Title: Bounty Hunter II: Black and White

Author: Snippy of Snippy and Snarky

Pairing: H/D, Hr/SS, L/G (other pairings added as story continues))

Disclaimer: HP & Co NOT MINE – don't sue.

Synopsis: Note: Disregard sixth book as the first Bounty Hunter was written before it came out, and does not incorporate its plots and character arcs. The struggle between shades of grey is enough to tear a hero in two. . .

Rating: Mature, R, Adult – rated for language explicit sexual situations and violence – reader discretion is advised.

A/N's: Alright – just so every one knows– I am also working on the final chapter of Trading Spaces. It is coming. Soon. Before the 4th of July, I promise! BTW, if you'd like a copy of my playlist (sort of an unofficial soundtrack for the story) let me know, but you must, must listen to Marcy Playground's "Coming up from behind" when thinking about Bane. You can find it on Youtube.

Thanks! Peace, love and a couple of sarcastic snakes!

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Draco regarded the Quidditch gear in front of him. He hadn't played Seeker since . . . it seemed another lifetime. He sighed and sat back down on the table across from the black sofa. Sitting here in the Slytherin Common Room, looking at Quidditch gear filled his mind with ghosts of the past. Draco sighed. He had never really wanted to play Quidditch – and definitely not Seeker. He had just wanted to beat Harry. And he didn't really want to play now – but Harry had asked him to.

"Something the matter, Draco?" Bane appeared, lounging in the archway at the base of the stairs. He was still dressed in black leather from head to toe, though it appeared to be a different set. Draco had to admit, Harry should have started wearing leather earlier, because Bane made it look damn good.

"Quidditch." Draco made a frustrated gesture at the padding and uniform in front of him.

"Aww, are we a little nervous about being beaten by me in public again?" Bane mocked. His eyes narrowed and flashed, his voice dripping an octave as he added, "They should see what I do to you in private."

Draco's grey eyes smoldered like charcoal embers. "Were you planning on showing them, then?"

"It'd be quite a debut." Bane smirked, stalking closer to Draco. "Unfortunately, that'll have to wait."

Draco raised a blond brow.

"I want to see what Dumbledore's going to say." Bane shrugged, and for the first time, his movement was signature Harry Potter.

"You're hoping he's going to say that you're both good?" Draco scoffed. There was a rage in the pit of Draco's stomach, that probably should have been aimed at himself. But thus was not Draco's nature. It was always easier to lash out at those around him when he made a mistake. Childish, yes, but the last time Draco had made a mistake, he'd been a child. Unless you counted being captured by the Bounty Hunter. What a place to start.

For a second, Draco imagined he saw a trace of pain in Bane's eyes, but it was gone before he could determine whether it was a trick of the shifting light playing across Bane's face. He knew Bane realized that he was probably the 'evil' of the two Harry's, though Draco didn't see it as quite that clear cut. For a second, Draco gave into the struggle raging through him. Why was he with this Harry? Was it as his father thought, that he instinctively sought power? Or was it that the other Harry had been distant, cold? There, but not interested? Was it that the 'good' Harry wouldn't want Draco?

"Not hoping. Just waiting to see." Bane frowned. "But I have a solution to your problem."

Draco's eyes widened, for a second wondering if Bane could read his thoughts.

"The Quidditch?" Bane prompted.

"Oh, right."

"You alright, mate?"

"A little under the weather, maybe."

"Well, then this will work out well for you. You take a break, and I'll be Draco for the rest of the day." Bane grinned. "Wouldn't you like to see you beat Harry Potter in Quidditch at least once before you die?"

"Piss off," Draco tossed out good-naturedly. He mulled the idea over. Usually, he preferred being the one performing the mischief in a classic bait and switch, but what was the worst that he could happen? He could wrestle with his internal struggle all he wanted, but Draco didn't lie to himself. He had made his decision, whatever the reason. His loyalties laid with Bane. "What did you have in mind?"

