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The Challenge
Professor Snape’s head shot up from his hunched position behind his classroom desk due to a loud clamouring in the corridor outside.
“Enough!” he spat, throwing down his quill and spattering red ink all over the papers he had been marking. He stormed to the door and stepped into the hall.
Harry Potter had his wand drawn and pointed at Draco Malfoy.
“One more word, Malfoy, and I’ll…” His words trailed off when he noticed the dour-faced Potion master’s presence. He quickly pocketed his wand.
Draco stood with his arms crossed, flanked on either side by his goons, Crabbe and Goyle. He wore a satisfied smirk.
“Potter,” Snape bellowed. “Ten points from Gryffindor for threatening a classmate.”
Snape stood still as he pondered what to do about the situation, resting one elbow against the other arm and tapping a long finger against his pursed lips. He then began to pace back and forth before Malfoy’s leering face.
“What this situation calls for is a punishment. Since Potter seems to have trouble keeping his wand in his pocket, I feel that a challenge of staying power is in order.” His voice drawled silkily while his face contorted into a malicious sneer. “We’ll make it a game. Tomorrow on the Quidditch pitch, all seventh year Gryffindor and Slytherin students will be broken into pairs. It will be a game of provocation. Whoever throws the first curse will be eliminated and the last man standing will earn one hundred points for his house.”
Draco and Harry glared at each other.
“All right then,” Snape said. “I’ll inform the Headmaster at once and he’ll make the announcement at dinner this evening. Now, get going, all of you. You’d better begin practising.”
He swished past them in a swirl of black and ascended the staircase on his way to Dumbledore’s office. Harry gave Draco a thoughtful look, and turned away.
“You’d better be ready, Potter,” Draco sneered. “I’ll be waiting.”
Harry turned back and frowned at Draco, his brow furrowed. “Oh, I’ll be ready,” he said, and side-stepped Crabbe’s bulk on his way to the staircase.
The Bet
The following day the challenge had been on for two hours. All of Gryffindor and Slytherin had been defeated except Harry and Draco. They were riled up, in each other’s face, each adamantly refusing to draw his wand. They stood nose to nose, chest to chest, swapping insults of the worst sort.
Snape began to take bets amongst the professors at the field. They crowded around him to get in on it, with the exception of Albus Dumbledore.
Harry changed tactics and said in a low voice, so only Draco could hear: “I am so hard for you right now.”
“What are you playing at, Potter?” Draco spat.
Harry flipped back his fringe and gave a crooked grin. “It’s just that I’ve never seen you this close before. I find your body extremely attractive.”
Draco blinked and crinkled his forehead. “So when did you go all poofy?”
Harry laughed in his face and shrugged. “Calling me a poof isn’t going to make me draw my wand, or at least not the one in my pocket.”
“Potter, your jokes aren’t funny,” Draco said in disdain.
“Who said I was joking?” Harry asked, pressing his hips ever so subtly against Draco’s, causing him to take a step back, wide-eyed at feeling the erection Harry sported. He ground his teeth and stepped back into sparring.
“Just what did you hope to accomplish by doing that, Potter? I’m not cursing you, so you may as well stop.”
Harry pressed his chest harder against Draco. To the spectators, it looked as if they were about to kill each other, bare-handed.
Harry whispered, “I was hoping we could take this challenge to another level.”
“Another level?” Draco sneered, cocking his eyebrow in curiosity.
Harry blew his fringe out of his face again. “That is unless you’re chicken.”
“What?” Draco yelled, furiously reaching for his wand. He caught himself just in time and took a deep breath. “You’re still playing, damn it! Stop trying to distract me; it won’t work. I won’t curse you.”
Harry grinned. “I’m totally serious. I’m so hard I can barely breathe.”
Draco screwed up his face menacingly. “What do you mean by another level?”
Harry looked him straight in the eye. “Instead of whoever throws the first curse loses, whoever comes first loses. What do you think?”
“I think you’re fucking sick.”
“Yeah, but don’t tell me the idea doesn’t intrigue you at all. You can’t hide it from me.”
“Hide what, Potter?” Draco hissed.
“Hide the fact that you are as gay as they come.”
A flush rose in Draco’s face and Harry pressed his hips into Draco’s again, bumping wool-clad erections.
Draco gritted his teeth. “Say we do this. Where?”
“My bed,” Harry said staring Draco straight in the eye.
