Disclaimer:All characters, terms and places associated with Harry Potter belong JK Rowling. The concept of Stranger than Fiction belongs to Columbia Pictures. Which, in itself, borrows ideas from the book; The Comforters by Muriel Spark. I have never read this book, but read this piece of information on Wikipedia. The concept of Mary Sue's belongs to no one in particular. I did not invent them, or the idea of this story, it is merely my interpretation of what might happen in such a situation. I have no intention to infringe on any copyright; this fiction is written for pleasure not profit. All I own is the story and of course, the occasional OC. Don't send your lawyers after me; I have no money.

Chapter 6 - Kiss My Arse, Baldie

"The best way I know of to win an argument

is to start by being in the right..."

Lord Hailsham

Blaise stepped out of the fireplace into his library, brushing the dust from his clothes as he waited for the green flames to erupt and reveal a still laughing Draco stood in the fireplace only seconds later.. "It's not funny you, wanker."

Draco chuckled and sat down in an armchair, reaching for a bottle of firewhiskey. "No, it's not funny; its hilarious."

Blaise sat down in his own chair, glaring at his friend. "I hope that that voice inside your head drives you crazy. I really do."

"Oh, fuck off." Draco smirked. "You're just pissed off that you got interrupted mid-fuck. Don't worry, I'm sure you can get your Gryffinwhore, to come back tonight and give you a good servicing." Draco wrinkled his nose. "Ugh, I actually feel sick now."

"Can't you leave it alone, just once?" Blaise reached into his pocket and pulled out a hip flask, unscrewing the cap he took a sip. "Besides, she's not a whore."

"She has a boyfriend, she's fucking you on the side and she's a Gryffindor. That equals whore in my brain." Draco narrowed his eyes slightly. "You're problem is that you've gone soft, mate. Look, fuck her one last time, get her out of your system, then stop shagging her! I'm doing this for you're own good, mate."

"Just shut up and wipe that smarmy grin off your face before I come over there and wipe it off for you."

"Touchy are we? Don't like being told the way it is, Blaise? Don't like being reminded that what... Oh, I'm sorry who you're doing is sick and disgusting?" Draco sat back and smirked.

"I know what you're doing." Blaise said through gritted teeth. "You're winding me up because you're pissed off that you haven't thought of anything to get you out of this mess." He took another sip from his flask. "Truth is, Draco. For the first time in your life, you can't buy your way out of a situation, you're actually having to use your brain and that's in pretty poor condition, due to neglect and lack of use."

Draco narrowed his eyes at his friend. "You're getting very close to starting something, Zabini. You sure it's something you can finish?"

Blaise pushed himself out of his seat, standing in front of his friend and glaring down at him. He knew his, brick shit house, frame could be intimidating in close proximity. "I'm pretty sure that I could your face as a punching bag and my arm wouldn't even get tired."

Draco pushed himself out his chair as well, squaring up to his friend. "I'd like to test that theory."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Boys!" The two young men snapped their heads around, seeing Blaise's mother in the doorway, pointing her wand at both of them. "Please tell me that you are not about to start fighting."

Blaise glared down at Draco. "It's nothing, Mum. We were just having a bit of a heated debate."

Draco narrowed his eyes at Blaise. "Yeah, Mrs Zabini, we were talking about Gobstones versus quidditch again."

Lucretia rolled her eyes. "Well if you must have that argument, again, then try to have it quietly." She turned away from the door.

"Good thinking." Draco said, still glaring up at Blaise.

"Well you know, I'm the brains, the looks, the brawn... You're merely the financier..." Blaise smirked at his friend and didn't duck intime as Draco swung his fist and cracked Blaise on the underside of his chin, causing him to throw his head back and stumble a little. Blaise rubbed the underside of his chin and narrowed his eyes at Draco. "You're going to regret that, mate."

"Draco laughed at his friend, he threw s scathing remark in his direction: Well, Blaise, at least I don't smell..."

"What? When did you start talking for me? I never said that. And I hardly call it scath..."

Blaise swung his fist and connected it with the side of Draco's head, he hadn't been prepared, distracted by the voice. Draco stumbled into the coffee table, knocking off a bottle of firewhiskey which smashed on the carpet. Draco held the side of his head with his hand. "Fucker!"

Draco threw his fist into Blaise's ribs, Blaise threw his into Draco's stomach, both boys continued to swing their fists at one another, until a shout came from the doorway. "Expulso!" The spell hit them both, knocking them clean off their feet. "I knew the pair of you couldn't be trusted." Blaise and Draco exchanged a look before turning their attention to the furious form of Lucretia Zabini, who was stood, hands on hips and looking particularly furious.

"Mum..."

"I don't want to hear it!" Lucretia crossed the room, grabbing hold of Draco's chin and holding onto it hard, she turned his head from one side to the other, inspecting his face. "I think you're going to have a black eye, Draco." She released her grip on his face and then turned her attention to her son, "Have you seen what you have done to Draco? The two of you are supposed to be friends."

"But, Mum..."

"Mrs Zabini, it's not all Blaise's fault." Draco said.

Blaise looked at him in surprise and raising an eyebrow.

Lucretia shook her head and threw her arms up in frustration. "I give up with you two, I really do. I'll send Barton in clean up those bruises."

"Aw, Mum..."

Lucretia glared at her son. "Do you want to explain to Draco's mother how he got a black eye?"

"No." Blaise pouted.

"Then don't complain."

Lucretia swept from the room, leaving the two boys sat on their backsides in the library. Blaise looked at Draco and held his hand out. "Friends?"

Draco smiled and shook Blaise's hand. "Course we are, you daft git."

Blaise pushed himself up off the floor and offered a hand out to help Draco up. "That was a blinding punch you cracked me with, mate."

