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17th February 2006 (19:36)

mood:: giddy

Welcome to the as-of-yet untitled Round Robin that is circulating on G'n'H

Notes: I'm going to try to update this at least every other day, but if you see I'm falling behind or, worse, if I left out a section accidentally, please comment right away to let me know. As for right now, I'm leaving things as they appear; when it's ready to go in the cookie jar perhaps we can edit as a group, and decide if we want to rearrange sentences into paragraphs or what.

Last Update: 11:14 EST 2 April - everything from our 110th, 111th, 112th and 113th, 114th and 115th voyages.

Draco was on a mission. A Valentine's mission. Today would be the day he would finally Get Into Potter's Trousers.

At first, Draco deemed the idea impossible, but as the weeks drew closer to Valentine and Potter seemed to be alone in the relationship stakes... Draco would strike.

It would have to be cunning, of course, something very, very Slytherin in nature.

Not like last year, and that fiasco with the fire, candy hearts and Dudley's hand-me-down pants.
Draco shuddered with the memory and gave his outfit one final look over in the mirror, before gathering up his supplies and heading out of the dormitory to begin Phase 1 of the plan.

It was tricky, and would involve much needed grace, skill, and of course, his own particular suave.

Oh yeah, and a cheese grater.

Several weeks ago, Draco had procured a small amount of Felix Felicis, and through careful research, he'd modified half of it. One strand of his own hair, and a special ingredient, and all he had to do was to slip a drop of it into Potter's pumpkin juice. It wasn't a love potion, but it had its special brand of influence. Potter's "good fortune" would lead him straight to Draco. The other half of the potion - Draco tipped it back as he reached the bottom of the staircase. Now he was sure to be able to get the rest of the potion to its intended target. Nothing could go wrong tonight.

Upon entering the Great Hall for the evening meal, it was all Draco could do not to gag. Everything was red and pink, which was right on par with red and gold for being the worst possible colour scheme known to wizard-kind. Hideous, he thought to himself. But he couldn't worry himself with that right now.

For the start of the evening, it was to be a normal dinner, but then, for dessert, the tables would be moved to the walls, and the centre of the Great Hall would become a social event. Dumbledore had explained the night before that people could bring Valentine cards, pass them around, mingle and socialize. His excuse was "inter-house relations". For once, Draco agreed with the old geezer's sentiment.

Draco blinked and realized he was still standing in the doorway, and had only come back to his senses after noticing that a pair of piercing green eyes were drilling into him furiously from the Gryffindor table. Ignoring the fact that his heart had instantly stuck itself in his throat, Draco smirked at Potter with a tip of his head. He was rewarded with the sight of Potter's eyes going a bit wider. The boy-hero almost looked nervous for a second.

He should be. Still smirking, Draco made his way to the Slytherin table, sitting between Vincent and Blaise with his back to Potter.

Patience, Draco told himself. Just wait for it. Tonight shall be perfect.

As Draco reached for the pumpkin juice, he looked up at the staff table and caught Dumbledore's eye. He started and almost dropped the juice when Dumbledore winked at him. Was it a wink? It sure looked like one.

Shaking himself a little, he focused himself on the task of eating, and went over the plan one more time in his mind. It had to be perfect, after all.

“Draco, are you feeling alright?” He turned to find Blaise looking at him with an eyebrow raised.

He frowned. “I’m feeling fine. What makes you ask?”

“Well, you’re muttering something to yourself that sounds like “It shall be perfect” and smirking at your pumpkin juice…”

Draco blinked. Damn! He hadn’t realised he was being so obvious. Subtlety was essential in plans like this. Well, Blaise was observant but not observant enough. He would never guess Draco’s plan. However, he made a mental note to be more careful around his friend from now on. Blaise was a Sly-

“…and you’ve been staring a lot more than usual at Potter lately. Which is saying something. Planning to get into his pants finally?”

-therin too.

"Blaise!" Draco yelped, startled. "How dare you insinuate something so ridiculous?"

Crabbe snorted. "Draco, you couldn't look more suspicious if you tried. Everyone knows you're plotting something, and by now, we ALL know it involves Potter. So, what is it this time?"

Well. So much for the subtle attempt.

"Fine..." Draco grumbled. "If I tell you, do you at least think you could help me out?"

"Depends what's in it for us, obviously," said the oh-so-Slytherin Blaise. Draco frowned. Was he willing to offer the chance to take pictures...? Perhaps Blaise would rather enjoy the nice box of chocolates that Goyle had flattened a few days ago...

"Well," Draco said slowly, "I suppose I could...give you something..."

Blaise smiled evilly. "There's only one thing I want of yours, Draco." He leaned in closely, placing his hands on Draco's shoulders, and whispered:

"Your bunny slippers."

"Oh," Draco pursed his lips. Well... if that was it, he could always steal them back later. Perhaps charm them to bite Blaise's feet. Back to the problem at hand. "Deal," Draco removed Blaise's hands from his body.

“So what is that you want us to do?” Blaise asked.

Draco glanced around nervously and slowly took out a small vial from the pocket of his robes. Holding it up for Blaise and Vincent to see, he said, “A drop of this in Potter’s pumpkin juice. Just one drop, mind you. And make sure he drinks it.”

"It's not." Draco smirked, glancing over at Potter again. "Just do it and the slippers are yours." Soon. Soon he would have Potter where he wanted him.

But sooner, he'd have to put the cheese grater into action, or all his plans would be so much hair gel down the drain.

"All right," Blaise agreed. He blinked in confusion as Draco produced a cheese grater from the folds of his robes and set it on the table in front of him between the bowl of peas and the plate of mashed potatoes.

"Draco?" Goyle grunted. "What's that for?"

Draco sniffed and set the Slytherins with a cool stare. "Oh Goyle, isn't it obvious?"

"No," Crabbe said immediately. "What's it for?"

"To grate cheese with, of course." And with the air of a man who thinks he is entirely more intelligent than those around him, Draco reached across the table and pulled a plate toward him. On the plate sat a single block of cheese. Draco promptly picked up the item in question and began to grate the cheese into long thin pieces.

