Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, written purely for fun.

Author's Notes: This will make a hell of a lot more sense if you've read Champions. Also absolutely NOT canon compliant as in this 'verse Snape survived. I began this ridiculousness way before the end of the series, and I'd like to think that in some world Snape is having verbal fights with Draco over punctuation.

"God, Harry! Why oh why did you let me go to the United States? You should have hexed me. In fact swipe my memory because the horrors I've endured have scarred me for life. You have no idea what— Why are your eyes closed? I'm having this huge middle-aged crisis and you're sleeping. This is what I get—"

"Draco, you're only twenty-nine, therefore you cannot have a middle-aged crisis. A bat-shit insane wing ding, I'll grant you. It's, oh. My. Four in the morning. Might have something to do with me sleeping."

"Oh. Well. Time change and all that. In the States it's something like eight o'clock at night. A perfectly reasonable hour when one should be listening to one's lover having a mental breakdown."

"But HERE it's four in the morning, a perfectly reasonable hour when SANE people are asleep. Although I know I'm going to regret asking this question, BUT SINCE I AM AWAKE, why are your knickers in a twist?"

"Do not give me those looks. There are looks and there are looks, and I much prefer you leering at me as opposed to giving that 'my boyfriend is a whack-a-doodle' grimace of forbearance you're leveling in my direction at the moment."

"I don't have the energy to leer. So why was the book tour so horrible and weren't you supposed to Portkey in tomorrow, I mean this afternoon?"

"Yes, but I saw a couple wearing matching outfits down to the dayglo orange crocs with shorts, in November, no less! My eyeballs went on strike and I had to Portkey home early because I went temporarily blind."

"I doubt you went blind. Weren't you in California, where it was, oh, I don't know, warm, so perhaps shorts in November was, well, rational?"

"I never let rational stand in the way of common sense. Besides I WOULD have gone blind had I stayed. And it might have been sort of warmish—"

"As in heat wave?"

"Perhaps. But that's not the point. Book tour was a rousing success by the way. People will believe anything."

"You mean the book you wrote where you're the wizarding son of a megalomaniac who is the book-licking toady of a wizarding psychopath, and how you save the wizarding world from evil psychopath and in the process fall madly in lust with another wizard whose parents were killed by evil psychopath. THAT book. The one that destroyed our friendship with Jo?"

"Don't you think that destroyed is a bit over the top? You always accuse me of being a goddamn drama queen, and here you are, haring down the same path, nilly-willy—"

"Shouldn't it be willy-nilly?"


"The last time I spoke to her she said to me, 'I hope that boyfriend of yours loses all his hair by the time he is thirty-five and comes down with a fatal case of freckles.' Is that destroyed enough for you?"

"She's so mean, Harry. So mean."

"Back to the topic at hand, although, again, I suspect I will regret this; you came home early because you saw two people wearing plastic shoes?"

"Of course not! Although I could have and it would have been a legitimate reason. Pay attention! I came home because of Thanksgiving. Stop staring at me like you don't understand what I'm saying."

"How should I stare at you since I DON'T understand what you're saying?"

"Leer at me. I think that's always an acceptable response, regardless. Anyway. Thanksgiving. Americans eat turkey lathered with some indigenous berry called a cranberry, which looks sweet, but it is tarter than a lemon and I nearly broke a tooth trying to bite into one. Plus mashed potatoes with lots and lots of gravy, and you know how I feel about gravy. And green beans smothered in fried onions and something called sweet potatoes, which is so bizarre because you already have perfectly excellent potatoes covered in gravy, as opposed to something orange covered in marshmallows, and no I am NOT making that up. And then pie. Oh, such delicious pie. I had three pieces. There was the most LOVELY pinot—"

"You woke me up at four o'clock in the morning to tell me about the feast you had yesterday, or is that today, I'm confused, while my dinner was cold fish and chips from the place around the corner?"

"How sad. It was truly delicious, but no, that's not why I woke you up. And technically it's only eight my time so stop being all grumpy. I woke you up because not only is it about food but Thanksgiving is also about giving thanks. Shopping as well but I can't imagine the shops in the States are any better than what I can buy here, and based on the populous, I know I'm right. Anyways, giving thanks. I'm thankful that you're here, in our bed, with that fabulous arse of yours and that oh so perfect mouth. And, well, other things."

"Now THAT is a look."