FanFiction.Net - unleash your imagination|
Author of 10 Stories |
The Bet
Prologue
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters, except for Ayden.
A.N: I’m just revising all the chapters, some things will be added.
Entering the guidance office with more subtlety then he had entered the school, Harry quietly pushed his weight against the door and walked inside. Locating the sign-in book splayed out before him on the round table, He stooped over and scribbled his name in a quick careless scrawl.
With the exception of the few students traipsing about, the guidance office was blessedly empty, so Harry took a seat and waited. He was not made to wait long and sooner than he had the chance to assess the bookcase stacked with SAT’s books and college brochures, the door to his far right, housing one of the fifteen or so councilors of Hogwarts Academy abruptly opened, and a boy, who Harry presumed to be a freshman by his small stature and the way he went about looking at his surroundings, exited; he was followed closely by the dour faced woman who’d been introduced to him last Friday as Ms. McGonagall. She turned slightly and spared Harry a look behind the dark frames of her glasses, set rightly so on the very tip of her aquiline nose; with a fleeting nod of acknowledgement his way she faced the other student once more and with a few clipped words she dismissed him to class.
“Follow me, Mr. Potter.” Years of knowing that students rarely---if ever disobeyed that commanding voice, she spun on her booted heel and made her way to her office.
Harry closed the door behind him and took a seat parallel to the paper strewn desk that separated them. Subtly he allowed his eyes to stray about and take in the décor. Pictures of what looked like past students lined the paper white walls and with them, ribbons and accolades of things well achieved over the years; on her desk, besides the clutter of papers, manila folders and the black computer dominating a great portion of it, she had nothing that revealed to Harry that she was anything but another dull school figurehead.
The cadence of fingers beating on the keyboard temporarily halted. “Since your AP mathematics credits from your previous school counts more here, you are not required to take another year of it. Was there another class you wished to participate in?”
Harry nodded and reached down to grab his bag from the carpeted floor. The odd stretch of silence occasionally filled by the gentle whir of the computer fan, caused Harry to carefully pull on the front flap of the messenger bag, oddly afraid to disturb the stillness in the room. He took out the course book he’d been given just last week and flipped it open. “Um—I saw that you had a guitar class here and wondered if--”
“That class is full.” Harry tried to squelch his disappointment.
“But I’m sure Mr. Lupin would not mind having another student who is so eager to learn.”
“Thank you.” maybe she wasn’t as nasty as he features portrayed.
No other words where spoken as she turned back to her computer; the cloying silence from before returned and with it, Harry’s annoyance. The blessed thrum of the printer coming to life captured the burnet’s attention; he watched with mild interest as the printer spat out sheet after sheet, he counted ten before it finally stopped. Ms. McGonagall abruptly stood to fetch whatever it was that she’d just printed. Clinically her gaze grazed the information on the paper and once it seemed she found it adequate, she handed each sheet of paper to Harry, with a brief summary of what was written on each one.
“This is a copy of the mission statement, which I’m sure you have read in the student handbook I have given to you---but nevertheless here it is. This sheet is map of Hogwarts, keep it close, for I have no doubt that you will find yourself in great need of it within these next weeks and this is your schedule, your next class is Humanities, you will have just enough time to find it before the next bell rings.” Harry stood from his seat; slid the strap of his bag across his shoulder and with a ‘thank you’ for his councilor he walked out of the room.
Being the ‘new kid’ was certainly never a pleasant experience and Harry despised being put in that role; but like all things ultimately bad for you, one had to trudge through the situation no matter how reluctant one was to do so. He did so now, trepidation pooling in his stomach, he deeply inhaled and readied himself for the headache he knew would undoubtly come with trying to find his classes for the rest of the day.
Putting the map to use, he unfolded the paper as he commenced his trek up the winding flight of stairs---hopefully heading in the right direction. Hogwarts to Harry resembled more a mausoleum than that of a scholastic Academy with far too many stairs and rooms then was necessary. He came to the top of the stairway and above the door he stood in front of the large letter C boldly written there indicated his luck in finding the English wing.
“Now to find room 212.” He quietly whispered to himself.
He looked down at the map as he entered the English wing, he rounded a corner and unintentionally rammed into some unfortunate soul. He staggered backwards and only after finding his bearings did Harry ready an arsenal of apologies, but found himself lost for words at the sight of the gorgeous guy standing before him.
