Title: To Serve Malfoy
Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling. I do not claim any ownership of the characters or settings contained within. This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione
Warnings: Contains mature language and sexual content
Rating: M
Summary: Harry loses a wager with Draco, which means he must spend the summer at Malfoy Manor as Draco's personal servant.
Author's Note: This was originally intended to be a short writing exercise that played on the classic fiction cliche where one character must serve another. But as I explored it the power dynamics between Harry and Draco intrigued me and it grew into a full length piece.

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Harry was going to be sick. He was going to pass out. He was going to scream something terribly profane. Actually, he wasn't going to do any of those things because he was too shocked to move, to think, to speak. It was the worst day of his life.

"This is the best day of my life," a voice penetrated the murky jumble of confused thoughts rattling around his head.

Harry turned and looked to Hermione, then Ron, then Neville, then Luna, then Ginny for help. Their stunned expressions told him that there was no help to give.

"Don't look at them, Potter, you signed a Blood Oath," the snide, triumphant voice penetrated the fog again. Draco Malfoy tapped Harry's shoulder to refocus his attention. He pointed to the parchment, signed in blood, that was pinned to a tree with Blaise Zabini's pocketknife. Greg Goyle laughed crudely.

"What are you going to do with him, Draco?" Goyle asked, relishing his housemate's victory.

"Exactly as the contract says," Malfoy smirked. "He's going to be my personal servant for the summer. Everything I say, he'll do. Isn't that right, Potter?"

Harry couldn't speak. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to lose.

"Harry," Hermione spoke up. "You have to do it. It's a Blood Oath."

Harry would have done anything for a Time-Turner at that moment. If he could just go back one hour he could prevent himself from making the mistake that had landed him in his current predicament. But as it was it looked like he had no choice. He would be living with, and waiting on Draco Malfoy for the next three months.

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It had started on the afternoon that the N.E.W.T. results were posted. The seventh-year and seventh-year-repeats all clustered around the entrance to the great hall to see how they had placed. Harry's scores were excellent across the board, which meant his dream of becoming an Auror was still viable. Hermione's perfection was no surprise, and Ron's sufficient performance meant he would be joining Harry in Auror training, too.

"Out of the way," Goyle shoved Harry and Ron aside and found his name on the door. He squinted, frowned, and then shrugged.

"Not what you'd hoped, eh?" Malfoy shouldered up next to him, pushing Harry and his friends further aside. "Brilliant, I did even better than I expected." He turned and beamed in Harry's direction. "Maybe I'll join you at the Academy, Potter. My scores say I made the grade."

"They would never let you in, Malfoy," Harry glowered. "They don't accept traitors."

"Then it's lucky I was cleared of all charges," Malfoy's eyes darkened. "Something you'd do well to remember."

Harry stood his ground. He had grown during their eighth year, which meant the blond Slytherin boy was barely an inch taller now, but Malfoy stood straight to maximize his stature and glare haughtily down his nose at his rival.

"Let's go, Draco," Goyle tugged his sleeve and nodded in the direction of the dungeon.

"Now wait a second," he shook his arm free. He stepped clear of the clamoring throng of students but maintained his distance to the Gryffindor trio. "What do you say we end this rivalry once and for all, Potter?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"I mean it's the last week of school, all that's left is the End of Term Feast, and then that's it," Malfoy explained. "There's a chance we'll never see each other again, a future I am very much looking forward to, I should add," he bared his teeth in a sickly sweet grin. "So this may be our last chance to prove which one of us is the superior wizard."

"In case you hadn't heard," Ron spoke up at Harry's elbow, "Harry defeated the greatest dark wizard that ever lived. Unless you've done the same, I think we all know who's superior."

"Scared of a challenge, Potter?" Malfoy taunted.

"Why now?" Harry shook his head. "We haven't spoken all year, Malfoy. I thought this bad blood was behind us. Since, you know, everything happened."

"Perhaps," Malfoy shrugged, acknowledging that he and Harry hadn't locked horns since their encounter in the Room of Requirement the previous year. "But seven years of competition deserves a suitable closure, does it not?"

