Title: The Many Faces of Draco Malfoy
Summary: Harry's going to save the world but first he needs to face Malfoy. All of him.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Word Count: ~4800
Author's Notes: This is for you, norton_gale. There were two things in your request that particularly got my attention: humor and crack. This turned out to be crackish humor with a serious intent. Hope you like it. :) Also, lots of love to my wonderful and mysterious beta, E, Who Must Not Be Named Yet.
The Many Faces of Draco Malfoy
When Harry lay down for the night, the forest around him was eerily quiet. The day, like all the other days during the past couple of weeks, had been exhausting but now that it was finally down to the last Horcrux, Rowena Ravenclaw's Ruby Ring was nowhere to be found.
The thin sleeping bag protected him from the chill weather but not from the rough terrain, and Harry had to twist and turn for quite a while before finding a satisfying position to sleep in. When he was settled, he checked his watch and saw that it was just past eleven.
The last thing Harry noticed before closing his eyes was a greyish veil, enveloping the forest. Mist was rising.
* dh * hd *
The sun was shining brightly the next morning, and Harry stretched lazily, turning around in his warm and soft bed, a fact which took about two seconds to register in his sleep-addled brain. He opened his eyes and stared right at Ron's empty bed in Gryffindor Tower.
He jolted up wide awake, all thoughts of sleep vanished. The past couple of weeks might have been taxing, but there was no way he would have missed Portkeying to Hogwarts from his forest camp miles away. Harry got quickly dressed and left the room in search for Ron or Hermione or anyone who could clear the picture for him.
* dh * hd *
Hogwarts had seemed almost deserted, but finally Harry ran into a group of whispering and giggling schoolgirls. They were busy admiring and pointing at something that Harry couldn't see at first. He took a few steps closer and realised that there was indeed something, or someone, standing further down the hallway, his back turned on them.
The man was dressed in the tightest leather pants Harry had ever had the fortune of witnessing. The black, shiny material left nothing to guess, wrapping those pert, tight buttocks in all their glory and continuing south for miles and miles, covering all that infinite legspace.
Now, had Harry been into that sort of thing, like the gay thing, this would have been the arse to stare at. However, since it simply wasn't the case, it took him only about three or four tries to drag his eyes up and see that those plump and well-sculpted buttocks had the misfortune to be attached to a body that carried on its shoulders a head full of infamous white blond hair. There was only one person in the whole school who Harry knew to have a hair color like that, fake or not.
Then the man turned around, and Harry's fears were confirmed. It really was Draco Malfoy. However, instead of the expected way of greeting, like hurling insults or running away, Malfoy clearly gave him a once-over and smiled approvingly. And then he had the audacity to go and wink at Harry!
The girls around Harry oohed and aahed, but he was not so easily deceived. There was most certainly something going on here and Malfoy had a part in it!
Malfoy just smiled at Harry flirtatiously and started walking away, hips swinging in a most disturbing manner. Harry had no idea what this strange behaviour was supposed to mean but he was going to find out. He hurried after Malfoy, leaving the giggling and blushing girls behind.
When he made it to the corner where Malfoy had disappeared, there was no sign of him, but bravely Harry ventured into the closest classroom. It was empty just like the next one. But the third one wasn't.
It was dark in the deserted room, but Harry could still recognise a lone figure sitting in the far corner. The leather pants were gone and there was a regular school uniform instead. There was also a big and shiny knife in Malfoy's hands, and he was happily slashing his wrists, staring mesmerized at the freely flowing blood.
Harry took a sharp breath which earned him Malfoy's attention. In a heartbeat, Malfoy was up and walking towards Harry.
Harry took a couple of steps backwards, not that he was afraid or anything, but Malfoy did possess an awfully big and bloody knife, and they hadn't exactly parted on friendly terms the last time they had seen each other.
Harry was still fumbling for his wand, when Malfoy was upon him. There was a maniacal glint in his eyes as he stared at Harry for one intense moment and announced: "I hate you!"
"Well good, 'cause I hate you too—ooomph—"
Malfoy had all but thrown himself against Harry and was now kissing him. Violently but most passionately.
