Ornately Ornate: A Harry Potter Crack!Fic

Disclaimer: This is truly a wtf story. Don't say you weren't warned. The challenge was "Draco, Harry, the room of requirement, a great deal of embarrassment and awkwardness". I chose to extend it slightly, as you can see.

Harry Potter was tired of fangirls. No, scratch that. He was sick, tired, frustrated, and utterly, supremely annoyed with fangirls. He had spent the entire day running from literal hoards of the horrible things, and had finally found a moment of temporary reprieve and quiet in the room of requirement.

He took a moment to check himself over: "hot, sexy scar? Check. Messy black hair? Check. Insane amounts of completely unfounded teen angst due to the death of a slimy, bearded convict? Check." Harry was good to go.

When he walked up to the ornately ornate door of the room of requirement, he found that it was stuck. Or locked. Or just jammed on account of some crazy fangirl having fun writing an msn challenge. He whipped around, having heard a strange, leathery rustle.

"Potter."

Harry jumped a mile. Or 160 934.4 centimeters, whichever.

"I've been expecting you."

Harry noticed a large leather chair which was slowly turning around to reveal none other than Draco Malfoy...in leather. Oh, god.

"Wait, why have you been expecting me? I only came in here to escape from crazy fangirls!"

"Well, you see Potter, I've gotten wind of some...special information about you. Information that involves wanting...me. In leather. In the room of requirement, on a bed of feathers. Or nails, I forget which."

"Um...Malfoy?"

Malfoy paused in the act of carefully peeling off his pants.

"Yes, Potter."

"Um...why are you doing this?"

"THE FANGIRLS," Malfoy shouted, suddenly sounding close to madness. He continued: "they're controlling my every move and desire! It's crazy!"

"But...Malfoy, I don't...want you. I mean...there's someone else."

"Potter, I don't want you either! I couldn't care less who your "someone else" it. Wait, unless it's Hermione. Because honestly, just...no. And these pants are chafing like mad, I don't understand how father wears them! A comfort thing, he says."

Harry stared at Malfoy, horrified.

"Well, you know. All the inbreeding. It's gotta show somewhere."

"Actually, I was talking about your blatant reference to an H/Hr ship," Harry said, embarrassed. I mean...the leather pants...you know, if there wasn't someone else, I mean, I'd..."

Harry blushed.

"I know, Potter. Me too."

Suddenly, without any warning or forethought, there was a loud banging at the door. Harry and Draco looked at each other in alarm, Draco quite naked by now and Harry quite not.

"THE FANGIRLS!"

A slow, soft voice came though the ornately ornate door.

"Not exactly, boys."

Albus Dumbledore gambolled into the room, wearing splendid robes of periwinkle/mauve/midnight blue/canary yellow/purest, never-trodden snow white.

Harry ran at the door. At first, Malfoy figured Harry was running past Dumbledore. "Well, with good reason," thought Malfoy. "I'd rather be running from fangirls than in the company of a Muggle loving caca-brain!"

A moment later, the sky fell. All of Malfoy's synapses misfired at once, as he realized that Harry was running toward Dumbledore, with open arms, hair flying in a very recently, magically generated wind. With even more horror, Malfoy realized that Dumbledore was running toward Harry, in the same open armed fashion.

"Harry!" cried Dumbledore.

"Dumby!" exclaimed Harry.

"Fuck." said Malfoy.

He picked up his leather pants and got the hell out of the room of requirements, as fast as his thoroughly naked legs could carry him. The second he got into the hallway, he registered loud shrieks coming from all directions.

The fangirls.

Draco lay down and began to coat himself in whipped cream.

No point in trying to prevent the inevitable.

-fin-