Just a Poker Face

[A/N: Sequel to my oneshot "Call or Fold". Yeah I realize that it would mean it's no longer a oneshot, but it still kinda is lol. I don't totally like how this came out, but I figure I'll deal with it in due time. Just for fun, I hope you like it anyway! And I said that it was AU/AR before... seventh year in a Voldemort-less world, but not totally discounting all the events of HBP... just kinda most of them XD It's not important, just play along with the PWP-ness ahahah ahh *hangs head*]

Just A Poker Face

Harry stumbled through the portrait hole into Gryffindor Tower, his hair dripping wet and looking terribly disheveled, just past three in the morning. His cheeks were flushed and there was a goofy smile plastered on his face. He’d just come from his first ‘job’ as Draco Malfoy’s slave and he felt as though he’d been intoxicated. At least until he heard the stern voice that was waiting for him in the common room.

“Harry! Where have you been?!” Hermione’s shrill voice reminded Harry strongly of Mrs. Weasley as he stumbled forwards, trying to get his footing. He groaned and looked up at her, trying to hide his emotions.

“I’ve been-” he began but she cut him off.

“Ron told me that you agreed to be Malfoy’s slave for the week! Is that true, Harry??” She asked the question as though it was the most absurd suggestion that she’d ever heard. He rolled his eyes, finally coming back to himself.

“I didn’t agree to it,” he corrected. “It was a bet and he won. I can’t go back on my word, Hermione. That’s just the kind of thing that he would do. You don’t seriously want me to be more like Malfoy, now do you?”

Hermione just stared at him with wide eyes for a few moments. He tried to look innocent and altogether annoyed at the situation as well, but Harry Potter was never great at hiding his true feelings. She gave him a stern look.

“Harry…this is Malfoy we’re talking about,” she began slowly, eyeing his sopping hair and the messy state of his clothes. Harry rolled his eyes again and frowned.

“Hermione, I can take care of myself,” he snapped, starting towards the boys’ dormitory. “I know who I’m dealing with.” He didn’t turn back to her but she called to him once more before he made it up the stairs.

“Harry please, just be careful,” she pleaded, perhaps knowing him better than he knew himself. “Malfoy never plays fair…especially not when emotions are concerned.”

Harry stopped and thought about her words for a moment, but shook off the thought and went to bed. He got between the sheets and found that he could do nothing but think of the feel of Draco’s skin against his own and the taste of Draco’s tongue in his mouth.

*****

The next morning, Harry got ready quickly and made his way down to breakfast. The goofy smile was still on his face and somehow he felt as though nothing would take it away.

He sat down at the Gryffindor table and ate his toast, happily waiting for his ‘master’ to come down. After last night, he couldn’t help but think that there was more to the blonde Slytherin than he’d previously thought.

“Sleep well, Potter?” a smooth voice asked from behind him. Harry turned quickly with a smile.

“Not without y-” he stopped himself, seeing that Draco was not alone. Next to him were Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson. The girl was hanging off him as though she needed him to survive. Harry stared at the way her arm draped around his waist and felt a pang in his stomach.

“What was that, Scarhead?” he drawled, a mocking sneer on his lips. Harry swallowed hard and searched Draco’s eyes for something –anything –that would tell him that the boy who’d been so tender with him last night was still in there.

He found nothing but the cold silver irises that made Malfoy who he was.

“Nothing, what do you want?” he asked, the smile disappearing completely from his face. Draco tutted at him.

“Forgot the terms of our agreement already, have we?” Malfoy’s voice was steely cold full of mock concern. Harry gritted his teeth and his eyes moved from each of Malfoy’s cohorts to the next.

“Malfoy…” he whispered, hoping to spare himself from this.

“That’s not appropriate, Potter,” he snapped, cocking his head to the side. “You will call me ‘Master’ from now on. You are, after all, my slave for the week.”

“…Yes…” Harry mumbled, casting his eyes back to the blonde, meeting his gaze and glaring into his soul. He hoped that Malfoy could feel the burn of his stare and understand that he would not accept this for much longer, but Malfoy just smirked at him.

“Yes, what?” he pressed. Harry clenched his jaw and scowled.

“Yes, master,” he forced himself to say. The Slytherins around him snickered madly as he obeyed.

“Good,” Malfoy stated, dropping his book bag to the floor. The clatter resounded throughout the hall. Everyone turned to look at them now, expecting a fight. “Now pick up my bag, slave. You’ll carry it for me to all of my classes.”

Harry felt all the eyes in the Great Hall bore into his back as he stared at the heavy bag on the floor at his feet. He balled his fists momentarily and almost felt his eyes well with tears. Why was Draco doing this to him? Had Hermione been right, after all? Was Draco just messing with him?

