Title: Good as Gold.
Fest/prompt: Written for hp_getlucky. Prompt #011, submitted by kettle_cat: "Draco hates leprechauns. The feeling is mutual."
Rating: NC-17 because of Draco's naughty imagination.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thank you to CaptainDan for the last minute beta. Blame any remaining mistakes on me and my shodding timekeeping.
Just a quick disclaimer of sorts concerning a particular moment in the fic – Harry's opinion regarding Healers/doctors and a certain injury is the sensible one. Draco's opinion is not.
Summary: Draco hates leprechauns. The feeling is mutual.
Good as gold.
"So there's your invoice," Draco said briskly, tapping the form in front of him with his wand. "That's the equivalent of two hundred and seven galleons deposited to vault number fourteen thirty three." He picked up the parchment and blew on the newly charmed ink seal, drying it instantly.
"So is that instantly accessible?" asked the young wizard sitting in the chair opposite Draco's desk. "When can I withdraw it?"
Draco paused, quill inches from the parchment. "Your vault will be updated by tomorrow morning."
"Tomorrow?" the wizard asked, frowning. "That's a long time. I thought transfers had to be done by the end of the working day."
Draco stared at him. "If you wanted it today, why on earth did you deposit it? Why not just convert it?"
The wizard flushed, fidgeting uncomfortably. "Barclays does it within a day," he muttered.
Draco rolled his eyes and signed the piece of paper with a flourish. He knew full well that no Gringotts teller would be able to access deposited money that quickly, and besides, he also knew there was no one named Barclay working in the currency department.
"Sorry sir, that's just the way it is," he said, tossing his quill back down onto the shiny oak surface of his desk before sliding the form across the desk in a blatant gesture of we are done here. "Have a good day."
The man stared down at the form, opened his mouth as if to argue or complain, then thought better of it. Casting one last morose glance over at Draco, he sighed and took the form without another word, leaving the cubicle without as much as a thank you.
Leaning back in his chair, Draco groaned and let his body go lax, slumping down in the seat with his hands swinging down by his sides and his head lolling back on his shoulders. He hated his job, he really did. He hated being patronized by goblins and counting things and dealing with idiots. Oh well, two years and he might just be promoted to currency administration and investment so he didn't have to deal with people on a daily basis. Pulling himself together, he hauled himself up into a proper sitting position, rubbing his face and praying that he wouldn't have to deal with anymore idiots before the end of his shift. He only had twenty more minutes, he thought as he pushed his chair back onto two legs, swinging back and forth slightly. Maybe he could get away with pretending to do paperwork until five -
"Slacking off, Mister Malfoy?" a sharp, nasal voice called. "Oh dear."
Draco let his chair fall back onto all four legs with a bang, eyeing the goblin standing in the opening of his cubicle with distaste. "No," he said belligerently, rolling his eyes and flicking his wand to light up the 'currency accountant available' sign on the outside of his cubicle.
"Good," the goblin replied with a nasty smile, and Draco felt his stomach sink. Maybe that promotion was further away than he thought. The goblin's face split into a sharp-toothed grin as if he'd read Draco's mind, and with a laugh he slinked out of the way to allow a ruddy-faced gentleman with rather too much stomach to plod into Draco's cubicle.
"I want some gold changed into lek please," he all but shouted, looking thoroughly excited at the prospect of changing currency. "I'm going on holiday."
"To Albania?" Draco asked, unable to keep the scepticism out of his voice.
The man didn't notice. Instead, sitting down heavily on the chair opposite Draco, he nodded delightedly. "Right you are! I was betting you wouldn't know what lek are!"
"No, course not," Draco said, keeping completely straight-faced. "Considering my job is currency conversion, I'd have no idea."
The man guffawed, rocking back and making the chair legs creak in protest. "You're smarter than you look!"
Biting back an insult, Draco instead looked away and pulled a blank invoice out of his desk drawer, adopting his dull-as-dishwater work voice. "I can offer desktop conversion, which means you can have your currency straight away, or conversion via deposit, where we take your currency and deposit the converted amount into your vault for you."
"Hmm," the man said, rubbing his chins with a beefy palm. "What would you suggest?"
"Well do you want your money now?" Draco asked, valiantly trying to cling onto his patience by reminding himself that he only had twenty minutes left before he could escape. "Or later?"
"Now, of course," the man said, nodding vigorously.
"Well then," Draco said, and paused. The man smiled beatifically at him, and made no movement. Draco cleared his throat. "I'll need you to give me the currency to convert."
"Oh yes!" The man exclaimed as Draco mentally counted to ten, woefully thinking of the chilled pint that would be waiting for him in the Leaky. "Here you are."
He shoved a hand inside his waistcoat and pulled out a blue silk bag, tied with a golden ribbon. "It's in…"
The man trailed off with a confused frown. Before Draco could say anything, he pulled the ribbon from the bag and tipped it upside-down over Draco's desk.
Nothing happened. The man cursed and Draco resisted the urge to groan.
"Bloody Merlin! I've been robbed!" the man shouted, shaking the money-bag as if it would magically make the gold appear. "Robbed, I say!"
"Calm down!" Draco said, feeling alarmed. He'd get in major trouble if security were called to his cubicle again, regardless of whether it was his fault or not.
"Calm down?" the man shouted indignantly. "I've been robbed!"
"Where did you last have the money?" Draco asked, patiently enough that he thought he should be given a bloody Order of Merlin for managing to stay professional and not simply give up and walk away. Harry would be proud.
"At the game! Before I left the stadium!"
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and took a deep steadying breath in. When he felt composed enough to speak without yelling, it was through gritted teeth. "And was this the first third-round World Cup qualifier by any chance? Ireland versus Portugal?"
