This was written in response to a LECHE challenge by Bertie Rooster.
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Requirements:
**must include a box of Fruit Loops+
**Lucius Malfoy must pick his nose (eeewwwwwwwww!)+
**one of the characters must say "Okay" three times before every sentence+
**must be funny+
**must be a .txt file+
**must involve banana yellow robes+
**rita skeeter must break a nail+
**nobody is allowed to sleep+
**somebody either has to dial down the center (1800CALLATT) or 'call 1-800-EASTWEST'+
**must mention Trevor the Toad+
**Trevor the Toad must be able to speak English+
**somebody has to sing annoying car songs+
**you can only mention Harry once+
**must be in third person+
**somebody must drive a bubblegum pink Volvo with one wheel+
**one person must be fully aware that this is a LECHE fic+
**somebody must melt+
**can't have a title+
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A Response to a LECHE Challenge
By her2eternity
Lucius Malfoy looked utterly exhausted. He'd been driving for days through the cracked and miserable desert of southwest America, searching for meaning, truth, deep thoughts, and Popsicles, preferably grape. Draco, determined that they would not sleep until something interesting happened, had taken it upon himself to sing annoying car songs. As the rest of the song was not forthcoming, Draco chose another tune from his seemingly bottomless roster.
"I AM HENRY THE EIGHTH I AM! HENRY THE EIGHTH I AM, I AM!"
"Not that one again," Lucius groaned, "Can't you think of something else, boy?"
"Ummmmm . . . THIS OLD MAN, HE PLAYED ONE! HE PLAYED KNICK-KNACK ON MY THUMB-"
"Salvation!" Lucius screamed, for two very good reasons. First, they had pulled into a tiny town called 'Salvation, Nevada,' and secondly Mr. Malfoy's eye had fallen upon something very dear and beloved, very close to his heart, shining creamy white and hunter green in the fabulous heat, a paragon of delights, a fountain of sanity; here in the desert, Lucius Malfoy experienced all the knowledge of the universe, the light at the end of the tunnel, his life flashing before his eyes, pre-orgasmic bliss. He'd spotted . . . Starbucks.
He leapt from the car, banana yellow robes flapping about him as he charged for the cool sanity that lingered within. "Mocha frappucino," he gasped, staggering through the door, "Make it a venti."
Remus Lupin stood behind the counter, dressed in the standard little green apron and looking all the more adorable for it. "Sorry Mr. Malfoy, but it'll be a minute," he said, dropping a big wink at the readers, "We're mixing up a batch of frappucino mocha and it might take a while."
"Whom were you winking at?" Lucius asked irritably.
"Oh, the readers, my good man. This is, after all, a LECHE challenge, and the readers must know that I know exactly what's going on here."
"Exactly what's going on here?" Lucius demanded, "I've no idea what you're blathering about, man."
"That's what it is," Lupin said, "Blathering man, that's what it's all about. Out here in the desert, there's truth, deep truth. Me and Sirius and the snake, man, we ride the king's highway, baby."
"The snake?" Lucius asked with his eyes widening, "Lord Voldemort is here?" He looked around frantically. "I thought that he was summering in Bermuda! Curses! If he's here then that dreadful Mighty Mouse Harry Potter 'Here I Come to Save the Day!' B.S. is going to start, and I'm totally not in the mood!"
"No man, not Voldemort," Lupin said soothingly, "Peyote. We know this crazy half-naked Indian guy and-"
"Where the hell is my frappucino?" Lucius snapped.
"I told you man, the mocha-"
"Where is it?" Lucius asked, "I'll do it myself."
Lupin, knowing that this would lead to an important plot twist, took Mr. Malfoy into the back of the store, where it was swelteringly hot, dressed him in a green apron (and nothing else - no, wait, wrong fic) and showed him to the hot water and silky mocha powder. "Just mix it in two-to-one proportion," he said, "and after that's done, we'll make your venti frappucino and you'll be on your way."
