Author's Notes: In case the title, subtitle, and summary weren't enough to tip you off, this is SLASH and yes, everyone's gay. Except Malfoy's parents. LupinLover - thanks for your patience - I will write a straight story one of these days but this isn't it. Did I mention it was a long flight? And listening to Dimitri From Paris over and over can really affect a person. Anyway, this is all in fun: it's parody, camp, realism at minimum.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to Aurengzebe and his memorable apple tart.
My biggest thanks to the inimitable Cassandra Claire, whose wonderful Draco Sinister has inspired so much admiration, for kindly allowing me to include a line that comes from responses to her own latest chapter, and is here echoed by Harry.
Harry tried to recall the many times Malfoy had tormented him at school, yet even these memories, when combined with those of the other night, made Harry want Malfoy all the more. He'd never been in such close proximity to Malfoy before and knowing how it had felt to touch him made Harry anxious to repeat the experience. Besides, Malfoy had said he'd left the Dark Arts. Wasn't it Harry's duty to take Malfoy under his care, to aid in his reformation? Harry's independent income, not to mention having already defeated Voldemort meant Harry didn't have much to do these days. He felt sure that with time, he could help Draco forget his emotionally deprived childhood and become a contributing member of society.
When Saturday evening rolled around, Harry found himself trying on a number of outfits in anticipation of returning to the Excalibur. Although Harry didn't have the muscle definition of someone like Draco or Dean, he did have an athletic build and noticed that most of the wizards at the club dressed to enhance their physique, which would explain why Lockheart shrouded himself in billowy robes.
Part of him - a large part - told him to just go, get whatever it was out of his system. But a smaller, nagging voice reminded him how complicated his life would become if he hooked up again with Malfoy. He'd already had one guilty panic, why risk it again? But Ron wouldn't be there, Harry reminded himself sternly. Besides, much as Harry wanted Malfoy, he also knew that Malfoy had wanted him the other night, for whatever reasons. Promising himself he'd only stay an hour, Harry left for the club.
Cheerful dance music still filled the Excalibur, but there were fewer people and a mellower atmosphere when Harry returned. Yet as Happy Hour became hours, more wizards filled the dance floor until it was as crowded as Friday night.
Harry kept a close eye out for Malfoy and was rewarded by spotting him dancing with his shirt off and wearing very short, frayed cut-offs that were so tight he could barely pack in his wand. Setting down his fourth empty beer glass, Harry slid off the barstool and joined the dancing throng.Malfoy seemed very into his dancing and gave Harry only a perfunctory nod as he sidled up. Harry hoped for a chance to talk when the song ended, but the music just seemed one long remix of the same beat. Finally Harry cupped his hand and shouted into Malfoy's ear, "I need to talk to you!"
Malfoy nodded and followed Harry off the dance floor. "What's up?" He took the shirt he'd tucked into his belt and wiped his sweaty brow.
"I just thought we should talk, you know, about the other night."
"Yes, I was terribly hurt when you didn't owl me later," quipped Malfoy.
Harry tore his eyes away from Malfoy's glistening chest. "Really?"
"No, of course not." Malfoy gave him a disgusted look. "So, come to make amends for stomping out of my kitchen like that?" He removed a pack of cigarettes, pounded the box against his palm, then selected one and lit up. "Want one?"
"No thanks." Harry was beginning to feel very foolish.
As he smoked, Malfoy's eyes flickered across Harry's body. "You seem to have worked up quite a sweat," he observed. "Maybe you'd better take off that shirt."
"Here?" squeaked Harry, glancing around the crowded room.
Malfoy snorted. "Sexiest Wizard Alive. How do you do it, Potter?" Tossing his cigarette to the ground and grinding it under his boot heel, Malfoy said, "Alright then, let's go."
Harry followed him towards the loo and into a wooden cubicle. Malfoy slid the bolt into place, locking them in. Harry's eyes widened as Malfoy began to undo his own fly.
"If you need to use-"
Malfoy swiftly placed his right hand against the wall near Harry's left ear, blocking him. "If I had to take a piss, stupid, I wouldn't be locked in here with you, would I?"
Harry swallowed hard. "I guess not." Something about having Malfoy hulking over him like this was simultaneously terrifying and arousing. He felt Malfoy's hands roughly undoing the buttons on his jeans and gave a little gasp as Malfoy leaned closer and began to kiss him, razor stubble grazing Harry's face. Just when he was beginning to worry about what to do, Malfoy took him firmly in hand.
