55Chapter 19: ASTTWT 8: A Good Thrashing
And so the Tables Were Turned …, part eight: A Good Thrashing
One, two, three, four …
No, this could not be happening, it was just a dream, just a dream …
A nightmare! He had eight sisters, for fuck's sake! Eight! And they all looked the same! He did not even know which one of them was the real Piper!
Oh, man, I'm gonna faint, Draco thought miserably.
Thump.
He looked to his side. Why hadn't he fainted?
"Harry?"
Harry was lying flat on his back on the floor, a shocked expression on his face. Draco squatted beside him to take a closer look. "Harry, you fainted for me?" he asked, but of course there was no answer. Unsure of what you were supposed to do when somebody fainted—it was always him blacking out—he checked if Harry was breathing. With that done, he rose to his feet again and faced all of Piper's faces. "Okay, which of you is the real one?" he demanded.
"I am!" all of them shrieked, raising their arms like a certain Hermione Granger used to during their school days …
So that did not work. Had to try another strategy, then. "Okaaay … so maybe I should just go to Japan and get Yousuke so he can figure out who of you is his real girlfriend—'junsui no kanojo', isn't it? Great, I'll just do that …"
One of the Pipers gave a shrill shriek. "Oh no! Yousuke! I have to tell him not to come here! What if he comes to visit and meets one of the clones?! There's no telling what could happen!"
Draco immediately pointed at the Piper speaking. "YOU! Three steps forward now! The rest of you, stay where you are until I tell you otherwise!"
One of the clones began to cry. "Wuuaaaah, Draco you're always so mean to meeee!" she wailed.
"Yeah, yeah, what else is new?" he said impatiently. He turned to his real sister. "Come over here, I have an idea."
She lightened up. "Oh, you do? What is it?"
He took out his wand. "We need to present them with different kinds of clothing. We have to decide on some sort of dress code or colour code in order to tell you apart from each other—especially the clones. So you stay here, and I'll decide who will be who, okay? Dress yourself up all in black, all right?"
Piper frowned. "Why black?"
"It's a neutral colour." He went over to the first clone. "All right. Do you know what just happened here? Because Piper over there tried to multiply her powers, not herself …"
The Piper clone before him lit up like a light bulb. "Oh, oh, oh, I know this one! I know this one! Her spell backfired and instead of multiplying her powers she made all her personal qualities come alive in the shape of another Piper! You know, all the different sides to her personified …"
Draco raised an eyebrow in bafflement and studied the clones one by one. "There are seven sides to my sister?" he asked.
"Oh, yes! She is multifaceted, you see! And I'm her gay self!"
Draco swirled around at the word 'gay.' His eyes huge with astonishment, he breathed, "What?!"
The clone laughed nervously. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean gay as in 'homosexual,' I meant gay as in 'merry.' You know—genki!"
"Genki?"
"Yeah—genki! A Japanese word for someone who's very energetic, very merry, and very vital—you know, genki!" That annoying laughter again.
Draco took a step away from her. "Okaaay … so you'll be Genki Piper, then. And I think a clown costume would suit you perfectly. Collu—"
"No!" She desperately grabbed his arm, and her eyes were watering with fear. "Please, anything but that, I'm afraid of clowns!"
"Piper's gay self is afraid of clowns?!"
"Yes, I hate them!"
"All right, how about dots then?"
The smile returned to her face. "Oooh, I loooove dots!"
"Then dots it is," Draco decided. "Colluthia green dots!" Genki Piper was now clothed in a pair of green cotton trousers with white dots and a white cotton shirt with green dots. Very distasteful, but she seemed happy with it. Or, rather, she seemed genki with it.
Beside Genki Piper was obviously Stupid Piper, because she understood nothing but simple sentences. It was more intellectually stimulating to have a conversation with James. Stupid Piper was given a T-shirt featuring the words 'FAILING ENGLISH? BUT THAT'S UNPOSSIBLE!'
Then there was Sensitive Piper—the crying one—and she got a pink dress with cute little arm puffs and loads of needlepoint details and white knee socks and bunny slippers. She was so happy over her new beautiful dress that she ran out of there crying. Such a wuss.