He looked as though he’d just stepped out of an Abercrombie & Fitch pictorial, the ones Harry was so fond of looking at every chance he got, when he wasn’t too busy nurturing his two year old son. Ginger blond hair trimmed stylishly to fit a clean cut face that was so typically reminiscent of Michelangelo's ‘David’ that it gave Harry momentary start. Clear and marvelous blue-grey eyes—more grey than blue danced with unhidden mirth that was for too contagious not to be shared. His patrician nose was a slight hint to his privileged upbringing and it led to raspberry tinted lips that were upturned in a mischievous grin. Hidden behind a navy sweater and pair of black jeans was a body Harry could only imagine to be as perfect as those of the men in the AF magazines.
“Are you okay?” The cultured British accent pulled Harry from his reverie.
Cheeks stained pink from embarrassment, Harry looked up. “Um---yeah—but it should be me asking whether you’re okay… are you okay?”
“I’ve been tackled more times then I can count on the field, a little bump won’t have me falling apart.” He stooped down and picked up the piece of paper Harry barely noticed he’d dropped.
“You’re new here.” It was said absentmindedly as he was handed the brunet his schedule.
“Yeah,” He secured the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder, before holding out his hand. “I’m Harry Potter by the way.”
“Cedric Diggory.” Cedric took the offered hand and steadily shook it, his gaze assessing the diminutive brunette.
He was a small boy, both in girth and height---though standing next to his six foot two frame anyone would seem short next to Cedric, but this boy was just short. His petite stature was fitted in a hooded black sweatshirt and pair of tight skinny blue jeans that hugged every curve a boy could possess and on his feet were a pair of black and white Chuck Taylors’ that seemed to have seen better days. His slightly rounded face, full pink lips and pert little nose made him more then a little pretty—he was borderline adorable. His hair, as black as a raven’s wing fell in choppy layers around his face and into the greenest eyes Cedric had ever seen---eyes he could see himself reflected through they were so big and clear. Cedric wondered if he was into guys.
The unexpected sound of the bell caused Harry to jump. Cedric grinned and without warning swung his arm around Harry’s shoulder as students began to pour out of classrooms.
“You have humanities next,” Cedric informed as if relating something new to a perplexed Harry. “I do too—I’ll show you where the class is and if you want I’ll be your guide for the rest of the day.”
Harry furrowed his brows as he was led around. “Won’t you get in trouble?”
“Why would I, when I can just tell my teachers’ the truth.” Harry realized no sooner had they began their steady trek down the hall that Cedric Diggory happened to be a very popular guy and all the attention they were receiving was making him very uncomfortable.
“The truth being what exactly?”
Cedric chanced a look down at the wary brunet and grinned, showing perfectly lined rows of porcelain white teeth. “I found something better to occupy my time.”
Warning bells rang loud and clear in Harry’s head and he abruptly stopped.
“Look,” he pulled Cedric’s arm from his shoulder and took a step back. “I really appreciate what you’re willing to do for me but I don’t need your help.” He sounded like a jerk and if he was Cedric, he’d probably knock himself on the ass for being an ungrateful ass. But, there were reasons for his candidness, ones he wasn’t ready to rehash anytime soon, and if it meant being a jerk to this handsome specimen of man meat, just to keep those reason buried a little longer, then Harry guessed that’s what he had to do.
It seemed the majority of the student body had overheard their little A and B conversation and much to Harry’s horror, they began to jeer Cedric for being ‘told off.” Seeing the expression on Cedric’s face, Harry knew he’d probably done something irrevocably bad, so, being that honor student that he was, he used his intelligence and quickly made an exit…more determined then ever to find his class and hopefully regain his shroud of invisibility while he was at it.
A particular group of students boisterously chatted just a few yards away from where Harry stood and as he steadily made his way down the granite steps, Cedric’s familiar face momentarily lifted from the small crowd to stare at him, the eyes of several others zeroed in on him as well, following his progression. Harry frowned once they all turned back to their huddled circle, the niggling feeling that he was being talked about plagued him as he took off towards the parking lot.
He was not particularly fond of being the center of attention… that being one of the reasons why he had rebuffed Cedric’s advances this morning. Harry sighed as he slid into his car, set his bag on the passenger seat and turned his keys in the ignition. He had hoped to get a new start at Hogwarts Academy and focus on his academics, an opportunity he rarely had in his last school…even after the whole Thomas Riddle fiasco.
