Labyrinth Harry Potter Crossover

The waiting room in the offices of Gringotts Bank was dim and slightly dusty. The cold torches set into the walls gave off no light. A single, uncomfortable wooden bench for visitors sat against one wall.

A thin blonde man sat there silently waiting. He stared at the page of a dog-eared muggle detective paperback in front of him without reading the words. Occasionally he flipped a page.

A dim, grey haze slopped in from the dirty windows. He wondered absently if he’d have to catch the Knight Bus in the rain. He wished he’d thought to bring an umbrella. It was hard to look dignified if you were sopping wet.

“Mr. Malfoy?” a scratchy, sneering voice called out.

A small squat goblin wearing a dark, high-collared jacket stared at Draco Malfoy with beetle-black penetrating eyes from a large oak desk sitting in front of large wooden double doors. Draco’s eyes darted to the stiff brown folder the goblin was holding. Draco assumed it contained his inquiry and curriculum vitae. He swallowed dryly and hoped they were satisfactory. Parts of it were quite creative.

Draco’s feet shuffled under the hard wooden bench he was sitting on. He mentally commanded them to stop. One must always put forth the air of confidence, even when one was completely unsettled. His father had told him that once, when he was very young.

“Yes, sir,” Draco closed the small book he was reading and looked up attentively. He wondered if he should have jumped to his feet.

“You will be seen now,” the goblin nodded slightly. Draco wondered if it was mocking him as it gestured to the large oak door behind him.

“Thank you, sir,” Draco said as he rose to his feet. He tried not to feel desperate, although he was.

The Malfoy name didn’t quite get the type of respect it once had. In fact, quite the opposite.

His father had been sentenced after what was now known as the ‘Ministry Incident’ five years ago. What was supposed to be temporary had grown to weeks, then months, and now years had passed.

The years had taken their toll on Lucius. He had not joined the ranks of the forgotten suicides, but had slipped into a deranged madness, listing his foul deeds at length in the silence of his cell.

So far, three stenographers from the Ministry had given up the task of cataloging them as he rattled them out. No one knew if the horror of Azkaban or the Lucius’ depravity had scared them off. Either way, they weren’t talking – at all, actually.

Lucius was considered to be a permanent resident of the prison.

Draco had watched his mother slip from stony, proud silence to deep, silent depression; finally flinging herself from a third-floor balcony a month ago.

The funeral had been lavish, loving, and far more expensive than Draco could afford. He had been the sole attendant.

The Malfoy accounts had once seemed limitless. Now Draco found himself eating sparse meals at home and growing some of his own food. It wasn’t that bad quite yet, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

He found he liked growing things. It was such a fresh feeling when a new bud bloomed or a sprout pushed its way through the soil.

As his feet clicked on the polished stone floor, the large oak door swung open silently. His chest felt tight but he took a deep breath and stepped into the office.

The floor inside the office was inlaid with different types of wood and polished to mirror-shine. Here and there, a rune was crudely chiseled into the otherwise immaculate floor. Draco tried not to stare at them.

A white marble desk stood at the other end of the room. Gold pens and numerous mysteriously blank parchments littered the top of the desk. A gold nameplate bore a single name: Jareth. The runes kenaz, isa, and ingwaz followed his name, outlined in sapphires. King.

A large window was behind the desk, displaying the steady drizzle outside. This window was clean, Draco noted.

Behind the desk sat a delicately boned man with a mane of long blond hair. He wore a black high-collared jacket embroidered with gold thread. His shirt billowed pure white at the neckline and cuffs.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Jareth said, as if that said it all. He raised a single hand and a dossier appeared with a slight electric crackle.

“Sir,” Draco said with a short bow.

Jareth smirked slightly and a simple white wooden chair appeared in front of the desk. Draco sat down quietly.

“What makes you think you’re qualified to work for Gringotts?”

“I’m quite obsessive about cataloging things,” Draco began. He knew he sounded stupid. He could only hope he didn’t come across as too stupid.

“Really,” Jareth said dryly.

He opened the folder. Draco’s curriculum vitae was instantly visible. Jareth turned the page and Draco saw a copy of his bank account and a list of his transactions - from the day of his birth, by the looks of it. His heart sank.

“I see frugality is not a merit of yours,” Jareth said in a mocking tone, “unless your accounting isn’t as well-kept as you think it is.”

“I assure you, I’m quite aware of my financial affairs,” Draco snapped, feeling appalled. Did the Weasley boy have this much trouble when applying? He felt the color in his cheeks rising.

“Some of the gentlemen we employ don’t think very highly of you,” Jareth fired at Draco. “These people were your classmates; they would be your colleagues, what are your thoughts on this?”

“They are understandably wary,” Draco said slowly, struggling with the words. “However I hope to prove to be an exemplary employee.”

“Really,” Jareth commented mildly.

He reached over and picked up a blank parchment. As his eyes scanned it, words appeared and disappeared with the movement of his eyes over the page.