“I have my own classes to attend,” he muttered, hoping to delay the inevitable. Malfoy shook his head.

“You’ll just have to be late then,” he explained. “You agreed to this, Potter. You could have refused the bet, but you called.”

Harry rolled his eyes and bent over to pick up the bag. As he moved, he felt a hand move to the back of his neck and then felt something hard close around his throat. He gasped instinctively and stood up straight, feeling his neck. There was a stiff choker there and as hard as he pulled on it, it wouldn’t budge.

“What the hell is this??” he demanded, staring in horror at Malfoy who looked quite pleased.

“It’s a collar,” he explained calmly, his grey eyes half-lidded. “It’ll fall off at the end of the week, but for now it’s a mark that you belong to me.”

“WHAT?!” Harry exclaimed, clawing at his own neck to try and remove the magically bound choker. It was no use. “I do NOT belong to you, Malfoy! I said I’d play your slave for the week, that does NOT give you ownership!!”

“Too late for semantics now, Potter,” he said, waving the comment away. “The collar is on and it won’t come off until the week is done.”

“You bloody bastard!” he cried, swinging his fist around to hit Malfoy. Instead of colliding with the blonde’s face, however, his hand hit something much bigger.

Goyle had caught his hand in midair and stopped him in his movement. Crabbe immediately came around and hit him hard in the abdomen, forcing him to double over, no breath left in his lungs. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath.

“You’ll never try to hit me again, Potter,” Malfoy commanded silkily, his face suddenly very close to Harry’s ear. Harry realized that Malfoy had knelt down next to him and wondered why, if he just thought of him as a slave. “It doesn’t look good for a slave to hit his master and get away with it.”

“I don’t care what makes you look good, you filthy bastard,” he answered through gritted teeth as he clutched his stomach.

“Get up, Potter,” Malfoy’s voice commanded. But there was something different in it than before. His words were disappointed and almost regretful. There was no spite and no anger, just calm. “We’ve got Potions.”

Harry got to his feet and lifted Malfoy’s bag over his shoulder, doubling the weight on his back as he had his own books to carry as well. He followed Malfoy and his gang of Slytherins down to the dungeons. As they walked, Harry passed Ron and Hermione. His eyes lingered on them sadly for a few moments before he let his head hang before him, staring only at the ground as he walked, wondering how he could have been so foolish to think that Malfoy could actually…

“Oh, Harry…” Hermione’s voice came quietly from somewhere behind him. She sounded so hurt at seeing him this way. Harry knew she had been right and that he shouldn’t be so easily fooled… but he had always been one to fall in love very quickly and with little reason. He’d fallen for Cho after having seen her once or twice, and then fallen for Ginny just as quickly. He’d misjudged both of those relationships and they had ended painfully.

But was that really what this was now?

True, Malfoy had stolen his virginity (though he hadn’t really refused to give it to him), but could he really say that he loved Malfoy? Without thinking twice about the feeling? It had only taken a look or two to convince him that he loved Cho. It had taken only a moment seeing Ginny kiss Dean to convince him that he wanted to be with her and only a kiss to assure him it was love…

He’d given Malfoy so much more, was it so farfetched to think that Harry, knowing his track record, was in love with the blonde who had made love to him less than twelve hours earlier?

Harry bit his lip and crossed the threshold into the Potions’ class, wishing that this could have been different. He cursed himself silently and tried to understand how Malfoy could be so two-faced and do it with such ease.

“Potter, I sit over here,” the cold drawl called him. He snapped out of his thoughts and realized that he had taken Malfoy’s bag with him over to his seat with Ron and Hermione. Turning back, he realized that Malfoy had left a vacant seat next to his own and motioned for him to join him.

He gave Ron and Hermione one final look before doing as he was told. He dropped the two bags next to Malfoy and took the seat designated for him. Malfoy smirked. He sat back and surveyed Harry carefully as he removed the necessary items from his own backpack.

“What?” Harry snapped, unable to hide his frustration at the whole situation. Malfoy licked his lips.

“You haven’t unpacked any of my things,” he explained as though the answer was a clear as day.

“You haven’t told me to,” Harry replied with a mocking tone. The collar caused a strange stinging sensation in the back of his neck and he realized that it was designed so that he wouldn’t misbehave.

“I shouldn’t have to,” Malfoy said, his face calm and only mildly amused. Harry stretched his neck, trying to rid himself of the stinging. He decided that the only way it would stop was to obey, so despite himself, he bent down and removed the necessary items from Malfoy’s bag as well.

“Good,” he said again. “You may prove to do well, after all.”

