DISCLAIMER: We don't own anything but the cookie dough recipe.
TITLE: Queer Ways To Get Your Man.
Chapter Title: Cookie Dough
Summary: The day before Halloween in Harry's sixth year, he and Draco Malfoy get into a fight. This Results in the weirdest detention in the history of Hogwarts. H/D slash, AU, Swearing. Collaboration between ChipmonkOnSpeed and Elribrith.
"YOU MOTHER FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!" Harry Potter screamed, throwing another punch at the blonde Slytherin, Draco Malfoy. Draco retaliates by punching Harry in the stomach, hard.
"I'M NOT THE ONE ASSOSIATING WITH MASS MURDERERS!" Draco yelled back. Harry reached around Draco's neck and put him in a headlock.
"What do you think your father is? Open your damn eyes and see the real world for once, you sheltered, pompous, little bitch!" the furious green eyed boy yelled. Draco bit Harry's arm to get out of the headlock, and then pulled his jet black hair. "OW!"
Albus Dumbledore chose that moment to intervene. The fight had started in the middle of breakfast, in the Great Hall. It had started over Draco gloating about an article in the Prophet that had insulted Sirius Black.
"Cease and desist!" Albus ordered. The scuffle continued. Albus, not used to having his commands ignored so blatantly, was shocked. He strode forward and grabbed both boys by the neck of their shirts, and pulled the apart. They continued to slap at each others hands.
Albus was caught in the crossfire, taking a hit to the face. His glasses were knocked clear off his nose, sending them to the floor. They shattered. A hush fell over the crowd of onlookers.
"Damn it! I've had those for a hundred and thirty years!" the aged headmaster snapped. Harry and Draco both paused mid-slap.
"That's, what, less than half your life?" both boys asked, simultaneously. They looked at each other, both confused, then spazzed out, continuing their slap war.
Dumbledore's face turned bright, cherry red, cheeks puffing out in anger. "DETENTION!" he screamed, yanking the teenagers away from one another.
"Whoa- whoa- whoa! Wait! Hold up! Backtrack! Repeat! What did you say!" sputtered Harry.
"Seconding his request!" Draco squealed.
"Two batches of cookies. No magic. I'm sure you two can figure the rest out," Dumbledore said, brightly. Draco randomly sputtered for a moment, turning pink in his cheeks.
"Obviously not, old man!" he finally squawked. Well, at least it was coherent. "What do you mean, 'no magic'? Are you mad?"
"It is not my sanity in question here, Mr. Malfoy, but your behavior," Dumbledore said calmly. Draco rolled his eyes.
"Yep, he's mad. Crazy. Off his rocker. Gone 'round the twist. Looney. Cracked. Insane and senile. Deranged. Lost his marbles… Did he have marbles? He's-" Harry cut off Draco's rant.
"Shut up, I hate baking enough as it is, you fuckwit!" snapped the Boy-Who-Lived. Draco glared at him, but stopped speaking. '
"I'll leave you two to your baking, then, good day." Dumbledore walked out of his kitchen, and locked the door from the outside.
Draco began poking the electric mixer. "What the fuck is this? It looks… deadly. You jab this into somebody's stomach and mix up their intestines!" Draco said, horrified. Harry groaned.
Harry had been utterly confused when Dumbledore had lead them to his private rooms. He had been even more surprised when they were showed to a kitchen, and told that for detention, they had to bake cookies.
He figured that this would turn out to be more traumatizing than facing Voldemort.
Baking. With Malfoy. Damn.
Sighing, Harry grabbed the flour. "Let's get this over with, then." When he turned around, Draco was staring oddly at the oven.
"What does this do?" Draco asked.
"It eats prats." Draco squealed girlishly and jumped back. "Admitting you're a prat?" Draco glared, and threw an egg at Harry's head. Being a Seeker, Harry caught it. "Oh, we'll need this too. Thanks."
Piling the ingredients he had gathered on the counter, he started rifling through the cupboards. "Where the hell is the vanilla extract?" he muttered.
"What?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You know.. vanilla extract. Comes in a little brown bottle. Important ingredient in cookies. Work with me here, blondie."
Draco scowled, and glanced in an open cupboard near his head, seeing a small glass bottle. "You mean this?" he asked, picking it up to show Harry, thumb covering the label that read "Soy Sauce".
