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Harry Potter was staring out of the window during Transfiguration. He'd done that a lot since Voldemort had died.
"Excuse me Professor McGonagall"
"Yes, Mr Potter?"
"What happens if we fail our NEWTS? Can we take them again?"
"Any student who achieves less than 'Acceptable' may re-take that NEWT at the Ministry in September, Potter. But I see no reason why you should not achieve an 'Acceptable' in Transfiguration, at least - if you pay attention now. As I was saying..."
. _ . _ .
"Harry! You can't do this!"
"If I want to blow off my NEWTs and have fun for the next six weeks it is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS Hermione Granger! McGonagall said I could do them later at the Ministry! I'll spend the holidays studying, but I am going to ENJOY this time with my friends."
"Your friends will all be studying!"
"Well - there must be someone who'll play with me. All I want to do for the next six weeks is drink butterbeer, bask in the sunshine - and maybe fool around a little with a fuck-buddy."
Hermione gasped as if Harry had dropped her in the lake. Then she pursed her lips, picked up her books and stomped off towards the library. Harry realised that all movement in the Gryffindor common room had come to a stop. Every pair of eyes was staring at him. Perhaps he shouldn't have said that in the middle of the common room? Oh what the hell: in for a penny in for a pound! He grinned.
"Applications for the position of fuck-buddy will close on Friday at 5 pm" he said, raising one suggestive eyebrow in the direction of Lavender and Parvati. Then he lazily rose from the couch and headed for the owlery. He thought he might ask Fred and George to send him something amusing. Those were a couple of boys who knew how to have fun!
. _ . _ .
The next morning brought Harry quite a lot of owl post. He slit open the first letter and blushed, then hastily shovelled all the rest of the letters into a pile, wrapping the Daily Prophet loosely around the whole lot to contain and conceal them. It seemed that at least a few of the ladies in the Gryffindor common room that day had taken him seriously!
That night he looked at the 'applications' in more detail. Lavender's was quite... graphic. He shook his head wonderingly.
The next morning brought more mail. It appeared that news had spread to Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. And girls were not the only ones interested. When Harry showed Ron the one from Justin Finch-Fletchly, he thought that Ron was going to explode, although whether from laughter or horror he couldn't quite tell.
Thursday's mail brought the first application from Slytherin. Harry thought he might never be able to look Pansy Parkinson in the eye again. In fact, he became so flustered when he had to work with her in Potions that he exploded their cauldron, and Snape gave him detention for that evening.
"And don't think, Mr Potter, " he hissed "that I am going to endorse this ridiculous scheme of yours to take your NEWTs in September! If you fail your Potions NEWT I will PERSONALLY tutor you every day during the school holidays! And that's a PROMISE, Mr Potter."
Harry decided that perhaps he should pass his Potions NEWT. Unfortunately Hermione was still furious with him and was not likely to help him study.
. _ . _ .
Detention was served with Filch - and Draco Malfoy.
"What did you do to piss off Snape?" asked Harry, curiously, as they polished brass doorknobs from one end of the dungeon to the other. "Aren't you usually his fair-haired boy?"
Malfoy tossed his platinum locks carelessly. "That was when Snape was a spy, remember? When my Dad was supposed to be his best friend?"
"Um." Harry hadn't really been paying attention to anything much since that had changed. "Yeah. Sorry."
Malfoy actually smiled at him. The simmering anger which had always been the base of his personality, as far as Harry could tell, seemed to have evaporated recently.
"So tell me, what's this rumour about you seeking a fuck-toy, Potter?"
Harry choked and swung around, but he could see by the amused glint in his eyes that Malfoy was teasing him.
"A fuck-buddy, Malfoy. Geez. It was a joke that got out of control. Can you believe I've had 84 applications - most of them 3rd years!"
Draco snorted. "So you're not really seeking a fuck-buddy for the rest of term? Pansy's going to be so sad."
Harry laughed, and so did Malfoy, who sounded as if he had been holding in his laughter for a while.
