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Title: The Ferret Foul-Up [A+T Potterverse] Warning: This story may be hazardous to those with closed minds. It contains reference to same-sex pairing, mild language, misuse of magic, magical animal abuse and consumption of tobacco and alcohol by minors. Do not try to replicate at home without parental permission. Especially if you are a parent. If these offend your sensibilities, please go elsewhere. NOW! Author’s note & Dedications: Butterbooze™ belongs to Rhysenn. Used with owner’s permission. Octarine gacked from Terry Pratchett’s Discworld Series. Ferrets behavioural study found on http://www.ferretcentral.org/ Thanks to Starkiller and Plumeria for the excellent beta and constructive criticism. The Ferret Foul-Up Friday night, just before midnight Harry Potter was annoyed. He kicked off his blankets and rubbed his temple. A lump the size of an egg throbbed painfully under his messy fringe. A persistent headache made him increasingly livid. Earlier that evening, while browsing in the library for some spell to turn soda into alcoholic beverages, a heavy tome of “Broken Balls: When Fortune Turns Foul” had jumped off the shelf and squarely dented his head. He had just sat down on his arse with an audible oof when he heard the unmistakable snicker of his long time schoolboy enemy from behind the shelves. He had shoved a few books aside and, sure enough, there was Draco Malfoy – slicked-haired, pink-faced and doubled over with laughter. Harry had retaliated by chucking a book at Draco’s head, but the boy had managed to dodge and had run out of the library. “Fuck you, Malfoy,” he hissed, as he punched his pillow angrily. He reached into his bedside cabinet drawer and pulled out a strip of Muggle headache tablets. 500mg Paracetamol. Take one tablet only. Ignoring the instruction, he popped two into his mouth and downed it with a gulp from a soda can on his cabinet. “Gah!” he spluttered, spitting out a cigarette butt. He peered into the empty can and made a face. “Yeurgh.” He tossed the can across the dorm and it hit Ron Weasley’s head with a clunk. Ron grunted mid-snore, turned over and went back to sleep. Harry ran a hand over his mouth and reached into his drawer for a fresh can. It was actually Butterbooze™ charmed to look like can of soda. His head throbbed dully. *Bloody tablets must be a dud,* he thought hazily. He popped another tablet from the strip and downed it swiftly under the mistaken notion that it would work double quick time. Harry finally decided that some fresh air and a spot of revenge would help clear his head. He pulled out the Marauders Map from his trunk and studied it intently. “Bingo,” he snickered as he found his target. A small dot labelled Draco Malfoy was wandering near the Potions storeroom. Probably stealing supplies to make some noxious potions to cure his acne outbreak. Satisfied, he stuffed the map under his mattress, pulled on his fleece jumper, holstered his wand and left the dorm quietly. He jogged down the stairs and made his way deeper down the school. The January air made him shiver and he cast a warming spell on himself. He rounded a corner and slammed into something that pitched forwards and landed with a muffled yell. “Bugger!” Harry whipped his wand out and waggled it as Draco Malfoy struggled to free his head from his hood. “Out for a stroll, Slimeball?” he taunted, grinning evilly. “My, my, were you stealing from the Potions storeroom?” He kicked at the package that lay at Draco’s feet across the passage. Draco stared at him balefully. A matching evil grin split his face. “Scarhead, what a surprise.” He reached for his wand in his pocket. What a stroke of luck – a deserted and darkened corridor, a once in a million chance to hex his enemy of five years into submission; it was too good to be true. Draco had liberated a bottle of Ogden Firewhiskey from Professor Snape’s secret stash and had downed half of it earlier that evening in the muddled notion that it would build his courage to raid the Potions storeroom. Having drunk the booze, his confidence was now at an all-time high. He made to stand up but Harry poked him in the chest with his booted foot. “Get off of me, you freak,” he said, pushing the foot away. “No.” “No? What the – hey!” Draco yelped as Harry pounced on him and started to bang his head on the floor. Thump! “That was for dropping the book on my head,” said Harry, arms firmly around Draco’s scrawny neck. Thump! “That’s for playing dirty during Quidditch.” Thump. “You watch the Snitch, moron, not the Seeker.” Draco yelped and twisted under Harry’s deceptively compact body. He rammed an elbow blindly and listened with perverse glee when Harry let out a breathless gasp. “I hate you! I hate you!” he hissed as Harry fell backwards and banged his head against the wall. Harry sat up, an arm still locked around Draco’s neck, and gave him a funny look. “Why?” “Eh?” said Draco, thrown off by the question. “Why exactly do you hate me?” Draco grimaced, lost for words. His mind was hazy and his head felt sore from the thumping. Anyway, hating Harry Potter had become a habit that he never thought of ‘why’ anymore. “Shut up, now. Just shut up!” he said, finally twisting free and aimed a knee in Harry’s groin. Harry staggered back with a wheeze, but refused to let go of the hood of Draco’s fleece jacket. The momentum made Draco fall flat on his face. He screamed and blacked out as his head made contact with the floor. Fuming, Harry grabbed him by his ankles and dragged him into