Seven Days - Chapter 9
September 21, 1996. Sunday.
“Who’s your Godfather?”
“OH MY GOD! I’M GOING TO BE DEFLOWERED BY A MURDERER! THE SHAME! THE HORROR! YOU HAVE TO SAVE ME!”
“My Godfather was not a murderer!” Harry barked. “Now will you please stop clinging to my crotch!”
“Right. Please allow me to rephrase… OH MY GOD! I’M GOING TO BE DEFLOWERED BY A DERANGED KILLER!”
“Draco, let go of my nutsack. As I was saying, Sirius was framed by Peter Pettigrew, who spent twelve years in hiding disguised as Ron’s pet rat. My Godfather never killed anyone. He’s just a kind, gentle…”
“Psychotic undead lunatic who plans to climb out of the TV and impale me against my will with his fourteen inch cock!”
“The undead still have needs.”
“WHAT?” Draco screeched. “HARRY, WHAT DO I LOOK LIKE TO YOU - A PIECE OF MEAT?”
“Well, you would make an adorable virgin sacrifice.” Harry smirked at the fuming blonde.
“YOU BASTARD! I AM NOT GOING TO GIVE MY CHERRY TO THAT ANIMAL! I’LL KILL MYSELF FIRST!”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Draco. This isn’t a post-apocalyptic dark fic.”
“I don’t care.”
“And you’ll devastate all of the Harry/Draco fangirls.”
“They’re already devastated because you won’t fuck me.”
“Oh, so now you’re… pouting.”
“I am not pouting,” Draco pouted.
“Yes you are. Now let me get this straight…”
“If you got it straight, you wouldn’t be sitting here with me.”
“As I was saying, bitch,” Harry retorted, “you’re pouting and pretending to plan to kill yourself because you’re angry that I won’t throw you on top of your bed and ravage you before my Godfather takes you dry.”
“I’m touched,” Harry smirked.
“You should be.”
“And you’re an arrogant, self-absorbed prick who deserves to be the sacrificial lamb for my undead Godfather’s posthumous sexual urges.”
“I’m not going to dignify that,” Draco replied.
“I wouldn’t either.”
Harry and Draco locked eyes. An uncomfortable silence hung between them. Suddenly, Harry reached over and clasped Draco’s hand.
“I didn’t mean…”
Harry squeezed Draco’s hand reassuringly. It was freezing. Draco tensed, and reflexively pulled away. Harry looked guiltily at the shivering bloke beside him.
“We’ll figure something out, Draco. I promise.”
Draco looked over at Harry, and stifled a sob. Harry paled, clearly unsure of what he was supposed to say. Draco reached out and nervously clutched Harry’s hand again.
Harry and Draco arrived at Professor Lupin’s office an hour later. Draco was calm again and refused to acknowledge that he could possibly have ever even insinuated that he might have had a mild breakdown in Potter’s presence. After all, he was a Malfoy.
Harry knocked on Lupin’s door.
“Hello?” Harry called out. “Professor Lupin? Are you there? We need you to help us find Sirius so that we can stop him from deflowering Draco tomorrow night.”
Harry opened the door. Seated in Lupin’s chair was a large werewolf, who was curled up and sipping Earl Grey tea.
“Draco, it’s all right. He’s taken his Wolfsbane potion. Haven’t you, Professor?”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Harry added. “But… umm… Professor… this doesn’t make any sense. It’s twelve noon. How could you possibly be a werewolf now?”
The werewolf slid a handwritten note across the table to Harry.
Last night, I accidentally overdosed on my Wolfsbane potion. As a result, I will be a werewolf for the next forty eight hours, and therefore cannot offer you lovebirds any assistance whatsoever in your quest.
P.S.: Would you kindly ask your lovemuffin to say hello to Padfoot for me?
P.P.S.: Are you sure you won’t sell me that video? Your Mum was really sexy.
“So now what?” Harry asked, seated on Draco’s bed in the Slytherin Dungeon.
“Maybe, we should watch the video again and search for clues about how we can find the homicidal maniac… I mean, your Godfather. Take that magnificent arch, for instance. It has to have some significance…”
“Don’t be so logical, Draco. We need to have sex first.”
“What?” Draco gasped.
“You didn’t actually think that I was going to let my undead Godfather leave me his sloppy seconds, did you?” Harry teased.
Draco stiffened considerably. “Now I know that you’re related… sort of… well, not really… I mean… whatever.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. Draco slid his hand on top of Harry’s.
“Oh, so you don’t like it when I grab onto your cobblers.”
“You… surprised me,” Draco choked. “Don’t you believe in foreplay?”
“This is foreplay,” Harry snickered.
“No, Harry, foreplay is kissing and hugging and petting and…”
“Will you just bend over?”
“You brute! What if I say no?”
