The Courting Games

Chapter One: Nothing Ventured Nothing Gained

Summary: When Umbridge bans romance at Hogwarts the lovers of all houses come up with a solution.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

WARNING: The following program contains material that may not be suitable for all audiences (ie. SLASH M/M) viewer discretion is advised.

Author's Note: Greetings gentle readers and welcome to a world where magic is real and true love conquers if not all then most things! Now without further ado the story!

Harry arched an eyebrow as he read the note written on the inside of the carefully folded paper crane.

Potter,

Care to play a game?

-Draco Malfoy

It was perfectly clear to Harry that the note was not written by Draco Malfoy. It was true Malfoy had been sending him paper cranes with insulting pictures or messages for a few years now when the blond was about to expire from boredom during class. This crane however was not sent by Malfoy no matter how much someone wanted him to think it was. For one, Malfoy never signed his work. He was too smart to leave such incriminating evidence. Secondly this was not Malfoy's handwriting. Malfoy's writing was neat, precise and a tad spiky, all the flourishes and loops made it glaringly obvious someone had tried a poor forgery.

Besides all that, the note was not filled with taunting insults or doodles but was instead an invitation to initiate a courting game, complete with the Slytherin courting symbol of a crown.

Due to the Education Decree number whatever the hell number they were up to now that all but outright forbade dating on Hogwarts grounds or in Hogsmeade, the lovers in all for houses had come up with the Courting Games. The person initiating the courting asked if their love interest wanted to play, and presented their house's agreed upon symbol. For Slytherin it was the crown, for Gryffindor it was a shield, for Hufflepuff it was a cloud, and for Ravenclaw it was a star. If the love interest wanted to give dating a go they would name a game. There had been more footraces, chess matches in the library, and one-on-one quidditch matches in the last month, then Harry could ever recall. The great part about it was if Umbridge or Filch got a hold of the notes or saw the games there was nothing to indicate anything more than harmless fun was afoot. There were also codes known by the upper years and/or risk takers for games that indicated they really wanted to find a quiet place for a snog.

So the question was, who wanted him to think Malfoy was interested in courting him? It wasn't anyone in Gryffindor as Dean Thomas was well known to be an exquisite forger and could be bought for cheap, and he hadn't pissed off anyone in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw lately, in fact with the DA being so popular he was back in the other houses good graces. He also very much doubted any of the Slytherins would presume to honor him by implying he was worthy of one of their own. More likely Malfoy had pissed off someone and this was their way of getting back at him.

Harry toyed with the paper thoughtfully.

It wasn't the only invitation he'd received, even as unpopular as he'd been at the beginning of the year people still wanted to have a go at the famous Harry Potter. After his failed date with Cho he'd been forced to reconsider his taste in women so he agreed to a courting with Sally-Ann Perks, a cheery Hufflepuff, and another with Morag MacDougal a serious Ravenclaw with sultry eyes. Those had lasted barely long enough for Harry to decide that really he like girls better as friends than girlfriends. Between all the giggling and the perfume and the silliness it was worth the mild thrill of tangling tongues with them. Ron insisted he was just picky, Hermione was seriously making him question his sexuality with her leading questions and pointed hmm-ing. She'd even given him a very embarrassing book that he'd hidden at the bottom of his trunk inside the dust cover for Un-fogging the Future.

Which was why, he supposed, he was even contemplating actually answering the note. Hermione had put all these doubts in his head and now he was curious to see if she was right.

Harry chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully and watched the rain drops slide down the glass of the window. It was a grey and gloomy Thursday morning, and he was in History of Magic class, if that wasn't the perfect setting for crazed day dreaming and random conjecture Harry didn't know what was. Harry read the note again.

Draco Malfoy was widely regarded by the female population of Hogwarts to be extremely handsome. Almost as handsome as Cedric Diggory had been, in fact. Though with Diggory it was more of a wholesome golden boy handsome than the icy aristocratic beauty Malfoy sported. Harry did have to admit that the annoying Slytherin did have nice hair, and was quite fit despite being slender as a reed but his face was also very pointed, like a ferret's, and all he ever did was sneer or scowl. Still, if a git like Malfoy could attract so much female attention he had to be good-looking and if Hermione was right about him and he did fancy blokes, despite the fact that he'd seen plenty of them and never thought of a single one in terms of his physical attractiveness, it stood to reason he could be wooed into being attracted to Malfoy.

Now what game should he suggest?

Harry froze the crinkled bit of paper that held the proposition fluttering the few inches from his nerveless fingers to the desk.

