Draco's odd advisor
Nov. 3rd, 2011 08:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
herumtreiberTitle: Draco's odd advisor
Author:![[info]](https://p.dreamwidth.org/645e27cdd7f5/936704-164590/l-files.livejournal.net/userhead/16)
herumtreiber
Characters: Draco/Harry
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or related characters. I don't make any money from writing these stories.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Word count: ~1,603
Summary: After the Final Battle, a distraught Draco tries to woo Harry following the advice of an odd character.
Notes: For the November![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hd_commentfest theme crack/humor and photo prompt, plus hd_fluff 's prompt #75, bonfire.
Draco paced back and forth in his father's study at the Manor. "Bloody Potter, what do I have to do so he notices me?"
The portraits of Selene and Benedicta Malfoy kept playing darts. The Elizabethan ladies were used to young Malfoy's penchant for a certain brunet. They kept up with the news, since they had frames in Zabini Manor.
"So he saves me in the Wizengamot trial and when I join the Aurors? He hardly glances at me!" Draco ruffled his hair, which he'd dyed a darker blond colour hoping the oblivious Auror would finally notice him. In vain.
Draco tugged the hem of his blue and dark grey hoodie. He walked to the wall and stared at his father's butterfly collection as if it held the key to winning Harry's heart. Turning to his left, he noticed Lucius' paperback collection. Draco picked up a book, scowling at it on account of the author's strange name, Tom Wolfe. Figuring the man was a wizard, Draco put the book back on the shelf.
"Potter noticed when I dressed as a Dementor, perhaps if I send him one and then rescue him, he'll fall in love with me!"
The portrait next to the glass case with the butterflies paused in his game card, frowning at the blond.
Draco mused aloud. "No, he'll hex me or worse. Besides I can't cast a Patronus yet. Have no happy memories because Potter won't deign to be my boyfriend!" Glancing at the door of the study, the Slytherin muttered, "I should send him our mirror with a note saying it's the Erised one. I'd have to put our images inside with those Muggle contraptions called video cameras. Pansy could pose as Potter using Polyjuice, and then…"
The old portrait couldn't concentrate on his card game. The man sighed in despair whilst he rolled his eyes, in a gesture uncannily similar to the surprised look in his Malfoy descendant as Draco recalled Pansy's strong aversion to Polyjuice.
oOoOo
"Pansy won't do it. I'll have to let loose our Thestrals and orchestrate a stampede during which I'll rescue--"
"Excuse me!" said the portrait whilst he fingered his long white beard.
"Potter will be grateful, or I can vanish Granger's books and then provide her with access to--"
The old man yelled, "EXCUSE ME!"
Draco glared at his ancestor. "What do you want?"
The man laid down his cards. "I'll help you with yonder schemes, wee lad. Mayhap I'll be able to play my game then."
"Who are you?"
The man bowed. "I'm Circinus Heraclitus Malfoy, at your service."
Draco bowed back. "Cool name, but I'm busy right now."
"I can help you with this lady you want to woo--"
The blond interrupted Circinus, frowning at him. "He's not a lady, not even a gentleman. He's just Potter, but he's hot."
Circinus coughed discreetly as he rolled his eyes again. "I'll help you with your curmudgeon."
Draco cocked his eyebrows. "How?"
"In the days of Queen Bess, gentlefolk knew the ways to win the hearts of their lasses." Seeing Draco's glare, the man added hastily, "Or laddies as the case might be."
"So you lived in the Sixteenth Century?"
"No, actually during Queen Victoria's glorious reign. Doesn't matter, I am learned in the ways of wooing. With my help, you'll win your Potter. In exchange, I ask that you name your firstborn after me."
Draco shrugged. "Fine, I like your name. So what do I have to do?"
The old man motioned to Lucius' desk. "Grab a quill and parchment. This is the plan…"
oOoOo
Harry snuggled in his overcoat. The weather had been awful lately, and today it had rained heavily. He turned to look at his friend.
Hermione brushed aside her curls. Whilst she scrawled on a parchment, she mumbled, "Saturday we're having a reunion, Harry. Smith is going to be there."
Harry huffed. "I hate that bloody Hufflepuff."
She looked up from her notes, smiling slyly at the Auror. "Since you seem to prefer blonds, I thought that perhaps you'd--"
"You're wrong, Mione. Smith is too bland for me. I reckon I'll spend Saturday watching the telly."
"Well, you can come if you want, Harry. Door's always open for you and all that."
Harry waved goodbye and left the room. On the street outside the Ministry, the rain had left multiple puddles. Harry sauntered to the corner when suddenly he saw a menacing, flapping black object hurtling through the air towards him. Thinking it was a Dementor, Harry crouched and rapidly took out his wand, the Patronus charm on the tip of his tongue.
