Fic: I like brooms, you like brooms (H/D)
Originally written for hpslashnotsmut.
Title: I like brooms, you like brooms
Author/Artist: wook77
Giftee: yodels
Rating: PG
Word Count(for fic): 1988
Characters/Pairing: Harry/Draco
Warnings:
Author/Artist's Notes: Many thanks to my elle113, wildegirl_05 and ficlette. This was inspired by erisfics saying that the "I like brooms, you like brooms" isn't a believable premise for a story. Not so sure that it is believable but it's fun. As always, I'd love to hear what you think.
Summary: It's been ten years since Harry had been to Diagon Alley. A chance encounter over brooms brings back memories and creates new ones.
It had been ten years since he'd been to Diagon Alley. Harry hadn't realized how much he missed the hustle and flow of the wizards and witches as they made their way from business to business. The children scrambling about brought back fond memories of meeting up with Ron and Hermione. That stay at the Leaky Cauldron before Second Year had him smiling as he watched a young boy holding a bright white owl scamper past with a quick pardon, sir.
That sir tacked on to the end brought him back to reality. He was no longer a small boy scampering about, meeting up for ice cream at Fortescue's or staring in the window at the newest broom at Quality Quidditch Supplies. There would be no Ron or Hermione waiting for him to join them.
Deciding that one was never too old to stare at the newest broom at least, Harry made his way to Quality Quidditch Supplies where he saw the Nimbus 2600. Its slick black handle and silver lettering had him remembering the feel of a broom between his legs and the air whishing past his face. If he concentrated, he could almost feel his hair ruffling in the breeze.
Yet again, Harry shook off the memories and made his way into the store. He told himself he merely wanted a closer look, he wasn't going to purchase a broom. He had no need for one in the Muggle world. It was better not to wish for something that was better left alone. Even as he approached the broom, he was chastising himself over even coming back to Diagon Alley.
"Can I help you, sir?" A clerk came by and Harry turned away from the broom to smile. "Why, it's Harry Potter. Harry Potter here, in my store, standing right in front of me. Charlie Charlie! Come here and meet Harry Potter!" The clerk yelled over his shoulder before reaching out and grabbing Harry's hand. The overly exuberant pumping almost caused Harry to lose his balance as he rocked with the force of it.
"Please, I…" Harry didn't get a chance to finish his pleading for the man to let go of his hand. Instead, he was swarmed by a multitude of people as they clapped him on the back of the shoulder or grabbed any available hand or appendage. It was quickly becoming overwhelming. His pleading for space was lost under the exuberant greetings and exclamations.
When the old witch that smelled like a combination of bubotuber and Doxy eggs started to grab him in a bear hug, Harry found himself rescued by one of the crowd.
"It's about time you met me, Potter. I was waiting for you. When I say two thirty, I do mean two thirty, not two forty-five." That drawl, that sneer, that patronizing condescending voice had Harry sputtering like a twelve year old before he remembered that he was quickly pushing thirty.
"I was delayed. My apologies." The crowd parted for Draco Malfoy as Harry spat back over-solicitiously. He couldn't deny the relief he felt as Malfoy had finally achieved what he couldn't, space to breathe and a lack of touching from strangers.
"You can look at the broom later." Malfoy grabbed his arm and pulled him out onto the street.
Once they were outside, Harry paused to suck in great gulps of air. "Thanks, Malfoy."
"Of course, anything for the great Harry Potter." Draco touched a finger to his forehead and sketched a quick bow before sauntering off.
"Wait, just…" Harry continued to sputter as he chased after Malfoy.
With fabric from Malfoy's robes bunched underneath his hand, Harry dragged him to a stop.
"What is it now, Potter?" Malfoy still had that same tone, that grating annoying whining familiar tone that, to his surprise, made him laugh.
"Want to get a coffee?" If he hadn't had Malfoy's robes clenched in his hand, Harry would have clapped his hands over his mouth. Where that question came from, Harry had no idea and, more importantly, didn't want to know.
"Look, I like brooms, you like brooms, but in the end, I don't care what has you gracing us with your presence." Malfoy shrugged but Harry kept his hand firm.
"Is that a yes?" Harry smiled his most charming smile and hoped that the quirk of Malfoy's mouth was a laugh or something similar and not the beginnings of a curse.
