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Animagi Anonymous	By : Wolfiekins Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2088 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Animagi Anonymous
- 1
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, never will be. All HP characters belong to JK and Warner Brothers, etc, etc, etc. No profit made from this nor offense intended.

The character of Kent Dorffman is based on one created by John Landis and belongs to him, Universal Pictures, and whomever else might want a piece of that chunky counselor from Cleveland....Paul, on the other hand, belongs to me.

Beta'd by Evil Auntie Snape with additional help from Kosh.

~~~~~~ANIMAGI ANONYMOUS~~~~~~
Blaise set the steaming mug of Earl Grey down with a sharp clunk, sliding the heavy cerulean cup across the black marble countertop of Draco's modern kitchen. The olive-skinned Slytherin stared at his friend as he sipped his own tea, finding it exceedingly difficult to restrain the bemused grin that was even now threatening to burst forth across his face. Draco always insisted on making mountains out of molehills, and this latest dilemma was no exception.

Blaise chuckled quietly to himself as he recalled how the young Malfoy had nearly busted a gut when his cat, Pansy, had shredded his favorite Armani suit.

Draco's head popped up at the snickering noise, his bright grey eyes locking onto his former schoolmate.

"And what exactly do you find so humorous, Zabini? Honestly, I should have known that I couldn't confide in you. You never take any of my problems seriously," he pouted angrily.

Blaise rolled his eyes as he took another sip of his tea. Mounting a monumental effort to school his features, he set his mug down on the counter and bent over to pick up Pansy. The large, jet black feline had been entwining herself about his ankles, purring loudly. The dark-haired Slytherin cradled the slinky cat with one arm while his free hand scratched behind Pansy's ears. She yawned at Draco blissfully, continuing to purr with obvious contentment.

Draco sighed mournfully, turning back to his tea, shaking his head.

"Bloody cat. Even she is oblivious to my pain."

Blaise's eyes went wide as a huge giggle began to force its way up and out of his throat. Frantically turning his head away, he just managed to cover up the impending gale of laughter as a rather unconvincing coughing fit. Draco shot him a withering glance before returning to his gloomy study of the veined countertop. Blaise recovered quickly, gulping down a few sips of his honey-infused tea.

Taking a deep breath, he gently dropped Pansy to the tiled floor.

"Sweet Merlin, Draco. Let's not drag your cat into this. I said it before and I'll say it again......"

Draco continued to stare downwards, swiftly holding up one of his long-fingered hands.

"Yeah, yeah, spare me the recitation. You're as predictable as a broken pensieve."

The tall, muscular Slytherin stepped closer to his morose friend, laying a hand on Draco's shoulder and squeezing it firmly.

"Look who's calling the cauldron black. You really are a drama queen, Malfoy. That's part of the reason why I love you so much, I guess. Either that, or all those years of analysis were for nothing."

Draco turned his head and scrunched up his long pale face.

"How very droll, Zabini," he drawled sarcastically. "And it's most definitely the latter."

Blaise chuckled in spite of himself.

"I'm not really laughing at you, babe. It just never ceases to amaze me how you always blow things all out of proportion, then struggle like a three-legged narffle to squeeze everything back into manageable size. A lot of wasted energy, if you ask me."

Draco glared at him, narrowing his eyes. The white-haired Slytherin folded his arms across his broad chest, savagely swirling about on his stool, showing his back to his friend. Blaise nodded, moving closer, both hands on Draco's shoulders. He began massaging and kneading the tightly knotted muscles with practiced hands.

"Bloody hell, Drake, you're tensed up so tightly I'm surprised you can even move. Really, it's not that big a deal. I'm sure he's not going to dump you or anything over this."

"I wish I could be so sure," Draco responded softly.

Blaise leaned in and nuzzled his friend's right ear playfully.

"Look, love, it's been nearly three months and you're still dating. A new world record for you, if I'm not mistaken."

Draco whirled about, one eyebrow arched, his cheeks flushing pink. He pointed a long finger at his friend.

"New world record? Now you just listen here, you hairy bastard....."

Blaise calmly held up a hand, silencing the huffing Slytherin.

"Sticks and stones, babe," he countered, grinning widely.

Draco harrumphed, blowing out a huge breath that ruffled his bangs. Blaise stepped closer, pressing himself between his mate's open legs. He gently caressed the side of Draco's face as the fuming Slytherin made a half-hearted attempt to pull away.

"Hey, just listen to me, Drake, Ok? You know what I'm saying is true. I'm thrilled for you. Really. Merlin knows you could have had me years ago. I'd have moved in with you in a hot minute. But deep down I knew it would never work, and we'd mostly likely have hexed each other silly after a few weeks. So just do me the favour and hear me out, yeah?"

"Blaise," Draco began quietly, suddenly studying the flooring.

The muscular Slytherin gently cupped Draco's chin and lifted it up.

"Just shut it, you poncey git! This is how we do things, remember? You fret and piss and moan for awhile, and then I get to do my thing. Don't fuck with the formula, Malfoy," Blaise finished, his tone attempting to sound menacing.

After a pause, Draco rolled his silvery grey eyes, giving his friend the smallest of nods.

"Whatever. Far be it for me to keep you from doing your thing."

Blaise smiled to himself as Draco studied his fingernails intently.

Finally, they were making progress. He cleared his throat as he continued ahead brightly.

"Look, in these three short months, with Harry's schedule, you're lucky if you've had ten dates."

"Eight," Draco offered sullenly.

"What?"

"I said, we've had eight dates, including the last one four nights ago."

"Fine. Eight dates," Blaise acknowledged irritably. "And he's met your parents for five minutes, he's seen you first thing in the morning, and you managed to go on a weekend getaway alone with out killing each other in the process. It's all very promising, but face it, Drake, it could still go either way. This latest disaster you've concocted is all in your pretty little head."

