Post by Michi on Jul 17, 2007 22:24:36 GMT -8
Here it is! And it's all in good fun - no need to beware if trannys frighten you.
~
Lucius Malfoy was a very proud man.
He could not be faulted for this, really - he had a lot of things to be proud of. His high social standing, his intimacy with the most terrifying wizard the world has ever seen, his wealth. His remarkably expensive pimp cane/wand case. But the thing he was most proud of was something all the money and influence in the world could not buy him; his long, platinum blond hair.
That is why he happened to be standing in front of the bathroom mirror at ten o’clock on a Thursday night, making sure his hair was just right for an evening out on the town. He had abandoned his usual style - that is, hair down, gloriously, flowing over manly yet shapely shoulders - and had opted for something slightly more upbeat.
Which is why he had his hair parted, and tied up into two pigtails, which he was now braiding with great care. He had already applied his makeup - generous coating or foundation, eyeliner, mascara, eye shadow, blush, and lipstick - and gotten dressed. Instead of his usual black robes he was wearing a yellow sundress. A little drafty for winter in England, perhaps, but one must suffer for beauty.
He finished off the last pigtail with relish, declared himself ‘absolutely ravishing!’ and crept out of the bathroom and down the stairs, bright pink pumps in one hand, green cape in the other. With a final, furtive look around his silent mansion, he donned both, and slipped out the door.
~
Draco Malfoy sighed and slid into a seat at the bar. It had been a long, particularly grueling day, and he needed alcohol. Now. He waved the barkeeper over and ordered a very large firewhisky. The barkeeper delivered his drink quickly, seeing the look on the blond’s face, and left him to his own devices. Draco ignored the firewhisky, much to its dismay, and sunk into a gloomy reverie.
The reason his day was so incredibly unfortunate was the fault of one green-eyed bespectacled man. The Boy Whose Cat Sheds Everywhere. Draco had forgotten to set his alarm clock the night before, and so woke up at only forty minutes to his lunch meeting. Forty minutes may seem like plenty of time to some people, but Draco Malfoy was sadly not one of those people. It took him ten minutes to shower, and fifteen to get his hair Just So. So he stood in front of his closet, fifteen minutes to go, and pulled out a clean Armani suit. Black, like all the others.
However, upon donning the suit he had discovered that the suit was, in fact, black with little white hairs on it. He swore loudly, took off the suit, and put on another. Another black suit covered in white cat hair. Three and a half suits later, he threw his jacket on the ground in frustration.
“POTTER!”
“What?” Harry called from a few rooms over.
“THERE IS CAT HAIR ALL OVER MY ARMANI!”
“Well, yes. We have a cat.”
“YOU. YOU HAVE A CAT. THIS CANNOT HAPPEN.”
“Look, it’s no big deal - use the lint roller in the cupboard in the bathroom.” Harry advised. Grumbling loudly, Draco stomped to the bathroom to fish out the lint roller. It took fully twenty minutes to clean his suit of every last cat hair, and by the time Draco had dressed and apparated to the appointed meeting spot he was fully ten minutes late, made a bad impression, and was already agitated.
And the day had only gone downhill from there.
He was in such a stupor that he barely noticed when two people entered, loudly giggling. The barkeeper noticed, however, and waved.
“Harriet, Joanne! I haven’t seen you in a while!” The two women - very large women - sauntered up to the bar, smiling. One was in a yellow sundress, with braided pigtails, and the other was very pale, and wearing a strapless red dress.
“Oh, we haven’t been out much,” The one in red said. Draco’s eye twitched - that voice sounded mildly familiar...he took several gulps of firewhisky. Suppress the childhood memories. Suppress. “Harriet here has been so very busy, isn’t that right dear?” There was a sort of freakish drag-queen giggle.
“Yes - it’s terribly hard to get away.”
The glass of firewhisky fell back onto the table with a heavy thud. Draco sputtered and coughed violently, trying to rid his lungs of the liquid.
“Uh-oh.” ‘Harriet’ said, looking over at Draco, “Perhaps we had better leave...”
“What- the hell?” Draco coughed out, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Dad?” Lucius Malfoy wrapped a strand of long blonde hair around his index finger and gave his son a guilty sort of grin.
“Er, hello son. Been a while since I’ve seen you. Of course you remember - er - Joanne.” Now that they were both facing him, Draco could see clearly that Joanne was, in actuality, the Dark Lord Voldemort all dressed up in drag. He supposed he should have realized this sooner - after all, how many people can have that distinctive lack of a proper nose?
“Well, I have every intention of getting so drunk that I never remember him - her - Joanne - again.” Draco said honestly, groping blindly for the sweet, sweet mind-numbing alcohol. Lucius hesitated, and then clasped Draco’s shoulder.