"Are you going to leave me alone?" Harry merely looked at Malfoy. "Seeing as I obviously have no choice in the matter…fine but you had better not expect me to be on my best behaviour."
"Wouldn't expect anything different, Malfoy." Harry grinned before starting down the street. After two steps, he stopped.
"What is it now, Potter?" Turning to look at Malfoy, he grimaced.
"I don't quite remember where there was anywhere to get a coffee." A bark of laughter, so unexpected from Malfoy, burst through the air and Harry echoed it with a chagrined smile of his own.
"This way, then, Potter, but you're buying." Harry shook his head as he wandered after Malfoy.
He had no idea why he was following the prat, no sodding clue at all. They'd never been friends, before, during or after the war. There had been a cold armistice between them but other than that, silence or disdainful taunts.
As he was contemplating their shared animosity from years past, Malfoy had come to a stop outside of a small coffee shop. Harry didn't notice and slammed into him.
"Walk much, Potter? You've already ruined my robes and I'm definitely not fond of further damage." Without any further acknowledgement, Malfoy went into the shop.
"Right, thanks, I'm fine. Glad you asked. So solicitous of you, really. Thanks, Malfoy, glad to see your manners are still alive and well." Harry muttered as the door shut in his face.
Wrenching the door open, Harry stalked to the counter to order something, anything, he didn't much care as it wasn't like he drank coffee anyway. This was a lousy idea and he was sure that something or someone had possessed him when he'd asked Malfoy for coffee.
The old fashioned register cheerfully rang up the sale before the witch behind the counter asked for payment. Harry grabbed his wallet and, to his astonishment, found that he only had Muggle money.
"Malfoy?" Harry was mortified to ask. "I, err, I only have Muggle."
Draco rolled his eyes before tossing the approximate amount on the counter. "Why am I not surprised?"
"I'm sorry, you caught me on the way to Gringott's. I was going to exchange some of this or get some out of my vault or something, you know. I'll pay you back." As he spoke, they found a table. A glare from Malfoy insured their privacy as the eavesdroppers quickly shifted away.
"Oh you will but I don't want your money." Malfoy cocked an eyebrow as Harry stared. "I saved you back there and now I've had to buy my own beverage. You owe me, Potter, and I intend to collect."
Harry stared, slack-jawed, at Malfoy.
"Oh please, close your gob, Potter, you look like a trout." Harry's mouth shut with a pop.
"What do you want?" There was a faint tremble in his voice that shamed Harry.
"I'll let you know. For now, what brings you back to our little corner of the world? Come to see the sites? Perhaps you find yourself in need of adulation?" Draco leaned back in his chair and laid an ankle over his other leg.
"Yes, that's it, exactly, Malfoy. I find I'm in need of worship and I thought you were a good start." Harry snapped back. Instead of the barb he was waiting for, Malfoy laughed once more.
"Very nice, Potter, you've grown a sense of humour in the time you've been gone."
"I, just, I missed it." Harry waved his hand, encompassing more than just their small table but the whole of the Wizarding World. "I missed that hum of magic, you know? It felt odd not to have it anymore." Malfoy nodded in response and Harry continued. "Truth be known, I've missed more than that. I've missed the people, as well."
When Malfoy cocked an eyebrow, Harry tapped him on the shoulder lightly. "Not that, you git. I missed the funny clothes and the random bursts of magic and the busy-ness of the place."
If anyone had suggested to Harry that he would be here, in this tiny coffee shop, having a companionable and comfortable conversation with Draco Malfoy, of all people, Harry would have laughed and then called the nearest psychiatric center and booked a spot straightaway. But he was sitting here, even as his untouched coffee cooled and the sun went down.
Disaster struck as Harry was telling Malfoy the story of why he'd come back to the Wizarding world. With his hands flailing, Harry said a bit too much.
"But it's true, Malfoy. This guy looked a bit like you and it startled me, made me think of you and here and all the things I didn't even know I missed. So, really, you only have yourself to blame for me coming back. I went all nostalgic and stopped paying attention to him and, well, he wasn't quite happy with me, you know. Seems I ruined the date or some rubbish." Unlike the last time he'd said something he hadn't meant, Harry didn't have a fistful of robes and he clapped his hands over his mouth.
