Harry lay on the floor in the Gryffindor common room. He had work he could have been doing, but it was Saturday, and Saturday's weren't made for doing homework. Ron was similarly lethargic, sprawled out lengthwise over an armchair. Hermione seemed to be the only one in the common room who was accomplishing something; she was furiously writing an essay for one class or another.
"I'm bored," Harry said, staring at the ceiling.
"I'm with you there, mate," Ron responded. "I would suggest chess, but honestly, it's no fun kicking your arse every time." Hermione sniffed at Ron's coarse language.
Harry didn't have the energy to be indignant. He resumed his ceiling-staring.
"Did somebody say bored? We can fix that!" Harry tilted his head to see Fred and George standing side by side with identical mischievous grins on their faces. It was unclear which one had spoken.
"Yeah, we've been waiting for an opportunity to try this baby out," one of them said, pulling out a cobalt-blue bottle from the inside pocket of his robe. Harry sat up, grinning.
"Oh boy! A bottle! I can think of so many fun things we can do with a bottle!" Harry said sarcastically.
"Let me guess, it's enchanted to deliver embarrassing notes to people, isn't it?" Hermione said with a slight note of exasperation in her voice, not looking up from her work. Harry could tell that she was gearing up to tell them off and confiscate the bottle.
Apparently, Fred and George could also tell that she was getting ready to exercise her prefectly duties. "Don't worry Hermione, this is just your standard, everyday, run-of-the-mill bottle. No need to confiscate it," said George, flashing a smile.
"Although," Fred interjected, "embarrassment does play a role in what we plan to do with this."
"Oh? And what would that be?" Hermione asked, resolutely staring at her half-completed essay despite having stopped writing.
"You're a muggle-born, Hermione, you should be able to guess. Really, how many fun things can you do with a bottle?"
Harry knew suddenly what their plan for the bottle was. Hermione either was deliberately not thinking about it or being extremely naive, because she looked up and said tersely, "I'm not in the mood for guessing games right now."
George looked exasperated. "Spin the bottle, Hermione! Don't tell me you never had slumber parties!"
"Now that you mention it, the concept is familiar...but there's no way I'm taking part in such juvenile foolishness," she stated firmly, turning back to her work.
Now it was Fred's turn to look exasperated. "Live a little, Hermione!"
While Hermione seemed to be considering the matter. Ron was looking confused. Harry wondered whether the concept of "Spin the Bottle" existed in the wizarding world or if Ron was just being his usual clueless self. Harry himself was not keen on playing Spin the Bottle; laying around being bored seemed like the lesser of two evils at this moment. He was about to say this to Fred and George but they had left for other parts of the common room, doing some recruiting. There was a period of contemplative silence.
Now Ron spoke up. "What's this spin the bottle crap, anyway? It doesn't sound like any fun to me."
Hermione turned slightly red and was about to answer when George ambled back over to them. "Well, we're setting up over there in the corner over by the windows; there's a lot of space there, plus there's a handy closet right close by," he said with a rogueish wink. Harry, who didn't need to think for very long to figure out what the closet might be for, was feeling more and more like this was something he didn't want to be involved in. Against his better judgment he got off the floor and walked, with Ron and Hermione close behind, to where the game was taking place.
Sitting in a large, rough circle, Neville, Dean, Seamus, Colin, Dennis, Lavender, Parvati, Padma, Hannah, Justin, Ernie, Susan, Michael, Terry, Anthony, Luna, Katie, Alicia, Angelina, Draco, Crabble, Goyle, Pansy, Theo, Cho, Marietta, Zacharias, Millicent, Demelza, Blaise, Ginny, Lee, and Romilda.
"That was a lot of commas," Harry blurted unthinkingly.
George looked at him, unsure of whether to be concerned or amused. "Commas? What are you talking about?"
"Never mind," Harry responded. Why did I say that? What commas? Harry chalked the incident down to nerves and found himself a place in the circle, squashed between Padma and Goyle. Padma looked happy to be farther away from Goyle and Harry could see (or rather, smell) why; Goyle had an extremely offensive body odor. Harry could almost see the dull grey-green waves of stink emanating from Goyle's body. He was about to get up and squeeze himself in somewhere else, but Ron and Hermione had also sat down and now Fred and George were standing in the middle of the circle. Harry settled in resentfully and hoped that when it was his turn to spin the bottle, it wouldn't land on Goyle.
"Well, now that we're all settled, we'll explain the rules of the game," Fred began. "The premise is simple; simply spin the bottle and snog whoever it lands on." Some members of the group looked shocked, others repulsed, and some (namely Lavender and Parvati) giggled loudly and began to whisper to those sitting next to them.
George continued. "You might notice that storage closet over there; if a pair that's already snogged gets paired again, they have to go in that closet for seven minutes."