"It better have whipped cream on it!" Lucius snapped, and Lupin just smiled and walked away.
"Wait a second!" Lucius demanded, "Why don't you have house-elves to do this sort of shite?"
"Hermione Granger organized a union," Lupin said with a shrug, "I've gotta get back to my register, man."
With a discouraged sigh, Lucius measured out the correct amount of hot water, and dumped the mocha in with a soft fhwump! Satiny little particles of chocolate flew everywhere; a great deal of it went up his nose. "Oh brilliant!" he screeched. By now he was hot, sticky, irritated, and chocolaty, and no one like a chocolaty Malfoy (well, except for . . . no, never mind. Wrong fic again.) Agitatedly, he poked at the mixture, wondering when the torment would end.
Draco, meanwhile, had taken his sweet time getting out of the car. As he approached Starbucks, he noticed a familiar form crouched in the shade. "Trevor?" he said with wonder, "Trevor the Toad? What are you doing all the way out here?"
"What all toads do out in the desert, man. Look for truth, sanity, insanity, and the perfect fly."
"Since when do you speak English?" Draco asked.
"I also speak Cantonese, and I don't think it was your turn to talk," Trevor said irritably, "I've been pursuing a new line of work, but it didn't go well. Washed out before my time, a has-been, a nobody. But out here, out here where no one knows my pain, out here I can still hope for that perfect fly." He sighed deeply. "Hollywood is a bitch, you know? I spent all of Neville's money to get to that audition, meaning to pay him back when I got the part, the big contract, you know?"
"What part?" Draco asked.
"Warner Brothers was looking for a spokesman for their television channel, something amphibious, something green, and I thought, "Hey, I'm amphibious, I'm green, who's the man?" And they gave the job to a frog, a FROG!" Trevor said bitterly, "So what if he can dance and sing, so what if he's got teeth? He's a stinking frog, man; everyone knows what they're like to work with."
"I don't," Draco said.
"Sloppy," Trevor said, "Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy. Terrible work habits. But you get what you pay for, as Warner Brothers will soon find out." He cocked a hopeful eye at Draco. "Hey kid, wanna get me a mocha frappucino? For old times sake?"
"There weren't any old times," Draco said in his patented drawling voice, "But I'll do it anyway." He walked into the Starbucks just as his father shouted from the back,
"Just how long does it take for this mocha to mix, anyway?"
"Dial down the middle, man!" called Lupin unhelpfully.
"What?"
"CALL-ATT!"
"What?"
"Dude, are you stirring it?"
"I have to stir it?"
"Chyah!" Lupin said with a cluck of his tongue. Then he turned and looked at Draco. "What can I do for you, little dude?"
"I need a mocha frappucino," Draco said.
"Is it for Trevor?"
"How did you know?"
Lupin shook his head sadly. "He's a victim of Frappucinoitis, a terrible disease that makes your crave the sugary goodness and results in the annihilation of your personality when you don't get your daily dose. We've been weaning him off the sweet stuff, man, but he's not taking it so well."
"I see."
"Did he give you the whole song and dance about Winston J. Frog?"
"Yeah."
"It's all a lie."
"That's too bad," Draco said, although he didn't really mean it.
Suddenly there was a loud bang and Rita Skeeter appeared. Looking frantic, she lunged for the phone on the counter, nearly knocking Draco over to get it. "Okay, okay, okay, 1-800-CALL-ATT!" she screamed as she punched in the numbers.
"Okay, okay, okay, operator? Okay, okay, okay, I broke a nail! Okay, okay, okay, I apparated improperly and I left part of my fingernail behind! Okay, okay, okay, whatever shall I do? Okay . . . okay . . . okay . . . yeah, he's here." Her eyes swung to Draco and they had a particularly malevolent light in them. "Okay, okay, okay, will do." She hung up the phone and began to advance on the terrified child. "Okay, okay, okay, here's the deal, creampuff. Okay, okay, okay the ATT lady says that the blood of children will regrow my poor abused nail, the blood of a Malfoy child especially. Okay, okay, okay, that's you, creampuff. Okay, okay, okay?"
