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The Wand Game	By : ReverieWilde Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 21854 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters in it. I make no money on the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
〪o 〫O〬 o〭

October 17 1998

When she walked into the Great Hall, Romilda Vane tried to cover her face. She had combed her hair in an attempt to cover her forehead and even considered cutting fringe to hide it. She glared at Susan Bones as she walked past the Hufflepuff table. A group of them giggled.

“What’s wrong?” Parvati asked Romilda when she sat down.

“That little witch. She promised she wouldn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to,” Romilda vaguely answered.

Parvati turned and looked around. “Who? Susan?”

“Of course, Susan. You were there. You saw that I got paired with her. Did you know she’s actually a lesbian?”

“Well, yeah. It’s common knowledge,” Parvati told her.

“She came out sixth year with one of the older Hufflepuffs,” Lavender added.

“Who the hell pays attention to anything the Hufflepuffs do?” Romilda asked rhetorically.

Lavender and Parvati shared a look. “So, did she try to, you know . . .” Lavender asked.

“It was fine right up until the end. I told her straight away that she wasn’t going to get anywhere with me. And she promised she wouldn’t make me. We talked, and listened to music for most of the time. And we slept on the floor of the Hufflepuff common room. Millicent and Finch-Fletchley were in there as well.”

“Sounds not so bad,” Parvati commented.

“No, she went back on her word. We woke up shortly before eight o’clock.” Romilda crossed her arms over her chest roughly. “She wanted me to kiss her. I only had a minute or two to decide. I couldn’t do it. And then the spell ended. By the time I got back to Gryffindor, this happened.” She lifted her hair out of the way so they could get a good look at the word ‘loser’.

“I don’t understand,” Parvati said. “Anthony told Padma that he insisted that Ernie give him a hand job, which Ernie declined. But nothing happened to him.”

“Is Anthony . . . “

“No. Anthony said he only asked him because he wanted to see Ernie walking around looking like a donkey, or better yet, sexually frustrated in Dark Arts class,” Parvati chuckled.

“Does it look as horrid as I think it does?” Romilda questioned the girls.

“With your hair combed over like that, it’s not that noticeable,” Lavender offered. “At least everyone knows you’re not a lesbian,” she said sympathetically.

“I really don’t think anyone thought that before,” Parvati snickered, bringing Romilda’s honour into question.

“Well, I don’t think I’m going to the next party,” Romilda pouted.

“What about poor Harry?” Lavender said. The three girls looked down the table to see Ron, Hermione and Ginny, without Harry. “He got stuck with Malfoy, twice.”

“I wonder what they did all night.” Parvati smirked.

“They probably fought,” Romilda surmised.

“I don’t know. I heard Malfoy plays both sides of the field, if you know what I mean,” Parvati told them.

“But Harry doesn’t,” Romilda insisted. “I wonder where he is anyway.” She gasped. “You don’t supposed Malfoy made a pass at him, do you? Maybe Harry grew ears and a tail and is too ashamed to show up.”

“I don’t know about Harry, but Justin Finch-Fletchley is sporting a fine set,” Parvati laughed. The girls turned toward the entrance as he walked in, literally with his tail between his legs.

〪o 〫O〬 o〭

October 19 1998

Draco Malfoy screwed up the courage to do something he never thought he would. He walked up to Hermione Granger as she sat in the library with her friends-- his former enemies. He cleared his throat, capturing their attention. Not knowing Draco’s intentions, Harry became slightly nervous.

“Whatcha want, Malfoy?” Ron asked, not exactly in a friendly manner.

“Um, Granger, I wanted to ask . . . have you chosen a writing partner for the History essay yet?”

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you asking me to be your partner?”

Draco scanned the trio apprehensively. “Well, I don’t have a partner yet and I thought perhaps those two paired up,” he gestured to Harry and Ron. “And you would be in need of one. I’d do my fair share.”

“Oh,” Hermione said. “Actually, Ron is my partner.” She would probably never admit it to Ron and Harry, but she was flattered that Draco sought her out specifically.

“Why don’t you work with Pansy?” Ron asked.