"WHY?" demanded Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Because no one can resist a good cheese omelette. This is for Phase 2 of my plan to Get Into Potter's Trousers. It can't be done without omelette." He met the stares of the Slytherins with dignity and grace. "Aren't you supposed to be helping with the plan, Blaise?"

Blaise continued to stare at Draco for a moment, and finally stood up. He collected himself and began the walk across the Hall to the Gryffindor table.

It was really all up to him now. Acting with the confidence of the altered Felix Felicis Potion, Draco walked towards the Gryffindor table, once more trying for subtlety, and once again failing miserably.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Ron growled before he had even gotten near.

"I have an omelette for Potter. Is that going to violate your principles, Weasel? Afraid of the more refined forms of food?"

Ron made an angry protest, which unfortunately was cut short by Draco, who had come within striking range and hit him upside the head with the cheese grater.

Apparently those cheese graters could be rather useful.

"Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed over Ron, who was now unconscious on the table. "What on earth was that for?"

"Well...Here, I'll help you take him to the hospital wing. I'll explain on the way. But, you really should give the omelette a try. The cheese is imported from Provence."

Harry gave him a look of disbelief, but shrugged, picked up the plate and a fork, and followed Draco out of Great Hall, Ron levitating behind them.

Draco ignored the odd looks the entire school was giving them. He was pleased to see that Harry wasn’t ruffled by this either and was now happily eating the cheese omelette.

Once they were out of the Great Hall, Draco paused, glanced at Potter again and noticed that the plate was now empty. He smirked. “Liked it Potter?”

Harry walked slowly towards him until their faces were only ten inches apart. “Did you make that?” He had an odd look on his face.
Smirk still in place, Draco replied, “Of course. No one can make cheese omelettes to beat mine.”

Without warning Harry grabbed him by the front of his robes and brought their faces closer together. “Then make. More. Now.”

Ron dropped to the floor, forgotten.

Both Harry and Draco were torn away from their previous interactions. Harry let Draco’s robes be and fell to the floor, next to Ron, and slapped him lightly across the face.

“Oh, let the Weasel be,” Draco sighed.

Harry looked up at him, with an unreadable expression on his face. Harry took out his wand and made Ron float in the air again. “We are taking him to Madam Pomfrey first.”

Draco had a feeling that his careful preparing had been for nothing, that everything had failed. He’d just blame Blaise; then he had a debt. Blaise was good at Potions. He could make a perfect potion.

Caught up in his thoughts, Draco hardly noticed that they had arrived at the hospital wing. Harry pulled Draco by his sleeve towards him. “You’ll walk into that wall if you remain so caught up in yourself,” he mumbled.

Draco was going to protest, he already had his finger up in the air, when Madam Pomfrey came rushing towards them and started swooning over Ron.

Five minutes later, Harry and Draco walked out of the hospital wing again.

“So,” Harry said, “you were going to make me an omelette, weren’t you.”

Draco blinked. "You're not mad at me for knocking out your pet?" he gawked.

Harry said nothing, but blushed furiously and held up the plate he had nicked from the Great Hall. Why was he blushing?

“Potter, are you blushing?” Draco immediately felt his confidence returning. The potion had to have worked if the rush of colour to Harry’s cheeks was any indication. He took a few steps towards Harry.

Harry bit his lip. “Um…I…”

Draco came closer, trademark smirk back in place. “Yes?” He felt a surge of heat at the sight of a blushing Harry. His plan was turning out way better than he had expected. He was so Getting Into Harry’s Trousers tonight. “You were saying, Harry?”

“Er-” Harry was blushing even more now- how cute. Not one to miss such an opportunity Draco closed the remaining distance between them and leaned in to capture his victory prize.

But was stopped by a plate wedged between their bodies. “I’d-like-more-of-that-cheese-omellete-its-delicious.” Harry blurted out.

Draco resisted the urge to scowl. The look in Harry's eyes - combining desire, vulnerability and tentativeness - was too adorable to frighten away with a harsh look. Besides, now was the time for his Slytherin cunning to really come in to its own.

He gently took the plate from Harry and looked at its licked clean surface. "Well, I'd have to find some more of that cheese..."

"Dobby would have some," said Harry, quickly. "He has everything."

He went in to full puppydog begging mode. "Please?"

Draco smirked. "I guess it depends..."

"Yes?!" said Harry, eagerly.

"...on what you're going to do for me."

Harry's expression of delight and excitement abruptly changed into one of surprise.

"What I'm going to do for you?" he repeated, blinking.

Draco reached out and grasped the front of Harry's robes, gently pulling the Gryffindor towards him. He gazed down into Harry's wide eyes and lowered his mouth to Harry's ear.

"Are you in," he murmured, his fingers lightly trailing against the fabric of Harry's robes, "or are you out?"

"Erm --" Harry all but stuttered, looking somewhat nervous at Draco's incredibly close proximity. The gentle, teasing fingers that were fluttering over the threads of his robes seemed to be really, REALLY distracting him. Draco felt his own body giving off heat; it was making Harry sweat. "Er --"

"...Yes?" Draco uttered, looking at him intently.

"Well --" answered Harry, "I, um, I guess... I think...I think I'm in - I - I suppose. Um, what have you got in mind?"

Draco smirked but said nothing. Harry suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

"...Um, Malfoy? What --"

"Come to my room at ten o'clock tonight," Draco cut in, making Harry's eyes widen. "I'll meet you at the door to the Slytherin dorms. And bring that cloak. We'll see if you're really up to what I've got in store for you."

Harry was still gaping in shock when Draco turned around to walk away. Why did he give into Malfoy’s request again? He wondered. Now he had no other choice than to make the visit.

Draco was still smirking when he walked into the Great Hall again. Most students had filled out and headed for their dorms. He was making his way towards Blaise and Greg, who had remained at the Slytherin table, when something bushy suddenly blocked his view.

“What do you want, Beaver?” he sneered.

“I know what you’re up to, Malfoy. I won’t stop you. But don’t ever think that you can get away with this if you harm Harry.” And with that, Hermione turned around and exited the Great Hall.

Draco had not quite foreseen this little intervention.

Well, not matter. Draco had to prepare for tonight. What in Merlin's beard was he going to wear!?

He walked back to his room, deep in thought. Everything had to be ready. Everything had to be perfect.