Bane conjured a steaming glass and a pair of scissors. "I'll just need a lock of your hair."

"Polyjuice Potion?"

"Enough to keep in a flask around my neck and be you all night." Bane winked and motioned for Draco to stand. Bane stepped behind Draco, setting the potion on the table. Grasping Draco's shoulders, he pulled the blond firmly against his chest. Bane braced his elbows on Draco's shoulder and ran his fingers through the platinum locks, being careful to snip a little where it wouldn't show.

Draco could feel his muscles begin to tremble, the heat from Bane's body emanating through him. Bane still smelled like Harry, like grass, and sun warmed skin, like a forest in the summer.

Draco turned, watching as Bane stirred the hairs into the poison, and poured the whole think into a flask with a bottomless charm. Bane tucked the flask under his soft leather vest and seemed satisfied. Draco had the thought that this was a student of Mad-Eye Moody.

Bane waved his hand at the gear on the sofa and it appeared on his body. "Alright, let's see if I can kick my own ass."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Draco admonished, wryly.

"That leaves me quite a bit of lee-way, don't you think?" Bane smirked and strolled out of the room.

Draco sat down on the sofa once more. When all was quiet for a few minutes, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at his cupped palm, whispering words in Latin that seemed to create a swirling ball of electricity. Finally, he turned and pretended to throw the energy bowl at the wall. It splattered and formed a kind of television picture on the blank wall.

Draco lit a cigarette and conjured a bowl of popcorn. Time to see what he was up to. The room was filled with the sounds of a cheering Quidditch crowd in a stadium. The picture focused in on a blond walking in Slytherin green towards the dressing rooms. Draco's eyes narrowed. His double didn't walk like him. No matter whom he pretended to be, Draco would know Bane's walk anywhere.

Bane walked like he wore black on the inside.

"Bloody Hell."

The other Draco was approaching some girl in a short skirt, with long, long red hair. Ginny Weasley.

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Bane strolled forward with a lazy grace he felt befitted a Malfoy. He shifted his broader shoulders and rolled his neck, tousling his new blond locks. Ahead, a flash of red around a corner alerted him to the presence of Ginny Weasley. He smirked; so she had finally crawled out from under Lucius, huh? Bane slid up behind her, leaning over her shoulder.

"Hello, Gin."

"Oh!" Ginny shuddered and turned around. "Draco."

"Nice to see you . . . again," he purred.

Ginny cast a surreptitious look around. "Look, Draco – "

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

"What secret?"

Bane smirked. "Though it's not going to be much of a secret if you keep dressing like that."

Ginny glared at him, raising her chin. Spitfire in her eyes, her posture hiding nothing, asking for attention, she was more than enticing, but then his tastes seemed a little jaded. She wore knee-high black boots, a very short, black leather skirt, split up on side and a clingy low-cut green cashmere sweater. And she was smoking.

"Cigarette's a little cliché, don't you think?" He stepped around her, casting a sultry look over his shoulder and under his lashes at her. "We get it – you're a bad girl. You can take the poster down now."

"Draco?"

"Yes?" He purred.

"Bite me." She blew smoke in his face.

"What's the matter, sweet? Are you mad at me this morning? I thought I behaved like a perfect gentleman."

"You did?"

"That's what I was given to believe," Bane gritted out. At least, that's what Draco had told him.

"If that's what you call being a gentleman." She scoffed.

"Well, my only example was my Father. I thought it would do."

The area around them was thinning out, people finding their seats for the game. Ginny found herself suddenly very alone with Draco.

"Look," she crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't know exactly what happened last night – "

"You don't remember?" Bane curled an arm around her back, pulling her into his body heat. "Or were you fishing for a reminder?"

"Hardly, But if I was?" Her voice was a husky rasp, her eyes heated. Languidly, she wound her arms around his neck, arching her back to brush against his chest. "Think you could handle it?"

"If I wanted." His eyes narrowed. He hadn't expected this.

