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"The Wizarding World of the Monkees - Part 1"
Title: The Wizarding World of the Monkees – Part One: A New Year
Rating: Series will range from R – NC-17 (R for this part)
Pairing: Hmm, many! Peter/Mike, Micky/Peter, Micky/Davy and probably other variants as I go along.
Warnings: Language and sex of the male/male variety, underage sexing
Disclaimer: I don't own The Monkees and make no claim that this ever really happened. It is purely the result of an overactive imagination. All characters and locations pertaining to Harry Potter are the property of JK Rowling, I am merely borrowing them for my own amusement.
Summary: It’s a new year at Hogwarts and hormones are running rampant…
Author's Note: As you’ve probably already gathered, this is intended to be complete crack. It totally blurs the lines of show based and RL portrayals of the guys (because it’s AU, I can do that!) and is totally insane. This is not a crossover fic! While there will be cameo appearances by certain characters, it is not the main focus; it is still a Monkee focused fic. It takes place during HP & Co.’s first year; Mike in Year 7, Micky and Peter in Year 6 and Davy in Year 5.
Tl;dr? It’s crack.
Author’s Note 2: I haven’t read the HP books for a long while so I apologise for glaring inaccuracies; remember, this is a MONKEE fic.
Summer was over. An uneventful one for the most part, or at least no different to many others past.
Peter and Micky hadn’t managed to meet up at all during the break; Micky having gone back home to LA while Peter chose to stay behind, not seeing much reason to head home, his family still not approving of his…situation.
Unlike the majority of people, Peter was grateful for the start of another school year, to be surrounded by people like himself and to actually feel at home. Of course, that feeling wasn’t quite complete until he felt someone drape themselves over his shoulders as he sat in the Great Hall.
A smile touching his lips, he turned his head to face his best friend and partner in crime. The smile quickly vanished to be replaced with a slightly open mouth and wide eyes.
“…What?” Micky asked, pulling back and frowning at the blond.
“Your hair…” Micky looked up in an attempt to see his hair before ruffling it with a hand, giving a sheepish smile.
“It’s curly.” Peter clarified, still not taking his eyes off the soft curls.
“Well, this is what it’s naturally like. Kinda got sick of straightening it. Does it look stupid? It looks stupid, doesn’t it?” Micky asked, seeing that Peter was still contemplating it rather intensely.
Peter knew that Micky’s hair had a tendency to go a little wavy when it got particularly dishevelled but had he known it would look like this in its natural state, he’d have sabotaged Micky’s straighteners years ago.
“No, Mick, it suits you. Honest.”
Micky beamed back at Peter before dropping himself next to him on the bench. They talked about their summers and their expectations for this their sixth year at Hogwarts. Micky continued to look at his watch and sigh; he always hated the first day back, the delay in eating because of the Sorting ceremony was infuriating.
After what felt like forever, the teachers took their positions, the Sorting Hat was placed on its stool and the plethora of new students looked on with a mixture of excitement, anxiety and, in some cases, mild hysteria.
Peter turned a nostalgic smile to Micky which fell a little as he observed the dejected look on his friends face. “What’s the matter with you, you always loved the Sorting. It’s like a parade, you always told me. Seeing what’s gonna be available for the picking later on.”
“And that’s just it. Now they’re at the cute, androgynous stage but by the time they get to the-“
“-‘I’d totally hit that’ stage…” Peter finished for him, helpfully, forcing a huff from the younger man.
“Way to make it sound sleazy, man. I was gonna say ‘interesting stage’,” a muffled scoff from Peter, “we’ll be long gone.”
“Shit, Mick, it’s not like you’ve run out of tail to be chasing. Despite your reputation, you’ve still only gotten with about…15% of the students here. I’m amazed Dumbledore let you back in.” Peter said with a mock-chiding look. Micky just waved a hand of derision.
“It would be higher if someone didn’t keep coming back for seconds…” He shot Peter an accusing glance but the blond just laughed.
“Oh yeah, someone,” Peter replied with a raised eyebrow. Micky punched him in the shoulder half-heartedly, unable to contain the slight blush that came to his cheeks.
