The Highest Bidder
by Kay

While Ron whistled happily away in Gryffindor Tower, Draco was still in bed, curled in a ball underneath a clean set of sheets. He didn't want to get up. His stomach was knotted in dread at the prospects of the day ahead. Breakfast was the last thing he was in the mood for, especially since he only had an hour after it was over before his day of doom would officially begin. He'd rather die of starvation, refusing to budge from his bed, than bow down to Weasley and call him "Master."

Okay, so Draco realized that he was being a bit melodramatic, but he figured that he had a bloody good reason to be. He was not optimistic about what the day might bring. In fact, he was kind of hoping beyond all hope that the world might conveniently come to an end before he had to drag himself out of bed. He decided to wait ten more minutes for a miracle, but since the universe was clearly conspiring against him and no such miracle was forthcoming, he found himself in the shower a quarter of an hour later.

By the time he reached the Great Hall for breakfast, though, he'd managed to gain a tenuous grip on his composure. He'd be fine. All he had to do was make it through one day. One. He could handle that just fine. He'd halfway convinced himself to believe it when he sat down in his regular seat. He was almost completely assured by the time he was a third of the way into his milk and eggs. When he was nearly finished eating, he was feeling almost invincible with one thought (that had become a mantra, practically) running through his head: "That which does not kill me can always get its come-uppance when I decide it's time."

It was with that confidence and a smile on his face that his gaze sought out Ron's figure at the Gryffindor table. His eyes settled on the readhead, who was oblivious to Draco's attention as he picked up a sausage link from his plate. Draco watched, enraptured, as Ron opened his mouth around the end of the sausage and started sucking, lips glistening and cheeks hollowing slightly.

Draco felt his own mouth go dry, and his jaw dropped when Ron's white teeth bit into the meat and his tongue slid out to lick his lips. Then Draco was transfixed by the sight of five fingers disappearing within Ron's mouth as he licked the grease off of them one by one. He wasn't even aware of his own stupefication until the glint of Ron's feral smile brought him out of his fanta--um, observations. His eyes shot up to meet Ron's, and when the Gryffindor quirked an eyebrow and signaled for Draco to close his mouth, Draco's teeth snapped together with an audible click, and his eyes widened almost comically.

Oh, fuck. So much for all his careful composure and invincibility.

Draco fled the Great Hall the moment breakfast ended, and he spent the subsequent hour formulating a plan and reinforcing his "courage." All right, so he'd actually gotten a little sloshed, but he rationalized that it was okay because it helped clear his mind. And when his mind was clearer, he realized that he was tired of running scared. He'd been letting Weasley have too much leverage, allowing the Gryffindor to make all the first moves. Well, he'd had enough. Weasley was about to find out the kind of stuff a real Malfoy was made of!

Thus, when Draco swept into the Great Hall to meet Ron, running only five minutes late and walking in a nearly straight line, he was not the same embarassed and unsure Draco Malfoy who Ron had made blush crimson at breakfast. He was prepared for anything, though he was also a bit disappointed that his grand entrance had gone virtually unnoticed.

Draco stumbled to a halt right behind Ron, wondering why the stones were rough and uneven enough that he, the graceful Draco Malfoy, had tripped so ungainfully. After a few moments of waiting for Ron to notice him and turn around, the Slytherin cleared his throat impatiently. Ron actually had the audacity to hold up one finger to signal Draco to wait until he'd finished his conversation, and then he finally wrapped up things and turned his attention to the affronted blonde.

Upon turning, Ron's gaze immediately roved down the length of Draco's body, taking in royal blue robes and black shoes. His gaze wandered back up to Draco's impeccably-styled hair and rather flushed cheeks. After the uncomfortable inspection, Draco had the distinct impression that Weasley was undressing him with his eyes. How creepy.

"Hey, Malfoy. Lookin' good. Planning to go somewhere?" Ron finally spoke.

At that point, Draco discovered just how difficult it was to look down his aristocratic nose at someone five inches taller than he was, so he settled for a sneer. "Hogsmeade ring a bell, Weasel?"

Ron clicked his tongue and shook his head in disapproval. "Now what did I tell you about calling me that?" When Draco stubbornly refused to answer, Ron shot him a reproachful look. "If you'd stuck around for even thirty seconds last night, you'd know that you got all dressed up for nothing. You're not going to need those fancy clothes for what I have planned."

Draco couldn't even formulate a reply to that, so he just stared blankly at Ron. "Huh?" he blurted unthinkingly. His brain tended to slow down a bit when he had been drinking.

"Well, before you ran off yelling something about Snape and wet dreams, I planned to tell you that we're not going to Hogsmeade today. You and I are going to stay right here," Ron said, voice lowering suggestively. He leaned in close to whisper in the stunned blonde's ear. "We're staying on the school grounds where we'll have plenty of privacy."

