Author's Note: Dear Lord, I'm trying my hand at Harry Potter. Somebody stop me. As for the AU, I didn't make it too difficult to follow along with, I should hope. Lucius Malfoy was not caught at the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort is not using the Malfoy manor as a base.

If I owned anything, I wouldn't have to bid for a pair of Converse on eBay.

A Most Intriguing Development

Perhaps the signs had always been there, but Harry was simply too blind to see them.

Granted, it wasn't as though the brunet had taken up the habit of actively watching his school rival parade about, and he didn't often find himself on the listening end of idle gossip.

However, he felt that he should have at least noticed to some minor degree.

War left a bitter sense in Hogwarts, even if the Ministry refused to acknowledge that there was one. Perhaps the younger years didn't feel it, which was just; they deserved to enjoy the peaceful oblivion that the Ministry forcefully insisted upon. It was the higher years that felt the real stress of looming fate. They would have to choose sides soon. Some of them would fight each other, some of them would hide, and some of them would die. Tensions were high in the classrooms with no way to release it. Everybody seemed to be stuck in their own heads, so much that even the professors were unsettled with the amount of quiet and distracted students they faced on a daily basis for hours at a time.

The breaking point had been when Ronald Weasley had run straight into Draco Malfoy between classes, sending books, quills, inks, and bags flying from both parties. Ron had turned pink in anger, Malfoy had narrowed his eyes and scowled, but there had been no verbal exchange. Each boy merely picked up his rightful things and stored the items away. As Malfoy handed Ron a quill he had mistakenly picked up, Harry Potter simply couldn't handle it any longer. He was slapped with the bizarre reality of the situation.

"Why don't you watch where you're going, Malfoy?" he said before he could stop his mouth.

The band of Slytherins who had patiently waited for Malfoy to finish gathering his things, Zabini and Goyle going so far as to pick up a loose scroll of parchment or ink well that had landed at their feet, immediately stiffened into a force. Harry could practically see them assembling into some sort of bizarre gang number any second now.

Theodore Nott, who Harry had never spoken to, stepped forward so that he was just hardly behind the risen form of Malfoy. "It was your lot who walked into him, Potter," the sad-eyed teenager spat.

Ron stood up as well, but his eyes flickered uncertainly between the form of his best friend and the form of the tall, skinny Slytherin. "I didn't mean to do it, for Merlin's sake."

"It's fine, Ron," suggested Hermione, resting a hand on his arm and another on Harry's. It was likely to prevent either of them from pulling out their wands and causing the situation to get any more dramatic than it already had. "You're sorry about it, so we know that it won't happen again. Now let's get to Charms." The situation was nearly placated.

"If you don't want it to occur again, be careful, not sorry," Zabini commented in a bored tone. He shoved the scroll he had picked up into Malfoy's hand and then grabbed the blond by the arm to lead him off. Malfoy had been oddly quiet, but while being pulled away, he could be plainly heard stage-whispering.

"Filthy scum's contaminated my new robes! You lot go on ahead, Theo'll come with me while I change."

Ron and Hermione didn't seem as bothered as they should have been. Harry didn't know what was wrong with him, but his heart throbbed painfully and his head felt squeezed and he shouted after the Slytherins. "Malfoy! Don't forget to start with your attitude!" It wasn't the best comeback, but it was enough to prompt that Goyle, Nott, Parkinson, and Malfoy turn to look back his way.

"Why don't you find your wand and sit on it, Potter?" Nott scoffed in response, and then they were gone before Harry could process that, let alone respond to it.

"Can you believe them?" Harry demanded of his friends. Hermione frowned and furrowed her eyebrows with concern, whereas Ron chose to avoid his gaze entirely. The brunet felt a stab of betrayal at that. He had defended Ron, and now his best mate refused to look him in the eye? He felt foolish. The mood among the trio was damp as they settled in for a Tuesday afternoon Charms lesson.

Yes, the signs were all there. Although they were subtle, they were still there.

"Potter, you stupid tit, don't you dare add those salamander eyes!" A cold hand covered his and then shoved it against the table. "You can't just toss them in whenever you'd like, they go in one at a time with each stir. If you had added them all in at once, the potion would more likely have caused confusion than cured a headache." Harry glared at his very blond potions partner, not at all fond of the lecture he was being administered. So he had overlooked some detail, it wasn't worth practically berating him in front of the classroom.

