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Fic: (Bleach/Harry Potter) - Dressing Up Games
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regasssa
Title: Dressing Up Games
Pairing: Aizen/Grimmjow, implied Aizen/Ulquiorra
Requestee:betnhe
Rating: PG
Words: <1000
Warnings: None. I cried. Crossdressing, maybe. OH HEY! Grimmjow and Ulquiorra are both over 18 in this fic, because I say that the students of Aizen's Wizarding School go up to that age, kay? *sigh* Stupid laws, and stupid LJ ruining my fun.
Prompt: Grimmjow is one of the older boys from Durmstrang, visiting Hogwarts for the Triwizard tournament. For some reason he becomes the favorite target of Fred & George's pranks. Why do they target him? And what happens when they go too far?
(of course, you may include Ulquiorra if you want to XD)
Author's Notes: I strayed a bit far away from the original prompt here in that it's not actually got much of the twins in it (I can't help it, the idea of Aizen as the headmaster of Durmstrang opened up all these kinds of posibilities for me...) So I apologise in advance. It's also short.
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo and Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and her sharks - I mean, publishers. I make no money from the use of them at all. Shame, huh?
Grimmjow tightened his hand on his wand, stepping toward the two redheads to yelps of delight from their audience. He was going to teach them a bloody lesson, was what he was going to do. Dumbledore would be lucky to find pieces of them left that he could even identify once he was done with them. This -- inviting him to use the Prefect's bathroom and then stealing all of his clothes while he was otherwise engaged -- was not his idea of fun. Nor, he lamented, bitterly, was their other delightful idea, the one that involved replacing said clothes with one of McGonagall's nightgowns.
But it was their mistake. He was going to make them pay for embarassing him like this. In front of all of these people.
"You better pray to whatever gods you lot have that I leave enough of you left to bury!" he snarled, and raised his wand a little further, only to have his wrist grabbed by a firm hand before he could attack.
"We're not here to fight, Grimmjow."
"Get off me, Ulquiorra! I'm going to tear them into little pieces!" Grimmjow shook his arm free, turning toward the smaller, preferred student, scowling as the green eyes stared up at him. "Shut up," he snapped.
"I didn't say anything."
"I said shut up!"
Ulquiorra narrowed his eyes but remained silent, and Grimmjow turned back toward the twins, furiously. He'd leave it for now, but he was going to get them back later -- they'd had it, and just as soon as he'd apologised to Headmaster Aizen, he'd come back here and make sure they knew what came to people who treated Grimmjow Jeagerjacques that way!
He sulked as he retreated after Ulquiorra, kicking at cobble stones occassionally when he needed to slow down so that he didn't overtake Ulquiorra's short-legged-steps. Stupid. He glared at the back of the other boy's head, despising him. What made him so special, anyway? So he'd beaten him once in a fight. It didn't mean anything. It certainly didn't mean that Ulquiorra was better than him, like Aizen seemed to think.
He kicked another cobblestone and hissed in pain as he stubbed his toe. Fuck.
The throne room on the pure-white boat was spacious and echoing -- it was, to use an old adage, bigger on the inside. In the middle of it, in his chair, sat Aizen, their headmaster, his hair swept back, and a single strand - either accidentally or intentionally - winding a path down toward sensuous, if dangerous lips. Lips that smiled cooly when they saw what had been done to him.
"Grimmjow," Aizen purred, "You're breaking the dress code. I thought I informed everyone that they were to be decent, and I can quite clearly see through that nightgown from this angle..."
Grimmjow knew better than to tell Aizen to shut up - he blushed, half angry and half embarassed, bearing his teeth to at least add frightening to his own expression.
"He was also breaking Headmaster Dumbledore's rules about fighting in the corridor," Ulquiorra added.
"If he won't control those weasels then I'll skin them for him!" Grimmjow snarled, earning a disgusted look from Ulquiorra. Aizen's expression did not change. "Tell tale," he growled, under his breath.
"I only tell him because you won't admit to it yourself," Ulquiorra answered, and if he wasn't incapable of smiling, Grimmjow could have sworn he was. Maybe it was just his voice smiling -- that was kind of scary.
"Shut up!" he snapped, bitterly. "You're such a teacher's pet!"
And Ulquiorra did smile.
"What?!" Grimmjow asked, looking between Ulquiorra and Aizen as they shared glances. "Not...no way," he scrunched up his nose. "That's revolting..."
"Really?" Aizen answered. "Well I've been thinking that Nnoitra might need putting down a peg or two...but if you're not willing to work for your advancement..."
"If it's fighting, then I'll battle anyone you ask," Grimmjow swore, but Aizen was shaking his head, looking disappointed.
Ulquiorra sighed and turned away. "You don't get it, do you, Grimmjow?"
"What?" he snarled.
"The headmaster wants you to earn your promotion the same way I did."
Grimmjow was fast -- when he'd queued up for powers, he'd been in the line for speed -- but it still took him a few moments to understand, and all of the colour drained out of his face. "Oh," he said.
"If it's any consolation," Ulquiorra said, moving toward the door, "the Headmaster always makes it feel a lot like fighting -- once you're done, it'll take days to heal completely."
