It's a Love Story

by QuirkQuirk

It was the classic story of star-crossed lovers, retold time and time again over the centuries, but Draco didn't see why that meant that they couldn't make it work, this time. Harry/Draco, non-magical AU. Oneshot

Author's Notes: I've had this in the back of my mind/hard drive for months, just sorta collecting dust, and figured since I wasn't going to be finished with my other Harry/Draco anytime soon cause it is spiraling out of control, I might as well post SOMETHING for my favourite pairing of all time! Shame on me for taking so long to get a Harry/Draco completed and posted up here! They were what got me into fanfiction in the first place, so it's high time I gave something back!

The disclaimer! Contrary to popular belief, I am not J. K. Rowling. I know, I was surprised when I found out too. So gee, I guess I don't own the rights to anything. Bummer. Please don't sue me – I'm just having fun.

Pairing(s): Harry/Draco!

Summary: It was the classic story of star-crossed lovers, retold time and time again over the centuries, but Draco didn't see why that meant that they couldn't make it work, this time. Harry/Draco, non-magical AU. COMPLETE

Warnings: Male/male relations, some swearing, mentions of underage drinking, etc.

Dedication: To ME, cause I'm posting this on mah birfday! :D But seriously, this is dedicated Harry/Draco fandom as a whole, which is still going strong after all these years! Keep the faith alive!

Other stuff: It was odd writing this as a non-magical story-line, but that was how the idea originally came to me, and hence that was how it was written out. Not entirely sure how the schooling system works over there across the pond, so I'm just writing this as though it's divvied up same as Hogwarts – starting at 11, going for 7 years, then off to Uni or whatever. Also, please forgive me, but the song that inspired this fic is Taylor Swift's "Love Story"… Time to go hide in shame forever.

.o.O.o.

It's a Love Story

.o.O.o.

Draco sighed and leaned heavily on the balcony railing. It was dark outside, and a summer breeze swept by him, ruffling his neatly combed blonde hair as he gazed at the flickering light of the paper lanterns that were scattered about in the garden below him.

He had never been very fond of the parties and fundraisers that were hosted at his home on a fairly regular basis. Draco always dressed sharply even on regular days, but on these occasions his parents would force him into his fanciest, most expensive, and stuffiest attire. It was his duty to be the perfect little adult – mingling with the guests, eating tiny finger sandwiches and h'orderves, and sipping wine with his little finger out, always careful not to spill any on his jacket because it would be impossible to get out.

It was suffocating.

Thus, his escape to the balcony, which he had taken at the soonest opportunity. He had already endured several dull hours of making polite conversation with all of the boring and old – but nevertheless rich – guests, but enough was enough and he had finally excused himself and escaped, weaving through the sea of fake laughter, crisp suits, and billowing ball gowns.

He turned, leaning back against the railing on his elbows, and looked into the room he had left. The warm glow of the party seeped out into the night through the open double-doors behind him, and the music carried softly into the air, but he was safely out of reach. No one would think to look for him out there, because who would want to leave such a wonderful party? It became quite obvious after a few minutes that no one had even noticed that he was gone.

There was a sudden collective movement among some of the guests as they parted, moving aside for something or someone that the blonde couldn't see. Someone, Draco confirmed after a moment, when a boy about his own age broke through the crowd, not meeting anyone's gaze as he apologized and excuse me'd. Draco was immediately interested. There had been people his age at the parties before, but they were all children of his parents' friends and associates, brought along to be shown off like pampered showdogs, just like Draco. This was someone new, someone he didn't recognize, and someone who looked very out of place.

The boy stumbled out onto the balcony, and at first he didn't even seem to notice Draco standing there. Well that wouldn't do. Draco coughed lightly to bring attention to himself, and the boy looked startled for a second before spotting him.

"Hello." He greeted with an embarrassed sort of smile. "I didn't see you out here. You're not enjoying the party either?"

Well of course he wasn't, but Draco certainly wasn't going to admit that. Both for his own reputation, and because his parents would probably be furious with him if his words ever got back to them. "Of course I am." He replied.

"Oh." The boy said, and couldn't seem to think of anything else past that. Draco took the opportunity to have a good look at the newcomer. He was about the same size as Draco, but something about him seemed smaller somehow. Maybe it was the fact that his suit looked secondhand, or maybe his mess of scruffy black hair, or the glasses on his face… or maybe it was something in the way that the boy didn't seem to think very much of himself. He didn't act or speak as though he was important, and it made Draco curious.

"What's your name?" Draco demanded, even though he knew good and well that it was poor manners to ask someone else's name without first offering one's own.

The boy didn't seem to notice, or if he did he didn't care. "I'm Harry. Who're you?"

"Harry, what?" Draco prompted, still trying to figure the other out a little more before he was willing to divulge too much about himself. This time the boy, Harry, did seem to notice Draco's purposeful avoidance of proper introductions if the slight confusion in his green eyes was any indication, but he didn't comment.

"Harry Potter." He clarified.

Potter, Draco mused. Did he know of any Potters? He didn't think so. It certainly wasn't a name that his parents would normally invite into their home – it sounded so terribly commonplace.

"I'm Malfoy." He finally announced, after wracking his brain of any and all Potters that he might know of, and coming up empty handed. "Draco Malfoy."

Harry's eyes widened. "Oh. So… so this is your house. I'm – wow I'm sorry for interrupting you out here. I'll just –"

"Stop babbling, Potter." Draco snapped, inwardly triumphant over having evoked such a reaction. "You weren't interrupting anything, I was merely taking a break from the gala."

Draco didn't know why, but he felt the need to impress this Harry Potter. The boy was obviously nowhere near his own level, social class-wise and probably also financially and intellectually as well, but there was just something about him… something that made Draco need to prove himself and come off appearing impressive and in control. This boy was new, and he was a challenge.

"Oh." Harry said, for the third time that evening. "Well, alright then. Do you mind if I join you out here? I – your party is really nice, but I'm just feeling a little crowded and out of place in there, you know?"

Draco certainly knew the feeling, but once more he wasn't about to admit it. He also didn't bother to correct the boy's 'your party' comment. It wasn't his party, per se, but it was his house, so as far as this Harry Potter was concerned it was his party.

"I haven't seen you around here before." Draco commented, and Harry ran his hands nervously through his already messy hair. Draco caught a glimpse of what looked like a small, jagged scar on Harry's forehead when his mussing swiped his fringe to the side for a moment, but then the dark hair fell back into the boy's face, and Draco didn't have time to analyze it further.

"Yeah well, you wouldn't have." Harry replied, laughing nervously. "I've never been here before. I live all the way over in Little Whinging with my Aunt and Uncle, but apparently I got a scholarship to this school… I'd never even heard of it before, but I'll be attending next year, so the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore… he brought me along tonight, because this party, it's some sort of fundraiser for the school, right?"

Ah. There was a name Draco recognized – Dumbledore. His parents had spoken of the man on many occasions. Apparently he was highly influential, but whenever his name was mentioned in Malfoy Manor, it was generally with a tone of disgust or distain.

The school in question was undoubtedly Hogwarts, a secondary school for gifted individuals. Admission was very selective. "Gifted" was a term used loosely, it seemed, and chosen by an unbiased school associate trained to recognize individuals' strengths, weaknesses, and ultimately, potentials.

Draco's parents disagreed with Dumbledore's screening process – they believed that admission should be based on esteem… and the expendable riches that came with it. Draco would be attending in the coming school year as well, although his father had wanted to ship him off elsewhere, "somewhere with a more discerning selection process that doesn't let all the riffraff in." But Draco's mother had insisted that he stay closer to home. Secretly, Draco was glad – the other school sounded dreadfully unappealing, being located in the snowy, frigid regions of Eastern Europe.

Interesting, then, that this common boy was not only attending, but had gotten in on a scholarship. Draco chalked it up as one more reason that validated his initial curiosity and impulse regarding Harry Potter.

"Where do you go to school?" Harry was asking. "I mean, how old are you? Will you be going to secondary next year too?"

"I'm eleven, same as you." Draco replied. "I'm going to Hogwarts next year as well."

"How did you know how old I am?" Harry asked, astonished.

Draco rolled his eyes. "We'll be going to the same school at the same time next year. I put two and two together."

"Oh." Harry said. "Well but that's great! I don't know anyone at all who's going there. Maybe…"

Harry trailed off, apparently too embarrassed to say whatever he had been planning on. Draco could tell that the boy had been attempting to suggest they become friends, and while part of him scoffed at the very idea of being mates with this strange newcomer, another part of him (probably a part close to his stomach, with the way it was flopping) was interested…

There was a burst of laughter from inside the ballroom, and Draco sighed in irritation. It was getting late, but it appeared as though the guests showed no sign of departing anytime soon.

"Potter. I'm growing weary of these festivities. Let's go back to my room, shall we?"

Harry looked shocked. "Your room? Wha–"

"I want to get out of these stuffy clothes." The blonde explained. "And besides, I'm afraid that any minute now my parents will notice that I'm missing, and I won't be hard to find out here. Come along."

Draco pushed himself away from the balcony railing and headed back into the ballroom without stopping to check if Harry was tagging along after him or not, but he could hear footsteps behind him that let him know that he was being obediently followed.

He wasn't sure why, but he found that his heart was pounding slightly. He had never brought anyone to his room before. Who would he have had to bring? Certainly not either of those Crabbe and Goyle idiots because they were uninteresting and surely would have broken something, and the last thing he needed was for Pansy or Blaise to know where he slept. But Harry Potter didn't seem the type to try anything stupid, and if he was honest with himself, Draco wanted to get the boy away from the distractions of the party and have some time alone with him to figure him out.

They had made it to the stairs and were already halfway up the flight when he heard Harry stop behind him and give a little "Um, Draco–" but before Harry could finish whatever he had been about to say, someone appeared and cleared their voice loudly at the foot of the stairs.

"Draco." Came the commanding voice. "What are you doing."

It wasn't a question. It was a threat to 'get back to the party or else, and we will talk about this later.' Draco inwardly quailed, but outwardly held his ground.

"Just giving Potter here the grand tour, Father. He will be attending Hogwarts next year as well, did you know?"

Lucius Malfoy's attention shifted. "Ah. Mr. Potter."

His tone was anything but friendly, and once again Draco wondered just what exactly this Harry Potter was doing at the party to begin with. It seemed as though Draco's father knew who Harry was, which was interesting.

"Mr. Malfoy." Harry bravely replied, nodding politely, but Draco could see that the dark haired boy was rigid with controlled intimidation.

Lucius Malfoy opened his mouth to speak, but he stopped sharply when they were joined by yet another attendee, who stepped around the corner in a plum suit, wearing a benign smile.

"Hello Lucius, Draco. I see you have found my wayward charge."

"So it would seem." Lucius replied in a low voice, looking none too happy about this old man's arrival. Draco, although he had never seen him before, knew immediately who this man was. Long silver beard, half moon spectacles, penchant for wearing odd clothing that matched his odd presence – this had to be Albus Dumbledore.

"Well then, Harry," Dumbledore began with a kind smile. "I think it is about time for us to be on our way. I'm sure your aunt and uncle will be missing you."

"Doubt it." Draco heard Harry mutter. Dumbledore seemed to have heard too, even from all the way at the bottom of the staircase. For an old man, he certainly did seem alert and lively.

"Well, regardless, we must be on our way." He told Harry, who sighed and took a few slow steps down the stairs before stopping and looking back at Draco.

