The Curse of Loki Trickster

"But, Draaaco," Harry whined from behind the closed curtains of the bed, "you said this morning. You promised!"

Pansy pulled the curtains aside with a flourish to let all the Slytherins see. "Promised what?" she asked.

"Eep!" squeaked Harry as he dove under the covers, the image of Pansy in her dragonhide bra and thong burned into his brain.

"Come on then, Potter, let's see what you've got there," Millie said, laughing at the quivering boy hiding under the green and silver duvet.

"Make them go away, Draco!" Harry pleaded.

"This is their home, Harry," Draco said quite reasonably. "I don't think it's right to throw them out into the corridor, do you?"

"I guess not," Harry said grudgingly. His tone of voice made it clear that he thought otherwise.

"It's only for a few more weeks," Draco told him. "You'll just have to deal with them until then, if you want to stay with me at night."

"I don't, if it's like last night," Harry said in a huff, peering over the side of the bed for the clothes he'd left on the floor the night before.

"Harry doesn't seem happy this morning," Tim said in an unctuous tone. "What's the matter, Draco, having problems keeping your woman satisfied?"

"You should sympathize, Nott," Draco snapped, "your woman is never satisfied."

"Why am I automatically his woman?" Pansy demanded. "How do you know he isn't my man?"

"Pansy, it's obvious to anyone who cares to look that you and Tim were made for each other," Tracey said, stepping into a tiny pair of green silk knickers.

Mollified for the moment, Pansy shut up.

"Where are my clothes?!" Harry shrieked in a high-pitched voice.

"I'm sure they're just where you left them," Draco said, clutching at the ear Harry had just set to ringing with his outburst.

"No, they're gone!" Harry insisted. "Someone has stolen my clothes while I slept! THIS IS NOT FUNNY!"

Goyle started to chuckle in a rumbling voice. Daphne joined him with her bell-like laughter.

"What's so --Oh!" Millie demanded, and then realized what had happened to the clothes in question. She added her trademark raspy chortle to the sounds of amusement filling the room.

"Stop laughing at me!" Harry was beside himself with fury. "Which one of you -- you -- Slytherins stole my clothes?!?" Completely forgetting his inhibitions, he jumped out of the bed and glared at everyone, fists on his naked hips.

An evil smirk crossed Blaise's face as she slipped out of bed and surreptitiously cast a Locking Charm on the curtains of Draco's bed. Disturbed by her movement, Crabbe sat up and scratched his broad, hairy chest as he blearily tried to figure out what was going on.

"What a scrumptious exhibition, Potter," Pansy drawled, licking her lips as she let her eyes travel lasciviously over Harry's body. "It must have slipped our minds to tell you that Sunday night is when the house elves take care of our laundry. They must not have noticed that you were here last night, probably because you had the hangings of the bed closed so tightly. I'll just bet your freshly cleaned clothes are waiting for you in Gryffindor Tower right now." She sidled over and pinched his bum.

Harry jumped and let loose a startled 'Eep!'.

Tim jumped on Pansy and grabbed her in an armlock. "Keep your eyes and hands where they belong," he growled in her ear. He dragged her by her hair, spitting and cursing, across the room to their bed.

Meanwhile, Harry was futilely trying to get back into the relative safety of Draco's bed. Draco made several strange faces trying not to laugh along with his roommates.

"I hate you all!" Harry wailed. "Draco, give me some clothes!"

"And let you stretch the seams?" Draco demanded incredulously. "Preposterous!"

"Robes, then," Harry said desperately. "Anything! I don't care what it is."

"All of my robes have the Slytherin crest on them," Draco pointed out. "Are you sure you want to go back across the castle wearing them?"

Blaise and Daphne exchanged glances. "He said he doesn't care what it is," Daphne told her with a shrug.

