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Power Play
Chapter 1 - Fallout
Draco lounged sideways across a chair in the Slytherin common room, legs dangling over one of the arms. He was reading 'The Secret and Sordid Life of Lord Voldemort', which he had filched from the Restricted Section of the library where Hermione had found it last week. It was now hidden inside a Charms textbook so that no one could see the lurid cover, from which a young and rather glamorous Voldemort grimaced out. This was Draco's attempt to relax with a little light reading before the Quidditch match tomorrow, but so far it wasn't working. For a start, he was trying to ignore Crabbe and Goyle, who were hurtling round the common room on pretend broomsticks in a re-enactment of their favourite Quidditch moments of all time. Each replay seemed to involve knocking over a lot of furniture and then taking vicious whacks at each other, so Draco assumed they weren't sticking closely to events as they actually occurred. There certainly seemed to be no penalties for dirty tactics in their version of the game. Draco was also more nervous than usual about his own Quidditch match tomorrow, as it was the first time he had played against Harry since their little game of chase-the-snitch by moonlight last week. The one that ended up in that surprising and highly arousing fumble down on the pitch... Aagghhh, stop thinking about that, thought Draco, turning an unread page abruptly. That's just the sort of thing I must NOT think about during the match tomorrow. But thinking about Harry and the match was preferable to pondering the other event looming on his horizon - the fact he was going home to Malfoy Manor for Christmas in three days time. All Draco had heard from there since his stand-off with Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest the week before was an owl from a servant saying his mother would pick him by car and telling him what time to be ready. But Draco was sure that his father had heard all about his son's recent exploits by this time - about Draco's discovery of his Imperius powers, about his using them against Voldemort to save Harry Potter, and worst of all about his shagging Harry Potter senseless every chance he got. All in all, Draco wasn't expecting a hero's welcome when he got back to the manor this Christmas. Not that anyone was ever particularly overjoyed to see him, but this time they were probably sharpening knives and heating up branding irons. Suddenly, Draco realised that everyone in the common room, even Crabbe and Goyle, had fallen silent, and looked up to see what was going on. It was only Dex and Lavender walking into the room, but this in itself was enough to draw goggle-eyed stares from the Slytherins. No one had got used to having a Gryffindor wandering around the place, even though Lavender seemed to pop in and out about every five minutes nowadays. Lavender, unconcerned by the attention she was getting, swung blithely on the arm of Dex, who smiled smugly around the room. They walked to the door of the common room and began saying their farewells. This ritual consisted of Lavender winding her arms tightly around Dex's neck and snogging him madly for several long minutes. Crabbe, Goyle, and everyone else gazed at them transfixed. Draco, obscurely irritated by this public display of affection, turned a page noisily. "Oh, hi there Draco," said Lavender brightly, relinquishing her grip on Dex and plastering on an alluring smile for Draco's benefit. "Hi," said Draco neutrally. "What are you reading, anything interesting?" asked Lavender, moving away from Dex and draping herself provocatively against the side of Draco's chair. She lay a hand lightly on his shoulder and leant over to have a look at the title of his book. "School textbook," said Draco, angling the book away from Lavender so she couldn't see what he had inside it. He also took the opportunity to slide his shoulder from under her grasp. "Oh, well," said Lavender, only mildly deterred by his reaction. He's probably uptight about the match tomorrow, she thought. I just need to catch him at a more convenient time. "Better get back to it," said Draco, sticking his nose deep in his book. "Yes, I'd better get back over to Gryffindor, I suppose," sighed Lavender, drifting towards the door. "Night-night, Dexie." Dex gave her a perfunctory peck and shut the door on her. Then he turned round and glared challengingly at Draco. Draco smiled at him beatifically, tilted his head on one side, and swung his legs nonchalantly against the side of his chair. "Oh, Dexie -" he began in a sugary tone, prompting sniggers from Crabbe and Goyle and a gaggle of other hangers-on. But Dex cut him short. "What do you think you're playing at, Malfoy?" he said aggressively. "What am I playing at? What's your girlfriend playing at you mean. Can't you restrain her from pawing at me every chance she gets?" said Draco evilly. "If I were you, I'd think twice about offering other people advice about their girlfriends, Malfoy," said