The Highest Bidder
by Kay

No reply.

Draco Malfoy scanned the contents of the mahogany box again, carefully sifting through the expensive accessories. No emerald cufflinks in sight. With a sigh, he plucked out a set of silver cufflinks instead. They weren't his favorites, but he hardly had time to search for his first choice. He still had to fix his hair, after all.

He decided to forego the Slytherin boys' lavatory in favor of using his dresser mirror. It would be way too crowded and frantic in there, what with the other male members of the Quidditch team preparing for the auction.

Draco smoothed his hair back from his face, running his fingers through the silky blonde strands. He flashed his best charming smile at the mirror, then grimaced. He couldn't quite decide whether he liked the idea of this auction or not. Of course, he had been a bit put off when Dumbledore had announced at the beginning of the term that the Quidditch teams had to start holding fundraisers to supply their equipment. Due in no small part to his father's continued contributions to the Slytherin team, Draco was sure that the change in policy resulted from the whining complaints of the other houses. Was it his fault they didn't have the money to provide first-rate equipment? If they wanted to go top-of-the-line, then maybe they shouldn't have let any "less fortunate" students (cough*Weasleys*cough) play on their house teams. It wasn't Draco's problem, so he didn't care.

Correction: He hadn't cared until he'd found out what the Quidditch captains had settled upon as a fundraiser. It was the whole reason that he was going all-out to look his absolute best. See, in about 15 minutes he and all the other Quidditch players were going to be put on display and paraded around the Great Hall so that Hogwarts students and faculty alike could made a bid on their player of choice. It had been dubbed "Yours for a Day: Quidditch-playing Witches and Wizards Bow to Your Wish and Whimsy." Embarassing? Most likely. Degrading? Most definitely. Possible ego-booster? Hopefully. That's why he had to present an image of being high-class but accessible, charming but sincere, consenting but not easily-controlled.

Well, he didn't have to create that image, but he certainly thought it might be beneficial...especially since he wanted the honor and prestige of raking in the largest bid. Sure, it would help his team get the best supplies, but it would also show up Potter, and that was his main goal.

Finally satisfied with his hair, Draco stood back to admire his reflection in the mirror, which gave an appreciative wolf whistle. He smirked a bit, knowing full-well how great he looked, and then he went to pick up his tux jacket. He shrugged it on, admiring how it accentuated the best features of his compact frame. Since he'd never really had a monumental growth spurt, Draco was about 5'10". But playing Quidditch had toned his body, resulting in sleek muscles, broader shoulders, a trim waist, and narrow hips. The tux jacket hugged his broad shoulders and slim waist, and he knew that when he took it off the white shirt would cling to his back, and the emerald-green vest would look damn sexy. Plus, the pants showed off his firm ass in the most appealing way, even if he did say so himself. He knew the tuxedo was more of a Muggle thing, but he also knew it would make him look more dashing and hot than the other guys, clad in their bulky dress robes.

Draco straightened his tie, gave himself one more appraising look in the mirror, smiled confidently, then went out into the common room to meet up with his teammates. It was time for this show to begin.

Showing their trademark fearlessness, the Gryffindors were the first to go. Of course, they put Harry as the first item for bidding, thinking that since everyone would still have their money, they'd be able to rake in the largest possible amount. And from the way things were going, Draco noted in disgust, Harry might just be able to pull it off. Right now he and the other players were in a holding room outside the Great Hall, but a mirror had been enchanted so that they could see and hear everything going on in the auction.

Dumbledore was doing a surprisingly good job as the auctioneer, keeping up with the bids for Harry's services with great speed and clarity. Bids had started at 5 galleons, and they had continued to escalate. Young girls (and a few boys) were bidding like crazy, and Draco saw that an entire block of Hufflepuff girls had pooled their funds in hopes to get in a good bid for Harry. However, as the bids escalated to prices most students could never afford, offers slowed to almost a crawl. In fact, when the amount reached 150 galleons, bidding stopped completely.

At that point Dumbledore looked around the room. "150 going once, going twice, going for 150..." But before he could pound his gavel, a final offer came.