Eventually, that certain frisson that comes to a boy in love - or at least the throes of passion - brought Harry gasping against Malfoy's sturdy chest. He held Harry for a few moments, his own head resting on Harry's shoulder, then pushed him back hard against the wall and kept his hand on Harry's chest. Draco leaned in close and stared into Harry's green eyes. "Ma shi ai, Da shi teng, Potter," he whispered teasingly and his eyes had that same odd, shining look Harry remembered from the other night.
"What?"
"Scolding is loving, beating is affection," Malfoy translated, panting hard. "Chinese saying my family's rather fond of - didn't you ever get that in your fortune cookie?"
Harry shook his head and the two of them remained inches apart. Just when Harry thought Draco might kiss him again, Malfoy abruptly pulled back, did up his fly and banged out of the stall without another word. Harry remained slumped against the wall, still trying to catch his breath but quite certain the encounter had not ended as he'd envisioned.
"Draco, wait," he cried, quickly buttoning his jeans and hurrying after the blond. Across the room, he spied Malfoy exiting the club and shoved his way over to the front door. "Wait!"
Out on the sidewalk, Malfoy turned and paused. "What now?"
Harry reeled at the hard tone. Malfoy didn't seem to be joking now; he really did look irritated. "Don't you want to. . . that is, doesn't any of this mean anything to you?"
"Potter, you really are unbelievable. Haven't you ever heard of casual sex?" Malfoy stared at Harry and noticed his genuine distress. In a voice only slightly less impatient he explained, "Only lesbians move in together after two dates. Not that I'd call what we've been doing dating. Besides, I'm not into monogamy."
Harry remained speechless. He couldn't believe Draco could treat him so callously. He'd been a fool to imagine there was anything deeper between the two of them. Silently, he turned and walked back into the loud, dark club.
Mind still reeling, Harry ordered another beer. What was it Mrs Weasley was always saying to Ginny? That virginity was a precious gift that could only be given once. And here he'd squandered it on someone as unappreciative as Draco Malfoy. Harry rested his head in his hands. He should never have come back. What would people say? He could just imagine himself being announced at the Hampstead home his godfather Sirius shared with Harry's favorite teacher, Remus Lupin. Sirius, it's your effeminate godson again, Lupin would say and the two of them would snicker at Harry. He reached for his glass and downed the beer in one gulp.
Unbeknownst to Harry, Sirius was at that moment locked in a steamy embrace with Remus. "You know," Sirius began when they paused for breath, "we really should invite Harry up here next weekend. I hear that cute little witch he was seeing has dumped him."
Remus frowned. "Isn't that the sixth witch to break off with him this year?"
"Yes, he doesn't seem to be doing well in that department, does he?"
Remus pulled Sirius closer, running his hands appreciatively over his partner's muscular torso. "Maybe he's just playing for the wrong team."
Sirius pulled back in surprise. "Do you think so? Our little Harry?"
"He's not so little any more, believe me." Remus tweaked Sirius' nipple ring. "Maybe it's time to have that father-son talk."
"Maybe so." Sirius continued to look astonished for a few moments more, then returned his attention to Remus. "Let's ask him to dinner next Sunday, then."
"Anything you say." Remus smiled. There weren't many men who could look good in bikini briefs, but Sirius was one of them. In fact, Remus was of the opinion that Sirius looked good in anything. "You've been ordering from International Wizard catalogue again, haven't you?" he murmured, sliding down along the sofa.
Sirius didn't answer. Suddenly all thoughts, whether of Harry or his own consumer habits, were driven out of his mind by Lupin's amazingly dexterous tongue.
"Less swish, more starch," decreed Ron. He, Harry and Dean were watching Neville walk back and forth across Harry's living room. Neville had been invited down to his Great Uncle Archie's house in Brighton, and was anxious to project a suitably manly attitude.
Dean sat on the sofa, arms crossed over his chest and looking grumpy. "I don't see why you're going to all this trouble," he fumed. "You should just be yourself."
"But Dean, Gran will be there, too. I can't very well tell her I've started wearing witches' robes now, can I?"
"You ought to be raiding her wardrobe," retorted Dean. "I'll bet she has some good stuff you could use. Besides, what does it matter what she thinks? You have to admit, wizarding attire is pretty fey to begin with."
Neville gasped. What did he mean? "What do you mean?" he asked.
"I mean," Dean explained irritably, "that most Muggles would think all robes, wizard or witch, look like something a woman would wear."
Neville looked to Harry for confirmation. "Is that true?" He'd had a very sheltered life and only rarely ventured into the Muggle world.
Harry had to agree with Dean. He knew how his Uncle Vernon felt about seeing grown men in wizarding robes. "Yeah. That's why we're supposed to wear Muggle clothes in public, so we blend in better."
Neville shuddered. Thank goodness he'd packed his shiny orange polyester pants and a matching shirt for the journey to the beachside resort. He certainly wouldn't want to attract attention to himself.