"Oh," Grimmjow said again, taking a nervous step back as Aizen floated from one foot to another in front of him, looking voracious. "Fuck."
regasssa Title: Dressing Up Games
Pairing: Aizen/Grimmjow, implied Aizen/Ulquiorra
Requestee:
betnhe Rating: PG
Words: <1000
Warnings: None. I cried. Crossdressing, maybe. OH HEY! Grimmjow and Ulquiorra are both over 18 in this fic, because I say that the students of Aizen's Wizarding School go up to that age, kay? *sigh* Stupid laws, and stupid LJ ruining my fun.
Prompt: Grimmjow is one of the older boys from Durmstrang, visiting Hogwarts for the Triwizard tournament. For some reason he becomes the favorite target of Fred & George's pranks. Why do they target him? And what happens when they go too far?
(of course, you may include Ulquiorra if you want to XD)
Author's Notes: I strayed a bit far away from the original prompt here in that it's not actually got much of the twins in it (I can't help it, the idea of Aizen as the headmaster of Durmstrang opened up all these kinds of posibilities for me...) So I apologise in advance. It's also short.
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo and Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and her sharks - I mean, publishers. I make no money from the use of them at all. Shame, huh?
Grimmjow tightened his hand on his wand, stepping toward the two redheads to yelps of delight from their audience. He was going to teach them a bloody lesson, was what he was going to do. Dumbledore would be lucky to find pieces of them left that he could even identify once he was done with them. This -- inviting him to use the Prefect's bathroom and then stealing all of his clothes while he was otherwise engaged -- was not his idea of fun. Nor, he lamented, bitterly, was their other delightful idea, the one that involved replacing said clothes with one of McGonagall's nightgowns.
But it was their mistake. He was going to make them pay for embarassing him like this. In front of all of these people.
"You better pray to whatever gods you lot have that I leave enough of you left to bury!" he snarled, and raised his wand a little further, only to have his wrist grabbed by a firm hand before he could attack.
"We're not here to fight, Grimmjow."
"Get off me, Ulquiorra! I'm going to tear them into little pieces!" Grimmjow shook his arm free, turning toward the smaller, preferred student, scowling as the green eyes stared up at him. "Shut up," he snapped.
"I didn't say anything."
"I said shut up!"
Ulquiorra narrowed his eyes but remained silent, and Grimmjow turned back toward the twins, furiously. He'd leave it for now, but he was going to get them back later -- they'd had it, and just as soon as he'd apologised to Headmaster Aizen, he'd come back here and make sure they knew what came to people who treated Grimmjow Jeagerjacques that way!
He sulked as he retreated after Ulquiorra, kicking at cobble stones occassionally when he needed to slow down so that he didn't overtake Ulquiorra's short-legged-steps. Stupid. He glared at the back of the other boy's head, despising him. What made him so special, anyway? So he'd beaten him once in a fight. It didn't mean anything. It certainly didn't mean that Ulquiorra was better than him, like Aizen seemed to think.
He kicked another cobblestone and hissed in pain as he stubbed his toe. Fuck.
The throne room on the pure-white boat was spacious and echoing -- it was, to use an old adage, bigger on the inside. In the middle of it, in his chair, sat Aizen, their headmaster, his hair swept back, and a single strand - either accidentally or intentionally - winding a path down toward sensuous, if dangerous lips. Lips that smiled cooly when they saw what had been done to him.
"Grimmjow," Aizen purred, "You're breaking the dress code. I thought I informed everyone that they were to be decent, and I can quite clearly see through that nightgown from this angle..."
Grimmjow knew better than to tell Aizen to shut up - he blushed, half angry and half embarassed, bearing his teeth to at least add frightening to his own expression.
"He was also breaking Headmaster Dumbledore's rules about fighting in the corridor," Ulquiorra added.
"If he won't control those weasels then I'll skin them for him!" Grimmjow snarled, earning a disgusted look from Ulquiorra. Aizen's expression did not change. "Tell tale," he growled, under his breath.
"I only tell him because you won't admit to it yourself," Ulquiorra answered, and if he wasn't incapable of smiling, Grimmjow could have sworn he was. Maybe it was just his voice smiling -- that was kind of scary.
"Shut up!" he snapped, bitterly. "You're such a teacher's pet!"
And Ulquiorra did smile.
"What?!" Grimmjow asked, looking between Ulquiorra and Aizen as they shared glances. "Not...no way," he scrunched up his nose. "That's revolting..."
"Really?" Aizen answered. "Well I've been thinking that Nnoitra might need putting down a peg or two...but if you're not willing to work for your advancement..."
"If it's fighting, then I'll battle anyone you ask," Grimmjow swore, but Aizen was shaking his head, looking disappointed.
Ulquiorra sighed and turned away. "You don't get it, do you, Grimmjow?"
"What?" he snarled.
"The headmaster wants you to earn your promotion the same way I did."
Grimmjow was fast -- when he'd queued up for powers, he'd been in the line for speed -- but it still took him a few moments to understand, and all of the colour drained out of his face. "Oh," he said.
"If it's any consolation," Ulquiorra said, moving toward the door, "the Headmaster always makes it feel a lot like fighting -- once you're done, it'll take days to heal completely."
"Oh," Grimmjow said again, taking a nervous step back as Aizen floated from one foot to another in front of him, looking voracious. "Fuck."