an abandoned side corridor. He dumped the smaller boy amongst the cobwebs, pulled the hood over the messy blond hair, tightened the hood’s drawstring and turned to go. “Not so fast, Potter.” A drawl stopped Harry in his tracks. He smiled darkly and turned to face Draco who was slowly rising to his feet, his wand pointed directly at Harry. Draco looked at him from the tunnel of his bunched up hood. “Do your worst, Slimeball,” Harry taunted and waggled his wand in Draco’s direction. Draco made a grotesque mad face at him and stuck out his tongue. “Hah! You will come to a sticky end; just mark my words.” They stared at each other, five years of undirected hatred concentrating to a moment of pure hate and fury. “Why don’t you just go to hell, Potter?” Draco stepped closer, an evil grin fixed on his lips. His head buzzed and he felt brutally reckless. Harry smirked, the high he got from the potent cocktail of paracetamol and alcohol made him gung-ho. His messy black hair and glittering green eyes made him look positively demonic. “Not without you, Malfoy.” He thrust his wand squarely between Draco’s eyes and waggled it menacingly. “Come on, let’s match your skills to that of the great Harry Potter. Me.” Draco let his smirk broaden. “You asked for it, Scarhead,” he snickered, smacking his lips gleefully. Unperturbed, Harry winked at him. The spells zapped from their wands at the exact same moment, crossing each other in midair. There was a loud bang followed by high-pitched squeals. Two set of clothes and wands clattered to the floor amidst residual octarine sparks. Draco struggled to free his head from his hood, which once again had fallen over his eyes. He peeped out of the opening and saw a pile of clothes on the floor. There was no sign of Harry. At first he chuckled, but was then shocked into silence as an alien sound issued from his mouth instead. He lifted his hand and gave a loud screech as a furry pure white arm waved in front of his nose. Harry Potter had transfigured him into a ferret. Naked. Draco hissed and dashed towards his wand, but before he could reach it, something chocolate and furry and all claws and teeth had leapt upon him and had sank its teeth into his tail. He screeched in pain. His wand had rolled into a shallow depression, and he realised that he was unable to cast any spell while in ferret form; therefore the same must apply to Harry, who was bristling not a metre away from him, in the form of a chocolate ferret. The hair on Harry’s body had stood up, a sign he was thoroughly worked up. He hissed in anger and rushed headlong towards Harry; leaping on Harry's back, biting down hard on his ear. Draco grinned satisfactorily as a Harry screeched in pain, but his grin disappeared as Harry twisted under him and slammed him onto his stomach. Sharp teeth tore at his neck and fur flew everywhere as claws scrabbled against his side. Draco screeched as he careened into the wall, trying to shake his attacker off. Harry held on doggedly and they hissed as they rolled on the ground, biting and clawing with equal ferocity. Five years of pent up anger and frustration were vented in wild abandon as they fought to inflict as much pain and humiliation on each other. They chased each other along the corridor, claws gouging fur and flesh. Harry made a kamikaze lunge at Draco as they reached the top of a staircase, Draco feinted and toppled backwards pulling Harry along by sinking his teeth into Harry’s forearm. They thudded down the stone steps and landed with a loud chittering. They had hardly stopped seeing stars when a loud hiss froze them to the spot. A pair of red eyes stared at them. Deadly incisors gleamed in the torchlight. Mrs Norris hissed again as she advanced towards the transfigured boys. She swiped at Harry, catching him on the underbelly. He flew through the air, bounced off the wall and slid down with a thud. Draco stared goggled-eyed at his year-mate who now lay unmoving. The cat turned her demonic eyes on him and snarled. Draco scrabbled furiously and dashed behind Harry. He buried his head under Harry’s tail and screeched loudly. “Let her eat him first, please, please, please,” he prayed feverishly. “And make her choke on his bones and die.” “Fuck you, Malfoy,” Harry hissed at him. “And get away from under my tail.” They stared at each other in shock, as realisation dawned. They were perfectly able to understand each other’s ferret talk. Draco moved his head from under Harry’s tail, his mouth turned down in embarrassment. He slinked behind Harry, effectively putting Harry between Mrs Norris and himself. Harry turned his head and looked at him balefully. “Scared, Malfoy?” he taunted, as he slowly got to his feet. A deep gash scored his side and blood matted his fur. Draco looked at him and then looked away. “I don’t want to die,” he whined softly. “Father will have Filch’s head on a platter if that mangy cat of his lays one paw on me —,” Harry rolled his eyes, watching Mrs Norris carefully. “Your father will feed you to his boa constrictor as soon as he claps his eyes on you. You are a ferret; remember that. Now shush.” Draco made a face and put his paws over his eyes. Harry batted at his ears urgently. “What?” “On my word, you dart behind Mrs Norris and bite her legs. I will…distract her front end.” “Are you crazy? She’ll kill you!” Harry broke into a grin and taunted, “Why, Draco…I didn’t know you cared.” Draco bristled and mumbled something rude sotto-voce. “Hmm, I guess not. It’s not fun being the only transfigured ferret isn’t it? Now, get