"Thank you for having me at your party." He said. "You have a very nice house. I was glad to meet you, maybe we'll see eachother at school."

Draco just nodded, inwardly screaming obscenities at the misfortune of it all. He had been just about to make friends with a very unusual and interesting person his own age, and at the last minute that chance had been ripped away from him.

Harry shuffled down the steps to Dumbledore's side, and Lucius gave them both a curt, tight-lipped nod of dismissal. Dumbledore placed a hand gently on Harry's shoulder to lead him to the door and Harry obediently followed, but right before he left he turned and gave a little wave to Draco, who was still standing halfway up the flight of stairs.

Draco waved back and watched them leave, wondering why he felt almost as though he was fighting the urge to cry.

.o.O.o.

The next day, Draco was sat down after breakfast and given the explanation as to why it was not, under any circumstances, possible to be friends with, or even tolerate the existence of, Harry Potter.

The boy's parents, it seemed, had stood for everything that the Malfoys did not believe in, and in fact tried to stamp out of existence on a daily basis. The Potters had claimed that noble blood was worth about as much as diddlysquat, that money did not equal power, and most of all, that one person was not better than another person just because they had one or the other of the aforementioned qualities.

Well, that was just an outrage. Noble bloodlines commanded respect and self-worth, and money could buy happiness and love, and any other silly thing you could ever want if you had enough of it.

The Potters had been involved in many public demonstrations and committees during a time of crisis for the country, during which primarily the poor and mixed blood individuals suffered, and were in fact targeted. They had fought to get the wealthy to share their riches to put an end to the suffering and promote equality and better life for everyone, and of course the Malfoys and their peers would have none of it. No one could make them share what they were rightly entitled to, and what had those nobodies ever said or done to earn respect and equality?

Of course after all was said and done, in retrospect, many of the wealthy and noble blooded members of high society came out looking rather in the wrong, and for a time they were ostracized. However, enough dollars thrown at that issue eventually made it disappear, and life went back to normal. But the Malfoys, Draco was told, would never forget what others had said against them, and would always hold on to what was rightfully theirs.

By the end of it, Draco was almost convinced. After all, he had never liked to share, and who was anyone to say that he wasn't better than everyone else? No one, that was who! And yet… the Potter boy had not seemed defiant or bitter toward Draco or his lifestyle – on the contrary, he had been polite and slightly in awe of it all – so the blonde had a hard time seeing Harry Potter as the self-righteous little do-gooder that Lucius and Narcissa assured Draco that he was.

He went to bed that night, and several nights afterward, very confused.

By the time school rolled around, Draco had almost forgotten about the whole thing. He was as pampered and spoiled as ever, and as he stood that day at the train station he was feeling very good about himself.

And then Potter came along.

Looking very confused, and shepherded by a family of redheads, there he was. Draco's insides lurched with the urge to run over to him and say hello, but with his mother and father on either side of him he knew that would be a bad idea. But even as he saw Potter getting on the train happily alongside a tall, freckled redhead boy their age, Draco found himself straining on his invisible, self-imposed binds. That was supposed to be him. Potter was his, because he had found him first.

"Father." Draco said, inclining his head respectfully to Lucius. "Mother."

He got a nod in return from his father, but his mother went out of her way to lean down and take him into a quick embrace. "Have a good time at school, Draco." She whispered fondly as she kissed him lightly on the forehead.

"I will." He returned; pulling away, slightly embarrassed. "Goodbye."

He turned away and didn't look back as he made his way onto the train, trying not to appear as though he was in much of a hurry. He had only one goal in his mind – find out where Potter had gone. He didn't have anything further than that planned out, but for the time it didn't matter.

The train started to move, and he made his way down the long cars, peering into compartments along the way. A glower settled onto his face as he went further and further along with no sign of Potter, and he was about to just give up and find somewhere of his own to settle in, when there, in the very last compartment in the car, was the dark haired boy.

He pulled the door open with no knock, and strode into the compartment as if he belonged there.

"Potter." He greeted, putting his hand out. He knew he looked sharp, already dressed in his crisp, fitted uniform, but the boy looked overly cautious for some reason. And more than that, Draco was beginning to feel slightly awkward – his hand was still just being held out awkwardly, Potter hesitant to take it.

Draco coughed lightly, sticking his hand a little closer, but Potter still looked wary. And it was at this point that his redheaded companion decided to open his stupid, freckled mouth.

"Harry doesn't have to shake your slimy hand if he doesn't want to."

Immediately snapping his attention away from Potter, and to this new, stupid boy who could only be one of the poor, dirty Weasleys his father had always told him about, Draco's eyes narrowed.

"No one asked you, Weasley." He snapped.

"Yeah, well I'm only saying it because Harry is too nice to." The redhead replied, defiantly. "We know who you are, my father –"

"Your father –" Draco interrupted, but was cut off himself.

"Stop it." Potter insisted. He left it at that, but his eyes remained intent on Draco's own.

"I was merely coming in to make introductions." Draco sniffed, drawing himself up importantly.

Potter looked suspicious at this point. "We've already met."

Draco realized this belatedly, and appreciated that "making introductions" had been a stupid excuse, and was on the verge of making something else up, when he realized he really had nothing else up his sleeve.

"Well I just wanted to say hello again. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other around the school." Draco covered smoothly, then having no choice but to turn and leave.

And really, why was he making such an effort, anyways? He had already been warned against Harry Potter, who was associating with the Weasleys, apparently (another lousy bunch) so he really had no reason to be hanging around such riffraff. And yet… something about Potter kept drawing him in, making him want to associate, and – heaven forbid – cavort around in the clumsy, uncultured way he had. Potter may not have been rich, but he was still interesting and different, and there was something about him that made it hard for Draco to look away.

But he had to leave, at least for now, after he had already made a fool of himself, acting like they'd never met. Of course they'd met. Their meeting was the most exciting thing that had happened in Draco's life in quite a long time. As if to add insult to injury, Draco could hear the Weasley's voice drifting out into the hallway from the compartment.

"Stupid git, re-introducing himself like you've never met. And even if you hadn't, you wouldn't want to."

"Ron."

Potter spoke suddenly, firmly, and Weasley didn't reply, probably in confusion; not seeming to understand why he was seemingly defending Draco. Draco, for his part, was rather surprised as well. Maybe he meant something to Potter too, after all?

"What?" the Weasley indignantly replied. "You know who he is, Dad told you all about his family when you pointed him out back at the train station, and –"

The compartment door closed, and Potter was the one to do it – Draco caught his eye for a moment through the window.

Well. That certainly hadn't been the ideal, romanticized reunion Draco had imagined. It seemed as though Potter had been gotten to in much the same way that Draco had been after their initial meeting, and warned against him similarly. Something about this, the irony of it, perhaps, made Draco desperate to prove it wrong. Unfortunately, with Potter's new friend acting watch-dog, and Draco's father's connections to the school that would undoubtedly carry rumours of his associations with Potter back to him, Draco was at a loss to see how that would be possible. He frowned. Draco was never told "no", and being used to getting what he wanted had made him very stubborn when denied. Therefore, as dire as the situation seemed, he was determined to find a way to get to Potter, who had suddenly become the very embodiment of the saying about always wanting what you can't have.

It wasn't long before he found a group of his hand-selected, parent-approved playmates, and a girl named Pansy ushered him enthusiastically into their compartment. She chatted on endlessly, but Draco let his mind wander back to dark, messy hair, and bright green eyes that were so forbiddingly alluring, and set about formulating a plan.

.o.O.o.

As it turned out, Draco was not as good at formulating plans as he had always liked to believe about himself.

Weeks passed, and he had hardly seen Potter at all, save for in the halls, and in the few classes they shared. He and Potter had been assigned to different dorms, and although Draco had snuck after Potter once or twice (or more), he had never been able to think up an inconspicuous enough excuse to get himself in there.

Months passed with no progress, and worse than that, Draco had regressed to what his family and "approved" peers expected of him, and had resorted to taunting and harassing Potter whenever he could. Potter had seemed taken aback, the first few times, as if still remembering their first meeting and comparing that Draco to this one, but it had taken him a very short time to become hardened and indifferent to the jeers about being poor, and unkempt, and having no proper family. The words came so easily to Draco, with so many years of being spoiled and assured that he was special and better than everyone else, yet it pained him to see the rift between him and the only interesting, different person he had ever met become further and less reparable than ever.

Years passed, and when Draco wasn't in front of his friends, and when Potter wasn't watching, Draco liked to observe without judgment. Potter had picked up a second friend along the way – a smart but frumpy girl named Hermione Granger – making his partnership with the red-head into a cozy little tri-force. It pained Draco to see them all so happy with one another, because even if it wasn't personally directed at him, and even if too much time had passed to repair what little potential they had had in the very beginning, it made Draco feel especially excluded. But he couldn't help but keep watching and wishing that things were different. Draco had gotten to Potter first, and he should have been the one laughing and talking with him, but no.

It was one dismal, boring Thursday afternoon of his sixth year that Draco walked into his chemistry class as usual, when everything changed.

Draco took his customary seat at the front of the room – the professor was a particularly strict and severe man, but knew Draco through Draco's father and as such allowed him special preference – and set his books neatly on his desk, pulling out a notebook and pen. By the time he was finished arranging his space, Potter and his friends were walking in, and Draco subtly observed them out of the corner of his eyes, as he did every day. They didn't spare him so much as a passing glance, but Draco figured that was for the best – it wouldn't do to be caught staring.

"Settle down, class." Professor Snape directed, although no one was being particularly loud or otherwise disrupting; students learned early on that Professor Snape was not a teacher to be tested. The man aimed a glare at Potter and his friends, as though their entrance had caused a scene of some sort, and Draco smirked to himself. He always got a grim sense of satisfaction at seeing Potter and his friends berated by Snape.

'That's what he gets for not picking me.' Draco thought, smugly.

"Today," Snape was continuing, "I will be introducing you to a project that you will be completing over the weekend with a partner, to be turned in next Tuesday."

A hush of excited whispering broke out, as students tried to pre-emptively arrange partnerships, but Professor Snape regained control in an instant.

"I will be choosing your partners."

The dismayed silence spoke for itself. No one was going to actively refute Professor Snape, but it was obvious that the class as a whole was disappointed with the announcement. With Professor Snape choosing their partners for them, it was unlikely that they would be able to work with their friends.

Predictably, as the students had feared, Professor Snape took special pleasure in pairing up peers who did not know each other, or who actively disliked each other. Draco watched in amusement as his fellow classmates ended up with people they had never talked to before, ex-boyfriends or girlfriends, conflicting clique-members, or publicly-declared enemies. He wasn't worried for himself, because of Snape's preferential treatment, and took joy in their dismay, until…

"Mr. Potter, you will be partnering with Mr. Malfoy."

Draco jerked in surprise, looking first in astonishment towards Professor Snape, who must have known that he and Potter were rivals and enemies, then to Potter, who was looking…

Potter was looking absolutely aghast, staring right at Draco as though this was the most horrible and shocking punishment he could have imagined.

Well. That settled Draco's resolve, and even as he felt his chest clench in irritation and embarrassment at Potter's obvious dislike of him, he knew that he had to see this through.

"It will be up to you and your partner to come up with a project which demonstrates an example of one of the topics we have covered this semester, which is coming to a close. You will use the rest of the class period for planning, but it will be up to the two of you to meet in your own free time to put the project together. Move to sit with your partners now, and I expect a project proposal from each pair by the end of class. Get to work."

