Bring in the Clowns: A Birthday Conspiracy!

Bring in the Clowns: A Birthday Conspiracy!


Harry hunched low over the table. He was careful to keep out of site from the prying eyes of any pub patrons. Across from him, Ron’s face shifted to the side, tightness in his shoulders causing his back to bow upwards as he leaned in closer. The consequences for being discovered discussing what they were hung heavy in the air, like poison mist.

“What’s the latest news?” Harry whispered quietly. Even so Ron jumped slightly and hissed a very loud ‘SHH!’.

Harry gave him a hard look with pursed lips. “Well?”

When Ron spoke, his voice was just below the volume level of a whisper, despite the Muffliato spell still buzzing around them. “She’s hiring a professional.”


Shadows flickered across Ron’s face, the dark corner they sat in only lit by a single torch. Harry couldn’t see his eyes, shrouded in darkness as both boys had their hoods pulled low, hiding their distinctive hair from wandering eyes. The table was grimy under his fingertips. A feeling like sand against wet wood and a foul, sour smell of mold assaulted his noise.

“Who?”

“SHH!”

A few men turned at Ron’s visible jump, hidden figures in dark cloaks like theirs. Harry grabbed the edge of the table with a white-knuckled grip and almost thought he could hear a squelching noise as his hands dug into the disgusting wood.

“Stop doing that!” Harry hissed. “You’re attracting attention with your twitchiness.”

“Well I can’t help it,” he whinnied. “You don’t know how crazy they’ve been acting lately. I’m risking a lot for you, mate.”

Harry nodded curtly. “I know. I appreciate it, Ron, but think of the...”

They both shuttered, not needing to identify the source of their traumatization out loud.

“She means well,” Ron whispered.

“There’s an old muggle saying,” Harry whispered back, “that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

Ron was quiet for a moment, his pale, freckled hand slipping out of his robe to rub his chin thoughtfully. Harry could hear the low murmurs of the other patrons around him, the deep thuds of glasses hitting tables. His own drink lay untouched on theirs, smelling strongly like the sharp scent of paint thinner. Finally, Ron leaned over again.

“I don’t know who she’s hired, but I know Ginny protested at first. It could be the key to breaking their little team apart.”

Harry nodded. “Find out, we need-”

Both boys jumped as a silver light flashed. A patronus the shape of an otter landed gracefully on the table.

“Shit!” Ron said, standing up so fast his chair tumbled behind him.

The luminescent otter opened its mouth and the high pitch of a female voice spoke. “Ron, sweet, will you pick up some milk and bread on your way home? Hurry now, your parents are coming over for dinner.”

She spoke in a singsong voice, a clear indication of her mood. Both books looked at each other in panic as the patronus evaporated into wisps of silver then disappeared all together. Knowing Hermione it meant things were going well for her. Drowning out the snickers they received, along with a cat call, both boys fished in their pockets and spilled a handful of money out on the table before rushing out.

“How does she always know where I am?” Ron whinnied as they hurried down the streets of Hogsmeade.

“Maybe she put a tracking spell on you. I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Still running beside him, Ron pulled his hood back and opened his mouth as if to protest, but closed it again. The evening sun was just starting to set, blazing a brilliant orange at eye level. As they reached outside the borders of town, Ron started to turn, pulling out his wand but Harry’s firm grip on his shoulder stopped him.

“Find out whom,” he said, tightening his hold. “Or it’ll be wizard clowns again.”

For a brief moment, blue eyes widened in unseeing fright before Ron gave a curt nod and shrugged out of Harry’s grip.

“You and your bloody birthdays,” he muttered and turned on the spot, disappearing with a pop! .


***

It was July 24. One week to what should be a joyous celebration of the birth of one Harry James Potter. Instead, thanks to the joined effort of two very determined witches, it was a time of panic.

For the last three years Hermione and Ginny had thrown Harry a birthday party. Nice, in theory, yet terrifying in Wizardclown! reality. Which, of course, was why Harry was leaning his head into his fireplace, looking up to his nervously twitching best friend.

“What’d you find out?” Harry whispered and watched as Ron yelped, dropped to his knees, and hissed so fiercely he would have done any angry cat proud.

“Quiet. Hermione could be home any moment.”

“Relax. She’ll be at work for another hour, at least.” Even as Harry said this he kept his voice down. This time of the year made Hermione completely unpredictable. Last year when he and Ron had gone on the run in desperate hope of eluding Hermione and Ginny’s party, she had chased them down and bound them to chairs for the whole celebration. Maybe it was the kind intentions of throwing Harry a party, or maybe it was the psychotic gleam burning in her brown eyes, but no one had even commented on her actions. Ron and Harry had sat helplessly, not knowing wheatear to fear the Wizardclowns! or Hermione more.

No wait. It was definitely the clowns.

Ron leaned in closer, his whisper barely audible over the crackling fire. “The Malfoys apparently own a business. They offer up some sort of party planning service.”

“The Malfoys?” Harry said, trying to imagine the three blonds standing around Hermione as they work out the table decorations for his party. “The Malfoys?”

“Yes. And apparently Ginny’s still a bit sore that Hermione hired them. I’ve been subtlety talking with her, emphasizing how much I hate it when Hermione’s so bossy, and she readily agrees. At this rate, I might be able to turn them against each other.”

