Author's Note: I declared a prompt war against Dysonrules on LJ, also known as Cheryl Dyson on (see my favourite authors for her account). This is called the Le Obscure Prompt war. This is my story to round one; you can view her corresponding story at her account

Words: 1,109
Summary: Why would God make a bird that cannot fly? Written for Le Obscure Prompt War between myself and Lady Dyson to the following prompts: A rusty lock, a conch shell, penguins, traffic cones

When Penguins Fly

Draco snorted so loudly that vodka sprayed up his nostrils and burned his weepy eyes. Pulling his face out of his drink, Draco collapsed on the sticky bar, tears splashing onto the ring stains that were slicked on the oak bar top. "You cannot be serious!"

"I am serious," insisted Harry, seriously. He picked up another shot glass and downed the murky liquid, letting it slide with an awful aftertaste down his throat. Draco continued to weep on the bar.

"I don't believe you! That's like saying hippogriffs have pink toenails. You're just making stuff up."

"I am serious," repeated Harry.

Draco straightened up and tapped the bar, indicating that another glass was needed to cover the face imprint he had left. "There is no such thing as a bird that cannot fly."

When Harry had brought Malfoy to this Muggle bar to demonstrate how Muggles celebrated a raise at work, Draco had become steadily drunk, because while he could calculate the number of units in a butterbeer, that didn't mean he knew that eight shots of vodka would lead him to think Harry Potter was a sexy belly dancer from Yugoslavia. While plucking up the courage to ask that dark-haired beauty to make his belly muscles do the Mexican wave, Draco had noticed the stuffed sword fish mounted onto the wall. This had lead to the discussion 'didn't Muggle animals see their reflections when they chose to evolve?'

Harry had merely shrugged and said, "It's the way God made them."

Now, three hours nearer to midnight than when they had first sat down, they were both drunk and arguing about penguins. Harry believed God forgot to give them the ability of flight, and Draco believed Harry was bullshitting.

"I'm telling the truth. They're called penguins."

"Prove it!" challenged Draco, knocking back another shot with the aggression of someone who knew he was being lied to. Harry stood up and grabbed Draco's wrist, tugging the blonde to his wobbly legs and marching them out of the pub. The street was cold and the only source of light was from the pub windows, which reflected on nearby set of road works.

"Where we going?" mumbled Draco, tripping slightly as Harry marched them past a batch of traffic cones.

"To the zoo."

"Okay…is it a long way?"

"Twenty minute walk," shrugged Harry. He walked a little way and when he didn't hear echoing footfalls, he looked over his shoulder in time to see Draco about to Apparate. "Oh my god, what are you doing?! You can't drink and Apparate! You'll splinch yourself. Give me your wand."

"No!"

"Give me your wand."

"Shove off, you dishmat!"

"Dishmat?"

"Dingbat," corrected Draco, cradling his wand to his chest protectively. Harry sighed and relinquished his quest for the other man's phallic tool.

"Okay, fine. Keep it, just don't Apparate."

"But I hate walking… Carry me?"

xxx

The large rusty lock was no challenge for a wizard. Any quick Alohomora would quickly deal with the pesky restriction. However, neither Harry nor Draco had enough blood in their veins to even pronounce the spell, let alone do the little wrist wiggle that accompanied the incantation. So instead, they climbed the fence. Harry had the absolute pleasure of pushing Draco's bum up while the blonde scrambled over the top.

He might have pinched once or twice, taking delight in the little squeals the Auror had made.

The zoo was blissfully empty and it took them a while to navigate themselves over to the aquatic section of the park. Once they had found the penguin pen, they stood at the rim of the icy habitat and looked down. It looked empty.

"I think they flew away."

"They can't fly away," sighed Harry, leaning over and looking down into the faux ocean. He could see nothing, and just as he was about to give up and believe that penguins had overcome their evolutionary defect, something spiky hit him on the top of the head. The conch shell ricocheted off his head and fell into the water below. Spinning around, Harry just had time to see Draco aiming another hazardous shell, and ducked. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Trying to scare the bloody pigeons out. Get out of my way!" As Draco threw stones, shells and abandoned shoes into the water to lure out the black and white poultry, Harry stood and appreciated the flex of muscles that was revealed when Draco's shirt lifted up after each throw.

Just as Harry was about to grab Draco and drag him into the zebra exhibition for a back-to-nature romp, a flashlight shone in their direction and a loud voice bellowed over far side of the sector at them. "HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

"Harry, look! It's a butler-bird! Is that a penguin?" Harry dragged Draco away from the petulant penguins and set off at a run towards the gates. Draco was too busy stumbling over his own alcohol addled brain to keep pace, but they managed to hurdle the gate just as the night time security guard gained on their heels. They continued to run back the path they came, afraid that the police would be notified. Harry grinned over his shoulder at Draco as they ran back past the road works. All this danger was sort of exciting.

xxx

Draco squinted into the morning light that shone from the window onto his pillow. Feeling like a vampire, he rolled onto his other side and groped blindly for his sleep-warmed boyfriend. As his fingers spread out across the sheets, his fingers came in contact with another shape…however…as much as he liked to brag that his boyfriend had the abs of a rock, this was going a little too far. Reluctantly rising up a little, Draco whipped the blankets back and was confronted with something even brighter that offended his eyes more than sunlight. A traffic cone. Its peak was nestled into Harry's pillow and the square base was tenting the covers like a morning erection. Draco wondered if the cone and himself had snuggled somewhere in the night. Draco then reevaluated the cone, gazing at the phallic end of the smooth, florescent orange monstrosity and flexed his muscles, feeling a worryingly familiar ache that made him suspicious.

xxx

"Harry, did you fuck me last night?"

"Why? Too drunk to remember?" asked Harry moodily, nursing his own hangover.

"There's a traffic cone in the bed and my bum hurts. I have come to the conclusion that I either found you attractive in my inebriated state, or I've done something that violates the Highway Code."

Harry just continued to nurse a bottle of aspirin.

Fin.