Draco didn't move from his seat, or even turn around to see Potter. His heart was hammering in his chest at the prospect of them working together, alone, away from Potter's abhorrent friends, and Draco's abrasive ones. Maybe this was his chance.

"Hey."

Looking to his left, Draco saw that Potter had dropped into the seat next to him, looking cautious and defiant. Had Draco really been that horrible to him? His reputation that ominous? Well, probably yes, but that wasn't his fault!

"Hello, Potter." He greeted, trying to be friendly, but failing by the look on the dark haired boys face. It must have been his tone; his mother was always telling him to work on that, lest he come off too snooty and superior.

The rest of the lesson progressed painfully. It was awkward, how hard he and Potter were trying to be polite and friendly, and how obviously they were failing – every feeble attempt at interaction dissolved into bickering. Eventually they settled for brainstorming separately on their own pieces of paper, to compare notes at the end of class.

Draco wanted very dearly to impress Potter with a plethora of good ideas, but found that as the minutes passed he was so distracted that he couldn't think of a single thing. He sat there, pen poised over his notebook, drawing a complete and utter blank. Never, even after so many years had passed, had he forgotten that Potter had been his first, before things had gone so wrong. Maybe this was his chance to redeem the so many years of lost time.

Probably not. But it was worth a shot.

Someone must have sped up time, because in the next instant Professor Snape was calling for proposals, and Draco looked down at his blank piece of paper with horror. No, no, no, no, no! He was already mucking everything up! Potter was going to think he was dumb, and Professor Snape was going to question why his best student was suddenly his worst, and it was all going to hell in a handbasket!

"What's your idea?"

Draco turned to Potter deliberately slowly making sure to clutch his notebook possessively to his chest so that Potter couldn't see how embarrassingly blank it was.

"You go first." Draco insisted, trying to stall for time.

Potter eyed Draco's clutched notebook strangely, before frowning at him. "I'm not going to copy your ideas or anything, you know. And this is a group project; we're supposed to work together."

"I know that." Draco snapped, before reeling himself in. Tone, he reminded himself. "I just… wanted to see what you came up with on your own. I can't carry this whole project on my own, you know."

The blonde grimaced at his accusing words, further irritated when Potter rolled his eyes at him, but the other boy consented to put his idea forward.

"Well… I was thinking we would make a rocket."

Draco stared blankly. "A… a rocket, Potter? How does that have anything to do with –"

Riiiiiiiiiiiiing!

"Class is over." Professor Snape announced, sounding irritated. "I need all proposals on my desk within the next minute, or you will receive a failing grade for today."

Potter looked panicked. He knew that Professor Snape held a grudge against him from Potter's father (Draco had never gotten the details), and would love the chance to give him a failing grade. "What ideas did you write down?" He asked quickly, making a grab at Draco's notebook.

"It doesn't matter!" Draco urgently insisted, clutching his still-very-blank notebook closely. "The rocket's a great idea! Let's do that!"

"What?" Potter shot back, looking at Draco like he had gone crazy. "No it's not, why don't you just –"

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy." Drawled Snape from his desk, frowning at them. "Your proposal?"

Draco knew that the only reason that they weren't in trouble already was the fact that he made up half of their pair. Professor Snape would have loved a chance to rip Potter a new one, but was obviously holding back because of Draco's involvement.

"Just a moment, Professor." Draco called in a strained voice, before grabbing Potter's notebook.

"What are you doing?" Potter hissed as Draco slammed the notebook down on his own desk, eyes roving over Potter's messy chickenscratch until he found "make a rocket" scrawled in at an awkward, cramped angle. He rolled his eyes at some of Potter's other ideas like "ant farm", "paper maché volcano", "penny in coke", and the vague "snails in bucket", before circling the word 'ROCKET', and ripping the paper out and running it up to Professor Snape.

"Hey!" Potter yelled, but Draco had already handed it in.

"Rocket?" Professor Snape asked as he picked up the paper and read what Draco had circled, raising an eyebrow in question.

"It will make sense when we turn it in." Draco rushed to explain, because Potter's friends were hanging around the door, urging him to come along, and Draco had to talk to Potter again before he left.

He caught Potter up as the boy was shouldering his bag, turning to leave, and Draco reached out to grab his wrist to keep him from doing so. Potter jerked his arm away in response, and frowned at him.

"What?"

"We have to figure out when we're going to meet up to work on this project."

Potter looked suspicious. "I didn't think you'd want to get together… Wouldn't you rather just do it all on your own so that it gets done right and I can't mess it up? Or would you rather I did the whole thing, so that you don't have to waste your precious time on it?"

Draco huffed in frustration. This wasn't how it was supposed to go at all! Stupid Potter, and his stupid scruffy hair and stupid ugly glasses and stupidly bright green eyes. Why did Draco still care? Somehow, he knew it had gone above and beyond the petty need to fulfill his "I spotted him first" claim, and was hedging dangerously into the territory of a genuine fixation, but it was too late to turn back now, and he was bound and determined to take whatever he could get.

"Well you thought wrong. The project says we have to work together, so we have to work together." Draco told him, frowning at Potter's implications.

"Uh… we could meet in the library." Potter replied, sounding confused at Draco's insistence.

"Okay." Draco replied eagerly; too eagerly, and he probably sounded stupid. "Tonight, then, after dinner."

"Harry, you shouldn't –" the redheaded friend tried to cut in, but Potter waved him off.

"It's fine, Ron. We have to do the project sometime, same as you and Goyle. I'll see you later, Malfoy."

And that, it seemed, was that. Draco couldn't even drag up a haughty taunt for Weasley, or a jab at the Granger girl's look of concern, so shocked was he that Potter had agreed so readily.

"I… alright. I'll see you then." He managed, by the time Potter had already joined his friends near the door, and the bespectacled boy turned to look at him with a bemused expression once more, before nodding in confirmation.

Draco stood rooted to the spot even after Potter had left, unable to believe his luck. It was pathetic, really, this fascination and obsession over the ruffled, awkward boy, but Draco wasn't going to berate himself over it now, while he was too busy being floored. An interruptive cough brought him out of his reverie, and he turned to see Professor Snape staring at him intently. The man raised an eyebrow in question, and Draco – not wanting to explain himself – went about hurriedly gathering his things and dashing from the room.

The day dragged endlessly. As Draco attended his remaining classes and blandly ate his way through a roast beef sandwich at lunch in the expansive dining hall, his entire focus was on his upcoming meeting with Potter. It was stupid, because as interested as he was in Potter, the boy still frustrated and irritated him to no end, but he kept having stray thoughts such as "what are we going to talk about?" and "how do I get him to like me?" floating through his mind. He reigned himself in as much as he could after his friend Blaise and the ever-infatuated Pansy asked him if he was alright in maths class, because he kept getting a glazed look in his eyes and fidgeting nervously, but his anticipation remained un-quelled.

By the time dinner rolled around, Draco was more at odds with himself than he had been in quite some time. On the one hand, he had been fascinated with Potter ever since he had first laid eyes on the boy, because he was so unlike anyone else Draco had ever met. On the other hand, as time passed, it had become clear that they were in far too different circles to get along properly, and Draco shouldn't have been wasting his time with someone so beneath himself. But that was the problem, he mused as he poked and prodded his mashed potatoes around his plate. Potter was beneath him, but had apparently never gotten the memo, because he continued to rebelliously hold his head high and proud. Draco didn't know many people who weren't aware of their place, even less who were allowed to run amok with such abandon for rules and proper organization. He detested Potter for it, but in a way he was aware that the feelings had been twisted from a restrained jealousy.

Without warning, and seemingly very suddenly, dinner was over. Students were abandoning their plates to go back to their dorms, or wherever else, and Draco's gaze automatically shifted to the table he knew that Potter normally sat at with his friends. They seemed to be keeping him involved in some intent conversation, but this was Draco's time for a turn at Potter, and as such he grabbed his bag and marched over to take action.

They were all sitting with their backs towards him – a rookie mistake, Draco sneered to himself – and thus did not see his approach. Draco turned on stealth mode, walking quietly and holding his bag strap tightly so that the metal fasteners wouldn't make any noise.

"I just think that we should go with you, Harry. You know how he is, what if this is just some sort of set-up to play an awful trick on you, or hurt you?" Granger was advising him.

Weasley nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah mate, that's just the sort of thing that evil git would do! You're not seriously going to meet him alone?"

"Look," Potter cut in. "I know you guys mean well, but I'll be fine. It's just for the stupid project, and we'll be in the library, which isn't exactly private or hidden enough for him to try anything funny."

Something about Potter telling his friends off for trying to follow him to his meeting with Draco, when normally the three of them were inseparable made Draco's chest swell smugly, and he couldn't resist making himself known before either or Potter's lapdogs said anything more stupid.

"Yes, he'll be quite safe, I assure you." Draco announced, pleased at the shocked gasp from Granger and the outraged gurgle from Weasley as the three friends quickly turned around to face him. "It's not like I bite… hard."

Granger frowned, and Weasley snarled, opening his mouth to say something scathing or offensive, but Potter cut in quickly. "Guys, don't. I'm going now."

"But –"

"Harry, you –"

"Bye." Potter cut in with finality, grabbing his things and standing before shoving past Draco and heading in the direction of the library.

Draco gaped along with Potter's two lackeys for a moment before recovering himself, sending a parting smug smirk at them, and following after Potter.

"I'm surprised you didn't have to tie your hounds up to keep them from sniffing after you." Draco commented as he caught up with Potter in the hallway. "They're more well trained than I thought."

Potter shot him an irritated look. "Shut up, Malfoy, they mean well."

"I'm sure they do." Draco easily replied. "But I'm also sure that all the leg humping gets old after a while."

Potter stopped fully this time, turning around to face Draco with a frown marring his features. "They were trying to help, because they are my friends, and I'll thank you to not insult them. And they have a point – I'm still not sure if I shouldn't be expecting you to pull some kind of trick on me."

This was Draco's cue to frown. How dare Potter suspect him of ulterior motives! Maybe it had something to do with their shared history of years' worth of name-calling and trouble causing, but still! "I just want to do the project."

"Fine." Potter snapped, before turning around and heading back to the library.

They walked in silence – silent fuming on Potter's part, and silent observation on Draco's – until they had reached the library, found a table, and set (slammed) their bags down. Draco waited a minute until it became obvious that Potter wasn't going to initiate anything before asking, "Sooo… a rocket?"

"Well it's not like you had any better ideas!" Potter said defensively.

"I'm not saying I did!" Draco shot back in irritation.

"Well then don't belittle my idea!"

"I wasn't belittling –"

"Okay look." Potter cut in, running his fingers though his already messy hair in exasperation. "We're going to have to get along if we want any chance at getting the project done with a passing grade. So… so let's just call a truce, okay? For now."

"I was only trying to ask about the rocket…" Draco grumbled.

Things actually managed to go relatively smoothly after that. Potter explained his rocket idea, which was relatively juvenile – a combination of baking soda and vinegar that would create a chemical reaction capable of launching a plastic canister – but sufficiently comparative to the topic of chemistry that it would do well enough. At Draco's suggestion, they decided upon launching a series of plastic canisters, using different ratios of baking soda to vinegar, to demonstrate further research. It seemed as though once Potter decided they call a truce, and once they had an unbiased topic to focus on together, they were actually capable of getting along.

