Harry Potter and the curious case of his sexual preferences
Disclaimer : Please don't sue us we only own this plot. Or lack thereof.
Summary: Harry Potter does NOT love Draco Malfoy. Yes he does. No he doesn't. Yes he does! And why does Ron have tits? These mysteries and many others are answered in this thrilling tale of romance and insanity.
***
Chapter One
Harry Potter and What We REALLY Did During Lectures
***
It was a warm summer's day in mid July and Harry Potter was nowhere to be seen. His friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were puzzled as to his whereabouts.
"Maybe he's been kidnapped by You-Know-Who?!" squealed Ron fretfully.
Hermione scratched her left armpit thoughtfully. "I don't know about that," she said.
"What else would keep him inside on a warm summers day?!" asked Ron, perplexed.
Hermione glanced at the castle, her purple eyes reflecting the tempest within. Where exactly was he?
And so, as our tale commences, we move across the still waters of the lake, through the chilling forbidden forest and up gently sloping hills. We saunter along the beaten path and rush hurriedly by Hagrid in the loo, and so come to find that high up in the sixth year boys dormitories, Harry Potter was experiencing a painful moral dilemma.
He was deep in thought, contemplating the white substance poking out of his toes. He had just spent a wild, uninhibited four hours with that voracious little vixen and the part-time love of his life - Pansy Parkinson, making her go into throes of wanton passion. Yet he felt that somehow, somewhere, a vital multiplication point was missing in the mathematical equation that was life. All the while Pansy was shrieking in abandon the only things running through his head were pathetic daddy issues (which he'd never had before) and the unquenchable desire for copious amounts of coffee.
Harry's slightly myopic eyes squinted in frustration. What was wrong with him?! He felt that this needed serious contemplation and a vast amount of decaf coffee. Again he paused to observe the white stuff between his toes. He concluded it was merely an advanced case of athlete's foot and bent down to pull on his socks. He was sure Pansy would never know his fungussy secret . Naturally during the course of their wild acts of love the ghastly things would have to come off; indeed even an adolescent mess such as Pansy Parkinson , a regular cocktail of raging hormones, knew that there was nothing more repugnant than a naked man in socks.
Harry made his way to over to the full length mirrors mounted on the wall and gazed at his reflection. He liked what he saw, but began to feel insecure about his worth as a man. He spun around and admired the tightness of his buns, shining in the bright sunlight, his muscles, bulging beneath his robes - yet not too bulky, they were lean - his dark silky hair hanging into his eyes… and his eyes – swirling tempests of green, swimming with unshed tears...
Yup.
That was it. The girls always fell for the pools of tears swimming in his dark, deep eyes. He grinned at himself. I mean, if you couldn't be an inexplicable chick magnet like Voldermort was, with his rock-hard, vampire abs and snake eyes – leave aside the fact that Voldy was a destructive psychopath with the mentality of a rampaging rhino - Harry felt it was better to be the dark, troubled, orphaned hero secretly nurturing a foreboding past. Harry gave one last appreciative look at himself and sauntered out of the dorm. He carelessly waved at some first years as he passed the common room. They appropriately rewarded him with awe inspired looks that said –
"Come hither oh dark one. We are willing to ravage you shamelessly right on this coffee table."
He was just in the process of giving the Fat Lady a rakish wink, when he spotted… him!
* * * * * *
Harry panicked and jumped into a convenient cupboard to hide. After that last – albeit fantastic – encounter beneath the grills of the Hogwarts kitchens, Dobby had begun to stalk him… even more vigorously than usual. Breathing hard, he tried to get his eyes used to the sudden darkness.
While still trying to control the erratic beating of his heart Harry heard a rustle behind him.
"AAAaaaaaaarrghhhhh!!"
Emitting the most unmanly squeal – equivalent to that of a girl with her thong twisted the wrong way – Harry jumped, thus managing to knock his head – rather hard – on one of Filch's brooms. Rubbing his head with one hand he looked around, trying to put a face to the voice giving life to all manner of curses. (Some which Harry had never even heard before!). Muttering under his breath about Filch's brooms and exactly where he could stick them Harry focused on the opposite wall.