"Yes!" the man exclaimed, looking flabbergasted. "How in the name of Merlin did you know that?"
"Because you've just tried to deposit leprechaun gold," Draco said, mentally adding you fat idiot to the end of his statement. "It disappears."
The man looked outraged, slapping a beefy hand down onto Draco's desk. "Well no-one told me!"
"I'm sorry," Draco said insincerely, already putting the invoice form back in his desk. "You're lucky really. If you had given it to me and then it disappeared, you would have been arrested for attempted fraud. I'm afraid there's nothing more I can do."
The man sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Ah, small mercies," he said dramatically, lifting his hand from Draco's desk and waving it ineffectually. "I best be off then."
He heaved himself out of the chair and turned on his heel, wandering back out of Draco's cubicle. Draco watched him go, his mouth hanging open incredulously.
"Idiots," he breathed, shaking himself and picking his wand up, scourgifing the desk where the man's sweaty hand had been, and then the chair for good measure. He glanced at the clock and let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a whine as he saw it still wasn't five o' clock yet.
"You best have that pint ready for me, Potter," he muttered, and then jabbed his wand towards the door of his cubicle to light up the signal on the outer wall without looking up.
"I'd like to change some gold for euros, if you would."
Draco's head snapped up at the sound of an Irish lilt, wildly thinking that it was Seamus Finnegan, who Draco still owed twenty galleons. Relief at the Irishman's absence was short lived, turning quickly into disbelief as his eyes locked on the small ginger-haired figure that was hovering above the chair opposite Draco's desk.
"You want to convert gold," Draco said blankly, wondering if someone were playing a joke on him. Considering that Harry had finished work at three, the possibility was high.
The leprechaun nodded, casually brushing off imaginary lint from his green velvet suit. "Yes. Ten galleons if you don't mind. It's not much, but my stature doesn't leave me room to carry much more, if you get my drift."
Draco continued to stare, completely not caring that he had passed well beyond unprofessional and into rude. The moment his brain started working, suspicion started to grow and he frowned.
"Did Potter send you?" Draco asked, feeling potential embarrassment twisting in his stomach and making him defensive. "Christ, I bet he sent that fat oaf, too."
The leprechaun's expression turned affronted and he moved back a few inches through the air, pushing his hat back from his forehead so Draco could see his face more clearly, tilting his chin in an unmistakable challenge.
"I don't know any Potter. I'm just here to collect some euros."
As if to prove his point, the leprechaun pulled a green velvet bag out of his pocket, which upon first glance looked far too large to have actually fit anywhere on his person. He shook it in Draco's direction, so he could hear the clinking of – supposed – galleons.
"Do you think I'm an idiot?" Draco asked, the temper which he'd done so well to keep hidden rapidly rising in his chest. "I'm not taking any more leprechaun gold. I'll get in trouble and you'll get arrested."
"It's not leprechaun gold! You think I'm idiot enough to try and bring that in here?" the leprechaun said emphatically, starting to look angry.
"Yes," Draco snapped. "Get out of my cubicle."
"Well isn't that just lovely," the leprechaun said in disbelief. "I'll be having words with your boss about this."
"You do that," Draco said indifferently. "Just take your fake gold and get out of my cubicle."
The leprechaun disappeared without another word, and Draco slumped forwards, his forehead hitting his desk with a dull thud. Harry had to be behind this, surely? No way would Draco be unlucky enough to have that many ridiculous customers last thing on a bloody Friday-
He sat up at the shout of his name, knowing exactly who it was and despairing that he was going to get into trouble over a sodding leprechaun of all things. He was going to boycott his ticket to tomorrow's second round Ireland qualifier at this rate, regardless of how much Harry had paid for it. All the real gold in the world couldn't currently tempt him to tangle with leprechauns again. Weren't they meant to be lucky, anyway?
At the second shout of his name he hastily stood up and slipped out of his cubicle. Sure enough, the leprechaun was right there, hovering alongside Draco's boss Dietrich, and the goblin supervisor who hated him.
"This customer has a complaint," Dietrich said, looking unimpressed as Draco sidled up. Beside him, Gurknor smiled nastily at Draco before schooling his features into a neutral expression, eyes glittering with malice.
"He's a leprechaun," Draco said, well aware that people were watching. He felt an uncomfortable flush working its way up his neck. Six years since school and he still hated being told off. "We're not allowed to deposit leprechaun gold."
"It's real gold!" the leprechaun insisted. "Hard earned."
"Look, I literally just had a bloke in here trying to deposit vanishing gold," Draco said, trying to keep his voice low. "I-"
"Did you even test the gold?" Dietrich spoke over him.
Draco shifted from foot to foot, looking down at the floor. "No."
"See! Discrimination!" the leprechaun announced. Draco looked up at him with a scowl; for someone only a foot high the little shit was loud.
"I'm not discriminating!" Draco insisted. "I-"
"Apologise." Dietrich said bluntly, cutting Draco off again.
Draco looked at him in disbelief and then sighed, looking down at the floor. "I apologise," he said, adopting his fake-sincere-I-do-actually-care work voice. "I jumped to conclusions and should have taken your case seriously."
The leprechaun looked satisfied, nodding briskly. Draco clenched his jaw and counted silently to ten, resisting the urge to pull a face.
"If you would like to go to teller four, she will sort your currency," Dietrich said to the leprechaun.
"Why thank you," the leprechaun said brightly. "And have a wonderful evening, good sirs."
He bowed to both Dietrich and Gurknor, and then turned to leave. Just before he zoomed off, he shot Draco a knowing smirk, small eyes glittering mischievously. He touched his hat in a mock salute and then he was gone.
"Why do leprechauns even need gold?" Draco said sullenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had descended. "How was I to know it was real?"
