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[barking-draco.livejournal.com]

Draco had finally been given a task worthy of a demonic intern. His satisfaction at this state of affairs could be discerned in his voice, his eyes, his jaunty walk. Draco was on a mission.

Better yet, it was something that only HE could do. Admittedly, the prospect of going back to Crowley’s flat in order to disarm the things which had originally hurt the demon was frightening, at first. But then Aziraphale had patiently explained that Draco was invincible, in a matter of speaking. That all Draco had to do was grab some silly toys from some unusually active plants, and check the flat for anything else that could be dangerous to Crowley’s health.. This was nothing, compared to Herbology.

Draco hummed a tune that he would never admit to knowing due to its popularity among adolescent witches, and started to ascend the stairs that lead to Crowley’s penthouse suite.

It was a good thing that he had never seen any Ghostbusters or James Bond movies. It would have taken away a lot of his enjoyment in slinking up the stairwell and through the hall, taking plenty of opportunities to dramatically pause before he leapt around each corner with his wand out, looking wildly in all directions. His tuneless hum was now more reminiscent of the Weird Sister’s early work.

Draco reached the entrance to Crowley’s dwelling later than he would have had he simply walked, but it was important to set the mood. Draco now felt that he was mentally prepared to take on anything that could be in the flat. Unfortunately for Draco, his expectations of what he would encounter were limited to modern furniture and amusing pet plants. It was unfair, really, for him to encounter another would be plant neutralizer. Draco watched, momentarily speechless, as the man wrestled with an English Ivy.

“Give it up, you overgrown skunkweed!” cried the interloper, who on an unrelated note looked like the avatar of one night stands. The words broke Draco from his silence, and he cleared his throat while trying to look menacing. He also put on an aristocratic sneer, for good measure.

Pointing his wand directly at the man’s heart, he asked, “You’d better have a damn good reason for being here.”

Despite the opinions of some, Draco had finished going through puberty quite some time ago. However, Fate decided that his voice needed to crack one last time, in honor of the perfect moment for it. Fate can be a bitch like that.

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[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John slowly turned from the obstinate animate flora with whom he was playing tug-of-war, and found himself face to face with a skinny, sneering, very very blond youth, who for some inexplicable reason was pointing a stick at his sternum. "Oh, for the..."

It was bad enough he'd had to brave the inner recesses of half the classic-car enthusiast hangouts in London, flashing a picture of the Bentley, and endure endless monologues about suspensions and model years and bloody V-something engines before turning up someone who could verify that yes, that particular Bentley was often seen in this particular neighborhood.

He'd then spent the better part of an afternoon ingratiating himself with Crowley's neighbors, chatting up the absent-minded little old lady whose tiny flat was filled to bursting with the demon's cast-off houseplants, and finally narrowing it down by guesswork and process of elimination to this particular flat.*

Bribing the janitor to let him in had been the easy part. Apparently it had occurred to the landlady after more than a month of the place standing empty that she hadn't seen a rent payment in over thirty years, and she was planning on binning the contents and letting the place out again (John could have told her that was a bad idea, and also that the lawsuit she allegedly planned to file for back rent was doomed to bear no fruit either, as Hell had access to most of the best lawyers. Sadly, she wasn't likely to ask.)

Finding the place full of sentient houseplants with prehensile leaves, holy water pistols and an attitude had come as a minor shock. It was by no means the weirdest thing John had ever seen, and of course holy water wouldn't hurt him. But it did suggest that whoever had booby-trapped the place had a sadistic streak and a sense of black humor, which wasn't something he typically associated with angels. It made for a very bad combination. And the sodding ivy wouldn't give up the damn gun so John could have a look at it, not the he really thought it would tell him much, it wasn't like Heaven or Hell distributed standard-issue squirt pistols, but there was sod all else in the way of clues to be found and he wasn't about to leave until he'd investigated the place properly and thoroughly.

And now here was Peroxide Lad With A Stick, making like bloody Scotland Yard. It really was too much.

John let go the water pistol, snatched the pointy stick out of the kid's hand, and rapped him smartly over the head with it. "Watch your mouth, you snooty little shit. And get your nose out of the air before something flies up it," he snapped.

