Disclaimer: this story belongs to the author Amy Lupin, which authorized this translation, and the characters belong to J. K. Rowling.


Chapter One

"That's it guys! End of game. The victory goes to the Systems of Information class, on the second set! And what an outstanding talent the new player showed! This Potter's promising…"

Draco Malfoy spat on the floor with despise while watching the skinny boy, who looked like he had grown a lot in a very short time, being hugged by his teammates. Everyone on the team was taller than him and was getting the boy's dark hair even messier than usual. He was wearing round, dark glasses, which framed his gorgeous green eyes, like emeralds.

Those eyes made most girls sigh, but inspired nothing but hatred in Draco. He just couldn't accept that a boy with no appealing whatsoever could be more popular than him. Him, with the silver clear hair, with threads of sweat rolling through his check and neck, his pale skin, his aristocratic bearing and muscled body. Well, maybe not that muscled, but muscled enough to make the girls drool: slender and athletic.

His blue grayish eyes, usually stone cold, were sparkling with rage while he was heading to the locker room with the rest of the (loser) team of Administration.

That was the first official volleyball game he played in Hogwarts, and his entrance in the team, on his first year, had to be marked by an outstanding victory. But no, Potter had to ruin everything! Potter was always frustrating his plans, every since they were eleven.

Harry Potter was famous since he was one year old, but not by his own merits. His fame was a consequence of his parents' murder, which were fighting for a noble, pathetic cause. James and Lily were both famous TV reporters and had discovered some serious dirt about a feared mobster. Tom Riddle had planned to personally kill the Potter family to avoid having the scandal associated with his good name and also to prove how powerful he was. However, his plan went wrong and he was ambushed by the police before he could finish his purpose. He had been betrayed by one of his men, Severus Snape, whom by irony of fate taught math on the University of Hogwarts. He was one of the Boy-who-lived teachers, an ex-spy and police informer. He had abandoned that role as soon as Riddle was caught and he had conquered his freedom.

Riddle was dead and Harry had escaped with a strange scar in the shape of a lightning on his forehead, made by a knife. Just another ridiculous detail for the collection… Draco didn't understand. Why would a horrible mark like that fascinate so many people?

Draco Malfoy was famous too. Well, maybe not him in particular, but his family name was respected. His father, Lucius Malfoy, was a great businessman. He was also a Riddle ex-follower, but that detail had been hushed and briefly forgotten by a high price in government donations. Lucius liked to mention that money has a great investment.

When Draco, at the age of eleven knew he and Harry would be studying at the same school, he tried a friendly approach, a beneficial alliance for both parts. They could have had a glorious future as allies, but idiot Potter had despised his attempt of friendship. He had chosen to remain anonymous instead, the loser, right beside the other two nobodies: Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. To everyone else, Harry was noble and humble. To Draco, he was a fool: shy, modest and with a hero complex. Those three qualities resumed all the loading he felt for Harry.

Fame usually tends to be a passenger thing, but there's always an exception. And who would that exception be but Harry Potter? The more he ran away from fame, the more he became admired by everyone and consequently, more loathed by Draco.

So, the years of rivalry and mutual aversion went by. When Draco thought he had finally gotten rid of the hateful boy, he had chased him and entered the same college as him, stealing the popularity that was rightfully his. Weasley and Granger had followed him like trained puppies. With a scholarship of course, besides not having the social status, they certainly didn't had the means. It was an outrage having to be with that kind of people min such a renowned university, but he really didn't have a choice.

Potter, Weasley and Granger, the inseparable trio… The three had managed to stay together even in college, even though the first two were studying Systems of Information while Granger had opted to study Foreign Commerce. Still, both courses were in the same building, and they actually had some classes together in the first years.

For all that, the only thing that could ease the anger he felt was to annoy the boy-who-lived. On the way to the locker room, he saw an unparalleled scene: Weasley and Granger kissing. Potter was close enough that he would hear if Draco spoke loudly, and that's what he did.