However, the faux Dementor sank down on the street, forming a carpet in front of his feet.
Harry looked incredulous at the blond man who appeared out of nowhere. Malfoy pointed to the floor. "Step in?"
Harry raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
Draco drawled, "I laid my cloak made of finest wool so your dainty feet don't get mud."
The brunet growled, "So you were behind the fake Dementor. Should've known it was you!"
Harry didn't step on the cloak so courteously provided by Draco. Instead he Apparated, leaving a desolate blond behind.
Draco sighed in frustration. Taking out his parchment and quill, he crossed out the words:
Put your cloak on the muddy ground so the lad won't dirty his shoes. If it worked for Walter Raleigh and Elizabeth, it should make your Potter happy.
oOoOo
Harry stirred listlessly his milkshake whilst he read the Daily Prophet. He'd gone to Hermione's reunion and it had been quite a disappointment. He'd taken Zacharias Smith to his apartment but after Smith clumsily groped him, Harry had sent him away.
He wanted someone who ignited his blood, a bloke who'd prove to be his match and wouldn't yield so easily. A man who was courteous one moment, and the next second lifted him off his feet with naughty words. The Hufflepuff wasn't that. At all.
Harry shook his head. He was so busy listing the qualities of the perfect man that he didn't notice the owl until it landed on his table. The brunet was so startled that the glass fell to the linoleum floor and broke in pieces.
After he cast a hasty Reparo, Harry took the wrapped box from the Eagle owl, not without suffering the bird's angry pecking. After he cut the cord with the knife and unwrapped the box, he squinted at the book inside whilst he read the title. 'The bonfire of the vanities by Tom Wolfe.'
He opened the paperback and read the dedication on the first page with growing indignation.
My Potter's eyes are nothing like the sun
they shine brightly whilst he glares at me
methinks his glasses adorable, though dorky
his ruffled hair drives me barmy.
Dearest Potter: I've sent you a romantic goblin-like novel by a secret Animagus author, since your father and godfather had that ability.
Yours, Draco Malfoy.
PS. Want to go out with me?
Harry browsed the book. After a while he mumbled, "Malfoy's barmy. Wall Street isn't romantic at all. I reckon Auror duty is too much for him and he's imagining things. The novel is not about goblins."
He called out for Kreacher and gave him exact orders.
An hour later, Draco sighed in his apartment whilst he touched the glossy cover of the book the elf had thrown at his head. Taking out the parchment with Circinus' advice, he wearily scratched out the words:
Woo Potter with sweet poems and thoughtful gestures. A romantic novel is never out of place. The lad will fall at your feet.
oOoOo
Harry morosely ate his breakfast whilst Hermione paid for the paper, putting coins in the owl's pouch.
"Next Sunday we're having breakfast at Seamus' and I thought that--"
Harry lifted his hand. "Seamus isn't my type."
She smiled slyly as she read the paper. "Well, Ron heard you muttering you've forsworn all blonds."
Harry put down his spoon. "Only barmy ones."
"Skeeter is at it again," said Hermione whilst her lips tugged upward in a devious smile. "She writes that Malfoy is very popular."
Harry said hoarsely, "What?"
"Well, lately he's been wearing Elizabethan garb. 'The grey silk hose displayed his long, slim legs to perfection', she writes."
Harry felt his traitorous cock twitch.
"That jewelled codpiece attracted the ladies and the men." Hermione read aloud from the paper. "Draco made a dashing figure at the Ministry ball. His dark cloak contrasted with his blond locks so nicely that Seamus Finnigan bragged he would get into Malfoy's breeches now that--"
Growling, Harry stood up and Apparated whilst Hermione put down the paper with a satisfied smirk. She eyed Harry's treacle tart and pulled the dish towards her as she mumbled, "Luckily that Skeeter owes me. It was easy for me to write her piece after I met that strange portrait in Blaise's parlour."
oOoOo
Draco was fingering his codpiece as he stared forlornly at his unfinished poem. Suddenly he felt strong arms around him. The shocked blond sat up with a start, shouting, "What in Merlin's name?"
Harry murmured huskily in his ear, "I'm sorry, Malfoy. Didn't see what was in front of me until now. Won't you go out with me?"
The brunet eyed covetously Draco's silk hose as he greedily caressed Draco's velvet doublet. "I won't read that silly book you sent me, though." He leaned towards the blond, resting his head on his silky hair as he inhaled the spicy aroma of Draco's cologne.
When Circinus' portrait coughed loudly, Draco held Harry's hand, caressing his wrist whilst he smirked. "Fine with me, Potter. I have it all planned in advance per Slytherin regulations. I even have the perfect name for our child."
