Seven Days - Chapter 10
September 22, 1996. Monday.
Draco stirred under the imported down comforter on his handcrafted king-size bed. As his eyelids unwillingly fluttered opened, he was consumed by the radiant light from the translucent windowpane and the soft heaving breaths of the gorgeous brunette cuddled up next to him.
A smirk crossed Draco’s face as he basked in the knowledge that his one true fantasy had been fulfilled. Harry had deflowered him. And although Draco was still sore from the act, he was quite pleased with his latest conquest.
Draco rolled back under the covers and snuggled up next to the brunette, running his fingers playfully down his firm biceps, and past his six pack until his fingertips brushed alongside his deluxe burrito. Only something was wrong. It was big. Really big. Draco opened his eyes and saw a nude Sirius Black draped on top of him. Sirius’ liquid eyes gleamed as Draco felt the 14 inch salami move in for the kill.
“Seven days,” Sirius whispered, impaling Draco like a vampire devouring his prey.
“Draco, Draco, are you alright? Draco…”
Draco abruptly opened his eyes. A newly awakened Harry was lying next to him, shaking Draco’s milky white forearm.
Draco’s silver eyes nervously darted around the room. He and Harry were lying in his twinsize bed in the Slytherin dungeon and, this morning, the dungeon was unnervingly dark. It was only 9 AM and already Draco was terrified. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and tried to suppress his involuntary shaking.
“It’s alright. I’m here,” Harry whispered.
Draco relaxed momentarily, until his eyes rested on a piece of crumpled parchment lying on the floor. He grasped the paper and lifted it to his eye level. The letter read:
A half hour later, Harry and Draco were up, dressed and ready to leave. They had to get to the Department of Mysteries in London before sundown, but neither knew exactly how they would get there. Neither Harry nor Draco had the skills to Apparate, and Harry’s Firebolt had been confiscated as punishment for the little skirmish involving Harry, Cho and a can of mace. Draco wanted to fly to London on his Nimbus 2001, but unfortunately it was too slow to get them there in time. Harry suggested that they fly on the back of a Thestral, but Draco was adamant about not flying on an invisible beast.
So the only other option available was a Portkey, but neither of them could create one. Harry suggested asking a professor for help, but, unfortunately, Lupin was still a werewolf, Albus had conveniently disappeared and Snape would only agree to create one if Draco bottomed for him first.
“Umm, Harry, have you ever thought of asking me for help?” Hermione asked, stealthily approaching the two blokes on the Hogwarts grounds.
“Hermione, what’re you doing here? This is a H/D slash fanfic. Aren’t you supposed to be professing your undying love for Ron right about now?”
“Erm… no. Unlike you, I still have standards, Harry.”
“HOW DARE YOU!” Draco screeched, drawing his wand.
Hermione flashed a wicked grin as Harry wrestled the wand out of Draco’s hand.
“Stop it, Draco. She’s gonna help us.”
“I don’t care.”
“I’m not whining,” Draco whined.
“Let GO of your wand!”
“Now you’re pouting.”
“I’m not pouting,” Draco pouted.
“I said let go.”
There was an awkward silence as Harry stood up, clutching Draco’s wand, only to discover that Hermione was already gone.
“Hermione? Hermione?” Harry called out. He turned to Draco. “I think we scared her off.”
“Bloody straight people,” Draco smirked.
Harry dragged Draco along the edge of the forest and conveniently found a pack of Thestrals hovering near Hagrid’s Hut. Harry climbed on a Thestral and tried to pull Draco up onto it.
“Absolutely not,” Draco stated.
“Draco, it’s our only choice. Do you want to get there or not?”
“I refuse to ride on a bloody beast that I can’t even see!”
“I don’t care… she did?”
“Oh… well then… as I was saying… onward ye invisible horsey! Fly! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Harry and Draco arrived at the Ministry of Magic an hour before sunset. Harry jumped off of the Thestral and then extended his arm to help Draco climb off of it.
“I’m not getting off, Harry.”
“From last night.”
“What does that have to do with getting off of the Thestral?”
“Do you know how bumpy that ride was? My arse is paralysed. I can’t move.”
“All right, then you can ride the Thestral back to Hogwarts. Look, it’s about to leave right now.”
“Oh, hell no. GERONIMO!”
“Um, Draco. That was not even a four foot drop. Isn’t ‘Geronimo’ reserved for a drop of at least thirty feet?”
“Not when you’re sore.”
“But I caught you?”
“I don’t care.”
“What did you just call me?”
Less than a half hour before sunset, Harry and Draco had broken into the Ministry of Magic, and, following Harry’s shrewd memory, made their way stealthily to the Department of Mysteries.
As Draco entered the room, his jaw dropped. On one side was a shelf of crystal orbs with names written on them. On the other was a big screen TV. Shuddering, Draco reached onto the shelf of orbs and picked one up that said “D. Malfoy.” He angrily chucked the orb at the big screen TV. The orb bounced off of a reflective shield protecting the television and shattered on the floor inches before him.