"Well as appalling as you are at your job, surely you should be able to follow simple protocol," Gurknor said nastily.
"They like to invest these days," Dietrich said, ignoring the blatant jibe from the goblin. "Which they can't do with vanishing gold. The bill of creature equality says they've every right to own wizarding gold. The same bill," he added pointedly, "which allows you to work in Gringotts."
"Point taken," Draco said, looking at his watch and not really listening. "Can I go now? I finish at five."
Dietrich sighed, waving Draco away without a word. Draco didn't stop to say goodbye, he turned smartly on his heel, pausing only to summon his case and coat from his cubicle before heading for the exit and his long overdue pint. Thankful that he didn't have to go back into the bloody bank until Monday, he let himself smile as he walked through the towering doors, eyes on the blue sky in front of him-
His foot slipped on the top of the first marble step and he fell awkwardly, twisting his ankle and lurching to the side. He threw out his hands to try and stop his face hitting the stone and landed heavily, jarring his knee and hurting his hands in the process.
He heard a cheer and a smattering of laughter, and then alarmed voices. Cursing, he tried to push himself up, wincing as a stabbing pain shot through his wrist and hand.
"Are you okay?" a concerned female voice asked, and Draco felt a hand on his shoulder. "Goodness, you took quite a tumble."
"I'm fine," Draco said through gritted teeth and watering eyes. He made to stand up, aided by the woman, a middle-aged witch in bright blue robes. He looked down at himself and groaned as he saw a tear in one of the knees of his trousers, and a streak of dirt on the other. His briefcase laid a couple of steps down, and his left hand was throbbing painfully. He could feel his cheeks flaming red with embarrassment and for one wild moment contemplated obliviating everyone in the vicinity to stop them giggling at him.
"Are you sure?"
"Yep, fine thanks," Draco said, taking a wobbly step forwards down onto the next step. He bent down to retrieve his case, his knee twinging as he did. "I'll be fine."
He brushed the woman off, wanting to get away from the crowd, some of whom were still tittering at his misfortune. With as much dignity as he could muster, he limped away down the steps and along Diagon Alley, now desperate to find the pub and Harry in order to get some sympathy and drown his sorrows.
What the hell happened to you?"
Draco slumped down into the booth at the back of the leaky, dropping his case and coat to the floor and leaning back against the wooden partition behind him. "I hate leprechauns," he said spitefully, his bad mood exacerbated by the fact the Leaky was bloody rammed. He'd had to elbow countless idiots just to get across the pub to where Harry was sitting.
"I'm sure the feeling's mutual," Harry said, pint forgotten halfway to his mouth. He paused, eyes taking in Draco's dishevelled appearance. "Did a leprechaun do this to you?"
Draco glared at him and Harry hastily put his pint down. "No," Draco grumbled. "I fell down the steps."
"The Gringotts' steps?" Harry asked, pushing his glasses back up his nose.
"What other steps are there?" Draco snapped. "And before you fucking laugh I think I've broken my thumb."
Harry instantly schooled his features into a more sympathetic expression, pushing away the laughter that had been threatening.
"Let me see?" he asked, perfectly straight-faced. Slightly mollified, Draco held his hand out. "Ouch," Harry breathed as he gently took Draco's hand in his. "I think you're right."
"I told you so," Draco said tiredly and Harry shot him an amused look.
"So, bad day? Other than this?" he asked, drawing his wand and gently cradling Draco's injured hand in his palm.
"You have no idea," Draco said. "Gurknor is trying to get me fired. That's after I got shown up by a bloody leprechaun."
Harry made a noise that was suspiciously like a snort. He tried to cover it with a cough and then pointed his wand at Draco's hand. Draco drew in a sharp breath as his hand flared hot then cold, before the throbbing dulled into a soft ache.
"Thanks," he said grudgingly, flexing his fingers to check he could move them all and then reaching for his pint. He lifted it to his mouth and took a gulp and then paused, screwing up his face at the unfamiliar taste.
"Sorry, they were out of Castle Tower," Harry said as Draco reluctantly swallowed and then glared at his pint glass as if it were to blame for the terrible day he'd had.
"I'd been looking forwards to this all day," he said mournfully, setting the offending pint back on the table. He stared at it, not even blinking even as someone edged past, jarring the table and making the drinks quiver. "I'm thinking about quitting."
Harry expression turned exasperated from the reproachful look he'd been levelling at the stranger who had bumped their table. "You say that every Friday. And the pint's not that terrible, stop whining. Was today really that bad?"
Draco decided that he was thirsty enough to drink the pint, whatever the hell it was. He reached for it and slumped down even further, so his knees brushed Harry's under the table, and proceeded to tell Harry exactly what had happened at work to make him want to quit, again. By the time he got to the part where the leprechaun entered his cubicle, Harry's shoulders were shaking and he had a palm clamped over his mouth to stifle his laughter.
"And then the cheeky shit saluted me as he left," Draco said, shaking his head in disbelief. "And then when I asked why the hell leprechauns need real gold anyway, Dietrich said they use it for investing."
Harry couldn't contain his laughter any longer; it burst forth loud and bright, unable to be contained. Draco shot Harry a dirty look but it didn't have the intended effect as Harry just laughed even more.
"Sorry," Harry said, trying to regain some composure. "What a day."
"I know. I was ready to bet that you'd set me up when the leprechaun came in," Draco said, taking another mouthful of his pint which just didn't taste as good as his favourite brand did. He scowled at it and shoved the pint glass away from him across the table.
"I would never," Harry said, pretending to be offended.
"Yeah you would," Draco said dismissively. "Anyway, where are we going for dinner tonight?"
"Oak and Sword maybe?" Harry suggested.
"Sounds – fuck!"