"Not even remotely," Draco said, "Very un-okay, okay, okay."
"Okay, okay, okay, you asked for it!" Rita screamed, and she morphed into the Wicked Bitch of the Yeast, "Okay, okay, okay, prepare to die, Malfoy, for I will now go medieval on your ass and administer the Cranial Bitey of Utter Destruction!"
Daaaaaadddddddddddyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" Draco shrieked, and, rather like Mighty Mouse, Lucius was there to save the day.
"You will not touch a hair on his precious noggin!" he screamed, brandishing his wand (hee hee, it was a big one too), "You are forbidden to molest my child, you Wicked Bitch of the Yeast!"
"Okay, okay, okay, Senor Malfoyo! Okay, okay, okay, yo no comprendo my awesome power of destruction and yeastiness! Okay, okay, okay, bread yields to my yeastiness, as you will, Mocha Man!"
Mocha Man! The sound of his secret name sent a tendril of strength through Lucius's body. He raised his wand high above his head. "Mocha magic power!" he cried, and a transformation sequence began, just like the one in Sailor Moon. He wore a kilt of brown and green, a green sequined halter top, long green gloves and matching boots, with his hair styled into the classic 'meatball' look. "The powers of your yeastiness shall not overcome me," he said, "For I am Sailor Mocha Man, and I'm coming for you!"
"You can come for me anytime you want to, sweetie," said Lupin, but no one paid any attention.
"Okay, okay, okay, GRRRRAAAAWWWWWRRRRRRR!" screeched Rita Skeeter, but the battle was practically over before it began. Lucius stuck the tip of his wand up his left nostril and dug around for a second, selecting the perfect weapon.
"Urgh!" howled Lupin, "Malfoy bogies!"
But it was not just any common bogie that Lucius pulled from his nose, no, it was a bogie comprised of mucus and mocha powder, the scourge of the barista, the plague known only to those who have worked at a Starbucks. "Mocha Bogie Magic!" Lucius screamed, and flung the chocolaty projectile at his nemesis.
It struck her directly between the eyes and everyone cheered. "My hero!" cried Lupin and Draco simultaneously.
"Okay, okay, okay, I'm melting!" Rita Skeeter, the Wicked Bitch of the Yeast, screamed, "Okay, okay, okay, MEEEELLLLTTTTINNNGGGGGG!" It was very dramatic, but eventually she was a little pool of greenish goo and acrylics, and for the sake of everyone's sanity I won't write her death speech, mainly because I'm tired of writing "Okay, okay, okay."
"That's fine sweets," Lupin said (to me), "You deserve a break." He turned to the bar and made a frappucino for Lucius, complete with extra whipped cream, and a chocolate milk for Draco. He was even kind enough to give them an employee discount. "After all," he said wisely, "It's always wise to be friends with superheroes, even if their powers are on the ickle side."
Draco and his father walked outside, enjoying their cool beverages in the heat of the day. Trevor was hunched miserably in the shadows; he'd heard Lupin tell Draco all about his addiction and he knew he wouldn't be experiencing the caffeinated creamy goodness of a frappucino for a good long while.
Draco almost felt sorry for the warty little thing. He walked over to the one-wheeled, bubble gum pink Volvo and took out a box of Fruit Loops. "Here," he said, handing the box to the destitute amphibian, "This will take the edge off."
"Thanks man," Trevor croaked, "You're the best."
Draco felt choked up and emotional, and he wouldn't let himself look back as he climbed into the car with his father. As they drove into the sunset, Draco cheered up a little. "Where are we going now?" he asked.
"Where the road takes us," Lucius said, "Where the road takes us, my son."
"I'd better help keep you awake," Draco said, "THERE WAS A FARMER, HAD A DOG, AND SIRIUS WAS HIS NAME-US-"
C'est tout finis!
