Lilacs...a granny' smell
The sun was shining and the birds were singing; it was a fantastic summer's day at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Exams were approaching, but most of the students decided to take a break from the constant studying, preferring to spend their weekend outdoors rather than torturing themselves in a poorly lit castle.
In the confines of the 7th year Slytherin boys' dormitory, only one person was truly pissed off. Three guesses who.
Draco Malfoy had been rudely interrupted from his pleasant dream, one which involved a teapot, bacon and silk pajamas (which is way too scarring to even begin to explain), by his alarm clock. Ugh. Have to get that bloody thing fixed...
The offending object was currently shrieking "Get yer lazy ass up, you sexy monster!" in an obviously American accent repeatedly, and he was irritated beyond irritation. In his post-sleep state, he grabbed the alarm clock and flung it unceremoniously at the wall opposite his bed, making it shatter into four perfect pieces. At least it's not shrieking this time.
A split-second later, the irritating phrase could be heard feebly, but barely. This seemed to piss the Slytherin off even more, and as he jumped out of his bed to stomp on his birthday present from Pansy Parkinson incessantly, he cursed his bad luck, and life.
All of his dorm mates had already left, as the beds were made and the room was silent. The only thing that could be heard through the door was Draco screaming at the top of his lungs at inanimate objects and a few banging noises. This was a typical day, for a typical Slytherin. No one bothered to question Malfoy, because he was the King of the house, the Mighty Man, the Chief. He did as he pleased, and nobody dared to oppose him.
As for Draco, he liked it this way. He could yell all he wanted, and could get anybody to do anything for him. He was like freaking Voldemort of Slytherin house, I tell you.
When the platinum blonde-haired boy finished his minor temper tantrum, he realized something peculiar and odd. What was that smell? Was that roses, or lilacs? It was definitely lilacs. But where was it coming from?
He gulped, taking in the gravity of the situation. He smelled like flowers. Draco Malfoy, resident Prince of Slytherin, smelled like bloody lilacs!
In a flash, his clothes were ripped off his perspiring body and shoved into his trunk hastily. Not caring anymore if anyone saw him naked, he opened to his door and ran to the showers. This was really bad. He couldn't smell like this, and no one could ever see him in his panic and ready-for-the-ground-to-eat-him mode.
After scrubbing himself raw with unscented soap three times, Draco returned to his dorm. Taking a quick whiff of himself, he sighed disbelievingly. He still smelt like an old lady! Someone had obviously played a silly prank on him while he was peacefully dreaming about shagging the entire male population of Hogwarts. Oh, and the dream about that teapot...
The peculiar aroma he would deal with later. It was revenge time. Major revenge time. He just didn't know how to avenge himself, that's all.
The pissed blonde put on a blue t-shirt that read "Piss off—I'm better than you", black, tight-fitting pants, and a silver necklace in quick succession. He was ready to seek out his enemy, the cause of his distasteful odor and the one who dared to pull such a prank on him.
As Draco walked through the common room, he made his housemates back off using his trademark glare and evil smirk. It wasn't that he was a bad person: he just liked his space, like a good evil villain. Making everyone scared of him was his favorite way to be alone and have time to have wet dreams of his enemy, his sexy one at that.
He stomped childishly up many flights of stairs. The Slytherin knew he couldn't be more heated and livid than he was at that moment, but he was proved wrong when a group of 4th year Ravenclaws passed him and exclaimed "What is that funny smell? Do you smell flowers, Malfoy? Are you wearing women's perfume?" Snigger. And then, they had the audacity to laugh at him and point their index fingers in his direction. It took all he had not to curse their bits off and then chop them into pieces. Little, tiny pieces.
He was probably more pissed than Voldemort was when Harry Potter had deflected his killing curse almost 17 years ago. Gah!
He marched into the Great Hall, which was mostly empty, bringing with him that horrible odor. He found that the Golden trio was currently eating their breakfast—they had probably slept in, like he had.