"Well. I was just ...thinking aloud. To the wrong person in the wrong place. I mean, it would be nice, but all I really want is someone with body heat and a sense of humour, you know? And a Potions tutor, come to think of it. Snape says he's going to tutor me personally all holidays if I fail the Potions NEWT, and I just know that all the adults in my life will think that's a wonderful idea!"
Filch came around the corner, as somewhere a clock struck midnight.
"Won't Granger tutor you?" Malfoy hissed under his breath.
"No! She's too mad with me about the whole fuck-buddy thing."
“When all you really want is someone with body-heat, a sense of humour and potion skills, right?”
Both boys started to snicker again.
"Get up!" roared Filch. "Put the cleaning gear back, Potter, and you can both go."
Harry started to gather up the rags and polish. He was surprised to find that Malfoy was still standing right behind him when he stood back up. He jumped a little, green eyes wide and startled.
Malfoy's trademark smirk, surprisingly free of malice, spread across his face as he leaned in even closer. Harry could feel warm coffee-scented breath on his cheek as Malfoy muttered. "I have a wicked sense of humour, Harry... and I have been told that I’m hot!" He winked as he walked away.
Harry stared after him, not sure whether to laugh or not.
. _ . _ .
The next morning, among the final (Harry hoped) batch of applications was a single sheet of paper. Hand-written in the middle was one sentence: And I am good with Potions, too! Harry chortled, and glanced over at Malfoy, who was eating his toast at the Slytherin table. One eyebrow quirked as he grinned back before returning to his conversation with Zabini.
Harry had one last surprise application. In the middle of his bed that night was a black envelope. As he read what was in it, he started to laugh so hard that he thought he was going to choke, falling off his bed and moaning hysterically on the floor. The rest of the dormitory rushed over to find out what was going on, but all he could gasp was, "S...nape!"
Seamus picked up the application which Harry had dropped. The attached photo of Snape was quite explicit and obviously manipulated. It was not so much the leather straps and chains adorning the taut body that gave it away as the incongruous pink fluffy slippers on Snape’s feet.
"Dear Mr Potter - or may I call you Harry," read Seamus aloud, "Since we are going to be spending the summer together I thought we might enjoy ourselves a little this term. I understand you are seeking a fuck-buddy..."
Harry began to choke again.
"S-snape?" Neville's eyes were wide with horror. Seamus was still reading, and Dean was shamelessly ogling the photo. Ron's face, like Neville's had lost all colour.
"Mal..Malfoy!" Harry finally managed to say, gasping as he rose to flop bonelessly onto his bed. "Malfoy sent it as a joke!"
Colour flooded back into Neville's face as he sank down on the bed beside Harry. Ron, too, looked dizzy, but furious. "How do you know it was Malfoy?" he asked.
"We were talking about stuff during detention last night. It's definitely Malfoy."
Ron was still angry. "What do you mean? What did you talk about?"
"Well... I told him that I was going to have to pass Potions because Snape was threatening to tutor me over the holidays, and we talked about how this whole fuck-buddy thing was a joke that got out of hand. It's him, Ron. Don't fuss."
Seamus and Dean were laughing, now, and even Neville began to laugh, a little shakily. Ron wasn't going to lighten up though, Harry could tell. Perhaps he could be distracted.
"Shall we sort through the applications, guys? This should be all." He fished them all out of the box into which he had thrown them. "What am I going to do with them?"
Dean picked up one from a third year which was a lot more pornographic than Harry felt a fourteen-year-old should be. "Can I keep this one?" he asked.
Neville started to read it over his shoulder and gasped. "Harry - are they all like this?"
"Pretty much."
"Harry - you could get in real trouble over this!"
"You're beginning to sound like Hermione, Neville."
"No I mean it! What if the Daily Prophet found out that you were assessing fourteen-year-old fuck-buddies?"
Harry went cold. Suddenly he could see Neville's point.
"Shit! You're right! OK - Lets put all the applications from anyone under 16 in this pile!" Hastily they sorted through the envelopes.
Ron waved Malfoy's sheet in the air, "Hey we don't know how old this one is. Is it even an application?"
Harry glanced up "Oh, that's Malfoy, too. Put it with the over-16s."
Ron gave him a look that said that this topic was not finalised but kept sorting.