Snickering, Draco replied, “She’s one of my best friends, and she’s cunning as hell. But academically, Pansy doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together. Besides, she’s partnered up with Blaise.”

“Well, Harry doesn’t have a partner yet,” Hermione offered. She felt Ron gently kick her under the table, which earned him a glare.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting to work with Ginger, then.”

“You mean Ginny?”

“Right,” Draco laughed. “Well, thanks anyway.” He turned to walk away, convinced that Harry wasn’t interested in collaborating with him.

Harry wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he called out to Draco to stop him. He really didn’t want to work closely on a project with Ginny, thinking it would be awkward for both of them.

“If you want, I’ll work with you.”

Ron gaped, eyes widening. He couldn’t believe Harry was actually volunteering to work with Malfoy.

“I suppose I could do worse,” Draco smirked. Of course, there was the matter of Harry’s little confession and waking up with the Gryffindor lying atop him. Not that Draco was truly complaining, but now there seemed to be an odd uncertainty between them. He wasn’t positive, but he thought either Harry didn’t recall what happened, or he was an exceptionally cool customer. Draco decided it was the former, as Harry seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve normally. Draco himself would have to be the cool one. Unfortunately, he remembered every detail of the evening. “I certainly don’t want to get stuck with Millicent or Mandy.”

“Yeah,” Harry laughed. “Me neither.”

After he and Draco settled on a famous wizard about whom to research and divided up the work, Harry sat and wondered what the hell he had gotten himself into. It wasn’t bad enough that his mind kept wandering to the previous week’s wand party and the compromising position they were in the following morning. Harry still couldn’t quite remember what happened. Or perhaps, he didn’t want to.

〪o 〫O〬 o〭

October 21 1998

Harry wasn’t watching where he was going. His mind was still on Friday night. It had been five days and he still couldn’t remember what happened. He hadn’t noticed that the person in front of him had stopped to let another student pass. Harry walked straight into Malfoy, pinning him against the wall.

“Watch where the fuck you’re--” He stopped when he turned and saw that it was Harry.

“Sorry Malfoy, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Clearly.”

They regarded one another briefly. Draco appeared unusually uncomfortable and Harry just knew it was because of what happened Friday night. He just didn’t know what it was.

“Better get into class,” Draco mumbled. “Potions challenge today.” He swiftly entered the classroom and found his seat without giving Harry a second glance.

Harry made his way to his own seat and waited for Professor Slughorn to begin.

“I won’t waste your time today with a lecture. Today you will be making a particularly challenging potion,” Slughorn told the class. “The winner will receive a certificate to the Apothecary in Diagon Alley, to purchase your own potion ingredients. Page one hundred seventy-three in your books, please.”

The students scrambled to quickly get to the proper page. Doxycide. “Have at it,” Slughorn simply said and sat down at his desk to do some paper work.

Hermione was the first to the potions cupboard to retrieve ingredients. After her, there was a bottleneck of students clamoring to get the best specimens. When she returned to her seat, she noticed that Harry hadn’t even gotten up yet.

“Harry,” she whispered. “You’d better hurry, or the best stuff will be gone.”

His heart not completely in it, Harry got up to get what he needed. With Hermione and Draco in the class, Harry knew he’d never win a challenge, so he simply concentrated on getting the job done correctly.

As he worked, Harry’s eyes often drifted to Malfoy. He was busy working, but paused every so often, as if in deep thought. Near the end of the class, Harry finally let go of his preoccupation with the events of Friday night. He felt his potion was going well, but he was far behind many of the other students.

“Mr. Malfoy, are you finished?” the professor asked when he noticed Draco sitting and staring into his cauldron.

“Sorry? Um, no professor, not yet. I was just . . .”

“I’m afraid you need to finish the potion by the end of class. You’ll not pass on good looks alone, my boy” Slughorn laughed.

Pansy raised her hand and grinned. “Are you certain professor? He is very handsome.”

The class joined in the laughter.

Suddenly, Harry’s stomach dropped and his heart began to pound. It was only a piece, but he remembered something from that night that had been eluding him.

“Harry, are you all right?” Hermione asked in a hushed voice. “You’re all flushed,” she chuckled softly.

