Disclaimer: If you think we own Harry Potter, you're a loony. And a crackbaby. And you must give us tons of moohlah.
A/N: Holy Christflakes! We're alive! Gosh golly gee willikers. Here is your long awaited chapter eight, and it is our longest chapter yet! Enjoy, pretties!
Snoogles and schmuzzlumps, Michi and Elizarita
Harry Potter and the 'Magical' Muffin Mischief
Chapter 8: P0z0rz Galore-z0rz
Draco Malfoy is actually a rather patient person. However, when squirming excitedly in his desk while waiting for the lunch bell to ring, it is very easy to mistake him as impatient. One must be wary of these slight details that may seem to support falsehoods. Even as the Slytherin Prince runs like mad to his private rooms as soon as the bell rings, knocking small children out of the way and cackling gleefully, he still retains all the poise and grace that good breeding have brought him.
Panting heavily and sweat—er—glowing (a Malfoy never sweats) from his exertion, Blondie skidded to a halt in front of his guarding portrait and blurted out his French rather vigorously between gasps. He skipped gaily (ha ha…gay) inside, locked his door, and dove onto his plush bed. After rolling about for several minutes and giggling like a regular PPSG ((A/N: Pre-Pubescent SchoolGirl, obviously)), Draco abruptly sat up, smoothed down his hair and shirt, and extricated his wand from his pocket. Rolling up the sleeves of his school robes, he faced his mirror and smirked. "Right," he whispered, "let's do this. Prepare yourself, Hogwarts!"
-----
Harry glumly munched on his peanut butter-chococheese-syrup-marshmallow sandwich. He cast surreptitious glances towards the Slytherin table, but the object of his affection was not present. Harry sighed despondently and laid his head in his hands. Ron, spotting his opportunity, deftly snagged the remnant of Harry's discarded sandwich and stuffed it greedily into his mouth. He then turned towards his dejected companion and asked through a mouthful of decidedly sticky sandwich, "Whassa matta, Hahwe? 'Oo alwigh'?"
Harry wiped clumps of peanut butter and cheese off of his cheek and replied, with a heavy sigh, "Yeah, Ron, I'm fine." Ron looked at him quizzically for a moment before turning his attention towards stacking his tots in a pyramid, Pedro-style.
"Hey guys," a cheerful voice chirped from across the table. Harry looked up from his plate and stared. Ron happened to glance up while placing the final tot on his stack. His hand shook and he toppled his whole fried potato edifice.
Neither of the boys spoke for several minutes. Finally, Harry gathered enough of his wits back to stammer, "H-h-hermione? Wot? Er-um-what h-happened?"
Hermione smiled and flipped her straightened and smoothed hair. "Oh, nothing, I just felt like looking nice this afternoon, that's all."
"Hermione, are you wearing make-up?" Ron whispered.
"Yeah, is that my eyeliner?" Harry demanded. Ron threw him a scandalized look ((A/N: CATCH!)) and Harry quickly blurted, "Uh, um, I mean…you see, what I meant to say was…er…that eye make-up really makes your big peepers pop." Harry blushed and looked down at his plate.
Ron looked incredulously at Harry for a moment before turning once more to Hermione, who had taken a seat across from the two of them and was helping herself to some chicken salad. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and said, "So, um. Any reason you felt like looking extra special this afternoon?" Hermione merely smiled slyly and shook her head. Ron gulped, and a lovely flush spread across his cheeks, contrasting hideously with his hair.
"Well, that's a relief then," Harry interjected. "Silly me. I was afraid that it might be more than coincidence that you did this right before Potions since I saw you reading that book for insufferable know-it-all's about how to make the potions master fall in lov—"
"Silencio!" Hermione screeched. Harry immediately silenced, although he continued to mouth out words. Hermione blushed slightly, grabbed an apple, and with a courteous, albeit clipped, "See you in class," rushed out of the Hall.
"What was that about, eh?" Ron asked Harry after having stared after Hermione's exit. She had left her school robes open and, since her exit was fairly quick (she had almost sprinted out the door), they flapped up behind her, making it painfully obvious that she had clearly hiked up her skirt several inches. Ron swore that she was wearing a lacy garter on her left thigh.
Harry tried to say something; clearly he had already forgotten that he had just been silenced. After several failed attempts, he simply shook his head and shrugged.