Suddenly, a mist rose up from the floor and formed the following words:
“You will be
The mist evaporated as Draco and Harry stared at each other nervously. Before Draco could respond, Harry dragged him through a series of rooms, finally ending up before the ancient archway where he had seen his Godfather fall through the veil. There was a big screen TV in the room with the tattered veil.
“Now what?” Draco asked nervously.
“Um… I guess we have to climb through the veil in order to collect Sirius’ bones and bury him in a holy shrine so that he doesn’t climb out of the TV and shag you senseless.”
“Harry, it’s almost dark. It’s too late for me. You should go before he takes you, too.”
Suddenly the TV turned on and recorded static filled the screen. Draco leapt into Harry’s arms. Harry tumbled backwards, dropped Draco, and fell into the ragged veil.
“Do I look like Draco?”
“Oh my god, Sirius? You’re back. I mean… did I die, too?”
“No, this is just the cheesy revelation portion of this fanfic, so I am speaking to you in your dream after you whacked your head hard on the ancient arch.”
“Oh… so I’m not dead?”
“And you didn’t shag Draco yet?”
“Why not? I mean… that great. Er…”
A mischievous grin spread along Sirius’ lips as he reached down and sipped a cup of Chamomile tea. He was not the thirty-six-year old that Harry had once idolized. Instead, he was immortalized as a well endowed teenager with devastating long brown hair and a gigantic bulge.
“Sirius, I don’t understand. Why have you emblazoned your soul into a video so that unsuspecting virgins might watch it and then face your terrible wrath in seven days time?”
“Well, I wouldn’t phrase it like that, Harry. I’m doing them a service, really. And it is about time I got some action, too. I spent TWELVE YEARS rotting in Azkaban, barely surviving on my right hand and, when I finally escaped from that dreadful place, that bitch author sends me into hiding as a fucking flea infested dog and then kills me off before I had a chance to make up for lost time!”
“So naturally my perfect revenge would be to return as a ghost and deflower her innocent unsuspecting virginal students after they watch my video and wait for seven days.”
“But why seven days?”
“Harry, haven’t you figured it out yet?”
“No… I mean yes. I think so. When I saw you knocked into that horrific veil, I thought you had died. But really you were lying there unconscious… starving below that archway… rotting for seven excruciatingly long days… paralysed by your inability to pull yourself back to the land of the living. I’m so sorry, Sirius. Remus told me that you were already dead. I would have gone in after you had I known…”
“Umm, no, Harry. You’ve got it all wrong. Seven days refers to the home video. Remember that video, Harry?”
“The one with you boning my Mum? How could I forget?”
“Yep. That was the best sexual experience I’ve ever had. I mean… she was incredible!”
Harry turned green. “Would you please get on with the story?”
“Anyway, Remus, Lily and I originally planned our ‘party’ on a Tuesday before Beltane. And I was really excited because I had never boned Lily and Remus without James joining in before. So there I was, on that fateful Tuesday afternoon, with a boner the size of The Isle of Man and a set of coconuts to match when suddenly I received an owl. Do you know what it said?”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“Your mother cancelled the party because she was on the rag! The nerve! And so she and Remus left me… alone… abandoned… and horny as hell for SEVEN DAYS before I finally got to blow my wad!”
“I think I am going to curl up and die now.”
“Oh Harry, lighten up. The video is a wonderful thing. Look, just last week you were an insufferable, whiny, closet case and now, because of my meddling, you got your ferret… I mean, the Malfoy heir.”
“So you planned this all along? You made sure Draco watched the tape so that he would come to me and I would have to shag him, fearing that your ghost would do it first.”
“No. But someone else might have…”
“Harry, who do you think had the power to create this video after my death, to place it in the Shrieking Shack knowing full well it was the Slytherin lovenest and then to poison Remus’ Wolfsbane potion so that he couldn’t help you solve this mystery in time?”
“Professor Snape… but why would he do that?”
Sirius winked at his Godson.
“It is time for me to leave you, Harry.”
“Wait, you never told me why I didn’t get an owl after I watched the video, or how you managed to shag my Mum and Remus at the same time on the videotape.”
“Harry, James would have killed me again if I had sent you an owl, and after waiting seven days to bone Lily and Moony, I was bloody horny!”
“But what about the veil? Why was it removed from the arch in your video?”
“Oh, that ragged thing? Would you want it hanging in your home video?”
“Sirius… Sirius… wait…”
There was an awkward silence as Harry felt his whole torso being shaken vigorously.
“Harry… wake up. It’s after sundown. It’s after sundown and I didn’t get shagged. The prophecy was wrong!”
“Huh… what prophecy?”
“The prophecy in the entryway of the Department of Mysteries. It said I was going to get shagged senseless in twenty minutes. But it was wrong. That depraved murderer never came for me. My mangled arse has been spared!”
“Don’t be so sure…”
“Why not?” Draco asked, suddenly nervous.
“I’m still here,” Harry cooed, stealthily unbuttoning his trousers.
“Hee hee hee…”
End of Chapter 10
Author’s Note: Stay tuned as the Seven Days saga ends in Chapter 11.