Greetings.

This is the very first chapter in "Love Is Complex" which is a Drarry fanfiction that I am going to be writing. It is my very first story, so I apologize if the writing isn't too good.

I'm going to be rating this particular chapter "K" because there isn't anything in it that would cause the rating to be higher. I cannot be sure about the ratings on the next chapters, because I don't even know what they're going to contain yet.

All the same, I hope you enjoy.

xXx

"Potter, why aren't you paying attention in my classroom?" Snape's dull voice pierced the silence of the cold dungeon chamber used for Potions.

"Wha-" Harry pushed up his glasses. It took him a minute to realize that he had been asked a question, and he probably wouldn't have grasped that reality period if it wasn't for the entirety of his classmates staring at him.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor," the professor's thin mouth slowly curved upwards into a twisted smirk before adding, "and since I asked you what the main ingredient in a poison antidote is, I will be poisoning you next class to see if your elixir works." Draco Malfoy and a handful of Slytherins snickered at the last part. Ron shot a glare in their direction and Harry saw the ferret smirk evilly.

Snape cleared his throat and said, "Mister Potter, perhaps if you were actually paying attention, you would know that the Bezoar, a stone taken from the stomach of a goat, can cure most toxins-"

"I know, Professor. We learned this in our first year-"

"Do not speak out of turn. Twenty more points from Gryffindor."

"You can't do tha-" Harry was cut off by Ron kicking him underneath the table. The raven-haired boy got the message and shut up, because it'd be better off if he didn't cost his House anymore points. "Sorry, Professor."

Snape returned the discussion to whatever it was he was teaching about in the first place. Why didn't Harry know what it was? His mind was wandering, what with all the pressure of the upcoming Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match that Friday. The last thing he wanted to think about was his classes, as much as Hermione would hate him for saying that. He didn't want to let his House down. Not again.

Earlier that year, Harry failed to complete his duties as Seeker because he caught the flu after a three-hour-long practice in the freezing rain. Of course, due to his absence, someone had to be a replacement until he was able to Seek again. But of all people, they chose Neville Longbottom. Neville Longbottom.

As much as Harry cared about Neville, he couldn't lie when it came to describing his athletic ability. It was a miracle that he could even get the broomstick to fly, let alone stay on it.

Of course, Harry didn't know what happened play-by-play in that match. He just knew what Ron and Hermione told him when they visited him in the sick hall, but he only needed to know that Ravenclaw won to come to the conclusion that, in Layman's Terms, Neville sucked.

But this time was different. Harry was determined to make up for Gryffindor's failure, even if it meant that he had to sacrifice a few of his grades in order to do that. Some might've said that he had his priorities in the wrong order, and perhaps he did, but he didn't care. He was going to win the match Friday, and nothing was going to stop him.

Not even Draco Malfoy.