A/N: Weeeell heeeeeeere's the long-awaited second chapter of The Skill of Seducing! I hope you all enjoy, it was fun writing it. Only, kind of annoying to read through it about twenty-six times, but alas, such is life. Oh yeah, PINCH, PUNCH, FIRST OF THE MONTH! AND NO RETURNS! Hahahahaha, got you all! Ahem. Anyhow, how was everyone's Halloween? Did anyone actually go trick-or-treating? I've never been :::cries and mopes::: because my mummy never let me. But yeah, anyhow, yesterday I went out with my boyfriend and we watched 'Exorcist: The Beginning'. It was OK, only it was kind of archaeological, which annoyed me a bit, lol. But yeah. Bugger, I have school tomorrow! After two whole weeks of not having school! (I go to a weird school so that's why we have 2 weeks half-term). I'm all of a flutter :::cough:::! Well, anyway, I shall end my ramblings here and say: hope you enjoy this chappy!

Thank you to Dora-the-elda, for BETA-ing Chapter 2 and not finding anything wrong with it (which I believe is quite odd, really, but thanks anyway), Shiseidox, NayNymic, bri, kvun, swtdreams07, Arrowen, Alora, M69 (I agree, the song totally rocks!), sensesfailrocker (thanks for the cake! Yum yum :::rubs tummy:::), hokuspokus and sammy, for reviewing! Thank you so much, I really appreciate all your comments!

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: For all future disclaimers see first chapter.

Warnings: For all future warnings see first chapter.

I'm searching for something
Beyond my understanding
Looking for meaning
Where nothing is demanding
There are no surprises
Where nothing is expected
If you offer nothing
Then everyone accepts

- 'Radio', Robbie Williams

The Skill of Seducing

Chapter 2: The Bet

"Harry!" Harry heard a familiar voice call him name.

"Hey Ron!" Harry greeted his best friend, giving him what is usually classified as a 'manly' hug.

Ron hadn't changed much. He had just grown a bit taller over the summer holidays. Is he always gonna be taller than me? Harry thought. And is it just me, or is his hair redder? And why does he have that goofy grin on his face?

"How's your summer been, mate?" Ron asked cheerfully.

"Eh ... alright. Better than usual, in a way. How was yours?" Harry asked.

"Well, you know ... cool," Ron said, grinning like an idiot.

"What's with you? Did Hermione ask you to marry her or something?" Harry joked.

Ron and Hermione had been dating ever since Christmas-time, sixth year. It was – to everyone's surprise – Hermione who had made the first move, and had kissed Ron when the two of them were standing under some mistletoe. The day after that Ron had asked her out, and the two had been dating ever since. Hermione was 'very fond of Ron', Ginny would often say, and Ron constantly rambled about how beautiful Hermione looked and how he'd like to beat up all the guys who even looked at her wrong, to Harry.

Disregarding all this, they hadn't yet said 'I love you' to each other, and definitely weren't thinking about marriage. Well, Ron wasn't, at least.

Which explained why his eyes widened a considerable amount.

"Uhh ... what? She's ... she's not going to, i-i-is she?" Ron sounded absolutely terrified.

"No, Ron, chill. I was just wondering why you looked so happy. And obviously I can rule Hermione asking you to marry her out."

"Good grief, mate, I thought that you were hinting at something! You got me scared for a moment there."

"Ron, I did not just scare you. I almost gave you a bloody heart attack," Harry grinned, for about the first time in weeks.

"Yeah, that too," Ron grinned back. "Anyways, it really sucked that you couldn't come over this summer, cos you could have celebrated with us! The thing is, Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, you know, Fred and George's shop, got a MASSIVE income in the summer holidays, cos, you know, Angelina and them lot had told all their friends about it, and now, not only are they Zonko's enemy in the world of sweets, sugary snacks and, um ... other things, but anyway, they've bought this wicked muggle flat just on the outside of Hogsmeade, and they've asked if I wanted to move in there after Hogwarts? Can you believe it? Me in a flat!" Ron exclaimed somewhat dreamily.

Harry tried to force a grin.

"That's great Ron," he said, although his voice was kind of strained. "So, is that what you're going to do after Hogwarts? Maybe invite Hermione to live with you so you two'll be all alone ..." here, Harry waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Ron turned red and smacked Harry on the arm. He didn't notice Harry wince slightly.