“In front of your freaky friends?” Draco said in disbelief. “Not bloody likely.”
“No,” Harry said calmly. “We’ll use a Silencing Spell and a Shunning Ward on the bed curtains.”
“How am I to get in then? Answer me that. We can’t just waltz in together in front of everyone,” Draco sputtered, attempting to weasel out of the situation.
“Yes we can,” Harry said with a smile. “I do have an invisibility cloak after all.”
Draco’s agitation showed plainly on his face. “Why do you want to do this?”
Harry sighed. “Let’s just say I need relief so bad, I’d do anything to take this challenge on. I’m going to have such a bloody fantastic… well, you know. Come on; let’s go.”
“Uh, what about all these people?” Draco asked, gesturing to the groups of students and professors.
Harry turned away and called everybody’s attention away from the gambling. “I’m calling a time-out!” he announced to the crowd. “Malfoy and I have decided that we’re too advanced for this simple challenge. We’ve devised a more difficult one to be played out on another level. We’ll announce the winner tomorrow morning in the Great Hall.”
The professors looked around at each other and then to Dumbledore, who stood off to the side, stroking his long white beard. “I find that acceptable,” he said pleasantly.
The crowd dispersed and Dumbledore placed his bet.
A Game Gone Awry
They were alone on Harry’s bed with the spells and wards in place. Draco looked very serious.
“Okay, Potter. We need ground rules for this challenge.”
Harry nodded. “No clothes.”
“What?”
“Come on,” Harry reasoned. “Part of the intrigue is seeing your rival in his most vulnerable state.”
“Fine,” Draco said sharply. “No self-stimulation.”
“You mean we try to make each other come without touching ourselves?” Harry asked.
“That’s right.”
“All right, but we can touch our opponent.”
“Deal.”
Harry wore a wicked grin, removing his glasses and pulling his shirt off. Draco followed suit, but shook his head when he saw Harry set his glasses down on the bedside table.”
“That’s cheating, Potter. You won’t be able to see.”
Harry smirked. “Yes I will. I’m only a bit near-sighted. I can see you just fine. Besides, I think it gives me an advantage because I look sexier without my glasses on.” He started unbuttoning his trousers.
“Wait,” Draco tutted. “You’re going to touch yourself taking off your trousers.”
“So? So are you.”
“Nu-uh. That’s against the rules. I say we have to take each other’s trousers off.”
“All right,” Harry said, moving his hands away from the buttons. “Do you want to go first, or shall I?
Draco worried his bottom lip. “You go first.”
Harry reached over and unfastened Draco’s trousers. He slipped his hand inside to grip the hardening flesh.
Draco squeezed his eyes shut tight and allowed Harry to divest him of his clothing.
Harry pulled Draco’s pants and trousers off together, then lay down offering up his own. He looked Draco up and down. “You’re really turning me on. You have a fantastic body.”
Draco smirked. “Of course I do. Now budge up and let me take yours off.”
Harry lifted his hips and allowed Draco to undress him.
Draco stopped and stared at the massive erection Harry sported. “Fuck. No wonder you can’t wait to get off. Look at the size of that thing!”
Harry glanced down. “Well, I told you, didn’t I? Go on; touch it.”
Tentatively, Draco put his hand down and touched the throbbing organ.
Harry shuddered. “Oh, yeah. Do that more.”
“Are you trying to lose or something, Potter? With a cock this hard you’re not going to last long.”
Harry gave a malicious grin. “Oh, just wait. I have quite a bit of stamina actually.”
Draco gripped Harry’s cock in his hand and wanked it up and down. He grew hard just watching Harry’s bucking hips and gaping mouth, listening to the sounds he was making. When pearly drops of pre-come seeped from Harry’s eager member, Draco released his hold and sat back to breathe.
“Don’t get shy now,” Harry said, sitting up.
“No… no… I just… um, thought of something.”
“What?”
“What about the winner? I mean the loser is the one who comes first, right? So does the winner go unsatisfied or what?”
Harry shook his head. “Not at all. The winner gets to enjoy his orgasm by letting it happen instead of trying to keep it from happening. The loser has to deliver the winner in the winner’s style of choice.”
“Okay,” Draco said, relaxing a bit after his short break.
Harry began to rub himself against Draco’s erection, creating delightful friction. Both cocks wept and slid easily against each other. Draco shut his eyes tight, attempting to put off the inevitable, when Harry moved his body away. He sighed with relief and a bit of frustration at the loss of contact, until he felt his erection enveloped in a warm, sucking mouth.
