Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling, the WB, Scholastic, own Harry Potter. Richard O'Brien, whoever else owns The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Ashman, Menken, whoever else owns Little Shop of Horrors. 2 extraordinarily fine musicals, if you're into that sort of thing.
Thanks: Pleiades, Mizery, and that fellow who says he's dating Draco, though none of them'll see this. And everyone else I forced to listen in Ims.
Feedback: YES! Greatly appreciated! Questions? Comments? Updates? Licensing agreements? Merchandise offers? Beta offers? Want to archive? Care to talk? Email magentamuppet@yahoo.com, or leave a review!
Archived: Fanfiction.net, Squickcentral (http://www.groups.yahoo.com/group/squickcentral), exclusive home of SHIL (Sirius and Harry in Love), Dichotomy of Desire by Pleiades, and all the Sirius/Harry vignettes Mizzy pulled off the ff.n server! Skip on over! (Possibly Riddikulus, if I ever have time.)
***
The bell overhead jingled as Harry walked into Mr. Mushnik's store, AKA his place of employment.
Sirius looked up hopefully, but didn't find a customer. "Oh, hey Harry…" He paused, taking in the discoloration below his eyes. "Eye makeup? I thought you'd gotten over the transvestite stage…"
"I'm NOT a transvestite," he said, scowling, as he removed his leather jacket and threw it behind the cash register.
Sirius covertly peeked at the contours of his ass (highlighted by very tight leather trousers). "Harry, how can you afford leather and not a flat?"
"Bad prioritising, I guess." In reality, it was because his gay lover, Tom (a tall, thin, man with a very big you-know-what, but a rather unhealthy pallor about him), had a thing for leather, manacles, whips, and women's undergarments, particularly brightly coloured ones, and he allowed Harry to live in his posh Muggle flat and feed him lovely foods (caviar especially, and Harry did like caviar) if he agreed to spend his meagre paycheck on such extraneous commodities. And Tom had the most innovative ways of having sex! Why, just last night, Tom had displayed remarkable holiday spirit by filling his clawed bathtub with eggnog and making love to him in that! (It was rather sticky, in more ways than one, and Harry didn't particularly care for eggnog, but Tom had certainly enjoyed it. Tom liked eggnog, but he liked mixing it with Old Janx Spirit even more. And Harry didn't like arguing with Tom, even when he was sober. He had nearly drowned Harry when he had mentioned that the bathtub was just a tad uncomfortable.) So maybe it was a little inconsiderate of him to do that. But surely, Tom loved him, deep down, otherwise he wouldn't spend all that money on caviar…and the wine to go with it! Oh, such taste Tom had! Eggnog baths…and the wine was always the right type…! How he loved Tom. And his caviar.
Tom had even invited him to his vacation home for Christmas! He didn't know where it was, but it was sure to have plenty of caviar…and sex…certainly, sex. He didn't always like sex with Tom, as it was sometimes painful (Tom liked pure silver handcuffs, moreover, when there were two pairs, one end of each pair around Harry's wrists, and the other end to a bedpost, and he liked brightly coloured women's undergarments as well, insisting that Harry wear pink leopard-spotted thong underwear and neon green Wonderbras…but…but…but…there was caviar!
The Wonderbras came in handy with Mr. Mushnik, too, as he frequently had to perform striptease for that big meat-eating plant in the basement. It liked women's undergarments, as well.
"That's not eye makeup, is it," said Sirius, breaking his reverie.
He didn't answer, but merely drew on a pair of dragonhide gloves and began to
Sirius wanted to kill Tom. (He didn't actually know who Tom was, but that was all right, he wanted to kill whoever had done this, this being the hitting, to Harry, and it didn't matter if he knew who he was or not, he just wanted to kill him.) He figured it (it being the culprit, that is, the person guilty of beating up Harry, if a person was capable of such atrocities!) must be the guy on the motorcycle that picked up Harry every day that was beating him up like this! Harry always came in with bruises and cuts, sometimes blaming the plants, or his clumsiness, but, more often, not saying anything at all when questioned. The guy on the motorcycle didn't look any better than he did in leather! (Could this be vanity? Never. Looking down at his groin, he grinned. No one could resist the great Sirius Black. Especially not in leather. He flexed his six-pack abs to reassure himself of his beauty, and grinned in satisfaction.) He did like Harry, and he knew Harry was gay, and he knew everyone he knew was gay, otherwise they wouldn't've been in this story. That, and Harry was dating the man on the motorcycle. I'm going to ask him, I'm going to ask him, now! He had been trying to get the nerve up to request that Harry come over for dinner on Christmas Eve for some time now, and hopefully get some sex out of him. (Of course, Harry was clever, and would know that an invitation for dinner as a rule meant 'Will you have sex with me?' But instead –
"Why do you stay with him, Harry?"
