A/N: Hey y'all! Sorry it took a while to get this chapter out. I kept adding bits to it, and then having random blanks in the middle that I had to come back to later. Oh, and I had – have, even – school coursework, and homework, and tests to study for, etc. Goddammit, school sucks. But anyway, I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out. I've written about seven pages, but nothing much has happened in it, so, I'm not sure how long it's going to be. :worries:
The end of this chapter is a bit of a letdown, I'm afraid (not that the endings of the previous chapters were up to much, but still), so I won't be offended if anyone points that out. Oh, and that reminds me, everyone is welcome to criticise, and not just my BETA! Point out my typos, plot holes, and other mistakes, and I'll do my best to try to correct them. Thank you! Now read the thank-yous, read the story, enjoy it/don't enjoy it, and REVIEW and tell me about it (please)!
Thank you to Dora-the-elda (my lovely little BETA, who, although found the infamous type 'thrn' instead of 'then', failed to realise that I had written 'he put his carriage on the luggage rack' in the same sentence, lol. But thanks anyway, Dora. And thanks for half the title (she thought up the bit 'suspicion) and your praise!), Ahja Reyn (weeeeellll, I don't wanna spoil anything for you … but no, not quite. Lol. But keep reading to find out what will happen! And glad you love it! Oh, and sorry I didn't update sooner :embarrassed blush:), yeGADS (glad you love it too!), nat25 (glad you love it also, and sorry I updated so late!), amy (glad you like it, and sorry it's taken me so long to post this!), Weasel Girl (glad you love it also!), Katatonia (lol thanks), Jen, Alora (oh, don't worry, Draco will suffer. Muchly. Muchly muchly. In fact, so muchly that you might feel bad about calling him a prick – although he really is – but that won't come until much later! Keep reviewing!), NiaSphinx (glad you like it, and heeere's the update!), iNDiE-09 (does that mean … I'm brilliant? YIPPEE:does happy dance: Here's the third chapter for ya!), M69 (I'm not trying to give anything away, but … you're gonna need quite a few tissues, I'm afraid), HPDM-Slash-Rocks (yay!), Unwanted Red Roses, (yay!), Loving (two thumbs up? Thanks! And amazing? Me? blush Thanks again! And yes, I do agree with you about the posting of the stories, and the first few chapters coming up one after the other until you're sick of the sight them, and then leaving the poor fic to rot until I come back to it three years later … I shall try to follow your advice!), Ducky Junior (lol! Must make you feel good to know I updated a few weeks – well, alright, a month – after you reviewed!) and skimmie (thanks!) for reviewing. You don't know how happy your reviews make me! Seriously, guys! Keep 'em comin'!
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.
Sexy, everything about you's so
Sexy, you don't even know what you got
You really hit my spot, oh yeah, yeah
And you're so innocent
Please don't take this wrong 'cause it's a compliment
I just wanna get with your flow
You've gotta learn to let go
- 'Just a Little', Liberty X
The Skill of Seducing
Chapter 3: Suspicion and Seduction
Draco Malfoy was smiling at Harry Potter.
Draco Malfoy was actually smiling at Harry Potter. Not sneering, not scowling, not smirking (for once in his life), but properly smiling.
And this freaked Harry out. Not because Malfoy had one of the most exquisite smiles he had ever seen, not because Malfoy never smiled and it looked so good on him, not because-
OK. Let's rephrase that!
Why the hell was Malfoy bloody smiling at him?
Ron obviously hadn't noticed, since he was still chatting away about something-or-other and making sure that any guy who insulted Hermione and/or flirted with her would get a black eye, a busted lip, or something to that effect, Harry wasn't really listening.
Anyhow, Malfoy was smiling at him and it was ... rather unnerving, to say the least.
Oh Merlin. What was that? Malfoy just ... just winked at him! No, no, it had to have been at someone standing behind him, that was all. Yeah, it definitely was at someone behind him. Harry let out a sigh of relief.
Of course, Harry being Harry, and Harry being rather dense- that is, oblivious, at times, didn't realise that there was no one standing behind him since he was standing right in front of the wall.
"Harry? You alright, mate?" Ron asked him.
"What? Oh, yeah, yeah, I'm good. It's just that Malfoy-" Harry broke off here. He wouldn't want Ron to think that he was giving Malfoy anymore attention than usual. Not that he was, or anything. Just so that Ron wouldn't think that. Ron had a tendency to jump to conclusions, that was all.
"Malfoy what?" Ron asked.
"Malfoy looks like a ferret," Harry said, not being able to think of anything else. Ron let out a bark of laughter, and Ginny giggled (rather fakely, Harry felt).
"You just noticed that Harry? Damn, you can be slow, mate!" Ron said, which was rather ironic considering the fact that it took five and a half years for the redhead to realise that Hermione was crazy about him.
Harry gave the his best friend a somewhat watery smile, inwardly thinking that Malfoy didn't resemble a ferret in any way, shape or form, but he didn't want to say anything in case Ron thought that Harry thought Malfoy was attractive.
Which he didn't. Of course he didn't think Malfoy was attractive. Especially not when he was smiling.
Talking of smiling, where was Hermione (who had been smiling non-stop since last Christmas when she had got together with Ron)?
Harry blinked as he swore he thought he saw Malfoy had just licked his lips at either him, Ron, Ginny, or any of the other people around them.
The Gryffindor shook his head.
Alright, alright, so Malfoy smiled at him. It was just a smile. People tended to smile quite a lot. The only weird thing about Malfoy smiling at him was that he had never seen Malfoy smile before. And it did look quite nice on him ...
Come on, Harry! Harry's brain yelled. So the git finally learned how to smile. Wow. How exciting. It should go down in history. Now, about Hermione …
"Ron! Harry! Ginny!"
Talk of the devil.