"Wow… you actually did something useful," Harry said, sounding genuinely surprised. He looked down at the recipe they had been given. "Put a tablespoon of that into a bowl. Butter, butter… butter," Harry muttered, rifling threw the icebox. He looked at everything for a split second before throwing it over his shoulder.
"What next, scarhead?" Malfoy asked. Harry sighed dramatically.
"Flour. Sugar. Brown sugar?" Harry said thoughtfully, mostly to himself. "Cinnamon! It works!"
"We don't have brown sugar? What kind of a kitchen is this, anyway?" queried Draco, sarcastically.
"Obviously Dumbledore doesn't bake much. I mean, he doesn't even have chocolate chips!" Harry exclaimed.
"You know, we probably should be wearing aprons," commented the Slytherin. "I don't want to get anything on my robes. They're designer."
"Pouf," Harry muttered. "Ew! Weird mental image of Dumbledore in a frilly pink apron!"
"You should get out more, Potter."
"Beat your eggs, ferret boy," Harry spat. Draco scowled, beating the eggs with unnecessary force, splashing some on his robes.
"Damn it!" Harry laughed at him.
"Maybe you should put on your apron, chef boy."
"Listen, Potter, we're stuck here together for at least another hour. We should at least agree to get along until we're out this door. We'll start by only calling each other by first name only," announced Draco.
"I can do that. Let me try this. Draaayyy-coooooh."
Draco blushed and turned away, rooting through some drawers for an apron. "Never, ever do that to my name, again. Ever,"
Snickering, Harry went back to mixing the flour concoction. He heard a squeak of surprise and turned around. "What?" he asked Draco.
"What is this?" Draco asked, pointing to a microwave.
"Draco, that's a microwave. It cooks food faster than an oven," Harry explained.
"Then why don't we bake the cookies in there?"
"That won't work. You'll get noxious goop," Harry said. "Now we need to mix this up a bit." He put the concoction under the mixer, and turned the thing on. Bits of dough flew into his face. He wiped his glasses. "Well, then, at least we know it tastes… interesting. Needs more flour."
Draco walked over with the small bag of flour, and began dumping it in. "Whoa!" Harry yelled, but it was too late. A cloud of flour rose into the air, covering both Harry and Draco.
The cloud dispersed, leaving both boys staring at each other. "You've got a spot, on your nose," Draco said. Harry couldn't help but laugh.
"You've got some in your hair," Harry stated. Draco began doing a very entertaining dance, slapping at his head, trying to remove the offending flour.
Heaving a sigh of frustration, Harry reached over and smoothed his hand through Draco's hair, ridding it of flour. "Better?" he asked, scowling and brushing some of the powder off of himself.
Draco looked surprised for a second, then covered it up with a sneer. "Weirdo…" he mumbled.
Harry turned the setting on the mixer lower and turned it on. "Hey, I thought we were on a first name basis here," he asked in a petulant tone of voice, not noticing how he pouted his bottom lip. The blonde boy rolled his eyes.
"I, personally, think I would rather be called 'weirdo' than 'Harry'. That could just be me," bit out the blonde. Harry sighed, looking for something to put in the cookies.
"Uh, We need baking powder," Harry said. Draco looked through the cabinets.
"The old man doesn't have any, Harry," Draco replied. Harry sighed deeply. Draco pulled something random out of the cupboard. "Cornstarch? Will that work?" Harry shrugged.
"Sure. Why not? It's not like we're eating them, anyway. Toss some in, and call it gourmet," Harry said. Draco poured some in, then peered in the bowl.
"This is the most disgusting thing I've ever seen in my life, Harry," Draco said decisively. Harry had to agree. If he had to eat this, he would toss his cookies. Literally.
"Again, we're not eating it."
"Thank all that is magical for that, too," mumbled Draco. "What time is it, anyway?"
"Seven twenty nine," Harry replied. "And Dumbledore needs to cook more often. This oven looks like it's from the eighteenth century."
"It was probably his housewarming gift, then," Draco replied. Harry paused for a second.
"Ew. We have something in common. We both dislike Dumbledore."
"Ew indeed. Is it ready to put in the oven… thing?" Draco asked, gesturing to the bowl o' goop.
