Diabolical Donuts, Pernicious Pies, and Evil Banking

Diabolical Donuts, Pernicious Pies, and Evil Banking

On a cold, windy Saturday in May, The Dark Lord was balancing his bank account and realised they were in great need of evil cashflow immediately.

'Lucius? Where in Hell did all the money go from our Evil Bake Sale? There was a solid fifty-five thousand Galleons in here and now we are overdrawn because of that spiked whip sale at Muggle Torture Implements 'R Us,' Voldemort drawled at his favourite follower.

Lucius fidgeted and turned an unbecoming shade of green. Well, it would have been unbecoming had he not been a Malfoy and, therefore, exempt from ever looking less than ludicrously gorgeous.

He turned slowly towards Voldie and cleared his throat. 'Your Evilness, I was not aware that we were in such dire need of money. I do believe Wormtail may have taken it to pay for his weekly manicure. Although, why the fool needs a manicure when he only has one hand, I could not even imagine.'

'I see. Well, send someone to cut off his other hand immediately. That will teach him to ruin everyone else's good time. Manicure, indeed,' huffed Voldemort.

'Yes, sir. I will get right on that. In the meantime, what are we going to do? I needed a loan so that I could get that special shampoo I so love and we need a new sack of Scarhead Be Gone. Nott swears that if we just keep sprinkling it near that Muggle house that Potter will just poof away.'

'Potter is already quite pouffy if you ask me, but he isn't dead. No, Nott is a complete and utter fool and it will never work. We have been sprinkling for 18 years, Lucius. I can't really speak for everyone -- wait, yes I can. I am the Dark Lord here. I can speak for whomever I please, and I say that I am sick of waiting. Sprinkling isn't as effective as I would have been lead to believe when I was nothing but spirit matter. No, we need something better and, to do so, we need more money and we need it quickly. No more ridiculous ideas. I want something that will rake in the dough within the next few days,' he said, stirring a bit of sugar into his evil tea.

