mijan | Baseball Slash: The Third Inning

Title: "Baseball Slash: The Third Inning"
Author: mijan
Rating: PG-13
Previous Installment: The Second Inning

The game intensifies, the feud between Draco and nearby Muggles gets a bit more edgy, and a thin trace of a plot develops. And there's more beer. Yes, lots more beer.

**********

The Third Inning

"What the hell are they doing?” Draco sneered at the brightly colored plastic sphere bouncing over the heads of the crowd. The customary beach ball had been turned lose in the bleachers. “Does this sport involve the start of a secondary game in the stands?”

“I thought you liked extra balls,” Yvette said lightly.

“And you only wish you could get your hands on some,” Draco mumbled.

“What? I’ll have you know, Yankee Boy, that I could get my hands on almost any guy’s nutsack in this entire city if I wanted to.”

“Well that’s because straight men have no standards. Especially American ones.”

Yvette bristled. “The only reason you got that one was because you were the only other gay Brit in the city.”

Draco turned around, but Harry grabbed him at the same time as Michelle put an arm in front of Yvette to hold her back

“I think,” Michelle said coldly, “that you two need to call a truce before I duct-tape you both to your seats."

“But Michelle,” whined the Loud One, “we only forgive Yankees fans if they’re from New York, and even then, there are no rules about being nice.”

“I don’t care if you’re nice! Just be civil!”

Harry nodded in agreement and punched Draco lightly on the arm. “Hear, hear. I just want to watch the game! And have another beer.” He pursed his lips broodingly. “Yeah, definitely another beer.”

“I’ll get it,” Draco said quickly, as he made a lunge to stand up.

Just as quickly, Harry pulled him back down to the seat. “I don’t think so. Last time I let you out of my sight, you almost started a brawl with a man who could have rolled you into a ball and thrown you all the way to second base.”

“Oh, so I suppose you’re going to escort me down there? How sweet of you.”

Harry opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly. This was going to be an adventure. With a deep sigh, he nodded. Draco smirked triumphantly.

“Good luck,” Michelle said dryly.

“Thanks,” Harry replied with equal candor. “I’ll need it.”

“I’ll work on this one,” she said, inclining her head towards her sister, “while you’re gone.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

Yvette growled and gave Draco the evil eye, which he returned.

“Come on, Draco,” Harry said as he steered Draco towards the stairs. “Let’s go before I kill you for her.”

“Hey!” Draco protested, but he didn’t fight Harry’s hand as Harry guided him along.

Harry didn’t say anything as they walked down the stairs towards the concession entrance. He kept his eyes on the field for as long as possible, pausing to cheer as Damon made an easy catch in center field. When they finally slipped past the stream of people into the concession area below the bleachers, Harry pulled Draco sharply to one side and cornered him against the wall.

“Draco, are you trying to make me miserable?”

Something in his tone of voice must have gotten through to Draco, because the man’s haughty expression fell. “I... I didn’t mean to.”

“Then what did you mean to do? Huh?” He poked Draco in the chest with one pointed finger. “Embarrass me? Make a spectacle of yourself? Ruin my birthday? The first day that I’ve really had out since we’ve been here?”

If anything, Draco’s face fell even further, and he looked down and away. “I don’t know. It was just so easy, and it’s been a while since I’ve interacted with anyone...”

“And this is how you interact?”

Draco stared back at Harry with a pointed look. “You’ve been with me for two and a half years now... that should come as no surprise.”

Harry groaned. “Draco, this could be the most fun day I’ve had since the war began. Which was the summer of 1997. In case you hadn’t checked the clock lately, it’s 2001. That’s a long time!”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“You could relax and enjoy it!”

Draco gave Harry a look that distinctly said, You’ve got to be kidding, right?

Harry sighed. “Okay, you could make an attempt to be civil, for me.”

“But those two women behind us! The loud one –”

“I don’t want to hear about it! In case you hadn’t noticed, the other one has been pretty polite, and the ‘loud one’, as you call her, is just supporting her team! That’s how Red Sox fans are!”

“What? Loud and obnoxious?”

“Loyal and dedicated!”

“Harry –”

“No, listen for a minute. You came in and arbitrarily decided to root for the opposing team, and then make an arse of yourself. What did you expect? Congeniality?”

“Well, they could have been –”

“No, Draco. No. That would have been like going to sit in the Gryffindor section at the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, and intentionally rooting for Slytherin. If you do that, you have no reason to expect to be treated cordially.”

“Why the hell would I sit in the Gryffindor section?”

Harry wanted to cry. He settled for a long-suffering groan. “Draco...”

“No, I understand. Really.”

“Really?” Harry raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Draco sighed, looking everywhere but at Harry. “Here’s how it is... I wanted you to be happy on your birthday, so I agreed to come down. I figured, I could just go along with whatever mayhem happened. Even dealing with the Muggles. And then... Harry, they’re driving me mad! Just... the Muggle-ness of it all! And Americans! They’re so loud, obnoxious...”

“It’s a baseball game, Draco. It’s socially acceptable – and even encouraged – to be a bit loud and obnoxious at a baseball game.” Harry grinned. “You didn’t grow up hearing about World Cup Football... what the Americans call ‘soccer’. You think baseball fans are bad... there are stampeding riots at the World Cup matches. Fans have been killed. Here... the worst thing that might happen is you get a cup of beer in your lap, or you get hit in the head with a beach ball.   Which is actually a bit funny.”

“I’d see nothing funny about it.”

