco. The blond swooped in with a small cry of delight and claimed his breakfast, much to Harry’s displeasure.
“What sort of lunatic wants toast at 6 AM?” he demanded.
“A hungry one,” Draco smirked, still busy demolishing his toast. “I wouldn’t have called on your services, Potter. But that screwy, turny thing throws me off.”
“You mean the dial?” Harry enquired dryly. Honestly, considering that the git could operate a laptop, an oven and even a car with minimal trouble, it truly astounded him that Malfoy could be such a dunce with an innocent little dial.
“That’s the one,” Malfoy shrugged, wiping his mouth on a serviette. “Thanks for breakfast, Potter.”
Harry muttered under his breath, preparing to stomp off and apparate home. Perhaps he could still get an hour of sleep before going to work.
“There’s something else I need you for, Potter.”
Harry cursed under his breath. “What?” he snapped, turning to the infuriating blond.
Malfoy fiddled with the tablecloth, before raising his head to look at Harry through uncharacteristically bashful eyes. Harry blinked in surprise as Malfoy bit his lip. “My...my shower has a screwy, turny thing too,” he practically whispered, going scarlet in the process.
Harry staggered and his mouth went dry. “A dial?” he asked throatily.
“That’s the one,” Draco grinned, getting up and sliding off towards the bathroom. Suddenly, he halted and turned back, facing Harry with a doubtful frown. “Unless of course, you’d rather go home to bed…”
“I’m not tired,” Harry cut in quickly.
Then he grabbed hold of the blond and raced off into the shower before Draco could change his mind.
Follow up: The Return of the Screwy, Turny Thing