"What's that, mate? Did your voice give out? Sorry about that…Madame Pomfrey might have something for you," Ron said sympathetically, patting his friend lightly on the shoulder. It seemed that he had also forgotten about Harry's wordless state. Harry sighed (soundlessly) and slumped forward onto the table.
-----
When the pair finally made their way down to the dungeons to wait outside the classroom door, they found Hermione nervously smoothing her hair and checking herself every few seconds in a compact mirror. She kindly un-silenced Harry before the doors opened and the students took their seats. Harry sat next to an empty chair; his assigned partner was not present and Harry was slightly worried. What if something happened to Draco? He wasn't at lunch and now he's missing Potions. Something must be seriously wrong...maybe he was attacked by feral parakeets...or dirty gym socks...oh dear...
Draco's absence did not go unnoticed by Professor Snape, although he did fail to notice his "favorite" know-it-all batting her heavily-caked-with-mascara eyelashes at him ((A/N: Fun fact: in the 60s, fluttering one's eyelashes at someone was called "giving him/her the hairy eyeball")). After writing the lesson's instructions on the board, he turned to scan the classroom and noticed the empty seat immediately. "Has anyone seen Draco Malfoy?" he asked the class with, if possible, a tiny hint of concern in his voice. No one answered him, so he sat down and scribbled something on a bit of parchment. "Zabini," he called when he had finished, "here is a pass, go check his chambers to see if he is there." Blaise swaggered smarmily up to the desk, subtly pinching Harry's tush on the way up and eliciting a satisfying squeak from the bespectacled boy. Blaise threw a wink over his shoulder at Harry, who blushed a most charming shade of fuchsia. Blaise was about to take the note from Snape when the large doors to the classroom flew open loudly. The entire class turned around and gaped. There were quite a few crashes as students dropped glassware, and several things toppled off of Snape's desk as he stood swiftly.
In the doorway stood a very blonde, very tan figure dressed in an impeccably crisp uniform bearing the Slytherin crest.
(Somewhere, miles away and sitting in a secluded spot at his computer, a strapping young lad that some call Thomas fainted, fell heavily out of his computer chair, cracked his head open on the floor, and died. He was promptly buried in a pair of his sister's jeans and hobo gloves. Michelle cried at his funeral.)
"LIEK OH EM GEE!" screamed Snape, as one from the warm waters of the PPSG. "Is that FABIO! Oh, Mr. Fabio, I'm your biggest fan! Do you have any tips for me? Like, am I a summer or a winter? And I was wondering about my hair…" Snape twittered and dithered on excessively for several moments before casually stuttering into an awed silence. He looked slightly sweaty and was twitching his fingers ever so slightly.
"No, Severus, it is just the Magnificent Malfoy," declared Draco dearest in a very masculine voice. Neville almost—wait, no, did—wet himself from sheer enchantment.
"Oh, um… right. Mr. Darling Marvelous—I mean, Draco Malfoy, please take your seat. Here. Right up front. Just centimeters from my desk where I can stroke your long, glorious hai—um…tee hee?" Snape finished this mess-up rather well in Harry's opinion; he wished that his slip-ups could be handled oh so suavely.
Draco smiled (Pansy, Lavender, and Seamus all keeled over onto the floor with comically loud thuds) and slid in next to Harry. Harry gulped audibly and fidgeted with his glasses until Snape finally regained his senses and began class.
"Hello, Hare-bear," Malfoy purred in his deliciously macho voice.
"Um… H-h-hey, Hawt-Stuff," Hare-bear blurted out. Blaise looked considerably put-out.
Hawt-Stuff smiled slyly. Yesssssss, everything is going to plan.
Not even the winds mysteriously blowing in and out of Blaise's purple locks (…yet another thing Draco tried to destroy Blaise with. How can he see where he's going if his hair is blowing about? All the winds did, however, was make it seem as though Blaise's hair was so bello that it actually looked like what the products in Harry's "zines" advertised. When Draco tried to summon them back, the winds decided they liked blowing about Blaise's delectable face, and, gosh darn-it, they were going to stay there!) could distract the Hogwarts population from Draco's charming new appearance. During that day, he witnessed thirty-seven freak faintings, twelve pants-wettings, five unexplainable choking attacks, and two disappointed, autograph-craving professors.
