Disclaimer: Characters and settings not mine. Don't sue. Kinda goes without saying. This IS fanfiction dot net...

Warning: Adult Themes, Implied MalexMale, Language some may find Offensive (please tell me if you think the rating is wrong)

Thanks: To LunaKyria, as usual. She is truly a shiny, shining light. ^^, And, I also thank my iTouch because... well, I wanted to mention I have an iTouch, heehee.

An Inked Affair

12 Grimmauld Place hadn't been touched since a few years after the war. Painful memories, as well as painful amounts of dust, had mostly kept the well-deserved clean up postponed until next year.

Fifteen years, and a multitude of arguments with Harry Potter, later and one Draco Abraxas Malfoy finally had the Black Family House under his, quite fearful, decontamination regime.

Now, unfortunately for him, seventeen-year-old Teddy Lupin had been dragged along in order to help his dearest (technically not) Uncle Draco, and was currently quietly keeping pace just behind his annoyed Godfather and the fuming Malfoy as they took a tour of the house.

Teddy cringed at their arguing and slowed his pace, watching their backs as they continued along the hall unaware of his lack of presence.

The young Metamorphmagus meandered his way around the house, quite interested in some of the strange objects that had been there since Merlin-knows-when. He hadn't been wandering long when he discovered a room with an open door.

Open doors were quite rare in the Black house, he'd found, so Teddy cautiously pushed the dusty wood open and stepped into a disused bedroom. The room in itself was a little surprising with a modern touch here or there, most significantly a broken Muggle alarm clock next to the bed and a fading Chudley Cannons poster on the wall.

Walking further into the room, a box sitting on the grimy window sill caught Teddy's eye. Upon closer inspection – after briefly checking for doxies, boggarts or other nasties – he found a simple writing box, containing what at first glance appeared to be a collection of letters.

Briefly wondering if he had time to sit down, Teddy heard his godfather, Harry, yelling at his Uncle Draco and decided that a bit of light reading might be just what he needed to avoid cleaning and/or getting his ear chewed off.

This is idiotic, Potter. I hate you.


You could at least try Malfoy. We have to send at least two letters a week. I'm not happy we're paired up either but you could write more than seven words.


Teddy's eyes widened unintentionally as he realised the letters were between the very two men arguing a few floors down.

'Should be an interesting read at least,' he mused, before settling himself against the disintegrating bed and continuing on.

You can count, Scarhead? Well done. I thought perhaps it would be better for you if I used as few words as possible, but fine. Look I'm trying. Today I woke up, put the fear of God into some first year Gryffindorks, slept through History of Magic, and am now having to waste my time writing to you, of all people, Potter –the bane of my existence.



I'm going to ignore the ridiculous name-calling. I'd like to think we're past that. We have a shared experience. I also had History of Magic (with the Hufflepuffs) and I also fell asleep. Fear of God? I'd say more like fear of all things Malfoy- and Slytherin-related. I had to assure a couple of first years that Gryffindor tower was absolutely as far away from the dungeons as you can get- well, apart from the astronomy tower. It's only the beginning of the year and you've got them petrified of your entire house. Isn't the whole point of this to support 'House Unity'?


P.S. Bane of your existence? Really, Malfoy, I didn't know you cared.

To the Boy Who Lived,

You fell asleep in a class with Hufflepuffs? How? I mean, I know you're obviously blind and slow, but are you also deaf? Their constant chatter can reach unbearable levels. I know – I dated one. Urgh. Scaring first years is part of the holy tradition and general perks of being a seventh (technically eighth) year student. You should try it sometime Potty. Stop being such a goody-two-shoes and take a walk on the wild side. You might have fun.


P.S. Fear of God, Fear of Malfoy – I see no difference.

You're a bigoted git. You do realise you sent three letters this week, right? Just wanted to remind you of that, I'm in a hurry - Quidditch Practice.