Harry nodded. “Good. Be careful that they don’t turn on you. In the mean time I’ll look into what I can about the Malfoy’s.”

“Right.”

The floo connection was abruptly ended and Harry was left with burning lungs as he coughed up soot. He was glad he wasn’t alone in this, thankful for Ron backing him up, but at the same time wishing that he wasn’t so damn jumpy all the time.


***


Harry peaked through the gaps in the recipe card display, carefully watching his target. Just like in one of those muggle spy movies, Harry had carefully sought out his mark and had been stealthily following him for the past half hour. He stayed hidden in the shadows or behind the displays in the store, careful to not draw any unwanted attention.

Okay, so that wasn’t exactly a hundred percent true. The reality of the situation was a lot closer to him stopping by to get some lovage leaves as requested by Mrs. Weasley, only to happen upon Draco Malfoy. It was true, however, that he had been secretly keeping an eye on him. Heh, he was so good he didn’t even need his invisibility cloak.

Oh wait a moment, wasn’t Malfoy there a moment ago? He peaked his head around the card display and cursed under his breath.

“Lose something?”

Bloody Ballycastle Bats! Harry spun around, elbow knocking the display over with a very sad sounding metal clang as the cards skidded every which way like spilled milk. A gray bearded wizard looked up from his work at the store’s counter and scowled before flicking his wand around and causing the cards to fly back to their original position.

Biting back a nervous laugh, Harry turned to Malfoy. He raised his eyebrows in, mostly likely, a poor attempt to act surprised. “Err- no. What?”

Malfoy’s hair was loose, his bangs hanging low over his face as he bent his head towards Harry.

“Got any money on you, Potter?”

“I um...” Somehow that seemed like an unfairly strange thing for Malfoy to say, although Harry really hadn’t known what to expect. Hell, he hadn’t even thought past the part of finding the Malfoys to know how to even go about asking their involvement with Hermione and the wizardclowns! . Malfoy was staring at him expectantly, waiting, and Harry’s mind turned back to the previously asked question.

“Yeah. Some.”

“Good,” Malfoy said and Harry suddenly found a heavy cauldron full of various jars shoved into his arms. “Pay for this then.”

“What? I’m not just going to pay for all of this.”

“You’re obviously following me around because you want something from me, right?”

Glaring slightly, Harry bowed his head stiffly in a reluctant nod.

“I’m not in a very charitable mood. Buy me this and then maybe I’ll be willing to listen to you.”

Harry opened his mouth, a few vulgar comebacks popping into his head before his mind froze in horror. Twisted smiles, colored faces, and a hauntingly creepy melody all pushed their way to the forefront of Harry’s thoughts. Images of beady eyes and bright colors swam across his vision.

“Fine,” He practically growled. He carried the cauldron over to the counter and within moments a cheerful, redheaded witch was smiling brightly at him as she started to tally up the cost of the blond’s purchase, plus his lovage leaves.

Malfoy leaned onto the counter, his shoulder slightly touching Harry’s side, but Harry was too distracted by his thoughts to take much notice. This was working out fairly well, he mused, as at least now he wouldn’t have to fake pleasantries to get Malfoy to talk to him. Straightforward and to the point were always easier than dancing around the issues.

The red haired checker was stuttering the total and Harry looked up to see her face completely flushed as her eyes darted between him and Malfoy. He shot a suspicious look at the body leaning against him, but shaggy blond hair, hiding all but his smirking lips, covered Malfoy’s face. He dropped the money on the counter and picked up the cauldron.

Following Malfoy, Harry carried the purchases outside, cursing as he smashed his hand between the cauldron and the doorway on the way out. He knew casting magic on potion ingredients would ruin their integrity, but he didn’t see the harm in casting a levitation charm on the cauldron. Unfortunately for him, to get a chance to stop and pull out his wand, Malfoy would need to stop darting through the crowd so quickly. It was all he could do to keep track of that flash of white gold hair among the sea of heads while trying to not spill the contents of his heavy bundle as people bumped into him.

Finally Malfoy stopped at the top of the post office stoop, giving Harry the necessary pause to catch up. He ducked an owl swooping low outside the building and pounded up the stairs, dumping the cauldron with a metallic bong at Malfoy’s feet. His arms burned from the strain, and he huffed a little more than he would have liked, a sure sign he needed to get out of the house more.

Grey eyes studied him indifferently as Malfoy crossed his arms and leaned against the railing. “Now. What is it you want?”

“You’re family owns a party planning business, yes?”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. The prat couldn’t even answer with a yes or no.

“Look. I just want to know if you’re working with Hermione to throw my birthday party.”

There was a long pause in which Malfoy continued to look at him blankly. A few owls hooted above as they made their way in and out of the small, open windows at the top of the post office. They gathered to fluff and groom their feathers, eyeing the busy wizards making their way down the streets.

That is, until Malfoy’s hysterical laughing broke through the ambiance like a clap of thunder. The birds scattered at the harsh sound, feathers falling in brown and white blurs that rained down around them.

“Oh Potter,” he said, wiping tears of mirth out of his eyes. “Let’s get this straight. Why in the name of Merlin would you ever think I’d do something that brings you joy? Not to mention, there’s no way in hell I’d work with your bossy moodblood friend.”