Blaise slumped down moodily next to the glowing Draco at dinner. Not much eating was going on that night, as most of the school sat gazing at the Magnificent Malfoy and sighing gleefully. Blaise was thoroughly annoyed that Draco seemed to be enjoying every second of it, and when the Italian boy happened to glance up at the Gryffindor table and spot a pair of gorgeous green eyes gazing reverently upon Draco, he snapped.
"Look, just because I all of a sudden turn absolutely bello gives you no right to go tan and change your voice and such," Blaise whispered furiously to the blonde next to him. "I don't know why you're doing this, but it has to stop. You're baiting my prey."
Draco turned to his Italian companion and smiled broadly. "Precisely," he whispered. Blaise opened his mouth in shock and raised his eyebrows, then turned an extremely annoyed look on Draco and scooted away from him.
"Oh, Drakey-pie, you don't know what you've just done…" Blaise crooned softly as he absently prodded his banana pudding. "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into…"
Actually, Drakey-pie really didn't have a clue, for little did he know that all beings with even an ounce of common sense have always feared the wrath of an Italian Stallion. Even Crabbe and Goyle squirmed in their seats a little.
"Vincent, he's talking to the dessert again. We best get a move on before the cheese course!"
"Right you are, ol' chap!" And with that, Crabbe and Goyle skedaddled to their quarters like two amazing, bouncing ferrets on a warm summer's day chasing after a waft of meat on the breeze.
-----
Harry swallowed the last of his juice and glanced over at Ron, who was still eating enthusiastically. Harry gave a very loud, fake sigh and stretched, then excused himself from dinner. But dear Master Potter was not fatigued in the least. Actually, he needed to get away from the table because his fork seemed to keep missing his mouth since he could not turn his eyes away from the fabulously tan Draco. Indeed, as he made his way out of the Hall, he ran into several (read: around forty-two) people and the door (twice) because his attention was diverted by the Slytherin Fabio-look-a-like.
Draco noticed the abrupt departure of his bespectacled quarry and decided to act quickly. He blew a kiss to the grumbling Blaise, stood, winked at several people, and exited the Hall quickly, yet gracefully, to the sound of sighs, whistles, and muffled thumps.
Harry had just entered a secret passageway behind a tapestry on the third floor when he felt something grab at the back of his robes. He fell backwards rather gracelessly like a hippo attempting to do a pirouette and landed upon a decidedly soft, warm, good smelling lump. Harry blinked stupidly for a moment, wondering why this lump had grabbed him and also why it was wearing Draco's cologne and clothes. He sat for a good two and a half minutes pondering this quandary until the lump groaned, "Ow. Mind getting off me, Potter?"
Harry jumped back, startled, and watched Draco Malfoy sit up and brush his robes off while muttering, "Wow. I never thought I'd utter those words…"
"D-d-d-draco—er—Blondie! What do you think you're doing, trying to steal my robes! How odd! I mean, really!" Harry exclaimed, shifting rapidly from awed to indignant to scandalized to patronizing all in the course of one hideous jumble of phrases. He made a perturbed "tsk" noise and added a considerably drawn-out "Jeeeeeeez" for effect.
Draco rolled his eyes, then turned and smiled slyly at Harry. Harry gulped. He felt rather like a sumptuously plump gazelle that had just stumbled upon a ravenous leopard in the tall Serengeti grass. He slid backwards slightly across the passageway floor until he felt his back press against the hard stone wall. Draco crawled towards him on all fours and stopped until his face was only inches from Harry's. Harry felt completely and utterly trapped.
Draco let out a soft chuckle and whispered, "Well, fancy meeting you here, Harry." He leaned in slowly, yet, unfortunately, Harry slid to the side and thudded heavily against the floor. The mixture of tan "Fabio" Draco leaning in towards him and the sound of his name being uttered so hawtly was apparently too much for him to handle, and so, as a result, he fainted.
Draco sat back on his heels and scowled. Stupid Potter. I was so, so close this time! Draco sat back against the wall opposite Harry and pouted, folding his arms tightly across his chest and jutting out his bottom lip. However, as he gazed upon the limp, drooling form of Boy Wonder in front of him, his expression softened a little. How could I even dream of being annoyed at a face like that?
"You DRUGGED him!" came a shocked voice from behind Draco.
Draco started at the sudden sound from the intruder and quickly spun around to find a startled Blaise, one hand covering his open-mouthed "o" of astonishment.
