Call or Fold

Call or Fold

“What have you got?”

“Two twos.”

“Er… I’ve got….I think I’ve got nothing.”

“I’ve almost got a straight, does that count as anything?”

“Oh oh, boys, read-em and weep! I’ve got THREE kings!”

Harry couldn’t help but smile inwardly at his friends. He had spent their day off teaching Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville how to play poker. Then he had them place proper bets just so he could take their sweets. It was a brilliant plan really, if it hadn’t been such a Slytherin thing to do.

“Full house,” he said simply, laying out his cards for his friends to see. He snickered as their jaws dropped simultaneously in amazement at Harry’s ability. Then their faces fell to frowns as they realized that Harry was taking all their stocks of candy. He smiled and wrapped his arms around the pile of candy and joke items that littered the centre of the table, pulling them all towards himself and attempting to be a good sport about it. “Aw, well would you look at that? My pile has gotten so big it won’t all fit into my bag!” He wasn’t doing a very good job.

“Aw Harry, you always win!” Seamus proclaimed grudgingly. He huffed with a grimace, looking at all the other ‘losers’ at the table.

“Now now, you’ve still got a chance to win it all back,” Harry admitted keenly. “Haven’t I said that one hand is all it takes? You’ve got to remember that in poker. Everything can go in one single hand.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ron muttered. “I’ve noticed that.” Harry tried to not laugh. He didn’t really like taking anything from Ron, knowing that Ron didn’t have as much as he did, but it wasn’t as though Ron hadn’t known what he was getting himself into this time. He’d played fair and square and come out the victor.

“Come on, guys,” Harry pressed, shuffling the cards again. “No more takers? No? Come now, Seamus you still have some things to bet with, why not have a go?”

“Are you mad? I want to KEEP these things, thanks,” he snapped, amazed that Harry would suggest such an idea.

“Ah, no one?” Harry asked again, looking from on face to the next.

“I’ll play you, Potter,” a cold and drawling voice called from behind him. Harry tensed briefly before regaining his cool and turning to face Draco Malfoy.

“This is a Muggle game, Malfoy,” he explained, a little smirk on his face. “I never would have thought that kind of thing would interest you.”

Malfoy sneered at him and smirked, leaning over so that his face was very close to Harry’s.

“I’d never turn down a chance to best you, Potter,” he whispered icily, licking his lips. “And take everything you’ve got.” The Slytherin wiggled his eyebrows briefly, with that signature smirk.

“Alright then, Malfoy,” Harry agreed, nodding his head curtly to his rival and nodding to the seat in front of him. “Take a seat. I hope you’ve brought your best supplies. You’ll be losing them all by the end of this.”

“Potter, when I said that I was going to take everything you’ve got,” Malfoy sneered, taking his seat in front of Harry. “I meant everything.”

Harry watched him for a moment, still shuffling the cards. There was a strange sparkle in Malfoy’s otherwise cold, grey eyes and he wasn’t sure why, but it excited him more.

Ron and the rest of them seated themselves around Harry, while Crabbe and Goyle –along with a few other Slytherins –placed themselves behind Malfoy to watch his game. Harry placed the deck in the centre of the table and gestured to Malfoy.

“Cut the deck, but don’t you dare try anything,” he warned, watching the Slytherin’s movements closely. Malfoy snickered and did as he was told. Harry picked up the cards and began handing them back and forth.

“Five card draw,” Harry stated, handing Malfoy and himself both five cards. “I take it you already know how to play, somehow.”

“Somehow,” Malfoy repeated with a malicious smile. He spent a moment looking at his cards and rearranged them in his hands. “Two exchanges, no more.”

“Suits me fine,” Harry agreed, rearranging his own cards. He had five, six and seven in hearts, and only needed two more to make a straight flush. The boys behind him were only partially aware of his hand and Harry smiled to himself. His poker face was impeccable. He didn’t know why, but he had a skill for this game. He’d learned to play with Dudley and his friends back at Privet Drive, one nights when his aunt and uncle went out. He’d taken all the chips on the table in less than five hands. Naturally he’d gotten beaten rather badly for it, but it was worth it to see the look of astonishment on his cousin’s fat face. “Any bets? Or are you going to back out on me already?”

