Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday AB, Happy birthday to you!
Harry and Draco say happy birthday, dear! I couldn't get Jamie for you since kidnapping is illegal here, so I guess this'll have to do. Here is part one of your birthday crack fic – I hope you enjoy it!
A/N for the rest of my readers: I hope you enjoy this too! There are a lot of other shows and movies brought up, since this is for AB, so some of the references may not be easy to understand. Please R&R because every author needs some love! You review mine and I'll review one of yours.
Dappling sunlight shone through the window into Arthur Weasley's muggle object workshop, dancing on each of his experiments as if it laughed at the oddities. Harry and Draco, having become as close as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's own sons, had both chipped in to buy Arthur this getaway spot underneath the Burrow as a retirement gift. Despite Molly's slight disapproval, she let him keep it—as long as her husband promised not to work on anything that would get him in trouble. He had kept his word, surprisingly, so far.
Harry stood quietly in the doorway, smiling as he admired Arthur's work. In the corner was a dissembled grandfather clock, and next to it lay some barely-touched electronic children's toys. The brunette chuckled, wondering what plans were in store for it. His eyes flickered towards the brand new telly, which stood in front of the plush resting couch he'd bought in case Arthur fell asleep working. Arthur had just got it the night before and ran right downstairs to watch muggle movies, to his family's amusement. Luckily, he probably hadn't had time to experiment with it.
An emerald gaze fixed itself on the box, so strange-looking in a wizard's house. He hadn't been allowed to watch it as a kid, always taken up by Dudley. And he wasn't allowed to watch it when the Dursleys left either, because they would have known he changed the channel.
A wider grin fixed itself on Harry's face when he remembered how Draco had responded upon hearing that memory. "My didn't you just write down the channel they had it on before they left and turn it back before they got home? C'mon, Potter – I know you aren't a Slytherin, but I didn't think you were stupid, even as a kid." This resulted in an argument with Hermione to defend Harry's level of intelligence, but Harry had been too embarrassed to join in.
One movie in particular caught Harry's eye as he looked at the telly on its coffee table. On the cover was a strange-looking man holding up an old-fashioned barber's razor. Harry recalled seeing the movie once, a very good but sad musical called Sweeney Todd: the Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Something sank in Harry's chest; he had no one to watch the movie with. Both Ron and Hermione had gone on vacation to France and Draco was still on his tour of the world, so Harry was pretty much alone at work. On top of that, he was house-sitting for Arthur and Molly while they planned and put things together for Percy and George's double wedding to Audrey and Angelina respectively.
To put it plainly, Harry Potter was very, very bored… until a certain someone Apparated just beyond the Burrow's boundaries, asking permission to enter.
"Draco!" Harry gave an excited cry from the doorway, lifting the enchantments to let his friend in. "I didn't think you'd be back so soon…" He embraced his friend warmly and sighed, "But I'm glad, nonetheless. "
The blonde gave Harry a grin and returned the hug happily. "I'm only back for a few days, while my guide resupplies and we both get some rest. So, how are you? Your last letter didn't sound so cheerful."
"Right… Um, I went to St. Mungo's for my annual check-up and they said my shots were out of date, so-"
"What's a shot?"
"I mean illness prevention potions, Draco. Anyway, they mixed up mine with another wizard's medication so I've been on an emotional rollercoaster ride for the last three days. I swear, Dray, it's like one minute I'm on top of the world and the next, I'm so depressed I want to cry. It's like they fed a ton me estrogen when I was sleeping!"
Draco made a noise of sympathy and clapped Harry on the back, not questioning why his friend was hugging him so tightly. "Did you ask your healers about the symptoms? I can Apparate you to St. Mungo's, if you need me t—"
"No, they said these are normal side effects while the potion flushes itself out of my system. It's just that they injected it so it flowed to every part of my body, so it'll take a few more days. Please ignore me if I do anything weird."
"Like, er, acting—really—needy?"
"Hmm? Oh, yeah."
"Um, like you are right now?" Harry was practically clinging to his friend, not having let him go since they first hugged. "Can't—breathe, Harry!"
"Oh. Sorry."
Chuckling at his potion-influenced friend as he untangled his arms from around a small waist, Draco said, "it's fine. Is there anything at all I can do to help?"
Harry thought for a moment before his lips curled up into a devious, Slytherin-worthy grin.