After her, Draco had to make a great adjustment of his attitude, because the new clone regarded him with wary, calculating eyes, but also with a certain degree of self-righteous superiority, arrogance, and authority. "Who are you, then?" he asked her in his best Malfoy-voice.
The smile forming on her lips was annoyingly smug and self-secure. "You couldn't figure that out for yourself, Drakie-poops? I'm the true Malfoy that resides within Piper, deeply repressed for twenty-three years, which makes me twice as strong as her in this reality," she informed him without blinking even once.
Draco resisted the urge to gag. Instead, he twisted his wrist and said, "Piercings and leather, then?"
"Oh, puwleeeaaaze, give me a tattoo too while you're at it, Drakie-beans …"
"Shut up and go drown yourself in the bathtub. Who's next?"
"I am, you gorgeous, sexy stud!"
Draco stiffened. Oh, no. Not that. Please, not that!
When he turned around, he found that one of the clones was looking at him with faux-innocent, sexually hungry eyes, her right index finger in her mouth to look even more inviting. Shivers travelled down his spine. He'd had a feeling this personality trait might show up …
"What's wrong, Draco? Don't you find me extremely sexy? Don't you want me?"
"Like Hell I do! You disgust me more than my dead grandmother would! Now take your fucking jeans and run off!"
He knew that his sister had a well-hidden kinky side to her—it was evident in the way she always teased them with little comments about their lovemaking, which indicated that she always listened eagerly as soon as she heard the least bit of suspicious sounds coming out of their bedroom—and he also knew that Piper was very disappointed that she was his sister, otherwise she 'would have jumped him ages ago.' That was her exact words, and they deeply disgusted him.
So, now there was a Slutty Piper walking around the Manor wanting him. Great. Just great. Harry would go ballistic when he woke up. But maybe Draco could take advantage of that …?
He forced Slutty Piper out of the den and turned to the last two. One of them was Piper's constant hunger—she was always eating something—and since this one was bound to get fat pretty soon when she was no longer a part of the real Piper and could not be restrained, he told her to wear anything she liked as long as it was purple, violet, or lilac.
The last one was the least expected one—the most surprising one. She was the smart one. And 'smart' was merely her first name, because Draco did not understand a word she was saying. He decided to call her Einstein Piper and gave her chequered trousers and a turtleneck just because she was so boring. To add the finishing touch, he also gave her huge square glasses.
When he was finally finished with the bloody clones, the real Piper came to his side. "Gee, bro, I never thought you could be so calm and collected. How is this possible?"
Draco pointed at the floor. "Hello, duh! Harry fainted! At least one of us had to be smart and do something about it! And don't take this personally, but Stupid Piper and Genki Piper have kind of taken over you entirely."
"I know—that's how I like it. Shouldn't you wake up Harry or something? I'll handle Yousuke, and then I'll put tabs on the clones. See ya in five."
Draco sighed.
And so it was on again …
Harry returns from the front after more than two years' war and is surprised to find that the Manor is completely quiet. For more than a year, when he has been fighting for the Ministry, all he has wished for is to once again hear the buzz and the life of the Manor. He has even longed to hear Piper's incessant questions about everything—but there is not a single sound. Everything is quiet.
Too quiet. Not even little Touma running around the house like he has done for the past decade or so. Worried that the Death Eaters have finally found a way through the Protection Shield and got to his family, Harry runs up the stairs, shouting, "Pipeeeer! Jooee! Timmy—anyone!"
Movement in his periphery catches his attention, and when he swirls around he finds that Timothy is standing there waiting for him. The boy has a queer glint in his green eyes that sends shivers down Harry's spine. There is something … almost animal in them. Primitive. But at the same time, his eyes are dead.
Clearing his throat, Harry says, "Timothy, God you scared me! Where is everyone? Where's Piper? Where're all the kids? The twins and Natsumi and … Touma. Where is everyone? Have they gone back to Japan?" No answer came; Timothy was just staring at him with those expressionless, dead eyes. It was uncanny. "Timothy, why are you so quiet? Why is everything so quiet? Where's your sister?"