Malfoy didn’t answer him. He simply nodded to Crabbe, who opened his bag and poured out a pile of every sweet you could possibly imagine. Mingled with the sweets were certain Zonko’s products that were quite hard to come by. Expensive items that Harry was sure only Draco could afford. Did Malfoy carry these things around with him??

“I’ll start with betting you have your pile there,” he proclaimed carelessly. Harry nodded.

“Rather risky bet there,” Harry remarked, eyeing the items he felt he would soon have in his possession. Malfoy rolled his eyes.

“Not really,” he admitted. “Call or fold.”

“I call,” Harry said without hesitation. “How many?”

“Two,” Malfoy demanded, placing two of his hand face down on the table. Harry studied him carefully. He was also very skilled at identifying tells. It hadn’t been a challenge with his friends, mind you. Ron’s tell was the most obvious. When he had anything with the semblance of a good hand, Ron’s ears went pink. Neville’s tell was trying to look unnaturally serious. Dean’s tell was biting his lip and Seamus was his inability to stop himself from smiling at a good hand. Child’s play for Harry.

Draco Malfoy, however, seemed to be a master at the poker face. Harry assumed that it was because of all those years of compartmentalizing any emotion seemingly human so that he could adequately antagonize his peers. Malfoy showed nothing. Not even the slightest interest in the game they were playing as he took the cards Harry dealt him and arranged them in his hand. He looked bored.

“Two for myself,” he said, exchanging his own cards. Somehow, miraculously, he’d picked up the four and the eight of hearts, giving him a straight flush. He forced himself to look nonchalant and busied himself in rearranging them in his hand. While he did this, he continued to study Malfoy’s face. There was nothing. He searched deep into the silver eyes that stared back at him but saw nothing except the strange little glint that had been there from before the cards were dealt. There had to be something…

“I call you all in,” Malfoy drawled, nodding to the pile Harry had just taken from his friends. “Everything you’ve got there.”

“Feel that sure of yourself, Malfoy?” Harry licked his lips and tried to persuade Malfoy to betray himself.

“Like to stall, don’t you Potter?” he retorted, rolling his eyes. Harry followed his every movement closely. If he had a tell, Harry would find it.

“I call,” Harry replied, nodding to his rival. “Any more?”

“One,” he said, placing one more discarded card in the centre of the table. Harry was pleased. He was relying on this last card to make his hand, but Harry already had his hand. There was little chance that Malfoy would really win now.

Harry handed him the card he asked for and passed on his own turn. He surveyed Draco’s entire being with hungry eyes. Every slight movement of Malfoy’s mouth, any little shift in his eyes or twitch of his nose and Harry would see it. He’d see Malfoy’s loss and his vistory. He’d see it come down to that and he would relish in the moment of beating Malfoy at something more.

“Care to make it interesting, Potter?” Malfoy suddenly asked, placing his cards on the table, face down. Harry didn’t like this change of manner but he was still confident. Even if Malfoy had got the hand he was after, there was next to nothing that could beat a straight flush.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked, looking as innocently curious as possible. Malfoy’s eyes glimmered with his usual mischief.

“A different kind of bet,” he whispered darkly. “Loser has to do everything the winner says for a week. Like a slave, of sorts.”

“Figures you’d propose something like that,” Harry snorted, his own eyes glimmering now with a Slytherin-like malice. “I’m in, but Malfoy, the only thing that concerns me is if you will really have enough self-control to take orders from me for a week.”

“I know what I’m getting myself into, Potter,” he answered silkily, staring into Harry’s eyes for a moment of mutual understanding. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Harry laid out his hand without hesitation. He sat back and let the images of the cards imprint themselves onto Draco’s mind before speaking. He wanted Malfoy to remember just what made him a slave to Harry Potter for a week.

“Straight flush, in hearts,” Harry finally stated, in case any of the onlookers didn’t understand. Malfoy stared at the cards for a long moment, swallowed hard and sat bat as well. His eyes were half-lidded and shone darkly from his position. His face displayed nothing of what he was thinking or feeling, but Harry couldn’t stop himself from smirking nonetheless.

