Charity
((OOC: Ooops! Sorry to people who were reading Assuming, I don't know if I'll get back to it, I've just been caught up in my own personal writing and haven't been working on FFs recently. However I thought I'd give everyone a Christmas Present as an apology. I'll also be putting up another story… Erm, later. Anyway, enjoy!
PS: Before you read you should listen to Ray Stevens: The Streak. Never thought I'd write that into a story of any kind…))
It was a joke. Really. Ron had seen Malfoy dropping a galleon in a charity pot and had said a bit too loud "Look, thinks he's regular Santa, he does."
"I beg your pardon, Weasel?" Malfoy sneered.
"When was the last time you gave back to the world?" Ron shot at the blonde.
"I paid more than my fair share of reparation fees." Malfoy said icily.
"You can't give what was taken from you." Ron said, but his confidence was shaken. Everyone knew the reparation fees were bogus, just the Ministry trying to make some quick cash; they never made it to the hands of those who needed it.
"Watch it Weasel." Malfoy snarled and then brushed by.
Harry watched the confrontation without any expectations. He knocked Ron's shoulder for being an ass though. Malfoy had tried to turn things around, getting into the Auror program and excelling past anyone's expectations, even with everyone against him. Ron was no exception, and while Harry had been wary at first, he found himself one of the few people on Malfoy's team. Well, not literally. Malfoy was working alone currently as his last partner ducked out. It was the third partner who'd done it. Each one publically said that they had personal obligations that kept them from being able to continue to be partnered with Malfoy. Maybe the first one had, but Harry thought it was prejudice, and the second two? Well Harry knew for a fact they just couldn't keep up with the blonde.
Harry nearly chuckled again when he remembered the platinum haired man's nickname, 'The Streak'. It had started because he was always the first one in a dangerous situation, outpacing even Harry, and the Malfoy's wand work was an impeccable streamlined streak of constant motion. Then there was the 'Umbridge Undressed' case. Umbridge had gotten out of Azkaban in a prison breach a few years back (one of the few down sides of removing the dementors from Azkaban was that the security level had dropped significantly). There had been a huge search party sent out, and within hours of the break they had tracked down and recaptured every prisoner except for Umbridge. They had, however, managed to trace her to a small potion's shop on the outskirts of a muggle town. Harry and Ron had gotten to the scene first, but were waiting for a potions expert to show up before they entered. There was really no hurry, what with Dolores trapped with no wand, but Malfoy thought otherwise. Without waiting for a potions master he rushed into the shop. Harry had followed him, swearing, and showed up just in time to see Malfoy, starkers, chasing then tackling the fat woman to the ground. Unable to comprehend Harry stood there staring as the obscenely fit Auror looked up at him expectantly.
"Just gonna watch Potter, or get over here and help?"
"How-?"
"This shop mostly produces the products for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Weasel should have known." Malfoy snorted and then shoved grunted as the fat witch struggled a bit more. "Would you at least stun her?"
"Ah-" Harry managed to bind the witch without getting Malfoy caught in the ropes (though Malfoy did bat away a rope that was looking to wander up his leg, and glared at Potter). "That, ah, doesn't explain, ah."
"Erudite as always Potter." Malfoy said standing, and leisurely brushing himself off. Harry couldn't help but stare, and now half of the Auror department was drifting in cautiously. "She threw a potion at me, one that resembles a love potion but which actually dissolves clothing. It's a cute trick. I can't magic new robes on until after I shower and remove the residue."
"Ah."
"Oh do shut your trap Potter. Or at least avert your eyes and pretend you're not interested." Malfoy snarled. Harry flushed but took his jacket off, throwing it at Malfoy. The blonde caught it on reflex and frowned. "It didn't dissolve."
"George gave me a spell that would prevent that sort of thing from happening to my clothing when he made the potion." Harry said, and Malfoy had the decency to flush as he threw the jacket on. Ron had later made a comment about a muggle song called 'The Streak'. Soon Malfoy couldn't go through the office without someone muttering 'Look at that, look at that'. The man was so confused (though the only sign of the confusion was a slightly raised brow in the scowl he shot people) that Harry had to take pity on him and gave the Malfoy a copy of the song, the premise of which was a man running starkers all over town with no shame.
'Oh, yes, they call him the Streak/ Look at that, look at that/ Fastest thing on two feet/ Look at that, look at that/ He's just as proud as he can be/ Of his anatomy/ He goin' give us a peek'
The blonde had colored once then his face straightened out. He nodded, thanked Harry, and walked away. The next time someone muttered 'look at that, look at that' Malfoy turned around and raised an eyebrow, and with a slight smirk asked: "Interested, Ethel?"