"Right, I have just the thing," Blaise said. She stooped to dig into the trunk at the foot of the bed, not noticing that Crabbe, on his way back from the loo, had stopped to admire her backside. "Here it is!" She exclaimed triumphantly. "Ooh!" she said as she stepped backward and bumped into Crabbe. "Vinnie, you're insatiable," she purred, standing on tiptoe to give him a deep kiss. "Let us get Potter attired in suitable raiment before his hysterical shrieks of girlish outrage deafen us all. Then we shall cavort betwixt those satin sheets until the time for consuming sapid nutrients arrives."

"Blaise," Harry said, confused, "who do those clothes belong to?"

"Me, of course," Blaise said, casting an Anti-wrinkle Charm then holding the outfit up for everyone's inspection.

Harry looked first at the bright orange dress, with ruffles at the plunging neckline and sleeves, then at Blaise. His eyes widened as they traveled up and down her nude body. "But -- but I thought -- aren't you a -- a boy?"

"That was yesterday, Potter," Daphne said. "Do try to keep up."

"Hey!" Crabbe exclaimed. "That's my favorite dress, Blaise. You can't give it to Potter."

"It's from last season," Tracey said, as if that made everything much better. "You can buy her a new one in Hogsmeade."

"Oh," Crabbe said, "well, alright, then."

"What are you waiting for?" Daphne said. "Get dressed, Potter. It's the only thing we're going to offer."

Harry turned to look at the closed curtains of Draco's bed. "But..." he said in a small voice.

"Right now!" Millie shouted. "Quit dawdling and put the dress on."

Harry jumped and hesitantly reached for the dress, fervently wishing that it were possible to Apparate on the grounds of Hogwarts.

"Don't talk to Harry like that, Millie," Draco said. "If anyone in this room is going to abuse him, it's going to be me."

"Can we watch?" Pansy piped up, looking over her shoulder from her position astride Tim.

"Better yet," Tim said, lifting up his head to peer across the room, "can we offer suggestions?"

"I know," Tracey said brightly. "We can sell tickets, and use the money to replace Blaise's dress!"

"My girlfriend is not a charity case," Crabbe said. "I'll buy her a new dress."

"All of you just shut up!" Draco said, nearing the end of his rope. "Here, Harry," he said gently, "let me help you get dressed."

"Get dressed," snerked Pansy.

"Pay attention to what you're doing, you stupid bint," Tim ordered, slapping Pansy across the chest.

"Bint? I'll bint you!" Pansy squalled, clawing at his face.

Everyone ignored Tim and Pansy's squabble, as they always did.

"Want me to do your make-up, Harry?" Daphne asked him brightly. Harry snarled in her direction.

"Gregory, honey," she said, turning a hurt expression to her boyfriend. Goyle got to his feet, looking very upset. Harry quickly apologized.

"Maybe I should just wait until everyone goes to breakfast," he said speculatively. "Then I could make it back to the Tower without being seen."

"Sorry, Potter, no can do, I'm afraid." Tracey adjusted the filmy green silk bra over her breasts and turned away from the mirror. "When we leave, so do you. Actually, you have to leave right now. Unless you want to join in the Monday morning orgy."

"A-Aren't you all getting dressed to go up to breakfast?" Harry stammered, quite afraid of what they might do to him in an orgy.

"Not in the slightest," Millie said, sliding a hand inside Tracey's lingerie. "We're getting dressed for the sheer pleasure of getting undressed."

Draco looked like he couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh at the terrified, yet outraged expression on his boyfriend's face, or hex his roommates for causing it. "Come on, Harry, I'll walk you out," he said as he took Harry's arm and pulled him out of the dorm. In the room, they could hear catcalls and whistles from the common room as the early risers jeered Potter about his ruffled dress.

When he came back, Draco closed the door and turned to glare at his snickering roommates. "Who told the house elves not to bring his clothes back?" he demanded crossly.

Without waiting for an answer, he pulled out the green velvet bag and carried it around to everyone who was entitled to draw a stone. He took his own last and cursed when Millie revealed the shiny, blood-red rock.

