Disclaimer: Really not bringing my A-game to fic writing these days for some unknown reason. So you know.

A Cunning Slytherin

It was at the end of Daphne's girlhood that her thoughts began to turn to romance and other such things. Coincidentally, it was exactly the same time that Harry Potter slipped up and revealed himself to be interesting enough to get a closer look.

Her first indication that he was anything but the brainless clod he presented himself as was a failing grade on a surprise potions exam. It should not have been possible for anyone to score a zero on a five thousand multiple choice exam, not unless they knew all of the answers. Still, she reflected as her Head of House turned the most interesting shade of purple, she supposed that it was possible that the boy's massive amount of bad luck could conspire to carry out the improbable score. In any case, it elevated the boy to the ranks of someone to watch. A number of other small incidents combined to make her almost sure that the boy was more than he appeared to be, still, she had a niggling sense of doubt until she saw him step into an alcove to down the contents of a mysterious vial before another potions class. As unobtrusively as she could, she collected the discarded container and gave it a whiff. It appeared to be a broad spectrum antidote, something that could be useful to have on hand, almost definitely would be considering their Professor, but not something she'd observed the boy do before. This bore closer investigation.

Her confusion turned to understanding when she saw what they would be brewing in that class period. A fairly useless potion, one meant to deal with the effects of halitosis, something many of her housemates were in dire need of, but also one that would turn to a deadly poison if one step were done wrong. Death was unlikely at Hogwarts, not with the quality of the school's medwitch. Recovery, however, would be anything but pleasant.

Her smile deepened when the Professor singled out the target of her growing ardor to sample the clumsiest Gryffindor's attempts. The man's sallow face turned purple when Potter downed the potent poison and nothing happened.

Snape's own disbelieving sampling of Longbottom's latest disaster did not end nearly as well for him, but thanks to the school's excellent medwitch he was able to breath without screaming in just a few short hours.

The boy had brains, courage, a bit of deviousness, and was rumored to have copious amounts of luck. Obstacles to overcome were the fact that Slytherin was unlikely to approve, that her family was unlikely to approve, and most importantly that judging by the rags he choose to wear under his robes, he was hopelessly impoverished. The first two were easy enough to surmount, the Slytherins were all either moronic or apathetic. To be quite frank, if she could not figure out a way to redirect their simple minds then she deserved all the difficulties they would put her through. Her family, save her sister, was no great loss. If she could not outwit them, they could be cast off and she would shed not so much as a single tear for their absence in her life. Nor was, when she considered the matter, the boy's impoverished state. Money was easy enough to acquire once one had procured the seed, the problem was getting that seed.

Her mind made up, she set about snaring the boy for herself, something she was sure would be no great hardship. Artists would sell their souls for the chance to immortalize her wondrous body in marble, painters would give their lives to put it on canvass, and poets would go mad trying to find the words to describe her exquisite form. What could a mere boy do in the face of such perfection given flesh?

As it turned out, not a lot after she managed to convince him that her interest was not part of some inept attempt on his life. Poor boy was so paranoid... Her nose wrinkled. She supposed she was going to
have to think up another word to describe his state of mind. Perfect awareness maybe? As it wasn't paranoia if they really were out to get you, after all.

As she'd predicted, her housemates were less than pleased by who she chose to romance. Thus the necessity of her plan to redirect their attention to someone else.

"Everyone listen up!" Draco squealed. "It seems that one of our own has been disappearing into broom closets with a Gryff, and not just any Gryff, but Potty himself." Draco's habitual sneer deepened. "Anything to say for yourself, Greengrass?"

"Draco, I thought you were smarter than that, I really did," Daphne said with a sultry smile, "but I guess I was wrong about you. Pity." With a sniff, she turned and began walking away. It was possible they'd let her go without comment, but she rather thought it unlikely. In terms of subtlety she'd just done the equivalent of bashing the clod on the head with a rather large hammer, but of course there was always the possibility that she'd overestimated his intelligence, something that seemed more and more likely the further she got from him.

"What do you mean by that?" Draco demanded. It had only taken him three times longer than she'd thought it would. Looked like she'd have to make a few modifications to her plans to take that into account.

"With me, you have, ahem, Slytherin has a girl in the enemy camp, one perfectly placed to pump Potter for information, one with a certain amount of influence thanks to the positions he has me take while he's pumping me."

"So?" Draco asked, the innuendo sailing right over his head.

"So we use that influence to trick Potter into allowing you a chance to publicly show your superiority. A chance to rub his face in the fact that as a half blood, he can, at best be half the man you are. A chance to rip from his grasp the last two knuts he has to his name." She was getting turned on by the thought of destroying someone's life. Best to be away from the fool as fast as possible for a bit of quality time with her new boyfriend.