He carelessly threw in his remaining ingredients, causing his potion to bubble unexpectedly, then fizzle out before it had a chance to change color. Slughorn leaned over Harry’s cauldron. “I’m afraid you’ve jumped he gun, boy. That powdered graphorn has to be added slowly.”

Hermione was just then adding her graphorn. She heard the professor and slowed it down, watching the color of the potion turn from rust to brilliant green. “Done!” she called out.

Slughorn inspected her cauldron and spooned out a bit to smell. “Beautifully done Miss Granger. You are my winner today.”

Hermione beamed. Others groaned, as they were only a step behind her. Professor Slughorn presented Hermione with her certificate while the class looked on. She was tied with Draco in wins, but he appeared distracted and she knew she would have to be on her best to continue beating him.

Draco completed his potion, in fifth place, and cleaned up his station. When he finished, he noticed that Harry was already gone.

Hurrying to clean up, Hermione wanted to catch up to Harry. Ron’s potion went well for a change and he took third place. He was humming to himself as he straightened up his station, quite proud.

“Hurry up Ron,” Hermione urged. “Something’s up with Harry. We’ve got to find him.”

“What? What’s up?”

“Didn’t you notice? Harry got all flustered at one point, then simply tossed his potion together and left,” she told him. “He couldn’t wait to get out of here.”

Ron shrugged. “Maybe he had somewhere else to go. I wasn’t really paying much attention.” He stood tall. “I came in third. Did you see?”

Hermione’s demeanor softened. “Yes. I’m very proud of you. Of course, the one time you concentrate on class work, is the one time I wish you had been observing Harry’s odd behavior. I think it has something to do with Draco.”

As luck would have it, Draco happened to be walking by at the time. He snapped his head in Hermione’s direction.

Without thinking, as usual, Ron spoke out of turn. “Oi, Malfoy. Do you know what’s wrong with Harry?”

“Wh-what? Why would I know anything?”

“What happened at the wand party?”

“Who said anything happened? Did he say something happened? Nothing happened,” Draco stammered. He turned and left the class abruptly.

〪o 〫O〬 o〭

The rest of the day, Harry insisted that nothing was wrong. No matter how much his friends asked, he told them he was fine. Ron was perfectly happy to accept it and went about his day as usual. Hermione, of course, wasn’t buying it for a minute.

After supper, she and Harry went to the library to get books for History of Magic research paper due the following week. As they walked by the alcove next to the entrance, Harry blushed, remembering his tryst with Daphne.

Being as observant as she was, Hermione noticed. However, she waited until they were comfortably settled in the library to bring up the subject.

“Harry? Can I ask you something?”

He smiled. “You’re going to whether or not I say you can.”

Hermione pursed her lips. She knew he was right.

“What happened in Potions this afternoon? Why did you ruin yours and run out like that?”

“I wasn’t trying to ruin it, Hermione. I was behind and it got messed up when I tried to put it together too quickly.”

“Harry,” she narrowed her eyes. “I know you well enough to know when you’re not telling the whole truth. You were thrown off by something in class. What was it?”

Harry was attempting to come up with something, anything, to tell Hermione.

“Is it about Malfoy?”

Harry’s mind went blank. He just stared at her.

“Did you remember what happened at the party?” She continued to badger him. “For Godrick’s sake, Harry. Just spit it out!” Hermione threw her hands up in exasperation.

“I told him I thought he was very handsome.” His voice was so soft, Hermione could scarcely hear.

“Sorry? I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“I’m not saying it again, Mione. You heard me correctly.”

“Why would you do that?”

Again, Harry blushed, averting his gaze.

“Oh.” Hermione sat back in her chair.

“The game made me say it. I had to answer his question,” he defended himself. “Plus I was completely pissed, which was stupid in and of itself.”

Hermione reached across the table and placed her hand on top of his. “What was his question?”

He sighed heavily. He wanted to get it off his chest, but he also didn’t want anyone to know. As he always did, he put his trust in Hermione.

“He wanted to know why I was staring at him, the morning after the first party.”

“You were staring at him?”