“Fuck!” he screamed, spilling everything he had down Harry’s throat. He opened his eyes, panting, and looked down as Harry licked up the remnants of his orgasm. “That was a dirty trick, Potter,” he said as Harry’s grinning face loomed above him.
“I win.”
Draco answered haughtily with his eyes closed: “Best two out of three.” He threw his arm across his eyes, hiding his contentment and waiting for the heat to leave his face.
Harry spooned up beside Draco, pressing against his hip.
Draco moved his arm and looked over at him. “All right, Potter. How would you like it?”
Harry smiled stupidly. “I don’t care; just do it quick. I’m so hard it hurts.”
Draco sat up and observed Harry’s dripping erection as Harry rolled onto his back. He looked back up to Harry’s face. “Come on, Potter. Help me out here; I don’t know what I’m doing. Besides, you’re the winner. You’re supposed to tell me what you want.”
Harry nodded, straining his hips. “Swallow me whole,” he rasped. “I want to come down your throat.”
Draco gulped and stationed himself between Harry’s legs. He slowly lowered his mouth to the tender flesh at the head of Harry’s penis and flicked it lightly with his tongue, tasting him. He forced himself to be bold and took the head in his mouth, holding on at the base, sucking.
Harry’s voice rose above him. “Oh, God! Yes!”
Draco took it deeper and ran his tongue up and down the slippery shaft. He bobbed his head as he sucked and cupped Harry’s tight bollocks with his other hand. The taste in his mouth grew bitter as pre-come mixed with saliva, and slurping sounds ensued.
“That’s it, damn it. Deeper!” Harry commanded, arching his hips and shoving his cock to the back of Draco’s throat. He came hard and gushing, filling Draco’s mouth.
Draco swallowed reflexively, and the bitterness grew sweeter. He pulled away and flung himself down on the pillow beside Harry’s head to catch his breath.
The next morning, he woke feeling warm.
“Hmm?” he mumbled, opening his eyes as a tickling sensation brushed over his nipples. He’d fallen asleep in Harry Potter’s bed. Humiliation washed over him. He gently lifted Harry’s arm off his chest and laid it down carefully. He slipped out from beneath the sheets and dressed. He peeked out from the bed curtains at the room full of snoring Gryffindors, and quietly left through the portrait hole.
The fat lady opened one sleepy eye. “Where did you come from?” she asked.
Draco ignored her and walked, determined, to the Slytherin dormitories.
~*~
That morning, the Great Hall was abuzz with speculation. What was this new challenge their house heroes had undertaken? Who won?
Harry strolled in through the main doors while Draco skulked in through the back. Even the professors looked up as the Hall fell into a hush waiting for the verdict.
Harry raised his hands above his head. “Gryffindor is the winner.”
Draco raised his head proudly and shouted back: “You wish, Potter. That was only round one. Round two, tonight, place of my choice.”
Harry grinned and took his seat.
Round Two
Professor Snape granted Draco Malfoy permission to skip his morning classes to use the library with an open pass to research methods he could employ to defeat Harry Potter in the coming round.
He wandered the rows of books in the Restricted Section until his eye fell on an intriguing title. The Art of Lascivious Stimulation by Maku Kumalot. He selected the volume and fell to rest in one of the library’s comfy overstuffed chairs, flipping through the table of contents.
Chapter One, Lucrative Lubrication. “Ah, I’ve got you now, Potter,” he chuckled to himself. He read the chapter quietly and took extensive notes.
Later, in Potions, they were making an ink repellent to use to protect furniture from spills. Draco waited patiently for an opportunity to disrupt the class to present itself. Perfect; Weasley!
Ron moved past Draco’s desk on his way to the front of the room so Snape could test his potion, but as he passed, Draco bumped his bottle of dragon scales off the desk so they shattered against the floor.
“Watch it, Weasley, you dunce!” he spat indignantly.
“What is the commotion?” Snape asked, irritated.
“Weasley knocked over my dragon scales, Professor,” Draco smugly tattled.
“Weasley. Front of the room, now! Mr. Malfoy, go to my office and get some more dragon scales.”
He went to Snape’s private stores and took down a new bottle of dragon scales, and pocketed a bottle of slippery elm. He returned to class wearing a smirk.
Harry stared at him and Draco gave him a quick wink. Harry looked back down at his desk as a flush spread over his face.
