Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue.
A/N: THANK YOU ALL for the reassuring reviews. In retrospect, I am less bothered by the flame and would have been fine if I had just slept on it (or not seen it at 3 am after a few solid hours of drinking at the bar). To tell you the truth I am almost embarrassed for letting her (or him…) get to me. It surprised even me; since my usual reaction is a big 'fuck you' to things like that. In any case, I am very grateful for all the love you guys sent my way. You guys keep this going.
Ice Lupus: Thank you so much for both your review and taking the time to read my story. I apologize if I offended by my other author's note – I never meant to imply that you, nor anyone else, is a communist. You are correct in that communism is a theory, almost utopian in nature, and that it is often the people who implement said theory that attach negative connotations to it. It is, however, a common mistake to equate the theory itself with the heinous results of the manipulation of that theory by man. The key, however, is that it was a *mistake*. I tend to be a hot headed person, and the wording that I chose to use was horribly misplaced. I apologize. I cannot say that I have changed my mind about the policies…as a self-avowed hedonist I enjoy the 'freedom of everything'. (That was a joke by the way). I have, however, thought a great deal about it and can definitely understand the merit of what you presented to me. Thank you so much for sending me the review (both of them)…I have a very genuine respect for anyone who can tell me I'm full of shit and give me *good* reasons for it. Lol…seriously though….thanks and keep reading.
Speaking of keeping it going…I have a few neuroses. Things went from smooth to bumpy with all this in a scant 24 hours and it has frazzled my nerves. I have a proposition for you (as inspired by Rowenna's review). You guys have my eternal thanks for all the love you sent my way. THANK YOU. It was great...now, as long as its okay with you guys, I say lets get down to business and finish this story, ne? It's done, and over. Thank you again for your support.
:)
Now with all my love, my lovely lovelies….on with chapter 15!
Thanks goes, as always, to *my* Jasmine and *my* Liz (that's right you silly bitches….yo ass is mine!)
BTW…I didn't intend for this *entire* chapter to be about being gay…it just turned out that way. And I apologize if any of the French is incorrect. I have to use an online translator…as I do not speak French, sadly. This was started at 3 am and finished at 7am…so I apologize for any mistakes I didn't catch.
Chapter 15……………..The consequences of being me.
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It was odd; Ron thought…the far off look on Harry's face. He, Harry and Hermione got together rarely now that they all had their own jobs…their own lives…and Harry had barely said a word to either of them. They were sitting at small muggle café and while he and Hermione chatted about the new year being only days away, Harry simply stared down at his plate with unfocused eyes. Ron had finally had enough and threw a piece of bread at him, knocking his glasses crooked. Harry squawked and righted them before looking at his best friend confusedly.
"Where are you mate? We've been sitting here talking for almost an hour and you haven't said a word!"
"Sorry" Harry all but mumbled. "It's just…my season ended. I'm still endorsing the brooms, but only part of the time…with it being winter and all. I just don't know what I'm going to do with my time…"
Ron scoffed and threw another crumb at him. "Poor you! Mr. One-Of-My-Fantastic-Jobs-Is-Giving-Me-Months-Off-To-Do-Whatever-I-Want-With-My-Piles-Of-Money!"
Harry laughed at the look on Ron's face – the former Gryffindor was renowned for his expressions. "Sorry Ron…I didn't think of it that way. But you're right…and that's part of the problem. You and Mione are going to be busy…and I'll have no one to talk to…"
"Why don't you travel, Harry?" Hermione interjected.
Harry brightened a bit. "Hmm. I never thought of that. Ireland was wonderful…except for that whole brawl thing…"
"You could go anywhere you want to. You have the money…and the time. I would think it would be a shame *not* to travel."
"I know…" Harry started "…it's just that I'd hate to go alone. You guys can't come with me…and Draco certainly can't leave right now. Not that traveling with him would be a good idea in any case…"
Ron burst into a grin and resisted the urge to throw more food at Harry. "Bloody hell….you're *Harry Potter* I'm sure you'll find good company wherever you go, mate."
Harry smiled warmly at his two very best friends. The oddly matched couple had seen him through everything for almost eight years. "Not this good."
**********************************************************
Draco and Michael had been arguing for over an hour and neither of them were willing to budge.