By 6.30, Draco was already in the shower. He ignored Blaise's blatant sniggering as he got out from the shower at 7; Blaise always teased him for taking so long to get ready in preparation for meeting up with someone.

Bah. Zabini doesn't know a damn thing.

At 7.10, he unwrapped the towel from his waist, threw it onto the bed and made a beeline for his wardrobe, hoping to find something suitable. As he sorted through and disapproved of each outfit, he threw the garments onto the bed as well.

'No. No. No.'

At 7.20, the door creaked open.

'Hey, Drakeykins, I -- WAAGGGHHHH!!!!'


At 7.21, the door to Draco's dorm was slammed in Pansy Parkinson's face (literally), and Draco swore to himself that henceforth he would put some clothes on IMMEDIATELY after every shower.

At 8, he was finally dressed; the grey sweater and black trousers were rather plain, but he thought that it was suave enough. However, they had been in the wardrobe for quite long. He spent the next twenty minutes smoothing the creases out of them.

By 8.30, he was done with emptying bottles of cologne over himself while fantasizing about smacking Blaise in his laughing face.

That gave him one and a half hours to pace.

He kept the door locked, lest anyone were to walk in on his thoughts. Poor Theodore had been a victim of the end of his wand when he had made the mistake of entering the dorm whilst Draco was pacing like a cheetah. Draco had to cast cleaning spells on himself every five minutes to keep from sweating.

9 o'clock.

Suddenly gaining memory of his goal, he rushed to the bed and started making it. He fluffed the pillow and smoothed the creases out of the covers. Afterwards, he had to open the window for air. He leaned out of the sill, feeling the need to breathe.


He was inhaling, exhaling, inhaling, exhaling. And trying irritatedly to ignore the frustrated knocking on the door by the boys who were trying to enter the dorm.

Suddenly, something clicked.

'Oh, CRAP!'

He had forgotten the most important factor of all - to make sure that the other boys would not be in the dorm tonight. He ran over to the door and opened it.

Blaise, Theodore, Vince and Greg stood in the doorway, looking less than pleased. Blaise suddenly pinched his nose with his fingers and started fanning at the air in front of it.

'Whew! This must be one hell of an important date. You've never smelled this strongly like a botanic garden --'

One punch in the nose and many bribes later, the boys trudged down to the common room to prepare their makeshift bedding for the night.


Draco made his way out and stood by the entrance to the Slytherin dorms, where he had agreed to meet Potter. He paced and paced. What the hell is taking Potter so long?

His sweater felt itchy. He couldn't breathe. Scourgify. It was far too hot. He dug his gold pocket watch out and stared at it.

Ten o'clock.

His throat was suddenly so, so tight. He let out a squeak without realizing it. So much for his previous bravery; he didn't know how this night would go. Not to mention he had never seduced a boy before. He was so confident before, with the omelette and everything; he had no idea why he was suddenly becoming a nervous wreck.

So he stood there, waiting, his whole body stiff as a board. When he finally snuck another glance at his pocket watch, he was insulted.


Oh, so bloody typical. Potter was late by fifteen minutes already!

He relaxed a little and paced around the entrance, waiting, until around 10.30, when he heard a soft voice.


Draco turned around.

From thin air, a transparent veil was lifted. Harry Potter stood there, looking nervous, his invisibility cloak in his arms.

“Potter, you’re late.” He said frowning while leading Harry into his dorm.

“Er- sorry. Had to wait till Hermione went to her dorm.” Harry replied, eyes wandering around the Slytherin dorm as though searching for something.

Guessing what was going on in the other boy’s mind Draco rolled his eyes, “No, this is not some elaborate plan to capture you for the Dark Lord, Potter.” More like to Get Into Your Trousers, he silently added to himself.

“What?” Harry turned his eyes back to Draco. “Oh. Er- no, that’s not why I- um…I was wondering…” he was blushing now and Draco’s smirk was immediately back in place.


“…where’s the cheese omelette?” Harry produced a plate which he had seemingly been hiding behind his back.

Draco blinked. Then he sighed. Maybe trying to seduce clueless Gryffindors using cheese omelettes had not been such a good idea after all.

Then again, trying to seduce clueless Gryffindors with anything tended to be bad ideas.

In any case, Draco was here and Harry was here, but the cheese omelette was, most definitely, not. No matter. Draco had an idea that once Harry knew precisely what he was going to have to pay for the omelette, it wouldn't be exactly top priority any longer.

He flashed Harry an alluring smile and said, "We had a deal, remember? You don't get what you want," he let his gaze drift down Harry's body and back up again, "until you give me what I want."

"Right," said Harry, obviously trying hard to resist slamming Draco up against the wall and positively demanding his omelette, or else. "Right, well, what d'you want?"

Draco drew himself closer to Harry, taking the plate out of his hands and tossing it carelessly to the wall, where it promptly smashed into a thousand microscopic pieces. Ignoring Harry's gasp, Draco ...

...pressed into Harry, chest against chest. Both were barely breathing for fear of increasing the contact between them. There was that cute blush again. "Draco, what about my omelette?" Harry asked, his voice childishly soft and innocent.

"Silly Potter," Draco murmured, staring deep into those green eyes, "Omelettes are for Slytherins."

Harry, seemingly affected under Draco's penetrating stare, averted his gaze. "But you gave me omelette this morning."

"I know," Draco smirked, and Harry could see it from the corner of his eyes. "You out of all people should recognize powerplay when it's dangled in front of your nose, Potter."

"And, erm, uh --" Harry stuttered nervously, "You, um... you smashed my plate."

"Let's worry about the plate later," uttered Draco softly, and leaned in. His fingertips lightly brushed against Harry's palm. The invisibility cloak fluttered to the floor, forgotten. Harry was just closing his eyes out of nothing more than pure instinct when --

Knock knock. "Mr. Malfoy? Mr. Malfoy, why are your classmates sleeping in the common room?" Knock knock. "Mr. Malfoy?"

It was Snape's drawl. No mistake.

The boys sprang apart and panicked.

"Mr Malfoy, I demand that you open the door at once, or I'll be forced to -" Snape 's irritated voice was cut off as the door opened, and Draco stepped out, Pansy on his arm, both blushing furiously.