As soon as Harry recovered from his initial shock, Malfoy was already gone. For a long time, Harry could only stand still and gingerly lick his lips, faintly tasting blood on them. His mind was reeling.
Harry backed out of the classroom and continued on his way much more carefully now. He was in desperate need of someone, preferably not Malfoy, who could help him to figure out what the hell was going on.
He had been walking a few minutes when someone called his name. He turned around and saw Draco sodding Malfoy. Again. This time there were no leather pants nor a shiny knife in sight, but it was still far from normal. Malfoy was shamelessly leaning against the wall, bare-chested, dressed only in a loincloth. There was something magical about him that Harry couldn't quite explain.
Harry's first fuzzy thought was that there was no way Malfoy could have gained those spectacular abs from playing Quidditch. From his own experience he knew more than well that Seekers were the last people in the whole team, girls included, to develop any sort of muscles at all.
But there was something incredibly … sexy about Malfoy. Harry swallowed, and Malfoy took a few steps closer. It felt like a trance or a weird dream. There he was, standing in the hallway, and Malfoy was right in front of him, all sparkling gold locks and piercing silver eyes. For some reason, Malfoy also seemed to have black and sharp nails. Harry ignored it, however, since this thinking business seemed far too complicated anyway.
"Harry, oh Harry. How very nice to see you."
It was like a thousand small bells had been chiming just for Harry. How come he'd never realised what a beautiful voice Malfoy had? As a matter of fact, he had never seen anything as gorgeous in his entire life.
As if in a dream, Harry raised his hand and touched that silky blond softness that was Malfoy's hair. Malfoy purred. Then he turned his head and licked Harry's hand. That broke the spell. Harry let out a shriek, snatched his hand back and stared, horrified, at Malfoy who was all of a sudden sprouting a huge pair of feathery wings. Harry didn't stay there long enough to find out what other hideous mutations Malfoy was going through. He ran away as fast as his feet could carry him.
So frenzied was Harry in his narrow escape that he didn't look properly at where he was heading and ended up running straight into something soft but solid.
Brown eyes were looking at him through a bushy tangle of curls.
"Hermione! God, I'm happy to see you!"
"Harry, what is it?"
Harry dragged Hermione behind the nearest corner.
"Shh, not so loudly. He might hear you."
Harry took a deep breath. "Listen, there's something really strange going on here."
He glanced over his shoulder, lowered his voice and continued. "Last night I went to sleep in my forest camp which was, like, two hundred miles away from here, and this morning I woke up in my own bed in Gryffindor Tower."
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
Harry leaned closer still and whispered, "And now I've been bumping into Malfoy of all people right here in the castle, and he's acting really weird. I think it might be some evil plot of Voldemort's to make me lose my mind or something."
Based on the look Hermione was giving him, she considered him to have lost his marbles already.
"Harry, calm down. What do you mean Malfoy's acting all weird?"
"You wouldn't believe it." Harry let out a nervous laugh and told what he had witnessed so far. Hermione looked thoughtful.
"Well, there's nothing wrong with ogling Malfoy's arse in leather pants—"
"But I wasn't ogling that bastard's arse!" Harry snapped.
"And what you said about him slashing his wrists open, it just sounds like his regular daddy issues."
"But I never knew he was a veela."
"Well, clearly he's not. This is obviously just some elaborate scheme to prevent me from finding the last Horcrux and killing Vol—"
Hermione made a nonchalant gesture. "Honestly, Harry, not everything is about you."
Before Harry had time to argue, there was some hubbub further down the corridor. Draco Malfoy, the wrist-slashing one, was briskly walking through the hallway and addressing people on his way.
"I hate you. And you. And you and you and you."
Harry gave Hermione a look.
"See what I mean?"
"Oh my, he's even wearing some eyeliner."
Harry had proved his point and felt surprisingly pleased with the situation despite the fact that the Malfoy in question had just gone and kissed him a few minutes ago. Reflexively, Harry licked his lips. The faint taste of blood was still there.
