It started, as these things had a tendency to, with a bet. To be more specific - for it is difficult to be less so - it started on one Monday morning outside Potions, when Pansy Parkinson had the nerve to tell Draco Malfoy that he was full of himself. Now, as you can imagine, Draco Malfoy did not take this at all well, which is where the bet came in.

"You demented hag," – Pansy that was – "keep your mouth shut or use it for more productive purposes."

Pansy glared.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well we all know what you're usually doing with it."

He looked around at the other Slytherins, who stood off to the side, for corroboration, but they were far too intent on self-preservation to get involved.

"Why you arrogant, pompous, little arsehole! Is your dick really so small that you have to constantly boost your ego with pretentious bitching? Is that why you've never kept a girlfriend longer than two weeks?"

Draco exploded – being well known for his temper.

"You fucking whore! How dare you cast aspersions on my manhood! I could have anyone I wanted. You're just pissed because I don't want a prissy slag like you!"

Pansy waved off the comment with a furious gesture that came uncomfortably close to Draco's aforementioned manhood.

"But can you keep them, Draco? Can you keep them satisfied?"

"Of course I could bloody keep them! If I wanted to!"

"Oh," Pansy was mocking, "so that's why. You don't want to keep them. Well that's a handy fucking excuse isn't it Drakey."

"You fucking bitch!" Draco spat. He wasn't taking Pansy's comments well.

"How about," Pansy began, in the manner of someone who had just had a particularly brilliant idea –which, of course, she had – "a little bet."

"A bet," Draco repeated, scowling.

"A bet," she repeated, "if you can seduce a person of my choosing, and stick with them for three months, then you win. And if you fail, as you inevitably will, I win."

"What do I win?" Draco asked, curiosity peaked in a typically Slytherin way.

"You mean other than the acknowledgment that you don't have a dick like a limp quill?" She asked with a smirk.

Draco growled.

"Name your terms," she told him – possibly the largest mistake she had made since the action that had started this morning-long feud.

Draco mused, something made considerably more difficult by the angry red fog that was clouding his mind. Finally, he had the perfect idea.

"How about," he drawled, smirking, "I win and you spend the rest of the year giving me blowjobs on demand, putting that talented mouth of yours to use."

His smirk widened as Pansy glared at him.

"Fine!" She spat eventually.

"And," he added quickly, "you have to praise my sexual prowess both loudly and obnoxiously at least once a week."

She nodded sharply.

"In Professor McGonagall's lesson," he finished.

Pansy's jaw was set as she once again nodded her agreement.

"And if I win, which I will-"

"Then why are you looking so nervous?" Draco asked innocently.

"I will win, Draco, and when I do…you will regret it," she snarled, right in his face.

Fortunately for Draco, it was at that moment that Harry Potter turned up, dragged behind his mudblood friend, and looking thoroughly miserable. It was doubly fortunate – if that is even possible – that at that moment a fabulous idea began to coagulate in Draco's mind.

Of course, he was more than capable of winning that ego-reducing bet on his own merit, but that would have taken much more effort, and Draco, ever the typical Slytherin, was not overly fond of effort. Or risks for that matter, and Pansy could not win that bet. There was another option. There was somebody who owed him a huge favour. A favour nobody but he and said bloody irritating person – particularly not Pansy – knew about.

He smirked and turned back to Pansy.

"How about a challenge," he suggested, "how about we make it Potter."

Pansy narrowed her eyes at him, before a smirk slid onto her face.

"My, my, Draco. You are a masochist."

That was why he was currently standing in a dusty, unused, potions classroom – very bad for his new dragon hide boots – with Harry Potter, who had just blurted, "You want me to what!" in an amusingly high pitched voice, and was staring at him as if he'd lost his marbles – which might well have been the case.

This, Draco mused while watching Potter goggle, is going to be a very long three months.