Harry turned around and was almost tackled to the ground by the five foot five brain-box who had launched herself at him, hugging him for all she was worth.
"Harry! I haven't seen you once in the entire summer! How are you? How was everything? Did you do anything fun? I went to Italy for a few weeks and it was fantastic, we went to loads of museums, and I learned so many things I hadn't known before! And, wow, you've grown so much!" Hermione gibbered as Harry laughed and hugged her back.
Harry saw Ron over his shoulder and, he had to admit, the redhead looked a little miffed that his girlfriend hadn't jumped on him and smothered him with her huge bear hugs first.
"Summer was fine, thanks Hermione. No more Dursleys! That was the greatest thing about it, knowing that I never have to see the Dursleys again."
"I heard that Dumbledore took you to some place to train you. The Daily Prophet mentioned something like that. Is it true?"
"Yeah."
"Harry! Why didn't you tell me about it?" the girl squealed.
Harry shrugged (which was rather hard, as the two were still hugging each other).
"How did it go?"
Harry shrugged again and muttered, "It went OK."
Hermione finally pulled away and smiled at Harry.
Ron cleared his throat slightly.
"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, turning around. She threw her arms around the tall boy's neck, bringing his face down to her level and planting a kiss on his lips. "How were your last few weeks of summer?" she asked softly.
Ron was smiling widely.
"They were alright. Bit boring without you, though."
Hermione grinned and kissed Ron again, this time longer than before.
While his best friends were kissing, Harry turned to his own girlfriend, who was looking slightly bored.
"Did Hermione come round to your house this summer?" Harry enquired politely.
Ginny nodded.
"Yeah. God, it was really tough getting Ron and her to part in the evenings. Hermione shared my room, because, obviously, Mum wouldn't let her and Ron sleep in the same room. You're lucky you weren't there, during those two weeks they were just snogging all over the place," Ginny wrinkled her nose. "It was quite nauseating. I mean, it was like, 'get a room'."
Harry nodded, trying to look like he understood what Ginny felt, but privately thought that she should be used to Hermione and Ron's frequent kissing episodes by now.
"So, Harry," Ginny said, smiling up at her boyfriend in a sultry way. "How was your summer? I mean, really? Did Dumbledore really take you to some secret place to train you, 'cos he wouldn't tell us where you'd gone or what you were doing," while speaking, Ginny was stroking her hand up and down Harry's arm.
"Yeah, he did. Arabella Figg – the lady who used to look after me when the Dursleys went away on holiday – has a large house in the countryside, she used to holiday there with her family, and Dumbledore took me there for about six weeks of the summer," Harry paused, and Ginny nodded at him to go on, though her eyes were fixed on something behind him. "There were a few other members of the Order there, and, well, we practised a lot of things. Serious things. I mean, we practised curses, hexes, spells, even potions. Things that will give me the upper hand in the War." Harry paused again.
Ginny was nodding absentmindedly, and said, "Mmhmm," so Harry took that as a sign to go on.
"It took a lot of energy out of me, and I felt so goddamn tired when I went to bed each night. It was practically non-stop training, since I only got Sundays off." Harry sighed. "So that's what I did this summer," he said, sounding tired.
"Really? Go on," Ginny said, still nodding and still looking at something behind him.
"Ginny?" Harry said. His girlfriend carried on nodding, but didn't look at him. "Ginny?" Harry tried again.
"That's amazing, Harry," Ginny said distractedly.
"Ginny!" Harry said, somewhat loudly.
"What?" his girlfriend asked, finally looking at him. She looked rather annoyed.
Harry blinked, then shook his head.
"Never mind. It's nothing important," he said. He sighed inwardly. She hadn't been listening. It wasn't the first time, either. He supposed it was his own fault – he always kept his answers quite brief, and she had probably got bored of it and assumed that he never had anything to say.
"We should probably get on the train," Harry muttered.
"Yeah, we should," Ginny agreed. She looked at her brother and Hermione, who were still kissing, and poked Ron in the back with her long fake nail.
"Ow!" Ron exclaimed, turning around. "Dammit, Ginny, what was that for?" he asked, going a bit red.
Ginny rolled her eyes and waved a careless hand at the Hogwarts Express.
"Train," she said, and walked onto it, leaving her trunk behind.
"Hey, Ginny!" Harry yelled after her. "You forgot your-" Then he stopped. Maybe she wanted him to be a gentleman and carry her trunk inside for her?
Harry sighed in confusion. Women were so difficult. Why couldn't she just have said if she wanted him to do that?
Hermione was already boarding the train, with Ron right behind her.
With a bit of effort, Harry picked up Ginny's trunk (it was rather heavy), put it on his right shoulder, holding it with his right arm, and started walking across to the train, whilst dragging his own trunk behind him.
"Stupid bloody thing. What the hell does she have in there, anyway?" Harry grumbled as Ginny's trunk made him slightly unsteady on his feet.
"Need any help there?" a voice asked to Harry's left. Assuming that it was Ron (despite the fact that Ron had just got onto the train), Harry shook his head and said, "Nah, don't worry mate, I'm fine."
"'Mate'? Thinking of pet names for me already, are you Potter?" the voice was a smooth baritone that sounded slightly amused, and definitely did not belong to Ron.
Harry looked up and almost dropped Ginny's trunk in surprise.
It was Draco Malfoy, standing there and smirking, and looking at Harry without a trace of malice on his too-perfect-to-be-real face.
"Malfoy," Harry spat. What the hell was Malfoy doing here?
"Aw, you remember me. I'm touched," Draco drawled. "So, I ask again, need any help?" he repeated.
Harry blinked and almost dropped Ginny's trunk again. He had forgotten that Malfoy had said that before.
"I … I …" Harry said, not quite sure what to say, and settled for just standing there, staring up at Draco's face with his mouth slightly open, probably doing a most remarkable impression of a dead goldfish.
