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Intervention Shiny, golden… whisking by his head so fast. Balls. The golden snitch, shooting around his head. The Quaffle, desired, wanted, captured, and finally, shot through the large goal. The Bludgers, violent, serious, in your face. Balls were constantly on Draco Malfoy's mind, and he was nearly drooling as he watched the Quidditch match in action. Up close and personal, the players sweating gloriously in the midst of battle… er… the game. "Draco." Helena Malaise snapped harshly. The heavy young American girl narrowed her eyes sharply at him and screwed her lips into an unsatisfied pout. Draco was really supposed to be showing this girl a good time. She came from a long established Wizarding family, even if they'd had the poor judgment to go to the colonies to live a couple hundred years ago. And she was a top student at Durmstrang. "Aren't they a great team, Helena? Normally I would say, of course, these people should just go off somewhere and die, but this game really puts their kind to good use. Xtreme Quidditch is almost better than the real thing, for all the… excitement." "Interesting that they wear masks, yet play in their knickers." Helena said with her flat accent, unamused. "They don't play in their knickers. It's spandex. They have to be free to move!" "Right." She trailed a finger along his collar. He froze as she leaned over and breathed into his ear. It wasn't that Helena wasn't pretty in her own way. He had nothing against fat girls anyway. He was just more interested in Quidditch. And she was a distraction… yes… that was it. He opened his mouth to tell her so, and she swooped in. Her mouth landed directly on his and she pressed against him dominantly. He looked around as she sucked on his lips and patiently tried to remember to breath, waiting her out. She pulled back and he took a deep breath. "There." Her full lips twisted into a rather wicked grin. Draco wondered if all people with Potions gifts had that evil little smile… though Professor Snape did not smile all that often. All the ones he'd known had black hair, though. And hers was cut boyishly around her head. Not entirely flattering. He would have cut it long around her face to make it seem longer and thinner, but the skull hairclip was rather interesting. "Um…" "You want to try that again?" "No, I think we should be getting back. It's nearly over anyway." "Come on." She insisted. Her grayish blue eyes burned at him with insistence. He leaned over and put his lips back on hers. She pushed forward again, slipping her tongue into his mouth, rubbing her hands over the insides of his thighs. Draco's eyes wandered over to the field, and a lean Beater who was bending over in his spandex outfit to pick up his broom. They'd called a time out because someone broke a leg or something. Blood was on the field anyway. The Beater was so firm all over, if a little too thin. His arse was still well muscled and Draco's eyes rested on the bulge hanging in between his taut thighs as he bent over. "Draco, come here." A harsh voice came at them, interrupting their little tryst. Draco jumped up and climbed out from under the bleachers. His father Lucius, stood talk and firm. Draco couldn't tell if he was pleased or furious. His cold eyes raked over them both. Helena was straightening her blouse calmly. That girl wasn't afraid of anything. "I see you are having a good time, Helena. I do hope your family desires to visit with us again." "Of course. I love England." She said just as tersely as she said everything else. Lucius' hand descended heavily onto Draco's head. "I do hope you enjoy the rest of your stay at our estate." This line of conversation was giving Draco a case of the squicks. Aka, whenever something was going on over his head that he didn't understand. Which happened as often as not in the Malfoy household. Nobody explained things properly to him. There was probably a reason he hadn't been asked to take the Mark yet. He just didn't get it. Why couldn't people talk clearly? "Oh, I'm sure I will." She said. Lucius nodded to the both of them and left them with long strides. Helena looked directly into Draco's pale blue eyes. "Your daddy wants me to fuck you. What joy is mine." Draco's eyes widened in horror. "But… but that just isn't decent! We're… too… young… I mean-" "Calm down. I'm sure there are times when Big Daddy Malfoy doesn't get what he wants. Let's go back to the mansion." She rolled her eyes at him and took the lead. Under her breath, she muttered: "Prude." *** Back at Draco's room, he was much relieved to see that she wasn't going to bring