"If you really wanted to help…" Harry put on his best puppy face "…you could watch a muggle movie with me."
"What have I gotten myself into?" Draco sighed.
"Andmaybecuddle."
"Hey, I heard that! But I think once you're out of your drug-induced stupor, you might regret doing such a thing," Draco warned. Never mind that he didn't say anything about regretting such actions himself. "But sure, I'll watch a 'movie' with you. Whatever that is."
"YAY!" Harry clung to Draco in another bone-crushing hug, then dragged him into the Arthur's workshop.
"This better be good," the blonde grumbled. "Who stars in it?"
Harry scratched his head. "You won't know who I'm talking about, since they're muggles, but this hot guy named Johnny Depp plays the lead."
"I do read, you know." Harry mock-cringed at the icy grey glare meant to shoot lasers. "Besides, these muggles seem to be obsessed with this Johnny Depp character – it's kind of hard not to notice. He is quite attractive, isn't he? I read he's in this funny pirate movie with—"
"OH MY GODS, PIRATES OF THE CARRIBEAN!"
"You sure they didn't inject you with a whole bag of sugar crack?"
"I have no idea exactly what medication it was that they mixed up with mine," Harry said calmly, turning a 180 on his previous behavior. "As I said before, feel free to ignore that." He met Draco's grin with a half-smirk, wishing he was feeling normal enough to talk about something else bothering him—without making a fool of himself. "So… the great Draco Malfoy reads up on muggle television, huh?"
"Shut it," Draco coughed. "How about we get this over with already?" He received a pout and smirked back, sitting nonchalantly on the Mrs. Weasley's homemade duvet. But there were things he simply could not ignore. Harry bending over to put the movie in the DVD player, for instance. Or that the raven stuffed the telly's manual into his already snug pocket and sat a bit closer to his friend than usual.
As the movie appeared on the screen, Draco became captivated by the muggle object. The dark orchestral music creeped him out, earning some laughter from Harry. That soon stopped with a swift elbow to the ribs. "Seriously, what is this? Someone's funeral?"
"Multiple people's actually," Harry announced in a sing-song voice. Draco rolled his eyes, chalking up the strange answer to potion side effects. On the screen appeared a wide-eyed man starting to sing. "Merlin, that boy's eyes look like they're going to bug out," Draco muttered. "And why is he singing?"
"This is called a musical, Draco. It means they sing in pretty much every scene."
"Please promise me you won't start singing along."
"Nah, I'll leave that to Jamie Campbell Bower. You've got to admit, he's got a pretty good voice. I'm sure I've actually seen him before… Yeah—he was dating Ginny for a few months before he figured out what a pain in the arse she is. Hey, he kind of looks like some pictures of young Grindelwald I saw when Hermione and I went to Godric's Hallow. Do you think he's gay?"
"The actor? Nah, He'd probably like my friend Aurora B. Maybe I should set them up." Draco considered the sailor for a moment, then the crazed-looking man next to him, and he shuddered. "Now, Grindelwald was definitely gay for Dumbledore, but I don't think even he would be that desperate. It would take a year's worth of my special hair mouse to fix that excuse for a mop of hair."
"Shove off!" Harry cried indignantly, whacking his friend with a red and gold couch cushion.
"I meant the barber guy, you git!" Draco hit back with a fuzzy, purple, unicorn-shaped pillow "—I swear it's either Mrs. Wealsey's or Ginny's! Your hair—" Playful whack! "—looks more like you've—" Whack! "—just been shagged. His looks like a family of rats—" WHACK-WHACK! "—crawled into it and died! Big difference."
"Hey, what's this?" Harry picked up an offending object his foot had hit and examined it. "Oh, there's the remote control."
"The whozit-what?"
"It changes the telly. You don't have to use it all the time, but it makes changing the channel easier since you don't have to keep reaching over to the buttons. Um, what are you doing?"
Draco ignored Harry and pressed the buttons until he found a small, out-of-place green one with no label. ""I'm 'changing the channel.' Hey, what does this do?"
"You can't do that while a movie's on, you git," Harry snorted. "And I don't know wha—"
"I wish I could change this movie so it weren't so depressing," Draco whined, pressing the green button, then an extra ten times for good measure.
