Fic: Just Tell Her You're a Fairy, Harry
So I was driving down the road, minding my own business, thinking about the lovely Dating Service fic that gauriel wrote, when Paul Simon's song Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover came on the radio. I thought, wouldn't it be funny if Draco ran a Break Up Service? Ha ha ha. I told my friends. They said "write it!" I said "no way!"
Yeah. So here it is. Not sure where the line between humour and crack is, but it is meant to be goofy and funny and weird. Crack-ish. Definate possibility that the pop culture references are only funny to myself, and my tolerant beta. Right.
Title: Just Tell Her You’re a Fairy, Harry
Beta:
13_moons
Rating: R
Pairing: H/D
Genre: Crack!fic, I think, or at least a wacky attempt at humour
Warnings: Off key singing, quotes and bad impressions.
Summary: Draco runs G.A.P., a successful company to help take care of the break-up you can’t handle on your own. Harry sets out to be his best customer.
Harry hurried down the street, glancing backwards every few moments. He’d cut out of work early and Apparated randomly around London before landing three blocks from his final destination. Despite the precautions, he was still utterly paranoid. With a flourish Harry flipped up the collar on his coat and pulled the checkered trilby hat down over his eyes. He tightened the grip on the business card in his pocket, softly murmuring the address like a litany. Finally the door came into view-frosted glass under a bright red awning, the letters G.A.P. emblazoned on the glass in bold green letters. Harry squared his shoulders and went inside.
He wasn’t quite sure where his life had gone so far astray that he would need to turn to Draco Malfoy for help with anything, but the state of Harry’s love life had been in shambles for a good six months now. He knew that Draco had survived in the Muggle world during the war, and had come out of it a bit less stable than when he had gone in. Everyone knew the rumours-how he quoted Muggle pop culture every chance he got, the attempts to start his own Muggle fashion line, his obsession with Orlando Bloom that actually got him several dates in court. Somehow though, Draco had managed to harness his energy into a very lucrative and discreet business destroying relationships for both Muggles and wizards alike.
The desk in the waiting room was unoccupied and barely visible under a pile of wigs and hats and empty potion bottles. Harry waited for five minutes, shifting from one foot to the other in an attempt not to turn tail and run, before knocking tentatively on the only other door in the room.
“Howdy,” a voice called out in what sounded like an attempt at an American accent.
Harry slid cautiously into the room and nearly broke his neck on a stack of files in the middle of the floor. Draco stood with his back to Harry. An oversized cowboy hat rested on his head, and he was, well, fawning was the only way Harry could describe it, over his reflection in a full-length mirror. A television balanced precariously on a pile of boxes sat in the corner, running with the sound off. Images from an old Western flickered on the screen in black and white, with cowboys shooting at each other from behind monstrous boulders.
“We'll all be listening to the cowboy tunes…and stomp around like a bunch of goons…” Draco warbled off-key in an attempt to sing along with the tune playing on the Wireless. He turned and gave Harry an appraising look.
“Somehow I’m not surprised that I’d end up saving your arse,” Draco drawled. “Time to grow a pair, Potter.”
Harry flushed. “What the fuck are you talking about, Malfoy?”
“Grow. A. Pair. Get it? Get it? Clever, right? Though I don’t actually want anyone to do that, otherwise I’d be out of a job!” Draco chuckled, obviously amused by his own ingenuity. Harry wasn’t quite sure how to deal with this strange brand of Malfoy, so he steered the conversation into more familiar territory. “Smashing outfit, Malfoy.”
Draco rolled his eyes and turned to preen in the mirror. “I’m working undercover, Potter.”
Draco placed his hands on his hat and twirled in front of the mirror, allowing Harry to take in the whole ensemble: tight blue jeans, black leather chaps and matching boots complete with shiny silver spurs, a tight blue and white checkered shirt buttoned only to mid-chest, and an obscenely large belt buckle that spelled something in rhinestones. Harry watched it intently for one twirl, two…and snorted when he finally made out the letters on the buckle. Man Eater. Draco stopped twirling and began to tie his white blond hair back into a ponytail.