"200 galleons." Draco's eyes widened in surprise as he identified the owner of the voice. Snape! His own Head of House was shelling out 200 galleons for Potter? But why?

Draco understood, however, when Dumbledore finalized the sale and a triumphant smile slid across Snape's face. Oh, Potter might have gotten a good bid, but he was certainly going to have to work for it, wasn't he? Draco grinned in delight as his mind conjured up all the different ways that Snape might torture Potter. Ah, the possibilities were endless, and each one was equally appealing! Leave it to Snape...

Draco's mind was thus occupied through the next few sales, but his thoughts were interrupted by a nudge. "Your turn, Malfoy," someone said.

Taking a deep breath, Draco straightened and rolled his shoulders back. Time to make his appearance...and it had to be a dramatic one.

He went to stand in front of the double doors leading into the Great Hall. When he heard the applause dying down from the last player up for bid, he readied himself. There, his name was announced. Brandishing his wand and muttering a few words, the doors to the hall flew open dramatically to reveal his figure, clad in a black dress robe. With a flourish, he swirled the robe off to reveal the tuxedo beneath, hooking the robe over his finger and dangling it over his shoulder. His actions elicited a gasp from the audience, and he let the stormy, sensuous look be replaced by a cocky grin.

*Well, that went well,* he thought to himself as people began to whisper and a couple of girls actually began to fan themselves with their bidding placards. He strode to the front of the Great Hall, working his sex appeal for all it was worth. He knew that his mysterious, bad-boy image could only add to the appeal. Upon reaching his position, he turned on his heel to face the crowd again. He winked at a front-row Ravenclaw and tossed her his robe. He was satisfied to see that she promptly fainted.

Draco could hear the smile in Dumbledore's voice as he began the introduction. "Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin team Seeker, is a sexth, er, sixth year student at Hogwarts. Son of a very successful and wealthy wizard, Draco likes flying, dancing, and making Mudbloods cry...Hmmm, that can't be right," Dumbledore mumbled to himself, adjusting his spectacles. "Uh, his favorite color is silver, and his favorite class is Potions. The bidding for Mr. Malfoy will begin at 5 galleons."

As bids began flying, Draco took the opportunity to work the crowd. He stalked across the catwalk, doing his level best (and it was pretty damn good) to look ferocious and dangerous, then strolled back across, looking carefree and happy (altogether more difficult). Then he struck a pose that he knew made him look smoldering and sexy (he'd practiced it in front of the mirror enough to be sure). Each time someone called out a bid, he made a point of sending a wink or a smile in the person's direction to encourage him or her to keep bidding.

Draco really got excited when the bids reached the 175 galleon mark. It looked like he might be able to beat Potter! He'd known that his questionable ties to the Death Eaters would work to his advantage at some point! He did his best to look the part of the rebel, stripping off his tux jacket and tie, unbuttoning the top two buttons of the shirt. When an audible sigh swept the audience, Draco smirked in satisfaction. Just as the quickly as the speed of bids coming in had waned, they picked back up.

Thanking his lucky stars that Pansy was sick and unable to attend the auction, Draco barely restrained from shuddering at the thought of how determined she would have been to win him. And since the girl had basically no limits on money, she likely would have been able to. But now the bids were slowing. He'd surpassed Snape's bid of 200 galleons for Potter, so Draco was basically grinning like an idiot. He didn't care who won him, just that he'd accomplished what he came to do.

The offers slowed to a trickle when the 225 galleon mark approached. Draco continued to encourage the bidders, licking his lips licentiously, gazing up through heavily-hooded eyes, throwing a few suggestive leers. It was quite obvious that his time of servitude was going to be much more enjoyable than Potter's.

Suddenly, a bored-sounding and new voice cut through any other offers. "I'll give 250 galleons," it announced.

Draco whirled to meet the gaze of the bidder. Only, it couldn't be...

As Dumbledore closed the sale, Draco continued to gaze in open-mouthed horror at the buyer.

Ron Weasley simply raised his goblet to Draco in a mock-salute. He drank deep of its contents and licked his lips, a self-satisfied grin spreading across his features. "Your ass is mine, Malfoy," he mouthed.

Draco tried very hard not to think about what Ron Weasley might want to do with his ass.