Draco had cocked his head towards Blaise, his expression impassive. The taller Slytherin continued.

"I don't think it really matters to him. I'm pretty certain Potter is into you. This, uh, this, um, little issue you have is nothing to be ashamed of. It certainly doesn't bother me. Actually, I think it's quite cute."

Draco had pressed his lips into a thin line. He furrowed his brow slightly as the redness returned to his cheeks.

"Great, that's just what I want to hear," he huffed angrily. "Cute? Cute!? I don't want to be some sort of sodding stuffed animal! Oh, bloody hell!"

"Just don't let it bother you so much. He giggled at you. So what? It will be fine. Really," Blaise added reassuringly.

Draco downed the rest of his Earl Grey and stood up quickly, moving across the kitchen towards the row of liquor bottles tastefully arranged along the back-lit counter. He accio-ed a glass and grabbed a cobalt blue bottle, twisting the cap off and filling his glass to the rim with the vodka. He took a big gulp, sighing loudly as the liquor went down.

Blaise made a face. "I don't see how you stomach that Muggle stuff. Made from potatoes, isn't it?"

The white-haired Slytherin had gulped another sip of his Skyy.

"Well, it's good stuff no matter what it's made of. And you know as well as I do where Firewhiskey comes from. Potatoes don't sound half bad in comparison."

Blaise moved around the large centre island to stand next to Draco. After a moment, the dark-skinned Wizard bumped his hip against his friend's.

"You've got to get over this, love. Look, I'm not that thrilled over my Animagus form, either."

Draco huffed sullenly. "Well, an ocelot is a hell of a lot better than what I'm stuck with. The Universe has a truly perverted sense of humour."

"But the two of you are at least on the surface, um, how shall we say, compatible?"

"Yeah, right," Draco groused, crossing his arms once more. "You recall what Harry's Animagus form is, right? A grey wolf. A very large, grey wolf. Merlin's balls, he was absolutely obsessed with the two of us having sex while we're both in our animal forms. It was all he talked about. I suppose that's what happens when your godfather was basically a large, black dog."

Blaise stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"I'm still not seeing the problem, Drake. I mean, at least you're both in the canine family. Would be a whole lot worse if you were a bird or a lizard or something."

The blond gaped at his friend as if Zabini had sprouted antennae.

"So, people actually find this vacuous, blank expression of yours attractive?" Draco snorted. "How many times do I have to go over this for it to register on that Firewhiskey-drenched brain of yours? Fine. One last time. Follow closely now, hear?"

Blaise rolled his eyes while Draco ploughed forward.

"We had dinner and a few drinks. We went back to his place. A few more drinks, shirts off, hot and heavy snogging on the sofa. Indications were excellent for imminent shagging. Then he brought up the Animagus thing again. You know, I'll show you mine if I you show me yours. Anyway, he transformed and proceeded to hump my leg silly. He changed back, tapping his foot and waiting for me. With me so far?"

"Yes," Blaise answered tiredly, absently re-arranging the small jars of spices on the counter top.

"Good," Draco quipped. "So, I 'd had just enough to drink, and being temporarily insane, I stood up and transformed. And you know what happened next."

"Harry giggled," Blaise replied, sighing heavily. "So what?"

The blond's grey eyes flew wide.

"So what? So what?! Potter just didn't giggle. He laughed. He laughed with gusto. He chortled, guffawed, bellowed, screeched and wailed! He laughed so hard that he could barely breathe. He actually fell to the floor, Blaise, red-faced, gasping, clutching at his sides with all his strength. I thought I would have to summon a Mediwitch. And then, when he finally calmed down, tears streaming down his cheeks, he couldn't look at me the rest of the night without grinning that shit eating grin of his and giggling."

The olive-skinned Slytherin nodded. "Oh, that must be where I got the giggling part from," he offered lamely.

"Yeah. And the cherry on the cake of the evening was when he said 'Good night, Fluffy'. For Merlin's sake, it couldn't have been any worse if he grabbed me and stuck a pretty pink bow on my head. Now, I supposed a more evolved Wizard such as yourself could easily dismiss the entire affair as inconsequential. But I can't."

Blaise sighed, valiantly struggling to suppress a smile.

"Well, you have to admit there is a certain humorous element to all this," Blaise offered calmly. "I mean, here's big, tough, Draco Malfoy, bad boy of Slytherin, rich and powerful business owner and man about town, and you transform into this cute little dog, soft white curls and the most beautiful little brown eyes. And when you wag that stubby little tail of yours...."

Blaise tailed off when he noticed Draco's narrowed gaze and flushed cheeks.

"Not helping, eh?" he murmured.

"Ah, let me see," the blond paused, tapping his chin. "No."

Draco shot him a look, and it all suddenly became crystal clear to the muscular Slytherin.

"Oh, I get it now! You just can't stand it that as an Animagus, he's bigger than you! It's a size thing!"

"You know, I think you've missed your calling, Blaise. With your tact and subtlety, you'd have made a perfect interrogator for the Inquisition."

Draco snorted loudly as he took another pull on his vodka.

Blaise snickered as he pulled a business card from the pocket of his black silk shirt. He offered it to his friend, who ignored it for several long seconds before snatching the card away and studying it as if it held the secret to eternal life. After another moment, the white-haired Slytherin let his hand fall limply against his thigh, the business card clutched tightly in his fingers.

"You've got to be joking," he spluttered incredulously.

Blaise stood there, silent, a knowing grin pasted to his handsome face.

"Utter nonsense, this is," Draco huffed, examining the card once more. "There's no way things like this work. All quackery and new-age Muggle gibberish. Right?"

Blaise blinked innocently.