“Going as a gay cowboy, then?”
“No, you idgit, I’m…”
“Idgit?”
“I’m getting in character, Potter,” Draco spat out, exasperated. “I have an American client that needs to break things off with her boy-toy. I’m playing her very jealous boyfriend from Texas, coming to take her home.”
He turned and looked at Harry, tugging his hat lower over his forehead. “Now you just step away from the little lady, you flea-bitten varmint,” Draco said in a slow drawl, tucking his thumbs into his belt loops as he swaggered around his desk towards Harry. “This town ain't big enough for the two of us.”
Harry pinched his lips together with his fingers as his eyes watered, and he willed himself to have some semblance of self-control and not collapse in a fit of giggles.
“Convincing, isn’t it?!” Draco said brightly, turning to watch his reflection once more.
“Where did you learn to speak like that?” Harry managed, wiping his eyes.
“Muggle telly of course,” Draco said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Best source of authentic life. A little John Wayne, a little Yosemite Sam…enough about me Potter. Things that bad with Jenny?”
“Ginny.”
“Whatever. I don’t need to know the details-Lord knows I do not want them-but a little bit of info on what is going on these days can help me determine the best course of action for you. Here at G.A.P., we aim to break you up with your once-beloved right, the first time.”
Harry hesitated long enough to see that Draco was not mocking him, but leaning forward in all seriousness.
“Well I don’t know if I’m just not ready for a long-term relationship,” Harry said softly, “or if I just don’t want it with Ginny. I’ve been spending more time after work with the blokes in my unit, hitting the…”
“You said unit,” Draco pointed out, leaning in to give Harry a jaunty wink. Harry opened his mouth, then closed it again.
“Right, er…hitting the pubs, and I think she is about ready to throw down an ultimatum: her or them.”
“Whatever happened to Gryffindor courage and all that?”
“I think I used my allotment during the War,” Harry replied with a shrug. “Besides, I think it took a lot of courage to come to you of all people for help.”
Draco flashed him a wicked grin and began shuffling around in his desk drawer, eventually withdrawing a parchment with a flourish.
“I think a standard Package B will do the trick, Potter.” Draco scribbled down some notes on the parchment and handed it over to Harry. “Sign at the bottom.”
Harry read over the contract as Draco continued, “You’ll need to mosey on by on Wednesday night, half ten should do. Be sure to hit the pubs beforehand but don’t get too roostered, we need you…”
“Roostered?” Harry interrupted. He was beginning to feel that Malfoy lived on a different planet than the rest of them.
“Yes, Potty. Roostered. Drunk. Pissed. We need you to be able to Apparate home. We’ll done fix you up right good with a little perfume and lipstick job. Infidelity usually drives them right off, especially red-heads.” Draco gave him a knowing nod.
Harry crossed his fingers for luck, and signed the parchment.
Draco stood up again and resumed his preening, adjusting the belt buckle so his jeans slung a little lower on his hips.
“I expect half payment on Wednesday, and half after the job is done. Cowboy look is the one I saw…can’t change now cause the clothes are bought…” Draco sang. Harry grinned and slipped back out the door, letting out a long breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Crazy as Malfoy seems, Harry thought, this just might work.
* * *
Harry stumbled through the door into Draco’s office Wednesday night and slouched into the nearest chair.
“M’ready,” he said, studying Draco’s clothes. “Whatter you?”
Draco rolled his eyes, his lashes and lids darkened with eyeliner.
“I’m going to see the midnight premiere of Pirates.”
“Of Penzance?”
Draco huffed, and stood to tie his sash around his waist. “Of the Caribbean, savvy? Two. Dead Man’s Chest. Orlando Bloom. I’d like to lash Will Turner to the mainsail and…”
“Got it,” Harry said, more forcefully than he meant. With a wobble he leaned forward in his chair. “You’re awfully pretty for a pirate.”