The boy jerks noticeably at the mentioning of his sister. For a moment, there is life in his eyes; such an utter and fragile pleading. "Don't let her—" Then his face contorts in pain, and the deadness returns to his eyes. "Forgive me, I must have lost myself in thoughts for a moment. What was it that you asked me?"
Harry frowns. Something is wrong, very wrong. Is it possible that the Death Eaters have come to the house and put his son under the Impediment Curse? But surely Timothy must be strong enough to fight it … No, he could not be under the influence of an Unforgivable Curse. "Where are they?" he therefore asks the boy again.
Timothy is silent for three seconds or so before replying. "They have left this place," he says in his low, monotonous voice.
The frown deepens into a scowl. "Left? What do you mean? Did they go back to Japan?"
Yet again, the boy is quiet for some time before opening his mouth. And when he does so, the words coming out of it are puzzling, indeed. "I cannot tell you … They have left."
The boy is freaking him out. Surveying the deserted hallways on both sides of him, he begins to wonder if something worse than the Death Eaters have entered his home. "Where's Blaise?" he inquires, anxiety rising from deep in his heart.
The longest silence yet. The boy's eyes change anew, and there is some semblance of emotion in them. It is almost as if he pities Harry. "Do you not remember? Have you forgotten what happened?"
Harry jerks. "Happened? What are you talking about?"
The pity in the boy's eyes is slowly breaking his heart.
Sighing, Timothy lowers his gaze. "Blaise died seven years ago."
And suddenly the truth hits him with the force of a sledgehammer.
Blaise was murdered, only 4 years old … the poor baby … And that was the year before Draco …
"No!" Harry sinks down onto the floor. "No, it can't be true … please tell me it's not true …"
"I am afraid I could not do so without lying—and I do not lie, Harry."
Harry hugs himself. Tears are running down his face. "Draco …"
"I am going to save him," Timothy suddenly claims with pride in his voice. Almost immediately after uttering those words, he screams out in pain. Turns back into his 'normal' self. Gazing down the hallway behind him, he says, "She is calling me."
He prepares to leave.
Harry stands up. "Wait! You still, after all these years, haven't told me who 'she' is, Tim. Who is calling you? Who is controlling you? Because that's what she's doing, isn't it? That's why you always seem so … dead. Emotionless. She's controlling you, making you do things against your will, isn't she?"
The boy looks stricken with pain. "I am so sorry, father. I will make everything up to you, everything that she's done to you. I will find a way to make it up to you, I promise." And then he vanishes before Harry's eyes.
What has happened to his boy while he has been away? And where is everyone? For some reason, he does not think that the silence means that Piper has taken her family and moved to Japan—the silence means that they are all dead.
Oddly enough, all the clones left them alone pretty much all the time—well, except for Genki Piper, of course. Genki Piper seemed to be the one who always went "Draco! Draco! Draco! I love you, my dear brother! How are you doing?" all the time, and since the real Piper was doing a great job 'collecting her forces'—which meant training her clones—they had the entire Manor all to themselves.
Piper had decided to conduct the training outside in the lovely autumn weather, so they had all marched down to the lake half a kilometre away. And since James was still at the magical day-care centre …
Harry was lying on his back on their favourite couch in the parlour, and Draco was semi-lying, semi-sitting beside him. The reason why they loved that couch so much was because it was so wide; two people could easily lie next to each other on it. Draco was currently drawing funny patterns on Harry's tummy and chest with his fingertip.
Looking up at him, Harry said, "I love when you look like that."
Draco met his eyes. "What—when I look like you?"
Harry laughed. "No, silly! When you look so absent-minded. It's like you go into some sort of inner, creative world. It's sexy. You're sexy."
Draco leaned down and kissed Harry, their tongues intertwining in a hot wrestling match. "We're all alone here …", he said with an obscene smile, and put his hand on Harry's crotch.
"Yeah, but I wanna do something different today …"
"Oh, really? And what might that be?"
"Please you orally."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Oh-hoo, is that what you want? Well, I'm not complaining … Give it to me, baby!" He slid down on his back, his head resting against the arm of the couch, expectantly waiting with that obscene smile widening noticeably as Harry set about unzipping his trousers.
