Author's Note: This fic was written for my sister, who upon reading HP5
declared, "I wish the Malfoys would just explode or something. So, here we have
it: the first part of a fic that will hopefully involve Draco and Lucius Malfoy
exploding. Possibly more than once each, in various scenarios. Many thanks
to my friend (you know who you are!) for helping me with the scenario. We really
ought to write together sometime...
Chapter 1: Bad Plumbing
Draco Malfoy leaned idly against the telephone booth that served as the
visitors' entrance to the Ministry of Magic, his hands shoved inside his robes
and his fingers twiddling idly with his wand. Was there, he wondered, a fate
worse than being stuck above ground in the Muggle part of London while his
father was busy down in the annals of the Ministry below? No, he thought as he
watched a pair of muggles with dyed, spiked hair clad in fake leather walk by.
There wasn't. He yawned and watched the passersby with feigned interest. His
father had ordered him not to stray away from the booth and usually, it would
not have been a problem for Malfoy to follow his father's simple request, but
today was somehow different. It was simply so boring out here. Nothing to do,
nothing to see. In a burst of frustration, he wrenched himself away from the
telephone booth and started down the Muggle filled street.
The first time a muggle bumped against him, Draco couldn't help but feel
disgusted and pulled away from him, which only caused him to run into another
muggle who pushed him roughly aside.
"Watch where you're going, runt." Draco turned around to face his addressee and
found himself facing what was probably the fattest person he had ever seen. He
wrinkled his eyes in disgust. "Are you talking to me?" He asked the muggle
unctuously.
"No, he was talking to your mummy, pansy, who do you think he was talking to?" A
second boy replied, pushing himself towards Draco forcefully, but the fat boy
held him back, his squinty little eyes never leaving Draco's face.
"I don't like the looks of you," he said slowly, as though he were speaking with
great effort. He probably was, Draco mused, he didn't look as though intelligent
thought came easily to his kind.
"I imagine not. It must be hard looking at someone who does not resemble an
oversized pig. Makes you feel a bit out of place, doesn't it?" Draco retorted,
taking in the other boys girth. The other boys nostrils flared at this remark
and, momentarily, Draco felt a wave of fear rush through him, similar to the one
he'd felt when the hippogriff had swiped at him.
"Get him, Big D," said one of the other boys, egging him on. "I doubt he'd put
up more of a struggle than any of the other ones." The group of boys laughed
heartily at this remark, 'Big D' included. To Draco's surprise, he reached out
and grasped Draco by the collar, pulling him towards him. Draco winced as the
boy's garlic smelling breath washed over him.
"I-wouldn't-do that, if I were you," he managed with difficulty. "If you knew
who my father was-"
The fat boy just guffawed at him and Draco swallowed with great
nervously. He'd forgotten that his father didn't have that much influence in
the muggle world, still, he could probably get Draco out of any trouble a single
well-placed curse might get him in. He slowly pulled his wand out of his pocket,
hoping Fat Ass wouldn't notice. But he did. The most amazing thing Draco had
ever seen in his life was his tiny little eyes trying to widen on his pudgy
little face. "He's got a-a---" he sputtered, dropping Draco like a hot potato
and backing away.
His friends, however, crowded closer to where Draco lay sprawled on the ground.
"He's got a what?" asked one of the stupider ones, trying to get closer to
Draco.
"Don't go near him, Piers!" 'Big D's' voice sounded panicked, "he's got a gun!"
They all gasped and looked at Draco with some sort of fear in their eyes. Draco
laughed.
"A gun? Is that what you pitiful muggles call it?" He waved his wand in front of
Fat Boy's face.
Unpredictably, Fat Boy's friends began to laugh. "Is that what you're so afraid
of, Dudley?" The one called Piers asked. "A wooden stick? Come on, look at him,
I think I could take him, if you're afraid to, Duds."
The Fat Boy's, Dudley, Draco reminded himself, had turned a bright shade
of magenta and his eyes were still on Draco's face. Draco laughed at Piers. "Of
course. Why should you be afraid of just a stick?" He started to wave it
harmlessly in front of Dudley's face, figuring he could at least play with his
quarry before ending it all.
To his amazement, Draco never finished the wave. Dudley's right hand came out
from his side at an angle and swiped the side of Draco's face in what Vernon
Dursely would have recognized as a state of the art right hook. Draco fell to
the ground, the umpf that escaped him barely managed to cover the amount of
surprise he felt.
"There, I told you he wouldn't be that hard," Piers told Dudley. Draco, however,
was not out of the fight. He sat back up, wiped the blood away from his nose
and shouted the only curse that occurred to him at the moment.
"Tarantallegra!" he shouted and, to his amusement, Dudley's legs and arms began
to dance wildly. He would have loved to watch, but the looks the other boys were
throwing him told Draco this would not be a wise idea. His father could, after
all, only get him out of so much trouble before it looked suspicious. So he took
the next best option: he ran for it.
