FUCKING ZUBAT (finding_jay) wrote in hd_fqf,

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Challange Number Thirty-Seven

Title: Of Wands and Wangs
Author: finding_jay
Challenge and number: #37 - During detention with their wands unavailable, Harry finds another way of shutting Draco up.
Rating: PG - PG:13
Warnings: Nothing other than the usual.
Other characters/pairings: Well this is a Harry/Draco fuh-q-fest... Geez, I wonder.
Notes: ctkelly made me do it.

‘So, I am supposing you two know why you’re here?’ Professor McGonagall asked behind her desk, leaning forward in her rocking chair. Harry hung his head, his glasses slipping down his nose slightly, knowing that although the question was really more of a statement, his Head of House was expecting an answer. He was about to reply when he was cut off.

‘You supposed correctly.’

Furrowing his brow, Harry gave the male Slytherin Prefect a nasty look. Draco Malfoy, in all his arrogant glory, sat beside him. Despite being somewhat disheveled, he was still the cocky prick Harry had known since their first year. With his right foot resting casually over his left knee, hands folded on his lap, eyes half-closed, Draco was every bit the wealthy, egotistical prat he had been brought up as.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow at the Slytherin, and although Harry knew she wasn’t looking at him, he still sunk down slowly in his seat. Malfoy, however, did not.

‘Mister Malfoy, it would do you wise to hold your tongue.’ McGongall then turned to Harry, who was beginning to wonder if it was possible to mold into the hard back of his chair. ‘Honestly, you’re both in your sixth year and yet you still act as if you’re in your first. Hexing each other in the middle of class is not on. You could have killed yourselves!’

‘Professor,’ Malfoy drawled, leaning forward slightly in his seat, ‘I don’t think one can be killed by a jelly-legs curse.’

Harry wondered if he was dead yet. McGonagall’s nostrils flared, and she stood up behind her desk. Holding her hand out, she glared at both boys.

‘Give me your wands,’ she demanded, ‘If you two refuse to behave like seventeen-year-olds, you won’t be treated as seventeen-year-olds. Now give me your wands.’

Harry, knowing things would only get worse if he hesitated, began to pull his wand from his pocket. However, Malfoy didn’t seem to get the idea.

‘What? This is outrageous, how do you expect me to excel in school without my wand!’

McGonagall seemed to be restraining herself from rolling her eyes. How she succeeded in performing such a feat, Harry would never know, because he, himself, rolled his own.

‘Mister Malfoy, I assure you, you will receive your wand at the end of your detention.’

‘This is crazy!’ Malfoy screeched, standing up. McGonagall’s eyebrows shot up, and Harry almost reached over and grabbed Malfoy’s sleeve to shove him back in his seat. ‘Scandalous! My father will not permit this!’

‘It would do you wise,’ their professor said in an icy tone, ‘to remember that your father is currently residing in Azkaban.’

It barely occurred, but Harry caught Malfoy’s chin tilt slightly, the arrogant flicker leaving his eyes for only a second, and he slowly sunk back into his seat. This seemed to suit McGonagall just fine, and she, too, sat down. Staring pointedly at Malfoy, she pointed to the edge of her desk, and uttered only two words:

‘Wand now.’

Harry hurriedly leant over and placed his wand- which he had been gripping tightly through the small saga- on the desk. Malfoy, on the other hand, seemed to ‘um’ and ‘ah’ about it, before pulling his wand out of the pocket of his robes, and placed it next to Harry’s. McGonagall’s swift hand gathered the wands before another word was uttered, and they were soon in her desk, the drawer closing shut and locking by itself.

Malfoy crossed his legs once again, letting hit head fall over the back of his chair, lolling there for several, quiet seconds before letting out a loud groan. McGonagall gave a bored sigh, and looked down at her desk, grabbing a quill from an inkpot. Pointedly ignoring Malfoy as he gave another groan, she began writing on some parchment. Harry just shook his head, and closed his eyes.

Why, he thought with a mental sigh, is Malfoy being so exasperating all of a sudden?

‘Professor,’ Malfoy suddenly started, surprising Harry that he actually had the decency to give McGonagall a respectable title, ‘What are we going to do for the rest of detention?’