"DRACO MALFOY, IF YOU BREAK THE TELLY THAT MOLLY JUST BOUGHT FOR ARUTHUR'S BIRTHDAY, SO HELP ME I'LL—"
Said television started to tremble, then full-on quake with magic. Neither Harry nor Draco could movie, eyes fixed on the unmoving screen until a flash of light erupted in the Burrow and they saw no more.
As his eyes fluttered open, Draco felt as though his head had been hit by a reductor curse several hundred times. The sea's salty scent hit his nose in an aching wave as water slapped the old ship's side harshly. Wait… ship?
Consciousness flowed into Draco instantly; he scrambled to his feet and looked down, rubbing his eyes in vain. This was no dream. He stood, in his own body, on an old-fashioned ship at sea. These clothes are ridiculous—seriously, who wears this? They've been out of fashion for about a hundred years. Wait, why do I care! I'm on a bloody ship in the middle of nowhere! And where's Harry? …Oh, no…
"Harry?" he called out in a groggy voice as he looked around. The incredibly hot Gryffindor was nowhere to be found. A miniscule amount of relief came to Draco; at least now he wouldn't have to pretend he wasn't infatuated. It was so hard to be in the other man's presence without giving anything away. But if he did, their friendship would most likely be over in a heartbeat. Draco vowed never tolet that happen.
The only person in sight, however, did look familiar. In close up view, Sweeney Todd made Draco cringe. His frown could rival Voldemort's and his black eyes fixed on land ahead. "Is everything alright, Mr. Todd?" he found himself asking. Something instinctively told Draco what to do, not to panic.
"Forgive me, Antony. My mind is far from me, see." He proceeded to sing a sad tale of a barber, his beautiful wife and their daughter. Draco was both curious and sad to find out what happened after a lusting judge chased the woman and locked up her husband. He followed Mr. Todd off the ship as it docked in London, still entranced by the song.
"And the lady, sir—did she succumb?"
"Oh, that was many years ago. I doubt if anyone would know…" The man left Draco alone then, thanking him for something and saying they might meet again someday. At last, Draco brought out of his reverie to consider the trouble he had gotten himself into. I must be inside the movie! That made the most sense of all possibilities, since Mr. Todd sang a lot, called him by the Antony character's name, and they were both in this dreary place. Wait—that boy was singing about London…
"This is London!" Draco gawked at the scene around him. It looked filthy and disturbing, more like something from a horror tale than a beloved capital.
A man selling half-rotted apples as gross as his own teeth gave Draco a smile he would rather not have seen. "I know. Ain't she a beaut'?"
To keep himself from gagging, he returned the smile nervously and hurried along far behind Mr. Todd. Perhaps he can lead me to Harry! Being the Slytherin he was, Draco easily made sure other man didn't even suspect he was being followed.
Unease prickled in Draco's stomach as he listened to Mr. Todd singing with fuming hatred. They stopped in front of a drab-looking shop where Aunt Bellatrix was pounding some sort of dough with a rolling pin.
Bellatrix.
"YOU!" Draco squealed like a madman and hid behind the shop next door. Gathering his dignity, he stood back up and brushed his clothes off despite the fact that his knees were shaking. Malfoys don't squeal in public. "She's dead," he whispered. "I saw it myself. That bitch is dead!"
Yet, Bellatrix stood in the flesh, baking nonetheless. And her hair looked as bad if not worse than Mr. Todd's. Gasping when she saw the wild-eyed man and she, too, began to… sing. Very fast.
"Wait! What's yer rush? What's yer hurry?
You gave me such a-Fright. I thought you was a ghost.
Sit! Sit ye down! Sit!
All I meant is that I haven't seen a customer for weeks.
Did you come here for a pie, sir?
Do forgive me if my head's a little vague-Ugh! What is that?
But you'd think we had the plague-
From the way that people-keep avoiding-no you don't!
Heaven knows I try, sir!
But there's no one comes in even to inhale
Right you are, sir. would you like a drop of ale?
Mind you, I can't hardly blame them
These are probably the worst pies in London…"
"Of course they're the worst if you're making them," Draco scoffed. "They've probably got arsenic in them or something." He shook his head and desperately hoped no one else he knew would be in this wretched musical-world.
"…I know why nobody cares to take them
I should know, I make them. But good? No,
The worst pies in London-
Even that's polite, the worst pies in London-
If you doubt it take a bite… Is that just, disgusting?