"'You … you …'" Draco prompted him.
Harry shook his head.
"What the hell? The Draco Malfoy is offering to help me?" he snarled.
Draco raised an eyebrow, looking thoroughly amused.
"Yes, Potter, 'the' Draco Malfoy is offering to help carry 'the' Harry Potter's trunk, which, if you don't mind me saying so, looks as though it might break your back at any moment."
"Err … well … er … Harry said, inwardly cursing himself for sounding like such an idiot.
Draco smirked.
"Oh, very eloquent, Potter."
Harry flushed.
"Come on, let me carry this one," Draco said, and took Ginny's trunk from where it was balancing on Harry's shoulder, held there by both his arm and his head.
Where Harry had been, he had to admit, slightly struggling with his girlfriend's trunk, Malfoy looked as though the trunk didn't weigh a thing. He turned around smoothly, holding Ginny's trunk with one arm, and his own trunk with the other and walked towards the train.
Harry was so shocked that he couldn't even say anything, let alone move. This was Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, helping him. Something was seriously wrong with this picture.
Suddenly, Draco turned around and drawled, "Are you coming, Potter, or are you going to spend all day standing there, catching flies in your mouth?"
Harry smacked his mouth shut (he hadn't even realised it had been hanging open), and followed Malfoy onto the train without a word.
Malfoy seemed to be leading the way, and Harry followed him, briefly wondering why the hell he was following his enemy without a word of complaint.
"Malfoy …" Harry started, and suddenly realised that he had no idea what to say.
Draco turned around and raised an eyebrow.
"Uh …" Harry said, just for the hell of saying something.
"Yes …?" Draco said expectantly.
"Why … why are you doing this?" Harry asked after a slight pause, frowning.
"Why am I doing what?" the blonde asked.
"Helping me. What's your plan?" Harry said suspiciously.
"Plan?" Draco raised an elegant eyebrow. "Well, Potter, my plan is to carry your trunk to whatever compartment you're going to sit in so that you don't kill yourself or break your back, isn't it?"
"No, Malfoy, seriously. Why?" Harry asked.
Draco rolled his eyes.
"Do I really need to have an ulterior motive for everything I do?" he asked melodramatically.
"Yes," came Harry's deadpan answer.
Draco shook his head.
"Look Potter, the truth is, you looked like you were struggling with this trunk – and why do you have two, by the way? – so I thought, hey, why not give him a hand since he obviously can't cope on his own."
Potter looked as though he was deep in thought. Probably deciding if the 'sneaky Slytherin' is lying or not, Draco thought.
"It's not my trunk," the Boy Who Lived suddenly said.
Draco blinked.
"What?"
"It's not my trunk."
"Then who the fuck does it belong to?"
"Err …"
"Merlin, not Weasley!"
"Yes."
"Urgh, I can't believe I'm carrying a Weasley's trunk!"
"Look Malfoy, I can deal with it on my own!" Harry snapped.
"I'm just teasing, Potter," Draco said. "Jeez, sensitive much?"
Without giving Harry a chance to reply, Draco turned back around and carried on walking down the train. Scowling, Harry followed him, inwardly grumbling.
Malfoy's hair was really blonde, Harry thought randomly, for lack of having things to think about (and also because Malfoy's back was facing him, and there wasn't really much else to look at apart from his hair). It really was blonde. It was an incredibly fair blonde, too, not even properly blonde! It wasn't even a colour! Harry smirked to himself. Malfoy's hair didn't have a proper colour, ha! He then winced at how childish that was.
In silence, he carried on following Malfoy, staring at his back and the way the black cotton of the Slytherin's shirt stretched over his muscular arms, the muscles on his back, and how tight the blonde's jeans were around his-
Hold it! Harry blinked, and almost stopped walking in shock. There was no way … no way he was just eyeing Malfoy's arse! And his back! And his arms!
It's just because he's really muscular, Harry quickly assured himself. I wish that my muscles were that defined, he thought jealously (despite the fact that, due to his training, there were the very promising beginnings of a six-pack hidden underneath his jumper and shirt). Harry then started cursing himself (internally, of course, he didn't want Malfoy to think he was a nutter by talking out loud to himself) for being jealous of Malfoy.
Draco, meanwhile, was smirking to himself as he walked along. Him and Potter weren't talking, but that hardly mattered – Potter was totally checking him out – he could feel those green eyes boring into his back. It was kinda sexy, actually, the way Potter's gaze made him feel.
Draco spun around suddenly, intending to catch Harry in the act. Sure enough, the Gryffindor's eyes had been glued to his arse, and now (due to the fact Draco had turned around), his crotch.
Harry immediately started blushing in a (pathetically) adorable way, and Draco, smirk widening, said sweetly, "Enjoying the view?"
"Err what are you talking about Malfoy? I'm not, I mean, I wasn't, it's, well, I mean, erm … you know, actually, Malfoy, I think I'll take the trunk now, yeah, and take it to my compartment, and, um, uh," Harry blabbered on, feeling embarrassed for a) being caught admiring Malfoy's ars-muscles, dammit, his muscles, and b) for sounding like an idiot in front of his nemesis.
While Harry was blabbering on, Draco's brain (against his will, thank you) kept bombarding him with ridiculous thoughts such as 'aww, that's so cute!' and 'Potter's so sweet! Wonder what he'll say if he's ever caught in the act?'.
"And, yeah, because I was admiring the wall, and, uh, uh, um," Harry carried on, cursing himself for not shutting up and instead rambling on like an unstoppable nutcase, when he suddenly saw a familiar shock of red hair. "Ron!" he yelled loudly, relieved at finding an excuse to stop making a fool of himself in front of Malfoy.
"Harry, I've been looking all over for you! Where did you fuck off to, eh?" Ron said, grinning as he walked up to Harry. His eyes narrowed as he saw Malfoy. Draco put Harry's (well, Ginny's, to be more specific) trunk down on the floor and crossed his arms, looking cocky.
