Entry tags:

1001-5000, h/d

Schemes, H/D, PG13, 1340 words
x-posted from http://ebethfic.livejournal.com/10720.html

Title: Schemes
Pairing: H/D
Word Count: 1340 words
Rating: PG13
Challenge: A series of nine (mostly 100-word) drabbles for various awdt Christmas prompts
Summary: Draco wants to get back into society's good graces. Seducing Harry seems like a good plan.

I already put the first bit of this in my first AWDT Christmas drabble post on this journal, but then I wrote a bunch of sequels. Here they are in one post for easier reading, and slightly edited to fix some mistakes. The pacing's really wonky, though; I suppose serial fiction takes practice and planning.

Prompts: writing out Christmas cards, present lists, visiting Santa, wrapping presents, re-gifting, the naughty/nice lists, carol singing, the stockings were hung by the chimney with care, under the mistletoe



Draco's quill scraped over his parchment as he crossed off the last name. This year, his usually sparse Christmas card list was skeletal. Too many dead, fled, or simply avoiding him.

He'd tried to start over, but acceptance wasn't easy to find among those he'd once scorned. He needed someone respected to reintroduce him to society.

At that thought he smirked. Potter had just come out, apparently in response to the Prophet's pestering him about the Weasley girl. A little flattery, some careful seduction, and Draco'd have his beloved sponsor. He picked up the quill and addressed the final card.

---

Draco grinned at the Christmas card Potter had sent. The card, he was surprised to see, was tasteful: three fluffed-up birds perched on snowy branches. The note was not. Malfoy, it read, You must be up to something. I'm watching you. Merry Christmas.

Still, he'd sent a card. Even if it wasn't quite in the spirit of the season, it gave Draco an opening. Next step: a gift. Grabbing a sheet of parchment, Draco began to list anything that would help him seduce Potter---treacle tarts, Quidditch memorabilia, pornography. Potter was his. It was just a matter of time.

---

Draco stalked through the Muggle shopping centre, dodging harried parents and irritable children. He needed to find something that would entice Potter into his arms. Diagon Alley had yielded nothing distinctive enough, so Draco had braved the Muggle world. Potter would appreciate that effort, he was sure.

He'd been scouring the shops for hours, finding nothing. Chocolate? Too impersonal. Clothing? Coming on too strong. Jewelry? Would scare Potter off. He'd even looked in a kitchen store filled with bizarre contraptions, but not knowing what one might want with a Food Processor with Mini-Bowl or a Razor-Sharp Rasp, he had no idea which of the items might appeal to Potter.

Inspiration finally struck as he paused, his path blocked by the long queue of children waiting their turn to visit Santa. A nearby quartet was warbling some Muggle tune, and the words "My true love gave to me" caught Draco's ears with their promise of traditional Muggle gift suggestions.

The song was interminably long and repetitive. Even the singers seemed bored, but it gave Draco time to think. Gold rings? See jewelry. Milk maids? Potter was gay. Pipers? Could be a euphemism, but Draco wasn't sure where to find reliable, discreet services of that nature.

Still running through the lyrics in his head, Draco turned away and came face to face with a pet shop, its window full of brightly coloured budgerigars. Calling birds. Perfect!

***

Malfoy, read the Owl that arrived several days after Draco bought the birds, What the Thank you for the budgerigars. Hermione says they aren't Animagi, and that there are no spells on them.

I didn't get you anything.

Merry Christmas.

Potter

---

The budgerigars weren't the best plan Draco'd ever had.

He now sat in his disaster of a kitchen, wrapping a tin of biscuits. Draco'd never baked before, but Potter surely preferred homemade biscuits to store-bought. He'd also never wrapped a present. Like baking, that was a job for retail workers, house elves, or people who still had friends.

He eyed the package. The red, lopsided bow looked garish against the green and gold plaid paper, which bunched up at the ends of the tin. But who could refuse biscuits? He took a deep breath, Apparated, and rang Potter's bell.

