Chapter Text
Pansy
Producer's Chair
Pansy’s chair, a tall wooden-and-canvas structure with P. PARKINSON / PRODUCER printed on the back, stood proudly next to its partner, L. JORDAN / CREATIVE DIRECTOR. Her clipboard rested against one of its polished arms, sliding around as she fidgeted. First days were always this chair’s favorite. The energy of the room was palpable. The genuine belief of the people around it that they were creating something new and incredible and soon-to-be-a-hit made the cool, dusty floor under its feet worth the bruised ego.
Finally, after months of P. PARKINSON / PRODUCER resting in Pansy’s office, folded and unused while the writers and producers debated and revised, it was showtime.
Their project was going to be, in this chair’s not-so-humble opinion, the most treasured program of all fucking time.
QUIET ON SET, read the candle-lit signs overhead. Lee Jordan counted down, triggered the first round of cues, and so it began.
“Good evening, my name is Draco Malfoy.”
“I’m Harry.”
“And this is Culture Clash.”
Pansy watched as Lee’s raised hand shot down, cueing the transition. Camera operators panned across the large set as Draco and Potter oh-so-casually moved away from the front edge of the stage and took up their hosting positions, making themselves comfortable in a pair of squashy armchairs and chatting – or pretending to chat – amiably. Musicians played upbeat, funky music that would spark curiosity in their viewers and cover up any cheery threats traded between their co-hosts while the cameras were busy elsewhere. A lighting witch waved her wand grandly, bringing to life torches mounted inside reflective drums to wash the scene in a warm, friendly glow. With one final stand-by-and-go cue from Lee, the transition settled, the camera ops smoothly rounded onto their spikes, and the boys began.
This, Pansy thought, was going to be a huge hit. Or it would spark the next Wizarding War. Either way, great for ratings.
“Welcome to Wizarding Wireless Lantern’s first casual-viewing program,” Draco began, his diction clear and dignified, just as they rehearsed.
“We hope this series,” Potter spoke up, his voice brash and strange against the background of candles, trinkets, and velvet drapery, “will be fun and educational, for you and for us.” He tilted his head over at Draco, that wild mop of hair flopping foolishly with the movement.
“Purebloods have a long, rich history of treasured traditions, and it is my goal to share that with those…less fortunate,” he finished somewhat awkwardly, already forgetting Pansy’s carefully-crafted script that Hermione Granger had revised to Hades and back.
“With those who wish to learn… ” Pansy corrected under her breath.
“And my goal is to catch old Draco here up to speed on the rest of the world that’s been moving on while Wizards were peeing their pants and Vanishing the evidence,” Potter finished, eyes flashing. Pansy smacked her forehead with the clipboard. Draco froze minutely, tapping a manicured hand on the arm of his chair. Potter’s smile was a touch unsettling only for those who had the misfortune to know him.
“What’s on the docket for today, Mr. Lee Jordan?” Draco asked as if he weren’t standing in intimate proximity to an anti-social explosive device.
Lee sauntered forward to stand behind-and-between the boys, one arm across each of their armchairs.
“I thought we’d start with a spot of tea,” he said with a huge camera-ready grin.
He nodded to the crew off screen who levitated over an extensive tea-making set. Draco and Potter stood in unison and approached the table, picking over the supplies with vague curiosity. Lee stepped between them once more, eyes darting between them and then locking onto the camera in that practiced way he had.
“How do you take your tea, boys?”
Ron
The Granger-Weasley Sofa
Hermione’s hands were twisted into her hair, her lips somehow pursed even while her teeth were bared. Ron had never seen so much stress over a cup of tea. The Wizarding Wireless Lantern, a large brass contraption, stood behind their sofa, projecting the image onto the floor of their living room in sharp relief. Except for the strange washed-out colors and the occasional flickering, it was almost as if Harry and Malfoy were right there with them in their Magi-Muggle London flat.
Malfoy was currently on a long, rambling tangent about the history of tea-making in the Wizarding World. He was making a big show of painstakingly measuring and weighing his ingredients, warming up the ceramic teapot over a conjured blue flame, and sniffing the tea leaves with his stupid pointy nose. Harry, meanwhile, was nodding and humming intermittently as if he were interested, flicking a switch on a metal kettle and opting for loose-leaf instead of bagged for once. Even so, he was already serving up a couple of steaming cups before Malfoy had even settled on his leaves.
“You know what I find interesting, fellas,” Lee Jordan observed in a rare moment of silence from Malfoy. “Wizards often think the Muggle way of doing things is slow and cumbersome, and yet, Harry here may be washing up before Draco even gets his in the cup.”
Ron snorted as he spotted Harry’s smug grin. Hermione made an unconscious sort of whine. He wondered if the set-designer had thought to make the furniture and drapes fire-proof.
“In my experience, the preparations are just as valuable as the tea itself,” Malfoy said, refusing to look up from his procedure. “It’s a ceremony.”
“Can I pour you some to tide you over during this ceremony?” Harry offered.