"Excellent point, Mr. Malfoy. Ten points to Slytherin for failing to allow a fellow student to botch up yet another assignment as well as explaining the repercussions of his attempted idiocy." Snape's voice prevented Harry from telling Malfoy exactly where to shove his potions knowledge. There was the unmistakable sound of Parkinson and Bulstrode snickering just a table away.

"Only Malfoy could get points awarded for failing to do something," Seamus muttered to where Dean Thomas sat at the table behind him.

"What was that, Finnigan? I could have swore you just said something more stupid than typical." Heads turned at that, though it wasn't for the comment itself as much as the owner. Theodore Nott rarely spoke during classes, and when he did it was whispering to Malfoy or one of his cronies. The dark headed boy was too occupied with stirring and adding his own salamander eyes to notice that the majority of the class was staring at him. Even a few of the Slytherins regarded him with a questioning look. Nott and Seamus were paired together nearly every time that Snape assigned partners, and they had never had a spat before, even when Seamus had accidentally pushed Nott into a deaging potion and caused him to become ten for the day.

"Five points to Slytherin for Mr. Nott demonstrating the will to succeed even when he is saddled with dead weight," Snape announced, breaking the spell that seemed to have fallen over most of the class. Harry quickly turned to look at his potion, and he was relieved to see that Malfoy had kept tabs on it. It had turned navy blue, which differed greatly from Lavender's pale blue one on the table in front of them. The Gryffindor considered Malfoy and Lavender and their respective gifts in potions. He thought that he would put his trust in Malfoy on this one.

"Bottle your potion and leave it on the front desk. Homework, ten inches on how patience in potions could make the difference between life or death. At least four examples. Dismissed." Nobody dared to groan while in the man's presence.

Malfoy glared at the brunet.

Harry stared in return.

Malfoy crossed his arms.

Harry raised his eyebrows.

Malfoy impatiently narrowed his eyes and looked at their potion.

Harry had a realization, and with it came a scowl. "Forbid you should ever have to vial up and walk twelve steps," he groused while doing exactly that. But Malfoy had left, followed by a tall form with dark hair.

Maybe if he had heard the gossip first he could have pieced something together. Even a single whispered suggestion.

"Blaise, be a bird and switch ties with Theo," Malfoy said in an obvious caricature of somebody else's voice. It earned him a few titters from the others that sat in his circle. "Your tie is more flattering for his eyes than yours."

"I'm not switching ties unless Theodore learns how to share his sweets."

"Blaise, be a bird and go away."

"Draco, be a Malfoy and go play dress up elsewhere. Help the Gryffindors if you're desperate for an impossible mission." Zabini's voice was quite deep in pitch, and it carried an easy ten feet away despite what the Slytherins might have thought. Or it was quite possible, even likely, that they just didn't care. "Did you see what that dreadful Weasley bloke was wearing on his feet? Completely unforgivable for a pureblood, where is the pride?"

Parkinson stopped fiddling with her robes long enough to say, "Well, he's in Gryffindor and fancies a mudblood. As if the poverty wasn't low enough, I suppose he can't even invest in enough pride to overcome that!" Goyle and Crabbe laughed, but Nott remained quiet.

Ron's face nearly matched his hair at this point. He glared at the circle of Slytherins a few paces away. He hadn't wanted to sit so close to them, but Harry had been stubborn about sitting under the shade of his favorite tree while they waited for Neville and Dean to appear. The Slytherins had arranged themselves so that Greengrass, Malfoy, Nott, and Parkinson were seated on rocks while Zabini, Goyle, Crabbe, and another Slytherin girl that Harry didn't know sat on transfigured seats. They appeared to be enjoying the sun, though it was likely they were under cooling charms.

"Ron, just ignore them," Harry advised his friend. It wouldn't do to have the two of them against eight Slytherins. It was almost as though the Lord had heard his thoughts, because Crabbe, Greengrass, and the mystery girl left to leave behind only five. It still didn't give him any more urge to start something. "What are they worth anyway? Look, here comes Dean and Neville!" But Ron wasn't listening to him anyway, and the teenager hoped that his friends were prepared to act as backup if necessary.

