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A Short, One-Off, H/D Piece. - Wemyss's Appalling Hobby:
From the Party Guilty of Committing 'Gate of Ivory, Gate of Horn'
wemyss
wemyss
A Short, One-Off, H/D Piece.

For, as it happens, furiosity’s

‘Draco Schlongathon’,

as pimped to my attention, at least, by painless_j.

Rather indecent. Do be warned.

The Wand Chooses the Wizard

It is a truth universally acknowledged.

The punters know it. All of the punters know it. The dirty-mac brigade know it. So too do the nervously sweaty suburban husbands-and-fathers on the commuter trains and the Tube, whose wives and children would Never Hold Their Heads Up Again if they knew what was hidden behind those earnestly respectable façades. So, very well indeed, do the exquisites, sprigs or hangers-on of the Great and the Good, discreet and silver-haired: the Eminent Bachelors with objects of art and virtue cunningly disposed about their Westminster or Mayfair flats, who live their desperate lives as Spare Men at terrifyingly lofty dinner parties and hope that, at the end, they have at least a gong and a decent obit in The Times to show for it all. The punters know this universal truth.

The rent-boys know it. All of them do. The alleyway bits-o’-rough and the street-corner trade, the hopeless lads who would give anything not to do this to survive – save give up the necessity – and the comfortably cynical alike; the nine-hundred-guineas-a-night ‘escorts’ and the youths far from home, sleeping rough: they all know this universal truth.

Draco Malfoy had never been a punter, nor yet a rent-boy. He’d never wanted to pay for it, before the War: he’d had only to quirk an eyebrow, usually, to get it. And he’d sold himself precisely twice: once, as the price of his parents’s lives, to Voldemort, and then, to buy back his own life and soul, to the Order. Yet he knew – having all his life been hedged ’round by his parents’s marriage and by the characteristic ménages of their circle – the currency that passed for intimacy and various pale imitations of love. And he knew and had long known, from dormitory nights, communal showers, and Quidditch changing-rooms, certain truths, not least this universal truth.

Anecdote and statistic alike agree, though they cannot find the significance in it, that, if coincidentally, there is some link between size and orientation. That may have been why it was that Draco first speculated about his having more in common with Harry than he’d thought, when he had first glimpsed Harry’s Hampton. Apparently, even before that belated surge in height that had finally come to Harry in the summer hols before sixth year, such growing as Harry had done on the inadequate rations those appalling Muggles had given him, had all gone straight to The Todger That Lived and Thrived. (Or was it, ‘throve’? Draco was never quite sure: in his infancy, their circle of Purebloods had rather ostentatiously used older, even Wardour Street, forms, rejecting ‘Muggle innovations’ – until someone had pointed out, tactlessly, that using Shakespeare’s own diction made them sound like Americans, which had certainly put paid to that, although there were a few Purebloods in Gloucs who even now called the Autumn, ‘fall’, and cattle, ‘stock’.)

At the time, it had dismayed him to find that even in this, he had near competition, though he’d assured himself that, of course, his purebred plonker was superior. Or at least equal. No, superior, of course: after all, he was a Malfoy.

Now, of course, ten years on from the War, in ten years of having it off since the War, Draco had had innumerable opportunities to make comparisons. Now, of course, ten years on from the War, in ten years of having it up – and away – since the War, Draco had learnt a great deal; and, what was more important still, had unlearnt a great deal, as well.

They’d both of them had a bit of a crack-up after the War. For some months, indeed, Draco’s need for security, for reassurance, had manifested itself in not being able to sleep unless Harry was inside him: which, even for two young, fit, and randy Wizards, had required a bit of assistance (and the prices being charged for powdered Doxy wings and armadillo bile these days were simply outrageously dear, really). Yet in the course of their putting one another back together after the War, Draco had learnt how cold and twisted and heartless had his parents’s marriage been, and what love – something very different to alliance, exchange, and appearances – truly was.

He had also accommodated himself to the fact – indeed, resigned himself to the fact – that whilst he and Harry alike were quite handsomely gifted by the patron demigod of gay Wizards, John Thomas, Harry’s cartzo looked more proportionate on Harry’s frame: and, curiously, this made rather an unexpected difference, as any steamer and every rent-boy could have told him. The power of the slim (‘scrawny’, his inner voice, that inner voice that sounded like he had done at his school-bully worst, drawled), finely-moulded (‘effeminate’, his inner voice sneered), elegant (‘poncy, nance’) blond granted a whacking great tool, was not the power of the top, but that of the twink, the ephebe, having the power to grant or to withhold.