Dex, with equal malice. "I hear the reason Pansy copped off with the Ginger Weasel and then took up muff diving was you're a total dud in bed." The Slytherins, including Crabbe and Goyle, had a bit of a laugh at this jibe. Draco, irked that his lieutenants had forgotten to whom their loyalties lay, gave Crabbe and Goyle a quelling look, and they immediately shut up. The rest of the common room quietened down too, waiting to see what Draco would have to say. "Oh, I lost interest in Pansy long before the Yule Ball," said Draco carelessly. "But I'm afraid she's under this sad delusion that whoring herself around the school will lure me back to her bed. Of course, she's very much mistaken about that." "Right, you lost interest in her," said Dex, disbelievingly. "That's why you were feeling up her tits on the dancefloor five minutes before she jumped on top of the Weasel." "Ah, yes, Pansy's magnificent tits..." reminisced Draco. "I did enjoy many diverting hours with full, unsupervised access to them - unlike you Dexie, who I'm sorry to say never got within a yard despite your many valiant attempts to -" "Shut up!" said Dex, as the crowd began to laugh again, but this time at his rather than at Draco's expense. Dex seemed at a loss as to how to counter Draco's current gambit. So Draco steam-rollered on... "Let's see now, I've licked my way over every inch of them more times than I care to remember - and then the Weasel managed to score a five-second grope - and now, well I'll bet right now Blaise has got her sticky little fingers all over -" "Shut UP!" said Dex, to roars of mirth from the Slytherins. "But not you Dexie - no, you've never done more than gaze hopelessly at them from the far end of a very long queue. It'll probably take Pansy so many years to work her way down to you, they'll be all crinkly and saggy by the time you -" "SHUT UP!" yelled Dex. Draco smiled in triumph, gathered up his books, and swept a quick glance over his admiring audience before heading towards the door. "Night-night, Dexie. Night-night room," he said, and went off to bed. Harry was in his room getting undressed rather slowly. He wandered around between the stacks of books, and piles of Quiddich gear, and clothes discarded days ago. His indifferent attempts at housekeeping had ground to a complete halt since he started spending every spare moment over at Slytherin. Harry eventually decided to have a shower before bed to cool off after his row with Seamus. Although that argument was only one of many things making him feel hot and bothered right now. For one thing, he didn't like the way everyone was taking the piss out of Draco over the Pansy thing, although he knew this was totally irrational. Draco himself didn't give a toss, and anyway he could easily flatten those few who dared give him a hard time about it to his face. Besides, Draco would always be Gryffindor Enemy Number One, and why the hell should Harry want to change that just because he was shagging him...? Then there was the fact that Harry wasn't actually shagging Draco at this moment. It was the first night since the Yule Ball they had spent apart. And even though Harry didn't want to see Draco the night before they played an important Quidditch match against each other...well, the truth was, part of him did want to see Draco anyway. Harry was feeling very jumpy about the match, and he'd give anything to have some mind-blowing sex to block it out for a while. But since it was the prospect of playing against Draco that was making him so nervous, having sex with him was hardly going to help matters. Anyway, Harry felt he should try to get used to being without Draco, since he was off home to that mansion of his in a couple of days. Right now, Harry couldn't see much beyond the match, but he knew once it was over Draco's impending departure would disturb him far more than it ought. Harry had spent the last seven years not shagging Draco, and he had never suffered for the lack of it during that time. But now he had a foreboding that Draco's three-week absence was going to weigh very heavily on him indeed. In the meantime, it wasn't helpful that Ron was being a total bastard about Draco, which totally ruled out confiding in his best friend. Harry was really trying to overcome his resentment against Ron and act normally with him again. But Ron just didn't seem willing to meet him half-way. And then, Ron's animosity made the whole issue of the bet a particularly tricky problem. When Harry found out practically the whole school had been betting on whether Hermione would end up getting off with him or Ron, he had been rather taken aback, but he had also found the whole thing pretty entertaining. And since at that point no one knew Ron and Hermione had just got together, it seemed like a great idea to get Draco to put down an anonymous bet on Ron for him, and win loads of money off the people who had been stupid enough to gamble on how his love life turned out. And, naturally, he had planned to share his winnings with his co-victims, Ron and