It was a fluke, really, that the three of them were even in the same room at the same time. Harry's presence, of course, was easily explained. He had fallen asleep in Trelawney's tower classroom, lulled into peaceful dreamlessness by the stifling heat and the droning, endless predictions of doom and gloom. What Harry didn't realize, having fallen asleep, was that Trelawney had been fetched from the classroom. In the process of shuffling the students out, Harry had been overlooked. Well, not completely overlooked. Lavender Brown had spotted him and nudged Parvati Patil.
"Look, Harry's asleep. Should we wake him?"
Parvati, still nursing a grudge from the whole Yule Ball fiasco, scowled.
"Let Hermione Granger wake him. Isn't it her turn to watch him, since Ron Weasely is in the hospital wing with that… rash thing?"
Lavender giggled. "I suppose you're right."
The two girls climbed out of the tower, leaving the Chosen One to his slumber.
Downstairs, Hermione was waiting for Harry when the two giggling girls plodded by. Hermione graciously kept from rolling her eyes at them and merely insulted them silently as they passed. There was no sign of Harry, so she sighed and went to get him, figuring he had most likely fallen asleep without Ron there to prod him awake.
Even farther downstairs, Trelawney paused in the hallway, realizing she had left her favorite Divining teacup in her room. She thought she might need it, if Dumbledore wanted to speak to her about some matter of future importance. She snagged the robes of a passing boy, not noticing the look of shocked horror bestowed on her as a result of the unexpected manhandling.
"Halt, boy," she said brusquely. "I need you to go to my classroom and fetch my Divining teacup. The one with the pink roses and gold border, not the one with the red roses and green border."
Draco Malfoy snatched his sleeve from Trelawney's grasp. Horrible woman, what the hell was she thinking, putting her claws on a Malfoy?
"Excuse me, did you say fetch?" he asked in an imperious tone that had sent many an underclassman scrambling away in fear. However, Trelawney was no underclassman. She was also battier than a vampire convention.
"Yes, boy, fetch. And bring it to Dumbeldore's office at once or there shall be points taken from—" She looked at the green badge on Draco's robes, "Slytherin." She sneered the word silently and Draco glared. "Lots of points," she added.
Draco spun on his heel and stalked toward the bloody entrance to the bloody tower. Damned barmy creature—threatening a Malfoy. He'd fetch her stupid cup. And hide all the others so well that Dumbledore himself would never find them. In addition, he would compose a letter to his father suggesting that she be permanently removed from the school for inflicting mental trauma upon him.
Draco was unpleasantly surprised to find the room still occupied, and beyond unpleasantly surprised to find it occupied by none other than Granger the Magical Mudblood and The Boy Who Lived to Annoy the Fuck out of Draco. He sneered.
"Am I interrupting a shag?" he drawled. "Be sure to give Potter plenty of instruction, Granger. I'm sure his virginal arse has never been touched… unlike yours."
Granger's face flared hot and angry and Draco smiled in delight. Honestly, Gryffindors were so bloody easy, he barely had to try.
"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she snarled. Potter was reclining on the pillows, looking around blearily and rubbing the back of his hand over his lips. His hair looked messier than usual and Draco's gaze sharpened. Had they been snogging? Potter yawned and stretched, and Draco realized the idiot had merely fallen asleep. He sighed in relief.
Wait a tick… relief? What the hell? He certainly didn't care if Granger and Potter had been snogging! Not one bloody bit. Not even the tiniest iota. Not one single, solitary— He became aware that Hermione was staring at him and slowly rewound his mind back to her question.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" he sneered, knowing it was a foolish comeback, and had been delivered far too late to even be vaguely effective. She rolled her eyes.
"Whatever. Come on, Harry. Let's go see Ron before our next class."
Potter allowed her to drag him to his feet. Draco dismissed them and scanned the room for the infernal teacup. Bloody hell, it was hot in this ridiculous room. He ignored Potty and the Gryffindor Brain Trust as they headed for the door, which suddenly slammed and locked just as they reached it.
"Hey!" Potter yelled predictably. He began to bang on the door, succeeding only in bruising his fists, the imbecile. Granger, at least, used her modicum of intelligence and cast several spells at the door in an attempt to open it. Potter swung around to glare at him.
"Is this some sort of trick, Malfoy?" he demanded. "Open the door!"
"Oh yes, it would be so like me to lock myself in a stifling inferno of a room with the two people I most despise."
Hermione sighed while Potter's little mind crawled over Draco's words to sift the useful bits from the sarcasm.
"Why would Malfoy lock us in here, Harry?" she asked.
Potter glared. "Who else would?" he snarled.