"I'll bet Potter that I can do something better than he can?" Draco asked uncertainly, trying and mostly failing to grasp what the girl was trying to explain.

"Brilliant plan," Daphne agreed, "I especially like the way you'll lose the first couple times on purpose to lull him into a false sense of security before suggesting a larger bet which will wipe out his meager savings." She liked the fact that her Harry would soon have the funds to keep her in style even more. "How about dueling?" The opportunity to watch the smarmy bastard get stomped into the ground multiple times was too good to pass up. Not to mention the gold she could make by selling seats to watch. Visions of stupendously large piles of gold danced through the girl's head.

"No, no I think I've rubbed Potter's face in the fact that I've more magical power in my pinky than he has in his body so many times that he's not going to be daft enough accept any challenge in that area," Draco said regretfully, dashing the girl's dreams and jerking her back into cold cruel reality.

"Hwuuh?" She stared at him in frank astonishment, he appeared to believe what he was saying. It seemed that she'd overestimated his intelligence by at least several orders of magnitude and underestimated his capacity for self delusion by a similar margin. Perhaps Harry was right about the dangers of inbreeding? If that were the case, it was quite fortunate that their closest common ancestor was fifteen generations back and that that the Potter family had taken a disproportionate amount of muggle brides.

"Half the blood means half the sense, remember," Draco explained with a sigh, "even if he is a half wit, he won't fall for that. We'll need something I have yet to beat him at multiple times, which counts out academics and athletic ability as well. Hmmm, even someone with my towering intellect will have trouble thinking of a suitable challenge."

"What about a foot race?" she asked. Daphne took a half step back, more than a bit afraid that the boy's stupidity could turn out to be contagious, no way it could be natural, not even with all the inbreeding that had gone into producing the nadir of the Malfoy line that stood before her.

"What, without magic?" Draco asked in horror. "Like muggles do?!"

"Only while you're lulling him into a false sense of security. Then you'll take a potion of speed and that will be that." She took another step back, just to be safe.

"Yes," Draco agreed, calming down. "It's to be expected that he'll do better at a purely muggle activity. As if any wizard would ever wish to have skill at something so common," he sneered.

"Thus by defeating him, you'll prove once and for all that magic is superior to the unthinkable alternative," Daphne agreed, wondering how the boy remembered to breathe. It must be a great strain on the few brain cells he had rattling around his skull. "Brilliant plan."

"I thought so," Draco agreed, "do you think you can get Potter to agree to it? It's why I told you to get close to him after all."

"I'll try," Daphne promised. She was more than a bit disgusted by how easy everything had been. House of the cunning her perfectly formed ass! Perhaps she needed to have a little chat with the sorting hat to discuss how annoyed she'd become about its lumping her in with the wizarding world's most idiotic. Now if she could only remember where she'd seen that spell to summon fabric eating moths.

"Do whatever you have to do in order to trap him," Draco said firmly. "Anything."

"I'll see what I can do to him tonight," Daphne promised eagerly. This was going to be fun. "You keep the Professors and the Prefects away from the Astronomy tower so I can have a bit of private time to privately enjoy the next part of the plan."

"All of Slytherin understands the sacrifice you're making, Greengrass," Draco assured the girl solemnly, "and I won't forget that house Malfoy owes you a favor."

"A very large one which I intend to call in very soon," Daphne agreed. "In the meantime, I have work to do."

And she did, three times before she worked up the nerve to let Harry in on her cunning plan. Surprisingly, it was much more difficult to convince the boy to go along than she'd thought it would be.

"Harry, darling, I'm sorry but I thought you'd jump at the chance to publicly impoverish and humiliate Malfoy and . . . and you're just being stubborn so I have to think up something inventive to convince you," she accused.

"Yup," he agreed happily.

"You do know that it isn't necessary to do that, don't you?" she asked.

"More fun though," Harry pointed out.

"True," she agreed. A wicked grin appeared on her face, it really did get her motor running. "Why don't I demonstrate my next argument?"

It was a rather tired Harry and Daphne that left the Astronomy tower later that night. That lateness meant they discovered something that was more than a bit horizon broadening due to a tricky bit of timing and an unusual route taken past one of the many unused classrooms in the castle.

"I'll do anything to improve my grades, Professor, anything," Hermione's faint voice could be heard through the door.

"T-take off my clothes?" the girl stammered. "Oh, Professor, what are you doing? Don't . . . stop . . . erg . . . "

Harry's eyes narrowed in rage and an wave of accidental magic pulverized two inches of steel reinforced oak.

"Whatuuuuu . . ." A bit of drool leaked out of the corner of Harry's mouth.

Luna was dressed in a professor's robe, hiked up around her hips, and sitting behind her desk while a corseted Hermione knelt and . . .