There wasn’t a doubt in Harry’s mind that Malfoy had the ability to be deceptive and misleading. He studied him for a moment, trying to measure up his reaction. He noted with some amusement Malfoy’s appearance wasn’t as immaculate as he once remembered. His hair was long and messy, falling into his eyes. He wore an open robe with a muggle shirt and black trousers underneath, a sure sign that something was different about his life, although he didn’t know what all these changes entailed.

“Don’t call her that,” Harry said, ignoring the simultaneous glare and eye roll. “So you’re saying your family business wasn’t hired by her?”

“I never said that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

Malfoy flicked his head, dislodging a lock of hair that had slipped over his eye. “Pick that up and follow me,” he said, gesturing to the cauldron. With clenched teeth, Harry pointed his wand, but before he could levitate it Malfoy was tisking at him.

“No magic, you’ll ruin the ingredients.”

Although Harry’s jaw tightened he complied, hefting the heavy cauldron into his arms. He could feel the tight stress in his shoulders and tried to keep the strain in his legs rather than trashing his back. He stumbled after Malfoy, who was kind enough to open the door for him. “Gee, thanks.” Harry said bitterly, but Malfoy just smiled and lead him back to the floor networks.

Malfoy tossed a few Sickles into a metal pan and a dusting of floo powder fell into one of the rows of fireplaces. Green flames rose up to lick at the sides of the bricks, waiting for the wizard or witch to proceed.

“Enough for two trips,” Malfoy said as he walked towards the fire. Without a backward glance he entered and said loudly enough for Harry to hear, “Dragon’s Flat.”

Harry rolled his eyes as Malfoy disappeared in a swirl of green flames. Figures the tosser would give his place a name like that. Shifting the heavy weight in his arms, Harry stepped into the fireplace and called out, “Dragon’s Flat.”

Oh how he hated to travel by floo. The spinning, the nauseous sloshing of his stomach, the gritty ashes that coated him head to toe. And then there was the getting spit out of the fireplace while still spinning. How anyone managed to land firmly on their feet was beyond him. As he found himself, not surprisingly, toppling over with the heavy cauldron wrapped tightly in his arms, he prepared himself for the messy, painful landing to come. Only, instead of hitting the painful, unforgiving hardness of the floor he found himself in strangely warm arms instead. Blinking slightly, he looked up and realized Malfoy had caught him. Their position was somewhat awkward, as if they had been dancing and Malfoy dipped him.

“So predictable, Potter. Really,” he said, helping Harry gently set down the cauldron. As they stood back up Malfoy’s hands remained attached to Harry. “Hmm. Strong arms,” he said, squeezing slightly and Harry jerked out of his grip. He rolled his eyes and took a step back.

“You work with potions?” he said.

“No. I work as a finance consultant at Gringotts.”

“Then what’s with all this?”

“Hmm?” Malfoy removed his robe and threw it on the floor. He rolled up the sleeves of his muggle shirt and slumped into a lazyboy chair, legs parted and arms stretched above his head.

Harry kicked the cauldron.

“Oh. That. I gave my old one to Pansy since she thought it was lucky. But I still need one for brewing my lube.”

“You’re-- Never mind.” Harry blushed.

“Cute,” Malfoy mumbled and Harry’s head shot up. Did Malfoy just call him cute?

“What?”

“If Granger really did hire my mother to help with your little soirée,” Malfoy said as if that had been the topic they’d been discussing for the past hour, “I can find out all the juicy details about it. But I’m a very busy man, so my services won’t be from the kindness of my heart.”

Harry felt the muscles in his right eye tighten, twitching slightly. Although he didn’t particularly like the idea of working with Malfoy, who by the looks of it had gone completely nutters over the past couple of years, if it meant finding out about the clowns... he shuttered.

“Fine, what do you want?”

“I’ll need time to think about it. Meet me in front Madam Malkin's robe shop Thursday around three.”

Thursday was only two days before his birthday. “Can we make it sooner?”

Malfoy leered at him. “Eager, aren’t we? No, we can’t. I need a few days to dig around.”

“Fine.” Harry said, turning back to the fireplace and looking around for the floo powder. The mantle was empty, no tables nearby. “Where’s you’re-”

He jumped as he felt a warm presence press against his back. He turned his head to be met face to face with a smiling Malfoy. From this close he could see the brilliant blue specks in his grey eyes. He jumped again when he was tugged back into an embrace, Malfoy’s arms wrapping around his waist firmly. Harry opened his mouth to demand to know what the hell Malfoy thought he was doing, but before he could, the familiar pressure of being squeezed through apparition surrounded him.

Harry blinked in his new surroundings. They had landed just outside the Shrieking Shack, Malfoy’s arms still firmly wrapped around him. He shifted out of the embrace and turned to face the blond, ready to shout at him for being such a prick but was cut off.

“Better than floo,” Malfoy said with a shrug. “You couldn’t apparate through my wards without me.”

And of course, once again when Harry opened his mouth to speak, his response was never heard. Malfoy turned and disappeared with a pop! leaving an annoyed Harry shoving his hands in his pockets and kicking the outer wall of the Shrieking Shack. He was surprised when his fingers brushed against a smooth bundle and pulled out a small, parchment wrapped package. Oh, right, the lovage leaves. How the hell did they get in there?


***


“Good morning!”

Harry groaned and turned over in his bed, pushing his head deep into his pillow. How the hell did Ginny always manage to get past his wards?