With great attention to detail, Harry pulled Draco's trousers and boxers down to his knees, and since Draco was only mildly aroused, he massaged the blonde's groin—something that always worked. As soon as he had succeeded to get an erection out of his lover, he took it in his mouth and began to work it.
He tried to be as variable as possible, both in motion and in speed; sometimes with more tongue; sometimes carefully stroking with the ridge of his teeth; sometimes sucking hard and swiftly, sometimes slowly and softly. Soon, Draco started to wriggle and writhe; the obscene smile that had been playing on his lips was changed for an open-mouthed expression of pleasure, and he was gasping for breath. Harry, who loved seeing Draco like that, moved his lips and tongue faster over Draco's erection, and he too got more excited as the blonde hardened.
"Oh, God, oh, God," Draco breathed, and took a firm grip on the fabric in the couch with both hands. His face had flushed a healthy rose-red, and a light film of sweat was covering it.
Harry sucked harder as he simultaneously massaged the blonde's groin with eager, hot hands; he was a true prestidigitator. "Haaah, Harry …" Draco shouted, his hands tightening around the couch fabric until his knuckles had turned alabaster white. He bucked and put his crotch up as a reaction to his imminent orgasm. "I'm—I'm—I'm coming!"
Harry knew that Draco was warning him in case he did not want to swallow, but he did not care. He gladly took it, because he did not find it disgusting; he actually rather liked it.
Draco drew a few quick, shallow breaths and sank down on the couch, exhausted but euphoric all the same. Almost as an afterthought, he pulled his underwear and trousers back up. Harry threw himself down beside him and took his hand in his; raised it to his lips and kissed it. "Was I any good?" he teased.
Draco laughed shortly. "Hooo, you are one Hell of a sucker! And the good kind, I tell you!" He flew up into a sitting position. "Now it's my turn to—"
He was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a door being opened, followed by many excited voices, but since they were all Piper's voice in different moods and pitches it sounded as if she had an echo. Draco peered over the back of the couch with a sullen frown on his forehead. Black-clad Piper stopped when she noticed him there. "Oh, hey Draco! Were you sleeping?"
Harry sat up, too, deciding to grant her that unspoken confession.
She gasped and put her hand over her mouth, feigning shock, but they could both see that she was obscenely pleased. "Did you two just fuck?!" she exclaimed.
Draco snorted importantly. "For your information—Harry and I don't 'fuck,' we make love!" he told her with genuine pride. "And no, we didn't—Harry gave me a blowjob." Directly after saying that, he gasped himself and turned to meet Harry's gaze. "Did I just say that out loud?!"
Harry was grinning teasingly, obviously amused. "Yeah, you did, Dracums."
Draco bit his lower lip. "Sorry. I'm just going to hide and be embarrassed now." He slid down out of sight to the Pipers.
Cho was boiling inside—she was so damned furious with him! It had taken her several weeks—well, over a month, really—to even figure out why she was so angry and with whom, but now she understood what she had to do to get the anger out of her system once and for all. She was furious with Draco Malfoy for stealing Harry away from her five years ago—she could have been the one to give birth to everyone's favourite magical baby! She could have been Harry's wife by now! But no—Draco had to ruin that for her!
And now he had to pay.
Harry had to pay, too. He had allowed himself to be stolen away from her—to be seduced and cursed by that male Malfoy wench. Now they both had to pay.
She had summoned her best friend, Lavender Brown, for support and advice in the matter, and they were currently sitting on the floor of her living room with her old size 2 pewter cauldron between them. The beginning of a potion was brewing and steaming in it.
"What exactly are we doing?" Lavender asked. She had lost contact with her old best friend Parvati three years ago when Parvati moved to India to study there to become a Healer, and Cho had accidentally run into Lavender at St Mungo's two years prior. They had swiftly become close friends.
Cho stirred in the potion. "A Sleeping Potion," she replied. "I'm going to lure Draco into drinking it so I can have a little chat with Harry in private."
Lavender gave her a sarcastic look. "You sure you can actually make a Sleeping Potion? I mean, back in school you almost killed Snape with your antidote once. You've never been good with potions."
Something hit Cho. "You're right. Maybe I should do that instead."
"What? Kill Snape?"
