The Fourth Unforgivable

Chapter 7:

How to Woo a Potter

When Draco Malfoy turned three, his mother sat him on her lap, waved a parchment in his face, and said weird things like "you're late signing this," and "just because you're a baby," and "don't forget to read the fine print." Then she told him if he didn't stop Avada Kedavra-ing the Malfoy roaches, she was going to promise him off to Bitsy the house elf when he reached age thirteen, fine print or no.

So Draco read the fine print.

And had no idea what "LuuuuuvChains^TM not guaranteed for that other usage" meant.

When Draco Malfoy turned four, his mother sat him on her lap, waved another parchment in his face, and said weird things like "my bad," and "whoops." Then she told him that if he didn't sign this paper, he was going to be fed to Gimpy, the family's reject Dementor.

So Draco learned a lot of things that birthday about how to be a good Malfoy. Aside from being contracted to obey thy father and mother Malfoy on hangover days, and helping out for a couple summers at the Lestrange mudwrestling ring (Draco thought he really should have looked a little harder at that clause before signing), Draco found out that good Malfoys did not just pick any old wizard or witch with a goofy smile and lots of Galleons to settle down with. Good Malfoys did research. Good Malfoys courted. Good Malfoys rarely had the intelligence to marry someone they liked before the person got fed up and married someone else like Godric Gryffindor and we get stuck with Flobberwormish plebeians like Helga Hufflepuff's pet basilisk God we hate Hufflepuffs sign here.

Now that Draco was sixteen, he figured it was high time he pulled out the ol' contract and had a look-see at what the gig was, because in light of recent broom riding events, he'd decided that Harry Potter was the one for him. After all, Harry met the three criteria:

Draco winked back because the contract seemed to want that, but he really didn't

get it.

So he wrote to his mum to tell her the good news. And his mother wrote back to say that if he didn't get that Gryffindor's sexy ass by god or you'll be having basilisk babies that get sorted into the Noble House of the Badger for the rest of your tawdry, virgin eunuch life, she was going to go to the back of her punishments booklet and then he'd really be in for some fun.

It was a delicate procedure, courtship. It required extensive knowledge about one Harry Potter that Draco did not have. But since everyone and their werewolf seemed to know Harry Potter's zodiac sign and the thickness of his fingernail clipping, Draco figured it wouldn't be very hard to find info.

Draco ended up looking in five books in the ReallyOldOMGWhatAreYouDoingInThisPartOfTheLibraryYouLoser section, plus two almanacs by someone named Vladimir Bunglewump XXXVI (Draco figured he couldn't go wrong; the man was the self-proclaimed king of what one musn't do during courtship of a person one liked. There was a third almanac dealing with what one musn't do during courtship of a person one was feeling rather lukewarm about, but after the first lesson, "How not to chuck this hardbound tome at your beloved's head," the book was blank), and three extensively researched how-to guides on the mating rituals of Blast-Ended Skrewts, just to be safe. Of course, this required some borrowing of said books from Hermione Granger. It wasn't too difficult.

"Granger, if you lend me these books, I'll shag you later."

Draco was feeling generous. He would have waited another minute or so for her answer, had Hermione not gotten kicked out of the library for snorting illicit Butterbeer all over the table.

The next day, Draco formulated a better plan and went back.

"Granger, if you lend me these books, I won't shag you later."

Draco was feeling unhurried. He would have waited another minute to pack them into his bookbag had he not gotten kicked out of the library while swearing at Hermione for throwing all of the books at his head at once.

Draco began his research immediately. And as all Malfoys knew, especially Great Aunt Dyslexia Malfoy, it was always good to start with the dictionary.

Harry Potter, n. (Latin: Harrius Potterus. Old English: of or pertaining to ye olde mustachioed cabbages). 1. A young English wizard boy who whooped Voldemort's ass six times. 2. Leading member of the homo-sapiens family Gryffindorus Heroicus, often mistakenly grouped in the family Apoxuponu Slytherus. 3. A sasquatch with a green thumb. 4. Whooped Voldemort's ASS, yo.

