'Potter, Potter, Potter. What have we been up to?'

Harry glared at Malfoy. He'd had enough to deal with that day, without this bully making his life misery as well.

'Nothing that has anything to do with you, Malfoy.'

'On the contrary, Potter, I think it has everything to do with me. After all, I have the pictures.'

Wild panic coursed through Harry, as he realised what would happen if anyone were to find out about his inexplicable actions.

'Then give them to me, Malfoy. There's laws about that kind of thing – privacy and stuff.'

'Oh, and who are you going to report me to? Dumbledore? "Oh, Mister Dumbledore Sir, Malfoy has pictures of me sucking off my sworn enemy and general head of Evil at Hogwarts!" Imagine how well that would go down with your little . . . friends.'

'Oh, shut up and give it to me, Malfoy.'

'Gladly,' thought Draco.

'No chance, Potter. I'm going to blow this photo up so big it can be seen from space. And fix it to the Dining Hall ceiling.'

'You don't know how.'

'I wouldn't count on that if I were you . . .'

'What do you want, Malfoy?'

'Nothing you could give me, I'm quite sure.'

Harry turned in frustration and stalked off down the corridor. Draco lost his cool, just for a moment, as he sprinted to catch up with him. Standing in front of Harry, he said,

'There is one way . . . I'd give you all the pictures I have of what you did to Snape, for you to dispose of as you wish.'

Harry stopped. This had better be good – in that moment, he was willing to do anything so his reputation would not be spoilt, so that he would still be seen as the shining example of Gryffindor virtue and power – the hero – for the whole school.

'I didn't do anything to him – you saw him, he just trapped me, I ran away!'

'It didn't happen quite like that last night, now, did it?'

Harry froze. How did Draco know about that? He was done for! If anyone were to find out about that . . . and with moving wizard photographs blown up to the size of the Great Hall ceiling, they were bound to . . .

Realising his situation was helpless, trying to regulate his breathing, Harry pushed past Draco and ran away.

Before he had taken three steps, Draco called after him:

'Come now, Potter. I did sat there was one way in which I might be willing to forget everything that you did to Professor Snape.'

Harry froze. Turned as in slow motion.

'How?'

'You could do it to me.'

'You're despicable, Malfoy.'

'Ooh, say that again, I get tingles all up my spine!'

'No, you're worse than that . . . you're evil.'

'God, Potter, you really know how to turn a guy on, you know that?'

Harry was trapped; he knew it. With a death glare at the pale slip of a girly-boy in front of him, he dropped to his knees in the middle of the Potions corridor.

As he reached out to unbutton the boy's robes, Draco brought the palm of his hand down in a great slap across the left side of Harry's face.

'Not here, you moron, do you want to get caught at this as well?

Harry kept his silence, jumping to his feet and backing away to the wall opposite.

'Come to the Slytherin common room at midnight tonight.'

'I – I don't know where that is.'

'The Dark Arts classroom, then. That's not too far from either of us. Midnight. I'd suggest you come. I know I will.'

And with that, Draco turned on his heel, robes swishing in a creditable facsimile of Professor Snape, and stalked away.