Title: The Incredible Shrinking Malfoy
Author: Draco Petulans aka Greg Steele ()
Furniture: miniature furniture
Rating: R (for, er, kinks of various sorts)
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
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�You�re shrinking, and your two little balls are shrinking with you.�
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Draco was in a right pickle, there was no mistaking it.
His life had taken a most remarkable downturn several months ago when he�d finally pushed Virginia Weasley�s buttons one too many times and had found himself staring down the shaft of the redhead�s wand. Admittedly Draco it had been rather cruel to voice his thoughts on certain matters, especially when in her presence, but surely the orangutan had deserved it � who wears bright green robes with hair like that, anyway? Honestly! Still, he felt that he had been treated rather harshly given that the blond�s continued fascination with the prospect of breeding her with Crookshanks was well-known and hardly a new thing. Draco had felt the idea entirely justifiable; after all, the progeny resulting from such a union would be something truly special. Well, providing of course that they inherited their brains from their father � the alternative was simply too heartless to contemplate, even for a Malfoy.
Surely Weasley had overreacted just a tad. The use of a reductus hex hadn�t been justified!
A reductus hex it had been, though, and now Draco was stuck with its results until such time as Harry Potter decided to take his wand down from the top of the medicine cabinet and give it back to him so that he could cast the counterhex.
Oh, Harry had loved it. Then again, Harry would.
Most people who knew the Boy Who Lived, or thought they did at any rate, weren�t aware of Mr. Potter�s dirty little kink for schoolboys. Well, not schoolboys per se, but there had to be something behind his increasingly persistent requests that Draco dress up for him during the time since the unfortunate encounter with Weasley�s wand.
Even Professor Dumbledore, no stranger to kink himself if the collection of pink spandex robes which had played so prominent a part in the final battles against Lord Voldemort was anything to go by, had begun to express concern. The number of partially-clothed students to be seen around Hogwarts these days was enough to worry even the most depraved of minds. Everyone knew that their DADA teacher was the one pilfering them, but no-one was quite sure why. Well, no-one except Draco, that is.
Few people guessed that Harry was stealing the robes so he could dress his live-in lover, now only three foot four and shrinking at a rate of one seventh of an inch per day, in them and spank him for being such a naughty, naughty boy.
Draco was prepared to put up with this, after all, it had its benefits, such as the time when Harry�s aim had been off and the beater�s club he was lightly tanning Draco with had slipped right into� well, Draco was more than happy to play along. Still, the way in which Harry kept threatening his boyfriend with �Wood� was becoming a bit worrying. At least he assumed that he was being threatened. He had no idea just what �Wood� was, but was under the impression that it was obviously some sort of long, thick cane Harry particularly wanted to introduce him to, if the way in which he called out for it just when he was enjoying himself the most was anything to go by.
Draco was less happy about various other things. Firstly, well� all of him was shrinking, and whilst this seemed to turn his lover on to no end, by now Draco was getting rather fed up with the gloating looks the Weasel kept throwing him whenever they encountered each other in men�s-rooms. Actually, Draco wasn�t sure that they weren�t closer to leers than gloating smirks, but he really didn�t want to think about that too much. It wasn�t that Weasley was unattractive, well not in the looks department in any case. It was more that he had always shared his father�s suspicions about just how the Weasleys managed to keep their heating bill so low, and really wanted nothing to do with that sort of thing, thank you very much. All that red hair would surely blind one at close quarters, though this thought brought even more disturbing images of the Weasleys and certain activities he didn�t want to picture them partaking in into his mind.
Also, he was less than pleased with the fact that Harry seemed to be finding it increasingly difficult to get it up unless his boyfriend was dressed up either as a second year, in jackboots, suspenders and nothing else, or, perhaps most worryingly, transfigured into a Grim. Still, there was always hope that when he got back today he�d treat Draco with The Respect He Deserved and shower him with love and praise and affection and cu�
�Oi, Shorty, you home?� a voice called out from the hallway as the door slammed shut.
OK, scratch that. Still, at least he�d stopped calling Draco his sweet babboo, whatever that was � which was a decidedly good thing as slightly afterwards he�d tried to have sex with Draco on the miniature piano he�d transfigured Hedwig into on the spur of the moment. The legs of the �piano� had, of course, given way and even after Hermione had come round and fixed it, then turned the poor thing back to its natural form, Harry�s owl had still developed something of a waddle, not to mention an odd, stain-like discolouration near its tail. Draco wasn�t quite sure where that was from, as it certainly hadn�t been there before the incident, but he had a pretty good idea.
Not that Draco paid overmuch attention to Hedwig�s nether regions.
After that, Harry had taken to buying Draco more� authentic half-sized items of furniture, which he had to admit did come in handy. The child-sized table and chairs he was seated at now, for instance, meant that he no longer had to be embarrassed at the manner in which his legs swung beneath their normal dining table, nor the way his chin was getting progressively closer to its surface. Harry had seemed to relish the prospect that soon Draco�s head would no longer extend above the surface of the table for some reason, but that was Harry �eat, drink and fuck - preferably at the same time and sometimes the same object� Potter for you.
Draco�s boyfriend had only agreed to the new furniture as long as he promised to keep the pony Harry had bought for him the other week. Secretly, Draco felt that it would be kinder to find some way to poison the poor thing before Harry�s plans for it reached fruition �midgets and farm-animals sounded just like the pervert�s cup of tea - but if there was one aspect of Draco that had remained as large as ever, it was his propensity for selfishness.