up.” He nudged Draco with his nose. “And, oh Malfoy, if you run away, I will come after you and make you very, very sorry.” Draco nodded miserably. The next two minutes happened in a blur. Draco sank his teeth into Mrs Norris’ legs just as Harry launched himself on the cat’s head, flipping backwards to land on her back, and bit her neck viciously. Mrs Norris gave a terrified yowl and jumped into the air. She landed with a thump on her haunches, squashing Draco and flinging Harry into the air. Harry landed on her head with his claws out, scrabbling furiously. Mrs Norris threw him off, scrabbled to her feet and disappeared around the corner, yowling. Harry got to his feet and made his way to Draco who was lying motionless in a corner. He sniffed at the prone form nervously. “Ungggghhhh…” Draco whined slowly. “That fat lump squashed me. I think she broke my back.” “Nonsense. Get up now. Come on.” “Potter, I’m dying, you idiot,” Draco whimpered. Harry sighed, took a mouthful of neck and proceeded to drag him backwards. “Oww, oww..! Stop it, you’re killing me…aaahhhhhh!” Harry did not stop until they reached a deserted corridor. He dropped Draco brusquely and leaned against a wall, licking at the gash on his side. A cold draught whistled through the corridor and they shivered. Harry curled himself into a ball. “Great, Potter, now we are going to freeze to death,” sneered Draco, as he limped towards Harry. Harry obstinately ignored him and curled tighter. Draco sniffed him and whined, “I’m cold.” “Fuck off, Malfoy. Stop whining...just go to sleep.” Harry sighed. His side hurt and the last thing he wanted was a whining Draco Malfoy on his case. “I’m cold. I want to go back to my bed.” Harry lifted his head and swore colourfully. “Go then. Fuck off. Get lost. Die. Goodbye. Bottled-Blond arsehole. God, I want a cigarette.” Draco gaped. He never knew Harry could swear succinctly. He gulped and shivered, “I want a cigarette too. And I’m not a bottled blond.” Harry ignored him and turned his back. He shut his eyes and shivered convulsively. Something warm and furry pressed against him. His eyes snapped open and met Draco’s beady-eyed stare. “I’ll kill you if you tell anyone. Now move over.” * * * Draco woke up and shivered, in order to raise his body temperature. His face was buried in something soft, downy and musky and something was persistently sucking at his ear. He opened his eyes slowly. Then last night’s events crashed into him and he jerked in horror. A claw caught him squarely on the throat and he gagged. A chocolate, blood-encrusted ferret stared at him, a small smile curling its mouth. “Argh!” he screeched, jerking his ear out of Harry’s mouth. It felt tender and sore. The bugger must have been sucking on it all night. Harry shivered and leaned against him, unperturbed, and licked at his scabs. They stared at each other some more. Then Harry cocked his head and moved down the corridor. Draco scampered after him. * * * “You bloody idiots! What do you mean you didn’t notice Harry’s been gone?” Hermione glared at Ron and Dean who cringed under her menacing stare. Ron twisted his hands on his lap nervously. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Been busy.” Hermione snatched a parchment out of Dean’s hands and waved it under their noses. “Too busy running your little mail order company, eh, boys?” She rolled up the parchment and thwaped Ron’s head soundly. “What’s this…Wizards in Vinyl…Bikini Bombshells…Confessions of raunchy House elves! House elves…that’s so sick!” Dean fidgeted. “Erm, can I have that back please?” he said meekly. Hermione’s eyes glazed as she gaped at the assortment of smarmy wizards clad in an assortment of vinyl gear small enough to be swallowed whole. Dean struggled to prise it off her hands. “Harry’s been complaining of a headache and we assumed he checked himself into the infirmary. And…when he did not come back we assumed he went to stay with Hagrid,” Dean muttered, as he stuffed the parchment under his mattress. Hermione tapped her foot. “Where’s his Marauder’s Map?” she snapped at Ron, hauling him upright. Ron shook his head. “Don’t know. It’s not in his trunk…I’ve already checked. Do you think something nasty happened to him?” He twisted his hands anxiously. “Hmm, the Dark Lord may have kidnapped him already for all we know,” she sighed. “Come on, let’s tell McGonagall.” * * * Draco dug happily in the pots inside Greenhouse number 3. He darted between the upturned pots and chittered gaily as he burrowed into the soil, scattering compost and plants everywhere. Harry looked up from licking at a bar of soap on the sink and watched him indulgently. A nagging voice played at the edge of his memory, but he couldn’t make it out. He shivered and jumped after Draco and they chased each other gleefully under the tables. * * * “Can you tell me if Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy have been fighting again lately?” said McGonagall, looking severely at the three downcast students. They fidgeted silently. “They always are,” Ron mumbled. Hermione elbowed him sharply. “Is something the matter, Professor?” asked Hermione, cautiously. McGonagall sighed. “Mr Filch found these clothes and wands in a disused corridor earlier today. We have reason to believe they belong to Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy.” Ron’s mouth dropped open, large enough to nestle Pigwidgeon. “They took their clothes off? But…that’s disgusting!” Dean snorted and quickly turned it into a cough. “No, Mr Weasley. I did the Prior Incantatem on