"He makes good money."
"That's all?"
"He loves me!"
"Not if he does this to you…"
"He feeds me caviar!" he said indignantly. "And I do like my caviar."
"I know you do," said the man in question, swinging open the door to the shop. "And you'd pick it over puntang pie (God, I'm crude) too, wouldn't you?"
"Tom!" said Harry, surprised.
"I do hope that's not the only reason you're keeping me."
"Of…of course not, sir."
"You must be Tom!" said Sirius, scowling. This man was downright ugly! What did Harry see in him? Ah…perhaps he had a big…ah. Yes, that might explain it.
"Ready to go, darling?"
"But…I thought…Christmas…"
"We're getting an early start," he announced. "All the more time to shag before you're due back at work."
"But surely…Mr. Mushnik would never allow—"
"No, he wouldn't," agreed Sirius. He didn't want to see Harry go so soon…he had been about to ask him to have dinner over sex (or was it sex over dinner?) with him!
"Damn right I wouldn't!" screamed Mushnik (his name being Vernon Dursley, but translated into Serbo-Croatian because it had a nicer ring than Vernon Dursley).
It was a very good thing Tom was excellent at casting the Cruciatus curse, otherwise he might have been fed to the man-eating plant. "I trust you've no objections?"
Mushnik writhed.
"Oh, good. Let's go, Harry!" He swung Harry over his shoulder and handcuffed him ceremoniously to his Harley Davidson.
NO! He's not getting away that easily! I'll have sex with him, by God, I will! Sirius jumped on his black Triumph and followed them stealthily, although, in reality, it wasn't stealthily, because the lovely purring of the motor which had so attracted him to the bike in the first place was enough to make Tom turn around and curse. (Harry, of course, couldn't turn around to look, because he was handcuffed to the motorcycle.)
No one noticed that the man-eating plant from the basement had dragged itself up the stairs and was hitched on to the back of the Triumph by it's two front er…long thingies, making noises of joy as the road scraped its tentacles and flowerpot.
Sirius cursed back, and urged his motorcycle to go faster. He and Tom shouted hexes at each other, and a chase worthy of a James Bond movie quickly took form, but there were no bullets or expensive cars or cases of jewels or pretty girls…just three gay men, two motorcycles…and a very long stretch of seemingly empty road…
Seemingly empty road.
Seemingly empty, that is.
Seemingly.
What? It was seemingly empty!
Wait a second, thought Sirius, if it's seemingly empty, then that must mean there's something here! He succeeded in giving Tom's cycle a flat tire, and Tom swore very loudly.
"FUCK YOU!" He paused. That didn't sound quite right. "FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKER!" No, that was missing something. "FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING FUCKER!" There. That was it. "FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING FUCKER!" he repeated, partially in case Sirius hadn't heard him over the roaring of the Triumph, and partially because he liked the sound of his own voice. He fancied his voice very masculine and sexy.
Harry sat primly on the back of the motorcycle, legs folded neatly underneath him in the manner of Princess Jasmine, looking confused. He thought that because he couldn't see behind him, he couldn't hear it either. So he hadn't. And now he was confused because he didn't know why his darling Tom was swearing. Could it be at him?
Tom lifted him off the motorcycle, swung him over his shoulder, and began running. Harry bounced up and down as his carrier ran. Looking back, he wondered what the other motorcycle was doing there, and what Sirius was doing running after them.
"Fuck, it's dark!" roared Tom, as the stage lights conveniently dimmed to allow him to do so. He stumbled blindly, as did Sirius…and the plant behind him.
Harry bounced.
***
Did you like it? This was a stupid little fic I started over Christmas because I didn't think Squickcentral'd (the Sirius/Harry Yahoo!Group) have many holiday submissions (I was right, unfortunately). I didn't finish in time (and it's still in progress), and wasn't planning to post it until it was again topical, but the Thought Police like to go through my files…*shudder* so I had to get rid of any evidence that I was perusing/creating inappropriate fics. They seem to hold MSN's view on slash. Goddamn it. Needless to say, updates may be few and far between…but it'll be finished by year's end, if there's interest. So show some, why don't you? The review button isn't that far away…I'd really appreciate it. (Positive feedback is a good thing right now…I just got progress reports, and I have 2 A's at present…and they were in Phys. Ed. and Band, people…a fucking D in English…absolutely pathetic. Makes me wish I'd worked, almost.)