DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER. NOT NOW, NOT EVER.
Once upon a time there was a man who was not a Prince, a King or a Knight, nor a Terrible Bandit. Not a Pirate, or even an Orphan with his destiny still to be discovered. He did not spend his days fighting dragons, black knights, neither the Mongol Hordes nor the Kraken, and definitely not the King's Navy or a wicked stepmother. In fact, he worked in the marketing department of a popular magazine and spent his days in a rather ordinary office building in the centre of town, running to meetings, answering e-mail, calculating budgets and correcting copy.
And every evening at just before six o'clock, he would look at his watch, close the windows on his computer, press the button on his office telephone that activated the voice mail in his absence, and tidy the papers on his desk. He would then text his husband saying that he was setting off, and add some small remark of greeting, different every day, to show how happy he was to be leaving the office to go home and join him.
Harry pushed his chair under his desk, grabbed his coat and waved to those colleagues still working. Then he took the lift down to the car park. Because this was just an ordinary day, there were no zombies staggering through blood-spattered corridors, no brigands waiting to ambush the unwary, and no mysterious but malevolent force seeking to entrap him in the lift. Harry got into his car, reaching automatically for the seat belt. And then stopped, suspended in his movement.
There was a young man in his car. There was a very naked young man sitting in the passenger seat of his car. "What are you—?" Harry started, one hand still stretching the seat belt across his chest, the other still pointing the ignition key towards its socket.
He was very naked. And very pink, he couldn't stop himself from noticing. He had a mass of blond hair that cascaded down onto his shoulders with a hint of ginger highlights. He had very pale nipples on his chest, and showed no tan marks. Just this unreal pink skin, as if he was looking at a doll.
He turned and smiled. Harry saw goose pimples on the young man's arm, and pale golden hairs that caught the ceiling light. "I was waiting for you," the young man said, and smiled again. He had a pleasant smile that lit his face and showed his lips like some pale red fruit. His smile lit up her eyes too, and the light seemed to flicker there like clouds on water.
"How did you—?" Harry started again. "Look, you're gonna have to get out right now…" The young man shook his head, still smiling. "Oh no, not now," he said. "Not now I've found you." "Is this some kind of joke?" Harry asked as he looked around, expecting to see colleagues laughing, slapping their thighs and nudging each other in the ribs. The car park was empty. The strip lighting above illuminating each and every bare concrete wall and corner.
"You've got no clothes on," he said at last. "You do know, don't you?" the young man nodded and bit at his lower lip a little sheepishly. Harry sighed, stepped out of the car and took off his coat. "Put this on," he said, passing it over the gear box and the handbrake. "Before anyone sees you…" Harry watched him slip pink arms into the sleeves, saw the smooth curves of his chest lift before he pulled the coat round him, and smoothed it on his thighs.
"Thank you," he said. "I knew I'd chosen right this time." "Chosen! What do you mea—?" Harry asked but was interrupted. "Stop worrying." he put a finger to Harry's lips. Harry smelt strawberries and hay, apples and cinnamon. And… gingerbread. For a moment he was transported back to his childhood, and lost there. "I knew you'd be perfect as soon as I saw you. The others hit me, pushed me out. Some even sought to violent me…" the young man said. "What?" Harry couldn't remember seeing any marks or bruises on that soft skin. "Do you want me to take you to the Police? A Hospital?" Or an asylum, he thought, but kept the idea to himself, just in case.
"Oh no. I'm fine just now." he pulled on the lapels of the coat, putting them up around his ears then burying and rubbing his face in them. "It smells just like you," he said. "Look, you can't stay here," Harry said, firmly. He hoped. "Yes, you're quite right. You have to take me home with you." Said the young man which mad Harry just sigh. He hoped Draco wouldn't mind having unexpected company over. And a stranger at that.
He has been married for a little over four years. Draco stays at home and does volunteer work during the day. A couple of afternoons at a charity shop, home visits three days a week, and general paperwork. For the moment they can live on what Harry brings in, but sometimes he worries that there situation is, perhaps, a little precarious. Especially at the moment with what seem like glacially cold winds huffing and puffing through entire sectors of the economy.
They've talked about having children. They both agree they'd quite like to, but not yet. Later. They never know what can happen. Who knows, his husband would say, 'maybe I'll have to find a paying job. Help keep the wolf from the door.'
Harry parked the car in its usual spot and looked around to see if any of the neighbors were around. Even if the young man was wearing Harry's coat, Harry was sure that anyone would realize with just a glance that the visitor was stark naked underneath. Well, if someone did notice, Harry could always say the man was one of his husband.
As usual, Harry slipped round to the back door of the cottage. He walked in front as he felt he needed to explain things first. Or at least, to try to. Thinking about it now, he wasn't sure he could. "Hello dear. I'm home," he called. "Er… And we've got a visitor," he added. His husband stepped into the kitchen, his blond hair cut short about his ears, and framing a pale face. And even wearing old jeans and a blue sweater, Draco gave the impression of being impeccably dressed.
"Oh," Draco said, although he didn't appear to be the slightest bit put out as the other young man danced across the doorstep letting the coat flap free and revealing his total absence of clothes underneath. "Oh dear," Harry said. "I think this is going to be a little difficult to explain…" Harry stood sheepishly, still holding the car keys. He usually kept them in his coat pocket.