these wands; it appears that they had some altercation and have used their transfiguration skills on each other.” Hermione goggled. “What do you mean, Professor?” “Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy have successfully transfigured each other into ferrets, and we need to find them soon and fix it. Otherwise…” McGonagall lips disappeared in a grim line. Three pairs of saucer-sized eyes stared at her expectantly. “Yes, Professor…?” McGonagall looked at the students in turn. “They will forget they are humans and believe they are ferrets for life. Their primal instinct will take over, and knowing how much they hate each other, I fear to think what they would have done to one another.” * * * Neville Longbottom stared at the mess in the greenhouse in dismay. His prized Bouncing Bulbs lay scattered on the floor amidst broken pots and pools of stagnant water. He sighed and began to clean up the damage. Professor Sprout would go ape if she found out something had broken her Mandrake stalks. A chittering sound made him look up. A pair of dirt-encrusted ferrets darted at him and ran up his trouser legs. Neville yelled and toppled backwards, hitting his head against the table. He passed out. Draco scurried out of Neville’s trousers and sniffed the boy experimentally. He chittered at Harry and they slinked under the table. The fun of being a ferret was the extended naptime they had. Three hours of play followed by a solid six hours of naptime. Draco climbed into a pot, rolled onto his back and scrabbled playfully when Harry dived onto his underbelly. They wrestled silently. “Uh, Draco…” “Mmpppffftttt…” came a muffled reply, as Draco nipped mischievously at Harry’s underbelly. “Nice outie bellybutton you got here,” he chuckled, burying his face in the fur. Harry stiffened and tried to shuffle backwards. “Draco…that is…NOT…my bellybutton,” he stammered. Draco ignored him and nipped harder. Harry squirmed and tried to twist away, but Draco held on to him fast, beady red eyes staring and pink dirt-streaked nose wriggling. Draco chittered gleefully, nipping at Harry’s side. “Ow, ow! That hurts, you psycho bastard!” Harry scrambled from under the table, just as Draco lunged at him. He fell flat on his stomach with Draco firmly on top of him, teeth buried in his neck, feet scrabbling playfully on the ground. Harry’s mind went blank as he tried to shake the overexcited ferret/boy off his back. “Argh! Gerroff me!” he hissed in total panic. Draco pinned him to the ground and bit his ears playfully. “I want to play. Come on Harry, be a sport. Play with me.” He wrestled Harry onto his back and nipped the bellybutton again. “Blargh!!” Harry yelled, eyes watering in pain. He scrabbled vainly as Draco sat on his belly, sharp teeth nipping into his ribs. “Yaaarrrrghhh!! Gerroff…gerroff me!” Draco chittered excitedly, obstinately ignoring Harry’s agitated pleas. “I got you now, Harry. Nyahahaha,” Draco laughed maniacally as he bounced up and down on Harry’s chest. Harry wheezed each time the now grubby white ferret landed on him. Neither boy heard the footsteps nor the shocked gasps as someone assisted Neville groggily to his feet. A low discussion followed, punctuated by the words “ferrets”, “oh no”, “could it be..?”, “There! There!”, but neither boy understood a word of it. They were beginning to forget. A loud BANG! rang through the greenhouse. Professor McGonagall, Hermione, Ron, Neville and Dean stared open mouthed at the stark naked and dirt-streaked Draco Malfoy who was straddling the chest of an equally naked and dirt-streaked Harry Potter. Draco and Harry exchanged appalled looks and hollered in unison. Draco leapt off and quickly dragged Harry up by the armpits; placing Harry between himself and the others. Harry glanced down and yelped. He bended over and grabbed a flowerpot; using it to cover himself as he jerked upright again. Draco gave a sharp gasp as Harry accidentally bumped into him and he quickly gripped Harry’s waist from the back, his front flushed against the boy. Harry eyes widened in shock and he gripped the flowerpot tighter. Something hard was pressing against his backside. “Mr Potter! Mr Malfoy! Both of you are a disgrace to your houses,” said McGonagall sternly. “Thank goodness we found you in time; thanks to Miss Granger’s tracking spell – or you would have remained as ferrets, at least mentally. And what did you do to each other –” she eyed them critically. Dean snorted and turned it into a coughing fit. Draco buried his head behind Harry’s shoulder and muttered a low “Whoops, sorry.” He tightened his grip on Harry, shielding himself from the others. Harry cursed under his breath. “One hundred points from each of you and you will both receive detention for your totally juvenile and reckless behaviour. Now run along to the infirmary and get those cuts attended to before they turn septic.” Draco peeked at her and mumbled, “Er, Professor…we need…clothes.” McGonagall stared at him grimly. She nodded and waved her wand. “Accio smocks.” Two pairs of bright pink smocks flew through the air and landed on their heads. Draco opened his mouth to protest, but McGonagall cut him off sharply. “Either that, or you two can cover yourselves with flowerpots. Consider that as part of your punishment for your gross misbehaviour. Be thankful I am not taking off any more house points from you, considering the stress you have put everyone through.” She turned to the four pole-axed Gryffindors. “You four come with me.” She swept out of the room, muttering darkly. Ron and Hermione gave Harry sympathetic smiles and trudged after her. Dean turned, grinned widely and gave Harry the thumbs up sign. Neville just stared, gave a shudder and ran after the others. Draco reached for a pink smock. “We are so fuckkered. One hundred points! And does she expect me to wear pink?! It’s outrageous. Pink does not suit me,” he complained loudly, one arm still clamped tightly around Harry’s waist. “Erm, you can let go of me now,” Harry said, acutely aware of the heat coming off the grubby boy behind him. Draco gave him a funny look and then down at his own arm in mild surprise. He grinned. “Heh heh. Whoops, sorry.” Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, gripping the flowerpot for dear life until his knuckles turned white. “I think you need a cold shower,” he said flatly, finally turning his head around to find Draco leering at him. Harry felt a strange churning in his guts. He winced. Draco leant close to his ear. “Really? I wonder,” he taunted and made to grab the flowerpot off Harry. Harry yelped and elbowed him hard. Draco toppled backwards and landed spread-eagled on the floor, howling with hysterical laughter. The pink smock fluttered down and covered his modesty. A dark look crossed Harry’s face as he stared at his year-mate. “Fuck you, Malfoy. You bastard,” he hissed, tossing the flowerpot aside and lunging at Draco. He grabbed for Draco’s neck, bent on squeezing the life out of him, not caring on how naked and filthy they were as they rolled about, arms and legs hitting and kicking, teeth biting at every opportunity. And that was how Professor Sprout and the class of Year 5 Herbology students found them. A sudden hush fell over the student body as everybody watched in morbid fascination at the sight of a naked, filthy and bruised Harry Potter sitting on the back of an equally naked, filthy and bruised Draco Malfoy on the worktable. Harry’s fist froze in mid-punch as a camera bulb flashed. They shrieked in unison and rolled off the table with a solid thud and colourful curses. Minutes passed in pregnant silence. Finally, two tousled heads appeared from behind the worktable, faces fixed with matching scowls. They stood up stiffly, clad in matching bright pink smocks. Harry and Draco exchanged glances, mustered as much dignity as possible and strode quickly out of the greenhouse. As soon as they were a decent distance away, they leant against the castle wall and slid down with a thump. “We are well and thoroughly fuckkered this time,” Draco moaned into his hands. “Yeah,” Harry agreed sullenly. “Father’s going to kill me.” “Good.” “Eh?” he looked at Harry sideways. Harry was staring into the middle distance with a look of rapt concentration on his face. “What?” “We need to memory charm those students,” Harry said flatly. “Good idea,” Draco agreed, looking at him admiringly. “Are you with me on this or not?” Draco shrugged and chewed his lip thoughtfully. “Of course. And I’m going to kill Creevey, just mark my words.” Harry stood up and cast a glance up and down the corridor. “Not if I get to him first,” he replied blandly. Draco grinned despite himself. Harry extended his hand, flexing his index and middle fingers a little. “Come on, let’s get ourselves fixed.” * * * “Hermione, what exactly did Professor McGonagall means when she said Harry’s and Malfoy’s primal instinct would take over?” Ron asked as they sat in the Quadrangle. A frown creased Hermione’s brows. “I’m not sure. But I think it mean that whatever latent feelings they have for each other would be triggered by the hex.” “Oh. That’s not so bad then,” Ron perked up and added gleefully, “Harry hates Malfoy to the core. I hope he thumped that stupid git senseless.” “We wouldn’t be so sure about that,” a deep rumble came from behind him. Ron turned around and made a face. “Goyle. Crabbe.” The Slytherin duo nodded and looked at each other. “The hex they used weren’t the normal ones McGonagall taught us. It’s an older variation of the hex. My father told me that these hexes had a funny way of triggering a person’s real emotions.” “Huh?” Goyle rolled his eyes and spoke slowly, as though to a mentally challenged child. “What it means, Weasley, whatever Malfoy’s and Potter’s latent base feelings towards each other would be blasted open by the hex and those emotions would override everything else. They are physically restored, but that’s about all for now.” Ron grinned. “We know they hate each other. Nothing to worry there – right, Hermione?” “Um,” Crabbe exchanged furtive looks with Goyle. “I won’t be so cocksure about that.” Hermione’s frown deepened. “Are you saying they are physically cured, but still emotionally cursed?” Crabbe nodded looking shifty. “Something’s not right, but I can’t remember what. How long do you figure these latent base feelings will last?” She pursed her lips and looked at the duo. Goyle shrugged. “I don’t know. Days, weeks…months maybe. We better keep an eye on both of them these couple of weeks.” * * * Tuesday night Madam Pomfrey had flatly refused to heal their cuts and bruises magically; therefore, both Harry and Draco had to bear the scars of their fights. This was not as bad as the strange looks and sniggers that greeted them wherever they went. Filch had them clean out the Quidditch storage room after dinner. “This is bloody servants’ job,” Draco complained bitterly as he kicked at the dusty assortment of broken bats and old protective gears. “Wait until my Father hears of this!” He glared at Harry, as if daring him to comment and vaulted onto a shelf. He leaned against the wall, legs dangling over side and pouted. Harry looked up from examining a box of deflated Quaffles and grinned. *Very fetching and very girly. And he was such an adorable ferret.