Author Notes: WARNING!! Irreverent, vulgar, non-canon Harry Potter fanfiction to follow! Problem areas include, but are not limited to: horny teens, semi-steamy erotic scenes, prolific use of the F-word, profane language in general, Potterverse anachronisms, Americanisms, badly executed Britishisms, thinly veiled Mary Sue bashing, fanfiction bashing, subconscious bashing of sorts I'm not even aware of, and, oh yeah, implied Slash.
That being said, I'm not hating on fanfiction. I enjoy it (for the most part), I really do. I just think it's crazy what people come up with sometimes. So please do not take any of this personally if you happen to "ship" a certain couple and think I'm being unfair. I really just wrote this story to have fun.
Besides, there's no way I'd spend this much time and effort on something I didn't like.
Oh yeah, and pay attention to the italics. They matter.
Disclaimer: Anything that sounds like a trademarked name probably is. I don't own anything. Much love to J.K. Rowling for creating the Potterverse in which so many of us are entangled. Anybody who doesn't know HP et al belongs to Rowling should be severely whacked about the head and neck with a wet noodle. Thanks and props also go to Scholastic for bringing the Potterverse to America and Bloomsbury for making it happen for fans in the UK, and everyone else involved the whole world over.
If I have inadvertently used a name and/or title you have already used for your own story, I apologize. I did not do a search for any of the titles or names I used, and therefore, I am not singling out any particular story or person.
Draco Malfoy and the Fanfiction of Iniquity
Draco Malfoy was aggrieved. Very, very aggrieved.
It was the week before the exams, emotions were running high and tensions thick enough to cut, and Draco thought he'd unwind a bit by vegging out in front of the Internet for awhile.
In spite of computers being purely Muggle-born inventions they were everywhere these days at Hogwarts. The professors had initially been against this intrusion but when it was discovered that Dumbledore often spent his lunch hours posting video blogs on Youtube, there was nothing they could do to keep it out of the hands of the students.
Pretty soon laptops and desktops were arriving by much weary and beleaguered owl post. Draco had sent a request for the brand new, state of the art Macbook Air, but instead received a used, battered Dell with a note attached from his parents, who were "very hurt and disgusted that their beloved son would demand a piece of muggle garbage," and claimed "this 'device' was recently confiscated from the house elves, and he should feel very grateful they even sent it at all." The grubby fingerprints and My Little Pony stickers just added insult to injury.
But this is not why Draco was aggrieved, not really. He was aggrieved because, on the night in question, Draco Malfoy, conceited boy that he was, Googled his name to see what would come up, and he stumbled across the deep, dark, disturbing facet of the Internet called "Fan Fiction."
His name came up, all right. Again. And again. And again.
Him snogging Ginny Weasley. Him canoodling the rest of that godawful Weasel family. Him banging that stuck up mudblood Granger. Him with Crabbe or Goyle, or both at the same time. Him and transfer students, his teachers, and even his own family. Him and Millicent Bulstrode. Him and Moaning Myrtle. Him and Peeves. Him and apparently anybody he had ever met or ever would meet.
They were varied, inventive, shocking, and oh so very, very disturbing.
But worst of all, worse than all to those combined, were the ones of him… and Harry Potter.
At first Draco was stunned. He read through the first few stories feeling completely numb, barely comprehending what he was reading. Then came the denial. He just couldn't believe anyone would write him in a sex scene with Hagrid. Quickly following the denial came a brief period of reasoning: Clearly, he would never do it with any of the people mentioned - well, Pansy, maybe but she was the biggest bitch he had ever met, and he couldn't take that kind of competition. Last of all came the anger, the seething, raging, bitter anger at the endless influx of scenes with him and Potter going at it like bunnies.
It was a fucking train wreck, is what it was. He couldn't stop reading, couldn't stop scrolling through the titles, skimming the descriptions, deciphering the weird acronyms (DMxSSxGW=WTF?!). And he was at it all night, unable to tear his eyes away. Eventually sleep claimed him, and his dreams were mercifully absent of naked bodies doing the nasty.
The following morning, however, was a different manner.
