The Bet
Chapter II - Mission: Seduce Potter
Harry/Draco, Harry/OMC, Harry/OFC, Draco/OFC, Seamus/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Neville/Luna
R/NC-17 | 4,110 words | 2004-present
Beta: None.
Summary:AU. Post-war. It all started with a little bet. Draco Malfoy has never been one to back down from a perfectly do-able bet. But when that bet involves Harry Potter? Draco is realising that this bet is not as cut and dry as it seems, nor as easy...
Notes: Written before HBP and DH.
***
It was just before dawn the next morning; the cool
morning dew was glistening on the grass. Inside Dormitory Three, home
of the Slytherin and Ravenclaw male populations, there was a single
candle lit, glowing softly on the pale head bent over an old desk.
Draco Malfoy wasn't necessarily a morning person,
but a few minutes ago, he woke with a start, the dreams that woke
him fading away with the night. Slightly shaken, although unwilling
to admit it, he knew he wouldn't be sleeping anymore, so he got out
of bed, grabbed a blank journal, and started writing.
***
19 September 2003
I can't believe I'm going to do this. I'm actually
going to seduce Harry Potter into losing his virginity with a guy.
And then I'm going to hand him over to Raven so she can have her wild
way with him.
The things I'll do for love.
Which is what this is about, really. I've fallen
in love with this absolutely wonderful, beautiful, exciting, enigmatic,
extremely devious woman. I've completely fallen into her trap.
And I don't care.
I'm not even sure when it happened. We were never
really friends at Hogwarts; in fact, she was a few years below me.
And still, she got sucked into becoming a Death Eater at the pinnacle
of the war, at the ripe age of sixteen. That was five years ago. Three
years ago, she saved me. Her and Blaise. And I will forever be in
their debt.
So now I'm making plans to trap Potter myself.
Only because she wants him. And me. And what she wants, I'll get for
her.
But I just want to forget about him. I act like
still giving him hell is my only vice in life, but it's not. If only
we didn't have to finish our N.E.W.T.s, we could both get on with
our lives. But Potter's still here, and he's still annoying, and now
I have to seduce him. Touch him. Kiss him. And I don't care what Raven
says; I'm not going to like it. I refuse to.
And I know that I really don't have to
do it...and I'm not doing it just to have sex, either. I love her,
and I want her to be happy. I want her to marry me. And I'll be damned
if I lose this opportunity, let alone back down from a 'do'-able bet.
Hopefully, it won't be the death of me.
***
A loud shout and the sudden weight of someone jumping
on his bed roused the dark-haired boy quite abruptly from his blessed
sleep.
"HARRY!" Seamus yelled, earning a sleep induced glare
from the other boy. "It's time to get up!"
"Seamus, it's Friday. I don't have morning class.
Bugger off." Harry rolled over and wrapped his head in his maroon
comforter.
"But Harry..." the Irishman whined, stopping his
jumping.
"I said, 'bugger off!'"
There was a pause, then: "Fine. I suppose I'll just
have to tell that gorgeous blond downstairs to go away."
Harry slowly pulled the covers from his head. "'Gorgeous
blond?'"
Seamus nodded, grinning. "Yep. Asked specifically
for you."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. Now get out of bed and get downstairs.
It's never nice to keep someone waiting." And with that, Seamus bounded
off of Harry's bed and out of the room.
Harry reached over to the nightstand and grabbed
a hold of his glasses, shoving them on his face. Running a mental
checklist of all the blondes he knew who might have called for him,
he quickly got out of bed, donning a Gryffindor-red tee shirt and
a pair of blue jeans. Hastily pulling some socks and shoes on, he
grabbed his brush and tried to tame his unruly locks. But it was useless;
so sighing audibly; he made his way downstairs, putting a smile on
his boyishly handsome face.
It fell as soon as he saw just who the 'gorgeous
blond' was.
"Seamus!" Harry yelled. "You failed to mention that
the 'gorgeous blond' was actually Malfoy!" Draco Malfoy stood there,
impeccable as always in his black robes and green tie. His hands were
in his pockets as he glanced around the foyer. At Harry's little hissy
fit, he smirked that annoying smirk of his.
Seamus' face poked out of the kitchen. "Oh? Did I
forget to mention that? Sorry."