'Yes, m'lord. I will see what I can come up with. I will go have Wormtail dealt with now. Thank you for not killing me, Your Evilness,' Lucius said. Then with a flourish and a bow, he backed slowly out of the room.

~~~~

In the library, he found Narcissa and Draco. Draco was sat at the desk, talking to a picture of Potter and generally wibbling about how he loved him, and missed him, and couldn't wait to snog him senseless. Lucius rolled his eyes and tried his best to ignore the waste of space that used to be his evil heir. Narcissa looked up from her book on Wicked Bundt Cakes and gave him a curious look.

'What's the matter, love? Did the Big Bad finally find out that you pilfered all his money from the Bake Sale to spend on that day spa, shopping excursion, mirror-buying brigade you treated yourself to last month?' she questioned, with a hint of amusement barely concealed.

'Yes! I managed to blame it on Wormtail, though. Now he is going to have even less of a, shall we say, hand in matters. But, now I have to come up with another idea to raise money and I don't really have time to waste doing so, Narcissa,' he said, with little patience.

'Well, dear, if his Royal Nefariousness is that peeved, perhaps you should get cracking. Ooh, you could sell your whip collection, speaking of cracking. Can't really say as I would miss them dearly. My arse hurt for a week and a half the las-'

'Narcissa, will shut your mouth! Draco is in the room, in case you didn't notice. You do recall giving birth to the child, don't you,' Lucius asked incredulously.

'Oh, him. Yes, he's always here. Though, for the life of me, I can't imagine why. All he does is drool on photographs and moan and whinge about Harry. You really should have let him get a flat with Potter after they finished Hogwarts. I miss him being away. So much easier to miss him when I don't have to see him, you know. Don't get me wrong; I do love the boy. It's just ... he's so, well, you. One of you was more than enough, love.'

'Yes, he's rather annoying isn't he? And so bleedingly, obviously gay. I hate it when my friends are in the Manor and have to see him singing cabaret tunes, wearing that pink tie and looking all gayed-up for Potter. Hold on a second, is this really helping me? I think not, woman. Start thinking of ideas before The Dark Lord gets wind of my kleptomania,' Lucius exclaimed, becoming more and more worried by the second.

'Well,' Narcissa pondered, 'I suppose that I could whip up another few dozen Diabolical Donuts and this recipe for Wicked Bundt Cake looks delicious. I don't know if I have any Muggle flavoured crème d'un certain jeune type, though. If you could just prance out and get me some, we could organise another Bake Sale. I'm sure it's an ingredient right up your alley.'

'Firstly, I do not prance; that is Draco's job,' he said, receiving a theatrical glare from the direction of the desk, which he pointedly ignored.

'Secondly, I don't think that's really going to be enough. We need something more, something different, something vile enough to draw the crowd. They love your Diabolical Donuts, dear. Have no fear there. It's just been done. We need to make an iniquitous statement here. Surely, you can do better,' he finished up nicely with the batting of Malfoy lashes. That never failed before.

'Father,' Draco drawled, reminding his parents he was still there and hadn't ponced, err I mean pounced off yet, 'Why don't you hold an auction? You could sell off your whips, like Mother suggested, or you could sell something better. Auction off people. Slaves for a day or some other rot. Surely, His Wickedness has a few people he wouldn't mind taking a day off. I would bet you would make a lot of money off that. After all, who wouldn't want to own their own Death Eater for a day? I know the writer of this horrid story would. She told me so, right before she told me I should fall madly in love with Harry and shag him senseless a few hundred stories back. She's never wrong about anything, come to think of it. Merlin bless her gorgeous visage.'

Lucius looked around suspiciously for this 'writer' person and when he didn't see her (muahahha), he turned to his son and said, 'My, my Draco. I think you may have just had a brilliantly evil idea. I couldn't be more proud of you than I am right now. If this comes off without a hitch, you may leave the Manor and get that well-decorated, flamingo filled loft with Potter that you have been pining over all summer. You can even have white couches and all the Versace you desire. And new leather shoes, of course. That's gay, right?'

Draco bounced happily around the room singing 'It's Raining Men', but of course he changed the word 'men' to 'Harry' unconsciously. Sure, unconsciously.

'Thank you, Father,' he cried and he pranced gaily out to the staircase where he proceeded to skip merrily up them, two at a time, while adjusting his pink tie and checking the lapels of his Armani suit for lint balls. I mean, what could be more gay and cliched and all around stupid, right?

Lucius sighed and rubbed his temples. He had the biggest headache whenever he was forced to speak with Draco. Although, when Severus came into the library and snogged him senseless, his head felt loads better. Narcissa just went about her Bundt Cake obsession and ignored the proceedings.

'Honestly, Sev, what is wrong with my son? He's so gay. It's rather embarrassing, you know,' Lucius said, as he had one hand on Snape's arse and the other rubbing a nipple through the fabric of his robes.

Narcissa snorted. So would I. So would you, for that matter. In fact, you probably are right now.

'Well, Lucius, I for one cannot imagine where he could have picked up that behaviour,' Snape replied, with a well placed grab to Lucius' crotch that elicited a squeal and a giggle. 'I should have thought that the healthy, heterosexual relationship between yourself and Narcissa would have rubbed off on him.'

'I guess you are right, Captain Sarcasm. I'm not that gay though, am I? Don't answer that, Narcissa. It was rhetorical anyhow. Back to the business at hand. We need to organise this auction. I say, we should put Draco up for sale and invite Potter! That way we are guaranteed to get his proverbial goat one way or another. He will either fork over a load of cash for His Immoral Lordship, or else we can all try to kill him again. Considering Draco came up with the idea and I am feeling rather kindhearted towards him right now, I say we just take his money and use it to come up with something flashier to kill Potter with,' Lucius finished, fixing his unfailingly beautiful hair in the mirror over the fireplace.

'Sounds like a lovely plan, Lucius. Now, get out of here so I can finish reading my bundt book. I think I may make one and some of those donuts anyhow. Refreshments for the auction, and all. Spending loads of cash is always such tiring work. At least, in my experience,' Narcissa said, sticking her wand out and causing a tray of donuts to appear.