“I was watching him sleep. I’d never really looked at him close up. Have you?”

“No, I suppose not,” she answered. “And, you found him attractive?”

“I . . . don’t know.”

It wasn’t the ‘no’ Hermione was expecting. She cleared her throat. This was uncharted territory for her. And although she had an open mind, she wasn’t sure what to say to her friend. His answer left room for the possibility that he was attracted to men, or at least one in particular.

“And I’m really not certain, but I think in my drunken state, I may have . . . never mind.” He was loathe to tell her how he woke up practically straddling the blond.

“Perhaps you should be speaking with Ron about this instead of me.”

He reversed their hands and squeezed hers. “No, Hermione. You can’t tell him. You can’t tell anyone. Please.”

“But I don’t know how to handle this.”

“There’s nothing to handle. I was drunk. It was a game. That’s all. I just needed to tell someone. And now that I have, it sounds ridiculous. Of course I’m not attracted to Malfoy. I mean, just last week Daphne Greengrass and I practically shagged right outside here. And I was with Ginny for a while.” Harry seemed to be talking at double speed.

“Wait, you and Daphne? When was this?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he waved it off. “The point is, I’ve been with a few girls. Girls. Not boys. And definitely not Malfoy.” Harry began gathering up his books. He wasn’t angry at Hermione, but he took it out on her. “You don’t need to handle anything, because there’s nothing to handle. Sometimes I wish you would just mind your own business Hermione.”

Harry stormed out of the library and up to his dormitory. He threw his books on his bed angrily.

“What’s wrong? Did you and Hermione have a fight?” Ron asked.

“Must you two know everything?” Harry hissed. “Merlin!”

Harry took off his jumper and changed into a t-shirt.

“I’m going out. And before you ask where, I don’t know.”

Ron sat stunned on his bed as he watched Harry march out of the room.

Harry wandered about the castle for a while, cooling off from his tirade against Hermione and Ron. Poor Ron didn’t even know what hit him. He decided to head back to his dormitory on the seventh floor to apologize.

Footsteps up ahead made Harry freeze in his tracks. He backed up against the wall then inched his way to the window sill. Pressing himself as tightly against the window frame as he could, Harry listened as the sound drew nearer. The footfalls stopped just past the small niche in which Harry was hiding.

“Lumos,” a girl whispered. She turned to see Harry.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry jumped down from the sill.

“Pansy, what are you doing up here?”

“I might ask you the same thing. At least I’m a prefect.”

“It’s not past curfew yet,” Harry snickered. “I meant, why are you wandering the classrooms alone?”

“Who says I was alone?” she smirked. “Actually, I left my quill in Divinations today and I came to get it.” She held it up. “Why are you here?”

“Just needed to get out of my House. I was on my way back. Goodnight, then,” he said and began walking past her.

“Harry. Wait.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry, you know.”

She stepped closer, her wand illuminating her features. The soft light highlighted her cleavage, which was prominently displayed. Now that Harry thought about it. Her cleavage was always on display. His eyes were subconsciously drawn down.

He stood, waiting for her to elaborate.

“For trying to . . . hand you over. I was---”

“Pansy, we all did what we thought we had to do. You were scared. I understand that.”

“Thank you.”

It occurred to Harry that he’d never really had much conversation with Pansy. Of course, it could have been because she was more than willing to sacrifice him to Voldemort to save her own hide. But he never took much notice of her. She was always the girl by Malfoy’s side. Nothing more. Just a girl. But he liked girls, didn’t he? He could prove it. Hermione didn’t know what she was talking about.

On impulse, he leaned forward and kissed her. It wasn’t anything special or particularly long. It was really sort of stiff. When he pulled back, she was clearly stunned.

“Why did you do that?” she asked.

“Why not?” he grinned. “You seem to have shagged just about every other boy here. Don’t you want to shag me?” He knew Pansy’s reputation as well as anyone. She was a flirt, but not a tease. Pansy had had many of the older boys at Hogwarts. Most of Gryffindor eluded her though.

She grinned back. “Why Harry, I didn’t know you were the sort. You Gryfs come off as so morally superior.”