That seemed promising. Next Draco went to Notable Magical Names of Our Times.

The H is for Hung, and well hung he is!

A for his Arse, the bestest there is.

R is for Ram and the other's for Rod,

He knows how to use it, he's really no sod.

Y 'cause he's yummy, especially his tummy,

P is for Pal, but get more than chummy.

O for Outstanding, it isn't a shock,

Especially when you are riding his--

"Yes, well," Draco said, and slammed the book shut.

Modern Magical History had a list of every Harry Potter Fan Club in the world, including the sixty-five that were based right there in Hogwarts. Draco thought about joining, but then saw they were all presided over by Dobby the House Elf and changed his mind because he wasn't into orgies of that scope.

The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts' list of Top 10 Myths About Harry Potter was vastly informative, especially numbers 1, 4, and 10.

Fact: Nasty little ratfink of a boy credited with the longest known grudge against well-mannered elitist "dark" wizards.

Fact: Never "defeated" Voldemort. The unlucky Dark Lord actually forgot his spectacles, choked on a flying key, tripped over a loose Basilisk godwehateHufflefpuffssignhere, was tipsy from the annual kegger in the graveyard, mistook his duel with Albus Dumbledore for a date, and had a prior commitment to attend mud-wrestling. Potter just likes to pretend he defeated him.

Fact: Potter doesn't like virgin eunuchs.

Paid for by the Friends of Disenfranchised Death Eaters Support Group.

For a minute, Draco was worried. Then he rolled his eyes. "Psh. They're hardly a recognized charity."

Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century's entry was also most helpful.

Young dark haired SWM wizard ISO rambunctious SM Wizard for a good time in the sack. Likes broom riding, hippogriff taming, and naughty boggart role play. Requirements: respondent must be willing to DO EXACTLY AS I SAY.

"Hmm. Getting the feeling that Harry may be rather dominating."

All in all, it was a very informative research session. It could have gone longer, but Draco got kicked out of the library again for chucking Men Who Love Dragons Too Much at the wall for calling him a ridiculously desperate virgin eunuch.

* * *

The next step of courtship was to consult the future. Draco made his way up to the Divination Tower, kicked out all the first years and Colin Creevey in the middle of their Bratwursts Anonymous sharing session "How I am currently doing in the presence of a long, meaty kielbasa," and shook a crystal ball for an hour until the ghost of Professor Trelawney floated over and took it away from him.

"You wish to consult the portents of the future, my (fwip) dear?" she said in a whispery voice.

"Isn't this thing supposed to have an eight on it?"

"Not so (piwf) much."

"How the heck am I supposed to work it then?"

"Broaden your mind, become one with the universe, and (fwip) let me ask the damn questions."

"So you could tell me who I'm meant to be with?"

"Anything to get you (piwf) with someone soon, dear."

"Um, is there a reason you keep doing that?"

"Fate has seen it necessary to make me randomly turn into a bratwurst nowadays."

"Oh, still having trouble with that, then?"

Trelawney-the-bratwurst-again nodded. They spent the next five minutes rubbing the crystal ball, then the five minutes after that giggling about it, then the five minutes after that asking about Draco's only hope for reaching ultimate manhood: Harry James Potter.

"Oh, I wouldn't pursue a relationship with that one, young man. (fwip) He's going to be hit by a train, drowned in the lake, and tossed off the Astronomy Tower all in this week alone (piwf)."

"Not the commitment type, eh?"

"Not the living type, dear."

"Hmm."

"But you might be able to (fwip) get a good rousing rogering in before he axes himself if you start now," she said cheerfully.

* * *

Draco decided the only thing left to do was to hire the services of the most talented of sex magic wizards in the school. It took finesse. It took patience. It took courage.

It took a new set of Saucy Slytherin Dominatrix gear.