He would have added more, but at that moment two things registered that brought him to a surprised halt.

One, the stick in his hand was vibrating slightly. Humming, almost, in a distinctly un-stick-like fashion. It sent a strange resonance coursing up his arm, something like pins and needles and something like a solid crack to the funny bone, but not quite like either one.

And two, smoke had begun to rise from the kid's head.

A slightly fuzzy memory of a conversation with an inebriated werewolf came suddenly to mind. "I have heard of wizards - am one myself -" He pulled out his wand and waved it, the tip sparking before he put it away again.

John blinked. Was he serious? Magic wands? Nah, it can't be...

"Um," he added intelligently. "Your hair seems to be on fire."

---

*The discerning reader might well wonder why John didn't take the easy route and just go ask Crowley where the place was and whether he could have a look around. Answer: He felt Crowley had enough on his mind, figured he'd come around when he was good and ready, and also wasn't in the habit of asking permission in general.

[barking-draco.livejournal.com]

Your hair’s on fire, indeed, thought Draco caustically. He began to form a sarcastic put down along the lines of, “Of course it is!” when he realized that there were other matters that he had to attend to first.

For a moment, Draco considered going for his wand. It really wasn’t fair that he had to choose between his most useful tool and his naturally perfect platinum tresses. But how was he supposed to anticipate such a move from a man? If the stranger was a wizard, he was supposed to use Expelliarmus. If he was a Muggle than he shouldn’t know to go for the wand. He couldn’t be a Muggle anyway, seeing as how he’d managed to set Draco’s hair on fire….

Draco remembered that his hair was still on fire, and acted accordingly by screaming like a seven-year-old Muggle girl. He swatted wildly at his head a few times, achieving nothing due to the fact that he was keeping his hands well away from the flames. He began to hop up in down in distress, while shaking his head.

The unpleasant, oily smell of burning hair filled the room. The stranger muttered something that was probably an epithet and picked up the houseplant. “Are you an occult being?” he shouted. Draco didn’t answer him, being rather occupied with being hysterical. “Well, if you were some type of demonic entity, you’d probably be able to take care of your bloody hair,” reasoned the man, and angled the English Ivy at Draco’s head.

At first, nothing happened. Draco shrieked, “Crowley’s going to tear you to shreds for this, you-” and was interrupted by the fierce spray of water that hit him directly in the face. The boy choked and instinctively cast his head down.

When the fire was out, Draco was reluctant to raise his head back up. He had very little wisdom, even for his short life, but he knew without a doubt that there would be a terrible smirk on the other man’s face.

He wondered, rather hopelessly, if there was any way for him to regain the upper hand.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John sighed and set down the recalcitrant ivy (though not before it had managed to get off a good squirt in his direction as well, soaking his shirt front.)

"I'll deal with you later," he growled at it, his voice laden with menace which, if the plant had any sense at all, would tip it off to the fact that it wasn't dealing with a soft-hearted poser of a Pit Fiend anymore, but had just let itself in for some real trouble.

"Right," he continued, turning back to the bedraggled young nancy who stood dripping before him. He started to tap the wand casually into his palm, remembered the sparks, and thought better of it. "So, you know Crowley. That's a start. Let's start over, shall we? Hullo, pleased to meet you. I'm John. What's your name, kid?"

[barking-draco.livejournal.com]

Draco was taken aback. In a good half minute, he had indulged in enough angst to convince himself that all hope was lost and that his life was probably over as well. He had been out of his depth ever since leaving Hogwarts. It was upsetting, really, to be forced to deal with yet another intimidating figure. But now John had discarded his belligerence, and had made a friendly overture. Perhaps there was still something to work with, here.

“Pleased to meet you as well, John. I’m Draco,” he said, deciding at the last moment not to recite his full name, as impressive as it was. After all, John had only given his first name, and Draco didn’t want to give out more information that he received. Also, he had the inkling that a long, royal sounding name might just piss John off again. “Yes, I know Crowley. I’m here as a favor to him, actually.”