I figured I better send this to fill the quota. Are you in some sort of snit? You haven't written in a week. Now that I think about it, I haven't seen you in about as long. Are you avoiding me? Scared, Malfoy?


You wish. I've been unwell. I have the flu. I probably got it from that diseased bird of yours.

- M.

Get well [A.N. supposed to be strikeout :/]. . . You changed your signature.


I don't see how it affects you, but seeing as you care so.


P.S. There are spells to clean off unwanted writing (and inkblots). Crossing it out looks terrible. Consider the advice my attempt at being 'nice'.

Your bloody eagle nearly ate Ron's owl. And he seems to think my hand is delicious! Why is it you have such a huge bird? Is it just a token that says 'hey look, you're getting letters from a pompous arse'? You still think I need to take a… how'd you put it? Oh yeah, a 'walk on the wild side'? Well, maybe you need to get down off your pedestal and see how the other half lives.


P.S. Why on earth did you stick up for Seamus in Potions?

I didn't 'stick up' for Finnegan. Slughorn was wrong, simple as that. My eagle, Mikael, is a beloved pet that my mother gave me for my ninth birthday. He's quite affectionate once you earn his trust. I'd say that Weasley's owl, I assume that it's that tiny, bothersome thing occasionally buzzing around your trio's collective heads', was irritating Mikael and that he was simple warning it. Regardless, even if he had of eaten it I doubt it would be such a shame. Oh, and if you want him to stop biting you, you should earn his trust. Sweets are a good start.


Are you excited about the Hogsmeade weekend? I am. It's weird telling you this but, seeing as Ron isn't talking to me at the moment, I'm going to anyway. I have a date with Sarah McReiter. You know the Hufflepuff chaser? She's in the same year as Ginny (who, by the way, is righteously pissed off). What about you, hm? Got a hot date, Malfoy?


Hufflepuff chaser, hey? She's a slut. I had you picked as the girlfriend kinda guy. You've surprised me, Potter. Yes. In fact, I do have a hot date. It's actually a Gryffindor. Enjoy your weekend.


A Gryffindor? C'mon Malfoy, you're pulling my leg! You can't just say 'enjoy your weekend' after that!


I can and I will. Have fun this weekend. I certainly shall.


So, seeing as you were so insistent that I have fun, I thought I'd write to you about my weekend. Ron and Hermione, Dean and Justin, Neville and Hannah, and Sarah and I all spent the day together. Seamus wasn't there - some secret date (he came back that evening looking thoroughly snogged). We went to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes then The Three Broomsticks for some firewhiskey. Well, butterbeer for the underage. Sarah came back to the Gryffindor common room, where we snogged until I said something which made her slap me and storm off. Girls are so sensitive. So, who was your date?


If you can't guess, I'm not telling you. Honestly, and you want to be an Auror. My weekend went incredibly well as I, unlike you, am not a bumbling idiot and did not insult my date. What did you say to the poor girl?


Honestly, I don't know! I mean, I was just joking, you know, saying my robes don't do much for her. And she got all offended so I assured her she wasn't fat, just that the robes make her look a little large. That was when she slapped me.


P.S. Don't think you've distracted me. I still want to know who your date was.

Wait, Potter, she had your robes on? And I cannot believe you said that. Never mention anything about weight. Women are particularly sensitive about their figures. They don't want to be too skinny but they don't want to be fat. For us, it's really best to steer clear of the subject.


P.S. I just had a horrible thought. Do you think McGonagall will read these?

She was cold! And why couldn't you tell me this before the Hufflepuffs labeled me 'Insensitive Jerk #1'?


P.S. No, I think they have another way of monitoring the quota… I hope anyway.

I'm sure she was freezing, Potter. You never asked me for advice so I didn't give it.


She actually was cold! Not that I need to explain myself to you. So, Malfoy, gonna tell me who your date was? Was it that sixth year Lara Molin? I hate to feed your ego but I'm pretty sure she's obsessed with you.