up the subject of them… together again. His eyes drifted over the posters in his room. The masses of Quidditch idols, the large poster of Placebo, the new fall fashion model for Teen Slyth… just scraps he'd collected, hoping to express himself a little bit in his own room, if not anywhere else. He just didn't feel comfortable when he was at school and he didn't know why. "Do you really wear every one of these?" Helena asked, looking back at him critically. His closet was stuffed full of different colors and fits. Draco looked over at her and nodded. "Not regularly, but yeah. It depends on the season and my mood. I have more, but my best stuff is in my trunk already." "Are these Capri pants?" She asked incredulously. "They're short pants." He protested walking over to look at the pair that he was particularly fond of. "They're pink." She said. "They aren't pink. They're salmon." Helena rolled her eyes again and crossed her arms. "Don't you find anything wrong with the very fact that you know the specific kind of pink your pants are?" "They aren't pink!" "Whatever." Helena shrugged and walked over, flopping on his bed. She could spice up her own wardrobe, he mused. With that pale complexion, she really could do with some lighter colors. At least something other than unrelieved black. Blues probably to bring out her eyes, maybe even a dusty rose… "So are we going to fool around or what?" She leaned back on her elbows and looked at him seriously. Draco bit his lip. "Helena, I just don't think it would be proper to… leg over you know… we aren't married and we aren't even really… dating so…" "Afraid you're taking advantage of me?" Helena asked flatly. "Or are you more interested in a backdoor scuttle?" "What?!" Draco stepped back in shock. "What do you mean by that!" Helena sighed. "Nothing." She stood and headed for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Draco. It's been real. Good luck, though." "Good luck?" He rubbed his arms, realizing that he was shaking. "Um… are you going to camp?" "Camp." She said flatly, her hand on the door. "Me and the other boys from Slyth are going to a special curse learning camp this holiday." "No… I won't be there. We have a class for that at Durmstrang." She opened the door and shut it quietly behind her. Draco sighed heavily in relief. She was a good decent girl. Pure bloodlines, lots of Wizarding talent. But still… "It's not proper. It's not right. I can't help the way I was raised." Draco assured himself. He lay on his bed and crossed his arms behind his head. "I'm sure Father would agree. She misread Father's intention. He just wants us to keep good ties with the other powerful families for when He comes back." His eyes wandered back to the posters on his walls. He reached over the side of his bed and picked up his wand, mentally cursing the idiot at the Ministry who decided that they couldn't do magic outside of Hogwarts. Instead, he leaned over to the device his mum had just bought him so he could listen to music. He struggled a moment, then poked the play button on the black machine. Alcoholic kind of mood, Lose my clothes, Lose my lube, Cruising for a piece of fun, Looking out for number one. Draco tried to relax as the sweet androgynous crooning of Brian Molko filled his ears. It occurred to him that Father probably wouldn't like the band's reputation for fooling around, but they were all from good Wizarding families and had an even better reputation, he'd heard, for picking fights and shaking up the crowds from Muggle audiences to Wizarding audiences alike! That had to be respectable in Father's eyes at least. Kind of guy who mates for life Gotta help him find a wife We're a couple When our bodies double Draco drifted off, trying to think if he was all packed, if he'd brought enough types of clothes, hoping they would be able to sneak out at night for some clubbing… though Crabbe and Goyle probably wouldn't be too lousy for dancing… *** Draco woke the next morning, being shaken rather roughly by a house elf. "Master Draco must get up. Must get washed and dressed. Must hurry hurry!" "Right, right Binky. I'm on it." Draco grumbled, stumbling off the bed. His machine was still playing the collection of Placebo songs that he'd bought. Unlike Muggle fans, he could purchase one disk, for an added cost of course, that include most of their songs. He'd bought it, though he'd already had two of their CDs. The expense was no problem and his allowance his to use as he pleased. I'm a man a liar Guaranteed in your bed I gotta place it on the rack Got a place inside it I'm a man a liar Guaranteed in your bed I gotta place it on the rack