“You know, of all the requests I’ve gotten, you were the first child to request his own abduction,” Jareth’s piercing blue eyes snapped up and suddenly bore into Draco.

Draco felt pinned to the chair.

Draco had been seven years old and had spent the majority of the week trying to perfect a Stafford swing shot on his training broom. He finally had it down when his father’s carriage had arrived from London with his father and a business associate.

To make a long story short, Lucius had been unimpressed once again with any attempt to please him. Draco had been belittled in front of his fathers business associate, a large round man in pinstriped robes and a small pointed hat, and stiffly ordered to keep practicing until he got it right.

Draco had finally retired to the manor long after the moon had risen, blisters on his fingers and an ache in his back. Only to find his father had taken the Floo Network to Kensington for another meeting.

He had wolfed down the food the house elves had kept warm for him and trudged up the stairs to his room, dragging his broom behind him.

An elf appeared when he reached his rooms to dress him for bed and wrap his hands. When his mother was summoned to tuck him in, she had given him a healing potion and a kiss on the forehead.

Wordlessly, she had snuffed out the light and pulled his deep blue bed curtains shut. He heard the door close with a hollow sound as she left.

Her distantness made his chest tighten. He knew how upset she was at his fathers’ brief visit. Sometimes Lucius was gone for weeks.

Sometimes Draco wondered if she was more unimpressed with him or Lucius.

Draco stared skyward in the blackness that engulfed him. He finally blinked back tears and gathered all his courage.

Goblin King, Goblin King, wherever you may be, come along and take me.

Of course, he didn’t expect the Goblin King to show up. He hadn’t been able to say the true spell. The only child present was him and he wanted to be taken away.

He had quietly pulled back the heavy curtains and crept from his bed anyway, and released the small brass latch that held the window shut. The wide window cracked itself open slightly and Draco pushed it further, climbing up on a small wooden toy chest to watch the sky.

The apple orchard was still. The air disturbingly calm. The lights from the manor gardens blotted out the stars somewhat, but he could still make out some of the brighter constellations.

Draco jumped at a scrabbling sound, but it had just been a large brown owl, perched on a gargoyle jutting from the corner of the manor. It had stared at Draco with round brown eyes.

The little boy had thrown the owl a dirty look before trudging back to bed, the aching in his hands beginning to subside.

It had been a day of many disappointments.

Draco blinked at Jareth and heard his feet shuffle on the wooden floor of the bank.

Perhaps his heels clacked a bit harder on the floor than he intended when he willed them to be still. The sound seemed to echo around him. Jareth cocked an eyebrow at the aspiring employee.

“Really,” Draco said his voice cracking.

“We were astounded when the spell came from you, even if you butchered it,” Jareth said, rising to his feet.

“I was seven years old,” Draco said slowly.

“So you do remember?” Jareth asked softly, leaning over the desk at Draco.

Draco had done well in Ancient Runes at Hogwarts. He knew this was the Goblin King. The weaver of dreams and nightmares and things that crept in the night.

He had come here to look for employment, not to be berated by a dried up banker with—astounding taste in trousers.

Jareth straightened his spine as he stood and sauntered around the desk. The jacket and shirt looked quite in place with tight black silk trousers and knee high boots. He stood before Draco and leaned back on the desk.

Draco felt his face go slack. The trousers didn’t leave much to the imagination. He realized he was staring.

It certainly had been a long time.

His eyes flicked up to Jareth’s face quickly. If he didn’t know better he would think Jareth looked surprised. Draco screwed up his face in frustration.

“Listen, if I haven’t the job I’d rather be on my way. It looks like it’s going to rain and I have to catch the bus.”

“I never said I wasn’t going to give you a job,” Jareth said silkily.

Draco felt something flare up in his groin. This overconfident fop wasn’t going to make a fool of him.

Draco should have picked up his things and walked away. He should have said a tight ‘good day’ and stalked from the office.

Instead he lunged.

An invisible force slammed him back into his chair.

Of course. The runes were glowing. This must have been one of the emergency interrogation centers during the first war. There was no leaving now.

Draco brooded darkly from the chair. Jareth threw his head back and laughed.

“Dear boy, I meant as a teller.”

Draco felt his cheeks redden.

“Oh,” Draco said stupidly.

“However, there are your needs to consider,” Jareth looked Draco up and down. “Is there anything else you’re interested in?”

Was that a twitch underneath black silk? Draco swallowed dryly.

“There are many things I’m interested in,” Draco heard himself say hoarsely.

Draco felt the pressure of the binding spell on him recede as black silk reformed itself into a much more tempting shape.

“Oh really,” Jareth said. “Like what?”

Draco reached out a tentative hand and lightly dragged his fingertips over the front of those bewitching trousers. Jareth’s eyes closed slightly.

“Well, for instance,” Draco said. He reached out his other hand and began unbuttoning. “If I took the position what days would I have free?”

