Every Guy has a Soft Spot for a Cat

"Pansy, are you sure this is the place?" asked Draco nervously.

"It's got to be. I'm sure of it!"

Draco glanced around the dingy bar with disdain. "But it's so...dykey..."

Pansy rolled her eyes and walked up to the bar. "You heard One-Eyed One-Legged Joe: When you need to find yourself a butt pirate, go ask the Lipstick Lesbos."

"Sounds like utter nonsense to me," Draco replied. He eyed a mullet bearing female with caution. "I feel like the girliest one in the joint. How are we supposed to find a chick that digs chicks that doesn't look like a dog?"

The future Draco chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Draco asked.

"What were you expecting from a bar named Lickity Split? Gay bars are not known for their subtleties."

Pansy was certain one could overdose on Dracos. "Well, it was either here or The Rug Muncher, and since I didn't particularly feel like random crazed females jumping my bones, I figured we'd try the place with a slight shade of innuendo in its title left."

"Can I help you, ladies?" asked the She-Man serving drinks.

"I'm a guy, by the way," Draco murmured.

"Barely."

Pansy glanced from side to side and leaned forward. "We need to see...the Triple V."

The She-Man looked surprised. "It'll cost you."

Pansy winked with a cheeky smile. "Are you gals seriously going to turn down the company of an attractive young girl just itching to have a good time?"

The bartender blushed briefly and nodded to the rest of the group. "Right this way."

***

Harry looked around the dingy ship cabin in horrified curiosity. Everything seemed normal about it as far as items you would expect to find in a dingy ship cabin...everything but the bed. It was one of those huge, tacky heart shaped monstrosities only purchased by sleazy motels and hopeless bachelors, and despite his many encounters with Voldemort and all kinds of evil, Harry was scared shitless by the sight of that bed.

Tap tap tap!

Harry dashed behind the nearest dresser and crouched down. The door swung open, and a scraggly looking Snape wearing an eye patch entered.

"Might as well come out from behind the wardrobe," the Snape said. "I've been sent to give you libations and prepare you for the captain's nightly recreation."

"And if I refuse?" Harry snapped.

The Snape shrugged. "You can starve if you want...it's none of my business, but I'd suggest a meal before the captain gets here. He'll tire you out quickly, and as for getting gussied up...the captain can dress you up himself, but he'll be mighty rough about it."

Harry inched out and looked the room over for the thirty-sixth time. Nope...still only the one exit.

"What do you mean to do with me?" he demanded, trying to sound manly and gruff and definitely not like the catcher type.

"Me?" laughed the Snape. "Nothing. The captain's very territorial, and as for what he wants to do with ya...I think it's pretty obvious. I mean, look at the costume for one thing."

Harry grimaced as the Snape held up a plaid mini skirt and stiletto heels. "Oh Merlin no...a naughty school girl? Isn't that a bit clichéd, especially coming from a professor?"

"Don't bother wearing underwear," the one-eyed Snape said, tossing the outfit on the bed. "And keep in mind, he's very fond of spanking..."

And with that, Harry was alone. Alone with the tacky heart shaped bed and the beginnings of an overly predictable sexual fantasy.

He slipped on the skirt and checked the mirror to see if his legs looked lean and sexy enough.

"Fuck! Why are these stupid lace-up pumps so hard to put on?" he cried in frustration.

Suddenly it all hit him. He was doomed to be Professor Snape's sex slave unless Draco (of all people) did something.

"I'm screwed," Harry sighed. He gave his underwear one final tug over his ankles and sat down. "Metaphorically and literally screwed."