The truth was that Harry had absolutely no idea what he was going to do after Hogwarts. He supposed he could try out for seeker for the Montrose Magpies or Puddlemere United ... or he could become an Auror ... supposing he lived through Hogwarts, that is.

Yes, Voldemort was still on the loose, now stronger than ever. During Harry's sixth year he had (once again) tried to kill Harry, and had (once again) failed.

Talking of killing, Harry had come very close to killing Bellatrix Lestrange when she mentioned Sirius that year.

Sirius Black ... his parents' best friend ... his godfather ... the only father figure he had in his life ... gone ...

As queer and girly as it sounded, it still hurt Harry to think of him now.

Harry had spent the second half of his summer away from the Dursleys (who were more than happy to see him leave – for good, since now he was seventeen and could take care of himself. In fact, they were so happy that they gave him a five pound note, not that it would be of any use to him in the wizarding world, but it was the thought that counted) in the summer house of Arabella Figg, his old neighbour and squib.

Harry had gone through training – both magical and physical – to be prepared to fight the Dark Lord. Dumbledore was convinced that he was ready, seeing as in sixth year, Harry had somewhat toughened up, although he had also become slightly more solitary – he hadn't really had much of a social life, since the only people he really properly talked too were Ron, Hermione, and Luna, occasionally.

The reason that he had been so subdued and hardly talked to anyone was because he had come to find over his years at Hogwarts, that the people he cared for always got hurt. In sixth year, he had tried to keep Ron and Hermione at arm's length, but that didn't really work, and they had stuck by him as if attached to him with superglue.

Neville also continued to talk to Harry, whereas Dean and Seamus realised that Harry wanted to be left alone, and gave him space. So, basically, the people Harry that willingly talked to properly were Ron, Hermione, Luna and Neville.

"Harry! Hi!" he suddenly heard a feminine voice cry at his left.

Oh, and Ginny, of course, as she was, obviously, his girlfriend.

Come to think of it, he also talked to the teachers and Professor Dumbledore, but they were quite different to his friends. Plus, if he actually had a choice, he would choose not to talk to the teachers at all. But that was last year, and he had suffered from major depression and guilt over Sirius' death. But hey. He only had one life, so he may as well get on with it.

He turned around and smiled at Ginny, in what he hoped was a cheerful way. Despite his resolution to be happier during his last year of Hogwarts, thinking about Sirius just made him so depressed.

Ginny was wearing tight jeans, a tight pink top, and a lot of eye shadow.

"Hey Gin'!" Harry smiled at her, hoping that his smile wasn't too strained.

She wrapped her arms around the back of his head, and pulled him towards her for a long kiss.

When she was done sucking his face off (which Harry found really embarrassing in public, not to mention the fact that he really didn't feel like swapping spit with someone while thinking about his deceased godfather), he pulled away, blushing fiercely and trying not to scowl, while Ron laughed.

"Gin' ... you know I don't like when you do that in public ..." he muttered, trying not to sound as embarrassed (and irritated) as he was.

Ginny gave him a bright smile.

"Sorry Harry, but I haven't seen you in a month, so ..." she trailed off, blushing a bit, but still smiling.

Harry tried to give her a smile back, but it came out as more of a grimace.

Ginny's smile faded slightly.

"Are you alright, Harry? Is anything wrong? Did the Dursleys do something? Or was it your scar? Did it hurt again, Harry?" she asked, looking concerned. Well, to be completely honest, she looked like she was feigning concern, which most people might have realised, but Harry being Harry, and Harry being oblivious to almost everything, didn't realise this and felt that she was actually concerned for him.

"No," he struggled not to sound too irritated, "I'm fine. Don't worry."

Seeing his girlfriend's dubious look, he added, "Really," inwardly thinking 'Just leave me alone for once, you cow'.

Of course right after he'd thought that, he felt immensely guilty. It wasn't Ginny's fault that she cared about him too much. It wasn't her fault that she was a little overbearing. It wasn't her fault that he was tired of everyone asking him if he was all right every single waking moment of his life. It wasn't her fault that he was the Boy Who Lived. It wasn't her fault that Sirius had died.

It was his.

"Harry?" Ron's voice jostled Harry out of his thoughts.

"Yeah?" Harry replied, trying not to sound depressed.

"Why is Ferret-boy staring at you?"