“Harry! You better not still be in bed!” He heard the thumping of her steps as she made her way up the stairs. He shot a quick glance over to his clock and groaned again. Seven thirty. Seven fucking thirty in the morning.

He heard the click of his door handle, followed by a rush of cold air across his naked back as the door swung open. A pitied sigh followed, and he knew without a doubt that Ginny was standing there with her hands on her hips, shaking her head.

But come on. It was seven thirty in the morning.

“Really, Harry. Still in bed?” Her voice was low in a disappointed tone.

“Mn. ‘Still early.”

“Sleeping all the time is a sign of depression,” she whispered sadly. He counted down in his head. Three, two, one...

“Oh Harry!” she sobbed, throwing herself onto him. Despite her small frame, he struggled to breath with her elbow digging so painfully into his ribs. “Give it some more time, the hurt will go away. I know you’ll find someone else.”

Even though his eyes were closed, he still rolled them. He was really getting sick of this.

“What did you want, Ginny?”

She sniffed delicately. “Ron and I are going out to lunch later. I wanted to invite you.”

Harry rolled out from underneath her and sat up, stretching.

“And you couldn’t have owled me?”

She bit her lower lip. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you wasting away the day in bed.”

Ginny, Harry had realized long ago, suffered from a guilt complex. Even though he had been the one to break up with her temporarily after six year, she had been the one to break it off for good. Quite honestly, he hadn’t been all that hurt. His chest monster hadn’t roared to thoughts of her for a long time. But she still felt like she had wronged him somehow and made it her personal goal to ‘cheer him up,’ which for him meant countless suffering.

It wasn’t unusual for Ginny to stop by, especially in the mornings. Never mind the fact that he kept trying to explain to her and Hermione he was a night owl and in no way, shape, or form a morning person. They just couldn’t understand how anyone could prefer it. Maybe he preferred it since they were never awake at night to nag him.

He scratched his chest lazily and looked over to where she was now kneeling on the bed. “Just Ron and you, not Hermione too?”

Ginny’s face darkened marginally. “Nope. Just the three of us. We don’t need her tagging along, now do we?”

Harry shrugged. “What time and where should I meet you guys?”


***


“They’re not clowns,” Malfoy said on Thursday as way of greeting. He walked up to Harry and nudged his arm, an indication for him to follow.

“Hermione’s not hiring the clowns?”

“She is,” Malfoy said and Harry’s steps faltered. “But they’re not clowns. They’re therapists.”

Harry blinked a few times before letting out a high pitched, nervous laughter. “Therapists? You’ve got to be kidding me. What makes you say that?”

“Saw their papers. Mother’s been trying to talk Granger out of it, but no luck. Guess she and you’re girlfriend have been having these yearly ‘therapy sessions’ and they think they’re doing you good.”

“Ginny’s not my girlfriend,” Harry mumbled automatically as he mulled over this little bit of information. He had to tell Ron as soon as he could, and maybe they could do something now that they knew exactly what they were fighting against. Therapists.

Therapists from Clown Hell.

Malfoy cleared his throat. “We have more to talk about, but first I want your coat.”

“Come again?”

“You’re coat, Potter. Give it to me.”

Harry looked at Malfoy carefully and noticed he still wore muggle clothes. It was a fairly cool day, for July, so Harry had worn a light denim jacket, but the sod just wanted it to piss him off. With jerky movements he slid out of the jacket and threw it at the smirking blond.

“Come on,” Malfoy nudged him back into motion. Harry walked silently, not noticing that Malfoy had fallen behind until he heard a strangely loud sniff. He turned around but Malfoy was walking casually, a board look on his face and Harry’s jacket now adorned on himself.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked, slowing down until they were walking side-by-side.

“You’re going to buy me lunch.”

“Lunch? It’s a quarter past three.”

“Yes, but I usually sleep until twelve, so this is my lunch time.”

Harry muttered darkly under his breath, just a little jealous that Malfoy didn’t have to worry about getting woken up by his redheaded ex-girlfriend in the mornings. He followed Malfoy to a little wizard diner that had just opened up in the outskirts of Diagon ally. They were seated in the back at a corner booth, Malfoy slipping in and settling just a bit too close for comfort next to Harry.

“I’ll have eggs, rashers and bangers,” Malfoy said when the waitress came and took their order. Harry ordered a strawberry-vanilla shake and tried to shift away from Malfoy when her eyes darted between the two suspiciously.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Harry said irately as he watched the waitress retreat.

“Do what?”

Harry growled under his breath. He couldn’t put words to what Malfoy was up to, but he wanted him to stop. He ignored that little tickle in the back of his mind, a whispered voice suggesting perhaps what he really wanted to do was learn more about Malfoy. That was ridiculous.

A piece of paper seemed to materialize in Malfoy’s hand and he slid it across to Harry. One glance at it gave Harry the heebee Jeebees, sending unpleasant shivers down his back. On the paper a man’s face was smiling, even as his lips stayed normal. Clown! .

Harry glanced away. “What’s this?”

“What does it look like? It’s an advertisement for the therapists.”

Taking a closer look, Harry realized that the clown was sitting down, a clipboard in one hand and a rubbery wand in the other. Underneath in green and orange lettering was the word Therapist and under that was a short paragraph explaining that they entertained while giving therapy. Great for parties!