"You're gay, Potter?" Thankfully, at this hour, the coffee shop was nearly empty and no one was there to hear Malfoy's disbelieving remark.
"Look, Malfoy, you're not going to go spewing that about to Rita Skeeter, are you?" Malfoy merely gazed back.
"Are you?" Harry's voice was forceful.
"Why would I do that? We're not in Fourth Year anymore, Potter. I've more than enough to worry about without the fame and fortune that comes from telling the world Harry Potter's deep dark secrets." Malfoy looked to his nails before rubbing them against his robes. "But that's two favours you'll be owing me."
"Fine, Malfoy. Tell, don't tell. I thought…" Harry's voice trailed off.
"You thought what? That we were becoming friends? Chums? Mates?" Malfoy laughed.
"Whatever, Malfoy." Harry spat before standing to leave.
"Potter, sit back down and stop overreacting. Once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor." The tut-tut noise that followed that statement grated on Harry's nerves.
"So you're not going to tell?" Harry demanded as he sat back down, barely avoiding putting his elbow into the cold coffee.
"Of course not, Potter. It's not that big of a deal, really. Plenty of wizards are shirt lifters, you realize." Harry felt his jaw dropping before he snapped it shut.
"Right, Malfoy. Name one, then." Harry leaned back and crossed his arms.
"Me." This time, Harry had no control over his mouth as it hung open. "Really, Potter, the trout look has never become you." Malfoy's fingers reached out to push up Harry's jaw. That small touch sent a frisson down Harry's spine before the fingers disappeared.
Such a small gesture but he found himself responding before sputtering, "You…but… Pansy… and…"
"I suggest you don't mention that, Potter. About those favours…" Harry snapped to attention. "Meet me, tomorrow outside The Leaky Cauldron, six o'clock and, for your sake, dress nicely and be on time. You're taking me out to dinner."
"I'm taking you out to dinner? What?"
"You like brooms, I like brooms, what else is there, really?" Malfoy stood and started to walk away. As Harry watched, he turned and winked over his shoulder.
This hadn't quite been the way Harry had planned his return to the Wizarding world and he wasn't quite certain he knew exactly what had happened but he did know one thing. He would be outside The Leaky Cauldron tomorrow at six o'clock.
Title: I like brooms, you like brooms
Author/Artist: wook77
Giftee: yodels
Rating: PG
Word Count(for fic): 1988
Characters/Pairing: Harry/Draco
Warnings:
Author/Artist's Notes: Many thanks to my elle113, wildegirl_05 and ficlette. This was inspired by erisfics saying that the "I like brooms, you like brooms" isn't a believable premise for a story. Not so sure that it is believable but it's fun. As always, I'd love to hear what you think.
Summary: It's been ten years since Harry had been to Diagon Alley. A chance encounter over brooms brings back memories and creates new ones.
It had been ten years since he'd been to Diagon Alley. Harry hadn't realized how much he missed the hustle and flow of the wizards and witches as they made their way from business to business. The children scrambling about brought back fond memories of meeting up with Ron and Hermione. That stay at the Leaky Cauldron before Second Year had him smiling as he watched a young boy holding a bright white owl scamper past with a quick pardon, sir.
That sir tacked on to the end brought him back to reality. He was no longer a small boy scampering about, meeting up for ice cream at Fortescue's or staring in the window at the newest broom at Quality Quidditch Supplies. There would be no Ron or Hermione waiting for him to join them.
Deciding that one was never too old to stare at the newest broom at least, Harry made his way to Quality Quidditch Supplies where he saw the Nimbus 2600. Its slick black handle and silver lettering had him remembering the feel of a broom between his legs and the air whishing past his face. If he concentrated, he could almost feel his hair ruffling in the breeze.
Yet again, Harry shook off the memories and made his way into the store. He told himself he merely wanted a closer look, he wasn't going to purchase a broom. He had no need for one in the Muggle world. It was better not to wish for something that was better left alone. Even as he approached the broom, he was chastising himself over even coming back to Diagon Alley.
"Can I help you, sir?" A clerk came by and Harry turned away from the broom to smile. "Why, it's Harry Potter. Harry Potter here, in my store, standing right in front of me. Charlie Charlie! Come here and meet Harry Potter!" The clerk yelled over his shoulder before reaching out and grabbing Harry's hand. The overly exuberant pumping almost caused Harry to lose his balance as he rocked with the force of it.