"No, no, Blaise, you silly Italian, this isn't what it looks—"
"I can't believe you!" Blaise cried shrilly. He ranted loudly in Italian for the next three minutes and seventeen seconds before returning to English. "This is so utterly unfair! Look, I know you like Harry too, and I know you wanted a taste when I told you how überly scrumptious he is, but this…this is too much! And I bet this is all some part of your plan to take him to the Halloween dance too, isn't it! And I've never—"
This time it was Draco's turn to interrupt. He held up a delicately manicured hand and asked quickly, "Wait, wait. What? Halloween dance? I haven't heard about this…"
Blaise tossed his luscious locks impatiently. "Ohhh, that's right," he said sardonically, "you were in too big of a hurry tonight to hear the old coot's announcement. Let me explain." He gave Draco a sickeningly, sarcastically sweet smile as he took him by the hand and dragged him away towards the dungeons. "I want a fair shot at asking him, too, so you're coming with me." Harry was left on the floor in the middle of the hidden hallway.
Five minutes later, several floors lower, and after much yelling (with both French and Italian peppered into the English discourse), both Slytherin sex gods had drawn their wands and were assuming dueling stances on either side of the wide corridor leading towards the dungeons. Each glared at the other from under perfectly plucked eyebrows and looked on the point of exploding when Professor Snape happened to saunter around the corner, cape billowing out fantastically behind him and hair flipping beautifully as he shook his hips seductively. He paused for a moment to survey the scene before languidly drawling, "Expelliarmus."
He caught the oncoming wands with ease as both Drake-cake and Blaise-pie turned their glares upon their favorite Potions Master. Snape pocketed the wands and said, "We simply cannot have two of the best-looking students in this school attempting to maul each other. That would leave Potter as the only eye-candy for me to gaze upon while teaching potio—" Snape trailed off as Blaise and Draco eyed him quizzically before glancing around nervously and walking away. "You may reclaim your wands from me tomorrow," he called over his shoulder to the boys behind him.
Draco glanced questioningly at his Italian compadre. Blaise shrugged. They awkwardly shuffled about for a moment before Blaise spoke. "We need to make a deal," he said.
"Fair enough," answered Draco. "But first, enlighten me on this whole dance thing. I'm intrigued."
"Well, soon after you left, Dumbledore announced that there will be a Halloween dance this year for the upper three years. Dressing in costumes is required, and there will be two singles contests, male and female, and a couples contest for the best costumes with 'impressive 'magical' remunerations,' in the words of the barmy codger himself."
Draco savored this new bit of information for a moment as a young child savors his first Fluffy Puff Malloween Marshmallow before responding, "Fair enough. So, what are the terms of your truce, Zabini?"
Blaise pondered for a moment, then rejoined his fair-haired friend. "We both ask Harry to the dance at the same time, explaining to him that he may accept the invitation from whichever one of us he chooses. We will give him a week to make his decision, and during that week we may bestow whatever gifts and attentions upon him that we like." Blaise looked very pleased with his plan.
Draco looked nonplussed. "That's it?" he asked disdainfully.
Blaise smirked. "Yes. And may the best Italian win." Draco rolled his eyes. Blaise snuck a hand around Draco's newly-tanned shoulders and gently led him back in the direction from whence they had just come. "Let's explain our deal to Harry so he may begin mulling over his decision."
Draco smiled smugly to himself. Fool. No one can out-do a Malfoy in the subtle art of seduction. Bring it, my Italian friend.
Blaise smiled smugly to himself. Fool. No one can out-do an Italian in the subtle art of seduction. Bring it, my Fabio-like friend.
-----
Harry came-to when he felt an odd tickling sensation at his feet. He looked down to find Dobby pulling off his shoes. "Oi!" he yelled in annoyance. Dobby started and looked up, frightened, at a tousled and bleary-eyed Master Potter. He squeaked, hastily pulled off Harry's sock, and took off down the hallway. "Rape! RAPE! Fire, thief, RAPE!" yelled Harry, sprinting wobblingly after the house-elf like a rather ungainly newborn foal.
Draco and Blaise felt an odd sensation between their ankles. They looked down and, finding nothing, glanced behind them to see a house-elf hurtling down the corridor at break-neck speed, clutching a rather gnarly sock in its hand.
Draco and Blaise glanced at one another, shrugged, and faced forward just in time to see Harry Potter coming straight for them. Eighteen hundredths of a second later, the three collided and landed sprawled on the floor in a rather compromising tangle of limbs.