"Ugh! Gross!" he mocked on his affected voice "Why don't you go to a place out of sight to make out? No one here wants to watch such a disgusting scene."

The couple had quickly separated themselves startled, but their expressions became dark when they realized who had spoken. The tall boy, with the blue eyes, red hair and freckles clenched his fists and replied:

"Then why did you stop to watch?"

"Just ignore him Ron." The girl with brown eyes and voluminous hair tried to calm him, but her eyes were also sparkling with anger. "He's just angry because he lost the game."

"So, tell me Weasley, how was it watching Potter play on the place on the team you wanted?" the redhead turned pale and Draco's smile grew wider. "What, do you think I don't know you sign up for the team but didn't even try out because the Popular Potter made the judges' eyes sparkle?"

Granger turned pale too and looked at the boy with disbelief.

"Don't tell me you hadn't told your little girlfriend, Weasel! And of course Potter doesn't know either, or he would have renounced his charity spot, isn't that right?"

"Oh, you…" Ron tried to throw himself at Draco with clenched fists, but Hermione held him back, helped by two male decided arms.

"Get out of here Malfoy." ordered Harry, while firmly holding his friend. "Go cry your defeat with your brainless friends."

"And how are you planning to celebrate your victory Potter? On the burrow the Weasley call home, eating bread with butter and drinking fresh tap water while sitting on the floor playing chess?"

"You miserable bastard…" Ron tried to reach Malfoy, but he was well held.

"No? Well, who knows, are you taking them all to your place to watch TV Potter? Do you know what a TV is, Weasel? Because judging by the quantity of brothers you have…

"Shut up Malfoy!" Potter growled between clenched teeth, squeezing his friend's arm harder than necessary.

"I wonder if they can all fit in your house Potter. Better fill up the pantry. The way they're poor they're probably starving, and judging by the size of their mother…"

Draco couldn't finish what he was saying because he was interrupted by punch on the mouth. He barely had time to notice the taste of blood before he was tossed to the floor. Potter fell on top of him, punching and swearing while one of the redhead twins, Ronald's brothers, helped Granger to hold him down and the other tried to separate Potter and Malfoy, but couldn't see which arm belonged to whom, so tangled they were together.

"You miserable son of a…"

"What is this?" their judge and trainer, Madame Hooch, appeared shocked, and the two finally realized where they where.

Potter got up, straightened the red and golden shirt he was wearing and cleaned the blood that was running from his nose with the back of his hand.

"Let's get out of here." He said shooting one last furious look at Draco before turning his back on him and heading to the exit without even passing through the locker room to change. "Is it true what he said about you joining the team?"

Draco watched Weasley's ears turning red and him twisting his hands before he answered.

"Well, I did sign up, but it wouldn't work out anyway…"

They went through the door and out of Draco's field of vision. He wanted to get out with the same ease and despite as the other, but realized he couldn't.

"Draco! What have they done to you, big boy?" a girl with long hair, tight jeans and a blouse that left most of her belly out shrieked, examining each part of the blonde's body.

"Shut up Pansy" the boy growled ignoring her help to get up. "Don't call me… that!"

"Oh, big b…"

"Shut up!" He had a cut on his eyebrow and his teeth were red from the blood that emanated from the deep cut on his lower lip. "That's going to swell like hell! I must look awful, hide me!"

She put herself in front of him, but she was shorter than him, so that didn't work. He had to run to the locker room leaving her mumbling things like "My poor big boy!"

Draco got home and hiding his face from his mother when he passed her, not answering her greeting. On his room, he threw the keys to his BMW on his dresser and his backpack was left on the floor halfway to the bathroom.

"Who are you, you monster?" he asked the image reflected on the mirror. His lip was swollen and his right eye was turning purple. "You're going to pay for this, Potter. How am I supposed to go out tonight, with my face looking like this?"