* He reached into his pockets and drew out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one, raised an eyebrow at Draco and tossed the pack at him – who caught it deftly. “Hey, you smoke the same brand,” Draco said with a tinge of amusement. He stuck a stick in his mouth and lit it up. “I can’t be arsed to clean this place. I’ll get Dobby to do it,” said Harry nonchalantly as he came to stand before Draco, squinting at him through the haze of cigarette smoke. “How’s your neck?” he asked conversationally. Draco pulled down his collar, wincing a little as he exposed the angry red welts on his neck. Some of the cuts had started to get septic, but Madam Pomfrey’s stinging salve had cured them. Harry stared at the curve of the blond’s neck as if enraptured. He reached out and touched the skin, running his fingers gingerly over the marks. Draco made a face but did not pull away. “Well, no permanent damage there,” Harry said, pulling the collar lower and peering closely, his face barely inches away. Draco crossed his eyes as Harry’s fingers traced languid circles on his skin. Harry stepped back and took a drag from his cigarette. He stared into the middle distance, the cogs in his brain mashing together, plotting crazily. Draco was acutely aware of the fingers running up and down his neck, but Harry showed no sign of being aware of his action, or its effect on the smaller boy. “We need to work on the Memory Charm tonight,” he announced simply. “And then there’s Colin to be dealt with.” He glanced at Draco who was sitting bolt upright on the shelf, cigarette hanging on his lips. “Are you okay?” He peered at the boy, and laid his other hand on Draco’s thigh. Draco gurgled incoherently, flushing bright pink. The cigarette dropped from his lips and rolled on the floor. “Draco?” he asked, somewhat concerned. “Ngggghhhhhhh,” a strangled sound issued weakly from Draco. He gestured helplessly towards his thigh. “Oh, sorry,” Harry grinned mischievously, not sounding sorry at all. He dropped both hands on the shelf and pushed himself between Draco’s legs, effectively trapping the boy against the wall. “Harry…,” Draco squeaked, mesmerised. *Oh God, he’s so sexily demonic. I want to wrestle him stupid.* He tried to move, but his limbs felt like lead. A shiver ran up his spine. “You promised to help me, Draco,” Harry drawled, dragging out the word Draco longer than necessary. He winked slowly at the squirming boy and ran his hands along Draco’s sides. Draco gurgled and nodded his head vigorously; the glint in Harry’s eyes had turned his insides to mush. The hiss of a cigarette lighter snapped him out of his shock. Harry smiled impishly and handed him a cigarette. Draco was painfully aware that Harry was looking at him far too calmly as he took a drag from his own cigarette. *I want my ferret playmate. Blimey, I missed him last night.* Draco shivered, glazed-eyed. Harry smirked, as if able to read his thoughts. “You said yesterday you wanted to play, Draco. Well, do you still want to?” Draco actually toppled off the shelf and landed on the floor with a thud. Harry crouched beside him and ran his index finger up and down Draco’s chest. Draco felt his knees wobble, but as he was already on the floor, the effect went unnoticed. *Oh God, he’s turning me on. Again,* He gulped. “Yes.” Harry drew his hand away, stood up and strode to the end of the room. “Come here,” he called out. Draco grinned as a mad urge struck him. He got on all fours and crawled towards Harry, who was leaning casually against the wall with an impish glint in his eyes. Harry polished his glasses with the hem of his shirt, and then carefully pocketed them. Draco let his grin widen and licked his lips.*God, he’s so sexy, I could eat him with a spoon.* He squatted before Harry and leered. Harry hauled him up, twisting around in the process and gently pinned him against the wall. “Do you still want to play?” Harry’s smirk broadened, and he slid his body closer to the smaller boy. He held both Draco’s arms over his head with one hand. “Define play,” Draco purred as his tongue flicked out and moistened his lips. The cigarette fell from his fingers and rolled into a corner. A naughty grin spread over Harry’s face. “Well…I wonder what will happen, Draco, if I do this —” He wriggled a hand inside Draco’s shirt and blew into his ear softly. Draco squeaked and crossed his eyes. Harry lowered his lashes and added suggestively, “And this—” He took a final puff at his cigarette, clamped his mouth over Draco’s, muffling the boy's startled squeak and exhaled second-hand smoke down Draco's throat. Draco coughed spasmodically. “Ack!” Draco tried to jerk free from Harry’s grasp. “That was foul.” “Really…?” “Really,” Draco answered bashfully, his racing heartbeat belying his words. Harry gave him a lingering look. Draco blushed and lowered his eyes coyly. Without warning, he pressed forward and kissed Harry fully on the lips. It wasn’t perfect, but it left them both wide-eyed and breathless in surprise. “Wow.” “Much better than when you were a ferret.” A hand tickled his armpit. Draco gasped silently and squirmed. “Stop, I’m ticklish…,” he struggled out of Harry’s grip and they grappled silently. Draco ended up on his back, hair covered in cobwebs and giggling incoherently. “Shush, now,” Harry commanded, letting go of his hands. He grinned and set upon tickling Draco with relish. Draco writhed with silent laughter, batting Harry’s hands away. “Stop…stop,” he gasped. “You don’t play fair. Ow, ow!” He curled up, pink-faced and breathless. Harry crouched over him, each hand beside his head. “You didn’t mind as much when you were a ferret. In fact, if I remember correctly you seem to enjoy sinking your nose in my belly,” *and more,* he added mentally. Draco blushed. “I was cold,” he muttered lamely and grinned. “And you sucked my ears an awful lot while you were asleep.” *How pretty, just like a choirboy.