Author:
Characters: Draco/Harry
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or related characters. I don't make any money from writing these stories.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Word count: ~1,603
Summary: After the Final Battle, a distraught Draco tries to woo Harry following the advice of an odd character.
Notes: For the November
hd_commentfest theme crack/humor and photo prompt, plus hd_fluff 's prompt #75, bonfire.Draco paced back and forth in his father's study at the Manor. "Bloody Potter, what do I have to do so he notices me?"
The portraits of Selene and Benedicta Malfoy kept playing darts. The Elizabethan ladies were used to young Malfoy's penchant for a certain brunet. They kept up with the news, since they had frames in Zabini Manor.
"So he saves me in the Wizengamot trial and when I join the Aurors? He hardly glances at me!" Draco ruffled his hair, which he'd dyed a darker blond colour hoping the oblivious Auror would finally notice him. In vain.
Draco tugged the hem of his blue and dark grey hoodie. He walked to the wall and stared at his father's butterfly collection as if it held the key to winning Harry's heart. Turning to his left, he noticed Lucius' paperback collection. Draco picked up a book, scowling at it on account of the author's strange name, Tom Wolfe. Figuring the man was a wizard, Draco put the book back on the shelf.
"Potter noticed when I dressed as a Dementor, perhaps if I send him one and then rescue him, he'll fall in love with me!"
The portrait next to the glass case with the butterflies paused in his game card, frowning at the blond.
Draco mused aloud. "No, he'll hex me or worse. Besides I can't cast a Patronus yet. Have no happy memories because Potter won't deign to be my boyfriend!" Glancing at the door of the study, the Slytherin muttered, "I should send him our mirror with a note saying it's the Erised one. I'd have to put our images inside with those Muggle contraptions called video cameras. Pansy could pose as Potter using Polyjuice, and then…"
The old portrait couldn't concentrate on his card game. The man sighed in despair whilst he rolled his eyes, in a gesture uncannily similar to the surprised look in his Malfoy descendant as Draco recalled Pansy's strong aversion to Polyjuice.
oOoOo
oOoOo
"Pansy won't do it. I'll have to let loose our Thestrals and orchestrate a stampede during which I'll rescue--"
"Excuse me!" said the portrait whilst he fingered his long white beard.
"Potter will be grateful, or I can vanish Granger's books and then provide her with access to--"
The old man yelled, "EXCUSE ME!"
Draco glared at his ancestor. "What do you want?"
The man laid down his cards. "I'll help you with yonder schemes, wee lad. Mayhap I'll be able to play my game then."
"Who are you?"
The man bowed. "I'm Circinus Heraclitus Malfoy, at your service."
Draco bowed back. "Cool name, but I'm busy right now."
"I can help you with this lady you want to woo--"
The blond interrupted Circinus, frowning at him. "He's not a lady, not even a gentleman. He's just Potter, but he's hot."
Circinus coughed discreetly as he rolled his eyes again. "I'll help you with your curmudgeon."
Draco cocked his eyebrows. "How?"
"In the days of Queen Bess, gentlefolk knew the ways to win the hearts of their lasses." Seeing Draco's glare, the man added hastily, "Or laddies as the case might be."
"So you lived in the Sixteenth Century?"
"No, actually during Queen Victoria's glorious reign. Doesn't matter, I am learned in the ways of wooing. With my help, you'll win your Potter. In exchange, I ask that you name your firstborn after me."
Draco shrugged. "Fine, I like your name. So what do I have to do?"
The old man motioned to Lucius' desk. "Grab a quill and parchment. This is the plan…"
Harry snuggled in his overcoat. The weather had been awful lately, and today it had rained heavily. He turned to look at his friend.
Hermione brushed aside her curls. Whilst she scrawled on a parchment, she mumbled, "Saturday we're having a reunion, Harry. Smith is going to be there."
Harry huffed. "I hate that bloody Hufflepuff."
She looked up from her notes, smiling slyly at the Auror. "Since you seem to prefer blonds, I thought that perhaps you'd--"
"You're wrong, Mione. Smith is too bland for me. I reckon I'll spend Saturday watching the telly."
"Well, you can come if you want, Harry. Door's always open for you and all that."
Harry waved goodbye and left the room. On the street outside the Ministry, the rain had left multiple puddles. Harry sauntered to the corner when suddenly he saw a menacing, flapping black object hurtling through the air towards him. Thinking it was a Dementor, Harry crouched and rapidly took out his wand, the Patronus charm on the tip of his tongue.
However, the faux Dementor sank down on the street, forming a carpet in front of his feet.
Harry looked incredulous at the blond man who appeared out of nowhere. Malfoy pointed to the floor. "Step in?"
Harry raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
Draco drawled, "I laid my cloak made of finest wool so your dainty feet don't get mud."
The brunet growled, "So you were behind the fake Dementor. Should've known it was you!"