You have to concede it.
It's nothing but crusting-
Here drink this, you'll need it…"
Creepy as Mr. Todd was, Draco pitied him for having to eat such a nauseating piece of garbage. "Don't do it!" he hissed, expecting to see the man drop dead the minute he swallowed. Surprisingly, Mr. Todd did not die, though he looked he would rather do so than try another bite of the "pie."
"…The worst pies in London
And no wonder with the price of meat, what it is, when you get it.
Never thought I'd live to see the day men'd think it was a treat
Finding poor animals, wot are dying in the street.
Mr. Mooney has a pie shop,
Does his business, but I notice something weird-
Lately, all his neighbors' cats have disappeared.
Have to hand it to him-Wot a coarse enterprise, popping pusses into pies."
"Yeah, he probably ate them, considering he was a werewolf," Draco muttered. Guilt surged through him, a reminder of the missing Harry. He had been so torn up over Lupin's death after the war. Comforting Harry through that dark time was one of the reasons they had become friends. While Draco was happy about his father's more than deserved imprisonment, the shroud of death had bothered him as well. He would never forget the dying faces he had witnessed: Professor Burbage, Vincent Crabbe, and so many others.
Thank Merlin I never had to kill anyone. Still, I'm lucky Harry ever agreed to be my friend after what I did. Draco listened to the rest of the song in a melancholy mood.
"Wouldn't do in my shop-just the thought of it's enough to make you sick.
And I'm telling you them pussy cats is quick.
No denying times is hard, sir-even harder than the worst pies in London.
Only lard and nothing more-is that just revolting?
All greasy and gritty, it looks like it's molting, and tastes like—
Well, pity I work all alone, with limited wind… And the worst pies in London!
Ah sir, times is hard. Times is hard!"
At the end of the song, Mr. Todd followed Bellatrix upstairs and Draco followed quietly. She could have kidnapped Harry and kept him up there! Maybe she force-fed him the meat pie and it had some kind of potion that trapped him… Ascending the stairs, he reached into his pocket and found there was no wand for defense. Damn! I must've left it on the couch. If she recognizes me, I'll just improvise. If Harry is there, I have to rescue him! For a moment, he fancied the idea of Harry giving him a kiss of gratitude. Right. The only gratitude I'll get from Harry is a hex while he tells me he could have saved himself.
Rolling his eyes, Draco crept closer to Mr. Todd and spied on them. Luckily, they sang too loud not to hear. The sad tale of the barber's wife was brought unfolded to reveal Todd as Benjamin Barker, making Draco pity him even more. I hope he does get revenge on that rotten judge. No wonder the man looks like he's been zapped by one curse too many.
For some reason, Bellatrix sounded to her nephew like she actually fancied this barber bloke. And she hadn't done any magic at all, which made Draco wonder if she was the real Bellatrix. Mr. Todd also referred to her as "Mrs. Lovett," but that did not prove whether or not she was, in fact, Draco's mental aunt.
Harry was nowhere in the shop or the flat above, so staying would do Draco no good. He made a mental note to remember where it was in case he needed Mr. Todd's assistance and headed off into London. Searching for a good hour still brought no Harry and not panicking started to become a lot harder. To top that, his stomach was rumbling and he had no idea how to use the tiny bit of muggle money in his sailor suit's pocket.
What Draco wouldn't have done for one of the Bethlehem Confetti Café's chicken pesto sandwiches. The adorable little town was one of Draco's favourite during his time in America. Merlin's beard, I forgot about the trip! If I'm stuck inside this movie too long, I'll miss my plane on Wednesday! I've got to find Harry. He's seen this movie, so maybe he'll know how we can get out… Then again, my love isn't the brightest wand in the shop." He sighed and continued to wander along, trying not to look like a tourist.
At last, more upscale houses appeared, making Draco feel a bit more comfortable. He looked up at their windows and felt at home like he did in his wide, open flat back in the real London. Glimpsing a pair of gleaming green eyes made him do a double take.
Is that… Harry?
Why the bloody hell am I wearing a dress!
This was Harry's first thought as he awoke in a large, beautifully-furnished room, sitting in a chair next to a cage full of birds. This is Oh, Harry's room in the movie, but—how…? Something beneath Harry was bothering him, so he reached behind and felt the telly manual hitting him. Hastily, he flipped through the guide, praying to Merlin there were directions to get out of this—whatever it was. The fact that Draco wasn't there made him uneasy as well. Had his friend gotten stuck in here, too?