"Perhaps one of your global enemies? The scions of darkness? Fanged, wicked creatures from the depths?"
"Your relatives, you mean?"
Draco actually thought about that for a moment. It was possible. Father hadn't been exactly thrilled with Draco's scores on—he shoved the thought aside.
"Don't try and distract me, Potter. Just get us out of here."
"How do you propose I do that?"
"I don't know." Draco waved airily. "Use Granger's brain."
He ignored the Gryffindors while they scrambled about trying to open the door. Draco made his way to the windows and opened them all, though the pathetic breeze gained was hardly worth the effort.
"It's no good," Hermione said finally. "We're stuck here until Trelawney returns, or until someone lets us out."
Draco sprawled on the pile of pillows Potter had vacated and Levitated a teacup out the window before allowing it to drop. He grinned as he imagined it braining some hapless Hufflepuff. Several more teacups followed the first.
"Malfoy! What are you doing?" Hermione demanded.
"Punishing the unwary," Draco replied.
She ran to the window and looked out. "You nearly hit someone! I think it's… Colin Creevey."
"Only nearly? I missed him? Bloody Gryffindor luck."
Granger turned back, and barely ducked in time as another cup winged past her.
"Stop that!" she yelled.
"Do you want me to Levitate you out there?"
"And drop me like a teacup? You wish!"
Potter spoke up. "Hermione, could you Levitate me? I could get help."
Granger looked uncertain. "I don't think so. It's too far down… I might drop you."
"You could Levitate Malfoy."
Draco did not even bother to comment to that bit of blithering nonsense, but he did give Potter a look.
Harry blushed suddenly and Draco panicked a bit, wondering if the look had been misconstrued as some other sort of look. Because he certainly would never give Potter one of those looks. Never. Absolutely never, ever. He glared at Potter just to get the point across. In your dreams, Potter. In your dreams.
Hermione watched as Malfoy Levitated a collection of Trelawney's teacups into a swirling cloud over his head before sailing them out the window. He really was impossibly wicked.
If only he wasn't also impossibly gorgeous. He had flung off his robes somewhere along the way, and now he lounged on the pillows with his tie loosened and several buttons open at the throat. His eyes were half-closed and he held his wand in a casual three-finger grip as he flicked it about the room. His hair covered the dark blue pillow like a silver curtain. She scowled and spun away to remove her own robes. It seemed to be getting warmer in the room with the door closed. Harry had already thrown his robes next to Malfoy's.
"So, what do we do now?" she asked.
"Bollocks. I'm out of teacups," Malfoy commented plaintively. "Shall I start on the chairs?"
"No!" Hermione cried.
"Let him," Harry said. "If he kills someone, he'll be expelled."
"What if he kills Angelina? Or Seamus? Or Ginny Weasley?"
Malfoy got to his feet to look out the window. "Is the Weaselette down there? If so, I'll actually aim this time…"
Hermione rolled her eyes. He was dreadful.
"Damn. No Gryffindors in sight. The rain of cups must have frightened them away. Pity, I should have started with the chairs."
Hermione sprawled in one of the chairs in question—a too-soft armchair that made her feel like it was eating her as she sank into the cushions. She cast a spell to stiffen it up a bit.
"We could play cards," Malfoy suggested suddenly and Summoned a deck from his robes without waiting for them to respond.
"You carry cards around with you?" Potter asked. Malfoy looked at him with a puzzled expression.
"Of course. You never know when you might run into a Hufflepuff ripe for fleecing." He laughed. "Hannah Abbot is so far in debt she owes me her firstborn child. I'm not sure what the hell I'll do with it, but I'm sure there is some sort of black market for the babies of morons. I'll most likely auction it."
"I'm not even going to dignify that with a comment," Harry said dryly. Malfoy ruffled a thumb across the deck.
"Game? We won't even play for money, since you Gryffindors have an unhealthy aversion to gambling. No, Granger, we won't be playing for firstborn children, either." Malfoy shuddered. "God, who would want—"
"Don't start, Malfoy!" Harry shouted and brandished his wand.
"Well, we could duel, but since it's two against one, I'll pass. It's cards or nothing."
"Then it's noth—" Harry began, but Hermione cut him off.
"Fine. We'll play," she said. Anything to keep Malfoy occupied, otherwise he and Harry would be at each other's throats and Hermione would be forced to hex them both into unconsciousness. Which was not a bad idea. Harry gave her his "traitor" look and rolled his eyes.
Malfoy Levitated one of the low tables into the center of the room and lengthened the legs to make a rudimentary card table and the three of them dragged chairs over and seated themselves. Hermione sat across from Malfoy and Harry sat at the head. Or the foot. Or whichever. Malfoy set his wand aside and held his hands up over the cards. He shuffled them without touching them, a move that impressed Harry, though he was careful not to show it. Malfoy always seemed to be jealous of Harry, but he could do things Harry couldn't, such as Levitating seven teacups at once and have them dance around his head.