"You are not," Harry said.
"You're right. He promised to hex me to next Sunday
if I told you who he was."
"'Gorgeous blond,' Finnigan?" Malfoy injected, arching
an eyebrow.
Seamus shrugged. "How else was I supposed to get
him out of bed without telling him it was you?"
"You're not a pouf, are you?" the ex-Slytherin asked.
"No, not as far as I know," the tow-headed ex-Gryffindor
said, turning back to the kitchen.
"As enlightening as this all is," Harry said, "just
what is it you want, Malfoy?" He crossed his arms over his chest,
obviously irritated at being woken up because of the flaxen haired
young man.
"Just a chat, Potter. Care for a walk?"
Harry studied his long-time rival for a moment.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Potter. I just want to
talk."
Sighing in a huff, Harry said, "Fine. Just a second,
let me grab a sweater." And Harry went up the stairs and came back
down a minute later with a green knit sweater on, adorned with a large
gold 'H' on the front. The latest Christmas present from Molly.
"Like the sweater, Potter."
"Shove it, Malfoy," he grumbled.
"Touché." Draco opened the door behind him.
"Shall we?" He gestured Harry outside into the crisp mid-morning air.
As the door closed behind them, Harry asked, "What
do you want, Malfoy?"
The Slytherin dodged the question by asking is own.
"Eaten yet? I could go for coffee and a scone myself."
"Just spit it out, Malfoy."
"My, a bit grumpy before the morning cuppa, are we?"
"Only when I'm greeted with the sight of you first
thing."
Draco just grinned. "Let's go over to Celestine's
Café. I'll buy you some breakfast. Then we'll chat."
"I'd rather we just get to the point." But the loud
growling coming from Harry's mid-section made the words he had just
spoken ring false.
Malfoy smirked. "I think your stomach begs to differ."
"Oh, shut up," Harry said as his feet carried him
to the path that would take them off campus and into the village.
Their walk was encased in silence, neither daring
to speak. But Harry, although wary, was still dying to know what Malfoy
wanted to 'just chat' about.
Things between them had been...odd since the war.
Malfoy had hardly been Harry's favourite person before the war, let
alone during. Becoming a Death Eater like his father didn't help things.
It took days upon days of questioning and vials and vials of Veritaserum
to the point of sickness on Malfoy's part to convince anyone that
he had left the Death Eaters long before he came to Dumbledore, and
he had left them by choice. The fact that he had willingly come forward,
with Blaise Zabini and Raven Harrell (who were also questioned into
sickness) by his side, was a definitive factor. Dumbledore had caught
word of the three's odd disappearance from Voldemort's ranks, and
had given them sanctuary in the last few months of the war.
While Malfoy wasn't quite his usual sneering self
like before the war, the first time he had seen Harry after the war,
there was an unspoken agreement to not talk about any of it, and just
continue with what was comfortable; retain some normalcy where there
had been chaos and radical change in both of their lives.
"Potter."
"Malfoy." Harry inclined his head slightly.
"We've changed."
"Yes, we have."
"I still hate you."
"And I, you."
"Good, as long as we're clear on that."
"That we are."
Malfoy turned on his heel and strode away. "Goodbye,
Potter."
"Later, Malfoy."
What neither boy had known at the time, was that
while they had successfully helped take down the most powerful dark
wizard of the age, they still would still be required to finish their
N.E.W.T.s if they wanted to find a job in the aftermath of the war.
So they were sent, with the rest of the young survivors, to the B.I.
Most of them were twenty at the time, and at the beginning, the young
adults divided their time between rebuilding the destroyed villages
and buildings, and going to school. Luckily for the wizarding world,
the majority was still standing, while large muggle villages were
gone, completely destroyed by Voldemort's cause, in an effort to rid
the world of them. The destruction seemed to have been caught just
at the breaking point of overflowing. The wizarding world was safe,
the muggles still mostly oblivious. Many in the wizarding world still
did not trust the remaining Malfoy, but since the 'Saviour of the
Wizarding World' didn't seem to want to cast him away or put him in
Azkaban, even with his involvement in the killing of innocent people,
then no one really contested him. Malfoy, Zabini and Harrell were
certainly outcasts for quite a while, but when they actively played
a role in helping the victims of the war, as well as doing everything
in their power to track down any remaining Death Eaters, the angry
crowd of vengeance-seekers eventually died down, albeit grudgingly.