* Harry wrinkled his nose playfully and said solemnly, “I can’t be held responsible for my actions while I’m asleep.” They looked at each other for long moments and then snorted with laughter in unison. “I can’t believe you said that,” Draco wiped his tears away. Harry raised an eyebrow, eyes twinkling with humour. “What? Well, it’s true.” Harry sat down and pulled the blond between his legs, so that Draco ended up snuggled against him. Harry wrapped his arms around his middle and nibbled his ear playfully. Draco squirmed and giggled. “You are very, very bad,” Draco tried to jerk free, but Harry held him fast. He rolled his eyes as hands roamed under his shirt. “Positively demonic, actually,” he squeaked. “Mm, are you complaining?” Harry snickered as he blew softly onto Draco’s nape. Draco twisted around. *Oh gosh, he’s so delectable.* He shook his head, blushed furiously and looked away. They sat in silence for long moments. Then Harry slid his hands into Draco’s trouser pockets and wriggled his fingers. Draco yelped and banged his heels repeatedly on the floor. “Oh my, Draco. Is that a roll of Galleons or are you pleased to see me?” “Uh, stop…stop!” He squeaked again. The fingers stilled, but the hot breath on his nape did not. “If you insist,” “I changed my mind. Don’t stop.” “I must be crazy,” Harry mumbled between mouthfuls of ear. Draco grabbed his wrists. “Harry…I wonder,” he said breathlessly. “Do you taste as delicious as you look?” Harry smirked and raised an eyebrow. “What’s stopping you, then?” Draco spun in the circle of his arms, grinned broadly and pushed him back. He stood up and hauled Harry to his feet. Harry laughed but didn’t protest. Draco grabbed Harry’s shirtfront and ripped it open. Buttons flew in all directions, one hitting him squarely on the nose, but he was beyond caring. He gripped Harry’s arms, propelling him backwards against the wall. Harry saw stars as his head made contact with the tiles. “Hmm,” Draco murmured, as he ran his tongue over the heated skin. “Indeed.” He looked up and winked at Harry. “Draco? Did I tell you you are a very naughty boy?” Harry gripped Draco’s hair tightly and gave a silent chuckle when Draco yelped. “Pot. Kettle.” Draco replied unfazed as he moved southwards. Harry leaned back and closed his eyes; a dark smile curling his lips. He might as well enjoy himself; after all, it’s not everyday that his irritating but sexy schoolboy rival…. “Ow, not so hard,” he cuffed Draco’s head. Draco mumbled a muffled apology. “Okay, that’s better. Hmm…yes,” Several minutes of silence passed. Finally, Draco looked up and spat onto the floor. “Ugh, that’s the most awful thing I’ve ever done in my life.” He wiped a hand across his mouth. Harry guffawed, reached down and pulled him up. “I’d eaten a pound of grapes earlier if I knew you’ll be doing that, Draco,” he grinned. Draco blushed and nodded. Harry let his grin broadened and without warning lunged at him. Draco gave an undignified squeak as he was thrown backwards; his hands scrabbled at the wall for purchase as Harry shoved a hand inside his trousers. “What?” Draco could hardly breathe; Harry’s hand was doing something incredibly naughty to him. He shuddered and screwed his eyes shut. “Aaaaarghhhhhh…!” he hollered at length. Harry covered his mouth with his free hand and shushed him sternly. Draco stiffened and then his knees buckled and he slid down the wall bonelessly. Harry winked at him and wiped his hand on Draco’s cheek. Draco touched the sticky patch and grimaced. “Hell, you are a mess. Get dressed; I need to call Dobby to finish this stupid cleaning.” Harry spelled the buttons back on his shirt and tucked it haphazardly into his trousers. He held out a hand towards Draco who was still slumped on the floor, looking bewildered and as if he was about to cry. “Bloody hell,” Harry cursed under his breath. Draco looked up, glassy eyed. His face crumpled and he let out a choking sob. Harry felt a prickle at the back of his neck. “What’s the matter, now?” he hissed as he knelt beside the sobbing boy. He touched Draco gingerly and the boy burst into a loud wail. “Shut up, now! Shush. Draco, be sensible or you’ll have Filch in here in a shot.” He pulled Draco up roughly to his feet and tucked his shirt back in with unnecessary force. When Draco did not cease his moaning, Harry slapped him lightly. He looked at Draco critically. “Pull yourself together and listen to me,” Draco looked at him through red-rimmed eyes and nodded meekly. “M’sorry,” he muttered, wiping a hand over his face. “Was…overwhelmed. It’s just that…I’ve never…,” he broke off and shuffled his feet. Harry patted his face and gave him a quick squeeze. “It’s okay. Now, we need to cast a Memory Charm on the Year 5 students. You are better at Potions than I am. Can you brew something…something to make them forget or confuse them?” Draco nodded and looked at the floor. Harry crossed his arms and studied him silently. “What is wrong with you?” he sighed, half-exasperated. “Come on, let’s go to your dorm —” Draco’s head snapped up and he gave an alarmed squeak. Harry kicked himself mentally. “To get your portable potions kit, you great ninny!” Draco blushed furiously. Harry stared at him and his stomach lurched. *Mm, he’s so cute…like a choirboy.