"Alright, well… this is enough to go on for now, I think." Potter said as the evening came to a close. "Snape's probably not going to be overly impressed, but well…"

"When is he ever?" Draco drawled, rolling his eyes. "Whatever stick is lodged up his ass isn't coming out anytime soon, but I'm sure our project will pass as well as can be expected."

Potter turned to look at Draco oddly. He looked confused, mainly, but there was something else to it… and then Draco noticed the way the corners of his lips were twitching.

"Are you trying not to smile?" He asked, smirking.

"Well…" Potter stuttered, looking embarrassed now. "I just… I thought he was your favourite teacher, was all."

Draco scoffed. "Yes, well, just because he's the only adult around here who actually seems to meet the teaching standard qualifications doesn't mean I'm blind to his flaws."

"Well then…" Potter said slowly, still eyeing Draco in that new, confused yet also amused way. "Did you, uh, want to get together again tomorrow to work on the project some more?"

Did he ever! Draco was reeling even at this much contact with and attention from Potter, and now the boy was offering a chance at more? He'd have to be a fool not to grab at the chance, and yet…

"I thought you wanted to work on the project separately?" Draco asked suspiciously. "That's what you said earlier, in class. Why are you changing your mind? I'm not going to do the whole project for you, you know."

"I know that." Potter snapped, his face flushing in indignation. "But… well we worked well together tonight, and you're not so bad when you're not being a gigantic dick, so… Tomorrow after lunch? Out on the front lawn? I don't think we're allowed to experiment with launching rockets in the library."

"Yes, alright." Draco replied, trying to sound disinterested and failing.

That night, before he got to sleep, he took the time to ponder what it was about Potter that got him so worked up, but never figured out an answer.

.o.O.o.

The next day, before lunch was even technically over, Draco once more headed to Potter's table, receiving the same death glares as the day before from Potter's friends. They must have been pre-lectured, though, because neither of them said anything this time, leaving Draco free to smirk at them importantly as he asked Potter "Are you ready to work on the project?"

Potter eyed him cautiously, as if still expecting the whole thing to be a clever trick of some sort, but nodded. "Yeah, alright."

A cough that sounded suspiciously like "poncey git" followed them as they left for the front lawn, and although Potter didn't bother to say anything supportive or dissuasive back to his friend, Draco took matters into his own hands and flipped the bird over his shoulder.. out of Potter's eyesight, so that he could deny it later if he had to, but still get the enjoyment of knowing that Weasley saw it. Draco had quickly cottoned on to the fact that the way to Potter was paved with irritating friends, and that he was just going to have to navigate carefully, because he certainly couldn't avoid them entirely.

"You got the canisters and stopwatch?" Potter asked.

"Of course I did." Draco replied, rolling his eyes. As if he'd forget! "Why, you didn't forget the baking soda and vinegar, did you?"

"I was just asking." Potter glowered. "And yes, I did manage to remember two whole items. Stop being a dick. I thought we had a truce for the duration of this stupid project?"

"Hmm." Draco murmured in begrudging agreement. It was also the closest to an apology that Potter was going to get.

Students gave them curious and surprised glances as they passed through the hall and across the front lawn together, surprised to see Draco and Potter in such close range without open hostility. It was due to these looks, perhaps, that Potter picked the most out-of-the-way area of the lawn to set up camp on, away from prying eyes. Draco privately agreed with the decision, because he certainly wouldn't have felt comfortable interacting with Potter while being watched, especially since he was trying to win Potter back over.

They played it safe at first, talking only about the project and topics immediately related to it. But for such a simple project, it was harder to set up than it seemed, especially when it came to measurements, as neither of them had thought to bring a funnel. In light of the newly difficult and messy task they now faced, it wasn't long until they reverted to trash talking one another to vent their frustration. All the same, Draco couldn't help but feel it was a new sort of insulting that lay much less in personal attack, and more in shared irritation that was directed at something other than each other, which almost served to unite them in a strange, twisted way. They were still bickering, yes, but they were bickering together.

Eventually, much time later, after they had constructed the canister base, and managed to get some relatively proportionally correct measurements of baking soda and vinegar sorted out into cups, it was time for the first test flight.

"Ready?" Potter asked, holding his cup ready to pour.

"As I'll ever be." Draco clipped, and rolled his eyes, earning an irritated huff from Potter.

Potter poured his cup, and Draco carefully poured his immediately afterward, and they both stepped back hurriedly, getting out of the way in case something went wrong. But… nothing happened at all.

"I think we did it wrong." Potter said, brows furrowing.

Draco opened his mouth to give a smart reply, when suddenly, with an odd fizzling, crackling pop, their canister shot up into the air over their heads. Draco's jaw dropped in surprise despite himself, and he looked over to Potter to find that his expression was just the same mix of surprise. Without warning, Potter broke into a grin that was directed at Draco for just one shining, dazzling moment, before the bespectacled boy turned back to watch as their rocket crashed back down onto the ground, and Draco's heart fell into a sudden swoop, only to come back fluttering madly.

Potter had smiled at him.

After the first success – in which they had both undeniably accomplished something together, which gave them a newfound feeling of camaraderie – things began to go a lot smoother. Without the constant bickering for the sake of bickering, Draco began to notice things about Potter that he hadn't had the chance to before.

Potter had nice hands. They fumbled awkwardly with the canister as Potter struggled to set up the rocket again, and they were distinctively boyish – none of the slender, delicate, manicured-nail elegance of a girl's – but nice all the same. Draco wanted to hold them, to see what they felt like, and that was probably weird, but it didn't mean it wasn't true.

Draco had always thought that Potter was unaware of his messy nest of hair, but it seemed that was not strictly true, because Potter often ran a hand through the fringe to push it back, or brushed loose ends away when they feathered tickilishly against his neck.

Potter's eyes were really, really green. Most people with 'green' eyes actually possessed something more like hazel, or a muddled mossy shade of some sort, but Potter's were astoundingly green, and Draco had a hard time looking at them for too long. It seemed as though Potter was not a fan of prolonged eye contact either, because every time their eyes met, he hastily looked away.

Infuriatingly, Potter smelled nice. Not like the girls who spritzed on too much flowery, candy-coated perfume, or like the boys who put on way too much musk, but just… good. The kind of personal, familiar smell that Draco knew he would be able to pinpoint and become comfortable and endeared to, if he was around Potter enough.

And finally, unnervingly, Draco noticed the way Potter's clothes fit him. They were always a bit rumpled as if the boy was unused to dressing himself, and un-tucked in the way Draco had always sneered at, but… underneath the clothes, Potter possessed a body, and the clothes fit it nicely in the right places. Draco's eyes started lingering in key areas, and he was sure Potter had caught him at least once, but somehow Draco was fascinated with the idea of Potter as a real person. It was so easy to think of him as an irritating entity, but as a physical presence he was so much more, and Draco found himself wanting to touch, and see just how real the boy Potter felt, compared to the image of Potter that Draco carried around in his head that was never fully fleshed out or detailed in the same way.

"Hey."

Draco pulled his eyes away from the area where Potter's shirt was un-tucked from the waistline of his pants, and saw that the boy was looking at him weirdly.

"What are you looking at? Also why aren't you helping with the rocket?" Potter asked in an irritated tone, but not the same, personal, kind of irritation of before.

Draco fought down the blush that threatened to overcome his cheeks. Why had he let himself get caught staring? Why had he even been staring in the first place? Well, because Potter was a point of immediate interest, obviously. But why did Draco have find Potter so damn interesting?

"Nothing." Draco replied distractedly, frowning. Potter rolled his eyes, but otherwise went back to fiddling with their rocket.

It bothered Draco that Potter had so much control over him. Whether it was Draco's irritation, frustration, anger, interest, or any other emotion, Potter attracted it like a magnet. And yet, as focused as he was on Potter, Draco couldn't feel like Potter returned the feelings. He only seemed to react when Draco purposefully initiated something towards him, and probably didn't give any spare thought to Draco when they weren't directly around one another.

"Do you hate me?" Draco asked without thinking, before he could help himself.

Potter paused in funneling vinegar. He threw Draco a confused look. "…I'm sorry?"

"Just…" Draco began, fumbling as he clumsily tried to cover his outburst. "You don't pay any attention to me. So do you really hate me, or not?"

Now Potter looked genuinely perplexed, still holding the funnel and bottle of vinegar awkwardly. "Uh… I don't know? I don't get it – what does me hating you or not have to do with me paying attention to you?"

Draco sighed heavily. "Well isn't it obvious? In order for us to be proper enemies we have to hate each other, and we have to hate each other actively. I feel like you're not reciprocating."

Potter set down the experiment supplies entirely. "So you're upset because I don't hate you, or at least not actively enough? What the hell is wrong with you, Malfoy?"

"What's wrong with you?" Draco shot back, crossing his arms stubbornly.

Frowning, Potter turned to face him more fully. "I'm not the one seeking any kind of attention he can get, apparently."

"I am – that is not what I'm doing!"

"Yes you are!" Potter insisted. "You're like a little kid, always being an annoying brat just to show off. Things really haven't changed, have they?"

Draco scowled indignantly. "I beg your pardon?"

Huffing impatiently, Potter asked "What, like you weren't being a show off the first time we met, parading all over your big fancy house like a little prince?"

"Hey! I –" Draco began, then paused. His first reaction was to defend himself, but more importantly… "You remember the first time we met?"

Potter's cheeks reddened in embarrassment at being caught in this admission even as he continued to glare, but he went on anyway. "Of course I do. It was a big fancy party, and we were pretty much the only people there our age, and you were strutting around like a peacock trying to impress me with all your big fancy house things."

Smirking, Draco couldn't help but ask "Well did it work?"

"No!" Potter shot back quickly. Too quickly…

"Yes it did!" Draco accused, gleefully. "You liked my fancy house and fancy party!"

"No I didn't, it was unbearably stuffy!" Potter informed him. "And it wasn't your party. It was a hoity toity fundraiser."

But it wasn't enough to diminish Draco's triumphant smirk. "Well even if you didn't like it, you were impressed." Although then a thought occurred to him. "Is that why you decided not to like me? Because I was rich and impressive?"

"No." Potter shot back petulantly, and this time Draco could tell he wasn't lying.

"Well why, then?" he demanded.

Potter looked irritated and uncomfortable. "Look," he said. "This is stupid, why are we even talking about this? Let's just get back to the project."

As Potter made to grab the canister again, Draco panicked. If he allowed them to just drop it and get back to the project they couldn't erase this conversation and go back to how it was before, and with things unresolved it would be even more awkward between them than it had been before. He reached out and grabbed Potter's wrist, keeping him from being able to go back to work like nothing happened, because it had, and Draco was going to get to the bottom of it.

"No." he said. "I deserve to know why you don't like me. We got along alright at the party."

"Well that was before I knew what kind of a person you are!" Potter half-shouted in exasperation, and Draco was glad that they were far away from prying ears out on the lawn, because this would be gossip gold.

"Oh?" Draco replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "And how does that story go, exactly?"

Potter looked down, frowning. For a moment Draco thought he wasn't going to get an answer, but then Potter spoke.

"Well first I met Ron and his family, the first day at the train station. And they asked if I knew anyone, because I was alone. At first I said no, but then I remembered you saying you would be going here too… so I told them I had met you. And they, well they sort of… told me, you know, about you and your family."