"Just let me go, Draco. I've done this a million times; it will be quick and easy."
"No. This is *my* company and I want to do it. It's a challenge."
Michael sighed in frustration and gripped his hair. "But it doesn't *have* to be a challenge…that's what I'm bloody telling you! If you'd just let me handle it we'd be celebrating the closing by now."
"Sorry Cameron." The stubborn blonde spat out. "And what makes you think you'd be any better than I would?"
Michael flashed a smile. "I'm a whiz with the ladies…that's why."
Draco looked gob smacked. "My arse! I was under the impression that you actually had no interest in the 'ladies'…or did I *imagine* your hand on my bum a while back?"
"Listen, Malfoy. I don't have to like women to make them think I do. Charm is charm…it just comes naturally."
"Oh thank you very much. Are you implying that I have no charm? I'm Draco *Malfoy*, if you look up 'charm' in the dictionary you'll see my sodding picture. And watch it before I make you call me *Mr. Malfoy*.
"Oh I beg your pardon *Mr.* knight in shining armor. You have charm oozing out of your pores. It's just (mumble mumble) charm."
"What was that?"
"…….."
Draco held up his hand. His thumb and index finger had about an inch of space between them. "This close Michael. You are *this* close. You've managed to confuse me, paint me *without* my permission, molest me, and now you're saying I have (mumble mumble) charm. Out. With. It."
Michael fidgeted before throwing his hands up. "Fine. GAY charm, okay….you have *gay* charm."
Draco stopped cold. His eyebrow began to twitch and he snarled like a threatened wolf. "Ex-cuse-me?"
"Look…" Michael began explaining hurriedly before he lost his job…or an eye. "…just listen to me. I've been doing this for a long time. There are different 'types' of gay men. You are in *no* way a flaming homosexual. It's just…you have the 'perfect man' syndrome. You're good looking, rich, young, single, articulate and well dressed…you *have* to be gay. Women can smell it...like fear. Trust me. It's taken me years to turn it off…"
The younger of the two calmed, albeit slightly, and his eyebrow ceased it's twitching. "I hate you."
"What? Why?"
"Because I don't know whether to thank you or fire you. I can't tell if that was a compliment. Damn you!"
Michael sighed. "Don't do either…just let *me* go, okay?"
"No."
"Damnit Draco, I-"
"No."
"If you'd just-"
"No. I'd like to test this 'perfect man' theory of yours. Besides…as I said, this is my company and I'll do what I see fit. I'm going."
"At least let me go with you."
"Fine. And I'll have you know that no one knew I was gay until less than a year ago!"
Michael smirked and quirked a brow. "I did."
"Oh shut up."
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Everything was set. On New Years Day, Harry would leave for an indefinite stay in Ireland. He looked forward to the trip greatly, as it would give him a much needed break from all the recent stress. Still, he couldn't help but feel lonely – and in truth he knew he would be lonely even in a room full of people…unless one of them had platinum blonde hair.
He scoffed and dropped his pamphlets onto his desk. This was exactly why he needed a vacation. He was about to owl Ron and Hermione to give them the news when he received an owl himself. He recognized the bird as the one belonging to Mr. Bramble – owner of Harry's quidditch team and Firebolt brooms. He took the parchment from her and smoothed her feathers before breaking the seal and reading the message.
Mr. Potter,
I would like to ask that you, at your convenience, stop by my office before the close of tomorrow's business day. I have some endorsements I would like to discuss with you before the holiday.
A. Bramble.
It was only early afternoon, and Harry had no other plans for the day; so he decided he might as well floo over to see the tycoon right then. He couldn't help but wonder what the man wanted so close to the New Year. Unable to figure it out, he decided that the quickest way to quell his curiosity was to simply put on a nice robe and head over to ask him. After a quick fifteen minutes of preparation, Harry was ready to speak to his employer, and grabbing a handful of floo powder, he disappeared in a flash of green light.
When he came tumbling out the massive marble fireplace, Harry cursed silently. He briefly noted to remember to fund research for a less jarring but equally effective method of wizard travel. He was immediately met by Mr. Bramble's secretary. A petite and bright eyed young woman, Harry supposed she was attractive…for a woman. He couldn't help but be annoyed, however, when she giggled, as she always did, upon realizing she was face to face with Harry Potter. Nonetheless, he smiled brightly at her and pretended he did not see the blush tint her cheeks.