Hermione let out a long-suffering sigh.
"Okay, I see your point, but I still woudn't worry about it too much. That sort of behaviour is completely normal for someone whose childhood is just a series of abusive incidents, cupboard or no cupboard."
Harry wasn't convinced, but Hermione continued, "I think we should get some breakfast and then see what to do about your locational problems."
"Fine, but I still can't believe they let him back in the first place."
Hermione ignored Harry's whining and steered him towards the Great Hall. Just when they were about to enter, they heard a voice behind them.
"I see the plebes have decided to grace the antemeridian with their presence."
Harry was almost afraid of turning around, fearing what he might see this time.
"Planning to fill the oesophagus with nutrients by ingestion-like activity?"
Now Malfoy was dressed in proper wizard robes and wearing glasses, or rather a monocle. He had a very haughty look plastered on his face.
"Do close your upper orifice, Potter, not all of us want to admire your pharyngeal tonsils. Besides, we wouldn't want any dipterans flying in, would we?"
Helplessly, Harry turned to look at Hermione who was simply frowning.
"Try not to overwork your encephalon," Malfoy advised, turning away. "Enjoy your vols-au-vent, enchanté et s'il vous plaît."
Malfoy gone, Hermione was fuming.
"Okay, that does it. There's no way in hell that pompous wannabe intellectual can outwit me. You were right, Harry, something weird is going on and I'm going to find out what it is."
"That's really great but—"
"I need to go to the library. Meet you there after breakfast."
And then Hermione was gone, too. Harry scratched his head, eyeing the doors that led into the Great Hall with trepidation, but since he wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing he opened the doors and entered.
The Great Hall was full of students eating their breakfast, and everything seemed to be fine. Harry cast a glance at the Slytherin table but there was no sign of Malfoy. He let out a relieved sigh and walked towards the Gryffindor table. Seeing Ron and the others was a small consolation, since he hadn't seen any of them for a while.
"G'morning, Harry! Take a seat!"
"Hi, Ron, er … have you seen Malfoy?"
Ron looked puzzled.
"Malfoy? No. Should I have?"
"No, just asking is all."
Harry shrugged and hoped to seem casual. He took the offered seat and reached for a slice of toast when suddenly he felt something attached to his side. He turned to look and found himself two inches from Malfoy's nose.
"Malfoy, what the fuck?"
Malfoy nuzzled Harry's neck and cooed, "My mate."
Embarrassed, Harry tried to detach himself from Malfoy, to no avail.
Harry shook his arm rather forcefully, trying to get rid of Malfoy, but Malfoy just kept clinging onto him all the more determinedly.
So caught up was Harry in his struggles that he didn't see someone approaching their table. When he finally lifted his head, he nearly had a heart attack. Dumbledore was standing right there in front of him, alive and well.
"Sir! But, Pr—Professor, I mean Headmaster, how—what—whe—"
"Yes, yes, Harry my boy, I see you are a little confused about the situation here. But not to worry, there's a good explanation for it."
Dumbledore was known for the occasional sparkle, merry wink and twinkling of his eyes, but when it was all happening simultaneously, it looked like someone had forgot to put out the Christmas lights. Not to mention the tiny detail that the man was supposed to be resting six feet under.
"The thing is, you and Mr Malfoy here are soulmates, and—"
"My maaaaaaate," Malfoy cooed right into Harry's ear, licking it with his cute, pink tongue.
"—and, since you two are inseparable now, the only solution we could find was to arrange a nice little private suite for you. You'll just have to spend the night on green satin sheets of a king size bed where nothing whatsoever will happen." Dumbledore winked conspiratorially.
Sheer panic welled inside Harry.
"But—but, Headmaster, really…"
Malfoy was not so quietly humping his leg.
Harry had had enough. He dashed from the table, ignoring Malfoy's screaming protests, and left the Great Hall. He made his escape running once again blindly down the corridors. Malfoy kept tagging along, clinging to his robes until Harry managed to get rid of him at the first set of moving stairs.
Then Harry burst into the library without giving a fuck about Madam Pince and her murderous stare and found Hermione engrossed in a book.