Harry shuttered and tucked the paper away.

Their food arrived, thankfully shutting Malfoy up for a while as he delicately bit into his potatoes and eggs. Harry gripped the tall glass his shake had been brought in, letting his fingers numb with the icy touch.

“You’re tense,” Malfoy said quietly into Harry’s ear. And right at that moment a chill might have washed through the air because Harry shivered. Must have been the coldness of his shake.

Malfoy shoved the remains of his dinner away and whipped his hands on a paper napkin. “Good food,” he said, smiling. “Just tell anyone conspiring to throw you a party to bugger off.”

Harry shook his head. “Its not that simple. Ever since Ginny broke it off, Hermione and her have been acting like I’m this delicate, heartbroken fool. They think they know best and wont listen to anything I have to say.”

“So, what’s the big deal? Find another girl to date. There’s bound to be tons of them who will go along with pretending that you’re as happy as a unicorn frolicking in a field of rainbows.”

“It’s not exactly that simple. I can’t just date someone under false pretenses like that.”

Malfoy snorted, somehow still sounding dignified. “You and your morals, Potter.”

Harry glared down into his shake and gave it a quick stir with his spoon. The red and white mixed in a colorful swirl, slowly changing into pink. Yes, Harry had morals. Maybe Malfoy’s suggestion would work, but he couldn’t bring himself to use someone like that.

“So moody,” Malfoy mumbled and Harry shot him a look out of the corner of his eye. “You could always just admit to them that you’re gay.”

“Ha ha. Fuck you,” he said, his voice a bit higher in pitch, his ears burning.

“Is that an offer?”

“I’m not gay,” Harry said glaring.

Malfoy snickered and looked away. Although, Harry thought there was just the slightest lowering of his shoulders. Staring into the pink slush that was once his shake, Harry dropped the spoon and shoved it away from him.

He wasn’t gay.

His attention was caught when he felt a shifting of the body next to him. Through the corner of his eyes he watched as Malfoy tilted his neck and rolled his shoulder back, exposing a column of milky flesh.

So soft.

Malfoy dropped back into the booth but Harry’s eyes were glued to the section of skin still visible above the collar. He’d never noticed how perfectly smooth Malfoy’s skin was, looking warm and sensual. He wanted to touch it, just to see. He could hear the low vibrations of his chest monster roaring, encouraging him to reach out his hand and indulge in that flawless flesh.

But he still wasn’t gay.

An eerie awareness came to him and his eyes snapped up to see Malfoy looking smugly at him. The smirk on his lips and rise of his eyebrows were a little too knowing for Harry’s taste so he looked away, trying to feign indifference.

“So,” Harry said, regaining some control over the situation. “What did you find out about the party? Its all been some trick to give me therapy sessions on my birthday?”

“Kind of,” Malfoy shrugged, his shoulder rubbing against Harry’s. And no, his chest monster was not roaring at that, he was just having a little indigestion. That’s all.

“Kind of?”

“I don’t know much about it. But I do know what the decorations are going to look like.”

“I don’t care about that kind of stuff. I want to know how to stop the therapist clowns.”

“Hmm,” Malfoy leaned into Harry a little. “Can’t help you there.”

Well then, that meant Harry was wasting his time and he should really just get up and leave. Needed to owl Ron and all that. He was going to. Yep. He wasn’t stalling because it felt so nice to be pressed up against a warm, firm body or anything. That also wasn’t heightened by the fact that it was Draco. Nope.

Harry yelped as suddenly he felt something warm resting on his thigh. He looked over to Malfoy, a hiss of disapproval forming in his throat when a shadow passed over them. He looked up to see their waitress smiling in that professionally tight way that suggested she was getting tired of faking happiness. He certainly was no stranger to a smile like that.

“All done? Shall I take these?” she asked, reaching out for their dishes. Malfoy nodded, brushing his hair back with the hand that wasn’t underneath the table.

The next words out of the waitresses mouth were lost to him as Harry’s whole focus centered around the hand on his thigh, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing. He never knew soft, gentle squeezes could be so fucking erotic.

“Just the check,” Malfoy’s low voice cut into Harry’s drifting mind.

The fingers traveled up, just slightly, and Harry tried to keep his breath even. It’d been a long time since anyone had touched him like that, but he was damned if Draco Malfoy was going to get him all riled up. Never mind that damn chest monster of his, the horny little bugger, that was roaring excitedly at the new development.

The waitress disappeared and just as Harry was about to protest, he felt a hot breath on his throat. The hand squeezed a little firmer, this time on the inside of his thigh. The hot breath turned into an open mouth kiss, warm against his skin. Oh, and that hand just kept creeping closer, closer, sofuckingclose to where he wanted that stimulation most. He closed his eyes and decided he could wait a minute to protest.

Those wandering fingers brushed just slightly against the bulge in his pants, causing an arousing burn to jolt through his cock. He couldn’t help it as a small moan rumbled out the back of his throat. Draco chuckled against his collarbone, but continued to rub lightly over the bulge.

Instinctually, Harry thrust up and moaned again as a greater pressure was applied to his throbbing erection. His head lolled to the side and he suddenly realized his lips were in contact with the flawless, milky skin of Draco’s neck. Without thought, he placed a kiss, then another, and another. Draco’s skin tasted fresh and clean, with just the slightest hint of salt.