Tracey pouted for a second, then squealed and gave Millie an enthusiastic kiss. "Oh, Daddy, you get to kill the Weasel today! I'm so excited for you."

"That's right," Mille said, grinning broadly, "I do."

"What's the plan today?" Tim asked. He threw back his head and moaned as Pansy's magic mouth worked on him.

Millie shrugged. "It's not elaborate, it's not glamorous, but it will be painful, it will be messy, and it would cause him an infinite degree of mortification if he knew about it."

"Your vocabulary is improving, Millie," Blaise said encouragingly. "Keep it up."

"So, no need to discuss a plan?" Pansy inquired, looking up from her work.

"None," Tracey said. "If Millie says it's taken care of, it's taken care of."

"Prodigious," Blaise said. "Then we shall commence with the orgy."

"Food!" Crabbe said enthusiastically.

"Shut up, fathead!" Draco snarled, unhappy at the mention of an orgy. It was grossly unfair of them all to taunt him and tease him like this when they knew he hadn't had sex in a couple of days.

"My head's not fat!" Crabbe protested.

Draco scowled. It was grossly unfair of them all to taunt him and tease him like this when they knew he hadn't had sex in a couple of days. Daphne must have noticed the unhappy look on his face, because she walked over and took his hand.

"Aww, what's the matter, Draco? You feeling lonely?" The sympathy in her voice was sweet, and he almost believed she was sincere.

After an encouraging nod from Millie, Tracey also came over and took his other hand. "He's got to be yearning for a real woman in his bed, not the scared little girl he usually shags."

The two girls pulled Draco to his feet and led him to Daphne's bed. They pushed him down and started covering his face with kisses, running their hands all over his body.

When he opened his mouth to object, soft lips covered his, and a tongue poked inside. Apparently he was not to be given a choice about this.

Raised to always give a lady what she desired, Draco sighed and gave himself over to the pleasurable sensations the girls were causing.

~*~

Ron woke up with a pain in his neck and back. He sat up and realized that he'd been sleeping on the stone floor of one of the rooms in the dungeon. Too weird.

His wristwatch told him that it was about time for breakfast, so he got to his feet, opened the door, and stepped out into the hallway where he crashed right into Harry -- wearing a ruffled orange dress!

Ron stared, dumbstruck. "Harry -- mate, you've got to find somebody else to shag. Malfoy's got you dressing like a poof!"

Harry flushed bright red, which contrasted horribly with the orange dress. "They didn't do my make-up," he muttered.

Ron started. "What? Did you ask them to? Harry, I've got to find you a nice girl. Oh my, where can I start looking?" He grabbed Harry's sleeve and started pulling his best friend towards Gryffindor Tower.

He couldn't help but sneak sideways glances at Harry. "You know you look like a cheerleader for the Chudley Cannons?" he finally asked. Harry just groaned and tried to hide his face in his hands.

Fortunately no one in Gryffindor House was an early riser, so Ron got Harry back to the dorm without anyone seeing. Ron was fully prepared to release Harry's arm should anyone happen upon them. He didn't want anyone to think he might be a poof too.

When he'd seen Harry into the shower (not actually in to the shower, of course), he undressed for his own morning bath.

Resolving not to let the mystery bother him, he ducked under the spray of hot water, letting it sooth the knotted muscles of his back. Very strange, that, waking up in the dungeons.

He dressed himself carefully and made sure Harry dressed similarly, in white uniform shirt, trousers, red-and-gold-striped tie, and robes; not at all like a poof.

Down in the Great Hall, Ron lingered over breakfast. There was nothing else to do, what with his lovely Hermione off at job interviews all morning. He was just sopping up some brown sauce with the last of the toast when someone grabbed a fistful of his bright red hair.

"Yeow! Geroff!" he shouted, struggling against his Slytherin attacker. He hadn't seen who it was, but he knew it had to be a Slytherin. They were all evil, especially that ferret-faced Malfoy.

He twisted and turned, but he was being dragged through the corridors by his hair. There was nothing he could do about it unless he wanted to lose significant portions of his scalp.

