Challenge: #26 Making a bet--they make a bet on who can get into someone else's pants first, loser to give winner forfeit of choice. Each thinks the other won't be asking for a blowjob as reward. Each is wrong.
Summary: Harry has no idea what his mouth has gotten him in to.
Notes: Thanks to krissielee for the beta.
Malfoy laughed. It was one he obviously thought was cruel and mirthless. Harry thought it sounded surprisingly girly. "I am Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin, son of two prominent Purebloods, top male student of my year, (the handsomest too) and best fuck in all of Hogwarts! I could have any girl I wanted, unlike you, you scar-faced, bespectacled git."
With a scowl Harry replied, "You just think you could have any girl you wanted. Hermione wouldn’t even notice you if you danced naked in front of her waving an S.P.E.W. banner!"
"She’s a Mudblood," said Malfoy with a disdainful sniff. "She doesn’t count. Besides," he continued, "girls only like you because you’re Harry Potter, the Boy Who Refused to Die!"
"I don’t have to rely on my name," answered Harry, "to get a girl. All I have to do is-"
"Subject her to your brilliant skills of seduction and wily charm?" Malfoy laughed again. It was quite a girly laugh really. "Right, Potter."
Harry could feel his face growing hot with indignation. I’ll show him, he thought. "How about we make a bet then?" he asked, talking loudly over Malfoy’s annoying laughter.
The laughing abruptly stopped. "What kind of bet?" Malfoy sneered, crossing his black jumper-clad arms over his chest.
"We’ll pick a girl tomorrow after dinner, in the library. A Pureblood girl," Harry added quickly. "And see which one of us can get her first."
"Into her knickers, you mean?" queried Malfoy, smirking slightly. "I’ll win for sure."
It was Harry’s turn to laugh now. "We’ll see." He turned to leave.
"Wait. What does the winner receive from the loser?"
"Er…"Harry said, no clue what the prize should be. He turned back around to face Malfoy. "How about we choose our own reward?"
"Alright, Potter," agreed Malfoy. Harry didn’t like the expression on his face. "One more thing though. Whoever loses," he said, his smirk growing wider, "has to do whatever I, I mean the winner, asks him to do."
Harry hesitated for a moment. He wanted to say no. If he lost, whatever it was Malfoy would ask him to do would not be pleasant.
"Having second thoughts, Potter?"
"No," said Harry angrily. He had to agree to Malfoy’s terms. There was no way he was going to back out now. "Fine," he said. "But you definitely won’t like what I’m going to ask you to do."
"If you win, that is," replied Malfoy. "Which you won’t."
As soon as Harry had finished eating, telling Ron and Hermione he needed to work on his Potions essay, he’d stood up and headed off to the library. He had tried, unsuccessfully, to get Malfoy’s attention, but the arrogant git wouldn’t even look at him. And now he was waiting impatiently for his enemy to arrive. Harry’s mind began to wander.
He’s more like an annoying fly rather than an enemy really, he thought. No matter how many times I swat at him he just won’t go away. Harry sighed and traced the initials L.L., which someone had scratched into the table. The letters were connected to an R.W. with a heart. Why did I make a bet with him anyway? I mean, particularly this one. I’m no good with girls. He sighed again and covered his face with his hands. I’m going to lose for sure.
Harry let his hands fall to the table, instantly replying, "Tired of waiting for you. I told you when to be here, Malfoy. I do have more important things to do you know."
Smirking, Malfoy took the seat across from Harry. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Like what? Ask the Mudblood for advice?"
"Don’t call her that!" said Harry through gritted teeth. He had to keep his voice down, or Madam Pince would come and throw him out. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea, he thought. At least then I wouldn’t have to go through with the bet. "Besides, I can’t ask her about something like this."
Malfoy laughed. "Too embarrassed?" he said, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. "You can’t even ask your best friend since first year a sexual question?" He leaned forward, a strange glint in his eyes. "We both know I’m going to win, so why don’t you just admit it." He smirked again. "When you find out what I want as a reward you’re going to choke."
"The only one who’ll be choking is you," answered Harry, once again having to make an effort to keep his voice down. "On your own words!"
"Let’s get down to business, shall we?" said Malfoy, suddenly standing up. He strode away towards the back of the library. Harry, feeling extremely nervous, pushed his chair back and hurriedly followed.