‘I was planning on sending you two off to the Trophy Room to give the trophies a bit of a clean. It appears as though all the students have started behaving so they have gathered quite a bit of dust,’ McGonagall replied. Harry mental grumbled about the punishment that he was about to be subjected to, and made to get out of his seat when there was a knock on the door. Without missing a beat, Dumbledore entered, and nodded his greeting to the two boys serving detention. Crossing to McGonagall, the Headmaster murmured something to her, to which McGonagall nodded, and moved from her chair, causing to sway back and forth on its rockers. Dumbledore bid the boys a good evening, and left the room.

‘I have some business to take care of,’ McGonagall said, ‘And if either of you make do so much as even think of leaving this room, it will be fifty points from your house and a weeks worth of detentions.’

She left the room, and the door shut with a slam. Malfoy huffed, and leant back precariously in his chair.

‘This is pathetic. I can’t believe I’m getting in trouble because of you.’

Harry, who had been silent the entire time, stared at him open-mouthed. ‘Me? You’re the one who hexed me first!’

Malfoy spun around to him, his chair coming down with a wham. ‘You’re mudblood friend called me a twitchy nosed ferret and you got caught in my spell!’

‘She only called you that because it’s true!’

The blonde glared at him hatefully, and reached into his pocket, seeming to be searching for his wand. Seeming to remember that it was locked in the desk in front of them, he stood, and walked around it. Crouching in front of the drawers, Harry could only presume Malfoy was trying to open it. A loud shriek filled his ears, and he watched in a mixture mild amusement and shock as his rival flung himself onto the wall that was behind the desk, clutching his hand, a thin stream of blood falling down his fingers.

‘The bloody thing bit me!’

Harry laughed, causing Malfoy to fume. He searched the desk and found a box of tissues. Wiping the blood from his hand, he flopped into the rocking chair, and placed his foot over his knee, like he had been sitting before. Harry had wondered ever since Malfoy had been sitting like that at the beginning of term why he sat like that. It was utterly disturbing and made him look more than a little bit like a girl. He shoved the tissue in his pocket, and raised his eyes to Harry. Rocking back and forth in the chair, he let out a long, low breath of air. Harry ran his tongue over his lips nervously.

‘So…’ he slowly said, letting the word reverberate around the room. ‘You’re a boy.’

Harry nodded, his tongue sticking to his lower lip. What in Merlin’s name is he on? He thought, struggling not to raise an eyebrow. He finally replied with ‘yup’.

Malfoy continued rocking back and forth, his expression unreadable. This was all beginning to unnerve Harry, and he wondered when McGonagall was going to return. Polishing trophies seemed oh-so-fun right about now.

‘So…’ Malfoy was continuing. ‘Potter. Heard you and Weasley were stepping out.’

‘What the- that’s not true!’ Harry cried indignantly. ‘That’s disgusting!’

‘Whatever floats your boat, Potter.’

Harry narrowed his eyes, and squirmed back into his chair. He and Ron were friends- nothing more. And on another note, Ron and Hermione were seeing each other, and Harry would never do anything to change that. He valued their friendship too much.

‘This may be hard for you to comprehend,’ Harry started, keeping his face straight, ‘but I am not gay, and Ron isn’t either. I am certain that you have heard he and Hermione are dating, so I don’t know where you figured Ron and I are, as you so delicately put it, "stepping out".’

‘Potter, Potter, Potter…’

‘Don’t "Potter, Potter, Potter" me, Malfoy!’ Harry shot back, jumping to his feet and crossing to where the blonde sat. Malfoy gawked at him, and pushed back slightly in the rocking chair. Harry pursed his lips together tightly, and when Malfoy opened his mouth to speak, he raised his hand and slapped him soundly on his left cheek.

There was a long pause in which neither of them moved, Malfoy’s head snapped to one side and Harry’s hand halfway up in the air. When Malfoy finally stared at him, there was a dark, malicious look in his eyes. Harry lowered his hand, thoughts like "I just slapped him?" and "Oh, dear, oh, dear" running through his head. However, before Harry could register what had just happened, Malfoy had leaped upon him.