“Well, that’s beside the point. Hypothetically, if I were not going to be deflowered by a deranged murderer tomorrow and therefore would not be desperate to have you pry open my sacred treasure tonight, then theoretically I could deny your boorish advances, Potter.”
“But you wouldn’t.”
“Because you’re too easy.”
“I’m just teasing you, Draco.” Harry let go of Draco’s family jewels and playfully slid his hands up the blonde’s torso until they both rested on his shoulders. He dug his thumbs into Draco’s upper back, and then began moving them around in a clumsy quasi-circular motion. “See, now I’m giving you a pathetic excuse for a back massage.”
“Well, it’s about time,” Draco replied, melting into the rhythm of Harry’s strong fingers. The massage stopped abruptly. Draco glanced at Harry, perturbed.
“Now will you please just spread ‘em?” Harry asked, ogling Draco like a penniless child staring at a large, tasty, multicolored lollypop displayed behind a translucent candy store window.
“HARRY, I DEMAND SOME BLOODY FOREPLAY BEFORE I GIVE IT UP! I’VE WAITED TOO LONG, GODAMMIT!”
“Draco, I’m a wizard. I don’t believe in foreplay. It’s against the rules.”
“Of wizard sex.”
“Well, the first one is that wizards just want to blow their wad and go watch professional quidditch, while witches want us to take our time and be all touchy feely and delicate…”
“Are you inferring that I’m a witch?”
“Well you’re certainly acting like one. Hey, Draco… stop that. Let go of my jock strap. I WILL NOT LET YOU DEFLOWER ME! Draco, don’t you dare. Put that sausage back in your La Perla boxers. Draco… DRACO, I’M WARNING YOU! OH, DEAR GOD!”
[An hour later]
“You’re gonna pay for that.”
“Oh, really. Don’t you want to cuddle now, lovey?” Draco cooed, sarcastically.
“I just did.”
“Alright… that’s it, bitch!”
“Hey, I was just kidding… kidding. I want you to take it slow. Harrrrrry? Are you listening to me? HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARY!”
“That was just my finger.”
“Well, you have big hands.”
“Would you rather I not use lube?”
“Of course you have to use lube. What the fuck do you think this is, my gay Death Eater initiation?”
“I don’t even want to ask... Now will you please stop whining?”
“I am not whining. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“Will you please, for the love of God, relax?”
“I am relaxed.”
“Umm… yeah, right.”
I am. I promise. See no tension here… Just nice pliable buttocks waiting to be… AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
[thirty minutes later]
“I thought you were supposed to last for hours?”
“Well, I would have lasted longer if you didn’t scream bloody murder every time you were impaled by my deluxe burrito. I had to hurry along because I was getting a migraine.”
“I just did.”
There was an uncomfortable silence as Harry surveyed his blonde conquest.
“Draco, are we repeating each other already? I thought that happens only after twenty-five years of marriage?”
“We’re starting early.”
“I just did…”
Draco and Harry stared at each other. Draco rolled over on his back.
“Owww… you beast!”
“Oh, stop whining.”
“I don’t see you sitting on your…”
“Draco,” Harry said firmly.
“We only have 24 hours left before my Godfather returns. Can we please talk about more relevant issues than the condition of your mangled arse?”
“Well, it wouldn’t be mangled if you had been gentle.”
“I was gentle.”
“Okay, I was usually gentle. There was just that one time…”
“I knew it!” Draco smirked victoriously, then glanced at the antique clock on the wall.
“Harry, do I really have less than 24 hours left?”
“Then what are you waiting for? Play the bloody video again. I need to feel like I’m doing something productive.”
“I could think of something more productive.”
Draco swatted him. “Harry, I’m being serious. I want to look at that arch. Maybe it’s a clue.”
“A clue? What could it possibly signify?”
“Well, umm, if you actually watched the video, then maybe you could figure it out, oh brilliant Boy Who Lived.”
“But I want to watch professional quidditch.”
“You’re such a prick, Harry.”
Harry grinned and played the video again. After it was over, he casually slid his arm around Draco’s shoulders.
“That was riveting,” Harry said.
“Shut up,” Draco replied.
“It really was. Now I’ve figured the whole mystery out and your cherry has been saved. Oh yeah, you no longer have one…”
Draco slapped him.
“I deserved that.”
“Yes, you did. Now what do you think is the significance of that arch?”
“Well, it’s not exactly an arch, sweetie. It’s an archway.”
“You are about to die a most painful death.”
“Death… that’s it! That’s where he died.”
“Sirius. I… I knew I’d seen that arch before. That’s the ancient archway that he fell through at the Department of Mysteries.”
“Are you sure?”
“Then why, prey tell, didn’t you realize this several days ago?”
“Because it’s changed. I mean… there’s something missing. The veil… the arch is missing its ragged veil.”
End of Chapter 9