"Do you mind?" Luna asked with a sniff.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, his eyes locked on the scene, doing his very best to burn it into memory.

"Don't mind us," Daphne agreed.

"You're not annoyed by the fact that I can't look away?" Harry asked.

"I'm straight as an arrow and that turns me on," Daphne mumbled.

"Mumph?" Hermione muttered from her place between Luna's thighs.

"I have a thing about coercion," Daphne admitted. Power was never sexier than when it was used to force your will on another. The very thought of it made her glad they were in an old teacher's lounge with a very soft couch nearby. Perhaps they could have a bit of role play of their own?

"I'll have to remember that," Harry said, making a mental note to ask Luna for pointers and costume ideas.

"Can we discuss this later?" Luna sighed. "All these distractions are putting her off her technique."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled.

One more round turned into two, which in turn led to three, and finally a night without a wink of sleep. Several eyes noted the newly public couple as they stumbled into the Great Hall for breakfast, some of them less understanding than the Slytherins had been. On the plus side, they did manage to contain themselves till they were back within the relatively private confines of the Gryffindor boy's dorms. The conversation that was to follow was probably best not held in public.

"How could you, Harry?" Ron sobbed.

"Did you think we wouldn't find out?" Dean added, looking disappointed.

"Find out what?" Harry replied.

"That you're dating a Slytherin!" Ron spat. "How could you turn traitor like that?" he demanded.

"A Slytherin with perfect tits," Hermione pointed out.

Each one of the boys lost themselves in their happy place for a few moments. Pert, well formed, and perky, were only some of the many attributes possessed by Daphne Greengrass' fantastic breasts.

"True . . . there's gotta be an exception for perfect tits," Ron allowed.

"I don't want to live in a world where there isn't," Dean agreed, a bit of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth.

"Say, could you do me a small favor, Harry?" Ron asked hopefully.

"What?" Harry asked suspiciously. Those tits were his and he'd die before he agreed to share them with anybody.

Ron leaned in and whispered something into his best friend's ear.

"Set you up with Bullstrode?" Harry asked in astonishment.

"They may not be perfect, but they're the size of my head," Ron said happily. "There's got to be an exception for that too, eh?"

"Must be," Dean agreed. "Speaking of that . . . uh . . . Harry . . ."

"Who?" Harry sighed.

"Well, her tits may be average but I bet you could bounce a sickle off Pansy's ass. If there's an exception for perfect tits, there's gotta be one for a cracking ass too!" Dean said, a light of almost religious fervor shining from his eyes.

"That has to be the most beautiful thing I've ever heard you say, mate," Seamus said, wiping a tear from his eye.

The first two races went as expected, Harry easily emerged victorious over Draco in both the hundred meter dash and the two hundred meter dash. The only downside that the boy could see was that he could no longer state with complete confidence that the Dursleys were complete useless lumps of flesh, not after all the time Dudley had helped him train.

The third match was where things began to get interesting for the rest of the school as Malfoy prepared to show them all that inbreeding and idiocy were most always trumped by cunning and a complete disregard for all but the letter of the law.

Draco grinned as he felt the potion of speed in his pocket which would permit him to double any pace Potter was able to run. The boy eyed the broom in his competitor's hand. Hadn't they remembered to forbid the use of brooms in their athletic contests? Unfortunately for the scion of the Malfoy family, they hadn't, leaving Harry an easy win and the Malfoy fortune reduced by almost one third. But that was okay, Draco had a new plan, to bet double or nothing and to word the rules in such a way that it was impossible for him to lose.

The plan began to fall apart after Harry refused a rematch. It was both a ploy to get a bit more fun time with his girlfriend and for the aforementioned girlfriend to wring more concessions from the somewhat less wealthy Malfoy family.

Daphne stepped out of the negotiating closet, something that normally played host to cleaning supplies and amorous students, and daintily wiped the corner of her mouth with a silk handkerchief.

"Well?" Draco demanded.

"We're having a short break while he recovers," Daphne replied with a wide grin. "He came on hard as soon as the meeting started, insisting on giving me the point right off. But I think that after a bit of quick thinking and quicker lip work, I was able to soften him up a bit."

"Need I remind you how important this is to the Malfoy family?" Draco asked through clenched teeth.

"Need I remind you that this is your plan that got us into this mess?" Daphne replied. "Your ass isn't the only one on the line here."

"May I ask what you mean by that?" Draco growled.

"I mean that you're not the one who's getting every inch of Potter's shaft shoved up your perfectly pert behind if this plan fails," Daphne retorted hotly.

"You weren't kidding when you said your ass was on the line," Pansy giggled. Perhaps she should make a side bet with her new Gryffindor boyfriend too? He was always giving her compliments about her wonderful bottom.