There was a cry of alarm, a smash, and in-between the two Draco felt something ice-cold and wet drench his neck, soaking his shirt and running down his back and arm. He yelped and shot to his feet, banging the edge of the table with his thighs and making the glasses atop it tilt, rock back and then fall, promptly sending the leftover half of Draco's pint running across the table and into his lap.
"Shit!" he gasped, grabbing the pint glass and setting it upright. "Shit."
"You idiot!" Harry snapped and it took Draco a bewildered moment to realise that the insult wasn't directed at him.
"I'm so sorry!" exclaimed the man who was holding a tray of drinks – presumably minus one – and staring at Draco in horror. "I knew I should have done two trips, god, let me fix it-"
"No, no," Draco said, too shocked to even be angry. Besides, Harry was looking cross enough for the both of them. He worked a finger into the knot of his tie, pulling it loose. "Just go away."
"No, no, I'll fix it, just a quick drying charm," the man babbled, drawing his wand. Draco froze in place, Harry lunged across the table to try and grab the man's wand but the incantation was out of his mouth before Harry could even touch his fingertips to it.
Silence fell between them. Harry was still, staring at Draco with wide eyes. The stranger was too, frozen in what Draco presumed was terror, because not only was Draco's shirt now dry, it was also no longer blue, but pink.
"Fuck off," Draco managed to say, voice shaking. The man fled without another word and Harry sat back down, biting his lip.
"Want me to change it back?"
"Just take me home," Draco said tightly, wondering if he could be arsed to work up a tantrum and cry. "Right now."
"Right," Harry said hastily, standing up and taking Draco's case and coat from him. "Take-away at home then?"
Draco didn't bother to reply. He was shit at his job and his bosses hated him and he'd fallen down the steps like he was five and was now wearing a baby pink shirt. If Harry thought he was leaving the house again for a week he had another thing coming.
Draco collapsed down onto the sofa with a satisfying groan, toeing off his shoes and trying to sink as far down into the cushions as he could, his head lolling back and his shoulders slumping. He heard a chuckle and the thud of his case being set down on the table.
"Do you want a drink?"
"Promise you won't throw it down me?" Draco asked mournfully, not bothering to open his eyes.
He heard a chuckle and the sounds of Harry moving around the lounge, across to the coat-stand and sideboard before making his way back to Draco. "Here," he said softly and then Draco felt the cushions next to his hip shift and sink as Harry sat down beside him. "Drink up and then decide what you want to order."
Draco raised his head and cracked open an eye. Harry was standing in front of him, looking amused and holding out a tumbler of firewhiskey for Draco to take. Draco debated for a moment whether he could persuade Harry into holding the glass for him whilst he drank, but then decided against it. He groaned at the effort and raised his hand to take the glass.
"You're hopeless," Harry said fondly as Draco knocked back the healthy measure of firewhiskey. Wincing, he pressed the tumbler back into Harry's hand and then flopped back again, his head leaning back against the cushions.
"Bad day," Draco mumbled. "And I want Chinese."
Harry laughed softly and then Draco felt fingertips run down his jaw and his neck. They ran over his adams-apple and then down over his – still pink – shirt.
"Urgh, don't," he said, reaching up to swat Harry's hand away. "I look terrible in pink."
"Hmmm, yeah," Harry conceded. "But I can fix it."
"Don't you dare point your wand at me," Draco said, cracking an eye open and glaring. "You know the – oh."
He stopped talking as Harry rolled his eyes and clambered onto the sofa, right into Draco's lap. He wriggled to get comfortable, his knees either side of Draco's hips and his weight settled on Draco's thighs.
"Are you quite finished?" Harry asked with a glare of his own.
"Apparently so," Draco said, sliding his hands up Harry's thighs and savouring the feel of taught muscle under denim. He leant forwards a little so he could curl his hands around Harry's hips, slipping his thumbs through the belt loops of Harry's jeans.
"Good," Harry said, and tipped Draco's chin up with his fingers, leaning down to press a kiss to Draco's mouth, his hand sliding along the curve of Draco's jaw.
"Harry James Potter, are you trying to distract me from my bad mood with sex?" Draco murmured, his mouth curving in a smile and brushing Harry's as he spoke.
"No?" Harry said with a grin of his own, the teasing lilt to his tone making the word come out like a question.
"Liar," Draco breathed and then Harry was kissing him, hard. His hands moved, one curling around Draco's neck and the other fisting in the material of his – still pink – shirt, gripping tightly to his shoulder. God, he should have really bad days more often if this was how Harry chose to cheer him up.
Dexterous fingers made quick work of the buttons of Draco's shirt and Draco didn't know what to be happier about; the fact he was finally getting out of that pink monstrosity or the fact he had a lap full of a very squirmy Harry who was clearly randy as fuck.
Oh god, it was definitely the latter, Draco thought as Harry shoved the shirt off his shoulders and then pressed him back into the sofa, cupping Draco's face in his hands. Draco couldn't do much more than frantically kiss him back, his hands grabbing Harry's hips and trying to drag him closer. He was getting so hard and Harry was already there, a tell-tale bulge in the front of his jeans.
"Let - let go-" Harry managed to say in-between kisses, and then wriggled back off Draco's lap. Draco whined helplessly and tried to haul him back but Harry stepped out of reach, tearing his jeans open and shoving them down, along with his boxers. He kicked them away and clambered straight back into Draco's lap, now naked from the waist down save for his socks.
"You look ridiculous," Draco gasped as Harry's hand went straight for his belt.
"Says the man in the pink shirt," Harry retorted breathlessly and then gasped, his body jerking as Draco reached for his cock, running his hand down the length and then teasing the swollen head between his fingers. Harry moaned and thrust his hips forwards a couple of times, but then stopped and batted Draco's hand away.