~~~~~

Invitations were sent out, the Manor's ballroom was decorated accordingly, and the house-elves were frantic with deciding on and baking dishes for the buffet. There was to be pumpkin punch, firewhiskey and a well-stocked bar. Buffet consisted of assorted meats and casseroles, fruit salads, breads of all flavours and, of course, Muggle chicken wings for Lucius. He had a definite adoration for Muggle fried foods. Chicken wings were, above and by far, his favourite guilty pleasure. He would eat buckets of them, after Avada Kedavra-ing off the workers at the local KFC. The management just couldn't understand why they couldn't keep good help. Everyone they employed seemed to just keel over after closing. They hoped it wasn't something in the food, so they never let it get around that so many employees met their demise in their kitchen. True story, I mean it. Ask around your local KFC and they will deny it, I'm sure. Bastards.

Anyhow, back to our tale. Narcissa had, indeed, provided numerous Wicked Bundt Cakes and Diabolical Donuts. She also had made Pernicious Pie and Sinful Sugar Biscuits. She was a confectionary artist, you see. The lack of sex in her marriage had sent her in search of gratification in another form. She found true bliss in creating sugared masterpieces that matched her equally sweet public simpering. Everyone thought she was so kind, thoughtful, and sugary sweet and had just been forced into a horrid marriage with a closet gay Death Eater. Little did they know, she was a cruel-hearted confection junkie. This paragraph was pointless but the writer felt like adding it because Narcissa looked so sad that no one ever talks about her. There, there, dear. Now, everyone is forced to see how funny your life is. Err, I meant sad. Yeah, sad.

Narcissa was overseeing the elves' display of her treats, as Lucius came in wringing his hands together. He was terribly nervous about whether or not they would be able to pull this off and make enough money to satisfy His Evilness. Nott had mentioned to him that The Dark Thingy was getting more annoyed by the day, as Gringott's had sent him a notice that if he didn't put more money in his account soon, it would be closed. Dark Lords don't really like to lose their evil funds let alone the place where they store them safely, away from the prying eyes of those who do not admire evil schemes. Lucius could only imagine his banking wrath would be terrible and that he would start at the top with his punishment. Lucius was evil treasurer, after all, so who could blame the man, thing, whatever for being a bit hacked off about his lack of care regarding said funds.

Lucius paced around the ballroom, admiring the buffet and his wife's dessert table. That woman sure could spell up a lovely tart or cake. He chalked it up to all her free time. He thought to himself that he should really find her a hobby. Or, kill her. One or the other. Malfoys do not squander time on all this sugar. Draco was a fine example of wastefulness. He had taken after Narcissa completely, in Lucius' mind. They should both just be whacked to be safe, he decided, grabbing for a biscuit.

Narcissa caught him and smacked his hand sharply, ' Those are for the guests! Don't expect them to spend lots of money if they are famished. Hunger places a greater hindrance on buying than you can imagine.'

'How would you, of all people, have any idea? You have never been hungry a day in your life. You live like a queen. You've never had trouble spending, either,' Lucius snickered, popping the biscuit in his mouth in a very superior manner.

Narcissa flicked her wrist at him and he began to choke violently on the biscuit. She patted him on the back and said, 'I warned you, love. Now, run off with Severus and snog for a bit. Or, whatever it is you two do for fun.'

Giving her one last glare, he went off to find his son. Draco had been very excited to do his part and had gone upstairs hours ago to get himself ready. He was thoroughly convinced that Potter would buy him and he would be free finally. Lucius thought of paying someone horrid to bid on him, just as a going away present, but he had restrained himself and figured he was finally getting rid of one burden. Lucius knocked on the door softly before entering. There, before him, stood Draco wearing his favourite black suit and that horrendous pink tie again. He had a pink flower in the lapel and was fixing his perfect hair for the hundredth time.

'Are you almost ready? The guests will be here soon and you have a truckload of money to gain for the cause you so callously tossed aside for Potter. If you ask me, you are very lucky His Darkness has such a soft spot for you, or you would have been killed for your defection. When I was young, he never would have-'

Draco sighed, 'Oh, Father. Dispense with the 'When I was young' stories. Uncle Voldie loves me because I'm gorgeous. Who could blame him? And did you notice, since Harry and I discovered our undying passion for each other, he has let up a lot on the whole Must-Kill-Boy-Who-Lived issue? He is such a sweetheart deep down inside, under those red eyes and creepy skin. And snakelike exterior. Evil mannerisms. Creepy, maniacal laugh- what the bloody hell was I talking about? Oh yeah, Uncle Voldie loves me and he would never kill me. Use me to get money, of course, but never kill me. You on the other hand, Day Spa Boy, he will crush you if he finds out it wasn't Wormy.'