The smooth marble of the castle foyer gave way to the stairs, and he slipped and skidded down them, cracking his arse a number of times. Then the marble became solid stone, and Ron knew he was in the dungeons -- Slytherin territory.

No one had answered his cries for help or his demands to know what was going on. When his hair was finally released, he lay on the floor trying to catch his breath. The wall in front of him slid open. A solid kick to his side moved him a little bit, and then he was looking up into Bulstrode's beady eyes.

"I hope this hurts a whole lot, Weasley," she rasped at him, pushing the sleeves of her robe up to reveal muscular tattooed arms. "I've wanted to smash your ugly face in since first year." With a grunt, she slammed the sliding section of dungeon wall that was the entrance to the Slytherin common room directly into his face.

White pain filled his vision, and he shrieked in agony. He writhed on the floor, but a foot stepping on his chest prevented him from escaping anywhere. The whiteness faded away, and he could see the room spinning.

WHAM!

The wall slammed into his skull again, blinding him with pain. His wail echoed crazily all around the stone walls. He flailed about, but moved not an inch.

WHAM!

Ron didn't know anything anymore, only that his world consisted of pain.

CRACK!

That time a loud crack rang out, and Weasley's head deformed slightly.

CRUNCH!

Weasley's skull became very two-dimensional. Blood and brains trickled out onto the stone floor. Millie slammed the wall shut again and again. His face wasn't even recognizable.

Tracey drew her wand and pointed it at Weasley's head. "Reparo!"

It had been an academic theory, whether or not the Repairing Charm would bring Weasley's head back to normal. Blaise had her bets for it working, but Tim thought it would only repair the structural damage and not bring Weasley back to life.

Tim appeared to have been correct, for though Weasley's head reformed to its old shape, the spark in his eyes did not return. "Pay up, Blaise," he demanded. She dug in her pocket and handed him a Galleon grudgingly.

WHAM! Millie crushed Weasley's head again. And again, and again, and again. The commotion drew the nearby Potions class.

"Oh my God!" shouted a Gryffindor sixth year. "They killed Ron!"

"Who cares?" demanded Colin Creevy as he snapped pictures. "I'm going to have these published!"

"Goyle! Crabbe! Get that little wanker's film!" Draco ordered imperiously, watching Millie play with a smirk on his face.

"We're on it, boss," Goyle said. "C'mon, Crabbe." They took off down the corridor after Creevy, who shrieked and started to run.

When Millie had had her fill of smashing Weasley's head, Crabbe and Goyle returned with the mangled camera and dragged him off to the room they kept his body in and dropped him unceremoniously on the floor.

~*~

Ron awoke with a shriek and a feeling of half-remembered pain. He wrapped his arms around his head and wept, rolling on the cold stone floor like a hurt child.

"Do stop that, Weasley. Your head is fine and back to its normal potato shape," Malfoy said scathingly. "I'm afraid it's only going to get worse. Take it like the brave Gryffindor you claim to be."

"What- what happened?" Ron asked, his voice trembling. "I'm in the dungeons again. Malfoy! Why are you here? Why am I here? What's going on?"

"Sorry, Weasley. As much as I would enjoy describing your fate in exquisite detail," it might have been Ron's imagination, but Malfoy actually did sound regretful, "you wouldn't remember, so...I'll not bother," Malfoy drawled in his excessively bored tone of voice. He pointed his wand at the prone boy on the floor. "Obliviate!"

Weasley's eyes went blank. Draco pointed his wand again. "Obdormiscere!" Weasley's head bounced off the stones as he went into a deep sleep.

Draco tucked a third black stone into the sleeping Gryffindor's trouser pocket and turned away with a satisfied smirk. Three down, six to go. With Millie getting her part in the continuing demise of Weasley over with so early in the day, he'd had plenty of time to find Harry and make up over the dress by taking him on a romantic picnic by the lake. It had certainly been a beautiful day.

End Chapter Three