"Hermione, it's an emergency! We've got to go!"
"But, Harry, look what I found. This is so fascinating."
"Not now, Hermione, please!"
"All right, all right."
Hermione grabbed the thick tome she'd been reading and hurried after him. Harry didn't let them stop before they had reached another one of those convenient, secluded alcoves that filled the castle.
"Hermione," Harry panted, "I knew I was right, something is very wrong. You'll never guess who I saw."
"Who was it, Harry?"
"And?" Hermione didn't even blink an eye.
"But Dumbledore's—he's dead!"
"Harry, you're not making any sense."
Harry bit his lip and counted to ten.
"This is obviously not my reality. Something must have happened when I went to sleep last night, but I need to get back to my own world. Hermione, I need your help."
"Fine, of course I'll help you. Actually, this book I just found might be useful."
Hermione flipped the book open, and Harry could have sworn the title read something like Fanfiction for Dummies, but what on earth was that supposed to mean and how would it be useful?
"This is really such a fascinating read. It's all in here. All the archetypes of Draco Malfoy you've been seeing."
Harry didn't quite get that but all the same he risked a glance and noticed how a lion's share of the book belonged to a chapter marked "H/D."
"I'm sure it's just brilliant, but how's that going to help me to get back to where I belong?"
Hermione was about to respond when they heard whistles and catcalls coming from the corridor. They peeked around the corner and saw a group of students and amidst them Draco Malfoy with pigtails, dressed in a white t-shirt and the shortest imaginable skirt, which showed the pink lace of the knickers underneath.
Harry did a double take and swallowed. Malfoy was twining one short pigtail around his finger.
"I've been such a naughty little girl. I need to be punished really hard. Who shall spank me?"
Many eager hands rose up from the throng but Malfoy was looking straight at Harry, smiling wickedly and swaying his hips.
Harry swallowed again for the umpteenth time and squeaked, "Bloody hell, he's in a skirt now! What's that supposed to mean?"
For some reason, Hermione was biting her lip.
"Well, maybe it means that you're not only a shirt lifter but a skirt lifter as well."
"Hermione! You're not helping!"
"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione said without looking sorry at all. "But you have to admit that this is rather funny."
"Hermione, please, I'm begging you. You're my only chance."
A familiar call sounded in the hallway: "..aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate."
"Okay, that does it. I need some fresh air," Harry said, grabbing Hermione by the sleeve.
Without further ado they sprinted away. They used every single secret passageway, abandoned corridor and tunnel to avoid any possible blond obstacles. While passing one toilet they heard someone crying inside. Hermione slowed down and was about to change course.
"Sounds like someone's in trouble. Maybe we should go and see if—"
"No!" Harry all but hauled Hermione away from the door.
"Oh, come on! It's not like Malfoy would be hiding in the girls' toilet, crying his eyes out."
"You've no idea."
Hermione had no choice but to follow Harry. They had almost made it to the big doors when suddenly it was Hermione who pulled Harry behind a pillar. First Harry couldn't understand why since there was no sign of Malfoy.
"Shh! Be quiet!"
Harry settled down to wait, and soon a dark-haired man passed them by.
"Who was that?"
"Didn't you see the sinister flare of his robes? That was dark!Harry. He's a really dangerous one. I read all about him at the library before you turned up. He's very unstable and can destroy the whole world if he feels like it."
Harry didn't know what to think or say anymore. The whole thing was getting out of hand. He desperately needed fresh air.
Once they got outside, they walked away from the school in silence. Harry wasn't sure where the safest place to stop and think about it all would be, but when he tried to head towards Hagrid's hut, Hermione pulled him away.
"I wouldn't, if I were you."
Harry felt puzzled but Hermione just tapped the book she was still carrying. "You just never know with all the bestiality going on."
Harry shuddered, appalled, and hurried his footsteps. There were no ferrets to be seen but a suspiciously platinum-colored puppy came running down the hill towards him, as if on cue. Since Harry didn't want to take any risks, he gave the little creature a few sharp kicks just to be on the safe side.