Malfoy dealt the cards in the same fashion—wandless, spell-less magic. Harry picked up his cards and Malfoy explained the basics of the game. It was confusing beyond all reason. Rather like Malfoy. Harry looked at Hermione, hoping she, at least, could understand the game and help him. She seemed to be staring at Malfoy—bloody hell, why was she looking at the Slytherin like that? Her tongue was practically lolling.
Harry shifted his gaze to Malfoy, who was examining his cards and still explaining the endless rules. Yes, so the git was vaguely attractive, for a bloke. So he had those bloody chiseled features. And that perfect hair. Although at the moment, Malfoy's hair was hanging over his eyes a bit and several tendrils near his temples were damp where tiny beads of sweat had started to gather. Harry had the sudden urge to reach out and tuck the hair back over Malfoy's ear.
Oh god, I did not just think that. I did not. NOT. Harry loosened his own tie reflexively, and tried to ignore the fact that his fingertips were suddenly wet on the cards. Malfoy suddenly looked at Granger and his words choked off. Apparently, he had noticed Hermione staring at him with naked lust. Harry grinned.
"Ahem!" Hermione said and began to babble, repeating the rules to Malfoy in an effort to cover her lapse. It seemed to work, as Malfoy shook his head as if to assure himself that he'd been imaging things.
"All right," Malfoy said. "We'll play a few games until you get the hang of it. Hopefully it won't take all afternoon."
They played four games and Hermione seemed to do well, though Harry was completely lost. Three serpents meant… what? Were pairs of tongs worth five points, or pairs of cauldrons?
"Fair enough," Malfoy said. "Time to up the stakes."
"You said it yourself, we don't gamble," Hermione said primly.
"Who said anything about gambling? I simply want to make it more interesting. Plus, it's beastly hot in here, so whichever of us loses gets to remove an item of clothing."
"You want us to strip?" Hermione asked incredulously.
"Scared of a little nudity, Granger? Are all Gryffindors prudes?"
"I'm in," Harry said immediately, and then wished he hadn't as two sets of eyes snapped to him in surprise. "Er… it really is hot. In here. And we can stop at any time, right Malfoy?"
"Certainly. Any time you Gryffindors get too frightened, you can back down," Malfoy goaded with a smirk.
Things didn't turn out quite the way Harry had planned. He lost the next four hands and removed his tie, shoes, socks, and belt. The next item to go was either his shirt or trousers, and neither Malfoy nor Hermione had removed a thing. Harry not only had to wipe his hands on his slacks several times, but he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his spine.
When he looked at the cards on the next hand, biting his lip with frustration, the rules suddenly gelled in his head. Bloody hell, no wonder he'd been losing.
Draco flicked the edge of his card with a thumb and grinned. Potter was hopeless, he really was. It was actually miraculous that Draco was beating the Gryffindor at something. Malfoy had begun to think he really was the Boy Who Never Lost, but there finally seemed to be something Potter sucked at.
Until the next hand. Which Draco lost. Potter grinned happily as Draco removed his tie in annoyance, although he was glad to see it go. He felt as if he were perspiring quite unbecomingly. Even Granger's hair was beginning to droop in the heat. If she kept licking her lips like that, they were going to dry up and crack. Her tongue flicked out and drifted slowly over her upper lip. Draco felt a sudden lurch in his loins and snapped his gaze back to his cards. The heat was getting to him. First Potter and now Granger? What the hell was wrong with him?
Hermione lost the next hand and dragged off her tie with an almost grateful expression. Then Draco lost. Then Granger. Draco. Granger. Malfoy scowled at Potter, who was far too noble to cheat, but apparently the bastard had recovered his astounding luck from wherever he had hidden it. Potter hummed as Draco lost again. Malfoy wasn't wearing a belt, so he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. He glanced up, and told himself that Granger was not looking at him like she wished she could run her hands over his chest and then follow said hands with her tongue. She wasn't. Draco looked at Potter, who gazed intently at the ceiling. Was Potter blushing? Hmm, he wondered if the sight of so much flesh disturbed the Chosen Virgin.
Granger lost the next hand and she wasn't wearing a belt, either. She swallowed hard and slid out of her skirt, though neither Potter nor Draco could see anything due to the table. Draco didn't care to see the Mudblood's legs, anyway. Her bare legs. Her long bare legs, because she was actually the same height as Draco, not that he'd ever noticed that before, and would admit to nothing under torture. Granger lost the next hand as well, and inhaled sharply as Draco grinned and Potter looked at her with abject apology. It was either shirt or pants. The clever girl fooled them, though. She removed her bra though some feminine contortion and held it up with a triumphant grin.
