Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Draco Malfoy Harry Potter Original Female Witch
Slash Drama
Harry and Classmates Post-Hogwarts
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Quidditch Through the Ages
Published: 04/22/2005
Updated: 07/30/2008
Words: 247,857
Chapters: 31
Hits: 79,195

The Bet


Story Summary:
It all started with a little bet. "I bet you can't do it." "Do what?" "Seduce him." Draco Malfoy's never been one to back down from a perfectly do-able bet. But when that bet involves Harry Potter? Draco's realising that this bet isn't as cut and dry as it seems, nor as easy... AU post-war, post-Hogwarts, Harry/Draco/OC

Chapter 12

Chapter Summary:
Ron gets a surprise, Hermione has a breakdown, and Draco and Raven have a fight.
Author's Note:
I recently lost my beta when this chapter was originally being written, and my temp-beta was having problems with his computer, so for this chapter, the lovely and wonderful


The Bet

Chapter XII - A Brewing Storm


Although he was still apprehensive about the whole situation, once Hermione made both him and Neville promise not to interfere with Harry's current affairs, he stuck to that, trusting his best friend to make the right decisions. Regardless that he felt that any decision involving Draco Malfoy was a bad decision. Unless, of course, that decision was to beat the crap out of the blond haired git.

It wasn't that Ron was still holding the petty squabbles of their Hogwarts-days; he was just having a hard time wrapping his head around the idea. Once you have a rather ingrained impression of someone, it was hard to adjust to a change in that impression. And when dealing with Draco Malfoy, his first reaction was to think that it was probably a farce; something the Slytherin was doing to win over Harry and use him how he deemed fit. He was still a Slytherin after all, and Ron wouldn't put it past the arsehole to do something like that.

However, Ron wasn't stupid either. He knew that there was no logical reason behind a scheme like that--the war was over, they weren't in Hogwarts anymore--it just wouldn't make sense. Especially so out of the blue. Or maybe because it was out of the blue, a voice piped up in the back of his mind. And for a minute, Ron thought that perhaps Malfoy was trying to win Harry's trust to take over Seeker position on the school team. And it seemed that he was right; when Malfoy had actually turned up for practice one afternoon, Harry insisted it was because the man needed the practice. Now Ron had just currently been promoted to varsity Keeper when the previous Keeper, Rodney Owens, graduated last spring, but he knew that Malfoy had hardly ever attended practices, and if he did, it was only with the back-up players, never with the varsity. It was amazing that he was never kicked off the team, even if he was only back-up.

So what was the Slytherin up to? Harry seemed to have made the decision, and although Malfoy was still acting like a right git, he was aware enough to see that blond was actually appreciative of Harry's suggestion to get back in the game. So Ron resigned himself to take it at face value (for the moment), but keep an eye out for any wayward activity.

Which was where he was at at the moment. He and Hermione (along with quite a few others) were attending their Tuesday morning Herbology class, but there were two people that weren't there that should have been.

Harry and Malfoy.

He told himself that perhaps Harry was running late; he had vaguely heard him leave yesterday evening, and never really heard him come back home--perhaps he just needed to sleep in. But Malfoy...he was never late. Never absent. Never sick. Never anything but an upstanding student, which irked Ron to no degree. But after half an hour with"Mr. Perfect" never showing up, the little niggling of panic in his stomach dropped to his navel, and he was now trying to convince himself that there was no foul play.

While the class went to work on the practical side of their lesson, Ron nudged his fiancée's elbow.

"'Mione, love?"


"Does it seem...odd," he started, trying to think of the best way to go about this, "that both Harry and Malfoy aren't in class this morning?" He added a hopeful note to his voice at the end, hoping Hermione wouldn't see past it to his distress. She'd only write it off as silly, after all.

"Oh don't be silly, Ron," she said. Well, so much for that idea...Ron thought. "I'm sure nothing's wrong. Harry probably just needs a lie-in, and what Malfoy does is his own business."

"Did you say Malfoy?" Seamus asked from across the table.

The two heads popped up and added the Irishman into the conversation. "Yeah," Ron said. "I was wondering where he and Harry were this morning. You know that they've been getting a little chummy lately, right?" Seamus nodded. "And it's not like Malfoy to miss class. Ever."

"It sounds like you care if Malfoy comes to class, Ron," Hermione said, smirking at him.

"Yes, that's right. I care about Malfoy." Ron shook his head. "What a load of rubbish. I only care about Malfoy if it involves Harry. And even then it's not in a friendly manner."

A frown flitted across Seamus' face. "Well...Harry brought Malfoy home late last night..." he started.

"What?" Ron said darkly. Malfoy was in their dorm? What was Harry thinking?

Seamus' frown deepened. "Yeah, Harry came in late last night with Malfoy, and they went upstairs to Harry's room and hung out I guess," Seamus shrugged. "That's what they said they were going to do, anyway."