"Um, nothing professor..." started Draco, and glanced at Pansy, who giggled, albiet reluctantly.

Snape grimaced. "Unless you are unable to keep your teenage impulses to yourself, I must insist that you let the others sleep in their dormitory."

"Sorry sir," Draco said in an unrepetant tone, and Snape just sighed.

"You and your hormones are going to get into lots of trouble one day," he said, and closed the door.

As soon as the door closed, Draco turned to 'Pansy'. "It's ok, he's gone," he said.

"I know," came the annoyed reply, "I'm not blind." 'Pansy' scowled and drank a small vial of goop.

"Lucky we had some of this Fast Acting, Quickly Removed, Polyjuice Potion by the great Fabian McFabian," Draco said, flashing a huge smile at the door and displaying the potion bottle.

"Um?" Harry asked, the F.A.Q.R.P.P. having worn off, "What?"

But before Draco could give his no doubt completely reasonable explanation, there was a shriek from outside.

"Pansy? But aren't you in Draco's room?"

Harry and Draco looked at each other. Oh no. The deception had been discovered.

"Quick! Under the bed! hissed Draco, shoving Harry under said object, previous plans for it forgotten.

"Erm, I have an invisibility cloak-" started Harry, but Draco ignored him, as there was a firm rapping on the door.

"Mr. Malfoy! open this door at once!" came Snape's drawl, this time much sharper than previously. Draco did so, attempting to look innocent- it was hard, as he didn't have much practice.

"Mr. Malfoy, can you tell me how Miss Parkinson got from your dormitory to the common room without walking past me?" the greasy-haired professor inquired coldly.


"Then I'm sure you won't mind if I look around this room to see who was actually here." It wasn't a question.

"No one is here, Professor," Draco squeaked.

Professor Snape raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Just me and my omelette," Draco breathed.

Snape peered at Draco suspiciously. "Omelette?"

"Did... did I say that out loud??" Draco panicked, his eyes widening. From under the bed behind him, he could feel the atmosphere getting extremely uncomfortable.

The greasy professor narrowed his eyes. "You don't mean your famous cheese omelette, do you, Mr. Malfoy? Because I see none, and I wonder whether you're hiding any from your esteemed Head of House. Or why, for that matter, you didn't offer to share in the circumstances that you did have one."

Draco couldn't produce anything more than a squeak. Snape, however, seemed to let it go; he scowled and made his way over to the wall, where the shards of Harry's plate lay.

"And what is this, Mr. Malfoy?"

"It was... I was... I mean... well, I DID make an omelette and left it on that plate, and went to the bathroom for five minutes, and when I came back Vince and Greg had eaten it," Draco quickly made up an excuse. "I... I... kind of lost my temper."

"Typical of you to take it out on the wall. Even though I don't believe that you, of all people, spent only five minutes in the bathroom," Snape drawled, walking towards the bed. Draco squeaked again, and ran over to him and caught his arm.

"Professor, I think I might be in the mood to make another omelette," he said hurriedly, trying to pull Snape as far away from the bed as possible. "Why don't you join me? I --"

But suddenly Draco, seeming to trip over himself, flailed his arms and fell forward on his hands and knees. He moaned in pain, kneeling there helplessly on the ground. Snape's eyes widened in shock as he saw what was tangled around Draco's feet.

"Mr. Malfoy," he said dangerously, and Draco gulped as he heard a soft, panicked hiss from under the bed. "Is this not an invisibility cloak?"

"AhHAH!" Draco exclaimed exuberantly. "So that's where that went. Why thank you, Professor! Thank you so much. Father would have murdered me if he knew I had lost it." He walked stiffly over to his professor. "He sent it to me, to you know, help me in my work, if you know what I mean? Converting the Slytherin house into Death Eater training camp? I'm sure you would approve, Professor. We're going to have a bake sale this weekend to improve funding in our organization! Now please leave so we can commence the baking and omelette making."

Snape stared at Draco. Oh no, thought Harry desperately, that was really lame! Now he's definately going to suspect something!

But like always, he was completely off the mark.

"That's...a wonderful idea, Draco," Snape said. "In fact, why don't we 'bake some cookies' right now, eh?" he leered at Draco.

"Um, I think you may have misunderstood me sir," He began, but was interrupted.

"No no, I think I know exactly what you meant..." He started to unbutton his shirt, but stopped in amazement.

A red and gold blur emerged from under the bed. "Unhand my boyfriend, you fiend!" A mighty voice rand out.

"Oh, Harry Potter, my hero!" fluttered Draco, and swooned romantically.

"Oh no! My evil plan to horcrux Draco Malfoy has been foiled! Curses!" cried Snape, as he disappeared in a flash of billowing cape.

"Oh, Harry," trilled Draco, and swooned again, this time being caught by Harry.

"Draco, my love," Harry said, in his majestically deep voice, "Nothing will ever keep us apart again!" He leant over Draco and gently kissed him.

Draco was grinning like he'd never grinned before. His Valentine's mission to get into Harry Potter's trousers was actually working. But then again, he had expected no less of himself. He threw Harry onto the bed and started tearing the clothes off him.

Harry was astounded. 'My, you are eager!' he breathed. 'And here I thought that I was coming to eat omelette.'

'Hmm,' Draco smirked, nuzzling his ear. 'Finally. Some uninterrupted time, eh?'

Harry smiled at him. They were just snogging some more when the door flung open with a loud BANG, and the faces of Draco's Slytherin dorm-mates appeared at the doorway.

'We heard you yelling with Snape! What happe --' Blaise said, when suddenly, a pair of red boxers with embroidered golden snitches landed in his face.

Pansy screeched and fainted.

'WWAAAAAGH! Get it off me!! GET IT OFF ME!!' Blaise was screaming, trying to untangle Potter's boxers from his face.

Harry covered himself with a green silk sheet and cringed sheepishly.

Draco sighed, "Blaise, those are my slippers you are wearing, are they not?"

Blaise was busy scrubbing his face.

"I shall answer. Yes, they are. Therefore you must keep up your end of the bargain. Get out of my room before I set those boxers on you." Blaise and company departed hastily.