Malfoy smiled over at him in a not-unfriendly (but definitely dastardly) way.
“Oh, yes, please,” he said, all simpering and posh. “One sugar, if you would be so kind.”
Harry obliged, dumping a heaping spoonful of sugar into a fresh cup and stirring haphazardly.
“He’s doing this on purpose…” Hermione moaned miserably as so much tea splashed out. “He promised he wouldn’t!”
“This is brilliant,” Ron guffawed as he watched Malfoy clean the dripping mess off the proffered teacup and sat back to wait for his own brew to steep.
“And Harry,” Lee continued. “What’s the most valuable part of tea for you?”
“Getting a nice warm cuppa into my friend’s hands so we can get on with it,” Harry quipped, pushing a freshly prepared cup towards Lee. “Honey and a splash of milk, yeah?”
“Aw, darling, you remembered,” Lee gushed and pulled Harry in for a one-armed, hair-mussing hug, taking his cup graciously. Lee and Malfoy sipped their tea as Harry threw his back like a shot.
“That is nice,” was all the blond git said, which meant he was trying very hard not to say something horrible.
“Strong and sweet, just like Harry,” Lee agreed, mussing Harry’s hair again. Ron would bet that if the coloring of this projected-image was a bit more correct, he would be able to see the tell-tale signs of Harry’s embarrassment.
Finally, Malfoy’s pot was ready. He added honey and milk to Lee’s, but when he turned to Harry, Ron saw his friend hesitate.
“How’s it meant to be taken?” Harry asked. Hermione twitched and Ron frowned. Harry took his with as much sugar as he could get away with, telling anyone who asked as much in the self-deprecating way he had, as if half of everyone they knew wouldn’t welcome an extra spoonful of sugar if it were only socially acceptable to do so.
“However you like,” Malfoy answered drily, hand still grasping the sugar spoon. Ron, fighting the cushy sofa for the privilege to lean forward, would bet a Galleon that Malfoy knew how Harry took his tea after all those years of glowering at each other over breakfast, but perhaps they were saving face – acting like they were friendly near-strangers for the sake of the program.
“I mean – you’ve gone through all this effort,” Harry said. His hand scratched the back of his head self-consciously. “I’d like to taste it in its, erm, proper form.”
“Its proper form is however you prefer.” Malfoy frowned in a calculating way, hand hesitating on the sugar spoon.
“One sugar?” Harry asked, parroting Malfoy himself. Malfoy bent his head and shrugged agreeably, adding a single teaspoon of sugar and stirring gently. He shook the wet off the spoon – being careful not to tap the brim – and offered the cup on a saucer to Harry, who eyed it strangely.
Malfoy’s cup was prepared in the same way and all three began to sip.
“Oh, blimey,” Harry muttered, eyes rolling back in his head obscenely. “That – that is good.”
“Ah, so you like it?” Malfoy asked, seeming entirely confident except for one raised brow.
“How – it’s so – I dunno, crisp?” Harry shook his head and went for another sip. “Is it the water? I usually just go for the tap,” he said, gesturing to the little built-in sink on the tabletop. Ron would bet it was conjured Aguamenti water in that reservoir, which always left a distinct taste that Harry wouldn’t distinguish under the small mountain of sugar in his own tea.
“It is.” Malfoy gestured the camera over to peer into a large cauldron with sprigs of unidentifiable herbs floating in water. “These herbs are known for their cleansing properties, and the cauldron is coated in a crystal finish. It will purify even Aguamenti water, which always tastes a bit…”
“Metallic?” Harry offered.
“I suppose. This cauldron is from my mother’s estate. Over decades of use, the purifying properties only get stronger. Many Pureblood families have something like this in their kitchen, and over the years, each family’s preference of herbs will leave a distinct taste behind in the water.”
“So…it’s already a sort of tea before it even becomes tea?” Ron could see the cogs turning in Harry’s head – he was just genuinely curious and wanted answers. Ron himself hadn’t thought much of his mother’s water-pot and how its taste might differ to other families’.
“To a refined palate, each and every glass of water is going to have its own taste, depending on the source. Different taps, different wands, different mountain streams will all produce a slightly different taste depending on the minerals the water has come into contact with. With a family water-pot, we simply…standardize our tea from the very start.”
“And this is from your mother’s estate, the Black estate?”
Lee was gulping deeply from his cup and edging off screen, either to enjoy his miraculous cup of tea or to avoid the blows that might very well come to pass with any line of questioning about Malfoy’s family.
“Yes.”
“Have you had tea made from the Malfoy water-pot?”
“Yes. It’s quite different,” he admitted. “Not my cuppa, as they say.”
“And you do this every time you offer tea for someone? This whole…” Harry gestured vaguely at the intricate process before them.
“Tea not worth making is not worth drinking,” Malfoy said. Harry glanced over at his simple kettle, pot, and strainer.
“You drank mine,” he challenged.