"Weasley, what a pleasant surprise," Draco drawled.
"Malfoy," Ron said stiffly, in way of greeting.
"So, Weaselbee, have you been up to anything interesting lately? Anything new going down with you?" the blonde said, smirking.
Harry looked from his best friend (whose cheeks were rather red, a sure sign that Ron was getting angry at Malfoy's odd way of speaking) to Malfoy, and back again in apprehensiveness. He didn't want a fight to start. Especially when Malfoy was being so … well … helpful. Even if he did have an evil plot up his sleeve.
Harry was just about to say something when Ron beat him to it.
"C'mon Harry, let's get away from this idiot," he said with narrowed eyes.
"Uh … yeah, alright. Um … thanks," Harry said quickly, ducking his head and hoping that Malfoy wouldn't see him blushing slightly as he picked up Ginny's trunk.
Ron looked completely gob smacked, but Draco just smirked in a satisfied manner.
"It was a pleasure and a virtue, Potter," he said, and gave a little aristocratic bow. He then looked Harry right in the eyes. "I hope to do it again some time," he said quietly, smirking internally as Harry's flush deepened a bit.
Still smirking, he turned around, and left a rather confused Boy Who Lived, and a rather shocked Weasley.
---
Draco had proceeded to put his trunk on the luggage rack, and then go to the front carriage for the Head Boy and Girl meeting, but he didn't pay much attention to what Snape and McGonagall were telling him and the new Head Girl, who was, surprise surprise (note the heavy, acidic, Draco-like sarcasm here), Granger.
He knew all about what being Head Boy entailed. Well, he knew that he had his own room, could dock points off whoever and whenever he felt like it, could give people detentions, and had permission to roam the halls of Hogwarts at night with for no reason whatsoever. That was enough to know, right? He didn't necessarily need to know about all that shit with planning 'clubs' and 'balls' and 'setting a good example to younger students'.
After politely waiting for McGonagall to stop gabbling on about something to which Granger was listening to intently, nodding her bushy head every now and then, Draco nodded once to show that he understood whatever it was he was meant to have been listening to, and left the compartment without a word to anyone.
"Malfoy, maybe we should-" Draco heard Granger say behind him, but he ignored her and walked out of the carriage.
She's not worth my breath, Draco thought, wrinkling his nose slightly. Mudblood. He had somehow lost interest in tormenting her since fifth year. It had just gotten … boring. Actually, it was pretty fun if she was around Potter, because then he'd get a rise out of Potter when he insulted her.
He'd call her a Mudblood, and Potter would furrow his brows and looks all angry and indignant … and sometimes he'd yell stupid, childish insults at Draco (during the rare times that he talked in sixth year, that is) that the blonde found highly amusing …
Draco stopped and looked in through the glass window of the compartment he was passing and grinned.
Harry was there alone, sitting on a seat and looking bored out of his mind. There was a large pile of sweets and chocolates next to him, but he hadn't seemed to have eaten any of them.
This was because he had lost his appetite when Ron and Hermione had announced they were going to 'uh … look for … um … food', aka make out after Hermione's Head Girl meeting.
But at least they didn't make out in the compartment right in front of him, thank God. Harry had seen enough of that to last him a lifetime. Not that he could complain when he was dating Ron's sister, but still.
This was the opportune moment, Draco decided, to pull a few moves on Potter. Maybe. If he didn't faint from the shock of it all, that is.
Putting on his most devastating (in a good way, though) smirk, Draco sauntered into the compartment, looking very much like he owned the whole train.
"Alright there, Potter?" he said.
Harry's head jerked upwards and he frowned when he saw it was Malfoy.
"Oh, you. Hi again," Harry said, trying not to sound too nervous. What did Malfoy want now?
"Now that's not a very nice way to talk to someone who helped you carry your trunk now, is it?" Draco smirked.
"Err … yeah. OK," Potter mumbled.
"So, what are you up to now?" Draco enquired.
Potter shrugged.
"Uh ... er ... not much," he said quietly.
"Still as conversational as last year, I see," Draco said sarcastically. Couldn't Potter string a sentence together? "Nice to know that your powers of speech haven't diminished."
"Shut up Malfoy, what do you care, anyway?" Potter snapped.
Draco grit his teeth a bit and forced himself not to fall back into this old game – Potter behaves like a dick, Draco spits out a razor-sharp insult, Potter makes a meagre attempt at his own insult, Draco insults Potter's pathetic attempt at an insult, Potter gets pissed, and then they end up having a fight.
Instead, he grinned.
"So, Potter, where's Gina?" he said brightly, deciding to make some polite chitchat.
"Gina?" Potter frowned, looking puzzled. "Who's Gina?"
Draco rolled his eyes.
"'Who's Gina?'" he repeated in an incredulous tone. "Merlin, Potter, you know, the redhead who had herself draped all over you at the platform. The one who was snogging the life out of you, that is, not Weasel. You know, Gina, your girlfriend?"
Harry's gaze was slightly stony. Damn. What had Draco said wrong now?
"Her name is Ginny, Malfoy. Ginny, not Gina."
Oh. So that's what it was. Hmm, well, Draco had thought of her as Gina ever since fifth year when he found out that she was a slut who'd go out with anyone who had money. Before that he'd merely thought of her as The Weaselette.
"Right. Well. Yeah. Her. Where is she?" Draco asked, trying to go back to the subject at hand (which was to make pleasant conversation with the Boy Who Lived).
