A/N: Hello everyone! After a long five weeks of writing and re-writing the first two chapters of this (chapter three is almost done now), I am finally posting this up. It is a re-post, as I took this story down when I realised that the way I wrote it was – to be frank – crap, so I re-did it, added more twists and wrote a plot, and now I highly recommend everyone who read it when it was posted before (about a year ago – yes, I know that it's taken me ages to get to re-writing it), to re-read it, as I have made quite a few changes. I sincerely hope that this story fits to everyone's tastes! I'm not sure if the rating should be 'R', but I'm sticking with it just to be safe. This story will feature quite a few different pairings and also discusses casual sex, as well as SLASH playing a major part in the whole thing. So I hope you enjoy this little creation of mine, and I plead to your good sides to leave me a review on what you think about this story – all comments, praise, criticism and flames appreciated. If you review this story, I will send many cyber-hugs your way, as I am the world-renowned cyber-hug master (or at least I will be soon – fingers crossed), so please, for the happiness of your cyber-selves, read, enjoy, and review.
Thank you to Dora-the-elda, my good old buddy and BETA reader, who read through this chapter for me and pointed out my mistakes and gave me a few suggestions on how I could improve it. Thanks for that, Dora! I re-did that paragraph you told me about, and I also added a few more things. Hope you like the changes I made!
Title: The Skill of Seducing
Author: MoonlightPhoenix1
Genre: Drama/Romance
Rating: R
Summary: SLASH Draco swings both ways, is an acclaimed sex-god and boy does he know it. It is widely known that Harry Potter is straight and has a girlfriend of one year, Ginny Weasley. What happens when something that started off as a bet starts to get out of hand? RE-WORKED.
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the plot. Any names of characters or places you recognise from the Harry Potter universe obviously belong to JK Rowling (and WarnerBros). I am merely borrowing them to play a part in my twisted – that is, unique – story, thus satisfying my immense need for slashiness in the HP world, which, I am sure, many rabid fangirls/boys also want.
Warnings: Slash, bad language, slash, sex, slash, possible violence, slash, child abuse, slash, possibly self-mutilation, slash, het, oh, and did I mention the most important thing? SLASH.
A Note about the story: This fan fiction completely disregards Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. It did not happen. Forget everything you read in that book, and then read this story. Thank you.
Sucker love is heaven sent
You pucker up, our passion's spent
My heart's a tart, your body's rent
My body's broken, yours is spent
Carve your name into my arm
Instead of stressed I lie here charmed
'Cause there's nothing else to do
Every me and every you
- 'Every Me, Every You', Placebo
The Skill of Seducing
Chapter 1: Start of the Year
It was September the first, twenty minutes to eleven, and people were already piling into the Hogwarts Express. It looked as if some of them couldn't wait to get away from their parents, or annoying little brothers and sisters, and some of them couldn't bear the thought of being away from their loved ones for nine whole months.
Draco Malfoy snorted to himself. He, on the other hand, felt as though he was being released from Azkaban at the beginning of school. Of course his expression did not show this. If you saw him, you would think, 'Oh, that's another one who's bored out of his mind already, and school hasn't even started!'
The truth was, he was actually quite looking forward to the new school year. Not because he was Head Boy, God no. Being Head Boy was just a little perk – he would finally get his own room this year – but the real reason he was looking forward to going back to school was because there were plenty more people to screw with. And plenty more (unsuspecting) people to screw. Not to mention all the girls (and guys) who were already on the waiting list to sleep with him. Yes, Draco Malfoy was that kind of boy. Well, man. It was going to be his last year at Hogwarts, after all.
He was the kind of guy who everyone wanted. No matter their position in school, age or gender, people were always practically queuing up to have a go with him. And it wasn't surprising either. He was, after all, completely gorgeous. He was the kind of guy that made the whole class go quiet when he walked in. The kind of guy who would make everyone he passed have saliva spouting down their chins in less than a second. The kind of guy who was like a walking wet dream.
The kind of guy who didn't care about anything, or anyone, but himself.
After he had his fun with his partner for the night, be it man or woman, student or professor, he would drop them like a hot potato the next day. Publicly.
Well, in most cases.
Although he did sleep around quite a bit, the one thing he hated being called was a slut. If anybody called him a slut or a whore, or something along those lines, they would find themselves in the Infirmary for about a week. He wasn't some cheap hooker who would sleep with anyone, hell no. He was Draco Malfoy. He had requirements, obviously. Rule number one was, the person had to be good-looking. Rule number two was, they had to be in third year or higher. He would never fuck a first or second year. Ever. Even if they looked really fine and wanted him, despite being quite young, he'd say no. Anyway, rule number three was … well … that was it, really.