What the public didn't know, and only a select few
did, including Harry, was that Draco and his friends had fled after
their first round in the fore of destruction. The 'power and glory'
was not what they had been expecting. Harry also knew that while the
other boy didn't show it, he was still deeply affected by his parent's
deaths, even with the hatred for what they had become flowing in his
veins. Harry secretly sympathised with the loss of one's parents,
seeing as he had lost not only his biological parents, but also his
godfather, Sirius.
Finally, the pair arrived at the small café,
walking inside and grabbing a booth in the back corner. Immediately,
a handsome dark-haired wizard appeared, handing the daily menu to
each of the boys.
"How are you fine blokes doing this wonderful autumn's
morning?" The wizard asked with a charming smile on his face.
Malfoy answered for them. "Just fine, Celestine.
How about your self?"
"Quite well, Draco. What would you two like to drink?"
"The usual for me, today." Malfoy replied, handing
back the menu.
"Coffee, black, and an apple scone," the proprietor
affirmed. "And for you, Harry?" While Harry didn't come to the café
often, everyone knew he had been living there for the past two years
or so, and since everyone also knew his face, it wasn't hard to figure
out whom he was. The informality of Celestine was comfortable though,
so Harry didn't mind.
"Um...coffee, with cream, and a..." He quickly browsed
the day's menu.
"The breakfast foccacia's good," Draco offered.
"Then I'll take that."
"Two coffees, one black, one milked, an apple scone
and a breakfast foccacia coming right up."
"Thanks, Celestine."
"Anything for you, Mr. Malfoy." And the friendly
owner was off, only to be back a minute later with their orders.
When Harry immediately poured an ample amount of
cream into his coffee, Draco chuckled, while sipping on his own black
cuppa.
"What?" Harry asked, sounding slightly put off.
"Nothing...just thinking about something Raven said..."
"Really? And just what did she say?"
"Oh, something about liking her coffee two ways..."
Draco secretly found it highly amusing that the 'black coffee' liked
his own with milk, while the 'creamed coffee' liked his straight up.
"Okay..." Harry shrugged off the odd answer and tore
into his foccacia. He really was quite hungry.
"Goodness, Potter. Do they not feed you in Number
One?"
The bespectacled boy glared. "Of course they do.
I just have a healthy appetite."
"I guess so." And Draco quietly ate his scone, all
the while trying to figure out exactly how to approach this. It would
have to be perfect if he were to get the proper response. And yes,
he realised that he was acting like a bloody Gryffindor and jumping
in head first, but it wasn't that he was without a plan...he just
needed to tread carefully if this was going to work. He knew he would
have to get past their animosity for each other if Harry was even
going to consider thinking about Draco in that way.
Not that Draco was particularly fond of changing things, but it wasn't
an obscure idea to him either.
When Harry had finished off his foccacia and was
sitting back, sipping the dregs of his coffee, he spoke. "Thanks,
Malfoy. For breakfast."
"It's of no consequence, Potter."
"I really can pay for it myself, though."
"I know that, but I offered, so I'm paying."
"If you insist," Harry said.
"I do." There was a long pause, in which that Celestine
refilled their cups, and the boys both tried to figure out who would
start. Apparently, they both concluded that they should speak first.
"Potter, I-"
"Malfoy, what-"
There was an awkward pause, and then Harry tried
again. "You wanted to talk."
"Yes." And that was all the boy said.
"Well?" Harry prompted. "I don't mean to rush you
or anything, seeing as you obviously find what ever it is you need
to say important, but I do have class in a few hours."
"So do I. But I'm skipping."
"What? You're cutting class?"
"Just this once. I have a feeling that we're going
to be talking for a while."
"And just what makes you think that?"
"Potter...what I have to say isn't easy for me."
"I can see that."
"Will you just listen for a second?" the Slytherin
nearly snapped.
"I'm all ears," Harry said sarcastically.
The Malfoy heir breathed in deeply and let out his
breath in a calming gesture. "I want to call a truce," he said at
last.
"Excuse me?"
"A truce, Potter. I want to stop all this childish
bantering we've been doing. We're adults now. We need to learn to
live with our past history together and get on with our lives."