No, it was not Lara. Not even close, Potter. I'm not exactly into gingers. Besides, I already went there and she has this huge mole on her… nevermind. Anyway, like I said before, if you haven't worked it out already I'm not going to tell you.


P.S. Loads of girls are obsessed with me - who wouldn't be after all. I am gorgeous.

So, Malfoy, are you planning on dressing up for Professor McGonagall's Halloween Dance?


Actually, yes. Yes, I am planning to go in costume. I would like to get laid.


What, can't get any unless you have a mask on Malfoy?


Quite the contrary, Potter. Unlike you. But, I happened to have promised someone that I'd dress up. Besides, haven't you heard? In the 'spirit of Halloween' McGonagall's just made it compulsory to have some sort of costume.


That was a decent party, even if I had to wear cat ears. I'm kinda surprised. Lucky it was fifth years and up, because I'm pretty sure someone spiked the punch. If they didn't, I have no idea why the end of the night is so fuzzy… Was that you I saw Zabini snogging? I can't remember clearly, but your hair is pretty distinctive… I didn't realise you swung that way, Malfoy.


Of course someone spiked the punch, dimwit. I think it was Theo. And yes, it was me snogging (and heavily groping) Blaise. In fact, he was the one who asked me to wear that bloody Angel outfit. As if I'd choose that. Why? Is the "Great Harry Potter" a homophobe?


P.S. I still cannot believe you can't taste the difference between spiked punch and normal punch. Remind me how you've lived this long?

Of course I'm not a homophobe! Dean and Justin are together, and Seamus is flamboyantly gay. It's just, well, I never picked you as the type… I mean all the girls are- and, you know, you're always… I dunno. It doesn't matter. I probably should've guessed. I mean, your hair is so pretty.


P.S. I'm the Boy Who Lived, Malfoy. No need for street smarts with my ridiculous title!

So, basically, that last letter was your strange way of saying girls think I'm hot? (I refuse to use the word 'pretty' to describe myself) I do still date girls, I just prefer not to. What about you, Potter? Any juicy secrets about our, obviously closeted, Savior?


P.S. Did Harry Potter just make a joke?

I'm not closeted. Wait a second… your date for the Hogsmeade weekend, it wasn't… Was it Seamus!?


P.S. Don't be ridiculous! Of course not…

Your extraordinary detective skills prevail once again, Potter. I am rolling my eyes at your cluelessness – just so you know. Got a date for the next Hogsmeade weekend yet?


Not yet. Why? Is that a proposition?


Proposition! Such a big word for a Gryffindor (except, perhaps, your ever charming friend Granger). Sure, it can be a proposition. Want to go with me? Or are you scared, Potter?


I'm not scared. We'll go as friends. Meet you at the Hogs Head, at 12?


Friends, sounds surprisingly… tolerable. Isn't it strange I actually don't seem to mind your obtuseness and annoying Gryffindor tendencies as much as I once thought? You certain you can brave being seen with a bisexual 'friend'?


P.S. Twelve is a good time for me – I'm not exactly a morning person.

I'm sure; it's not like my 'adoring public' will hate me, whatever I do. I'll see you there, Malfoy.


You're harmful to my reputation Potter! A first year Hufflepuff – a Hufflepuff! – came up to me yesterday after classes and told me she was lost! Feared Slytherin, Eighth Year, Prefect, Draco Malfoy, escorting a tiny, whimpering Hufflepuff! It's ridiculous.


P.S. You're a surprisingly tolerable lunch date.

Surprisingly tolerable? Well, I'm a Gryffindor, I've got enough balls to say I had fun, however surprising. Ron keeps looking at me like I've grown an extra head because I keep on laughing at the memory of you and the apothecary owner arguing. I've never seen anyone so flustered. He looked like he was about to hurl you bodily out the door. I can't believe he was ripping people off, trying to sell a cheaper product! We should do this again.


P.S. You could have left her with a glare and a scathing comment, you know. I think you're getting soft in your old age, Malfoy.