"Then again, it's going to be hard for you to live up to your father." She smirked. "But then, I'm sure you've heard that before."

"We both know, Gin," Bane's voice was low and intense. "That I could have fucked your brains out last night, not that my father left you with many."

"Oh, Draco. Why would I take on the boy, when I can have the man?" She laughed, her fingernails lightly scratching the back of her neck. "Narcissa was one lucky woman, by the way."

Bane was torn between his intense desire to know exactly what had transpired between this skinny little girl and Draco and the satisfaction he felt in getting a rise out of her, of causing Draco a little trouble, the thrill of wearing someone else's face. His actions had no consequences, at least not for him. Bane grinned: he could outplay her. There was no need to choose.

Bane slid his hand into her silky red tresses, his fingers curling around them, and bluffed. "What's really eating you, Gin? How much you liked what I did?" He leaned forward, his lips grazing her ear. "Or that I didn't finish."

"You bastard."

"Hardly." He tossed back at her, a knowing look in his eyes. "C'mon Gin, you know my Father. You fucked him."

"Fuck you." She spat, finally pushing away from him.

"Someday . . . if you're lucky." Bane turned on his heel and headed for the arena. He had a Quidditch game to win.

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Draco cursed. How had Bane known what had happened between him and Ginny last night? If there was one place he was sure was safe for secrets it was Lucius Malfoy's bedroom. That's why he'd slept with so many people there.

That's why Lucius had slept with so many people there.

His gaze drifted back to the wall, where the team captains were meeting on the field . . .

Harry strode confidently across the field, his eyes fixed on Draco walking toward him. Something seemed off about Draco. He paused a foot from the blond. "Malfoy."

"Potter," Draco drawled, his trademark smirk in place. Then he reached beneath his robes, casually pulling out a silver flask and taking a long pull.

Harry's eyes fixed on the action. He met Draco's eyes, and something in Harry's expression changed, hardened. "So, the teams – we're going by colors today. You're black, I'm white."

"Sounds right." Bane grinned as he tucked the flask back under his robes. He offered his hand. Harry grasped it, squeezing firmly. His hand felt frozen as he pulled it back. Bane never flinched, calling to him, "Good luck, mate."

Bane tilted his broom to the side, taking off and climbing astride as he had seen Draco do so many times before. Harry watched him ascend with determined eyes.

"Don't need luck, mate. Got skill." And Harry flew.

Harry on a broomstrick was an eagle on the breeze. He exploded through the air, a tour de force of power, agility and precision. He flew above the crowd, eliciting screams and cheers. Racing right behind him was Draco, flying better than he ever had before. Their eyes met and for a second Draco's seemed to flash green and the place where Harry's scar used to be tingled. Harry's eyes darkened. A golden flutter flitted between them. The snitch had been released and the chase was on! The seekers dazzled the cheering mass beneath them with acrobatic flips and hair pin turns as they flew. Draco swooped in front of Harry, forcing him to pull up short and nearly knocking him off his firebolt.

"Sorry!" The blond called. "All's fair in love and war, eh Potter?"

"So it is!" Harry set his jaw. He sped towards the other seeker, making an athletic leap to stand on his broom. At the last possible second, he kicked down, sending the broom under Draco and leapt over his head, landing on the broom once more. His hand outstretched, delicate gold wings peeking from between his fingers. He had grabbed the snitch directly over Draco's head.

"HARRY POTTER HAS THE GOLDEN SNITCH! WHITE TEAM WINS!"

Bane cursed, steering his broom towards the ground. He landed a few feet from where Harry stood triumphantly, waiting for the rest of his team to join him on the grass.

Harry crossed towards him, hand extended in good sportsmanship. Bane fought the well of fury rising inside him as he clasped Harry's hand. Harry gripped him, pulling him forward into a manly half hug. The arm around Bane's back tightened, holding him in place as Harry's lips touched his ear.

"You're not Draco."