Got a place- Draco slammed his fist down on the machine. "Shut the bloody fuck up." He turned his head and looked sourly at Binky. "Tell the boys I want some sausages with breakfast. Go on!" Binky darted out of the room as fast as his little body could carry him. Finally alone to his own devices, Draco stood in front of the closet, hands on hips at one of his most loved and at the same time most hated activity. Choosing what to wear. Draco breezed his fingertips across the various kinds of fabrics, silk, press cotton, and one of his favorites, velvet. However, for what he was going to be doing, he might wish to be a little more practical. He picked up a pale blue "polo" shirt and proceeded to place it against every pair of pants he owned. "Hm. I suppose Helena has a bit of prophet in her yet." He strode over to where he had dropped the salmon colored pants the day before, over a soft, oversized cushion on the floor that served as a seat. Picking them up, he held them and the shirt up against himself in his large three-way mirror and smiled. "Draco Malfoy, you are one pretty boy." Cleaned, dressed, fed, and having checked his luggage a few more times to make sure he would have enough clothes, and therefore somewhat depleting the stuffed state of his closet, Draco bounded down the stairs into the sitting room. The house elves would see to the trunk, and a few of them at that, because by now it was quite heavy. "Mum?" Draco started, seeing his mother and father sitting silently side by side in the lush chairs around their antique coffee table. It was odd for him to even see her around the house, other than mealtimes, and even odder for her to be that close to his father. She was usually absorbed in some activity of her own. He looked around the room, and noticed that on the sofa were Crabbe, Goyle, Helena, and of all people Pansy Parkinson. "Come in, Draco. Have a seat." He ordered. Draco walked over to them slowly. He was getting that feeling again. The boys were looking at him strangely, though a bit concerned. Draco figured that they probably didn't understand what was going on, and hoping he'd catch the drift so he could explain it to them. He headed for the couch. "In that chair, Draco." Lucius boomed. Draco nodded. "Yes, Father." His eyes strayed over to Helena, who was looking uncharacteristically chagrined. Pansy was starring at her toes and heaving little sighs from time to time. None of them looked particularly ready to go to Curse Camp. "May I ask what's this all about?" "Stay there." Lucius sounded like Draco might actually try to flee. It occurred to him that maybe they were planning on surprising him with the ceremony to give him the Dark Mark, in which case, he might consider it, but never actually do it. It was what he wanted. It was. Lucius Malfoy left the room a moment and there was complete silence until he returned with a large black man wearing a too-tight cobalt blue pants and a blue shirt that said "True Directions" above interlocked male and female signs. "This is Paul. You will listen to him. This is very serious, Draco." Draco raised a brow. "What's wrong?" "Let me handle this." Paul said, hold his hands up as he stood there with his legs pinched together. "Draco, this is an intervention. We're all here because we care about you and know that with a little help, we can set you on your-" He pointed with limp wrists at the words on his shirt. "True Direction." Draco paused, looking at them for a moment as though they'd all grown purple antlers. "I don't understand. What direction? What are you talking about?" "Draco, darling, you don't have to pretend with us. The biggest step is admitting that you have a problem. And we can help you fix it." Narcissa said to him gently, though she had a faintly disgusted look on her face. She sighed as he creased his brows at her. "But… Mum…" She reached behind her chair and pulled out one of his Placebo posters. "And what is this?" Draco tilted his head. "They're a band, Mum." "This lead singer is in frock!" Lucius bellowed, pointing at Brian Molko in his hot red lipstick and feather boa. "It's just for show! All real bands do crazy things to get publicity!" Draco protested. "What about how bloody clean you keep your room? And what about all those pictures of boys on your walls?" Pansy interjected softly. "Quidditch players! What are you getting at?" "And the models for Teen Slyth? And the fact that you read Teen Slyth?" She asked heatedly. "Draco, you don't even like it when we make-out!" "And you wouldn't take a freebie in bed." Helena pointed out. "You…" Crabbe started. "Hug us too much." Goyle finished blushing