A/N A bizarre little parody fic quite unlike my usual offerings...this one carries a slash warning, though be not afraid, for nothing actually *happens* ;-)
My goal in this weird story was to make reference to as many pairings, dodgy and otherwise, as could be reasonably fitted in...
Thanks as always to my beta Amy! Please R+R.
Final acknowledgement: Malfoy's aristocratic 'Yah' is courtesy of Stephen Fry, who did it so wonderfully when reading the books aloud.
Harry Potter stared into the cold grey eyes of his arch-nemesis, Draco Malfoy, and waited for the other young man to make his move. Malfoy remained still, an amused smirk hovering on his lips, one hand resting lightly on his hip.
"Well, Potter?" He said, after a moment.
Harry gritted his teeth.
" This is bloody ridiculous. Whoever heard of water shortages at Hogwarts?"
"If we don't get on with it," Malfoy drawled, "we'll be here till Doomsday. It's not as though I had my wand, Potter. I'm not going to hex you while you're in the buff. Just get them off!"
The two enemies were standing in a small, politely tiled bathroom, beside a large, full tub of warm, soapy water. Now that the initial shock of being told he had to share a bath with Malfoy had worn off, Harry was convinced that the whole affair was a set-up - Snape's twisted idea of humour, perhaps. It had been the potions master who - with a decided smirk - had informed the two Quidditch captains of the necessity for sharing bath water following the game. Of all the humiliations and little cruelties Harry owed Snape, this was surely the worst.
"There are other people waiting to use the bathroom, you know." Commented Malfoy. "The rest of the Slytherin and Gryffindor teams could come charging in here at any moment. Do you really want to share a bath with *all* of them? No? I thought not. Stop being so bloody prudish, then, and take off your clothes - although I won't deny they're in need of a good wash, as well."
Harry was now grinding his teeth.
"You first." He growled.
Malfoy rolled his eyes melodramatically.
"All right, all right, whatever." He quickly and shamelessly removed his Quidditch robes, tossing them casually on the floor, and stood, completely naked, before Harry. Harry stared. There was something - just *something* about the way Malfoy was so careless, so confident, about his nudity - *something* about the way he was standing, perfectly relaxed, one eyebrow raised aristocratically...Harry's gaze travelled unwittingly over the blonde boy's wiry, but surprisingly muscular frame, tracing the outline of the pale shoulders, the flat stomach...
Oh my God Harry thought, I'm ogling Malfoy! With a smothered gasp of horror he tore his gaze from the other's sleek body. Malfoy was still watching him, a shrewd look coming into his eyes.
"Like what you see, Potter?" He asked, idly.
"What? Sod off, Malfoy."
"Your turn." Replied the Slytherin, incorrigibly.
"My...oh." Even more self-conscious now, with the thought I think I fancy Malfoy, someone help me, I think I fancy him running wildly through his brain, Harry awkwardly shrugged off his robes, turning his back on the other boy. Malfoy seemed amused by this; as Harry tentatively sneaked a peek over his shoulder, he saw the blonde watching him, head on one side, his expression difficult to read.
"Don't be so immature." Sniffed the pale boy, after a moment. "You don't have anything I haven't seen before."
Clearing his throat, and taking off his glasses so that he could no longer clearly see Malfoy's smirking face, Harry turned around, grabbing a towel to cover his embarrassment in the process. He squeaked in shocked alarm when Malfoy simply reached out and snatched it away, then continued to study Harry, head still cocked to one side in an appraising manner.
"Hmm. Not bad, Potter...not bad at all. A bit scrawny, but that isn't always a negative thing..."
"Wha...what?" The boy who had defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort in his sixth year surely ought not to be whimpering in the presence of a wandless, naked bimbo, but it was not Draco's wand of which Harry was afraid at that moment.
"I was paying you a compliment, if you weren't too thick to notice." Came the impatient reply. "You haven't got a bad body, Potter. Just my type, actually. Fancy a shag?"
And then was when Harry woke up...or at least he would have done, had this been the bizarre nightmare-come-wet-dream he had initially suspected it to be. But no - it was real: he was standing naked in the bathroom with his worst enemy, who had just propositioned him.