When they had finished, Harry incinerated the under-16s pile. He felt a lot calmer with the evidence destroyed.
"Do you think I should apologise or something?" he asked his friends.
Seamus shook his head, "They sent them to you!" he said.
Ron just looked at him blankly "I'm in over my head. We need Hermione!"
Unfortunately, Harry had to agree.
The only girl still in the common room was a 1st-year whose name Harry didn't know. He felt incredibly awkward as he approached her.
"Um - could you please pass a message on to Hermione Granger for me?" he asked.
The girl looked at him and blushed. He immediately blushed too, even more embarrassed when he realised that she was probably thinking something about him and fuck-buddys. "Could you... could you just tell her that she was right and I need to see her. Tell her I apologise?"
The girl nodded and ran upstairs straight away. Harry stood there in the common room feeling like a complete prat. 'Fair enough', he thought, 'I am a prat!'
Hermione came down in only a few minutes. It was obvious she had been studying and Harry could tell she was ready to accept an apology - if it was good.
Harry looked directly in her eyes and said it: "I am a complete prat. And I am in so much shit I don't even know what to do!"
Her face twitched. "How many offers did you get?" she asked in a neutral tone.
Harry tried to remember. "Ummm.. 93. Not including the one from Snape. I probably shouldn't include the one from Malfoy, either - say, 92?"
She burst out laughing. "Snape? Malfoy! What the...?"
Harry didn't really know where to start. "Come up and have a look" he said, putting a pleading hand out towards her "I just don't know what to do! I burned the ones from fourth-years and under."
She shook her head, but she came with him. He could tell that she was pleased to be needed. "Burned them? Why Harry?"
He sighed and started for the stairs to the boys' dormitories. "If you'd read them you'd know. I never knew girls had such ..er... vivid imaginations!"
Hermione clearly didn’t know whether to laugh or be completely scandalised by the 16 remaining applications on Harry’s bed. Harry put Malfoy’s two contributions in his trunk before letting her see the rest. He really didn’t think Hermione could cope with Leather-boy Snape.
“Were the ones from the younger girls like this?” Hermione asked, about half-way though the pile. Unable to stand the suspense, Dean, Neville and Seamus had crept back down to the common room while she was reading.
Harry nodded. “Some of them were worse. Some had photos.”
Hermione muttered something that sounded like “Thank God you burned them”
“I think you are going to have to post a very carefully worded apology on the main notice-board” she finally decided. “It mustn’t say too much, in case it gets into the Daily Prophet” Harry shuddered “But it must be completely clear that this was a joke that got out of hand.”
They worked on a draft for a while until Hermione was satisfied. By then it was late and everyone else was asleep.
The final draft read:
‘I would like to apologise to anyone who has been affected by a thoughtless remark I made in the Gryffindor common room on Monday last.
This comment was intended as a foolish joke, however it was very poorly thought out and I deeply regret any ill consequences which have resulted. I have burned all correspondence received concerning this matter.
Harry Potter’
Harry was cross that he had to burn everything. He really wanted to keep the picture of Snape, but Hermione was adamant. “Daily Prophet, Harry?” So he kept Malfoy’s letter without telling her. It was completely uninformative to anyone else, anyway.
Harry didn't bother to take his cloak when he nipped down and posted the announcement on the notice-board. It was very late, and he was breaking curfew but he didn’t really think anyone would care. He sighed, looking at the small white sheet of paper. His small rebellion was over.
A voice came from the shadows. “Granger won’t let you have a fuck-toy, Potter?”
“That’s fuck-buddy, Malfoy. And no. What are you doing here anyway?”
“Just roaming the halls in search of a fuck-buddy. Can I interest you in a once-in-a-lifetime deal?”
Harry forgot to breathe for a moment. He could hear his own heartbeat echoing in his ears. Malfoy stepped closer, carefully watching his face.
“Hmmm?”
Harry opened his mouth.
He had no idea what he was going to say, but it didn’t matter, because Malfoy pounced.
. _ . _ .
Harry thought he was going to enjoy having a fuck-toy.
“That’s fuck-buddy, Potter.”
“Whatever.”
finis