Sometimes we invent our own personal line challenges! Many thanks
to Sobriquet for the title and a lot more besides. Footnotes are at the
end; I could not resist.
"We have to WHAT?"
"I am afraid the terms are very clear."
"We have to WHAT?!"
"Stop echoing me, Malfoy!"
"Please, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, do try to calm yourselves. The document is very old, but the law still applies."
"You have GOT to be joking!"
Dumbledore sighed. "You have brought this on yourselves, my dear young gentlemen. I'm afraid you have... no choice."
The dark-haired boy and the blond one looked at one another across the ancient parchment on the headmaster's desk, mirroring each other's aghast expression.
"We have to get... MARRIED?"
"The law was created in the twelfth century in response to a very specific set of circumstances which you two, unfortunately, have fulfilled. Draco, I understand that you only meant to steal it as a practical joke, but the fact remains that Harry's invisibility cloak was destroyed by fire while it was in your possession, which makes you responsible."
"It was an accident." Malfoy sulked.
"Oh, like I believe THAT for a minute!"
"Nevertheless. Harry, clearly this was more than a little upsetting, but really, stealing the Book of Family Curses from the library Restricted Section was very unwise..."
"Particularly as it appears you can't pronounce High Ancient Wizardry dialect worth shite," said the dark figure leaning against the wall behind Dumbledore.
"Please, Professor Snape, let me handle this," admonished the headmaster.
Harry managed to look both pouty and sheepish. Snape just looked liked Snape always looked.
Dumbledore continued: "You intended to curse the heir of Malfoy house with Unrelenting Nightmares... what you got was cursing the heir with Irreversible Barrenness."
"I made him a baroness?" said Harry, completely confused.
"Barren, Mr. Potter. Infertile. Unable to sire children. A very, very serious curse indeed."
"YOU-- My father's going to KILL you, Potter!"
"The offense is not actually punishable by death, but by being stripped of magic."
"YES! Oh, even better!"
"However, Harry's provocation for casting this spell fits one of the six conditions named by the law. The cloak counted as a family heirloom, and destruction of it through willful maliciousness mitigates the injustice of the Barrenness curse. In this event, the law provides that both offended houses may make their restitution by joining the heirs of both houses in marriage."
"HOUSE? I don't have a house! I don't even have PARENTS! You want to make Malfoy marry somebody, let him marry Dudley!"
Dumbledore went on as if he hadn't spoken. "This way, the heirs of both houses are affected by the curse, as neither will be able to reproduce if one marriage partner is barren. It rather effectively stopped wizards from using that particular curse against rival houses. Until now, it appears," he finished severely.
"Neither of us is--
"-- a GIRL!" both of them yelled at the same time.
"Yes. Well, I'm afraid that changes nothing."
"The law makes no provision for gender. Given that offspring are no longer at issue, there was no need to take that into account."
"I WON'T DO THIS!" screamed Harry. "HE'S the one who started it! Why should I have to ...marry--" he said it the same way most people would have said disembowel-- "the slimy pillock who started it?"
"Oh, come off it, Potter," said Snape, "you both started it, six years ago, and you never could finish it, could you? Never could leave it alone. I'd say you deserve each other."
"But he's a... a..." And then Harry surprised everyone in the room with his choice of words: "...a Slytherin!"
Snape's mouth twitched.
"OH, and I suppose the noble habits of Gryffindors include casting family curses every day, is THAT it?" snarled Draco. "I'd say you've got nothing to be smug about, Potter!"
"You call THIS smug? THIS? This isn't smug, this is nausea! If this isn't some Slytherin plot to put me into the most revolting situation imaginable..."
"YOU? I'm a Malfoy, for god's sake! Rich, filthy with name and respect, achingly gorgeous besides, how dare you pretend to be disgusted by the prospect? I'M the one who should be revolted by the thought of marriage with a nearsighted no-name whose only distinction is that he's managed to stay alive all these years, how impressive is that?"