Ha gasped in horror as his eyes fell on sleek white blond hair and smooth pristine skin, stretching taut over aristocratically arrogant cheek bones. Slate grey eyes widened in comic surprise as the other too, recognized exactly who he was facing;
"You!"
Harry eyed him bemusedly.
"This is my cupboard, get out!" ejaculated Draco.
At which point Harry bristled with indignation. What right did that albino worm have, to order him out of school property! If it weren't for the fact that Dobby would have heard the noise Harry felt sure he would have punched the insufferable git. Instead, he stood there, challenging Draco's gaze. Both were staring at each other with dilated pupils. Breath was coming out in ragged spasms.
It was then that Harry noticed that Draco was wearing an alarmingly tight, figure-hugging, black T-shirt, emphasizing his musculature. He opened his mouth to make some scathing comment but instead was very confused when no sound came out. He then realised that he was staring, so he hurriedly shut his mouth jerked his head the other way, blushing like a virgin.
Suddenly, a strange sound floated from the cracks between the flagstones below our heroes. Indeed, it was as Harry feared; the vicious Wangbooze Karmackle – more commonly known as the Carpet Monster – was gnashing its' slimy green teeth, decked liberally with lint.
"My God, Potter!" exclaimed Malfoy. "Is that what I think it is?"
Harry hopped nervously from foot to foot, wringing his hands. Malfoy watched this and curled his lips, sneering mockingly at Harry's frenzied state. From amid the panicked muddle that resided within the mind of the boy who lived, something registered the fact that Malfoy's lips were curled very much in the same manner as that of a rose petal, revealing rows of pearlescent teeth, gleaming from the light of their wands (which they had lit). Harry felt a strange lurch in the pit of his stomach, and confusedly bought up his free hand to meet it. Just then, an odd smell assaulted their nostrils…
"Malfoy…?"
Harry looked at his adversary questioningly, his thick, shapely eyebrows quirking in amusement.
"What? Me? No!"
Malfoy looked horrified at the thought, his perfectly shaped mouth hanging open in a familiar pose of disgust.
"How could you even think that?! It smells like something died in here." Malfoy's aquiline nose wrinkled in disdain.
Harry, still unsure, continued to shift around the cramped space. It seemed like they had dislodged something when jumping around like tu-tu-ed ballerinas trying to avoid that foul carpet. Suddenly, Harry's foot came into contact with something extremely squishy and slippery. He tool one look at the gruesome mess on the ground and collapsed into Malfoy's arms, burying his head in Malfoy's neck. Harry barely had time to register how good Malfoy smelt - (like peppermint and freshly brewed coffee) before Malfoy's hand tightened around his waist.
Malfoy started as an unimaginable sight assaulted his eyes. It didn't even register that he had his arms around the waist of his most hated nemesis. He just couldn't stop staring at the spectacle that was Sirius Black's mangled and decaying head, rotting at the bottom of a dust ridden broom cupboard.
* * * * * *
Time stood still as Harry too stared, horrified and transfixed, into the empty eyes of his once-Godfather, Sirius Black. The air was still and accusing. The pungent odor emanating from the severed head was sharp and assaulted Harry's senses entirely, leaving no room for intelligent thought. The void in his mind grew wide as the walls of the broom cupboard seemed to close in. memories flashed like photographs. Panic flooded his heart, hot and sickening. Suddenly he couldn't breathe. Bile rose in his throat. He then collapsed to his knees and promptly vomited.
Draco Malfoy, for the first time in his life, had nothing to say. He watched Harry convulsing on the floor. As his eyes fell on the rotting pile of flesh, he felt a wave of nausea wash over him. The little color that remained in Draco's cheeks following his indignation at finding himself locked in a broom cupboard with Harry Potter drained away, leaving his true feelings of disgust and vulnerability unmasked.
"P-Potter! Potter! Get up! Get up – Now!"
Harry couldn't tear his eyes away memories, painful memories – Sirius at the Shrieking Shack, Sirius at Grimmauld Place, Sirius falling through the veil…
"POTTER!"