"You hired Blaise to help seduce me?" Harry's voice was cold behind him.

"Hired is such a strong word, Harry." Draco tried to explain.

"It's Potter to you," Harry said and began to make his way towards the door.

"Ha-Potter wait!" Draco lunged after him, tripped over the Invisibility Cloak (yes, Harry was going to leave without it, the stupid idiot), fell foward and ended up entangled in Harry's limbs. They went down together, tumbling to the floor.

Draco propped up, kneeling over Harry. Harry was trapped, he couldn't go anywhere without creating... friction.

Harry closed his eyes and breathed. "Malfoy, get the hell off me."

Draco looked down at him pointedly, sighing, and handed him the invisibility cloak. "I just wanted to say that you forgot your cloak. And you were about to storm out of my room completely naked."

Harry looked down and realized Draco was right. He blushed angrily and looked around.

"What did Zabini do with my boxers?"

"Come on, Har- er Potter, don't be like this!" Draco sighed, waving his wand surrepitously and causing the boxers to scoot under the bed.

"Malfoy I saw that," Harry rolled his eyes. Draco smirked. "What do you want? Really? Why would you go to the trouble of hiring Zabini to get to me?"

Draco's smirk faded. He avoided Harry's gaze and stared fixedly at a point in the wall. Harry crossed his arms, his eyes never drifting, willing Draco to look at him.

Draco swallowed. "I can't tell you." He bit his lip and moved to sit on the bed. After a second's hesitation, he reached under the bed and flung the boxers at Harry. "Go on. Leave."

Harry caught the boxers and stared at them for a moment, then looked back up at Draco. "No."

"Why not?"

"I can't leave until I know what you want with me." Harry took a few steps closer until his shadow fell across Draco, shrouding him from the light. "Tell me," he said softly.

"You really want to know?" Draco's voice was almost raspy, filled with a vulnerability that made Harry's heart break.

"I need to know." Harry kneeled down and looked up at Draco's face. "Please."

Draco's eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as he closed his eyes and opened them again, startling Harry with the emotion and depth of the liquid silver. He murmured something and Harry blinked.

"What was that?" he asked carefully, not sure if he had heard correctly.

"I said ..." Draco swallowed. "I said I want to Get Into Your Trousers."

Harry blinked. "What, like... fit into them? I'm sure we're about the same size..." He held up his Trousers.

Draco consciously prevented himself from beating his head against the wall. "No, Potter," he ground out, patience finally wearing thin, "like throwing you down on my bed and having my wicked Slytherin way with you. And yes, that includes Parselmouthing, handcuffs, and MaiTais."


Draco blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I asked if there was going to be pineapple," Harry twisted the fabric of his boxers between his fingers, "because, you know, I like pineapple..." A tremulous grin crossed his face.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You like pineapple, you like cheese omelette... it's not going to be hard to please you at all."

Harry smiled shyly.

"Now," said Draco, raising an eyebrow. "Are we going to pick up where we left off?"

"I don't know, Malfoy," Harry frowned. "Isn't it supposed to be against my code to snog someone as evil and vile as you?"

"Let's find out," Draco grinned eagerly, grabbed a handful of Harry's hair (hah!) and leaning down...

...to press his lips lightly against Harry's. Harry closed his eyes, and they stayed like that for a few seconds, neither intensifying nor breaking the soft kiss.

Draco pulled his head back, just enough so that their noses were still touching.

"Okay, that's it," said Harry in a whisper, eyes still closed. "I'm completely rewriting the Gryffindor's Handbook."

Draco gave a small smile, and bent his neck down again -

-to find that Harry had moved away and was walking towards the door.

"Wha-Where are you going?!?" Draco spluttered.

"To rewrite the Gryffindor Handbook." Harry answered, face completely deadpan.

"You were SERIOUS?? No, no, Harry..."

At that point, Draco abandoned his powers of verbal persuasion and pounced on Harry. Someone might have heard an exasperated mutter of "Gryffindors!," but they could easily be mistaken, as this was quickly overcome by a variety of other sounds.

They shuffled back to Draco's bed, in a tangle of fingers, hands, arms, legs, and various other limbs. Draco only just had the sense to close the curtains around his bed before Harry did something incredibly seductive with his tongue. Draco lost all powers of speech, and possibly all motion of arms and legs for they had turned to liquid mush, and Harry uttered the Silencing Charm on the curtains.

Blaise came in a few hours later, and swore he saw steam rising above the curtains.

Draco awoke without Harry in his arms. The git just had to arrive in Gryffindor Tower before morning, like anyone would care about what time The Boy Who Just Shagged Draco Malfoy Senseless returned.

Although Harry had totally made up his early departure by promising to return the following evening, and to kiss Draco breathless. When he had left the bedroom, Draco had heard a high shriek coming from the mouth of Pansy Parkinson. And even though he didn't know what she was doing up at such a late hour, it made him feel even more accomplished.

Draco finally opened the curtains of his four-poster bed and started to gather his clothes, which were all over the Slytherin boys dormitory. Blaise rolles his eyes at Draco and departed quickly. But Crabbe was sitting catatonic on his bed, rocking himself back and forward, because one red boxer, covered with golden snitches, was laying at the end of his bed.

Draco smirked at him and stuffed Harry's boxer into the pocket of his trousers. Boy, he was going to give the entire Gryffindor House a scare at breakfast.

And, with a bit of luck, he would accomplish to land half the teachers staff in an asylum.

The next morning, Draco made sure to wait until absolutely everyone was in the Great Hall before making his grand entrance at breakfast. He peeked around the giant bronze doors and searched the room until he found Potter, seated oh-so-conveniently in the middle of the table, facing the rest of the student body.

Absentmindedly straightening his tie and smoothing the creases out of his robes, Draco affixed the Perfect Smirk on his face and dramatically pulled open the doors.

The doors reverberated with a loud bang. Heads turned in his direction. He knew that he was going to have a load of fun; it was well-known that chaos would ensue every time Draco Malfoy strutted into the Great Hall wearing a smirk.

He marched over to where Harry was sitting, enjoying the looks of curiosity on Blaise and Pansy's faces. The area in which Harry was sitting eventually quietened as they noticed Draco approaching. Granger's eyes visibly narrowed. Both Weasleys were scowling.

