"You've lost your mind. You've gone completely round the twist!"

Lucius rolled his eyes at the boy's melodramatics. Two minutes and he already had something in common with Draco. He had definitely chosen well. Nevertheless, it was essential that Potter see sense and cooperate.

"You're overreacting, Mr. Potter," he drawled. "What I'm suggesting is a perfectly acceptable practice."

Potter laughed - the sound high-pitched and somewhat close to hysterical. "Oh, sure. Happens all the time, I'll bet. Do you have any idea what you're saying? You're… he… how could you possibly…"

Lucius' eyes narrowed. "What I'm saying, Mr. Potter…"

"Harry."

"I beg your pardon?"

The boy scrubbed his face tiredly. "If we're having this discussion, you may as well call me Harry. I have enough to deal with without trying to remember who the hell Mr. Potter is."

Lucius suppressed a sneer. "Very well then, Harry. I admit that you were never my first choice for this… arrangement."

"Is that what they're calling it now?"

"Or my second. Or my four hundredth," Lucius gritted out. "However, certain… incidents that have come to my attention have convinced me otherwise."

"Like what exactly?" Potter demanded. Lucius retrieved the photographs from his robes with a dramatic flair and presented them to the boy. Potter sifted through one after another, and by the time he was finished, his mouth was pressed in a hard, straight line.

"I've seen the way you look at him," Lucius said smoothly. "Don't try telling me you're entirely uninvested in this."

"He was being cornered and I helped," Potter spat. "Got pushed around for my trouble too. And I'm certainly not going to marry your lunatic son just because no one else will!"

"You're interested," Lucius repeated.

"Not that interested," Potter replied firmly. "I'm sorry but I don't see it. And by the way? You may want to check up with Draco about how he feels about throwing his lot in with me. Yeah, do that and see what happens. I hope he gives you a concussion."

"Draco will see sense. Eventually." Potter snorted disbelievingly and Lucius chose to ignore him. "He has much to gain from this match. You're a powerful wizard, more than financially established if your Gringotts accounts are anything to go by…"

"You checked my accounts?!"

"Naturally, Potter. This is my son we're talking about. And I am determined that he make the best decision for his future."

"And that's me," Potter intoned flatly.

"As much as it pains me to say so, yes. Yes, you are."

"Well thank you for that shining endorsement, but I'm going to pass." Potter's eyes glinted like daggers and his voice had dropped to sub zero. "In case you haven't noticed, I've had a lifetime of people using my name to further their prospects. So thanks for the offer, really. But I don't really see what's in it for me."

Lucius couldn't help a dark chuckle. "Gryffindor has ruined you, boy," he smirked. "Do you really think that I'd ask you for something without making an offer of my own? My dear boy, you insult me. You stand to gain substantially from my proposal."

"There is nothing you can offer me that will make me consider spending the rest of my life with..."

"You're bored, aren't you Potter?" Lucius drawled. He gauged the boy for his reaction. His fists were clenched but he was still listening. That would have to do. "The madness, the thrill of constant danger - it's all gone away, hasn't it? Oh sure, the peace was great at first. You got your life back together, joined the Quidditch team - you lived the dream. But now… now it's all coming together, isn't it? No one is interesting enough to hold your attention. No one is talking to you - they're talking at you, what they think you are or should be. Everyone is always soaccommodating, going out of their way to please you, be seen with you, be friends with you - and you hate it, don't you? You miss the fight of it, the challenge. You need something to hold your interest. And I assure you, Mr. Potter," Lucius met the young man's stare steadily as ever. "Draco has always held your interest."

"Interest is not enough to make a marriage," Potter growled.

"No. But it's certainly a promising way to start," Lucius countered smoothly. "A courtship, Mr. Potter is merely an agreement. One that you're free to walk away from should you choose to - hardly a risky venture."

The boy tensed. He started pacing, taking in the pitch with long strides. Lucius watched his retreating back with schooled interest. Finally, Potter returned. "I'm going to need something more," he said firmly.

"And what would that be?" Lucius asked.

Potter's gaze flicked to the sky, watching his team practice. Lucius suppressed a wince as a Chaser lost control of his broom and crashed full force into a goal post. "Do something about this," Potter said. "And you have a deal. I want that Cup."

"Well played, Mr. Potter," Lucius smirked, pulling out a wand and whispering a discreet incantation. "How does this look for an initial...donation?"

Potter observed the shimmering numbers dispassionately, before letting the faintest smirk hint at his lips. "Another zero at the end wouldn't be remiss," he drawled.

