This is a prequel to the ficlet I posted called 'Kissable lips' and don't worry the second chapter has Malfoy in it. It's a comin'! Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and I only own the general Idea for the plot.
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"Check,"
"..."
"Check,"
"..."
"Check,"
"..."
"Checkmate. I win." Harry growled and looked up from the chessboard as he started putting away his pieces, "I hate you... you know that right?" He asked, slamming his white queen into the chess box which gave him a crude gesture. "Yes Harry and I hate you too" I said, a small smile playing on my lips as I removed my own pieces from the board with a bit more dignity. He shook his head forcefully, "No I'm really serious," I dropped the last three pawns, all of which gave a cry of indignation, into the black holding cell, and said, "So am I."

I couldn't help myself; I burst out laughing at the look of childish rage on his face. Lips pouting and nose scrunched, glasses falling halfway down; what else would anyone do in this predicament? "Stop laughing!" he huffed, arms crossed. Just like him. Malfoy crosses his arms just like that; he huffs just like that. I sighed, goddamn that sodding Malfoy and his ability to pop up in anything I see. But just as soon as the thought had come, it had vanished; mostly because Harry had uncrossed his arms. And it was his turn to sigh, "Why don't you ever let me win; just once?"

"I tried," I say, folding the compactable chessboard my mother had gotten me for my birthday and shoving it into the box. "Yeah, well, try harder." He stated, as he stood and reached his hands above his head, stretching out his arms and legs. He was quite attractive if you ask me; with the fire light glinting off his black hair in just the right places, and the robes that clung to his Quidditch honed body as he stood... I looked away quickly and thanked Merlin that I could excuse the light tint to my face from coming from the fire by which I sat.

"Listen," he said an airy tone to his voice, "I don't really hate you. I was just mad that I lost again." I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and smiled, "I know. And I was just being sarcastic when I said I hated you too."

"Good, now that that's cleared up I'm going to bed."

I looked at my watch and suddenly realized that it was nearly eleven; and with a groan I turned and looked at the coffee table that was sitting by the sofa. It was absolutely covered in charms homework (I still don't see why the stupid teachers here call it homework, I mean we're not home!). Groaning again I stared up at Harry, "I'll be there in a minute I've got to finish this or I'll have detention with Filch again." I said; God that Flitwick could give the worst sodding detentions; even worse then Snape if he really went for it! Harry just shook his head in exasperation. "Like I said before, you should've finished before we started playing."

"Oh, it's only two or three lines," I said standing from the floor and glowering at the coffee table, "I'll just rewrite something I already wrote." Harry rolled his eyes and headed towards the dorms, mumbling something about stupid redheads and how he wished they'd get their act together.

Flopping down on the sofa, I checked my watch again. And in big red numbers it proclaimed 11:05 right on the dot. 'Well,' I thought, 'this shouldn't take more then fifteen minutes. Not very long.' I unfurled the parchment and dipped my quill into the bottle of emerald ink, and set about working.

It was just about 11:20 when I finally got up to the dorms. Ten minutes writing the end of my essay and five more minutes packing everything up. The sound of Neville's snores assaulted me as I entered the room. I still didn't know how I could sleep through all that noise. Yawning I pulled off my shoes and socks, sitting on my four poster bed, the next thing that came off was my shirt. Yet again yawning, I decided that I was just too damned tired to undress fully, and pulled myself up and onto my bed. I burrowed my face into the pillow and was out before I even knew what the hell I was doing.

My well deserved revere from reality was short lived however, as a soft and constant taping was heard on the window. Intent on investigating this annoying disturbance, I flung open my curtains on my bed and glared at the window; only to see the ever exuberant Pig flying in circles near the window and slamming into it every so often. 'Damnable bird!' I raged in my head as I crossed the room to the window, 'doesn't it know any better then to deliver mail at this time of night?!' keeping my fury as quiet as possible as I ranked open the glass to allow the insane owl, hooting and flying feathers in all, inside the room.

The ruddy bird shoot into the dorm like one of those muggle cannon-things Hermione had told me about once. I was wondering, does an owl the size of your hand slamming into your head hurt the same as a cannonball in the gut, or did it hurt more? I don't rightly know, but the sodding pigmy owl thought it was pretty damn funny (can owls laugh?) that I was stumbling around the dorm room stubbing my toes on anything that was solid, and clutching my forehead where he had slammed into it. When I finally got my bearings, I launched myself at the satanic animal, and wrapped my hands around its scrawny little body before it had the chance to fly away.

The poor thing was only saved by the only part of my brain that I ignore for most of the day. 'Ronald!' it screamed. 'Don't kill it! If you do you'll have to use Errol again! At least Pig gets it here and doesn't pass out in between!' "You're a lucky, lucky bird Pig..." I muttered releasing my grip, allowing the thing to breath. Pig twittered quietly but thankfully, and shoved his leg at me. Ripping the letter from him I walked over to the window and threw him out and watched as he dropped twenty feet then shot off to the right; towards the owlery.