"Er..." was Harry's intelligent response.
"Well, do you or don't you? It's a simple question. Stop staring at me as though I'd turned into a Dementor, for Merlin's sake. I'm not in love with you, I haven't been harbouring some kind of deep, anguished desire for you, I'm not under the effects of a love potion, I just happen to be randy and slightly kinky and haven't done it for a couple of days."
Er..." Said Harry, again.
"If you're not interested, Potter, just say so...but I ask you," Malfoy leaned closer, so close that even without his glasses Harry could see the lust in those captivating grey eyes - "do you honestly think you can resist me? Look at me, Potter. I'm perfect. I'm every man and woman's wet dream. I am the Slytherin God of Sex. Now, are we going to shag, or not?"
Harry blinked and squeaked. Malfoy sighed in exasperation.
"Just nod or shake your head." He suggested. Dumbly, eyes glazed, Harry nodded.
"Right. Good! We don't have time now, so..." Malfoy thought for a minute, "meet me in the prefect's bathroom at midnight, all right? And don't tell the Weasel or the Mudblood where you're going. Now get in the bath."
Harry did so, barely noticing the tepidness of the water, or the fact that the bubbles had been reduced to a thin, scummy stream. Malfoy had propositioned him. He had accepted. Wordlessly, it was true, but accepted nonetheless. And now Malfoy was getting into the tub with him. At that moment, however, the bathroom door opened, and the remainder of the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams came piling in. Surprisingly, none of them appeared to notice Harry's jangled nerves and sexual excitement...
...which persisted, with no one noticing, until midnight: zero hour, the hour at which Harry's meeting with Malfoy was to take place. He contemplated standing the Slytherin up, then considered the possible consequences - hexes, curses, poison in his orange juice - and decided it was safer to turn up. Perhaps he could use some sort of charm or curse on Malfoy. Perhaps Malfoy was winding him up and wouldn't be there at all. Perhaps Hogwarts would mysteriously implode, and Harry would be spared the unoriginal irony of sleeping with the enemy.
Of course, none of this came to pass; when Harry arrived at the prefect's bathroom at midnight, Draco was waiting for him, unclothed, his pale body gleaming in the moonlight.
"Malfoy." Said Harry, gulping, and nodded tersely.
"Potter." Came the purring reply.
"So...er..."
"Yes?"
"Er...you've done this sort of thing...before?" Harry wondered.
"What, had it off with people I hate? Yah, I do it all the time. It's easier. No snuggling, no lovey-dovey crap, just sex. Uncomplicated. I've never understood why people who shag their nemeses are always so angst-ridden. It doesn't bother me at all."
"Um...great." Said Harry. "I...er...actually I meant having sex."
"What about it?"
"Well...you've done it before."
Malfoy looked startled.
"Potter, I'm eighteen years old."
"Uh - yeah."
Malfoy sighed. "You're a virgin, aren't you, Potter?"
"Er...no...no...not really."
"That's a lie, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Bloody hell. Late developer, eh? Never mind...I can teach you a few things..." he drew closer. Harry backed away, almost falling into the bathtub.
"Look...actually, I...I only just realised I like men. I mean, it's a big deal for me, I'm confused, there should be angst, I need to talk to Hermione and gain her emotional support..."
"Why?"
"Eh?"
"I said, why? We're not Muggles, Potter, we're wizards, for Merlin's sake. You really are *dim*, aren't you? I know you were brought up by Muggles and your mother was a Mudblood..."
"Don't call her that!"
"Yeah, yeah...but even so, I'd have thought your Weasel might have told you that it's considered gauche among well-placed pureblood wizards to only fancy one sex."
"It...it is?"
"Of *course*." Snapped Malfoy, irritably. "If my father thought I was straight, he'd disown me."
"Oh...I...I see."
"So, that's that issue dealt with - *now* what's the matter?"
"You...you've slept with a lot of people, then?"
"I've shagged half of Slytherin house, anyway."
