Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters belong to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.

This is just a random bit of fun I had when I was sick of reading painfully sweet Drarry fics. Features bitchy Draco, whiny Harry and the Loch Ness Monster. Mentions of past Draco/Oliver Wood and future Draco/Weasley twins.

WARNING: Mentions of underage sex (by wizarding standards, which I'm going to assume is 17) and underage drinking.

The blonde opened his eyes from where he was sat comfortably on an upturned bucket in a mixture of laziness and annoyance, glaring at the brunette who was currently hammering for all he was worth on the door.

'Hey! Can anyone hear me?! Help! Let me out! Hello?! Argh! Somebody! Anybody! Come on! Hey!'

Malfoy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose trying to suppress the twitch he could feel building in his eye along with his temper which was rapidly deteriorating.

To the detriment of his control The Bane of His Existence decided at that moment to let out a particularly high pitched shriek that shattered any restraint that had previously survived the assault.

'For fuck sake Potter, will you shut the Hell up?! You sound like a Hufflepuff taking a bludger to the groin! You're giving me a headache so sit down and be QUIET!'

Due to some unstoppable primed instinct the Gryffindor did as Malfoy bade without hesitation, sitting down on the spot pouting and looking for all the world like a 5 year old that didn't want to go to bed.

'I'm so sorry I'm upsetting your delicate ears Princess, but if you hadn't noticed- we're stuck in a bloody broom closet and the door is locked'

Malfoy rolled his eyes and fixed a look of mocking surprise on his face,

'Really? Wow, you know that had completely passed my notice. I mean it's not like you've been screeching like a castrated cat for the past 20 minutes or anything! Noooo, the way we were so unceremoniously shoved inside this fucking closet without our bloody wands completely failed to penetrate my prodigal brain, but of course you being the veritable dunce that you are couldn't help but notice this now could you?'

Potter blinked at him for a moment then sniggered,

'You said penetrate'

Malfoy buried his head in his hands with a groan,

'For Merlin's sake Potter, grow up!'

The blonde closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, sighing in relief at the blessed silence.

Maybe he could get through this without resorting to homicide, maybe someone would find them before suicide became an attractive prospect and maybe, just maybe-

'Hey Malfoy'

He gritted his teeth. Maybe if Potter would keep his damn mouth shut-

'Malfoy'

'What!? What do you want now?'

Potter hesitated but ploughed on with the single minded block headedness that had left many with a sense of awe but the more down to earth with the mild sensation of nausea. Psychotic homicidal thoughts were common around the Golden Boy, and unsurprisingly the majority were borne by intelligent individuals. Honestly it was of no surprise that the Dark Lord was so insane when he had been thwarted by Annoyance personified so many times; it was enough to drive any once stable and reasonably intelligent person up the proverbial and blood hued rainbow of madness.

'What's your favourite colour?'

Malfoy snorted before he could stop himself,

'I swear by all things magical you're turning into a pubescent girl Potter. What is this, first date or something?'

'N-no! I'm not a girl! Pubescent or otherwise!'

Malfoy opened his eyes and looked carefully at the now slightly blushing brunette.

'Did you just stutter Potter?'

'N-no!'

The crimson-cheeked Gryffindor clapped a hand over his mouth in horror while the blonde crowed with laughter,

'You did! What's wrong? Never been in a broom closet with a guy before?'

Potter frowned pursing his lips,

'I'm not – '

'What, gay? Oh please, you blatantly are. The only problem is that you're so deep in the metaphorical closet you might easily be mistaken for a mop – an effect further exacerbated by that atrocious hair of course...'

'Hey! There's nothing wrong with my hair!'

Potter tried to flatten it down in vain,

'Anyway you're one to talk...'

'Why yes, yes I am'

There was silence for a moment in which Malfoy closed his eyes again inwardly chuckling at Potter's confused puppy face,

'Wha-'

Malfoy intentionally cut across the brunette's words,

'Of course the difference is that I am only literally in the closet and my hair is decidedly un-mop-like'

The blonde could practically feel the shock emanating from the mop headed idiot,

'Y..you're...'

'Gay, bent, homosexual, a shirt lifter, an arse bandit...yes Potter, all of the above'

Potter gaped unattractively,

'B..but...Parkinson...'

'Not only is she a highly intelligent, conniving, money grabbing, bisexual, bitch of a Slytherin – bless her cotton knee-highs – she is also first and foremost a slut. And those are her words not mine. She's somewhat of an unsuccessful slut in my case, but otherwise...she likes the challenge...'

He shrugged elegantly and used the halt in conversation – in which cogs could be heard slowly grinding at almost epic speeds inside the brunette's head – to smooth his expensive white shirt and neat black trousers, unbuttoning the collar further and rolling his sleeves to above his elbows.

He smirked as a pair of green eyes fixed themselves to the triangle of creamy white skin that peeped out from beneath the collar his shirt.

'...also is the fact that I am obviously irresistible'

Startled green eyes snapped to his smug silver then averted to the wall in blushing annoyance,

'You're about as irresistible as a naked PMS-ing Trewalney'

The all over body shudder was only slightly exaggerated – the nauseated expression was 100% genuine,

'Dear Merlin! The fact that, that image makes its way into your daily conversation prompts me to worry for your mental health Potter...and I wasn't all that sure of your sanity beforehand'

'Hey I'm perfectly sane! I don't care what the Daily Prophet says, in fact I'd say – Oooh what's that!?'

'Again Potter, you fail in proving whatever little point your words may have had.'

'No I had a... – shut up Mal-ferret - there's something on the floor in the corner'

The easily excited boy scrabbled over to the darkest corner of the cupboard, eyes shining happily as Malfoy sighed and closed his eyes again,

'It's considered something of a faux pas to mention when someone's brain cells are dropping out of their heads and blatantly rolling away so I didn't comment earlier but...'