"No way this would help. None at all. A total waste of time. Couldn't possibly do any good. Right?" Draco asked hopefully.

The dark-skinned Slytherin smiled sweetly, leaning in to leave a wet kiss on his friend's temple.

"Absolutely right, Drake. These things never work. That's why I made an appointment for you tonight at seven. Just so happens they had an opening."

Draco's eyes flicked from the business card to Blaise and back again.

"Right. No harm in just going by and checking it all out, yes? Since you went through all this trouble, I mean."

"That's my boy," Blaise purred as he hugged his friend tightly. "I'm off. Ronnie and I have dinner with Vince and Greg tonight at their new flat. Why not stop by over there after you're done? When is Harry back in town?"

Draco's head snapped up jerkily as he was pulled out of his reverie.

"Um, sometime late tonight. I haven't seen Vince and Greg for a long time. Ok, I'll swing by after my, uh, meeting. I could do without the Weasel, though. I still don't know what in Circe you see in him. Gaah!"

Blaise grinned crookedly as he shrugged into his black leather jacket.

"Other than the fact that Ron's absolutely fucking great all the way around, all I'll say right now is this: size fourteen boots."

Draco's eyes goggled while Blaise winked and Apparated away with a loud, moist pop.

He studied the card for a moment more, noting the address as he finished his drink. Sending his empty glass to the sink, Draco tapped the edge of the business card against his nose. Pansy glided over his bare feet and against the legs of his jeans, purring and demanding affection. Draco automatically bent down, scooping up the happy feline, stroking her silky fur absently.

"Bugger!" he snorted.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Draco stood on the cracked sidewalk staring up at the non-descript, two-story brick building. It was one of many, sandwiched together all in a row along the Muggle shopping district. A fair number of shoppers and walkers strolled busily along, flowing about Draco as he stood there, frozen, unable to take the last few steps through the door. It had taken him some time to locate Shipton Street, and Draco had made a few wrong turns as he had navigated the unfamiliar streets of Muggle London.

The sun was just dipping behind the roof of the building, and the warm summer breeze felt lovely. It would be a perfect evening to sit on the rooftop patio at Mirkwood's, sipping on French wine. Or to even spend time with Blaise and his Weasel. Anything would be better than stepping inside the building in front of him. The large, plate glass window was opaque. The words 'ENCOUNTER GROUPS OF CLEVELAND, LLC.' were stenciled across the glass in plain, block letters. In very small print just underneath it read 'A.A'.

Animagi Anonymous. Great.

After a moment's pause, Draco took a deep breath and strode up to the shaded front door. More stenciling on the frosted glass warned that appointments were necessary and to buzz in for admittance. Draco jabbed at the lighted button, its faint ringing just barely noticeable from deep inside the building. He stood there for a few moments, looking about to see if anyone was watching him. A tiny whirring drew his attention to a small camera that was swiveling in his direction. After a moment more, there was a loud buzz and a click, and the heavy front door unlatched and swung open an inch. Draco pushed on the heavy, tarnished brass handle and stepped inside a small entry hall. The front door swiftly shut with a solid thwack, followed by a series of clicks as the locks engaged.

The hall was roughly six feet wide by eight feet long. The walls and ceiling were painted beige. The floor tile was an even duller beige than the walls. There was only one blank, steel door in front of him. I didn't even have a doorknob on it. A small, beige speaker was imbedded into the wall to the right of the door. Draco once again picked up the whirring sound made by not one, but two tiny cameras swiveling about.

Bloody Hell, what did that git Zabini get me into? He worried as the cameras finally stopped their perusal

A second later, the speaker crackled to life.

"Good evening," a young female voice scratched out warmly. "How may we help you?"

"Um, I have an appointment at seven o'clock. A friend made it for me."

"Name, please," the speaker asked politely.

"Ah, his name is Zabini. Blaise Zabini."

There was a slight pause.

"Not your friend's name," the slightest bit of irritation creeping into the disembodied voice. "Your name, if you please, sir."

"Oh, oh, yes, of course," Draco chuckled nervously. "Sorry about that. I'm a bit off today."

The speaker silently glared at him, a few crackles of static his only response.

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Yeah, that's me," he spluttered, jamming his hands into the pockets of his Diesel jeans.

A second later, there was the now familiar buzz and clunk as the door ahead of him clicked and swung open. Draco nervously stepped through and made a sharp right hand turn. He found himself in some sort of waiting room right out of a nightmare. He cringed as he took in the dreadful scene before him.

The room was rather large, and was painted beige, again. The cheap, commercial grade carpeting was a dingy brown. The wall straight ahead of him was blank save for a plain placard that read 'ANIMAGI ANONYMOUS' and the tiny square of opaque glass that obviously shielded the receptionist. Fake, plastic palm trees leaned crookedly out from the corners of the room. Equally unattractive plastic plants hung from the tacky drop ceiling at regular intervals. The harsh, fluorescent lighting fixtures embedded in the ceiling were humming away happily to themselves. A single row of ten flimsy looking orange plastic chairs lined each wall to his left and right. A long, low coffee table squatted in the centre of the room, laden with a motley collection of very well thumbed magazines. Draco noted that a few magazines were stuck under one of the table's obviously broken legs. Two doors filled the wall directly to his left. On was a unisex loo. The other was marked 'No Admittance' and 'Not An Exit'. Some sort of horrible Muggle music wafted across the space from two speakers in the ceiling.

Draco became aware of four sets of eyes focused directly on him. Three men and a woman eyed him nervously for a few moments before they all went back to flipping through their magazines. As the blond walked slowly towards the closed receptionist's window, Draco noted that one of the fellow's magazines was upside down. Suddenly feeling a bit more at ease, he reached up and gently rapped on the frosted glass. The pane instantly slid aside and a clipboard with a ragged quill dangling from it shot out of the opening.