*****************************
Draco came into the common room like he did most mornings, with a scowl on his face and a sharp word for anyone who looked at him for too long. He banished two younger Slytherins from the couch and flopped down on it, taking up as much space as he could.
Last night… well, last night was clearly a mistake. All those stories couldn't possibly have been real. He was tired, stressed out, and likely delusional. He had probably fallen asleep in front of his ugly computer and simply dreamed that hundreds and thousands of people had taken an unnatural interest in his sex life.
And even if it wasn't a dream, he reasoned, it's not like any of it had to affect him in real life.
"Morning, Draco," came Crabbe's voice from somewhere near his feet as Crabbe perched on the armrest at one end of the couch.
"Morning, Draco," echoed Goyle as he took up position near Draco's head.
"Morning, chowderheads," Draco replied in what, for him, passed as a cordial greeting. "Did you finish my Charms homework like I asked you to?"
"Yeah." Crabbe dug around in his satchel. "Here you go."
Crabbe leaned over with the sheaf of papers in his hand. His round, pudgy body slid off the armrest, covering Draco's feet in that roly poly warmth he so craved. Crabbe crawled across the couch, his breath coming faster and faster, his piggish eyes hungrily locked on Draco's face. Goyle's strong hands suddenly snaked through Draco's hair, sending shivers of pleasure down his neck.
"Is this what you want?" Crabbe whispered in his oh so soft voice.
"Hunh," Goyle grunted, his fingers moving to Draco's shoulders….
"DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCHING ME!" Draco yelped, sitting bolt upright on the couch.
There was a moment of silence. Crabbe, who was still seated on the armrest, looked at the papers in his hand.
"Isn't this what you wanted?" he asked, confused. "I made it look like your handwriting so Flitwick wouldn't be suspicious like last time..."
Draco stared at Crabbe, then turned to stare at Goyle. They both had the same look on their face, the one that said, "He's gone completely around the corner this time." Draco hated that look. It happened more often these days.
"Never mind," Draco snapped, ripping the papers from Crabbe's hand. "I'll see you two losers later. Don't follow me." With that last directive, Draco stormed out of the Slytherin common room.
*******************
He couldn't even eat breakfast.
He walked into the Great Hall, took up his usual seat at the table, and quickly realized that every time he looked at a fellow Slytherin all he could see was them in their birthday suits. He looked down at the food set before him. Sausages, fried eggs, and a great big red, juicy grapefruit staring him the eye. He stared back.
Nope. He couldn't do it.
Draco left the Great Hall like his cloak was on fire.
*******************
During his classes he kept his eyes locked on the desk in front of him. His professors would later remark that they had never seen Malfoy so interested in his studies before, nor had he ever been so quiet.
He made the mistake in Charms of asking Millicent Bulstrode if he could borrow her quill for a moment. He glanced at her as she was handing it over.
He had never really noticed her eyes before, which sparkled when the light hit them just right. It made her whole hatchet-shaped face light up. She was beautiful, in a brick wall sort of way, so unassuming, so unaware of her eroticism. She teased her lips with the feather end of the quill pen. The hard, square line of her jaw made Draco's blood run hotter and faster as he imagined licking across it. Beneath that ill-fitting uniform was a body like a sack of potatoes, and he was ready to make some shepherd's pie…
"MILLICENT'S A BLOODY COW AND I WOULDN'T BANG HER FOR A MILLION GALLEONS!" Draco roared, slamming his head against the desk, hoping to physically dislodge the picture of a naked Millicent from his brain. "AND I DON'T EVEN LIKE SHEPHERD'S PIE!"
The classroom fell silent. Draco raised his head, hardly daring to breathe. Millicent froze; the sodden, half-masticated quill trembled in her rapidly tightening fist. The quill snapped in half.
Draco leapt to his feet.
"I need to see Madam Pomfrey," he choked, and dashed from the room without waiting for a response.
*******************
Draco found only brief solace in the medical facilities, as he was too embarrassed to tell Madam Pomfrey exactly what was wrong. Hell, he himself didn't know what was wrong. Madam Pomfrey gave him the use of a cot, nevertheless.