He heard a throat clear loudly, and just like that the wonderful hand was gone. Harry looked up, glaring daggers at whoever thought it would be funny to interrupt, only to see a very embarrassed looking waitress. It was then he realized he had practically crawled into Malfoy’s lap, was gyrating against his hand, and to top it all off, sucking on the blond’s neck. He would have stood up and ran out, mortified, had it not been for the fact that if he stood everyone would see the little problem bulging in his pants. The waitress, still beet red, laid down their bill on the table and practically sprinted away, narrowly missing a stack of levitated dishes.

Malfoy, the prat, was laughing manically next to him. “I knew you had it in you to be gay.”

Harry shot him an icy glare that he hoped could have frozen fire, but Malfoy only looked more amused. He threw down a few gallons- probably four times what the bill was worth- and carefully stood up. Before anyone, including Malfoy, could get a look at his lap, he spun and apparated.


***


“What’s this about rapist clowns?”

“Rapist? No, Ron. Therapists. The clowns are therapists.”

“Therapists for rapists clowns?”

“No. Forget about rapists,” Harry said tiredly. Ron was the one leaning into the fireplace this time, his head floating above the logs in a curtain of green flames. Harry had sent him a note earlier explaining what he had found out from Malfoy. “The clown thing is just a cover, apparently. They’re really therapists that Hermione and Ginny have hired.”

“Therapists? Where did you get this information from?”

That was something Harry had been foolishly hoping wouldn’t come up. “A reliable source.”

“One of the Malfoy’s?” Ron said, narrowing his eyes.

“Yes.”

Ron snorted. “Which one?”

“Draco.”

Ron snorted again. “I bet he’s yanking your chain. What’d the tosser make you do for the information?”

Harry could feel his ears burning and let out a nervous laugh. “You know, this and that.”

“What a wanker. Do you have proof?”

Harry pulled out the advertisement, which he had refused to look at since Malfoy had first presented it, and handed it through the floo. Ron pulled back to read, then peaked his head in again, shuttering. “We can’t let Hermione or Ginny know we know, or they might make us see the rapist clowns more often. So what now?”

“Dunno, but the party is the day after tomorrow so we need to come up with something.”

Ron nodded, his green flamed head bobbing up and down in a pensive way. They were quiet for a while, staring dumbly at each other. Harry kneeled down, fanning his fingers out on the white carpet and tried to keep his mind on the clowns and not the earlier events of that day. He had been determinately ignoring any thoughts of a certain blond.

Finally, Ron broke the silence. “I might be able to talk Ginny into canceling the clowns, just to spite Hermione.” Ron had a very displeased look on his face, and Harry didn’t blame him. The one witch you never wanted to cross was Hermione Granger. “They’ve been fighting like cats and dogs all week. It’s a good thing I can conveniently disappear whenever they call me out to choose a side. Thanks again for letting me use your cloak.”

Harry nodded. “Right. You better go hide that flyer, Hermione’ll be home soon.”

Ron’s eyes grew wider and he ripped his head out of the fireplace faster than a speeding snitch. Unsurprisingly, the floo connection ended and the green flames were replaced with ordinary yellow and orange ones. Harry watched them for a moment before deciding to take a nap. Ginny would probably be by in the morning bright and early so he should catch up on as much sleep as he could get.

He absolutely did not dream of warm hands or milky skin, or wake up rutting to completion against the bed.


***


July 31st came, as all days do. The sun rose, the birds sang, and the world kept turning. Oh such a naive world, carrying on like nothing was amiss.

“The rapist clowns are coming,” Ron whinnied quietly. He was sitting next to Harry at the burrow’s kitchen table, bound by Hermione’s spell. They were both wearing a muggle party hat shaped like a cone, charmed to shoot out fireworks every once in a while. Last night when they both realized they had once again failed to escape the fate of the wizardclowns! , they had made another run for it. They apparated as far as Ireland before Hermione and Ginny caught up to them.

“Another year of their torture,” Ron sobbed. “Not only that, Hermione is talking about hiring them for my next birthday.”

“Hmm,” Harry said, unable to speak as currently he had a gag shoved into his mouth. Ginny’s idea after he started trying to bribe guests to let him go.

“All that face paint and curly hair. And I tell you, it’s so creepy how they never blink.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you think they’ll do that fire trick again?” Harry could see Ron shutter out of the corner of his eye.

Loud, thumping footsteps gradually grew nearer and Harry craned his neck over to the doorway to see the large frame of Hagrid.

“Mmph, Nmmph,” he said, failing to voice his hello.

“Happy birthday Harry!” Hagrid’s voice boomed. He walked over to where he and Ron were still bound, slapping down his hand on Harry’s shoulder with enough force that the chair underneath him creaked. “I remember when you was jus' a baby, now look a’ yeh.”

“Hagrid!” Ron cried. “You’ve got to get us out of here. Can you hand me my wand? It’s in the top cabinet next to the stove.”

Hagrid was shaking his head, causing his beard to sway back and forth. “I don' know why yer so worried. Those clowns are a lot o' fun.”

“Fun?” Ron squeaked. “They’re scary is what they are!”

“Hermione went through all this trouble to throw yeh a party, now don' go ruinin' it fer her.