�Awww� there you are!�
Draco braced himself for the flurry of hair-ruffling and cheek-pinching that inevitably followed Harry�s entering the house these days. Honestly, sometimes he was more of a bother than he was worth.
�And what�s my angry little boy been up to today?�
This was something of a sore point for Draco. In an attempt to combat Harry�s cloyingly sweet attitude towards him of late he had taken to wearing increasingly aggressive, punk-like clothes to try and remind people that he was still Draco Malfoy after all, and thus a mean little bastard - even if the emphasis was slightly stronger on the �little� these days. It hadn�t been working very well and he was starting to regret the piercings, as a couple of them seemed in danger of becoming septic. Far more worrying was that Harry hadn�t minded this in the least � uniforms and miniature furniture Draco could stand, but a boyfriend with a pus-fetish was starting to push things.
�I�ve got a surprise for you!�
This did not bode well. By now, Draco had more than enough fluffy toys to last him a lifetime and was becoming heartily fed up with the things. Besides, weren�t giraffes supposed to have long necks?
But no, Harry had outdone himself this time. In his hand, which he�d whipped out from behind his back, was what appeared to be a light blue bib which he was now trying to fasten onto Draco as he sat.
Being tied to the chair -another of Harry�s little �games�- he wasn�t able to stop Harry from fastening the offending item to his neck, but when a pack of what looked like cushioned incontinence pants bearing the name Pampers was brought out, he decided that he had had more than enough. There being only one thing he could do to voice his displeasure (the ball-gag fastened behind his neck tended to make speech rather difficult), he kicked Harry violently in the shins.
�OUCH! Why you little� Draco, I have told you a thousand times that if you carry on doing this, well, I�m really going to have no choice but to punish you.�
Oh, punishment, we�re back to that tired old game, eh?
�In fact, I think that you�re so ungrateful and rude, especially after all the lovely gifts I�ve bought you, that I really am going to have to punish you.�
Yep. Nothing particularly surprising there. The only thing that really interested Draco was whether it was going to be another spanking or whether Harry would have another of his little bursts of creativity.
Nope, Harry was undoing the fastenings on the chair and soon had Draco over his knee. A spanking it was.
Draco lay back, gripping the chair-legs which bent more than a little underneath the combined weight of the two of them, and wondered how long it would take before Harry decided that he�d been punished enough and give him a �treat�, but his thought-process kept being rudely interrupted. He was by now used to Harry becoming hard during these little sessions (though Lord above knew that this wasn�t difficult to forget when the thing in question was as sma� well, suffice to say that if appearances were anything to go by, it was possible to direct a reductus hex towards only one part of the body.) However, he was fairly sure that most spankings tended to only involve the hands and fingers being brought down onto the bottom.
He didn�t have long to wait. A greedy look entered Harry�s eyes and in a matter of seconds Draco was spread-eagled atop the miniature table with Harry performing what appeared to be some strange dance that involved ripping both his and Draco�s clothes off whilst spanking the both of them, albeit in slightly different ways.
Of course, the table hadn�t been designed with this type of punishment in mind and was somewhat less stoic than Draco, as it demonstrated by collapsing shortly after Harry had jumped on top of Draco and begun doing things to him which were obviously too much for it to handle.
�Oh, no, no again!�
Draco, feeling rather forgotten, lying amongst the various bits of wood that had once comprised his rather fetching table, watched Harry wander over to the fireplace, wondering what he was doing. After muttering a few words and throwing some powder into the flames, Harry began talking to a rather judgemental Hermione Granger, who seemed to be having trouble keeping her attention on what Harry was saying instead of the mess behind him.
�Umm� Herm, I�ve got a bit of a problem, � Harry started.
�That much I can see, Harry. What on Earth have you been doing? Is that Draco back there? And what�s he doing with that� thing in his mouth, and what happened to the table?�
�Well, actually it�s the table I wanted to speak to you about.�
�Go on.�
�Well, you remember that thing with the �piano���
�How could I forget? It was rather difficult indeed to keep the WSPCA from getting involved even after I put the poor thing back together. Don�t tell me that you transfigured her into that table and��
�No, no, nothing like that! Honestly!�
�Well what is it then? Surely you don�t need my help putting a simple table back together again.�
�Umm� OK, maybe it is a little like that.�
�I�m waiting.�
�Well, you remember that you told me that you hadn�t seen Crookshanks around for a few days now? Well, umm��
Urgh. And this is where I gave up. If you�ve read this then I�m very sorry indeed. I had wanted to write something completely different but managed to get caught up in all sorts of things that meant I didn�t have the time, and every time I tried to pull something together it decided to run off in an entirely different direction to the one I was intending for it. So, after two such failed stories I settled on this, as by the time I got round to writing it I had a few hours to actually get it written and the fact that most of that was spent sleeping didn�t help matters greatly. Sigh. Oh, in case it isn�t obvious, this fic was written as part of an Armchair Challenge in which I had to write a story featuring a child's size table and chairs.
Thanks to Heike for doing what she could to salvage some semblance of a readable fic from the goo I threw at her.
Credits would include Charles Schultz�s �Peanuts� cartoon and of course Richard Matheson for �The Incredible Shrinking Man� The quotation which I�ve stuck at the beginning as I feel that it fits the mood of the fic so nicely is from the movie �Snatch�.