"I'm sure they did." Draco muttered under his breath.

"I wasn't sure what to think, because you hadn't seemed that bad to me, and then on the train you said hello, and so I didn't know why they had said what they did… but then you were just a git." Potter said, embellishing the last bit with conviction. "You teased my friends, and made fun of how I looked, and hung out with that awful rich-kid clique, and I guess you just sort of fulfilled all of the things they had told me to expect you to be."

Draco frowned thoughtfully. Well… he'd asked for the truth, hadn't he? However, that didn't mean he had to like it. "Oh yeah?" He said. "Well, my parents told me about you too. So when you started hanging out with the Weasleys, you didn't exactly do anything to disprove my forewarnings about you either!"

"Hey, the Weasleys are nice people!" Potter said defensively.

"Yeah, well I don't like them." Draco stubbornly.

Potter eyed Draco thoughtfully. "Oh yeah? Why?"

"Well…" Draco began, stalling for time. There were so many reasons – where to begin! "Because."

Potter huffed in a sarcastic imitation of amusement. "Seems like there are a lot of things you don't like, just because. Do you believe everything that other people tell you?"

"No." Draco shot back, insulted at the accusation.

Glaring, Potter was not to be deterred. "I think you do. The only reason you don't like the Weasleys is because your parents told you that they're poor, and that makes them bad people, and the only reason you don't like me is because they told you some other load of rubbish, and you either believed them, or just went along with all of your popular, rich friends who believed it when their parents told them. Because if you really knew the Weasleys you'd know how kind and generous they are, even though they're poor, and… well… you didn't have a problem with me the first time we met, so why now if not because of what other people told you? Because we never talked properly since that first time."

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but was unable to come up with anything to say. Potter had struck a chord. Not about the Weasleys, because Draco could care less about them, but with what he had said about why Draco disliked Potter himself. He had wondered, that first time his parents had told him about Potter, if maybe there was some way he could believe what they told him and still be friends with Potter, because he hadn't seemed like the glory-seeking, attention-loving spawn of parents of the same affliction that Draco's parents had made him out to be. But after that initial resistance he had just gone with what was easier, and that was the option of doing what they said unquestionably. Draco loved his parents dearly, and held them in high regard… but at that moment, he was currently feeling as though he had been misled somehow, and lost something for himself in the process.

"Aren't you going to defend yourself?" Potter asked.s

Draco slumped, defeated. "I don't really hate you, you know. But if we weren't able to be friends, how else was I supposed to get your attention?"

Potter goggled at Draco as if he had suddenly grown an extra head, or tentacles, or both. "I… what… That is the worst line of logic I have ever heard in my life." Potter told him, and Draco felt rather abashed. "You actually live like that?"

"Yes!" Draco snapped indignantly.

"Well that's stupid." Potter told him. "You should learn to make your own decisions and hold yourself accountable, and maybe then you won't be such an unbearable wanker all the time."

"I am not an unbearable wanker!" Draco squawked, outraged.

"Well then maybe you should try not acting like one, and people might believe it." Potter quipped.

Sulking, Draco couldn't help but think that this was not going at all according to plan. He had wanted to win Potter over by being smooth and cool, and all he'd wound up doing was making a complete ass of himself. Now Potter was going to avoid him even more than before, and Draco was never going to find out what it was about the dark haired boy that made him so interesting.

Unless…

"We could hang out sometime." Draco suggested, keeping his gaze firmly downward, so he wouldn't be able to see if Potter's face at the outrageous idea. There was silence for a good few moments that stretched out unbearably, until Potter finally responded.

"Well I don't see how."

Draco looked up hopefully. It hadn't technically been a no! "What do you mean?"

Potter rolled his eyes, and started counting off items on his fingers. "My friends would think I'd gone crazy if I said I was going to start pal-ing around with you. Your friends would excommunicate you from your little snobby rich kid clique. We don't have anything in common. And, correct me if I'm wrong here, but there's still the little detail of us not liking each other."

Mind working quickly to process everything that Potter had listed off, and still not finding a definitive "no" anywhere among his rambling, Draco countered his argument, starting from the end and working backwards.

"Well, Potter, I think you're a frumpy do-gooder, but I don't hate you." He started, and Potter 'tsk'ed scathingly.

"Oh great start, I can't wait to hear the rest of this argument." Potter said.

"Shut up." Draco told him, intent on finishing. "Anyways, I was going to say that despite your thinking I'm an unbearable wanker, I don't think you hate me either. We must have something in common… you like soccer, right? I've seen you at every game. So… so that's something. And who says we have to tell our friends? It could be a secret, and therefore more exciting right from the start."

Potter eyed him critically for a minute, looking both confused and interested. When he replied it was slowly, as though he was carefully measuring each word.

"Why is this suddenly a big deal to you? Why do you want to hang out with me?"

Draco considered for a moment, debating on whether to tell the truth, or form some sort of lie. "Because even though we don't like each other, and even though you're insufferably confident and moral and plebian, I think you are interesting. And I know you think I am too, so don't bother to deny it."

Shaking his head and looking in some sort of reluctant awe, Potter seemed at a loss for words. "That… how do you manage to make even a friendly invitation and compliment sound degrading?"

"It's a gift." Draco replied coolly, faking an interest in examining his fingernails.

"Okay then." Potter replied conclusively. "Alright… how about this? Let's just finish the rocket project this weekend, and then if we somehow manage to get a passing grade, I'll consider hanging out with you to satisfy whatever high and mighty interest you have in seeing how long we can go without killing each other. Deal?"

Trying to contain his excitement, Draco simply nodded, and shook Potter's outstretched hand. The contact sent electric shivers up his arm, and he prayed to whatever higher being might be listening that Professor Snape would give them a passing grade on their pathetic rocket.

.o.O.o.

Somehow they managed to complete their project together, and by some miracle Professor Snape deigned to give them a passing grade on it. Draco was worried that Potter wouldn't uphold his end of their deal, but lo and behold, he excused himself from his friends after that very class period and quietly asked Draco when he might want to get together. Trying to keep his cool and not sound too eager, Draco held back from saying "tonight!" and they instead settled on a few days later, after classes and dinner, on the sports field. No one used it at that time, and therefore no one could bear witness to their embarrassing attempt to "hang out".

Draco was anxiously hoping that maybe after meeting up he would find out that Potter really was as plebian and cocky and dunderheaded as his parents had led him to believe he would be, and then this stupid invested interest could be forgotten. However, he knew it was more likely that he was going to simply be adding fuel to the fire as far as his interest in Potter was concerned, and with no grounding for it in the first place, and keeping in mind how long it had lasted despite all odds, and how much more intimately he had started to look at Potter as of late… Draco was worried about the implications. Their meeting would be a test of whether or not he and Potter could stand each other long enough to figure the other out, as well as a test of why Draco was so interested in the boy. If it was just that he had been wanting to compare the real Potter to the Potter he had been told about, that would be all fine and well and concluded. But, if it was more than that… well, Draco would just have to tackle obstacle when he came to it.

Time came and went in rushing bouts and endless dragging. Draco and Potter didn't talk after their planning of the meeting, and Draco, in relentless paranoia, was convinced that he was going to be stood up, when the time came. When the time did eventually come, however, Draco strode purposefully to the pitch, head held high. If he was stood up then maybe the embarrassment and anger would be enough to quash his ridiculous infatuation with Potter, and he would find a way to twist the story so that he could tell everyone what a coward Potter was.

However… Potter was there, waiting on the lowest bench of the bleachers. He looked up when Draco entered the field, and Draco felt suddenly as though surely he was walking weirdly, and he didn't know how to hold his arms at his sides, and Potter really shouldn't be affecting him like this, but he was.

"Hey." Potter greeted as Draco awkwardly stopped in front of him, unsure of what to do next. Draco's nervous nod in response didn't seem to be enough to go off of for Potter, so he didn't say anything more for a few uncomfortable moments until he reached back and pulled out a round, checkered ball. "I brought this."

Draco's brow furrowed. "What for?"

The moment Draco said it he realized what a very stupid question it was, and Potter obviously felt along the same lines, because he raised an eyebrow in rhetorical question.

"Uh, for kicking. You weren't planning on just sitting here holding hands and talking about feelings, were you?" He said, sounding amused.

"No." Draco petulantly replied, grabbing the ball and kicking it hard across the field. He looked to Potter pointedly, and the other boy sighed and rolled his eyes before getting up and walking off to where the ball had stopped rolling.

It was… odd. They simply kicked the ball back and forth for a while in silence, and Draco watched the way Potter moved. He had excellent reflexes and never missed the ball, and his body seemed to move both confidently and effortlessly, which should have been contradictory, but somehow it wasn't. Draco was sure he was going to make an idiot of himself by tripping onto his face with how much he was watching Potter rather than the ball, but he managed not to somehow.

Draco's stomach twisted in an uncomfortable way when Potter's body moved to catch the ball after particularly wide kick from Draco, and it was at that point that he realized he was in trouble. He started aiming more and more difficult passes, just to see Potter's body strain with practiced perfection to save them, and Draco knew he was acting like a love-struck girl, but he was past the point of caring. He had Potter all to himself, and he was going to take advantage of it while he could.

Unfortunately he had not counted on Potter retaliating. The ball flew by his head after an especially close, fast kick, and before Draco even considered going after it he whirled around to glare at Potter. Potter… who was laughing at him!

"That could have taken my head off!" Draco shouted angrily, and irrationally. Of course it couldn't have actually taken his head off, but perhaps the drama would evoke Potter's sympathy.

"I know!" Potter shouted back at him, grinning.

He had done it on purpose! "You bastard!" Draco shouted, which only made Potter laugh harder. Draco ran after the ball, intent on giving back as good as he got. Potter seemed to have anticipated this, and was prepared to dodge the ball as Draco's kick sent it whirling at his head.

Their game quickly degraded into something much more violent, culminating when Draco went so far as to pick the ball up and chuck it as hard as he could at Potter's face. It missed, but war had been declared, and Potter threw it back hard. Draco instinctively prepared to protect his beautiful face, and was unprepared for the ball hitting him right in the ankles, knocking him to the ground. Potter was nearly in tears from laughing at this point, and Draco made up him mind right then and there to win at any cost. Throwing aside the ball, he tackled an unprepared Potter into the grass, pinning him by his shoulders and sitting squarely on his hips.

Potter looked up at him in amusement, and suddenly Draco realized that he hadn't thought this plan of action through very well. He couldn't throw a punch, because they were supposed to be having a friendly competition, and assaulting Potter was a surefire way to end that in an instant. Plus Draco was pretty sure that Potter could kick his ass in a physical fight that would no doubt ensue. But he couldn't just keep sitting there on top of Potter like an idiot. For one thing, they were way too close, and he was starting to become hyper aware of every inch between their bodies that were touching. Draco wasn't often physically close to anyone, especially not anyone he felt intensely about, and the combination was making him feel a bit flustered and embarrassed. He was sure Potter would notice and be totally weirded out at any second, so Draco settled for punching the pinned boy in the shoulder hard enough to make a point, but not hard enough to actually do damage and create any hard feelings, before standing up.

As Draco stood over Potter, the dark haired boy pushed himself up onto his elbows, glasses askew. He was still grinning, more rumpled than ever and covered in grass stains, and Draco reluctantly admitted to himself that he was probably going to remember the moment for the rest of his life.

"You gonna help me up?" Potter asked, not making any movement to help himself off the ground. Draco considered it for a moment, before deciding that Potter was probably making fun of him.