and looking away from him. "I don't see what all this is leading up to. So I'm clean! It's a good practice to keep and… I…" Draco could feel the soft pink springing to the apples of his cheeks. "Draco, we all know. It's time to admit that you're a homosexual so that we can help you." Paul told him. "A what?!" Draco jumped up out of his seat. "You think I'm a bloody puffer? Well, fuck you!" "Draco Malfoy sit down." Lucius ordered. Draco breathed in shakily and sat down. "Now Voldemort isn't going to let anyone take the Dark Mark who is a homosexual. We've arranged for you to go with Paul to the people at True Directions, where they can break you of this so you can make our family name proud. I do not expect failure from you. Understand? The house elves have given them your things. So go." Draco's mouth opened slightly in surprise as he looked around the room at these conspirators. Crabbe and Goyle were still avoiding his eyes. Pansy was rubbing her feet together, once again fascinated by them. His mother hadn't gotten up, or moved at all. She was sitting calm and composed, with her hands in her lap, waiting for him to obey his father's orders. "I won't fail you." Draco promised, getting out of the chair and following Paul. "I told you he had a pair of pink pants." He could hear Helena speaking in the other room. "They've really given it to him bad." Pansy replied. Draco bit his lip hard as he headed outside the mansion. Paul opened the door to what looked like a large pumpkin and motioned for him to go inside. Draco silently climbed into the carriage and watched Paul as he went around to sit in the front. He didn't know why this was happening, but he was going to hurry up and do whatever it took to get a clean bill of heterosexuality so he could go home and get his Mark. *** Apparently the carriage couldn't be seen by Muggles at all, and Draco watched them whizzing by as they went on their journey. "It is possible, Draco. Believe me." Draco ignored Paul, focusing on the little antlike people going about their meaningless little lives. They didn't understand anything about the world, or about themselves. He wondered if they would even stand to be alive if they really knew what was going on. "I myself am a graduate of True Directions." Paul informed him. "There's no shame in being a homosexual. But there is shame in not doing anything about it." "I'm not fucking gay." Draco snapped. "I'm only coming with you so I can fix whatever they think is wrong with me so I can go back home." "You're going to have to admit it. But I'll leave that up to our Headmistress." Draco took a cue from Helena and rolled his eyes. He was really going to put all the other Slytherins through the ringer when he got back to school. Telling on him like this. And for what? So he was tidy and cared about his appearance? So one of his favorite bands had two rather flaming puffers in it? So what? It didn't make him queer by association! He sighed heavily and looked at the back of Paul's shiny bald head. You say I'm gay? Look at yourself, faggot. I'm no fucking queer. I'm a Pure, Straight, Ayran Wizard. I'm the model of a Death Eater. He thought to himself bitterly. "Heeeere we are!" Paul exclaimed after a few hours of silence. Draco glared at him as the house elves of the establishment came out to get his things and promptly ran off with them. "Come this way!" Draco was seriously considering splitting the man's head in two in order to not have to listen to that sing song tone anymore. The houses were all neatly arranged in a row. In distinct blues and pinks. Out of one of the houses, an middle aged blond woman stepped out, garbed in a tight fuscia robe, wearing high heels, and holding her wand loosely in one hand. "Draco Malfoy, I presume!" She rang in a throaty voice. "I'm Mary Cummings, Headmistress here at True Directions. I do hope you enjoy your stay here. We're all here to learn." Draco followed her stiffly into the main house. "Here at True Directions, we are going to find the sources of your errant behaviors." She told him, motioning for him to sit across from her desk. She paced behind it as she spoke. "Your problem of homosexuality isn't entirely your fault. There are factors involved that you have no control over. The way your parents failed in raising you, for one. The overly accepting, completely amoral media for another. However, in the end, you have chosen to be a homosexual, and that cannot be tolerated." "I didn't choose to be a homosexual!" Draco growled. She looked at him gravely. "We don't believe in that "born that way" excuse here. You are a conscious moral agent and capable of