A/N: Part 3/4. Okay, so this story keeps growing. But the next chapter's going to be the last, I swear! Really! Feel free to throw rotten produce at me if I change (again). Sorry! Weird that I originally meant this to be a short one-shot.

Once again, thanks for the reviews. I'm going to be working on a couple other pieces for a bit, but I'm certainly not abandoning this one!

Our Story So Far: After Harry is hit with a magical dare, he finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with Draco Malfoy. What will happen when Draco finds out?

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, not me. No money being made here.

Taking the Dare

Chapter 3

Dear Harry,

We're working as hard as we can to find the counter-charm. Our notes are misplaced, but we should find something soon! Of course, we are busy with the store, but promise every spare minute is spent searching our lab.

Ron really dared you to snog Malfoy? That's brilliant. Stay strong!

F&G

xxxxx

Dear Ron,

Harry mentioned that he's obsessed with completing your little dare. That could be a problem. See, the cancellation charm doesn't actually do anything, because in every test we ran (and tell Hermione that of course we tested the effects of alcohol consumption combined with the charm), an uncompleted dare wore off after an hour. In fact, the only way the charm would get stronger after that would be if you dared him to do something he wanted to do to begin with. So there's nothing we can do, so please stop sending us owls. And get Harry off our backs! (We couldn't tell him what we just told you, for obvious reasons.)

F & G

xxxxx

Ron stared at the letter from his brothers in horror. It made sense, it all made sense. Harry hadn't been acting… well, like Harry for a few days now, and he'd been getting worse. Especially since running out of the Great Hall over breakfast yesterday morning. And now Ron had gotten a letter by emergency owl in the middle of dinner, and Harry had one too…

Oh, Merlin, what does his say? He'll want to know what mine says! I don't know what to… Why didn't he tell me it was getting stronger?

Harry's head dropped to the table with a rather loud bang. Ron resisted the urge to copy him.

Guess I understand what that's about, finally. I should tell Hermione, she's starting to really worry…

Hold up, there's a thought! I'll show Hermione Fred and George's letter! She can help, and we'll make sure Harry doesn't do… um… anything, and everything will be fine!

Happy to have a plan, Ron turned to Hermione. He was about to ask her to meet him in the library, alone, when he felt a light tug on the sleeve of his robe.

"Ron?"

Ron tried not to wince at the hesitant voice. "Yeah, Harry?"

"I got a letter from your brothers. Did you?"

Closing his eyes, Ron braced himself to lie to his best friend. "Yeah. They said they're working on it, and they'll write when they have a solution." Crossing his fingers, he asked a question sure to get Harry to drop the subject. "Think I should write to my mum? Y'know, so she can hurry them along, sort of?"

It worked, just like he'd hoped. Harry scowled at him, then went back to staring at the table. After reading his brother's letter, Ron realized that Harry always stared at the table like that when Malfoy was in the same room. He suppressed a wince, and turned back to Hermione.

"Uh, Hermione, I could use some help with my… um… my Transfiguration essay! Could you come to the library with me after supper?" He hoped Harry wouldn't want to come along for help, completely forgetting that he could just say he wanted to be alone with his girlfriend.

"Of course! I'd like to go over my essay one more time. Harry, would you—" Ron managed to catch Hermione's eye and vigorously shook his head to stop her from inviting their friend along. He wasn't sure whether to be happy or sad that Harry didn't take any notice whatsoever. "—ah, would you be all right on your own this evening?" Hermione finished awkwardly.

Harry wasn't paying attention, just muttering to himself. Ron leaned closer to his friend, trying to hear him. He flushed bright red when he started making out the words.

"… stupid soft silky hair… probably smells as good as it looks… Fucking Dra—Malfoy and his sexy lips and ohgoddon'tdothat…" Harry was looking at the Slytherin table, again. His face had paled.

Ron looked over, and saw Malfoy licking a bite of ice cream off a spoon. Who does that? he wondered briefly, then turned back to Harry. Harry, who was sweating lightly and seemed unable to look away from Malfoy as he enjoyed his dessert far too much.

His brothers' letter fresh in his mind, Ron decided that, unless Hermione had a better idea, he had to keep Harry from acting on the feelings that (no matter what Fred and George thought) couldn't possible be real. Especially since Malfoy was almost taunting Harry. It was like he knew what was going on! But that was impossible. The only people who knew were Gryffindors, and all of them were unquestionably friends.

Harry was moaning again. He had to do something to distract him, but what…? Ah!

Neville was leaning over them, reaching for a pitcher of pumpkin juice. As the clumsy boy lifted it carefully over their heads, Ron jumped up, managing to knock the pitcher out of Neville's hands and spilling it over Harry's head.

Neville immediately started apologizing. Harry didn't seem to notice, just wiped his face with his napkin and ran from the room, looking mortified. Ron watched him go.

Well, that's one way to keep things under control.

Neville was still apologizing.

"Neville, shut up. You were supposed to do that." Ignoring the boy's indignant huff, he turned to Hermione. "I really need to talk to you, now. Come on."

Ron grabbed Hermione's elbow and dragged her after him out of the Great Hall, heading for the most secluded corner of the library and not noticing the blond Slytherin slipping out and heading towards Gryffindor Tower.

xxxxx

Why the hell did he do that?

Harry ran for the Gryffindor dorm, his thoughts for once on something other than Draco. His robes and hair dripped a trail of pumpkin juice behind him.