There was a long pause while Draco stared straight
into Harry's amaze-laced features. Then the darker boy asked, "What...what
made you change your mind?"
"Raven, actually. She said that acting like the war
never happened is never going to make it go away. That the two of
us need to sort out our differences."
"Sort out our differences?"
"Yes," Draco took a sip of his coffee.
"And then what? Are we just supposed to be automatic
friends or something?"
"How the hell should I know? It was her suggestion."
Which wasn't a complete lie. Raven, on many occasions, had tried to
get Draco to see that his behaviour was really pretty petty.
"And you just decided that it was a good idea? Just
because your girlfriend suggested it?"
"She's not my girlfriend. And no. It's crossed my
mind once or twice in the past few years, actually. I want to move
on. The world is different than it was five years ago. I'm different.
We're different," he said truthfully.
"Ok..." Harry considered this offer. If Draco Malfoy
of all people wanted to talk about it...then he supposed he could
tap into his Gryffindor courage and talk about it too. Pulling a knee
up to his chest, he finally said, "How about we talk about what happened,
how we feel about it, we 'sort out our differences' as Raven put it,
and then see what happens."
"Fair enough."
"Would you like to start, or shall I?"
"I would like to." Harry nodded in response. "Potter,
I...some part of me is regretful for all the shit I've dealt you in
the past...especially considering the role you were born into. I realise
now that you never grew up thinking you were famous, that you really
didn't like the attention. But then again," Malfoy said with a grin,
"those times were some of the best of my life. Not that life now isn't
pleasant enough...but it just feels so..." The blond trailed off,
looking past the table his eyes were gazing at.
"Empty? Like you don't know what you're going to
do with yourself?" Harry offered.
Draco smirked. "Yeah, something like that. But it
almost feels like there's something building too. Like there's some
big thing that's coming and I haven't the foggiest what it could be.
Unlike towards the end of our seventh year..."
"You mean the one we never finished?"
"Yeah."
"You know, Malfoy, I never had you pegged as someone
who actually thought about what your actions did to people, as long
as you wound up on top." It was said with a small smile.
"Like I said Potter, I've changed. I may not always
act like it, but I have."
"I know."
"Do you?"
"Yes. I noticed; the first time I saw you after the
war had finally ended. You looked the same...but different. For one,
it had been nearly two years since I had last saw you, but your eyes
were...darker. Like you had seen and done more things in the past
two years than you had ever wanted to. It reminded me of what I see
in the mirror everyday." He whispered. The conversation suddenly had
a heavy air to it.
"You see the deaths of thousands, and hear the cries
of those dying around you?"
"Yes. The ones of those I could never save." They
looked directly in each other's eyes for a moment.
"You can't carry that around with you, Potter. There
was nothing you could do. Believe me, I should know."
"That doesn't mean anything to me, Malfoy. I
was the Saviour of the Wizarding World; I was the one who had
to defeat Voldemort, no one else. It was my job, and my inability
to pull it together in those early years cost the lives of thousands."
Draco sat stunned for a moment. He would have never
known that Potter truly believed all that if he hadn't heard it from
the boy's own mouth. How could anyone truly believe that the deaths
at the hands of Voldemort and his followers was Harry Potter's fault?
Draco had learned, within those last few months in sanctuary, what
Potter had gone through to get to the point where he could finally
kill the Dark Lord. How much he had had to sacrifice to become powerful
enough, quick enough and smart enough. The ex-Slytherin had never
imagined that it hadn't been easy for Potter. After all, he was
the Boy-Who-Lived. Wasn't this supposed to come naturally for him?
Apparently not. The truth about Potter's childhood had finally been
revealed to the recovering Death Eater, and he was shocked to realise
that Harry had dealt with more in his then twenty years than should
be humanly possibly to survive. Sure, Draco had known about most of
the goings on during school, but the other things...the things only
Harry and the few really close to him knew...even now, Draco was curious
to know it all. Just how could this young man, who generally seemed
so aloof now a days, believe that he was a cause of all the devastation
that had plagued mankind in the last years of his teenage life?