Harry sneered. (Everyone noticed that it looked frighteningly natural on him.) "At least, Malfoy, anybody who gets me is going to know that I keep my word. I told you I'd make you sorry, and it looks like I bloody well have! There's your Gryffindor honor for you, yes, Malfoy!" Before Draco could respond, Harry went on: "And I'm WAY more of a marriage prize than you'll ever be! You don't need to worry about an infertility curse, you walking hard-on; it's a miracle you haven't already been slapped with a DOZEN paternity suits!"
"That is such a lie! I am utterly discreet!"
"What does that mean, you never have more than one of each gender in your bed at once?"
"At least I'll know what to DO on my wedding night, you VIRGIN!"
"That is SO unfair! I am not!"
"I hate to break it to you, Potter, but fantasizing about ME while you jerk off does NOT equal sex with another person, no matter how good I was!"
"I will ask you both to stop getting spit all over my DESK!" yelled Dumbledore, clearly at the end of his rope. "The two of you can either accept that this is to be your fate--"
"--and figure out which one of you is going to be the bride..."
"Shut UP, Snape!" yelled both boys-- and Dumbledore as well--
"--or both of you will be magic-stripped for life, forced to live the existence of-- you should forgive the word-- squibs in the wizarding world. (1)That...is how it stands."
Both boys stood there panting, glaring, the air in the room almost crackling with the force of their hatred alone, and Dumbledore sent up another silent thanks that he'd thought to make both Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy surrender their wands the moment they'd come through his door.
"Fine," Draco spat. "Very well. You talk of Gryffindor honor, Potter--well, I will show you the Malfoy honor. I....will...DO it. I will do what my integrity--"
"Integrity my arse--"
"--would have me do. Though I am sickened beyond every fiber of my being."
"And a nine from the Durmstrang judge! Oh, bravo, Malfoy. What d'you do for an encore, Hamlet?"
"No, Potter, I kill YOU!"
"Bring it, you little girly ponce! You want to uphold your family honor so much, YOU can wear the dress!"
"There is NO way I am wearing a white dress, you prick!"
"Oh, who said anything about WHITE, you slut?!"
"AAAAHHHH!" yelled Draco, leaping clear across the desk at Harry.
"Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Potter, please!" yelled Dumbledore, as Snape dove for cover. "Not in my...NO! WATCH OUT FOR FAWKES!"
"They'd better, they're going to need him after this...!" Snape muttered from behind the Pensieve cabinet, wincing at the sound of bone crunching on bone.
In the end, neither boy had to wear a dress, white or otherwise. Or white, a dress or otherwise. White dress robes, white cloaks over dark suits, and white tuxedoes were all suggested as compromises and viciously shot down by Harry and Draco.
Both wore black to match their moods.
The wedding took place at Malfoy Manor. There was no getting around that; the Malfoy heir didn't have a choice, and Harry had less than zero preference for a location for Doomsday. He was encouraged to bring anyone he wanted, which meant he would have had forbidden every friend he had to stay away on pain of death, but Hermione had insisted that he couldn't let all those Malfoy guests think he was that insignificant, and worse, let Draco think he was afraid. He told Hermione fine, she could handle it.
Which is how he found himself saying, "I guess I have to, don't I?" in front of most of House Gryffindor, the Hogwarts staff, and two hundred other Malfoy relatives and friends.
Dumbledore--who they'd drafted into performing the ceremony, telling him that if he got them this far into it he was going to be responsible for the whole thing, dammit-- had difficulty with the ritual's traditional conclusion: "May the union of these two wizards be enduring--er, well, endurable... and joyful--at least not end in murder...and blessed with offspr--oh, hell, forget it. You may k--" He stopped altogether and passed a hand over his eyes. "I'm an old man and I shouldn't have to put up with these things. You're married."
Lucius Malfoy spent the entire reception drinking himself into a stupor, muttering over and over, "The Boy Who Lived. Not the Girl, no, it couldn't have been the Girl, could it. The Boy. God help us all..."