Harry glared at him, his eyes glazing over with unshed tears. He felt so useless sometimes. He was terrible at controlling his emotions and he never had any say in the way his heart reacted. He felt so hopeless and he knew that Malfoy would just take advantage of it as soon as he realized it.

Snape rambled on for a while about the potion they were to be brewing but Harry took no notice. When he was done, Harry was ordered to cut and prepare all of Draco’s ingredients, as well as his own, and ultimately make both potions. Draco sat back and laughed and talked with his friends for most of the period, allowing Harry to struggle to keep proper time with both cauldrons. His face was gleaming with sweat because of the intense pain from the stinging on the back of his neck whenever he went too slowly.

“Stop,” Malfoy’s voice finally ordered. Harry stopped trying to time the brewing of both potions and looked at the blonde with dead eyes. Malfoy stared at him with an incomprehensible expression. The same strange regretful look was mixed in there somewhere, but Harry didn’t know why.

“Decided to do your own work?” he spat. Malfoy smirked.

“You give me little choice,” he replied, motioning to the potion. “You really are terrible at this. I won’t forfeit my marks to your inadequacies.”

Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to his own potion. He finished adding the ingredients and realized that what he’d done was, in fact, wrong (having to worry about both potions) but it was easily fixed. He added a little extra powdered dragon’s heart and stirred the liquid counter-clockwise twice, before adding a drop of phoenix tears. It sizzled for a moment before turning to the appropriate plum colour that it should have been.

“What class do you have next, Potter?” Malfoy asked, staring at him as he fixed his potion expertly.

“I…I have Transfiguration until lunch,” he answered quietly. He could feel Malfoy’s eyes boring into him.

“And after lunch?” he continued. Harry tried not to look at him.

“I have nothing after lunch. Today is half-day for me,” he admitted, wishing that he hadn’t. Draco nodded knowingly.

“You will meet me after lunch, in the hallway in front of Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he ordered, before fixing his own potion.

When the bell rang, Harry got to his feet, almost having forgotten Draco’s bag. The collar stung his neck and he turned around to pick it up. Malfoy had Charms, which was thankfully on the same floor as Transfiguration.

He took the bag to the Charms class, dropped it at Draco’s feet (all the while feeling the intense stares on him from the very confused Ravenclaws that shared the class with the Slytherins) and ran for it.

He made it into McGonagall’s classroom just before the bell and sat down next to Ron.

“Harry, you don’t have to do this,” Hermione told him quietly as they practiced turning each other into animals. Hermione had already succeeded in turning Ron into a weasel and Harry into a snake. Harry had not been pleased with her choice of animal for him, but she apologized quickly, admitting that she’d been thinking about his problem so much she assumed that it interfered with her spell.

“Yes I do,” he pointed to the collar. “Trust me, I’ve no intention of walking around with a constant stinging along my spinal column.” She sighed heavily, knowing that for the first time, she had no solution.

“I’m sorry Harry,” she whispered. He shook his head, having turned Ron into a miniature red and white zebra. Hermione undid the spell and Ron stared at him in confusion.

“This is not your fault,” he conceded. “You did warn me. I know what I’m dealing with…”

The bell tolled for lunch but Harry wasn’t hungry. He left them at the Great Hall and wandered up to the hallway where he was told to meet his ‘master’.

When he got there, he was surprised to see that Draco was already there. He stepped up to him, his spirit broken and his heart confused. Draco took his hand without comment and pulled him into an empty classroom.

As soon as they were through the door, he pushed Harry against the wall and pressed their lips together, forcing Harry’s guard down. Despite himself, he gave in and kissed the Slytherin back, sucking gently on his lower lip. Draco pulled away.

“You look good in that collar,” he commented, smirking to himself. Harry frowned and turned to the side.

“I don’t like looking like a dog,” he spat. Draco snickered and moved closer.

“You are my slave… what did you expect?” he claimed, shrugging. “It’s the way it works in the wizarding world. All slaves wear collars for their term.”

“Do all slaves get fucked by their masters?” Harry asked venomously, glaring at Draco. The Slytherin pulled away and smiled.

“No, just you,” he admitted, craning his head to the side to lick Harry’s earlobe. Harry shivered and shut his eyes for a moment. “You’re a special slave.”

“A whore, you mean,” the Gryffindor snapped, tears filling his eyes again. Draco snapped back.

“You think that’s what this is about?” he asked, a disgusted scowl on his pale features.

“What else?” he demanded, balling his fists and trying to get himself under control. The desks shook from the power of his frustration. Draco looked carefully at the objects around him. “What I don’t get is why you need me when you’ve got a slut like Parkinson hanging off you like she does.”

