Title: A Bet Gone Awry
Author: mindfunk
Rating:M - it's smutless though, so don't get all excited
Summary: Harry loses a bet, and things go downhill from there.
Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter related belongs to JK Rowling and those to whom she's licensed them. I don't own anything, and I'm not making any money off nicking HP people, places or things and writing a story about them.
Notes: The prompt for this week's AWDT was "Are you gonna be my girl?", nicked from the Jet song, and things just kinda got out of hand as I wrote this. I am not thrilled with it, but Jamie2109 looked it over for me and urged me to post it. Thanks to her, as always, forher encouragement and her efforts in getting chickenshit writers like me to take a chance, branch out into new territory, or just to share our stuff with others.
"This is the most humiliating thing I have ever done in my life," moaned Harry Potter as he gazed at his reflection in the mirror.
"It's not that bad," said Ron, trying manfully to keep a straight face. In the end he just couldn't manage it, and doubled over with laughter.
The two friends were back in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, which hadn't changed at all in the five years since they'd first sought privacy there to brew their Polyjuice Potion.
"Stupid git," mumbled Harry, frowning at his friend's reflection before turning his attention back to his own appearance.
"You look quite fetching," giggled a voice from behind him.
"Great, just bloody brilliant," groaned Harry, putting his face in his hands.
"Myrtle, you promised to clear out until we were done!" said Ron, shaking his finger at the still giggling ghost.
"How was I to know you weren't finished yet? Besides, it does get quite lonely in my U-bend. You two and that girl never come to see me anymore! I'm just boring old Myrtle, a stupid ghost! Nobody pays any attention to me!" Myrtle had her ghostly hands on her hips by now and was working herself up into quite a rant.
Eager to head her off before she started some of her trademark moaning and crying, Harry was quick to make nice with the bratty ghost.
"Sorry, Myrtle; it's not like that at all. We got told off for being in the girls' loo, you know, lost house points and everything."
Myrtle still looked as if she was going to burst into tears any moment, so he hurried to say, "We took the risk coming here tonight because we knew we could trust you. We don't think there's a more trustworthy ghost in the whole castle! Right, Ron?"
Ron was frantically nodding his head in agreement.
Slightly mollified, Myrtle crossed her arms over her chest and studied Harry thoughtfully.
"You know, Harry, you don't make a bad girl," she said, causing Ron to burst into laughter again while Harry just rolled his eyes and turned back to the mirror.
"I lost a bet, Myrtle. It's not like I'm doing this willingly," he grumbled.
"Speaking of bets, mate," said Ron tapping his wristwatch, "We'd better get going. It's late enough that everyone should be in their common rooms, but we'll run into prefect patrols if we don't hurry."
"All right," sighed Harry, looking in the mirror one last time and tugging down the hem of the school skirt he'd borrowed from Ginny. "Do I look all right?"
"Straighten your, uh..." Ron just gestured at his chest, miming breasts but unable to get the word out.
"Bollocks," swore Harry, reaching down his shirt into the borrowed bra to rearrange the socks he'd stuffed into the cups. "There. Is that better?"
"Well, better isn't the word I would have chosen, but they're even now," said Myrtle helpfully.
Harry tried to glare at her, but it turned into a pleading look as he said, "You won't tell anyone, right?"
"I suppose not. Who would believe me anyway?" she answered with a shrug.
Ron stuck his head out the door, looked both ways, and turned back to his friend.
"OK, the coast is clear."
"Thanks Myrtle," Harry said quickly, heading for the door. "I owe you one."
"You owe me several for keeping this one quiet," she replied, before diving back into her toilet and splashing water everywhere.
The two boys hurriedly stepped into the hallway to avoid getting water from the flooding toilet on their shoes. They trotted down the hall toward the stairs, looking out for any other students, hoping they wouldn't run into anyone on the way to the Gryffindor common room.
"I think we made it!" Ron whispered loudly as the two friends turned the corner to the hall where the Fat Lady's portrait hung.
"Made it where, Weasel?" drawled a voice.
Stopping dead in their tracks, Ron and Harry turned around. There in the hallway stood Draco Malfoy, arms crossed, wand in hand, smirking at the pair.
"Nice outfit, Scarhead. Getting in touch with your feminine side?"
