None But The Brave Deserve The Fair
Premise: Harry, Draco and Ron are Aurors. Draco has saved Ron's life, so everyone, including the Weasley Clan adore him. Harry is jealous. [I wanted to write something where the angst in a story came from something other than Ron hating gays and hating Draco.]
Disclaimer: J K Rowling is a god of fantasy fiction. I don't own anything, except my laptop, so please don't take it away from me. If I owned the boys they'd basically never get out of bed and they'd let me watch.
Warnings: EWE. Swearing. British-isms. Literary quotes. More Swearing. Eventually slash HPDM. If you are homophobic and/or don't like boys doing stuff with other boys then why are you reading this?
Any non-Canon characters are named for various science fiction writers from the 1950s onwards.
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None But The Brave Deserve The Fair – The Prologue
Harry Potter slumped in his chair at the Burrow, nursing his cup of tea. He had spent the evening silently seething; watching the poncy, blond bastard insinuate himself further into Harry's adopted clan. Malfoy was having an animated conversation with Bill Weasley about famous and unpleasant curses through the ages; many, it seemed, had been cast by a Malfoy on a Weasley and vice versa. Some had even been invented by an ancestor with a member of the other family in mind.
At least this conversation was mildly interesting. Earlier he had been treated to Malfoy and Percy giggling about ministry gossip, with Malfoy stage-whispering, "Really, then what did Shacklebolt say?"
He felt as if he had spent the evening trying unsuccessfully to tune out the pointy pillock. He had not needed to see Malfoy's orgasmic face over the dinner table. The slimy sod had eaten three helpings of Molly Weasley's Lamb & Apricot Casserole, exclaiming, "So much better than our old house elves. How DO you get the lamb so tender?" Mrs Weasley had blushed furiously, launching into some complicated speech about marinades. And though Harry had left half of his on the plate she hadn't noticed.
He had not enjoyed Malfoy and Ron bickering good-heartedly about Quidditch and the latest Beater for the Chudley Cannons, especially Malfoy's pontificating, "Well, with Sheckley on the team, they can't stay bottom of the league for much longer!"
He had heard Malfoy in the background throughout the evening. Childish though it was he felt like mocking the smug bastard.
The rotten icing on an even more rotten cake had been Malfoy and Ginny discussing fabric for Ginny's forthcoming nuptials to Michael Corner. Here the loudest phrase had been a very poof-y, "An ivory would make your skin so luminous but white would just wash you out."
Malfoy had even read bedtime stories to Victoire Weasley. The image of Victoire's chubby little arms around the neck of her newest 'uncle' made Harry sick. Anything around Malfoy's lily-white, aristocratically pureblood neck should rightly be throttling him.
He had ground his teeth so much they ached.
Harry longed for the good old days at Hogwarts, where that Smarmy Git Malfoy was loathed by all sensible Gryffindors, red-headed or not. He was not convinced by the New, Improved Malfoy, the Hero of the Weasley World, All Round Good Guy, and the Brand New Adopted Son of Arthur and Molly.
He finished his now cold tea and got up to leave. Molly made a half-hearted offer of leftovers, "Just in case you get hungry on the way home to dinner." Harry forced a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and went outside to Apparate home. Once there, he took a Headache Potion and went to bed.
His nose was firmly out of joint.
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[A/N: "His nose was firmly out of joint" is both a British expression AND a literary quote. In this case it means he was resentful, pushed out of his normal top-billing, slighted.]