"And don't think you can just stand there for seven minutes, maybe ruffle your clothes up a little bit, come out with a dazed expression on your face, and pretend like you did something," Fred interjected, smiling. "We've enchanted the closet to, delicately put, make you want to shag each other senseless. We anticipate having to go in there and break things up because seven minutes won't be nearly enough to accomplish much. We will drag you out regardless of your state of undress."
There were a few uneasy glances exchanged. George, misreading their looks of concern, went on, "but don't worry, we've also placed contraceptive charms on it, so there's no way any of you ladies will come away from this with a baby or anything." This was met with gasps from most of the students, on whom the idea of actual sex hadn't dawned. "And honestly, what are the odds that the bottle will land on the same couple twice, with this many people? You don't need Hermione to do the math; the chances are very small."
There was a pause as Fred and George looked around at everybody in the circle. "No questions? Okay, I guess I'll spin the bottle to see who gets to spin first, and then we'll just step out and officiate," Fred said, clapping his hands.
"Wait, you guys aren't playing?" Ron interjected angrily.
"Of course not, little bro, we've got to make sure there are no wands drawn and no blood shed," George said with a grin. "I think most of the people here would rather stun themselves than face the prospect of kissing you, and we're here to prevent that from happening."
This was met with general laughter. Ron's ears turned pink. He struggled to find a witty comeback to this, and, failing this, crossed his arms and scowled.
"Alright then, no more questions? Here we go." Fred put the bottle in the center of the circle and gave it a vicious spin. Harry watched it with pleading eyes. Don't land on me, don't land on me, don't land on me, his mind chanted.
The bottle began to slow down. All eyes were fixed on it. Harry could tell it was going to come to a stop pointing away from him and let out the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. The bottle had landed on Romilda, who looked like she might faint from the excitement of being chosen by the cobalt-blue god sitting in the center of them all. She slowly got up from her spot in the circle, trottled two steps to the bottle, and after giving a pointed look to Harry, gave the bottle a good spin.
Harry repeated his mantra, this time with his eyes closed. Only until Seamus started screaming objections and obscenities did he open them. Romilda walked toward him with a faint smile while Seamus was being restrained by those sitting next to him. Again, the situation was met with general laughter from the others. Seamus continued his struggling as Romilda firmly planted his lips on his. Harry felt the increasingly powerful urge to just get up and go up to the dormitory, screw this teenager shit.
Harry was about to do just this when another thought hit him. They'll think you're a wuss, Harry. They'll think you're a baby.
Harry couldn't have that. Oh no, that would never do.
So Harry stayed. He watched as Romilda finally wound up her kiss with Seamus, who had finally stopped resisting when he realized there was no point.
"Okay Seamus, now you get to spin," Fred said from outside the circle. Seamus spouted off some completely unnecessary obscenities and spun the bottle.
Harry was struck with a sudden thought. What if the bottle landed on a guy? The twins wouldn't make Seamus kiss a guy, would they? What if it landed on him? The stress was so great that Harry didn't think he would be able to watch another spin without having a heart attack.
Again, the bottle seemed to be slowing down and was pointing nowhere near Harry. It ended pointing at Crabbe. Seamus let loose some perfectly justified obscenities. Crabbe looked dumbly between the bottle and Seamus. Harry could almost hear the gears turning in Crabbe's head. Finally he reached comprehension.
"I ain't kissing him. No way," Crabbe said slowly. "I ain't no queer."
"If you two don't get on with it we'll throw you in the closet, and that's a promise," George said politely. "Wouldn't you say that a little kissy-wissy is better than that?"
Crabbe considered for a moment. "Fine, I'll do it. But I ain't a queer. Get over here, Finnigan."
Seamus looked back at the closed closet door, as if weighing his options, and then turned back to Crabbe. "Come on, Crabbe, you know you can't resist my Irish charms," he said in as manly a voice he could muster, sitting down next to Crabbe.
Crabbe flexed menacingly. Seamus and Crabbe glared at each other, then tentatively kissed without stopping their glaring. Most of the boys looked on with expressions of sheer terror on their faces.
"Come on, you guys call that a snog? You're not kissing your grandmas here, the point is snogging!" Fred yelled, exasperated. "We'll throw you in the closet if you can't even do this simple thing properly!"
"Tongue is purely optional, however," George added, as if this provision would change either Crabbe's or Seamus's opinion on the matter.
Crabbe and Seamus reluctantly obliged while trying to intensify their glares. After a short few seconds, they broke apart. Seamus scampered back to his spot without making eye contact with anybody. Crabbe looked ready to beat up anybody who would question his sexuality. Fred, noticing this tension, tried not to laugh as he said, "Okay, Crabbe, your turn."
Crabbe spun the bottle. Harry strongly hoped it would land on a girl; Crabbe would probably snap and Avada Kedavra everyone in the common room if he had to snog another guy. What if it landed on Seamus again? Oh god.