“Oh, Harry,” Draco sighed, rolling his eyes. Harry was struck by the sudden use of his first name. “Why would I ever want something like Parkinson? She throws herself at anyone and everyone with power. I have no interest in her grabby ways.”

“Then why the hell do you let her hang over you like that?” Harry burst out, dropping his bag on the ground. The classroom seemed to grow darker. Malfoy’s face showed only slightly that he noticed the minute changes in atmosphere.

“Jealous, Potter?” he smirked, though it wasn’t mean or mocking. It was almost endearing. But Harry didn’t notice.

“And why the hell do you have to treat me like that??” Harry rambled, refusing to answer his question. He refused to give Malfoy everything, not his heart, he wouldn’t give him that and he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that he already had it. “Why do you pretend to be kind and gentle with me and then go around treating me like rubbish in front of your damn friends?!”

“You agreed to be my slave, not my boyfriend, Potter,” Draco answered calmly, shaking his head. “You should have thought about what that might entail.”

“WELL YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT FUCKING ME WOULD MAKE ME FALL FOR YOU!” Harry screamed, the classroom shook and rattled with his every word. Draco hardly seemed scared, mind you. Perhaps he was simply fighting very hard to remain calm.

“You’ve fallen for me after only that?” he asked, almost amazed. “And here was me thinking that I’d have to fight for your love.”

Harry was so caught up in his anger that he almost missed the comment. He almost missed the sad smile on Draco’s face. He almost missed his moment of realization.

“What?” Harry suddenly asked, his brow knit in confusion and pain. Draco moved closer to him and brushed a tear from his cheek. Harry searched his eyes for malevolence or treachery but there was none.

“Harry, don’t you see?” he whispered, shaking his head. “That’s just my poker face. I have to play a part for them. It’s who I am and what they expect of me. I didn’t orchestrate this whole ordeal just to humiliate you.”

Harry swallowed hard, wanting desperately to believe the words he spoke, but it was so hard. He licked his lips and shut his eyes.

“Your father gave a similar speech to Voldemort in fourth year,” Harry whispered, feeling terrible for having to bring it up. Draco tensed and his eyes turned dark.

“My father is dead,” he said bluntly. “And with him died that kind of lie. He lied because he was afraid of Voldemort. I’m telling you this because I care about you, not because I’m afraid of you. No offense, but you aren’t that intimidating.”

“You…what?” the Gryffindor asked, seeing a whole new side of Draco Malfoy. There were so many facets to the boy’s personality that he wondered if he would ever see them all.

“I care about you,” he admitted again. “I didn’t think you’d ever believe me if I told you outright and I didn’t think you’d give me a chance unless you were forced to spend time alone with me, to see who I really am.”

“So you aren’t really the big bad Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin?” he asked. There was a disappointment in his voice.

“Oh no, I am,” he answered, with a sly smirk. “But that’s not all I am. I still feel and I still love. It’s not like being a Slytherin makes you automatically inhuman.”

“I don’t know what to think of you,” Harry admitted. “One minute you’re kind and caring and the next you’re ordering me to pick up your books and claiming me as your property.”

“I told you, it’s a face for people to see,” he repeated. “What do you propose instead?”

“Screw the face,” Harry answered immediately. “You can still be big bad Slytherin but you don’t have to pretend you don’t want me. Snog me in the middle of class if you want, but don’t pretend I’m a house-elf.”

“You want me to snog you in front of everyone??” Draco asked incredulously. There was a dark smirk on his face. “Why?”

“Because I realized something…” he admitted, thinking over the day’s events. “I hated you treating me like rubbish, but having the school see that I’ve agreed to be your slave for a week was refreshing. They all looked at me differently than they usually do… I… I was suddenly tainted and almost vulgar in their eyes. I like that.”

Draco didn’t answer but simply smiled more brightly and pressed himself against Harry, pulling him into a deep kiss. He forced his tongue into Harry’s mouth and sucked hard, grinding their hips together. He let himself be taken over as a rush of warmth spread down his torso, but Draco pulled away.

“Ok, Potter,” he whispered, silkily. “If that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get. Meet me at dinner tonight. You’ll sit at the Slytherin table.”

“As you wish,” Harry answered, pleased that he had regained something from this.

The question was, was it really a positive thing?

As he left the empty classroom with his ‘master’ to take his books to class, he could feel the stares of passing students on his back.

Yes… it was a positive thing.

--TBC--

A/N: Er, so I'll write the next parts in time, the warnings are mostly for later. This won't be a long story or anything as it's just a week... maybe just one or two more parts or something. Anyway it's just for fun and to satisfy my need to write smut *sigh* Tell me what you think!