Oh you’re in for it tonight, Potter. He scribbled a note and pushed it into Harry’s hand as he passed by after class was dismissed.
Meet me tonight in the dungeons, west corridor. Wear your cloak. Wait by the suit of armour.
~DM
~*~
“Boo,” Harry whispered in Draco’s ear, where he stood leaning against the stone wall.
“Well, Potter,” he said, dropping his smokeless cigarette and stepping on the butt. “Here we are. Follow me.”
He turned around and stated Panache, and a concealed door slid open in the wall. Draco waltzed into the Slytherin common room with Harry, invisible, at his heels. Crabbe and Goyle stood at the top of the stairs, blocking the hall.
“Hey, Draco. I thought you were taking Potter on tonight,” Crabbe sputtered.
Draco glared at him. “I am, you moron, but not yet. You’ll hear about it in the morning. Now move!”
The lumps parted and Harry and Draco passed. They turned a corner and Draco led him through another door. The room was furnished luxuriously in Slytherin colours. Harry dropped his cloak.
“Wow,” he said, looking around. There was only one bed, and it was enormous. “Is this your room?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes,” said Draco, loosening his tie. “It pays to be a prefect in Slytherin.”
Harry frowned.
Draco walked over, stood in front of Harry, and held out his arms. “I am so going to win, Potter. Take off my clothes.”
Harry clenched his teeth and reached over to undo Draco’s robe.
Once he was undressed, Draco pushed Harry down on the bed and undressed him. “New rule, Potter,” he began.
“Yes?” Harry grumbled quizzically.
“Since I am the challenger for this round, I get to call the shots. I want you to do whatever I tell you to do.”
Harry shrugged. “All right, but I don’t know who you’re trying to fool. Once you get a taste of power, you’re going to get off faster than ever.”
Draco grinned. “Oh, no, Potter. I’m going to drive you insane. I think that deep down you want to be dominated.”
Harry frowned. “Okay, think whatever you like. Where do you want me?”
“Right where you are,” Draco said, lying down beside Harry. He reached over to the bedside table, took the bottle of slippery elm, and poured it on Harry’s half-erect penis. He rubbed it in, making Harry squirm beneath his hand. Then he stopped, and handed the bottle over.
“Now,” he directed. “Pour it into your hand and coat your fingers.”
Harry shook his head, wonderingly.
Draco lay back, propped up against the pillows and drew up his left knee. His right leg, he let fall to the side, flat against the bed, bent open from the hip. “Now, me,” he gestured.
Harry poured the slippery elm down Draco’s straining member, and worked it into his skin. The smell was delicious and raw. Draco began taking deep breaths. “Stop.”
Harry paused.
“Now put your fingers in my arse,” Draco directed.
Harry’s eyes grew wide. “What?”
Draco glared at him angrily. “What’s the matter, Potter? Scared?”
Harry screwed up his face and inserted a digit.
Draco groaned. “Another.”
Harry added another finger and let them sit still as he waited for instruction. Draco looked at him impatiently. “Don’t just sit there, Potter. Move them around.”
Harry swallowed hard, shaking his head and trying to keep his arousal from growing. But alas, the soft flesh of Malfoy around his fingers turned him on incredibly.
Draco began bucking his hips. “All right, stop. Now go and sit over there in that chair,” he said, pointing to a large overstuffed green chair with cushy arm rests.
Harry withdrew his hand, and wiped it on the bed linens. He then moved to sit in the chair. His cock was hard and ready.
Draco advanced on him with the bottle of slippery elm. He poured a dollop on Harry’s erect shaft, set the bottle aside, and climbed onto Harry’s lap.
“What are you doing, Malfoy?” Harry demanded.
Draco slapped him hard across his mouth. “I didn’t tell you to talk. You played dirty last time, Potter. Now it’s my turn.” He slipped down slowly, holding Harry’s cock with his hand, and guided it into his tight heat.
“Fuck! What the Hell?” Harry sputtered.
Draco slipped down on him further, wincing, until he finally rested, engulfing Harry entirely, and began to move. He raised his hips up and down, balancing himself with his knees on the seat cushion. He watched Harry’s face contort with anguish as he tried not to come. Draco smiled delightedly. Harry had completely forgotten to stimulate him in return.
Draco clenched his muscles, bucked his hips faster, and felt Harry tense up and take a deep breath, letting it out with a hiss. He shot his fiery load into Draco’s depths.
