A/N: I'm not quite content about how this chapter turned out, but I wanted to give you something more light hearted than last chapter, and this senario kept playing out in my mind. Enjoy!

P.S.: I've also reworked the Prologue of this story. Just an extra paragraph and some other slight changes that I hope will help further explain the complex relationship between Pansy and Draco.


The Bet

Pansy braced herself.

"Prat."

"Git."

"Bint!"

"Bastard!"

"Snob!"

"Megalomaniac!"

"Nymphomaniac!"

"Arsehole!"

"Munter!"

"Scrote!"

"Minger!"

"Wanker!"

"Slag!"

"Uh, bloody—!"

"AH-HA! Result!" Draco cried out triumphantly. "I win!" He grinned smugly at Pansy.

"What? You little cheat! How in hell did you win? You interrupted my last insult!"

"Tut-tut, darling. You used 'bloody,' which is an intensifier and is against the rules, as you well know. You were getting desperate and thought I wouldn't notice."

She seethed. "I call for replay. You didn't let me finish, and I could have said anything."

"What could you possibly say with the word 'bloody' and have it not be an intensifier? 'Bloody diarrhea,' perhaps? In which case, I could still say that 'bloody' is used to describe the diarrhea, thus intensifying the insult. Either way, I win and you lose."

Glaring, "I bloody hate you."

"Hmm, yes, but I'm afraid you still lost the bet." He tossed her a roll of blank parchment. "Fifteen inches on the Cruciatus Curse for Defense Against the Dark Arts due tomorrow. Oh, and Pansy-love, don't write it in pink again. It does nothing for my reputation, and Moody says it hurts his eyes… well, one of them, anyway."

Grumbling, "I don't understand how you get such good marks when you never do any of your own work."

"That, my dear, is precisely why I get the marks I do," said Draco, smirking. "Besides, you should be flattered that I regard your work highly enough to substitute it for my own. Malfoys never settle for second best. Which is why I chose you." He tapped the end of her nose.

"You chose me to do your homework? My heart is all a flutter now. How honored you make me feel."

"Sarcasm is not becoming on a lady, Parkinson. And yes, you should feel honored! I could have had anyone in the school do my homework, but you—you!—were the only one I felt qualified. No, you were the only one I trusted to enter into this sacred pact with."

Pansy was hard pressed not to smile. She hated to admit it, but he was charming her into doing his homework… and for the life of her, she could not explain why he was succeeding.

"Now tell me you're not going to renege on our bet. That would be terribly un-Slytherin of you, eh, Pans?"

A pause. A shrewd grin. "Dearest."

He smiled winningly. "Yes, pet?"

"Darling," she said pointedly.

Understanding. "Ducky."

"Snookums."

"Treacle."

"Lover."

"Hinney."

"Baby."

"Sweetheart—"

"AH-HA!"

Glaring, "You must be joking."

"You know the rules about intensifiers, Draco dear. 'Heart' would certainly have sufficed, but you had to intensify it with 'sweet.' Touching, really, but 'twas ultimately your downfall."

She beamed at him, holding out her own roll of parchment. "My assignment is fifteen inches for Professor Moody on the Imperious Curse due tomorrow." He grabbed the scroll from her hand, shooting daggers at her. "Oh, and Draco…." She grinned. "Use pink."