Startled, Draco jumped back a few inches. Peering into the tiny open window, he made out the receptionist, impatiently brandishing the clipboard in his direction.

She was young, with starkly pale, almost white skin. Her angular, slim face looked almost drawn. Her black hair was pulled up into two braided pigtails that sprouted out of the top of her head like antennae. Draco noted with interest that there were streaks of electric green, purple, and pink running through her hair. She wore heavy, black make-up about her eyes, and her lipstick was a blackish purple. Two tiny, silver skeletons dangled from her ears, and the extremely long, blood red finger nails of one hand tapped on the tiny wooden shelf of the window. The nails on the hand holding the clipboard were orange. It looked like her necklace was made of barbed wire. She wore a loose, dingy labcoat with a nametag pinned crookedly to one of the lapels. It read 'Henrietta.'

"Please fill out these forms as quickly and completely as possible. Every line must be completed including your banking information, in order to process your application. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr., uh,...." she paused, glancing down at a scribbled list before continuing, "Mr. Malfoy."

Draco blinked as Henrietta waggled the clipboard at him menacingly. He reached out and took it from her. With a heavy sigh, she fussed about on her desk, finally shoving a pamphlet through her window.

"This will answer any questions about us. When you're done with the application, return it to me."

With a pained smirk, Henrietta went back to filing her talons. The tiny glass window slid shut with a bang.

Draco quickly worked through at least ten things he would do to Zabini to make him pay for this.

Grinning, he turned around to find a chair. Four sets of eyes quickly snapped down to their magazines, nearly in unison. Blowing out a breath, Draco took a seat one over from a young fellow with lovely, curly hair. Setting the clipboard down on the empty seat next to him, Draco set the quill to fill out the forms.

While it scratched away at the parchment application, he quickly scanned the other occupants of the waiting room.

The Witch directly opposite him was fifty-ish, rail thin, and cranky looking. Her steel gray hair was piled atop her head, with what looked like a pair of chopsticks stuck into it at odd angles. Her tight, black dress betrayed every bony curve of her thin body. Her small, beady eyes were peering at him over her Country Witch magazine, blatantly staring. Draco winked at her and she harrumphed, lifting the magazine up to block him from her view. A second later, she let the magazine drop again to resume her observations.

A few seats down sat a balding, graying Wizard. His plump, round face seemed to sit atop his shoulders without the benefit of a neck. Draco guessed that he was in his early to mid-forties, although his flabby, out of shape body made him look even older. It was a shame, he thought, cause the fellow looked to have had handsome features buried under the layers of fat. He had rather large shoulders and chest, but these paled in comparison to the enormous, round belly that drooped in front of him, actually pushing his large, powerful legs apart as he struggled to fit himself into the comparatively small plastic chair. His maroon sweatshirt seemed stretched to the limit and about to burst at the seams. He had since righted his upside-down magazine as he pumped Chocolate Frogs into his mouth almost non-stop.

An elderly Wizard sat a few chairs further down on the same side. Looked to be about seventy-ish, Draco thought. His limp, silvery hair hung down over his wire-rimmed eye glasses. He sported an extremely bushy mustache that obliterated his entire mouth. He wore an old, grey pinstripe suit with a white shirt and lime green tie. He looked completely average.

Checking his quill, Draco noted that it was nearly finished with the forms.

Now the young bloke one seat away wasn't too bad at all. Young. Early twenties, if that. He looked tall, but it was hard to tell. He had a huge head of curly, auburn-brown hair that framed his smooth, young face perfectly. Draco could barely make out his soft, blue eyes darting nervously about. He wore a simple ringer t-shirt tucked into a deliciously tight pair of Muggle jeans. His magazine was resting on the wide, black leather belt that sported a huge, brushed nickel buckle. He was wearing a well-worn pair of black Vans. He had very large thighs beneath his tight denim. He was thinly built, but had a rather nice musculature about him. Bigger muscles than one would get from not working out at all, that is.

Oh yes, he was certainly lovely enough.

Draco was just about to strike up a conversation when the quill began batting the side of his face, signifying that it was done with the forms. The Slytherin sighed angrily, grabbing the quill and savagely scratching his signature on the last page. When he was finished, the quill shot out of his hand and angled directly towards Henrietta's window. It began tapping at the glass eagerly, as if it actually wanted to get away from Draco.

The window slid open, and the quill zoomed inside and landed in its inkwell. Henrietta waved her hand and Draco's clipboard floated across the waiting room, gently landing in the receptionist's open palm.

"Thank you, Mr. Balfoy. Dr. Dorffman will be with you in a few moments."

Once again Henrietta pasted a fake grin on her face as her window slammed shut. Everyone in the waiting room jumped at the noise.

The young, curly headed Wizard had dropped his copy of Quidditch Stars Un-Robed. Draco lunged for the magazine, nearly tumbling from his chair in the process. He snatched it up and handed it to the young man with a flourish.

"Here you go, luv," he purred sweetly. "That's one of my favorite reads, you know. Did you see last month's spread on Malcolm Spinney of the Cannons? You usually have crack open a Play Witch to find photography like that. Bloody gorgeous bloke. Enough to make you want to split up with your right hand, wouldn't you agree?"

Draco beamed his best smile as he smoothly shifted over one seat, casually sidling up against the gaping, blushing young Wizard. The curly-haired fellow blinked, obviously at a loss for words. After a moment, the flushed young man attempted to smile, nodding vigorously.

The older blond winked.

"Draco Malfoy," the Slytherin drawled, smoothly extending his hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. And?"

The young Wizard hesitated a moment longer before clearing his throat.

"Uh, the name's Paul. Paul Skagthorn," he murmured nervously. "Hi."

