Happy Birthday, bryoneybrynn!

[nursedarry]

Title: A Proper Sandwich- Birthday fic for bryoneybrynn
Pairing: H/D
Word Count: 1980
Rating: R, for language and implied naughtiness
Summary: A civilised brunch with the parents and a birthday celebration
Disclaimer: Characters and situations herein belong to WB and JKR and bryoneybrynn. I’m making no money on this but had a crackalackin’ good time writing it.
A/N: Prompt was There's nothing you can say that will convince me this is a good idea. Many thanks to dripping_cherry and noeon, my betas of awesomeness.



"There's nothing you can say that will convince me this is a good idea," Draco groused.

“Sure it is, Malfoy. It’s just a nice Sunday brunch with your parents, not a Herbology N.E.W.T., for god’s sake,” Harry countered.

“It’s not a nice Sunday brunch, Potter, it’s Purgatory.” Draco drank his mimosa in two seconds.

“It’s sweet. C’mon, I never got to do this. You should appreciate it.” Harry sipped his drink.

“What? You’ve never sat around a large wobbly gingham-clad table at the Weasel house for an overcooked Sunday roast with all the overcooked trimmings listening to heart-warming anecdotes about second-hand bargains or inbred ginger cousins?” Draco poured himself another glass.

“You’re a fine one to talk about being in-bred, Malfoy,” Harry said, more amused than annoyed. Draco shot him a Very Black Look, which Harry chose to ignore. “And yes, I do have a few memories like that, but I would have liked to have done this with my own family, like you do.”

“Then you can sit in there and pretend they’re your family and I’ll go to the Leaky for a steak pie and Firewhisky.” Draco motioned at the door with his champagne flute.

“No way! You’re not leaving me here with your parents while you piss off to the pub!” Harry could think of few things worse than trying to make small talk on his own with Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

At least they’d been able to talk Draco’s parents out of coming over to their son’s flat, which was in no fit state for entertaining. As the two men had been attempting to shag on any flat surface that stood still long enough, Draco had succumbed to a very uncharacteristic disregard for tidiness in favour of having as many orgasms as he could cram into the time he and Harry spent there. It wouldn’t do for Lucius and Narcissa to witness the aftermath.

And of course, Harry’s flat had fared no better, although that wasn’t totally due to their sexual escapades. Indeed, some of the mess in Harry’s flat was certainly shagging-related, but most of it was “I-never-really-bother-with-it” owner-related.

The young men exchanged a look and marched like the condemned into the conservatory. Once inside the sunny glass-enclosed room, they found Draco’s father sitting in one of the large rattan chairs with a copy of the Daily Prophet in his hands, his face all but hidden. Narcissa wafted in leading a house elf carrying an enormous plate piled with dainty sandwiches, pastries and fruit.

Harry and Draco sat in the two chairs opposite Lucius, the generations separated by a large round glass table. Setting down his glass with a loud “clink”, which made Narcissa raise her eyebrows, Draco bent at the waist and attempted to read one of the headlines on the front page of his father’s newspaper.

“Malfoy,” Harry hissed under his breath. “What are you doing?”

“Is something wrong, dear?” Narcissa asked her son as she handed Harry a small plate and a crisp linen serviette. She smiled gracefully. “Harry, do help yourself.”

His appetite kindled by the earlier arguing, Harry leaned toward the table and started piling food onto his plate, whilst the house elf made the rounds pouring tea for everyone.

“Bloody hell!” Draco exclaimed.

“Language, Draco," his mother admonished, attempting to hand her son a plate.

“What’s the matter?” Lucius said, arching a blond brow and turning the paper over to peer at the headlines. “Ministry Employees Vote to Adopt Casual Fridays?” he read.

“No,” said Draco crossly, wishing he had another mimosa. “Below that.”

