DISCLAIMER: I am in no way affiliated with JK Rowling or her creations.
SUMMARY: The unintentional, unadulterated, and undeniably dynamic love & life of two gits inhabiting 12 Grimmauld Place. Drabbles and fic-lets shamelessly posted on a regular basis. HP/DM, G at times, M at others.
"So . . . you want to paint over it?" Draco asked, his arms still crossed as he stood in his bathrobe at a curious angle. It wasn't even eight in the morning yet, and Harry was staring deliberately at the kitchen wall.
"Well, we can't charm the wallpaper. I've tried it already. Hell, Sirius probably tried it for years," he said nonchalantly. "So the only logical thing left to do is leave magic out of the equation."
"Whatever works for you, Harry," Draco said, passing behind him in a direction toward the kettle on the stovetop.
Harry didn't seem to hear him. "I could pick up a few buckets and rollers on the way home today. What do you think?"
"I think you're getting your hopes up," Draco said, pouring a cup and passing it to Harry. "If magic won't get that bloody awful colour off the wall, what makes you think manpower will?"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't take much to stain a house," he said, eyeing Draco. "Want to make it a bet?"
Draco smiled, though he knew better. "Wishful thinking, Potter. Yeah— you know what, sure, it's a bet." He shook his head at the ridiculous way Harry thought things through, and continued to pour a second cup. He wasn't halfway through with the job when his partner grabbed him from behind and spun him around with haste—
Draco blinked, backed up against the wall next to the stovetop and the telephone, which had fallen off its hook at was humming a muted tone in protest. His cup was still in his left hand, naturally, but its contents had completely splashed out onto the wallpaper, dripping to the floor in a dark brown mess.
Harry held him in this position by the wrists, pushing into him as he formed a grin. "I stained it."
Draco's face, expressionless, was a mere centimetres away from Harry's, close enough to have to breathe in when the other breathed out. It was annoying, really.
"So you did. Go ahead and clean it up, then." He gave a taunting smirk in return. "It's on the wall, though. I doubt you'll get it off the easy way." Protective charms were a riot.
Harry exhaled sharply in a quiet laugh. "Yeah. I guess you're right. I'm just going to have to use something else."
Quicker than Draco could've reacted, Harry untied the belt of Draco's bathrobe, taking a lapel in his hand as it fell open "Can I borrow this?"
A/N: Guess what I've been doing when I haven't been writing chapters for NYNY! If you guessed anything other than "writing dribbly short fics like this" or "ODing on powdered hot cocoa and quesadillas" (I guess I've neglected the grocery store), you are WRONG, because that's about all I've been doing. Forgive me for the rather brusque nature of this particular drabble, but I felt it was engagingly hilarious enough to shove in the beginning. All chapters, if you want to call them that, will be chronologically unorganized and will not necessarily be connected. Bring it on.