He took Draco's hand in his and began pumping it up and down furiously. The Slytherin licked his lips, leaning in towards Paul just the slightest bit. The young Wizard stopped thrusting his hand up and down, but Draco didn't pull his own away. Instead, he gently guided both of their hands down to rest on Paul's rather large, jean-clad bulge. Draco ghosted their clasped hands across the rapidly enlarging surface of the young Wizard's crotch. Paul swallowed heavily, but made no move to pull his hand away. The blond leaned in, resting his arm on Paul's shoulder.

"So, my guess is that you play Quidditch. That's the only way that you could have gotten such a wonderfully muscled, gorgeous body like that. But I'm sure you hear that all the time, eh, Paul?"

The curly-haired Wizard looked away, blushing.

"Oh, well, yeah, I do play Quidditch. I was the captain of the Hufflepuff house team my last three years. I graduated Hogwarts two years ago. I've been playing with the Henwald Heath Brigadiers ever since. I'm hoping to move up to play for the Cannons real soon. And Malcolm looks even better in person," Paul finished coyly.

"I knew it, Paul," Draco answered smoothly.

"My best friend's lover is a Cannons fanatic. Listen, there's a little dinner party going on this evening. Just a few of my friends. Casual. How would you like to go with me afterwards and meet them? Knowing Ron, Vince and Greg, I'm sure you could all get a good Quidditch discussion going. If you don't have any plans, that is. I'd be very disappointed if you said no."

The young Wizard smiled weakly, taking a deep breath.

"Well, it sounds very entertaining, but I have to say that I'm not into that sort of thing, uh, Draco, right?"

Draco shook his head.

"It's nothing like that, love. Strictly above board. We're all gentlemen. Well, most of the time, anyway. Something about you just says that you'd fit into our little grouping of friends just fine. I must be honest, Paul. Right now I'm seeing someone, but if that weren't the case, I'd be asking you out myself. But I'm sure you already have a lover. There's no way that you are single."

Paul blushed deep red. He clasped Draco's hand gently, pressing against the blond ever so slightly.

"Wow, I don't know what to say. I usually just hang about my flat, reading or working out or practicing at the pitch. And no, I'm not seeing anyone. I'm sort of shy. Actually, no one really knows I'm into blokes. I know I am gay, it's just that, well, um, I've never done anything about it. Just seems a bit scary heading out on your own," he tailed off, his last few words nearly a whisper.

He looked over at Draco, his blue eyes suddenly very bright.

"And that's too bad that you have a boyfriend. I'd go out with you. Oh, wait, that sounds rude, don't it? I mean, he's a very lucky guy, yeah? I just wish you didn't have one. Oh, shit. This is why I don't go out. Once I open my mouth, that would be the end of that."

Draco snickered.

"You're just fine, Paul. Seriously, I know I was a bit forward, but the offer still stands. Sounds like you could do with a few new friends. And I have another confession for you. I'm about to fly apart from nervousness at being here. This is my first time, and I just really needed to reach out to someone. I hope that's Ok with you."

The Hufflepuff nodded, smiling warmly.

"Now that I can relate to, Draco. I've been coming here for almost two months, and I remember how scared I was the first time. Dr. Dorffman is great, for a Yank. He's really helping me with my, uh, problem. I'd be pleased to buddy up with you. My old partner left the program last week, so I need a new one. And by the looks of things, I'd rather it be you."

Draco looked about the waiting room, frowning. When he looked back towards Paul, both Wizards laughed together until their sides hurt. They chatted away amiably, covering all manner of subjects, until Henrietta's window slammed open once more about fifteen minutes later.

"The Doctor will see you now," she bleated, supremely bored.

With a wave of her hand, the door marked 'No Admittance' popped open. Henrietta's window slid shut for a final time as the horrible music cut off in mid-song.

Paul stood up quickly, smoothing the front of his jeans.

"Well, that's our cue. Time for the magic to begin," he offered brightly.

Draco looked about the waiting room. Five other people had entered the space during his conversation with Paul. All of them quickly moved through the open door. Paul motioned for Draco to follow them.

"Those are the veterans. Aside from me, all you out here are newbies. Let's go, yeah?"

Paul went first, Draco close behind. The Hufflepuff was indeed taller by a good handful of inches. The Slytherin kept his eyes on the young Wizard's wonderfully tight and supple jean-clad arse moving seductively just ahead of him.

It was good to be involved with someone, but Merlin, why did Paul have to be so fucking cute?

With a sigh, Draco looked up as the little parade emerged from the short hallway and into another, bland, beige room, decorated identically as the waiting room.

The only furniture in the room were five pairs of putrid green plastic chairs, arranged in a semi-circle. A single chair sat alone, facing the others, presumably for Dr. Dorffman. The five 'vets' immediately sat down, pairing off but leaving one of their number alone. Draco watched as a short, stocky young blond Wizard motioned for Paul to partner up with him. The Hufflepuff shook his head slightly, pointing at Draco. The stocky blond made a face as the fat, Chocolate Frog guy plopped down next to him, the plastic chair protesting loudly. Paul motioned to the pair of chairs at the far end of the semi-circle, and he and Draco quickly sat down. The thin Witch with the chopsticks and the mustached old Wizard took the pair of chairs to Draco's right. The old fellow smelled vaguely of moth balls.

Paul put his hand on Draco's knee, giving it a squeeze.

"There's just one thing. Don't laugh when you see what my Animagus form is, Ok?"

The Slytherin gulped.

"Ah, same goes for you, luv."

"Deal," Paul whispered as the sound of squeaking footsteps echoed from the hallway.

