not your typical annihilatrix (furiosity) wrote,
not your typical annihilatrix

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Fic: Dungeons and Drag Queens [HP/QaF(US) crossover; H/D, B/J; crack; PG-13]

I ♥ my Slytherins

Have a celebratory crackfic (below)! Also, as of 7 hours from now, I'll be offline due to moving, until the weekend. Don't blow up the internets while I'm gone, k!

Title: Dungeons and Drag Queens
Author: furiosity
Genre: Crack/Crossover
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Harry/Draco; Brian/Justin
Disclaimer: JKR owns. I only play. You do not sue.
Length: 1400 words
Summary: Is this some kind of retreat for Dungeons and Dragons geeks?
Beta: oddnari
Note: Originally written for a crossover crack prompt at hogsmeade_elite. The fandom crossed over is QaF (US), though Mikey's by-proxy characterisation was a little affected by QaF(UK)'s Vince.
Concrit: Always welcome and appreciated.

Dungeons and Drag Queens

Draco Malfoy was having a miserable day, fuck you very much.

The war had ended years ago, with Potter of course defeating the Dark Lord by cursing him into oblivion. Draco had only been able to escape a trip to Azkaban because he'd accidentally got in with a pack of werewolves who were on the Order of the Phoenix's side and helped them out some. This made most members of the Wizengamot cry emo tears. The fact that Draco had pretty, pretty eyes hadn't hurt, either. He still received regular love letters from that one lady, what'sherface.

Hot or not, Draco lived large and eventually had squandered the Malfoy fortune, which forced him to start looking for a job. The only position he'd been able to find on short notice had been the caretaker position at Hogwarts, which became available after Argus Filch died in a convenient-for-plot-development fire.

That had been three years to this day and every single damned day had been perfectly miserable.

Muttering to himself, Draco shuffled out of his little office and began to make his morning rounds. However, there was something in the corridor that Draco had not expected to see.

Two feet in black trainers, two long denim-clad legs with well-defined muscles. The denims were unbuttoned over a trail of dark hair that stopped near a beautifully chiselled, tanned abdomen. Said abdomen continued to a smooth, muscled chest, which ended in a perfect hollow at the base of a throat with an Adam's apple just begging to be licked.

"Sweet, merciful Merlin, Potter, you've finally lost it," mumbled Draco, trying desperately to suppress the guilt/heat creeping up his neck.

"Oh, finally, something that talks," said Potter in a distinctly non-Potterish voice. In fact, it was so non-Potterish that it had an American accent.

Draco looked up and saw that this was definitely not Potter. He had the body Draco had always imagined Potter would have under all those bulky teachers' robes, but "sweet merciful Merlin" was about right for the man's face, too.

"Brian! Brian, you twat! There you are! I knew this was your doing. I knew it!"

Draco turned and saw a cheerful-looking young man with dirty blond hair bounding down the corridor. He, too, was half-naked and wearing a mischievous grin that would have put Seamus Finnigan's to shame.

"Did you just call me a twat?" the first stranger -- Brian -- asked.

"Yeah, isn't it cool? I was just passing by a room, and some woman inside was screeching, 'No, Ron, you twat, that's the wrong hole!'"

Draco snorted. Both strangers turned to look at him.

"Who's he?" asked the blond.

Brian spread his arms wide. "Beats me. I only just got here. But I think he called me a potter and thinks I've lost something."

"Wait, you're not responsible for this?"

"Who are you people?" Draco asked inconsequentially.

They ignored him. Such was the fate of school caretakers everywhere.

"Oh, there you are, boys! I was beginning to wonder if I was all alone in this madhouse!" called a third American voice from the other end of the corridor.

Draco looked up and felt a little faint. The third newcomer was wearing trousers so tight that you could see, well, everything really. And they were pink. Shocking pink.

"Hello, I'm Emmett Honeycutt," the third man supplied cheerfully as he neared their little group. "This is my friend Brian Kinney and that's his... uh... complicated type of partner... thing, Justin Taylor. Do you live here?"

"Er. In a manner of speaking," said Draco, blinking. Complicated type of partner thing? "Are you wizards? Some kind of American outreach program that I was never informed of?"

"Doesn't he have the cutest British accent? Oh, say something else," Emmett simpered.

"Wait, did you say wizards? Is this some kind of retreat for Dungeons and Dragons geeks?" asked the blond fellow -- Justin.

Brian nodded. "Mikey wanted to go on one of them once, but couldn't afford it."

"I wonder if he's responsible for this," said Justin.