"You're not a girl." Draco told him.

Potter looked amused, and picked himself off the ground on his own. "You're right." He said, and then paused, looking as though he wasn't sure if he wanted to say whatever he was thinking, before plowing ahead anyway. "And it's a good thing, because I don't think we'd have played like that otherwise. Unless you're the kind of person who would beat up a girl, that is."

"I wouldn't." Draco resentfully told him, secretly bursting with emotion over Potter's roundabout way of saying he had enjoyed their roughhousing.

"Good to know." Potter quipped, before looking around. "Well… it's getting dark. We should probably head in."

Draco deflated. Their fun was over, and it was time to go back up to the school and go back to being enemies again. "Right." He agreed, frowning.

"But…" Potter continued, and Draco's heart swelled hopefully. "Did you maybe want to do this again sometime?"

Draco wasn't sure if there was enough yes in the entire universe to convey how much he wanted that, but by his quick affirmative reply, he was pretty sure that Potter got the general idea.

.o.O.o.

They met up again the next week, on the pitch again. And the week after that, this time on the lower fields at the back of the school. And then on the pitch again over the following weekend, a few days later. Before long, they were meeting up once or twice on a regular basis, all over the school, in secret. They still fought – a lot in fact – but the banter now had a friendly edge to it. They were still highly competitive, but it was more for fun now than anything else.

Maybe it was because of the secrecy, but their meetings held a heightened level of excitement for Draco that was hard to place… at first. He initially thought it was just the forbidden aspect of it that tantalized him, because he did so love being in on exclusive, hush-hush dealings, but it was more than that. It was something in the way that Potter was giving him a chance, and something about the way that they interacted that was so unlike any other dynamic he had ever had with anyone else.

And, if he was being perfectly honest with himself, it probably had something to do with the fact that Potter was extremely fit.

Draco had tried to deny it for as long as he could, but it seemed that a lot of his invested interest in Potter was due to a long-standing infatuation. Yes, Potter was different, and interesting, and had a personality that both complimented and contrasted Draco's own nicely, which on their own would have been good reasons for Draco's continuing investment, but unfortunately it seemed that on top of all that, Draco had a big fat whopping crush.

When he and Potter were hanging out – at the pitch, or the lower fields, or in the unused classrooms on the west side of the school, or the gardens – Draco couldn't help but realize how embarrassingly infatuated he was. He was always worried that Potter would pick up on it, even though the other boy never said anything to indicate that he had, and that it would be the end of them being secret… well, if not friends, at least something close to it.

And Potter only made it worse, damn him! Draco soon discovered that Potter was a very physical person, and whenever they kicked the ball around or played cards, Potter would find a way to touch him, even when Draco went out of his way to avoid it, for the sake of his own sanity. A tackle here, a pat on the back there, maybe a friendly shove from time to time… Draco had never had another person so intimately physical with him before, or if he had he certainly had never noticed. Sometimes Draco dared touch Potter in return, and Potter always seemed pleased. He had complained, at first, that Draco was a "reserved little bitch", and seemed to take it as a point of personal accomplishment that Draco had managed to loosen up around him.

But it was getting worse and worse to keep his infatuation a secret. Sometimes Potter snuck them bottles of beer and hard cider, and they wouldn't be doing anything but sitting around in an abandoned classroom just talking, and with the alcohol loosening his tongue, and Potter leaning into him slightly as they say with their backs against the wall, it was hard to keep from doing something very rash.

Draco kept himself in check by reminding himself that Potter hadn't even wanted to be acquaintances before, much less anything more intimate. The dark haired boy seemed to have settled in quite well into being guy-friends, however, and Draco was loathe to do anything to scare him off. It seemed that in Draco, Potter had found a confident that didn't meddle in his personal choices and opinions like his best friends did, and who wouldn't expect attention and doting like a girlfriend would. Draco often wondered if Potter had a girlfriend who was getting such attentions, but Potter never mentioned her, if she existed, and Draco didn't want to ask.

That night, they were going to be meeting in the south gardens of the school, which was a wonderful area for privacy thanks to its high, wall-like hedges, benches tucked under trees with low-hanging branches, and the sound of bubbling, trickling fountains that helped disguise low-volume conversations. Draco was early, or at least earlier than Potter, and he settled himself on a bench under a gnarled willow tree near the pond. He hadn't brought anything but himself, as it had become Potter's unspoken duty to bring their entertainment, ever since the first night that he had taken it upon himself to bring the ball. All Draco desired was Potter's company, but if Potter needed to bring some sort of a barrier or distraction to put between the two of them, that was on him.

"Hey."

Draco looked up to see Potter coming around the nearest hedge, looking disheveled and rushed.

"Oh look who decided to show up after all." Draco drawled. "I can see why you were late – your appearance is in impeccable form tonight, Potter."

"Shut up." Potter replied, rolling his eyes and grinning as he sat down. "My friends held me up."

Potter had taken to calling Weasley and Granger "my friends" ever since he caught on to the fact that naming them individually was usually enough of a lead in for Draco to make some scathing comment or another. They had wasted some tremendous bickering on insulting how awful each other's friends were, before eventually agreeing to disagree unless a prime opportunity for mockery presented itself.

"Oh?" Draco commented. "Nosing around again, then. Have the hounds caught the scent yet"

"Not yet." Potter replied, rolling his eyes. "I'm pretty sure they think I have some sort of secret girlfriend or something that I keep sneaking off to meet up with. Ron supposes that she must be really ugly, and Hermione's convinced it must be some girl from your crowd who's very attractive and puts out, but a super bitch."

Draco laughed. "Well Weasley's just a jealous toe-rag who would be so lucky to have even the ugliest girlfriend. Sounds like Granger's getting closer to treeing her quarry though, better watch out."

Potter shook his head in exasperation, sighing. "Why do you always refer to them like they're dogs? I know you don't like them, but they're my friends."

"Because they're stupid, and loyal for no reason." Draco told him, as if it were obvious.

Potter frowned. "I take it you're a cat person."

Waving his hand dismissively Draco corrected him. "I'm not an any-type-of-animal person."

Snorting dismissively, Potter told him "You're not a people person either."

"Touché." Draco acknowledged.

They sat in silence for a moment, before Potter announced "Sometimes I think maybe I should tell them about us."

Blanching, Draco panicked. That would ruin everything! They would meddle and interfere and just… ruin everything! "What? Why!"

"I dunno…" Potter mumbled, fidgeting awkwardly. "Only it's just that… they're my best friends, and I feel weird hiding this from them. I've got to tell them something."

"So then let them just keep thinking you have a secret girlfriend!" Draco shouted.

"I can't!" Potter bemoaned. "I'm a terrible liar! They'll know!"

"No they won't!" Draco insisted. Weasley and Granger couldn't, just couldn't know about this secret alliance! They would never allow it, and Potter would never in a million years choose Draco over them! "Just… just mess your hair up and rumple your shirt before you go back!"

"That's stupid." Potter said, because it was. "And why is it such a big deal? They can keep a secret, if it's your friends finding out that you're worried about."

"That's not it." Draco sullenly mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping.

Well, this was it. Draco had always suspected that this whole thing was too good to be true, and could never last, but he hadn't expected to get so invested… Stupid Potter, with his stupid friends, and stupid awkward charm, and stupid… stupid!

"Why are you so upset, anyway?" Potter asked, scooting closer and looking at Draco curiously.

"I'm not. You're just stupid." Draco snapped, standing up. "Tell your stupid friends whatever you want, I'm leaving." Draco turned to leave, glaring furiously, when a tug on his wrist stopped him.

"Wait!" Potter was saying, looking confused. "What the hell is your problem? Why are you leaving?"

"Because you're an idiot." Draco told him, still glaring.

Now Potter looked angry. "You keep saying that, but you're the one acting like I just canceled your birthday or something, when all I'm trying to do is be honest with people who are important to me."

Draco pulled his wrist away angrily. "Well then I guess I'm not very important to you, because if you tell them, then we're through!"

Potter's mouth dropped open, and if they hadn't been in the middle of fighting Draco would have made a witty remark about how it made him look very stupid. In fact, he was going to say it anyway.

"Close your mouth, you look like a dying fish."

That did shut Potter's mouth, but he closed it into a firm line, and he looked angry.

"You're such a bastard, you know that?" Potter said, standing to be on level with Draco. "You think that I'm so stupid, just going around doing whatever everyone else wants me to do to make them happy and to keep from having to do any of my own thinking, but I'm not. Last time I checked, that was you. I know that my friends wouldn't like this as well as you do, but I was just trying to be honest. Maybe if you had been too, and had just said in the first place that you were worried that doing that would ruing this… this… whatever it is, then we could have talked about it like rational people, instead of just fighting."

Draco fought very hard to keep his jaw from dropping like he had just berated Potter for doing, but having things thrown back at him worded like that… Draco hadn't taken the time to put things in perspective and be reasonable at all.

"It's not all about you, you know." Potter finished.

No, Draco thought, it wasn't. Because if it was, then Potter would just leave his friends in the dust and run away with Draco and they could live happily ever after, but that was never going to happen, and Draco was stupid for having ever entertained even the slightest fantasy of it. It was time to wake up and smell the bacon, or the roses, or whatever fool thing it was that was supposed to signify coming to one's senses, and forget that he had ever even tried to make something so doomed from the start try to work.

"You're right." Draco said, as calmly as he could manage. "I'm sorry for wasting your time. I'll just go now."

He only managed a few steps before Potter growled "You idiot!" and reached out and grabbed him again – this time more forcefully. Draco was whipped around and held by his shoulders, staring into the face of a very irate Potter.

"You're still making this all about you!" Potter told him. "It's not like I've just been doing you a favor all this time, hanging around with you. Maybe the first time, but in case you haven't noticed, I've been putting effort into this too since then. So you don't get to be the only one to make the decision to just walk away!"

Draco frowned. It certainly sounded like Potter cared, but it was all starting to get very confusing. "If you care so much, why do you want to sell me out to your friends?" He asked.

"It's not…" Potter exasperatedly started, before shaking his head. "Okay look, forget it. Obviously it's too big of a deal to tell anyone. So we won't."

"Good." Draco replied as importantly as he could, considering that Potter was still holding him tightly by the shoulders and the close distance and firm grip were starting make his stomach flip weirdly.

"Can I let go now?" Potter asked, eyeing Draco suspiciously. "Without you running away?"

"…Maybe." Draco replied, not wanting to say yes, because then Potter would let go, but not wanting to say no, because then Potter might think they needed to shout at each other some more. Potter decided to let go, but slowly, and his hands brushed down the sides of Draco's arms, and Draco was unable to suppress a shudder at the gesture.

"You cold?" Potter asked, sitting back down on the bench and indicating that Draco follow suit.

"Yes, a bit." Draco replied, even though they were heading into summer, and it was a rather nice evening.

Potter shuffled a bit, pulling himself out of his dark jacket, and Draco's eyes went wide as he realized what the other boy meant to do. "You don't need to… You're being ridiculous Potter, I'm not a girl."

Potter huffed in a put out kind of way. "You think I don't know that? Just take the jacket, it's not going to bite you."

In a mixture of reluctance and barely restrained eagerness, Draco reached out for the jacket, but Potter insisted on reaching around and pulling it over Draco's shoulders himself. It was very warm, and it smelled like Potter, and Draco had to remind himself not to wrap it around himself and breathe in the smell, because that would be above and beyond weird. Maybe if he had the jacket on its own, but not in front of its owner.