Lucius smirked. He had definitely chosen well. "I'll be in touch, Mr. Potter. Welcome to the family, so to speak."

"Malfoy."

Lucius turned around sending the younger man an enquiring look. Potter frowned. "How can you trust your only son with me? How do you know I'm not going to hurt him?"

Lucius chuckled. "Have you met Draco, Mr. Potter? Frankly, I'm more worried about you. Good day."

When Harry went to bed that night, he was tired, confused and restless. He still wasn't entirely sure what had possessed him to go and make that bizarre deal with Lucius Malfoy. Marrying Draco Malfoy for a stash of brooms seemed a whole lot stupider in the silence of his bedroom. It had seemed like a… reasonable idea at the time.

At least Oliver was happy. Harry snorted. The man had almost burst into tears when Harry had presented him with a cheque from a 'long time Canons admirer who wished to remain anonymous'. Malfoy was definitely taking no chances. Harry had of course, been duly sworn to secrecy – not that he had any plans of shouting from the rooftops.

The idea of telling Ginny made him shudder. Merlin, she'd fly through the roof if she got wind of this. And he didn't even want to know what Ron's reaction would be. Or Hermione's. Or Molly's… oh God, what had he done? If he couldn't even talk himself through the whole thing without having a panic attack, how the hell was he supposed to explain himself to them?

And then there was Malfoy. Irrational, dangerous, raging Malfoy who was going to be furious at this turn of events, who was going to go in kicking and screaming all the way, who was going to make life for Harry an absolute nightmare, thank you very much… and Harry would have to court that harpy, try to convince him to spend the rest of his life with him.

Malfoy would probably curse him on sight. No, first he'd try torture. No, that wasn't it either. Malfoy would probably just lunge for his throat instead. Yeah, that sounded about right. He was just going to pounce, snarling like an animal, eyes blazing with fury as he wrapped his slim, aristocratic fingers around Harry's neck… he'd probably try scratching him too - Malfoy looked like a scratcher. He'd rake his nails into Harry's skin, digging deeper and deeper until he drew blood and left red welts all over, screaming obscenities all the way. Of course, Harry wasn't going down that easy. He'd probably be doing some fantastic screaming himself and when Malfoy went for his eyes, he would swing around and pin the poncy little brat to the floor. Malfoy's silver eyes would widen in surprise, his slim body stilling with the sudden shock of finding himself at a disadvantage. And then, that familiar flash of anger would return and he would start struggling again - except this time Harry would have the advantage. No way was Malfoy using him as a scratching post again! No, he would hold him down with one hand, and with the other he would rip that prissy, expensive silk shirt right off his body. Fabric would tear and buttons would pop and scatter to the floor and Malfoy would writhe and scream under him until Harry would just snap and silence the chit by crushing his mouth against Malfoy's and… and…

Harry blinked.

Well. That was unexpected.

He took a deep breath and tossed the covers back, noting - with some annoyance - that that little runaway fantasy had given him something of a hard on.

Perfect.

Cursing Malfoy fluently under his breath, he sat up and scrubbed his face. Now the prat was messing with his sleep. Why did every single thing have to lead right back to Malfoy? What was it about that smarmy, pointy ferret? And why couldn't he stop thinking about him?!

Harry scowled and pushed at his bedside table petulantly, his eye catching the flutter of something falling to the ground. Frowning, he reached out and picked it up. A photograph… oh right, Lucius had given him those pictures. This one was of Malfoy shoving him right before he took off from the pub. The blond was pressed right against him with his hands on Harry's chest. His pretty mouth was twisted in a sneer as he tried to shove Harry out of the way, his lithe frame pressed against the taller boy for a split second before he broke free and ran off. Harry felt a shiver run through his spine at the memory. Malfoy pressing against him, his hands on his chest… his photograph self didn't seem inclined to let Malfoy go either. The Harry in the picture was leaning forward as if he wanted nothing more than to grab hold of the blond and not let go. The second Malfoy pushed at him, his hand clenched in thin air. It was not an attempt to break his fall. He was trying to grab Draco, try and keep him from leaving.

And now… now he had him.

Harry grinned and let the picture fall back on the desk. Whatever life was with Malfoy, it wouldn't be boring. That was for sure. And who knew? Perhaps he would be the lucky one to finally tame the dragon. Of course, there was always the risk of getting killed in the process but since when had that stopped Harry? At the very least, the Slytherin promised to be interesting.

All Harry knew as he slid under his sheets again was that if it was a fight Malfoy wanted, he was going to get it.

Let the games begin.

Harry did a bad, bad thing :o

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