Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.
Title: An Unforeseen Predicament
Author: Faith Wood
Word Count: 1000
Summary: Draco worries that due to his unforeseen predicament, Harry won't find him attractive anymore.
Warnings: So so so silly.
An Unforeseen Predicament
An Unforeseen Predicament
Draco was sitting in the waiting room, tapping his foot on the floor and sulking with all his might. He was waiting for the Healer to confirm his greatest fear and thusly change his life forever. Everything had been going well, but his body apparently had different plans. Draco had managed to hide his predicament from Harry for quite some time, but Harry had at last noticed what was happening. Yesterday, he had stood in front of Draco and gave him a hard look.
"You have an appointment tomorrow afternoon," Harry announced with finality, and Draco had little choice but to agree to go and see the Healer. After all, he couldn't really go on like this.
Harry, who was sitting and waiting together with Draco, took Draco's hand in his, and soothed, "It'll be fine. Stop worrying."
Draco sniffed. "It's not fair. Things were going so well. Why did this happen to me?"
"It's hardly a death sentence," Harry sighed, sounding amused. The bastard. "Look at me — I'm doing fine," he said bracingly.
Draco waved him off. "You're different. You had the genetic predisposition for this. But me ... I didn't see this coming. I mean ... was it something I ate? Or maybe I'm cursed!" Draco exclaimed hopefully.
"Maybe." Harry sounded unconvinced. "That's why we're here. To find out for sure."
"Maybe it's contagious." Draco looked at Harry accusingly.
Harry didn't dignify that statement with an answer.
Draco hid his face in his hands. "Can you imagine? I'll have to carry those ... things around. All the time. They'll be attached to me."
"Yes. I can imagine it," Harry said dryly. Draco ignored him.
"And I'll be ugly. And you'll no longer want to have sex with me," Draco mourned. Harry gave him a withering, hurt sort of look, and Draco added quickly, "Well ... er ... it suits you. It doesn't make you ugly. I've never minded that you ..." Draco waved his hand in Harry's direction. "It looks hot on you," he assured and Harry's lips twitched.
"Nothing on this world would stop me from wanting to have sex with you," Harry said firmly.
Slightly reassured, Draco jumped only a little when the Mediwizard came out and asked him to come inside the Healer's office. He had to say goodbye to Harry and walk towards his doom alone.
Unfortunately, the Healer had confirmed his fears and after that Draco had only half-listened about alternative solution as they were mostly of Muggle variety. By the time he went back into the waiting room, he was dizzy and miserable.
"Hey," Harry said softly, bumping Draco's shoulder with his. "So?"
"There's no cure. I'm stuck with this."
Harry patted him on the back sympathetically. "Did you get ... er ... the things?"
Draco sniffed. Harry took that as a yes, apparently, because he demanded, "Let me see."
Sticking out his bottom lip, Draco reached into his pocket and took out the vile instrument.
With a shuddering sigh, he glared at the square, thin frames and then put the glasses on his nose.
"I'll never look at myself in the mirror again," he declared, at the same time marvelling at his suddenly not-blurry vision.
"You look dashing. Very intellectual." Harry was nodding his head.
"I bet we look like a pair of idiots."
Harry laughed, unfortunately not denying Draco's statement, but instead, he encircled Draco's waist, and leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, "We should go home and test your newly improved vision."
Draco frowned. "What, you'll make me read stuff?"
"Actually, no. The thing is, I have a new snake tattoo, but it's small and magical and it slid off somewhere, and I haven't seen it since. So I was hoping you'll help me find it."
"Oh." Draco fixed his glasses and raised his eyebrow, feeling a little better. "If that's the case, I shall do my best and search you most thoroughly."
"Good." Harry smiled and took Draco's hand leading him home so they could initiate their quest.
As they were taking their cloaks from the hanger, Draco caught his reflection in a window, blinking at the crisp clear image of himself.
"Sweet Merlin! I look gorgeous," he admired.
"Nice to see you're acting like yourself again," Harry laughed while throwing his cloak over his shoulders, his shirt riding up as he did so. Draco caught the sight of a small black snake wriggling its tail over Harry's left hipbone before disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers. "Come on, handsome. You have a snake to catch," Harry coaxed.
"Mmm. Something tells me I won't need glasses for that. Just my tongue."
"Considering I have it for a month and you haven't noticed, I'm disinclined to agree with you."
"Oh. Er ... so what else did I miss?" he asked as they moved towards the exit.
"Well," Harry scrunched up his face. "Remember that robe you bought the other day?"
"The blue one? Yes."
"It's a dress."
Draco gaped and shuddered.
"And that kitten you gave me last week?" Harry continued.
"It's not a Kneazle, is it?"
"It's a dog."
Draco laughed, swatting Harry's backside and then kept his hand there. "Idiot. You're making this up."
"Wow. The glasses made you smarter."
Draco narrowed his eyes. "Just for that, when I find that snake — I'll bite it. No matter where it is."
Harry fluttered his eyelashes and snaked a hand around Draco's waist, smiling at him happily. "I was hoping you'd say that."
Draco squeezed Harry buttocks suggestively, feeling genuinely relieved Harry hadn't tossed any 'specy git' jabs at him. He had half-expected Harry would indulge himself with some retribution — that would have been unbearable. Draco was almost prepared to really seek out some Muggle solutions, but it was a good thing that this seemed unnecessary because Draco had gathered that the alternative Muggle way of dealing with bad vision was complicated and out of his reach for he didn't know any Muggles.
Because apparently — to improve your eyesight in the Muggle world — you had to have contacts. Stupid snobbish Muggles.