It all came down to self control, really. And Draco had a ton of that. All he had to do was take some time to calm down, clear his mind, and get on with his life. He couldn't go around being haunted by some… some whackjob's sick fantasy. Right. Fuck them. Draco Malfoy had better things to do. Going to Potions was not currently one of them, so he put his arms behind his head, relaxed, and prepared to take a nap.
Five minutes later, after nearly asphyxiating to death under Madam Pomfrey's enormous bosom (she had only been leaning over him to pull the shades on a window), Draco hightailed it down the hall to seek refuge in his room.
**************
It was lunchtime, and Draco could not ignore his hunger anymore. There was no way he was going to try sitting at the Slytherin table. It occurred to him that maybe his "problem" was worse with Slytherins because he saw them all the bloody time. You live with people long enough, you get to know things about them you'd rather never know.
Upon entering the Great Hall he passed the Slytherin table and instead approached the Ravenclaw table. Cho Chang prepared a scathing comment to snap back for whatever ill-will Draco was about to heap on her when, much to everyone's surprise, he elbowed his way in between two younger students, sat down, and began stuffing his face.
It was, by this point, clear to everyone at Hogwarts that something very strange was happening to Malfoy. They watched the events unfold with fascination.
"What are you doing?" Cho demanded.
"I'm eating," he mumbled around a mouthful of sandwich. "What does it look like I'm doing?"
"You can't sit here."
"Why the hell not?"
Cho looked taken aback. "Well… well, this is the Ravenclaw table. You're a Slytherin."
"Brilliant deduction, chief. Get back to me when you have something worth reporting." Draco took a long drag on his pumpkin juice and hazarded giving a triumphant look at Cho.
She looked angry, and a little embarrassed, and really, really hot. Draco always kind of had a thing for Asian chicks.
Cho batted her eyes.
"Oh, Draco, you're always so witty," she cooed. She leaned across the table. "I wish I was as smart as you."
Draco felt himself go rigid as Cho began crawling across the table. Her skirt rose up, exposing a pale line of pink flesh around her thighs.
"Do you think I'm stupid?" she pouted, raising a delicate nail to her teeth. She chewed on it and sighed. Her chest heaved. "I bet you think I'm stupid." She reached out and traced a line from his jaw to his shirt collar. She tugged on the fabric. "Is that what you think? I bet you have a lot to teach me, Draco."
"Wurghmlhuh," Draco replied.
"So, do you think I'm stupid?"
"Whuh?" Draco mumbled.
"I said, do you think I'm STUPID?! I KNOW what you're doing! You're playing stupid Slytherin mind games with me, trying to freak me out so I fail my exams!" Cho crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, it's not going to work, so you can just… just leave!"
Draco stared, mashed potatoes falling out of his slack-jawed mouth.
"That's… that's right," he gargled around the potatoes. He swallowed. "Took you long enough. God only knows how you got into Ravenclaw with a brain like that. They might as well demote you to Hufflepuff." He got up from his seat, hesitated, then grabbed the second half of his sandwich and stuffed that in his mouth, too. He left the Great Hall to the sound of Cho's shrill voice yelling, "You can't BE demoted!"
*************
Okay, so that plan didn't go so well. But next was study hall, and he didn't have to talk to anybody in study hall. Just read his book, write some notes, and look busy. That was it.
"Mr. Malfoy," came a nasally, droning voice from somewhere above his left shoulder. Draco paled.
"Yes, Professor Snape?" he replied without looking up from his book.
"You weren't in class today."
"I, uh, wasn't feeling well…"
" 'Feeling well' ?" Snape sneered. "You weren't 'feeling well'?"
"That's right, sir."
"I expect better from you, Draco. A mere triviality like the 'sniffles' does not keep a great wizard from his studies. Do not miss another of my classes. Is that understood?"
"Yes sir."
"And you should look at your betters when they are speaking to you."
No way. He wouldn't. Not with all those horrible images from last night circling around his brain, just waiting for a place to land.
"Yes sir," Draco squeaked. He didn't look up. A bony hand came down hard on his shoulder.