A second later, a rather rotund fellow in a wrinkled gray suit shuffled into the room. He was of average height with curly, dark brown hair. His heavy, horn-rimmed glasses sported the thickest lenses that Draco had ever seen. They made Trelawney's look downright thin in comparison. His greatly magnified, light brown eyes twinkled brightly. A large, warm smile filled his round face. His ancient, worn loafers squeaked tiredly with his every step. The collar of his dress shirt was open, his thin, black tie loosened. He didn't have to speak a single word for Draco to know he was a Yank.

The chunky doctor stood in front of the group, smiling warmly, swinging his arms up and clasping his hands together.

"Well, well, some lovely new faces this evening," he gushed welcomingly, his slightly gravelly, high-pitched voice amazingly calming.

"And some old friends, as well. Welcome, welcome! I'm Dr. Kent Dorffman, senior counselor and executive vice-president of Encounter Groups of Cleveland. To our new guests, I'd like to say that we're very pleased to have you here with us, and that we're also very proud to be here in Britain. This is our first foray into your lovely country, and we are looking forward to a long, lasting relationship here. Just a bit about myself. I was born and raised in a small town in Pennsylvania, moved to Cleveland, Ohio right after graduation from college, and have been with EGC ever since. I was twenty-one when I discovered I was a Wizard, which is not uncommon in the U.S. I attended the Great Lakes Wizarding Academy, and graduated from their Accelerated Program with Honors two years later. I returned to EGC and worked my way up to VP, and then executive VP. I've been living in Britain for the past two years, personally overseeing our projects here. I don't know much about Quidditch, but I think I like it. I enjoy a good Black & Tan, and find riding on a broomstick somewhat frightening. I'm good at Charms and Transfiguration, and horrible at Potions. I'm single, no children, and please, call me Kent. Welcome to Animagi Anonymous, where there is no such thing as a bad transformation. Now, enough about me, I want to get to know our new guests."

Draco had turned to make a quick comment to Paul when he sensed a shadow falling over him. He looked up to see Dorffman smiling down at him.

"How about you go first, son?" the portly Yank beamed.

Draco blinked, his stomach suddenly filled with slugs. Dorffman nodded, motioning for Draco to stand. The Slytherin had a hard time swallowing, his throat suddenly achingly dry. As he stood up, Paul grabbed Draco's hand and gave it a squeeze.

"No worries, Draco," he whispered.

The blond nodded robotically, feeling as if the room was suddenly swirling on some sort of tilted axis. All the beigeness seemed to be closing in on him. Dorffman stood calmly in the centre of the circle, gently urging the Slytherin towards him.

"C'mon over, son. I don't bite. You've nothing to fear here. No one in this room will be anything but supportive and understanding. It's OK," he intoned sweetly.

Draco finally managed to make it over to the large counselor. Dorffman threw a meaty arm about his shoulder, firmly giving the Slytherin a friendly shake.

"Very good. Now, you know the drill. Tell us your name, a little about yourself, and why you're here."

Draco nodded, clearing his throat. Chocolate Frog Man and Chopsticks glared at him coldly. Mr. Mustache seemed to be asleep. Paul was smiling, silently mouthing for him to get to it.

"I'm Draco Malfoy. I'm self-employed. I, uh, graduated from Hogwarts, Slytherin House, seven years ago. I'm gay, and I've been dating an old schoolmate for nearly three months. I enjoy Quidditch, and I uh, well, um....."

His throat closed up tight, making further speech impossible. Dorffman gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"It's OK, Draco. Everyone in this room understands what you are going through. You can trust me, and them, right group?"

The vets nodded vigorously, chorusing "Right, Kent!" in unison.

Paul winked, nodding.

Draco took a breath.

"Um, I, um, I'm not happy with my Animagus form. I hate it actually! I'm embarrassed of it, and I'm ashamed to show it to anyone," he finished breathlessly.

The vets stood up, cheering loudly: "No bad transformations! No bad animal forms! No more guilt! No more shame!"

Dorffman guided Draco back to his chair.

Paul stood up, clapping the dazed Slytherin on the back.

"Great job, Draco! It takes guts to go first!" the curly-haired Wizard breathed into the blond's ear.

The chunky counselor was clapping his hands, motioning towards the Slytherin.

"Excellent job, Draco, excellent. That was the first step to acceptance. Now, I'd like to have the rest of our newbies come up here and do the same thing. Yes, the lovely lady with the chopsticks! Please!"

One by one, the newcomers shuffled up to the front of the group and introduced themselves. Chopsticks' name was Helga Stevens. Chocolate Frog Guy was Bert Quigley. Mr. Mustache was Chauncey Liverwort. All three basically echoed Draco's statements about their animal forms.

Then, Dorffman had the veterans introduce themselves, starting at the other end of the semi-circle.

There was Evelyn Wildsnare, a pretty, blonde Witch in her early twenties. Her partner was a forty-ish, extremely short red-head named Alan Carter. Next was Bertha Quillman, a rather tall, very plump Witch in her thirties with stringy, black hair that clung to her round face. Her partner was an average looking guy of indeterminate age with very long dark hair who quietly identified himself as Devon Stillbury. Finally, the short, stocky blond stood up, throwing Draco a withering stare. His name was Niall Brickswood, and it was clear that he carried a torch for Paul.

The Hufflepuff blushed as Brickswood looked in his direction before sitting down and whispering to his new partner, Bert.

Next, Dorffman gave a quick overview of the objectives of the sessions, the various ground rules and what not. Draco had finally calmed down when the chunky counselor sat down and nodded at Evelyn. The shapely blonde stood up, moving shyly to the middle of the circle.

Dorffman addressed the group.

"This will be Evelyn's last session with us. She has informed me that she is completely satisfied and at ease with her Animagus form, and for that, I think she is due a rousing round of applause!"

The group clapped and hooted enthusiastically, some of the vets giving the blushing Witch a standing ovation. When the ruckus died down, Dorffman nodded at Evelyn once more. She took a deep breath and murmured the incantation.