Draco’s hands stilled for a moment, then he shook his head and finished tying a red scarf around his head.
“Let’s get this over with.” Draco pulled out a cosmetic bag from a box on the floor and inspected several tubes of lipstick until one met his criteria. He turned around to face the mirror and applied the bright fuchsia to his lips with practiced ease. Smacking his lips together, Draco winked at himself. Harry rolled his eyes and belched.
“Manners, Potter,” Draco said with a wrinkle of his nose. Draco stood and sprayed a healthy dose of perfume in the air before stepping into the mist and twirling around.
“Usually my assistant, Angie, takes care of this for me, but she was called away on an emergency,” Draco announced as he dropped himself into Harry’s lap, eyes sliding closed as he wrapped a hand around the back of Harry’s neck.
Slightly panicked, Harry leaned away. “Wait, you’re not going to kiss me, are you?”
“I rather was, actually,” Draco said, smiling slightly.
“You’re daft,” Harry whispered.
“Daft like Jack,” Draco whispered back, and proceeded to snog Harry senseless. Harry struggled a bit-it was the principle of the thing-but Draco shifted forward slightly on Harry’s lap and he decided to tell his principles to take a fucking hike.
Draco finally pulled away, resting his forehead on Harry’s cheek as he mouthed some lipstick on Harry’s collar. “You’re a damn fine kisser, love. Jenny will be right pissed to know you’ve been sticking your tongue where it doesn’t belong.” Draco lifted himself off Harry’s lap and gave him an appraising look.
“Ginny,” Harry said dazedly.
“Whatever. Won’t matter much longer, will it? I’ll take that half payment now.”
“Can I write you a cheque?” Harry asked, digging around in his pockets.
“I’m disinclined to acquiesce to your request,” Draco drawled. Harry threw him a quizzical look, and Draco rolled his eyes and wiped off the remaining lipstick with the back of his hand. “Means ‘no’.”
Harry scowled, and tossed a handful of galleons on the desk.
“Go home,” Draco ordered. “And good luck.”
* * *
Harry kicked his way through the puddles and cursed his rotten luck. The break-up with Ginny had been successful-a little too successful, as her entire family now hated him with an all consuming passion. It had taken a week to find the counter spell to the ball clamp curse Fred and George had sent his way.
After two weeks sitting on ice packs, he’d finally gotten back in the game, hooking up with a nice Muggle girl at a pub. The week passed by in a blur of getting drunk and shagging her nightly. Unfortunately for him, she’d taken the opportunity to move into his flat while he was passed out on the bathroom floor. Equally regrettably, she was much better looking after he’d had a pint or ten, and her morning demeanor left a lot to be desired.
With a sigh, Harry found himself outside the doors of G.A.P. once again. Harry trudged through the cluttered lobby and into Draco’s office. Draco stuck out his thumb and pinky finger and waggled them at Harry in greeting.
“You really know how to pick ‘em, brah,” was all he said, and he handed Harry a bottle of sun-tan oil. Draco was shirtless, dressed only in bright yellow swim trunks and a pair of sandals. His normally sleek hair was slightly ratted, held back off of his face with a pair of hot pink sunglasses.
“Why are you orange?” Harry asked distractedly.
“I’m not orange, it’s bronzer, you poser. If I’m to pull off being a bodacious California surfer-dude, I need to look the part. Now rub that oil on me.”
“What?!”
“Hey man, it would be a bummer for you to go all aggro on me. The oil makes my hands too slippery. Wouldn’t want to drop my wand.” Draco stood in front of Harry, arms outstretched. “Rub.” Harry rolled his eyes and poured some oil on his hand and began to work it tentatively across Draco’s shoulders.
Draco hummed in contentment, and proceeded to sing along with the Wireless.