“I must say Potter, you’re good,” he finally admitted, staring at Harry in the face. “Damn good.”

“I never thought I’d see the day that you would admit defeat to me so pleasantly, Malfoy,” Harry sneered, thinking of all the things he’d have the Slytherin do, just because he could.

“I never would,” the drawling voice came again to puncture Harry’s dreams. Malfoy’s face was set and unimpressed.

“You just did,” Harry explained. “I’ve beaten you and now you are my slave for a week.”

“You haven’t beaten me just yet, Potter,” he replied icily. He leaned over, closer to Harry, and laid out his own hand slowly so that Everyone could see. He had ten, Jack, Queen, King and Ace in spades. “Royal flush, in spades.”

Harry felt as though he’d just been hit with shards of ice. His stomach fell and his jaw dropped, much to his own dismay. He could do nothing but stare at the cards. Malfoy had somehow managed to get the highest ranking hand in poker. His head was spinning suddenly and everything went silent as Malfoy stared at him with a very dark expression.

“Harry… you lost, mate,” Ron’s voice punctured the quiet. “You actually lost! I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Yeah, thanks a lot, Ron,” he muttered in reply. Somehow, the reality of his loss hadn’t quite sunken in just yet.

“Sore loser, Potty?” Malfoy asked with feigned concern. “You know what happens now.”

“What?” Harry asked, snapping out of his shock. Malfoy’s sneer grew.

“You are my slave for the week,” he answered happily. Harry stared for a moment, remembering the stupid bet he’d agreed to. “Unless you want to try and back out of it.”

“I’m not like you, Malfoy,” Harry snapped, much to his friends’ protests. “I’m good on my word.”

“Good,” the Slytherin concluded, getting to his feet. “Then meet me in the prefects’ bathroom in fifteen minutes. You can keep the sweets.”

Harry watched him leave the Great Hall without a backwards glance. He groaned to himself, knowing that he would regret having made that bet for the rest of his life. He got to his feet and started collecting the cards. His friends did nothing but stare at him for a few moments.

“You aren’t really going to do it, are you?” Ron asked, still amazed that Harry had lost. Harry shot him an angry glance.

“Of course I am, I’ve no choice,” he said, stuffing all his things into his bag. “I’m not like him. I’m not just going to try and back out of it because it didn’t go my way. I won’t sink that low.”

“Yeah but –”

“Look, Ron, I’m doing this because I’m not going back on anything. That’s who I am. I’ll just deal with his bollocks for a week and then try to forget any of this ever happened,” he snapped, moving to leave.

As he left he heard Ron mutter something about Malfoy never letting it go, but didn’t take notice of it. He had to be in the prefects’ bathroom in a few minutes and he wasn’t going to give Malfoy the satisfaction of thinking he’d backed out.

Once he’d arrived, Harry found the room empty. Malfoy wasn’t there yet and the bathtub was empty. It looked rather ominous, echoing out like a massive crater in the stone ground. Harry dropped his bag and removed his jacket, feeling rather hot from his frustration.

“I’m almost surprised you’re here,” Malfoy’s cold drawl called from the doorway. He stepped in, wearing a light t-shirt and a pair of fitted jeans. His expression was of bored amusement as he came closer to Harry.

“I’m not a coward like you are,” Harry spat. Malfoy ignored him and nodded over to the bathtub.

“Fill it,” he ordered. Harry stared at him. He agreed to being Malfoy’s slave but he would be damned if he’d do it without a fight.

“What for?” he demanded, refusing to move. Malfoy rolled his eyes.

“Are you really that dense, Potter?” he asked. “I want to take a bath, you idiot. Fill it.”

“If you want to take a bath then what the hell am I here for?” Harry yelled, staring at Malfoy in confusion.

“You are far too disobedient for a slave,” he answered simply. “Fill the damn bath, Potter. You’ll find out soon enough.”

Harry rolled his eyes and went over to the taps. He turned them on one by one and watched the water and soapy liquids flood out into the massive stone basin.

“Not the blue knob,” Malfoy warned. “Just the purple and green ones. The blue one makes my hair greasy.”