“Um, listen, if you were to not tell your mother about this I would be very grateful...”
“You disinherited me for dating Harry Potter. I have nothing more to say to you.”
“Lucius, your son is dating Harry Potter?” Voldemort snarled. “How could you possibly allow this to happen?”
“I didn’t, hence the disinheriting!”
“Sorry I’m late!” The three of them turned as the door opened and Harry walked in. He gave Draco a quick kiss on the cheek, before turning to see who he had been talking to.
“...the fuck?”
“Avada kedavra!” Voldemort screeched. Everyone ducked.
“Er, do I know you?” Harry asked, eyeing the cocktail umbrella that he was being prodded with.
“Oh God.” Draco said. “Harry, this is my father’s friend, The Dark Lord Joanne.” Harry’s eyes widened in recognition and he backed up a pace, looking panicked.
“I thought I got rid of you!” He said, through tightly clenched teeth. Voldemort cackled.
“YOU CAN NEVER BE RID OF THE DARK LORD - Joanne...” He finished lamely, before prodding Harry with renewed vigor.
“Why are you both in drag?”
“Yes definitely time for us to be going,” Draco said, grabbing Harry’s hand and forcibly walking towards the door.
“But - we - evil -!” Draco sighed, and leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.
“Look, if you’ll leave without making a scene, I suppose we can try That Thing with the handcuffs when we get home.” His pale cheeks were faintly tinged with pink a he said this. Harry grinned.
“And the whipped cream?”
“No! You know how it clashes with my coloring!” Harry crossed his arms and looked away.
“Then I’m not going anywhere.” Draco swore vividly.
“God - fine! Let’s just go.” And with that he slammed out the door, leaving a smirking Harry to follow him.
~
“So...” The barkeeper began, “What exactly was that?” Lucius - now Harriet once more - glanced sideways at Joanne, who was still clutching the umbrella and muttering about cold-blooded murder.
“Well you see...” Lucius thought hard, before finally sighing and pulling out his wand. “Bugger it. Obliviate!” The barkeeper blinked, then smiled.
“Harriet, Joanne! I haven’t seen you in a while!” He greeted them. Again. “What can I get for you?”
“I’ll have a Vodka Martini. And for Joanne... something soothing, she’s had rather a rough day.” The barkeeper nodded, still looking mildly disoriented.
“Coming right up,”
FIN
~
Lucius Malfoy was a very proud man.
He could not be faulted for this, really - he had a lot of things to be proud of. His high social standing, his intimacy with the most terrifying wizard the world has ever seen, his wealth. His remarkably expensive pimp cane/wand case. But the thing he was most proud of was something all the money and influence in the world could not buy him; his long, platinum blond hair.
That is why he happened to be standing in front of the bathroom mirror at ten o’clock on a Thursday night, making sure his hair was just right for an evening out on the town. He had abandoned his usual style - that is, hair down, gloriously, flowing over manly yet shapely shoulders - and had opted for something slightly more upbeat.
Which is why he had his hair parted, and tied up into two pigtails, which he was now braiding with great care. He had already applied his makeup - generous coating or foundation, eyeliner, mascara, eye shadow, blush, and lipstick - and gotten dressed. Instead of his usual black robes he was wearing a yellow sundress. A little drafty for winter in England, perhaps, but one must suffer for beauty.
He finished off the last pigtail with relish, declared himself ‘absolutely ravishing!’ and crept out of the bathroom and down the stairs, bright pink pumps in one hand, green cape in the other. With a final, furtive look around his silent mansion, he donned both, and slipped out the door.
~
Draco Malfoy sighed and slid into a seat at the bar. It had been a long, particularly grueling day, and he needed alcohol. Now. He waved the barkeeper over and ordered a very large firewhisky. The barkeeper delivered his drink quickly, seeing the look on the blond’s face, and left him to his own devices. Draco ignored the firewhisky, much to its dismay, and sunk into a gloomy reverie.
The reason his day was so incredibly unfortunate was the fault of one green-eyed bespectacled man. The Boy Whose Cat Sheds Everywhere. Draco had forgotten to set his alarm clock the night before, and so woke up at only forty minutes to his lunch meeting. Forty minutes may seem like plenty of time to some people, but Draco Malfoy was sadly not one of those people. It took him ten minutes to shower, and fifteen to get his hair Just So. So he stood in front of his closet, fifteen minutes to go, and pulled out a clean Armani suit. Black, like all the others.
However, upon donning the suit he had discovered that the suit was, in fact, black with little white hairs on it. He swore loudly, took off the suit, and put on another. Another black suit covered in white cat hair. Three and a half suits later, he threw his jacket on the ground in frustration.