Ron felt himself pale, and chanced a glance at Hermione, who had a raised eyebrow, but an otherwise blank look on her face. "Wh-what do you mean, you guess?"

Seamus shrugged again. "Gin and I didn't hear anything after that. I think they put a silencing charm on the room or something."

"When did he leave? Did Malfoy leave?" Ron was definitely panicking now, and he was speaking with an urgency that was ready to explode. He felt Hermione shift a bit closer to him, but the gesture held no comfort.

"I'd assume so," Seamus answered. "But shortly after they came in, I walked Ginny home, then went to bed meself, so I didn't hear him leave or anything."

A very distant part of Ron registered that Seamus was indeed treating his little sister well, and smiled. That threat he issued a few months ago was working wonders. But the not so distant part was frozen in panic and anger. What if Malfoy did something to Harry? Revenge for years of animosity? Ron knew he probably wasn't thinking his most rational at the moment, but he wasn't sure he cared. Ron looked down at his fiancée, giving her a look that pleaded, 'Harry can take care of himself, right? I'm panicking over nothing, right?'

Hermione caught his gaze and held it, first in annoyance of Ron's inanity, but then in adoration at the worried look in his blue eyes. She shifted a bit closer and reached up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek in reassurance. "I'm sure he's fine," she murmured. "He is Harry, after all. But check after class if you like," she added.

Ron relaxed slightly, but the tightness in his stomach wouldn't abate. He spent the rest of class working mechanically, his thoughts elsewhere. As soon as the class was let out, he left his classmates behind and sprinted across the large courtyard to his dormitory, the thoughts racing through his mind bringing scenarios that got more ugly and terrifying by the second. But Harry could defend himself, right? Right? I mean, he was the Boy-Who-Lived, the final vanquisher of the darkest lord of their time, surely an ex-Death Eater and Malfoy heir would be nothing...unless you had your guard down around one such person...

But even the worst of his thoughts couldn't compare to what he saw once he bounded up the stairs of Number One and opened the door to Harry's room.

There were a few pairs of clothes strewn about on the floor--jeans and shirts and slacks and jumpers--and two very different pairs of shoes next to the bed on the floor, on which lay...

Ron's horrified screaming could be heard all they way into the village.


As mentioned before, Draco Malfoy was not much of a morning person. But he could still get up very early, and if it was a particularly nasty morning, he would swig a bit of Pepper Up potion and go on with the rest of the day; perfecting his hair and clothes meticulously, as befitted someone who not only was a Malfoy, but one who was well on their way to master the fine art of potions making.

But then there were some mornings, when one just really did not want to get up. Lethargy, warmth and comfort claimed all precedence, and cared not what the outside world thought. This was one such morning for Draco Malfoy, and since they did not come often, he was more than content to stay in bed for the rest of his life if need be. He was warm, he was comfortable, and the musky smell of the bed he was in was bordering in either lulling him back to sleep, or egging on his proverbial morning erection.

But there was something wrong. Not only was there a rather heavy weight across his chest, but there was this terrible racket coming from what direction he vaguely recognised was the doorway.

Eyes shooting open, Draco sat up, blinking his eyes against the harsh light streaming in from the windows. The arm that was on his chest fell into his lap, and he looked over and down at the owner of that tanned arm.

Harry Potter was lying next to Draco on his stomach, his hair every which way, one arm tucked underneath him, and the other laying dangerously close to Draco's 'other' appendage. The man's face was half-buried in his maroon pillow, and he seemed to be in a deep slumber. Draco gulped for a second, his sleep addled mind quite pleased with the sight of Harry in the morning.

But goddammit, there was some stupid noise interrupting his Harry-watching. Draco finally whipped his head to the direction of the door, where Weasley stood, a horrified and pale look on his face, which was quickly turning red in rage.


Now even though Draco was still on his way to waking up, he thought that perhaps he should play with the git's mind a little, as he was obviously going to be scarred for life, and since Harry didn't seem to be waking up...

Draco mentally smirked, but outwardly scowled. Grabbing the top of the covers, he pulled them up and started to lie down and snuggle closer to Harry. "Weasley, if you don't mind, some people are trying to sleep here. Cease your indignant squawking and bugger off."

Ron's mouth snapped shut, but opened quickly again in sputtering bursts. "Malfoy...you...Harry...what...what the fuck are you doing in his bed! Naked?!" His voice was shrill and harsh, much higher than it had been in a long time. His shrieks finally seemed to register in Harry's sleeping mind, and the raven-haired boy shifted in his sleep, pulling his arm around Draco and burying his face in the pale man's shoulder, which only made Ron shriek in rage again.