Harry took a calming breath. “Come on, let’s go get our beer.”

Scanning the crowd for the shortest line, Harry pulled Draco along behind him and took his place behind the twenty-or-so people waiting for beer.   “How the hell did you get beer so fast during the last inning?” Harry asked, mildly awed.

Draco looked away. “Er... I flashed someone?”

Harry glared. “I don’t think so.”

“Well it worked for the Muggle woman!”

Harry folded his arms across his chest. “How many people did you Obliviate?”

“Just two.”

Harry scowled and tapped his foot.

“Okay, dozen. Two dozen. I think. Might have been more.”

“Draco!” Harry hissed. “No magic! Not outside the warded apartment, unless it’s an emergency!”

“Nobody’s going to notice! Seriously, You-Know-Who is in a cave in Afghanistan. I doubt he’s going to pick us out from amongst all the American witches and wizards around here who are using magic.”

Harry suddenly noticed a scruffy man with a Sox cap looking at them strangely. He gave the man a feeble grin, then turned sharply to Draco, and whispered in sharp tones. “There will be no more magic out here! None! The only curse in this damn ballpark is the Curse of the Bambino, and I refuse to believe in it!”

“Curse of the Bambino?” Draco asked, confused.

“I’ll explain later.”

A loud round of cheering from the stands pulled Harry’s attention to the television monitor hanging above the concession lines. A Yankee player Harry didn’t recognize had just struck out, and was apparently having an argument with the umpire. The roar of the crowd quickly turned into a boisterous chant of “Yankees suck! Yankees suck!” Harry grinned and turned back to Draco.

“Listen to that, Draco. This is fun. There are over 35,000 people in this park, and they’re all having a good time, except you. Well, you and that batter.” He rested a hand lightly on Draco’s shoulder. “Come on, give it a try. For me?”

Draco pursed his lips as he considered the proposal. “What’s in it for me?”

Harry’s grin turned devilish. “I’ll let you back into the bedroom tonight.”

Draco didn’t even hesitate. “Deal.”

About fifteen minutes later, Harry had one beer in each hand, and was leading the way back up to the bleachers. Draco had opted to only have one drink. He didn’t particularly like ‘cheap American ales”, as he put it, but he figured, he’d humor Harry and join in the fun.

Out on the field, the Yankees had managed to score a run, but the Sox were up to bat, and Manny Ramirez was leading off. Enthusiasm was practically vibrating through the crowd. Harry smiled.

“See, Draco? It’s going to be a good time! It’s a beautiful day, the Sox are up to bat, and nothing could possibly go wrong!” He glanced back over his shoulder.

Draco had finally cracked a smile of his own. “Maybe you’re right, Harry. It’s really not that bad. I think, if I tried to think of this as a Quidditch match, I’d be able to handle –”

It happened so fast, he couldn’t have prevented it. A colourful beach ball, sent zooming by an excited young fan, slammed directly into Draco’s hand. His beer went flying, soaking him like a tidal wave.

Draco just stood there, eyes closed as the beer dripped down from his face.

“I’m really sorry, mister! I didn’t see ya!” The boy looked like he wasn’t sure if he should try to help Draco, or if he should run for the hills.

After a few seconds, Draco took a deep shuddering breath and opened his eyes. Without turning to look towards the kid, he brushed past Harry towards their seats, muttering, “I will not Avada Kedavra the Muggles. I will not Avada Kedavra the Muggles. I will not Avada Kedavra the Muggles….”

Harry paused, whispered a silent prayer to whatever deity might hear him, and ran off after Draco, trying not to spill his own beer. He was going to need every drop.

*********

Deep under the streets of New York City, beneath the railcars and sewers, was a dry, well-lit cavern of stone, thoroughly furnished with various magical devices, sensors, charms, wards, and Heath’s personal favorite, the torture devices. It was the headquarters of American Wizards for Voldemort.

This small band of wizards, and some witches, had been the first of American magical community to throw support behind the great Lord Voldemort. There wasn’t much they could do for their Lord at the moment, but for now, they were gathering more supporters, and preparing for the glorious day when Lord Voldemort conquered the British Isles, and was ready to extend his power and influence across the ocean. Oh, and of course, in the meantime, they could continue to infiltrate the American government - the Republican party was particularly receptive. A bumper-sticker campaign was already being planned.

But today was a slow day at the office. For now, Heath was the only man in the headquarters. There was a Yankees/Sox game today, and half his followers were taking advantage of the inattentiveness of the local Muggles in order to cause some havoc. The rest of them were actually watching the game. Steinbrenner was a squib from a long line of American purebloods, and the Yankees’ empire had long been passed from one set of wizarding hands to another. Steinbrenner was a little bit more bitter than most, being what he was, but he had powerful friends.

Little did most of the world know that the long-fabled “Curse of the Bambino” was a real curse. Like any curse, there had to be a way to break it, but the only way the Red Sox would ever break the curse was if they had already defeated the Yankees in the ALCS, and played the final game of the World Series under a total lunar eclipse on the night of a blue moon, in conjunction with a blood sacrifice by a member of the team.

But that would never happen.

So, the neo-Death Eaters were out causing havoc, and Heath was stuck by himself in the headquarters, watching the game on his flat-screen television (okay, so Muggles did have a few good ideas), eating stale peanuts. And drinking light beer. All he had left was Bud Light. He’d have to Crucio Lester for finishing the rest of his Guinness. For now, all he could do would be to sit back and enjoy the game. The Yankees were already up by one run in the bottom of the third. It was a good day.