"I suppose," Harry thought there was some logic in his words.

"Harry, don't," Hermione warned.

"How about a race?" Draco gazed out through the high, lofted windows at the clear June day outside. "The winner determines the loser's fate."

"I can decide what happens to you when you lose?" Harry clarified.

"If, Potter," Draco wagged his finger warningly. "If."

"Let's do it," Harry agreed.

That had been his first mistake, agreeing to the race. His second mistake was agreeing to choose each other's fates. The third was committing it to paper. That's where he really should have stopped.

It was Luna who had inadvertently suggested the Blood Oath. She hadn't meant to suggest it, she had just mentioned it in a roundabout way. It was Blaise who had joined them on their way out who had heard her comment and recommended it to Draco. And it was Draco who had been brave enough to agree to the terms first, which meant Harry had to agree or end up looking like a coward. Maybe that was his third mistake, assuming that refusing the ridiculous notion of a blood oath would make him look cowardly. In any event, signing it in his own blood was certainly the biggest mistake.

Neville wrote out the contract in his beautifully flowing penmanship.

Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter do solemnly swear to complete the agreed upon race course with integrity and proper sportsmanship. The winner of said race will invoke one of the two following outcomes:

1: If Harry Potter should win, Draco Malfoy must relocate to France for the summer, and may not return for any reason until Autumn, and may not apply to the Auror Academy for training.

2: If Draco Malfoy should win, Harry Potter must submit to employment as a personal servant at Draco Malfoy's command, and live in residence at Malfoy Manor until Autumn.

The two boys signed in blood. Draco had just celebrated his nineteenth birthday and Harry's nineteenth was approaching next month. They were well past legal age for the Oath to be binding. Their blood glowed like lava as they smeared their signatures across the parchment, sealing their obligation to fulfill the requirements once the race was done.

Harry thought it sounded airtight. Draco would go away, no chance of running into him at a Quidditch match or on the streets of Hogsmeade, and he would be unable to join up with Auror training, although Harry didn't think he actually intended to do so anyway. And as far as Malfoy's stipulation, it was not only absurd and far-fetched, it was unlikely to happen. Harry was as fast as they came on broomstick. Luna speculated his chance of losing was equal to finding a single grain of sand in an entire desert. Not mathematical odds, but a lovely thought nonetheless.

Draco and Harry argued about the race course and finally agreed on a circuitous path that would take them around the perimeter of the school, out over the lake, across the Forbidden Forest, and finally back to their starting point. Ron and Goyle paired off and flew the course themselves to mark the way with luminescent streamers that would keep them from cutting corners. Then Harry and Draco mounted their brooms and steadied themselves. Blaise counted off and fired a shower of sparks into the air to start the race. The two rivals took off like a shot.

Harry wasn't sure at what point everything went wrong. He lapped the school with a solid lead, then crossed the lake with Draco gaining but still at his heels. It was somewhere over the Forbidden Forest, just before the final leg to the finish, that he lost ground and Draco shot ahead. He gritted his teeth and leaned into the wind, trying to force a surge of speed out of his broomstick when he realized the finish line was approaching faster than he could close the gap. It wasn't even a photo finish, Draco Malfoy solidly won by as much as half a broom length.

That was when Malfoy's friends cheered, and that was when Harry realized what had happened, and that was when he thought he might vomit or pass out or scream profanities. His friends could offer him no help, because there was no help to give. He had signed the bloody contract, he was obligated to fulfill its terms.

"I have a lease on a flat with Ron," Harry said, his voice stunned. "I can't back out now."

"Lucky for you I'm a generous man," Draco said smugly. "I'll pay your half of the rent until your term of duty is up."

"But-" Harry tried another excuse.

"Harry," Hermione shook her head, her jumble of curls bouncing about her shoulders, "It's a Blood Oath. You have to do it."

Harry stared at her again. If anyone could think of a way out, it was Hermione. Conversely, if Hermione couldn't think of a way out, there was none. He turned back to Draco and saw the gloating grin on his rival's face. An entire summer, he thought.

"Bollocks."