They watched the Sorting ceremony in relative silence, cheering and jeering at the appropriate times. Peter occasionally glanced over at Micky to see his increasingly depressed expression as he observed the pretty potential, knowing he wouldn’t get a chance at it. Peter shook his head, affectionately. The word ‘oversexed’ had to have been created with Micky in mind, he was sure of it.
“Oh, no way!” Peter saw the grimace spread across his friends face before he covered them with his hands in defeat. Frowning, the blond turned back to the stage to see a terrified looking red-headed kid approaching the stool.
“What is it?”
“If that isn’t a Weasley, then I’m Donald Duck,” Micky replied, the words muffled through his arms as he propped himself up on the table.
“I didn’t hear, what difference does that make?”
“I had the whole set!” He said, lifting his head up, his face amusingly contorted in distress, “Charlie was the last one and I got with that before we broke up for the summer. Now there’s more!? Fuck my life.”
Peter stared at him, dumbfounded, before finding his voice. “How…They’re not even…Even Percy?” It never ceased to amaze him how Micky could seemingly lure anyone into some deviant situation with him. It probably helped that he looked older than he was and carried a certain confidence about him that few were able to resist.
“Oh yeah…Last Christmas. Nothin’ serious, but that guy sure does like his discipline, I can tell ya. He did this one thing where-“ He looked up to see the wide-eyed, slightly horrified expression on his friends face, “Too much information?”
“Far too much, thanks. Some people you just don’t wanna think about. Anyway, disregarding this new addition, and I’m pretty sure I’ve heard them mention a sister too,” an emphatic curse for the brunette, “I’m pretty sure you got George twice.”
Micky paused, frowning. “How so?”
“I heard him talking to Fred about it, saying you damn near talked his ear off during the whole thing, which I can believe, so I think he took the fall for his brother.”
“Huh.” Micky looked dejectedly at his hands, fingers fiddling with a loose button. Peter regretted sharing the information almost instantly, realising that, while Micky was certainly something of a sure thing, he prided himself on the fact that he was a good sure thing. Hearing that someone wasn’t interested was bound to bum him out.
“Hey, come on, it’s not like there’s not enough choice here, man! What about that Davy guy you keep talking about?”
“Who?” Micky’s nonchalance was compromised by the fact that his eyes almost instinctively shot to the Ravenclaw table, honing in on the young brunette in question.
“Uh-huh. So why not put the moves on him? He’s a fifth year, right?”
“Yeah,” Micky said, a little distractedly as he watched Davy telling a story to a group of girls who suddenly giggled simultaneously. Micky huffed. “The chicks love him, you can always spot him in a crowd cos he’s surrounded by ‘em. I was thinking maybe if I could catch him coming out of a class, or maybe get him called out of a class so I can get him on his own, then maybe I can get a word in edgewa- What?”
Peter was staring at him, mouth agape before it formed into a disbelieving smirk. “I don’t believe it…”
“What?” Micky asked again, wondering what he’d missed.
“You are totally smitten!”
“What?! That’s- I don’t even- I am not!” He shouted, a little too loudly and certainly too defensively. Peter just grinned wider.
“You are! You’ve actually thought about a game-plan! Usually it’s just sit down in their lap, make a suggestive comment and hey-presto, their tongue is down your throat.”
Micky spluttered in indignation though he knew he had no right to; that was usually the case.
“He must be something special, huh?”
“I’m serious! It’s about time you had a challenge on your hands, too.”
Micky looked back over to the fifth year who was now doing some kind of dance demonstration, much to the delight of the female observers. “A challenge is right… You know he sings? Yeah, I heard him last year at the Christmas party…pretty damn good. And cute as anything.” He said with a sigh forcing Peter to choke back a laugh.
“Watch it, Mick, you might swoon.”
“Fuck you,” was the response, though it held no malice in it, “And how can anyone resist that British accent?”
“Micky, everyone here has a British accent. Well, except the two of us and…well.”
Peter suddenly went quiet, eyes surreptitiously glancing over at the Slytherin table and almost instantly finding their target. Of course, he wasn’t hard to miss. Just look for the one person somehow sitting on their own on a cramped bench with an almost perceptible storm cloud above their head, glaring at the table like it had just insulted him and you’d find Michael Nesmith.