"Huh?" Harry said, blinking. He started to skim the crowds with his eyes. He eventually caught sight of that annoying, repulsive (yet good-looking – for a guy, that is), fair-haired sex bom-ehm, maniac, staring at him.

Harry cursed himself for even starting to think of Malfoy as a 'sex bomb', even though he obviously was (he had slept with almost all of Hogwarts, as far as Harry knew). But it wasn't as though Malfoy's ego needed anymore inflating anyway, so Harry would have to keep his thoughts to himself, as he usually did.

Coming to think of it (yet again), Malfoy was one of the few people he had talked to last year as well. Well, not exactly 'talked' so much as 'insulted', but you know what I mean. Try as he may, Harry just couldn't ignore Malfoy. The blonde seemed to get under his skin in ways that no one else could.

Harry felt a blush creeping up on his skin as Malfoy continued to stare at him.

---

Draco smirked to himself. Harry Potter was blushing because he, Draco Malfoy, resident sex-god of Hogwarts, was staring at him.

Well, come to think of it, anyone would blush if they were being so blatantly checked out as Harry was being by Draco. And by the looks of it, Weasley was too thick to notice that Draco was actually checking out Harry, not simply staring at him because he had nothing to do.

Draco knew this from the fact that Ron hadn't started to yell obscenities at him about making Harry feel uncomfortable yet.

"Draco, hey," said a deep voice behind him.

Draco turned around and was greeted by the sight of an Italian-looking male teen with tanned skin, long black hair tied into a low ponytail, and very dark brown eyes.

"Blaise Zabini," Draco drawled, "how wonderful to see you."

The closest person to a friend Draco had ever had in his life.

The one he constantly bragged about all his conquests to (not counting the rest of the school).

Also, the one who was jealous about all the action Draco got.

And the one who would do almost anything to show Draco up in front of the entire school.

"How was your summer?" Blaise asked, not that he really cared – all he cared about was making the bet.

It was their last year at Hogwarts, and he was determined to humiliate Draco in front of the whole school. Sure, he was his 'best friend' ... but hey! Draco always got the attention ... and he sure as hell would this time. Only it would be the bad kind of attention – and it would make Draco feel completely humiliated. Something that Draco Malfoy didn't feel enough.

Assuming that he felt anything at all, of course.

Draco shrugged.

"Not bad. Same as always, in fact," he said, inwardly cringing. Well, it wasn't that bad – it was just probably the most painful experience of his life, nothing more. He firmly put all thoughts of shackles and canes to the back of his mind and drawled, "What about yours?"

"That's nice," Blaise said absentmindedly, eyebrows slightly furrowed, obviously thinking about something else.

"I said: what about yours?" Draco repeated his question.

"Yeah, I know," Blaise said distractedly, nodding his head, with his brows still slightly furrowed.

Draco rolled his eyes. Count on Blaise to miss completely everything he was saying when he got a 'good' idea. Yes, ladies and gents, Blaise Zabini did get ideas.

"Hey Blaise, Potter's just proclaimed his undying love for Goyle," Draco said flatly.

"Yeah, great," Blaise said, as though this was a daily occurrence – even though Potter was the straightest person in the whole school, possibly even the whole world.

"Hey Blaise, Dumbledore's just announced that Crabbe will be the new Headmaster of Hogwarts," Draco said in the same flat voice.

"That's cool, that's cool," Blaise said, as though he thought that Crabbe actually had more than three brain cells and the ability to do something other than stuff his gob with food and flex his muscles threateningly at anyone who questioned his ability to read/write/talk using polysyllabic words, or just generally anyone at all.

"Hey, Blaise, Lockhart's come back to teach at Hogwarts and he's started stripping just over there," Draco said flatly, again.

This seemed to get Blaise's attention, judging from the fact that his eyes widened in horror and he started looking as if he would puke from the terrible mental images going on in his perverted mind.

"Well, at least that got your attention. And I also found out that you have an undying urge to see Lockhart naked," Draco said sarcastically.

Blaise gave him a look of absolute disgust.

"No way! God, don't make me retch, Draco!" he said, cringing. "Well, anyway, swiftly leaving that subject ..."

Draco smirked.

"I ... would like ... to make a bet," Blaise said, smiling, as though proud of himself for looking up the meaning of 'bet' in the dictionary. Not that he didn't know what it meant already, just that he started to see it in a new light after getting this infamous 'idea' that we all have yet to know about.

