itle: All Manner of Sins
Author: tigersilver
Prompt: PROMPT #150
Adapted from: The film 'Love, Actually'
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 11,000
Rating: R
Contains (Highlight to view): *Much internal ranting and ridiculousness on the part of Draco Malfoy and his libido. And very little else, and certainly positively nil literary value, considering what I done did here. It's fun, though? I do hope.*
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. Same goes for the film 'Love, Actually'. The transcript source used is: . and all rights to the film 'Love, Actually' are the property of the owners. No part of this work was intended to infringe upon copyright and no profit is to result from this fanwork adaptation.
Notes: With thanks and gratitude eternal to the Mods for endless extensions and to my Betas L and S for their sapient thoughts and lightning turnabouts. By rights I should've dropped out of this Fest gracefully some time ago, but my prompt was for phoenixacid and I'm a stubborn cuss and adore her to little bits-and-pieces, so I damned well didn't, sorry. I make every apology for all other errors, as they are absolutely mine own.
Summary: As my prompter desired, this is an adaptation of the film: Draco is the Prime Minister and Harry is Natalie. This is entirely a Non-Magic AU, un-compliant with anything Battle, and the great majority of the dialogue is lifted nearly verbatim. Draco's brain is mine own, unfortunately. The title is based on the Prime Minister's most brilliant line: 'I love that word 'relationship'. Covers all manner of sins, doesn't it?'

Five Weeks to Christmas:

Draco goes in to No. 10 Downing with a bloody ridiculous hand wave.

"…And this is Harry; he's new here. Like you."

Little does he suspect his very brain is in imminent danger.

"Hello, Harry."

Not to mention his 'nads.

"Hello, Draco. I mean, sir. Shit, I can't believe I've just said that. And now I've gone and said "shit". Twice. I'm so sorry, sir."

Yes, those as well.

"It's fine, it's fine. You could've said "fuck" and we'd have been in real trouble."

"Thank you, sir. I did have an awful a premonition I was going to fuck up on my first day. Oh, piss it!"

Draco falls fathoms fucking deep approximately two minutes after he enters No. 10, which—were his constituents to become aware—would be political suicide. It's horrible. He can't bear it. One look and it's over, he's done for.

Green, green eyes. (Toad green, poison green, grass green, blinking at him from behind spectacles—augh!) Black, black hair. (Made to bury a man's hands in and tug.) Pert arse on a skinny frame—too skinny? (No…more wiry and compact.) Mouth!

That mouth is intriguing. Fortunately, this new PM fellow is made of slightly sterner stuff. (And has charming been mentioned? Charming should ought be mentioned, absolutely.)

However, only his forward momentum ('Just keep walking, Draco', he may've told himself fiercely) and good old reliable Pansy carry him out of what might very well have descended unto a highly absurd social situation involving his own staff. PMs aren't supposed to drool over their staff. There's likely a law against it.

Yes, it's frowned upon. Draco's pretty sure. And behind him he can vaguely hear Harry whispering to someone, so it's quite probably there is someone in the room already frowning other than good old Pansy. (Who frowns a lot anyway and is not always a reliable guide. Draco has found one gathers more flies with honey than vinegar. Pansy is ruthlessly efficient in her frowning, though, so point in her favour—wait, where was he again?)

"Did you see what I did there?"

Draco saw. That is the crux of his brand new problem, right there. Defined.

The someone addressed by this darling new Harry in Draco's life—maybe it's his new housekeeper? Minerva, was it?—replies, "Yes, I did."

Draco decides he instantly likes the woman Minerva, mainly as there isn't even a smidge of derision in her amused reply. (Also, she too sounds dreadfully efficient and good old Pansy absolutely requires some sort of matching book-end, if only for the sake of karma.)

"I just went 'blurh'," Harry sighs quietly, but there's a hint of a breathless giggle to it, as if he'd been struck by the absurdity, too. Bless him, he's utterly freaking adorable, Harry is, especially flushed like that and picking at his trousers pockets anxiously. Draco would like to devour him on the spot, actually.

"Sir," Pansy says—er, frowns.

"Hallo, there," Draco burbles back, a bit madly, because this greeting thing, he can do this, even codswalloped and gobsmacked. Pity he's run out of staff to greet, though. Rather gives the show away, that.

"I'm right over here, sir. Draco," Pansy advises him kindly but sharply, and she too is glancing back at the huddle of Draco's new keepers, all now preparing to break forth and go about their business.

Her brows quirk speakingly as she glances from here to there, but Draco's occupied considering the one wall of No. 10 Downing, the one he's just said 'hello' to, between lengthy calming blinks, and doesn't catch the quirk, so much. Draco, to be brutal, would prefer not to be quirked at by Pansy. He'd rather prefer to bang his handsome high forehead into this lovely new wall of his, just now, and knock some sense back in, maybe. With force.

But it's all too likely a lost cause. He's just met…Harry.

"Draco? Draco, come along in then," Pansy shoos him. "Your office."

"Yeah, I'm in here. OK. Good. Thank you."

Deep breaths, that's it. Whatever that just was, what just happened, it will pass, surely?

"Ah."

He gains the safety of his new sanctum with an amplitude of gratitude. His old friend and handler efficiently takes her leave to let him get on with it, and the rising feeling of panic building in his chest bubbles high.

(Green eyes, black hair, arse and lips. Lips on that mouth, and all he can think of is them stretched about his prick, and that's damned inconvenient, isn't it? For a newly minted PM.)

"Oh, no," Draco whispers aloud, sagging back against the equally lovely solid door, the brilliant one thankfully placed squarely between him and the green-eyed menace owning that potty mouth. That so pretty potty mouth. "That is so inconvenient."

Oh, he's so fucked. So fucked, and he knows it.