"Stop distracting me," Harry said crossly, and Draco shot him an incredulous look.
"Well, no," Harry said, his hands returning to tug open Draco's trousers. "But I want this."
Draco lifted his hips so Harry could tug his trousers down, almost knocking him off balance with the sharp movement. He groaned as Harry's fingers slipped into his boxers, curling around his prick and lifting it free from his underwear. He reached around to grab hold of Harry's hips again, leaning in to kiss him. His hands traced over Harry's hips and around to cup his arse, fingers digging in.
Oh fuck, this was exactly what he needed. Harry grabbed his wand from where it had been abandoned on the sofa cushions net to them and gasped out a summoning charm, dropping his wand just in time to snatch a familiar looking tube out of mid-air. Draco held Harry tight, still trying to kiss him as Harry fumbled with the lube.
"Wait," Harry gasped, kneeling up and reaching behind himself in a familiar motion. Draco groaned at the thought of Harry fingering himself, slicking himself up as to be ready for Draco's cock. His mouth was hanging open and his eyes were shut, the lids fluttering every so often but not fully opening.
This was more than enough to make up for a bad day, Draco thought as he leant forwards to press open mouthed kisses over Harry's chest, reaching around to grope Harry's arse, trying valiantly to get his own fingers involved. He was so hard he couldn't think about anything other than slipping into Harry's tight arse, feeling him clench around him. In fact, the only thing that could possibly be better was if Harry was facing the other way, leaning forwards just enough so Draco could see his prick sliding in and out of Harry's arse. God, he loved nothing better than having Harry ride him like that; Harry said it felt too impersonal and liked being face to face but Draco couldn't get enough of it. He wanted to be able to feel and watch his dick pushing into Harry's arse. He wanted to be able to smooth his palms up Harry's spine, across the pale expanse of skin. He wanted to watch the way Harry's hair curled around the nape of his neck when he leant his head forwards. He wanted to feel Harry's hands gripping his thighs, just above his kneecaps, holding on tightly enough to leave his skin feeling tender.
"Turn around," he said breathlessly, moving his hands to grab hold of Harry's hips. "Harry."
Harry looked down at him, eyebrows raised. "It's not your birthday."
"Please?" Draco wheedled, desperate to get his own way now that the idea had registered. "I've had a bad day."
Harry rolled his eyes, but then leant down to kiss Draco on the corner of his mouth. "Seeing as you asked nicely," he said, and then made to turn around. Draco had a whole glorious second in which to bask in his win and look forwards to the experience, and then Harry slipped and lurched forwards, his knee hitting Draco square in the crotch with a dull thud that was horrifyingly audible.
Draco tried to cry out but all the air from his lungs had vanished. He doubled over, body paralyzed by pain and unable to articulate any thought other than how much that fucking hurt.
"Oh, god! Draco, I'm so sorry!"
Draco barely heard Harry's frantic apology. Harry scrambled off of the sofa and Draco slowly keeled over sideways, bringing his knees up to his chest and trying to breathe.
Draco shook his head, eyes watering even though they were clenched shut. He felt Harry's hand hesitantly touch his shoulder and wondered if now would be an appropriate time to cry.
Today had been the worst day ever.
"Wake up, Draco."
The murmur was soft and if Draco had been fully asleep he probably wouldn't have heard it. As it were, he was half awake and conscious enough to appreciate the warm breath on his cheek, the hand slipping down his back and over his arse and the general feeling of being warm and fuzzy and close to Harry.
"Mmmf," he replied, burrowing down into his pillow. "Too early."
He heard Harry laugh, and tried to hide his own smile as Harry nuzzled into him, stubble scratching Draco's cheek deliciously. The hand that had been cupping his arse made a stealthy manoeuver down and around his thigh, fingers working themselves between his legs and slowly inching higher. He felt his body shiver in response and rolled over slightly, enough so Harry's hand could reach up to cup his balls-
Draco's body jerked and he made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, reaching down to grab Harry's wrist and yank it away from his nether-regions.
"What – oh, does it still hurt?" Harry asked in surprise.
Draco pushed Harry's hand away even further. "Yes," he said, reaching down himself to gingerly touch his bits and check they were actually still there. In truth it didn't hurt all that badly, but he was still tender enough so that the thought of anything touching him with vigour made him cringe.
"Maybe you should go to the Healer."
"Not a chance," Draco replied with a snort. "I'll be fine. It just aches a bit if you touch too hard."
"It's a delicate area," Harry frowned, straightening his glasses. "They say you should always get a Healer to double check and not try and heal it yourself."
"It's fine," Draco insisted, flopping back onto his pillows and looking at Harry. He looked so wonderfully rumpled and Draco wanted nothing more than to indulge in their usual morning groping session, and the thought of not being able to made his chest ache. Harry smiled sadly at him and Draco replied with an apologetic smile of his own.
"Coffee?" Harry suggested.
"Tea," Draco replied and Harry nodded, throwing the covers back and clambering out of bed. He stretched languorously and Draco allowed himself to appreciate the view as Harry bent down to pick up his pyjama bottoms from the floor. He slipped them on and then left the room, humming tunelessly as he went.
Draco sighed and pushed himself into a sitting position, pulling up the pillows behind his back. The morning was a warm one already, and the weather outside was going to glorious if the light shining through the blinds was of any indication. The cream walls of their bedroom seemed to glow and Draco could see flecks of dust dancing in the rays of light that shone in around the edges of the window.
So, aside from the distinct lack of sex, today was shaping up to be a good day. He was determined to think that it wouldn't be anything like yesterday; he'd gone to sleep and woken up, and was feeling refreshed and ready for a normal day where he didn't fall down any stairs or have anything thrown over him. They'd got the Ireland – France qualifier to go to as well, and despite his reservations about dealing with anything Irish, he couldn't deny he was looking forwards to it.