"A bet? What kind of bet?" Draco asked in a bored tone of voice. He supposed that he'd accept whatever it was. After all, it would be fun (bets always were), as long as it was something big ... something that he would always be remembered in Hogwarts for. It was the guy's last year, after all.

"We have to shake on it first. Then you have to do it. It's going to be quite a difficult task. And challenging. And tricky." Blaise said, trying to make the bet sound enticing to the blonde.

"You do know that difficult and challenging and tricky all mean the same thing, don't you?" Draco drawled.

Blaise chose to ignore his friend and carry on talking.

"A challenging, difficult, tricky task," he continued. "Are you sure you're up for it?" he asked, knowing very well that Draco would be up for it. After all, he was a Malfoy: Malfoys don't back down.

"Alright," Draco said, shrugging.

The two Slytherins shook on it.

"So ... what exactly is this little bet of yours?" Draco asked.

"Well ..." Blaise was grinning like crazy now. "I bet that you can't date Harry Potter, make him believe you love him," at this, Draco's eyes widened the tiniest fraction, "get him to sleep with you on the thirteenth of February, then ... dump him the next day. February fourteenth. You know, Valentine's Day. Inform the school of what a crap lay he was, or whatever. That bit's up to you. Basically, completely humiliate him in front of the entire school. That is the bet." Blaise finished.

Draco opened his mouth to say something, but Blaise interrupted.

"Oh, and you have to make sure that he doesn't sleep with anyone else at all this year. That includes the Weaselette. Also, you have to be completely faithful to him while you're dating. If you actually succeed in that, that is," Blaise said, positively beaming now.

"What the hell kind of bet is this? I have to be faithful? I have to keep tabs on him? Dammit Blaise, what about my reputation? Pining for the fucking Boy Who Wouldn't Die? I'll be the laughing stock of Slytherin. No, no, the entire school!" Draco hissed.

Blaise simply grinned. Draco could tell that that had been his plan.

"So, what ... you gonna back out? Too chicken?" the Italian boy taunted.

"No way. I've been called a lot of things throughout my life, but never a coward, Blaise. And I don't plan on getting called that now. Of course I won't back out. What happens if I succeed?" Draco asked.

"Well, you get to take pride in the fact that you took Potter's virginity and-" Blaise started.

"Wait, wait. Potter's a virgin?" Draco interrupted, his expression clearly saying 'this is too good to be true'.

"Yeah," Blaise said. "Heard him talking to Weasley about it last year," he said, shaking his head. "What a little frigid."

"Come on, Blaise, he could've fucked the Weaselette over the holidays, couldn't he? I mean, they've been going out for about a year, it'd have been about bloody time too!" Draco drawled.

"Nope. Haven't you been reading the Daily Prophet?"

"I don't read that shit."

"It's not shit, my mother writes some stuff for that!" Blaise said defensively. Draco raised an eyebrow, and Blaise blushed slightly. "Well, she does."

"Uh-huh. So what about the Daily Prophet?"

"Well, they've been saying that Potter's been kept in some secret place or something, and he's not been allowed to see any of his friends this summer, so, you know, him shagging little Miss Weasley would kinda defy the rule of being in two places at the same time."

"Two words, Blaise: Time Turner."

"Yeah, well, I doubt that Potter even knows what that is."

"Do you?"

"'Course, Draco, I ain't no idiot."

Draco just looked at his friend with raised eyebrows.

"Anyway, getting back to the bet. Basically, if you succeed, you get to rub it in Potter's face that you took away his virginity and humiliate him in front of then whole school, like he does you every time he beats you at Quidditch. 'Specially last year, you remember that, Draco? You were too spent to even fly properly. You kept getting in the way of all the Chasers. Damn, I mean, Slytherin lost, like, 20-340 because of you," Blaise said, chuckling slightly.

Draco's gaze suddenly darkened and a storm seemed to be rising behind his cold silver eyes.

"You ever mention that in my presence again, and I'll have no hesitation in practising some of the Unforgivable Curses I learned during the summer on your sorry arse." The boy's voice was quiet and deadly.

Blaise gulped, knowing that Draco was being serious.