choosing between right and wrong, natural and unnatural." "I mean I'm not a homosexual." Draco insisted. She simply raised a brow at him. Her thick pancake makeup creased and stayed that way as her face returned to a serious mask. "I see. We're at that stage with you, are we? Well, can you explain those pink pants?" "They're salmon color! They're the latest fashion in Teen Slyth!" "And have you always been this interested in clothing? Surely you understand that for the most part, concern with your appearance is a feminine trait. Real men don't take such care into their grooming." "There's nothing wrong with trying to look nice." "I'm told that you have quite a few obviously homosexual traits. You enjoy Potions class, do you? That's not a very masculine subject." "Well, there's nothing bloody feminine about rooting around in the mud at the full moon so that you can kill and gut a creyasworm when you finally lay your hands on one. They're nothing feminine about making bonding potion which requires you to cut yourself and put in your own blood during brewing." "Ah. But Potions include making Childsbane, love potions, lust potions, and potions to ease menstrual cramps. It also involves the cutting and preparing of herbs and foods, much like cooking, which is obviously a woman's task." "Maybe…" Draco eyed her uneasily. "I'm still not gay." "Well, if you can't admit it, you're going to have to start from the beginning." Mary snapped her fingers and a tall, beautiful man wearing an electric blue tank top and a pair of tight jeans entered with a pile of grey clothing. "Go to the lavatory and take off your clothes. You will be wearing these until you've earned the right to wear regular clothes." "The right? What's wrong-" "Do you want me to tell your father how you're resisting the treatment?" "No." He said firmly, snatching the grey uniform from the man and storming out of the room. He hated these clothes instinctively. They were thick and shapeless. He looked horrible in them and knew it. He couldn't have imagined it as worse. "Ello." A boy taller than himself was leaning against the wall when he came out. He had thick brown hair and smiled crookedly. "I'm Steven. Mary told me to show you to the boys' dorm." His accent was a bit thicker than his own but he appeared to be nice. He was wearing the same cobalt blue that he'd seen on Paul earlier, in the form of a shirt and pants, which at the very least were better tailored than Paul's. "I'm Draco Malfoy." Draco informed him in an imperious tone. "Come on, then." Steven said, turning away. Draco followed him. "So who turned you in? I sort of blurted it out. Wasn't a good scene, nearly got the shit beat out of me at school. Mum and dad seem to think I can get a fix here though. What about you?" "I'm not gay. Everyone just thinks I am." Steven turned his head and looked him over. "I dunno." "What do you mean, you dunno? I'm not. I'm just here because my Father wants me to go through this before…" "Before?" Steven asked in his deep voice. He'd stopped in a large open area with tables for eating. "Before people get the wrong idea. I'm not gay." "This." Steven said, raising a brow and pointing to a chart on the wall. "Is our progress chart. See the checks? The first step is admitting you're a homosexual. That part was easy for me. Not so easy for some others. But we've all gone through it, you see? So that will be the first thing they do with you. Come on." Draco looked over the chart briefly before following him into the blue house. "This is our dorm. We all sleep here, wash here, spend off time, you know. So long as we don't do anything that would get us kicked out." Draco surveyed the room, which was disgustingly bathed in blue. He was beginning to loathe the color. "What do you mean? What would get us kicked out?" "He means fucking." A harsh and unamused voice came from one of the beds behind him. Draco turned around and widened his pale eyes nearly to the size of saucers. "Weasley!" Draco shouted in fury at the boy lying on the bed, with one eyebrow raised sardonically. "What are you doing here?" "What the fuck do you think I'm doing here? I'm in gay rehab, just like you!" Ron Weasley didn't get off the bed. He just crossed his arms and glared at Draco. "I am not gay." "Oh, come off it Malfoy, you're twice as gay as I am." "I am not!" Draco lunged toward him but felt the tug on the back of his shirt. "Cut it out, you two. You're going to get in trouble. Just relax." "I think it's sort of fate we both ended up here, eh? Looks like we're not that different after all." Ron muttered with annoyance tinting his voice. "Yeah, only my parents