"Is there a problem?" Snape demanded, the tone of his voice turning brittle.
"No," Draco whispered. "Not at all."
"It seems you've been a very naughty boy today, Draco." The hand on his shoulder moved to the nape of his neck, where the fingers played with his hair. "Skipping class, bothering the other students. I do believe I should give you a detention."
"Oh, please do, sir,"
"A private one, in my study, today after school." Draco felt Snape lean into him, body taut, as he pinned Draco's wrist to the table. "It might be painful."
"I can take it."
"It might take awhile."
"I've got the time."
"It might be… unusual."
"I'm a quick learner."
"It might be time for you to see Madam Pomfrey."
"I don't know, would she be into a threesome?"
"… What??"
Draco blinked. He looked around. He had been alone at his table, but the students at the surrounding tables were staring at him in horror. Draco looked at Snape, who was also staring at him in horror.
That was when he realized he was groping his professor.
Draco snatched his hand back.
He turned the other way.
And threw up a spectacular display of a half-digested ham sandwich, pickles, and way too much pumpkin juice.
**************
Snape had not been understanding in the least, especially since he had thought he was moving out of the way when, in fact, he had moved directly into the line of fire. Macy Gibbons, a fourth-year Gryffindor student who had been sitting at the table closest to Draco's, later swore up and down that the word "Avada" had formed on Snape's lips, but no one believed her, as there was a severe lack of Dead Draco by the end of study hall.
Snape screamed something about detention, which made Draco's cheeks bulge and his face turn even paler, and stormed out, presumably to go clean up. Draco wobbled out of study hall in the opposite direction.
He needed air. Some fresh, bracing mountain air to clear his mind and sinus cavity. That was likely the real problem. He'd been shut up inside for weeks on end, studying for these stupid exams and not taking the time to commune with nature, although Draco's normal idea of communing with nature was to take an axe to it. Hell, even the Forbidden Forest was looking good right now. Nobody would be there, except maybe the centaurs…. No. Don't think about the centaurs. Bad idea.
Draco was striding across the courtyard in the general direction of the forest, his mind most definitely not on centaurs, when a girl wearing what appeared to be a modified Hufflepuff uniform peeled off from her group of friends and stepped in front of him. Draco stopped abruptly.
"Hi there!" she chirped in what Draco would later recall as the most annoying voice he had ever heard in his life. He opened his mouth and drew breath to lay all kinds of hell on this bitch when she thrust a hand in his face and continued with, "I'm Susie Marie, fifth year Hufflepuff, an exchange student from the American wizarding school Antebellum, well, I'm not technically a Hufflepuff, we don't call it that in America, I'm a Bantamwing, but anyway, have you heard of it? I'm sure you have, we're number one in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, though I myself am focusing on Potions because I've been told by a great many people that I have extraordinary skill in it, well, actually they said I was the best they'd ever seen, and that's actually why I'm here, so I can master it completely, so anyway I was just talking with my new friends and thought I'd introduce myself because I've heard soooo much about you."
Draco stared. What on God's green earth was this chit babbling about? American wizarding school? Bantamwing? And best in Potions? Nobody was better than Draco Malfoy in Potions. Nobody. She was clearly bat-shit insane.
It briefly occurred to him that tact might be his best chance of disengaging from the situation but-
""What the fuck are you talking about?"
-Draco never really had a handle on how to use it properly. Or at all.
"Excuse me?" Susie Marie blinked. She looked confused for a moment, then her face cleared up with a smile. "Oh, I see, the Malfoy charm. Yes, I've heard all about that."
"Are you bloody stupid?!" Draco demanded. "Look, I haven't got time for this, alright? Now get out of my sight before puke on your inappropriately short skirt and fugly shoes."
"An Americanism with a British accent. I love it." Susie Marie giggled. She grabbed fistful of Draco's shirt and hauled him closer, suddenly very serious. "I tell you what, big boy. I'll show you America if you show me some England."
Draco yelped as Susie Marie's free hand grabbed him by the belt buckle, flicked it open, and yanked it out from his belt loops like it was a magic trick.