Draco's trousers were the next to go, leaving him clad in black boxers. Potter was smiling at him rather disturbingly, and Draco realized the time had come to cheat. He shuffled the cards once more, and then laid them in a specific pattern almost faster than the eye could catch. Unless the eyes were brown and belonged to a certain hyper-intelligent witch named Hermione Granger. She scowled. Draco flicked a suggestive gaze to Potter. Granger's lips thinned. She nodded minutely. Draco suppressed a grin.
Potter lost the next hand. And the next. And the next. Which left him beet red with embarrassment and completely naked. Draco practically purred with triumph. Hermione looked guilty, but as she was down to panties and shirt, she dared not speak up and expose Draco's cheating.
When Potter lost the next hand, Draco realized he was about to get his overdue revenge on his two least-favorite Gryffindors.
"Er… isn't the game over?" she asked. "Since Harry can't take anything else off?"
"No, it's just achieved the next stage," Malfoy said casually.
"The next stage?" Harry asked sharply and Malfoy smiled wickedly. Hermione caught the panic in Harry's voice.
"Yes. When the loser—that would be you, Potter—cannot remove any more items, the winner—that would be me, Potter—may challenge them to a dare."
"A dare? And what happens if I refuse?"
"Then you forfeit the game, and I call you a spineless coward for the rest of eternity." The emerald eyes glared at Draco beneath his spectacles and Malfoy smiled again. Hermione suppressed a sigh. Honestly, all you had to do was suggest the word coward to Harry and he would leap through the gates of hell to prove you wrong. She realized they really needed to work on that.
"What's the dare?"
"Well, since we're the only three here, our choices are a bit limited. You have to kiss Granger." Hermione blinked in shock.
"What?" Harry bellowed. Hermione glared at him, affronted.
"Thanks a lot, Harry," she snapped.
"What?" he asked again, bewildered this time.
"You act like it would be the most horrifying thing imaginable!"
"Er… no, that would be kissing Malfoy."
"Think of it as an experiment, Granger. Take notes, Potter, as I'm sure you've never had a real kiss before. Oh, and make it a good one. None of that sibling peck business."
Malfoy had the gall to lean back and cross his arms behind his head, stretching out the muscles of his chest and showing off a flat expanse of abdomen. Hermione's mouth went dry and she noticed Harry gaping at him, as well. Probably in horror at the thought of kissing her. She snarled, reached over, and grabbed Harry's face.
She planted her lips on his and nibbled at them a bit until Harry began to relax. She trailed her tongue over his lips, and then pushed it between his teeth quickly, knowing the Slytherin bastard was watching with clinical detachment. Harry's tongue hesitantly met hers and Hermione pulled away in relief. She felt smug satisfaction at Harry's dazed look, and the fact that his glasses were slightly askew. He adjusted them with one hand.
"I didn't think you had it in you, Granger," Malfoy drawled approvingly. She sneered at him.
She lost the next hand and stared at Malfoy accusingly as she slid her panties off and set them aside, thankful for the table and the fact that her shirt was long enough to act as a makeshift dress. However, the shirt was all she had left. She gnawed at her lip worriedly and noticed Malfoy watching her. He looked away quickly.
Harry lost the next hand, but Hermione won. Harry grinned at her weakly, expecting her dare to be something simple.
"Harry, I want you to kiss Malfoy."
Harry would probably not speak to her for three months, but oh god, revenge was sweet. As a bonus, Malfoy was looking at her like she'd sprouted six heads. She nearly giggled.
Harry gaped at Hermione, wondering if she'd gone completely mad. Had Malfoy hexed her while Harry wasn't watching? Had the heat fried her brain? Had… had…? It was simply inconceivable. He shifted his gaze to Malfoy, who was looking rather the same as Harry felt. Stunned and horrified.
"But… but… Hermione!"
"That will teach you to object to kissing me," she said primly. "Besides, it's not as if either of you will enjoy it. Although, I do expect it to be a real kiss. What was it you said, Malfoy? Take notes? Harry's not a bad kisser."
Harry vowed never again to underestimate the power of a woman scorned.
"This is the worst moment of my life," he said dismally. Malfoy's grey eyes flicked to his and the smirk returned.
"That's what you think, Potter," he drawled. "Unlike Granger, I actually know what I'm doing."