Santa Cruz and Trestle, Australia’s Narrabeen…all over Manhattan, and down Doheny Way…everybody’s gone surfin’, surfin’ U.S.A.”
Harry tried to focus on Draco’s piss poor pitch, and not on the way the blond’s body felt different-in-a-good-way beneath his hands. Boobs, Harry thought. I like boobs. Soft skin. Curvy hips. He ran his hands down Draco’s biceps. Wiry, lean muscles. Taut abs…
“So tell me about this beach bunny you’re looking to ditch,” Draco demanded, turning around to face Harry.
“Just a Muggle who took it upon herself to move in with me,” Harry murmured, as he traced the oil in circles on Draco’s smooth chest.
“Nothing a simple change of locks and harsh note won’t solve.”
Harry sighed in agreement, inching his fingers carefully around the top of Draco’s hipbones. “Why is it so hard to find someone? It just shouldn’t be so hard to make a good fit.”
“That’s what she said,” Draco quipped dryly. He stepped back with a smile and admired his shiny torso in the mirror. “Bitchin’ job, Potter. Maybe next time I’ll let you wax my board.”
Harry barely suppressed a groan. Boobs, he reminded himself. Soft bits.
Draco began to sing again-Harry’s cue to leave-and began applying something white from a tube thickly on his nose.
“ San Onofree and Sunset…Redondo Beach L.A….”
* * *
Draco heaved a dramatic sigh. “Who is the unlucky girl this time, Potter?”
Harry’s mind had gone slightly fuzzy at the sight before him, and he found it difficult to form a reply. Draco was sitting on his desk, carefully braiding his hair on either side of his head and tying the ends off with pink ribbon. He wore shiny patent leather loafers over white knee socks, his thighs barely covered by a grey pleated skirt, and his white shirt was tied in a knot over his belly button. He had enough make-up on for four women, Harry thought, to say nothing of the shiny pink gloss highlighting his pouting lips. Harry shifted in his chair and tried to ignore his budding erection.
“Potter?”
Harry blinked and forced his eyes away from Draco’s thigh. “Patil twins,” he managed.
“Both of them? Impressive.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not too keen on stalkers, let alone two of them.”
“Crazy bitches. I’ll take care of it. Merlin, what would you do without me?” Draco asked as he slid off the desk, his skirt riding up as he did so. Harry swallowed hard.
“Here.” Draco handed him a bottle of lotion and propped his foot on the chair between Harry’s legs, pushing his sock down around his ankle. “I shaved this morning; you do the lotion.”
Harry took the bottle with a shaky hand and squeezed some onto Draco’s smooth knee. Draco leaned across his desk, his shirt sliding up over his ribs as he did so, and grabbed a remote. Should have just Accio’d the fucking thing, Harry thought wildly as Draco pressed play. The tape in the ancient VCR started up in the middle of a Muggle music video, and Draco bobbed and swayed with the music.
“My loneliness is killin’ me…I must confess I still believe…still believe!! When I’m not with you I lose my mind, give me a sign… hit me baby one more time! All the way up, Potter, not just below the knees.”
Harry bit his lip and tried to focus. “So what’s with the outfit this time, Malfoy?” he asked, trying desperately not to think about the softness of Draco’s inner thigh.
“Ah, well, this wife is a tough nut to crack; this is our third go trying to get my client a divorce. So we decided an underage schoolgirl might do the trick. If the pedophilia doesn’t work, perhaps a cross-dressing nancy boy will clinch it. I’m going commando, just in case.”
“Commando?”
Draco rolled his eyes and flipped up his skirt.
“Meep,” was all Harry could muster in the face of Draco’s nakedness.
“Commando. Like when Rachel went with Ross to that awards ceremony.”
“Ross?” Harry questioned feebly. Draco huffed and pulled his skirt back down.
“Friends, Potter. A show called Friends. Pride of the Muggleborns, you are. Now get out, I’m going to be late.”