When they neared the Quidditch pitch, Harry couldn't stay quiet any longer.
"So, you said there might be a solution there in the book?"
"Yes, well, actually." Hermione leafed through the pages, looking unsure. "I have a hunch, but I'd still like to hear exactly what you did last night before ending up here."
"There's not much to tell really. I just remember going to sleep and then nothing. There was some mist rising. The last thing I remember doing was checking my watch which was just past eleven and then—"
"Oh my God, Harry! That's it! You said it!"
"You said it was past eleven. I believe you were literally sent here the eleventh hour to do something important!"
"Yes, Harry, and I have a pretty good idea what it could be."
"You do?" Never before had Harry been so anxious about Hermione's brilliant ideas.
"Yes, Harry, don't you see? Since you keep constantly bumping into Malfoy, it's obvious you need something from him. I think the solution is that you bond with him."
"Bond? With him?"
Harry might have been embarrassed by the girlish squeak he let out if he hadn't been so busy questioning Hermione's every word.
"Yes, Harry, bond. I can't think of any other reason you're here. Malfoy must have something you need really badly."
"Yeah, right. Bond with Malfoy. The next thing you tell me, he'll be having my lovebabies."
The look on Hermione's face shut Harry up for good.
"Bloody hell, that's—that's insane. Really. What on earth would I need from Malfoy of all people? There's no way any bonding between us will take place. Like, ever. No fucking way. I'd rather offer my own head on a platter to Voldemort when the time comes."
"Well," Hermione hesitated, "there might just be another way."
"Yes?" A small hope flared inside Harry.
"You could always just have meaningless sex with him."
"What? I mean what?! Sex? With Malfoy? With that Hey-look-at-me-I'm-a-Slytherin-sex-god-M
"So, you've given it some serious thought then."
"Don't be ridiculous. Draco Malfoy is a slimy bastard and I want nothing to do with him in any shape or form."
"But Harry, that's just it, isn't it?"
"Is what?" Harry was really getting sick of having to second-guess Hermione all the time.
"It must be that you just haven't found the right one yet. All of these different versions of Malfoy, but none of them is the one for you."
"Of course they aren't. No version of Malfoy is."
Hermione raised both eyebrows. "But of course not, Mr Obsessed."
"No, I mean really. And how would I even recognize him since they are all equally unpleasant and disgusting?"
"Well you know, there's always—"
But then Harry noticed something.
"Hermione, since when do you have blond highlights in your hair?"
"I—I'm sorry, Harry." Hermione shrugged, looking genuinely apologetic and ran away before the change would be complete.
"Oh no, not you, too." Harry felt utterly betrayed. He was alone in a strange and hostile territory, maybe for good. Malfoy was after him, haunting him in every possible and impossible form and his only support turned out to be a fraud.
Harry walked aimlessly around the Quidditch pitch. He could always try to pass the school wards and Apparate back to his camp in the forest, but would that even help? Would he still be stuck in this fake reality?
Then something very familiar caught his eye. Close to one of the stalls, someone was sitting, or more like slumping, on the ground. It was Draco Malfoy, of course. This Malfoy was different than the rest of them, however. His robes were dirty and worn as if he hadn't had the chance to change them since his abrupt flight from Hogwarts, and he just sat there, forlornly, looking scared and lost, without paying the slightest attention to Harry.
You just haven't found the right one yet.
Harry was so relieved to see him that he nearly cried from joy. His pulse quickened while he eyed Malfoy, slowly closing the remaining distance between them. Tired, pale and bony. Yeah, definitely bony.
Harry cleared his throat, and Malfoy whipped his head up, startled.
Malfoy bolted up onto his feet and held out a trembling hand to keep Harry away from him. Harry noticed that he didn't have his wand.
"Stay away from me, you freak!"
Malfoy was visibly shaken. "I don't know what you're trying to do to me, but it's not going to happen. You hear me? Not going to happen!"
"What the fuck are you on about? I'm the one who's had to evade your sex-crazed side personalities all morning."
