Summary:The parchment read "Put a smile back on your face! Better than imaginable! Longer lasting! Say goodbye to your old model!" What was Draco suppose to think?
Word Count: ~2900
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and her minions own everything related to Harry Potter and his magical world. This paltry piece of Potterotica is out of my own demented mind.
Author’s Note: This is dedicated to the wonderful MystressXOXO, my friend, for her birthday.
My deep thanks to Mairian (at
http://www.cipher-wotr.com/forum) for her help beta-ing this.
Draco stomped down the stairs toward the laundry room of the Manor. Each plop of his feet reminded him of what a stupid bet this was and how the payment of said bet was so beneath him. He was Draco Fucking Malfoy! He was adored by many, despised by some and feared by most. He had minions, servants, and worshipers! He had lackeys to do his bidding. How dare Harry make him do this! This absurd monstrosity! Without a doubt, he began plotting; revenge was inevitable.
Despite his evil thoughts to seek retribution in the most heinous and vile of ways, he knew he had to do what he must do. He had lost the bet with Harry and now, he had to fulfill his obligations before he could go back to being the true elite pureblood wizard that he was.
Besides, who the hell knew that Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, was a secret Walt Disney fan and could, without hesitation, name all seven of the dwarfs in “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs”? A month ago, Draco was so sure that Harry, raised as a mere house-elf, wouldn’t have a clue who they were, much less be able to name them all. That bitch Squib, Mrs. Figg, had allowed Harry to watch Walt Disney when she went out to the store. “Never trust a Squib,” Draco’s mother used to say. Well, this time, Mother was right. Truer words were never spoken.
Fuck! Even now, Draco couldn’t name all the dwarfs. Maybe he could come up with five on a good day, but seven! Forget it.
At the bottom of the stairs, he glared at the white paint covered door with distain and venom. He approached it hesitantly and looked at the two bastard appliances that stood like mocking sentinels awaiting his approach to an impending execution. Even though he had done this a few times, it never seemed to get any better or easier than to begin the task at hand. Besides, his hands were much too delicate for this type of work.
The first time he had to ask Tinky where the laundry was even done in the Manor and was surprised to find there was actually a room for it with Muggle machines and everything for it. Muggle machines. What was the point of magic if you had soak, rinse, and spin cycles?
What made it worse, though, was how Harry took an unnecessary sadistic joy in pointing out every detail that Draco needed to do in order to get his clothes that crispy cleanness that the detergent advertisements promised. Never mind the fact that at any other time in his life, Harry wouldn’t have cared a rat’s filthy, hairy ass about the cleanliness or crispness of his clothes, but because of the damnable bet he wanted to be regarded as pristine in fashion as Draco himself.
“Love, I’m just doing this so that you aren’t ashamed to go out with me in public,” Harry would say. Liar.
If he wants to look as wonderful as me, Draco thought, he’d better get a cauldron full of Polyjuice Potion to make it happen.
The first time Draco had to do the laundry, he had tried to break the machine by overloading it with clothes and detergent. Unfortunately, Harry had caught on to that early and had stopped the load before it spun itself into a dismal demise. The second time, Draco left all the contents inside of Harry’s pockets only to have a furious Harry who was angered that a critical piece of evidence was accidentally left in his Auror robes and was eroded away from any incriminating use.
So, here he stood on his last and final week of laundry duty going through each and every one of Harry’s pockets, the man had more pockets than Hagrid’s coat and just as loaded down, just to make sure he got out every piece of trash, parchment, or six-year-old fuzzy lint out of every forsaken pocket. When finally, he pulled out a parchment and was getting ready to toss it on to the pile of other refuse when the writing caught his attention.
Put a smile back on your face!
Better than imaginable!
Longer lasting!
Say goodbye to your old model!
Description:
Sleek and Tan
9 inches - to give you a little more to hold onto or a deeper reach
Bends near the head - for those hard to reach places.
Preferences:
Hard, Rough, or Gentle
***Arriving on the August 19th. Pick up at the Wiltshire Office.***
Draco stared at the piece of parchment for about ten minutes in utter shock and dismay. He felt as if his whole life was flashing before his eyes.
What was this?
What could be better than imaginable? Draco could imagine quite a bit and every thought was more glorious than the last, especially the thoughts involving young muscular sailors. But regardless, didn’t Harry have everything he needed with Draco? What was it that he lacked? He had the most stunning, vivacious, wonderful blond in all of England. What did Harry need, other than this gorgeous husband, to put a smile back on his face? And for that matter, when had he stopped smiling to begin with?