I know Ron bumped Neville on purpose. Everyone knows to be careful when Neville's holding liquids! But… why the hell would he do that? And, all right, so I am grateful for the distraction, but…

The distraction. It had come at just the right moment, just when he was about to lose control of himself and launch himself at the Slytherin table. And who would blame him, really? Every time he'd glanced—okay, stared obsessively—at Draco, he'd been doing something seductive with his mouth. Licking his fingers, licking the ice cream, sucking on a Sugar Quill—and that in Potions, no less! It was intolerable! Indecent, even.

So Ron making Neville spill the juice on him…

He knows! He can't know, he wouldn't guess and if Hermione had she'd've talked to me and not Ron because he's completely irrational about my Draco and when did I start thinking of him as my Draco oh Merlin I need help!

He stumbled and leaned heavily against the wall. Calm. Must be calm. What do I know? WWHD? Well, first of all she'd be terribly embarrassed that I think "What Would Hermione Do" at all. But she'd make a chart, or a list, or something. So…

I know that Ron made Neville spill the pumpkin juice on me when my Draco was licking his dessert. I'd like to be his dessert. I did not just think that. Harry moaned, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. A portrait of a stuffy-looking wizard across the hall sniffed at his undignified position.

Right, thinking about Ron now. I know that he'd come unglued if he thought I really liked my Draco. I know that he got a letter from Fred and George, but it said what mine said. Unless he lied to me? What did I write to them again?

A familiar panic started to rise in his head. Harry let his head fall back against the stone wall, wincing when he hit it harder than he'd meant to. He hadn't told them about the part where he actually wanted to kiss Draco, had he?

I might have… I wrote it just after he did that completely wicked thing with his finger, and his tongue, and I am glad that I'm not anywhere near him because I don't know if I could stop myself right now. If this stupid buzzing would just stop, just for an hour—

A shadow fell over him, interrupting his thoughts. He looked up, and found Draco standing over him with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

xxxxx

Draco pressed himself into a niche behind a statue. Harry had suddenly stopped in the corridor, then slid down the wall to sit on the dirty floor.

It would be much easier to follow him, he mused, if he'd make up his mind as to where he was going!

He couldn't even bring himself to be annoyed with the other boy. Harry'd been looking so pained and lost over the last two days, and it had seemed to be getting worse.

I probably haven't been helping much. Draco suppressed a twinge of guilt, remembering how he'd teased Harry over the past few days. Not even teasing. I've been seducing him, plain and simple, and an innocent little Gryffindor wouldn't know what to do with that. Although… Harry's reactions to him had been a bit beyond what he'd expect. But he couldn't interpret them as negative.

Harry was sitting on the floor, still as the statue Draco hid behind, but why? His robes were still dripping with juice, shouldn't he be changing or showering or…

Dammit, picturing naked wet Potter should not make him hard! So what if the Savior of the Wizarding World happened to have sexy tousled hair and bright green eyes and wondrously kissable lips? He was The Boy Who Lived to Make Draco's Life Hard, and the only reason Draco was following him right now was to try and get a little satisfaction—bad word choice—for all the agony of the past six and a half years.

It wasn't like he liked Harry, after all. He certainly didn't get a tingle of pleasure whenever he managed to provoke a reaction. And if he did, it was only because his plan was working.

What plan?

Draco pushed away the tiny voice, reminding it once again that the benefits of seducing Harry were the entire point, and far outweighed any negatives. It'd be nice not being a social pariah outside of the all-too-exclusive "Children of Convicted Death Eaters" club. Having Harry openly friendly towards him would help. A lot. More than he wanted to admit, really. And given how responsive Harry was to the show Draco had been putting on over the last two days, the physical aspects of the relation-seduction should be quite enjoyable.

Of course, it doesn't hurt that he's damn easy on the eyes.

He leaned cautiously around the statue. Harry was still sitting on the floor, an orange puddle spreading around him, hugging his knees to his chest. He made a very attractive picture, although it would have been better without the desperate, lost little boy look on his face. Draco was surprised to find that his first instinct was to sit on the floor and wrap the other boy in his arms, kissing the disconsolate look off his face.

It's just my natural talent for seduction. It doesn't mean anything at all! And it's far too soon in the game for physical contact.

The thought of physical contact with Harry was making him hard again. Draco briefly considered finding someone to help relieve the pressure, but Harry's brilliant green eyes and messy black hair kept floating into his mind.

It'd be a mistake, he finally decided. If it got back to Harry, it'd set my plan back. He'll never fall for me if he thinks I'm just after a casual fling. And I need him to fall for me.

Draco ducked back behind the statue, hand flying up to cover his mouth. He needed Harry to fall for him? Where the hell did that come from?

Harry wouldn't go back to being enemies after a casual fling, unless Draco did something to cause it. He knew that! It was one of Harry's more infuriating traits, that he was nice to almost everyone. It made it impossible to figure out what he was after.

A thud brought his attention back to the huddled boy in the corridor. Harry was rubbing his head, looking utterly despondent. Suddenly, it didn't matter that it was too soon or that it might mess up his half-formed plans. Harry needed someone, or something, and whatever it was, helping him couldn't hurt Draco's cause.

Maybe if I just treat him as usual? Then he'll have to be strong again. I don't want to see him like this anymore!

Taking a deep breath, he stepped out from behind the statue and walked over to Harry. And he was just about to say something insulting—he was!—when he was trapped by two luminous, tear-filled emerald eyes.

And he was lost.