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Chapter 1 : The Bet
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Out Of Your Realm (Unoffcial Entry)
“I still can’t believe you said that. Wow,” Malfoy taunted, joking, but his voice was still affected by the drawl and sneer he had once always spoken with.
“And I can’t believe you’re still bringing it up. It’s been like two weeks,” Harry replied grumpily, huffing, and going through the cabinets in the kitchen. They were both at Grimmauld Place. It was Harry’s choice of residence for now, and Malfoy was crashing there until he could get enough money to rent a place of his own. His family, naturally, had not taken well to his turning his back on their Dark Lord, on the Death Eaters, and on his family. After everything went down with his failing to kill Dumbledore and Snape taking over for him, he had fallen out of favor. Malfoy had known a fear like no one else, having no one to turn to, no side that would take him in.
With months and months of convincing and proving himself, he had finally been allowed to join the Order on conditional grounds, in which he had practically signed his life way. Most of them felt that was enough insurance. There were still ill feelings but after five battles and one final war, people were finally being civil, if even friendly, with him. Harry and Ron had started including him in their Man Nights, and Hermione was even nice to him when she came over to chat with Harry. All in all, things were going well for the first time in Malfoy’s life. And rather than ponder it, think about it, question it… he just went with it.
“Are you going to help, mate, or just keep sitting there thinking about how to take the mickey out of me next?” Harry called out from the kitchen to the nearby sitting room. Malfoy was sitting with a book open in his lap as he flipped through the pages without paying attention.
“I think I’ll choose the latter. Really, Harry, why did you say you just wanted to be friends, of all the things you could have said?” Malfoy pushed his joking.
“Because I do just want to be her friend. I can’t be her Hero like she wants. You think I should have said that?” Harry asked, incredulously and irritably. He was not in the mood today.
“Would have been a lot less lame,” Malfoy shot back tauntingly.
“Can you lay off, Malfoy? You’re getting a little irritating. What do you care how I told Ginny that I didn’t want to date her?” Harry replied in frustration.
“Malfoy, eh? What happened to Draco? You still need to work on that temper, Potter. Besides, I might care a lot. It’ll help me figure out how to snag Ginny for myself,” Draco sneered back. A pot clanged loudly to the floor, and Draco whipped around to watch Harry fumbling to pick it back up.
“She doesn’t like you,” Harry argued, huffing.
“Have you asked her?” Draco leered.
“I know her,” Harry said through gritted teeth. Sometimes he wished Malfoy would keep his mouth shut and allow Harry some peace and quiet.
“Well, I don’t see what it matters to you, Golden Boy,” Draco sneered again, clearly enjoying his taunting.
“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry barked. He hated when Malfoy used all the many labels Harry had as something to hold over his head and joke about. As if Malfoy had a clue…
It was silent as Harry tinkered away getting out the things he needed to make something to eat. He knew Mrs. Weasley had loads of spells she used in the kitchen, but Harry had yet to learn them all. He had also spent too many years as a child cooking purely the Muggle way. He figured he should ask Mrs. Weasley soon, though, before Malfoy found another reason to poke fun at Harry’s ineptness. For someone who had ‘Saved the Wizarding World,’ Malfoy sure managed to find a lot of things wrong with him.
“Are you coming in here to help, or am I doing this on my own?” Harry barked across the rooms, still brewing in his frustration.
Harry stood at the sink, carefully washing vegetables just as Aunt Petunia had taught him to, though she had been quite rough with him. He supposed she felt the vegetables had more feelings than he did.
“All right, what can I do?” Malfoy’s voice was much closer; in fact it was next to Harry. Harry turned to see Malfoy leaning his hip against the counter by the sink, watching Harry closely.
“Well, I’m almost finished washing these, so you can put some water on to boil…” Harry began to answer, but heard his own voice trail off. Something felt very odd. Harry was watching Malfoy, who had a strange look in his eyes. His cold grey eyes were not cold these days, but now they were… what were they? Malfoy was up to something. Harry swallowed, putting himself on guard and watching as Malfoy slid closer to Harry, his hip still resting against the counter. Malfoy’s hands reached out and gently pried the vegetables out of Harry’s hands. Harry stared at him.
“What’re you doing, Malfoy?” Harry asked gruffly. Malfoy took a step closer; his body was practically touching Harry’s. Whatever happened to personal space? Harry stepped back from Malfoy but only succeeded in trapping himself in the corner of the counter. He had no where else to step back to. He was beginning to feel a little warm. Something very strange was happening.
Malfoy stepped close to Harry again, a look of mischief in his eyes. He was peering out from under his blond fringe, staring Harry down. Harry wanted to look away from Malfoy’s intense eyes but found it near impossible. Malfoy took another step closer and placed a hand on the counter on either side of Harry. Now he was really trapped. What was Malfoy playing at?
Harry looked around for his wand, mentally swearing when he saw it lying on the other side of the kitchen, near the refrigerator. He averted his eyes back to Malfoy’s face. Why was he standing so close? Why was he grinning like that? Harry felt his breath quicken, though not understanding why, as Malfoy leaned his face near to Harry’s.
“Malfoy…” Harry spoke in warning, trying to keep control of his unexplainable racing emotions. “What are you playing at?” Malfoy locked him in another silent and mischievous grin, and Harry tried to step back again, though he was quickly reminded of the solid counter behind him. Malfoy’s face was so close, Harry could feel his soft and gentle breaths. His lips were nearly touching Harry’s, and the whole thing felt extremely weird. Then Draco’s hands moved from the countertop to Harry’s waist, sparking a strange shock of electricity.
“Get off, Malfoy,” Harry commanded in a loud voice, disgruntled, confused, and irritated.