Blaise laughed. "See, Draco, I told you a threesome would be possible. If we just arrange ourselves like this and ---"
"Oh, do be quiet, Blaise!" Draco sighed in exasperation while untangling himself from the two others with all the dignity he could muster.
Harry looked at Draco, then glanced at Blaise, who was eyeing him hungrily. He scooted away from the Italian, adjusted his spectacles, and said "Well, what's all this, then?" in an overly casual voice which indicated that he was desperately trying to play off the fact that he had run into them in the first place.
Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation. Blaise let out a small laugh and scooted closer to Harry. Putting his arm nonchalantly around a slightly jumpy and suspicious Harry, he said silkily, "Well, well, welllll…just the person Draco and I were hoping to run into, isn't it, Drakey-pie?"
Draco rolled his eyes (again) and said, through gritted teeth, "Quite. Could you get your arm off of Harry, Blaise, dear?" Blaise's face fell and he reluctantly drew back.
There was a rather awkward silence for several moments. Draco sighed in annoyance and examined his chipping manicure. Blaise folded his arms and pouted, lower lip jutting forward fantastically. Harry sat and examined the ceiling, scratching his head and littering the floor around him with bits of old food and crumbs. At last, comprehension seemed to dawn on him, and, as eloquently as a toddler with a mouthful of peanut butter, Potter exclaimed, "Me! Run into! Haha! Yes, understand about you and then and me." He smiled up at Draco, looking quite pleased with himself.
"What?" Draco and Blaise asked, thoroughly confused.
"Sillies. I just figured out that I'm theone you ran into, so you were looking for me!" He flashed a toothy grin in pride. Draco and Blaise shared a look, then shrugged.
"Erm, yes, Ha—I mean—Potter, we were looking for you," Draco responded suavely. "We have a proposition for you."
Here Blaise nudged Harry and, with a wink, whispered (loudly), "Heh. I'll give you a proposition you can't refuse!" Harry looked confused and Blaise smiled smugly.
"A-hem," Draco cleared his throat in an agitated, girly sort of way before continuing. "So, here's the nub and thrust of the matter. As you may or may not know, there is going to be a costumed Halloween dance for—"
"A COSTUMED DANCE!" Harry looked positively enraptured. One could almost see his pupils morphing into little hearts.
"Yes, yes," Blaise cooed, patting the twitching, bouncing, bespectacled brunette's cranium soothingly. "So, this is the big question…" Blaise held up his fingers and counted three…two…one…
"Harry Potter, will you go to the dance with me?" Blaise and Draco chanted in unison.
Harry stared at them both for a moment. He seemed torn… (well, that's a bit of an understatement). Harry was trembling, glancing from one boy to the other so much that he looked like some odd, life-size bobble-head, as he bit his bottom lip and wrung his hands, which were sweating profusely. How can I choose between the Gracious Italian Giver of Man-Bags and Mr. Darling Marvelous—er—Draco?
"Now, now, you don't need to fret. You don't have to decide to pick me right now," Blaise laughed.
"No, you don't have to tell me that you're bringing me until the day before," Draco added.
"Well, farewell. I'll leave you to your decision," Blaise said, leaning over to hug Harry so that he could surreptitiously whisper, "Pick me, Harry, dear, and I'll make it a night to remember!" in Harry dear's ear.
As Blaise sauntered away, Draco shuffled his feet a bit, nervously looking anywhere but Potter. Finally, he looked down at the boy on the floor, smiled anxiously, and squeaked, "Well, I best be going to bed." He laughed nervously, pulled Harry into an awkward hug, and whispered, "Make the decision that will make you happy, Harry." Planting a quick peck on Harry's cheek, Malfoy blushed and scuttled away quickly, albeit spastically and sporadically.
Harry sat alone on the floor, touching the spot on his cheek where Draco had kissed him and musing to himself. He soon grew weary and, being too lazy to return to the Tower, simply curled up right there on the floor and went to sleep.
-----
"Dennis, is it alive?"
"I'm not quite sure, Colin."
"No, look, it's breathing!"
Dennis and Colin Creevey had come across the slumbering Harold on their daily 3 A.M. walk. They rolled the grumbling mass over to find their dear friend.
"Dennis, it's Harry! What a perfect opportunity to use him as a male model!"