"I don't know, I think she went to the toilet," Potter shrugged. Suddenly he narrowed his eyes at Draco, looking suspicious. "Why do you want to know, Malfoy? I swear, if you lay a hand on her-"
"Calm yourself, Potter, I'm not interested in your girlfriend," Draco drawled, slightly insulted that Potter thought that he, the resident Sex God of Hogwarts would consider fucking someone who was as slutty as her. "I find that some of her other companions are …" here, Draco let his eyes trail obviously up and down Harry's form, "much more appealing."
Harry blushed slightly, against his will.
"Whatever, Malfoy," he said, turning to look out of the window. Draco noticed that his cheeks were still red, making him look even cuter and more innocent than usual.
The Slytherin smirked. Potter was no longer pissed off with him, but was, in fact, rather embarrassed because of a tiny little comment Draco said. His work here was done.
"This is where I take my leave," the blonde informed Harry, who muttered, "Whatever," again.
Just as he was about to walk out of the compartment, he bumped into Gina – that is, Ginny – who winked at him, smiling in what she probably thought was a 'sexy' manner.
Draco wrinkled his nose slightly in disgust and hissed, "Out of the way, whore."
Unfortunately for him, Harry heard. The black-haired boy scowled and said, "What did you say to her, Malfoy?"
Draco fixed his grey eyes on him and smirked.
"I said, 'Can I use the door?'," the blonde said innocently.
Harry glared, but didn't say anything.
Draco left the compartment, for once deciding to have enough consideration and closing the sliding door properly. He turned and walked up the train to find Blaise.
As he looked for his friend, he smirked to himself. The bet was coming along nicely … a few more weeks and BAM, Potter would be his.
Draco cringed inwardly.
'BAM'? Since when did he get so Muggle-ised?
---
Harry and Ginny sat in their compartment alone, and in silence, for about ten minutes.
At the beginning of those ten minutes, Ginny had kept trying to sit on Harry's lap and kiss him and rub his crotch, but Harry had been a) too embarrassed, b) too scared, and c) too worried about Ron (who had been gone with Hermione for thirty minutes already, still 'looking for food') catching them like that to allow that sort of behaviour to continue.
So, with a huff, Ginny had settled for sitting opposite him and looking out of the window, leaving Harry to his own thoughts.
Why the hell had Malfoy helped him? Was it some stupid ploy that would lead to embarrassing him in the end? Why had he wanted to know where 'Gina' was? And also, had Malfoy been hitting on him?
The last question was the one that interested (not to mention disturbed) Harry the most. Not because Malfoy was hitting on a guy (Malfoy had been openly bisexual since the beginning of sixth year), but the fact that Malfoy had been hitting on him was the thing that really bothered him.
Was it some sort of sick joke? Or did Malfoy really find him attractive? Harry snorted to himself. He doubted that. Malfoy hated him. But you don't have to like someone to find them attractive, a little voice in his head said. You find Malfoy attractive, and you most certainly don't like him.
Harry blinked at his own thoughts. He didn't find Malfoy attractive! That was preposterous. He was a guy. A guy with a girlfriend. Malfoy was just … OK, he was a pretty good looking bloke, but everyone knew that! Still, so what if he thought Malfoy was attractive? The real question was, did Malfoy find him attractive?
Luckily, Harry's attention was diverted from this long train of thought (which probably would have resulted in him being all broody and analysing Malfoy's behaviour half to death), by the two figures that were walking past his compartment.
Forgetting to ask Ginny if she minded them sitting there, Harry jumped up and yelled, "Hey, Dean! Seamus! Come in here, share our compartment!"
He was glad for their arrival partly because he would actually have someone to talk to about something interesting, as opposed to listening to Ginny yammer on about nail polish and who was cheating on who (his girlfriend tended to be a tad superficial at times), and partly because this was a welcome distraction from thinking about the Slut of Slytherin (this was what Malfoy was known as among the Gryffindor house, though no one had dared to say it to his face since dear Tristan Ukendgh – may he sleep in peace – who had ended up with a black eye, a bloody nose, a mild concussion, and an unsightly curse which gave him nightmares about showing up in class naked for weeks).
"Hey Harry," Dean smiled at him tentatively, as if afraid Harry might rebuke him.
"Alright there," Seamus grinned.
"How was your summer?" Harry asked them.
Dean and Seamus both looked at each other and grinned simultaneously. They turned back to Harry.
"Good to be back on speakin' terms with ya, mate," Seamus said.
Harry looked sheepish.
"Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I just needed-" he started, apologising about being incredibly quiet for the best part of sixth year.
"Alone time, yeah, we all do." Seamus finished for him.
Harry grinned as the two boys began telling him about their summer.
Seamus went on holiday to Amsterdam ('brilliant, Harry, 'effing brilliant') where he had a brief holiday fling with an attractive Muggle girl, and Dean went to the Caribbean ('nevernevernever go there in summer, you'll be roasted alive') where he got … well … 'roasted alive', in his words. Then, Seamus had spent the last week at Dean's house, and Dean had got Seamus quite interested in football, so the boys constantly played it like sad, sad football maniacs.
Throughout this conversation Harry could see that his girlfriend was getting bored, so he tried to steer the subject to something she might like to talk about.
"Err, so, uh, guys, you … buy any … trendy … clothes?"
Dean gave him a rather alarmed look, before he understood that Harry was trying to involve Ginny in the conversation, but Seamus laughed loudly for some weird reason.
"What? What did I say?" Harry was confused.
Seamus sniggered and Dean just rolled his eyes and said, "Nothing, Harry, Seamus is just being a prat and probably thought you sounded a little gay, that's all."
Harry's eyes widened.
"Oh." He said. "But I'm not," he quickly added, looking at Ginny, who was tapping her fingers on the window ledge in a bored manner, and didn't seem to be hearing anything they were saying.
Seamus laughed again, as Dean said, "Yeah, we know that," and smiled.
The compartment door was pushed open, and four heads peeked in. The aforementioned heads belonged to – Harry believed – Elaine, Sara, Annie and Jane, some of Ginny's friends.