As Harry once again, in the old, familiar, never stale or hackneyed way (it never grew old, and even a Wizard’s lifespan was hardly long enough for all the changes to be rung on this most ancient of peals), drilled him into the duvet, Draco reflected with deep satisfaction that the universal truth was well worth acknowledging, and celebrating. Scrawny, twinkish blonds with anomalously large choppers? Born bottoms, to a man. And as his hips lifted, greedily, and the old, familiar moans and needy pleas spilt forth, Draco spared a moment to be thankful for a Fate so suited to his deepest wants.

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Comments
sgt_majorette From: sgt_majorette Date: September 18th, 2005 06:26 am (UTC) (Link)
Sixties flashback! Somewhere (you can look it up, really) there is a Richard Avedon nude photograph of Warhol accessory Candy Darling (of blessed memory). Slim, finely molded and elegant, "she" was...

My late father always said it was very sad that Candy was buried (albeit in drag) with his (Candy was not a transsexual) legal male name on the tombstone.
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 18th, 2005 02:29 pm (UTC) (Link)

Jimmy Slattery, Right?

See? Fame can last for more than fifteen minutes, even amongst Warhol's lot.

Thank you for reading this fluff - and so attentively, at that.
shezan From: shezan Date: September 18th, 2005 07:50 pm (UTC) (Link)
Ooohhh, this is lovely, naughty and elegant at the same time. Love details like: "...the Eminent Bachelors with objects of art and virtue cunningly disposed about their Westminster or Mayfair flats, who live their desperate lives as Spare Men at terrifyingly lofty dinner parties and hope that, at the end, they have at least a gong and a decent obit in The Times to show for it all" (although surely you meant Belgravia, not Mayfair?) Have immediatemy rec'd on my list, HP Fanfic Recs.
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 18th, 2005 08:18 pm (UTC) (Link)

Thank You.

And I had thought of Wilton Crescent, say, but ... have you seen some of those lovely Georgian lettings around Green Street and Grosvenor Square (Duke-Street-Brook-Street-George-Yard)? I waxed covetous, I admit; and I anticipate there's many an old queen who'd give his eye-teeth for one. Still, you are likely right that Pont Street or Cadogan Square might have been more evocative. I'll think seriously abt that, given the source of the comment!

And I'm immeasurably honoured to be included upon a recs list that puts me in such exalted company: thank you.
shezan From: shezan Date: September 18th, 2005 08:26 pm (UTC) (Link)

Re: Thank You.

Alas, alas, I know the houses you mean - was in one on Upper Brook Street not so long ago - and they're all offices, merchant banks and consultancies and stategic analysts and whatnot, so that my covetous bone is sort of neutralised by imagining too readily the secretaries' offices with profiled flatscreen Macs on mock-Regency desks, etc.

And golly, we' re just a recs list. Er. Um.

;-)
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 18th, 2005 09:20 pm (UTC) (Link)

Yes, It's A Shame What's Been Done.

And yet.... Allsop and Regents and and D&G and Cavendish Rowe and Marler & Marler are all pushing residential lettings precisely there. I'm beginning to suspect that trade is moving elsewhere and that Mayfair will be the next big and profitable bubble - assuming of course that Prescott hasn't already 'cured' the Southern housing problem by paving over all the greenbelts and erecting tower blocks. Pity I've not the mun to get in on the ground floor of the boom.

And I repeat, you lot are hardly 'just a recs list': in fact, I now have my evenings booked for the next month, poring over all the lovely links.
enchanted_jae From: enchanted_jae Date: September 18th, 2005 09:51 pm (UTC) (Link)
I daresay, this was the very definition of 'naughty'!
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 18th, 2005 10:05 pm (UTC) (Link)

Thank You Vy Much.

Always glad to think I've brightened, besmutted, or slashed someone's day.

You're vy kind, really: thank you for taking the time to comment.
kestrelsparhawk From: kestrelsparhawk Date: September 18th, 2005 10:27 pm (UTC) (Link)
Lovely piece -- saw it on the recs. Quite funny. I couldn't help wondering what Jane Austen would have thought...Irresistibly reminded of her, of course, in the first line.
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 18th, 2005 10:57 pm (UTC) (Link)

Oh, Thank You.

And I suspect Jane might not have minded too terribly much. (Oh, Lor', now I'm in trouble with the Janeites.)

I'm glad it pleased, diverted, or amused. Thank you for being kind enough to say so.
copperbeech From: copperbeech Date: September 19th, 2005 02:44 pm (UTC) (Link)
lovely! this is so well written!
thanks for sharing it =)
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 19th, 2005 03:50 pm (UTC) (Link)

Why, Thank You.