"What do you think of Neville and Dean?" Harry asked Ron when the duo had left.
"Neville and Dean," mused Ron. "Sounds like they should be in pairs figure skating, doesn't it?"
"Ron! You've been watching Muggle sports again, haven't you?" chided Harry.
Ron looked abashed. "You know how Dad loves Muggle objects. He's got a television now and well…" Ron trailed off.
He was spared further explanation by the arrival of Hedwig, who flapped her wings with importance as she landed on the coffee table, bearing a single sheet of parchment.
Harry removed the message and read it. "Sirius and Remus have invited me up for dinner this weekend. Want to come along?"
"Sure." Sirius had a knack with puff pastry and Ron never turned down an opportunity to sample it.
The day of the dinner, Harry and Ron ran into Sirius while in Diagon Alley. Sirius was just closing up the small antiques shop he ran. After Harry had vanquished the evil that was Voldemort during his last year at Hogwarts and Sirius had finally been cleared of all criminal charges, it seemed there was nothing left to do but indulge his final, secret passion: antiques. He had opened the shop a year ago and was slowly trying to build a clientele.
"Well, this is a surprise!" he declared as he locked the front door. "I wasn't looking for you until later this evening."
"Just doing a bit of window shopping," said Harry.
Ron nodded hello, but his attention was drawn to the Louis XIV writing table displayed in the shop window. "Is that a new piece?" he asked Sirius.
"Yes, and you have a very good eye. That table has been favored by heads of state for centuries - all you have to do is put quill and parchment on the surface and it writes thank-you letters for you. Interested in antiques, are you?"
Ron blinked and looked away from the furniture. "No, not really," he muttered, turning pink.
Sirius seemed not to notice. "Since we're all here, why don't you boys come with me to pick up a few things for dinner? Remus was called out on a case this morning so I'll be cooking tonight."
Harry looked up swiftly at the mention of Lupin. "What sort of case?"
"No idea. He got an owl early this morning and said he'd be back in time for dinner. Now we've got that laboratory set up in the back room, so Remus can do more work from home." After quitting Hogwarts, Remus had started working as a detective for the Department of Magical Mysteries.
By the time Remus returned the small house was filled with the smell of delicious cooking. Ron, Harry and Sirius each wore candy-striped aprons and they were putting the finishing touches on a fresh apple tart.
Remus remained in the fireplace for a moment, taking in the domestic scene. He always enjoyed having the boys around, and coming off this latest case he felt even more relieved to see Harry, in particular, looking so well.
Going up to the boy wizard, Remus gave Harry a fierce hug. "Good to see you."
Harry choked slightly at being engulfed in Remus' strong grip, but managed to reply, "Nice to see you, too."
Remus hugged Ron as well, and smiled at them all.
"Important case?" asked Sirius, untying his apron and turning worried eyes to Remus.
Lupin's expression darkened. "Yes." He looked again at the two boys, then announced, "Draco Malfoy has been kidnapped. Taken from his own bedroom."
Harry gasped and dropped a trivet. "What? Who could have done this?"
"That's what we're working on. He's been estranged from his parents ever since leaving school, but now his father is very anxious to recover his son." Remus set down the briefcase he carried. "I'll need to run some tests after dinner on some samples I picked up. Might be a clue somewhere."
"Let's run the tests right now!" Harry suggested. Despite the harsh treatment he'd received from Draco, Harry still cared about him. Then a terrible thought struck him. What if Draco wasn't around to be found? What if he'd been killed by his attackers? No, the sound of over a hundred anguished fanfiction voices pounded in Harry's head, Draco's too hot to die. Recalling the last time he'd seen Draco in those tiny cut-offs, Harry was inclined to agree.
Ron turned and stared at Harry. "Since when do you care what happens to Malfoy?" he demanded. The apple tart held much more appeal for him than did trying to track down their worst enemy.
But Harry ignored Ron. "What do you know about the situation?" he asked Remus.
Remus sat down at the dining table and snapped open his case. "Not much," he admitted. "The kidnapper did leave a ransom note written on the bed sheets, however. Here's a fabric sample."
Harry took the swatch of material and examined it between special tongs. Holding it up to the light, he immediately noticed something odd. "This can't be right," he murmured.
"What's wrong?" Ron asked.
"These aren't Malfoy's sheets," Harry announced authoritatively. "This is a thin, poly-cotton blend, and Malfoy only sleeps on cotton percale, 250 thread count minimum."
He looked up, expecting to see the others looking at him with respect at his eye for detail. Instead, they all regarded him with varying expressions of surprise and dismay.
"Do I want to know how you happen to know that information?" Ron asked warily.