All thoughts of completing the wash ceased as Draco stood there dumbly staring at the parchment, his mind growing more and more agitated trying to understand this puzzle. Knowing that Harry wasn’t a big fan of sexual toys, Draco’s mind was alternating between visualizing Harry with someone who met this so physical a description and wondering if Harry was unhappy in their marriage.
And yet, it seemed that lately, Harry had been a bit sullen and aloof. Draco knew he wasn’t tanned, he wasn’t nine inches, he was a mere eight, well honestly, he was seven and half on a good day. Images surrounded his mind’s perception and in time, Draco’s mind was fixed and frozen with the thought of Harry in the arms of another man.
His world was falling apart, and Draco could only stand there, not moving, not trying to change it. He hesitated just like he always did in times of immediate crisis. He wanted to cry, to fold himself into a ball and rock back and forth. But then something inside him snapped out of it. He was Draco Fucking Malfoy! He had to get a grip!
The day wore on and with each passing hour, Draco’s anger and dread at Harry's approach only grew. Then to make matters worse, Harry sent an owl to the Manor to let Draco know that he would be running late tonight. It was some likely story that he had to catch up with his paperwork on his cases. What a load of bollocks! Draco knew a lie when he heard it.
Today was the 18th and Draco was determined to find out what was going on. What was Harry up to? Was he having an affair or getting ready to have an affair with someone else? From what was written, something was going on with Harry and since he hadn’t mentioned anything to Draco, he was obviously hiding it from Draco.
After three hours of high anxiety, Draco’s imagination had grown by such proportions that he had Harry pegged not with just one, but three affairs that he was simultaneously having. That beautiful ebony chap, Nenders from internal affairs and “mini-me Malfoy” Hendricks who Harry would tease Draco about saying they could almost pass as twins except that Hendricks was a few shades darker. Aha! Draco thought, his mind whirling. That’s the ‘Sleek and Tan’! “I knew that bastard, Harry “I’m a saint” Potter couldn’t be trusted,” Draco said aloud to himself.
Harry, that bastard! Draco thought to himself. He’s a cheating, lying, unfaithful wanker! How dare he start seeing some other men behind my back and making me into a house-elf to boot! I’ll show him.
By that evening, Draco began to implement a plan. He rushed into their bedroom, flung open the doors of Harry’s closet. “Incendio!” Draco shouted.
***
It was a dark and stormy night when Harry Potter finally stepped across the threshold of Malfoy Manor into the main entryway. The house seemed dark, dank, and drab as he dusted off his coat and looked for the welcoming house-elf, Ya-Ya, to take it from him. When nobody appeared, Harry called out “Hello” to the house, but all that greeted him back was the hollow echo of his own voice.
After another moment of silence, Harry shook off the icy feeling of solitude and began to walk to the nearest closet to hang up his own coat. But before he took three steps toward the small door, the sound of an angry voice came to him and it seemed to be in the chair within ten feet of him right by the main door way. How he hadn’t seen someone sitting there surprised him, but the words from a familiar but chilling voice, sliced through the air as if ice picks were being inserted into his spinal column.
“I wouldn’t be too anxious to hang your coat up, Potter. You are not exactly welcomed in this home anymore. You have, shall we say, extended your welcome to the breaking point of our relationship. But before I toss you out on your pathetic ass, please answer me one thing. Why did you feel the need to go cheating behind my back with half the Aurors in your division when you could have just left me before you went off and been the biggest whore the Ministry has ever seen?”
“Draco, what are you on about? Why are you calling me Potter? Are you still sore at me because you had to do a little bit of laundry? I thought this was your last week anyway? Besides, it’s not as if I’m a flaming ponce like you, who has to change his clothes every time he’s in a different mood.
“Hell, I don’t think I even own as many clothes as you change into in one single day!” Harry said, a bit exasperated, because, to be quite honest, he had gotten wholly tired of hearing week after week, Draco’s incessant whining about having to separate colors from white and cottons from silks.
“Actually, Harry, the only clothes you do have are the ones on your back. You see, this morning, as I was doing my last laundry detail, I was being an obedient Loyal husband, when I stumbled upon a piece of parchment in your robes that spoke volumes of your nefarious affairs. So, I did the only think that I could do in a situation like that, I burned all your clothes,” Draco said with a smug retort.
“You what?!” Harry asked, his voice rising, and began seething with anger. “What the hell have done, Malfoy? You didn’t seriously burn all my clothes, did you?”