Ginny seemed to perk up when she saw them.
"Hey, my little babes!" she squealed.
One of the girls – Annie or Jane – squealed back ("It's so good to see you!") and even did a little jump.
Ginny jumped out of the seat, and ran over to give them all a hug at the same time. This seemed a rather difficult thing to do, Harry thought, but the girls seemed to manage it rather well.
"What have you been up to, then?" the girl Harry thought was called Elaine asked, somewhat slyly, and gave a sidelong glance to Harry.
"Oh, you know, a bit of this, a bit of that," Ginny said coyly, and Harry suddenly found himself with his arm around her, and her breasts being pressed to his side. He had no idea how that had happened.
Seamus was sniggering, most probably at Harry's confused expression, and one of Ginny's friends nudged another, and they both giggled.
"Harry," Ginny turned to her boyfriend, "I'm going to go share a compartment with them, OK? It'll give us both time to catch up with our friends. I'll see you in the Great Hall," and with that, Ginny pulled Harry towards her, snogged him quite thoroughly, got her trunk, and then left with her giggling friends, leaving Harry standing there, speechless.
"Damn she's a ho," Seamus muttered quietly to Dean, who nodded.
"Harsh but fair, Seamus, harsh but fair."
---
"Draco," Hogwarts' resident Sex God's name was purred. "Do you wanna go somewhere more …" the girl paused, sweeping her light brown hair backwards in what she probably believed was a seductive motion, and pouted her lips slightly. "Private?" she breathed, her hand on top of Draco's knee.
Draco seemed not to have heard anything the girl had said, for he was too busy looking at her hand – the one on top of his knee – in disgust.
"Well?" she leaned in towards Draco.
"Get your hand the fuck off me, Parkinson," Draco growled, not tearing his disgusted gaze away from her hand, which was still on his knee. The girl made no move to move it away. In fact, she squeezed lightly.
Looking (and feeling) like he was about to puke, Draco repeated, "Get your hand the fuck off me, Parkinson."
Pansy just smiled and said, "Oh, come on, Drake, don't you wanna have a bit of fun?" and leaned in even closer. Draco tore his eyes away from the disgusting sight of her hand on his knee and fixed his gaze on the even more disgusting sight of her pug-like face. She was now dangerously close to his mouth.
Blaise started sniggering at Draco's expression – the guy looked like he would rather die a thousand deaths, let himself be taken up the arse by a twelve-year-old, and eat shit rather than have Pansy so close to him.
"Did you not hear me the first time, Parkinson? Or the second? Or the hundredth time, for that matter?" Draco spoke softly and dangerously. Pansy looked confused. Draco suddenly grabbed her wrist tightly, making the girl cry out in pain. "I. Am. Not. Interested," the grey-eyed youth hissed, eye narrowed. He squeezed her wrist slightly. "Understand?" he whispered, his facial features twisted into one of his favourite looks – the 'Do What I Say Or Die A Very Painful Death' look. It was one of his best ones too, and everyone knew that he was being serious when he used it.
Pansy nodded fearfully, obviously deciding that coming onto Draco wasn't worth losing her hand for. The blonde had a very painful grip.
"Good," Draco said, perfectly pleasantly, as if he had just warned Parkinson that it would be raining tonight and told her to bring an umbrolly (a Muggle instrument used to protect them from rain) with her.
He sat back and Pansy removed herself from his side, and opted to sit next to Blaise, who was sitting opposite Draco.
The door of their compartment suddenly opened, and in strolled Theodore Nott (a tall, somewhat weedy, boy with golden blonde hair, rather plain brown eyes, and quite large ears), with Crabbe and Goyle right behind him.
Draco raised an eyebrow, looking amused.
"Merlin, Nott, why don't you just walk around with a big sign on your forehead that says 'I Wanna Be Draco Malfoy'," he said, and Blaise sniggered.
Nott scowled at him.
"Piss off, Malfoy," he snapped.
Draco's eyebrow was raised even higher.
"No, you piss off, Nott, because, may I remind you, you're in my compartment," he pointed out.
"Just thought we'd come over for a chat, didn't we boys?" Nott asked Crabbe and Goyle, who didn't even acknowledge the question. They just stood behind him, looking somewhat awkward as their heads were nearly touching the ceiling. "Didn't we, boys?" Theodore repeated, annoyed at having to ask the question twice. Still no luck. "Didn't we!" Nott practically yelled.
Crabbe and Goyle blinked and both looked as though they had just heard him, and nodded dumbly.
"Oh, thought you'd come over for a friendly little 'chat', did you?" Blaise asked, sneering.
"I wasn't talking to you, Zabini," Nott drawled (well, at least, tried to). He really does want to become me, Draco mused. How interesting. And a little sick, I have to admit, he better not take this thing too far, otherwise I may be forced to teach him a lesson with one of those handy little curses I learnt this summer.
Theodore did, admittedly, have his hair slicked back. And he was being flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. And he was attempting to drawl and sneer. Well, good luck to him, but no one can be me, Draco thought smugly. I'm too goddamn sexy. Plus, Nott tries way to hard. And his ears are too damn big.
He had been friends with him a couple of years ago, actually. The two boys had started talking at the beginning of fifth year, and soon after, Theodore had joined Draco's little gang which consisted of him, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Millicent, and Morag MacDougal (Blaise had tended to hang out with Slytherins in the year above).
But they had a huge falling out at the end of that year.
Right after Potter had put his father in Azkaban, and Draco had threatened the boy (he had no idea why he had done it, probably to prove that Potter wouldn't get away with locking away a Malfoy, or something), he had gone back to the Slytherin Common Room and bragged about how he would have cursed Potter into next year had Professor Snape not stopped him.
