Bring It On, You Asshole

By Cyril de Ciel

Summary: Losing a bet to Malfoy (who is closing a multi-billionaire deal with Wayne Enterprise and who owes Lucius Fox a favour), Harry is to take on the job of Bruce Wayne's personal secretary and bodyguard in Gotham City for a year. Thing is, none of the man's secretaries have ever stayed on for more than 1 week—if they were lucky.

Warnings: There will be boy-on-boy action so if that bothers you, you may graciously make your exit. Any flames will be ignored on this subject. Heavy Ginny-bashing will also be found in this story and if that makes you all sad and angry, well, I don't really understand why it would but you can leave whenever you wish.

Pairings: Harry/Bruce; one-sided Rachel/Bruce; one-sided Harvey/Harry; Ron/Hermione

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman or Harry Potter. If I did, well, I would be one bloody ecstatic, not to mention, "royal-wealthy"individual.

A/N: Epilogue? What epilogue? No such thing exists, you silly people! Everything in Harry Potter happened up until the epilogue-that-does-not-exist, ok? Alright then, let's get the story rolling! Enjoy!

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Chapter 1

5 years after the Final Battle. Harry is 22-years-old.

Harry swished his wand again and the last shirt flew out from his wardrobe to fold themselves into his open suitcases.

"Uh, mate, you're really going through with this?"

With another flick of his wand, Harry locked the suitcases and floated the luggage out of his room and into the living room by the fireplace where they arranged themselves into a neat pile. "A bet is a bet, Ron," he answered the redhead, slipping his wand into its holster wrapped around his forearm. He sat on the edge of his bed and bent to tie the laces on his boots. "I'm not going to give Malfoy the satisfaction of backing down."

"But it's Malfoy!" Ron retorted his usual words when concerning the blond aristocrat. Even though Harry and Hermione had set aside their differences after the war and were on friendly terms with Draco, Ron still held onto his disdain of the blond with a stubborn frown. "Why do you have to do what he says? I bet he cheated and drank a Sobering potion before you guys started competing," he added in a scowling mutter.

"I lost fair and square," Harry replied with a wry grin. If someone had told me that I would say something like this about Malfoy a few years ago, I would check them into Mungo's without preamble, he thought. Then, aloud he continued, "Since I lost the drinking battle, I have to carry through with the consequences."

Ron watched from his position leaning against the doorframe as his best friend stood and cast a final glance around the almost empty room. "Blimey, mate," he said, following the raven-haired young man down the hallway of the flat Harry had purchased once they had graduated from Hogwarts. "You sounded like Hermione there."

"Speaking of Mione, how is the pregnancy coming along?"

Ron scratched at his freckled nose with a scowl, his wedding ring flashing in the sunlight peeking in through the windows. "She's been having the creepiest mood swings," he complained with a shiver of fear. "One minute she's screaming about how I must hate her because I didn't coat her ice cream with ketchup and mustard, and then she's cooing about how I'm such a caring husband. It's enough to drive a bloke nutters!"

Harry snickered. "At least she's not throwing up every morning in bed anymore," he chuckled, referring to when Hermione still had the morning sickness and her inability to rush to the bathroom in time before she emptied her stomach.

The redhead grimaced and scrunched his nose in remembrance. "That was just nasty, mate," he whined, looking a little green around the edges. "Why did you have to bring it up again? Ugh…"

Just as they entered the living room, the fire flared emerald and then Draco was stepping out of the fireplace, brushing ashes from his shoulder. His grey eyes glanced at the baggage piled tidily to his left side and he arched a fine eyebrow.

"Is that all you are bringing, Potter?" he asked, a tinge of incredulity in his voice.

Harry looked at him in confusion as he closed the curtains. He was not coming back for a while and did not fancy his nosy neighbours peeking into his home while he was gone. "I just packed a few shirts, trousers, and a jacket or two," he replied. "So?"

"That's it? What about your robes?"

"What do I need robes for in the Muggle world?" Harry reminded him.

"You're telling me that you're going to wear your dismal rags to work at Wayne Enterprise, one of the most prestigious businesses in the world?" Draco gasped in shock. "You can't give me a bad reputation here Potter! Surely you're jesting with me!"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Malfoy; I packed several suits in there somewhere." Harry tugged at a lock of his hair, and then what the blond had just said finally registered. "Hey! What do mean my 'dismal rags'? What's wrong with my clothes?"

"Don't get me started on your atrocious fashion sense, Potter," Draco sniffed disdainfully. He eyed Harry's current attire. The raven-haired was wearing an emerald silk shirt with a few buttons unbuttoned at the top that revealed a bit of the smooth tan skin underneath. His legs were encased in crisply pressed black trousers tucked into handsome boots. "Granger picked out your outfit," he commented without a hint of doubt in his tone. "You would have never been able to put together a presentable apparel like that otherwise."

Harry flushed slightly at the statement. "Sod off, Malfoy," he grumbled.

Draco sneered back at him, but there was no malicious intent behind it. "Mature, Potter," he shot back tauntingly. He fished out a coin from his pockets and tossed it to him.

His Seeker reflexes kicking in, Harry swiftly snatched the coin out of the air with ease. "Portkey?"

"Yes," confirmed Draco. "It will activate in five more minutes."

Harry nodded. "Well, I guess this is it," he sighed. Turning around he clasped hands with Ron who had been silently watching from the couch, intent on completely ignoring the blond's presence—the same blond who was also pretending that the youngest Weasley did not exist. "I'll see you later, mate. I'll floo you and Hermione once I've settled, alright?"

"You sure you want to do this, Harry?" Ron pressed his friend again, almost desperately hoping that Harry would finally come to his senses and back out of this ridiculous venture.

"I gave Malfoy my word," Harry answered patiently again as he moved to stand beside his bags, "and I don't go back on my word, you know that Ron."

The redhead seemed to deflate as he slumped back into the couch. "Yeah, I know," he said gloomily.

"Cheer up, mate," Harry tried to reassure him. "It's only for a year or so. I'll be back before you know it."

"Yeah, alright." The youngest Weasley did not seem reassured at all, still looking glumly down at the carpet.

"Well, if the touching parting is over and done with, your Portkey is about to activate," Draco drawled. He raised a hand in farewell as the coin began to glow in Harry's hand. "See you, Potter. I'll drop by an hour after you and introduce you to your new employer then."

Harry nodded. "Alright, Malfoy, see you then. Later, Ron! Don't forget to close the wards after you leave!"

"Will do, Harry. You take care, you hear?"

"Got it."

A sudden tug at Harry's navel yanked him out of his flat as his surroundings disappeared in swirls and dizzying colours. When his stumbling feet finally touched ground again and he had regained his equilibrium, Harry blinked as a House Elf with the crest of Malfoy on its uniform bowed in welcoming.

"Welcome to Gotham City, Harry Potter sir."

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Additional A/N: So how is it? Does it warrant continuation? Tell me what you think!