He paused, and then thought, What the hell, we’re being polite. “I’m sorry I pulled it out before, but do you think you could let me have my wand back now?

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John's eyebrows arched expressively. "Well, that'd be a right stupid thing for me to do, now wouldn't it? Seeing as how it's a weapon an' all and I don't know you from a hole in the ground." He examined the finely-crafted object curiously, but was very careful not to bring it too close to his face. "Wouldn't fret too much though, champ. Since you asked so nice, you'll likely get it back before we part company."

He lit a cigarette and turned to regard the plants balefully. "You say you're doing Crowley a favor? So'm I, as it happens. Funny ol' world, innit?" He paused to exhale a cloud of smoke at the plants, watching with satisfaction as the English ivy waved its leaves and managed, without benefit of a face or a voice, to convey its disgust and distress. "I was hoping there'd be a clue around here as to who doused the place, but so far all I've found is dry-rotting carpet and a bunch of homicidal houseplants."

He paused for a moment, regarding Draco speculatively from the corner of his eye. Magic wands, huh. I wonder...

"Somebody must have woke 'em up and given 'em these guns. I wonder what's got 'em so hacked off, though. Too bad they can't talk," he added casually.

[barking-draco.livejournal.com]

Draco told himself to concentrate. Right. Getting along with John seemed like a good plan now, especially since he claimed to be helping Crowley out as well. Being asked nicely seemed to make John more agreeable. Well, that shouldn't be too hard.

And he wanted to talk to the plants, in hopes of finding out who had rigged the place? Well, that was probably doable. Draco cleared his throat. "Er, there actually is a way to make them talk. There might be, anyway."

John gave him a casually interested look. "Oh?"

"Yes," Draco said. "I guess you don't remember it, what with your being out of school for a while. This doesn't get a lot of use. And I'd have to adapt it. But does Legilimens Mandragora ring a bell?" John shrugged, in a noncommittal way. "I guess not. It's not really useful outside NEWTs, eh?" John shook his head. "Anyway, it's normally used for communicating with mandrakes, with the only real use being when you need to ask the roots questions during a ritual. But someone already made them sentient and mobile, so it shouldn't be that hard to communicate. Of course, there can be weird side effects when you adapt spells, but they shouldn't be too serious."

John shrugged again. "I've taken some knockings, and I can handle a few weird side effects. Seeing as you had the idea champ, would you like to do the honors?" He held out Draco's wand.

Draco took it in surprise. This was fortunate. John seemed to be telling the truth, mostly, but Draco still felt much better when he had his wand back. "Thanks. Is there a particular plant that you think we should interrogate?"

John cast a decidedly vengeful eye on the English Ivy.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"Wonder if this plant's as much of a tosser as the last one I talked to," John muttered, thinking of the bog god, who would no doubt be vastly amused and somewhat affronted at this little experiment.

He smirked at the plant to cover his own uncertainty. He'd taken a risk giving the kid his wand back (though if this boy was a killer, then John's instincts had really gone to the dogs.) And he was about to take another one, since he had no idea what a "real" wizard could actually do using one of these things. But Draco had held it like a weapon, and seemed deeply relieved to have it back, so...

"Oh, by the way," he added without any particular inflection, his eyes still on the ivy, "if you plan to use that on me later, you'd better cast for the kill. You won't like what happens otherwise."

[barking-draco.livejournal.com]

Draco was shocked, and hastened to reassure. "Oh no, I don't have any plans about harming you. After all, we're both working for Crowley, right?" And you could probably take me out without much effort, he added mentally, and decided to change the subject.

"Fortunately for us, this spell doesn't require much. Just a wand, a bit of guesswork, and hopefully a little luck." Draco brandished his wand, carefullly so as to avoid alarming John in any way. He took a deep breath and incanted, "Legilimens Hedera Hybernica"

The ivy shivered, and then somehow lunged and attached itself to Draco. Draco screamed and thrashed, until he realized that the plant wasn't actually hurting him. It was just clinging to him. Very possesively.