“And you made it,” Malfoy insisted. “Just another way. Now, show me this contraption here…”
”It’s quite handy, actually, it automatically shuts itself off once it reaches boiling…”
Hermione exhaled and threw herself back against the sofa as the boys began walking each other through their own tea-making traditions. Far from the tense, scripted pleasantries from earlier in the program, they actually seemed to be getting along now…so far as Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy could ever get along.
Pansy
Producer's Chair
“Thank you for joining us for the very first Culture Clash, brought to you by Pans-Lee Enterprises,” Lee announced, an arm around each co-host and forcing them in closer proximity than even the tiny make-up room could manage. Draco and Potter clutched their teacups close to their chests, both clearly uncomfortable, and that was part of the appeal. Pansy grinned behind her clipboard. Who didn’t want to see the great Harry Potter looking that perfect mix of awkward and effortlessly charming? And what Pureblood didn’t want that image propped up next to one of their own? Gods, Draco looked perfectly refined next to him.
“We hope you’ll join us next time – ” Potter said, closely followed by Draco:
“We’re here every Friday at eight.”
“See you then!” All three chorused, waving jovially at the camera.
As soon as Pansy received the all-clear from Goyle, their broadcast manager, she shouted: “And we’re clear!”
Draco and Potter practically launched themselves out of Lee’s grip, each hustling in opposite directions. Draco made for the wardrobe room to change out, while Potter threw down his tea and Apparated away.
From the desk of P. Parkinson, WWL Producer
To the Daily Prophet Entertainment Column
WIZARDING WIRELESS LANTERN:
'CULTURE CLASH' AN UNEXPECTED HIT!
Only twelve hours since Wizarding Wireless Lantern’s first casual-viewing program aired and the reviews have been flying in. Magical families, mixed and Pureblood, have been starved for family-focused entertainment beyond Quidditch broadcasts and gossip programs. And, according to viewers, after just one short episode, Culture Clash has already begun to fill that void!
Thanks to the Daily Prophet for dedicating a column to our viewer-responses. Please see below for all your questions answered!
VIEWER writes:
What made you choose Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, for a live program to boot? I knew them in school. Not to say they didn’t do a decent job on the first show, but it’s only a matter of time before they’re at each other’s throats.
PARKINSON writes:
From the very first announcement of our show, the world was abuzz with the news of its co-hosts. We knew they would be a controversial choice from the start, but your producers – Lee Jordan and myself – know these two wizards personally and we have the utmost trust in their chemistry as co-hosts. If you haven’t known Draco and Harry since school, then I suggest you tune in as we go on – they have each grown and matured into fine young wizards who are perfectly capable of carrying on for 30 minutes without bloodshed. A 60-minute special, however, might be another matter entirely…
A note from the Daily Prophet:
Mr. Harry Potter (25) and Mr. Draco Malfoy (25) – former childhood rivals turned battlefield enemies, now grown wizards who mostly keep to themselves. Mr. Malfoy owes his acquittal of war crimes to Mr. Potter’s famously charged testimony during the 1998 Death Eater trials. Mr. Malfoy is now a successful photographer whose work is regularly featured in the Modern Magical Museum of London. Mr. Potter, by his own admission, owes much of his triumph in the war to Mr. Malfoy. Since the war, Mr. Potter has been traveling the world, spending time with his young godson, and occasionally consulting for Auror Departments internationally.
VIEWER writes:
Malfoy spoke well and did a fine job of educating the masses on the importance of a proper tea ceremony. And I never thought about the convenience of the Muggle method, but Potter seemed to get on just fine. I’ll keep my family’s water-pot, thank you very much, but first thing in the morning, I’m going out to find one of those electric kettles. It seems much more convenient for my children who don’t bother to watch the pot, and my Squib sister who can’t conjure a flame. I don’t suppose the Daily Prophet has any recommendations for a wizard trained for electrical installation in old homes?
A note from the Daily Prophet:
See page 9 for COMMUNITY RECOMMENDATIONS – electrical installation, Muggle appliances, Wizarding Wireless Lanterns, and more!
VIEWER writes:
Clearly mostly scripted, but there were moments when we saw their real selves, and they are rather charming together when they go off-script.
PARKINSON writes:
We’ve given the boys freedom to be themselves so long as the program moves along and fits in the small window of time we have. The script helps them maintain pace, but there is plenty of opportunity for you to see more of the real Harry and Draco in future!
VIEWER writes:
I haven’t got a WWL myself and I just split with my boyfriend! How do I watch the show?
PARKINSON writes:
There are a number of casual cafés in Diagon Alley (and other Wizarding sectors) that have ordered a WWL in anticipation of our latest season. Settle in for a cup of tea and tune in to our show!
Culture Clash may very well be the key to reminding us that we are all connected. The news, even after the war, is filled with dire reports of crime and political drama. Quidditch unites us as much as it drives us apart, and it isn’t for everyone. But Culture Clash touches something human in each of us – Purebloods, mixed families, and even Squibs who must adapt to a life without magic.
There is much that separates us, but we all enjoy a good cuppa. Tune in to WWL Reel 3 Fridays at 8pm for the next ‘Culture Clash’!
P. Parkinson, WWL