Draco was almost asleep again, basking lazily in the warmth of the morning when the door opened and Harry edged in with a mug in each hand.
"Are you awake?" he asked, sounding amused.
Draco cracked an eye open. "Mmm," he said. "Just enjoying the morning."
"Hoping for a better day than yesterday?" Harry asked, walking around to his side of the bed and sitting down, wriggling a little closer before passing Draco's tea over. Draco nodded and reached out for the mug, slipping his fingers through the handle, smiling in anticipation of the taste of sweet, milky tea-
He barely heard the soft chink of sound as without warning, the handle of his mug cracked away from the body, sending a mug full of hot tea spilling over his lap and the bedsheets. He and Harry swore simultaneously and dived off of the bed, Harry hastily grabbing his wand to siphon up the mess.
"Fuck," Draco said again, standing there and staring down at his soaked underwear in complete disbelief. "Fuck."
"What the hell?" Harry said, bewildered. "Have you been cursed or something?"
Draco didn't answer. Barely controlled frustration and anger were welling up inside his chest. No-one was ever this unlucky by accident – there had to be something else going on. Without another word he stormed away into the bathroom, cursing his rotten luck under his breath.
Maybe Harry was right. Maybe he had been cursed.
A horrible thought occurred to him as he stripped out of his tea-sodden underwear and threw them into the wash basket. He'd been rude to a leprechaun in the bank not ten minutes before his tumble down the steps, and since then everything had been getting progressively worse.
He walked over to the sink and reached out to turn the tap on. As he did the back of his wrist caught the plastic pot that held their toothbrushes in, knocking it over. With a strangled cry he reached for it but he wasn't quick enough; his toothbrush slid straight out of the pot and off the edge of the sink, landing neatly in the bin that was full of tissues and used floss.
His scream of frustration was probably heard next door. He heard a thud and hasty footsteps and then Harry appeared in the doorway, looking panicked.
Draco pointed at the bin, hand shaking. He couldn't even form words. Harry padded over cautiously and then grimaced as he saw the toothbrush nestled in the bin against an empty bottle of shampoo.
"I'm not going to the game," Draco said, shaking his head. "I'm not leaving the house."
Harry looked stricken, the thought of missing Quidditch apparently more distressing to him than the fact Draco had potentially been cursed by a bloody leprechaun. "You can't miss the game – we've been waiting for this for weeks."
"I'm not leaving the house," Draco said adamantly. "I'll end up breaking my neck, or being arrested or something."
"Look, calm down," Harry soothed, reaching out for Draco and pulling him close, his fingers on Draco's hips. He schooled his features into something calmer, obviously trying a different tactic to pacify Draco's temper and get him to agree. "You're stressing, and it's not helping. Look, we'll go to the game nice and early so we miss the last minute crowds, I'll fetch everything for you so you don't even have to leave your seat and we'll have a nice time. And then we can do whatever you want for the rest of the weekend, I swear."
Draco sighed, rubbing at his face. He couldn't really say no when Harry was being so nice and damn persuasive. Harry seemed to cling onto his impending victory, leaning in to kiss Draco's cheek, his voice warm and coaxing in Draco's ear.
"Nothing bad will happen, I promise," he said sincerely.
Draco wasn't convinced.
"Oh my god, look at him!" Harry shouted, half out of his seat and his hand clutching Draco's wrist. "Fuck!"
Draco barely heard harry; he was too busy watching Aiden Lynch felt towards the ground at shocking speed, apparently in pursuit of the snitch. The French seeker was chasing him but not gaining at all, and the crowd drew a collective breath as Lynch pulled out of the dive just in time, only to be forced to swerve as a bludger pelted his way.
"He's getting better at that," Draco shouted and Harry nodded enthusiastically, clapping Lynch for the brave manoeuvre.
The match was shaping up to be a very good one, and Draco was finally in a good mood. He was just about ready to admit that he was glad he'd let himself be coerced into attending the game; he'd not been splinched on the journey, hadn't fallen over or into anything, and hadn't come within a hundred feet of any sodding leprechauns. His omnioculars were working fine and the Irish side were steamrollering the French, just as Harry and Draco had predicted.
"The French guy looks desperate," Harry said, raising his omnoculars to his nose and following the progress of the opposing Seeker.
"Well he would, Lynch has been toying with him for the past hour – Harry!"
Draco grabbed his arm. "The snitch – look! Over by Fontaine – he's seen it!"
The rest of his bad mood was entirely forgotten as he watched Lynch wheel about in response to the roar of the crowd, face scanning the pitch and brow furrowed in concentration. Draco saw the moment he spotted the snitch, the widening of his eyes and the way his broom darted forwards, accelerating with shocking speed-
"Fuck!" Harry shouted, his voice rising in excitement. "He's going to miss it!"
"No he's not!" Draco yelled in reply and then the stadium erupted as Lynch reached forwards and plucked the snitch out of the air with what seemed like minimal effort. His teammates flew over to congratulate him as the French supporters groaned and hid their faces in their hands, their disappointment contrasting sharply with the screams of delight from the Irish.
"The mascots are happy," Harry laughed, stretching out his hand as golden coins started to fall from above, tinkling against the metal and concrete of the stands and thudding softly against the wood.
"Augh, don't even talk to me about leprechaun gold," Draco said, scowling again as some of the crowd dived under their seats to collect fistfuls of gold. "After that debacle on Friday I don't even want to see –ouch!"
Draco jerked his head to the side as something small and hard hit him on the side of the head with considerable force. Disconcerted, he reached up to rub the spot next to his temple when another something hit him squarely on the bridge of his nose.