"No—make that antidote again! Exactly the way I made it at school! That way I'd be able to poison Draco and forever get him out of Harry's life! If they don't know what he's been given they can't cure him, right?" She laughed, pleased with herself and her shady scheme. And since she had put a slight Influence Spell on Lavender, so did she.
In the commotion that was caused by the clones—well, mainly by Genki Piper, really—everybody forgot to keep an eye on the most volatile one: Malfoy Piper. Therefore, no-one noticed when she picked up the paper and read the article that had been the reason for Piper's Power Enhancement Spell, and no-one saw her reaction. Because when she read the part about 'Draco Malfoy, sole heir of the Malfoy line,' she got quite pissed.
Crumbling up the paper in her hands, she muttered to herself: "Sole heir, eh? They totally forgot about me, didn't they? Well, I'll make them see otherwise!"
Cho always told herself that one should believe in oneself—and that was what she did when she sneaked into the Malfoy Manor with the intention of breaking into Piper's private quarters to steal a few bottles of poison from her. She had tried her own poison on a few dung beetles, but they had all lived, which meant that so would Draco. Therefore, she needed to execute Plan B.
Unfortunately, Piper was not as stupid as she seemed; she kept her door locked. Unable to get inside, afraid of getting caught before she had got what she had come for, Cho cursed under her breath and silently stamped her foot down.
When she was about to give up, someone grabbed her shoulder from behind. Gasping in fright, she swiftly swirled around. Piper was staring at her with a devious look in her grey eyes—but she looked so different. She was wearing enough leather to make an MC thug jealous, and she had piercings all over her face!
"Need help with that?"
Draco spent most of the afternoon painting—something that he had not done in years. He had always had a talent for art, and currently he was working on a glorified specimen of Harry. He wanted to make Harry-on-the-canvas just as perfect and flawless as he saw him.
But the thing was, when Draco was exercising his artistic and creative abilities, he forgot all about the world around him, and he might have left a few things out … or, like, his entire brush-and-paint-set in its neat, black box … and he might have put it in the middle of the floor …
A loud thunk! came from the adjoining room. "Oooww! What the Hell—"
"Shut up, you're ruining my concentration," Draco growled.
"Fuck your concentration! I just stumbled over your bloody paint set and now I've got red paint all over myself!" Harry shouted back.
Draco squealed in terror and ran out into the adjoining room. When he saw the mess, he shrieked. "No! My paint!" He shot angry flashes at Harry. "You fucking incapable clumsy bastard! Can't you watch where you're going?! That's a hundred Gold Galleons worth of paint, you moron!"
"Is it? Oh, I'm sorry—I'm bloody covered in paint here! Could you be more selfish?!"
"Selfish? Selfish?! Who's being selfish? That's not your money you're covered in!"
"Oh, like you don't have enough to buy new paint …"
"That's not the point! I needed that for the background, and now I have to go to Diagon Alley to pick up more!" Draco complained.
Harry grimaced sceptically. "You need to go all the way to Diagon Alley just to get some paint?"
"It's magical paint, you arse!" Draco yelled, and threw a couple of his brushes at him.
That was the last drop for Harry. Still covered in paint, and now with a brush hanging from his moderate chest, he made to lash out at Draco. He probably meant to say something really insulting, but what came out was just a series of complex hisses that, to Draco, sounded something like "Hssssfffssshassnfff". Blinking stupidly, Draco completely forgot that he was angry with Harry. Instead, he stared at his lover with eyes wide-open in bafflement and lack of understanding. "You hissed at me," he whispered.
Harry had not noticed any difference in his own voice. "Yeah, so? I'm bloody furious with you right now!" he stated, red in the face.
Draco waved his hands in front of him dismissively. "No, no, that's not what I meant! You hissed—as in Parseltongue! Sssss!" he tried to explain.
It did not have the effect that he had hoped. Harry just seemed to become more offended. Pointing an accusatory finger at Draco, he spat out, "What did you just call me?!"
Draco jerked. "What? I actually said something? But you know I don't speak Parseltongue! If I said something, it was pure coincidence! I was just trying to explain to you that you hissed like a snake, and you've never done that before! Not to my face, I mean. The only time I've actually heard you speak Parseltongue was that time during Duelling Club when I sent that snake after you … That was bloody impressive, Harry. And bloody sexy. Say something else!"