Hermione. But gradually Harry had begun to dread telling Ron about the bet. There were certain issues that he hadn't fully grasped when he got involved with it - like just how much of an underdog Ron had been, and just how much this was likely to enrage him when he found out. Finally, Harry had lost his nerve and confessed everything to Hermione that morning. Hermione had been predictably horrified about the existence of the bet and distinctly unimpressed with Harry's behaviour. ("Insider betting is a form of cheating, isn't it Harry?", she had sniffed). But she had reluctantly promised to explain everything on his behalf, and Harry sincerely hoped she would be able to calm Ron down and talk him into accepting his share of the money. So with all these cares on his shoulders, Harry was more than a little preoccupied as he walked down the corridor to the bathroom, wearing a towel slung casually round his waist. And this was why he failed to see Ron bowling along in the other direction, and why he slapped straight into him. "Christ, look where you're going, Harry!" said Ron. "Um, sorry," said Harry, rapidly adjusting his towel. "I was just coming to find you," said Ron. "Yeah? Well, I'm alright. Seamus was being a real pain in the arse earlier, but I've calmed down a bit now. I'll make it up with him after the match tomorrow, and -" "I wasn't coming to ask how you were feeling," said Ron nastily. "Frankly, I'd rather not hear anything at all about your state of mind at the moment." Harry blinked at his friend. Ron seemed to be growing more hostile towards him and not less, despite Hermione's insistence he would soon get over the gay thing. "What's all this about a bet?" demanded Ron. "Oh, um, didn't Hermione tell you?" said Harry, feeling embarrassed. "We talked about it this morning and she promised she would tell you." "Well, she didn't. So you tell me," said Ron. "Shhhhhh, keep your voice down," said Harry, looking cautiously up and down the corridor to see if anyone could hear them. "Why are you doing all this cloak and dagger stuff, when everyone in the school seems to know about this except me," asked Ron crossly. "The whole school knows about the bet, but they don't know the full story. There's something else I've got to tell you, and no one else must find out about it," explained Harry. "Look, just come in the bathroom with me a minute, and I'll tell you everything." Fuming, Ron followed Harry into the bathroom and watched him close the door carefully behind them. "The bet was about you, me and Hermione," said Harry, who had decided his best policy was to be as direct as possible with Ron. "About which of us - you or me I mean - would end up getting off with Hermione." "What!" said Ron, reeling at this news. "Who - I don't - who in the hell would bet on - Seamus and Dean, of course - I'll kill them!" "It wasn't them. Neville's been running the book, but I think practically the whole school put on a bet at some point," said Harry. "My God - and you knew about this?!" said Ron, aghast. "Of course not. No one told any of us unless it ruined the bet," said Harry. "I only found out at the end of last week." "Who told - oh, I suppose it was Malfoy," said Ron, his voice dripping with contempt as he uttered Draco's name. "And I suppose he had a huge bet on, did he?" "Not until after the Yule Ball, when I told - um, when he heard about you and Hermione. Then he put a bet on you, because obviously you were going to win," said Harry. "The cheating bastard!" said Ron angrily. "No, no - look, I put a bet on you too. Well, he put it on for me secretly, and obviously no one must find out that -" "YOU put a bet on this - this - disgusting -" "Keep your voice down Ron, or someone will hear you," said Harry anxiously. "Yes, I did put a bet on, but not just for me. I did it for all of us. I told Hermione this before breakfast, and she was supposed to tell you, and let you have your winnings -" "Winnings?" said Ron. "How come there were winnings? How much?" "Um, well, quite a lot," said Harry vaguely. "How come you won big by putting a bet on me?" asked Ron suspiciously. "Well, you were kind of the underdog, Ron," explained Harry uncomfortably. "Especially after the Yule Ball, when Hermione got into that fight with Lavender over - over - well, anyway, loads of people put bets on me after that. Draco was practically the only one putting money on you so, er, we sort of cleaned up..." "So I was the outsider!" said Ron, now even more outraged. "And you expect me to go along with this - this - fraud?! The idea of other people betting on this is vile enough, but you - you -" "Well, I don't think it was wrong to put a bet on, and nor does Hermione," said Harry, who was stretching the truth a bit here. Hermione hadn't approved of what he'd done, although she'd agreed to go along with it in the end. A new edition of The Encyclopaedia of Spells had just been published, and after a bit of humming and hahing, and a lot of cajoling by Harry, she had agreed to spend her share of the money on