"Err, about the bet, as I was saying, you could humiliate Potter in front of the whole school, or," Blaise continued quickly, hastily, "even better, you could sell your story to the Daily Prophet and humiliate him in front of the entire wizarding world. I can see it now ... it'll make the headlines ... 'The Boy Who Was De-Flowered By A Guy' or 'The Boy Who Takes It Up The Arse' or 'The Boy Who Swings The Other Way' or-"

"Yeah, yeah, Blaise, I get the drift. Crap titles, by the way." Draco's gaze wasn't so dark now and he had stopped sounding so dangerous.

"Well, I'm not saying that you'll actually get that far ... I doubt that you'll even get him to believe that you love him. Oh yeah, and, did I forget to mention that he had to actually tell you that he loves you? In front of people? As in, you both have to come out as being a couple and you have to somehow get him to tell you he loves you in front of people so that everyone thinks your relationship is 'serious'?"

Draco was looking really irritated now.

"Blaise ... if you add one more thing I have to do to that list you already have, I am going to wring your scrawny little neck right here, right now!" he hissed.

The grin left Blaise's face slightly.

"Alright, alright, no need to get personal!" he said. "OK, and if you don't succeed-"

"I will."

"If you don't succeed, you have to tell the whole school that you're really a virgin and you're 'just waiting for the right person to make love to', and-"

Draco snorted.

"Blaise, where have you been living these past four years? In a cave? No one's gonna believe that bullshit. I've practically slept with half the bloody school – and that's not including the teaching assistants!"

"You didn't let me finish. You'll make everyone else believe it by making a memory potion and giving it to every single person you've ever slept with-"

"I've slept with you, Blaise," Draco said dryly.

"Oh yeah ... well, everyone apart from me-"

"And you just so happen to be the shittiest lay I ever had, and you get to remember it, oh joy."

"Even shittier than that third year Hufflepuff?"

"Even shittier than that third year Hufflepuff."

"Really?"

"Yep. At least she knew how to make me come."

"Shut up, Draco."

"Plus, how the fuck am I supposed remember every single person I've ever fucked? I mean, it's not like I keep a little black notebook in which I list all the people I've ever screwed, unlike some people."

Blaise flushed.

"And even if I did, I can confidently say that my list would be longer than one tiny page."

Blaise flushed even more.

"Shut up, Draco."

"You're getting repetitive, Zabini."

"Fuck you."

"Oooh, original. But seriously, how am I supposed to remember everyone I've ever slept with?"

"You'll find a way. I dunno. We'll work on it. Anyway, you only have to wipe off the sleeping with you bit from their memories, not your so-called, 'reputation'," Blaise was really picking up speed now, grinning from ear to ear and his eyes shining slightly, "which everyone will find out to be 'fake', and then you have to tell them all that you worship me, and that all the sexcapades you told the school you learned from me."

Draco gave him a withering look that made Blaise feel embarrassed.

"So, basically, you planned this whole bet in the hope that I'd fail, and you'd get, what, attention?" Draco asked in an unimpressed tone.

"I-I-I-" Blaise stuttered.

"Right. Whatever. So what else do I get? Apart from getting the knowledge that I 'de-flowered' Precious Potter, I mean?" Draco asked his companion.

"Umm ..." Blaise said. He hadn't seemed to have planned that far ahead. He probably thought that the notion of 'de-flowering' Potter would be enough to entice Draco into this bet.

"Yes?"

"Err ..."

"Yes ...?"

"Uhh ..."

"Godammit Blaise, you're supposed to be a smart, quick-witted Slytherin. So start acting like one!" Draco snapped, beginning to lose his patience.

"You also get the Book of Post Mortem!" Blaise quickly said.

"The book of Post Mortem?" Draco said in a disapproving tone, one eyebrow raised.

"Um, yeah."

"And that would be ...?"

"It's one of the Darkest books in Europe."

Draco rolled his eyes. The Zabinis had about as much to do with all things Dark as many times as Salazar Slytherin planted daisies in the ground with Godric Gryffindor skipping merrily about by his side and plaiting Salazar's hair.

"No, really!" Blaise exclaimed. He dropped his voice down to a harsh whisper. "Dad found it locked in our attic a few summers ago. I only found out what it was this summer. Apparently it's one of the Darkest things to ever have come into existence in the whole of Europe, so Dad has no idea how it ended up in our attic. It's got a whole bunch of stuff about what happens after death, and how you can ... I dunno, bring someone back from the dead or something."

This last bit seemed to appeal to Draco.

"Bring someone back from the dead?" he asked.