Harry blinked at him. "Excuse me? You go on about your precious paints, and then just because I say 'go fuck yourself' in Parseltongue you're prepared to just let it go?" he asked sceptically.
"That's what you said? What did I say?"
"'Bite my white arse, fish-eye'," Harry said, and this time he was actually smiling.
"I said all that in just one hiss? Amazing! Say something else!"
Harry concentrated hard and hissed.
Draco was instantly aroused. Walking over to Harry, he said, "How about we have some angry make-up sex to celebrate the use of your second language?" With an elegant flick of his arm, he made the paint on Harry's body and clothes go away.
Harry pretended to be averse to the idea. "Why should I consent to anything like that with someone who just called me a fish-eye in my second language?" he joked.
Draco was quick to follow up. "Oh, you can call me something equally offending." Leaning in closer, he whispered in Harry's ear, his lips just slightly touching Harry's earlobe. "You could call me Malfoy. That'd really piss me off."
"Ooh, I don't know if I wanna make that mistake again …," Harry protested.
Draco nibbled at his earlobe. "Call me Malfoy. I promise I'll be rough and merciless."
Harry laughed. "So trash me then, Malfoy."
A rush of genuine fury passed through Draco and made him shudder for a second. He had not expected that Harry calling him Malfoy again would have such an intense and immediate effect, but he embraced the opportunity and used the adrenaline kick that his anger gave him and turned it into a white-hot, furious, insane desire instead. "Oh, you're gonna regret you said that," he growled at Harry, and bit down on the raven-haired boy's neck.
He ripped open Harry's shirt and ripped off his cotton trousers. He was not wearing any underwear, and Draco actually stopped for a fraction of a second to marvel over this oddity. Harry always wore underwear; he felt naked otherwise. But the blonde did not contemplate it further; he was getting way too horny and way too impatient to dominate his lover to have time for such trivial ponderings.
Roughly, sneering deviously, he forced himself into Harry—Harry going "Ah, fuck, God yes!"—and immediately began to thrust forcefully, mercilessly. Harry rose to receive every breath-taking thrust, slamming their hips together with immense power. Oh, nothing could beat this way to solve a problem …
Harry began to shriek again, shouting out loud just like he had done last time, not aware of it himself and therefore not the least bit concerned that he might draw the intention of eight Pipers. "Fuck, shit, yes, harder, harder, harderharderharder! Beat me, smack me, trash me, Dracums!"
Draco slapped his face and elicited an even more fierce cry of pleasure from his lover, mixed with pain. He thrusted, thrusted, thrusted, so hard that the glasses began to slide down his nose. He was trembling; shivers and shudders and quivers going all through his body now, Harry going "Yes, baby, yes—that's it! Thrash me, thrash me—slap me!"
Draco slapped him as prompted, and Harry cried out in pleasure, making the blonde dangerously excited. He smacked and thrust even harder, losing himself in their little world of pleasure and golden specks of light, thrust so fucking hard against Harry's prostate, crying out when Harry clawed at his back, certainly leaving bloody claw marks all over him, thrust, thrust, thrust …
Simultaneously, they cried out, letting all their inhibitions go, embracing orgasm. With a final shudder of every exhausted muscle, Draco collapsed on top of Harry, who still breathed a low "yes, yes, oh fuck yes, baby …" under his breath, eyes closed and face all sweaty and red and heavenly.
Draco withdrew and fell down on the floor next to Harry. Then he looked at his lover. Gasped. "Oh, my God, Harry you're bleeding!"
Harry slowly opened his eyes. "What?" he slurred. Frowning at his own difficulty speaking, he lifted a hand to his mouth. It came away bloody because his lower lip was split. "Oh, shit!"
Draco immediately reached for his wand. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to slap you that hard! Arteria mendo!" The Healing Spell worked perfectly, thank Merlin. "Man, that was some angry make-up sex …"
"Insane," Harry agreed. "But bloody good. I really needed that. Thanks, mate," he added teasingly.
