DISCLAIMER: If you actually find someone on ff.net that does actually own something, I'll eat my foot.
What Wizards Want
Chapter one: Normality
It was a relatively normal morning. And as relatively mornings go, something bizarre is always inclined to fall upon an unsuspecting victim.
So there it would happen, as the bright morning sun blinded the unlucky Gryffindor's that had forgotten to draw their hangings, doze lazily in their beds.
And Harry Potter woke up.
He squinted at the bright light hurting his eyes and dragged himself out of bed, falling to the floor with a thump.
"Bloody rats," said Seamus testily.
Harry glared over at the Irishman's bed. Was it just him, or did the boy have a slight echo to his voice?
"Shut up," said Harry his voice muffled by the scarlet carpet.
There was a long stretch of silence.
"D'you say something, Harry?"
If Harry hadn't gone back to sleep he might have noticed that the voice - no doubt still that one belonging to Seamus - was less crisp and awake, but dusted with sleep and fatigue.
He woke up later when Ron trod on him.
"Ow."
"Sorry mate," Ron apologised hastily. "Didn't see you there. Bloody git - lying in the middle of the bloody walkway. Who does he think he is? Oh, yeah. The Great Harry Fucking Potter."
He rolled over, outraged and confused. Hate and hurt rose in his stomach. Ron was disappearing into the adjoining bathroom but Harry wasn't done.
"What the hell do you mean by that?!" he shrieked after the retreating redhead's back.
"A simple apology not enough for the GREAT HARRY POTTER?! Mean by what, mate?"
Harry's insides twisted with frustration.
"By calling me that - that - you know!"
"What the fuck are you two arguing about NOW?!" shouted Dean behind the shroud of velvet hangings. "I've just been bloody kissed by a guy and you two are arguing so early!"
What the-? Harry laid very still on the floor, aware that he was probably going to have a carpet imprint on his face.
There was a slam of a bathroom door, the running of a cold water tap and the opening of hangings. Dean felt like he needed to contribute.
He cocked his head to one side. Dean was all concern.
"What's up, Harry - and why are you on the floor?"
Harry refused to move for fifteen minutes. And carpet dust wasn't very nice exhaled up ones nose.
*-*-*-
He had slipped out moodily while no one was looking without a shower into a strangely loud common room.
It was in the hallways after he'd nearly collided with Malfoy on the stairs that he winded himself by crashing into Goyle as the Slytherin moved out of the way with unnatural grace.
"Potter you clumsy fag!" he shouted. "Watch where you're going or is that mop on your head getting in the way?"
"Shut it, Malfoy!" he yelled back. Harry was at the end of his tether and he wasn't going to stand there and listen to two-sided comments from Malfoy as well!
They faced each other with tensed muscles and glares that could kill even the healthiest potted plants.
Harry's face turned into a menacing snarl and his green eyes flashed dangerously. "Why are you standing in the middle of the hallway for, anyway? You might late for potions and we wouldn't want that!" he stalked off.
"Goddamn Potter's so pretty he thinks he doesn't even need to brush his hair!"
Harry spun around. He and Malfoy were a safe distance away not to be able to muggle duel, but each had their hands deep in their pockets, cold hands curled around their wands.
Malfoy chuckled in a way that one does when they're chuckling only to themselves.
"My hair is naturally like this!" said Harry, infuriated, with mounting annoyance. "Look at you: MR CEMENT HAT!"
Malfoy raised his menacing grey armour shaded eyes slowly to meet Harry's.
"Excuse me?"
"MY HAIR!" he shouted. "MY-!"
"Mr. Potter! - As delighted as we are to hear about your girlish fetishes, you are late for my class."
"Yes. Sir." Harry glared at the professor, gritted his teeth and followed suit. Side by silent side with the blond Slytherin.
"Insufferable little show-off - thinks he can be late for my class and we'll bow down for him? I don't think so."
Harry frowned at the strange use of tenses Snape was using, but another voice interrupted.
"By God he even walks funny!" Malfoy cackled. Harry's fingers itched to choke the pale white throat.
Hold on Harry frowned. Why wasn't Malfoy's mouth moving?? Am I going blind?!
Malfoy was also ignoring him!
"I bet he doesn't even bathe!"
"I WASH EVERY MORNING - YOUR MOUTH!"
Erm… except this morning…
Snape was facing him in a billow of robes. "Silence!"
"My mouth? Wonderfully luscious as it is, what's Potter's problem? Surely… surely he's not GAY??!"
"No!" he shouted.
"SILENCE!"
Snape whipped open the dungeon door and they followed in. As usually it was gloomy and smelling of damp and pickles.
The class settled down thinking that Snape had been yelling at them and Harry separated from Malfoy and his goons.
Though the noise did decrease slightly, it was as overwhelming sharp smells and rambling voices.
Harry felt like yelling at the class to shut up. Really, they were so LOUD! But Snape was carrying on regardless of the noise.
Harry stared at the back of Deans head. "On kiss doesn't make me gay, does it? I mean, especially when I didn't start it…"
Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. Who was Dean talking to and why was he advertising the fact that he was GAY?!
Harry shifted uncomfortably.
"I can't believe Harry was acting so weird. And what's with turning up with Malfoy?" each sentence of Ron's was coming out slower than the next.
"Jesus Patil's looking good today-!"
"Hell, I just sat on a fucking quill!"
"What's Snape talking about - hey, are those things edible..."
Harry's head was starting to ache. Every guy in the class was creating a horrendous amount of noise! He held his head. SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!
I can't hear myself THINK! Wait… holy shit. Thinking! They're... THINKING. I can here them think. At least I'm not going cra-
MALFOY THINKS I'M PRETTY!
An idea borrowed from 'What Women Want'. But, of course, it might be slash.
a/n if anyone likes it, I'll continue.