I would just like to point out that this story is complete crack and isn't meant to make sense, or be taken seriously. Enjoy my random mind!
Draco Malfoy was really, really, really, really, really, really ridiculously good looking. He knew it, Dumbledore knew it, and the Slytherin house knew it (in fact, they were so well informed about Draco's obvious hotness that they had on several occasions tried to persuade Dumbledore to change the Slytherin mascot from a serpent to Draco's excellently proportioned face. Dumbledore declined, feeling it wouldn't be fair on the other houses, as they didn't have anyone who could stand up to Draco's beauty.)
It was a curse, but Draco had learned to live with his beauty. He had often wished his good looks away, but knew it was fruitless, because his perfectly sculpted eyebrows, chiselled chin and flawless abs could never be simply taken away. His perfection was in his blood, just like his wizard powers, amazing potion making skills, his seeking abilities on the Quidditch pitch and his sexual prowess with the men folk.
Yes, girls all over Hogwarts had cried themselves to sleep the night they had found out perfect Draco Malfoy was actually a butt pirate. "How could someone so perfect be gay!" They had cried, except for one Hermione Granger in Gryffindor Tower who had muttered under her breath "How could someone so perfect not be gay?" But no one really listened to her, because everyone knew she was not-so-secretly-secretly gay herself.
Yes, Draco Malfoy was perfect and gay. He was a pureblood wizard, had all the money any teenager could want, and could get any boy he wanted at the drop of a hat.
Well, except one boy by the name of Harry Potter.
Draco, though he secretly found himself wishing his beauty away when it all got to much, found it near impossible to believe that Harry Potter was the only one unaffected by his looks. Draco could get Snape out of his clothes with just a glance and yet if he glanced at Harry, the Gryffindor would just give him a quizzical look with his face scrunched up and walk away. Perhaps that was why Draco wanted Harry so bad, because the-boy-who-lived didn't see the Vouge Magazine perfect Draco like everyone else did. He saw Draco's very soul...or possibly his fuzzy outline from behind his idiotic glasses.
Either way, Draco knew Harry was his soul mate, and knew he some how had to get Harry to see him. So Draco Malfoy devised a brilliant plan to shag – uh – snag the-boy-who-lived before some other man did (it was, after all, a well known fact that Voldemort only tried to kill Harry all the time because he secretly loved him.) All he needed was the perfect opportunity to set his plan into motion...
The perfect opportunity was a potions lesson precisely a week after Draco had devised his plan. The class, at first, ran smoothly. Snape had to call the roll 7 times because everyone was so distracted by Draco's beauty that they didn't hear their names being called. Then he had to yell at the class 8 times because they kept murmuring about how the words "Dragon's Skin" on the ingredients list for their potion looked a lot like "Draco's Skin" which lead to a lot of giggling and mental imagery that was quite pleasant for everyone but Hermione. Eventually he gave up and simply sat and watched Draco breathe like the rest of the class (except for Harry of course, and Hermione who was too busy reading yuri.)
Half way during the lesson, Draco put his plan into motion. He sent a glance in Snape's direction, which instantly caused the Potion's Master to hop to his feet and begin to strip. The class became confused, unable to choose between laughing at Snape or continuing to gaze fondly at Draco. In the confusion Draco pulled a small paper aeroplane out of his backpack and lobbed it at Harry.
The plane zoomed across the classroom, and landed in Harry's lap. The-boy-who-obviously-never-paid-attention-to-Alastor-Moody's-and-Arthur-Weasley's-ramblings-about-never-opening/reading-random-bits-of-paper grabbed the aeroplane and opened it. A fine blue dust sprang fourth from the wings, flying into Harry's nose, ears and under his eyelids, making him jump up and scream like a girl while he scratched his nose.
Across the classroom, Draco cheered at his success.
His plan had started.
"Hey Hermione..."
"Yes Harry?"
"Did you know that Draco Malfoy is really, really, really, really, really, really ridiculously good looking?"
Hermione looked up from her LWW (Lesbian Witch Weekly) magazine and gave Harry a frightened look.
"Oh no Harry! Not you too!" She groaned, throwing her head back dramatically in despair. Harry, who had been starring at Draco two tables over as he ate a banana erotically, tore his eyes away long enough to glare at Hermione.