"I think it is. So, just dump it in this baking pan, and we'll let it bake," Harry said, nodding towards an eight by eight pan."
"Aren't we supposed to roll them into balls?" Draco asked.
"Do you want to touch that?" Harry deadpanned.
"Point taken." Draco poured the contents of the bowl into the glass pan, and they put it into the hot oven. "That's one batch down. One to go, right?"
"Yeah. Let's try something else this time, Draco." Harry pulled the flour out from where it had been dropped.
"Like what?"
"Making something edible, for instance." Draco nodded.
"That would be good, p-Harry," Draco said.
"Parry?" Harry asked, grinning.
Draco blushed, grabbing the flour out of Harry's hands. "Easy slip up. Now let's get the second batch done so we can go," he grumbled. The blonde turned away from Harry to face the counter.
"He has a really pretty- pasty! His face is pasty!" Harry thought loudly, a bright red blush staining his cheekbones.
"What?" Draco snapped, scowling at Harry over his shoulder and adding way too much sugar into the bowl.
"What?" Harry repeated, confused.
"You were staring," the blonde ground out, turning around and leaning against the counter with his arms crossed.
The blush crossed Harry's face again. "Was not!" he protested, spinning around to get more butter from the icebox and facing away from Draco.
"Uh huh, yea right. Whatever you say," Harry heard Draco come up behind him and spun around, bumping into the other boy. The butter fell from Harry's hands and onto the dusty floor. They both looked down at it, then back up at each other.
Blushing, they realized how close they were to one another and backed up—resulting in Harry falling into the icebox, grabbing onto Draco and pulling him down with him in attempt to regain his balance. Draco ended up on top of Harry and in between his legs, with Harry laying on frozen peas.
Face bright red, Harry looked Draco straight in the eye and told him, "I think I have Dumbledore's cucumber up my arse,"
Draco collapsed against the black-haired youth's chest, laughing hysterically. "You know, it's not very comfortable…. No matter how it sounds. Er….. Can you, like… move?" Draco rolled off of Harry and landed with a splat on the butter.
Harry stood up, still blushing, and began mopping up the butter. "Draco, I need to get under you. No! No, I need to MOP under you! Stand up!" Harry stammered. Draco smirked and stood up. "Smirk all you want, butter ass."
"WHAT?" Draco did another entertaining dance, wiping the butter off himself, while not being able to see it. Harry smiled slightly and went back to mopping.
"DING!" the oven went off, scaring the bejesus out of Harry. He looked at Draco.
"We need to finish the second batch, though." The took the first out of the oven, and set it on the stove to cool.
"What should we put in this batch?" Draco asked. Harry walked to the cabinet.
"We have… M&M's, peanut butter, sprinkles, cocoa, cinnamon, chocolate syrup… and more sprinkles!" Harry said. "Which one?"
"Why not all of them?" Draco asked. He was wiping down the counter from the four incident, but he was only making it worse.
"All of them, Draco? Won't that be slightly… gross?" Harry asked.
"So? We're not eating them!" Draco snapped. "With all that colour, they'll at least look better than the first ones!"
"Alright, so, I'll just dump it all in, then. Where'd the mixer go…?" He found it, and put the bowl on the spinning platform. He turned it on low, and began adding the colorful ingredients. The dough was brown, but it looked livelier with the color. Not more edible, just livelier.
"Looks delicious…" Draco muttered, peering into the bowl. "This should be served at the next feast, it should."
"Have you ever been in McGonagall's office?" Harry asked suddenly. Draco nodded, raising an elegant eyebrow. "You know she has a biscuit tin? Well, we should inconspicuously give her some biscuits! The first batch, though. Those are worse looking," Harry whispered.
"Why are we whispering?" Draco whispered back.
"I don't know!" Harry whispered again. Draco snorted softly and went to check on the first batch.
"These will go down in history for being the most disgusting thing ever cooked within these walls." Harry rolled his eyes.
"No, I'm sure Dumbledore's cooking is worse. I mean, he doesn't even have brown sugar!" Harry said. "Though, for all we know, he got rid of it on purpose just so he could say we made it wrong and give us another detention. Sadistic bastard."
"That's something Snape would do," Draco muttered.