Draco's first instinct was to run screaming from the room. But no, he'd promised himself not to let Ron's behavior faze him, so it was time to go on the offensive. Instead of pulling back like his sense of proprienty and gag reflex dictated, Draco stood his ground.

"You know what I can't figure out?" he murmured. "I want to know where you possibly got the money to pay for me, what with your entire family being financially challenged and all that. I can't imagine anyone paying more than 100 galleons for her, but since I haven't seen her around lately, did you happen to sell that little sister of yours?" Draco waited for Ron to explode, innately pleased with his wit as well as his virtually un-slurred delivery.

Instead, Ron cocked an eyebrow at Draco's insult, the corners of his mouth lifting in a barely-suppressed smile. "My, my, Malfoy! What a big mouth you have. Big hands and feet, too," Ron said, eyes roving over Draco's body and settling on a certain area just below the waist. "I can't even begin to imagine the size of your...trust fund," he finished after a perfectly timed pause, his amused eyes meeting Draco's shocked ones.

Draco was just drunk enough to find Ron's suggestive comment amusing. He tittered slightly, and when Ron started looking the startled role for once, Draco only laughed harder. His mirth was short-lived, however, since he discovered that laughing with such gusto was wreaking havoc on his stomach. It churned uneasily, and Draco quickly straightened up, looking a bit green.

Ron recovered from his momentary surprise, taking in the blonde's sickly disposition. "What's wrong with you, Malfoy? Are you...drunk?"

"Nope. I'm perfectly sober," Draco lied with a straight face and only the slightest hint of a slur.

Ron arched an eyebrow skeptically. "Uh-huh." Then his look turned calculating. "Drinking doesn't happen to make you lose your inhibitions, does it?"

His question went unanswered, though, because Draco wasn't paying him any mind. His gaze was focused over Ron's left shoulder, watching longingly as a group of students departed for Hogsmeade. He could hear one of the Masters demanding that his servant (his girlfriend, conveniently) "relax and have fun." Now why couldn't he have been bought like someone like that? Instead, he had Weasley to put up with all day. Oh, joy.

"It's karma, coming back to kick you in the arse."

Draco jumped at Ron's voice, which was raised to catch Draco's wandering attention. "What?"

"The little self-pitying look that says you're wondering why you got stuck with me. You're getting payback for the way you've treated my friends and me from day one. Karma," Ron concluded.

Draco scowled, then winced as his stomach rolled uncomfortably. Ron gave him another funny look and seemed on the verge of commenting before a voice interrupted him.

"Ron, I need to talk to you for a minute," Harry said, seemingly in a hurry.

"Okay," Ron replied. He turned to Draco. "First order of the day, slave. Go over and wait by that wall," he said, gesturing vaguely.

Draco sniffed haughtily and shot Harry a condescending glance before walking to the designated spot. He might have put up an argument, but he was pretty sure that if he fought less now Weasley might give him some slack later. Besides, he could read lips and body language pretty well.

Unfortunately, Harry and Ron had their backs turned to him, so that ruled out reading lips.

No fair, Draco thought, pouting. Still, he kept a close watch, and Harry's body language made it plain that he was incredibly anxious about something. That something was most likely his day of servitude with one very surly Potions Master. Harry kept shifting his stance from foot to foot and twisting his hands nervously when he wasn't running them through his messy hair.

It was actually kind of unsettling to see Precious Potty so unnerved; it made Draco doubly uncomfortable about what Ron might have planned for him. Of course, he'd never admit that to anyone. And there was no way he was going to feel any sympathy whatsoever for Potter, of all people.

A few minutes later, Ron came over to retrieve Draco as Harry left the Great Hall at a run. Strangely enough, Ron had a small grin on his face.

"Why, Weasley! I'm shocked at you. Shouldn't you be concerned at your poor best friend's plight? The way he flew out of here, Snape must already be running him ragged. If that keeps up, he might not even be able to walk right by the end of today."

This, at least, Draco could do. Making fun of Potter was kind of his forte, after all. But when Ron burst out laughing, Draco was at a loss again.

"Oh, I have a feeling Harry will give as good as he gets," Ron chuckled. "He'll be...on top of things, so to speak."

Draco stared in disbelief as Ron dissolved into a fit of raucous laughter, his mind going to mad work to decipher what Ron meant. But the wicked glint of Ron's eyes, the verbal innuendo, Harry's excitement (not anxiety as he'd previously thought). It was all starting to come together.

"No bloody way," Draco breathed.

"What, you're surprised, Malfoy?" Ron asked, still amused. "Awww...all your illusions of Harry having to suffer through a terrible day of taking Snape's evil orders are shattered. Not that I'm saying no orders will be involved, maybe a bit of BDSM," Ron added gleefully, enjoying the sickened look on Draco's face until...

Draco made a strangled sound and bent forward, throwing up right on Ron's shoes.

Ron stared down in horror. "What the hell?"

"I believe it's called karma," Draco croaked.

TBC...