Harry’s back collided with the ground, his breathing shooting out of his lungs. His glasses flew up, onto his forehead, his vision becoming blurred, Malfoy nothing but a smudge of blonde, green and black above him.

‘Get off me!’ he cried, clawing at the Slytherin’s robes. A fist collided with his cheek, and Harry’s glasses flew off his face completely, skittering somewhere on the cold floor. Crying out in surprise, he drew his hand up, and grabbed a handful of Malfoy’s hair. Jerking the boy’s hair back, he pushed him off of his stomach. With the combined effort of kneeing him whatever he reached (there was a sickening groan from Malfoy, so he presumed it must have been somewhere close to his nether regions), Harry managed to scramble back and find, after several seconds of groping, his spectacles.

‘Why did you do that?’ Malfoy whined. He was kneeling by McGonagall’s desk, looking as sore as Harry felt.

‘You insulted me’ Harry replied simply. He rubbed his cheek, his cheekbone feeling thoroughly sore. He doubted it would bruise- the punch hadn’t been that hard, and Malfoy did appear rather delicate- but it stung hideously.

‘No need to slap me!’

Harry rolled his eyes and stood. ‘Honestly, Malfoy, anyone would think you were the gay one.’


Giving the boy one last, scornful look, Harry spun on his heel and flopped down in the chair he had been sitting in prior to slapping Malfoy. Malfoy, however, stayed beside the professor’s desk, looking rather pensive. Harry watched him, ankles crossed in front of him, arms resting limply on the arms of his chair.

Malfoy twitched where he sat, and lolled his head back lazily, neck exposed. Harry continued to look at him, expressionless. When he didn’t receive a response, Malfoy gave a groan and kicked the ground with the heel of his shoe. Harry continued to not say nor do anything, remaining quiet and increasingly annoyed.

‘Potter…’ Malfoy started. Harry blinked, not answering. This didn’t seem to please Malfoy and he turned his head to the boy, eyes filled with utter dislike. ‘Potter, I am trying to get your attention, in case you haven’t noticed.’

‘Oh, I’ve noticed.’ Harry said, sarcastically. ‘In fact, I have noticed quite a bit, and it is getting on my nerves. I’d ask you to stop, but I have the feeling you won’t, so I have remained quiet whilst you withered about on the floor like a dying snail. Or a slug, being as you lack a shell.’

Malfoy stayed silent for a good three seconds, before pulling his legs underneath him, and let out a low ‘hm’. Letting out a tired breath of air, Harry rested his head in one hand, a bored expression on his face.

‘Do you treat everyone who serves detention with you like a babysitter?’ he asked.

‘No,’ Malfoy replied, ‘just you.’


A hush fell across the room, both boys off in their own little words, Harry’s eyes locked on McGonagall’s desk, Malfoy’s on the floor. The silence boomed in Harry’s ears, not used to the sound, his heartbeat or heavy breathing usually filling his mind. Yet, his heart and breath were pleasantly quiet, causing him to be unnerved. Fear filled his life so much, and to lack it was like having lost a limb- he felt clumsy and a dull ache began to engulf him. When Malfoy spoke, he was startled and jumped.


‘Yes, Malfoy?’

Malfoy’s face screwed up, his gray eyes staring intently at the floor, his mouse-like nose scrunching at the top and mixing with his brows.

‘What would you do if the Weasel were, you know, a poof?’

‘Gay, you mean?’


Harry let out a low ‘um’ and finally shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Nothing, I suppose. He’s been my friend for a good six years- Hermione, too. Why should that change because it turns out he prefers males over girls?’ Harry shrugged once more, when Malfoy’s face lifted from the ground. ‘Sure, I’d be a little wary. It’s only natural, right? Not something that happens everyday, but like I said, Ron’s been there for me through everything, and he hasn’t done anything to me to suspect he is gay.’

Malfoy nodded, and his face dropped again. Slightly confused at the question in which he had just answered, Harry shuffled forward in his seat, brow furrowed.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘No reason’ came the automated response. Suspicious, Harry leaned back slightly, and silently nodded. He was soon forced with another question from Malfoy.