Narcissa Malfoy, on the other hand, was the soul of courtesy. She welcomed everyone with utmost grace, agreed not to put anything on top of the cake besides frosting roses, and told Harry he looked very handsome in his outfit. Harry was actually able to thank her for being so nice about it all.
And then she had to go and ruin it by saying, "But of course, Harry. You're our son-in-law now."
The Slytherin contingency of Hogwarts' students was also uncharacteristically quiet. Draco had told them all that Crabbe and Goyle had orders to perform unspeakable horrors on the first person they heard crack a joke about anything remotely related to marriage, sex, bedrooms, babies, honeymoons, domestic tranquility, domestic violence, family curses, family holiday gatherings, families in general, or made any gestures with the table utensils not solely related to consuming food. Crabbe and Goyle had recently become masters of the Wedgie Permanentus curse, for which there was no counterspell, so it was a remarkably well-behaved group.
Not all wizarding and muggle wedding rituals crossed over. Harry and Draco were not required to dance together, or feed each other cake. Which was a good thing, no matter how badly each wanted to smash it in the other's face. The sharing of the wineglass was easily solved; they didn't have to even be on the same side of the room for that. The only argument there was over who got to have it first, neither trusting the other one not to spit in it surreptitiously, or even openly. Sirius finally threatened to bite his godson if he didn't behave himself and cast a cleansing charm over the goblet when it came to Harry, for the sake of peace.
The most heated battle that threatened to break out involved the bouquet. Hermione kept insisting that it was unlucky to break with tradition (Harry knew damn well why she was insisting, the way she kept looking at Ron), and a large contingency of guests seemed suddenly to be on her side. Neither Harry nor Draco would give on this one; if either one was going to launch it, it was going to be down his spouse's throat. Just before the fourth set of fisticuffs would have taken place that day between the two of them (and most likely, the fourth use of an Oculus Reparo charm), Snape solved the matter by plucking the bouquet off the table, saying something about how he could use both Purple Dragon's Rose petals and baby's breath the next time he needed to make Elixir of Death By Chocolate, and leaving with it. Lupin didn't even wait an entire count of three before chasing after him.
When George accosted Narcissa Malfoy and asked when the karaoke was going to start (Narcissa looked terribly pained, proving that some things were just beyond the pale), Harry decided he could not take one minute more of the farce.
Unfortunately that meant there was only one place he could go.
And it included Draco going there as well.
"I get the bed."
"I get the bed."
"I get it. I am not sleeping on that narrow little half-couch thing."
"It's called a divan, you cultureless cretin."
Harry glared. "You know what? Fine. I will take the couch. It's too tiny for there to be any possibility of you crawling in with me, which is exactly what I risk happening if I take the bed!"
"WHAT did you say?"
"You heard me, Malfoy, I'll wake up with your head in my crotch so fast I won't even have time to have my standard nightly dream of throttling you!"
"I don't believe this! You think I would want YOU?"
"Oh, don't pull THAT. I still think you set the whole thing up! Where'd Dumbledore get that document, huh? Slipped it under his door the day after you woke up cursed, didn't you, Malfoy?"
"ME? You think I did this to get at YOU?"
"There is no 'at,' Malfoy!"
"Oh, this is too much. I wouldn't want YOU if you were smeared with honey and I were a nest of ants!"
"I always figured you had weird fantasies, you pervo! Do you tie me up for that one in your mind or what?"
"YOU ARE NOT IN MY FANTASIES!"
"No, but you've gotten me into your BEDROOM, haven't you, Malfoy? You make me sick."
Draco seized Harry by the upper arms and slammed the dark-haired boy against one wall. "I DID NOT PLAN THIS, YOU MORON! I don't want you! I've never wanted you! You're a prudy little stick-up-his-arse git that wouldn't know sex if it came running in covered in whipped cream and cherries, and NO, that is NOT one of my fantasies about you, you priss!"
"Just because I haven't shagged everything that moves at Hogwarts like YOU have--"
"What is THAT supposed to mean?"
"I mean, the last thing I heard, both Mrs. Norris and the Sorting Hat (2) were getting nervous because they were all that was LEFT!"