With that, Malfoy mimicked Hermione's gesture and reached out to grasp Harry's chin. Malfoy pulled him forward into a kiss and Harry's stomach flipped over. Hermione's kiss had been… nice, but Malfoy's was… oh god it was like traveling by Portkey—the same wrenching sensation somewhere in his gut and everything melting into a swirl of color, although this was accompanied by the rush of heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. Malfoy's tongue was—bloody hell, it was everywhere, and it was a marvel… Harry felt his hand touch Malfoy's skin and it jolted him enough that his eyes snapped open to meet Malfoy's silver orbs. The Slytherin looked just as shocked as Harry felt. Malfoy's hand was still on Harry's face, but it was cupping his jaw gently.
Harry snatched his hand away from Malfoy's neck and sat back with a gasp. Malfoy pulled away. Was he… blushing?
"Well, that was interesting," Hermione said in a voice heavy with amusement.
"We will never speak of this," Malfoy said hoarsely.
"Ever," Harry added.
"No argument," Hermione said and then giggled. They both glared at her. "Well, who would believe us, anyway? The three of us playing strip cards and kissing? I think You-Know-Who would faint dead away at the idea."
Harry relaxed under the comforting onslaught of Hermione's logic. He could almost pretend he hadn't been turned on by kissing Draco Malfoy. Except for one painfully hard physical reminder…
Malfoy seemed both astonished and mortified when he lost the next two rounds, which disposed of Malfoy's last item of clothing and left Harry with the winning hand. Harry grinned at Hermione almost maliciously. Make him kiss Draco Malfoy, would she? Let's see how she liked it.
The game was starting to be less than amusing. Draco had not expected the Gryffindors to turn on each other like rabid dogs. And Granger! The ruthless, evil, horrid, awful creature and her wily ways! Forcing him to kiss Potter, of all things! Draco would not think about kissing Potter. At all. Ever. Again. The damned Gryffindor and his lousy kissing… It had been simply (tantalizing, incredible, astounding) revolting, horrible and disturbing! And he would not think about it. At all. Ever. Again.
Potter made that decision a bit easier with his next words.
"You guessed it, Malfoy. Time to kiss Hermione."
Draco actually gaped, although he should have seen it coming, the way the two of them were using him as their pawn in some demented Gryffindor game of petty vengeance. And how had the Mudblood minx managed to retain her shirt when both he and Potter were starkers? Draco had been the one cheating! Perhaps all the Gryffindors drank Felix Felicis in the morning with their tea. It would explain many things.
"Quit stalling, Malfoy, and get on with it."
Draco glared at Potter. He quite preferred the brat silent, with his eyes slightly unfocused and his lips half-parted and wet from—don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it.
"Fine," Draco snapped. "I can kiss a Mu… uh… uggle-born. The Malfoys are made of stern stuff, you know. Proud heritage, Malfoys. Long lineage."
"Staaaaaalling," Potter sang. Draco really hated him. Hermione was smirking at him. He hated her, too. They were both evil, to twist his lovely game into this travesty. Before Potter could taunt him again, Draco leaned across the table and planted his lips on Granger's. He planned to make it quick, but the unholy vixen clamped grabbed his head and tried to devour him. Bloody hell, he had been joking, but apparently Granger was not exactly Miss Innocent. She knew what she was doing!
Draco relaxed and gave in to Hermione as she lapped at the sensitive places in his mouth and sucked at his lips. It was actually quite pleasant, not like kissing Potter, which had been (tantalizing, incredible, astounding) horrifying beyond reason.
"Do you two plan to finish sometime today?" Potter asked dryly.
When Granger pulled back, she was panting like the Hogwarts Express and Draco was glad to note he hadn't lost any of his superior snogging ability. It even worked on Mu… uh… uggleborns.
"Jealous, Potter?" Draco asked seductively. Potter snorted.
It took all of Draco's considerable cheating skills to maneuver the deck without Hermione catching him. By her flushed glare, she intended him to keep things "fair" from now on, but Draco had no intention of losing. Even so, Potter dodged the next bullet aimed at him and Granger was left with no option but to part with her last remaining item of clothing.
Her fingers shook as she unbuttoned her shirt.
"When… when does this game end?" she asked.
"When one of us quits," Draco said in an amused tone. Both Gryffindors set their jaws stubbornly. Draco suppressed a smile. So easy. Hermione yanked her shirt off with determination. Draco smirked.
"Not bad, Granger," he said grudgingly after viewing her unwilling display. She flushed scarlet. She shifted her gaze to Potter, who was once again examining the ceiling, the coward.
She wished to hell she wasn't getting turned on watching Draco's eyes slide over her, but damn it, he was just… so hot. Hermione was bloody glad she had a great body. Her constant running up and down the stairs, chasing after Harry and Ron kept her in shape. Yes, she spent a lot of time in the library, but carrying fifty pounds of books up and down staircases on the way to and from said library was not exactly a light workout.