Old! I'm not old. I'll have you know, I'm young, gorgeous and incredibly fit, Potter.


True. So, you staying for the Christmas holidays?


Yeah, it's not like there's anywhere for me to go. As soon as I finish this year, I think I'll leave Britain. What about you? Going to your Weasel's homely hut for 'The Season'?


Don't call Ron that. But, no actually. It won't be fun, like old times, you know. George says it's his busiest time of the year, Hermione and Ron will spend the entire time either fighting like cats and dogs, or shagging anywhere their parents won't catch them, Bill and Fleur have her parents and little Victoire, Charlie can't get home from Romania, and, well, I'll have to fight Ginny off at every bloody turn. I mean, seriously, she seems to think that we're meant to be together, forever. Makes me want to gag. So, instead of going to The Burrow, I'm going to stay at Hogwarts, and just enjoy the place, seeing as it's our last year and all. Oh, and I'm going to get roaring drunk!


Oh, so not all is well in Potter paradise? I had thought for sure that you would have your few flings with easy Hufflepuffs – female or male (and believe me, some are easy) – and then you'd settle down with the Weaselette in your quaint, white-picket house, get a job at the ministry and have hoards of little ginger ankle-biters. So what turned you off that bint… er, the charming Ginevra?


P.S. Roaring drunk sounds great. Term ends in two days; go for a drink to celebrate the dawn of the holidays?

Well to be honest, at first, it was just because I knew she wasn't it. But now, well, I think maybe there might've always been someone else.


P.S. Sure, tomorrow night, Hogs Head, after I see Ron and Hermione off. Ah, the joys of being of age.

And who is the lucky gal, Potter? Or chap perhaps? See you in Hogsmeade at 8pm.


Potter… Um, Harry,

Firstly, drink the Hangover Potion I sent, that is if you haven't already. It's not poisoned and you're going to need it with the amount you drank last night. I know my head was about ready to explode when I woke up. Alright, well if you've had that you're probably gaining memory of the events of last night. I'd just like to say, and well, this is difficult but, I'm sorry. You probably think that poor, poncy Malfoy just wanted to feel up the Boy Who Lived, but that couldn't be further from the truth. I was very drunk. And so were you. And, although you're good looking and all Potter, I have absolutely no interest in you like that. I have, however, come to appreciate your friendship, and I think it best if we just leave this episode behind us and pretend that it never happened.

I am sorry.


It's fine. Seriously. I mean, I get off in the men's room at the 'Head and get left with love bites all the time. No, that made me sound like a twat. Don't worry, er… Draco, I should be thanking you. But, you're probably right, we should just forget it.

So, how about it – friends? Properly?

Harry J.P.

Friends, definitely. I don't want to spend the holidays alone, so want to get together again? This time we'll have much less alcohol and more chess.


Yeah, sounds good. Though, the chess may be a tad one-sided, Ron kicks my arse and I have little doubt that you will as well. Think you can brave the lion's den tonight? The passwords is "Hollyhocks". I have butterbeer, so we should be safe.

Harry J.P.

I've decided I am going to the Great Hall for Christmas Eve dinner. After all, we wouldn't want to disappoint the house elves after they (will have, as always) cooked an excessive amount of food.


Dear Draco,

Ok, well, Merry Christmas. I hope you like the ring. I saw it in Hogsmeade a while ago and just thought Malfoy.

I just want to tell you that I'm not sorry.

I wasn't drunk and I didn't kiss you only because of the mistletoe. I mean, at first it was like, 'Mistletoe!', but then we were kissing and I had to make it real. I know I'm rambling and I'm probably being stupid because you told me that you had no interest in me that way, but… Well, it's Christmas and people take risks on Christmas. At least according to a Muggle film you would have never seen.

I really like you Draco, and I want to know, do I have a chance?

Yours, Harry James Potter

I'm trying to give you your space, but you have to know that I'm sincere. I really do like you. A lot.