"What do you mean 'Not you too!'" He said angrily. This time Hermione glared at Harry.
"Everyone at Hogwarts knows how really, really, really, really, really, really ridiculously good looking Malfoy is. Everyone except us that was, until two seconds ago when you asked if I thought he was really, really, really, really, really, really ridiculously good looking!"
Harry, who had gotten lost when Hermione had said ridiculously the first time, turned back to stare at Draco who was now eating two banana's at the same time and winking to his surrounding admirers.
"Well, I just wanted to know if you knew. No need to go all PMSy at me..."
"I am NOT going PMSy at you!" Hermione shrieked.
"Whatever."
Over the following week, Harry began to ask Hermione more and more if she thought Draco was really, really, really, really, really, really ridiculously good looking. If he wasn't asking Hermione, he was asking Fred, or George, or Ginny, or Neville, or on the odd occasion, Dumbledore (who always agreed with Harry and pulled him into long boring conversations about he wished Draco was a gold digger, so then perhaps he might have a chance even though he was so old.) Harry couldn't believe that he had been so blind for 7 years (even though he did wear extremely thick glasses) and hadn't seen how perfect Draco was. It was like something like blue powder had flown into the orifices on his face and opened his eyes...and nostrils and ears.
All he heard was Draco's voice.
All he smelt was Draco's smell.
All he saw was Draco's ass.
If everyone in the school hadn't been hearing, smelling and looking at the same thing as Harry was, he would have felt like a stalker of some kind. But since he wasn't the only one, he didn't worry about it. What he did worry about was that Draco would never hear/smell/see him the same way. It killed his very soul every time Draco walked past him and didn't even swish his hair in Harry's direction. Every time Harry was ignored, he went back to his dorm and wrote emo poetry about his broken heart until he ran out of parchment and had to write on Ron's face instead. Harry just couldn't understand it all. He was the boy-who-lived. He had defeated Voldemort. He was better at Quidditch than Draco was (though he would say otherwise if Malfoy ever asked.) He obviously wasn't as perfect as Draco, but he wasn't ugly either. So why didn't Draco ever look at him too?
"Draco, what are you starring at?" Pansy asked the blonde god one morning, noticing her favourite stalkee starring jealously across the breakfast fruit towards the Gryffindor table.
"Pansy...I made Potter look at me." He mumbled moodily. "I tricked him into taking Seeing Dust so that he would pay attention to me and see that we were meant to be together for like...ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and –"
"Draco, is that sentence ever going to go somewhere?"
"Yes it will Miss Interrupted the hottest guy in school!" Draco snapped, flipping Pansy off, and trying not to notice all the people who had leapt up all over the Great Hall shouting excitedly about how perfect Draco's middle finger was. "Anyway, so he would see we were meant to be together for ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and -"
"Seriously Draco, you're really, really, really, really, really, really ridiculously good looking and all, but if that sentence doesn't go somewhere soon I swear -"
"- ever and ever and ever, but he still doesn't talk to me! He just stares like everyone else...Why won't he talk to me Pansy? WHY?" Draco moaned, tearing at his hair. Half the Slytherin table jumped up to stop him, and it wasn't until they had calmed down again and all gotten a lock of Draco's hair (he regrew the bald patches with his wand) that Pansy answered.
"Maybe because now he feels like everyone else." She reasoned.
"And how does everyone else feel?" Draco asked, curious.
"Well...we're all obsessed with you, in case you haven't noticed. All we smell, hear and look at is you. But you never smell, hear or look back at us. And you also avoid Potter like the black plague because every time you get too close to him you get a boner -"
"That was ONE TIME! And beside, he's my soulmate so I'm allowed to -"
"But anyway Draco, my point is that you need to talk to him and confess your undying love for him, or he'll never be anymore than another mindless Draco Fan." Pansy finished, looking quite proud of herself for finally giving a good piece of advice.
Draco considered Pansy's words for a moment, and then slapped the Slytherin table in excitement.
"I'll do it! Tonight! After dinner!" He said excitedly.
Pansy gave him a look.
"And why can't you do it now?"
"Because night time gives it atmosphere, god Parkison! Don't you know ANY of this girly stuff or WHAT?"