But upon seeing his best mate snuggle up to Malfoy, Ron finally got over his shock and strode over to the bed and yanked back the covers, making Draco cry out in protest, and Harry shiver and finally blink his eyes open.

"Wha...?" Harry groaned blearily, leaning a little off of Draco and rubbing his right eye to rid it of the sleepies.

Draco's mental scowl matched the one on his face. That had been nice for the two seconds it had lasted...

Ron, however, was still in a fit of rage. And the fact that the men were indeed not naked, but just topless, didn't make him feel any better. Or rather, it did, but the embarrassment of assuming such a thing quickly overrode any relief that Harry and Malfoy had not spent the night...

No. He wasn't going to think about it. But they could have put their clothes back on afterwards, right? The evidence against them was substantial. Silencing charms, clothes strewn about, and were those bruises on Malfoy's ribs? Ron shook his head. No. It was better to just not think about it. He'd just...ask Harry later. Yes. That would work.

So, taking a deep breath, the tall redhead glared down at Malfoy and spat, "I don't know what you think you're doing, Malfoy, but you better leave now if you want to leave bodily intact."

But Malfoy glared and suddenly sat back up, which jerked Harry into awareness, although he was still trying to grasp the current situation.

"Is that a threat, Weasel?"

Draco? Harry thought.

Ron leaned forward into Draco's face. "Only if you make it one, Ferret."

Ron? Harry rolled onto his side and sat up next to Draco. What's going on?

But before Harry could voice his thoughts, Draco stood up on the bed so he could tower over Harry's taller best friend.

"It might come as a surprise to you, Weasel, but Harry can have whoever he pleases spend the night in his bed. Even if that someone is of the male persuasion."

Harry saw Ron's eyes widen, but his face remained flushed with anger.

"How dare you call him 'Harry!'"

It was then that Harry's sleep addled brain seemed to latch on to the situation. He had seen the sight before him many, many times before in the past--Ron and Draco, in each other's faces and ready to come to blows.

However, this time, Harry's reaction was different. Instead of defending Ron and bringing Draco's focus to him, he jumped out of the bed and got between the two men, facing Ron.

"Ron, stop!"

Ron's face snapped down to look at the smaller man and his anger wavered. "You're not defending him, are you, Harry? Please tell me that I've been hallucinating all morning and I did not find you and Malfoy in bed together..."

Harry frowned. "No, Ron. You're not hallucinating. Draco was really tired, so I let him stay over."

"Draco? You're calling him Draco?" Ron shook his head. "But why did you let him stay over? It's not like he lives in London! He could have walked two houses over! Or apparated! He is a wizard, Harry."

"And he is still in the room," Draco intoned darkly from behind Harry, still standing on the bed and glaring down at Ron.

"Shut up, Ferret." Ron spat, not looking away from Harry's eyes, which were darkening in anger.

"Ron, you know apparating when you're tired isn't a good idea. He could have been splinched," Harry said, still frowning at his best mate.

"Well, at least we could have been rid of him for awhile while they sorted him out at St. Mungo's!"

"You don't need to get splinched to go to Mungo's, Weasel. But I'm sure I could make you an appointment."

"Shut up, Ferret!" Ron finally tore his gaze away from his friend and glared up at the blond. "I don't ever want to see you in Harry's bed again! Or in this dorm!"


"You can't order me around, you pretentious ass. I think being made prefect all those years ago got to your head. I'm sorry to disappoint you, Weasley, but we're not in Hogwarts anymore. Harry can have whoever he wants in his room, or in this dorm!"

"Draco, stop. You're not making things any better." Harry turned back to his best friend. "I don't know why you're so mad Ron. We just slept in the same bed. You're making it sound like he's going to stab me in my sleep."

Yes, Draco thought, folding his arms and shifting his weight. I would like to stab you, but not in the way you or Weasley think.

Ron paled at Harry's comment. "I just don't trust him, Harry. He's done nothing to-"

"You're absolutely right, Ron. He's done nothing." Harry was finally losing his temper. "He's done nothing but prove to me that he's a changed person, and that he deserves our respect. We weren't the only ones that suffered the war, Ron. Draco's just as human as the rest of us." Harry paused to let that sink in. "Draco's right. You're acting just like you did when you were fifteen. We're twenty-three now. Grow up. Now, if you'll excuse us, I think we'd like to get dressed." Harry stepped forward, and Ron stepped back, a mixture of horrification and hurt on his freckled face.

"I..." Ron's eyes searched Harry's, hardening as they landed on Draco, and his mouth creased in a line. Then he looked back at Harry. He wanted to keep throwing a strop, and stay angry at Malfoy, and at the stupid situation, and Harry...and... No, not at Harry. He mentally shook his head. Harry was right. And consequentially, so was Malfoy. He was acting immature. Looking straight into Harry's dark green eyes, he sighed. "You're right, Harry. I over reacted. I'm sorry."