"Er, John, what do I do? Do I try to disengae, or keep trying to interrogate it, or..." The other man seemed to be very amused, for some reason.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John was alarmed for a moment or two when the plant started getting grabby--he'd seen firsthand what a hacked-off sentient plant could do, given sufficient motivation--but when its intentions became a bit clearer, he had to bite the inside of his lip hard for a long moment to stop himself laughing out loud. Apparently, the spell had worked too well.

"Calm down," he said reassuringly. "Doesn't look like it means to hurt you. In fact," he added, watching the besotted ivy rub up and down Draco's body like an overly affectionate green cat, "I think it likes you. Try sweet-talking it a bit, ask what happened here and see what it says."

[barking-draco.livejournal.com]

Draco was very uncomfortable with this situation. John was quite right about the plant liking him. However, Draco reluctantly acknowlaged that this might be something that he could use to his benefit. He cleared his throat.

"A-HEM. Well, it's certainly very nice to meet you, er..." Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw John mouth Ivy. "Ivy! Yes, I'm delighted to make your acquaintance. I'd really like to talk to you, because..." Draco stopped as he heard a breathy voice intrude his head. It sounded leafy. And cultivated, and earthy, and feminine, and disturbingly like it was trying to be sultry. But above all, leafy.

It was hard to think of how this was possible. Draco settled for an image of leaves flapping in the wind as it inquired, *What would you like to talk about, man-boy?*

Draco forgot himself momentarily, and angrily retorted, "HEY! I am not at all a boy, thank you.... Er. I'd like to know if there's been anything unusual in this place, recently."

The voice sounded very satisfied, suddenly. *There have been many unusual things around here lately, and it has all been good. First our ally came to us, and allowed us to function on a new level. He gave us the tools necessary to dispose of our greatest nemesis. We did so. And finally, you are here, and that is another good thing.*

Draco tried to process this. He didn't even know if John could hear the Ivy, so he decided to continue to ask the questions. "Right, thank you very much. Can you tell me more about this ally?"

*Our ally was an enemy of our nemesis. That is why he was our ally. He had a glow, and he gave us water with the same glow so that we could destroy the nemesis.*

Another angel, thought Draco. That explains the trap, and how they move... "Thank you very much, Ivy," he said out loud.

The plant shifted. *Call me Ivy, again*, Draco didn't quite hear it say. He shrugged.

"Okay, Ivy.... WOAH! That was definitely Innapropriate Touching, right there. Calm down. Oh, no!" he cried as the plant started to snake its tendrils around his body. "John, I think it would be a good idea to leave now, don't you?" The older man made a non-commital noise. "Come on! We're not going to get anything more out of it, and right now I'm worried about what it's going to get out of me!"

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John was now forced to put a hand over his own mouth, attempting to appear grave and thoughtful as he hid an irrepressible grin at the kid's predicament. He could only hear Draco's half of the conversation, and he'd need to pick the kid's brain later to find out exactly what had been said, but he could follow enough. "Yeah, hold on, I got an idea.

"Couple more things," he said, his voice slightly muffled as he looked around at the other plants, searching for an appropriate candidate...ah, there we are. "Ask it if this 'ally' of theirs was carrying anything. And if he was alone." (1)

He walked to a large French lily and picked it up, lugging it over to the entangled youth and setting it down next to the English Ivy with a slight thud. "When that's done, cast the same spell on this one. I expect that'll solve your problem."

---

(1) John sincerely hoped the ivy wouldn't say anything about a horn. He'd hate to have to do something nasty to Gabriel when they seemed to be getting along so well.

[barking-draco.livejournal.com]

Draco really didn't like the sound of that idea, but he wasn't coming up with anything better. At least John seemed to be confident about his solution. In his panicked state, it never even occurred to him to use a simple Finite. So he aimed his wand at the lily, and incanted, " Legilimens Spathiphyllum!" at it.

Draco quailed as he heard a new voice enter his head. *Well, hello zere. Can I do anyting to help you?* it purred in an atrocious French accent.

"Hello, Lily. Yes, you could help me. Can you give me any more information about your recent ally? Was he carrying anything? And was he alone?" Draco said quickly, before the plant could suggest anything. Much to his relief, the ivy halted in its efforts.