Even though it was a very nice day, inside the castle and out, the people who chanced to glance in Draco's direction wouldn't be surprised to see heavy black rain clouds over his fuming self. And maybe miniature lightning bolts darting here and there, making his normally slicked back haired crackle wildly with unshed power, resembling Hermione Granger in an almost frightening way.
Most of the occupants of the hall sniffed pointedly, asking each other what the funny smell was, but Draco took no notice. He was fuming by the time he arrived at his table. The blonde didn't stay long however, because the silly questions being asked and the knowing smiles were beginning to give him a slight migraine.
His temper getting the best of him, he flung his pancake, already soggy from the syrup and just about to enter his mouth, at a tired-looking, barely alive-looking Harry Potter.
The hall went silent when all that was heard was a faint smack as the sticky mess hit the Boy Who Lived squarely on the back of his messy-haired head. Those who were facing the black-haired boy could make out shock and disbelief etched onto his paling face and could see his eyes widen in surprise. His friends only gaped at him, too afraid to say anything, or move.
Slowly, as though in a Jackie Chan movie, he reached his right hand to the back of his head and removed the object, a look of disgust clouding his now beet red face. The entire hall stared at him in morbid fascination, not even daring to laugh, talk or whisper. Many of the teachers looked as if they were waiting for a bomb to explode, but the blast never took place.
Instead, the victim of Draco Malfoy's sudden rage just spinned slowly around, achingly slow and just plain stared at Draco, who still had his hand raised into a halfway throwing position. The Slytherin was beyond petrified. He had never meant to do that, he was aiming at Weasley! Now he was going to get it bad.
As though coming out of a trance and loosing his slow motion thing, Harry jumped out of his seat and began to slowly and surprisingly calmly walk in Draco's direction, which by now was right in front of the doors leading to the Entrance Hall. He was way too young to die, and he wasn't going to die smelling like some old fart.
Harry was somehow mischievously smiling and looking like Severus Snape at the same time, something that terrified Draco more than his father's painful beatings and harsh words. The dark-haired boy was also sniffing the air, and to Draco it seemed as if he, surprisingly enough, enjoyed the smell.
His expression turning to that of curiosity and intrigue, Harry stepped closer to the blonde, but it didn't look as if he was ready to bash his head in. The former still had maple syrup stuck on the back of his head, but he paid no heed to it. The closer he got to Draco, the more feral his smile became and the more hungry he looked.
The hall was still silent, the lack of sound was almost deafening, and you could hear a pin drop from miles away. Soon, Harry was standing inches away from the blonde. The latter made feeble attempts to escape, but Harry wouldn't let him go. He had this possessive streak in his eyes, and it didn't seem as though Draco wasn't going anywhere soon.
From his point of view, Draco could see the way the other boy's eyes stood out vivid green against his unblemished skin. He could also see that the anger in Harry's eyes had disappeared only to be replaced by...was that interest that was to be found so clearly?
Before the smaller boy even knew what was happening, he felt a pair of pink, soft, warm lips descend onto his own and caress him gently. He kissed back fiercely, and ran his pale, slender hands through Harry's wet, sticky hair.
His breath rapidly increasing, he heard Harry's baritone voice huskily whisper in his ear.
"Mmm...You smell good; I like lilacs."
A rather "passionate" snogging scene ensued in front of shocked students and teachers alike. Nobody had the guts to say anything, not even Dumbledore, who looked as if this was the first shock he had received in his life.
They just watched in horror as their two favorite enemies made love with their mouths, and added a few moans in between. Nothing too bad happened before they finally separated and smiled dreamily at each other.
At the far end of the Slytherin table, Blaise Zabini was humming peacefully to himself. His plan had worked perfectly. He ran a lazy hand through his messy brown locks of hair. That spell was that last step to push Harry in the direction of actually making a move on Draco. He sighed, and then smiled to himself. Life was swell.
Tonight, he would have to place a lot of silencing charms on their dormitory.
A/N: I love reviews! Please press the purple button...I don't care who you are! Sorry, I'm a bit hyper.