"You know what a cowgirl is, Malfoy?" Susie Marie whispered, leaning in to nibble at his ear. He whimpered. Without looking she snapped the belt behind her, and it cracked in the air. "Have you ever been to a rodeo?"
Draco shook his head, half fearful, half excited by the prospect of being dominated by this golden-tressed, buxom, immodestly dressed vixen.
"Saddle up, darlin', you've got a lot to learn."
"UNHAND ME AT ONCE, YOU CHEAP WHORE!" Draco hollered, whipping out his wand and pointing it at Susie Marie.
And poor Susie Marie, who just wanted to make friends (and meet Harry Potter, her real obsession), was hit with the slug-vomiting charm and, crying profusely between each burped up slug, was quickly escorted away by her new Housemates.
Draco spun on his feet and marched back across the courtyard. Apology was a concept unfamiliar to Malfoys, and besides, she deserved it. Nobody that annoying was worth being nice to.
********
Draco strode into the library, ignored Madam Pince as she squawked something about a pass, and began pulling books off the shelf.
He wasn't about to ask for help from anybody, and he didn't know how to fix anything himself, but the library was bound to have something, right? And nobody would even be in the library at this time of day, unless they had a special permission for a free period, and who would spend a free period in the library except that brown-nosing mudblood Grang-
Fuck.
Draco slowly turned around.
Hermione was peering at him over the top of a book, looking mildly amused.
"What are you staring at?" Draco barked, getting jittery.
Hermione gently shut the book in her hands and placed in on the table. She stood up. "You don't have to be so harsh when we're alone," she said. She came around the side of the table, her long fingers trailing on the smooth wood. "I've told you before, nobody will bother us here."
"What about Pince?" Draco breathed heavily.
"I used a charm on her. She won't hear a thing."
"Good."
Hermione pushed Draco backward onto the table and climbed up so she was straddling him.
"What would you like me to be today?" she murmured, pulling Draco's shirttails out of his pants and pushing it up to expose his stomach. "Japanese schoolgirl? Naughty nurse? Saucy pirate?" She trailed a line along his flesh with her tongue. "I can be anything you want."
"You," Draco gasped. "I like it best when… when you're yourself."
"Aw, you're sweet. DIFFINDO!" Draco's sweater split down the middle. Hermione grabbed each side of his already disheveled button-up shirt and ripped it open, buttons popping and flying through the air. "Are you sure?"
"Positive." Draco reached up to cradle Hermione's face in his hand. She leaned into it and smiled. "You're so beautiful."
"I wish you were this nice all the time," Hermione sighed. "But I know you have to keep up appearances." She pulled her own sweater off and quickly undid all the buttons. Underneath she was wearing a pale pink bra, lined with lace, with a tiny little bow at the center.
"My favorite," Draco remarked, lifting his head to nip at the bow with his teeth. Hermione giggled.
"Draco!"
"Hmm?"
"Draco!"
"Don't talk, let me just-"
"DRACO MALFOY, WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU STARING AT?!"
Draco blinked. He was, in fact, staring at Hermione's very clothed chest, and was sorry to discover he was drooling. Hermione did not look amused anymore.
"Uh… your breasts. No! I mean your bra. WAIT!" This last bit was shrieked as Hermione had leveled her wand at the general vicinity of Draco's family jewels. "Uh… what I mean is… you look good in pink?"
Confused and flustered, Hermione looked down at her clothes, and Draco took the momentary distraction to hightail it back to the library's entrance.
As he approached the door, nearly bowling over Madam Pince who had come to see what all the yelling was about, Ginny Weasley entered the library.
"Hey Draco," she greeted him, misreading his frenzied gesture into thinking he was waving at her, when he was actually trying to dislodge an image from his mind of him in a threesome with Ginny and Hermione.
"WHY WON'T YOU PEOPLE LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE?!" he bellowed as he tore past, his words rebounding off the walls long after he had disappeared from the hallway.
Ginny stood at the library entrance, gazing down the empty hall. Hermione sidled up to her.
"What is wrong with that boy?" Ginny wondered aloud.