Lucius gulped audibly, 'I fear you may be correct, Draco. I guess I should thank you for doing this to help me. Unfortunately, Malfoy Code rule #8,965 says that a Malfoy never thanks anyone for anything. So, therefore, I feel compelled to inform you that you are doing this because it is what I have decreed and demanded. All should quake in fear and bow down to my whimsy, yadda yadda blahblah. The end. Do you need help with your tie or will you be done anytime soon?'

Draco, holding back a smile which wasn't allowed in Malfoy Manor, turned toward Lucius, 'Yes Father, I think I'm ready. I can't wait to see Harry. Squeeeee!'

'Did you just say 'squeee' or am I beginning to hear things,' Lucius asked, with a crease in his brow.

'I've no idea what you're on about, Father. Where is Mother? Did she finish her desserts?'

'Oh, don't get me started on that bint and her icing fetish. She's in the ballroom staring at all of it right now. Let's go,' Lucius declared, pulling a nervous Draco behind him.

~~~~~

Guests started to file in around eight o'clock and Narcissa greeted all of them in the manner she was so accustomed to. Lucius was waiting in the ballroom with Darkity Darkness, I mean his Royal Darkity Darkness, awaiting the beginning of the auction. He was excited because Voldemort had presented him with a podium and his own gavel to bang after transfiguring a catwalk for the participants to walk down, showing off their goods. He kept banging it off other people though to alleviate some of his worry. Montague and Crabbe had run screaming like girls and that had pleased Voldemort to no end. Lucius kept it up with the hope that he could distract the blame from himself regarding the need for this public appearance.

McGonagall and Dumbledore walked up to the podium and said a few cool greetings to Lucius before turning to Voldemort. McGonagall looked at him with as much reproach and anger as was possible then, with a nod of her head, went over to the buffet table to have a look. Dumbledore stared at Voldemort for a few minutes with an enigmatic smile plastered across his face.

'Hello, Tom. How are you feeling these days? I would like to say it's nice to see you but, truthfully, you hurt my eyeballs. I am sorry to hear, though, that your little club here is in debt. I would offer to help you, as I have in the past, but you would just spend any money I could give you on silly, evil things. If I thought you would use it to help Narcissa with her wonderful confectionary treats or to send Draco and Harry to the Armani exchange shop, I would try to be kinder. But, since you insist on being Lord Thingy, I regretfully offer my condolences to your dermatologist and decline to shake your paw, err snaky limb-end, umm hand-thing. Good evening,' Dumbledore said and started to walk away before turning back once again.

'Oh, I almost forgot. Good luck, Lucius. Hope this is better than some of your past plans. Miss you at the Day Spa, by the way,' Dumbledore said, in normal bizarre fashion before sauntering over to the buffet with his so-not-girlfriend Minerva. He snogged her silly over the pumpkin punchbowl and then looked around to make sure no one but the Big Bads had seen. The two of them started to fill their plates up as more guests came into the ballroom.

'What the Hell was he talking about? What Day Spa,' Voldie questioned, with a glare towards Lucius.

Lucius became visibly uncomfortable and said, 'How bout those Mets? Looking to have a great season, aren't they?'

'Huh? Is that some Muggle reference? You know I loathe those idiots. Oh, look! It's Flitwick. I love a midget,' Voldemort exclaimed excitedly.

'He's-- never mind. Not really worth it. Oh, here's Fudge. He's such a fool, but we just had to invite him. Besides, he is still pretending you don't exist so this should be a treat. There's the entire Weasley clan, as well. I know you love them, Sir.'

'Oh, squeee! I adore that bunch of plebeians. And look, they brought the Grangers. Merlin's beard, there are Muggles in the Manor and we aren't torturing them. Oh, how times change, Lucius,' Voldemort said, bouncing around in his papier-mache throne.

'Lord, please don't move too hastily. Goyle made that, so I'm not too sure about it's sturdiness. As for the Muggles, they have more money than the Weasleys so I say why not. They can do their part to contribute to the Evil Auction. Did you say 'squee', by any chance? I could have sworn I heard Draco use that curious word earlier and then just now -- oh, forget it. It's just the pressure of the auction,' Lucius said, with a smile and an eye kept on the semi-sinful Black Throne of Evilness ... ok, it was a folding chair transfigured, but still.

More and more guests trailed in over the next half hour. Soon, the ballroom was packed and all the guests were either at the buffet or already seated with their food. Everyone looked very eager to start and Voldemort motioned to Lucius to begin the auction. Finally. About bloody time, right?