"Bring someone back from the dead," Blaise repeated, nodding an affirmative.

"Hmm ..." Draco said, mulling things over in his head quickly. "I see. But that's impossible, though, isn't it?"

Blaise shrugged.

"The book says otherwise," he said. "Oh yeah, there's something else you have to do when – I'm sorry, I mean if – you fail," Blaise said, slightly mockingly.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"For the remainder of the school year, whenever you talk to me, or about me to other people, you have to refer to me as 'Master'," the Slytherin said, somewhat smugly.

Draco's expression didn't change, but Blaise thought the boy tensed a bit.

"So, Draco. Haven't changed your mind? Not backing out? Cos, you know, we've already got a deal. You gotta do all that stuff if you fail. Oh, and you can't just forfeit after two weeks and say 'It's too hard, Potter's never gonna sleep with me, I'm out'."

Draco rolled his eyes.

Blaise smirked.

"I'm looking forward to hearing you address me as 'Master' very much, Draco," he said slyly.

"Don't be so sure," Draco spat. "I'm a Malfoy, we don't bow down to anyone and degrade ourselves by calling someone 'Master'," he said, although he was very much aware that that was what his father (stupid bastard) was doing to the Dark Lord.

Blaise was still smirking.

There was silence for a while, during which Blaise continued smirking, and Draco looked thoughtful.

"Blaise," Draco said sweetly (well, as sweet as Draco could get anyway), which was a disturbing fact on it's own, and Blaise was even more disturbed by the sly expression on Draco's face.

"Yeah?" Blaise asked, slightly worried.

"Considering the fact that you just added something to your ... requirements of what I must do if I fail, I think I should add something to what you should do when – I'm sorry, I mean if –" Draco said sarcastically, "I win."

"Um ... OK ..." Blaise said uncertainly, wondering what sort of evil plot Draco had up his sleeve.

"I'm going to be nice, here, Blaise, because I'm giving you a choice. It's completely up to you. You can either ... date Pansy Parkinson for one month, stay faithful to her, sleep with her at least four times ..." Draco smirked at Blaise's horrified expression – everyone knew that Pansy was a slut who would go out with any Slytherin (or Ravenclaw) guy who had a bit of a money, and everyone also knew that the girl was had a certain fixation with whips and strange-shaped objects that she could shove up one's anus – and paused, waiting for the words to sink in. "Or ..." he said, smirking even more as Blaise looked hopeful, knowing that the boy would most likely choose anything over dating Pansy, as would any male in their right mind, "you can get down on one knee and, perfectly seriously, ask Ron Weasley to marry you in front of the entire school in the Great Hall during dinner, and then, whenever you see him during the next week, in any classes you two might have together, during breakfast, at the library, whatever, you have to tell him how much you love him, that you'd do anything for him, and that you want to take him dry. For a week, Blaise, a week," Draco said, cutting off Blaise's protest. "That's gotta be better than dating Pansy for a month. Come on, do you really want an aubergine shoved up your arse?"

Blaise's bottom lip seemed to quiver a bit, and he nodded, looking down at the ground.

"OK, Draco," he said, sounding a bit shaken up (he obviously thought that this was way below the belt), "if you win the bet – if, if, OK, IF – you win the bet, then I'll do the Weasley thing."

Draco smirked widely. This would be hilarious, and definitely something to look forward to.

"And remember. I share all your classes Blaise, so you won't be able to get out of it. You'll even have to tell Weasley you want to take him dry ... in front of Snape," Draco whispered tauntingly.

Blaise let out a strange sound that seemed to be a cross between a whimper and a sob, and said, "Draco, man ... don't you think you're being a bit harsh?"

"No." Draco wasn't smirking anymore. "Asking me to call you 'Master' for the rest of the year is much worse than what you're going to have to do, trust me." He shook his head, an unknown look in his eye. "You don't know what you're asking me to do," he whispered, almost to himself. His head snapped up suddenly, as if he just remembered that Blaise was there. "So, Blaise," the blonde said, somewhat cheerfully. "Let the games commence."

Blaise looked into the eyes of the blonde who seemed to want to do nothing more than humiliate him if he won the bet and glared.

"Yes," he growled, "let the games commence."

Draco smirked. He turned around, and his eyes met Potter's.

Oh well, better start this now. I have a long five and a half months ahead of me, he thought.

And smiled at Harry.