Harry blushed and ignored the question. "This is all a set up. The only question is why?"
Remus and Sirius exchanged looks. Remus spoke first. "Very good, Harry. I agree it's a set up, but more because of the ransom note's contents than anything else."
"What's it say?" Ron was anxious to avoid hearing further details about Malfoy's sleeping habits.
"The kidnapper asked for only a thousand Galleons for Draco. Considering the Malfoy family's wealth, this is a paltry sum. Hardly worth kidnapping Draco and risking the wrath of Lucius Malfoy."
"Do you think it could be a trap?" asked Harry.
Remus nodded. "Possibly."
Sirius clapped his hands. "Enough detective talk. The food's getting cold. We'll talk about this after the meal."
Unfortunately, everyone was rather distracted during dinner. Ron kept sneaking looks over at Harry and wondering what his percale knowledge meant. Remus and Sirius, meanwhile, exchanged worried glances of their own. Sirius did hate it when Remus had to be gone on dangerous work.
Only the crisp, flaky tartlet proved inspiring enough to capture everyone's attention completely. As soon as they had finished eating and Sirius had started the dishes washing themselves in the sink, the group gathered again in the living room.
"Don't you think it's odd Malfoy's father would suddenly be anxious for his son's return?" Harry asked Remus. "If they haven't spoken in two years, why would Lucius care if anyone's taken his son? Why would he even care if Malfoy's returned safely?"
"That's what I thought," Remus murmured. "Something's not quite right."
Harry stood up. "I think we should go to the Malfoy manor. See if we can learn any more details."
"What?" Ron surveyed his friend with dismay. Here he'd looked forward to an evening of good food and possibly some tales of when Sirius and Remus were at school and used to beat up Snape - now Harry was proposing a visit to the Malfoys? Something was definitely not quite right.
"It will be next to impossible to get in there," said Remus. "Lucius always keeps a high level of security and now with this kidnapping…" he trailed off and shook his head.
"We can use Sirius as a decoy." Harry glanced over at his godfather. "Narcissa Malfoy has a thing for dark wizards. And up until last year you, Sirius, were considered the biggest dark wizard to have escaped from Azkaban. You know how women go for men who are dangerous, rugged and emotionally unavailable - I bet she'd be mighty curious to meet you," he suggested slyly.
Sirius blushed and looked discomfitted. "Well, really, Harry. I was fully pardoned -"
But there was no time for false modesty. Harry took charge and said, "Sirius, you go to the front door and ask for Narcissa. The rest of us will sneak in when the door's open, under my Invisibility cloak."
Remus looked impressed. "I agree with Harry. There's no time to lose. The longer he's gone, the less Draco Malfoy's chance of survival."
The group soon found themselves outside stately Malfoy Manor. As Remus had predicted, security trolls patrolled the outer perimeter and no doubt a number of enchantments protected the estate from magical penetration as well.
Sirius looked particularly debonair that evening, and Narcissa immediately agreed to see him. Harry, Ron and Remus followed fast on their heels. Yet no sooner had Narcissa poured Sirius a glass of vintage port and begun to share her worries about Draco than her husband could be heard in another room, screaming at a servant.
Narcissa turned an anxious face to Sirius. "You'd better hide. Lucius has been in a terrible temper ever since Draco disappeared. Quick, run and hide. I'll try to think of some way to distract him."
Harry, Ron, Remus and Sirius dashed down the hallway and ducked into the first empty room the encountered. At the back was a large closet, and they all crowded inside. Fortunately it was a walk-in, but even so, Harry soon began to feel uncomfortably hot. Somehow, standing so close to Ron in a darkened closet made Harry flustered.
It turned out they were in the master bedroom, and Narcissa's form of distraction involved the oldest trick in the book. As a result, the foursome had to endure the sounds of uncreative love-making.
"No wonder Malfoy's gay," thought Harry as Narcissa moaned unconvincingly.
"At least this shouldn't take too long," said Remus, examining his watch. "Another few minutes and we should be free."
But Harry couldn't take it any more. "I've got to get out of this closet - it's stifling!" he whispered urgently.
Remus and Sirius gazed upon him with avuncular affection. Ron gripped his wand.
"We'll always be here for you, Harry," began Sirius, but Remus quickly cautioned him to be quiet. Things seemed to be slowing down in the bedroom.
Harry was amazed when Remus' prediction proved to be true. Based on his own limited experience, he had thought they'd be in the walk-in for hours, yet in merely fifteen minutes Lucius had left and Narcissa, too. At last they were free. His time in the closet had been well-spent, for Harry now was convinced they would find no clues at the Malfoy manor house relating to Draco's whereabouts.
"We've got to go to St Mungo's Hospital immediately!" he declared.