The person, a graying Auror in his late fifties colored so deeply that Harry worried he'd have aneurism. That had ended the time when people called him the Streak to his face, but Harry knew a few who still said it when they knew the man wasn't around. Harry didn't correct them, but only because his mind always went back to the incident, and he was temporarily dumbstruck.
So when Malfoy organized a Christmas Ball with an entrance fee and all proceeds went to a children's hospital, the general air of the office was stunned. Malfoy made the announcement, posted the flyer, and then made his way to his desk. It took almost five minutes before conversation resumed, which was unheard of really. Harry watched as his co workers slowly started to react, and the reactions weren't good. From the way people were muttering the whole thing was going to be a failure. Harry bristled for a moment before standing and walking over to Malfoy's desk.
"Yes Potter?" The man asked, without looking up from his paperwork.
"Can I help?" The shocked look on Malfoy's face as his head shot up was worth a hundred galleons.
"What?"
"The Ball you're organizing. I'd like to help; it can't be easy setting the whole thing up by- no matter how many people do it." He said, changing his statement at the last moment. He didn't want to injure Malfoy pride. The man stuttered for a moment before nodding.
"That… would be nice Potter, thank you." Malfoy said after a moment.
"Anything to help the children." Harry said, and didn't comprehend why he picked up a flicker of disappointment in Malfoy's face. "When should I show up where?"
"Ah, are you free for planning? I want to lay down concrete plans. Shall we go and get coffee tomorrow?"
"I'm free until eleven." Harry said after a moment of figuring out what paperwork he could put off.
"Good. I'll see you at 9am then. Say, that little place off the corner of Hester's Horrible Hobby Hut?"
"Hester's Happy Hobby Hut?" Harry asked.
"Not with a name like that." Malfoy sneered. A chuckle shook Harry's chest before he knew it was coming, startling himself and Malfoy.
"Sure. I'll see you then." He nodded before heading back to his own little desk with Ron.
"What the bloody hell was that?" His partner gave a hoarse squeak. Harry shrugged.
"You offered him the challenge, I don't see why I can't help him, and it is for a good cause." Harry said simply.
"But its bloody well Malfoy!" Ron squealed again, this time loud enough to be heard. Harry glared at his best mate, and wished that the man had grown out of his childish feuds when he had grown into his ears.
"I don't see what bearing that has on this, Ronald." He said, using his best Hermione voice, and not intending to be quiet. "A charity is a charity, and I think this is a particularly good idea for one."
"Mad…" Ron muttered.
"I'm not asking for your help." Harry said firmly, and returned to paperwork with angry vigor.
The next morning Harry overslept. By the time he had gotten himself presentable it was already nine thirty. Apparating straight to the shop, he winced as he saw Malfoy at the cash register, paying for what looked like an absurd amount of coffee.
"Malfoy!" Potter gasped, still trying to tie his tie. "I'm-."
"No need Potter. I got the message." Malfoy snarled, throwing down the galleon and heading towards the door.
"No, I don't think—."
"No, I didn't. If I did, I would have known this was all some jolly lark on me." He grumbled, not bothering to look at Harry. Harry groaned and set a hand on the man's shoulder. Malfoy spun around wand raised and then hesitated. "Ah…"
"I overslept." Harry deadpanned.
"You ah, haven't buttoned your shirt." Malfoy said, pointing to the shirt that actually was buttoned, but done so badly that a good amount of chest showed through. Harry flushed and his fingers twitched as he tried to decide if it was better to rebutton it now or apparate out of here.
"I just said I overslept." He grumbled and then winced as he somehow managed to get his finger stuck in his tie.
"You're a mess." Malfoy sighed and looked around. He had just made a scene and people were still watching. With a small frown he grabbed Potter and apparated them both to the small flat Malfoy was currently living in.
"The bathroom is to the right. Finish getting dressed and I'll get out the decorations I have already." He said, his voice remarkably cool for having just yelled at the flustered hero of the wizarding world.
"Ah, thanks." Harry grunted, a bit discombobulated, and more than slightly confused. He hadn't even thought to pull away from Malfoy when the man side-along-ed him. He didn't realize he trusted the berk that much. And the man was a berk, yelling at Harry like that. Sure he was late, but really.
Harry finished putting himself together in the bathroom (which smelled suspiciously pleasant for any room, let alone a bathroom), and went out to see what the other man had in mind. Only, when he stepped out of the room, he stepped into some D-grade Christmas movie.
"Oh sweet Merlin's balls." Harry gasped before laughing. There were Santa's, everywhere. From little porcelain ones, to the ugly old plastic ones, to the large inflatable ones Muggles put in their yards.
"What is so funny Potter. This is traditional Christmas paraphernalia, is it not?" Malfoy said, slightly flushed. Harry couldn't answer for a few more moments, as his movement sent a frenzy of motion activated Santa's into a rally of Christmas carols and belly laughs, with a few poems thrown in for good measure.