Draco stopped moving and looked at Harry’s face, waiting for him to open his eyes. He finally did, and Draco stated, with a satisfied smirk: “Tied.”
Harry shook his head, defeated. “Bastard.”
Draco slipped off him and pranced over to another door Harry hadn’t noticed before. He looked up with tired eyes. “Where are you going?”
Draco tossed a loose strand of hair out of his face. “I’m going to have a shower, and after you’ve recovered, you’re going to have one as well. Then we’ll see about my turn.”
Harry closed his eyes and sank back in the comfy chair. “Goddamn Malfoy. Why does he have to be so fucking sexy?” he mumbled to himself.
The next morning Harry woke up comfortable, warm, and sticky. He opened his eyes to meet Draco’s partially open mouth, and watched his eyelashes flutter as he dreamed. His normally tamed hair lay on the pillow in a golden tangle. Harry quietly pulled away from Draco’s sleepy embrace. Damn, his arse hurt. Malfoy had wanted tit for tat, so Harry had to give it to him. He figured it was worth it hearing Draco screaming Harry’s given name.
Harry dressed, draped his invisibility cloak over his head, and crept out of the dungeon dormitory.
~*~
That morning at breakfast, the school was anxiously waiting for their update on the challenge. Harry entered tired and sore, and sat at the Gryffindor table with a bruise forming on his face.
Draco entered through the back with his head held high and proud. He raised his hands to the eager audience. “Slytherin rules!”
Harry glared at him from across the room and growled back: “Just wait, Malfoy. We’ve got one more round to go, then we’ll see who rules.”
Draco cocked an eyebrow and grinned crookedly. “Right you are, Potter. You choose the time and place.” He sat down and ate breakfast.
Final Round
Harry sat in his History of Magic class, doodling on a bit of parchment, thinking about how he was going to win this contest. He had a strange grin plastered on his face.
Hermione elbowed him in the side and brought him out of his reverie. “What’s the matter with you? You haven’t taken in a single word Professor Binns is saying. What’s that?” she asked, trying to look at his doodle. He glanced down and quickly crumpled it up.
“Um… it’s nothing. I’m just thinking about stuff.”
“Stuff,” she stated. “Like this challenge thing you’ve got going with Malfoy? What are you two doing? The whole school’s talking about it. There are some really wild rumours floating around.”
“It’s complicated, Hermione. Just leave it. I have work to do.”
The bell rang and he left class quickly. He ran outside to the lake to take in some air, wondering what was happening with him. Everything seemed different. He was actually looking forward to that night’s match. The realisation hit him hard, and so, annoyed with himself for getting into such a mess, and confused, he headed back to the school to find Malfoy.
He was in the library of all places, alone for once, and poring over a book. Draco heard Harry’s footsteps and quickly shut the book he was reading and put it into his schoolbag.
“So, Potter. Where’s it going to be?” Draco asked coolly.
Harry took a deep breath. “I’m not sure we should finish this contest. I’m feeling a little, er—sick—to my stomach.”
Draco narrowed his eyes. “Well it was all your idea in the first place and I, for one, am not going to let down the reputation of Slytherin House because of your bloody stomach. Visit Pomfrey and get a potion for it. We’ll do it in my room again tonight. It’s more comfortable than yours.”
Harry’s knees felt weak. He couldn’t let Draco know that he was actually starting to like these sessions. He’d be the laughing stock of the school if word got out. Malfoy would make sure of it. He trudged up the stairs to Gryffindor tower and made his excuses to Ron that he needed rest before nightfall. The whole house was giggling and rooting for him; they’d turned the contest into another ‘Harry’s our Champion’ type of thing. He lay down on his bed, wondering what he was going to do.
~*~
Draco was taking a poll amongst the Slytherin girls.
“So, Pansy, what is it that gets you so hot and bothered that you can’t help but scream bloody hell in bed?”
The girls were gathered around Draco in the Serpent’s Den, listening, enraptured to the conversation. Pansy thought for a moment, her puggish face contorted with the effort of thinking. “I’d have to say kissing.”
“Kissing?” Draco asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Yeah,” Pansy sighed. “Nothing does it better than some long drawn-out snogging. It makes me all woozy and… did you want to practise or something? What are you asking all these questions for? I’ll help you refine your skills any day, Draco.”
“Thank you, Pansy. I’ll let you know.”