The bottle stopped on Cho, luckily for everybody (except Cho, of course). Crabbe looked pleased at this reversal of fortune.
She's probably going to start crying or something, Harry thought, grimacing. Hell, anybody would start crying if they had to kiss Crabbe. Look at Seamus over there, he's nearly catatonic.
And why am I thinking in Italics?
"What?" Harry said out loud, but as his voice was drowned out by the sound of Cho retching, nobody heard him. Good thing too. Any more incidents like that and Harry thought he would start doubting his own sanity.
Cho now spun the bottle, which landed on Susan. Most of the males perked up immediately; girls snogging was a shared fantasy of most of them, Harry included.
Cho is looking pretty hot today.
Susan is too, actually.
If you don't snap out of this inner monologue, you're going to miss it, you twat.
There are those Italicized thoughts again. I am definitely losing it.
Harry shook himself back to reality, glad to see that he hadn't missed much. Susan and Cho were actually rolling around on the floor, writhing sinuously in pure unbridled passion. Harry would have been whooping and catcalling, but his vocal chords seemed paralyzed. Even Fred and George had halted their non-stop witty commentary. There were moans and whimpers coming from the pile of legs and robes.
Then somebody coughed, and Susan and Cho seemed to snap out of it. Cho reluctantly disentangled herself and scooted back to her position.
Fred regained his voice before everybody else. "FUCK YEEEEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! WOO!" he yelled, pumping his fists in the air.
"Okay Suze, it's your turn to spin. . ."
The game continued on in this fashion for some time. Some twenty different pairs had snogged (including Ron kissing an overeager Colin and Hermione having to withstand Goyle's eye-watering stench), Ernie and Millicent had ended up in the closet and been dragged out almost completely naked, and the bottle still hadn't ended up pointing at Harry.
Draco had just finished up an unemotional kiss with Padma and it was now his turn to spin the bottle. He gave it a hard spin and Harry once again repeated his chant. Don't land on me, don't land on me, don't land on me, what's up with these fucking Italics anyway?, don't land on me. . .
The bottle had stopped and was pointing at the negligible empty space between Padma and Harry. It looked to be pointing slightly towards his direction, but he wasn't going down without a fight. On the verge of panic, he tried to keep his voice calm. Instead, it came out falsely cheery; the voice of a man who knows he's doomed. "Looks like Padma again. Too bad! Guess that's the closet for you two!"
"No way, no fucking way, it's definitely pointing at you," Padma said angrily, glaring at Harry with her dark eyes before scooting farther to her left. "See?"
Harry was struggling to come up with a sufficiently offensive name to call Padma and had only gotten as far as "curryhead" before George interrupted. "There's a simple spell to find out who the bottle was pointing at, we'll just use th--" Harry cut him off.
"Yeah, but she moved! Now it's pointing towards me, but it so wasn't before!"
"The spell will take that into consideration; do you think we'd overlook something like that?" Fred responded smartly. He waved his wand and muttered something under his breath. In response, the bottle lept up from the floor and conked Harry between the eyes. "Yup, just confirming what we all already knew."
Harry lay on the floor, hands on his forehead, eyes scrunched up from the pain. He could hear Draco complaining and Padma gloating. Dean's voice cut through the general babble: "Get up, you pansy, and face your fate like a MAN!" There were shouts of agreement. Easy for him to say, he only had to kiss Parvati and Hannah, Harry thought resentfully. He opened his eyes to find Draco's staring right back at him.
Harry found Draco's lips pressed to his before he could vocalize his intense opposition to this entire thing. Draco began to kiss frantically, cupping Harry's face in his hands. Harry was shocked into reciprocating the action.
If he uses tongue, I'm going to lose it. No question. I will simply go insane.
It's not that bad. . .
There were gasps and giggles, but Harry barely heard; he was drowning in waves of passion. When Fred pulled Draco off of Harry, Harry almost grabbed him back. Then he came back to his senses. He hadn't enjoyed that, had he? No, definitely not. Nope.
Quick, say something witty!
"Pretending I was your mum, Draco?"
It wasn't very witty at all, in Harry's opinion, but there was a burst of laughter regardless. Draco, who was looking faintly pleased with himself, didn't respond. Harry spun the bottle. He fervently hoped that it wouldn't land on Draco.
It didn't. It was pointing at Alicia, who squealed and ran over to him. Harry was too distracted to enjoy her frantic groping, though, and sat passively until it was over. Alicia went back to her spot undaunted and spun.
The game continued another thirty minutes. The bottle somehow didn't land on Harry again, but his two friends weren't so lucky. After spinning the bottle and having it land on Ron, a still-bitter Padma went over and kicked him in the groin; Ron was thusly unable to fully enjoy his kiss with Hermione, as he was sobbing loudly and curled up in a ball on the floor. A disappointed Hermione than had to snog Luna, who seemed to have lost her ability to blink in the past hour.