“POTTER!”
“What?” Harry called from a few rooms over.
“THERE IS CAT HAIR ALL OVER MY ARMANI!”
“Well, yes. We have a cat.”
“YOU. YOU HAVE A CAT. THIS CANNOT HAPPEN.”
“Look, it’s no big deal - use the lint roller in the cupboard in the bathroom.” Harry advised. Grumbling loudly, Draco stomped to the bathroom to fish out the lint roller. It took fully twenty minutes to clean his suit of every last cat hair, and by the time Draco had dressed and apparated to the appointed meeting spot he was fully ten minutes late, made a bad impression, and was already agitated.
And the day had only gone downhill from there.
He was in such a stupor that he barely noticed when two people entered, loudly giggling. The barkeeper noticed, however, and waved.
“Harriet, Joanne! I haven’t seen you in a while!” The two women - very large women - sauntered up to the bar, smiling. One was in a yellow sundress, with braided pigtails, and the other was very pale, and wearing a strapless red dress.
“Oh, we haven’t been out much,” The one in red said. Draco’s eye twitched - that voice sounded mildly familiar...he took several gulps of firewhisky. Suppress the childhood memories. Suppress. “Harriet here has been so very busy, isn’t that right dear?” There was a sort of freakish drag-queen giggle.
“Yes - it’s terribly hard to get away.”
The glass of firewhisky fell back onto the table with a heavy thud. Draco sputtered and coughed violently, trying to rid his lungs of the liquid.
“Uh-oh.” ‘Harriet’ said, looking over at Draco, “Perhaps we had better leave...”
“What- the hell?” Draco coughed out, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Dad?” Lucius Malfoy wrapped a strand of long blonde hair around his index finger and gave his son a guilty sort of grin.
“Er, hello son. Been a while since I’ve seen you. Of course you remember - er - Joanne.” Now that they were both facing him, Draco could see clearly that Joanne was, in actuality, the Dark Lord Voldemort all dressed up in drag. He supposed he should have realized this sooner - after all, how many people can have that distinctive lack of a proper nose?
“Well, I have every intention of getting so drunk that I never remember him - her - Joanne - again.” Draco said honestly, groping blindly for the sweet, sweet mind-numbing alcohol. Lucius hesitated, and then clasped Draco’s shoulder.
“Um, listen, if you were to not tell your mother about this I would be very grateful...”
“You disinherited me for dating Harry Potter. I have nothing more to say to you.”
“Lucius, your son is dating Harry Potter?” Voldemort snarled. “How could you possibly allow this to happen?”
“I didn’t, hence the disinheriting!”
“Sorry I’m late!” The three of them turned as the door opened and Harry walked in. He gave Draco a quick kiss on the cheek, before turning to see who he had been talking to.
“...the fuck?”
“Avada kedavra!” Voldemort screeched. Everyone ducked.
“Er, do I know you?” Harry asked, eyeing the cocktail umbrella that he was being prodded with.
“Oh God.” Draco said. “Harry, this is my father’s friend, The Dark Lord Joanne.” Harry’s eyes widened in recognition and he backed up a pace, looking panicked.
“I thought I got rid of you!” He said, through tightly clenched teeth. Voldemort cackled.
“YOU CAN NEVER BE RID OF THE DARK LORD - Joanne...” He finished lamely, before prodding Harry with renewed vigor.
“Why are you both in drag?”
“Yes definitely time for us to be going,” Draco said, grabbing Harry’s hand and forcibly walking towards the door.
“But - we - evil -!” Draco sighed, and leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.
“Look, if you’ll leave without making a scene, I suppose we can try That Thing with the handcuffs when we get home.” His pale cheeks were faintly tinged with pink a he said this. Harry grinned.
“And the whipped cream?”
“No! You know how it clashes with my coloring!” Harry crossed his arms and looked away.
“Then I’m not going anywhere.” Draco swore vividly.
“God - fine! Let’s just go.” And with that he slammed out the door, leaving a smirking Harry to follow him.
~
“So...” The barkeeper began, “What exactly was that?” Lucius - now Harriet once more - glanced sideways at Joanne, who was still clutching the umbrella and muttering about cold-blooded murder.
“Well you see...” Lucius thought hard, before finally sighing and pulling out his wand. “Bugger it. Obliviate!” The barkeeper blinked, then smiled.
“Harriet, Joanne! I haven’t seen you in a while!” He greeted them. Again. “What can I get for you?”
“I’ll have a Vodka Martini. And for Joanne... something soothing, she’s had rather a rough day.” The barkeeper nodded, still looking mildly disoriented.
“Coming right up,”
FIN