You're too kind.

So glad that it pleased.
veryshortlist From: veryshortlist Date: September 20th, 2005 12:30 am (UTC) (Link)
This is different from most anything I've read in this genre. Elegant, wordy and naughty. To sink my teeth into this fic is like drinking good wine, which is to say very enjoyable.
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 20th, 2005 02:38 pm (UTC) (Link)

Merci.

From all of us, negociants, bottlers, growers, and vintners, here at Ch Virgule-Drarry, our thanks. Look us up when you're next in the Medoc.

(Seriously, thank you, that was vy kind.)
From: (Anonymous) Date: September 21st, 2005 12:27 am (UTC) (Link)

Re: Merci.

*laughs*
jennavere From: jennavere Date: September 20th, 2005 04:32 am (UTC) (Link)
Brilliant. You are brilliant. Thank you for writing such a funny little fic. It totally made my night. I adore just how very British your works are; they are a treat to read for American ears (or eyes, I suppose) the way exotic food is, if that makes sense.

But your language is wonderful, a step above all other fanfiction, truly. And your depiction of Harry and Draco's relationship is absolutely touching. The little details added in (Draco's need for reassurance, his inner voice) make this wonderful. And that last paragraph?

Absolutely perfect.

I am rapidly because a huge fan - could I possibly friend you? Thank you so much for sharing!
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 20th, 2005 02:39 pm (UTC) (Link)

Thank You. That's Vy Kind.

And as for friending, you need never ask: I'm honoured.
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wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 25th, 2005 10:22 pm (UTC) (Link)

Thank You.

You're frightfully kind to say as much.

And I'll be avid to hear yr thoughts whenever you have time.
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wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 26th, 2005 02:28 pm (UTC) (Link)

Vy Briefly, As Placeholder...

A few early thoughts.

Equals in hazard: My revered master, Sir Jno Keegan, has noted that, for all practical purposes, women do not wage war. In the Wizarding world, however, this is not so, and is a more remarkable difference to Muggle ways than it may first seem. It wd be interesting to tease out all the implications of that in light of yr vy astute observation.

Beef, chicken, &c: I want to think vy seriously abt yr point regarding types & the eroticising of types.

Bits: I imagine that we fetishise them because we think with them. Again, I'll have more on this later. You've given me much to dwell on.
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wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 27th, 2005 02:46 pm (UTC) (Link)

Well Bowled.

Certainly men cry. Quite often, they can do so without metaphorically emasculating themselves. One may weep for others. Or one's country, or upon some occasion of great national and patriotic emotion. The 'Band of Brothers' speech gets me every time; so, too, does Dunkirk: not the miracle itself, but the image of the returning troops, whom Hitler thought beaten troops whose escape to England wd only demoralise the populace, but who, not believing themselves defeated, took the little, rural trains through the Kentish countryside, having to stop at every halt to be feted and given tea or lemonade by the WI and the Mothers's Union, as the cricketers waved their caps and cheered from each village green, laved in the light of an English Springtide. (Damn it, I'm doing it again.)

The point, then, I think, is that fic falls down when a man cannot excuse his tears (and no man since, say, the death of Good Queen Bess, has not felt that tears want excusing) by pointing to a cause outside himself and his concerns and 'needs'. And from that, I think you are, as they say, On To Something in yr analysis. So, no, it's not just the meds.
tiferet From: tiferet Date: September 27th, 2005 10:23 pm (UTC) (Link)

Re: Spinner!

I hate to say it, but men DO behave like that, on occasion. They do it with WOMEN. What's out of character and wrong about it in fic is that they are doing it with other MEN -- which gives me a notion of just what fantasy is being fulfilled in these fics and makes me view them, suddenly, with a great deal more lenience.

OMG you are so right. They do. OMG. And when it is sincere I don't mind it and would never tell, but when it is manipulative it's beastly, and this suddenly makes a great many things about my bad relationships clear.
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wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 27th, 2005 02:50 pm (UTC) (Link)

I Think We're All Saying the Same Thing, Actually.

We can at least agree that women have not, generally, historically, been warriors, soldiers, under arms.

In the Muggle world.

With all that that implies.

Whereas it appears that this has not been the case in the Wizarding world, in which Witches have apparently long soldiered.

And, again, I wonder what implications in terms of warrior bonds and trench-romances that has had, there not being amongst Wizardkind those same-sex environments.
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black_hound From: black_hound Date: September 27th, 2005 09:51 pm (UTC) (Link)

Re: I Think We're All Saying the Same Thing, Actually.