“Bryoney Brynn to Celebrate Birthday with Splendorous Party at the Wizard Ritz.” Lucius read. “Who’s Bryoney Brynn and why should you be angry about her having a splendorous party? Thank you, dear.” Lucius smiled up at his wife as she handed him a plate of his favourite pastries and fruit.

“Because she doesn’t deserve a party. She deserves a-”

“Draco…” Narcissa said in a low voice.

“What’s the matter, Malf- er… Draco?” Harry asked around a cucumber sandwich. Lucius shot him a disapproving look and Harry swallowed quickly. “Who is she?”

“You don’t remember?” Draco was incredulous. He ignored the plate with the pan au chocolate his mother set down in front of him. Harry eyed it hungrily.

“Why should I?” Harry gave up resisting and nicked the pastry off Draco’s plate.

The blond seemed to notice his meal for the first time. “Potter, give that back!”

Narcissa calmly gave her son the pan au chocolate she’d taken for herself. “Draco… you’re getting yourself rather worked up.”

“I can’t believe you don’t remember the woman who turned you into a rabbit for all those months, Potter! Who set us up and then embarrassed the hell out of us?” Draco angrily bit into his pastry, barely tasting it.

“That was her?” Harry had his teacup half-way to his lips. He came to a dead stop, sloshing tea on his only good pair of trousers. Suddenly, he remembered, a look of horror crossing his face. “That’s the woman who forced me to watch you and Blaise-”

“Play chess,” Draco finished. “That’s right, Potter. She’s the one.” Draco’s left foot connected quite solidly with Harry’s right shin and the dark-haired young man sloshed the rest of his Darjeeling on himself.

Harry’s memory was returning to him. “What about that ridiculous stunt she put me up to at the Yule Ball? Oh my god - I can’t believe I actually thought kissing you under the mistletoe would work.” Harry shook his head, barely aware that the house elf was trying to refill his cup with tea whilst Harry still held the thing.

“Gods, what was it she did to me in that one? Gave me… Oh yeah, hair that winged out at the back. As if!” Draco snorted, patting the back of his head self-consciously.

“Like that’s so bad! You punched me in the eye, you bastard!” Harry nearly shouted.

“A-hem,” Lucius cleared his throat behind his newspaper, but only his wife seemed to take the hint.

“So, what are the plans for the rest of the day?” Narcissa asked the tense room.

“Certainly not what Bryoney had us doing in that Parseltongue story.” Harry was on a roll and nothing was going to stop him. “She-"

“If you recall, Potter, we never did get around to doing it,” Draco reminded him somewhat vehemently.

“Boys!” Narcissa’s voice sounded pleading.

“The hell we didn’t!” Harry shouted around a slice of cantaloupe, spitting juice in Draco’s direction. “We did get around to doing it; you just pulled out in the middle of it! Which hurt like hell, I might add!”

“Goodness, we seem to have run out of pastries. I’ll just go and get some more.” Narcissa jumped to her feet and backed out the door. Lucius had slumped down in his chair, suddenly engrossed in an article about higher tariffs on imported Nargles.

“And don’t think that was an easy thing to do, Potter. Not with that arse of yours!” Draco spat melon juice right back at Harry.

“Cissa!” Lucius called over his shoulder. “Perhaps I could have some wine?”

“Oh yes, wine, by all means,” Draco agreed, looking over at Harry. “Because according to Miss Brynn, that would make Potter here…what was it? Confused? Reckless? Pushed into boyish violence-”

“You forgot distracted,” Potter grumbled around another sandwich.

“Yes, and distracted,” Draco clarified. “Anything else?”

“What? Isn’t that enough to get your blood singing?” Harry asked darkly.

“That and a whole lot of - wait, don’t tell me- unresolved sexual tension.” Draco sneered for all he was worth. “I don’t remember ever being unresolvedly sexually tense!”

“Huh?” Harry was attempting to drink his tea again and Draco’s comment didn’t make it any easier. “Weren’t we both? I was. Well, aside from that one time-”

“No, I wasn’t!” Draco smirked back at Harry. Then he frowned. “What do you mean that one time?”