“Like that really makes a difference,” Harry snickered, turning off the blue knob. Malfoy shot him a look, but otherwise ignored him. “Can I go now? I’m sure you want your privacy.”

“No,” Malfoy spat. He said nothing more but removed his shirt and began to undo his pants. Harry’s face contorted in shock and confusion.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he screamed.

“I told you already, I’m taking a bath,” he repeated, rolling his eyes. “You really are thick.”

“What the hell are you getting undressed for? In front of me!!” he specified, unable to tear his eyes away from Draco’s pale but finely toned chest. He found more horror in this idea than anything.

“I don’t know about you, but I do not bathe fully clothed,” Malfoy answered, dropping his pants and standing before Harry in nothing but black silk boxers. The Gryffindor could not reply immediately. His eyes were trained on Malfoy’s lithe form, roving over every aspect of his half-naked body. “The water is about to overflow,” he added to Harry, not looking at the bathtub at all. He was watching Harry stare and there was a tacit smirk on his lips.

Grateful for the change of subject, Harry snapped out of it and ran back to the taps. He turned them all off then spun around just in time to see Draco remove his boxers and slide gracefully into the waters. He screwed up his eyes and turned his face away, feeling a soft flush of heat meet his cheeks.

“You are no use to me there, Potter,” Malfoy called from the water. “Come here.”

“What use am I to you now anyway?” Harry spat, trying very hard not to look directly at Malfoy. “It’s not like I can ba–” Harry stopped dead, thinking about what he was about to say.

“Clever, aren’t you?” Malfoy remarked, picking up on the unfinished sentence. “I have house-elves at home who do everything for me. I’m not given that luxury here. You get to take up the job.”

“I am NOT going to bathe you, Malfoy!!” Harry cried out firmly. He clenched his jaw.

“You will so,” Malfoy answered calmly. “I though you were a man of your word, Potter?”

Harry stared at the ground for a moment, wishing that he knew better how to keep his mouth shut.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. He was shaking from his own rage, but walked over to where Malfoy was submerged and stared straight ahead. “What is it, I’m supposed to do?”

“Undress, first off,” he ordered. “You can do nothing from out there.”

“WHAT?” Harry exclaimed. “I’m to get into the bath WITH you?!?”

“Yes, you thickhead,” Malfoy responded. “How else can you accomplish your task properly??”

“I… you are bloody sick, Malfoy,” Harry finally snapped. He removed all his clothing apart from his boxers and stood there for a moment, surveying the Slytherin’s form from above. “Can I keep my boxers?”

“No,” Malfoy answered with a mean smile. “Though I’m pleased that you asked. You might prove to be a good slave, after all.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Harry muttered, removing his trunks and getting into the water. He shifted some bubbles around to shield himself casually and attempted to keep as much distance between himself and Malfoy as possible. Malfoy leaned back against the stone and laughed.

“Such a bloody Gryffindor,” he remarked. “You are going to have to get over yourself, forget the damn bubbles and come closer if you are going to do what I’ve told you to.”

“No wonder Dobby hated working for you,” Harry snapped, staring at his temporary ‘master’. Malfoy grimaced at the reference and summoned a sponge for Harry to use.

“Start with my back,” he ordered, turning around. Harry frowned and picked up the sponge. He soaked it in the soapy water and glided a little closer to Malfoy.

As he lifted it and ran it across his rival’s pale shoulders, he couldn’t help but notice how perfect his skin was. He was glistening softly from the water and the ridges of his muscles were well accentuated in the awkward light of the room. Harry scolded himself for making any such observations about the Slytherin and resigned himself to his task, looking only at the part of Malfoy that was directly next to the sponge.

“My back consists of more than just my shoulders, Potter,” he snickered, moving back, into Harry.

Harry shivered momentarily as Malfoy’s skin brushed against his own. He tried to steady himself and carefully moved the sponge down his ‘master’s’ back. In doing so, he had to unwillingly lean into him and Harry’s hair brushed against the Slytherin’s neck. Moving back quickly, Harry noticed that tiny little goose-bumps were forming all along Malfoy’s neck and back. He smirked inwardly.