"Oh, Colin, you are too clever! (Insert gay hand-flip here) Let's take him to our secret studio!"
Harry awoke to find himself seated promiscuously on a sparkly, lavender satin-draped crate in Snape's potion storeroom wearing only a scandalously short plaid skirt, rainbow-striped suspenders, Frank-N-Furter pumps, and a rather fashionable mop bucket perched atop numerous pigtails on his head.
"Wow, that must have been some party last night," he mused until he recognized the two other figures in the room. Colin was energetically snapping pictures of him, and Dennis tottered about shining a large purple spotlight on him.
"Harry, you naughty little monkey, you're awake!" Colin exclaimed. Indeed, Harry had woken up to his second worst nightmare (the first had been the time Ron decided to try on his rather flamboyant and risqué-ly cut lederhosen for midnight yodeling with Mrs. Norris).
Meanwhile, Draco and Blaise were, at this very moment, sauntering by the storeroom, arms linked, looking quite put-out at being together.
---Flashback time, yo---
At 3:54 A.M. exactly, Draco leaned over to turn off his 'magical' alarm after having pressed the snooze button six times. He freshened up (yet still tried to maintain that sexy, just-woke-up-and-rolled-out-of-bed-at-four-in-the-morning look), donned his robe and slippers, and slipped stealthily into the quiet corridor outside his chambers.
Several steps later, Draco found himself roughly tackled to the ground from behind by someone a hairsbreadth taller and rather good-smelling. He made to scream—er, no, yell, and not at all like a little girl—but a soft, smooth hand was covering his mouth.
"MMMPHSHPHHH!" he attempted, but to no avail.
"Shhh," an all-too-familiar voice whispered in his ear.
"Mbphzz? Ngh mphh mh, nhh pftth!" Draco began squirming violently under his captor, whom he had correctly identified as Mbphzz—er—Blaise.
Blaise responded softly, "I'll take my hand off if you promise to be quiet." Draco nodded fervently and Blaise graciously withdrew his hand.
"Blaise, what in the name of bleeding hell do you—"
"Hush. Sh," Blaise interrupted. The two boys sat in awkward silence for several moments before Blaise asked conversationally, "So, what are you doing up this early?"
Draco blushed slightly, thanking Merlin that the halls were rather poorly lit. "Ah, well, you see…" he trailed off. Blaise looked at him quizzically. "Um, it's not early at all," scoffed Draco. "I'm merely taking my morning stroll through the halls and have no intention whatsoever of going to check on Har—er—Potter in that secret passageway on the third floor."
Blaise smirked at Draco before silkily replying, "Well, I have the same goal as you. And I have no intention at all to check on Harry either, so maybe we should take our stroll together and see where our feet just happen to lead us." With that, he looped arms with Draco and started to strut down the corridor.
---End flashback… peace out---
When they reached the door to Snape's private quarters, the Slytherin twosome was rather shocked to see Hermione Granger tiptoe out of the door, giggling madly and wearing a translucent babydoll lingerie ensemble under a very familiar black cloak.
"Granger? The hell?" Draco managed to splutter.
Hermione blushed splotchily under her smeared mascara and hideous body glitter as she quickly thought up a lame anecdote to distract the boys.
"Well, I, um, was just going to Snape for some, er, modeling tips. You know, since he's such a fantastic model and all now."
"Well, why are you wearing his cloak? It's sooo last season," Fashionista-Extraordinaire Blaise Zabini countered.
"It…was…chilly? Um, tee-hee?" Hermione gave them the hairy eyeball in, what she thought was, a very charming manner before scurrying off, a faint scent of oddly familiar aftershave trailing behind her.
Minutes later as the slightly shaken Draco-and-Blaise set passed the door of the storeroom, someone hurtled out suddenly, toppling the three of them. The offending someone squeaked in fright and attempted to get away quickly, but painfully discovered that his suspenders had become entangled with the tie on Draco's robe.
"Erm," said a rather sheepish, blushing Harry.
Blaise smirked. "My, aren't you fashionable this morning, my treacle-y treat?"
Draco said nothing; he merely quirked an eyebrow at Potter's odd togs. Harry's blush deepened several shades. Harry sprinted away, holding down the back of his miniscule skirt so as to retain the few shreds of dignity he still had, which were as scarce as Ron's chest hairs (he had three, thank you very much, of which he was very proud).