"We should cut up the cookie… bars… things," Harry said. Draco picked up a knife and poked the top of the cookies.
"It looks alive!" Draco squeaked. He tried to cut it, but couldn't get through the burnt top. "Okay. That is not good."
"Hmm?" Harry turned around and eyed the block of so-called food in disgust. "Ew…. Perfect. Stab them," Draco did so… and the tip of the knife bent.
"Shit! What the hell?" Draco muttered softly.
"Well, Draco, we bake a mean cookie," Harry said, still staring at the baked good from hell. "This thing has the personality of Snape. It's cold, hard, and has a layer of grease on top! Ew, ew, ew!" Harry jumped away from the pan, completely revolted. "What is that?"
"I dunno, but is it just me, or can you see a face in it?" Draco asked, pointing to the demon cookie, backing away slowly.
"That is just demented…" Harry mumbled. "Told you it's like Snape! Let's put the other batch in the oven. But we'll roll these ones into balls, so this won't happen again." He gestured at the pan at the word this, grimacing.
"Fabulous idea, Harry," Draco said sarcastically. "Though, I do happen to remember that being suggested for the first batch…"
"Technicalities," Harry mumbled. They began rolling the uncooked dough into little balls. At first, Draco was hesitant to touch it, but Harry grabbed his hand and forced it into the bowl.
The rolling was done and the cookies were put into the oven.
"Thirteen minutes, then," Harry announced, closing the oven door. He clapped his hands together and spun around to face Draco, smiling in accomplishment. Taking a step forward, his foot slipped on some forgotten butter on the floor, falling headfirst into Draco's arms.
Looking up, blushing, Harry went to step back, but Draco had his arms firmly around the boy's waist. Harry putting his hands on the blonde boy's chest to push away, but instead ended up staring into ice gray eyes.
Lips brushed lips as lashes fluttered closed and Draco bumped into the island behind him. The blonde pulled his arms tighter around Harry, pulling him closer, kissing more insistently. "What are you… ?" Harry mumbled, knowing he should pull away but not being able to.
"I don't know.. just go with it..." Draco whispered, recapturing Harry's lips in his own. Harry sighed into the kiss and slid down with Draco onto the floor, straddling his hips. The green-eyed boy grabbed the other by the shirt and ran his tongue along his soft bottom lip, demanding entrance.
Their tongues entwined, fighting for dominance, not hearing the oven ding nor the door open.
They did, however, hear Dumbledore clear his throat loudly. Both boys jumped up, springing apart.
"Hiya, professors!" Harry greeted cheerfully. He was trying to ignore the fact that he must look like a cherry with glasses.
Dumbledore was standing in the doorway, next to McGonagall. Both looked a mix of surprised and utterly confused.
"Are the cookies done?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
"The cookies from hell? Yeah, they're done. So! We'll just be… Going.. then," Harry said, walking towards the door. He grabbed Draco on his way. The blonde had just been staring at the professors, horrified, since they had come in.
Once they had left, Albus turned to Minerva. "I told you so. You owe me fifty galleons, I believe."
The next day was a Saturday, the day of the Halloween feast. Albus was looking at all the students, and his eyes lit up devilishly when he saw two were missing.
Minerva stormed into the hall, waving a biscuit tin and looking murderous. Ron Weasley, who was closest to her, was hit upside the head by said tin.
"Where are Potter and Malfoy?" she roared. Ron, rubbing his head, answered.
"Harry went to the bathroom… in the dungeons… an hour ago… and he hasn't come back yet," the redhead said loudly. Minerva, eyes full of fire, spun on her heel and turned towards the dungeons.
"This could prove awkward…" Hermione Granger muttered. Minerva disappeared behind the door of the dungeons, and all was silent for a moment, then-
"POTTER! MALFOY! How dare you fill my biscuit tin with defective cookies!" she was heard screaming.
A/N: We came up with this story while making cookie dough at one in the morning. Both of us like H/D, so… why the hell not?
Elribrith wrote the slashy romance… stuff. (She wrote some of the funny, too.)
ChipmonkOnSpeed wrote most of the funny, and added perverted ideas to the romance. (They weren't used. Damn. Something about not wanting to write lemon… Damn!)
We'll continue this if we get enough reviews. Hint hint.
-ChipmonkOnSpeed
Elribrith