*raises tricorne in salute*

"What I wanted to highlight was that women aren't coming at that from ignorance, but from an entirely different body of sometimes contradictory knowledge: overgerneralizing, what it is like to have war come to you."

Yes, true. War did most often come to women, although some few women did go to it in various fashion with full intent and understanding, so there is a mixed body of knowledge on this score. Most of that knowledge however did get subsumed and has only recently started to get put back into the historic record.

This is not to say that there were large groups of she-soldiers massed in the firing lines, but the absolute of women not going as soldiers is not quite correct. Proportionally small, but still there.

And there were ladies who did not dress as men -- wives accompanying their husbands on Royal Navy vessels who were expected to be pressed into service on the gun decks once the battles were underway. And those women have not yet made their way into the body of knowledge that women understand.

We knew little of them because they were not carried on the rolls and therefore anonymous in the record unless marked by special distinction but that also is changing as more scholarly work is being done. But it would seem that the war did not come to them as much as they chose to go to it by boarding a ship of war with full knowledge of the possibilities and what role they would be expected to play.

So this rather belaboured point is that the body of knowledge that women tap at some future date will perhaps be different with more literal understanding of what it means to go to the war as well as having the war come to them.

"Because if I am going to write this stuff, I want to stand on that field and "hear the cannon's rattlin' and the music so grand.""

Yes. You must. Because you cannot understand it without standing in it. We know that it is manufactured and there is no real risk, but you do obtain some small measure of insight into the sound of it all, the smell of it all, and even the fear of it all. And there is a real fear at times especially in large scale tacticals with thousands on the field and you can't see from the smoke and you can't hear the commands being called -- not even the drum commands -- and you have dragoons racing past and Redcoat lines steadily advancing with all their flags flying and music playing. Your hands do shake as you try to get that musket loaded, and it's not real.

So yes, some small measure of understanding of 18th century warfare, but I think of even more value is the knowledge that you still can't really know, and are thankful for it.
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 28th, 2005 02:09 pm (UTC) (Link)

Hullo.

Welcome to Bedlam.

I think, again, we are all of us largely in agreement here: that, with quite few and relatively recent exceptions, Muggle women have not waged war, that is, they have not soldiered, per se. An alternative world in which this has not been the case wd implicate, as arguably Rowling's does, a population within that world, of women who perfectly understood the warfighter's experience and shared in it. What else it wd implicate, in terms of such women's interactions with men and with each other, wants considering, infra.

Is this a fair statement thus far?
black_hound From: black_hound Date: September 28th, 2005 06:35 pm (UTC) (Link)

Re: Hullo.

Sounds perfectly reasonable to me.
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wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 30th, 2005 07:10 pm (UTC) (Link)

Infinite Digression Loops Welcomed Here.

I can't see a Wizarding force worrying, as Wellington always was forced to worry, about its waggons and its bullock-train. Nor yet its nurses, washerwomen-laundresses-'wives', and so on: they've spells for All That. The result is a vy mobile, light, lean force, with no 'tail' and no baggage and, indeed, given Apparating and so forth, no logistics in play at all; as well as one in wh there are no distinctions, presumably, of sex. Thus, the Love of Comrades is no longer forced to exist only in a homosocial environment, and so forth.

In a world of potions that ensnare the senses, Pensieves, and conjuration, by the same token, wd there be commercial sex? I'm inclined to think the same answer applies: they've spells for that.

Yr thoughts, all of you?
From: (Anonymous) Date: October 3rd, 2005 07:22 pm (UTC) (Link)

Re: Infinite Digression Loops Welcomed Here.

... only that that could explain a whole lot about both relations between the sexes and otoh the odd swings between areas of extreme liberality and areas of extreme control, right there...
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wemyss From: wemyss Date: October 4th, 2005 04:30 pm (UTC) (Link)

Yes, Well.

I rather think it may, at that.

Hmmm.

Fertile ground for speculation. (I smell PLOTBUNNIES!)
tiferet From: tiferet Date: September 27th, 2005 10:38 pm (UTC) (Link)

Re: I Think We're All Saying the Same Thing, Actually.

Do we even know if wizards have 'trenches'?

As an occultist, who's done some reading on the topic of magickal warfare...(and yes, this is all hinging on the fact that Rowling uses historical magicians as background for her canon, a thing many fanwriters don't know).

Prior to the Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, when the Cornelius Agrippas and Nicolas Flamels of the real world were regarded as scholars, wizards would have gone to war as part of an army, and been called 'artificers'; for witches to go to a battlefield would have been unusual, and irregular as for any other woman.