"You’ve got to be joking, Malfoy!" said Harry under his breath. "Pansy Parkinson? Everyone knows she fancies only Slytherins!"
Malfoy shrugged and glanced sideways at Harry. "You know, it seems that the girl we choose will have to be from either Slytherin or Gryffindor. There is no way in hell I’m shagging a Hufflepuff, and any Ravenclaws would figure out what we were up to."
Pansy moved out of their line of vision, her black hair swinging from side to side, along with her ample hips. Now there was only one first year and a few third years. Urgh, Harry thought. Malfoy better not suggest one of them.
"Hey, Potter," said Malfoy, turning to Harry with a smirk. "What about-"
"I’m no pedophile!" cried Harry. The younger students looked at each other, alarmed, and then scampered from sight.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Right. Thanks for clearing that up. I was going to say what about her?" He gestured to their right, behind Harry.
Harry turned to look. "Ginny? But she-"
"Doesn’t fancy you any more, and certainly doesn’t fancy me. It would be a challenge for both of us. Besides, she has that gorgeous red hair, and you know what they say about women with red hair."
"And," Malfoy continued, "I‘d really enjoy getting her back for that Bat-Bogey Hex she hit me with in fifth year."
"You deserved it."
"Whatever, Potter. What do you say? Shall we try our luck with the fair Weasley wench?" Malfoy crossed his arms and faced Harry, a slight smile gracing his lips. "Or are you too scared?"
Harry snorted. "I’m never scared."
With a nod, Malfoy turned to leave.
Harry was scared. He had no idea how he was going to seduce Ginny. Was he supposed to leer suggestively at her? Was he supposed to use corny double entendres and hope she got the hint? There was only one thing he could think of to do, and he had to do it.
"Hmm?" said Hermione, without looking up from the gigantic textbook she was taking notes from.
Harry took a deep breath. "I need to ask you something." He paused. "Something sexual." His last words came out barely audible, but Hermione, her quill coming to a complete stop in mid-air, had heard him. He was glad it was so late and the Common room nearly deserted. No one could see him blushing as red as his Gryffindor tie.
"Okay," she said as she slowly lay down her quill and closed her book.
"Er," Harry began. He could think of the words he wanted to say, but he couldn’t seem to get his tongue around them. He sat down and promptly stood back up again. It would be much quicker to run from the room if he was already standing.
"I’m listening, Harry."
With a few deep breaths and a split-second’s pause, Harry forced himself to say, "Whatsortsofthingsdogirlsfindsexy?"
Hermione blinked, her face quite impassive. Harry thought it was the perfect time to bolt from the room, but before he could, "Lots of things. The way a boy dresses, for instance."
"Do I dress sexy?" Harry asked, blushing again.
"Actually, no," replied Hermione, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly. "I think you would look quite sexy in a white button-up and black trousers. You could really play off the dark and mysterious look."
Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to ask her. "All right, what else?" he said eagerly.
"Well, the way you move, at least when you’re not flying, isn’t very sexy either. You need to be smoother, like a cat. Girls love it when a boy moves gracefully."
"Okay," Harry said, nodding vigorously. "What else?"
"Let’s see, your facial expressions, your mannerisms, your-"
"Hermione?" Harry interrupted. "I think it would be easier for you to coach me rather than tell me."
She nodded. "Right."
Ginny looked in the direction of the voice and nearly dropped her book. "Harry?"
He gave her a slight smile, remaining propped against the bookshelf behind him, hands in the pockets of his black trousers. "Looking for something?" he asked.
"Yes, I was," said Ginny.
Harry stood up straight, hands still in his pockets, and took a few steps forward. "Maybe I can help you find it." He moved even closer until he was right in front of her, so close he could see a smudge of ink on her cheek. He reached up to rub it away. "Do you want me to?"
Ginny’s eyes never left his, and then, slowly, she nodded.
Harry leaned forward, placed one hand on her cheek, and kissed her. Take that, Malfoy. He brought his other hand to rest in the curve of her hip. Slowly, he began to inch upward until he reached the underside of her breast, just as he had read the devilish Sven do in Hermione‘s Hearts on Fire romance novel.
A soft moan escaped Ginny’s lips. What had happened next? Harry thought. Oh, yeah. He splayed his fingers, taking care to brush them over Ginny’s nipples. She gasped, tangling her hands in his meticulously styled bed-head hair-do.