Suddenly, something inside of Harry made him feel calmer. He had a sudden urge to put down the booklet, gaze up at the little birds, and sing with them. Even if everyone outside of the thin glass could hear his embarrassing voice.
So he did. And his voice was the most beautiful thing Draco had ever heard.
"Green finch and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird,
How is it you sing?
How can you jubilate, sitting in cages, never taking wing?
Outside the sky waits, beckoning, beckoning,
Just beyond the bars.
How can you remain—staring at the rain,
Maddened by the stars?"
Had Draco not clutched the nearest lamp post for support, he would have fainted. He had dreamt of seeing this ever since he secretly watche a muggle show called Sherlock. The slash there was unberable-you didn't even need photoshop to see what the main characters were doing every Friday night. Switch a few things around, mostly hair coloring and taste in clothes and there you had it: Harry and Draco.
Harry, singing in a dress. Harry, singing in a dress. Harry, singing in a bloody blue dress! It was as if every fantasy of Draco's mind was coming together—now all he needed were those strawberries and whipped cream…
"How is it you sing—anything?
How is it you sing?
Green finch and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird,
How is it you sing?
My cage has many rooms, damask and dark.
Nothing there sings, not even my lark.
Larks never will, you know,
When they're captive.
Teach me to be more adaptive.
Green finch and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird,
Teach me how to sing.
If I cannot fly… Let me sing…"
That was... interesting. Now to get out of this bloody dress! Harry hadn't seen the movie for a while, but he remembered Johanna having pants somewhere. He stared down the giagantic dresser to let it know this was one serious showdown. I will find them, dresser. And you can't hide them from me. Even though he didn't have his wand either, Harry had not even considered using magic. This was personal; Harry Potter may like musicals, singing in the rain, and candle-light dinner dates, but he was still a grown man. The dress had to go.
Well after Harry's unaware performance, Draco still stood slack-jaw beneath the window. He was too shocked to say a word, to sing along like he wanted and tell Harry how he felt at last. Perhaps this fantasy world was just something his mind had cooked up to torture him. Harry would never wear a dress, nor would he approve if I treated him like a girl and serenaded in this bloody musical thing, Draco thought bitterly. But a small part of him still clung to hope.
"Why is he up there?" Draco whispered. A ragged beggar woman interrupted his thoughts, signing a plea for alms in a somewhat familiar voice. Draco sighed and handed her a bit of the muggle money from his pocket. "Could you tell me who lives in that house, ma'am?"
"Oh… That's the great judge Turpin's house, that is." She cringed away at the name, worrying
"And the beauty that resides there?"
"That's 'Lily,' as 'e calls him, his pretty little ward. Keeps 'im snug, 'e does, all locked up. So don't you go tresspassin' around there, or it's a good whippin' for ya or any other young man with mischief on his mind!" Greedily, she tucked the money away and wandered off to continue begging.
Draco's blood went cold. He stared up at Harry, who was softly stroking the feathers of each bird in the guilded cage. That little piece of hope inside parted Draco's lips and began to form a song.
"I feel you, oh, Harry, I feel you.
I was half convinced I'd waken,
Satisfied enough to dream you.
Happily I was mistaken, oh, Harry.
I'll steal you, Oh, Harry,
I'll steal you.
I'll steal you, Oh, Harry,
I'll steal you.
Do they think that walls could hide you?
Even now, I'm at your window.
I am in the dark beside you,
Buried sweetly in your raven hair!
I feel you, Oh, Harry,
And one day I'll steal you!
Til I'm with you then,
I'm with you there,
Sweetly buried in your raven hair!"
Soon after, Draco saw Harry come back to the window and turn his head and look down at the street below.
He could have sworn, for one spilt second, there was a grin brighter than the sun on Harry's face.
To be continued…
I'll peal you banana
I'll peel you.
I'll steal you banana, I'll steal you.
Does the monkey think it can hide you?
Even now, I'm at your fruit bowl.
I am in the bowl beside you.
Buried sweetly in your yellow peel.
3 LMFAO. no life.
~ Some random Youtube person named cookie wrote this and got 413 thumbs up. I just thought it would make the Sweeney fans laugh. ^_^