Coming to join his godfather in the small town of Godric Hollow had been the best and only option afforded to him, when his parents refused to have anything to do with him and the little boy who had become Harry’s entire world. Sirius Black was a benevolent recluse Harry had come to rely on since his pregnancy two years ago; his Godfather had not demanded answers when his very pregnant fifteen year old godson had appeared at his door with naught else but a small duffle bag and tear tracks down his face. Without questions, Sirius took Harry in and in turn only asked that his godson respect him and his home.
Throughout the last two years of raring his child and living with his godfather, Harry had been prompted to grow up far quicker than any seventeen year old was warranted to do so. Working two jobs and continuing what was now his last year of school took more than enough out of him, but he would not change anything for the world, because he was at a point in his life where he was content and he would be damned if some pretty boy with a freaking grudge screwed it up for him.
Harry parked his car in the one family garage and exited with book bag in hand. He palmed the knob to the door and entered through the garage door and immediately stepped into the large kitchen, that Sirius considered his sanctuary. The aromatic scent of chocolate chip cookies had Harry’s stomach rumbling and put a smile on his lips. He closed the door behind him, walked further in the kitchen and settled his keys on the key hook next to the subzero fridge.
“Sirius, I’m home!” he checked to see if the oven was still on, before pilfering a warm cookie from the plate set on the counter. This was the best way to eat a cookie, in Harry’s opinion, when it was fresh from the oven and gooey n the inside, that way, the mouth gets the full pleasure of melting chocolate chips and sweet cookie dough.
‘Life’s guilty pleasures.’ His taste buds danced the mariachi when he placed the cookie in his mouth.
He heard the distinctive giggles and the quiet chuckle that belonged to none other than his godfather and Harry’s own little monster. “In the family room.” Harry followed the voices.
“Papa!” in one of the most adorable moves Harry has had the pleasure in witnessing, his little guy set his hands on the carpeted floor and steadily anchored his weight up until he was standing on two perfect chubby little legs, which he then used to run to his beaming dad. Harry caught him before he fell and enveloped his pleasantly plump little son in a big hug. He cradled his head at the base of his son’s neck and deeply inhaled, he’d missed him so much.
“Hey little guy,” Harry kissed downy curls as dark as his own and flopped down on the nearest lazy boy chair.
Sirius Black watched the exchange between father and son; Harry hung on to Ayden as though he had not seen him in years and the little boy seemed to enjoy each second his doting father lavished on him, his joy made clear by the contagious giggles that had Sirius grinning.
“How was school?” Harry looked at him as if finally made aware of his godfather’s presence.
“Ask me again in a week.” Seeing that he was not going to elaborate further, Sirius sighed and stood.
“I’m going out for a little bit, have to buy diapers and groceries for dinner.” He ruffled Harry’s hair affectionately. “It’ll get better.” he finished as he exited the cozy family room, which had never been of used until Harry and Ayden showed up in his life. Sirius couldn’t express how it felt to finally have use for it.
Harry stifled another yawn; the monotonous drone of Mr. Snape’s voice was not helping him at all. He sighed and looked down at the five-star notebook in front of him and allowed his pencil to aimlessly wander across the blue lined sheet.
“Mr. Potter, state to me Ohm’s law.” Harry’s temperature rose a few degrees as the bodies of his peers simultaneously spun around in their seats to blankly stare at him. He looked up at Mr. Snape’s dismal visage and he vaguely wondered why the figureheads at this school had such mean looking faces; if it was to stimulate better test scores, then Harry hoped the school ranked high in the district, because those faces sure as hell didn’t make him want to study, in fact, he felt like bolting from his seat right at this very moment and screw AP physics.
He swallowed the egg sized lump in his throat, before answering. “Um… the Ohm law states that, in an electrical circuit the current passing through a conductor is directly proportional to the potential difference applied across them provided all physical conditions are kept constant.” Sharp obsidian eyes narrowed to disdainful slits, and Harry swore, if Mr. Snape had been a studly man in tights from a distant planet called krypton, he would’ve been incinerated by that gaze in that very second. But seeing as that severe face couldn’t possibly belong to Clark Kent, Harry was 80 percent sure that he wouldn’t burn to a wonderful crisp, if he lowered his eyes, so he kept his gaze steady and sagged in his chair, slowly releasing his sigh when Mr. Snape mutely whirled on his heel and continued his lessons.
Harry unclenched his hands, which he hadn’t known had formed into tight fists on his lap beneath his desk. Was it any wonder why he hated this class, when the teacher was a decrepit ass who seemed to despise him for no reason at all? Well, Harry silently thought, at least he was fully awake now.