Draco ran the back of his finger across Harry's cheek and bathed in the astonished expression presented as the Gryffindor whirled suddenly to face him.

'Good morning, Potter.'

"M-Malfoy," Harry tried to answer. But it hardly sounded as if he was going through the same motions as always.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" the Weasel scowled.

"Do you mind? I would like to talk to Potter here." Draco was surprised to see that Harry's most annoying friend had already left the Hospital Week. Draco was rooting for at least one Weasley-free week.

"Everything you have to say to Harry can be said around the people who actually like him," the youngest Weasley informed him. He looked at Harry, what was not to like?

"Fine," Draco gave in. He let his hand slide into his pocket. "I believe you left something at my dorm last night," he said proudly while dangling the boxer in between his fingers.

Everyone in eyesight was so stunned that no one heard Professor Snape falling to the floor, unconscious.

Harry slowly turned a very deep shade of red and snatched the boxers out Draco's hands. He shoved them in to a very deep pocket in his robe.

Ron and Hermione were still frozen, mouths gaping, in surprise. Draco looked round the hall and noted that a considerable proportion of the Hogwarts population looked the same. Dumbledore, he noticed with irritation, was smirking knowingly. Stupid old fool.

He looked back at Harry, who was staring at his plate in embarrasment, clearly hoping he was going to leave.
Draco smugly continued, "And, I wondered if you wanted another omelette."

Harry looked up eagerly, but quickly ajusted the expression of his face when he saw the entire Great Hall staring at them.

"What's a matter, Potter? Cat got your tongue? Oooh, wait. I think I did," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I--I would love some more of that omelette of yours," Harry said resolutely. "But I want more than the previous time we met," he added, grinning sheepishly.

Draco lifted an eyebrow. "Oh? Were you not -- shall I say -- satisfied with what I gave you yesterday?"

Harry's blush, amazingly enough, deepened. "Erm. . ." He looked around, as if hoping for suggestions of an appropriate reply, but most everyone was still too much in vague shock to offer any help. "No?" he ventured.

Draco, outwardly appearing smug and calm, was secretly dying of laughter inside . . . not that he would show it. No, that wouldn't be very becoming of a Malfoy at all.

"Well, we can't have that, can we, Potter?" he asked loftily, inspecting his fingernails, which were so perfect they would cause a manicurist mad fits of elation. As always, of course. He leaned down, letting his lips trail lightly across Harry's cheek, and murmured, "Name the time and place, and I'll be there."

Harry shuddered as Draco touched him, and nodded. "H-How," he cleared his throat. "How about nine at... the Room of Requirement?"

"You got it, Potter. I'll see you there." He sauntered off, robes going a-swoosh in a perfect imitation of the Snape robe flare.

"Harry!" Hermione's high pitched whisper cut through Harry's fog of omlette anticipation. "Nine's cutting too close to the curfew. You should at least try for a time earli–“

Ron clapped his hand over her mouth.

Ron removed his hand slowly. "Did you and Malfoy... ahem... You had an omlette with... Malfoy?" he asked both in horror as well as in awe.

None of the three noticed that Seamus ran off, crying.

There was an uncomfortable silence around the Gryffindor table that had extended to the other tables. Ron and Hermione stared at Draco. He looked back at them smugly, and plopped himself down on the table.

'Well, naturally,' Draco said. 'How could anyone resist my cheese omelettes?'

The Gryffindors were dumbstruck. Even Ginny was staring with a whole piece of toast still in her hand. Ron squeaked when Draco leaned closer to him and Hermione.

'Well, Weasel, how about it?' he uttered, smirking. 'Would you like to see me work my magic?'

Before Ron could answer, Draco had already taken his cheese grater out of his robes. He slowly took a big block of cheese from the table, and started rubbing it against the grater. Ron swallowed. Shreds of cheese were fluttering onto the table. Draco hadn't taken his eyes off Ron even once, and he was still grating the cheese, rubbing and stroking it against the grater in a painfully slow and eye-catching way. Up. Down. Up. Down.

Harry, sitting in his seat, thought he was going to die.

Draco smiled at Harry's obvious distress, but provoking the Gryffindor's entertained him fantastically. He watched the Girl Weasley lick her lips and grinned seductively at her. Her eyes widened and he flicked a piece of cheese at her.

No one at the Gryffindor table ever knew how cheese could suddenly become so undeniably sexy, but it did.

Ron was slowly turning a rather vibrant shade of red that almost perfectly matched his mop of hair. Out of the corner of his eye Draco saw Harry fidget. He had watched him for so long that the slightest move indicated to him his temperament and thoughts.

With an elegant swish Draco set down the grater, well out of the reach of the dirty handed Gryffindor's, and pulled out his wand. Almost chuckling as the Gryffindor's flinched en massé he conjured a couple of eggs and a frying pan.

"So," he began breathily. "Who would like to watch me beat the eggs?"

There was a clamour of noise as the Gryffindor table was hastily evacuated. Draco watched them run from the Great Hall and smiled victoriously. Now to collect his wager from Goyle.

"I would love to see you beat the eggs," Harry grinned, pulling Draco towards him by the front of his robes. Draco smiled wickedly, but pulled back and watched Harry pout in object.

"I thought you wanted an omelette?" Draco asked, acting oblivious to Harry's increasing excitement.

"Yes," Harry breathed. "Yes, I want an omelette. I need an omelette. Your omelette to be exact."

"You want extra cheese with that?" Draco asked.

But Harry wasn't given any time to reply, as Draco lunged himself at him and started kissing Harry deeply and passionate. They fell back upon the Gryffindor table and Harry felt food and plates pricking into his back. But he didn't care for it.

When Draco finally pulled back, Harry got a view of the one other person left in the Great Hall.

"Four hundred points from Gryffindor!" Snape scolded, who had finally woken up. "I'm going to have to tell this to your father, you know that Draco."

Draco shrugged. “Saves me the bother. Do ask him if I may borrow his cane, please?” He leered at Harry. “I’ve just though up a new use for it.”

He was pleasantly surprised when Harry looked intrigued instead of scared.