"I never had YOU, did I? Don't make excuses, Potter, you wouldn't have any idea what to DO with me if you had me!"
"The FUCK I wouldn't!"
Draco's expression turned into a vicious, gleeful sneer. "Oh, now we get to it! Harry Potter, pride of Gryffindor, is covering up for the fact that he's only got skills with a broomstick and a wand, and that's IT as far as phallic symbols go!"
"THAT DOES IT!"
Harry jerked his arms out of Draco's grip and shoved as hard as he could. Draco ended up on the floor, his skull saved from serious concussion by the thick Persian rug-- there was still an audible thud when it hit-- with Harry on top of him. "If I wanted you at ALL, you wouldn't have a brain cell left when I was done with you!"
"Get off me, Potter!"
"If I had even the remotest interest in you, you'd be moaning my name so loud they'd hear you over the karaoke!"
"THERE WAS NO KARAOKE, YOU LOW-CLASS PRAT!"
"GOOD! THEN THEY'LL DEFINITELY HEAR YOU!"
Harry drove his mouth against Draco's like he was trying to smother the blond boy with his lips and become a widower in record time. Draco made a panicked noise like he thought the same thing: "MMMMMMMPPPPPHHHH!"
He opened his mouth to bite, and Harry immediately jammed his tongue so far into Draco's throat that Draco gagged, and closing his mouth in any way was completely out of the question. He gurgled in fury and shock and a warning that he really might be sick any second.
When Harry yanked his head back from Draco's mouth, instinct told him to get the hell out of range, which was good, because as soon as he was free Draco lunged forward and his teeth snapped closed on the space just in front of Harry's nose, clicking together so hard he might have jarred a molar loose.
"If you try that again...!"
Again that sneer that looked way too natural on Potter. "Scared, Malfoy?"
"You w--" He stopped himself before he said it. "You're going to die! I don't care if we have to bury you in the Malfoy family mausoleum, it'll be a small price to pay!"
"If I'm going to die--" Harry slammed Draco's shoulders against the rug again, another thud sounding as Draco's head hit-- "then I'm NOT going to die a virgin!"
"I FUCKING KNEW I-- MMPH!"
Draco, his lips mashed so hard between his teeth and Harry's, they felt like they'd been pulped, abandoned all thoughts of biting altogether and kicked. He didn't know what he'd connected with (but evidenced by events following, the groin wasn't it), but it got a sound of pain out of Harry, and also loosened his grip on Draco's shoulders. Draco used the moment to bring his own arms up and strong-arm Harry backwards and off of him.
He spat. "So you've been saving yourself for me AFTER all, Potter!" he snarled as he pushed himself to his feet. "Oh, I LIKE this! I should sacrifice you to some demon, right here in the middle of the bed! As a matter of fact, I think I will! The demon's named Draco Malfoy, and the only weapon I need to do it is the one I was BORN with!"
Harry knuckled away the blood on his lip as he got up, predatory rage on his face, black hair messily splayed in every direction, fingers curved into claws. Draco had to admit he looked like every vampire fantasy he'd ever had. "I'm going to break myself on you, you cocky little bastard!" Harry said.
"I'd like to see you TRY!"
Draco was ready for it. Harry slammed into him, clawed fingers on his arms again, and Draco turned so that their momentum carried them backwards, all the way to the bed as Harry had intended, but they landed side by side on it, both of them yelling like kung fu experts trying to scare the other into surrender.
Draco rolled on top of Harry, and Harry, his fingers digging into the blond boy's upper arms, used the inertia to roll them over again, and then Draco shoved Harry into another roll, and, abruptly out of bed surface, both went crashing to the floor with a yell, and Harry was over Draco instantly but Draco was having none of it, he pushed Harry over again and the whole thing continued like they were barreling down some eighty-degree slope until at last Harry screamed, "Stop trying to get on top of me, dammit!"
"Wh--NO! You FIRST!"
"Oh, don't give me that, you little SUB!"
