Title: Draco/Dracoina
Author: Nameless Quill
Rating: P-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters/places/things you lot recognize are J.K Rowling's, not mine. The only gal who's mine is the reporter.
Author's Note: This was a challenge from a friend and inspired after watching Victor/Victoria. Have fun reading it, I loved writing it.
Chapter One: Extra! Extra! Read All About It!
Tuesday always will be the best day of the week to bring a chronicle to life on any person I happen to fall into an interview with. It wasn't packed with the expected Murphy-law mishaps Monday brought and it wasn't a dull stretch of daylight that Wednesday dragged along. Thursday and Friday were no good either and the weekend was a whole other playing field that I suffered to avoid. I don't deal with that mess, thank you.
Thus I begin this on a Tuesday, in the warm atmosphere of a English corner side pub that opened onto the bustling streets of London at the noon-time hour. My tea was sitting before me on a excellently crafted cherry oak table with a soft twisting of steam rising to meet the cigar smoke around me. My head was buried between the hundredth and hundredth and first pages of a newer crime novel, my thoughts completely absorbed in the mysteries surrounding poor Miss Larking's demise. I was oblivious to my surroundings. Even the delicate landscape paintings that dotted the wood-panel walls were lost to me, as were the fine marbling of the floor tiles. Even the hodgepodge of characters that flitted in and out, always in a hurry to get to the next scene of their lives disinterested me. I was just done with a successful chronicle and the Daily Prophet had paid me more then enough to buy a month's worth of cat food.
Lovely animals, by the by.
So you must believe that I was shocked dreadfully when my head jerked up and swiveled around to lock my gaze onto a rather pretty blond stepping in the door, her ice-blue eyes as captivating as the first blooms of spring. I preferred my hair long though, hers reached only to the tops of her slender shoulders but who made me the pinnacle of fashion?
I struggle to return my wandering attention back to the pages and find my willpower utterly lacking against the draw this newcomer holds on me. So, I give up and allow my eyes to meet hers and discover an odd fact.
The she was in fact a he. A remarkably feminine he, but on closer inspection I noted that the stranger was in fact very male. As I redid my study of him, I saw the slender build was instead a leaned body toned from athletics. The hair was in the style all Wizards were toting and the eyes were still as intriguing, now even more so. For once their sight settled on me I felt very womanly and decided to never jump to a hasty impression of gender ever again.
And then the gods showered me with their blessings for the man turned and walked straight to me, his eyes locked on mine and his stride steady. When the distance between us closed to less then a foot he opened his mouth and I discovered more surprising facts for the day.
His name was Draco Malfoy and he wanted me to tell the entire Wizarding World that he was not, in any way, shape, or form, gay.
For those of you who think my story stops here or deviants from this spot I offer you my total assurance that Draco Malfoy was my new client. I listened to his start of what was to be a long, most likely sad tale over the rim of my mug and nodded in the right spots and cooed sympathy in others. Already my mind was cleared of the clutter of mysteries and who-done-its and starting a methodical filing of information that the Malfoy lad was pouring out.
Besides, I couldn't like a fish like that get away, what kind of reporter do you take me for? Rita Skeeter? I'm insulted now. But I digress ...
I had to stop him before he blabbed everything to the ears of everyone and would therefore lose my monopoly of his tale. I reached into my hand-bag and pulled out my trusted pad-and pencil and jotted the address of my flat for him to take along with the appropriate time he should arrive for a meeting tonight. He took it, his eyes wary and mistrustful, but stopped talking all the same and silently drank in his tea.
I packed up quickly after that, eager to head home and ready everything for a proper interview. Plus I had forgotten to feed my five little monsters and they were sure to be destroying anything they could touch about now. With a pound note on the table, I eased out and wished him a good day before diving into the melee battle of a pedestrian walking in London.
I moved under the sights of Big Ben, and headed over the Tower bridge, smiling down onto the inky currents of the Thames before continuing, humming to myself, glad for the new work. Especially since Draco Malfoy was a very good-looking client.
A half-hour or so of walking and popping into small shops led me to the door of my studio-condo flat where I had the entire fifth floor to myself. I loved it, it was my work and my home. Inside, a quintet of monsters meowed up at me. I fed them, the food clattering into the bowls in a rhythm that stuck in my mind as I rolled over to my office and pulled up information about the enigmatic and not-gay Draco Malfoy.
He graduated from Hogwarts six months ago. Hogwarts, hey my great aunt worked there. I went there. I wonder how the old gal is doing? I make a mental note to owl Professor McGonagall, otherwise known as the woman who spoiled me from my tender age of five seconds to just last month. Then at the prodding from my cats, I dive into my work. Almost literally.
He was top of Slytherin house, his father was an idiot. His mother a bigger one for marrying the idiot and the only child of their disgusting union, thank God. I shook off a mental image creeping on me and tossed it in an imaginary trashcan. If I wanted anything done on this Tuesday, I didn't need that soiling my thought-train. I went off-track enough as it was. The image fluttered back in from the dead for a mere second and I scowled. My mind was a traitor. Yippie.
I struggled to continue living after that and collected the small piles of papers and parchments and rolled them up and then away. I had twenty mintues before Sex God in mortal guise knocked on my door. I fixed up a pot and threw together some snacks before the door chimed his arrival. I smoothed my frizzled red hair, and checked my appearance in the mirror that hated me and then opened it, inviting him in.
We went straight to buisness, him telling me that I was the only one he wanted this to come from. I didn't know why, the Daily was lukewarm to my stories at best even though the public loved them. For some reason, people liked the truth. Fancy that.
I pulled out my pad and pencil again and gestured for him to start.
He did. From the very begining.
"You see, I am a Malfoy, I'm about to be bethrothed and I need the world to know that no I'm not gay and I'm not interested in Harry Potter when I was male or when I was female."
When he was female? Well, this should be fun... wait. Did he say Harry Potter?
Author's Note: Well, there you have it. The first chapter of this story. The next will be up as son as Malfoy comes out from his hiding spot. Feedback will help.
Preview of next Chapter: Draco gasped awake from the dream and reached a trembling hand to his forehead. He never wanted one of those again. He pushed the covers off and stepped to his feet, his eyes meeting his reflection. Then he screamed.