And then she shoved him away. "I can’t do this to Neville."
"Neville?" Harry echoed, but Ginny had already disappeared behind another bookshelf.
He had failed. Whatever it was Malfoy wanted him to do, he would have to do it. Harry wanted to kick himself, but that was physically impossible. He settled for banging his head against a table in the library instead. Where was Malfoy? If he didn’t show up soon, he was going to give himself a concussion.
"Ah. I see there’s no need for me to ask how your attempt with the Weaselette faired."
Harry stopped, his vision momentarily blurred as he tried to focus on Malfoy. "Let’s get this over with. What do you want?"
Malfoy sat down across from Harry with a massive, obviously fake sigh. "It seems we have a bit of a problem, Potter. As much as it pains me to say so, my attempt failed as well."
"What?!" Harry cried. There were a few whispered ‘shhs.’
"It surprised me too. Imagine," said Malfoy, "me failing to get a girl to sleep with me. It had better not be the start of a trend."
"No, no. I mean, did you say you lost the bet too?"
Malfoy leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. A small smile was playing about the corners of his lips. "That’s what I said."
"So, what does that mean?" asked Harry.
"It means we both have to do whatever the other wants."
Harry adjusted his glasses. He would get to make his enemy of six years do whatever he wanted? Oh, this was going to be brilliant! On the other hand, he had to do whatever Malfoy asked. He’d never heard of anyone winning and losing at the same time; he supposed he was the first.
"When did you make your move on Weasley?" asked Malfoy, interrupting Harry’s thoughts.
He thought for a moment. "Yesterday, around six."
Malfoy smirked. "Technically, you lost first, so I get my reward first."
Harry protested. "And when did you have a go at Ginny?"
"This morning. I waited for her in the girls’ showers after Quidditch practice."
"How do I know you’re not lying?" said Harry, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. He could be just as intimidating as Malfoy, the slimy little git. Hermione had taught him a lot about body language.
"Easy," replied Malfoy. "Ask her."
Harry bit his lip. He didn’t want to do that. "What do you want?" he asked again with a defeated sigh. A sick feeling arose in the pit of his stomach, but he ignored it, focusing instead on Malfoy’s pale, smirking face. That look couldn’t mean anything good.
"I want," said Malfoy, lowering his voice, "you to give me a blowjob."
And then Madam Pince threw them both out.
Harry was laying on his side in the boys’ dormitory, listening to his fellow Gryffindors snoring and mumbling in their sleep. He wished he could forget what Malfoy had asked him to do, maybe wake up in the morning and find it had all been a very bad dream.
"Mmm," came Ron’s sleep-filled voice. "Radishes…so pretty…"
Before Harry could even figure out what that meant, an owl swooped in through his open window; it was an eagle owl, carrying a roll of parchment tied with a green ribbon. He had a sinking feeling he knew who it was from, and after unrolling it and glancing at the signature he saw that he was right.
Meet me in the boys’ Quidditch showers at midnight.
The Invisibility Cloak rustled slightly as Harry pulled it off. He laid it across an empty bench and peered around, trying to discern a Draco Malfoy-shaped figure in the shadows. Looking down at the Marauder’s Map in his hand told him where he would find his long-time enemy.
He pushed open the door to the showers, and was surprised when a hot, wet blast of steam obscured his glasses. Folding up the map and stuffing it into his pocket, Harry slowly moved forward, trying to see through the mist. Could this be a trap? The map had shown only Malfoy in the vicinity. His hand went to his wand concealed in the sleeve of his pajamas.
"Over here, Potter."
Harry stopped. "Malfoy?" There was no answer; he moved in the direction the voice had come from. Slowly, a figure began to materialise. "Malfoy?" he said again.
"Right here, Potter. Can’t you see me?"
"WHAT THE HELL!" Harry cried, his wand slipping from his damp hand. "YOU’RE NAKED!"
Malfoy laughed, a low, seductive sort of laugh that wasn’t at all girly. "On your knees," he commanded. "It’s time for you to give me what I’ve been wanting for a long, long time."
A million things ran through Harry’s mind all at once. I can‘t do this…I’ll just make a run for it…Do I really have to… But he had to, there was no way around it. He had lost the bet. As Harry slowly dropped to his knees, the only thing that kept him from Stupefying Malfoy was the thought of how much he was going to enjoy his reward.