"I'M the sub? I'M the sub?!"
"FUCKING RIGHT YOU ARE!" Harry yelled, one hand on Draco's throat, the other trying to open the zip on Draco's trousers. "I'm going to screw you into next week and you're going to go insane waiting for time to catch up with you so you can beg me to do it AGAIN!"
"The HELL you will!" Draco immediately went for Harry's fly. "I'm going to open you like a tin of TUNA!"
He yanked Harry's trousers down his hips. At that instant, their actions were fitting in with both of their plans, so the momentary cooperation that was going on left them a little baffled as soon as both were partly undressed. Then Harry put pressure on Draco's throat again and planted a knee between Draco's, trying to shove his legs apart. Draco responded with a punch that knocked Harry's glasses off, and got a fistful of his hair just after, and Harry went backwards with a yell.
"We'll SEE who the sub is!" Draco jeered as he clambered on top, tearing open Harry's shirt. The studs made it easy, requiring essentially no real unbuttoning. Harry had terrible leverage at this moment, so all he could do was retaliate by doing the same to Draco.
"Wait'll I tell everyone Harry Potter was a virgin on his WEDDING NIGHT! And that he begged me to be GENTLE with him!" Draco cackled, sounding completely insane at this point as he jerked at Harry's shirt collar from behind, getting it just far down enough the boy's arms to get them in a strangle hold at the elbows. Between that and the fistful of hair that Draco seemed to be on the verge of tearing out, Harry suddenly found himself in desperate straits.
He thrust his face at Draco. "Treat me rough."
Draco actually blinked at him. "What?"
Harry licked his lips. "Don't be gentle. I want it rough. Use me like a rag, Draco."
The grin slowly built on Draco's face as his grip on Harry's hair slackened--
--and Harry butted his forehead against Draco's with a mad yell, driving Draco over backwards and causing him to lose his grip on Harry's shirtsleeves altogether as Harry flung himself on top of him. "HA! FELL for it, didn't you, you twat?"
The pain in his forehead was almost blinding, but Draco wouldn't give up. He fought to get out from under Harry, get the advantage back, twisting, pummeling whatever part of his rival he could contact as Harry did the same, both of them wrestling and biting and howling and determinedly trying to be the one that was going to rape the living daylights out of the other.
Both boys were beginning to develop a serious case of rug burn.
"God-- damn-- it-- Draco," Harry rasped past the arm lock Draco had on his throat, "by all that's...holy--" he flung Draco off at last-- "I'm going to make you my bitch before the night's half out!"
"You were my bitch the day I met you, Potter! Don't try to change things NOW!"
The two were kneeling, facing each other, hands coming up in preparation for the next leap as they panted.
"Give up now and I can still make it nice for you," said Draco, that same mad grin on his face.
"Oh, it's STILL going to be nice for you, Malfoy. I'll fuck you so hard I'll be through you and you'll still be begging me for more."
"You know what's going to stop you?" Draco said, a sudden telling inspiration on his face. "I'm going to cry. If you try to put that meat puppet of yours into me--"
"You just fucking LICKED YOUR LIPS, you whore!"
"--then I'm going to CRY. I'm going to sob, 'No, Harry, please don't!' and you'll wilt so fast, you'll think I kicked you in the groin! Then we'll see who the dominant is!"
The smile that crept its way up Harry's mouth was enough to make even Draco gulp. "You never knew, did you?... No one ever told you what happened that first night at Hogwarts. The Sorting Hat tried to put me in Slytherin, Malfoy."
"That's right. You think I'm not vicious enough for that challenge? I promise you, Malfoy, once you start crying, I won't let you stop."
"You fucker. I don't believe you for one minute. You reek of Gryffindor so much you might as well be wearing Godric's used jockstrap."
"So lie down and start whimpering, Malfoy. Let's see."
"Oh, no. If I'm under you it's only going to be because you overpowered me, Potter. That will NOT make me your bitch!"
"The same goes HERE."
They watched each other, still poised for attack, still breathing hard.