~~~~~

Lucius stepped up to the podium, pretty little gavel in hand, and cleared his throat. Everyone's attention was turned to the front of the ballroom and Lucius smiled, ever the host, and pounded his gavel.

'We shall now begin the auction. All funds raised are for college scholarships for poverty stricken Muggles and orphans worldwide,' he said, stopping momentarily to let the snickering and outright laughter subside. 'This auction was the product of the concern that Lord Voldemort has involving these sad, sad issues. He feels that something should be done and that we all have the means to do so. Therefore, we invited you all here tonight to participate in the fundraising and help make tomorrow just that much better for the youth of our world. Our heartfelt thanks goes out to you for you attendance tonight.'

By then, the laughter and snorting were so loud that hardly anyone could hear him. Dumbledore was choking violently on his blueberry brandy, McGonagall slapping him on the back. Binns was beginning to appear and disappear, as he shook with merriment. Harry Potter, loudest of all, was squealing like a schoolgirl and leaning on Hermione, who was wiping her tears roughly from her eyes. The entire Auror division were bordering on cardiac arrest and a few were wheezing loudly and motioning to have charms placed on them for their asthma. Asthma has a place in all worlds -- even the magical one.

Lucius sighed, exasperated at this ridiculous outburst and waved to Goyle to go fetch Draco. He came back a few minutes later and nodded, signaling the go ahead for the auction to begin.

'Well, then. If you have all exhausted your insanity, we will begin. First up, we have my son, Draco. He is well-read and knowledgeable in many languages, he is attractive in a completely flamboyant manner, and he has questionable inclinations towards purchasing every single garment made in the colour pink in the men's section of the Neiman Marcus catalogue. Shall we start the bidding on Nancy, err Draco, at one hundred Galleons? Do I have a bidder'

'One hundred Galleons,' Hooch exclaimed loudly.

'One hundred Galleons to the Quidditch butch! Taking a break from women this month, are you?' Lucius said with a sneer.

'Oh, Draco isn't a woman? I retract my bid,' Hooch muttered, and walked back over to the bar where a big, beefy she-thingy was sipping a Killian's Red.

'Right then, so one hundred Galleons. Do I hear a bid?'

'I'll go one hundred,' yelled Hagrid. 'He can, at least, help clean out my garden. Ooh, and the Thestrals need a good grooming, if he can find 'em. Namby pamby mumma's boy, that he is. Doubt you let him around all the corpses, after all.'

'Roiight. So, one hundred Galleons. Do I hear two hundred?' Lucius asked, looking frightened for his son.

'Two hundred Galleons,' screeched Trelawney. 'He can polish my balls. My crystal balls, of course. Haven't been able to see a thing in them all summer and, what with his reputation, I would say it's a safe bet that he could accomplish that much.'

More snickering ensued along with a whistle from Ron and a kiss blown at Draco from his blushing boyfriend.

'Pah. Ok, two hundred Galleons. Come on people, this is for charity, may I remind you. Who's three hundred,' Lucius asked, wondering why he had to go to that damnable Day Spa in the first place.

'Three hundred Galleons,' Fudge said, citing no reason because I loathe him and won't let him speak.

'Three hundred! Now we're cooking with gas! Sorry, that was rather Muggle of me. It did seem to impress the Grangers though, so ... anyhow. Who's got four hundred?

'Four hundred,' screamed Pansy Parkinson, her pug face all screwed up in a tightlipped smile, eyelashes batting like big, black windshield wipers that couldn't wipe off the ugly. 'I'll show you an amazing twenty-four hours, Pookie. Oh, Drakie, you'll never want to go back to Potty again!'