After taking a nice, long shower, he couldn't run anymore. He showed his face to his mother, who was shocked, and asked her to help him treat the wounds. He had to hear her super-protective nonsense, but at least he would look more presentable by Monday. Thank God his father was away and wouldn't come back until then, but he couldn't let himself be seen like that, because someone would definitely tell him and Draco would be screwed.

"Fantastic, I'll have to spend the weekend at home!" he punched his pillow "Damn Potter!"

He was lying on is bed at nine o'clock on a Saturday! Pansy had already called three times, but he didn't answer it. He turned his cell off and warned Winky that if she called to tell her that he wasn't home, or had died, or something. Clingy girl, that Pansy… He didn't even know why he hadn't told her to go to hell yet. Well, actually, he knew: business. Her father was an important ally of his father's company. Besides, she was kinda hot… when her mouth was closed.

Draco had never stopped to think about it… Actually he had never stopped, much less to think. He was always busy partying with his old class, which ended up getting in he same course as him in college. Funny… it felt like he already knew that story…

Well, anyway, he had never stopped to think about the fact that he was surrounded by idiots. He was like an island in the middle of a sea of brainless people. How long had it been since he had had a decent conversation with anyone? Since Blaise Zabini had left the country. He was the only person with whom he could have interesting and intelligent conversations, the kind of conversation that matches his position as the heir of Lucius Malfoy. Nott was alright… but, Parkinson? Bullstrode? Crabbe e Goyle? Pffff…

He got up from his bed and sat in front of the computer, turning it on. Someone had traded his spinning chair with wheels for a standard four leg chair. That someone was going to pay for doing that, but he didn't feel like going out of his room to listen more of his mother's whining.

While the computer was turning on, he chose one of his classical music CDs. On his car he had nothing but hit CDs, to impress, obviously. But in his room he could listen to whatever he wanted and now, he wanted Mozart. How he missed Blaise to talk about real music… He chose a three string quartet and piano and let the music flow in the room.

He decided he would find an interesting company, even if it was just to chat. He usually spent whole nights in front of the computer, talking to people from college, or visiting adult sites, but he had never been forced to do it on a Saturday night at nine p.m.

He got in the college website and was about to insert his username and password when he stopped to think. If he wanted to find new, more interesting people, he shouldn't be recognized, or some imbecile would start a boring chat with him and take the fun out of the whole thing. Alright that the odds of anyone he knew being online at that absurd hour were minimal, everyone should be out dancing or getting on trouble, or whatever… But he wasn't willing to take that chance. He decided to create a new account, assume a new identity. But which name to choose? He remembered of an old legend of one of his father's books he liked to read and made up his mind. He would be the Slytherin Prince. He started checking out the usernames of the online people. Each name dumber than the other… None of them caught his attention of suggested an intelligence level higher than a 5-year-old's, until he stumbled into a name he recognized.

Angel. The college website had some special pages for the interns. The one that caught his attention was Technological Innovations. None of the site's members identified themselves, they all used pseudonyms to sign their articles. Angel wrote his favorite page. Draco didn't have much to do in his father's company. He had his own office, reports to analyze and a secretary – she was too old for him to be able to take advantage of his authority, but she was a good listener and talked to him when he was bored. However, the one thing his father demanded of him was that he kept up to date on the technological tendencies and knew how to participate with resourcefulness on the meetings where his presence was requested.

He was delighted by the dexterity and objectivity of the writer. He found the reading pleasant and the approach really well executed, even with a certain casualness. Her articles were characterized by interactivity with the reader and the jovial way to inform and entertain at the same time. But… an intern? He actually never had problems being with older woman, as long as the age difference was acceptable, of course.

Anyway, if he wanted to catch this girl's attention, he had to start by picking a nice font color. Blue was a great color. Maybe not that original, but good enough. He started the conversation:

Slytherin Prince says: Hello Angel.