He laughed. “We are. But we get randy just the same as everyone else.”

Pansy laughed as well. The chance to shag Harry Potter and to find out if that old witch’s tale was true was much too tempting. Pansy never did have any willpower. She took his hand and quickly led him back toward room she was in previously. They slipped inside Trelawney’s room and locked the door behind them. Harry glanced about the room. He hadn’t taken Divination since Umbridge took over the school and the room creeped him out a bit. He always felt as if there were things watching him.

Pansy grasped his chin and made him look at her. She then removed his glasses and tossed them on a desk.

“That’s better. I don’t want your attention elsewhere.” She began unbuttoning her blouse, revealing a pink satin and lace bra that just barely contained her breasts. Harry finished the unbuttoning and ran his fingers over the soft material. While she removed her blouse, Harry reached around back and unclasped the bra. It fell forward exposing her pale pink nipples that seemed to match the bra. They were even softer than the satin.

Pansy unfastened Harry’s trousers and pulled them, along with his pants down in one swift motion, letting them pool at his ankles. As she stood, she took hold of the hem of his shirt and pulled up. Harry assisted in the removal of his shirt and stood, nude, save for his trainers and the jeans around his feet. Pansy ran her fingers down the thin trail of dark hair leading from his chest to his penis.

“My word,” Pansy breathed, looking down on him.

While she gently stroked it with the back of her hand, Harry’s cock grew to its full extension, pointing straight out at her and hard as steel. He pushed her back a few steps and lifted her up slightly to sit on Trelawney’s desk, bringing her snatch to just the right level for him.

Harry leaned over and licked her left breast, the nipple hard against his tongue. He sucked, eliciting a deep moan from Pansy. He reached up under her skirt and tugged her knickers down, then hiked the skirt up, getting a full view of her.

He was fairly certain she was ready for him, but to be sure, he ran a finger through her slit. It was juicy and ripe. He wasted no time entering her fully. Unlike Ginny, with whom he’d only had intercourse three times, Pansy was loose and experienced. Not needing to be especially gentle with her, Harry thrust himself in her over and over.

Nails raked over his back, adding to the pleasure. And Harry realized that he needed to put some effort into Pansy’s pleasure. That last thing he wanted was for her to spread stories about how their supposedly selfless savior was selfish when it came to sex.

Reducing his pace to a less frenzied rhythm, Harry again leaned down to suckle her breast, this time, the right. Her responsive moan encouraged him to use his tongue to tease her nipple. Pansy leaned back slightly on her hands to allow him better access.

Harry raked his fingers through her hairy patch, between her folds, moistening his fingers and spreading her juices. Pansy groaned in anticipation. His thumb slid around, searching for the sweet spot that would bring her the most pleasure.

When he found it, he was praised.

“Oh, yes! Harry, yes.”

He smirked to himself as she threw her head back. He wasn’t sure if she was really that moved or it was simply theatrics, but he didn’t care. His ego needed the boost.

Normally, when he’d been with Ginny, he would have kissed her and whispered sweet nothings in her ear. But kissing seemed too intimate a thing to do with Pansy. Their kiss earlier wasn’t necessarily something he needed to repeat. Ironically, burying his cock to the hilt inside of her didn’t feel as personal to him. He rested his forehead on her chest and closed his eyes while continuing to pump and stimulate her simultaneously. He just wanted to feel, without thinking for a change.

“Harry, that’s so good,” she murmured.

Several minutes of the rhythmic movements brought them both close to climaxing. Pansy’s moans became deeper, lower, almost growling. Harry himself had begun to murmur as well. The beat of the desk knickknacks banging together, the hum of Pansy’s moans and Harry’s grunts came together like a song. A song sure to end on a high note.

Logic and reason had completely abandoned Harry. He let loose, feeling the moment.

“Oh,” Pansy’s soft, low voice echoed in Harry’s ear. “Oh, Potter,” she whispered.

“Mmm. Malfoy,” Harry muttered back.

Instantly, Pansy pushed him back. His eyes sprang open as he realized what he’d just said. Though both were painfully close to orgasm, it was as if a cold shower rained reality down on them. They stared at one another, absorbing Harry’s words, or more precisely, word. The weight of it hanging over them.

