Sweet and Sour

"Right. You just hexed my father. What now?" asked Draco.

"Dunno," replied Harry, staring dumbly at the pile of ash at his feet, which gave off a faintly sulphurous odour.

"Do you want to have sex?"

"No. We have to collect his clothes." Harry pointed to the random articles of clothing that were scattered amongst the shrubbery. Draco looked disappointed, but began to gather up his father's robe. It was fastened at the neck by the Malfoy family clasp, a twisted serpent with the words 'Over 1000 years of queers' engraved into the back.

"I get to wear the family brooch now!" said Draco happily, tracing the words with his finger.

"Wow. Who'd have thought your father would wear carpet slippers underneath his robes?" said Harry from a nearby bush. He held up two burgundy, slightly fluffy items of leisure footwear. Draco looked at the slippers oddly, and then snatched one of them out of Harry's hand. He pulled the be-nametagged label out from the seam of the material and looked at it for a moment.

"The bastard! Those are my slippers!"

*

From the window of the charms classroom, Professor Snape had watched the entire scene. He had a little pennant-shaped flag in his hand which read 'Harry', and which he had carried everywhere for the last six years in case he ever needed to use it.

*

'Dear Draky-kins,

Due to the fact that Harry Potter cursed your father into oblivion, you are now the man of the house, and although I don't expect you to do any of the...things that the man of the house should...do to the lady of the house (your father never did), I still feel it is important that you learn some of the manly tasks you will be required to perform. That is why I have decided to pull you out of school for the next three weeks. I have enrolled you in a class at the local Wizarding Learning Centre (WLC). Over the next three weeks you will learn manly tasks such as the best positions for producing an heir and how to get just the right amount of blood out of the carpet after a ritual sacrifice, not so little left that you look pathetic but not so much that you look like you take particular pleasure in the sacrificing (Note: On Saturdays in the summer I will hire you a tutor on the ins and outs of goat-sacrifice. Severus Snape will teach anything as long as he is allowed to intimidate the pupils. Plus he's damn good with a goat. In more ways than one).

I will send Jean-Pierre to the station at Hogsmeade to bring you home. I would come myself but I'm having my back seen to. I hurt it through too much sex.

Lots of Love,

Your Mother.'

*

"Bonjour, Monsieur Malfoy. Je suis Jean-Pierre, et j'adore faire l'amour avec ta mère."

"I speak no French," replied Draco, looking at the tall, handsome man who was wearing a tight T-shirt and black jeans.

"Maybe zat is jhust as well," said Jean-Pierre with a shrug. "Your muzzer, she said to me 'Jean-Pierre, you will bring home my son whilst I have my back done.' And how could I argue avec such a beautiful lady?"

Draco did not know exactly what to make of this, but he said nothing and they boarded the train in silence. Jean-Pierre selected an empty compartment.

"You do not mind if I remove ma shirt?" he asked casually. Draco tried to look uninterested, but the bulge in his trousers suggested otherwise. It was impossible not to be attracted to Jean-Pierre.

"Ah yes, I remember your muzzer told me you prefer, as you say, ze company of ze fellows?"

"Yes. Does that not bother you?"

"It is unimportant. I swing in eizer direccion."

"Oh."

The conversation dried up after that, until they passed by a stretch of farmland.

"Oh!" exclaimed Jean-Pierre. "Les cochons! Pigs! It is funny, I have noticed, en France we say ze pigs go 'grunt grunt'-" he made an appropriate noise " - but in England everyone tells me ze pigs go wank!"

"You mean 'oink'," said Draco, blushingly slightly.

"Yes, zat is exactly what I said. Ze pigs go wank!"

Draco gave up.

*

It was very early in the morning, and Hagrid was up tending his pumpkin patch. When he heard a sneeze. He looked in every direction, but could see no one. Thinking it must have been a badger; he went back to hoeing the slightly moist earth. Then he heard another sneeze and looked around again. He almost jumped out of him skin when he heard the voice of Lucius Malfoy coming from a nearby tree. It was cursing loudly.

"Of all the shit on Earth, I had to be reincarnated as a tree!"

Very slowly, Hagrid returned to his cabin, where he took out a bottle of whisky and began to drink. A lot.

*

"Draky-kins! You're home!" Narcissa, who had been waiting on the doorstep (if the grand entrance to Malfoy Manor could be called a doorstep) for about half an hour. Draco allowed his mother to give him a bone-crushing hug, something that, for a petite woman, she was surprisingly proficient at.

"We 'ave returned, I 'ave been informing Draco of ze difference between ze pigs en France et the pigs 'ere." Narcissa smiled proudly.

"I'm so glad you two are getting along so well."

Draco went off to his room to change. One hour later they were sat around the table in the dining room.

