Archive of Our Own ^beta

"No. No, no, no." Draco waved his hand. "You misunderstand. Of course it is not I who is gay. My epiphany -- is about Potter." He paused and stared at them, assuming that they'd understand. They stared back at him. "Gay Potter," he elucidated, finally admitting to himself that they were all stupid and that he had stupid minions. "Potter's gayness."

"Potter's gay?" Blaise sounded unconcerned. "Well, at least I can aim for the Weasley girl, then."

"A Weasley?" Draco was horrified. And also, disappointed. Because Ginny Weasley was a girl. He'd thought -- he'd hoped -- that Blaise was -- "Zabini, you have no taste."

"It's the freckles," Greg interjected, eyes shining. "Isn't it, Blaise? It's those lovely freckles on her nose. One wonders, naturally, exactly how far those freckles extend..."

"Oh, god." Theodore choked. "I'm going to be sick."

Draco brightened. "Ah, at last. A man after my own heart. One who understands that Weasleys are inherently vomit-inducing."

"No," Theodore gasped. "I mean, I really -- " And then he got up and staggered away, roughly in the direction of the toilets.

"Who let Ted drink again?" Vince asked accusingly. "You know he can't -- "

"Oh, lighten up, Crabbe." Blaise tipped his head back, sighing. Draco stared at the line of his throat. "Ted's got to learn to hold his drinksometime."

"Zabini's right," Draco agreed, faintly. And then, realising that the conversation had been side-tracked, he glared. "None of you fools are getting the point. Potter is gay. We have to exploit this."

"How'd you find that out, anyway?" Greg topped up his glass of Firewhiskey. "That Potter's gay?"

For some reason, Vince made a series of panicky expressions and kicked Greg in the shin. Greg ignored him.

"Proof by induction," Draco declared triumphantly. "Or... implication. Or." He shook his head. "In any case. Surely you've noticed that Potter's attempts at acquiring girlfriends -- each of them unsuccessful, I might add -- were targeted at Quidditch-playing girls."

"Hm." Blaise looked considering. "Are you suggesting that Potter is a homosexual because the only girls he's shown an interest in are broomstick riders, and that broomsticks are hypothetical phallic symbols that lend female Quidditch players a certain Freudian masculinity?"

Draco slumped. Well, this was partly why he liked Blaise. Blaise was, after all, not as stupid as Draco's other minions -- or as ugly as most of them -- but it was still disappointing to have the wind taken out of one's sails like this. "Yes," Draco exhaled. "That is... That is what I surmised."

"It's a plausible argument," Blaise conceded, but he still looked doubtful. "However, in order for it to hold any sway, it'll have to backed up by corporeal proof."

"Yes!" Draco started getting excited again. "That is why we have to make Potter realise! That he's gay!"

Vince had gone blue in the face. Draco spared a thought for the fact that his sturdy friend had apparently stopped breathing for the last few minutes. He reached out to thump Vince on the back, hard, and Vince let his mouth fall open on a series of deep, hacking coughs.

"And then," Draco continued, because Vince was no longer in danger of losing consciousness, "we'll nail him."

Vince floundered some more.

Even Blaise began to look concerned. "Draco," he said, slowly. "I'll have you know that I much prefer feminine companionship -- and, in any case, I don't have a taste for group sex."

"What?" Draco frowned. "What on earth does that have to do with it?" Although it was relieving -- not disappointing, Draco told himself firmly -- to finally know about Blaise's preferences. Regarding women. Not regarding group sex.

"Er." Blaise seemed confused. "Draco..."

"You lot are being painfully obtuse. Obviously, we are going to subscribe Potter to various gay periodicals -- and, when they're delivered to him by owl post, Potter will begin to discover his nascent fascination with the male body."

Vince had stopped floundering. Instead he just lay there, on the green Slytherin carpet, and stared up at the ceiling desperately. Perhaps alcohol didn't suit Vince, either.

No matter.

"Then, when he finally indulges in his long-buried desires with one of his ridiculously muscled Gryffindor friends, we'll snap pictures of it and send them along to the Daily Prophet." Draco sat back, beaming. "We'll have nailed him."

"Brilliant!" Goyle cried. He tilted dangerously as he raised his glass. "Really!"

"I thought so, too." Draco grinned. "What d'you think, Blaise?"

"That's. That's quite." Blaise gulped several times, as if at a loss. "Remarkable," he said, finally. "It's certainly..."

"Yes! Remarkable! I am remarkable. I am a remarkable Machiavellian genius out to expose Potter's homosexual foibles to the Wizarding World at large."

There was a ringing silence, just the kind of dramatic silence that often followed one of Draco's speeches, because obviously Draco was an excellent orator and he left his minions awed beyond words.

Then there was the sound of a flush, and Theodore tottered out of the toilets. He looked pale -- even downright vampiric -- but he smiled at them all tentatively as he re-joined them on the carpet. "Did I miss something?" he asked.

"Yeah," Vince spoke finally, sitting up and reaching for the Firewhiskey. "You missed hearing our mission parameters." He filled his glass, gulped it down, then filled another.

"Parameters?" Theodore looked hopeful. "Do we have a new plot to take Potter down, then?"

"Of course." Draco's eyes glinted. "And I've already implemented phase one."

"And what would... this phase involve?" Blaise had set aside his glass, and was holding his head. What was he holding his head for? It was too early for a hangover.

"I've ordered two gift subscriptions for Potter -- of Wizards Gone Wildand Quidditch Greats Uncut respectively. The sender of said subscriptions is anonymous, of course. They should be delivered by private owl to Potter tomorrow evening -- not at breakfast, so that he isn't embarrassed into throwing them away before he gets a good look at them. And," Draco added, smirking, "I've bugged the Gryffindor boys' shower."

"You've -- " Vince was in danger of turning blue again. "The boys' showers. You."

"Oh, don't worry. The Surveillance Charm works perfectly. I've already watched the Gryffindors shower once."

Blaise was looking oddly disturbed, but Greg was nodding along enthusiastically. Good boy.

"I... don't think I understand," Theodore said. "Why do we have to watch the Gryffindors shower?"

"So that we can catch Potter when he has his gayphany." Really, Draco couldn't believe how brilliant his plan was. "And when he acts on it."

Theodore looked even more lost. Vince patted his shoulder comfortingly.

"Don't worry," Vince assured him, refilling his shot glass for the umpteenth time. "I'll explain later."

In the ensuing quiet, Blaise seemed to calm himself and reached for his abandoned drink. Draco watched as Blaise's mouth -- damp, lush and smooth -- opened around the rim.

"Hey!" Greg exclaimed, as if just realising something. "Draco! You've seen them. Are the Gryffindors... as big as they say?"

Blaise snorted Firewhiskey up his nose. And promptly started a coughing fit of his own.

Apparently, Draco thought irritably, none of his minions could handle alcohol. Except perhaps Goyle.

"Not particularly." Draco shrugged, deciding not to reveal that Potter really was rather impressive. "They seemed about as well-endowed as the Slytherin boys."

Blaise crossed his legs.

"I don't understand," Theodore said again, plaintively, and Greg pushed the Firewhiskey towards him.

"Drink up," Greg encouraged, cheerfully. "You'll feel better once you've had a few."

 

Fin.