“Her? It’s suppose to be Harry’s bir-”

“Hagrid!” Ginny’s high pitched voice interrupted as she skipped into the room. “So glad you could make it.”

He smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it fer anythin'. Grawp wanted to come too, but yeh understand. Said I’d brin' him back some cake.”

Ginny nodded, clasping her hands together. “We’ll all have to visit him soon.”

“He'd like tha'.”

“I’m sure. Why don’t you follow me out back. Madame Maxime has come with Flur and Bill.”

Hagrid’s response was muffled when Ginny shut the door behind them, once again leaving Ron and Harry alone in the kitchen. Out side they could hear shouts of laughter and glee, and the occasional screech of joy.

“Harry, mate?” Ron said.

“Hrrmmph?”

“Next year I think we should make a run for it a month early.”

“Hmm.”

“Really, boys,” an exasperated sigh came from the shadows, startling both boys.

“Oi! Hermione, stop popping out of the shadows like that!” Ron cried.

“I need your help, Ronald.”

“Forget it,” Ron said, in a rather sulky tone.

“You want to stay tied up here? Promise me you wont try anything and I’ll set you free.”

Ron turned his head towards Harry, a questioning gleam in his eye. Harry could barely shrug.

“Fine.”

“Good boy,” Hermione purred, as if talking to a dog rather than her fiancé.

As they exited the room, Ron shot Harry one last apologetic look before being yanked out the door. That just left Harry, able to turn his head slightly to the left and that was it. Fantastic.

He closed his eyes and sighed, wishing his hand was at least free so he could itch where the gag tickled his cheek. Well actually, he wished he could just remove the blasted gag.

And then it was gone.

Harry opened his eyes, expecting that the task had been accomplished by some miracle of wandless magic, only to find himself staring into silver eyes. The same silver eyes that had been starring in his wet- er non-sexual dreams for the past two nights.

“Malfoy?”

“Happy Birthday, Harry. Although, having you all tied up like this seems like more of a present to me.”

“What’s th- mmph!” Malfoy’s lips attached to his, hot and wet. He nipped at Harry’s bottom lip and when Harry gasped, slipped his tongue inside. So good. Tongues slid against each other in a provocative way, lips and teeth clashing in their passion. Harry felt a hand slid up the nape of his neck and into his hair, tugging slightly.

When Draco pulled away, Harry was breathless, completely unaware of how he had been released from his bonds, and was now pressed against the wall. What he wasn’t surprised about was how hard and wanting he had become, his chest monster roaring in approval.

Draco pressed into Harry’s body, grinding his hips slowly against the brunette’s. Great Gimbi Giant-Slayers, Harry’s body completely melted into the pleasure’s it was receiving.

“Wha- ungh- what are you doing here?” Harry said, thrusting back into that warm, firm body.

“Saving you from the clowns.”

Oh. Harry closed his eyes and threw his head back. Good. Well if dry humping was some sort of clown therapist repellent, then Harry was perfectly game. Draco’s mouth slid to his chin, kissing a line down to his neck. He sucked on Harry’s adam’s apple, causing Harry to arch his back and cry out. Yes, Harry would definitely have to partake in such anti-clown activates with Draco every day from now on.

Just as Harry started to feel a warm tickle at the base of his groan, there was a rather strange sound that echoed through the kitchen, something in-between a gasp and a squelch. Harry wouldn’t have cared, had it not been for the fact that Draco had paused, and no matter how desperately Harry tried to rut against him, wouldn’t respond. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and turned his head.

The first thing he noticed was a rather sad mess of what seemed to once be his cake. White frosting was splashed across the floor in sugary globs. In their center lay a mass of white oozing out a shinny red substance, the silver cake platter dipped to one side on top. Too bad, he really liked strawberry-vanilla cakes.

His eyes traveled upwards, taking in the small crowd that had gathered. Hermione was in front, her face showing no emotions. Next to her Ginny’s brown eyes were wide, looking rather scandalized. Ron was on her left, apparently having taken on the characteristics of a fish. His mouth opened and closed repetitively, his eyes as large as tennis balls.

“Oh,” Harry said at a loss for words. But really, what was someone suppose to say in a situation like this. Go away I’m busy seemed to jump to the forefront of his mind, but he doubted that would really help anything.

“OH?!” Ginny screeched, her scandalized expression morphing into a rather red face. Hermione stood quietly, a blank expression still on her face. Then suddenly she let out a whoop and jumped up and down excitedly.

“You’ve all gone nutters!” Ron exclaimed, taking a step back.

“I TOLD you!” Hermione shouted, pointing to Ginny and smiling. “I told you so, I told you so,” She sang as she moved her hips around, still jumping now and then.

“You!” Ginny sputtered, pointing right back and Hermione.

Harry’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

“Got me,” Draco said, shrugging. “We should have taken this back to my place.”

“Nutters, the lot of you!” Ron cried.

“I told you, I told you, I told you, I told you.” Hermione sang.

Draco shrugged again, then disappeared with a pop! Unfortunately, that left Harry with a rather obvious erection in his pants exposed to his friends. Upon noticing the girls blushed and quieted, while Ron’s eyes seemed to bulge even more.

Luckily, or unluckily, Harry really couldn’t keep track anymore, at that moment his erection wilted instantly anyway as an eerie melody penetrated the room. A trill of accordion and bells rang out, followed by creepyasfuck laughter.

