Sequel to A Transdimensional Library and Community Servicing, in which not everybody is happy about the direction that Draco's community service has taken.

Rating: R
Warnings: Bad language and sexual references (they're discussing pornography after all).
Pairings: Draco/Various strongly implied.


Draco wasn’t quite sure what he was more amused by: Granger’s expression of extreme disapproval, Potter’s horror-filled countenance, Weasley’s gaping or Jenny’s casual indifference.

“It’s immoral,” said Granger, hands firmly planted on hips. “He was sent here to be rehabilitated, not to be....” she seemed to be searching for the appropriate formal description.

“Whored out,” accused Potter. “You’re whoring him out.”

Jenny looked from Draco to Potter. Had the woman ever been able to master the art of single eyebrow raising she would have doubtless employed it now.

“Whore him out?” She snorted. “If I had to whore him out I’d probably be lodging complaints with the Pimp’s Union within a week, the amount of backchat I’d get.”

“Then what do you call making him suck off your friends?”

Draco was offended. “Make me? You think that that ill-bred Muggle could make me do anything?”

“Draco!” Granger reprimanded. “I thought that we agreed that you weren’t going to use that kind of language.”

“That kind of language? You should hear what her brother calls her.”

Granger seemed torn between denouncing Draco for his offensive behaviour towards Muggles and denouncing Jenny for her exploitation of Draco.

“I don’t see your problem,” said Jenny. “He was worse than useless at every job I gave him to do downstairs, but he’s been very enthusiastic and helpful when it comes to keeping the gentlemen at Jentropic Productions primed for action. He’s even been helping me with the scripts.”

“Bloody good job too,” assented Draco. “You can provide passable stage direction, but you cast the wrong men in the wrong roles and your dialogue is terrible.”

“Hey, that line about big, hard German sausage was Schuldig’s not mine.”

Weasley spluttered.

Draco waved as dismissive hand. “Yes, but you were responsible for all of those tedious ‘tight hole’ puns.”

Weasley made a choked ‘eeep’ sound.

“It’s porno, not Proust,” she protested.

“I’m sorry but: ‘Yeah, you like that in you, don’t you, slut!’ just doesn’t work as well as ‘Feel that, that’s me inside you. Fucking you. Making you moan.’.”

Stealing a glance at Weasley, he noted, to his satisfaction that Potter’s perpetual sidekick was looking as though he was on the verge of an aneurism.

Clearly aware that she had no way to win, Jenny turned her attention back to the three Magical Law Enforcement officials.

“Yes, as you can see he’s being most cruelly used and exploited by me. Yesterday I even sadistically subjected him to a horrifying five course Michelin star dinner with the rest of the payroll.”

Draco snorted. “Good thing too. If I hadn’t been there you would have all ordered claret with the fish course and whisky with the cheese.”

“There’s nothing wrong with mixing single malt and stilton.”

He shook his head. He pitied her, he really did. “I suppose I should just be grateful you didn’t ask for gin.”

“I told you,” she said, “the mother’s ruin only comes out after a really bad day. Like the day Rufus Shinra tried to buy the entire town.”

“Well, that whole sorry state of affairs could have been prevented if I’d only been able to use my wand.” He leered at Weasley who promptly went from bright pink to white as a ghost. This really was too much fun. “The one that I use for everyday spellcasting, of course.”

Granger coughed, she was currently only one of the three who appeared to be in a somewhat cogent state. Weasley was quite obviously traumatised and Potter... well, Potter looked as though he wasn’t quite sure whether to be aroused or livid. “Yes, well that brings us neatly around to the other issue. The polyjuice potion. As you know you’ve been forbidden from performing any kind of magic for the duration of your sentence, yet you clearly—”

“That wasn’t him,” said Jenny. “That was Mr. Panes.”

“Mr. Panes?” Granger repeated, looking puzzled.

“Yeah, he rents a chalet from me. Always complaining about the neighbours but very handy with a cauldron.”

Draco bit his lip. He’d promised Snape that he wouldn’t let on to anybody from their universe that he was a) alive; and b) living in a small chalet on the outskirts of Willowholme where he spent his days brewing, observing, contemplating, making cutting remarks and engaging in frequent disputes with the Sith Lord next door.

“A wizard?”

“Yeah, I assumed he was one of your lot. Most of the others carry staffs rather than wands.”

“Overcompensating, that’s what I say,” opined Draco, enjoying the varying levels of confusion that seemed to be afflicting Potter and his pals.

“Well, this... this can’t just go on like it is,” said Potter, in the tones of somebody who was desperately trying to grab hold of conversational purchase.

“Why not?” said Jenny. “As far as I can see it’s mutually beneficial for everybody concerned. Mr. Malfoy here’s interacting with people who aren’t wizards in a friendly and enjoyable manner, I’m getting some much needed help with one of my side projects, the library isn’t being burdened with yet another individual who’s more trouble than they’re worth and you lot are overseeing a reasonably well behaved – if mouthy – convict.”