"Do tell me how you wish to put it to use," Harry demanded, playing with the front of Draco's belt. Boy, Draco thought, Harry does know how to put his annoying moodswings to a use.

Snape fell to the ground, sincerely joping for a three-week coma.

Draco leaned in for another kiss and Harry eagerly let him take control. Heated mouths melted with each other and hands travelled down to places that must not be named. Draco sucked and kissed his way up Harry's jaw, excited by his partners heated and heavy intakes of breath. Draco sucked at Harry's earlobe.

"Whaddya say," he panted, "if we took this party to another part of the castle."

"Uh-huh," was all Harry was able to speak.

So they left the Great Hall, hand in hand, not noticing the people who squeaked and scurried out of the way as they went past. They made their way down to Draco's dorm, still grinning at each other.

As soon as Blaise saw them coming, he paled. 'What are you doing? Classes have almost started. You can't seriously be thinking of -'

The door slammed in his face, and Blaise heard Draco muttering several locking charms and a silencing charm. Everything went quiet.


It was not too long after classes ended that Snape came barging into the common room, startling Blaise and the other boys. The look on his face was taut and stern.

'Where's Mr. Malfoy?' he demanded. 'He hasn't attended a single class today.'

'But neither has Potter,' Theodore suddenly spat, rising in Draco's defence. 'They've spent all day in the bloody dorm, leaving us locked out here since-'

But Theodore suddenly swallowed his words as he saw the tall, pale figure hovering behind Snape.

'Well,' Lucius Malfoy uttered. 'Isn't that interesting.'

"Err, what I mean is that Draco is locked in the dorm,and Hary is, err, um, shut in the Gryffindor common room-" said Theodore, backpetaling furiously. It obviously didn't work, for Lucius Malfoy swept out of the classroom like some sort of malevolent silver sting ray. (his cape billowed in that manner.) He could be heard to mutter such things as, "of all the stupid, childish stunts," and "Does the boy have no taste?" and other things along those lines.

As Lucius' mutterings faded, the Slytherins turned as one to glare at Theodore.

"You are SO dead when Draco finds out." Pansy said solemnly. Theodore gulped and ran out of the classroom with plans to escape to Timbukto, or some equally remote location.

Pansy, on the other hand, turned and trailed after Lucius, keeping up a stream of meaningless babble, hoping that something she said would distract him enough to give one of the others a chance to warn Draco.

"You know, that is exactly what I said at first," she began. "I mean, really, skiving classes all day just to sit in a locked dorm room? What could he really be thinking? After all, the Potions class we had today was very interesting. I'm sure he will be quite put out to have missed it. After all, what could be more imporant than learning about the destructive properties of the lotus plant..."

Crabbe and Goyle too the opportunity to take the secret passage behind the tapestry of Headmaster Dinglebell defeating the 8 Stinking Trolls of Tamworth and made it down to the Slytherin corridor moments before Lucius and Pansy. They could hear Pansy's voice floating to them down the hallway.

"And in Divinations we were looking at the work of Gladys Farseer and her predictions..."
Lucius's voice smoothly interjected at this point. "Look, I'll give you a Galleon if you go away."
Pansy paused in her spiel. "Two," she said.
"Look," said Lucius, "Here's one and four sickles. Now piss off."

Crabbe and Goyle rushed in to the Slytherin common room whilst Pansy distracted Lucius with negotiations, ran up the stairs to their dormitory and knocked loudly on the door.
"Draco, your Dad's here! He's heading this way, and he's not happy."

The pair could hear some light rustling as the silencing and locking charms were deactivated, and then an angry whisper as a blonde head peered out of the door.

"Look, I don't have time for your silly games, and I don't care who put you up to it. I have much better things to be doing right now!" Draco hissed.

Crabbe shrugged. "We just thought you might want to know. You've only got a minute or two-"
"To hide Potter." Goyle added helpfully. At Draco's glare, however, they both turned and walked away.

Back in the dormitory, Draco collapsed next to Harry. "I don't know who the two of them think they're fooling. I'm hardly that gullible." He then leaned over to resume previous activities.

Harry frowned. "But, Draco...you know you did "invite" your father here at breakfast."

Draco blanched as he realized that this was indeed true, and that Crabbe and Goyle had yet to attempt to fool anyone in their lives.

Both the boys jumped at the sound of the door of the Slytherin common room being thrown open with a loud bang. “Uh-oh,” Harry mouthed. And started to scramble his clothes together, while wrapping a sheet around his waist.

“Quick, Harry. You have to hide in the closet!” Draco yelled nervously.

Harry looked at him as if he was crazy. “I hardly believe that your father is that daft. I mean, joining forced with Voldemort is one thing, but the closet is so obvious.”

“Yeah, exactly. He’ll never expect me to hide you there. He thinks that I would, well, let’s not go there now,” Draco rambled in one breath, putting his trousers on.

Harry was still looking at his with a suspicious facial expression. Draco didn’t hesitate and threw Harry into the closet, along with his Gryffindor outfit. And Draco’s fluffy slippers, his father would throw a fit over that alone.

The second Draco stuffed his shirt into his pants and adjusted his tie, the door flew open and Lucius stood in the doorway, looking even angrier than when Narcissa had blackmailed him into dressing up for Halloween.
“Where. Is. Potter.” He gritted through his teeth, his hand clenching tightly around his pimp cane.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Father,” Draco tried. Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, after all.

Lucius lifted an eyebrow and lifted a piece of clothing in the air at the end of his cane. “Oh, really?” he drawled. “Then I suppose that a) you taste in clothing dropped dramatically, as you’re wearing cotton briefs and b) suddenly changed your initials to H.P.?”

Damn! Damn Po—Harry and his dumb Gryffindor clothes. He could have sworn that he tossed Harry’s underwear into the closet too. He saw his father smile, all of a sudden. And frankly, this kind of scared him. “What is it, Father?” he asked, as polite as possible.

“The closet?” Lucius asked wickedly.

Damn Father for being a skilled Legilimens, Draco cursed inwardly. Realising too late that his father now knew that Harry was hidden in the closet. “No!” he said.

But it was too late; Lucius had opened the closet and Harry toppled out, only wearing Draco’s Slytherin bed sheet and exactly one sock.