can afford to send me here." Ron narrowed his eyes at Draco. "Right. So you can play the part and get back there on the outside so you can be your horrible, worthless self again. While my mum and dad scrape together every last penny so they can send the son they should have loosed to get himself "fixed." Just perfect isn't it? Malfoys and Weasleys, coming together for a common cause. We could see the end of homosexuality in our lifetimes, people." "Lay off, Ron." Steven pleaded. "Oh, puhlease." The newest boy sashayed into the room arrogantly and circled around Draco, looking him over. He had dark hair, with blond highlights and a sweet face down to his chin dimple. "I just hate those awful punishment clothes, don't you? They don't do anything for the figure and I swear nobody looks good in that color!" "This is Andreas." Ron said halfheartedly. "Hi hi! You must be Draco Malfoy. I heard on the grapevine our class was getting one more before we moved on! Ohhhh and a cute one, too!" "Hey!" Draco protested as Andreas trailed a finger along his jawline. He grabbed his hand and squeezed it hard. "Ow! You're hurting my hand!" Andreas cried out, jumping back. "Normally I like that sort of thing, but not here, okay, baby?" "Ugh." Draco groaned. He walked over to the bed with his name over it, which, thankfully was a bed away from Ron's and sat on it. "I can't believe they all turned on me like this." "I know it. They even got Harry and Hermione in on the act. They brought Charlie in to my "intervention." It was pathetic." Ron grumbled. "I can imagine what Potter said." "He didn't say much of anything. Well, he said, "Er… I dunno" but he always says that. Hermione had the real evidence." "What, no conviction from the famous Harry Potter?" Draco sneered. He could just imagine that sot turning on his best friend. "He didn't want to be there. Everyone else was just so sickly sweet about everything. Even the twins weren't teasing me. It was like I'd gotten a disease or something and they had to send me to quarantine." "Sweet, huh? Right. So what are your "obviously homosexual traits"?" Draco said, mocking Mary's tone by making his voice deep and throaty. He looked at Steven, over sitting on his bed reading something intently, and Andreas, still brushing his hair and trying to arrange it just right. "My OGTs? I guess I ignore girls too much. They said I spent too much time at the dance hanging out with Harry and not dancing with girls. Though I do like to dance and apparently that's a problem. And they think it's weird how much I like Quidditch, but don't play-" "Me too!" Draco jumped up. Ron raised a brow at him. "Well, I play, but they mentioned Quidditch. I mean, that's a sport! What are they complaining about?" "Seriously." "And you don't play because there's not a bloody spot on your team." "Yeah. And I was head over heels with Fleur last year, but apparently she wasn't really a girl, so it doesn't count. She bloody looked like one, though." "She wasn't?" Ron grimaced. "Apparently not. I should have guessed. And they thought it was a little weird that I was Harry's "most precious thing" but that's not really fair. I didn't have any say in that. Neither did he. They didn't even ask. And there's this band I like. And the eye makeup. I listen to a lot of music but there's this one band in particular-" "Placebo?" "How'd you guess?" Ron looked at him in surprise. "I listen to them too. Mum was upset over one of their posters I had on my wall." "Bugger. I don't just listen to them. I listen to a lot of hard stuff. Heavy guitar and drums, real electric sounds. I dunno what they're all on about." Ron scoffed. "So you're not gay either? But you're already in blues." Ron smirked and leaned up on his knees. "Oh, I'm gay alright. I just didn't think anybody could tell." Draco's face fell. He had been beginning to see hope. If Ron had been falsely accused then… "Oh." "Don't look so thrilled about it." "No… I mean. Just leave me alone." "Whatever." Ron reached over and picked up a book. Draco continued to stare at him for a moment, eyes trailing down his lean, stern face and that shaggy red hair that was falling into his eyes. "Don't drool too much, baby. Laundry day isn't until Thursday." Andreas called out, winking at him. "What the hell are you talking about?" Draco demanded. Ron took a hand from his book, but not his eyes, and flipped Andreas off. "You'll get used to it. If we look at each other for more than a few seconds, Andy assumes we're mentally undressing each other. It's pathetic. You're a perv, Andy." "At least I'm honest." Andreas quipped, stretching out luxuriously on his bed. |