"What the fuck?" Harry asked, bewildered. He craned his neck up with a frown as more coins pelted towards Draco with much more force than the rest of the gently falling coins. "Hang on – is that leprechaunthrowing gold at you?"
"More than fucking likely," Draco snapped, rubbing the bridge of his nose and then drawing his hand back to see a smear of crimson on his fingertips. Christ – he could no longer think that his terrible fortune was just down to luck; it was quite clearly down to the fact he'd been rude to a bloody leprechaun. He bloody knew they were supposed to be lucky, but hadn't known that to get on the wrong side of one would leave him distinctly unlucky. God, he so should have skived off that last half an hour at work and then none of this would have happened-
Another coin hit him sharply on the ear, the pain sharp and sudden. "I SAID I WAS SORRY!" he bellowed up at the sky, his patience finally wearing thin. "You fucking spiteful little shites!"
The only reply he got was distant laughter and another barrage of coins. "Fucking hell!" Harry exclaimed, reaching up to try and shield Draco from the worst of it, coins bouncing off of his hand. "Is this really about the thing in the bank? How rude were you?"
"Sod off," Draco snapped, his good mood evaporating as if it had been magically vanished. He stood up and shoved past Harry towards the end of the row, fed up with Harry and the leprechauns and the constant bad luck that seemed to be following him everywhere at the moment.
"Excuse me," he snapped, shoving past a witch who barely moved quick enough to pull her feet out of the way. "Coming through, out of my way."
He could hear Harry and how exasperated he sounded but he didn't care. He was angry and humiliated and just wanted to go home. Forgoing the main stairwell that would lead him directly to the apparition points and portkey terminals, he instead took the West stairwell which would lead him to the car park. Honestly - as if some wizards actually chose to travel in those horrid metal death traps, rather than Apparating like civilised human beings. He'd go to the car park and then nip through the barriers over to the Apparation centre, thus avoiding the crowds and anything Irish.
Luckily, the West stairwell was completely empty. Draco didn't hesitate to hurry down the stairs, one hand loose on the polished wood of the bannister. If he'd been calmer he'd have realised that rushing probably wasn't the best idea considering his track record over the past few days, and would have been decidedly more careful about where he put his feet. He was nearly all the way down the staircase when his foot hit what looked like a melted ice-cream that sat innocuously in the middle of the wooden step. He felt a thrill of alarm run through him but he was moving too quickly to stop.
His feet shot out from under him and he half-fell, half-slid down the rest of the stairs, landing on his arse and jarring his back against every step. He finally came to rest in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs, hurting all over and wanting to disappear off of the face of the planet.
"Alright there, young sir?"
Draco looked up with a groan to see a very familiar looking leprechaun hovering over him, grinning down at him.
"Oh, god. Go away," Draco groaned, trying to climb to his feet without drawing too much attention to the fact he was hurt. It didn't work. He winced as he straightened up and went to rub his back, only to find the back of his shirt smeared with disgusting melted ice-cream.
"So, how many stairs is that you've fallen down now?" The leprechaun asked innocently. "You'll break your neck if you're not careful."
"You did this," Draco said, trying to straighten up fully and ignore the pain that he was pretty sure was coming from his tailbone. Shite, his thumb was one thing but if he'd broken his arse Harry would never let him live it down.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," the leprechaun said airily, and Draco felt a flare of anger run through him, magnified by the pain and the humiliation of falling over again.
"Look, I'm sorry about the thing at the bank," Draco said hotly, wiping his disgusting ice-cream-sticky hand on his shirt. "But if you've cursed me I'll have to report you to-"
"Watch your mouth before you start getting stroppy with me," the leprechaun interrupted, and there was a hint of sternness in his lilting tone. "Resect your elders."
"Respect your-" Draco echoed in disbelief, breaking off because the whole sentence was just too ridiculous to finish. "You're a fucking foot tall!"
"How dare you! There's six foot of you and the extra five don't seem to help any!"
"They'll help if I choose to stamp on you!"
"You wouldn't dare," the leprechaun said, and then laughed as if the idea was completely ridiculous. Draco didn't like not being taken seriously, and he especially didn't like being laughed at by a leprechaun. Without thinking and ignoring the pain in his back, he made to take a furious step forwards ready to swat the leprechaun out of the air-
- and found that his feet were firmly stuck to the floor, keeping him stuck in place. Shocked and a little panicked, he tried to tug his feet free, even going as far to reach down to try and pull them off of the floor using his fingers, but there was no give. Sniggering above him made him stop in his futile attempts to get free and he straightened up, face flaming red with embarrassment.
"Oh dead mature," he said witheringly, crossing his arms across his chest and still trying to discreetly pull his feet off of the floor. The leprechaun laughed again and Draco gave up his jiggling about, knowing he'd been outmanoeuvred. The fact it was a leprechaun that had managed it was almost too much to bear. His heart sank.
"What do you want from me?" he asked in a small voice, letting his hands fall down to his sides and cringing at just how pathetic he sounded. His back hurt, his nose was stinging and he felt horribly off balance with his firmly glued down mid-step. "I said sorry."
"But did you mean it?" the leprechaun asked shrewdly, and if his feet weren't glued to the floor Draco would have shifted uncomfortably.
"Yes," he lied.
The leprechaun looked at him with such a look of exasperation that it reminded Draco forcibly of Harry. He blinked and looked down at his feet, wishing he could just go home.
"You make this very difficult," the leprechaun said with a sigh, as if Draco were an uncooperative toddler. "You'd get your luck back in a blink if you'd just admit how lucky you are."
"Admit I'm lucky?" Draco repeated incredulously. "Have you any idea what has happened to me in the past few days?"
"Shut your trap," the leprechaun said dismissively. "I wasn't talking about the past few days. I'm talking about your life."