He was very seriously considering courting with Draco Malfoy. A bloke that he didn't even like and whose face he frequently wanted to pound in. Lucius Bloody Malfoy's son! Besides which just because he didn't, as Hogwarts' melodramatic gossip mongers always declared, hate Malfoy did not mean that he didn't think the blond was a complete and utter asshole.

"There you go Mione I'm not gay I'm just masochistic," he muttered under his breath.

Hermione looked up at him from where she was busily filling a page in her notebook with lots of very small cramped writing.

"Are you alright Harry? You've gone quite pale, was it, you know?" she whispered indicating her forehead with the end of her quill and looking concerned.

"It's nothing Mione, just remembered Snape's essay is due tomorrow and I haven't finished," he lied smiling tightly at his friend in what he hoped was a soothingly chagrined manner.

"Oh, honestly," she tsked disgustedly turning back to her notes.

Truth be told Harry was actually finished Snape's essay. He'd used a good many of his sleepless nights to make headway into his homework and was gratified to see that his marks were improving, even in potions. Snape had granted him a full one-percent higher grade on his last four written assignments and hadn't declared his practical work unfit for bottling in a good week.

Harry saved up all the hassle he could muster for Umbridge's classes. His hand twitched in remembered pain. His last set of antics had earned him the detention that made the words 'I must not tell lies' a permanent fixture on the back of his hand. When he realized the words were going to scar and scar badly he'd taken care to write neatly and really it didn't look too bad all things considered.

It was tempting to rationalize his musings about Malfoy by insisting that it would be the ultimate way to stick it to the stuck-up and no doubt homophobic toad without her being able to punish him, but while that certainly was an appealing secondary component, it wasn't the whole truth. The whole truth was Harry had gotten an idea in his head and now he wanted to put it in to action, even though the idea was crazy and the action was bound to get him rejected and humiliated.

He wasn't even sure Malfoy was gay. After all sexuality was not, contrary to popular belief, dependant on how long you spent in front of a mirror.

Seamus for example was about as straight as Hermione's hair and he often walked around with singed eyebrows, an untucked shirt and a crooked tie. Seamus was very open about his conquests and if even half of his stories were true he ran through lovers like normal people ran through socks. Hermione was convinced this was because he liked Dean but couldn't have him. It wasn't even fodder for gossip anymore, just an inter-house betting pool.

Malfoy had never displayed his preferences either way, only a blind idiot would think he was actually interested in his supposed girlfriend Pansy Parkinson, but the rumor mill had never caught wind of any of his affairs one way or another. Harry should know, he was a big believer in know thy enemy and Parvati and Lavender were under strict orders to keep him in the loop on any Malfoy related gossip.

So there was a fifty-fifty chance that Malfoy was even attracted to blokes. Harry considered it carefully. He thought he could live with those odds. It was a well known fact after all that when gambling while you sometimes lost spectacularly sometimes you also hit the jackpot, that was why people kept at it.

"Such a masochist," he mumbled to himself shaking his head even as he pulled out a square of parchment and began composing a reply.

If he wrote in block letters and worded it very carefully even if Malfoy did decide to make the note public, an unwise decision as he'd be risking Umbridge finding out and putting an end to the clandestine dating thus earning him the displeasure of pretty much everyone, Harry could simply lie. He had plausible deniability on his side, and people liked him better than Malfoy in any case. He didn't really like lying at Hogwarts, it hurt his credibility if the lie was uncovered but for this he could risk it. He wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing after all.

He folded the notes into the origami box that was the extent of his paper folding ability and watched the minutes tick by until the end of History of Magic.

The students took a bit of time to rouse themselves when the clock rang the noon hour and Malfoy was no exception.

"Hey Mione, I'm going to the library to finish that essay, I'll meet you guys outside the greenhouses before Herbology," he said.

"Honestly Harry if you just did your work right when it was assigned to you instead of waiting until the last possible moment you wouldn't miss nearly so many meals and maybe you would actually gain some weight," she lectured.

"I'll think about it," Harry grinned cheekily.

He hefted his book bag over one shoulder, gathering all of his not inconsiderable Gryffindor nerve, and speed walked out of class in a route that just happened to take him right in from of Malfoy's desk. Before he could change his mind Harry deposited the little origami box and the distracted looking blond's desk and hightailed it out of the classroom in a manner that could only really be described as fleeing.

"I can't believe I just did that," he muttered over and over shaking his head as he went to hide...ahem...study in the kitchens.

After all he was hungry and the house elves adored him, wouldn't poke fun at him or demand anything and best of all they had food.

AN: Please send me a review and let me know what you guys think, hearing from you brightens my day and encourages creative flow!