Draco got to his feet and rubbed his stomach. "Well that one you gave me before your mum came in really knocked the wind out of me."

"You know if you worked on your upper body strength a little more, you probably could cracked a few of my ribs, without even trying."

"Oh, sod off." Draco smirked. "I have no desire to walk about, flexing muscles all day so that my shirt can rip to impress all the girls."

"One time, that happened." Blaise smirked. "You need a haircut."

Draco laughed at his friend. "Kiss my arse, baldie."

"I would if I could find it, you need to work on your glutes."

Draco raised his eyebrow slightly. "The fact that you have even looked in the vague direction of my arse, disturbs me greatly."

Five hours later...

"But you know, mate, you know..." Draco slurred, half slumped over the table in the Hogshead. "She told me. She didn't ask me, she told me."

"I know, I know, mate." Blaise was nodding his head rapidly in agreement, knocking back another glass of firewhiskey. "You know... you know what, mate? You should have told her..."

"I know, mate." Draco chinked his glass against Blaise's. "Women... women..." Draco couldn't remember what he had been trying to say and just waved his hand with a generally dismissive gesture. "Pscht! You understand, don't you, mate?"

Blaise nodded his head slowly, grabbing the bottle of firewhiskey and refilling both their glasses, managing only to spill a couple of measures onto the table as he did so. "I understand, mate. There's only me who understands you know."

"I know, mate." Draco took another long drink from his glass, then picked up the firewhiskey bottle and moved it back and forth, squinting his eyes, trying to bring it into focus. "We're running low, mate."

"We are?" Blaise squinted his eyes at the bottle. "Your right, there's not even half a bottle left. And you know what?"

"What's that, mate?"

"I don't even feel drunk." Blaise picked up his glass, taking another swig. "I'm not you know, I'm not even drunk."

Draco nodded his head, agreeing with his friend. "I know, mate. We're not even drunk. I mean, you're not drunk, I'm not drunk. Not even tipsy, we're not." Draco looked puzzled for a moment, he was sure something he had said there was wrong, but he couldn't remember what he had said. "Go get more drink, mate."

"Ok, ok." Blaise nodded his head and pushed himself out of his seat, standing for a few seconds, he managed to gain his balance before taking several slow steps to the bar. "There's something wrong with this floor, like. It's all gone wonky."

Aberforth stood behind the bar, looking particularly bored and shaking his head in disapproval as the young, dark skinned wizard, struggled to make it to the bar. He watched as Blaise placed his hands on the bar to steady himself and furrowed his brow. "Don't you think, you've both had enough, Blaise?" Aberforth asked.

"No." Blaise replied, pushing himself up into a straighter position. "Cos, you see, Aberforth, we aren't even drunk." He pointed between himself and Draco quickly. "So, we want another bottle of firewhiskey, because we're not even drunk, you see."

"Draco sat back in his chair, his hair hanging in the sculpted features of his face, looking dead sexy to all the women in the bar... "

"What? What are you saying? I don't know what you're saying. Say it again." Draco spoke out loud to the voice.

"He looked so cool sat in the bar and even though he had drunk a couple of glasses of firewhiskey, he wasn't even tipsy..."

"I've had more than a couple of glasses love!" Draco laughed to himself and then, highly amused by his own comment, started to chuckle deeply from his belly and banging his fist on the table.

Aberforth pointed to Draco. "Look, he's so drunk, he's bloody talking to himself. Go home, son." Aberforth said, picking up a cloth and wiping down the bar. "I have to put my goats to bed and no doubt your mothers we will be wondering where you are."

"Pscht!" Draco flew his hand into the air before taking another drink from his glass. "Our mothers, pscht! Our mother's don't care about where we are. Our mothers... pscht!"

"Yes." Blaise said, nodding his head in agreement. "They don't care you see, because we're old enough to go out and besides that, we're not drunk."

Draco shook his head. "Nope, not drunk."

"Well, I'm closing the pub, anyway. So you're going to have to leave." Aberforth came out from behind the bar and grabbed Blaise by the shoulder, guiding him into the fireplace. "There you go, Blaise."

"Hey where are you..." Draco tried to ask, but was cut off by being lifted out his seat by Aberforth and shoved him into the fireplace, alongside Blaise. "You can't do this, we have a tab!"

"And I'm sure you'll pay it off at the end of month, but you're still going home." Aberforth picked up a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fire. "Malfoy Manor."

"No!" Draco shouted as the green flames rose up around him and Blaise, although it was too late, when the green flames died away, they were faced with the parlour of the Malfoy Manor. Draco held on Blaise's elbow, trying to keep himself aloft as Blaise placed his hand on the side of the fireplace to steady himself. Draco looked at Blaise, he knew there was no chance they could just escape from this, they would have to say something to his parents, who were sat with bemused expressions as the two boys held each other up inside the fireplace.

"The wanderer returns!" Lucius Malfoy said, sipping from a glass of firewhiskey.

"Lucius." Narcissa scolded. "Did you have a good time at Blaise's, darling? Has Blaise come to stay the night?"

In a unison motion, the boys tried to step out of the fireplace, Blaise missed his footing and slipped, Draco lost his balance and followed him, leaving the both of them sat on the floor, groaning.

"Narcissa, I believe that your son is drunk." Lucius smirked, taking another drink from his glass.

Narcissa glared at her husband. "When he's in that state, he's your son."

Author's Notes:

Special thankses go to Twiist, who AWWW-ed at a particular drunken reference that I put in just for her.

Thanks also go to, Jonathan J Strange, snapefan2007 (who probably didn't get a chance to review yet) and red-gummi-bear75. Do I get another cookie?