"And...what about...other houses?"
"You want me to reel off names, Potter? Does it turn you on, thinking of me bonking my way around Hogwarts?"
Harry wasn't about to admit to that. Besides, he had more burning questions in mind.
"Look...you haven't done it with anyone I - you know - with any of my friends, have you? I mean..."
"No, Potter." Malfoy sighed, "I have *not* shagged your Weasel. Haven't you noticed, anyway, how he can't take his eyes off the Know-It-All Mudblood these days? Is that why you're here, Potter - feeling left out?"
"No!" Snapped Harry, untruthfully. How he had dreamed of a threesome with Ron and Hermione..."I'm happy for them."
"Yah. Right."
"I *am*." He insisted. "So...you haven't, then?"
"No, Potter, I haven't. Well, except for Finnigan. And the way Weasel's little sister has been looking at me recently, I wouldn't be surprised if..."
"You leave her alone! And - *what* about Seamus?"
"I must admit, we were slightly drunk at the time."
"You've been having orgies with Seamus? Not in our common room!?"
"You really are a prude, Potter. It's hardly an orgy when there's only three people involved..."
"Three!? No, don't tell me. I don't want to know."
"Don't panic, it was only Goyle."
"Only!"
"It *had* to the Gryffindor common room, anyway - Pansy can be vicious when she's jealous."
"You're...sleeping with her, too?"
"On and off since the fifth year."
Harry felt slightly sick.
"I can't get my head around this." He mumbled. "You're telling me that well-off purebloods are expected to - well, screw around? Indiscriminately? Is that what you're saying?"
"Naturally."
"All of them?"
"The majority. You ought to see Snape and Lupin go at it."
Harry decided he had heard wrongly.
"What did you say?"
"Snape and Lupin. They're a good example of what I mean...can't stand one another, but they shag like rabbits at every given opportunity."
"Wha...Lupin? *Remus* Lupin?"
"The werewolf, yah."
"But...he's...he's having it off with *Snape*!?"
Harry sank slowly to the floor, deciding he really was going to be sick.
"That's disgusting." He whispered.
"Why?"
"It's horrible." He muttered, almost to himself. "Snape...he's *greasy*!"
Malfoy snorted.
"Potter, trust me, you haven't lived until you've seen Severus Snape, freshly out of the bath, dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel..." his gaze became wistful. "I'd have had him myself if Father wasn't so fussy about letting me play with his toys..."
This remark in itself was enough to destroy Harry's mind completely, but fortunately he missed it, having latched on to something far more bizarre.
"Snape...bathes?"
"Anyway," Malfoy went on, apparently not having heard, "it's nothing compared to what Severus does with Filch."
Harry whimpered as this slowly sank in.
"And I've heard some very interesting things about what Lupin and your godfather get up to together."
"Sirius is...with Remus?"
"Well, he's shagging him, at any rate."
"But...no..."
"You can't be that stupid, Potter. You must've noticed."
"Wah... " said Harry, who hadn't. Curious how Hogwarts, filled as it was with large numbers of pubescent boys and girls, and which consequently should have been a hormone-fest, seemed to be a zone of complete sexual fortitude.
"You should ask Black about it sometime - maybe he can give you some tips. And I'm sure Snape and Filch would be willing to lend you their manacles."
A small, fearful groan emerged from Harry.
"Anyway..." mused Malfoy. "Enough conversation...weren't we about to..."
But the Boy-Who-Lived had fled, howling in terror, his innocent little mind utterly corrupted. Malfoy perched on the edge of the bath, smirking.
"Amazing...he must be the most gullible brainless idiot in this place."
"With the possible exception of Longbottom." Agreed Severus Snape, emerging from the screen behind which he had been hiding, listening as Malfoy destroyed Potter's mind.
"You did an excellent job." The professor added, approvingly. "There's absolutely no chance of Potter returning to Hogwarts as a teacher next year now...the Defence Against the Dark Arts job is as good as mine."
"And the potions master's job as good as mine." Agreed Malfoy, pulling on his robes.