Wizarding warfare appears to be of two sorts: spells cast at or away from the battlefield to enhance the performance of non-wizarding fighters and their toys, and then the other sort, which involves wizards and witches working together away from the battlefield to rain destruction upon the other side's witches and wizards. The 'trench' could be in one's own living room, or some tower at Hogwarts Castle or Malfoy Manor. (We will be dealing with this quite a bit in lightningwar.
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 28th, 2005 02:31 pm (UTC) (Link)

I Think We're Mixing Things, Here.

I will grant that it is reasonable to imagine as consistent with canon that,
Prior to the Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, when the Cornelius Agrippas and Nicolas Flamels of the real world were regarded as scholars, wizards would have gone to war as part of an army, and been called 'artificers'; for witches to go to a battlefield would have been unusual, and irregular as for any other woman.

Wizarding warfare appears to be of two sorts: spells cast at or away from the battlefield to enhance the performance of non-wizarding fighters and their toys, and then the other sort, which involves wizards and witches working together away from the battlefield to rain destruction upon the other side's witches and wizards. The 'trench' could be in one's own living room, or some tower at Hogwarts Castle or Malfoy Manor.
But I am not speaking of Wizarding involvement in Muggle warfare, but of internecine warfare within the Wizarding world. There are women Aurors, and the Aurors, armed and organised as they are, are not precisely the equivalent of PC Plod and the local, Pirates of Penzance-style peelers ('when constabulary duty's to be done'): they are rather akin to Special Branch and the SAS hard boys seconded to the Met. There have been women politicians and ministers in the Wizarding world since a time in which, with the exception of sovereigns, it were unimaginable for a Muggle woman to hold similar power. It is almost inconceivable that Witches have not soldiered in Wizarding wars, then. (Since Classical times, after all, citizenship and suffrage have always been linked with liability to military service under arms.) Certainly they do so today: Aurors such as Tonks, and Alice Longbottom perhaps before her, are in effect soldiering, Bellatrix is a minatory example of the breed, and even Ginny, Luna, and Hermione have fought in a battle.

At once, then, such women are promoted or relegated to (depending on yr point of view) the status of comrade from that of camp-follower, are drawn within the circle of shared warrior-bonds. Whether this de- or re-sexualises them to their male comrades is an interesting question (one reason I used the ironic and metaphorical term, 'trench-romance', on the analogy of 'trench-foot'); what I think it does do is to dissolve the distinction between those you fight and die with (and may sleep with both literally and figuratively in 'trench' or 'foxhole' circumstances as a means of holding off the horror), and the Virgin On Her Pedestal, back 'home', 'England, Home, and Beauty', 'keeping the home fires burning' on the 'home front'. Its implications for 'situational' homosexuality are equally interesting. And it certainly seems to promote, for those males who are, emotionally and homosocially, forever schoolboys, the category - in wh I place Ginny - of Girls Who Are Almost As Good As A Boy: the sort of heterosexually-respectable alternate to the (male) Beloved Comrade, whom, say, John Buchan wd and did give as a wife to a Richard Hannay sort of chap (a reverse of the Brideshead notion of Sebastian as 'training' for Charles in romancing Julia).
tiferet From: tiferet Date: September 27th, 2005 10:53 pm (UTC) (Link)

Re: Thank You.

I've described a prick or three, but it depends on whose POV I'm writing in.

Dracaena doesn't describe pricks. It's one of the earliest clues I had that she is really a very girly girl despite the fact that she has a penis in the beginning of her story (which she is only happy to think about when someone is touching it in a way she enjoys).

Dylan on the other hand spends quite a lot of time thinking about Alastor's prick and is rather protective of/playful with the foreskin, even though that's definitely 'thrill of the forbidden' there, what with Dylan Vieira y Mulciber being a prince of the Sephardim and all. I know exactly what that cock looks like and how big it is (and how much bigger it is than Dylan's own and how much glee that excites in him--Dylan is SUCH a twink sometimes).

All that I know about Ercole's prick I have been told by St John or Lavinia. The main characteristic of Ercole's prick that is of interest to Dracaena is that it is his and she knows exactly how to touch it to get him to go crazy.

Now Lavinia will talk about cock all day, but that is because it is Her Thing. She likes penises and is turned on by the changes in colour, size, veining &c--but then, those changes are a measure of the power she exerts over their owners.

Juliana is much more interested in Severus' mind than the shape of his prick; his sexuality isn't not-genital, but she gets to him through his head and he won't take off his pants for someone who doesn't.
wemyss From: wemyss Date: September 28th, 2005 02:33 pm (UTC) (Link)

Well, You See...

... That's what's so convenient in hewing strictly to H/D. I know Draco's mind, and he's a thorough-going little size queen, the minx.
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