"Please, I…" Harry didn't get a chance to finish his pleading for the man to let go of his hand. Instead, he was swarmed by a multitude of people as they clapped him on the back of the shoulder or grabbed any available hand or appendage. It was quickly becoming overwhelming. His pleading for space was lost under the exuberant greetings and exclamations.
When the old witch that smelled like a combination of bubotuber and Doxy eggs started to grab him in a bear hug, Harry found himself rescued by one of the crowd.
"It's about time you met me, Potter. I was waiting for you. When I say two thirty, I do mean two thirty, not two forty-five." That drawl, that sneer, that patronizing condescending voice had Harry sputtering like a twelve year old before he remembered that he was quickly pushing thirty.
"I was delayed. My apologies." The crowd parted for Draco Malfoy as Harry spat back over-solicitiously. He couldn't deny the relief he felt as Malfoy had finally achieved what he couldn't, space to breathe and a lack of touching from strangers.
"You can look at the broom later." Malfoy grabbed his arm and pulled him out onto the street.
Once they were outside, Harry paused to suck in great gulps of air. "Thanks, Malfoy."
"Of course, anything for the great Harry Potter." Draco touched a finger to his forehead and sketched a quick bow before sauntering off.
"Wait, just…" Harry continued to sputter as he chased after Malfoy.
With fabric from Malfoy's robes bunched underneath his hand, Harry dragged him to a stop.
"What is it now, Potter?" Malfoy still had that same tone, that grating annoying whining familiar tone that, to his surprise, made him laugh.
"Want to get a coffee?" If he hadn't had Malfoy's robes clenched in his hand, Harry would have clapped his hands over his mouth. Where that question came from, Harry had no idea and, more importantly, didn't want to know.
"Look, I like brooms, you like brooms, but in the end, I don't care what has you gracing us with your presence." Malfoy shrugged but Harry kept his hand firm.
"Is that a yes?" Harry smiled his most charming smile and hoped that the quirk of Malfoy's mouth was a laugh or something similar and not the beginnings of a curse.
"Are you going to leave me alone?" Harry merely looked at Malfoy. "Seeing as I obviously have no choice in the matter…fine but you had better not expect me to be on my best behaviour."
"Wouldn't expect anything different, Malfoy." Harry grinned before starting down the street. After two steps, he stopped.
"What is it now, Potter?" Turning to look at Malfoy, he grimaced.
"I don't quite remember where there was anywhere to get a coffee." A bark of laughter, so unexpected from Malfoy, burst through the air and Harry echoed it with a chagrined smile of his own.
"This way, then, Potter, but you're buying." Harry shook his head as he wandered after Malfoy.
He had no idea why he was following the prat, no sodding clue at all. They'd never been friends, before, during or after the war. There had been a cold armistice between them but other than that, silence or disdainful taunts.
As he was contemplating their shared animosity from years past, Malfoy had come to a stop outside of a small coffee shop. Harry didn't notice and slammed into him.
"Walk much, Potter? You've already ruined my robes and I'm definitely not fond of further damage." Without any further acknowledgement, Malfoy went into the shop.
"Right, thanks, I'm fine. Glad you asked. So solicitous of you, really. Thanks, Malfoy, glad to see your manners are still alive and well." Harry muttered as the door shut in his face.
Wrenching the door open, Harry stalked to the counter to order something, anything, he didn't much care as it wasn't like he drank coffee anyway. This was a lousy idea and he was sure that something or someone had possessed him when he'd asked Malfoy for coffee.
The old fashioned register cheerfully rang up the sale before the witch behind the counter asked for payment. Harry grabbed his wallet and, to his astonishment, found that he only had Muggle money.
"Malfoy?" Harry was mortified to ask. "I, err, I only have Muggle."
Draco rolled his eyes before tossing the approximate amount on the counter. "Why am I not surprised?"
"I'm sorry, you caught me on the way to Gringott's. I was going to exchange some of this or get some out of my vault or something, you know. I'll pay you back." As he spoke, they found a table. A glare from Malfoy insured their privacy as the eavesdroppers quickly shifted away.
"Oh you will but I don't want your money." Malfoy cocked an eyebrow as Harry stared. "I saved you back there and now I've had to buy my own beverage. You owe me, Potter, and I intend to collect."