"We don't have time for this, Malfoy. It's almost curfew and we need to get to our common room," Harry said through gritted teeth.
"By my watch, it's one minute past curfew, so you're in trouble." He grinned malevolently, turning his attention to Ron. "Shame on you, Weasel. Prefects aren't supposed to be out after curfew unless they're on duty that night. I'll have to tell McGonagall about this," he said.
"Look, Malfoy," Harry spat, "Our common room is right there. We're going straight in, and we'd have met curfew if you hadn't stopped us. For once can't you be a decent human being and leave us the hell alone?"
"I could, I suppose," mused the Head Boy. "What's in it for me?"
"What do you want, Malfoy?" said Ron disgustedly. He and Harry both knew that Malfoy had them over a barrel. Their house was currently clinging to a tiny lead in the contest for the House Cup, and Malfoy could easily take enough points from them to put Gryffindor out of the running. Not only were there only three weeks left in the term, which wouldn't give them enough time to catch up with Ravenclaw again, but their friends would never forgive them for being the cause of losing the Cup in their last year at Hogwarts.
"Hmm, let me think," Malfoy said, rocking slightly back on his heels as he thought about the situation. "Neither of you owns anything worth taking, so that's out. I could have you do my homework for me, but I'm smarter than both of you and you'd lower my average. So, what do I want from you ..." he trailed off, lost in thought.
"Hurry up, Malfoy. We don't have all night!" said Harry, tugging down his skirt again.
That drew Malfoy's attention back to what Harry was wearing. He looked amusedly at Harry's clothing again before asking, "Why are you dressed like that anyway?"
"Lost a bet," Harry mumbled, turning red.
"What bet?"
Malfoy hadn't known his rival could get any redder, but he did.
"Never you mind!" said Ron hotly. "Tell us what it's going to take to get you to forget about this."
"Well, if you're going to be so nasty about it, perhaps I should take your little girlfriend here out on a date," Malfoy said.
"What!" howled Harry and Ron simultaneously.
"A. Date. With Potter," the blond boy repeated succinctly.
"No way!" said Harry emphatically.
"He may be gay, but he's got better taste than to go out with you!" blustered Ron.
"Keep up that attitude, and I'll make him wear that lovely ensemble when we go out," sneered Malfoy. "That's my price. Take it or leave it."
The two Gryffindors looked at one another, knowing they had little choice if they wanted to keep their lead for the Cup. They desperately tried to think of some way out of the situation, but they were stuck.
"So, Potter, are you gonna be my girl?" Malfoy chuckled at his own wit.
Harry looked back at Malfoy and sighed. "All right. I'll do it."
"Good choice. Meet me by the entrance doors after lunch tomorrow. We'll go down to Hogsmeade and I'll buy you something pretty," said Malfoy. "If you're lucky, I'll even kiss you goodnight at the end of the date."
Waggling his eyebrows at Harry, he turned and strode off down the hall.
"Did you really just agree to go out with Draco bloody Malfoy?" asked Ron, horrified.
"Yeah, I did," groaned Harry.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" said Ron, as they turned and walked over to the Fat Lady's portrait.
"No," replied Harry. "Although I will admit that I'm curious to see if he's any more human on a date than he is any other time."
"Probably not, but at least he won't try to kill you," said Ron. "That's one bright spot: Malfoy can't hurt you or hex you now that he's on our side. Dumbledore would kill him."
"True," said Harry, as the friends paused at the portrait. The Fat Lady was pretending to read while listening eagerly to their conversation."What could he want then?"
"I have no idea, but you'll find out tomorrow," said Ron. "C'mon, let's get in there and get this over with."
"Remind me to kill Seamus when this is all over," Harry growled. "If it wasn't for him and his stupid bet in the first place, we wouldn't have been caught out here, with me in a bleeding skirt, of all things!"
He said the password and the portrait swung open. The friends looked at one another solemnly.
"Well," Harry sighed, "Here goes nothing."
They entered the common room, which fell silent for a moment upon their entrance. As the Fat Lady swung closed behind them, catcalls and whistles could be heard, along with much laughter. Just before the portrait clicked closed, there was a bright flash of light and a strangled yell of "Bloody hell, Colin!" from Harry.
Please leave feedback! Part II will be along soon.