She wondered if Harry had even noticed, and glanced at him, to find him fixedly staring into space. Trying to be noble, no doubt. The coward.
"You two seem a bit nervous," Malfoy commented and Hermione stopped glaring at Harry long enough to look back at the Slytherin. "Maybe we should stop playing."
"You're quitting?" Harry blurted, but Hermione saw the half-smirk ghosting about Malfoy's lips and knew he wasn't finished yet, not by a long shot. Her eyes narrowed. Malfoy laughed.
"Of course not, Potter. You're practically at my mercy. How could I possibly quit now?"
"What do you propose?" Hermione asked dryly.
"A simple solution, with simple stakes. Each of us is dealt a single card. We turn the cards over; the high card wins."
Hermione was afraid to hear the stakes.
"Wins what?" Harry asked.
"The losers become the winner's slaves for a week," Malfoy said smugly, sounding as if he'd already won. Probably because he knew he would, due to his tricky bottom-dealing. Hermione had no intention of letting him get away with that. However, the thought of having Malfoy and Harry—and mostly Malfoy, of course, as her slave… well, it was beyond enticing. She would finally have revenge on the Slytherin nightmare for six years of treating her like less than dirt. She smiled.
"Slaves? No fucking way."
"Already expecting to lose, Potter?"
Harry scowled. "No, but if I do, I can just see you forcing Hermione and me to do every sort of horrid thing imaginable. You're already power mad, and you hate us. I won't let you control us into having detention for the next six months, or losing hundreds of house points, or getting expelled."
Malfoy sighed. "You wound me, Potter. I meant sex slaves, of course."
"What?" Hermione choked. Harry looked at her and immediately looked away with a blush. He'd forgotten she was unclothed. When the hell had she turned into a girl? A shapely girl? How could Harry not have noticed those, for fuck's sake?
"Oh come now, Granger. I doubt you're as innocent as all that. And if you are, then it's about time to dispense with that pesky virtue." Malfoy eyes flicked to Harry, who, irritatingly, found himself blushing again. "Of course, we'll both have to take it easy on Potter…"
Harry glared, and restrained himself from leaping across the table and strangling the Slytherin. Mostly because they were both naked and it would mean rolling around on the floor with Malfoy… He coughed and forced his mind back on track. "What sort of sex slaves? You can't force us to have sex with… Neville, or Pansy Parkinson, or something."
Malfoy made a face. "And run the risk of having you make me shag Millicent Bulstrode? Don't be daft, Potter. I could lose, you know."
Harry blinked in surprise. It had not occurred to Harry that he might win. He would release Hermione at once, of course. The thought of having sex with her was just… too weird. But having Malfoy at his mercy… The idea was far more tantalizing than it should have been. What would he do with the Slytherin? Well, certainly more kissing, to start with… Harry wrenched his mind away from that thought, and wiped his palms on his thighs.
Malfoy went on. "It will be just between the three of us, of course. And it will have to stay private. God knows my reputation would be tripe if anyone knew I were dallying with Mu… uh… uggle-borns and half-bloods, even if one of them is the Chosen One. My father would have a stroke if it got back to him."
"Completely private? No public displays of… anything?"
"Of course not, Potter. But in private… anything goes," Malfoy said suggestively and Harry swallowed hard, looking at those gorgeous lips and imagining them sliding over… oh god.
"I'm in," he said hoarsely.
Draco concealed his smirk of triumph. Potter was just too easy. It was odd, but he'd never noticed how every single emotion could be clearly read on the Gryffindor's face. Draco was most familiar with the anger, of course, since that had been directed at him from nearly the first moment they had met. The embarrassment was not completely new. Draco had spent enough time trying to humiliate the Gryffindor that he had actually succeeded once or twice. But the hint of excitement… that was interesting. Draco suddenly wondered what Potter's face would look like in the throes of lust. Would the brilliant green eyes darken with passion? Would he moan quietly, or shout in reckless abandon?
Draco realized with a start that he'd been staring at Potter for an uncomfortably long time, and suddenly hoped he wasn't drooling. He dragged his eyes away from Potter's confused gaze, and looked at Hermione, who was giving him a speculative look. Bloody hell, if she won, Draco could see an endless week of torment coming. She would likely have Draco pounding her into every wall at Hogwarts. The quiet, bookish ones always liked it rough and kinky. Not that Draco had a problem with that. However, it was Granger. And Draco had no intention of losing. Unfortunately, Granger knew that.
"I'm in on one condition," she said. "I deal."