"So." Draco said, hunkering into the jacket. "What have you brought us tonight?"

Shaking his head fondly, Potter set his wrapped scarf down between them, and started unraveling it. "It would kill you to take it upon yourself to provide our entertainment, wouldn't you?"

"Very likely, yes." Draco smirked. "Why else do you think I keep you around?"

Potter looked up at him mischievously. "Couldn't be my roguish good looks and boyish charm, could it?" he asked, and Draco spluttered in surprise, trying to work up a reply. Was that a come-on? Evidently not, because in the next moment, Potter laughed. "I'm kidding, calm down. Don't give yourself a heart attack trying to think of which insult to use first."

"I'll try." Draco replied, still caught off guard by the pseudo-flirtation.

It turned out that Potter had wrapped up a few hard ciders in his scarf to smuggle out, and after wrestling a bottle-opener from his pocket he clinked the lip of his bottle to Draco's. He didn't toast to anything, but as far as Draco was concerned he didn't have to – the gesture was intimate enough to communicate an understanding all of its own.

"So I've been thinking." Potter said after a few minutes of them sitting and sipping their drinks in silence as they watched the shadows grow longer across the garden.

"Careful, don't hurt yourself." Draco couldn't resist throwing in, because Potter had set himself up for it.

"Well now you ruined it." Potter said, grinning.

Draco held a hand to his chest in mock-horror. "Oh no, now I'll never know what infinite wisdom the great Mr. Potter was about to impart on the world!"

"You great berk." Potter said fondly with a shake of his head, taking another swig of his cider and going back to looking across the garden.

Draco took the opportunity to gaze at Potter out of the corner of his eye. Potter's jacket was too big for him even though they were around the same size, and the boy looked much smaller without it. Draco had asked, once, where Potter got it, and he'd replied shortly that it was a gift from his godfather, but had gotten a distant, crestfallen look in his eyes that made Draco hastily change the subject and remember to never ask about it again. Potter had wound the scarf around his neck in lieu of the jacket, and it made him look a lot more posh than he was, which suited Draco just fine. Draco was just beginning to marvel over Potter's jaw structure in the lowering light when Potter turned back to him, smirking, and Draco hastily pretended that he hadn't been staring.

"Do you want to hear what I was going to say, before?" Potter offered.

Draco pretended to consider it. "Well, I might as well, since you're probably going to tell me anyway."

This earned him a light punch to the arm, before Potter continued. "Well you keep making me want to take it back, but I was going to say that I've been thinking maybe you're not as bad as I thought you were. I'm glad we've been hanging out. I know my friends would give me hell for it, but once you get past the bitchy, prissy, evil-coated outside, you've turned out to be alright. I'm glad you suggested we try hanging out. I look forward to it, now."

Draco's mouth worked uselessly for a moment before he realized that all he could offer in return was a slightly choked "Me too." Thankfully, Potter accepted it gracefully, and Draco was left to deal with his hammering heart without being teased for his ineloquence.

They talked for a while about finals that were fast approaching, and what their plans for the summer were, and whether or not they were going on the last scheduled weekend outing of the year to the nearby village, before they both agreed that it was getting dark, and they had better head back soon, because if they were caught out after curfew, and buzzed to boot, they would be in a world of trouble.

"Here's your jacket back." Draco said, offering it out to Potter. "Thanks."

"You sure you don't want to wear it back?" Potter asked. "Your dorms are further off than mine, and it's cold out."

Draco gave him an are-you-crazy look, and pressed the worn material into Potter's hands. "I can't show up wearing this. My roommates know better than to interrogate me about… well, anything, really, but people have seen you wear this, and if I show up wearing it, stupid as they are, they'll be able to put two and two together."

Potter laughed as he shrugged the jacket back on. "Still not willing to come out to anyone yet about us, then?"

Wincing internally at the phrasing, Draco replied politely, but firmly. "That would still be a 'no', Potter."

"Oh that reminds me," Potter said, "I've got to make myself look like I'm coming back from a hot date, if we're sticking to the secret girlfriend story."

Draco watched eagerly as Potter un-tucked his shirt, flipped up one side of the collar of his jacket, and rubbed at the side of his neck until it looked red. "How do I look?" He asked, holding his arms out for Draco's approval.

He looked utterly disheveled, and it was more than a little attractive. Frankly, Potter was nothing short of delectable, looking ruffled and flustered, and Draco almost said as much before settling instead on. "You've got to muss your hair."

"Oh." Potter said, reaching up and ruffling it a bit. "Right. That look okay?"

"It doesn't look like you've done anything." Draco said. "Your hair is always messy like that. You have to… just, get the front a bit more."

Potter frowned, and tried to look up at his own hair before looking back to Draco. "I can't see it, and I'm not sure what you mean about the front. You do it?"

Draco's mouth went dry, but this was truly an offer he couldn't refuse. "Yeah, alright." He said, reaching out.

Potter's hair was a lot softer than it looked. Draco tentatively ran his fingers through it, pushing the hair back in the opposite way of which it was supposed to lay, and watched in satisfaction as Potter acquired a just-shagged sort of look. He was probably standing far too close, and he probably should have stopped playing with Potter's hair at least three run-through's ago, but he couldn't help it, and Potter didn't seem to mind. His eyes on Draco's face made Draco nervous, and he moved back slightly, hands still held up near his chest as though he'd have liked to go back in for some more.

"Look okay?" Potter asked.

Draco could barely breathe just looking at him. "Yeah, looks perfect."

"Good." Potter said, wrapping his hand around the back of Draco's neck and pulling him into a kiss.

Draco froze in shock. Potter was… Potter was kissing him, and he was so close his freshly disheveled hair was tickling Draco's nose, and he smelled so good, and he was radiating heat that made Draco want to pull him closer, but it was so sudden and unexpected that Draco pushed away instead, looking at Potter like a deer in the headlights.

"What the hell are you doing?" Draco spluttered, clutching his hands to his chest.

For his part, Potter looked confused, and answered cautiously. "I… I thought it was pretty obvious. Did… are you not… I'm sorry, was I misinterpreting this?"

"Misinterpreting…?" Draco echoed, still reeling. Potter had kissed him, Potter had kissed him, Potter had kissed him!

"I thought…" Potter hesitantly said, taking a step back. "I'm sorry if I assumed, but I thought I was, you know, I thought we were both on the same page. It seemed like you… wow, I'm really sorry. Just forget about it."

He made to leave, but Draco reached out and grabbed him. "No. Tell me why you did that."

Abashed, Potter shrugged. "Look, I thought it seemed like… I thought I was being pretty obvious the last couple times we hung out, and it seemed like you were receptive. Again, I'm sorry I assumed, I should have asked –"

"So you're gay?" Draco asked bluntly, unable to believe what he was hearing. There was no way, no way, that Potter was saying that he reciprocated Draco's feelings… was there?

Potter cringed. "No! I mean… I don't think so. It's not… it's just you, is all. When you stopped being a dick I started noticing you were pretty good looking, and we got along really well… I'm sorry, I guess I thought you felt the same way, is all. We don't have to hang out anymore if I've made it weird."

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Draco wondered if he should pinch himself, but settled instead for taking a more direct approach. "Are you being serious right now?" He asked. "Or is this some sort of joke?"

"Joke?" Potter repeated, looking scandalized. "I'm not cruel, Malfoy, I wouldn't make a joke out of something like this, I thought you knew me better by now."

"Oh." Draco replied. "Good."

Potter looked him over carefully, one eyebrow raised in question. Draco knew he wasn't giving much to go off of, but for the life of him he was unable to bring himself to say that he liked Potter too. That would make it real, and he was still not sure if this was some sort of dream or alternate universe, and maybe admitting it would shatter this surreal illusion.

"What does that mean?" Potter carefully asked.

"I mean… it's okay." Draco replied, still holding his hands up pathetically. Potter looked at him oddly, and took a step closer again.

"Malfoy?" Potter ventured, stepping another step closer. "I'm gonna kiss you again, okay?"

All Draco could do was make a pathetic little sound in the back of his throat and close his eyes as Potter leaned in, placing a hand behind Draco's neck again and pressing their lips together. Potter was more assertive this time, nudging Draco gently for a response, and Draco carefully placed his hands on Potter's chest as he responded to the kiss.

Their lips slid over each other messily, and their noses bumped as they tried to find the right angle, and it was clumsy and disorderly, and it was the best kiss of Draco's life. He fisted the front of Potter's shirt eagerly, and Potter took that as his cue to deepen the kiss, dragging his fingers into Draco's hair and tilting his head to a better angle. Potter's other hand came up to cup the side of Draco's face, and Draco keened willingly, opening his mouth to allow Potter tongue in. A part of Draco's mind told him that this probably should have been very weird, but the larger part of him was absolutely melting at the sensation.

Potter slowly guided them back to the bench, navigating so that they both ended up straddling it, leaning in to meet each other's mouths. Draco reached up and tangled his finger's back into Potter's messy dark hair, fisting gently and enjoying the low sound of approval Potter made. Not to be outdone, Potter trailed his fingers into the nape of Draco's hair, wound into a fist, and tugged. Draco broke away with a gasp, surprised at the electric tingling that ran down to his fingertips at having his hair pulled. Their mouths no longer connected, Potter pulled Draco closer until Draco was practically straddling his lap, and proceeded to latch his open mouth to Draco's throat.

"Potter…" He gasped, not sure what he was trying to say, but needing to say something.

"What?" Potter murmured into his neck.

But Draco never responded, simply untangled one of his hands from Potter's hair and ran it down his chest, coming to a stop at Potter's hip, which he gripped needily. This elicited another low growl from Potter, and he dropped his own hands to Draco's hips, thumbs pressing in with delicious pressure and moving in slow, tantalizing circles.

"'S'this okay?" Potter murmured as he sucked gently at the underside of Draco's jaw before coming back up to rest his forehead against Draco's. His hands were shaking slightly as he gripped Draco's hips, unconsciously pulling in an undulating motion that had Draco's head swimming.

"Yeah…" Draco breathed, pulling his nails lightly across Potter's scalp and drawing a pleased hiss from Potter's lips.

"Wanted to do this for weeks…" Potter told him, hands moving to the waistline of Draco's pants, playing with his belt.

"Mmmm…. longer." Draco sighed, pushing his hands up Potter's un-tucked shirt before forging subtlety and reaching to undo his belt.''

Potter gulped. "Maybe we shouldn't… I mean, not right here…"

"Yes, we should…" Draco purred, succeeding in unlatching Potter's buckle.

"Fuck." Potter swore passionately under his breath, pulling Draco back into another mind-blowing kiss as he hastily made to undo Draco's belt.

It occurred to Draco that things were moving rather quickly, but he wasn't particularly in any position to care. Not with Potter's hands reaching into his pants and wrapping around him the way they were. Draco pressed forward encouragingly, and Potter gripped his wrist, stopping him from fumbling any more with the belt buckle, and slipped Draco's hand down the front of his pants.

Draco swore he saw lights behind his eyes as he took Potter in his hand, prompting Potter to give Draco a slick, pleased squeeze around his own member. Draco's wrist was twisted at an odd angle, and he moved his other hand down to finish undoing Potter's belt, and unzipped his pants.