‘What would you do if, say, I was gay?’

Having guessed that he was going to be asked that, Harry replied quickly.

‘I couldn’t do much, could I? I don’t associate myself with you, and I don’t wish to anytime in the future. Your sexual preference means little to me, and if you wish to fraternize with those of the same gender, go right ahead. It doesn’t mean anything to me.’

‘I guess that means…’ Malfoy drifted off, as if he was choosing his words carefully. ‘You don’t hate me?’

‘I hate you.’ Harry replied smoothly, not missing a beat. ‘A lot. But if you’re gay or straight or even transsexual, I don’t care. I won’t hate you more or less.’

Malfoy put a finger to his lips, soaking all this in apparently. This was all beginning to grate on Harry’s nerves- sure, he didn’t care what Malfoy liked and what Malfoy didn’t like. But all this talk about homosexuality and other related topics annoyed him. He had never wished to talk about it- not because it was forbidden and not because he was gay, but because he felt no need to. He had no opinion on it, and he didn’t really want one. It got into messy things, like whether he was a poof or whether he wasn’t- all very messy.

Malfoy had stood and was moving away from McGonagalls’ desk, towards his prior seat.

‘Do you feel enlightened after our talk?’ Harry asked dryly. Malfoy glared as he slunk past. Harry snorted, and was about to turn his head when he felt a cold hand on his cheek. Bracing for a punch, he was taken by surprise as a pair of foreign, and unpracticed lips fell upon his. A squeak from the back of his throat was let out, and when Malfoy pulled away, he was thoroughly flushed and feeling rather embarrassed.

‘Um…’ he said, his glasses sliding down his nose after being pushed uncomfortably up. ‘Er…’

Malfoy stared at him, looking much like Harry. His eyes were wide, lips parted and gasping from shock.

‘I can’t believe I just did that…’ he finally said.

‘Neither can I.’ Harry replied.

Staring at each other, both sharing a pained look, Harry felt himself crawling backwards in his seat, his suspicions being confirmed.

‘You’re gay, aren’t you?’ Harry didn’t expected an answer, but Malfoy gave him one anyway.

‘Don’t tell anyone. Please. I know you hate me, and I still hate you, but Merlin’s beard, don’t tell anyone. Even though Father’s in Azkaban, I can’t let him or any of his associates know. I’m Draco Malfoy! Draco Malfoy of the Malfoy family in which everyone is straight and gets married to someone of the opposite sex and have babies which look just like their same sex parent!’

Harry just nodded, paying no heed. He wasn’t going to tell, for his sake, more than Malfoy’s. He’d just been kissed by him, and that was utterly humiliating.


Content, Malfoy gave a tiny, weak smile, nodded, and shuffled back to his chair. Harry watched as he sat down in it, the piece of news of Malfoy’s homosexuality finally setting in on him like a cold bucket of ice. The door to the room suddenly swung open, and Professor McGonagall stormed in, as if the whole scene being timed. She gave the boys a once over, and seeming to be happy that nothing damning had occurred, gave a firm nod. Standing behind the desk, she tapped one of the drawers with her hand, and pulled out both Harry and Malfoy’s wands. Holding them out, she nodded to them both.

‘I apologize but your detention has to be held on another night. Professor Flitwick has been caught in a rather… odd position, and myself and several other of your teachers will be absent this evening of alleviating his condition. I suspect you’re both free tomorrow night?’

Harry and Malfoy both nodded silently. They stood, and taking their wands, left the room in hurried silence. As they entered the corridor, Malfoy jerked Harry close to him.

‘You promised not to tell, and if I hear a peep of my… thing out of you, I swear you will be dead when I see you next.’

Harry frowned. ‘I get death threats basically everyday from Voldemort, so despite yours meaning nothing to me, I get it. You’re still straight according to everyone else, despite my knowing the truth.’

Malfoy pursed his lips, looking unsure.

‘Malfoy, I don’t spread rumors, okay? Can I go to bed now?’

Nodding, Malfoy let Harry go. ‘Sure… and, Potter?’

‘Yes, Malfoy?’


And with two tiny smiles, the boys turned their backs on each other, and headed back to their appropriate dorms.

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