Draco glared at her, even though he had expected her reaction. She would be suspicious if he gave over too easily. After a tense moment of silence, he slid the cards over to her roughly. She picked them up in her hands, and split the deck in half before riffling her thumbs over them.
"What are you doing?" Draco yelped, horrified at her manhandling of his precious cards. Hermione scowled.
"I don't know how to shuffle with magic," she explained. "I'm not a compulsive gambler, like some people. This is how Muggles shuffle cards."
Draco mentally placed an order for a new deck as Granger practically bent the cards in half forcing them to intertwine. He cringed. At last she was finished and sent a card sailing toward Draco, and one to Potter, and finally placed one before her. She set the deck at the edge of the table. Out of Draco's reach. Her eyes met his smugly.
They picked up their cards. Fuck. A two of Wands. Draco had been hoping for a speck of luck, for once, but apparently that had gone to Potter, as usual, judging from the telltale glint in the Gryffindor's bloody beautiful eyes.
"Ready?" Draco asked. "You first, Potter, since you look the most pleased with yourself."
"No!" Hermione said. Draco could have throttled her. "All at once."
Draco hoped Potter didn't have the highest card in the deck, but Draco would just have to gamble. After all, that was the way of cards. Three cards were turned over, and placed in the center of the table. Hermione had a ten of Serpents—a decent card. Potter had a high card—a very high card—the Lover (and how prophetic was that?)—but it was beaten, and only just, by Draco's new card—the Star. He smiled.
It was difficult to cast a Glamour without words or wand, but Draco only needed to hold it a moment—long enough for both Potter and Granger to acknowledge his win. He had chosen the Star because it was not the highest card in the deck, but high enough to beat nearly everything else… and had a simple design. Potter's expression was worth every Galleon in the Malfoy vault. Draco swept the cards from the table and added them to the deck before getting up to tuck them into his robes, heedless of his nudity.
Once he had secured the deck, he threw himself on the pillows near the window and gestured to his new toys.
"Come, my Gryffindors. It's time to pleasure your new master."
She goggled at Draco, lounging in splendid nakedness on the cushions. How had he done it? The Slytherin bastard seemed far too smug and unsurprised by his win. Draco had to have cheated! But how?
"I think I'll just go and turn myself over to Voldemort," Harry muttered and Hermione looked at him in concern. Both hands were alternately massaging his temples and yanking at huge fistfuls of his black hair.
"Sorry Potter. We're locked in here, remember? You're stuck with me," Malfoy said. "Now come here. You too, Granger. You lost fair and square."
Fair and square, ha! Hermione thought, but she couldn't prove it, so she sighed.
"Come on, Harry. At least we're going to the gallows together."
She stood up and walked to stand near Malfoy, blushing again when he looked her up and down once more.
"Granger, let's see if you can put your mouth to better use than regaling the world with your never-ending factual knowledge," Malfoy said and gestured downward. She blushed deeply, but looked at him clinically, and grudgingly acknowledged that he really was quite beautiful. He sported a partial erection, jutting from a tangle of blond curls that Hermione suddenly wanted to put her hands into. She went forward and knelt between Malfoy's knees, and placed her hands on his thighs. Surprisingly, he didn't flinch at her touch. She slid her hands upward and pushed them into the curls—soft, as expected—and brushed her fingertips over his cock. It twitched, and she suppressed a smile. Malfoy had to be nervous about her touching him. She could seriously hurt him, if she chose.
She heard Harry beside her, and dared not look at him. Hermione was far more fearful of Malfoy's revenge against Harry than about anything he could do to her.
"Come here, Potter. We'll start with more kissing, since you don't seem to be in the mood. I'll fix that."
Harry sighed heavily and dropped to his knees on the pillows before moving forward to hover over Malfoy, who wrapped a pale hand in the black hair and dragged him down for a kiss. Hermione watched for a moment, thinking it was incredibly sexy to see them do that—and then she slid her tongue up the length of Draco's shaft, which hardened under her fingers. She took the whole thing in her mouth and sucked hard on the velvety softness.
She suppressed a sudden giggle. If someone had told her that morning that she would be giving Draco Malfoy a blowjob while he kissed Harry Potter, she would have thought them completely mad. Hermione pushed the thought away and concentrated on the task at hand. She would show the bastard what a Mudblood could do. But first… She paused long enough to Summon her wand, and then she conjured a miniature snow storm over them. Blessed cool air wafted over them.
Harry was rather surprised at Malfoy's command. "More kissing" was not what he'd expected. He had figured Malfoy would go straight for the jugular of abject humiliation. Harry tried to ignore what Hermione was doing, thinking he would never be able to scour his brain quite enough to remove that image, and they could never give Ron even the slightest inkling… Malfoy gestured imperiously, and Harry swallowed, sighed, and dropped to his knees. He leaned over Malfoy to offer his lips for another kiss. He felt a rough hand in his hair, and then that beautiful mouth took his once more.