The whole thing was messy, and awkward, and – being that they were both inexperienced teenage boys – going to be over embarrassingly quickly, but as far as Draco was concerned it was perfect. No one had ever touched him before, and he shuddered in pleasure as Potter jerked his wrist with tight, squeezing pulls on Draco. Uncoordinated, Draco returned the favor, and he must have been doing alright, because Potter was making the most amazing husky noises that spurred Draco to new heights. Draco slipped his thumb around to slick Potter's pre-come down his shaft, and Potter gasped aloud, gripping Draco tightly.

"Gonna…" He tried to warn Draco, unable to finish getting the words out.

"Pretty sure that's the point, Potter." Draco whispered, redoubling his efforts. Whether it was due to Draco's onslaught of enthusiasm, or the sound of Draco saying his name, Potter lost it then, hunching over and burying his head in the crook of Draco's neck as he haphazardly kneaded between Draco's spread legs. Warm fluid coated Draco's hand, and that was his own undoing, to which he barely kept Potter's name from spilling from his lips.

Panting, neither boy made any effort to move for a few minutes afterward, until their breathing had calmed and their hearts had stopped racing. Potter was the first to recover, sitting up and wiping his hand off on the side of the bench, Draco following suit.

"So…" Potter began awkwardly, neither of them daring to meet the other's eye.

"Well, that happened." Draco bluntly commented, when it became obvious that Potter wasn't going to finish his statement. Part of his brain was still convinced that this was all a very wonderful dream that he was going to wake up from at any moment, but he really hoped not.

"Yeah." Potter mumbled. "Er, and… it's okay? Because I don't want to, you know, ruin anything. And, well, I'm kinda hoping we can do it again sometime."

Draco raised his eyes to Potters, which were already watching him tentatively. Was Potter really asking what Draco thought he was asking?

"I'd like that too." Draco returned, pleased when Potter smiled.

"Okay, good." Potter said, still with that charmingly awkward smile that Draco couldn't help but return. "We should get going for now, though. It's going to be lights-out any minute. You want me to walk you back?"

Draco flushed in pleasure and embarrassment. "I'm not a girl, Potter." He reminded him.

Potter rolled his eyes. "I know that, I was just asking. Well then, did you want to meet up again tomorrow?"

Of course Draco wanted to meet up again tomorrow, but… "Won't your friends think it's weird? We only meet up a time or two a week, and never two days in a row."

"Yeah well…" Potter shrugged. "They can deal with it. I took a wrong turn trying to get to World History the other day, and happened upon an empty classroom with a couch in it. It was, uh, really interesting. Wanna check it out?"

Smirking, Draco absolutely could not believe his luck. "Yes Potter, I believe I would."

.o.O.o.

The next few weeks flew by in a haze of secret forbidden excitement for Draco. He and Potter were meeting up more often than ever, sometimes in the same way they had before, but more often for sloppy snogging and more wherever they could find the privacy. It was more than he ever could have expected, and everything he wanted, and it was going so well that he should have known it was too good to be true.

As the school year dragged to a close, Draco started seeing less and less of Potter. Before, they had gone a week or more without meeting in secret, but now that they had been doing it so constantly, the loss was much more noticeable. They caught each other briefly in hallways between classes, and Potter explained about studying for finals, and Draco knew that Potter was needing all of the extra studying he could get, but it still hurt to be avoided, even if it wasn't intentional. Additionally, however, Draco suspected that Potter's friends had something to do with it, and their approach certainly would be intentional. Draco was sure that they had noticed Potter's more regular disappearances, and interrogated him about it, even if Potter was hesitant to admit it. Even though Potter had kept up the 'secret girlfriend' cover story, Draco suspected that at least Granger had worked out that it wasn't that, and had planted the same idea in Weasley's head, and the two of them were working together to keep Potter busy and occupied as much as they could, to keep him from whatever "trouble" they though he was no doubt getting himself into.

But Draco had no way of doing anything about it, because he certainly couldn't march up to Potter over breakfast and tell his stupid friends to lay off, and he didn't want to interfere with Potter's much-needed studying. Potter wasn't stupid, but he wasn't exactly academic. So Draco settled for brooding in silence and making everyone else around him miserable as well, as was his way.

They were down to the last few weekends before summer. There was a Saturday trip to town scheduled, and Draco wasn't excited about going, but needed to purchase a few things, so he had signed up along with everyone else. As luck would have it, Saturday came shining brightly, with hardly a cloud in the sky and a pleasant breeze wafting through the trees. It was mocking him, Draco just knew it, and he glowered resentfully as he waited in the queue with everyone else who had signed up as the teachers checked them off.

He saw Potter not too far away, laughing with his friends, and Draco glared at him. Nice to see that Potter was not too busy for a fun outing with them. Granger caught him glaring, and nudged Potter gently, inclining her head towards Draco subtly, and Potter looked over. Weasley looked as well, and was glaring, and Draco sent him an icy death glare before returning his sour look to Potter. Looking sheepish, Potter sent him an apologetic smile that neither of his friends would be able to see, but that only frustrated Draco more, and he turned away without another look. Potter could send all the apologetic smiles he wanted, it wasn't going to keep Draco from feeling left out.

It was busier than usual in town, with more students than usual in attendance, taking advantage of their last outing before finals and their return to their homes for summer vacation. Normally Draco would have gone with a small group of his "rich kid clique" as Potter called them, and had a merry time harassing the masses and blowing all of his money on sweets and trinkets, but he had gone alone today because he wanted to sulk, and get what he needed done as quickly as possible, Also, with the way he had treated his dorm-mates over the last week or two, there was no way any of them would have agreed to go with him anyway.

Only an hour or two had passed before Draco was done with everything he needed, and since he had no reason to stay in town, he figured he may as well head back to his room to sulk some more, and maybe start packing a few things up. Slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder with purpose, Draco took the familiar road back to the school, glad to be the only one traveling it, because the last thing he wanted at the moment was to be surrounded by happy, carefree peers.

By the time the road that led back to the school got to the outskirts of town, it became more of a path, and Draco knew it so well he barely had to look where he was going. The dirt crunched satisfyingly under his feet, and Draco was just getting lost in the monotonous sound of it when someone shouted his name.

"Malfoy! Hey, wait up!"

It was Potter. Draco knew it would be before he even turned around.

Draco turned around with as much attitude as he could put into it, which was ridiculous, but he did it anyway. He considered saying "what?" in a scathing, disinterested sort of way, but settled instead on saying nothing, simply fixing Potter with a look. Potter, who had been smiling as he approached Draco initially at a jog, slowed to a walk, and his features twisted into a frown.

"What's wrong?" Potter asked, stepping up to Draco and looking at him with concern.

An internal war raged within Draco, and each conflict seemed evenly matched. On the one hand, he really didn't want to give Potter the time of day, and give the idiot a piece of his own medicine… but on the other hand, he really missed Potter.

"I'm mad at you." He settled on saying.

"What for?" Potter replied, looking genuinely confused.

Draco huffed exasperatedly. "If you don't already know, I'm not going to tell you." He said, knowing he was being a brat but not caring for the moment. He made to turn and walk away, but Potter reached out and grabbed him by the wrist, holding tight. Draco probably could have yanked away and ran for it, but Potter was touching him, and that was enough to keep him right where he was.

"Look, is this about how we haven't seen each other for a while?" Potter asked, turning Draco back around to face him.

"Oh very good, ten points to Team Potter." Draco drawled.

"I told you I was sorry." Potter said. "I've been so busy with studying for finals, and my friends –"

"Oh yes, your Weasley and Granger." Draco cut in. "The friends who were important enough for you to spend your free day with them, while I was left to wander about the town like a fool all on my own."

"Oh don't give me that." Potter told him. "You never would have agreed to go with me today, if I'd asked you. Then people would know. And besides, you could have gone with some of your little clique if you hadn't been such a moody prick to them all lately." At Draco's shocked look, Potter explained himself. "I'm partners with Theodore Nott in Botany. I heard him talking to Blaise Zabini about how you've been acting."

"Well if I had been acting like a moody prick, and I'm not saying I have, maybe it was because someone started it."

"You're insufferable, you know that?" Potter said, but somehow, even though he was irritated, he still sounded a little fond.

"Well if I'm so insufferable I won't bother you anymore, and let you get back to your pack. I'm sure they've been left chasing their tails around uselessly without you around to adore and micromanage." Draco said.

Potter rolled his eyes. "If I wanted to hang out with them I'd be with them right now, you git. I came to find you."

Raising an eyebrow, Draco couldn't help but admit his curiosity was piqued. "Oh? What for?"

"Because I wanted to spend time with you, why else?" Potter retorted. "I told them ages ago I'd go with them on the final trip today, but I was going to make up an excuse to leave early so that I could come find you and we could hang out instead. Practically no one will be at school until dinner, so we can do whatever we want up there."

Draco's resolve softened, despite himself. "That was really your plan?"

"Well… yeah." Potter said. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Yes, yes he was. Potter had ditched his friends to hang out with Draco instead, and even though Draco didn't like them, he knew how much they meant to Potter. If he was willing to divide his time like that, maybe Draco really had just been paranoid for no reason for the last few weeks. "I was starting to think maybe you didn't like me anymore." He admitted, frustrated.

"Everyone gets busy sometimes, Malfoy." Potter said. "And we're always going to be fighting about something or another. You can't just give up every time something gets in the way."

Draco sighed. Potter was right, of course. The problem was that Draco was a creature of very selfish fight or flight tendencies… he was relentlessly stubborn over silly, trivial things, and ran too easily from anything that he didn't want to deal with. But if Potter was saying he was willing to see this through, then maybe it was time for Draco to start showing a bit more dedication.

"You're irritating when you're right." Draco admitted grumpily.

Potter laughed. "Yeah, well you're irritating when you're stubborn, which happens a lot more often. And besides…" Here he trailed off, looking a bit embarrassed. "I… sorta got you something to make it up to you."

Draco immediately perked up. Presents? There were few things in the world that Draco loved more than presents, and one of those few things was Potter, and… Potter was giving him a present?

"What is it?" He asked eagerly, scanning Potter and noticing a package in the boy's hand that he hadn't paid mind to before. It was small, but it was a present from Potter, and he wanted it very badly.

"It's not much…" Potter warned him, "But, I just thought… well…"

Potter handed Draco the small package, and Draco untied the ribbon on it and lifted the lid. Inside, nestled into a soft plush pillow, were two silver band rings. They were nondescript but nicely shaped and freshly shined, and… was Potter suggesting what Draco thought he was?

"Potter…" Draco asked slowly, carefully. "Are you, ah, asking me to… marry you?"

"Oh my god, no!" Potter blurted, flushing. "We can't… No, I just, I thought… if we both had one, you know. They match, is all, so we'll each have one, so even when we can't be around each other, we can, you know…"

Draco knew he was blushing something fierce, but he couldn't have helped it even if he had tried. "This…" He tried, and had to take a breath and start over. "Thank you, Potter."

"You're welcome." Potter returned, still looking embarrassed, but extremely pleased. "I had to guess at your size, so if it doesn't fit…"

But it did fit, when Potter slipped it onto his finger, before Draco put Potter's on him. Draco held his hand out to admire it, in its simple elegance. He thought back to the first time he had ever met Potter – they had both been so young, and so doomed from the start, and they'd somehow managed to come so far.

It was far from perfect, but all the same, he was glad that in the end, theirs had turned out to be a love story all along.

…o.O.o…

the end

..