---

"Malfoy."

Draco's heart pounded. "I brought you this."

"You already gave me a present. What are you up to?"

"Maybe I'm just being nice."

Potter laughed, a sharp bark that echoed in Draco's ears, and leaned against the door frame.

"Just take it. I baked them myself." His voice sounded defeated even to him, but he refused to give up. He needed Potter, much as it galled him to admit that. "You can always give them to someone else if you don't like sweet things."

"Why are you doing this?" Potter asked, taking the tin.

"Because I need a friend."

---

Shit. Had he said that out loud? What happened to his plan of careful seduction?

Potter was staring at him. Was that sympathy? Draco felt a stirring of hope. If Potter still had a hero complex, he could play up his desperation. Nothing wrong with a change of plan.

He tried to keep his expression sweet, not calculating, as he smiled at Potter. "It's been tough since the War."

"I suppose you weren't on Santa's nice list. Got tired of coal in your stocking?"

"I've been trying to make up for my past, but people don't trust me."

Harry laughed.

---

"So you thought you'd be nice to me, and I'd what? Forget you were a Death Eater, forget how you treated me in school, be your friend, invite you to Ministry functions?"

"I thought you liked to help people."

Potter laughed again. "I like to help people who deserve it."

From down the street came carolers singing of goodwill towards men. Potter turned towards the joyful sound, and Draco made his next move.

"That's not quite the Christmas spirit, is it?"

To his surprise, Potter didn't argue. In fact, he looked sheepish. He opened the door further. "Fine. Come in."

---

Draco hadn't counted on having to convince Potter to help him. He'd expected the newly outed Saviour to be drawn to Draco both because he was gorgeous and because he was in need. Now it seemed that seduction might frighten Potter away. Too bad, because the man was quite fit.

At least appealing to Potter's Christmas spirit had guilted him into listening to Draco.

They sat in matching leather armchairs before Potter's fireplace. The room was tastefully decorated, Draco was surprised to see. The tree in the corner twinkled with tiny fairy lights and glittering icicles, garlands swagged the windows and doors, and three embroidered stockings hung from the mantle.

"Why do you have three stockings?"

Potter blushed. "Ron and Hermione insisted on hanging some here, so mine wouldn't be the only one."

How pathetic. Nevermind that Draco's flat had no stockings at all.

"So," Potter began, "You want my help---what exactly did you have in mind?"

"I need to show people that I'm accepted, that someone respectable is willing to spend time with me."

"And you chose me."

"Obviously."

Potter leaned back in his chair, studying Draco. "You want me to pretend to be your friend, spend time with you?"

"Yes."

"That's hardly going to help my love life."

Draco blinked. "Er....I don't see how it will hurt. We don't have to pretend to be dating."

"Still, it will be time I could be spending with potential boyfriends, and people will talk---we're both gay, after all---if I try to meet anyone else, they'll assume I'm cheating on you. Ruining my reputation would not be to your benefit." Potter got up and began to pace.

Draco watched him, entirely at a loss. Potter's logic seemed to have gone rather off the rails. How had they gotten onto this subject? At any rate, it was clear Potter would be no help. He stood up and turned towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"You said you wouldn't help."

Potter grinned in an entirely unfriendly way. "I said nothing of the sort. I will help." He stalked towards Draco, backing him into a wall. "But there needs to be compensation."

---

Draco whimpered. Potter couldn't really be implying.... "What sort of compensation?"

Potter's lips curved into a smile. "What do you think?"

Draco swallowed, his eyes flicking to that red mouth. Potter was proposing...well, prostitution might be a bit strong. Since he'd planned to seduce the man, he could hardly call himself unwilling.

But Draco insisted on pulling all the strings. He spotted mistletoe dangling from a doorway, and in one swift lunge he maneuvered Potter under it and caught those gorgeous lips with his own. Potter moaned, melting against him; Draco smiled in triumph around his tongue. I win.