Micky caught the blonde’s gaze and groaned, loudly. “Fuck no, not a whole ‘nother year of this!”
Peter shot him a disparaging look before turning back to the Texan, contemplatively. “It’s his last year…”
“So, you finally gonna make a move on him, then? Or, you know, talk to him?”
Peter frowned at Micky’s words, though not as much out of annoyance at him but at the subject. He’d spoken to Mike all of two times the whole time they’d been there; both times lasting little over 30 seconds and ending with Peter wanting the ground to swallow him up. It turned out, getting a response out of the Texan was like pulling teeth, an unpleasant experience for both parties. But rather than be completely dissuaded, it only seemed to make the older boy more alluring to the blonde.
“Maybe.” He responded, with very little conviction.
“Hey, maybe he’ll flunk out, be here for another year. I hear he’s always cutting classes.” But Peter shook his head, vehemently.
“No chance. He hates it here. You can bet that no matter what his grades have been like so far, he’ll pass enough to get the hell out when the time comes.”
“Well if he hates it so much, why keep coming back each year? Not like it’s compulsory schooling.”
“Because home’s no better for him than here. At least when he finishes this year, he can get away from everything.”
“Huh. I’m sure he’d appreciate the fact that you stalk him.” Micky said, only half-joking.
Peter just looked at him with no small amount of displeasure, “I’m not stalking him,
“Uh-huh. How many brothers and sisters does he have?”
“None, he’s an only child.”
“Allergic to cats.”
“Willow and Thestral hair.”
“Bl-,” his eyes narrowed as he looked at a smug Micky, “I see what you’re doing. And I do not stalk him.”
Peter huffed a sigh, attention almost subconsciously flitting back to the ebony haired boy. Just as he did so, coal black eyes lifted from the table to connect with thoughtful hazel ones. In that split second, Peter made a decision.
On all other occasions, he would have broken eye contact and busied himself with something else; but not this year, this was his last chance to make something of this. So instead of glancing away, he gave a brilliant smile and a jaunty wave in the direction of the lanky black cloud.
In response, the Texan’s frown deepened but Peter couldn’t tell if it was out of confusion or anger. Before he could give it further analysis, the frown was once again focused on the table, eyes positively blazing holes in the wood.
“So, want me to make arrangements for the china patterns and lace doilies?” Micky asked with far too much self-satisfaction in his voice. Peter shot him a glare.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Make me,” Micky responded, complete with poking out of tongue.
“Man, you know I’d love to stick my dick in your mouth long enough to keep it otherwise occupied but I’d rather not get a detention my first day back.”
Micky stopped choking on his saliva long enough to catch the fear stricken look of a first year that had just sat by them before collapsing into spluttering giggles, quickly followed by Peter.
Once the food appeared, Micky didn’t have a whole lot else to say and Peter was lost to his over-active thoughts as he so often was. They went to get their class timetables before heading off to the Gryffindor common room.
“I’m really kinda regretting going for Divination, you know? It’s a load of bullshit, plus I can’t read shit in those tealeaves, I think they’re making crap up. And I’m pretty sure Herbology should be optional once you get past the 4th year. And what the hell is with-“
Micky stopped in his tracks, turning back to see that Peter had halted several steps behind him, grasping at his timetable with a look of abject terror.
“What’s up?” He asked, walking back to stand beside him, looking over his shoulder at the offending parchment.
“They’ve put me in Advanced Potions with Professor Kirshner…” Peter whispered, still processing the information.
“Ohh, ouch. Well, ya shouldn’t be such a brainiac then, huh?”
“Please, you could easily make Advanced Potions if you actually tried following the books instead of creating your own bizarre concoctions. Besides, that’s not the point…Mike’s in that class.”
“Ah. Well, now you’ve got no excuse, let the flirting commence!” Micky said with a flourish to which Peter just grimaced.
Along the way back to the common room, they developed a small following of new students who were completely and utterly lost and (unwisely) put their faith in the two miscreants to guide the way. After momentarily getting ‘accidentally’ separated from their horde courtesy of a moving staircase, they eventually made it to-
“Hey, what the hell is this?” Micky asked, staring at the offending portrait before him. “What’s happened to the Fat Lady?”