Harry had hoped the first kiss had been a fluke, but apparently not, for everything melted away again and there was only the feel of Malfoy's mouth on his and the hand in his hair.
And then there was something else, as Malfoy's other hand fastened around something no one but Harry had ever touched—not since infancy, at any rate—and it was startling and terrifying and—bloody hell, it was incredible. Malfoy stroked, and Harry's cock swelled under the delightful sensation while he tried hard—oh so hard—to forget who was touching him.
Draco's mouth left Potter's for a moment so that he could look at the Gryffindor. He took his hand out of Potter's hair and pulled off the annoying glasses. Fuck, that was hot. Potter's green eyes were slightly unfocused, and he panted softly in time to Draco's strokes. Potter's hands were hot against Draco's chest, caressing lightly—Draco bet Potter didn't realize he was doing that—and a barely audible moan sounded in his throat. Tiny snowflakes landed on Potter's dark hair before melting away.
Draco wondered why Granger hadn't conjured the damned snow to begin with, rather than playing his card game. Not that he was complaining. She was currently—
"Fuck, Granger, you're good at that," Draco said suddenly, arching his back and shifting slightly to give her better access. "Been practicing on Potter?"
He felt teeth bite sharply into his cock, and realized he should probably not irritate Granger at that particular moment. Potter's eyes sharpened into focus at the comment and Draco muttered, "Never mind," before taking Potter's lips again. He was enormously satisfied when the Gryffindor sighed and melted against him.
Hermione was pleased at Malfoy's comment, until he added the part about Harry, at which she reminded him to watch his mouth while she had control. She dragged her teeth over him once more and heard Malfoy groan—what an enormously satisfying sound that was. Malfoy and Harry were not so much kissing as panting heavily into each others' mouths, which turned out to be an even hotter sound. Hermione felt Malfoy stiffen slightly and knew what was coming. Literally, she thought, and nearly giggled until she felt the spurting warmth at the back of her throat.
Purebloods tasted no better than any other males, she thought with satisfaction and looked forward to imparting that bit of knowledge to Mr. Better Bloodline.
"Oh god, oh fuck, oh yes, yes, yes…" she heard Harry say. She carefully released Malfoy and raised her head curiously.
Harry found himself gasping against Malfoy's lips and hoped to fuck he wasn't speaking, because he couldn't form a coherent sentence if his life depended on it. Malfoy was kissing him, in between panting breaths, and his hand moved with expert precision. Every spectacular twist brought a new rush of pleasure, and it was so very much better to have a different hand than your own down there, especially one that seemed to know exactly what to do…
He felt the familiar rushing sensation that preceded release, and kissed Malfoy hard as he exploded over the Slytherin's hand and chest. The kiss muffled any ridiculous things he might have been tempted to yell.
When the last shudder died away, Harry removed his lips from Malfoy's, but slid his mouth over the smooth cheek to rest near Malfoy's ear. He did not want to look into those sardonic silver eyes quite yet. He felt a foolish urge to thank the Slytherin, and vaguely wondered when his hands had wrapped themselves into the soft, platinum hair.
He felt Malfoy's fingers detach from his own locks, and reluctantly removed his hands to sit back. Harry remembered Hermione with a jolt, but did not dare look at her. He felt a flush suffuse his entire being. God, how could he have enjoyed that? With Malfoy, of all people?
Draco untangled his hands from the Chosen One, and watched in amusement as mortification flooded the Gryffindor hero's face. Granger watched Potter nervously. Snowflakes collected on the dark hair and Potter shivered slightly.
"Granger, I think you can turn off the snow, now," Draco said mildly. Hermione flicked her wand and banished the cold, while Draco cast a quick charm to clean himself. Always practical, Granger asked, "Are we done?"
Draco nodded, and she quickly got up and began to dress. Potter did not bother to hide his relief and started to move away, but Draco grabbed his hand. The emerald eyes snapped back to Draco's—so brilliant and green without the spectacles—and widened as Draco pressed a kiss into the palm, following it with a swipe of his tongue.
"This could be the best week of your life, Potter," Draco said suggestively. Potter's cheeks darkened and Draco could see him itching to deny it, but he merely sneered and yanked his hand away.
Potter stood, and might have commented anyway, but at that moment the door opened and Professor Trelawny walked in. Draco smiled at the expressions on the faces of both Gryffindors. This day was getting better and better. Even immanent detention could not dilute Draco's delight. Cheating was so worth it.