"All right." Draco's eyes narrowed as he smiled. "I've got it. There's a jar of lubricant in that top drawer of the bedside table, Potter. Whichever one of us begs the other to get it first, THEY'RE the sub!"
Harry's expression was maniacal. "You're ON!"
Snarling and clawing like two tigers, they leaped at each other at the same time.
"Aaaaaaghhh-- come on, Malfoy, say it!"
"I am TWO THIRDS in you, Draco; this is hurting me, for fuck's sake! Say it!"
"Oh, god, why didn't you make me do this first?"
"Shut up and keep sucking! Oh, my god, right there!"
"You BIT me!"
"You LIKED it!"
"That's not the POINT, you HAG!"
"That's right, Harry..."
"Admit it, Harry, mine's bigger."
"You need MY glasses, you bollock-brain... oh, don't stop..."
"Did I say you could come yet?! All right, bring my belt over here!...In your TEETH, dammit!... Did I say you could STAND UP? On your KNEES!...Now TURN OVER!"
"Oh, god, yes! I've been a naughty seeker, yes..."
"Say my name, you whore! Say my name!"
"Potter, I don't even remember my name anymore. Oh, fucking hell, do that again...!"
"Okay, okay, Harry, you win. Please. I'm the bitch. I admit it, I am. Please stop; I'm begging you!"
"The hell I will! You've had me six times and I've only had you four. I'LL SHOW YOU WHO THE BITCH IS! You've got THREE to go!"
"Shut up and kiss me, you minx!"
Narcissa, biting her lower lip, took out her wand and cast a sobering charm at her husband, who had his head buried in his hands as he tried to ignore the muffled sounds drifting down from the ceiling. Lucius blinked as the alcohol fizzled out of his system.
His wife knelt in front of him, took his hands in hers, and kissed him hard on the mouth. "They are... rather inspiring, aren't they?" she breathed.
He stared at her.
Then they ran for their bedroom.
Outside the Malfoy heir's suite the next morning, the house-elves played double-elimination tournament rock, paper, scissors to see who got to go in and offer breakfast to the newlyweds.
"Oh, my god."
"Oh, my god. Look at this room...Was the vase an heirloom?"
"No, it was a cheap piece of trash my mother got from the Lestranges."
"What about the mirror?"
"Fuck the mirror. I'm married to you for life; seven years' bad luck is nothing."
"And the big china teapot thing?
"WE BROKE THE SAMOVAR?! Oh, FUCK, we let the poltergeist out!"
"Draco, a poltergeist couldn't do HALF the damage we did last night. Oh, my god...!"
"You're right. Fuck it." He grabbed Harry's chin and kissed him hard. Harry kissed back.
When they stopped they just stared at each other. The silence grew awkward.
"Look, Malfoy..." Harry began.
Draco shook his head. "You're going to have to stop calling me that, you know, " he said, kissing him again for good measure. "That's your name now, too."
Harry jerked back. "The FUCK it is!"
Draco drew his brows in and glared. "You think I'm going to call myself Draco Potter? Not fucking LIKELY!"
"I...AM NOT... A MALFOY!"
"Oh YEAH? When the family poltergeist gooses your arse TOO, then you'll see!"
"It won't be anything I'm not USED to after last night! Does he use his TONGUE like YOU do?"
"I wouldn't TALK! Just when did you start craving that me-flavored high-protein diet, Harry Malfoy?"
The remaining two house-elves outside the door, their fists poised to deliver the decisive final rock and scissors, fled in terror as something smashed against the inside of the door, accompanied by unmistakable howls of rage.
Which were unmistakable moans of ecstasy within two minutes.
It was soon arranged that nothing breakable would ever be furnished in the Malfoy heir's suite again. At least as long as the current heir and his spouse were alive.
Though even after their fiftieth wedding anniversary, the sounds of heavy objects hitting the walls at night meant that there would be two very satisfied smiles facing each other across that long breakfast table.
1. Ooh, a new song by the Police.
2. "Cat, hat. In French: chat, chapeau."
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