Draco's eyes went wide as the slim, lovely young woman transformed into a huge, hulking gorilla, leaning on its knuckles but still towering over the smiling Dorffman. The giant ape then appeared to wipe tears from its eyes with her giant paw, before turning and giving the counselor a bone-crushing hug. The veterans clapped and cheered wildly, as the newbies gaped, slowly joining the applause. Evelyn released the gasping Dorffman, who attempted to smooth his rumpled suit. The huge gorilla gently moved her empty chair out of the way, hunkering down on the carpet next to her partner, Alan, who smiled at her and stroked the fur on her massive upper arm.

Dorffman smiled warmly, bowing to Evelyn, who grunted softly in response. The counselor clasped his hands together.

"Now, I would like to ask one of our newbies if they would let us all see their Animagus form."

The chunky American eagerly scanned the room, his warm, brown eyes blinking hopefully behind his huge glasses. After a time, he sighed.

"Very well. I would have been pleasantly surprised if we had had a taker. Not a problem! So, how about we just follow about the circle, with each of our veterans showing us their stuff, huh? Alan, if you please?"

The very short red-head nodded, standing up.

"Aye, Kent, be me pleasure," he trilled in a thick, brogue-ish accent.

An instant later, Alan had transformed into a tiny, green lizard with a small tuft of orange hair in the middle of its head. Draco blinked, looking to Chauncey and Helga in turn. Bert had gone pale. Paul squeezed Draco's knee hard enough for it to hurt. As Alan climbed up his metal chair leg with ease, Dorffman nodded at the newbies.

"A gecko, if you were unsure. Beautiful coloring, wouldn't you say? Very adept climbers. Thank you, Alan."

The lizard had reached the plastic seat and sat there, his huge, black eyes darting about the room.

Bertha went next, the large, chunky Witch transforming into a sizeable African Warthog. She sat there on her large haunches, her coarse, spiky hair sticking up in all directions. Draco shuddered to think what she could do with her long, dangerous looking tusks.

Devon went next, his tall, lithe body contorting down into a nasty looking, giant beetle. The huge insect hissed and spat continuously, scurrying over to Bertha and remaining remarkably still next to the warthog's front hooves.

"Egyptian Dung Beetle," Dorffman intoned seriously. "Quite rare, and once worshipped as gods by the ancient Egyptian people. Thank you, Devon."

The giant insect spat twice in response.

Brickswood went next. Closing his eyes, the stocky blond Wizard took a deep breath, murmuring the incantation. An instant later, he had shrunk down into a tiny, long-haired, bright orange rodent of some kind.

"Guinea pig?" Draco asked.

"Chinchilla," Dorffman whispered, winking.

The plump counselor turned his gaze to the curly-haired Quidditch player.

"Paul, you're up."

The young Wizard swallowed hard, throwing a quick glance at the Slytherin.

"You promised, remember?"

"Yes. Go on, Paul, it's fine. I can't wait to see," Draco soothed encouragingly.

Nodding, the muscley Hufflepuff swiftly morphed into a rather large, rather fat, lumpy toad. The amphibian looked up at Draco, burping out a series of important sounding croaks. Draco slowly reached a finger out to touch the large toad's head. Paul's long tongue flew out, wrapping itself about the Slytherin's finger. Draco jumped in spite of himself. Paul withdrew his tongue, burping loudly.

"Very good, Paul. Thank you. Now, which one of our newcomers will go next?" Dorffman asked pleasantly.

Bert grunted and heaved himself up.

"Might as well get it over with. After seeing what these other folks have been saddled with, I don't feel so put out."

An instant later, the overweight Wizard had transformed into a tiny hummingbird. Bert flitted about the room, finally coming to rest on the back of his chair. Dorffman clapped, clearly pleased.

"Nicely done, Bert, nicely done. Next?"

Chauncey stood up stiffly. Without a word, he morphed into a tiny, lime green garden snake.

Helga harrumphed once before she transformed into her Animagus form, a moderately sized fruit bat. She hissed angrily at Draco as she hung upside down from the edge of her chair seat.

The chunky counselor smiled at the Slytherin.

"Last but certainly not least, Draco."

Nodding, the blond stood up, whispering the incantation.

There was the familiar rushing of air, the sensation of being squeezed and stretched at once, and suddenly his line of view was barely a few inches above the carpet. Dorffman towered over him, grinning widely and clapping excitedly. Draco darted his small head about the room, noting that the others had regained their human forms. They were all clapping and cheering at him. He felt two huge hands encircle his small body. A second later, he was easily lifted off of the ground, gently cradled in Paul's arms. The smiling young Wizard was speaking but Draco couldn't understand what he was saying. Instinct kicked in, so the transformed Slytherin began licking Paul's handsome face with his tiny, pink tongue. The Quidditch player tasted as good as he smelled, and Draco's little tail was wagging a mile a minute.

The session was nothing like Draco expected.

After resuming his human form, the group broke up into an informal rap session, with Dorffman gliding about the room poking in and out of the various conversations. Everyone seemed more open and friendly after their transformations. Even Helga gave the Slytherin a stiff hug.

Draco felt energized. He hated to admit it, but most of the other members of the group had it worse than he did. And if they could find a way to be at one with their Animagus forms, so could he. He stayed close to Paul, never once leaving the young Wizard's side.

The Hufflepuff kept his arm about Draco's waist even as the two stepped out onto the empty sidewalks of Shipton Street an hour later. They walked along in quiet conversation for a few minutes until they reached an intersection. Draco looked at his watch. It was nearly 9:30.

"Well, we had better find an out of the way place so we can Apparate to Vince and Greg's. Looks like there's an alley on the next block."