Harry tried to discreetly adjust himself, and headed for the door.
“I’m charging you double for this Potter!” Draco called after him. “Fucking Patil twins again…” Harry heard him mutter.
* * *
“Maybe you should move somewhere isolated, Potter. Like Greenland. Or your own island. Surely you could afford your own island?” Draco, dressed like a police officer, had managed to handcuff himself to his desk. “At least you were able to go six months without coming to me for help. So who is it this time? Did you manage to find yourself the only psycho Hufflepuff girl out there?”
“Psycho, no. Hufflepuff, yes. Girl…” Harry’s voice dropped off, his cheeks growing steadily more crimson as Draco looked sharply at him.
“Don’t tell me you switched teams?” Draco was trying hard not to smirk, but his eyes were dead serious.
“Ah…”
“Out with it, Potter.”
“I went on holiday, to New York, and reflected on why all my relationships failed.”
“That sounds exciting.”
Harry rolled his eyes and aimed his wand at Draco’s trapped hand, undoing both sides of the handcuff. Draco flashed him a grateful smile and attached the cuffs to his uniform.
“Anyway, I…that is…one thing led to another, there was this tall bloke…I came to some conclusions,” he finished lamely.
“Fascinating,” Draco murmured, suddenly distracted like a parakeet by his reflection in the mirror. “So who is the unlucky boy, then?”
“His name is Blane…”
“His name is Blane? That's a major appliance, that's not a name!”
“Yes…wait, what?” Harry looked at Draco liked he’d grown a second head.
“Honestly, Potter, do catch up,” Draco said, and began to shimmy in front of the mirror.
“If you leave, don’t leave now, please don’t take my heart away…”
Harry decided that if he just stared at Draco’s hips, he could live with the cryptic conversations. And the terrible singing.
“Promise me, just one more night…then we’ll go our separate way-yays…”
Harry winced. Or not.
“You know it is a criminal offense to impersonate a Muggle police officer,” Harry pointed out. Draco merely sniffed, and began to apply a thick blue gel to his cheeks and chin. The gel quickly dried, turning to hair as it did so. Draco rubbed his chin, looking quite pleased with himself.
“How do I look?”
“Like the bearded lady.”
Draco scoffed at him, and pulled a helmet down on his head. “I need to be anonymous- I’m helping Pansy out of a jam. She’s been dating Blaise’s cousin, and he won’t take the fucking hint. I’m going to burst in and arrest her for prostitution.” Draco turned to face Harry and swung his truncheon around in his hand.
“Cheerio! Pip pip and all that! Wotcher!”
It took all of Harry’s will power not to slide out of his chair in a fit of giggles. Draco took Harry’s near-hysteria as approval. “Good, innit?”
“You sure know how to use that stick,” was all Harry could manage. Draco leaned in close.
“Well yes, but I sorted that out a long time ago.” Harry swallowed hard. Draco winked.
“So why do we need to give Blane the ole heave-ho?”
“Ole…?” Harry shook his head to clear it. “We just have different…interests.”
“What like you like Quidditch and he likes knitting? That is hardly a reason to break up with someone.”
Harry felt his face redden for the umpteenth time that evening. Draco’s sudden gleeful smile didn’t make Harry feel any better.
“Or maybe you like being a vanilla bottom and he likes it fuh-reak-ay,” Draco smirked, each syllable on the last word accented by a sharp thrust of his hips.
“More like the other way around,” Harry mumbled to the floor. He jerked his head up when Draco slid to sit on the desk right in front of him.
“Tell me. Tell me now.” Draco was staring at him, the truncheon thwapping threateningly in his palm.
Harry took a deep breath, and began.
“He’s a nice guy and everyone loves him and says he is perfect for me and not in it for the fame or the glory but because he really likes me for me so I let him move in a couple months ago…” Harry faltered, out of breath.