*Well. Ze Ally was very, how you say? Special. He brought wiz him ze tools to defeat ze Nemesis. He also brought plain water. He-*

"Wait a minute," inturrupted Draco. "Ivy told me that he brought holy.. er, glowing water with him."

The French Lily suddenly sounded very smug. *No. Eet was plain when he brought eet here. Zen he summoned a man, who was confused but made eet glow. Zen ze man disappeared. Ivy ees wrong. You should listen to me instead.*

The Ivy tensed angrily. This made Draco wince, since it was still entwined around his thighs. *This is TOO much! You exotic French tarts always try to steal from us native plants. Well, I've had enough!* And with that, the ivy launched itself away from the relieved Draco and started grappling with the lily on the floor.

Draco stared at the spectacle, amused. Neither plant seemed to be gaining dominance, although they were both writhing quite energetically. He shrugged, and turned to John. "Thanks, mate. That worked out quite well. I still need to disarm the others." Remembering his duty, he reached down and scooped the two discarded pistols off the floor. "I could also help you check the flat for other clues, if you like."

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, all right. I've been round once already, but another look won't hurt."

Accompanied by the sounds of Draco's epic struggle, John wandered through the disturbingly clean rooms of the ultramodern flat, shaking his head at the stark minimalist decor. The place looked like one of those showcase homes--someplace that had never been occupied, but was just there to remind real people what lousy housekeepers they were. He supposed demonic powers must make the housework easy, if not totally unnecessary, but still...

It was this unnatural cleanliness that finally drew his attention to a small slip of paper peeking out from beneath the edge of a decorative table. John bent and picked it up. It was a receipt from a book shop--and not, he noted with interest, Aziraphale's.

Let There be Lust, by Misty Moore, he read, then incredulously read it again. What the fuck? Sounds like some sappy romance novel.

He couldn't picture Crowley taking an interest in that kind of rubbish. Though admittedly, he thought he'd seen a couple of romances lying around when he'd first visited the demon up at the Manor. He nearly binned the thing, but decided at the last minute to hold on to it, just in case it turned out to be important.

Returning to the living room with nothing more to show for his efforts, he was met by a drenched and bedraggled but triumphant Draco, his arms full of water pistols (some still sporting the odd creeper or two.) Glancing over the kid's shoulder, he saw leaves scattered everywhere and several overturned pots.

"Hail the conquering hero," he said with a grin. "Place looks clean; all I found that looked out of place was this." He showed Draco the receipt. "Doesn't seem quite Crowley's style, though somehow a holy assassin who reads smut in his spare time seems not quite on, either. Still. Might be worth mentioning." He tucked the receipt into Draco's breast pocket. "Ready to clear out?"

[barking-draco.livejournal.com]

Draco was worn out, from fighting all of those houseplants. However, he was still feeling rather triumphant after having bested all of the houseplants. He nodded in response to John's question and they strolled out the door.

"So," said Draco as they started down the hallway, "would you like to go back to the Manor together? We both have to report to Crowley, after all." A thought occurred to him. He might as well try to find out more about his new job. "What sort of jobs does he usually have you do, anyway? I just started working for him."

John chuckled. "Jobs? He's not my boss, kid..."

Draco was momentarily taken aback. "Wh-what? You said he sent you here!"

John smirked. "No, I didn't. I said I was doing him a favor. Never said he asked." He winked. "Tell you what though, I won't tell him about Ivy and Lily if you don't tell him you saw me here. Deal?"

Draco considered this. Crowley probably wouldn't like it if Draco withheld information from him. On the other hand, he didn't much like the idea of Crowley hearing about the debacle with the houseplants. He held out his hand. "Deal." They shook and walked downstairs.

Outside, Draco thought to ask, "So, will I see you again?"

John grinned. "Oh, I expect so. I'm like the proverbial bad penny, you never know when I might turn up. See you around, kid." With that, he vanished into the shadows, probably in the direction of the nearest pub.

Draco headed back to the Manor. There was a lot to think about, and he had to discuss it with Crowley.