Draco fell silent at that, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden. He didn't often choose to think about his life in detail, he just got on with it. He got up, went to work, spent time with Harry and that was it. He didn't like to consider how much of it he did or didn't deserve; it made him feel uncomfortable and vulnerable in a way he didn't like. If this bloody foot-tall joker was about to force him into a session of self-analysis and moral speculation he was going to leave with or without his feet.
"You are one lucky bastard, even by my standards," the leprechaun said sternly. "Considering all you did, the balance should have you either locked up or begging on the streets."
Draco frowned. "The balance?"
The leprechaun ignored him. "But no, you're not incapacitated in any way shape or form. You have a job, a nice place to live, friends that should rightfully hate you and a bloke that loves you more than he loves himself."
Draco had been ready to argue some more but at the mention of Harry he felt his stomach clench and his cheeks go pink. Unbidden, an image of a smiling Harry bringing him a cup of tea in bed flashed through his mind. He pushed it away impatiently.
"No, not 'yeah but'," the leprechaun interrupted impatiently. "Stop being so ignorant. I hate people like you - you've got it good and you don't even bother to acknowledge it. The sooner you admit just how lucky you are, the sooner you can go back to normal."
Draco blinked, ready to argue some more but in the time it took him to shut and open his eyes, the leprechaun vanished, leaving him alone. He exhaled in relief, running his hands through his hair, shoulders slumping. Collecting himself, he made to go down the rest of the stairs but found that he was still firmly stuck down.
"You little arse!" he shouted at nothing, and at once resumed his efforts to try and get free. He drew his wand and cast every spell he could think of, all to no avail. He stood there for a good ten minutes, ignoring the odd looks from the few people that passed him on their way down to the car park. He was Draco Malfoy, he thought defiantly. If he wanted to stand in the middle of a stairwell just for the hell of it, he could bloody well do so.
"Baculus Inverto," he said desperately, pointing his wand at his feet. "Gluten delenso! Oh for – feetus unstickus!"
Nothing happened and Draco whined helplessly in the back of his throat, trying to stamp his feet and succeeding only in bobbing up and down pathetically. Despite his earlier resolution, he really did like his feet and didn't want to splinch them off if he tried to apparate away. Not to mention that he'd probably he squashed by the anti-Apparation wards on the stadium.
He felt completely miserable. Here he was, covered in ice-cream and with a broken arse. Not to mention the fact he'd been outwitted by a leprechaun. His life sucked.
The single word was uttered into the silence of the stairwell as Draco realised what he'd just thought. He felt an uncomfortable prickle walk down his spine as he re-examined it. He was always so quick to complain about terrible life, thinking it justified, but the leprechaun's words wouldn't go away, and were echoing around his head like moths batting against a light-bulb.
Did he actually deserve everything he had in life? Draco swallowed thickly, unable to stop thinking back to the terrible things he'd done. He had made up for them, but had he really learnt from it all?
Fuck. That little bastard had been right.
What was he thinking, complaining and whinging about his life? It wasn't that terrible, considering how bad it could have turned out. Yeah, his job wasn't the greatest but at least he had one. And yes, his house was rather nice, even though the kitchen was a bit poky. But beyond all that, he had Harry for god's sake, and that probably made him the luckiest fucker in existence-
He twisted around instantly as best as he could, relief flooding though him as he saw Harry jogging down the stairs towards him, carefully sidestepping the ice-cream that had been Draco's downfall. He was frowning, presumably at finding Draco standing there in the middle of the landing between the two staircases, not making any effort to move.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm stuck," Draco sighed, his throat feeling tight and thick with emotion as he considered the man in front of him and tried not to think about whether he deserved him or not. "A leprechaun glued me to the floor to give me time to think about what a lucky twat I actually am."
Harry looked bewildered. "A - what? You're stuck?"
Draco nodded and reached out for Harry, his lower back twinging in protest. "Help."
Harry did instantly, stepping forwards and taking Draco's outstretched hand in his. The look of concern on his face made Draco's chest ache, and he barely had time to think about how much he loved the stupid scruffy git before his feet came free and he toppled forwards without warning.
Harry yelped in surprise, stumbling back as Draco knocked into him, both of them staggering dangerously close to the top of the next set of steps. Without pausing to think and with a surge of frightening adrenaline, Draco stepped forwards instinctively and grabbed Harry's arms, somehow managing to keep his own balance and stop Harry from pitching backwards down the stairs.
"Shite," Harry said breathlessly, twisting his head to look behind him at the stairwell. "Good catch."
Draco laughed shakily as well, his heart thumping in his chest as he pulled Harry up a little so he was more secure. They were pressed chest to chest with Harry still leaning back a little as if he were some sort of swooning maiden and Draco were the hero ready to sweep him off his feet.
"Looks like your luck's back in," Harry said with a mischievous grin, and Draco grinned back, feeling giddy and realising that Harry was right; no way would he have managed that epic catch if he were still cursed, which meant that the leprechaun must have relented and given Draco his life back.
Relief flooded through him, and if he'd not been holding Harry up he would have sank to the floor in a puddle of gratitude. "Indeed it does," he laughed. His eyes scanned Harry's face and he was again struck by just how much he felt for the git. The relief turned into a soft ache in his chest and his fingers tightened on Harry's arms as the urge to be close to him right now grew. "So, ready to go home?"
Harry grinned. "Oh I don't know," he said, affecting ignorance and innocence. "Seamus had invited us to the pub. Will I be getting lucky if we go home right now?"
Draco pulled him up even closer so his mouth was almost brushing Harry's, close enough to tease and promise. He could feel Harry's smile against his mouth, the cheeky grin that was always there to welcome Draco home and into bed.
Draco couldn't help but smile back. "Well, if you play your cards right I think we'll both be getting lucky."