"D'you mean to tell me," Draco said, trying to keep hysteria out of his voice, "that you're Muggles?" Extremely attractive Muggles. Draco had never known that Muggles could look this good.

"We're what now?" asked Brian, cocking an eyebrow. "If this is some kind of roleplaying foreplay, I'm game, but you need to tell us the rules."

Justin rolled his eyes. "Don't listen to him," he said to Draco. "He's always game for everything. Even if he is too old for most of it. Where can we find Mikey?"

"Too old? Like you're getting any younger," Brian muttered, ignoring Draco, who was just about to let out a loud, desperate wail for help.

"Now, now, boys, you can settle your differences when we're back at the-- omigosh, did that painting just move?"

"Yeah, I moved," muttered the Lady With Two Milk Jugs. "Wot's it to you?"

"Eeeeeee!" said Emmett, and clutched at his chest.

"Jesus, talk about realistic," said Justin, stepping closer to the painting. "I wish I could do that."

"Justin, paintings don't talk," said Brian.


"What's wrong with him?" Justin asked.

"Bad trip?" Brian suggested, shrugging. "Listen, buddy, you're cute and all but we need to find Mikey and kick his ass. Mind telling us where he is?"

"Malfoy?" This time it was the real Potter, body unfortunately hidden underneath teacher robes. "Did you just capslock?" He looked at the three newcomers. "Oh, there you are. I was wondering where the hell to start looking for you."

"You know them?" Draco asked, only to be ignored once more. Everyone always ignored the caretaker. :(

Brian turned towards Potter. "Who are you?"

"Name's Harry Potter. I'm the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and I'm supposed to send you back to your own world."

"This... this isn't our world?" Emmett ventured. Brian and Justin raised an eyebrow each, and Draco couldn't decide who had learned from whom.

Potter shook his head. "No. One of our professors, uh, well. She's a fan of your programme and--"

"Programme? Like a TV show?" Emmet asked. "But I haven't been the Queer Guy for ages! And these two jokers could never make it on TV," he said with an impish grin.

"Um. Well." Potter looked extremely uncomfortable. "Uh." Draco had never seen Potter look this flustered, and it was pretty hot, thanks!

There was a screeching noise from somewhere. Draco realised it was actually a woman squealing very loudly. Like this: "Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

Romilda Vane, the Charms professor (Flitwick had died in the same convenient-for-plot fire that had spelled the downfall of Filch), burst out of a tapestry and rushed up to the little group. "omg, it's you!1 It's rilly rilly you!1 omg!!!!!1 squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!1"

Draco's ears were beginning to hurt. He drew his wand and quickly Stunned everyone except Potter. He'd have Stunned him, too, but Potter's wand was drawn, and Draco didn't want to get himself sliced open again. Or something. "Would you mind telling me what the fuck is going on?"

Potter began to laugh hysterically. His wand dropped onto the floor and he leant against the Lady With Two Milk Jugs, wheezing. "Thanks for that," he said. "I'd have probably killed her if you hadn't Stunned her. She's been doing it all morning."

"Doing what?"

"Squealing. These blokes are from an American television programme, called Queer as Folk. Women the world over are apparently mad keen on them, especially the tall one."

"I can see why," Draco said, and promptly clapped his hands over his mouth.

Potter raised an eyebrow. "Anyway," he continued. "Romilda thought she could re-watch the programme here at Hogwarts and tried to charm a DVD player and a telly to work by magic. What she ended up doing was somehow extracting them," -- he jerked his thumb in the half-naked trio's direction -- "into the wizarding world."

"Well, she needs to put them back," Draco said. "It's not right, Muggles in Hogwarts... Even if they are extremely hot, imaginary Muggles..." He let his gaze linger on Brian's chest.

"Oh, we're getting rid of them, right now," said Potter in a sort of strangled voice.

Draco looked over at him. "What's with you?"

Potter rounded on him, green eyes flashing prettily. "I haven't spent the past two years chasing you all over the school just to then watch you go off with some Muggle who isn't even real. You're mine, bitch."

Draco blinked. And again. And again. "What did you just say?"

Potter looked sheepish. "Well, I may not have meant that bitch part."



"After your lesson, my quarters?"

"Hell yes."

Tags: fic:era:post-hogwarts, fic:fandom:hp, fic:fandom:queer as folk, fic:genre:crack, fic:genre:crossover, fic:length:short, fic:pairing:brian/justin, fic:pairing:harry/draco, fic:post-hbp, fic:pov:draco, fic:type:slash
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