Draco slapped his face again—but not as hard as before, though … "You're really asking for a second thrashing, aren't you? Well, for your information, I'm going downstairs to have a snack, all this fucking made me hungry …"
He met Yousuke out in the hall. "Oh, hi Joe," he said without reflecting over the Japanese man's presence. But when he reached the stairs, he stopped. Yousuke? There—at the Manor?
"Aa, anata, yatto deattanda!" he heard behind him. (Ah, darling, finally we meet!)
And before he even turned around, he knew who Yousuke had run into. "Yousuke! YousukeYousukeYousuke! My beloved boyfriend, my flower amongst flowers! Come give mama a big kiss!"
Draco swirled around. "Noooo! Joe, don't do it! That's not Piper! That's Genki!"
Yousuke frowned at him. "Genki? You learn Japanese, Dorako-san?"
Draco waved his arms feverishly in front of him. "No, no, no! That's not what I meant! Piper cloned herself—didn't she tell you? She made seven copies of herself, and they all have different personalities. Green dots—that's Genki Piper!"
"Piper is genki clone? What is clone?"
"A copy, someone who looks like her but isn't her."
"Is not her? Genki Piper get lost?"
"No, Piper's not lost—she's downstairs. The real Piper—your Piper—is wearing black clothes."
Yousuke blinked. "Black clothes?"
"Yeah, kimono or whatever you call it … you know, the stuff you wear so you won't have to be naked …"
"Ah! Kimono! Hai hai! Yoku yatta, Dorako-kun!" (Clothes/Kimono! You got it! Well done, Draco!)
"What? Yeah, yeah, whatever."
"Be genki, Dorako-san! Genki bite for later dinner, right?"
Now Draco really did not understand a word of what he was saying. "Er … right. I'm going to grab a bite; you want something to eat, Joe? Piper's probably in the kitchen. But watch out for Gluttony Piper, she might swallow you whole!"
Harry joined him in the den half an hour later. Hardly had they had time to sit down to enjoy their quiet time together before the fireplace gave a roar of green fire and a shadow stepped out into the room. Unfortunately, it was neither Santa Claus nor the tooth fairy, but Cho. "Hey boys!" she said with a broad smile. "Thought I ought to pay you a visit since it's been such a long time, don't you agree?"
She gave them no time to answer, but went straight out to the kitchen. When she returned she was carrying a tray with three mugs of steaming hot tea. She had used their 'name-jugs,' as Piper liked to call them—one saying HARRY, one saying DRACO, and one saying GUEST. She sat down in an armchair and instantly began to sip at hers.
When neither of them had moved for a whole minute, she said, "What? You're not even going to drink your tea? Oh, I have to use the loo, anyways, this is going straight to my bladder. Where might it be?"
Draco instructed Sensitive Piper to show her. Then he looked down at the tea. "Why is she here, Harry? Did you ask her to come? Did you invite her?"
"What? No! I don't want her here, either. I have no idea why she just showed up like that. But let's just play it cool and try not to blow our cover, okay? She cannot know that I'm Harry and you're Draco, all right?"
"Right." But when they drank their tea, they instinctively took the mugs with their own name on it. Therefore, without their knowledge, Draco still got the poison and Harry the Influence Potion that had been meant for them, but which would have been mixed up had they switched mugs according to the bodies they were currently in.
When Cho returned, they both stood up, silently agreeing on asking her to leave. But when Draco, playing the part of Courteous Potter, opened his mouth to excuse them, the lights went out. Since night was already upon them and no other lamps were on in any of the adjacent rooms, the den became pitch black.
Draco froze. Something was not right. "Ha … Draco?" he said warily. "Did you turn off the lights?"
"No," came Harry's voice from somewhere at the other end of the room. "But I'm trying to find my wand so I can turn them back on again …"
"I turned the lights out," Cho said, and there was a new slyness in her voice now.
"Why did you do that?" Draco inquired, feeling more anxious for every second that passed in the dark. Then, addressing, Harry, he said, "Why did she do that?!"
"How am I supposed to know?" It was silent for a while, then someone bumped into something. "Shit! Where are you, Harry?"