"Yeah, right. What about all those ugly, speccy-eyed clones of yours who've done nothing but try to get into my pants since I got here?"
Harry was starting to feel annoyed which was in fact the first healthy reaction he'd experienced the whole morning. Annoying Malfoy. That he could handle anytime.
"Look, I don't need your tricks. I just want to go back to where I was before this madness started."
"I bet you do. Just fuck off and leave me alone."
"Watch it, Malfoy. You're not telling me to go anywhere. I'll stay right here if I want to."
Harry was really starting to warm up to this. Light banter, a few insults; this was definitely something he could handle. Next, he might even up the ante a bit.
"What's your master plan then? Wait here for your daddy to come and rescue you? Oh yeah, I forgot. Still locked in Azkaban, isn't he?"
Malfoy just glared at him, and the next moment Harry felt his teeth rattling from the force of Malfoy's punch. He didn't hit back immediately, though, because all of a sudden he remembered feeling sorry for Malfoy during those last days of school and he realised, too, that he had deserved the punch with his last remark.
And then something even weirder happened. Harry was just about to say something less vile when his mouth disconnected with his brain. One minute he had an armful of furious Malfoy to calm down and the next he saw that white and long and really white neck which was just there and to his own horror he heard himself say, "Would you like to be my whore crush?"
"Erm, that is—"
Naturally, it earned him another punch. And another after that. And then he just had to join in himself, too. Harry forgot all about being chivalrous and got physical, hitting right back. For a moment they were at each others' throats like any horny teenage boys and then they lost their balance and tumbled down.
Then it was punching and rolling. And after a while it was less punching and more rolling.
They tumbled around again and again, and Harry wondered how it all felt so very natural. Like they'd done this a thousand times before. Malfoy underneath him squirmed wildly but with time his struggles became halfhearted. And then their rolling became more like mutual rubbing.
"Malfoy, uh, God!"
Harry grabbed Malfoy tightly by his shoulders and saw stars. He felt Malfoy spasming underneath him as well, joining him on his trip to another galaxy.
Slowly and a little reluctantly, Harry let go of Malfoy and rolled off of him. He lay on the grass, panting, and stared at the sky above. The world seemed different somehow. Next to him, Malfoy was also concentrating on steadying his breathing and didn't utter a word.
Finally, Malfoy got up.
"Don't think this changes anything."
"Of course not."
"'Cause it won't."
Malfoy dusted off his muddy robes, and Harry got up, too. And then he saw it. Mist had risen everywhere around them, circling the Quidditch pitch.
Was this it then?
"So… I guess you'll be returning to the place where you were before this…" Harry tried, making a vague hand gesture.
"You won't find out where that is and I'm not telling you, so there's no point in trying."
"Right, of course not."
Malfoy looked distant and strained again. Resigned.
By then, the mist was halfway up the field. Harry straightened his clothes. Something didn't feel right. Accidentally, and with a little help from Malfoy, he'd done what he was supposed to, but something was still missing.
The mist was advancing, surrounding them, already licking at Malfoy's robes. Harry's throat felt constricted. Malfoy was turning away from him. A few more seconds, and he would dissappear from the sight.
"Hey, Malfoy. Wait!"
Harry looked at Malfoy's pale and angular face and saw his own doubts and fears reflected in those cold grey eyes.
When I see you the next time, will it be on a battlefield on the opposite side? Will you promise me not to follow in your father's footsteps? Will we meet again?
Slowly, tentatively, Harry held out his hand. Malfoy stared at it for a moment as if it was a snake on the loose from the zoo. The mist had almost enveloped him by now.
"Will there be a next time?"
And then Malfoy was gone, and the mist was there, gathering around Harry, enveloping him in its damp arms, but Harry could still feel those surprisingly warm fingers in his own, see the faint smirk on Malfoy's lips and hear his amused parting words.
You didn't think I wouldn't want a rematch, did you?
Then Harry was gone, too, and he knew that any minute now he'd be back in the forest where all this had started. He let himself smile, somehow knowing that things would turn out all right.
For the first time in years, he felt alive. And ready.