You can't just completely ignore me, Draco.


OK, this is ridiculous Draco, it's been four days. You won't write, you don't come to meals and I haven't seen you around. Please don't avoid me. At least have the guts to turn me down if you won't give me a chance. Maybe we'll still be friends?

Miserably, Harry

I don't want to be friends, Potter.

"There you are!" the sudden creaking of the door and Uncle Draco's voice tore Teddy away from his reading.

"I see you found your godfather's old room," the Malfoy drawled as he glanced around the small space, "He stayed here for a year or so after school until he bought his ever-so-quaint cottage."

Teddy was mildly surprised that Harry lived in that room, even it had been nearly fifteen years ago.

"Didn't know Harry was a Cannons fan," he commented teasingly.

The older man laughed.

"He always did have pretty bad taste. Anyway," Draco continued, getting to his reason for being there, "lunch is nearly served. So come down to the kitchen after you've washed your hands, it seems to be the safest place to eat."

Teddy mumbled his assent, quickly turning his attention back to the letter in his hand.

I don't want to be friends, Potter.

I like you too much.

I'm sorry I was ignoring you. I had to sort myself out. I'm not used to so much… emotion.

Maybe we should take the chance.

-Your Draco.

"My, Potter, that smells divine."

Harry shook his head in amusement at his temperamental partner, glad he was seemingly back in the good books.

"What's Teddy up to?"

The blonde pushed his hair out of his eyes and sat down on the bench across from where Harry was putting the finishing touches on the food.

"He's washing up. He happened to find your old room. Probably found porn. He seemed very interested in whatever he was reading."

The brunette laughed, "Get your mind out of the gutter! It could have been an old essay from Eight Year at Hogwarts for all you know. So, are you over your hissy fit now?"

"I don't remember getting much work done for most of Eighth Year, Harrrry," Draco teased, seductively purring the other man's name, "And, for your information, Malfoys do not have 'hissy fits'. But, I may be over my not-hissy-fit if you cook me dessert…"

Harry sighed with mock consternation, "How'd I manage to fall in love with such a demanding bastard?"

"I love you too, Scarhead."

A/N: D'aww, right? Hehe. I made Draco say 'I love you' which is, well, its just weird, but whatever. I thought it fit, ya know. Ahhhhhhhhhhh, as always a HUGE HUGE LOVING THANKS TO MY WONDERFUL, GORGEOUS BETA!

Um, I just want to say that in the very second letter, I originally had SIX as in "you could at least write more than six words", but then my beta's (equally gorgeous and wonderful) friend, Rhi, pointed out that there was actually SEVEN words - because I can't count, complex numbers and matrices I'm good with, counting I fail - which kinda ruined everything cause, and Luna agrees, six just has this RING to it, right but then, if I did that, I couldn't have Draco say "You can count, Scarhead?". Honestly, I mean if I did that you would all be like, well NEITHER OF YOU CAN COUNT IDIOTS! Then Luna said, just put it in your authors note and say that six just had a ring to it. But then I just thought the more nit-picky people, like mysef, would just be thinking for the entire story 'I can't beleive how dumb the Harry/Draco/the author is' for like, the entire story. And then at the end (if they even bothered to get there, with the memory of the oh-so-ringing 'six' sticking in their minds, plaguing their thoughts distracting them from the cutsie fluff) they'd read the Author's Note and be like "Oh, I see the food is hot! I thought you were challenging me to a fight to the death". Er, no, wait... they'd be like "Oh, well, that was ridiculous I mean, why didn't she just change it then put in her authors note that she had originally wanted 'six' in there because it 'rang'." So, thats what I did. :) Naturally.

And Loony thinks I'm a Drama Queen. Silly Ravenclaw -shakes head-

Ok, thats enough rambling... Hehe. Pleeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaase REVIEW! ^^, And I will give you... er, well I won't slip itching powder into your bed. :)

Yours in Infamy, Bellatrix.