“Rapist clowns!” Ron shouted, diving under the table. Harry retched open the cabinet door next to the stove, grabbed his and Ron’s wands, then joined his red-headed friend. Ron mouthed rapist clowns with trembling lips and Harry handed him his wand. Silently they both nodded, turned, and apparated away.


***


The first thing Harry did when he got home, was triple his wards. The second thing he did was gradually get more angry at the fact that Malfoy had just left him there. And well, maybe he was disappointed that they had to stop. Which brought him to the third thing he did, which was to grab a pinch of floo powder, throw it into his fire, and shout, “Dragon’s flat.”

Rushing, swirling, burs of green and then he was stumbling out while still spinning. His left foot caught on his right, tripping him and causing him to fall helplessly backwards until his head hit the ground in a rather painful manner. The force of the impact was so great he had somehow lost his glasses in the process.

“Ow,” he whimpered, feeling a painful drumming in the back of his skull.

“That was quite the show,” came a low voice above. Harry felt a pressure on his hips and opened his eyes to see Malfoy straddling him. He pointed his wand at Harry’s temple and muttered a spell underneath his breath. Instantly, the throbbing pain in Harry’s head receded. “If I would have know you’d follow me so soon, I’d have been there to catch you.”

Glaring, Harry tried to sit up, only to have Draco pin his wrists above his head. “As long as we’re already down here...” he whispered huskily into Harry’s ear, maneuvering so his thigh was placed in a rather delicate area. Harry’s pants grew tight as his chest monster roared excitedly.

“Why did you just leave?” he gasped out.

Draco’s thigh began rubbing through the material of Harry’s jeans. It was impossible not to arch up into that wonderful pleasure. “Leaving someone suddenly? You’ve never done that in your life, right?”

Harry managed to turn his head just enough to see the smirk on Draco’s face. “So that was payback for the restaurant?”

“Mmhmm.” Draco leaned back in, sucking on the sensitive spot just below Harry’s ear. The brunette moaned, his eyes sliding shut and his hips thrusting upwards. Draco rubbed, rubbed, rubbed, and each time his thigh pressed into Harry’s groan a spike of lust shot up his spine. He could feel his orgasm building up, closer with each brilliant thrust.

And then Draco pulled away.

Harry growled, rather like his chest monster, and reached up to drag him back down. Draco laughed while flicking his wand. The next thing Harry knew as they were both naked, and the skin-to-skin contact was most likely the most brilliant thing Harry had ever felt. The clothes must have been nearby because Draco was lifting his head, placing his bundled up shirt under Harry’s head. He ran his hands up Draco’s sides, mesmerized by the warmth of his milky skin. It was softer than he had originally imagined, like touching dandelion fluff.

“Much better,” Draco mumbled, laying down so more of that flawless skin was pressed against his. He could feel Draco’s arousal against his hip and gave an experimental thrust. The lust-filled moan from Draco that followed was so wonderful he did it again, just to hear another one.

Draco’s hips lifted a little, but before Harry could so much as whimper he felt a hot, soft hand curl around his cock. Sweet Sweetwater All-Stars, he changed his vote for that being the most brilliant thing he had ever felt. Harry’s head lolled to the side as Draco stroked him slowly upwards. A part of him thought he should be slightly embarrassed by the wanton moans he was voicing, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. Draco’s hand was wickedly skilled, knowing just how to squeeze and where to apply all the right amount of pressure.

Draco shifted again, and Harry looked down just in time to see him aligning their cocks. Watching two flushed erections rubbing together, feeling two erections rubbing together was unbelievably erotic in a way that just screamed how the fuck did I not realize I was gay before now.

When Draco gripped them both tightly in his hand, squeezing as he pulled up and down Harry’s eyes rolled back into his head. His hands found purchase in silky blond hair, pulling Draco down into a passionate kiss. Draco sped up, faster and faster, squeezing harder and harder all the while kissing Harry like there was no tomorrow.

The pleasure continued to build in his gut, burn after burn of arousal pumping into his erection. He felt Draco’s hand start to falter, squeezing hard on the heads of their cocks until both were spurting their completion into Draco’s hand.

Holy Heidelberg Harriers, he didn’t think he’d ever stop coming.

As they lay there panting, Harry draped his arms possessively around Draco. Hell if he was ever going to give the blond up now. They stayed like that for a while, despite Harry feeling slightly crushed. He didn’t mind, he kind of liked Draco’s warm body blanketing him. Eventually, Draco spoke, his hot breath ghosting over Harry’s neck.

“You know, I just realized something.”

“Nnm?” Was the best Harry could do, and considering he was pretty sure his brain had leaked out of his cock during his orgasm, he thought that wasn’t too bad.

“I never gave you a birthday gift.”

“Hmn. Don’ worry ‘bout it.”

“Nonsense,” Draco said, lifting his head and laying a kiss on Harry’s temple. “How about we go shopping tomorrow afternoon. We’ll sleep in and have breakfast, then I’ll take you anywhere you want.”

As far as birthday present’s go, that sounded pretty good to Harry.


~Fin

A/N: A birthday fic Written for dysonrules on LJ. I apologize profusely, but this was a bit of a rush job so it’s a little rough around the edges.
The next story I'm working on will be a companion piece to Harry Sickness