"So, how much did Jean-Pierre tell you on the way home?" asked Narcissa.

"Nothing," replied Draco. His mother smiled again, obviously not listening.

"Did he tell you what's happening in the summer?"

"Evidently not. What is happening in the summer?" he asked, his voice flat and uninterested.

"There's going to be a wedding!" said his mother gleefully. Draco sat up straight in his chair.

"Whose wedding? It's not mine, is it? I swear to God, if you've signed me up for an arranged marriage I'll hex you all. I'm only sixteen, and I'm gay. I don't want to get married."

"Shhh, darling. Not your wedding. Mine!" Narcissa waved her ring in his face.

"Would you look at the size of that diamond! But wait, you're still married to father. How can you be getting married again?"

"Sweetie, your father's dead. And I'm very, very sorry about that, but I'm a person too, and it's not like we were particularly attracted to each other or anything. I have to live my own life, to marry for love."

"You're not marrying for love!" Draco exclaimed. "You're marrying him because he's hot!"

"That's a totally irrelevant issue."

"No it isn't! I hate you! I'm going to my room!"

"Awww," said Narcissa. "Just like his father!"

*

Harry and Hermione were walking around the grounds when Harry pulled Hermione behind a cluster of trees, pulled her towards him and kissed her. When they had finished kissing, they sat down on the ground.

"Why did you do that?" Hermione asked.

"Dunno. Just felt right. You know, we're Harry and Hermione. It's obvious that we're going to be forced upon one another at some point." he replied.

"But I prefer Ginny," she said, and fiddled with a few strands of hair that hung in front of her face.

"And apparently I prefer men. Does it matter?"

"I guess not," she said, and they kissed again. Harry began to take her shoes off. Then Hermione pulled away.

"Most people think Ron and I are meant to be, not me and you. Even my mother thinks I should be with Ron. Even his mother. Even Ginny. Look at all the hints that have been dropped in the past! Look at all the hints!"

"That's true," Harry said, pondering the point she had made. "Shall we go and find Ron so you can kiss him instead?"

"That would be a wise course of action. Wow. I never would have thought you had a foot fetish."

They got up from the ground. Harry leant against a tree while she put her shoes back on.

"Get off me, you bitch!" the tree screamed. Harry jumped away from it.

"That tree sounded a lot like Lucius Malfoy," Hermione said absent mindedly as she tied her shoelaces.

"I am Lucius Malfoy!" the tree yelled, and made a snarling noise.

"Do you think we should tell Hagrid?" Harry asked.

"Probably." They set off towards Hagrid's hut.

When they got inside, they saw Hagrid and Ron sitting at the table, both with glasses in front of them. An empty whisky bottle stood between them.

"Have you been drinking?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," said Ron.

"Ok. Have you seen the tree that isn't actually a tree and is in fact the reincarnation of the dead father of Harry's former arch nemesis who he happened to have sex with and then blew to smithereens?"

"Yes," said Hagrid. "That's why I got the whisky out."

"Fair enough," said Harry. "Shall we go and talk to him?"

"Not yet. Let him get used to being a tree." Hermione fiddled with the buttons on her cardigan.

"Do you always fidget this much?" Harry asked.

"Only after kissing gay boys," she replied.

*

"You know, Ron, you should really kiss Hermione. You too are meant to be together," Harry said, when they were back in the Gryffindor common room that afternoon.

"My mother keeps telling me that. Where is she?"

"Dunno," Harry replied. "Probably in class."

"Shit. Should we be in class too?"

"Yeah."

"Shit."

They went to the charms classroom to try and find Hermione. Harry knocked on the door.

"Hello Mr Potter," Professor Flitwick said squeakily, batting hie eyelashes at Harry. "How can I...help you?" He licked his lips. Harry shuddered at the thought.

"Can we borrow Hermione for a minute, Professor?" he asked.

"What for?"

"Ron wants to kiss her."

"Very well. Miss Granger? Mr Weasley here wants to kiss you."

"All right, Professor. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Take your time, dearie," said Flitwick with a wink.

She went into the corridor and Ron kissed her. When they stopped kissing, Hermione began to fiddle with her watch strap and hair pins.

Then she went back into the classroom and whispered something in Flitwick's ear.

"Professor Flitwick will pick you up at seven tonight, Ron, ok?" she yelled.

"That sounds great," he yelled back from halfway down the corridor.

*

"How did your date with Professor Flitwick go?" Hermione asked when Ron returned to the common room that evening.

"It was ok."

"Will he be taking you out again?" asked Harry.

"No. It was a mutual agreement. I found it frustrating that he had to stand on a pile of textbooks just so we could kiss, and he found it frustrating that I'm not Harry Potter. I'll stick with Hagrid."

"You always did prefer the taller type."