Slowly, the corner of Pansy’s mouth raised. “So that’s how it is.”

Harry bent down to retrieve his trousers, unceremoniously shoved his now flaccid cock inside and zipped up.

Pansy, however, remained with her legs spread on the desk. “Harry Potter, are you a pouf?” she smirked.

“No. And it’s none of your business.”

She trapped him with her legs when he tried to move away. “But Draco is my business. What are your intentions toward him?”

“I don’t have any intentions toward him.” He squirmed half-heartedly to get away.

“But you called his name when you were making love to me,” she pointed out.

“I wasn’t making love to you. I was fucking you,” Harry spat.

“Fine. Call it what you want,” she said. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you were fantasizing about Draco while you were doing it. So, I’ll ask you again. What are your intentions toward him?”

“I don’t know.”

“What the hell kind of answer is that?”

“I don’t fucking know. It’s the only answer I have for anyone these days.” Harry suddenly remembered answering Draco’s last question from the game. “I didn’t even realize I was doing it. It was simply a response to you calling me Potter. He’s the only one that still consistently calls me that.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I suppose now all of Slytherin is going to have a good laugh over this.” His own laugh was hollow and cold. “Fucking hell. You and your asinine game.”

Harry stormed out of the classroom without his shirt or glasses. “Bugger,” he hissed when he became aware that the dark wasn’t the only reason he had trouble seeing. In the time it took for Harry to decide whether or not to retrieve his glasses, Pansy caught up to him, bra on, but blouse undone, her wand lighting the way. She held out his forgotten items.

“You might want these,” she said.

He snatched them from her, and they finished dressing.

“I’m not going to tell,” Pansy told him.

Harry frowned, confused. “Really? Why not? Not that I want you to.”

“Because you would deny it. And I don’t want Draco to be made a fool of. He may come across as stoic and cold sometimes, but he’s actually got a tender heart.”

Harry scoffed at that. He’d seen Draco at his worst. When they were younger, he’d often wondered if Malfoy had a heart at all.

“I can understand why you doubt me,” she said. “But when he was younger, not quite sixteen, he confessed his love for a girl. He told her he would marry her some day. But she knew his affections leaned toward boys as well and she refused him, not wanting to be left wondering if he would eventually choose a boy over her. Her pride, possible humiliation won out over her feelings for him. He was devastated when she broke it off and began a relationship with another boy. Draco was crushed and depressed. That summer, he became a Death Eater. “

Harry listened to Pansy’s story, debating its truth.

“He became harder, colder. Or at least he tried to. I heard him cry in dark corners often that year. Sixth year. Only since the war ended, has he slowly begun to pull himself together. I see glimpses of the boy who once laughed heartily, kissed tenderly and loved wholly.” She had a far off look in her eye. Then she glared at Harry. “I’ll not have you ruin that.”

“It was you, wasn’t it? The girl.”

Pansy nodded. “I couldn’t help feeling at least partly responsible for his downfall. Somehow, he managed to forgive me. But he’ll never love me again.”

“Why did you tell me that story?”

“Because, I don’t know if he’d even consider you, but if you do get the chance, don’t fuck it up.”

“But I already told you, I’m not--”

Pansy held her hand up at Harry’s face. “Maybe you can’t admit it to yourself, but I can tell, just by the look on your face as I told that story, you feel something for him. And despite your excuses, you called me by his name. Whether you like it or not, he’s under your skin. Don’t wait too long to figure it out, Harry.”

She left him standing in the corridor, alone and in the dark. Deep down, he knew she was right. Malfoy was under his skin. He just didn’t understand in what capacity. Was it the reason he and Cho didn’t work out, the reason he and Ginny didn’t work out? The reason that, despite girls clamoring for his attention, he always found himself watching Draco? Of course it was always under the guise of keeping an eye on him, to keep him from wrong doings.

Harry leaned his head back against the cold, stone wall and closed his eyes.

“Shit,” he cursed softly.

〪o 〫O〬 o〭
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The Wand Game