Granted, even knowing what he did know, the Malfoy
heir still hadn't wanted to let go of old prejudices, and so he clung
to them like a leech, becoming secure with old habits, regardless
of how much he had changed. But now he was finally getting rid of
his security blanket, and he only hoped he wouldn't regret it.
"Potter," Malfoy started, for the second time that
day unsure how to start. He hoped it wouldn't become a habit. "It
wasn't as simple as you might want to think. No one knew what hit
them. In fact, I didn't even know what I was about to go do
until I got there. I think they were afraid that us younger ones would
chicken out."
"And you did, didn't you?" There was a light accusation
in Harry's tone.
Malfoy suddenly became cross. "No. I went in, killed
anyone in my sight, then left."
"Just like that? Without any remorse?"
"Of course I felt remorse. But I was more disgusted
than anything. Why do you think I came to Dumbledore after that? I
couldn't handle doing it again, although I tried. So when the Death
Eaters set out a few weeks later, I broke. I refused to do it. That
was when Father cursed me and left me to die, which I'm sure you know
all about."
The Gryffindor nodded. "So what did you do before
all that? You had been a Death Eater for a few years already, hadn't
you?"
"To be honest, I didn't do a whole lot. I tortured
a few muggles, and even a few unknown wizards, but that was all. I
didn't get the pleasure," Malfoy said sarcastically, "to kill
anyone. Voldemort apparently didn't want to draw too much attention
those first few years I had been a Death Eater."
"I don't understand, Malfoy. Why wait? Voldemort
had plenty of dark creatures and Death Eaters at his hands to come
and take me out, why wait until I could possibly be a formidable opponent?"
"I don't know, Potter. I really don't. I never quite
made it up into the higher ranks, even with my father's status. All
I know is that Voldemort was a madman, and whatever insane plans he
had going around in his head were just that: insane."
Harry silently agreed and the boys sat in silence
a moment while Celestine refilled their cups again, and Harry asked
for more cream. It was a few more moments before Harry asked quietly,
"Do you ever have nightmares, Malfoy?"
Draco looked steadily at the other man. "Every night
of my life, Potter." Harry nodded, and then Draco asked a question
that was sitting in the back of his head, waiting to be asked. "Do
you really believe that all of that was your fault?"
Harry seemed pained. "Yes. I may not have killed
them, but I didn't save them either."
"Potter, I told you earlier that there was nothing
you could do. It was too fast and practically un-planned. You can't
do anything about it now. They're dead."
Harry's temper suddenly flared. "I know that, Malfoy!
I know they're dead! I know you helped kill them! I know it all!"
The dark-haired boy stood up suddenly, slamming his cup on the table.
"But that doesn't make it any easier to bear." And with that, the
Saviour of the Wizarding World strode quickly out of the café,
leaving a stunned Draco Malfoy in his wake.
"Shit," the Adonis muttered. Standing up,
he threw a few coins onto the table, gave a short nod to Celestine,
and then followed his companion outside. He knew he had just blown
it. And now he had to go make reparations, especially if this was
ever going to work. He wasn't sure exactly how he was going to apologise,
considering he wasn't sure he did anything wrong in the first place,
and Malfoys really didn't apologise either. It had been hard enough
that first time. Think about the plan, I'm doing this for Raven...and
it probably needs to be done anyway...oh, bloody hell!
Draco found the other boy walking quickly into the
woods not too far away.
"Potter!" He jogged slightly to catch up. "Potter,
wait!" He arrived at the side of the angry young man.
"Go away, Malfoy." Potter's face was as closed
as an enchanted book, his shoulders hunched, fists clenched and his
eyes staring straight ahead.
"No, Potter, I won't. I need you to listen to me."
The Gryffindor stopped abruptly.
"Why? So you can just bring it all up again? No,
I don't think so, Malfoy. I was happy having dealt with it all my
way. Recognising that it happened, then ignoring it. Forgetting. Getting
on with my life as best I could. Trying to be normal for once. And
then you just had to come over and muck it all up, just to
clear your conscience. Stay away from me, Malfoy. Or you'll see first-hand
what happened to Voldemort while you were in 'sanctuary.'"
Then the irate wizard turned away, walking deeper
into the woods, towards the sea. And Draco let him.
Once Harry was out of his sight, Draco let out a
frustrated breath and turned to walk back to his dormitory.
That did not go as planned at all.
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