"Mr. Bramble wasn't expecting you so soon. Let me tell him you're here."
Harry nodded and she disappeared for a moment. He used the time in which she was gone to look around him. The interior of the room was not what one would expect for a business man. The building itself was ancient, but well kept and the décor was almost…sentimental. Pictures adorned the walls, along with several works of art done by the orphans in a home Mr. Bramble funded through charity. Harry himself was scheduled to visit those children in roughly four months time. The maudlin decorations seemed almost out of place surrounding the expensive furniture and fine rugs. Harry didn't have too much time to consider his observations because a short moment later, the secretary returned and with a girlish smile she directed him into the office of their mutual employer.
"Would you like some coffee, Mr. Potter?" she asked in a sing song voice.
Harry nodded. "Yes please. Two sugars – black. Thank you."
After she left, Harry turned his attention to the round older man sitting behind his desk. "You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Yes…I've started an aggressive new campaign using your image and I wanted to brief you on it."
Harry was a bit surprised that apparently what ever it was his boss had in mind he had already implemented and merely wanted to inform Harry of the changes. He nodded at him to continue and the older man smiled.
"I've been studying your fan base – from when you were merely 'The Boy Who Lived', and then when you were 'The Boy Who Killed Voldemort And Lived', and finally when you were, and pardon my frankness, 'The Gay Boy Who Killed Voldemort And Lived.'
Harry wasn't sure he liked where this was going. He had countered homophobia before, but Mr. Bramble knew about all of this before he hired him to either of his positions. If the older man had any problem with him, common sense told Harry he would have mentioned it earlier.
"No offense, sir…but I don't see where you're going with this."
"Well, my boy, it turns out that you can do no wrong. Every outrageous action you take fuels the public's respect for you. When you…came out…wizards all over the world suddenly knew that it was okay for them, if it was okay for Harry Potter."
"Okay…"
"Mr. Potter…you are a gold mine – and your current lifestyle opens up all kinds of possibilities. I need you to use it. I need you to be public about it."
"Excuse me? *Straight* people don't 'use it'…why should I have to?"
"Mr. Potter…if your preference happened to be hippogriffs, I would tell you to use it. This has nothing to do with you being gay…it has to do with you being Harry Potter."
"No. I don't see how it's anyone's business, or how it could be considered lucrative at all."
The other man's voice held no malice, yet it was stern and laced with a hard earned confidence. "I have been a business man for many many years. Your job is to catch the snitch, smile for the camera and save the world occasionally. Leave the accounting to me."
Harry gaped. "So let me get this straight… no pun intended of course. You want to exploit me, and all the countless people who actually *believe* in me for the sake of profit while I just smile pretty and let you?"
"I wouldn't word it exactly like that Mr. Potter…"
"So I'm paraphrasing a bit…but essentially that's what you want to do, right?"
Mr. Bramble rubbed his chin for a moment before nodding reluctantly.
"No!"
The older man sat back and steepled his fingers. "Mr. Potter, you are under contract to do what I tell you to. I would hope you'd think this over before making any rash decisions."
Harry jumped up and lunged forward, leaning across the desk and knocking over various ornaments. "This…" he lifted the curtain of his hair to reveal his scar. "…is my contract. It's binding, and that means *I* set the rules. I will not allow you to exploit one of the hardest decisions of a person's life. Now, I suggest *you* think this over before I show you what Firebolt brooms are *really* good for."
He had straightened and was turning to leave when the secretary came fluttering in, carrying his coffee. She giggled again and held the cup out for him. "Your coffee Mr. Potter."
"SOD YOUR COFFEE!" he yelled as he stormed out and slammed the door behind him.
After the pictures on the wall stopped shaking from the force of Harry's exit, Mr. Bramble gave his young secretary the rest of the day off. The poor girl's nerves were shot…after all…Harry Potter yelled at her for no apparent reason.
When he was finally alone in his office, the wizard tycoon sat back in his seat with a genuine smile. Although a business man by trade, he had always been an honest man at heart, and had respect for true integrity. It was, after all, rare.