“M-Mr Malfoy,” was the only thing Harry could say.


At this point, the RR sort of split, with one post going one way...

Hello, Potter," said Lucius, smirking. Harry straightened and shot Draco a panicked look. "May I ask exactly what you are doing in my son's closet?"

"I'm -- er -- cleaning it, of course," said Harry quickly, gesticulating wildly. He had enough presence of mind to keep a hand on the bedsheet around his waist.

"Oh, really?" asked Lucius, eyes narrowed. "Dressed in nothing but bedclothes and exactly ..." he paused, eyes travelling down to Harry's wool-clad foot, "... one sock?"

"It's the new fad," said Harry, casting about his brain for any excuse at all. "I mean, why go through the trouble of cleaning with your clothes on when they're just going to get dirty? At least this way you can just hop in the shower and --"

"Please do not ramble on with your petty excuses, Potter," said Lucius, rolling his eyes. "I am perfectly aware of what you were doing in my son's room."

There was a loud thumping noise and Harry and Lucius turned, both startled. Draco was beating his head repeatedly against the wall.

"Stupid -- Potter -- Stupid -- Father -- ARGH!"

"Draco!" shouted Lucius, striding over and yanking Draco's head back by his hair.

"OW!" Draco yelped and broke away from his father, glaring.

Lucius glared back.

"Obviously you haven't been reciting the Malfoy Family Handbook every night before bed now that you aren't at home!" snapped Lucius.

"Well, it is 782 pages long!" pointed out Draco, scowling. Lucius glared harder. It was really too bad that the Malfoy Family Glare (tm) didn't work as well on other Malfoys.

"That's not the point! The point is that rule number 934, clause 10, shall never show anger in so crude a manner as banging their head on a wall! It's so... plebeian." This last word was spit out as if it was the worst of all curses.

and another going this way...

Lucius looked Harry up and down. At that moment, the unpleasant expression he bore reminded Harry of Narcissa; the tall blond man was looking at him with utmost distaste. He noticed how Lucius' lip curled when his eyes ran over the one sock. Draco's breath was held in anticipation.

Harry couldn't even move.

'Well, Draco,' Lucius said suddenly, making his son jump. 'Severus tells me that you have been missing classes for your own - purposes. So this is what you've been occupying yourself with, instead of working hard to get your grades up?'

Draco didn't know what to say. He was afraid he would say the wrong thing. And Harry, standing there like an idiot, wasn't doing much to help him.

When no answer came, Lucius' eyes narrowed. Without turning his gaze away from Harry, he slid his wand right out of his snake-headed cane. Draco gasped. His father's eyes were so full of intent. He looked impassioned, and Draco was too scared to do anything about it.

Harry squeaked.

“I-if you dare to hex me, I swear to Merlin I will drop the blanket,” Harry said confidently. This certainly seemed to scare the elder Malfoy a bit. Draco wouldn’t have minded if Harry would, but he preferred that to happen without his father’s presence.

“Hex you?” Lucius asked questioning. He corked an eyebrow at Harry. “Mr. Potter, I merely wanted to clear this armchair of the… pieces of clothing draped over them. I figured that now that you and Draco have given into temptation, we might as well have a proper talk.”

Harry was gaping at Draco’s father and really didn’t know what to say. Damn, why did bad guys have to be so incredibly unpredictable, he cursed inwardly. “Well, yes, ahum… Draco?” he motioned.

“What do you want? An introduction?” he asked his father. “You’re just doing this to taunt me, aren’t you. You’re like a parasite; you feed of one others misery. And now you’re putting Po—Harry through a trial of questions you know he won’t be able to answer properly. Well?”

Lucius lazily sat down onto the chair and entangled his long fingers together. “Again, Draco, why do you always have to think the worst of me? I was just going to ask Mr. Potter whether or not he wanted to come to Mother’s Walpurgis feast. I think she’d be delighted to hear that you finally have a boyfriend.”

“She knew about me?” Draco almost screamed in awe.

so apparently it will end up one of those "choose your own ending things"...



Posted by: \\muse// (mu51ng_drag0n)
Posted at: 18th February 2006 01:39 (UTC)
because obsession=love

Dear God. A cheese grater?

*bathes in teh crazee*

I <3 this.

Posted by: oxidesofliving (oxidesofliving)
Posted at: 24th April 2006 08:38 (UTC)

Not just *a* cheese grater, Malfoy seems to be the grand master of cheese grating.

*Mr.Cheese fears a great fear*

Posted by: tsuvi (tsuvi)
Posted at: 25th February 2006 20:03 (UTC)

I love this little ficlet, so random yet so right ^.^

So will it be added to the cookie jar once it gets bigger?

Posted by: //siriuslovesremus// (fiercefragile)
Posted at: 26th February 2006 12:22 (UTC)
moods showbox sirius - perfect

I love it too. I'm really glad everyone was up for the challenge.

I think this will go in the cookie jar when it's finished, definitely. We can't have future G'n'H shippers missing out. :)

Posted by: Puts the 'Fiend' in 'Friend' (ifylla)
Posted at: 1st March 2006 21:56 (UTC)

mmm, crackfic. I admit, I was taking it demi-seriously until the whole Snape thing, when you went off on a tangent of nonsense, and if felt as if you were spoofing the rest of the thing and just wanted to get it over with.

Posted by: //siriuslovesremus// (fiercefragile)
Posted at: 2nd March 2006 12:14 (UTC)
alan rickman - badass angel

Um yeah, it's a Round Robin, as in everyone on the ship (G'n'H from fictionalley.org) participates in writing it by adding a few lines and taking it wherever they want it to go. I only wrote one line, actually, near the beginning. The rest in the work of dozens of twisted minds. I'm just hosting it. And as far as getting it over with, it's not over. There's been a lot more written that I haven't added here yet. I'm not sure it will ever end.

Posted by: ----- ---- ------ (doomette)
Posted at: 11th March 2006 20:09 (UTC)

Heh, yeah, most of the Snape bits were my fault...*sheepish grin*

Posted by: //siriuslovesremus// (fiercefragile)
Posted at: 11th March 2006 21:40 (UTC)
geisha doll - cute

But they were good bits! *hearts Snape, who is loff* :)

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