It was impossible to determine whose smirk was the more self-satisfied, as the two Slytherins made their way triumphantly back to the dungeons.
My goal in this weird story was to make reference to as many pairings, dodgy and otherwise, as could be reasonably fitted in...
Thanks as always to my beta Amy! Please R+R.
Final acknowledgement: Malfoy's aristocratic 'Yah' is courtesy of Stephen Fry, who did it so wonderfully when reading the books aloud.
Harry Potter stared into the cold grey eyes of his arch-nemesis, Draco Malfoy, and waited for the other young man to make his move. Malfoy remained still, an amused smirk hovering on his lips, one hand resting lightly on his hip.
"Well, Potter?" He said, after a moment.
Harry gritted his teeth.
" This is bloody ridiculous. Whoever heard of water shortages at Hogwarts?"
"If we don't get on with it," Malfoy drawled, "we'll be here till Doomsday. It's not as though I had my wand, Potter. I'm not going to hex you while you're in the buff. Just get them off!"
The two enemies were standing in a small, politely tiled bathroom, beside a large, full tub of warm, soapy water. Now that the initial shock of being told he had to share a bath with Malfoy had worn off, Harry was convinced that the whole affair was a set-up - Snape's twisted idea of humour, perhaps. It had been the potions master who - with a decided smirk - had informed the two Quidditch captains of the necessity for sharing bath water following the game. Of all the humiliations and little cruelties Harry owed Snape, this was surely the worst.
"There are other people waiting to use the bathroom, you know." Commented Malfoy. "The rest of the Slytherin and Gryffindor teams could come charging in here at any moment. Do you really want to share a bath with *all* of them? No? I thought not. Stop being so bloody prudish, then, and take off your clothes - although I won't deny they're in need of a good wash, as well."
Harry was now grinding his teeth.
"You first." He growled.
Malfoy rolled his eyes melodramatically.
"All right, all right, whatever." He quickly and shamelessly removed his Quidditch robes, tossing them casually on the floor, and stood, completely naked, before Harry. Harry stared. There was something - just *something* about the way Malfoy was so careless, so confident, about his nudity - *something* about the way he was standing, perfectly relaxed, one eyebrow raised aristocratically...Harry's gaze travelled unwittingly over the blonde boy's wiry, but surprisingly muscular frame, tracing the outline of the pale shoulders, the flat stomach...
Oh my God Harry thought, I'm ogling Malfoy! With a smothered gasp of horror he tore his gaze from the other's sleek body. Malfoy was still watching him, a shrewd look coming into his eyes.
"Like what you see, Potter?" He asked, idly.
"What? Sod off, Malfoy."
"Your turn." Replied the Slytherin, incorrigibly.
"My...oh." Even more self-conscious now, with the thought I think I fancy Malfoy, someone help me, I think I fancy him running wildly through his brain, Harry awkwardly shrugged off his robes, turning his back on the other boy. Malfoy seemed amused by this; as Harry tentatively sneaked a peek over his shoulder, he saw the blonde watching him, head on one side, his expression difficult to read.
"Don't be so immature." Sniffed the pale boy, after a moment. "You don't have anything I haven't seen before."
Clearing his throat, and taking off his glasses so that he could no longer clearly see Malfoy's smirking face, Harry turned around, grabbing a towel to cover his embarrassment in the process. He squeaked in shocked alarm when Malfoy simply reached out and snatched it away, then continued to study Harry, head still cocked to one side in an appraising manner.
"Hmm. Not bad, Potter...not bad at all. A bit scrawny, but that isn't always a negative thing..."
"Wha...what?" The boy who had defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort in his sixth year surely ought not to be whimpering in the presence of a wandless, naked bimbo, but it was not Draco's wand of which Harry was afraid at that moment.
"I was paying you a compliment, if you weren't too thick to notice." Came the impatient reply. "You haven't got a bad body, Potter. Just my type, actually. Fancy a shag?"
And then was when Harry woke up...or at least he would have done, had this been the bizarre nightmare-come-wet-dream he had initially suspected it to be. But no - it was real: he was standing naked in the bathroom with his worst enemy, who had just propositioned him.