"I never joke about my ass," Daphne replied immediately. One did not joke about perfection.

After several exhausting rounds of negotiation, Daphne managed to persuade Harry to concede to every one of Draco's many demands and in return, Draco had agreed to every one of his. Daphne's only regret was that the twit was likely too unintelligent to ever figure just how badly he'd been outmaneuvered. At least three quarters of the fun of outwitting someone you didn't intend to murder was watching them realize that they were naught but a puppet, dancing on your string. The thought was one Daphne would have whole heartedly agreed with, had he voiced it and had she been in one of her rare moods to listen to a word he said.

The next, and final race, started at the edge of Hogsmead before a large crowd comprised of students, staff, family, and residents. They were all there to watch Draco wager a third of the Malfoy fortune in an attempt to regain the third he'd already lost. Though, if Daphne had her way, he'd be losing it all and a great deal more besides.

Harry's girlfriend strode to the front of the crowd and raised her voice to explain the rules of the contest of speed and wit.

"The goal is to bring an arctic cloud blossom back to this point," Daphne announced. "The closest place they're known to grow is at the peaks of the highest mountains. Allowable are any potions created by the contestants so long as that contestant is Draco Malfoy and so long as the aforementioned potions are used by Draco Malfoy. Not allowable are brooms or any other forms of magical transport or any magic use by Harry Potter. Harry Potter has agreed to give Draco Malfoy a head start. Draco Malfoy has, in turn agreed to pay Harry Potter one galleon and to allow him one kick for every foot of lead given. Questions?" She eyed the two contestants.

"Starting where?" Harry asked.

"Starting at this line. Every foot Draco takes past this line will count as lead until you yourself cross it," Daphne replied. "Take your marks, get set . . . GO!"

Draco was off like a shot, gaining more and more lead on his foe.

"Was there something else, Harry?" Daphne asked.

"I had a couple more questions," Harry admitted.

"Go ahead."

"What if I never started the race, what if I just stood here and allowed Draco to run out and run back?"

"He would owe you a lot of money, but you would still lose," Daphne said, reading from the script they'd written when they'd planned the scenario the week before.

"Hate losing to that ponce, even if I'd get a lot of money not covered by our bet," Harry admitted. "What if I were to win the race right now, would he still have to pay me a lot of money?"

"So long as you didn't use magical means to get the flower," she agreed. "Then he would have to pay for every step he takes from the time he crossed that line to the time he returns to cross it again."

"Hold that thought," Harry asked. He walked into the nearest shop and emerged a few minutes later with the blossom he needed to win the race. "Gold isn't considered magic, is it?"

"It is not," Daphne agreed, licking her lips. "Looks like you win."

"Good thing the apothecary had what I needed," Harry replied.

"Good thing you ordered it last week to make sure they would," Daphne giggled.

"And called on them earlier today to make sure," Harry agreed. "Now I believe there was a little matter regarding a side bet?" He wagged his eyebrows enticingly.

Draco returned two days later to learn that he had lost and that the Malfoy fortune was just large enough to cover the debts he'd accrued so long as he was willing to sell the estate and discontinue the payments his father was making to a number of politicians for some unknown reason.

That made him unhappy, but not half as unhappy as when he learned just how much of a beating he was to receive at the hands, or rather, steel capped boots of a grinning Harry Potter. Learning that Pansy was now dating one of his arch nemesis's dorm mates was salt in the open wound.

"Aren't there easier ways to trick the Slytherins into leaving you alone for dating Harry?" Hermione asked, watching her best friend administer Draco's punishment.

"Easier? Yes, most definitely," Daphne agreed as Harry delivered another savage kick to Draco's groin. "More satisfying? Not on your life."

"One hundred down, five million five hundred and twenty thousand to go," Harry said cheerfully.

"Merlin, no," Draco squeaked.

"Problem is, my legs are getting tired and I'm not sure I could keep going for much longer," Harry sighed.

"Really?" Draco perked up.

"Who wants to buy a kick?!" Harry bellowed. "I'll auction the rest off one by one. I'm sure there are enough left that everyone can have a try."

"I bid five hundred galleons for the first five!" Pansy bellowed, pleased both that she'd had the foresight to buy a set of heavy steel toed boots for herself and that she was going to get a chance to break them in.

"We bid three hundred for the next ten," Goyle offered after a brief conversation with his partner.

"Two hundred for the fifteen after that, but only if I get to polyjuice him to look like you!" Snape bellowed. "Take it or lose a thousand points you insufferable brat!"

And, aside from the Malfoy family which ended up in debtor's prison, they all lived happily ever after.

The End

AN: Put in the scene with Luna in Hermione so this story would have a subplot . . . get it, subplot?

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