"Good boy…you'll do the most amazing things in life…"
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Draco and Michael arrived at the restaurant to meet Mrs. Emma Huntington.
"Refresh my memory on this woman." Draco commanded.
"She's in her mid-thirties and her husband owns several muggle corporations. Being a squib, she likes playing with her husband's money and starting several generally useless wizard charities and organizations. As inadequate as most of her endeavors are, a few actually hold quite a bit of merit and she seems to have grown bored with them. Looking for someone to take them over, she's meeting with several interested parties."
"This is where we come in." Draco half-stated, half-asked while looking down one last time to insure he looked immaculate.
"Correct. Money is no object, and she seems to be basing her decision on who can amuse her the most. So now would be the time to turn up that charm you were bragging about."
"Right."
As they approached the table, Draco found his lips forming the smile that had always gotten him anything, or anyone, he wanted. His blonde hair fell perfectly over his face, partially covering one eye and he wore a form fitting black sweater with black slacks tailored to accentuate his…assets.
Mrs. Huntington looked up from her martini glass and smiled at them, her brown hair held in a tight bun high on her head. She was not what one would call gorgeous, or even pretty, but she looked classy and polished. Her neck and wrists were adorned with precious jewels, although not gaudily. When the two men arrived, she extended her hand and Draco took it gingerly in his own before kissing it and smiling. At his flirtatious actions she quirked an eyebrow and her lips formed a small smile.
When the waiter finally arrived to take their order, Draco, noting that they were in a French restaurant, ordered in the appropriate tongue. Hearing this, the socialite smiled brightly at him.
"Parlez-vous Français, Malfoy de Monsieur?"
(do you speak French, Mr. Malfoy?)
"Bien sûr, ma dame."
(Of course, my lady.)
She smiled again and nodded her head slightly. "Nice, Mr. Malfoy…very nice."
Everything had gone wonderfully. Draco's wit and Michael's worldliness had thoroughly entranced the aristocratic woman. All three of them were just beginning to loosen up, having ordered after dinner drinks, when she decided to change the subject.
"I don't hear too much news about your world, as I am a busy woman, but something *did* pique my interest earlier this morning. Did you know that Harry Potter is endorsing Firebolt brooms?"
Draco almost spit his drink out at the mention of his former lover, but managed to swallow gracefully. Michael immediately took the reigns. "We've heard something like that, yes."
"I would really think Mr. Bramble would have better sense than to hire a gay to be his spokesperson. Really…what kind of example does that set for the children who see his sinful face on all those posters?"
Michael instantly took charge, sending Draco a look that said 'down boy' and smiled at their now unwelcome companion. "I try not to bother myself with the business of others."
She scoffed. "Well you should start, Mr. Cameron. It is the responsibility of everyone in a community to keep it morally sound. What about you, Mr. Malfoy, how do you feel about this?"
Draco was caught off guard by her question and was unsure how to answer her. Thinking on his toes he decided to take Michael's route and be vague, although he was genuinely horrified by the woman's attitude towards his lifestyle. "I, myself, have been a very busy man as of late, Mrs. Huntington. I'm afraid I haven't had the time to consider it."
"Well I have and I think it's horrid." She glanced down at her watch and her voice regained its cheerfulness. "Look at the time. I have a grooming in an hour, so I really must be on my way."
Casting an apathetic look at Michael and a much warmer smile at Draco she began to gather her coat and purse. "Mr. Malfoy, my husband and I are hosting a fabulous party tomorrow night for the New Year. I would absolutely love for you to attend so that we can discuss our mutual interests further."
Draco nodded on instinct, anxious for her to leave. Before she took her exit, though, she turned and called over her shoulder.
"Ah yes…and be sure to bring your girlfriend! I would love to see what kind of woman can tame a dragon."
After she had disappeared completely Draco dropped his head to the table with a groan. "If only she knew…"
Michael chuckled softly. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. But I am certain about one thing."
"Oh? And what might that be?"
"I think I might be *too* charming for my own bloody good…"
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TBC
Thanks again you guys. I hope you liked this one. It's nowhere near as heavy as the last few. It was kind of hard to get out of that flow though…I think I write best when I'm crushing someone's soul. Call it a gift…
Anyways…like I said (and can't say enough), thanks.
Love and Kisses,
Reika
