Drarry One Shots

Harry's Game

The Daily Prophet's headline read: 'HARRY POTTER, SINGLE AGAIN!'

Harry grimaced and shoved the newspaper off his desk. He heard his waste-paper basket shunt two inches to the left to catch the offending item and took a small modicum of pleasure from the sound of paper being shredded viciously. The bin burped loudly and he rolled his eyes. It had been a present from Ron, from the newest line of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes officeware. Harry thought it was modelled on a bloody-fearsome vagina dentata, he was certain there were rows of very sharp teeth around the top. He also knew, for definite, that he'd never had to empty it, not that he would have put his hands anywhere near it, it was deadlier than your average rabid werewolf. Sometimes it bumped against his leg and purred, aggressively and disconcertingly. And it had a grotesque habit of retching up staples if it had gorged itself too quickly.

He supposed he would have to forewarn his PA about the article, if Sheila didn't know already. She was rather efficient at dealing with things like this, but now they would be inundated with owls and mail offering anything from dates to dating services ... or worse. Harry wondered about declaring himself celibate, though he had no doubts that his adoring fans would Owl him regarding that too, probably trying to convince him on what he was missing out on, which would include the inevitable nude selfies. He shuddered. There must be an archive room hidden in the depths of the Ministry that was filled with the nude selfies that Harry got sent from wizards and witches across the world. One day it would make a fascinating study, so long as the researcher had a strong stomach. Some people out there were properly weird and not shy about sharing their bizarre fantasies. The weirdest had to involve copious amounts of crunchy peanut butter, clingfilm, and shackles in what appeared to be a very dark and dank dungeon. That one did not make a pretty picture.

He sighed. Maybe celibacy was the answer. Relationships were far too bloody complex to deal with. Merlin, at the last count, he had one deceased ex; one ex who was probably still grieving said shared and deceased ex; a love-sick ex-girlfriend who kept trying to re-ignite a non-existent flame (he'd belatedly realised that she was too much like Romilda Vane but on love potions); several ex-muggle partners (which was just too bloody complex to deal with, even when just explaining his wardrobe contents); both an ex-boyfriend and an ex-girlfriend, plus numerous requests from strangers, who wanted to be his submissives (when would people get it that Harry didn't want that sort of power); there was one ex-girlfriend who insisted on shaving everything off down below (too much like a pre-pubescent girl, for his liking: women had hair...); one ex-boyfriend  who started to call him 'daddy' in the bedroom (ew! again, too close to paedophilia), and one ex-girlfriend and one ex-boyfriend who just wanted to eat, sleep and play Quidditch (though at least, by all accounts, Ginny and Oliver actually made a better partnership with each other rather than with him). And then there were the women who kept writing or accosting him in the street and begging to carry his babies (for Merlin's sake!) and four (at the last count) obsessive stalkers who now had restraining orders on them (they reminded him a little bit too much of him and Draco at school). The latest ex had suddenly insisted that Harry called him 'Master' in the bedroom (that was too close to a Voldemort fetish and he was thrown out immediately) and now Harry was having to block the profusion of drunken midnight Floo calls in which said ex declared his undying love for Harry and kept apologising before trying to justify why he thought it would be liberating for Harry to free himself to a bloody 'Master'. Harry didn't want to hear it.

He sighed and looked at the list in front of him. Somehow, rounding up Death-eaters was far easier to deal with than his love life. He picked up his quill and drew a line through the word 'missing' beside Mr and Mrs Lee's names before scrawling next to them 'deceased'. He glanced down the list, checking it again, even though he knew it off by heart.

Avery, Jr - Azkaban

Black, Regulus – defected/deceased

Carrow, Alectro - deceased