"Er..." was Harry's intelligent response.
"Well, do you or don't you? It's a simple question. Stop staring at me as though I'd turned into a Dementor, for Merlin's sake. I'm not in love with you, I haven't been harbouring some kind of deep, anguished desire for you, I'm not under the effects of a love potion, I just happen to be randy and slightly kinky and haven't done it for a couple of days."
Er..." Said Harry, again.
"If you're not interested, Potter, just say so...but I ask you," Malfoy leaned closer, so close that even without his glasses Harry could see the lust in those captivating grey eyes - "do you honestly think you can resist me? Look at me, Potter. I'm perfect. I'm every man and woman's wet dream. I am the Slytherin God of Sex. Now, are we going to shag, or not?"
Harry blinked and squeaked. Malfoy sighed in exasperation.
"Just nod or shake your head." He suggested. Dumbly, eyes glazed, Harry nodded.
"Right. Good! We don't have time now, so..." Malfoy thought for a minute, "meet me in the prefect's bathroom at midnight, all right? And don't tell the Weasel or the Mudblood where you're going. Now get in the bath."
Harry did so, barely noticing the tepidness of the water, or the fact that the bubbles had been reduced to a thin, scummy stream. Malfoy had propositioned him. He had accepted. Wordlessly, it was true, but accepted nonetheless. And now Malfoy was getting into the tub with him. At that moment, however, the bathroom door opened, and the remainder of the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams came piling in. Surprisingly, none of them appeared to notice Harry's jangled nerves and sexual excitement...
...which persisted, with no one noticing, until midnight: zero hour, the hour at which Harry's meeting with Malfoy was to take place. He contemplated standing the Slytherin up, then considered the possible consequences - hexes, curses, poison in his orange juice - and decided it was safer to turn up. Perhaps he could use some sort of charm or curse on Malfoy. Perhaps Malfoy was winding him up and wouldn't be there at all. Perhaps Hogwarts would mysteriously implode, and Harry would be spared the unoriginal irony of sleeping with the enemy.
Of course, none of this came to pass; when Harry arrived at the prefect's bathroom at midnight, Draco was waiting for him, unclothed, his pale body gleaming in the moonlight.
"Malfoy." Said Harry, gulping, and nodded tersely.
"Potter." Came the purring reply.
"So...er..."
"Yes?"
"Er...you've done this sort of thing...before?" Harry wondered.
"What, had it off with people I hate? Yah, I do it all the time. It's easier. No snuggling, no lovey-dovey crap, just sex. Uncomplicated. I've never understood why people who shag their nemeses are always so angst-ridden. It doesn't bother me at all."
"Um...great." Said Harry. "I...er...actually I meant having sex."
"What about it?"
"Well...you've done it before."
Malfoy looked startled.
"Potter, I'm eighteen years old."
"Uh - yeah."
Malfoy sighed. "You're a virgin, aren't you, Potter?"
"Er...no...no...not really."
"That's a lie, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Bloody hell. Late developer, eh? Never mind...I can teach you a few things..." he drew closer. Harry backed away, almost falling into the bathtub.
"Look...actually, I...I only just realised I like men. I mean, it's a big deal for me, I'm confused, there should be angst, I need to talk to Hermione and gain her emotional support..."
"Why?"
"Eh?"
"I said, why? We're not Muggles, Potter, we're wizards, for Merlin's sake. You really are *dim*, aren't you? I know you were brought up by Muggles and your mother was a Mudblood..."
"Don't call her that!"
"Yeah, yeah...but even so, I'd have thought your Weasel might have told you that it's considered gauche among well-placed pureblood wizards to only fancy one sex."
"It...it is?"
"Of *course*." Snapped Malfoy, irritably. "If my father thought I was straight, he'd disown me."
"Oh...I...I see."
"So, that's that issue dealt with - *now* what's the matter?"
"You...you've slept with a lot of people, then?"
"I've shagged half of Slytherin house, anyway."
"And...what about...other houses?"
"You want me to reel off names, Potter? Does it turn you on, thinking of me bonking my way around Hogwarts?"