'Oh wow'

The silver haired boy snorted,

'What? Finally realised how incredible I am? Discovered that you do in fact have a dick so you can stop sounding like a pubescent girl? Had an epiphany about Snape being your one true love? Come to the realisation that –'

'Malfoy! Shut up! There's like a whole stash of alcohol here and – hang on, what? Snape? One true love?'

The blonde perked up, eyes actually alight with interest,

'What type of alcohol?'

'But, Snape? What-?'

'Shut up! What. Alcohol?'

'...um, the normal kind?'

Malfoy groaned in disgust, flinging pale hands into the air as if mentally praying for help,

'Merlin, save me from such heathens as this.'

Grumpily he shot Potter something of an evil glare,

'Pig! Philistine! Fancy not knowing the difference between types of alcohol! You seriously need to get out more!'

'Hey! I get out plenty!'

The Slytherin snorted as he studied one of the many bottles Potter had rolled out from the corner,

'Getting out does not include half arsed attempts at defeating the Dark Lord, being a goody two shoes Golden Boy or generally being a pain in everyone's arse – and not even literally. Hell, Longbottom gets out more than you do, and he's a joke to Wizard-kind!'

'Hey! Take that back! Neville is ten times the wizard you are!'

'In body mass maybe, and no, I won't take it back. What are you going to do, pout me into submission?'

'No, I bloody won't! I'll... I'll...'

The green eyed boy looked around wildly for some sort of weapon, but became distracted when Malfoy twisted the top off of what he had decided was whiskey and took a hearty swig, humming pleasurably as he swallowed. The Slytherin smirked at the expression on his rival's face,

'As flattering as your gawping may be, I suggest you close your mouth before you choke on your own ego.'

Potter scowled, pink cheeked, snapping his jaw shut and crossing his arms,

'Shut up! What are you doing?'

The blonde raised a quizzical eyebrow, taking another swig of whiskey and closing his eyes in pleasure as it burned on the way down,

'What do you mean?'

'Drinking! You're not even legal!'

Malfoy chuckled, silver eyes twinkling,

'That's exactly what Oliver Wood said when I propositioned him.'

There was a strained sound as if Potter's ridiculous Gryffindor scarf had come alive and begun to strangle him.

'Didn't take him long to see things my way of course.'

Now it sounded like he was coughing up what few brain cells he had left. Absently the Slytherin wondered how explicit he'd have to get before the Idiot Who Lived managed to kill himself by self-asphyxiation.

'But that was probably because I had his cock in my mouth at the time.'

A desperate wheeze. He was getting there.

'Magnificent it was too. It turns out the rumoured nickname of 'Loch Ness Monster' wasn't an exaggeration after all. Merlin knows how he manages to ride a broom with that monster concealed in his Quidditch breeches though.'

A feeble whimper.

'Then again, Merlin knows how I managed to take it all.'

Malfoy took another swig of whiskey, fondly remembering his past fling, and then looked down at the now silent Gryffindor. Passed out cold with a look of horror etched onto his features. Not dead, but good enough. The nose bleed and blatant erection were compensation enough for now. And really, this was fantastic whiskey.

With the practiced ease of an only child, used to entertaining himself, the Slytherin proceeded to get pleasantly drunk – enough to find life utterly hilarious, but not enough to completely lose control. A brief excursion into the supplies in the closet proved highly rewarding, and later, as he sat back and viewed his work of art (formerly known as Harry – bloody – Potter), chucking his paintbrush away into to some hidden corner, he decided that he would give the stash owner a blow job for free (unless the whisky connoisseur was hideous... or a Potter fan) because, really, alcohol had made his imprisonment surprisingly entertaining.

Scolding male voices sounded at the door, the scratch of metal against metal letting him know that freedom was imminent. Gathering himself together the Slytherin sat on the bucket he'd claimed, several bottles of that wonderful whiskey wrapped up nice and safe in his bundled robe, and smirked as the door swept open.

There was a moment of silence and then a wild shriek, followed by the clamour of voices,

'Oh my God! He killed Harry Potter!'

Casually Malfoy stood with a yawn,

'It's about time you let me out, he was starting to smell.'

He managed to squeeze out before the hysterical stampede could crush him, and swayed slightly as he made his way down the dimly lit corridor, his loot safely tucked beneath his elbow. Suddenly an arm flung itself over his shoulder and another followed suit from the other side.

'Hello –'

'- Malfoy. Nice prank - '

'- you pulled there. I see –'

'- you found our stash.'

It took a moment for the Slytherin to figure out why he seemed to be hearing the conversation from two directions, head spinning as the alcohol caught up with him. Weasley twins. That explained a lot. Well, they weren't hideous – far from it – and while clear supporters of Saint Potter, they knew how to run a business. The only Weasleys for a good few hundred years to be appreciated by Slytherins and Gryffindors alike – that was something Draco could admire. One thing was suddenly clear...

'Have you two ever considered a threesome?'

There was a pause at this thoughtful question, and then light laughter in his ears,

'Considered, my dear Malfoy? Twins are –'

'- an irresistible lure to some people. But even if we hadn't –'

'- we would certainly be considering it now.'

Warm lips brushed against his neck, causing Goosebumps to break out across his lightly flushed skin,

'Excellent. Your place or mine?'

'Yours. Bigger bed –'

'- or so rumour has it. A certain Loch Ness Monster –'

'- tells us you're quite the connoisseur of fellatio too.'

'It'd be nice to gain some –'

'-insight into our competition.'

Draco grinned. Letting someone lock him a closet was turning out to be quite fruitful. Pun entirely intended.