“I sure as fuck did, Potter. Do you honestly think I’m going to sit around here while you go off and fuck some ‘new model’? Did you think that I would patiently wait while you met up with some younger, “tan and sleek” bloke in town and then tried out his ‘nine inches’? I’m not just some dimwitted, meek husband who's going to let you walk all over me. I’m going to take action!” Draco was almost panting; his rage was coming out in full blows in his voice.
“Did you not think that I wouldn’t wise up to your actions?”
“What are you talking about, you dramatic prat? I haven’t been screwing around on you? I haven’t even thought about it? I’m mean, look at you. You’re hot as fuck, although you are acting like an ass, so your mouth can be a bit of a let down. In fact - ” Then Harry quickly raised his wand, pointed it at Draco and in a series of quick commands said, “Expelliarmus! Petrificus Totalus!”
And with that, Draco’s sleek, hard, hawthorn wand sailed into Harry’s outreached hand and his body became as rigid as Minerva McGonagall’s cat Animagus form sitting on a stone wall along Privet Drive all those years ago.
Then Harry waltzed over to Draco and gently pushed him so that his whole body went back as stiff as a board, flat upon on the floor. The thud made Harry wince a bit, but he knew whatever this was that Draco had concocted in his brain was some minor misunderstanding and he had blown it well out of proportion.
He sat down next to Draco when he started to pat down his husband to find out what the prat was ranting about. What could Draco have found that made him become so angry? What had Harry possibly left in his robes that made the blond react so? And then as he searched into the inside pocket of Draco’s robes, he found a piece of parchment and he couldn’t understand what Draco had become so worked up about it.
But then reading it in a new light, he began to smile, which turned into a giggle and by the time he had finished reading it again, had become a full out laugh.
Draco lay there on the ground, helpless to Harry’s actions. He should have cast an Expelliarmus on that unfaithful twat first! He would have to berate himself later for that, after he got out of this situation. He began to think about how he would have retribution to Potter for this latest humiliation when the wanker started to laugh. Well, if that didn’t make his humiliation complete, he couldn’t see how anything else would make it worse.
After laughing so hard that he had to grab his stomach and force himself to breathe, Harry finally was able to slow and then stop. He was holding the parchment in his hands and just by glancing at it, he wanted to start back into a full-blown cackle.
“Is this what you found that proved beyond a doubt that I was unfaithful? This piece of parchment, Draco? Is it?” Harry said between snorts of laughter, trying as hard as he could to reduce his giggles.
“I can see how only your sick, twisted mind would think that this was something proving a possible infidelity. Only you, Draco, could come up with something as outlandish as that, you perverted queen!
“I have to admit, without the use of a good noun, this could signify a lot of things. And yes, I’ll even admit infidelity could be one of them. However, another wizard might think it’s a new wand or maybe another homosexual might think it’s a new vibrator, but only you, Draco, would think it’s another man. But I’ll be honest. It’s none of these things.
“Remember last week, when you said my toothbrush must be at least a thousand years old and that I should get a newer model? Well, I started looking and I found a really nifty one. It’ll be coming in tomorrow at the Muggle post office. Does that make you feel better, you insecure queer?”
And with that, Harry cast a Finite Incantatum to release Draco from his Body-Bind. And slowly Draco sat up from the floor, blushing furiously from the error of his overactive imagination.
“Well, what did you expect? I can’t help it if you carelessly leave scraps of parchment in your robes and I jump to obviously logical conclusions. You should be more careful with your advertisements.” Draco began to ramble, not able to make direct eye contact with Harry as he talked.
Harry stood up and smiled at his husband. He knew that it would surely be a cold day in hell before Draco Malfoy actually apologized for such diabolical ideas and reactions. So, he did the only thing he could do and reached out a hand to help him up.
“Well, if it makes you feel better, I should have properly labeled that. Maybe tomorrow you can swing by and pick it up for me while I’m at work to make up for having such an overactive imagination and being so melodramatic,” Harry said.
“Actually, Harry, I was thinking of something else, altogether. Since you’re getting a new toothbrush in the morning, I can think of at least a dozen different ways to get your mouth properly dirty before you try it out. Care to join me?” Draco said in his most smoldering voice as he lifted his eyes to visually undress Harry out of his last pair of trousers.
“Well, Draco, I’ll have to say that that’s the best idea I’ve heard from you all day.”
And with that, the two men ascended the main stairs toward their bedroom.
* Author’s Note: The Seven Dwarfs are: Dopey, Sneezy, Doc, Grumpy, Sleepy, Bashful, and Happy.