Harry wasn't about to admit to that. Besides, he had more burning questions in mind.
"Look...you haven't done it with anyone I - you know - with any of my friends, have you? I mean..."
"No, Potter." Malfoy sighed, "I have *not* shagged your Weasel. Haven't you noticed, anyway, how he can't take his eyes off the Know-It-All Mudblood these days? Is that why you're here, Potter - feeling left out?"
"No!" Snapped Harry, untruthfully. How he had dreamed of a threesome with Ron and Hermione..."I'm happy for them."
"Yah. Right."
"I *am*." He insisted. "So...you haven't, then?"
"No, Potter, I haven't. Well, except for Finnigan. And the way Weasel's little sister has been looking at me recently, I wouldn't be surprised if..."
"You leave her alone! And - *what* about Seamus?"
"I must admit, we were slightly drunk at the time."
"You've been having orgies with Seamus? Not in our common room!?"
"You really are a prude, Potter. It's hardly an orgy when there's only three people involved..."
"Three!? No, don't tell me. I don't want to know."
"Don't panic, it was only Goyle."
"Only!"
"It *had* to the Gryffindor common room, anyway - Pansy can be vicious when she's jealous."
"You're...sleeping with her, too?"
"On and off since the fifth year."
Harry felt slightly sick.
"I can't get my head around this." He mumbled. "You're telling me that well-off purebloods are expected to - well, screw around? Indiscriminately? Is that what you're saying?"
"Naturally."
"All of them?"
"The majority. You ought to see Snape and Lupin go at it."
Harry decided he had heard wrongly.
"What did you say?"
"Snape and Lupin. They're a good example of what I mean...can't stand one another, but they shag like rabbits at every given opportunity."
"Wha...Lupin? *Remus* Lupin?"
"The werewolf, yah."
"But...he's...he's having it off with *Snape*!?"
Harry sank slowly to the floor, deciding he really was going to be sick.
"That's disgusting." He whispered.
"Why?"
"It's horrible." He muttered, almost to himself. "Snape...he's *greasy*!"
Malfoy snorted.
"Potter, trust me, you haven't lived until you've seen Severus Snape, freshly out of the bath, dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel..." his gaze became wistful. "I'd have had him myself if Father wasn't so fussy about letting me play with his toys..."
This remark in itself was enough to destroy Harry's mind completely, but fortunately he missed it, having latched on to something far more bizarre.
"Snape...bathes?"
"Anyway," Malfoy went on, apparently not having heard, "it's nothing compared to what Severus does with Filch."
Harry whimpered as this slowly sank in.
"And I've heard some very interesting things about what Lupin and your godfather get up to together."
"Sirius is...with Remus?"
"Well, he's shagging him, at any rate."
"But...no..."
"You can't be that stupid, Potter. You must've noticed."
"Wah... " said Harry, who hadn't. Curious how Hogwarts, filled as it was with large numbers of pubescent boys and girls, and which consequently should have been a hormone-fest, seemed to be a zone of complete sexual fortitude.
"You should ask Black about it sometime - maybe he can give you some tips. And I'm sure Snape and Filch would be willing to lend you their manacles."
A small, fearful groan emerged from Harry.
"Anyway..." mused Malfoy. "Enough conversation...weren't we about to..."
But the Boy-Who-Lived had fled, howling in terror, his innocent little mind utterly corrupted. Malfoy perched on the edge of the bath, smirking.
"Amazing...he must be the most gullible brainless idiot in this place."
"With the possible exception of Longbottom." Agreed Severus Snape, emerging from the screen behind which he had been hiding, listening as Malfoy destroyed Potter's mind.
"You did an excellent job." The professor added, approvingly. "There's absolutely no chance of Potter returning to Hogwarts as a teacher next year now...the Defence Against the Dark Arts job is as good as mine."
"And the potions master's job as good as mine." Agreed Malfoy, pulling on his robes.
It was impossible to determine whose smirk was the more self-satisfied, as the two Slytherins made their way triumphantly back to the dungeons.