* he looked away hurriedly. He turned on his heels abruptly and strode out of the storeroom. Draco ran after him. * * * Draco sat back on his heels and gave a self-satisfied smirked. The potion bubbled in his cauldron, giving an occasional pop. “There. Done.” He shifted slightly as Harry crouched beside him and handed him a cigarette. “Thanks, mate,” he took a long drag and blew smoke through his nose. “What exactly do we do with it now?” said Harry as he lay down on the floor of a disused storeroom. Thank goodness for warming spells. He stretched out lazily and stifled a yawn. “That’s your department,” said Draco, sounding bored. Harry could tell he was smirking. He glanced sideways at the blond, who was yawning luxuriously. “You get them to ingest it. And voila, all memory of me will be erased,” he chuckled. “Draco, if you tamper with that potion and cover just yourself, I’ll pound your arse into the ground,” Harry said icily. “Really? I’m so scared.” “And then, I’ll transfigure you into a ferret and feed you to a Hippogriff.” “Interesting notion. Are you always this foul, Harry?” “Only to you, Draco,” Harry rose on one elbow. “Did you tamper with the potion?” he asked, voice low and menacing. Draco felt his limbs freeze. He shook his head vigorously. “No. Honest. It’ll work for both of us.” Harry grunted and made himself comfortable in the nest of cloaks and blankets on the floor. “Sod it, I can’t be arsed to walk up all those stairs.” He rolled on his side, his back towards Draco. A gentle snore jerked Draco out of his random fantasising a while later. He poked Harry with his wand. *I so missed snuggling up to him…I wonder if he’d mind,* He poked slightly harder, bit his lips and stared vacantly at the ceiling. He made to leave, but a hand shot out and grabbed him by the ankle. Silence. After a moment, light shuffles and muffled chuckles. “Move over, Harry —” Then, a bit later, another chuckle – the tone teasing. “Yeah, and I’ll kill you if you tell anyone.” * * * Late Wednesday evening Later that evening they sat in companionable silence by the lakeside, smoking and guzzling Butterbooze™. They took turns at chucking empty Butterbooze™ bottles and blasting them in mid-air with their wands. The splinters transfigured into pathetic puffskeins as they fell, which then hit the rocky ground with a sickening splat. “It’s genius how McGonagall forgot all about the points deduction, really,” said Draco, burping gently into his hand. He sat down gingerly on rock and winced. Harry tossed a bottle in the air and blasted it to smithereens with a well-aimed spell. The resulting puffskein zoomed like a rogue Bludger before hitting a tree trunk with a fatal and messy squelch. Draco laughed, “That’s just so sick, Harry!” “Yeah, but you like it, don’t you? Anyway, I’ve told you Dobby would spike the breakfast juice, no question asked. The whole school got a dose, and no one now has the foggiest what happened over the weekend,” said Harry, stubbing his cigarette out on a rock. “You could have been dancing naked on the staff table and they wouldn’t remember,” he snickered. “Did you get the film off Creepy Creevey?” Harry nodded, reached into his pockets and pulled put the spool. He tossed it in the air and blasted it. It transfigured for a moment into a surprised puffskein before bursting into flames. Draco made a face as the ashes settled on his hair. Harry stood up and stretched. “Ow, my legs hurt,” he winced and hopped about one legged before toppling over with an oof. Draco snickered and prodded him with his booted foot. Harry glared. “Fuck you, Draco,” he said flatly. “You’ve already done that last night. Twice,” answered Draco smugly. “After some spectacular misses,” he added with a mischievous snigger. Harry turned bright red and shoved him roughly on the chest. “Shut up already! Like you were any better, huh. Damn, I think I’ve got the cramps.” Draco lit a cigarette and puffed thoughtfully. “It’s your fault, really. What did you think I was, your Firebolt? If you had just relaxed when you slung you legs over my shoulders, instead of trying to twist my head off with your knees like some martial artist, it would have been all right.” “Hah!” Harry snorted contemptuously. “And if I hadn’t gagged you, you’d have had Filch running, thinking someone was being murdered. You screamed like a girl, if you must know.” Draco stuck out his tongue impudently. Harry guzzled down the last of the Butterbooze™ and hurled the bottle into the air. He blasted it with a satisfying bang, then turned and sat down beside Draco. He rummaged in the pockets of his cloak, pulled out a bag and shoved it to Draco. Draco raised an eyebrow, a smirk curling his lips. “Grapes, Harry?” Harry stared at him, and then broke into an impish grin. He popped a grape into his mouth, chewed it slowly, and winked. “It makes you taste sweet, don’t you know?” Draco smiled coyly and climbed onto his lap. “Really?” he breathed, face flushed from the cold and something else. Harry chortled and kissed his nose. He shoved his gloved hands into Draco’s jumper. “Shut up and let’s quickly eat them.” Then there was silence. Then again, they were too engrossed to need words. ~ THE END ~
© Zed Adams ANALogy & TOPology Potterverse : Winter 2002 |