“Weekends,” Jareth said, his breath quickening as he helped Draco with a particularly stubborn button. “And one Wednesday a month.”

Jareth felt himself freed in front of the aspiring employee and Draco buried himself to the nose in black silk. He heard Jareth gasp somewhere above him.

“You’re entitled to benefits, of course,” Jareth continued breathlessly.

“What types of benefits?” Draco asked, removing his mouth from Jareth and reaching a hand around Jareth, caressing his backside and placing a bit of pressure – there.

Jareth thrusted his hips forward in surprise. He felt Draco once again engulf him.

“We have a very generous retirement package, should you decide to make your experience at Gringotts a permanent career path,” Jareth tilted his head back and spread his legs open a little. Draco pushed against the tight fabric on the seat of Jareth’s trousers a bit harder. His mouth moved a bit faster. Jareth gulped for air as he laid a hand gently on the top of Draco’s head.

Draco suddenly stopped and he rose to his feet. He grabbed Jareth’s arse and pulled him close. The Goblin King felt Draco’s breath on his lips.

“So what do I get if I fuck you?” Draco asked huskily.

“Very nearly everything you want,” Jareth said short of breath, leaning over to slide a single finger over Draco’s thigh.”

Draco kissed Jareth gently. He felt the king unbutton his coat and fumble with the white frills at his neck.

“I like the shirt,” Draco whispered and Jareth stopped. He reached for Draco’s trousers.

Draco reached for his wand and gave it a small, subtle wave. He and Jareth’s clothing started removing themselves slowly.

He was a Malfoy. This was the Goblin King. Fumbling was out of the question.

Jareth wasn’t surprised when he found himself wearing only his long frilled shirt a moment later. He felt ridiculous, but the man that was kissing him didn’t seem to mind.

Draco was nude before the Goblin King. The months of growing his own food and working out in the sunshine had been good for him. He was trim, but not overly muscled. The parts that had been previously soft and unused were toned and smooth. Half a wand’s length of uncut manhood jutted in front of him.

Draco gently lifted the light fabric and touched Jareth gently. Jareth’s eyes flared open and ripples of silver moved through the grey. Draco smiled gently. His hand wrapped around the other man and he leaned in to breathe in the scent of fresh linen of Jareth’s shirt.

Jareth’s arms encircled Draco. His eyes closed and Draco felt long cool fingers tracing over his back. Draco nuzzled Jareth’s collarbone and lay his hands on linen covered hips. He gently turned Jareth around.

Jareth swept everything from his desk with a clatter and Draco rewarded him by lifting up the tail of Jareth’s long shirt and cupping a cheek in one of his hands.

Jareth nudged back and was rewarded with a slap on the same cheek.

“Patience,” Draco said. Jareth turned back to the window, his body quaking. Draco felt powerful and positioned himself behind Jareth. Then he caught a glimpse of Jareth’s reflection in the glass.

He was laughing. Draco was being indulged.

Well, indulgence or not, he was getting a piece of arse. He murmured a lubricating spell and pushed forward.

As a particularly dark cloud passed over what was passing as the sun the glass darkened and Draco caught Jareth’s eye in the glass. He certainly wasn’t laughing now.

Draco thrusted slowly. He considered himself average size and from what he could surmise, Jareth probably didn’t do this all that often. He was nearly afraid of hurting him.

He reached a hand around and stroked Jareth’s erection. He felt Jareth relax and sped up his pace. Jareth swept Draco’s hand away and began fisting his erection. Draco gripped Jareth’s hips as he slammed forward.

Suddenly Jareth bucked Draco off and Draco felt himself flying through the air. He found himself on his back, his legs suspended by invisible bonds and Jareth’s erection hovering over his own.

Jareth reached a hand up to Draco’s chest as he positioned his erection. As he pushed forward his fingers curled and he drew down, drawing red rivulets down Draco’s flawless skin.

Draco wrapped his fingers around his member and watched Jareth fuck him. Jareth seemed just as fascinated by what Draco was doing. He sped up for a moment before his back arched and Jareth shuddered.

As soon as Draco felt himself lowered to the top of the desk he jumped to his feet and slammed Jareth face down on the desk. The air crackled as Draco slammed forward.

“I-didn’t-tell-you-to-finish-yet,” Draco grunted as his fingers dug into Jareth’s hips. Then he finished, quite unexpectedly. “Damn!”

He collapsed on Jareth’s back, feeling the cold marble of the desk under his fingers. Jareth was panting. Then he began to chuckle.

“Well, it’s been quite awhile,” Draco said unabashed as he withdrew himself and spelled both of them clean.

“Undoubtedly,” Jareth said. “You start on Monday. Report to Groth Rockbiter.”

“Yes, sir,” Draco said. He was employed!

“And report to me next Saturday for the ‘other’ job,” Jareth said, an eyebrow quirked in interest.

“Absolutely,” Draco grinned.

Things were looking up.