Running down the streets of London on a Saturday afternoon is not the
easiest activity in the world and Draco found it only marginally more difficult
than the average person, as he was dressed conspicuously in robes, had no clue
what any of the street corner lights meant and half of his head felt like it was
swollen to the size of a watermelon. He dashed across a narrow street, barely
avoiding death by a double-decker bus and scanned the streets frantically for a
good place to hide. Even he knew he couldn't evade the hefty boys who were
chasing him forever. A door that said 'Public Toilet' on it caught his eye and
Draco grinned. Of course, it was perfect. He could lock it and the oafs would
never think to look in there. He made a dash for it and had the door closed and
locked before Dudley's gang rounded the corner.
"Where'd he go?" He heard one of them ask. "Who knows?" replied another.
"We've just got to keep following. We'll find the shrimp eventually and we'll
get him for whatever it was he did to Dudley with his stick thingy."
It was all Draco could do not to laugh as he heard the group stamped by.
"Really," he muttered to himself. "It's too bad those boys are muggles. They'd
almost be an improvement on Crabbe and Goyle. He leaned casually against the
toilet and jumped when it flushed loudly. "What the-" he hadn't meant to press
the lever at all but there it was flushing anyway. He peered down into the bowl
and then laughed as he saw nothing. He turned away and was about to leave the WC
when, suddenly the toilet erupted in a loud bang and Draco found himself
covered, head to toe with horrible brown masses. He screamed but even then the
toilet wasn't finished. It erupted again, this time exploding the whole of the
public toilet and Draco disappeared in the darkness.
*********************************
The Magical Police stood guarding the scene from any curious muggle
gaffers but even the muggles were not so daft as to miss the tension that went
through all of their shoulders as a tall, pale man walked through their midst.
"Where is he?" he asked in a cold voice.
"Er, we found him over here, sir. He appears to be covered with muck, not to
mention the fact that he seems to have, well" the man paused.
"Well, what?" Lucius Malfoy pressed.
"Exploded, sir."
"Exploded?" Lucius repeated, disbelieving his ears. "From what?"
"We believe it was this," the policeman pulled out the paper and plastic
remains of a device that was wholly unlike any Lucius had ever seen before.
"What is it?" he snapped.
"We aren't sure sir but we have found it in other toilets when we've been
on patrol to look for possible regurgitating toilets. We took it to the muggle
artifacts depar-"
"Spare me the details and get to the point already," Lucius hissed, barely
able to control his anger.
"It's called a cherry bomb and is very popular around muggle children
trying for a bit of mischief."
Lucius' eyes got icier. "I want the muggles responsible found. And dealt
with." He turned and walked away with a flourish, leaving the magical police and
the charred remains of his son behind.
declared, "I wish the Malfoys would just explode or something. So, here we have
it: the first part of a fic that will hopefully involve Draco and Lucius Malfoy
exploding. Possibly more than once each, in various scenarios. Many thanks
to my friend (you know who you are!) for helping me with the scenario. We really
ought to write together sometime...
Chapter 1: Bad Plumbing
Draco Malfoy leaned idly against the telephone booth that served as the
visitors' entrance to the Ministry of Magic, his hands shoved inside his robes
and his fingers twiddling idly with his wand. Was there, he wondered, a fate
worse than being stuck above ground in the Muggle part of London while his
father was busy down in the annals of the Ministry below? No, he thought as he
watched a pair of muggles with dyed, spiked hair clad in fake leather walk by.
There wasn't. He yawned and watched the passersby with feigned interest. His
father had ordered him not to stray away from the booth and usually, it would
not have been a problem for Malfoy to follow his father's simple request, but
today was somehow different. It was simply so boring out here. Nothing to do,
nothing to see. In a burst of frustration, he wrenched himself away from the
telephone booth and started down the Muggle filled street.
The first time a muggle bumped against him, Draco couldn't help but feel
disgusted and pulled away from him, which only caused him to run into another
muggle who pushed him roughly aside.
"Watch where you're going, runt." Draco turned around to face his addressee and
found himself facing what was probably the fattest person he had ever seen. He
wrinkled his eyes in disgust. "Are you talking to me?" He asked the muggle
unctuously.
"No, he was talking to your mummy, pansy, who do you think he was talking to?" A
second boy replied, pushing himself towards Draco forcefully, but the fat boy
held him back, his squinty little eyes never leaving Draco's face.
"I don't like the looks of you," he said slowly, as though he were speaking with
great effort. He probably was, Draco mused, he didn't look as though intelligent
thought came easily to his kind.
"I imagine not. It must be hard looking at someone who does not resemble an
oversized pig. Makes you feel a bit out of place, doesn't it?" Draco retorted,
taking in the other boys girth. The other boys nostrils flared at this remark
and, momentarily, Draco felt a wave of fear rush through him, similar to the one
he'd felt when the hippogriff had swiped at him.
"Get him, Big D," said one of the other boys, egging him on. "I doubt he'd put
up more of a struggle than any of the other ones." The group of boys laughed
heartily at this remark, 'Big D' included. To Draco's surprise, he reached out
and grasped Draco by the collar, pulling him towards him. Draco winced as the
boy's garlic smelling breath washed over him.