“But…”
“But…Ow! Hey!” Harry spluttered when Draco poked him in the gut with the baton. “But, he’s just too damn polite, too kind, too…” Harry waved his hands around helplessly.
“Too Hufflepuff?”
“God yes, I always thought that was such a cliché but fuck, loyal and leech-like and dull as all fuck. I need someone with a little spunk, a little fighting spirit, not someone so fucking agreeable all the time, and then…” Harry buried his face in his hands before continuing. “Then I asked him to tie me up and he said he was afraid he’d hurt me, so I asked him to put on a skirt and he said it was weird, and…I just…I don’t…”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Harry looked up quickly. “What?”
“I’ll take care of it. What time does he get home?”
“He works a late shift at St. Mungo’s, doesn’t usually come home until just after midnight. How are you going to take care of it?” Harry had an unpleasant flashback of how Draco “took care of it” with the Patil twins. He had been damn lucky to have gotten off with just a temporary restraining order.
“Have I let you down before, Potter?”
“Your methods work, yes, but you just can’t go spreading vicious rumours all willy-nilly around their…”
“You said willy.”
Harry sighed, exasperated. Draco just giggled.
“Just promise me whatever you do, you’ll stay away from St. Mungo’s. Please?”
“Potter, I am an officer of the law. Everything I do is above board.”
“Right,” Harry said, unconvinced. He sat there for a long moment, watching Draco adjust his uniform. The blond reached over and flipped on the Wireless.
“I've called you so many times today and I guess it's all true what your girlfriends say…that you don't ever want to see me again, and your brother's gonna kill me and he's six feet ten…”
Harry beat a hasty retreat.
* * *
Harry had just slipped into his pajamas when he heard a knock on the door. Someone coming to his front door was rare, especially at half eleven at night, so he drew his wand and cautiously opened it.
Draco pushed his way in, still in his police costume, and kicked the door shut behind him.
“Is he here?” Draco demanded.
“No. Malfoy…”
Draco lunged and Harry felt their teeth knock together as Draco snogged the life out of him. Harry heard a snap and realized that Draco’s handcuff was now securely fastened around his left wrist.
“Bedroom?” Draco asked as he pulled out of the kiss. Harry pointed to the door, and Draco all but dragged him there by the arm, pushing him down on the bed and latching the other half of the cuff to the bedpost. Draco threw off his helmet and straddled Harry’s hips.
“I’ll tie you up,” Draco said conversationally.
“And this will help my break-up how?” Harry asked. It was all he could do to keep his hips firmly planted on the mattress.
“If I’m here he’ll think you are cheating.” Draco leaned down to kiss Harry again, emphasizing his point. Forced apart by lack of oxygen, Draco finally sat back up, his hands pressed against Harry’s chest.
“Take my breath away…” Draco sang. Harry quickly reached up with his free hand and pulled Draco back down into another kiss. They heard the front door shut, followed by water running in the kitchen. Harry glanced fearfully at Draco.
“I’ve got it under control,” he said, placing a reassuring kiss on Harry’s nose.
“Will you stay?” Harry asked quickly. “I mean…I want…I think we…”
Draco kissed him softly. “That was the plan all along. Plus, you know I’ll wear a skirt.”
Harry groaned, and clutched Draco’s hip with his free hand. Blane’s footsteps grew louder as he made his way to the bedroom.
“And the spurs?” Harry murmured.
Draco bit Harry on the chin. “You are a kinky bastard, aren’t you? I’m beginning to think you’ll do anything.”
“Anything,” Harry agreed, trying to steel himself for Blane’s impending outrage and finding he just didn’t care. “Just please don’t sing.”
-end-
Credit for lyrics, in order of appearance:
The Vandals - Urban Struggle
Beach Boys - Surfin’ U.S.A.
Britney Spears - Baby One More Time
O.M.D. - If You Leave
The Police - Can’t Stand Losing You
Berlin - Take My Breath Away