that. Eventually, she had even been induced to state the opinion that it was "fair enough to make a profit out of greedy, duplicitous, dirty-minded, so-called friends whom I will never trust again". "Look, all these stupid people were betting on us, and I reckon they deserve what they get. Why shouldn't we get the last laugh? It's not as if we can't use the money," continued Harry, impatiently. He was now heartily sick of this ridiculous bet and wishing very much he had never got involved in it. "I need the money, you mean!" said Ron. "Christ, this whole thing is just - just -" "You know I didn't mean that you in particular need the money! Oh, will you just get off your high horse, Ron," said Harry crossly. "It was your bloody brothers, Fred and George, who opened the damn book on us in the first place. So if you're going to blame anyone, have a go at them. I'm just an innocent victim, same as you." Ron opened and then shut his mouth abruptly at the news it was the twins who dreamt up this utterly perfidious scheme. "I'll kill them," he said. "And I'm not taking any money. I just can't believe you put a bet on this Harry - you've been shagging Malfoy five seconds, and already your morals have gone to the dogs!" "This has got nothing whatsoever to do with Draco," said Harry, bristling. "Everything is about him as far as you're concerned! You run over to Slytherin every night like his little lapdog -" "It's not like that!" said Harry, his voice rising. "You're in total fucking thrall to that bastard," said Ron scornfully . "Look, me and Draco aren't doing anything wrong," said Harry. "You're spending every moment you can with Hermione right now, so you should know how it feels to -" "Don't you DARE compare my relationship with Hermione to your sordid little exploits with Malfoy," spat Ron. "Why the hell shouldn't I?" asked Harry. "You're fucking her, aren't you? How is it different?" "I - I - you - " stuttered Ron furiously. "Yes?" said Harry. "Come on, tell me how it's different, Ron?" "It's different because I'm fucking crazy about Hermione, and I have been for years and years, as if you hadn't noticed!" yelled Ron. "But you - you're just playing perverted little sex games with that slimy loathsome worm, who until last week you hated and despised. And who you'd still hate and despise if he hadn't got you completely cock-whipped." And with this, Ron wrenched open the bathroom door and stormed out. Ron was in such a state that he didn't notice Lavender standing at the top of the stairs when he barged out of the bathroom. Lavender got a good look at him though - she took in Ron's flushed face, his glittering eyes, and that he was in the grip of some very powerful emotion. Ron disappeared down the corridor and Lavender looked back at the bathroom to see what had got Ron so worked up. Harry appeared at the door, face also flushed, the skimpy towel round his waist all awry and nearly falling off him. Then Harry shut the door and Lavender was left all alone at the end of the passage. Her mouth dropped open. She clapped a hand over it. Her eyes were wide and glassy. She was shaking with excitement. Lavender tottered on the spot "Harry and Ron..." she whispered into her palm. "Harry and Ron, Harry and Ron... Of course, it all adds up..." Barely aware of what she was doing, Lavender tripped along the corridor to her room. She closed her door behind her and leant back against it. "Oh my God, Harry and Ron...!" she said out loud. "How - unbelievably - sexy - is that?!" Lavender dived onto her bed and stared at the ceiling, re-living the few moments of the drama she had stumbled in on. Harry in a towel, Ron dressed, must have been a blow-job - who went down on who though...? Ron on Harry, I bet...Wow...! thought Lavender ecstatically. She began reconstructing what must have happened - a secret rendez-vous, a stolen moment, no time for Ron to undress, Harry sitting on the edge of the bath, Ron kneeling in front of him, Ron's mouth curved around Harry's huge, throbbing cock... "Ohhhh...!" said Lavender, sticking a hand under her skirt and into her knickers. Thrusting her fingers inside herself, she began rocking to and fro on the bed. Harry - Ron - Harry's cock - Ron's lips - his tongue - ohhhhhh... she thought. A minute later, Lavender was flapping on the bed like a landed fish. But coming once did not nearly satisfy her... I wonder if they've fucked each other, she thought. Harry fucking Ron up the arse! Ohhh - ohhhh - I think I'm going to get off again - Harry and Ron, how amazing - just wait until everyone hears about this...! Author's notes: I believe Dex Flint is the invention of Cassie Claire, and I hope she doesn't mind me borrowing him for this fic. Thanks to Slytherlynx for her continuing kindness and support. Thanks also to Kay Taylor for her feedback and for getting me into Snape fics. Finally, thanks to Foxee for participating in an impromptu piece of reader research, which made me more confident about writing this chapter. |
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