Receiving no response, Draco drew back his hand and slapped Harry across the face.
Harry sputtered and looked up at Malfoy with uncomprehending eyes. Part of his brain registered fury at the stinging blow that had undoubtedly left a mark on his cheek – that part of his brain also promised the complete and utter annihilation of Malfoy's perfect, smirking face. The other half of his brain was still stuck in limbo. Flashing memories continued to burn through his mind.
"Come on Potter, Get up! We need to get out of here."
Malfoy contemplated kicking Harry in the ribs, but decided to be the bigger man. Instead he concentrated on trying to find a way out of this hell hole. He tried everything. – 'Alohamora', 'Incendio', 'Reducto', but nothing worked, not even beating his fists against the walls. Finally despairing of finding a way out, he started cursing the ill timed malevolence of stalking house elves when Harry spoke up. His voice sounded thick and muffled, as if he were in the process of eating a pair of woolly tights.
"He isn't the only one."
"What?"
Malfoy bent down and Harry used this opportunity to grab the front of Malfoy's robes and pull himself up.
"There's more, lots more. It looks like a corridor or something."
His voice still sounded shaky but Malfoy was thankful of the fact that Harry seemed to have gained control of his anatomy in the very least.
"Yeah, well. Forward seems the only way to go… we seemed to be locked in here and none of the spells work."
Malfoy gave another futile kick at the door. The only result being that now his foot was throbbing as well. Harry, seemingly deaf to Malfoy's wails of anguish, moved towards the corridor and disappeared from view.
"OI! Do you have a death wish?!"
Malfoy heard a muffled cry from the other side. Muttering an expletive about boys with superman complexes, he stepped through the darkness and felt a wave of nausea hit him again. The smell was getting worse.
Draco raised his wand, and, resisting the urge to retch, followed Harry's fast disappearing shadow into the darkness beyond.
"Potter?!"
Harry continued to ignore him. Draco seethed. Although it seemed to him that there was no cause for alarm and Harry was merely being Pig-headed as usual, he also understood the fragile state of his sworn nemesis's mind. Sighing heavily and exasperatedly, the youngest Malfoy said nothing more.
The pair walked in silence for a little over an hour. And Draco had long since begun to miss the simple pleasures of life – namely his dinner and his bed. He suddenly groaned, snaked down to the floor, clutched his stomach and dreamt wistfully of cream buns.
"Potter," he said again.
Harry stopped moving and turned around to face him, annoyed.
"Stop whining. If we are going to get out of this place, it means we need to move."
"We've been walking for hours!"
"Well do you want to be here any longer than you have to?"
"No, I –"
"Well then stop griping. We'll make faster time if you'd just shut up!"
Draco's face contorted into a snarl.
"Watch it Potter," he threatened. "When my father hears about this –"
"That's right," sneered Harry. "Run to Daddy! Maybe he'll drop in with some Death Eater friends –"
"Don't you talk about my father like that!!"
"- And maybe he'll bring a nice fuzzy sweater to keep Drakie-Poo warm –"
"Shut - UP!!"
"– but guess WHAT, Malfoy? Daddy can't help you here! You're going to eventually suffocate and die and turn into a rotting corpse not unlike the ones back in the cupboard –"
"We ARE in the cupboard –!"
"- and Daddy will find your body and weep! But that Sod'll deserve it; what goes around comes around! He'll realize that no matter how many babies he tortured that power doesn't make you invincible – "
"My father is worth more than –"
"Oh yeah, I BET."
At this point Harry tapped his chin in mock thoughtfulness before speaking again.
"You know what, Malfoy?" He said. "I'll bet you anything that your father's leaping for joy that you've gone; I'll bet he doesn't give a shit about you and is happy you're finally out the picture once and for all –"
"SHUT UP!!!!"
Draco lunged at Harry, fists flailing blindly. Rage surged through his body and he kicked and punched and screamed. The two boys wrestled clumsily on the floor until a final shove sent both Draco and Harry hurtling into the hidden crevice in the ground; their mingled screams resounding throughout the stone corridor like a third person.