I found this on my computer from a while back, so I've been editing it to make it readable! It's pretty damn obvious my writing skills are still in the "starting to improve stage", but I hope you beautiful people find some enjoyment in it anyway! Review Review Review!

Warnings: Slash, swearing, drink reference.

Disclaimer: I wish.


Draco Malfoy hated breakfast.

It was one of those times where everything that could possibly ever annoy him proceeded to do so.

Morning, for one, did not suit him; his usually flawless hair stuck up in every direction, his stormy grey eyes looked puffy and red, and his lips and mouth felt horribly dry. Draco was not used to looking anything less than perfect, and he usually ended up with his head nearly submerged in his cereal trying to hide his "morning face", as he called it.

His hatred of breakfast was not improved by the fact that, somehow, the seating arrangements had fallen into a routine which resulted in him sat next to one Pansy Parkinson, who never failed to be irritatingly chipper every single goddamn morning. Draco hated people who were that energetic at such ungodly hours. It gave him headaches. Well, headaches that added to the headaches he usually already had, consequence of staying up very late and/or drinking endless amounts of firewhiskey with his "best buddy" Blaise, who always seemed to stay annoyingly sober and hangover-free. He often liked to rub this in Draco's face.

This particular morning was worse than usual; Draco had had some extremely disturbing nightmares involving Severus Snape and lots of jam, and he was trying very hard not to think about it. Pansy was telling everyone who would listen, in a voice which made him want to bitch-slap her (in a manly way, of course), about how she got off with Adrian Pucey the previous night. The Slytherin boy in question was shaking his head furiously behind her back while trying not to be sick. Opposite Draco, Blaise was bragging about how he drunk a whole bottle of firewhiskey in one go, while Crabbe was comparing his toast to Goyle's to see who's was more brown. He felt like Avada Kedavra-ing himself.

Then, as he was reaching across for the milk, wondering if it would be possible to drown himself in it, he was suddenly met with that strange sensation you get when someone's watching you. His hand hovered in mid-air and he turned his head ever so slightly.

No-one noticed his sudden stillness.

He stretched subtly.

A piece of bright blonde hair fell into his eyes. He shook it out, sharply flinging his head round to the side so he could have a quick glance round the Great Hall. No-one was looking at him.

Draco turned his gaze slowly back to the milk.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw a sudden movement from the Gryffindor table. The light from the ceiling glinted off something. A pair of glasss.

Potter's glasses.

Draco looked back around, prepared to send Potter his best "I-hate-you-boy-who-won't-fucking-die" look, and their eyes met.

Draco felt like he had run smack into a brick wall. Everything in the world came to an abrupt halt. He felt light-headed.

Potter's hair mimicked his own, sticking up in every direction; but then, it was always like that. His brilliant green eyes, focused solely on Draco, were red and had that cute, puffy, just-woken-up look. As Draco stared, spellbound, a small pink tongue darted out to lick chapped lips.

Harry's morning face mirrored Draco's exactly, and he didn't think he had ever seen anything more beautiful.

Draco Malfoy loved breakfast.