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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'
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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32 comments or Leave a comment
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.
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)


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.)
Re: Merci. - (Anonymous) - Expand
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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32 comments or Leave a comment