“What do you mean No, I wasn’t? Who were you shagging besides Blaise?” Harry’s fingers tightened dangerously on the delicate china cup.

“Who were you shagging?” Draco asked just as dangerously.

Narcissa walked in, just at that moment, holding a large glass of wine which she handed to her husband. Never in her life had she fetched anything for him and she was almost sorry he hadn’t asked her for something that would have taken more time and effort.

“Look Cissa,” Lucius said in a too-happy voice, giving the impression that he hadn’t heard any of the conversation going on not two feet away from him. “Mrs Zabini has announced her latest engagement.” He carefully indicated the page. Narcissa leaned over and pretended to be fascinated.

“Oh, isn’t that sweet? Perhaps this union will last longer than the previous five.” She took a healthy sip of her tea and sat down again. If her son and Harry noticed she had neglected to bring them any beverage of an alcoholic nature, neither of them said anything about it.

“It’s not you she’s engaged to, is it Malfoy? Seeing as you’ve already shagged the rest of her family!” Harry said accusingly to Draco.

“Oh, and I suppose it wasn’t Blaise you shagged when you said that one time. We all knew he had a thing for glasses.” Draco tore into a sandwich.

“It was Ron, if you must know!” Harry exclaimed

“Blechhh!” Draco spat his sandwich out.

“Draco!” his mother admonished.

“Please tell me I haven’t had my mouth around a cock that’s been up a Weasley’s arse!” Draco almost turned green.

“My, is that the time?” Lucius said loudly. He put the paper down on the table with a flourish and scooted his chair back.

“I’m not even going to answer that until you tell me who else you’ve been with, Malfoy!” Harry shouted, ignoring Lucius.

Draco picked up his teacup ever-so-properly, sat back in his chair, and crossed his legs in a very genteel manner. “Well, if you must know,” he said with a drawl. “There was this one time when I just couldn’t be bothered to go looking for it.”

Harry paled. “Oh blechh! Please tell me this story isn’t going where I think it’s going.”

“Perhaps a nice turn around the gardens is in order, don’t you think dear?” Narcissa asked Lucius.

“Oh yes, it’s going there, Potter,” Draco declared. “What?” he asked, seeing the look on Harry’s face. “They’d already started; I just kind of…joined in.”

“Oh my god, that’s totally disgusting!” Harry was completely beyond appalled.

Lucius stood and wondered how he’d ever again be able to look at a couple of faces in his Death Eaters Not-So-Anonymous meetings.

“But Malfoy, for god’s sake, those two?” Harry asked.

“Weasley?” Draco countered.

“Yes, darling, I think a stroll would be a very good idea,” Lucius said to his wife and stepped around the chair to take her hand.

“Well, never again!” Harry exclaimed, grabbing the front of Draco’s robes. “Ever. Got that Malfoy? You’re mine, now.”

Lucius and Narcissa quietly tiptoed out of the conservatory.

“No, Potter,” Draco countered, setting his teacup down with a clunk. Harry narrowed his eyes at him. “I think you’ll find you’re mine.” Draco lunged across the cucumber sandwiches at Harry and tackled him on the glass table.

They rolled around for a bit, finally coming up for air covered in bread and cantaloupe.

Harry peeled the newspaper off his arse.

Draco looked up. “Where’d my parents go?”

“Don’t know,” said Harry, glancing around. Then he looked down at the paper. “Malfoy, it says we’re the Guests of Honour at Bryoney’s party. They’re giving us a deluxe suite at the Wizard Ritz, and everything.”

“Really?” Draco asked. “I do love a good party.”

“Yeah, me too.” Harry said, unsticking a particularly stubborn piece of cucumber from his glasses. “Hey, maybe we could bring Hermione along and have a proper sandwich.”

The End
Happy Birthday, Bunny!

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