DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER, HOGWARTS OR ANY RELATED CHARACTERS.
Sixth Year, Dungeons, not far from Snape's class
"Potter," a greasy blond boy sneered.
Said messy-haired boy turned to face his nemesis, instinctively going for his wand, pivoting and ending with the business end of the wand under the other boy's throat. "What, Malfoy?" he retorted.
"Look, this isn't something I want to do, but I don't know where else to turn. I. Need. Your. Help.," he spat.
"Help you what? Almost kill another person, like you did to Katie and Ron," Potter growled. "Why don't you get one of your goons to help you, seems like you have the whole Slytherin house jumping to do you bidding."
" You've got the highest marks in Defense, and I need the discretion that I know I can get from a lion. You don't show weakness to a snake, especially not when the backlash could potentially fall where I don't want it to," he sighed. "Where's your honor, and that damned hero complex of yours?"
Harry lowered his wand marginally. He seemed troubled by his rival's seemingly sincere pleads for help. In the end, his thrice damned sense of duty won out. "What is it," he resigned himself.
"I have a problem in my dorm, and I need help to resolve it. If its what I'm hoping, there's either a boggart under my bed, or a dementor, and even your mangy werewolf friend taught us that we need to face boggarts in pairs to confuse them." He elaborated.
"And how do I know this isn't some sort of trap? The Slytherin dorms seems like an awfully insecure place for someone like me?" Harry asked warily.
To this, Malfoy drew his wand. "I, Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy family, do hearby declare that no harm shall come to Harry Potter while he is aiding me with my problem in my dorm, nor shall any harm befall him afterwards due to my housemates or myself until the next day. Upon my magic I swear, so mote it be," he bound himself by a magical oath. "Oh, and if you wouldn't mind, could you bring a bottle of firewhiskey? If I have to face this again, I'll need something to calm my nerves afterwards."
"I'll see if the twins wouldn't mind," Harry acquiesced.
"Brilliant. Now, meet me in the Owlery at 9 tonight, and bring your cloak," Malfoy instructed, turning and walking away, leaving a very confused Potter wondering what happened.
"Let's get this over with," the Griffindor said curtly, showing himself to the Slytherin, showing a bottle of vintage firewhiskey.
"Right then, follow me." The blond led them down to the dungeons to a portrait of a man holding a snake.
"Ah, good evening, young Draco, all finished with that missive to your father?" the man asked.
"Yes, thank you for asking, Lord Salazar," the boy bowed. "Tojours Pur," he announced, and the portrait swung open.
"Massssster," the snake hissed. "There isss another with the hatchling."
"Ah, a descendant of good old 'Ric," Salazar addressed Harry. "I always did envy his great-grandson's cloak."
"I asked him hear, Lord Slytherin," Draco admitted grudgingly.
"Well then, stay out of trouble, good cousin, and do remind me to tell you about your wondrous ancestors on the way out," the man jovially dismissed them.
As they entered the Slytherin common room, which had not changed much from the last time Harry was here, several people, including Draco's goons and fan club approached him. Draco amiably greeted several before excusing himself, claiming exhaustion from working on his special task. Upon reaching his dorm, which, unlike the Griffindor dorms, was a small bedroom in and of itself, he cast a muffilato to keep things quiet and then conjured a chair for Harry. "You'll have to wait a bit, it doesn't normally happen until all the others go to their dorms. Harry absently began playing with his wand, while Draco extinguished the candles, laid down and pretended to fall asleep. After about an hour and a half, the door crept open, and someone stood in the doorway. They were not wearing the standard robes, and if Harry wasn't mistaken, they were wearing almost nothing at all. The figure then proceeded to raise her wand and cast lumos.
What Harry saw in the light made him want to claw his eyes out. He had seen many horrible things in the past few years. A mountain troll, Voldemort growing out of the back of Quirrel's head, Lockhart, Lockhart's Valentine's Day cupids, dementors, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, a full grown werewolf, merpeople, angry veela, Blast-ended Skrewts, acromantulas, Wormtail, Voldemort as a baby, Voldemort's rebirth, dismembered brains, Sirius' death, Snape's memory of trying to woo his mother, to name a few, but this, this took shook him to his core. With what could only be practised percision, the girl held the wand in just the right place and at just the right angle to make her completely visible, while little else was. She was indeed not wearing her robes, nor any proper clothes. Instead was a very see-through one piece that barely covered her breasts and crotch, however the see-through nature of the cloth took away even that little bit of protection. Standing, essentially in the nude in Draco's doorway was Pansy Parkinson. In an rather eerie voice that, had he been unfortunate to suffer, he would associate with fangirl stalkers, she whispered, " Nice bed, Drakey. Mind if I, Slytherin?" As if to quell any arguments, she waved a piece of paper towards the bed.
Draco proceeded to give a terrified and rather girly shriek that no one else heard due to the spell he had put up earlier. He managed to whimper out three words as he curled into the fetus position and began crying. "Do something, anything."
Harry was absolutely clueless as to what he possibly could do. Going with Draco's first guess, he threw back his cloak and roared, "EXPECTO PATRONUM." The silver stag burst from his wand and hit her dead center in the chest, forcing her out of the room, and Harry quickly flicked his wand at the door, causing it to shut, lock, and conjured a couch to block it. Harry uncorked the firewhiskey and took a long draught before handing the bottle to Draco. He then picked up the piece of paper that she had been carrying, and began reading it. "I have good news, and I have bad news," he said suddenly. "The good news, your getting married. The bad news, that wasn't a boggart or a dementor, and your bride to be is Parkinson," he said cheekily.