“Maintenance. Needed to get fixed up professionally after a little incident.” Replied the miserly looking man that now governed the entrance to the dorms.
“Well, who the hell are you?”
“Those two things on your face? They’re called eyes. Use ‘em!”
Micky sniffed in indignation, crossing his arms defiantly. Peter just rolled his eyes and kneeled down to read the plaque.
“’Lord Babbitt of Beachwood’…Oh, such a pleasure.”
The sarcasm was either lost on the old man or he simply chose to ignore it (as he was doing with Micky altogether).
“So, you got a password? You’re making the place look untidy.”
“Uh, yeah, ummm. Oh, Mijacogeo.”
Babbitt frowned, probably because he was hoping the pair weren’t actually allowed through. But, nevertheless, he swung open, revealing the common room.
As they stepped inside, Micky spotted Percy and, with a wicked grin, approached him.
“Hey Weasley, got a little something for you here…”
The red-head flushed an unhealthy red, attempting to splutter out a response before Micky interrupted. “Hey, cool it man, I was talking about this mob here,” he said, jerking a thumb at the nervous looking lot, behind him. “Think they could do with a prefect to help them out. Lord knows what sort of deviant lifestyle they’ll grow into if they hang around me and Pete.” And with a wink, he turned tail and practically skipped back over to Peter.
“You are a cruel, cruel human being, Micky Dolenz.” Peter said, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.
Micky just shrugged, a Cheshire cat grin overtaking his features, “You love it.”
They made their way up to their shared room, dumping their belongings on their respective beds. “Ah, home sweet home,” Peter said, stretching. “Well, almost. Doesn’t feel quite like home without your mess all over the-mmph!”
The sentence was never finished as Peter found a Micky wrapped round him, tongue down his throat in a desperate kiss.
When Micky finally pulled back, Peter looked at him with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.
“I missed you, you know?” Micky said, quietly, all evidence of the jokester momentarily gone.
Peter chuckled, lightly, bumping foreheads with him. “I missed you, too.”
He initiated the next kiss, slower and deeper than Micky’s, feeling the younger man slowly melt against him. They continued to exchange these lazy kisses for several minutes before Micky grew restless, starting to press into the blonde, his intentions all too obvious.
“Mick,” Peter breathed, trying to break the kiss but finding it an effort, “it’s been a long day, man. I just wanna get to bed.”
“I know what you mean,” Micky responded, taking the admission the way he wanted to as he began to kiss along Peter’s jaw.
The older man groaned as he felt his resolve already slipping. “Come on, Mick, I’m serious.”
“And I’m hard. What are we gonna do about that?” Micky asked, grinding harder into Peter to emphasise his point, drawing a deep groan from his throat.
“You said this place wasn’t home without my mess, why not help me make a start right now?”
As Micky’s hands slide around to the firm ass in front of him, kneeding it to fuse them even closer together, Peter snapped.
He lunged forward, capturing Micky’s swollen lips in a hungry kiss while one hand grabbed at his ass and the other burying itself in his hair. Another groan was suddenly ripped from his throat, echoed by the smaller man in front of him.
“Fuck, this hair is amazing,” Peter said, distractedly as he gave it a firm but mindful tug, manoeuvring him to bare his neck for better access.
As Peter licked, bit and kissed his way along the exposed flesh, Micky managed to find his voice once again, “Think we need to pick a bed before my legs give out, man,”
“Mmm,” was all the response Peter had to that so Micky took it upon himself to pull him to the nearest bed which just happened to be his, both of them collapsing on it at the same time.
Before Peter could continue their ministrations, Micky held him back with a hand on his chest. Through his slightly hazy vision, Peter managed to look at him with a questioning expression.
“This is gonna be our year, Peter. No backing out or backing down; you’ve got my back and I’ve got yours, right?”
Peter stared at him for a couple of seconds before smiling softly, “Always, Micky.” It always amused him how Micky could go from being a clown, a prankster and a troublemaker to a vulnerable young man, especially as he was usually the only one that got to see that side to him. “Though, no offence, right now I’m more interested in having your ass than your back.”
Micky flushed slightly but that didn’t stop him from launching himself at the blonde.
And so began the start of a new year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A year that promised new challenges, new ventures and sex. Lots and lots of sex.