The thing is, for some reason, Nott hadn't believed him. While the whole Common Room had been in awe, Nott had scoffed and said, "Yeah right, like you could handle Potter on your own." Draco had hissed, "What's that supposed to mean?" How dare this stupid boy question him, a Malfoy?
"Come on, Draco, let's face the facts: he's a better wizard than you," Nott had said.
"What?" Draco had hissed angrily.
"You heard me," Nott had stuck his chin out defiantly. "Why do you think he always beats you at Quidditch?"
Draco had been shocked that someone he had previously considered an acquaintance – and a fellow Slytherin, at that – actually dared to call Potter a better wizard than him right to his face.
Needless to say, Draco had not been very happy with the boy at all. Their argument went on for another few minutes, and had progressed to a scuffle, which ended when Draco gave Nott a nice, big shiner on his right eye. Nott hadn't even been able to get in a shove, let alone a punch, which spoke volumes in Draco's book.
"Nott, are you going to leave any time soon? You're polluting my air," the blonde drawled, looking rather bored.
Nott sneered, but motioned to Crabbe and Goyle to leave, and exited the compartment, but not before being kind enough to stop and say, "Fuck you," to Draco, who snorted in amusement.
"Draco-" Pansy began, but Draco ignored her.
"Original, isn't he?" he commented to Blaise, who smirked.
"Draco," Pansy whined, trying to get the boy's attention.
Draco continued to ignore her.
"Draaacooo," Pansy whined (in a particularly loud and annoying fashion, the boy whose name was being whined felt).
Draco grit his teeth in irritation, and finally looked at the girl.
"What?" he growled.
She smirked slightly, and flicked her hair back with her hand.
"That good looking Ravenclaw bloke that you fucked last year, Terry Belt or something, is right outside the door. I think he wants to talk to you."
---
Draco stood against the wall opposite the two toilet cubicles of the train, tapping his foot in irritation.
Terry Boot had wanted to 'talk' to Draco about something. Draco had sighed and had followed Boot out of the compartment. Boot had then proceeded to pin him against the wall (their positions were quickly turned, of course, as Draco was no one's bitch), and had kissed the hell out of him.
"Fancy a quick blow job?" he offered breathily, nodding towards the men's cubicle.
"Why not?" Draco smirked. After all, he never did like to disappoint those eager to pleasure him – and Boot was quite fit, after all.
Unfortunately, the guy had the insane idea of going into the cubicle first and making Draco wait ten minutes before following. Draco had refused at first, but then Boot had promised he'd make it worthwhile. Draco had sighed melodramatically but nodded, though he didn't understand why he had to wait ten minutes (he was not a patient guy at the best of times). Boot had said that it was so no one would realise they were there together. Draco had shrugged and said, "Your booty call." He also realised that Boot probably wouldn't want his girlfriend (some Ravenclaw chick) to find out.
Yes, Boot was one of his recurring lovers. Most of his conquests Draco had just fucked and left, but those that were really quite wonderful in bed (or on their knees, whatever) he kept around, and used when he got horny – assuming they were fine with it, of course. Which they were, because, after all, if Draco went to see them, they knew that it wasn't because he was looking for a relationship.
Plus, this was Draco Malfoy. Anyone would be fine with getting into Draco Malfoy's pants.
So now he was currently waiting for those ten dratted minutes to be up and so that Boot could give him some mind-blowing (or at least good) head.
Annoyed, he started drumming his fingers against his arm and wishing that time would go faster.
Suddenly there was giggling, and about five girls suddenly filed into the single girl's cubicle, which was next to the men's. One of them was the Weaselette. She winked at him before she went into the toilet, and Draco rolled his eyes, about to dismiss this giggling bunch of Gryffindor girls until he heard a word that immediately peaked his interest – 'Harry'.
"Ohmigod, Harry is such a good kisser!"
I'll bet he is, Draco thought unconsciously. He identified the voice to be Weasley's.
"Even better than Terry Boot, you mean? That's the one you slept with, right?" one of her Gryffindor girlfriends asked her in an annoying giggly voice.
Draco blinked. Terry Boot? And the Weaselette? He wrinkled his nose, suddenly put off of the prospect of getting the guy to give him a blow job. He'd been with the Weasel-Whore, for Chrissakes! He was contaminated! Draco was definitely not going into the men's cubicle now – Boot could wait for the whole afternoon, fuck if he cared! He wasn't going to touch him after that piece of information.
"Yeah," Weasel-Bitch said, making her friends giggle.
Although, Draco's subconscious said, Potter's been contaminated by the Weaselette and you're still gonna have to touch him. Draco ignored his subconscious.
"Harry is, like, so totally dreamy!" one of Weasley's friends said.
"And he's mine," the Weaselette said proudly. Not for long, Draco thought, smirking. After all, how could a poor redheaded slut even begin to compare to a charming, witty, ingenious blonde Sex God?
"It's a wonder that he's only ever kissed two people before!"
Her friends exploded into giggles and chatter. Draco sniggered to himself quietly.
Potter's only ever kissed two people? He'd never known that Potter was that frigid. The boy had probably never been given a decent blow job either, if who his girlfriend was was anything to go by. Nott had gone out (well, got off, more like) with the Weaselette about two years ago at a party, and he had told Draco that when the girl gave head it felt like a leech was trying to suck out his blood.
"Oh yeah, when I fucked around with Stewart Ackerly last year, you know what he told me?"
"Ginny, he's like three years younger than you!"
"Who cares, he's cute! Anyway, what did he say?"
"Yeah, what did he tell you, Ginny?"
"He told me that he-" and then the girl proceeded to tell her giggling friends about something completely boring that the Ravenclaw boy had done with a book and some candles.
But Weasel-Whore had cheated on Potter with Ackerly? What the fuck was wrong with her? Ackerly resembled a dog, if you really thought about it (and Draco was quite sure he was thinking of the correct person), and Potter was just plain sexy! How could she even have kissed Ackerly?