"That was lovely, Hermione," Luna said faintly after they broke apart. "You'll be glad to know that I didn't spot any Nargles."
Hermione, who had an unwaveringly negative attitude towards Luna's flights of fantasy, said nothing.
Luna didn't seem offended. She contemplated the bottle for almost a full thirty seconds before George interrupted. "Come on loony, spin the damn thing!"
"No need to be so impatient, George," Luna responded lightly, spinning the bottle, which landed on Draco.
Harry perked to attention. It was on Draco. . .that meant that Draco was spinning next. Harry's mind couldn't resist riding this train of thought all the way to the station.
What if he spun and it landed on me?
The Closet. Oh god, the Closet.
At what point did Closet gain the capital C?
Never mind that, what the hell am I going to do if that fucking bottle comes to a stop and it's pointing at me?
Be realistic, what are the chances of that?
. . .Is that pounding behind my eyes just an artifact of the bottle hitting my forehead, or is the sanity slowly dripping out of my brain?
When did you get so eloquent in your thoughts, Potter?
And when did you start referring to yourself by your last name?
Harry was jerked out of his thoughts as Draco finished with Luna and was now on his hands and knees, swearing loudly and pretending to retch.
"The next person I get better be able to keep their hands to themselves!" Draco yelled as he crawled to the bottle.
Oh god. He's spinning It. The Bottle.
Harry watched the cerulean blur with apprehension.
Sweet mother of Christ, It's slowing down.
It's slowing down.
Oh no. Not me, please not me.
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no oh no ohnoohonoohnoohnoohnoohnoohno...
Harry stared dumbly at the bottle. There was no doubt this time that it was pointing at him. Nobody said a word. Even Seamus, who had been babbling incoherently ever since kissing Crabbe, wasn't making a noise. Ron had fainted dead away. Hermione had covered her eyes with her hands. And Draco. . .well, Draco looked about as dumbstruck as Harry felt. Then his wide-open mouth formed itself into a smirk. Draco held the smirk for a while before destroying the silence with his drawling voice.
"Well, scarhead, looks like we've got ourselves a date for the Closet." Harry could hear the capital C. "Ladies first." Harry numbly got up and walked towards the closet. It was better not to think about it. Draco got up immediately and followed. He leaned close to Harry as they strode over to the door. "I'm looking forward to this, Harry."
Was that the first time he called me by my first name?
Harry roughly wrenched open the door and stepped inside the closet. Draco followed, closing the door behind him. Harry immediately felt a sensation very similar to the Imperius curse. He would be able to throw it off, no problem. Just stun Draco and sit for a few minutes until Fred or George got him out.
But there was a problem.
I don't actually want this, do I?
I think I do.
Draco was taking off his pants. He caught Harry staring and their eyes locked. Draco impatiently kicked off his pants completely and grabbed Harry in a passionate kiss. After a few seconds, Draco broke off, leaving Harry in an even more confused state of mind.
"It might hurt a little, but I think you're going to like this."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Harry was dimly aware, in some unlit corner of his brain, that their allotted seven minutes had elapsed some time ago. It wasn't like he was in a particular hurry to finish up, but where were Fred and George?
They're probably scared of what they'll see when they open the door. I would be too. The Boy-Who-Lived, getting butt-fucked by his arch-enemy? I can scarcely believe it myself.
Harry was shaken out of his reverie by a loud grunting coming from behind him. Just then, the door opened. Fred, who had obviously been bracing for the worst, didn't looked as shocked as the situation warranted. Harry could see people craning their necks to see what was going on. "Come on you two love-birds, time's up, game's over, put some clothes back on." Fred turned to the rest of them. "You heard, game over!"
There was, unsurprisingly, little complaining as the students picked themselves up off the floor and heading towards armchairs and the portrait hole. Draco disengaged himself and began to put his clothes back on. Harry felt like he should say something hurtful to Draco to reestablish their enmity, but he couldn't think of anything, so he grabbed his clothes and began to dress himself as well.
Draco broke the silence.
"Same time next week?"
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Author's notes: This is a parody, or at least an attempted parody; I didn't put it under that category in case it deterred people from reading this. In preparation for writing this fic, I read unreasonable amounts of Spin the Bottle and Truth or Dare? fics, and most of them are utter shit. The connecting thread between most of them is that they set the stage for a pairing that would never happen if the characters were left to their own devices. Usually it's Draco/Ginny or Harry/Hermione or something like that; characters that don't realize their everlasting love for each other until they're forced into a romantic situation.
I'm not a Draco/Harry shipper. In fact, I can't stand Draco. I don't like slash, either. I don't understand the obsession with it. Hopefully those slash lovers out there got what they wanted from this fic. :)