Denial and Draco: 'Smuggle-style
Chapter 1 - Domestic Mockery
Summary: Harry Potter left the Wizarding World after the Final Battle against Voldemort. Now Dumbledore sends Draco Malfoy out to retrieve him. What a great idea. SLASH/YAOI
Author: KawaiiKragh
Rating: T (for the moment, at least)
Disclaimer: Do not own, do not profit. Do not sue.
Warnings: This is slash! Meaning boy on boy. If you do not like it, do not read it! I'm not poking your eyeballs in the direction of the screen or something - you are here on your own free will, so your wee, bigoted, pink flames will be used only for roasting ants and other flamers. Oh, and I had better warn you about my sad attempts at humour.
In simple words: No likey, no ready.
A/N: This is my first uploaded fan fiction. I am currently also working on editing my first ever written fan fiction, Butterflies and Hurricanes and on its sequel. Enjoy!
Harry Potter grumbled under his breath as he walked out of his bathroom. The damned toilet was clogged up again. He half expected the useless thing to explode into his face some day; the gurgling sounds were mildly disturbing and the prospect of getting days old shit and piss in his face was… unattractive at its best.
It was times like these he almost wished that he was still a wizard… well, he was still a wizard, as proven by the several crushed shot glasses from when some random guy or girl would piss him off at the bar; he was just denying it for the time being. He had left the Wizarding World when he won the Final Battle against his high and mighty, and now very much dead, Mr. "I'm-a-doll-tormenter" in his seventh year of Hogwarts.
It was actually a rather anti-climatic finale, since Harry had just used some throwing knives, magic induced speed and an apathetic "incendio".
Even though he had finished off snake-face, Harry knew that Dumbledore would demand more of him - like teaching - and Harry was not ready for that yet. He needed a break from the Wizarding World. Never mind that his little time out had already lasted near two years. He had never really forgiven Dumbledore for not preparing him - he knew he had to face Voldemort at some time, but he had not lifted a finger to help him. Harry had had to approach his teacher on his own, to ask the experienced man to teach him. Not that he hated Dumbledore; the man was too much of a grandfather for him to hate him.
Shaking off the troublesome memories, he proceeded to walk through his rather spacious living room and into his dark painted bedroom. The big queen-sized bed took up one wall, while a typical dresser and a cluttered desk occupied the second. A somewhat battered, black TV was placed ostensibly impulsively on an upturned wooden beer box against the wall opposite the bed, while a mountain of… yeah, a lot things, including a pair of old, badly smelling socks, some play station games that clearly has seen better days and various, brightly coloured bottles of booze.
Harry tripped a few times as he headed to his dresser, the floor strewn with a chaotic cluster of dirty clothes, broken alarm clocks, CDS and other rubbish.
"Man, maybe Spiky was right," Harry admitted grudgingly. "Perhaps I really should clean up a little in here…"
Just the thought made him go into convulsions. The thought of all those half-rotten plates, half-empty soda cans and all the other disgusting trash, gave him the shivers right down to his crotch. He needed a woman.
Another seizure. Okay, maybe not a woman then! That should be pretty much established now, he reminded himself sternly.
It had been a rather… big… surprise when he realised that the males interested him more than the females. The young Hogwarts-Harry, being sexually unhealthy and rather naïve had not really thought about girls or boys. There was just the socially right thing to do, and being the Gryffindor Golden Boy, he, of course, assumed that it was what being expected of him.
Although he did not have a boyfriend, he still had Spiky, his amiable, if a bit unstable, neighbour for when they both needed an outlet in the form of sexual pleasure. And what pleasure that was. It was heaven to have a friend like that, especially since they could distinct between their friends-time and lovers-time, so that no one got hurt.
Just as he was trying to get into a large, black and wickedly comfortable hoodie, his cell phone rang. Still with his head inside the shirt and with only one arm in the correct hole, he stumbled blindly into his living room again. After nearly crashing into the leather sofa and tripping over his bag, he reached his cell phone, which was lying oh-so innocently at the counter, still ringing out that ridiculous tone Spiky had chosen for him.
After a mighty fight with the cellular phone, he managed to get it inside the hoodie to his ear and press the little green button.
"Hiya!" he said cheerfully, his voice muffled a bit by the shirt.
"Harry?" Spiky's slightly hazy voice travelled into his ear from the earpiece, doubtlessly muffled by the chronic cigarette that constantly dangled from his lips.
"That's my name, wanna buy it?" he chuckled, fighting vigorously with his hoodie.
"Do you take credit cards?" Spiky asked seriously.
"I sure do! I take yours up my arse very Sunday!"
A laugh broke up their little game.
"Don't I know," came Spiky's playful voice. "Anyway, Noah just called me. He said Liam had called in sick, so he asked if we could cover a little earlier than expected. There's a lot of people at the bar tonight, apparently."
Harry cursed. Now he would not be able to catch the quick dinner he had planned for himself.
"Ah, I guess," he said vaguely, already trying to get the baggy hoodie off; being a bartender demanded nice clothes, after all. "Just be sure to tell Noah that I expect to be greeted with a dinner in the face when I get there. See you in the hallway!"
"Oh, and Harry?"
"Yes?"
"Quit talking inside your shirts - it sounds like you're talking from Mars and not across the hall."
HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM
"Ah, Headmaster, if I may ask a teeny weeny, trivial question?"
"But of course, Mr. Malfoy!" the Headmaster said merrily, his twinkling eyes locked on the young, blonde man seated in front of him.
"Have you gone insane?" came the perfectly even and polite question, the young man's incredulity only given away by his tightly clasped fist.
Dumbledore chuckled. The young ones always kept his the best entertained - well, except for Severus; that man was truly amusing. Not that he wanted to be, mind you.
"Now that you mention it, a very accomplished doctor from the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's actually implied that…"
"It doesn't matter, old man!" Draco exclaimed and threw his hands into the air. "There is no way Harry Potter would ever let me convince him to bring his scared ass back to the Wizarding World nor let me into his home, for that matter! Besides, I know absolutely nothing of the Muggle World!"
"Come now, Draco," The Headmaster looked far too amused for Draco's liking. "It would be a useful experience and, as you have told Severus on several occasions, you would like to sort out your differences with Harry."
Draco took a mental note to whack Severus over the head.
"Furthermore, I'm sure you will be able to figure out a way to make Harry let you in. You were, after all, one of the top students in your year…"
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Headmaster." Draco raised a delicate eyebrow and lifted his chin arrogantly.
"…and I dare say that I never have seen such a beautiful man before in life - how many love letters did you receive from your fans this week, Draco?"
Draco flicked his long, white-blond hair over his shoulder and smirked smugly.
"Oh, a couple of hundreds, take or give a few," he said, nonchalantly inspecting his perfectly manicured nails and tried to hide self-satisfied grin. "As I was saying, I'll be sure to discover a way to bring back Potter with my most clever and gorgeous head. If anyone can do this, it is most certainly me, Headmaster."
HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM
"You will WHAT!?" Lucius Malfoy's voice reverberated in the large, magnificent lounge, where the two white-blonds were currently reclining in the comfortable, white leather furniture. Or, one of them were lounging lazily, while the other, bigger one was sitting rigidly on the edge of his seat, his breathing hurried and a dangerous glint in his light, grey eyes.
"Oh, calm down, Father," Draco said, idly waving a hand gracefully to calm his father. "I think I heard your pants rip."
Lucius looked over his shoulder to his behind distractedly, but soon returned his attention back to the young man sitting opposite him. He almost whined wretchedly, but stopped the pitiful sound from coming out in the last minute. He would not want to break his precious reputation, even if it was just in front of his own son.
"Draco, you can't just leave!" Hm, that came suspiciously close to a whimper. He cleared his throat. "You know I wanted you to take over the family finances this summer!"
'Which is exactly why I agreed to this,' Draco thought sneakily to himself with an inward smirk. He had sounded reluctant to go, but at the same time acted as if he could be convinced with a little work. In all actuality, he was overjoyed when he found out about his assignment - only the well-horned acting abilities he had used to interrogate his fellow Slytherins and non-fellow Death Eaters-in-training had kept him from smiling his face off. Draco had figured out from an early age that people would give you everything if they are desperate and you are reluctant - he loved Lucius, really. As Dumbledore said, he was anxious to apologise to Potter and eat of the humble pie for all the things he had done in the past. Even though they had been forced to work together through sixth and seventh year, they never really had forgiven each other… or, Harry had not forgiven him.
"I'm sorry, Father, but I think I owe it to Dumbledore," he said and looked into his Father's eyes. Snort. Like I would actually pay him back, even if I did owe him something. Which I don't.
But it worked beautifully. Lucius liked to pay back his debts as soon as possible - less chance for the enemy to think something up to demand of him.
"Yes, yes, of course," Lucius sighed. Draco smirked - inwardly of course. "But why choose you, of all people, to bring back Potter? It is destined to turn into a fight of some sorts, when it comes to you two. I wouldn't be surprised to find that you had torn off his neck, rather than bring him back!"
Aw… Now that was just an evil thing to say…
"Do you really hold that little faith in me, Father?" he asked dully, his big, grey eyes locked on those of his father. He added a bit of moisture to make him look real pitiful.
Lucius' face turned into a grimace. He hoped Draco would forget this, because this was really humiliating. His twitched painfully as he leaned forward, and placed his arms around his son. Oh, he could just see Severus laughing his head off and telling the rest of the staff how soft he was becoming in his old years. Bastard. Now he wanted to cry.
"No, of course not," he said, as steady as possible, which was not steady at all. In his mind, he was picking up the broken pieces of his pride, while Draco was snuggling into his shoulder.
Jackpot.
HPDMHPDMHPDMHPDM
Draco was lying in his bed in his teacher quarters, that were just beside Severus', in Hogwarts' dungeon, when his white cat, Morph, jumped up gracefully and settled on his bare chest after a few rounds. He absentmindedly scratched the beautiful cat behind its ears, making it purr in content.
And suddenly, an idea struck him like lightening and made a yellow light bulb beam enthusiastically above his head. He sat up suddenly, almost forgetting to catch the pissed off Morph, who had fallen gracelessly off his chest.
"I'm brilliant," he said, in awe of himself. "Absolutely genius!"
Thank you for reading! Give me a review if you want me to continue this, as I'm not completely sure as to how good it is. Please?
End of the first chapter.