Draco cringed internally. He was getting bad mental images of the Weaselette and the fourteen-year-old boy going at it like rabbits.
"You went out with Anthony Goldstein as well last year, didn't you?"
"Yeah, but he wasn't," giggle, "that good in bed, he was a bit-" giggle giggle, "deprived in the equipment area, if you know what I mean!" More giggling. That was true, Draco knew. He had been with Goldstein himself, a year ago. The boy hadn't really measured up to Draco's standards, if you get the drift. Not that Draco had let him take him, God no. Draco hadn't had anyone take him since-
"Hey Ginny, how many guys did you actually date last year, including Harry?"
"Hmm, well, let me think … well, there was Stew, and Ant, then there was Howard, and Owen, and … what was his name … oh yeah, Zach, and …"
And Weasel-Whore rambled on about all the guys she had fucked around with last year. Damn, the girl really was a whore! Imagine how Potter would feel if he found out that his girlfriend had cheated on him with-
"Ginny! That's fourteen whole guys!"
-fourteen whole guys. Draco allowed himself a smirk. All he had to do was let slip to Potter that his girlfriend had been cheating on him, and hey presto, the two would break up and Potter would be his for the taking!
Still smirking to himself, Draco left the toilet area, not bothering to inform Boot (the contaminated freak!), and walked back to his compartment.
Unfortunately, as he was doing so, he was greeted with the God-awful sight of Weasel and the Mudblood snogging as he passed their compartment. Cringing slightly, and praying fervently to Merlin that he never saw another display like that again, he gave Potter a quick glance, a grin, and a wink (leaving the innocent boy looking a bit flushed and confused, of course), and proceeded to enter his compartment.
"Draco!"
Draco's name was said by two people at the same time – one was Pansy, who whined it (as she often tended to do so), and the other was Blaise, who sounded a bit annoyed.
"What?" Draco snapped.
"You took so long and I missed you," Pansy pouted. Draco ignored her, as he usually did, and instead looked at Blaise questioningly.
"Why did you go and … you know …" Blaise made a random gesture with his hands, "with him?"
"Really, Blaise, I hardly 'you know' with him. I simply had a bit of fun – not that I'll be doing that again with Boot, you might be pleased to know."
"Why?" Pansy asked, eyes wide and ears poised, fully ready to take in any juicy gossip.
Draco gave her a dirty look.
"You're such a gossip-whore," he sneered.
Blaise snorted.
"Look who's talking," he muttered under his breath. Draco shot him a glare.
"Care to say that again, Zabini?" he asked coldly, grey eyes narrowed and suddenly empty.
Blaise shook his head, shocked that Draco had heard him.
"Hey, Draco, I didn't mean … I … I was joking, I meant …" Blaise started pathetically.
"Forget it," Draco said, shaking his head in disgust.
There were a few moments of silence, which were interrupted by Pansy.
"No, really, Drake, why won't you ever do Boot again? Could he not get it up, or what?"
Draco rolled his eyes and ignored Pansy, who gave a little huff of displeasure.
"But Draco," it was now Blaise who was doing the whining, "one of the requirements are that you've got to stay faith-" Blaise stopped suddenly, realising (thanks to Draco sending wild signals of regret with his eyebrows) that they didn't particularly want to let Pansy in on this because, to be frank, you tell Pansy, two minutes later, the whole school knows.
Luckily Pansy didn't seem to be listening, judging from the fact that she was picking the nail polish off her nails with an expression of utmost intensity.
If someone else had done that, you'd have thought 'oh, they're just pretending not to listen but they actually are listening', but with Pansy, it was more than likely that her action was taking up her entire attention span.
"I'm not going out with him yet, am I?" Draco demanded in a quieter voice. "So I don't see why I can't fuck about with other people before I start dating him – you said nothing about that," he pointed out, despite the fact that he didn't actually do anything with Boot (apart from kiss). But that was besides the point – he was sure there'd be others that he'd be willing to fuck around with. Ones that hadn't been contaminated by Weasley.
"Dammit," Blaise cursed, furrowing his dark brows and realising his friend was right.
Draco smirked, then looked at Pansy (who was still peeling nail polish off her fingernails) and wrinkled his nose.
"Can't she just … go fuck off with one of her girly friends and stop bothering us," he said.
"Yeah," Blaise agreed. "She's so boring," he said, not bothering to lower his voice.
"I know, hell, watching grass grow is more fun than listening to her inane chatter, or rather, watching her 'concentration face' while she's peeling off nail polish!" Draco agreed.
There were a few moments of silence. Draco and Blaise looked at each other. They both smirked.
"Pansy, dearest," Draco said.
Pansy looked up, blinking.
"Did you say something, Draco?" she smiled.
Draco looked at Blaise, and then smiled back sweetly. Pansy frowned. Draco never smiled – and when he did, it was an evil smile. Despite the fact that it was meant to be sweet … seeing Draco smile 'sweetly' was like watching Beelzebub about to shove a pitchfork up your arse. That meant that something was going to happen … something bad …
Sure enough, not thirty seconds later, Pansy Parkinson could be seen running out of her compartment and screaming her lungs out – and it was clear why. Her normally long, light-brown hair which she was incredibly proud of was now short (think: mullet), and fluorescent green.
In the compartment, her two fellow Slytherins were almost pissing themselves with laughter. The hex would fade off – but not for another ten minutes, or so.
"And even if we get in trouble, it was worth it, just to see the look on her face!" Blaise laughed, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.
Draco nodded, grinning.
"We have got to do that again."
The train lurched to a stop, and Draco sighed. He hadn't changed into his robes yet, and they were already at Hogwarts.
Pansy ran (still screaming, and still green-haired) past their compartment.
The two young men looked at each other, and collapsed into laughter again.
Boys – I guess they're the same all over, aren't they?