Harry didn't step on the cloak so courteously provided by Draco. Instead he Apparated, leaving a desolate blond behind.
Draco sighed in frustration. Taking out his parchment and quill, he crossed out the words:
Put your cloak on the muddy ground so the lad won't dirty his shoes. If it worked for Walter Raleigh and Elizabeth, it should make your Potter happy.
Harry stirred listlessly his milkshake whilst he read the Daily Prophet. He'd gone to Hermione's reunion and it had been quite a disappointment. He'd taken Zacharias Smith to his apartment but after Smith clumsily groped him, Harry had sent him away.
He wanted someone who ignited his blood, a bloke who'd prove to be his match and wouldn't yield so easily. A man who was courteous one moment, and the next second lifted him off his feet with naughty words. The Hufflepuff wasn't that. At all.
Harry shook his head. He was so busy listing the qualities of the perfect man that he didn't notice the owl until it landed on his table. The brunet was so startled that the glass fell to the linoleum floor and broke in pieces.
After he cast a hasty Reparo, Harry took the wrapped box from the Eagle owl, not without suffering the bird's angry pecking. After he cut the cord with the knife and unwrapped the box, he squinted at the book inside whilst he read the title. 'The bonfire of the vanities by Tom Wolfe.'
He opened the paperback and read the dedication on the first page with growing indignation.
My Potter's eyes are nothing like the sun
they shine brightly whilst he glares at me
methinks his glasses adorable, though dorky
his ruffled hair drives me barmy.
Dearest Potter: I've sent you a romantic goblin-like novel by a secret Animagus author, since your father and godfather had that ability.
Yours, Draco Malfoy.
PS. Want to go out with me?
Harry browsed the book. After a while he mumbled, "Malfoy's barmy. Wall Street isn't romantic at all. I reckon Auror duty is too much for him and he's imagining things. The novel is not about goblins."
He called out for Kreacher and gave him exact orders.
An hour later, Draco sighed in his apartment whilst he touched the glossy cover of the book the elf had thrown at his head. Taking out the parchment with Circinus' advice, he wearily scratched out the words:
Woo Potter with sweet poems and thoughtful gestures. A romantic novel is never out of place. The lad will fall at your feet.
Harry morosely ate his breakfast whilst Hermione paid for the paper, putting coins in the owl's pouch.
"Next Sunday we're having breakfast at Seamus' and I thought that--"
Harry lifted his hand. "Seamus isn't my type."
She smiled slyly as she read the paper. "Well, Ron heard you muttering you've forsworn all blonds."
Harry put down his spoon. "Only barmy ones."
"Skeeter is at it again," said Hermione whilst her lips tugged upward in a devious smile. "She writes that Malfoy is very popular."
Harry said hoarsely, "What?"
"Well, lately he's been wearing Elizabethan garb. 'The grey silk hose displayed his long, slim legs to perfection', she writes."
Harry felt his traitorous cock twitch.
"That jewelled codpiece attracted the ladies and the men." Hermione read aloud from the paper. "Draco made a dashing figure at the Ministry ball. His dark cloak contrasted with his blond locks so nicely that Seamus Finnigan bragged he would get into Malfoy's breeches now that--"
Growling, Harry stood up and Apparated whilst Hermione put down the paper with a satisfied smirk. She eyed Harry's treacle tart and pulled the dish towards her as she mumbled, "Luckily that Skeeter owes me. It was easy for me to write her piece after I met that strange portrait in Blaise's parlour."
Draco was fingering his codpiece as he stared forlornly at his unfinished poem. Suddenly he felt strong arms around him. The shocked blond sat up with a start, shouting, "What in Merlin's name?"
Harry murmured huskily in his ear, "I'm sorry, Malfoy. Didn't see what was in front of me until now. Won't you go out with me?"
The brunet eyed covetously Draco's silk hose as he greedily caressed Draco's velvet doublet. "I won't read that silly book you sent me, though." He leaned towards the blond, resting his head on his silky hair as he inhaled the spicy aroma of Draco's cologne.
When Circinus' portrait coughed loudly, Draco held Harry's hand, caressing his wrist whilst he smirked. "Fine with me, Potter. I have it all planned in advance per Slytherin regulations. I even have the perfect name for our child."
no subject
Date: 2011-11-03 08:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-03 08:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-03 10:44 pm (UTC)well-that was just perfect! Hermione, the doublet, the portrait-everything. I'm still laughing:)
no subject
Date: 2011-11-03 10:49 pm (UTC)Draco looked mystified, as did the portrait ツ
no subject
Date: 2011-11-04 02:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-04 02:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-05 02:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-05 02:35 am (UTC)November comment fest masterlists!
Date: 2011-12-01 05:26 am (UTC)