"I don't know, but somehow he knew I was wearing pink underclothes," Hermione replied, face flushed.
*********
That was the last straw. He'd be headed to St. Mungo's pretty soon if he didn't find a way to keep his mind off of… well, anything and everything referred to in those hideous fictional stories on the Internet.
If only he'd never gotten that stupid computer!
Draco paced his room, growing more furious by the minute.
Who could have started all that garbage, anyway? Someone had to be the first, and there must have been some kind of impetus. Something must have inspired this movement, this abomination, this bizarre display of projecting sexual proclivities on him. Who could hate him that much, to put that seed of thought into thousands of impressionable minds? Who would benefit from driving him absolutely mad?
Draco halted so abruptly he fell over. When he righted himself, he knew. Of course.
Harry fucking Potter.
********
The Great Hall had just finished filling with students, and everyone had just sat down to begin eating dinner, when the doors banged open. All heads turned. Draco Malfoy stood on the threshold.
"Mr. Malfoy…" Dumbledore began, rising from his seat at the far end of the room.
"YOU!" Draco ignored the headmaster and jabbed his finger in the direction of the Gryffindor table. "POTTER!"
After a brief, hushed conversation among the members of Harry's intimate group of friends, Harry stood up. All eyes swiveled to him.
"Yeah?" he answered cautiously.
"It's all your fault! I should have known from the beginning!" Draco marched up the aisle toward Harry. There were hurried whispers all along the tables, some students drawing wands, others looking toward the professors to intervene.
"What's my fault?" Harry crossed his arms over his chest, looking a little nervous.
"Oh, don't act like you don't know!" Draco spat. He stopped about a foot away, trying to loom over Harry despite the fact he was a few inches shorter. " 'The Snake and the Lion'? 'A Tale of Two Seekers'? 'Sleeping with the Enemy'?! 'DRACO AND HARRY'S HAPPY HIPPOGRIFF HIDEAWAY'?!?" Harry turned a strange shade of green.
"What the fuck does that even mean-" Harry started to ask, but Draco cut him off.
"Fan fiction, Potter. FAN FUCKING FICTION!" Draco stepped even closer, finger menacingly pointed at Harry's face. "If you weren't so bloody FABULOUS that everyone and their MOTHER didn't OBSESS about your every fucking MOVE, I wouldn't have been pulled into the SQUALOR that these people have made of the English fucking language!"
"I think you need to calm down…" Harry reached out to pat Draco patronizingly on the arm. Draco smacked it out of the way and, doing only what any frustrated, incensed, hot-blooded young man would do in his situation, grabbed Harry by fistfuls of his sweater, hauled him closer, and locked lips in the hottest kiss Hogwarts had ever seen.
It was, Draco thought dizzily as the blood rushed past his temples, much better than it had seemed in those stories. It was so good, in fact, that he forgot for a moment that he was kissing his sworn enemy, and he leaned into it. The hall was in an uproar, but he couldn't hear it over the sound of his own beating heart.
When Draco finally opened his eyes, unsure where exactly all the blood in his body had gone, he found himself staring into Harry's half-lidded ones. Harry seemed to be in some sort of daze, but Draco was quickly becoming all-too aware of what had just happened.
With a sound somewhere between a squeak and a groan, Draco fainted.
**********
Harry Potter sat alone in the Gryffindor common room. It was late, and pretty much everyone else had gone to bed. He, however, just couldn't sleep.
After losing consciousness, Draco had been rushed to Madam Pomfrey, who demanded that he be kept under her care for observation. As far as Harry knew, Draco was still out cold.
Draco Malfoy had kissed him. Draco. Him. Kissed. Words Harry had never expect to be uttered in the same sentence. It was disturbing. Well, the whole event was disturbing, but even more disturbing was Harry's reaction to it.
Nobody who had been present could deny that it was a bitchin' kiss - it was the stuff movies were made of. Harry was just surprised it had come from Malfoy, of all people.
His mind troubled, Harry sat on the couch with his Macbook Air and Googled the phrase "Draco and Harry's Happy Hippogriff Hideaway."
THE END