Millicent Bulstrode piped up then. “I know I like it tied down with silk scarves and sometimes leather and high-heels.”
Draco fought not to gag at that image. Scarves though—there’s a thought.
“Right then, thanks, girls. I’m leaving now,” he said, and scurried up the stairs to his room.
He threw himself on the bed. Dumb girls. Like they’d know anything about anything, though they had given him an idea or two. He drifted off into a fitful rest, dreaming of Harry, naked and tied to his bed.
That night found Harry naked and tied to Draco’s bed by his wrists. Draco circled the bed, like a hawk homing in on its prey. “I like you like this, Potter. You know, the green of my sheets really brings out the green in your eyes.”
“Stop it, Malfoy, and let me loose. I’m the one calling the shots tonight.”
“Not any more,” Draco said smartly. “You forfeited that privilege when you tried to get out of tonight’s challenge.”
Draco hopped on the bed and straddled Harry. He had filed his nails into points, and was using them to scratch gouges down Harry’s chest.
“Ow. That hurts. What are you doing now, switching rules again?”
“No, I’m just warming you up, that’s all.”
Draco looked down directly into Harry’s eyes, inches from his nose. Harry’s face flushed and he looked away. Draco turned his head to whisper in Harry’s ear. “Come on now, Potter. I can tell this is turning you on. Why look away? I know I’m not that unattractive.”
Draco waited for Harry to turn back. He took Harry’s mouth as it came back towards him and chuckled as Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. He forced his tongue into Harry’s mouth and explored it, possessed it. Feelings of real lust built up within him, and he poured them into the kiss. Their naked bodies were wet with sweat and Harry muffled something into Draco’s mouth.
Draco drew back. “What was that, Potter?”
“Untie me!” Harry exclaimed, short of breath.
“Oh, very well.” Draco reached for his wand and released the scarves that held Harry in place.
He lost his breath with surprise when Harry turned the tables on him and flipped him onto his back, stroked his hair, and snogged him rotten. Draco wasn’t sure what it was that brought them to climax simultaneously: the snogging, the perspiration, the friction, or the combination of all three. Panting, he disentangled himself, and lay flat on his back beside Harry as Harry caught his breath.
After a couple of minutes of staring up at the ceiling, reeling from Harry’s kisses, Draco wondered what was going to happen next. “So, what are we going to tell the school tomorrow?”
Harry let out a soft snore in response.
Draco shrugged and cleaned them up with his wand, then snuggled in next to Harry beneath the sheets.
The next morning found them walking slowly towards the Great Hall. Draco stopped and grabbed Harry by the arm.
“Look,” he said in a guarded voice. “What are we going to say in there? That it was a tie? Do we have to go five out of seven, or what?”
Harry laughed. “You know, Malfoy. I think you’ve grown fond of these little romps.”
“Shut up, Potter. I am not. It was your idea in the first place. If anybody fancies these romps, it’s you.”
“You’re not fooling me, Malfoy. I saw the smile on your face while you were sleeping last night.”
“What?” Draco shouted. “Now you’re watching me sleep?”
“Shh—be quiet. You’re raising your voice.”
“I’ll be as bloody loud as I want to!” Draco bellowed. “You’re a prat, and I hate you!”
“Yeah, sure,” Harry chuckled, egging him on. “Just shut up.”
“Why don’t you shut up yourself?” Draco spat. “I was not enjoying it a bit.”
Harry grinned. “Shut your fucking mouth, Malfoy, or I’ll shut it for you.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Draco retorted, now grinning as well.
Harry pushed him forcefully against the wall and shut his mouth with his own.
Suddenly, a loud boom echoed off the walls as Snape threw an armful of books on the floor. “Damn it to hell!” he sputtered as the startled boys sprang apart.
Dumbledore stumbled out of the Great Hall with a purple towel tucked into the top of his robes, a fork in one hand, and syrup dripping from his beard. “What in Merlin’s name is going on out here?”
Snape stormed over to Dumbledore, reached into his robes, and withdrew a sack of galleons. He thrust them into the Headmaster’s free hand. “You win the bet, Albus,” he spat, giving Harry and Draco a disgusted look before sweeping away back down the corridor, stopping only to retrieve his books.
“Well, imagine that,” Dumbledore said, glancing at the two boys who were now standing on opposite sides of the corridor. He had a twinkle in his eye as he turned around and went back to the breakfast table to finish his hotcakes.
~End~