Harry stared, slack-jawed, at Malfoy.
"Oh please, close your gob, Potter, you look like a trout." Harry's mouth shut with a pop.
"What do you want?" There was a faint tremble in his voice that shamed Harry.
"I'll let you know. For now, what brings you back to our little corner of the world? Come to see the sites? Perhaps you find yourself in need of adulation?" Draco leaned back in his chair and laid an ankle over his other leg.
"Yes, that's it, exactly, Malfoy. I find I'm in need of worship and I thought you were a good start." Harry snapped back. Instead of the barb he was waiting for, Malfoy laughed once more.
"Very nice, Potter, you've grown a sense of humour in the time you've been gone."
"I, just, I missed it." Harry waved his hand, encompassing more than just their small table but the whole of the Wizarding World. "I missed that hum of magic, you know? It felt odd not to have it anymore." Malfoy nodded in response and Harry continued. "Truth be known, I've missed more than that. I've missed the people, as well."
When Malfoy cocked an eyebrow, Harry tapped him on the shoulder lightly. "Not that, you git. I missed the funny clothes and the random bursts of magic and the busy-ness of the place."
If anyone had suggested to Harry that he would be here, in this tiny coffee shop, having a companionable and comfortable conversation with Draco Malfoy, of all people, Harry would have laughed and then called the nearest psychiatric center and booked a spot straightaway. But he was sitting here, even as his untouched coffee cooled and the sun went down.
Disaster struck as Harry was telling Malfoy the story of why he'd come back to the Wizarding world. With his hands flailing, Harry said a bit too much.
"But it's true, Malfoy. This guy looked a bit like you and it startled me, made me think of you and here and all the things I didn't even know I missed. So, really, you only have yourself to blame for me coming back. I went all nostalgic and stopped paying attention to him and, well, he wasn't quite happy with me, you know. Seems I ruined the date or some rubbish." Unlike the last time he'd said something he hadn't meant, Harry didn't have a fistful of robes and he clapped his hands over his mouth.
"You're gay, Potter?" Thankfully, at this hour, the coffee shop was nearly empty and no one was there to hear Malfoy's disbelieving remark.
"Look, Malfoy, you're not going to go spewing that about to Rita Skeeter, are you?" Malfoy merely gazed back.
"Are you?" Harry's voice was forceful.
"Why would I do that? We're not in Fourth Year anymore, Potter. I've more than enough to worry about without the fame and fortune that comes from telling the world Harry Potter's deep dark secrets." Malfoy looked to his nails before rubbing them against his robes. "But that's two favours you'll be owing me."
"Fine, Malfoy. Tell, don't tell. I thought…" Harry's voice trailed off.
"You thought what? That we were becoming friends? Chums? Mates?" Malfoy laughed.
"Whatever, Malfoy." Harry spat before standing to leave.
"Potter, sit back down and stop overreacting. Once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor." The tut-tut noise that followed that statement grated on Harry's nerves.
"So you're not going to tell?" Harry demanded as he sat back down, barely avoiding putting his elbow into the cold coffee.
"Of course not, Potter. It's not that big of a deal, really. Plenty of wizards are shirt lifters, you realize." Harry felt his jaw dropping before he snapped it shut.
"Right, Malfoy. Name one, then." Harry leaned back and crossed his arms.
"Me." This time, Harry had no control over his mouth as it hung open. "Really, Potter, the trout look has never become you." Malfoy's fingers reached out to push up Harry's jaw. That small touch sent a frisson down Harry's spine before the fingers disappeared.
Such a small gesture but he found himself responding before sputtering, "You…but… Pansy… and…"
"I suggest you don't mention that, Potter. About those favours…" Harry snapped to attention. "Meet me, tomorrow outside The Leaky Cauldron, six o'clock and, for your sake, dress nicely and be on time. You're taking me out to dinner."
"I'm taking you out to dinner? What?"
"You like brooms, I like brooms, what else is there, really?" Malfoy stood and started to walk away. As Harry watched, he turned and winked over his shoulder.
This hadn't quite been the way Harry had planned his return to the Wizarding world and he wasn't quite certain he knew exactly what had happened but he did know one thing. He would be outside The Leaky Cauldron tomorrow at six o'clock.