Harry's face softened. "It's alright, Ron. I think I understand."

Ron just nodded, looking away. "Yeah, well." He glanced over at Draco. "Malfoy..." he frowned. "If you've really changed, fine. But if this is some sort of scheme..." he warned.

Draco smirked. "I can assure you it's not, Weasley." He shifted forward in a rather bold move and snaked his arms around Harry's shoulders, who jumped. Ron's frown only deepened. "Harry and I are just friends, isn't that right, Harry?" Draco breathed in the Gryffindor's ear, sending an interesting shiver down his spine.

"Er...yes. We're just friends," Harry managed, startled by the softness, warmth and weight of Draco's arms around his shoulders, and across his chest.

Ron grimaced and said, "Fine. You're friends. It's the end of the world. Got it." He shook his head. "You two have missed Herbology, and come to think of it, we're all late for our next classes." He sighed. "I'll see you later, Harry. Malfoy."

"Bye, Ron."


As Ron closed the door behind him he heard Harry admonish Malfoy. "I really wish you'd stop calling him that, Draco. He's my best mate, and he has a name. It's Ron. Surely you can learn to use it." Ron smirked in the only self-satisfaction he had that morning. Well, as long as the world is ending, I might as well let Hermione in on it. And he left his dormitory to seek out his fiancée.


"...Well, if he wasn't such a weasel, maybe I wouldn't call him that," Draco said indignantly, taking his arms from Harry's shoulders and crossing them over his chest.

Harry rolled his eyes and turned around. "Now who's being immature? He's no more a weasel than you are a ferret." When Draco's visage didn't change Harry said, "Okay look, I'll talk to him too, alright? Maybe you guys can agree on surnames? Is that better?"

Draco shrugged. "Yeah. I suppose so."

"Gods, are you an insufferable git."

Draco smirked. "But that's how you like me, Potter."

"Oh shut up, will you? I just fought with my best friend over you. Jeeze. Act a little humble for once in your life."

Draco frowned. He knew Harry was right, but his deep-rooted animosity with Weasley, which went far into family feuds, was battling with his desire to be and stay on the dark-haired Gryffindor's good side. He found that although he had not gotten over his enmity towards Harry's best friend, he had gotten over his feelings towards Harry himself, and just couldn't bear to make things worse and destroy all the progress they had made these past weeks. Finally, his shoulders sagged and he dropped his arms to his sides. "I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to make things hard between you and Weasley. He just...pisses me off. It's like its ingrained or something."

Harry raised an eyebrow. Was Draco actually apologising? "It's alright, Draco. I think it's the same for him. I know it normally is for me, too." Harry felt a flush come over his face, and turned away, bending down to pick up his discarded clothes from the night before.

"Normally?" Draco asked, hopping down from the bed.

Harry shrugged. "Well, I don't normally defend you, do I?" Harry turned around and smiled at Draco.

The blond decided then that breathing was overrated. Seeing Harry, just woken up and bed-mussed, no glasses, no shirt, hair looking like he'd just spent all night having sex; all bright green eyes, tan skin and smiles...it made something twinge in Draco's chest, tingling all he way down to his groin. "No..." he breathed. "You don't."

Harry turned away from Draco then, moving to the other side of the room to the closet, where he opened one of the sliding wooden doors and threw his clothes inside. Breathing deeply, he let some tension expel with his breath, turning back around to find Draco sitting on the edge of the bed. Harry walked back over and sat down beside him.

"I don't know about you, but I'm still tired. What do you say we skip today, and laze about in bed?"

Draco started a bit, and looked over at Harry with blank look on his face. Harry had the feeling that he was looking at a wall. Did I say something wrong?

And as for Draco, he was glad that he still had the ability to mask his true feelings. The reason he sat down was among those affections. And Harry's current proposal wasn't helping. He wanted nothing more than to do just as Harry asked, but he knew he couldn't. It was too soon. He doesn't even realise the effect he's having on you, so don't blow it all now, not when you're so close...Draco knew that if he stayed, he would probably do something that would destroy everything--the bet, and their new friendship most of all. Besides, Harry didn't even know that Draco was even having the inclination to think of men like that, and so didn't realise that he was dangling a steak in front of a ravenous tiger. Draco didn't want to test his theories. And Harry was almost too close to him now...

"I'd really like to, Harry, but I shouldn't. N.E.W.T.'s and all."

Harry looked away and seemed slightly dejected. "Oh, yeah, I understand. That was pretty thoughtless of me to suggest-"

"No!" Draco went to place a hand on Harry's forearm, only to jerk back at the last second. Harry glanced down at Draco's hand with a puzzled frown, but decided to just let the strange gesture pass. "I mean...it wasn't thoughtless. Like I said, I'd love to, but neither of us should, really." Draco paused before speaking again. "Perhaps...I could take a rain check?"

Harry smiled. "For some strange reason, I think I'd like that."

"Well, you did suggest it, Gryffindor."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, but it just seems like an odd thing for a rain check. Most twenty-three year old men don't make plans to spend all day in bed with each other."

Draco developed a smirk and leaned in slightly. "Oh, are you saying that you're not one of those men, Harry?"

Harry frowned. "One of what men, Draco?"

Draco rolled his eyes. Subtlety was lost on Gryffindors. "Oh, come now, Potter. I'm sure you can figure out what I mean."

Harry sat for a moment, thinking about what Draco had said. Then it hit him. Oh. One of those men. "I...er..." Harry cleared his throat. "No. I, er...I don't think I can say I'm one of those men, Draco." Harry thought he heard Draco mutter something that sounded suspiciously like 'pity,' but then the Slytherin stood and stretched languidly, bending down to retrieve his own clothing. Harry blinked in confusion, watching the pale man move around the room, dumbly noticing the shallow bruises he'd caused on Draco's ribs and arm.

"I think I'll just change in the bathroom and be on my way. See ya later, Harry."

"Er, yeah. Later, Draco." After the blond left, the Gryffindor sat there for a moment, thinking back on their conversation. Then something occurred to him. Was Draco one of those types of men? He seemed to be insinuating things like that, or stuff about...Harry swallowed, sex, but Harry quickly shook that thought away. That's just silly. Draco's in love with Raven. And I.........I'm not sure how I feel about anything anymore. Harry shook his head. Ron's probably onto something. I'm losing my marbles. I just spent the night with Draco Malfoy, Harry laughed to himself. There's something for the record books.

Getting up himself, he grabbed his shower stuff and a towel, leaving his room for the bathroom that Draco was just vacating.

The blond still looked like he had just gotten out of bed, but was dressed at least, somehow managing to pull it all off as if he'd meant it.

"See ya, Draco."

Draco paused next to Harry and knocked the man's chin up with his knuckle. "Remember to shave, Potter. Your baby-face is much more striking." And with a wink, Draco turned away and went down the stairs, leaving a bewildered Harry on the landing.

"I'll never understand Slytherins," Harry muttered, before going into the bathroom.


Hermione was not normally a woman who would cut class. Nor was she easily startled, scared, shocked or angered. She had done and seen too much in her short life for much to faze her anymore. Yet, there she was, currently gazing blindly at her fiancé, or more like just above his left eye, where a barely visible scar marred the skin on his forehead. She remembered very well when she had come back from being ambushed all those years ago with blood pouring out of the wound. The contrast from the dark blood to his copper hair was grotesque, and at that moment, it was the only vision she could focus on. Of course, that was hardly close to the topic of discussion.

Not that you could really call it a discussion. It was more like Ron was talking at her, not realising in his confusion and anger that her mouth had dropped open in the unfamiliar shock a long time ago, and that she was gazing some-what stupidly at some point above his left eye.

"...And then Harry got angry at me. Or, at least, it seemed like he was. But he was defending Malfoy! I mean..." Ron sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his flame coloured hair. "I said I was sorry, that I had acted immature, and that's true, but...I mean, how would you feel if you found your best mate in bed with our 'former' enemy?" Ron's gaze bore hole into the wooden bedpost of Hermione's four-poster. "And that bloody blond git. He hasn't changed at all, no matter what Harry says. He's still an obnoxious brat," he spat, and finally looked up at Hermione. "'Mione? Are you okay?"

Hermione shook out of her stupor. "Oh...yeah. Yes, I'm fine. I... Well Ron, I agree that you probably did over-react a little bit, but for anybody your reaction would have been relatively normal." Ron smiled at her. "However," and Ron's face fell slightly. "You really shouldn't judge Malfoy so quickly. He's not trying to be your friend Ron. He's trying to mend things with Harry, so it's only logical that Harry's seen a different side of him than you or I have."

"But...what if he's just pretending?"

Hermione frowned slightly in thought. "Well, we don't know for sure, of course, but he has no reason to act differently towards you. Or me. He has no reason or inclination to show you a different side of him, like he probably has to Harry. So, while there's still the possibility that he's pretending with Harry, I really think that he just doesn't want a lot of people thinking he's changed. But again," she sighed, "we don't really know. I haven't talked to him in ages. Or, ever, really."

Ron frowned, his mouth set in a straight line. "Well maybe we should. We know Raven's side; I'd like to hear Malfoy's."

"But Raven's already told us."

"What, that Malfoy 'agrees' with trying to help Harry? Help him get out of this funk?" Ron sighed. "It's not that I don't believe her. Well, no, maybe I don't, a little. It's just that...Harry's my best mate, 'Mione. Yours too. It hurts that Malfoy can seem to get through to him but we can't. That whatever the hell it is that Raven and Malfoy have managed to do to get Harry to open up to them, we couldn't do."

Hermione placed a warm hand on Ron's back and rubbed it in little circles. "I know, love. I know. I think...I think that it's us really. Not them."

Ron's head snapped up. "What do you mean?"

"Well...we've always told Harry that he can come to us at any time. And for a while there, all we would do was try and force it out of him. Do you remember all those fights you two had?"

Ron nodded. "Yes. I hated that. I still hate it."

"So do I. But we decided to eventually back off, and just let Harry come to us. And I think that's what he wanted for a while. But, and this is just a hypothesis, I have a feeling that it changed at some point. He wanted, and most definitely needed someone to come to him. He needed attention. We all had gotten so used to him taking more to himself, and then he eventually opened up a little, but only on the surface. We took that to mean that he was getting better, when really, he probably wasn't."

"You mean...like he wanted us to believe that he was fine, even though he never came and talked to us about it?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. I think that Raven's right. Harry's become a very good liar. Probably so good that he's even lying to himself."

"Oh, god," Ron whispered, putting his head in his hands and tugging at his hair.

"Shh. It's all right, love."

Ron looked up with a pained look on his face. "How? How is it all right? In fact, this is worse. Harry's lying to us, he's lying to himself, and the only person who seems to get through to him is Malfoy!"

Hermione jerked back at Ron's raised tone, and tears sprung up in her eyes. "I know, Ronald. I know. I'm just...I want...goddammit, I just want Harry to be happy!" She suddenly stood and started pacing. Then she stopped and turned to give Ron an intense look. "And if you or I can't seem to be what Harry needs, but Raven or Malfoy are, well then, I'm not going to get in their way. Harry deserves all the happiness in the world and then some, as your sister told me yesterday, and I'll be dammed if I'm going to try and doubt where that happiness is coming from. It's unusual, I know, but I'm putting my faith in the last thing that seems to be offering itself to Harry's happiness. It's all we have left. It's all I have. It's all Harry has," she finished quietly, finally letting the tears that were pressing in on the rims of her eyes overflow, and she flung herself into Ron's arms, crying loudly into his chest.

Ron held her tightly, silent tears leaking out of his eyes as well as he comforted his fiancée. "You're right, Love. You're right. We've tried. We all have. But I just...I'm so worried that this is all a ploy. And Harry will only wind up more hurt in the end."

Hermione sniffled. "I know. I'm worried too. But I just don't think that Malfoy would be doing all he's been doing if he didn't at least care about Harry in some way." She pulled back slightly and rubbed the tears from her reddened cheeks. "But we're still here, Ron. Harry knows that. I'm sure of it. He just needed something to shake him up a bit," she smiled wryly through her tears.

Ron smiled gently back and kissed her softly on the lips. "Oh, gods, I hope you're right Hermione. We nearly lost him once, I don't think I could bear to see him like that again."

Hermione moved back into his embrace and hugged him fiercely. "Neither can I, Ron. Neither can I."


30 September 2003

I normally don't write in this outside of my room, but I took it with me today anyway, and this afternoon is the first time I've had a chance to open it. Let's just say that my professors are not very happy with my sleeping in.

Hmm. I'm in two minds about that right now.

One; I just spent the night in Potter's room. Nothing happened, although I must say that I haven't slept that peacefully in ages. I haven't asked, but I don't think he had nightmares either. I'm sure I would have noticed. I've also realised a few things--but I'll get to that later.

Two; because of the Weasel's reaction to finding us in bed together (which was annoying yet amusing at the same time) Harry actually defended me against him! Ha! Take that, Potter's best friend! Guess who Harry likes more now?

Okay, okay, I'm deluding myself. I know Harry isn't really thinking about me that way.

But am I thinking that way about him?

Yes and no.

I'm definitely attracted to him; my unnoticed reactions to him last night have confirmed any doubt I held in the recesses of my mind. I'm not quite sure why or when I started to think about guys this way--no, just Harry--but I think it's an aesthetic thing. Like I said earlier, I know beauty when I see it. But...perhaps there's more to it than that. Which is the other part of the issue.

I don't know why I wasted all those years hating him. Of course I know that I was really just being a right prat--controlled by my father's ideals and prejudices. But regardless, I'm finding myself liking Harry more and more on an intellectual level. Not that we're always on the same wavelength, nor is he so much like me in ideas or brains. But we share something...school, Quidditch, war...and he really is a good guy. There's something about him; something I've only noticed now that I've let myself; something that makes you want to be his friend. And like him, and help him, and...just noticehim. For all that he's been through and for all the prejudices he must have or must have had against me, he still can have this easy-going attitude towards me that is as intellectually and emotionally appealing as it is sexually appealing. Like I'm really his friend.

So I am thinking about him sexually, and I like him as a friend. (Is that even possible? It sounds like an oxymoron...)

But I think that's pretty awesome.

I'm friends with Harry Potter.


We've done the impossible.

And again, I slept in his bed last night! Yes, I think that was definitely something...special. Different than what had happened between us before. I wonder if he noticed anything different. I think I might have to convince Raven to sleep over more often if waking up next to someone feels that good. Harry doesn't know it, of course, but he had his arm across my chest when I woke up and he snuggled against me later when I was putting on a show for Weasley. He must feel comfortable enough around me to know he was sleeping next to me; to offer it in the first place.

That...really means something, I think, coming from Potter. I have a feeling that he doesn't give his trust and comfort as easily as he might have done years ago.

Raven will probably be ecstatic to hear all about last night. The heart-to-heart (which although it was nice and genuine, still makes me feel queasy because I just don't do that), the handholding, the wrestling... I have a feeling that the wrestling will be Raven's favourite part--I've noticed she seems to have a fetish for sweaty guys--she's suddenly become keen to jumping on me after Quidditch practice in the few weeks we've been together, claiming it's because I'm sexier after I've been working out. But hey, if I get to make out with her because of it, I'll work out every day.

Hmmm...I love making out with Raven. She has the sweetest lips. Touching her is like running my hands through silk, and tasting her skin is like lapping up sweet honey for hours on end.

And she has the nicest ass.

Sorry, but I had to write it down someday. It's funny how that one sentence can bring my entire writing ability level down a few notches. You'd think I could be more eloquent than that.

But even though Raven's great--and I love her more and more, I feel like my libido can't take much more teasing. We know each other so well intellectually--although she still manages to surprise me--that almost all we need to explore anymore is our physical selves. But she'll only let it go so far. Her excuse has something to do with the victory of Potter being that much more sweet if we wait. Between Harry and I, and Raven and I.


Bullocks, I tell you. I just can't shake the feeling that she's hiding something and just making excuses.

But then I remind myself that there is something she's hiding. This thing about Harry.

Well, whatever the hell it is, it's messing up my sex life. I really need to figure out what it is. Raven said that he needed it. Needed what, though? Sex? A friend? Even for Harry, with the way Raven's making it sound, it seems so shallow if that's all it is.

Honestly, it could be anything. But apparently it's something I can give him, or she wouldn't have started the bet.

You know, I think I'll ask her what really made her start this whole bloody thing.

Ooh, perfect. Here she comes.


Draco closed his journal and set his quill down just as Raven approached his table at the library.

"Hullo, Love," she Slytherin-ishly cooed, bending over to place a sensuous kiss on his lips before sitting down next to him.

"Hi," he answered, licking his lips and savouring the taste. As she situated herself, Draco decided to try the surprise method.

"Why did you think of the bet?"

That stopped her, pausing as she set her bag down on the table. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Why'd you start it? Why Harry? Was it really just about sex? To quench your aching need to see two hot guys go at it?" Raven jaw dropped open at Draco's flippant tone and words. "Don't look at me like that, Raven," Draco admonished. "I've known you long enough. Slytherin though you may be, you're still a girl. A vindictive, devious one, but a girl nonetheless. You've been unconsciously dropping hints for ages. Perhaps you've gone softer than you'd like to think."

The dark-haired girl's shocked features immediately dropped into an icy glare. "Don't take that patronising tone with me, Draco Malfoy." His eyes narrowed and he gazed steadily back at her but said nothing. "You're certainly one to talk. And you think you know me so well, do you? Well, I can assure you that because of your inability to 'go soft', you've managed to miss quite a bit of who I am; regardless of how much I had already changed when I saved your sorry ass from your father."

Draco mouth opened in shock, but he quickly composed himself into barely suppressed rage. Just as he re-opened his mouth to spit out a rather hurtful comeback, Raven stood abruptly, snatching her bag from the table and practically running out of the library.

The blond watched her go, wanting so badly to lash out at her, to hurt her like she did him, with that jab at his father. Fucking bitch, Draco thought, a growl starting in the back of his throat. He seethed for a few moments, trying to decide just what he should do, and thinking about what Raven had actually said.

"You seem upset, care to talk about it?" a voice cut through his musings, and Draco turned around to find Granger standing in the aisle, looking as though she was just on her way out.

Draco sneered. "I hardly need your help, Granger."

Hermione moved around the table and sat down across from him. "So there is something wrong," she said knowingly.

Draco cursed under his breath, and then rolled his eyes. "Okay, yes. There's something wrong. Now you can leave. I can deal with it myself."

Hermione gazed at him calculatingly for a moment before propping her chin up on her hand. "You've never been a real relationship with anyone before, have you, Malfoy?"

"W-what? How-" he sputtered, before finally gaining his voice back. "How dare you presume so much about me!" Regardless of the fact that it's true...

"SHHH!" A few other library patrons scolded, before going back to their work.

Draco just huffed, and levelled a glare at Hermione. "You know nothing about me, Granger. You have no right to start meddling in my life."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow. "Well, what if I wanted to know more about you, Malfoy? After all, you've been getting awfully close with Harry, who happens to be my best friend...I think I have a right to get to know you a little better." She paused. "So...what just happened between you and Raven?"

Draco tried to bore holes into Hermione's skull with his eyes, but apparently, she was immune to it. Or perhaps, Draco really was getting soft, but just a little too late. Sighing heavily, Draco mumbled something mostly unrevealing, "We had a fight."

"Obviously," she deadpanned. "What was it about?"

The Slytherin glared at her again, but eventually averted his gaze and replied, "About...each other, I guess. She said that I presume too much about her."

The pretty Gryffindor tilted her head to the side. "And do you?" When Draco shot her a confused look, she clarified, "Do you presume too much about her?"

He bit his lip and looked away. "Maybe. I don't know." He sighed. "Why the hell am I talking to you?" he asked, turning to look at the woman in the eye.

Hermione shrugged and begun to pick up her things. "Maybe you just needed someone to talk to." Draco watched her silently, his whirling thoughts growing heavy in his head. Hermione paused before she stepped away. "You may still be an ass to me and Ron, Malfoy, but Harry considers you a friend, even if he hasn't said as much. And if Harry cares about you, than so will I." And with that statement, she walked away, leaving Draco to ponder the past twenty minutes of his life.


Raven ground her teeth as tears started to well up in her eyes. She was nearly there, to the door of the library. The second she burst through the doors, she thought about turning left to the art wing, but quickly thought better of it. She was in no state to be painting. So she continued through the next set of doors, the late afternoon breeze cutting into her like it hadn't done before when she was walking in the opposite direction. Autumn was definitely making itself known, and seemed to have no qualms about letting everyone one know that the winter storms were going to be much worse than usual.

She looked up into the darkening sky, watching as even darker grey clouds rolled in from the sea. She could smell the change in the air, the electrical charge humming through everything around her, the metallic tang of the threatening rain. Noting the ironic similarities between her mood and the weather, she swallowed hard, trying to force the tears back down, but they wouldn't obey, and she was wiping the salty substance off of her cheeks before she knew it; turning quickly and running past the library, past Number One, and into the forest.


Blaise Zabini was cutting across the large courtyard of the school when he saw Raven come out of the library, obviously looking very upset. He picked up the pace to meet up with her, but then she turned abruptly and ran off into the woods. He took off after her, hoping that she wasn't stupid enough to actually go into the woods when there was obviously a nasty rainstorm heading their way.

"Raven!" He yelled to get her attention, but she didn't seem to hear him. She just continued to plough through the woods, and Blaise stopped, just at the edge of the trees. "Dammit!"

"I know where she's going, if you really want to follow her," a voice said from behind Blaise, and he whipped around to find Harry Potter standing there, a stoic look on his face.

Blaise scowled. "Do you now?"

Potter nodded. "The alcove. About a ten minute walk north of here." He looked up to the rapidly darkening sky, just as the first droplets of water splattered onto his glasses. Looking back down he gave Blaise a once over, noticing the man's nice robes and shoes. "But I'll go, if you don't want to."

Blaise glared at the dark-haired green-eyed man. Stepping forward, he said in a dangerously low voice, "Don't think you have one up on me just because Raven and Draco have decided to get all friendly with you, Potter. And don't think I haven't noticed that, either." Blaise leaned back slightly, towering over the smaller man. "If this has anything to do with you, you'll live to regret it." And with that, Blaise turned and entered the forest, nearly running to catch up with Raven.

"I don't doubt that, Blaise," Harry said to his disappearing form. "I don't doubt that at all."

Author notes: In the near future, and in no particular order: Chicken Cacciatore, a book on sex, terrifying dreams, an obsession with photography, an interesting sexual encounter, and a bout of self-doubt. But now, whom these things involve is the real question. ; )

Added (again, in case anyone's been missing it):04.09.06
Okay...I'm getting rather tired of everyone thinking that my story is a rip-off of "Cruel Intentions". I've written notes about this at FanFiction.net, but perhaps I forget here. I DID NOT INTENTIONALLY USE THE SAME PLOT. I totally forgot the movie existed, until someone pointed it out after I posted chapter five or so. Any similarities are COMPLETELY COINCIDENCE. So please stop telling me I'm ripping something off, when I had no intention of doing so. Besides, "Cruel Intentions" is a rip off of Dangerous Liaisons, an old play.