"Don't you worry yourself," said Draco. He kissed Harry on the cheek, lingering and staring at the other all the while with misty grey eyes before smiling at him, lifting the keys from his hand, and giving him a quick proprietary tap on the bottom. "Go and freshen up," Draco suggested. "I'm sure we can find something to talk about." Harry looked about Draco for a second, as if waiting for a delayed reaction, before obediently padding off to the hallway and beyond.
His husband turned back to the other man who was now leaning an arm on the back of one of the high stools, his other hand hidden in the folds of the coat. "Hello," smiled the other. "Your tricks won't work on me," said Draco. "So leave him alone. And that's his coat you're wearing. You'd better give it back before you leave." He added and threw a glare at the guest. "I can't. He gave it to me. We're going to get married and live happily ever after." Said the visitor.
"I doubt he did give it to you, even if I do believe him capable. He lent it to you, that's all. Probably because he thought you needed it. He's like that. Stray dogs, birds with broken wings… street folk. Sometimes there's no stopping him. Of course…" Draco ended with a sigh. He looked the man up and down, as if trying to emphasize his nakedness, but the other seemed totally unaware of his state of undress. "So you've noticed too," the young man said. "He's so very perfect. So adorable."
"And that's why you'd better leave. Now. I don't want him getting hurt." Draco turned to look at the corridor leading to the kitchen where he'd sent his husband off a moment ago. As if his trace was still visible there. Behind Draco's back, the other man moved quickly, sharply.
Even faster, Draco lifted a hand up over his shoulder, catching the other's wrist. He twisted round to face him, tightening his hold on the other's arm. The carving knife fell to the spotless tiled floor with a clatter. The two men faced each other. "Everything all right, dear?" Harry's voice came from upstairs. Both men looked up. "Just being all fingers and thumbs. Nothing to worry about. Really," called Draco.
In that microsecond of inattention, the other swept up a fruit bowl from the table, aiming squarely at the head. Draco blocked it with his other hand. Apples and oranges bounced down to the floor. They stared at each other as Draco increased the tension on the wrist and, slowly, the fruit bowl came back down to rest on the table top. The other was red-faced from the exertion, like a raspberry sauce dripping down over a pink pudding.
For a moment neither moved, then the other collapsed, pulling on the Draco's hand, pulling him forwards and towards the young man. Draco let go of the wrist as the other dropped to the ground and, scooping up the knife, lunged forwards. A frying pan smacked Draco on the ear, sending the knife spinning and him reeling on over to the cabinets by the fridge where he gripped the countertop for support.
"Just me being clumsy again, dear," the Draco called out. "Don't know what's come over me tonight…" The sound of water flowed down from upstairs, drowning out any reply. Still wielding the frying pan, Draco moved over towards the fridge. But he stepped on an orange and his leg suddenly slid forwards leaving an opening for the other to dart forwards. And the young man sank his teeth into the knee. He bit into the leg, tearing through the fabric, pulling at bone and cartilage and tendons. The frying pan swung down to swipe the young man aside, but at the very last moment the other ducked, rolling to the side and leaving the Draco to control his follow-through and avoid falling, his foot sliding further on the orange pulp with crimson staining his jeans at the rip in the knee.
Draco steadied himself at the worktop and set down the frying pan, nearly dropping it as the knife plunged up and into his thigh. As the other man pulled back the knife for a second blow, Draco span his other foot round, clipping the side of the other's head and sending him sprawling to the floor.
Neither said a word, neither moved as they heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Draco put a finger to his lips, pulled an apron from the rack and slipped it over his head as he limped towards the hallway. He smoothed it over the blood stains streaking his leg and headed his husband off at the foot of the stairs.
"Come on, dear, you can't wear that grubby old sweater, can you?" Draco caressed Harry's cheek. "Why don't you go and put on that nice blue one I gave you last month..?" Dutifully, Harry turned back up the stairs. "Dinner will be ready in ten minutes of so," Draco added. "Do you need a hand?" Harry asked, leaning over the bannister at the top of the stairs. "Don't worry yourself. Everything's under control," he said and turned back to the kitchen.
The other was nowhere to be seen. Instantly Draco darted sideways into the front room and grabbed the poker from by the fireplace. Back in the hallway he leaped into the air and through the door, rolling over as he landed before twisting round and bringing the poker down on the back on the other's head as he dropped down — too late — in front of the open door.
"Naive stupid bitch. You think you're the first to try…" Draco muttered as the other crumpled to the ground like a marionette whose strings have been cut. "You really thought I'd let you stroll in here and steal him, just like that?" Draco put the poker in the sink, and washed away the blood and matted hair. Then he bent down to truss the other's body, pulling kitchen twine tight about the pink legs and arms.
"Of course he's perfect, doting, loving, caring, faithful." Draco bit off another stretch of twine. "Why do think I bumped his wife off, years ago, and took her place..?" Draco looked down at the body, vermillion blood shining like a crown about his head. He pulled the body across the kitchen floor by an ankle before wrapping in bin liners and stuffing it into the deep freeze. He'll get rid of it later. Like he'd done for the wife, like he'd done for the other ones who came and tried to take Harry away from him. Under the mulberry bush in the garden when there'll be no-one around.
Draco picked up a cloth and the bleach and set to cleaning the floor and the other surfaces until everything shined and was perfectly in order. Then he waited for his husband to descend for dinner with a smile on his face and a ready explanation why the visitor was no more.
A/N: Read and Review. Don't know why this was made. All I know was that I was bored. ^_^ Constructive Criticisms are very much welcomed.