“You are actually rather good at this,” Malfoy remarked, likely out of effort to break the strange silence. He turned around and faced Harry with a mischievous face. “You can be trained, I guess.”

“I’m not doing this for you,” he retorted, without thinking much. “I’m doing this for myself.”

Malfoy smiled and his eyes twinkled malevolently. Harry stared at him, confused for a moment, before he realized just how his comment could have been misconstrued. He gasped softly as Draco moved closer and forced the bubbles out of the way. He glanced down into the water for a moment before running his tongue along the edges of his teeth.

“That’s not what I meant!” Harry finally defended, glancing to the side and holding the sponge strategically to shield himself. Malfoy inched closer still and did not take his eyes from Harry’s face.

“Oh I think it is what you meant, Potter,” he said icily, nodding his head slightly. “Your poker face isn’t as seamless as you think it is.”

Harry’s pupils contracted as he thought on what that might mean. Malfoy didn’t wait, mind you. He dropped his arms into the water and leaned into Harry, bringing his lips dangerously close to Harry’s mouth, but that wasn’t what he was after. Harry watched the blonde’s mouth approach and so wasn’t expecting it when he felt his rival’s hand wrap around his erection.

“Mal–” Harry gasped, but couldn’t finish. Malfoy had pressed their lips together and devoured his mouth.

Harry dropped the sponge into the water, frozen in his position. He couldn’t bring himself to react against Malfoy’s advances and what frightened him more was that he didn’t want to. He held very still for a few moments, before he found himself kissing back and fervently fighting Malfoy’s tongue with his own.

Harry brought his arms around and grabbed a fistful of Malfoy’s hair, pushing into the kiss even further. The Slytherin, meanwhile, used his nimble fingers to gently massage Harry’s length, pressing hardest against the most sensitive areas and pressing his thumb down over the slit as though to cap it. His other arm wove around Harry’s waist and planted itself against Harry’s butt, pulling him closer.

Harry’s throat caught as he felt Draco’s hips grind into him, forcing their erections together. He found himself arching his back and bucking his hips against Draco as well, creating more sensations. The Slytherin pumped his cock harder, grasping his own along with Harry’s. His other hand snaked its way downward and his thin fingers probed teasingly at Harry’s entrance.

“Ah, Mal-…” Harry gasped, breaking the kiss in his surprise. Draco ran his tongue along Harry’s jaw line and then in wavy patterns down Harry’s neck. He stopped at an appropriate stop and closed his lips around the area, sucking hard against the soft skin.

“Don’t call me that,” Draco ordered, brushing his lips against the newly formed red mark he’d left on Harry’s neck. “Not now.”

Draco continued his little trek down Harry’s neck with his tongue. He pressed his fingers –two to start –fully into Harry, causing the Gryffindor to arch violently and cry out. After a few moments, he added another finger. Draco rotated his hips as well, causing flares of pleasure to shoot through both of their bodies.

“Ahh, Draco..” Harry finally moaned. His hands had found their way down to Draco’s back and his nails were digging into the porcelain flesh, grasping him tightly. He moaned from the sensations, wanting to forget, if only for a moment, that this was a good idea. He didn’t want to think about what he was doing or who he was doing it with. He didn’t care. He shouldn’t have to…

“I bet you’ve never felt this good,” Draco cooed in Harry’s ear. “I bet you never dreamed you could. I’d bet anything.”

“No, never,” Harry found himself answering, if only to maintain the pleasure. His chest pressed against Draco’s and he found that it felt right. It felt comfortable.

Draco snickered and bit down on Harry’s shoulder. Harry screamed but didn’t stop him. He let himself be bitten and realized that he didn’t care. He didn’t think about the possibility of having to explain it to Ron later. He didn’t think about the idea that it was Draco’s way of marking him. He didn’t care at all.

“You want more, Potter?” the blonde asked silkily. He kissed Harry’s collarbone as he spoke. “You want me inside you? Do you want to feel me take that from you? The last thing that your enemy should have?”

“Ahh, god yes,” Harry called out before he could stop himself. “Yes, Draco, yes!”