"Malfoy," He finally managed to gasp out, his stomach hurting from laughing. "Where did you get all of these?"
"Most of them I replicated from things I'd seen in muggle stores or on muggle airwaves. What is so funny Potter?"
"I'm in Satan's evil lair is what's so funny. Oh god, I've never seen such a horrifying display of red." He chuckled. "It's Santa Hell, where bad Santa's go when they die, oh sweet Merlin, is that a Chuckie Santa? It is. Oh god."
"Potter, I thought you were here to help, not to laugh at me." Malfoy pouted. It took Harry a moment to recognize the pout, and when he did the laugh slid away and a slow smile replaced it.
"Sorry. Malfoy, what do you know about Christmas? I mean, I know even purebloods don't grow up purely with the Solstice stuff, not anymore." Harry asked, running a hand through his hair and trying to take in the avalanche of Santa's around him.
"I grew up in a very traditional house. The only 'modern' Christmas thing we did was exchange presents, and occasionally bring in a tree instead of the normal pine boughs for the mantel." Malfoy sulked for a moment. "All I know was that as I kid I was always hearing about this Santa fellow."
Harry sobered then, realizing that Malfoy had never had a proper Christmas.
"Oh. Ok. Well, let's start with the basics and move our way back up to decorations. This is going to be happening at the Manor, yes?"
Malfoy opened his mouth and then closed it hard enough Harry could hear his teeth click, even over the Santas clamoring.
"You really don't know." The man said, furrowing his brows. "Potter, the Manor hasn't been owned by the Malfoy family in nearly ten years. It was the first thing that that Ministry took from us."
"Your home?" Harry asked, stunned.
"They didn't leave us homeless, we had other properties, but the manor was the heart of the Malfoy family. They took it and everything inside. Said they couldn't risk us taking out dark artifacts or some nonsense, like we would hide anything there in the ancestral house." Malfoy muttered.
"Malfoy, I-I'm sorry. I didn't know." Harry said, taking a step closer to the other man.
"It's fine Potter, old news really." Malfoy said, not looking at Potter but examining a particularly horrific plastic Santa.
"It's not. Is there anything I can do?"
"You and your hero complex." Malfoy snarled. "It's too late. They gutted it, sold off the heirlooms and now use the place as a summer home for the minister. No one can get it back."
"I—"
"Yes, yes, you didn't know. I get it. Let's move on." Malfoy grunted. "I have a small property in the country. It's quaint, in the middle of a pine wood. It's not well kept up, so we'll have our work cut out for us if we want it up and running, but it fits the mood I think."
"It sounds nice." Harry offered, trying his hardest not to step right into his own mouth again. Malfoy looked him over and gave a sigh.
"I don't want your pity." He said after a moment.
"I don't pity you." Harry said earnestly. Malfoy looked up at him, judging his sincerity before nodding.
"Now you say this is bad?" Malfoy asked, waving to the Santas and setting off another clamor of holiday cheer.
"Not bad Malfoy. Scary and disturbing." Harry said. "It's enough to give small children lifelong phobias. It's also unexpectedly garish of you."
"Why Potter, that was a large word and used correctly too." Malfoy said, sidestepping the issue. Harry noticed and shook his head.
"This is going to need me to step up more than I thought. What are you doing this weekend?" He sighed.
"It depends on what you want me for." Malfoy said stubbornly.
"We are going to sit down and watch muggle Christmas movies so you can see what this is all about, as well as getting a good idea of what the decorations are like." Harry said. Malfoy looked flushed, but then, it might have been the reflection of all of the red uniforms in the room.
"I can spare Saturday for it." He said after a moment's thought. Harry smiled and then looked around the room again.
"God I wish I could tell Ron about this." He muttered. "He'd die, just die."
"You're not?" Malfoy asked, and the look of shock on his face was masked so thinly that the might as well have been no mask at all.
"No. I couldn't. You would never live it down. And frankly, I'm going to have enough nightmares about this without Ron bringing it up all the time." He grumbled. "If you'll excuse me though, I have to get my things. I ran out of the house before I grabbed anything, and I have work shortly."
"Certainly, this way." Malfoy muttered, moving through the crowd, gangle, heard, of Santas. Harry covered his face with his hands, blocking out the smiling Santa-nick elves and trying to un-hear the tumultuous noise. At the door he turned to Malfoy, silhouetted by plastic, red suited old men, and gave a pained smile.
"Thank you for having me over Malfoy." He said formally, giving the man a small bow. Malfoy paused and then bowed back.
"Thank you for helping me." Malfoy said after another moment. "Really."
Harry smiled and, like the jolly old bloke, he set a finger aside of his nose, gave a nod, and apparated.