Harry had been writing more emo poetry in his room at sunset when an owl had flown through the open window next to his bed and landed on his head with a letter. At first Harry ignored it, returning to his poem – Why aren't you mine? Oh Draco you're so fine! - but once it started scratching at his hair did he finally acknowledge the bird.
"NOT THE HAIR! NEVER THE HAIR!" Harry screeched, waving his wand at the top of his head towards the bird that immediately dropped its letter and sped away in fright. When the bird was gone, Harry grabbed the letter and slit it open with the tip of his quill.
Dearest Sugar Bum – Um – Harry,
It has come to my attention that you like to look at me a lot. I quite understand. I am after all really, really, really, really, really ridiculously good looking. But I wanted to know that I like to look at you a lot too. And smell you a lot (if you were wondering who keeps stealing sweaty quidditch robes it's me – they smell is so divine!) And your voice gives me chills. I think we're soul mates. If you think so too, meet me at the quidditch pitch at 8 o'clock, alone. We can like, make out under the bleachers if you want.
Yours forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and – DRACO STOP IT! – goddamnit Pansy you're ruining my letter!
-Draco
Harry squealed happily, rubbing his face all over the letter in excitement. The ink smudged everywhere over the parchment and Harry's face, though he didn't notice. Jumping from his bed, Harry glanced at the clock. It was only 6, but he didn't care. Draco had said they were soul mates, so obviously Draco would know Harry would arrive two hours early and be waiting for him, hopefully in as little clothing as possible.
Quickly dashing from his dormitory, the boy who lived jumped down the spiral stairs two at a time and was about to sprint across the common room to burst his way through the Fat Lady's portrait when Hermione appeared in front of him, grinning wildly.
"Harry! You'll never guess what I just got!" She squealed excitedly, and Harry noticed she also had ink all over her face.
"It wasn't a letter from Pansy Parkison was it? Asking you to meet her at the quidditch pitch?" Harry guessed wildly. Hermione gaped at him.
"How did you know?"
"Lucky guess...well, must run! I have to meet Draco there as well!"
"Wait! I'll come with you!"
So together, the two ink smeared Gryffindors ran from the common room and through the halls of Hogwarts, trying to make their way to the entrance hall so they could go out to the Quidditch pitch, followed oddly by a rainbow streak.
Down at the Quidditch Pitch, Draco and Pansy waited, both very anxious.
"What if he doesn't realise because we're soul mates I meant for him to arrive two hours early?" Draco moaned to Pansy, who was clutching at her dark hair.
"What if she doesn't realise because we're soul mates I meant for her to arrive two hours early?" She moaned to Draco, who was nowhere near silly enough to clutch at his perfect hair and ruin it.
"Wait!" Draco suddenly cried, pointing a finger towards the castle. "I see a rainbow!"
Together the two Slytherins watched as Hermione and Harry approached, their rainbow of sheer gayness (of the happy and homosexual varieties) following them like a sparkly cloud. The two Gryffindors spotted the two Slytherins and halted just outside the Quidditch picture, looking at each other nervously.
"Oh my god, they're here!" Hermione squealed excitedly, poking Harry quite hard in the arm. "They knew we would come earlier!"
"Oh my god, they're here!" Pansy squeaked to Draco, slapping him incredibly hard on the back. "They knew to come early!"
Harry and Draco's eyes met across the Quidditch pitch, silver to green, and Harry could feel the slow motion kicking in. With perfect synchronisation, they both began to run towards each other, long slow strides that seemed to get shorter and shorter as they ran. They collided in the middle, a mess of tangled limbs and locked lips as they ravaged each other, the soul mates joining at last. "Oh Harry!" Draco said when they pulled apart briefly for air. "I love you for ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever..."
At the other end of the pitch, where Hermione and Pansy had met in a less movie-magic-moment to simply hold hands, both girls sighed heavily. "I knew this would happen." Pansy muttered darkly. "Now Draco's going to spend the next hour saying ever. Then once he's finished, Harry will say it. Then they'll be snogging for the rest of the week and we'll never be able to pull them apart!"
Hermione nodded in agreement, hanging her head slightly.
"I know. God, I knew that I should have stopped Harry from covering himself in super glue."