Without any further prompting, Draco removed his fingers from Harry’s entrance, and leaned back against the stone wall. He pulled Harry’s legs up around his waist and placed him seated just atop the head of Draco’s erection. Harry tightened his grip around Draco, to make the Slytherin’s task easier, and looked down into those silver eyes.

Draco stared into his eyes as well, carefully lowering Harry down until just the head of his cock was past the entrance. Harry whimpered and shook, writhing in attempt to get more. Draco’s face was pulled into a sneer again, though it was softer than ever before. He bucked his hips and lowered Harry so that he was completely impaled on the Slytherin’s length.

“Draco! Ah!” Harry cried as the head pressed against his sweet spot. He shut his eyes and threw his head back, unable to control himself. Draco quickly bit down on Harry’s collar. The pain halted the inevitable orgasm and left another bright red mark on his body.

“Just wait for it, Potter,” he whispered, kissing the mark he had just made. Draco began lifting and lowering Harry slowly, in a constant rhythm. Harry moaned loudly and ran his fingers through Draco’s damp hair.

“Ah, yes, yes,” Harry chanted. “H-harder… faster… Draco!”

“Look at me,” Draco ordered, increasing his pace and feeling his climax approach. He knew Potter wouldn’t last much longer either. “I want you to look me in the eyes while you come, screaming my name.”

“Ah, yes,” Harry answered, opening his eyes and looking down into Draco’s yearning orbs. He could see something new in his rival’s eyes but was in no position to think on it. “Draco..”

“Scream it out so loud that the whole castle can hear,” Draco demanded, pressing harder and faster into Harry with every moment. Neither would look away from the other. Harry’s heart was racing and his breathing was rapid. Draco felt so good inside him. He felt so right.

“Ah Draco!!!” he finally screamed, hitting his climax and erupting into the water. The words echoed loudly in the large room. Draco moaned and gasped as he exploded as well, spilling out into Harry, instead of into the water.

They both stood there, breathing heavily in the water, holding one another. They stared into each other’s eyes and couldn’t look away. Draco didn’t pull out but stared at Harry for as long as he could manage after everything.

“I told you I’d take everything you have,” Draco finally whispered. His coy little smirk had returned and Harry stared breathlessly at him.

“I guess you’re more a man of your word than I thought,” he admitted, feeling the comfortable aftermath set in. Draco snickered and lifted Harry off him finally, unable to hold him up anymore. Something occurred to Harry. “You planned this from the start didn’t you?”

“Smarter than you look,” Draco sneered, pulling Harry close, though they were now both standing. Harry cocked an eyebrow.

“What if I had won?” he inquired, allowing himself to be held. Draco snorted.

“You wouldn’t have,” he stated confidently, his arms comfortably wrapped around Harry’s waist. Harry stared.

“You cheated!” he exclaimed. Draco rolled his eyes.

“Is it so hard to believe that I’m a better poker player than you are?” he asked, with a drawl.

“Yes,” Harry replied, frowning. “And now I’m stuck doing what you want all week.”

“I don’t think you really mind,” Draco retorted mischievously.

“What makes you think that?” he snapped. “I hate you, of course I mind.”

“Your poker face really isn’t as good as you think,” Draco answered, smiling. He kissed Harry softly on the lips.

“Bloody ferret,” Harry murmured with an unintentional smirk. Draco rolled his eyes.

“I have to say though,” he began, looking at himself. “You really are terrible at following orders though. If it’s possible, I think you actually got me dirtier in the bath, instead of cleaning me.”

“You prat,” Harry spat. “You did this to yourself.” Draco smirked and his eyes glittered again. He summoned the sponge and handed it to Harry.

“You have some work to do, Potter,” he stated, standing up straight for his bath. His voice was sweeter though. Harry gave him a mischievous grin to match Draco’s signature look.

“Maybe this week won’t be so bad.”
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A/N: This just popped into my head today and because my other fanfiction is gradual slash, I decided to write a oneshot with them to make up for it. It’s kind of random and we’ll just pretend that HBP never happened and that this is seventh year in a Voldemort-less world. Yes. And Where did Draco learn poker? I don’t know, it’s all up to your imagination! Ok I’m sorry, but I had fun. I hope you liked it! Read and review please!!