"I-wouldn't-do that, if I were you," he managed with difficulty. "If you knew
who my father was-"
The fat boy just guffawed at him and Draco swallowed with great
nervously. He'd forgotten that his father didn't have that much influence in
the muggle world, still, he could probably get Draco out of any trouble a single
well-placed curse might get him in. He slowly pulled his wand out of his pocket,
hoping Fat Ass wouldn't notice. But he did. The most amazing thing Draco had
ever seen in his life was his tiny little eyes trying to widen on his pudgy
little face. "He's got a-a---" he sputtered, dropping Draco like a hot potato
and backing away.
His friends, however, crowded closer to where Draco lay sprawled on the ground.
"He's got a what?" asked one of the stupider ones, trying to get closer to
Draco.
"Don't go near him, Piers!" 'Big D's' voice sounded panicked, "he's got a gun!"
They all gasped and looked at Draco with some sort of fear in their eyes. Draco
laughed.
"A gun? Is that what you pitiful muggles call it?" He waved his wand in front of
Fat Boy's face.
Unpredictably, Fat Boy's friends began to laugh. "Is that what you're so afraid
of, Dudley?" The one called Piers asked. "A wooden stick? Come on, look at him,
I think I could take him, if you're afraid to, Duds."
The Fat Boy's, Dudley, Draco reminded himself, had turned a bright shade
of magenta and his eyes were still on Draco's face. Draco laughed at Piers. "Of
course. Why should you be afraid of just a stick?" He started to wave it
harmlessly in front of Dudley's face, figuring he could at least play with his
quarry before ending it all.
To his amazement, Draco never finished the wave. Dudley's right hand came out
from his side at an angle and swiped the side of Draco's face in what Vernon
Dursely would have recognized as a state of the art right hook. Draco fell to
the ground, the umpf that escaped him barely managed to cover the amount of
surprise he felt.
"There, I told you he wouldn't be that hard," Piers told Dudley. Draco, however,
was not out of the fight. He sat back up, wiped the blood away from his nose
and shouted the only curse that occurred to him at the moment.
"Tarantallegra!" he shouted and, to his amusement, Dudley's legs and arms began
to dance wildly. He would have loved to watch, but the looks the other boys were
throwing him told Draco this would not be a wise idea. His father could, after
all, only get him out of so much trouble before it looked suspicious. So he took
the next best option: he ran for it.
Running down the streets of London on a Saturday afternoon is not the
easiest activity in the world and Draco found it only marginally more difficult
than the average person, as he was dressed conspicuously in robes, had no clue
what any of the street corner lights meant and half of his head felt like it was
swollen to the size of a watermelon. He dashed across a narrow street, barely
avoiding death by a double-decker bus and scanned the streets frantically for a
good place to hide. Even he knew he couldn't evade the hefty boys who were
chasing him forever. A door that said 'Public Toilet' on it caught his eye and
Draco grinned. Of course, it was perfect. He could lock it and the oafs would
never think to look in there. He made a dash for it and had the door closed and
locked before Dudley's gang rounded the corner.
"Where'd he go?" He heard one of them ask. "Who knows?" replied another.
"We've just got to keep following. We'll find the shrimp eventually and we'll
get him for whatever it was he did to Dudley with his stick thingy."
It was all Draco could do not to laugh as he heard the group stamped by.
"Really," he muttered to himself. "It's too bad those boys are muggles. They'd
almost be an improvement on Crabbe and Goyle. He leaned casually against the
toilet and jumped when it flushed loudly. "What the-" he hadn't meant to press
the lever at all but there it was flushing anyway. He peered down into the bowl
and then laughed as he saw nothing. He turned away and was about to leave the WC
when, suddenly the toilet erupted in a loud bang and Draco found himself
covered, head to toe with horrible brown masses. He screamed but even then the
toilet wasn't finished. It erupted again, this time exploding the whole of the
public toilet and Draco disappeared in the darkness.
*********************************
The Magical Police stood guarding the scene from any curious muggle
gaffers but even the muggles were not so daft as to miss the tension that went
through all of their shoulders as a tall, pale man walked through their midst.
"Where is he?" he asked in a cold voice.
"Er, we found him over here, sir. He appears to be covered with muck, not to
mention the fact that he seems to have, well" the man paused.
"Well, what?" Lucius Malfoy pressed.
"Exploded, sir."
"Exploded?" Lucius repeated, disbelieving his ears. "From what?"
"We believe it was this," the policeman pulled out the paper and plastic
remains of a device that was wholly unlike any Lucius had ever seen before.
"What is it?" he snapped.
"We aren't sure sir but we have found it in other toilets when we've been
on patrol to look for possible regurgitating toilets. We took it to the muggle
artifacts depar-"
"Spare me the details and get to the point already," Lucius hissed, barely
able to control his anger.
"It's called a cherry bomb and is very popular around muggle children
trying for a bit of mischief."
Lucius' eyes got icier. "I want the muggles responsible found. And dealt
with." He turned and walked away with a flourish, leaving the magical police and
the charred remains of his son behind.