"Psst! Draco!" Pansy whispered, tapping his shoulder and glancing around furtively. She waggled her finger at him. "Come to my room at precisely 11:28 and three quarters wearing nothing but your pajamas and a hat made out of unicorn mane and bubotuber pus, and I shall impart to you the little known secret of snaring the man you want."

Draco nodded fervently. "What's the hat for?"

"Your sanity," Pansy intoned in a mysterious voice.

Draco frowned and nodded. "And... my pajamas?"

"My sanity." Pansy looked him up and down, shuddered, and flounced away with a flip of her hair.

It took a little while to make the hat. The unicorn liked Draco, but Draco didn't want anyone to remember he was a virgin so he ran away from it whenever it came near him. When he finally figured out a method of chatting with the creature, the unicorn couldn't read, it didn't appreciate Draco's secret code words, and Hagrid nearly stepped on Draco where they were hiding behind his hut anyway.

The bubotubers, on the other hand, didn't like Draco and kept shooting globs of sticky whitish yellow stuff at him and tittering hysterically.

When he finally had his hat on, he went to Pansy's room.

"Who did you bribe to get the unicorn hair?"

"I got it myself."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Get in here. All your virginity is making the house elves horny."

Her room was full of candles, incense, and Jon Bon Jovi posters. Draco shuddered at all the dark magic.

"Now, Draco," Pansy said in a wispy voice, "this spell is very precise. You have to be flexible. You have to be melodious. You have to be half-nak--wait, never mind."

Draco glared.

Pansy gave him some bangles, a ribbon dancer, and a handful of confetti. "Now pay attention, this is very important."

Draco nodded earnestly. He was going to pay very close attention.

"It is absolutely necessary that you acquire a mop and bucket."

Draco nodded and took notes. "Mop and bucket. Where can I get that?"

"The lost catacombs of Egypt, but only God knows where we stuck it."

"Well, how the hell am I supposed to find it then?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Just get one from Filch."

"Gotcha."

"Question. Potter wouldn't happen to roller coaster, would he?"

"Uh--"

"Got early warning?"

"What?"

"Muddy water? Mojo filter?"

"Not that I know of."

"Can he add?"

"What in Salazar's name are you on about?"

"Too bad you're not good looking, 'cause he's so hard to see."

Draco huffed and crossed his arms. "Hey, I'm a Malfoy, Parkinson. You can't touch this."

"Now, I wouldn't pour anything sweet on him, no matter how he begs. But if you do a little turn on the catwalk--"

"On the catwalk?"

"On the catwalk, yeah. Then he'll totally want to sex you up!"

Draco scowled, took off his hat, and pushed it down over Pansy's face. He stalked to the door, chin in the air. "You know, Pansy, I would do anything for love, but I won't do that!"

He slammed the door twice for good measure. In case he'd been unclear. He was halfway down the hall, avoiding being molested by his third house elf when Pansy's door opened and he heard her screech, "What's love got to do with it??" Then she slammed the door again.

* * *

Draco had an uncommonly good day the next day: the sun was shining, the hippogriffs were singing, and Pansy was in permanent detention for knocking her door off its hinges and flattening six horny house elves.

* * *

Finally, at the end of two weeks, three days, five hours, and six minutes, Draco was ready to begin the courtship of Harry Potter. He summoned all of his Malfoyish qualities, an extensive background check on himself and the Malfoy line in general, every ounce of courage he had, and a letter from his mother about why Harry Potter had to go out with him or she was going to turn his owl into peanut brittle, and then marched right up to Harry in the Great Hall and said, "Gryffindork. Will you go out to dinner with me?"

Harry looked up at him. "Yup."

Draco gaped. "Don't you want to look at my family line? Do research? Figure out the best approach? Consult the future?"

Harry looked thoughtful, and then shrugged and nodded. He turned to Hermione.

"Hermione, what do you know about Draco?"

"He's a stalker."

"Sounds good." He smiled cheekily at Draco. "I've always had a kink for bad boys."

Draco was feeling happy. He would have been feeling extremely happy had he not been taken to the infirmary for going cross-eyed from exasperation.