Many of Draco's escapades and whatnot had started being well known after the summer after fifth year. He had come back to Hogwarts no longer the scrawny boy with the pointy face he had been during the earlier years, but a man. He had a body to die for from all his Quidditch training ('Daddy must have got him working'), and his hair was no longer the shiny, polished thing it had been before, as he had let it loose, and strands of hair hung into his eyes, which he would often brush away with his hand, which some kids, particularly that Weasley girl (Gina, was it?), found to be simply adorable.
But that was at the beginning of sixth year. By the time he had reached the middle of it, he was no longer called by anyone 'adorable'. He was more 'sex-on-legs'. Oh yes, and Crabbe and Goyle no longer followed him around. He had dismissed them on claims that they 'cramped his style', and that he preferred to ooze sexiness without the two boulder-resembling bodyguards beside him.
They had accepted this with a grunt and had then ambled off to eat their dinner. So no big loss for them.
But back to what Draco Malfoy looked like. The most striking thing about him was his eyes. His eyes weren't just pavement-grey like some people's, but were more silver. Swirling mists of silvery grey-blue that hid all of his emotions. Year after year they just became colder and colder. After all, the first thing his father taught him was: emotions are a sign of weakness.
And he had always believed it. Hell, he still did. Anyway, it wasn't just some pansy opinion or belief, it was the truth. To Draco, anyway.
"Now, Draco, I must remind you to be on your, uh, best behaviour this year," Lucius Malfoy told his son in a somewhat oily voice, even for him. "I don't want to receive any owls about any … mischief," the man sneered slightly, "or else ..." he gave a dry chuckle. "Well. You know what will happen."
"Yes father," Draco agreed, struggling to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
Oh he knew what would happen, alright. His back still hadn't recovered from the last time his father had received an owl informing him about how he got an Acceptable in Potions.
Yes, 'being beaten by a filthy little Mudblood at the only subject you're good at' was incredibly shaming, not to mention insolent, disgraceful, indignant, and many other things of a Malfoy, according to his father. Draco got buried neck-deep in shit if that little bitch got a higher mark than him in Potions. They usually got the same, but on the occasions that she got a higher mark than him, as had happened before … well.
Let's just say that Lucius was not happy with his son.
Other times that Lucius had not been happy with his son included one of the most famous – and most humiliating (for Slytherin, that is) – Quidditch matches in the whole history of the school.
It had happened during sixth year, on a fine, breezy day. It was Gryffindor versus Slytherin, the final game of the year, and Lucius Malfoy had picked that day to see how well his son flew. Unfortunately for Draco, the night before he had had a (rather rowdy) ménage a trois with a Slytherin seventh year, a Ravenclaw fifth year, and plenty of booze. He had been too spent and too hung-over to fly properly, and throughout the match he kept accidentally bashing into Chasers from his team, and getting in the way of the Quaffle. He couldn't even really be that bothered to look for the snitch, not when Potter had been zooming about enough for the both of them. Near the end of the game, the score was 20-190 to Gryffindor, who found it hilarious to see Malfoy in such a state so bad that he actually prevented his team from scoring as many times as they wanted to. There was suddenly a loud roar, and people from Draco's team had seemed to be yelling directions at him. But his vision was hazy, and he had a pounding headache, so he didn't realise that the Snitch had been hovering right in front of his face for about five minutes.
Needless to say, Harry Potter caught the Snitch (managing to call to Draco, "Here's a tip, Malfoy: lay off the booze once in a while!" – one of the rare times that he actually spoke in sixth year), and Gryffindor won the match, 340-20. The Slytherin team had not been happy with Draco. And, unfortunately for him, it was only after they had lost that he realised that his father – the person that he wanted to make proud the most – had seen him flying at his worst, and generally making a fool of himself.
Lucius didn't say anything to him then (he had just glowered angrily in that superior way of his), but at home down in the dungeons during the summer … that was another thing entirely.
Draco winced at the memories that kept creeping into his brain at the worst possible moment, and unconsciously rubbed his right wrist.