Blaise Zabini took the entire display from his seat in the back row and knowingly grinned to himself, jotting something down in the small black book he was known to always carry around.
“Very nice Mione almost got me with that one. Does Ron know you’ve been teabaggin the chess club just so they can let you win—oh oops,” He brought his hand to his lips, in feigned distress. “Was that supposed to be a secret?”
Hermione Granger, head bitch of Hogwarts academy cheering squad (who had a certain affinity for guys in suspenders and pocket protectors) threw a carrot at a smirking Blaise and scowled.
“Faggot.”
“Whore.”
It wasn’t a normal lunch hour without Blaise and Hermione’s little diatribe and everyone who sat around the red table categorized as being the stereotypical ‘popular’ group good-naturedly laughed at what was funny.
Draco Malfoy ignored the noise around him as he tried to catch up on much needed sleep, but the soft voice, barely audible over the boisterous crowd, caused the blond to slowly lift his head.
The flushed and charmingly rotund Neville Longbottom stood a few inches away from him, offering Draco what seemed to be tin can of something.
“Hi Draco…I-I made these for you in home Ec…” The distinct chortles of his friend’s caused Draco to sit up straighter and the characteristic ‘Malfoy’ smirk pulled at his lips.
“T-they’re sugar cookies…”
“How quaint…” Hermione’s voice piped in from the peanut gallery.
The feeble attempt his friends made in trying to stifle their laughter, failed miserably as low snorts and grunts caused the flustered boy to redden even more-- reminding Draco of a ripened tomato.
“No thanks.”
“But I-I made them f-for you,” impossibly large chocolate brown eyes stared back at him and Draco looked away with a frown. This was all getting very tiresome.
“Look, I don’t want your goddamn cookies, alright? Now fuck off.”
“B-but last night…y-you…”
Draco stood up and faced Neville. “I said a lot of things last night…but then again I would’ve said anything to get you to suck my cock.” Neville flinched away from him as if slapped, with trembling hands the tin can full of cookies fell from his nerveless fingers and resounded throughout the lunchroom as it connected with the floor---he was gone before anyone could be the wiser.
“And another bites the dust. Bravo Draco, you’ve managed to beak yet another heart. You are as heartless as you are gorgeous.” Hermione flippantly commented as she took a swig from Evian bottle. She sweetly smiled as Draco turned to glare at her before she stood and left.
“I’m sick and tired of seducing these simpering idiots. There’s no fucking challenge when they’re so willing to spread their legs for me.”
“But its easy money.” Cedric added.
Draco turned his head and looked at Cedric as though he’d said something stupid. “Money, I have. It’s the challenge…the hunt, I want.”
“Okay, you want a challenge? I have just the one for you.” Blaise tossed Draco his black notebook. “Page 102,”
Draco flipped through the pages until he saw the number he was looking for. Boldly written and underlined was the name, “Harry Potter? The new kid who shot Cedric down yesterday?” he lifted his head and raised a golden brow in question.
“The one and only; I bet you five hundred bucks that you won’t so much as get a kiss from him.”
Draco looked up once more from the notebook. “Didn’t I just take a thousand bucks from you?”
“Come on Draco, its just a simple kiss and it might be another five hundred in your wallet.”
“Hey if you’re going to bet on this, I want in on it.” Cedric tried to pull out his wallet, but Draco stopped him.
“No. this one is just me and Blaise. Okay, I’ll take your bet. But let’s up the ante,”
Curiosity getting the better of him, Blaise couldn’t help but take the bait. “What’d you have in mind?”
“I do believe mommy and daddy just bought you a brand spankin new set of wheels?”
“My Boxster?”
“Great piece of machinery, I’m getting a hard on just thinking about it. She’d be in better hands riding beneath me.”
“You cocky shit, ain’t no way I’m giving you my car!”
Draco closed the black book and threw it across the table at Blaise. “I knew you were too chicken shit to play for anything else. Oh well, guess we’ll never find out--”
“And what the hell do I get if you lose?”
Draco stood and walked behind Blaise; he set his hands on his shoulders and leaned down. “One night of what I promise to be the greatest fuck of your life.” Blaise shivered from the words and the tantalizing warm breath of his best friend, Draco knowingly grinned.
“You have a month!” he yelled after Draco’s retreating back.
“I only need two weeks.” Blaise only smiled and bit into his forgotten sandwich. He couldn’t wait—Draco’s prowess in the bedroom was legendary! There was no way he was going to land that hoity-toity bitch in two weeks.
:
:
:
:
