Motivations for Sex

A/N: So I'm back with my first novel-length fic since "Dumbledore, Please Explain Your Twisted Logic!" If anyone's counting, it's been six (!) years. So be ready for something different.

This fic could be considered AU, but I prefer the term "post-OOTP," since it uses the end of the 5^th book as a jumping off point. It just works the best, given the plot. Also, a lot of my favorite fanfics are post-OOTP, so I'm still stuck in that gear to some extent. And I wasn't sure whether to classify this story as humor or romance, but then I realized I was stupid and that romantic comedy is totally a genre. So let's go with that.

Warning: this fic is rated R, or M, or whichever equivalent rating. There will be some sex, a lot of explicit dialogue and profanity, plenty of irreverent humor, more than a little bit of drug use, and some mature thematic elements. Because that's just how I roll, I guess. Also, thanks to J.K. Rowling for creating Harry Potter and taking all this fanfiction in stride! I love you!

CHAPTER ONE: Hate Fuck

"This is going to sound very odd," Dumbledore said, "and when I say something is odd, you know it is. But Voldemort is launching a diversity campaign."

Everyone in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place flinched at the name, then blinked in surprise at the words that followed. Order meetings as of late had been a bit quieter. It was mid-September, and they had been bracing themselves for Death Eater attacks all summer. After Voldemort's return had been revealed to the Wizarding World at the Department of Mysteries, they were sure it was the start of all-out war.

In July, another huge Azkaban breakout happened. The dementors attacked, a couple of Aurors were badly wounded, and most of Voldemort's followers were free again. The Ministry was in an uproar for days, and the Order was in a frenzy trying to prepare for battle. Dumbledore immediately scooped up Harry from Privet Drive and assigned him to a rigorous training schedule with Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, Lupin, and himself.

But nothing happened. The Dark Side lay low.

And now this.

"A... a diversity campaign?" Fred finally said. "That's mighty odd. You-Know-Who's wrapped up in Pureblood Mania."

"That is true," Dumbledore said. "And despite being a diversity campaign, it is all about Purebloodedness. It's--well, it's hard to explain. Why don't I just show you? Snape?"

Snape stood up from the other end of the table, and fifty heads turned towards him in unison. He flipped a lank of greasy hair out of his face and pulled out his wand.

"I have the preliminary print ads already," he said, looking mighty disgruntled that his spy job had been reduced to pilfering intellectual property. "These will be running in the Daily Prophet starting next week, and they'll also go up on posters in Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley, and Hogsmeade."

He flicked his wand, and an image projected itself against the stone wall, looking unnaturally glossy and vibrant in the dingy room. It was a young lady, dressed in black robes of modest length but flattering fit, holding a textbook and smiling confidently at the camera. She was a stunning blond with big, blue eyes and plump lips. She shifted around a little, blinked slowly and alluringly, and glancing every now and then down at the golden text emblazoned across her: "I AM A FEMINIST, AND I AM PUREBLOOD."

"Oh," Tonks tutted.

"Hermione would blow chunks if she saw this," Harry murmured.

Snape waved his wand again, and this time a plain-looking but jolly old man waved at them, grinning a wide, toothy grin. "I AM AN INNKEEPER, AND I AM PUREBLOOD," read the text.

"See how they're trying to appeal to the everyman?" Dumbledore noted. Everyone nodded and rolled their eyes, unappreciative of the unnecessary and obvious analysis.

Another wave of Snape's wand, and the image changed again. A gangly young man, barely old enough to be out of Hogwarts, peered at a ledger through thick, half-rimmed glasses, only occasionally lifting his eyes to cast the crowd a calculating look. "I AM A MINISTRY ACCOUNTANT, AND I AM PURE BLOOD."

Another image. A young African lady had one hand on her hip and the other waving her wand. She grinned at all of them and swished her dashiki-style robes. "I AM BLACK, AND I AM PUREBLOOD."

"Hey, that's my cousin!" Kingsley said indignantly.

"Most of these images were stolen from stock photos," Snape explained. "A lot of these people aren't even Purebloods. Your cousin's image was stolen from her Witch Weekly profile as Ministry ambassador to Senegal."

"Oh," Kingsley calmed down for a second, but then got indignant again. "She should sue! She didn't give permission for her photo to be used like that!"

"The Ministry's legal system is exceedingly corrupt," Snape said. "Pardon me, the entire Ministry is exceedingly corrupt. Good luck seeking recourse."

He waved his wand again, and Gilderoy Lockhart popped up with a huge, toothy grin and a swishy wrist. "I AM GAY, AND I AM PUREBLOOD."

"They stole Lockhart's image, too?" Harry said, laughing at the sight of the flamboyant ex-professor sashaying around his golden caption.

"Actually, that's one of the few they didn't steal," Snape said, his lip curling in amusement. "Lockhart did a photo shoot for 5,000 galleons."

"He's out of St. Mungo's?" Molly Weasley piped up in a high voice, trying to contain her excitement. "That's gr--I mean, uh, I thought he still suffered from the memory charm he cast on himself." She tried to dial back the fangirl reaction, forcing her hands not to flutter on her breast.

"He's made an unexpected and marked improvement in the last six months," Snape said. "As good as he is at Obliviating others, his original motivation never was to cast the spell on himself, so it seems the effects, as long-lasting as they have been, are not permanent after all."

"That's a shame," Harry said, a little louder than necessary, and everyone else except Molly Weasley nodded vigorously, especially the Hogwarts professors.

Snape had a few more ludicrous images to show them, and then the slideshow was done. "They are also in the process of recording radio ads, and they have bought up 50,000 galleon's worth of airtime."

"But why?" Arthur Weasley asked. "Why are they doing this instead of attacking?"

"Mark my words, they still mean to take over the Ministry and rule the country," Snape said. "And at some point, that does mean attacking. But they first want to neutralize everyone on the fence. They want to ingratiate themselves to the Purebloods who look down on Muggle-borns but who disapprove of the violence Voldemort used in the first war."

"And what are we going to do about it?" Harry asked. "We've been training to fight them in wand-to-wand combat. How do we fight this?"

"Do our own ad campaign?" Remus suggested tentatively.

"I'm sure we could find a photographer," Dumbledore mused. "One with an artistic vision that didn't make our response look completely ridiculous. But then there's the problem of matching their 50,000 galleons of airtime. Does anyone have any suggestions?"

The table fell into a deep and uncomfortable silence. Dumbledore deliberately directed his gaze towards Harry and repeated, "Do you have any suggestions, Harry?"

"No," Harry said, a little too quickly.

"Any place (or person) who could help us front 50,000 galleons?"

"I don't know," Harry said, still a little too quickly.

Dumbledore turned to the Weasley twins. They wore matching alligator skin suits, a benefit of their booming business. "Fred, George, do you know anywhere where we could find 50,000 galleons?"

"Bake sale at Hogwarts?" Fred suggested with calculated obliviousness.

"Or a burlesque show," George added. "One with strippers, and a percentage of their tips could go to ad space."

"Boys!" Molly snapped at them. "Now is not the time for jokes. This is a serious matter!"

But it wasn't a serious matter. It was an odd, unexpected matter, and nobody knew quite how to respond to Voldemort's new tactic. After some half-baked ideas, each stupider than the last, Dumbledore finally called an end to the Order meeting.

"Be thinking of ideas, all of you," he said. "Send me a Patronus if you have an incredible solution to this problem. Otherwise, we'll meet back here in a week."

With some grumbling and murmuring, the Order meeting dispersed. Over the sound of scooting chairs and rustling cloaks, Dumbledore added, "Harry, can I see you for a moment?"

So Harry stayed behind, and when everyone was gone, Dumbledore cast a spell on Mundungus's abandoned spittoon to turn it into a Portkey.

"What is it, Professor?" Harry asked.

"I know how much you hate that nothing's happened," Dumbledore said. "I know how hard it is, training every day when no fighting actually occurs. And I'm sorry we've not made much headway into researching ways to kill Voldemort."

Harry nodded. It was frustrating. He had mastered fifty new curses since the beginning of the summer, and he could now fight in hand-to-hand combat using a sword, a knife, his fists, and even nunchucks (Tonks had insisted on the last one for no practical reason, but Harry wasn't complaining). He'd even beat Mad-Eye Moody a few times. He was also running around the lake each morning, building his endurance and stamina.

And yet he had no idea how he'd actually defeat Voldemort.

"Good news is," Dumbledore said, "I have an assignment for you."

Harry perked up. "What kind of assignment?"

Dumbledore offered him the charmed spittoon, and Harry gingerly gripped the rim with two fingers, scrunching up his face when he made contact with a glob of tarry spit. "Master Malfoy is eager to participate in Voldemort's plan," Dumbledore began, "and he wants to extend the Pureblood diversity campaign into Hogwarts."

"One moment, Professor," Harry interrupted, "and I'm sorry for interrupting, but can we please leave now? This is fucking disgusting--worst Portkey you ever made."

Dumbledore obliged, and they felt a tug in their navel before they were whisked away to Hogwarts.

The moment they landed on their feet in Dumbledore's office, Harry cast the spittoon away from them and wiped his finger on the edge of the headmaster's desk. Dumbledore chuckled a little and continued from before. "Anyway, I want you to keep an eye on Master Malfoy. Do what you can to keep him from winning over any students."

"Okay," Harry said. "And thank you. I need this."

"Anything for you, my dear boy."

"Out of curiosity," Harry continued, "do you know if Malfoy's planning anything yet? I mean, something definite."

"Yes, actually. He's starting a Gay Straight Alliance."

"A what?"

"Gay Straight Alliance."

Harry shook his head and laughed a little out of surprise. "Why?"

Dumbledore shrugged. "It's an effort to expand the Pureblood ideology into other demographics, same as the rest of Voldemort's diversity campaign. Why he chose to target the LGBT community specifically, I cannot say."

"So I guess you want me to join the Gay Straight Alliance--" Harry said, "as a straight ally, of course--and neutralize Malfoy's efforts."

"In whatever way possible. Gather up Ron and Hermione and a few other trusted people, and make a plan."

"I'm on it, Professor," Harry promised. "Also, can Ron and Hermione join the Order meetings from now on? You know how much they want to get involved."

"They're too young," Dumbledore said. "You're only allowed in because you're our only hope of defeating Voldemort. Otherwise, you'd be sticking strictly to your NEWT courses."

Harry grumbled a little, but this was his dozenth time asking, and he had nothing new to say. Dumbledore ruffled the boy's hair and waved his hand towards the door. "Now off with you, Harry," he said fondly. "Go save Hogwarts from that Pureblood ferret."

*****

No more than an hour later, Harry was in the Room of Requirement with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna. After the Department of Mysteries, he considered them to be his core team. He'd trust them with anything.

"A Gay Straight Alliance?" Neville mused when Harry had finished explaining everything to them.

"A Gay Straight Alliance," Harry confirmed. They were all sat in beanbag couches that the room had so graciously provided them.

Ron and Ginny sniggered at the idea of Malfoy leading any sort of diversity club, much less a Gay Straight Alliance. Hermione's lip twitched, but Harry could also see her brain was trying to process the information and come up with a plan.

"We join it, of course," Neville said. "And then we suss out his intentions."

"And how do we do that?" Ron asked. "This is Malfoy we're talking about. He won't just tell us what he's planning to do with the students he gets on his side."

Luna snuggled into her beanbag couch and wrapped a lock of her curly hair around her finger. "It's obvious, isn't it?" she said quietly. "We seduce him."

"Not it!" Ginny said, almost before Luna had even finished her sentence. "I'd rather sleep with Snape than get fucked by that ferret!"

"We'll keep that in mind when we need to seduce Snape," Hermione said crisply. "And Luna, not a bad idea! I know I think most of your ideas are weird, but this one has some merit."

"Ewww, why?" Ron whined. "If I didn't want so badly to contribute to the war effort, I'd be leaving the room right now! I don't want to even think about Draco and sex."

"It's a war, Ron," Hermione said sharply. "Before all this is over and Voldemort's dead, we'll have to go through hell and back. We'll have to do a whole host of things that demoralize us and destroy our spirits... including talking about Draco Malfoy's sex life."

"Or should you say, his sexuality?" Neville grinned.

"Actually, yes, Neville, I should say his sexuality. This plays a big part in our plan. It's telling that he chose to start a club based around sexual orientation and not, say, any other diversity component. Maybe he's straight and he's just micro-targeting the gay community for his Pureblood mania. Or maybe he's in the closet, or struggling with his sexuality. The latter scenario leaves him most vulnerable to seduction, but I think if he's straight, we could do an old-fashioned straight seduction scenario, too."

"So we need a Plan A and a Plan B," Ginny said. "One for if Malfoy's into women, the other for if he's into men."

"I'll seduce him if he's straight," Luna offered, her tone of voice much the same as if she'd offered to make breakfast.

"Just like that?" Neville marveled. "Damn, Luna, you're a real trooper."

"I know I am," Luna said. "But Ron and Hermione are dating, and Ginny's already refused, so that leaves me."

Harry clapped his hands together. "Well, that's sorted. And I guess I'll take on the responsibility of seducing him if he's gay."

The whole room did a double take, not sure if they heard him correctly. Neville started laughing, as if Harry had told a joke, and Ron mimed retching.

"But you hate Malfoy," Hermione said. It wasn't even a question. "You hate him. This isn't your saving-people thing, is it?"

"No," Harry said defensively, "of course not! Well... maybe. So what? I don't trust Ron to do it."

Ron nodded fervently. "I don't care if that was an insult or not, Harry--I wouldn't fuck Malfoy even if I had a ten-foot pole!"

"You've sacrificed so much already, though," Hermione pressed. "You don't have to take the burden on your shoulders again. Neville could be the one to seduce Malfoy."

"Hey!" Neville cried. "Don't go volunteering me. Harry already said he'd do it."

"It's fine, Hermione," Harry promised. "Really, it is. I do hate Draco, yes. Of course I don't want to fuck him. Anyway, he's probably straight, and this club is probably him targeting a minority group to draw into his trickery, in which case Luna will seduce him and figure out his plans. But if, by some chance, he is gay, then I'll find a way. I don't have to sleep with him--just get him worked up enough to spill the beans."

"Or spill his seed." Ron snorted, then shuddered in disgust at his own joke.

"Then it's settled," Hermione said. "If he's straight, Luna seduces him. If he's gay, Harry does. When's the first meeting?"

"This Tuesday at 7:00pm, in the student lounge halfway up the Astronomy Tower," Harry said. "I saw Malfoy putting up posters on my way here."

And thus it was settled. They spent a little time practicing some new battle moves Harry learned in his trainings, but mostly they sat around and talked and drank butterbeer (courtesy of Dobby, who always popped in on their meetings to pamper them).

Harry talked, too, but not as much as he usually did. He was pensive.

It would be easiest if Malfoy was straight and Luna had to seduce him. And sure, he did hate the blonde-haired Slytherin.

But he had to be honest: after he got over his infatuation with Cho, new feelings emerged in him that he'd never acknowledged before. And there was no denying: that smooth-faced, pale, twinky Slytherin was a fine specimen.

It was a deep, dark secret that he didn't dare tell the others, but Harry Potter wanted to hate fuck Draco Malfoy.