Lucius had been so disappointed (and humiliated and disgraced, etc, etc), that he had actually yelled that his son better make a damn good Death Eater after his graduation. Draco nearly laughed out loud at the thought. Me? Worship You-Know-Who? Pfft. What makes my dear old father think that I will go kissing the Dark Lord's arse after I leave Hogwarts? Oh God, bad, BAD mental images! Draco nearly cringed at what he had just thought. Nearly. After all, Malfoys didn't show any other facial expressions apart from the famous sneer, and the occasional trademark raised eyebrow.
Of course, right after he thought that he started cursing himself (internally, of course) as he remembered he wasn't supposed to be having thoughts that 'in any way showed disloyalty to the Dark Lord' while he was around his father, when he heard Lucius Disapparate behind him without another word.
How rude, Draco thought mockingly. He wouldn't even stay until eleven o'clock when his only son would go off to his last year at Hogwarts. How typical, Draco sneered to himself. It was actually a rather big surprise that Lucius had taken Draco to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters by himself, and hadn't just had a chauffeur take Draco, which was usually the way that Draco got to the platform.
It was fourteen minutes to eleven. His eyes quickly scanned the platform to look for anyone who was in his year. His eyes landed on some messy black hair a few feet away from him, as he looked down … a decent build but a not-so-great fashion sense, as he looked up ... bright green eyes, as he looked down again ... a nice, round arse, and as he looked up again … a lightning bolt shaped scar?
Wait a second! Did I just check out POTTER? Draco's mind thundered. The glasses were gone, he noted. Apparently, Harry had started wearing those muggle things, what're they called? Conpacts, or some nonsense like that, he thought.
Wait ANOTHER second! Did I just call him HARRY? Must be all the potion fumes at the manor going to my head. Or my witty mind finding a challenge for me ... yes ... Draco thought as his eyes skimmed Harry up and down. Harry was one of the few people who had 'resisted' Draco's charms. Not that Draco ever tried to get Potter to jump into bed with him, mind you. That would most likely tarnish his reputation. Or on second thought, boost it. Draco had never given shagging Potter much thought before, but now … hmmm ...
Harry had grown up a bit. After being one of the smallest boys for his age, he had finally got his growth spurt. Now, he looked about 5 ft 10", Draco decided. Still not as tall as me, though, he prided himself, remembering his proud 6 ft 1" state.
Nor the Weasel, he thought disdainfully, watching Ron join Harry and clasp a hand over his shoulder. Ron's hair was still as red as always, and he was about 6 ft 3". His little sister was there next to him.
Gina, was it, looked quite good. She was no longer little. In fact, she had developed some curves on her body, and Draco silently laughed to himself as Weasley yelled at a poor pair of fifth year Hufflepuff boys to stop 'undressing his baby sister with their eyes'. Draco might have had a go with her if she wasn't so poor. Plus, she was going out with Potter, anyway. His case was rested (a muggle saying he had heard somewhere) when Gina gave Potter a long kiss on the lips.
Potter pulled away, looking a bit embarrassed.
Aww … how sweet, Draco thought, sneering slightly. Golden Boy gets embarrassed when The Weaselette kisses him.
He couldn't really understand why, though. The two had been going out since the beginning of sixth year, and they were Hogwarts' 'It' couple, as American-sounding as that was. Perhaps he was just shy. Yeah, that was it, Draco decided. Shy and timid Boy Wonder, the boy who got all the attention in the world, oh how ironic.
And when he realised what he was thinking, he frowned at himself for having the least bit of interest in what Potter's personality was like (and yes, assuming that Potter was shy was regarded as Draco having interest to his personality, which just wasn't acceptable) – the boy had a good body, and one hell of a fine-looking arse, and that was all Draco cared about.
The blonde regarded the Weasley girl with mild interest as she began firing – what seemed to be – random questions at Potter. Draco couldn't lip-read that well, but he guessed it was probably about something like how well the muggles treated him in the summer, and if they had actually rolled out a red carpet for him this year.
Throughout her speaking (which Draco couldn't hear), he noticed how her eyes kept darting in between each and every guy – no matter how young or old – that passed her and Potter.
Draco felt a frown tugging at his face. Weasel-Bitch was such a slut. Checking out guys right in front of her boyfriend and her brother, her boyfriend's best friend.
Well, Potter and Weasley did have a reputation for being completely oblivious to everything going on around them, so it was no wonder they didn't notice how much of a whore the Weaselette was.
The blonde's gaze settled on Harry, who was looking slightly broody, again.
This year was definitely gonna be interesting ...