Ok, it was lame, but was there another way to start a conversation other than hello? There were a few seconds of hesitation before he saw the expected "Angel is typing a message", which only lasted fraction of second before the words appeared in green on the screen.

.:Angel:. says: Hi

He knew that kind of "Hi". It was the kind that had the question "do I know you?" implied.

Slytherin Prince says: I'm a fan of your work in the college website. I never miss an article of yours and always make sure I'm one of the first people to read it.

He thought about writing that he even knew the exact time she made an update, but that would be too flattery. And Malfoys definitely do not flatter. He was simply… acknowledging the girl's talent.

.:Angel:. says: Oh, thanks! Are you new here? I don't think I've ever seen you on this chat page…

Draco was about to answer that he actually was on the first year of Administration and went to the chat page with a different username, but he deleted what he had written. What if she was a squint, four-eyed, full of acne? His identity had to be preserved. He would have to investigate her before he identified himself. He could imagine the girl sighing if she knew who was complimenting her, but he had to deny her of that until he made sure he wouldn't regret it.

Slytherin Prince says: Yeah, I graduated a couple of years ago in Administration. I usually don't comment on your articles, but I've been following them, and think they're really interesting, not to mention useful for my company.

The "my company" was intentional, for impact. It wasn't that big of a lie, his father owned the company, and he was his only heir. But, about having graduated… it was a tiny little lie, she wouldn't even care when she knew who she was talking to.

.:Angel:. says: Geez, it's nice to know my work's good for something! In what area do you work?

She was so modest! He usually didn't like modesty, he found it false, but in that case he was actually finding it pleasant. She took a while to answer to him, which probably meant she was talking to other people besides him. Draco decided to charm her up and wait some time before answering her too.

Slytherin Prince says: Technology of information. We develop corporate systems.

He had learned from his father that thing of referring to the company as a "we". He even unconsciously stuffed his chest while he typed.

.:Angel:. says: Oh, good to know! I won't ask for details of your life because it would be unfair, since I have to preserve my identity. You know, the intern thing. Stupid in my opinion, but…

Slytherin Prince says: I can keep a secret!

.:Angel:. says: Sorry, no. This conversation may be being watched right now, did you know that?

Slytherin Prince says: Man, they don't give you a break, do they?

.:Angel:. says: I guess not… but I can't risk to lose my internship.

"But you could accidentally let something slip, couldn't you?" Draco mumbled with a skew smile. "Come on, just give me e few hints and leave the rest to me."

Slytherin Prince says: How old are you? Can you answer that?

.:Angel:. says: I think so. Anyway, I'm 18.

Wow! His fingers were itching to write he was 18 too and that it was the perfect age, and…

Slytherin Prince says: So, you must be on your first or second year.

.:Angel:. says: First year, actually.

The Journalism building wasn't the same as the Administration one, so that ruled out a lot of possibilities. There shouldn't be a lot of girls on the first year of Journalism. Alright she hadn't said in what course she was on, but that was easy to deduce. If she was doing an internship on the research area, she was obviously an aspiring journalist or reporter or whatever.

Slytherin Prince says: Wow! And you're already doing and internship? You must like to suffer.

.:Angel:. says: I love what I do.

He couldn't stop his mind from picturing how the person who had written those words looked like. He imagined a girl with dark hair and bright eyes, with an intellectual style accentuated by delicate glasses, barely noticeable. It wasn't exactly the type of girl he usually dated, but seemed… nice? Maybe he had hit his head too hard, or maybe it was the music that had softened him. Well, as long as she had a firm belly and tick ties…

Slytherin Prince says: Good for you, sweetheart.

Draco cocked himself on the back legs of the chair and smiled. He could imagine her reaction to the "sweetheart". Those moments of hesitation should mean she had blushed or was jumping of excitement.

.:Angel:. says: Thanks for the compliment, but, dude, I'm a man.

Draco widened his eyes and chocked, losing his balance and falling on the floor along with the chair.