Draco looked like he may vomit on the spot and he pleaded in his father's direction to beg for more money. Lucius pondered for a few moments if Parkinson could maybe turn his son off sex so much that he would leave Potter altogether, but then he seemed to decide that the two of them would just gay it up some more in a thoroughly Hallmark fashion if they didn't have sex as an outlet for their squicky, loving utterances. He shuddered in Pansy's general direction and figured that, even he, could never be that cruel.

'Five hundred, anyone. Please, for the sake of my gene pool. A Malfoy should never sleep with a dog, no matter how much power and money may be up for grabs.'

Pansy, horrified and scandalised by this comment, stormed out of the ballroom and started to hit on a house-elf. He didn't seem to think she was ugly and they lived happily ever after.

'Five hundred Galleons,' the Weasley twins uttered as one voice, breaking the spell of ugly and turning all heads back to the main event.

'George! Fred! Why in Heaven's name would you spend all that money on a Malfoy,' Mr. Weasley gasped, clearly in shock.

'So's we have a test subject. We can test out all our new jokes on him that we are afraid to test on ourselves, Dad,' FrednGeorge said.

Arthur seemed to accept this answer and the twins looked at Percy and said, 'If we win, you swing by tomorrow at noonish and bring the handcuffs. We have loads of flavoured wet/warm lube we made today, just in case. We will show him the bookends trick and you can get a turn, as well, I suppose.'

Percy wouldn't have minded just watching. He already was excited to try out his new wizarding camera that he had bought to take naughty exposures of Penelope, before she ran off with Hooch that is.

Lucius cleared his throat and, amusement clearly showing, said, 'If you Weasleys are quite finished with your discussion, I would like to remind everyone that there are devices on your table that work in the same fashion as the Muggle microphone. The entire audience can hear what you are saying so that we are all clear on the bidding. Hence, my asking you all to be silent, unless actually bidding, during the auction. Now, after that lovely tale of bondage and whatnot, may we move on?'

The whole of the Weasley table turned bright red and the left side of the ballroom looked like a small fire had been lit. Mr. Weasley nodded for Lucius to continue as he delivered a very low-class slap to the back of the twin's heads.

'Moving on, we have five hundred Galleons to the Weasley boys. Dear Merlin, please, someone else bid. Even Potter. I don't care at this point, I just want to go exfoliate and be rid of Draco forever. Tomorrow starts work on the Bundt Cake Bitch from Hell and I need my beauty rest. Who's in for six,' Lucius said with a sigh, rubbing his temples in a very sexy, alluring Malfoy semicircle.

'Six hundred,' a deceptively soft voice in the front row said. It's owner was wearing a black evening gown with a low-cut bodice and a black cape. Her thick, black hair hung halfway down her back and accentuated her strikingly blue eyes. She was inspecting the long, manicured nails of her left hand and didn't bother to look up to the cherry and mahogany podium -- or, notice the silver, effulgent gavel -- at the gorgeous and sensual host of the festivities. This paragraph brought to you by: Bad Writer's Anonymous and Adjective Junkies of America.

'Six Hundred Galleons! Bellatrix, that's rather odd, but whatever. You are his aunt, after all. Eh, money is money. Have at him. At least he would be shagging a woman -- related or not -- and we are Purebloods, so I guess there is really no issue here whatsoever. Do I hear another bid?

'No, I didn't mean to bid yet. Sorry, about that. I have an inquiry. Does he come with dipping sauces,' Bellatrix asked, nonchalantly.

"W-what?'

'You know, like honey mustard, perhaps some salsa, a little ketchup even. I, for one, would prefer a bit of BBQ sauce on him. Lick it right off him, I would. He looks rather saucy already, but I say you can always add to a good thing. I bet Poofter, I mean Potter has dipping sauces for him. I bet he has all manner of-'

'Ok, that was just TMI, Bella. I really don't need to think about that sort of thing. Although, I am intrigued on this dipping sauce issue. What exactly does one dip? Which part, I mean? Is it the rather obvious one? I am free later, after the auction, and I just so happen to have some of that BBQ sauce with me for my chicken wings. If you'd like to get togeth-,' Lucius said, before Snape cut him off.

