Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Characters: Harry/Draco, various others but no other major pairings
Warnings: This is an AU; there is no magic and no Hogwarts. If using American terminology in a British setting bothers you then it's best for both of us that you click the back button and find something that you will enjoy, because I know I'm going to slip up somewhere. That being said, enjoy the story!
Draco Malfoy was used to publicity; it was expected as he was the rising new star of Today's World, a modern soap opera with national syndication. This; however, was not the sort of attention that he usually craved. This was his very personal life splashed across the front pages of every rag newsprint in the city. As if the headline, "Soap's Sexy Ladies' Man has a Penchant for Male Prostitutes" wasn't damming enough. It seemed that the various pictures with the young man in question in various states of grand flagrante delicto, sealed his fate. He was ruined and moaned as much so to his friend as he sank down in the chair, trying to hide behind the brim of his hat.
"You're only making yourself more obvious," Blaise teased, a soft chuckle following as Draco sat up and glared at him. "Look, this can only be good for you, you realize that right?" He gave Draco an earnest look as he stirred the cup of tea before him.
"Easy for you to say," Draco barked, glaring venom at possibly the only person on earth still talking to him. "You are not the one being fucked by a gay rentboy on the front of every newspaper that sees fit to publish this vile filth!" He finished by throwing one of the said newspapers on the table, causing the tea to slosh over the sides of Blaise's cup.
"Don't you think that you are being a bit dramatic?" Blaise normally would have held his tongue, but this was almost an 'I told you so,' for he had been telling Draco for years that eventually this life would catch up with him, and it had. The proof was there in unattractive black and white. A deep sigh slipped from his lips and he looked from the paper to see his friend in a deep pout. "I can help you fix it," he said, wanting to wipe that look of Draco's face. It never boded well for either of them.
Draco scoffed visibly and turned his head to look at the other patrons, saying softly, "How?"
"I thought that you would never ask," Blaise replied, smiling at his tea. He wasn't Draco's manager for grins; he was actually quite good at what he did. "The damage is out and so are you. There is no point in trying to go back into the closet."
"Obviously," came the terse reply, but Draco was finally looking in his direction again.
"What you need is a gimmick. Something that will convince the people that you are willing to reform yourself and settle down…"
"I'm not willing to settle down. There is absolutely no way that I will ever settle down with one man and one man alone. It's simply impossible!"
Blaise held up his hand, this diatribe was all too familiar and he had heard it as many times as he had heard Draco lament always being alone. "You know that isn't true. You know there is one that you would settle down for..."
The words hung between them. Draco's jaw tensed and he looked about to say something when a flashbulb went off practically in their faces. Blaise scowled at the would-be photographer and Draco stood up so fast that his chair turned over. A waiter was to the man and security was taking him away before Draco could even pull back his fist. It seemed that you did get what you paid for, but the fact that he was even allowed in the café, well that was an ifaux pas/i that would have to be taken care of as soon as Blaise returned to his office.
Draco righted his chair and sat down, retrieving his hat from the floor and dusting it off. "Call him," Blaise said, segueing back into the earlier conversation. "It's been years and you know he has not done as well as you. I'm sure," He glanced around here, looking to see who might be listening. "Well, I am sure that he could be persuaded to take a job for the right price."
Draco stared at Blaise for a few moments, trying to find a flaw in his plan. When he had one he spoke again. "Harry hates me, and if you will recall, his parting words to me as he dumped my things out of his flat were, and I quote, 'I'm not gay, you arsehole'."
Blaise waved him off as he picked up his teacup and took a sip. "He was sucking your cock, that makes him at least bisexual and I am sure there was more that I was not privy too and I don't want to hear." He held up a hand to forestall the words he knew were forming on Draco's lips. The pervy little bastard was nothing if not predictable. "The fact of the matter is that he needs something and so do you. As with anything, I am sure that despite your personal feelings and his you can work to a compromise and find a decent solution. Take a week off from the show and set things up with him. I will of course arrange the press and make it sound as if the toll of this publicity has sent you back to the safety of his arms and you are picking up with where you left off."
Blaise was a blood genius, at least in Draco's esteem. If he could indeed convince Harry that his was a good idea, they might both come out ahead. "Tell me more," he said, turning his complete attention to the other man now.
"Gladly," Blaise replied, drawing a sheaf of papers from the briefcase at his feet to relay the rest of the plot.
