Another new story.. Jeez. I bet you guys are thinking 'oh my god, does she just sit on her butt all day and spew out stories because she has no life or because it's the thing she does best?' Well. You'd be right on both counts, unfortunately, because summer is story-time for me. You'll be lucky when school starts up again and you'll only get like, one story every month.
Well, anyway. This is because now I can't stop reading Remus/Sirius and Harry/Draco fluff. And it has gotten to me.
Dedicated to my fabulous reviewers, who do not get enough credit at all.
Summary: Harry is jinxed; and Draco is overflowing with sarcastic remarks. And overall, garage sales should be avoided.
Today was not a good day for Draco Malfoy. Not a good day at all. And you didn't need twenty questions to figure out why.
"Draco! Look at what I–oops." There was another loud crash, and Harry Potter popped into the kitchen holding the remains of what used to be a china plate. "Was this one expensive too?"
"Everything I own is expensive, Potter," Draco replied grandiosely, the effect somewhat ruined as halfway through his sentence Harry disappeared to find another object. "And everything I own is soon to be broken," the blond added, pressing his palms against his temples as yet another loud crack exploded into the air, followed by another exclamation of Harry's to apologize and ask the price tag.
This was why Draco had attempted to refuse when Harry told him he should have a garage sale in the first place. The Slytherin had tried many excuses, such as "I'm filthy rich already, you git! What do I need more money for?" "I wouldn't even know how to go about this...garage sale!" "I don't even have a garage, you bloody idiot!" and so on, but all of them were invalid in Harry's eyes. So Draco, threatened with being pestered for the rest of his life, relented at last and agreed to have this 'garage sale'. But when Harry showed up on his doorstep, wearing a grin that promised nothing but trouble, he knew this would be a disaster.
"Oh, look at this," Harry said absent-mindedly, returning to the kitchen. Draco looked up. In one hand Harry had the Daily Prophet; in the other, a set of antique teacups. "I'm in the newspaper again." Draco sighed as Harry, who'd apparently forgotten the teacups in his other hand, pointed to the article in question. The teacups shattered on the ground; Draco flicked his wand at them half-heartedly, knowing that if he tried to repair them Potter would only break them again.
"If you don't stop breaking shit the only thing you'll be in the newspaper for is for getting murdered," Draco told him, stepping over the shards of china seek refuge in the only place there was nothing to break: his bedroom.
And of course Harry followed him there, traipsing after him like he lived in Draco's apartment. Which, for the most part, he did, seeing as he rarely spent the night at his own place. He claimed it was so Draco wasn't lonely. Draco suspected Harry just liked his bed.
"Are you jinxed, Harry?" Draco asked as he flopped gracefully onto his bed, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. "Do you have some weird curse that breaks everything you come into contact with? Or do you do this on purpose?"
"No, no, and yes." Harry grinned; Draco raised a slender eyebrow. Breaking his things on purpose? Oh, someone was going to pay. "Look where we are now."
Draco did as told, turning his head to the side. His bedroom. What was so special about–oh. Right.
"So this whole thing was an elaborate scheme to get into my pants?" mused Draco as Harry flounced triumphantly to the bed and pinned him down. "I didn't think you could plan that far ahead."
"I didn't."
"Hmm?"
"Hermione did."