Granger audibly groaned. “As much as it rankles me to say it, she does have a point. He’s quite obviously been learning how to interact positively with er....” she searched for the right phrase to encapsulate all of Draco’s new colleagues. “Non- purebloods.”

“Doesn’t sound like he’s interacting very positively with her,” said Weasley, clearly feeling the need to make some kind of contribution. Draco didn’t know why, communicating intelligently quite obviously wasn’t his strong point.

“I’m just honest,” said Draco. “Besides, it’s not as if being called an ill-bred Muggle cow-bitch with congeniality deficits actually bothers her.”

The ‘she’ in question rolled her eyes. “Sticks and stones, Mr Malfoy. Sticks and stones.”

“Well, I’m disgusted,” said Potter, eyeing Jenny with a gaze that bordered on loathing. “It’s.... it’s....”

“Disgraceful?” Jenny supplied. “Sordid? Sinful? Naughty? Dirty? Lustful? Sexy?”

Interestingly, Potter seemed to gulp at the last of these.

“Look, if he’s perfectly happy to do it then I’m honestly inclined to leave the details of Draco’s work schedule to Ms Mackenzie discretion,” said Granger, still disapproving but practical-minded enough to concede to the logic of Jenny’s argument. “We’ve got enough to deal with over at Magical Law Enforcement without quibbling over this. And let’s face it: he is actually showing signs of improvement.”

“Can we go then?” Weasley pleaded. Honestly, that whole clan was so wholesome it was painful. Draco couldn’t help but grin at the thought of the seizure he’d probably have if he were to watch tonight’s filming.

Potter however was having none of it. “Hermione, how can you even contemplate agreeing to this? We’re supposed to be Magical Law Enforcement not—”

The door opened before Potter had a chance to elaborate on what they were not.

Draco grinned as Green Eyes walked in, taking in the way Potter’s eyes widened.

“Hello,” the Incubus said, looking as the three strangers and giving a wide smile. “I didn’t know you had company.”

Jenny snorted. “As if that’s ever stopped you dropping by.”

“Of course not, you know how much I like meeting new people.”

“Yeah, well, meet Mr Malfoy’s parole officers: Miss Granger, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley.”

“We’re not just parole officers,” said Weasley indignantly. “We’re Aurors.”

Green Eyes, of course, didn’t care one way or the other.

“Making sure you’re being a good boy?” he said suggestively. “I thought that Ran Fujimiya was doing a pretty good job of that.”

“Mr. Potter here thinks that we’re exploiting and misusing the prisoner?” said Jenny.

Green Eyes looked Draco up and down, not so much ‘undressing him with his eyes’ as ‘stripping, ravishing and devouring’. “I wouldn’t mind, if he’s agreeable.”

Potter stared.

Granger rolled her eyes.

Weasley, complexion now back to bright beetroot, looked from Granger to Potter, muttered something about needed to use the floo and walked out.

“Anyway,” the Incubus continued. “I thought I’d come round and give you the amended script for tonight.” He handed him a small wad of pages. He hated handling the wretched bright white paper that Jenny’s computers gobbled up, but he knew that he’d never convince any of the others to start using parchment.

Casting a mischievous glance at Potter, Draco read the synopsis outloud.

”At the elite Rockwood Finishing College for Young Gentlemen: Headmaster Fukuyuada, a young but very strict instructor, must select a new Head Boy from the latest batch of final year students. Knowing he must choose between the Christoph von Schaftreiser (the brash yet seductive heir to the infamous Schaftreiser fortune), The Honourable Hiro Lithen-Blonde (a sultry and charming half-Japanese aristocrat) and John Moorcock (the seemingly shy scholarship boy with a wild side just waiting to be unleashed) he sets the three a series of erotic tasks.”

Jenny looked sceptical. “Okay, I agree with the roles we’ve got Schuldig and Fujimiya in, but I still say that Yohji would be better as the shy one. I’ve seen him fake demure before now.” She looked at Green Eyes. “You on the other hand have never been shy in your existence. I still say you should be the playboy.”

Draco frowned, this wasn’t a point he was prepared to concede. “Kudoh’s the hedonistic charmer who switches from top to bottom depending on the co-star; it’s his stock in trade. Green Eyes on the other hand is an enigma. The audience never knows quite what to expect from him. So it makes sense that he should be the rampant nymphomaniac with the reluctant exterior.”

Hermione cleared her throat. “I think,” she said carefully, “that Harry, Ron and I can be leaving now. There’s no reason I can see to detail you any further.”

Potter opened his mouth to protest, but was pre-empted by Green Eyes.

“I know,” said the Incubus, grinning impishly. “If Mr Potter’s worried about your, maybe he should come along tonight and watch for himself. You know, to make sure you’re not being mistreated. I’m sure that Schuldig and Yohji would love to meet you.”

Jenny laughed.

Draco sniggered.

Potter gaped and proceeded to glance around in a distinctly flailing manner. “Well, you see, I’m... er... I don’t think that it would be... be right, for me to erm....”

As he continued to babble, Granger scrutinised her friend. “I think,” she declared, seeming to reach some sort of conclusion, “that would be an excellent idea.”