'Do you think we could get back to the auction, Mr. Dippy? If anyone is covering you in sauce, it will be me ... or Narcissa, I suppose,' Snape said defensively.

They both busted up laughing. The majority of the Death Eaters joined in and Voldie giggled and exclaimed, 'Narcissa. Pah! That's classic, Sev.'

'Right then, who wants to continue the bidding on my openly gay and pink-attired son? Potter, I knew it would be you. We have six hundred Galleons, anyone else? Yes, Granger. That's seven hundred,' Lucius said, excitement mounting.

'One thousand Galleons,' random Department of Mysteries worker inserted.

'Five thousand,' Potter cried.

'Eleven thousand Galleons,' Neville tossed out.

'Fourteen thousand,' Hermione offered. 'Stop looking at me that way, Harry. I have had to listen to the two of you for years. I want to see what all the fuss is about.'

'Seventeen thousand,' Ron bellowed. 'At least you weren't in the room. Harry's silencing charms are abso-bloody-lutely horrid. I've been listening firsthand to the shagfest for four years. I want in on the fun. Malfoy will take anything, or so it sounds like. I'll teach him for all those insults. He won't walk for a month!'

Harry fainted. Hermione ennervated. Ron gesticulated. Draco wished he'd masturbated. Lucius was frustrated. And Narcissa disapparated -- with a cake.

'One hundred thousand Galleons for my boyfriend! None of you perverts are getting your hands on him. He's my love muffin and if anyone is lubing him up, tying him down, or shagging him sideways, it will be me. It will be all right, Pookie-poo-pookins. Harry will save you,' Harry screamed louder than was really necessary; which made no appreciable difference since none of you can hear him, then he jumped on top of their table and stepped squarely in one of the Pernicious Pies. 'Bugger. Well, at least your mum isn't here to witness this sacrilege against sugar. She would refuse to take us shopping for that cutlery that matches the drapes, the sofa, the bowl of flowers on the coffee table, and your Sunday tie.'

Lucius glanced back towards His Evil Diablerie, who nodded, and he banged his gavel declaring Potter the winner. There was a collective groan from the guests and quite a few mutterings of 'Rigged' and 'I told you so', but Lucius, Draco, and Harry couldn't have cared less. Harry and Draco were now in a fully blown snogging session in the middle of the catwalk. Lucius was gulping down glass after glass of port and glaring hatefully at the dessert table while Snape rubbed his hair.

He leaned back into Snape's greasy embrace and said, 'Look at those two, would you? They are so ... gay. I just don't get it. Oh well, his Blackness seems pleased. Should we even bother with the rest of the Death Eaters that we were going to auction off? I suppose we should, really. We do need the money to shut him up, after all. Sev, would you perhaps announce the next few so I can sit down for a bit and let my head implode? I feel like a Hippogriff ran me down. I'll let you bang my gavel.'

Snape raised an eyebrow and muttered, 'Oh, I'll bang your gavel, all right. As soon as we get this ridiculous auction over with. Go sit down and I can do the rest, I reckon. You've worked hard enough -- for a Malfoy.'

Blowing a kiss, Lucius sat down. He crossed his undeniably gorgeous legs, snatched a plate of Wicked Bundt Cake from Lupin, and watched the rest of the auction trying to take place around his son and Potter. Even he had to laugh at the two of them. Oh well, he thought to himself, now they can prance off to their love nest and I will have more funds to embezzle for Day Spa usage. He dug into the cake and choked to death on a chunk of sugar the size of Surrey.

Severus and Narcissa had a fling based solely on their love for pie. Harry and Draco shagged FOREVAHOMGWTFBBQ!!one!! on their new white furniture that was sprayed with Scotchguard. Hermione had a fourgy with the twins and Percy while Ron tossed off in the corner. Hooch and the butch bitch drank Scotch; straight, unlike themselves. McGonagall and Dumbledore rented a room at the Leaky Cauldron and any more of this sentence would make this a squick fic. Bella and Voldie ran off to the Cayman Islands and opened a sex shop to get rid of the whip collection Lucius had left them. Hagrid and Flitwick joined the circus, where Pansy and the elf's lovechild was an act. The BBQ sauce went, sadly, unused.

The Evil End