Draco made to move across the deserted street but Paul remained where he was.

"I think I'd better head for my flat. Long day, yeah?"

"Oh, come on, luv. I really want you to meet my friends. I know you'll like them. And Weasley would never forgive me if I didn't introduce him to a member of the Brigadiers. That's just about the same as being a Cannon, you know."

The curly-haired Wizard looked at the sidewalk.

"I'm not sure if I'm ready to talk about Animagi Anonymous just yet. And aside from that, I'm not sure it's a good idea anyway. I mean, you already have someone, and I'd be lying if I hadn't thought once or twice tonight that it wouldn't be such a bad thing if he broke up with you over this Animagus thing. Makes me a horrible person, huh?"

Draco smiled, caressing the young Quidditch player's cheek.

"No, love, it makes you human. And you wouldn't be the only one standing here to have entertained those kind of thoughts."

Paul's head snapped up, his beautiful blue eyes suddenly bright.

"Really?" he asked hopefully.

"Really," Draco responded in a steady voice. "Now, how about we just push all that to the side tonight and concentrate on being friends? A bit simpler, I think. Besides, we're going to be seeing each other for group twice a week. You may find this hard to believe, but I tend to wear people out very quickly. You may find yourself asking Dorffman for a new partner before long."

The older blond reached up and mussed the younger Wizard's soft, auburn locks. Paul smiled weakly, chuckling.

"No, I can't imagine getting tired of you, Draco."

He stepped closer to the shorter Slytherin, swiftly pulling the startled blond into a tight embrace. Paul's eager, warm lips found Draco's, and the older man hungrily returned the kiss. The Quidditch player pressed his groin against the blond's, Draco moaning softly as he could feel Paul's erect cock through the layers of denim. The Slytherin was just beginning to massage and caress the younger Wizard's wonderfully muscular, supple arse when a blaring horn from a passing car jerked them out of their embrace.

"Fucking poufs! Get a room, you dirty faggots!" some drunken Muggle yelled as the vehicle roared past, the thumping bass of their music shattering the quiet mood completely.

Paul moved away from the blond, looking about confusedly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Draco whirled about, his face twisted up with anger.

"Bloody Muggle morons! Good thing I'm in a generous mood this evening!" Turning back to his young friend, the blond nodded to the alleyway just up the block.

"C'mon, Paul. Let's take our leave of this wonderful little area. I'm rather hungry right now."

Paul hesitated. "Draco, I'm sorry. I shouldn't go with you. It will only make things worse. I....I...well, I think I....."

Draco pressed a finger to the taller Wizard's lips.

"No need to say anything, love. I know. Me too. Now, let's go get some food, some drink, and you need to get ready to be adored by my embarrassingly infantile friends. You'll have a great time. I guarantee it."

Paul nodded and the two Wizards jogged across the street and half-way down the next block, ducking down the narrow alley and stopping several feet inside it, safely hidden in the shadows. Draco glanced about, scanning to make sure that no Muggles were in sight.

Paul stepped close once more, pulling the Slytherin in tight. Draco wrapped his own arms about the muscley young Quidditch player.

"Ready, love? Here we go!"

Paul pressed his lips to Draco's as both Wizards Apparated with a loud crack.
~~~~~~~~
Draco moved over across the silk sheets, snuggling closer to the sleeping young Hufflepuff. Paul felt fabulous, all muscley smooth and firm suppleness. And the Quidditch player moved him in ways he hadn't known were possible. He was the most tender, caring and attentive lover the Slytherin had ever been with. Draco swung his arm over Paul's slim but heavily muscled chest. He drank in the younger Wizard's scent, moaning softly as he closed his eyes.

Draco had enjoyed himself immensely at Vince & Greg's. Paul was painfully shy at first, and Blaise kept shooting him quizzical looks. After a short time, the gorgeous young Hufflepuff had relaxed, falling into an animated conversation with Ron, Vince and Greg about the Cannon's chances in the current season. Draco could barely contain himself as Weasley totally ignored Blaise, practically drooling all over Paul. The blond was absolutely certain that Ron had actually popped a stiffy at one point in the discussion.

Paul beamed, shooting Draco longing stares and winks throughout the evening. The Slytherin finally had to sit down himself to conceal his own raging erection.

Blaise eventually adopted a bemused expression, whispering the word "Fickle" in Draco's ear as the olive-skinned Slytherin kissed him good-night.

Everyone gave Paul hearty hugs and kisses, with Ron begging the Quidditch player to join the group for pints later in the week. Draco nearly swooned when the tall Hufflepuff turned his gorgeous blue eyes in his direction, silently asking for the blond's permission.

The new couple had finally disengaged themselves from Paul's adoring fans, walking arm in arm down the hallway as Draco Apparated them both to his flat.

The two aroused Wizards could barely contain themselves as they scrabbled at each other, lips, tongues and teeth devouring every inch of exposed skin as they shrugged out of their clothing. Discarded garments had flown in all directions, like a trail of breadcrumbs leading straight into Draco's huge bedroom.

The naked men had flopped down on the Slytherin's giant bed, instantly entwined, the slim, muscular Hufflepuff maneuvering himself astride the older Wizard. Draco gasped eagerly as Paul entered him, slowly but firmly driving himself into the keening Slytherin. Both Wizards came simultaneously, their lips locked in an intense kiss. They had held each other for many minutes afterward, reveling in the wonderful sensation of their naked bodies pressed together. They had murmured quiet sentiments, with Paul charming them both clean.

Draco sighed at the recent memory as Paul's hand moved over and covered his own.

The Slytherin gently kissed Paul's chest, snuggling against his new lover with a satisfied moan.

He'd give Potter a firecall first thing in the morning.

Fluffy was off the market.
~fin~
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Animagi Anonymous