“Malfoy, is it?” Draco spoke angrily, sneering up at Harry in their intimate proximity. In a quick motion, one of Malfoy’s hands moved away from Harry’s waist, and grabbed a handful of messy black hair, tugging painfully.
“Malfoy?” Draco asked loudly, pulling forcefully at Harry’s hair so his head was jerked to the side, and Malfoy leaned his face in perilously close. Harry had had enough of this ridiculous display.
“Bloody hell, get off!” Harry yelled, shoving against Draco with an almighty push. He expected Malfoy to stay away, but to his surprise, Draco came rushing back as both of his hands grabbed roughly for Harry’s face and he planted a forceful kiss square on his lips. Harry stood in shock, blood pounding in his head, pulse racing, breath quickening. Malfoy was applying more pressure, attempting to force Harry’s mouth open.
Harry shoved hard again, successfully getting Malfoy off of him.
“Stop messing with me!” Harry shouted passionately, feeling more emotions at one time than he knew possible.
“What’re you going to do, Potter?” Draco sneered, shoving Harry back. Harry felt incensed, and shoved Malfoy again.
“Back off!” Harry shouted, slightly distraught.
“Or what? What’re you going to do?” Draco taunted. Harry breathed heavily, calculating the situation. He lunged at Malfoy and the two boys began grappling and wrestling with one another, attempting to gain control. It was a battle of domination. Harry refused to be toyed with. Malfoy would not win this.
At last, Harry flipped Draco onto his back and came crashing down on top of him, hearing a grunt from underneath him. Harry scrambled into a better position, straddling Malfoy, grabbing his wrists, and locking them forcefully down against the floor so he was unable to move. Harry sneered now, hanging over Malfoy, victorious. Malfoy writhed underneath him, clearly feeling defeated and attempting to struggle out of Harry’s strong grasp.
“You shouldn’t mess with me,” Harry said gravely, his voice masked as to its intention. He knew what this game was. Draco stared back, mesmerized by flashing green eyes. Then Draco smirked.
“What are you smiling about?” Harry growled. Draco smirked all the more and then started bucking his hips against Harry’s. Draco watched in delight as Harry’s eyes grew wide and he struggled to maintain control of himself. Then Harry’s eyes flashed again and the tides changed. Draco felt Harry forcing himself down on Draco’s hips, allowing all of his weight to grind against him. In surprise, Malfoy’s head fell back against the floor, and his eyes rolled back in pleasure for a moment. He missed the smirk on Harry’s face now.
Draco’s arms still pinned away from him, he had no defense against Harry when he finally took the plunge and crushed his lips against Draco’s. Harry felt the shock in Draco, as his eyes popped open and his breathing instantly sped up. But these were no love pecks. Harry was diving into the kiss with such force that it began to feel crushing and bruising. He did not request entrance into Draco’s mouth; he commanded it, and like or not, he was in. Harry released his grip on one of Draco’s arms and roughly grabbed some blond hair, jerking Draco’s head into a better position. Harry could feel Draco squirming and shifting under him, no doubt vying for more.
Harry released Draco’s other arm and moved his hands to Draco’s shirt-clad chest. Harry began to rub against his chest and let his hands travel to the bottom of the shirt, pushing it up as far as it would go to reveal the pure white skin underneath. Harry pulled his mouth away from Draco’s reluctant lips and began making trails of kisses along his bare stomach and chest. Draco twisted in pleasure and cast his head back again, grunting slightly. Harry smirked again, then returned to Draco’s awaiting lips, crushing, forceful, and passionate. He could tell Draco was aroused and was having difficulty keeping himself under control.
Finally Harry pulled away from Draco and stared down at the panting boy below him. He wondered if it was possible to actually smother someone while snogging. But before Draco could say or do anything, Harry pulled himself up and off of Malfoy and briskly walked out of the kitchen.
“Harry?!” Draco’s anxious voice called after him. There was no answer.
“Come on, Harry, don’t leave me like this, mate!” Draco begged, still lying on the floor. He pushed himself up gingerly, and slowly made his way out of the kitchen, searching for Harry.
“Where are you going?” Draco asked, as he spotted Harry about to ascend the stairs. Harry grinned evilly.
“I’m going to take a shower. You owe me dinner now.” His voice was taunting.
“Aw, come on-” Draco began.
“Draco, I so won that, it’s not even funny. You’re going to have to try a lot harder if you’re ever going to catch me. I’m telling you, mate, there isn’t anything I don’t expect. I’ve seen it all. Next time, try a little harder, eh? Oh, and don’t burn anything while you’re cooking,” Harry said, rubbing Malfoy loss into his face.
“You have to admit, that was a good try! You can’t really have expected it!” Malfoy tried weakly.
“Better luck next time. At this rate, you might as well give up trying so hard and just agree to cook dinner every night while I let you stay here for free. Oh, and by the way, next time maybe you should find a cute girl to help you out. As fun as it was to manhandle you, you really don’t have enough curves for me,’ Harry laughed victoriously, then turned to go upstairs.
Why did Draco ever make that stupid bet?
“Nothing surprises me, Malfoy… I’ve seen so much, been through so much, I’m always on my guard. I cannot be shocked.”
“Yeah. If you can catch me off guard and surprise me with anything, anything, then I’ll let you off cooking duty while you stay here.”
“As in, if I get you one time, I’m off of cooking duty for good?”
“Yeah, why not? It’ll never happen.”
Stupid, stupid. The Weasley twins’ fireworks hadn’t worked. Pretending to have a huge crush on Hermione and confessing it late one night to Harry also hadn’t worked. And coming on to Harry himself definitely hadn’t worked. Draco sighed, resigned to his loss, and promised himself he would get his own flat soon so he would finally be off cooking duty. Stupid bet.
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