Draco and Blaise shrugged and turned their separate ways; Blaise to his secret, 'magical' spa, and Draco to his bedroom.
Draco entered his bedroom, yawning gracefully, and kicked off his fluffy slippers. He made his way over to his large bed and was in the process of hanging his robe on one of the posts when he happened to glance at an unusually large bump in his usually pristinely made Hello Kitty bed. It was quivering and jiggling and giggling and very green. Draco quirked an eyebrow and softly prodded the lump, eliciting a muffled, high-pitched "Teee-heeee" from the alien object.
"Potter?" Draco queried.
"Tee-hee. No, sorry, Blondie, no one's here except for, um, pillows and, er, talking bed…thingies, but you can leave a message after the beep. BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—"
"Potter, quit your obnoxious sound effects!" Blondie screeched.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE (Insert pause for loud, gasping breath) EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!"
At this point, Blondie was quite fed-up, so he furiously yanked his covers off of the lump to reveal Harry curled up and contorted like a pretzel, his skirt riding up precariously and promiscuously to reveal his 'magical' Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles briefs. Michelangelo and Raphael grinned cheekily at Draco as Leonardo scarfed down an entire pizza and Donatello practiced his sweet bow staff skills.
Harry peered up embarrassedly at Draco from under one of his legs. He waggled his pinky in a nervous wave (à la Angel from RENT) and stuttered "Oh—er—D-d-dr-drac-co, uh, um, huh, h-how n-n-nice of you t-to drop-p in…"
Draco was about to make a scathingly witty remark, but was cut off by a rather large yawn. It was, after all, only several minutes past four.
Harry spluttered embarrassedly as Blondie clambered under the covers next to him. "Oh, shut it and scoot, Potter," Draco told him through a yawn. "I'll deal with you once I've had some sleep." They were both asleep within minutes, Draco murmuring softly to himself and Harry snoring and grumbling rather loudly.
-----
Draco awoke to an acrid, burning smell assaulting his delicate nostrils. He rolled over and blinked blearily to find Potter, decked out in a frilly apron and overlarge chef hat, attempting to shove a ridiculously huge quantity of doughy something (which looked as though it contained several socks, Blaise's shampoo, some feathers, and Hagrid's heinous spotted tie) into his beloved Barbie Easy-Bake Oven.
Draco shot up immediately as the full magnitude of the situation biotch-slapped him hard in the face. "Potter…" he growled feral-ly.
Potter turned around to smile sweetly at the blonde. "Morning, Cupcake, I'm making you cupcakes." He giggled at his, um, witty remark and returned to jamming his creation into the oven.
Draco tackled him, knocking him away from his precious oven. He pointed to a half-finished jigsaw puzzle in the corner. "What's this? Why didn't you finish it?"
"Oh, Draaaaaco, I was bored!" Harry whined.
Draco shoved him over to it and said sternly, "Finish your jigsaw, Potter, then we'll talk." Harry pouted and resumed reassembling the 5,000 piece 'magical' jumbo puzzle. It was considerably harder than a normal puzzle since the picture decided that it liked moving about as a normal wizarding picture would, so Harry was having a bit of difficulty.
Draco watched the struggling Potter for a minute with interest. Odd…he sticks out his tongue when he concentrates… He turned back to his oven and, with a wave of his wand, it was oh so clean and sparkly. Draco's glance then happened to land upon a large basket under the window, slightly obscured by a shimmering curtain. He pulled the curtain to the side to unveil a veritable mountain of his cellophane-wrapped wares. I had almost forgotten about these! He poked one of the muffins and found that it was rather hard. Additionally, some of the muffins had oddly colored mold growing on them. Ew ew ooooer…these have gone bad…I best dispose of them and make a fresh batch. Checking to make sure that Scarhead was intently focused upon his puzzle, he dumped the gnarly muffins out of the window.
Now, the windows in Draco's chamber did not really lead outside, as his rooms were located in the general area of the dungeons. Instead, they were charmed to look like the windows several floors above which overlooked a charming little courtyard on the other side of the castle. Anything dropped out of his "windows", oddly enough, fell out of these windows. So, this is how Draco's stale creations happened to land on a rather pensive Ron, who was at this very moment pacing said courtyard in the pre-dawn light.
"Alas!" screeched Ron, "A shower of muffins!" The muffins pelted him quite hard, and he landed gracelessly in a mighty fine shrubbery.