Back at school, again, Draco thought with a bit of a melancholic air, sprawled over a couch in the common room. The Slytherin firsties had been sworn in (because Slytherin did everything in style), and then summarily swooshed up to their rooms. And here he was, with his friends, and they were discussing bets, again. Every year he'd had a different bet. Nott had dared him to instigate an orgy in the Ravenclaw dorm... It was a small orgy, and most of it was males curious about touching each other (which they'd never quite dared to do sober), but still he'd made it happen. After that, it became a game of top this. Blaise's bet in fifth year was that he couldn't possibly date a Hufflepuff from every year, and get them in a broom closet. He'd had to use a bit of trickery, and more silver on his tongue than he generally did to get the firstie into a broom closet with him (which mostly turned into a tickle fight, as he wasn't really about to touch a girl who was... underage).
"So what's the bet this year?" Draco said lazily to his friends.
"My turn," Greg Goyle said, in his ever earnest voice. And since he hadn't ever suggested anything yet, people turned to listen. Sure, he was a big monstrous gorilla whose brain turned slowly if it ever turned at all... But he was still Malfoy's friend (lackey), and thus worthy of a modicum of respect. "I bet you can't date Potter and Weasley and Granger, all at once."
Malfoy's jaw dropped. Greg had actually come up with a better bet than anyone had expected anyone to come up with. Just goes to show that slow doesn't mean stupid. "It take you the whole summer to think that up?" Malfoy asked sourly, his brain already whirling. Because it was such a good bet, he couldn't really afford to turn it down, not without seeming a coward make that spineless weakling.
"Yeah, pretty much." Goyle said, with a grin on his face that reeked of Malfoy knows me so well... How the hell wasn't Greg Goyle in Hufflepuff?
"Good one, Goyle." Nott said, his halfsmile mocking Draco's entirely feigned lazy appearance.
"Well, Mister Malfoy?" Zambini said, his wolfish grin sparkling, as usual.
Draco thought for a moment, making certain that he could pull this off, before nodding. "Very well, I accept." After all, it was just a bet...
[a/n: gee, I wonder why they've been doing so many bets? Draco sure got backed into this one...]