"I'm right here," Draco said, "I—" He fell silent when he felt something poke him in the side. "Draco, is that you?" God, he felt so stupid calling out his own name like this …
"No, I'm over here. I think I'm by one of the armchairs or something …"
"Then who's touching me?!" Draco asked in a panic. As soon as he had uttered those words, he knew the answer. Cho. Who else? So that had been her scheme … Coming to the Manor, turning off all the lights, confusing them, catching them off guard, trying to make a grab at Harry … She was trying to steal his Harry! Only she thought he was Harry …
Something pinched his butt. He jerked. "Hey! Stop that! Haaarryyyyy!"
"Why are you crying out your own name, Harry? You got some sort of egotistic kinky streak to you? I can like that."
"Draco, what's happening?" Harry asked. "I can't see a bloody thing …"
"She's touching me!" Draco whined, and tried to get away from her.
"She's touching you where?" Jealousy was evident in Harry's voice. "Where – is – she- touching – you?!"
"She grabbed my arse!" He cried out in disgusted and offended surprise when he felt another hand on himself. "And now she grabbed my privates, too!"
"That's my privates! Cho, you stop it right this minute, or I'll—"
The lights came back on. They all froze.
"Well, this is an interesting scene …" Piper was standing in the doorway with Yousuke behind her. The real Piper, thank Merlin. Draco did not want to think about what could have happened if it had been Slutty Piper standing there! She probably just would have turned the lights back off and joined Cho in her grabbing-frenzy.
Harry was semi-leaning against, semi-embracing an armchair looking mighty astonished. Draco was currently standing in the middle of the room, Cho standing next to him holding his genitals in a firm grip—with clothes on, mind you! He swiftly broke free of his paralysis and ran over to Harry. "Harryyyy! I was so scaaaaared!" he whimpered, and threw himself around his lover's neck, seeking comfort. "Make that evil woman go away!"
Harry shot angry looks at Cho. "How dare you molest my Dracums like that?" he inquired, growling.
Cho looked at them in bafflement. "What? But— Draco was— you're— What are you talking about?"
"I'm Harry and he's Draco!" Harry yelled, beside himself with anger and offense. "Piper switched our bodies and now we can't switch back! Get out of here before I curse you!"
She did not stay to chat.
Piper was thoughtfully scratching her head. "What just happened here?" she wondered.
"Don't ask," Harry muttered.
"Timothy!" He runs after the boy. "Timothy, wait! I just want to talk to you! Hey, I said wait!"
The blond boy stops thirty feet ahead.
Harry runs up to him. Panting, he says, "Why are you running away from me?"
"Because she told me to," the boy replies in that dead, mellow tone.
Harry knits his eyebrows. "She told you to run away from your own father?"
"She told me to stay away from you and do my job. She told me to go to the past and kill you."
"What?!"
"She is sleeping. Maybe I can break free if you help me. Help me, Harry. I do not want to kill you. I want to save Draco."
Harry's head spins. He grabs the sleeve of the blonde's silk shirt—one of Draco's old ones. "Who is this woman? Why is she using you like this? And why on Earth did she tell you to go back in time and kill me?"
"I do not know—I do not ask questions. I just obey."
"But why on Earth would you obey such a woman, Timothy?! She's turning you into something you're not!"
The boy is silent for a while. "I do not know her intentions. She tells me she wants to make the world a beautiful place to live in again, but she is only making it worse, is she not? She is sleeping, so maybe I can break free."
Harry tries to shake the confusion out of his head. "Break free? What do you mean?"
"Of the restraint ring."
This is the first time Harry notices the ring around the boy's neck. Trembling, he reaches out one hand to touch it. "Don't!" the boy warns. "You will be hit with an electric current so strong it will knock you unconscious!"
Harry looks at the boy. "Is that how she controls you? With electric currents subjected through that ring around your neck? Is that how she makes you obey?"
Now the boy's voice is trembling. "She is punishing me …"
"Punishing you? For what?"
"For not being … not being …"
"Not being what?"
"… not being … playful …"
Something in Harry's brain suddenly rings a bell. Memories of a black-haired girl angrily demanding little Timmy to play with her when he had to devote all his time to protecting the time continuum …
"I never played with her … and James would just read …"
Yes, now he understands who Timothy is talking about. Falling to his knees, weak from the horrible revelation, he whispers: "Oh my God …"