"Oi! Why don't you lot come and say that to my face?"

Nott, who had leaned over to whisper something that must have been funny in Malfoy's ear, twitched as Ron's shout reached them. He, Goyle, and Zabini looked at the Gryffindors with contempt. Malfoy and Parkinson merely seemed disgusted with the redhead addressing them. "Mind your own conversation, Weasley," Nott said in response. "You weren't invited." Zabini smirked at the arrival of Dean and Neville.

"Ooh, we had best mind them, Theodore. They've just been reinforced."

"Longbottom as a reinforcement? More of a handicap if you ask me," Malfoy quipped to his group, and they all laughed something awful. "It's a true shame what Gryffindor does to purebloods, makes them quite pathetic when you think about it."

"Maybe it's a ritual, like the rites of passage," piped up Goyle, and Parkinson fell back against Draco's rock for support because of her laughter. It wasn't often that Goyle could shine in a wits department.

Neville seemed embarrassed, and Harry frowned at the sight of it. Dean typically chose to not get involved in verbal disputes, so he finally rolled to his feet and stepped up beside his best friend. "Laugh all you want, at least we're not a bunch of back-stabbing cowards."

If it bothered them, the teens exhibited no signs. In fact, they all seemed quite confused, but Ron was the one to ask the question. "Er- Harry, what's back-stabbing mean?" Harry's flush made the weather seem that much more miserable. He didn't know the wizard terminology for it, so he just dismissed Ron's question with a small wave of his hand.

"Muggle influence," Nott observed when it seemed that his friends were still pondering over Harry's statement. Zabini nodded with some agreement, and Malfoy scrunched his nose. Muggles were quite odd, fantasizing about driving knives through each other's backs. The boys all managed to reach a conclusion without speaking, and Parkinson was the one to voice it aloud. "Savages."

Dean and Neville were begging that Ron follow them off already. Harry stood quietly by, one eye on the Slytherins so that they didn't try anything funny. Ron didn't want to budge, but he picked up his sack and tossed it over a shoulder. He looked at his best friend with a frown, but he just couldn't help leaving without getting in the last dig. "Nott's looking awful comfy with muggle speech, huh? I wonder who he's been shagging." Dean laughed at the suggestion.

Ron didn't even have time to gauge the reactions of the Slytherins before he was blasted off of his feet and into Dean. The boys collided unpleasantly on the ground. Harry pointed his wand at the group, ignoring Ron's yelps about Dean hitting his head.

Malfoy was pointing back. The blond's face was pale in rage, grey eyes narrowed and challenging as they met Harry's green ones. "Teach your weasel some manners, Potter. He's completely uncouth, barbaric, and stupid. As though any true pureblood would soil themselves with filth."

Nott, Goyle, and Parkinson had their wands out as well. They were all standing now. Zabini pulled on Malfoy's arm. "Leave them alone, Draco. They're not worth a knut."

"Not worth my spit," Malfoy confirmed, and he slowly lowered his wand. "Come on, you lot, let's find somewhere else to sit. Obviously minding our own doesn't warrant any privacy from these pompous, self-adoring hogs." The blond linked arms with Nott and began to walk, dragging away the boy. Goyle followed behind them. Parkinson and Zabini were the last to go, simply waiting for Harry, Dean, Ron, and Neville to lower their wands before they hustled up to join their friends.

"Bunch of gits," Ron growled. "It's alright for them to insult others, but if I so much as imply something. And Nott should feel grateful, it's not as though he's getting any skirt in real life."

Harry wished that he had been left in the dark.

"Harry!" The breathless voice was sudden and unexpected, as familiar as it was. The owner sat beside him and promptly smoothed out her blue skirt. "I hope you know that I've been searching everywhere for you. What are you doing here?" Hermione's eyebrows furrowed as she took in the sight of one of her best friends sulking by himself on a sofa. It was completely out the way, tucked in a corner and rather isolated from the party.

"Nothing, Hermione. I just felt like getting away from it all." It was true. Harry had been overwhelmed by the vast amounts of people, and when the alcohol arrived, he was downright uncomfortable with such company. He had intentions of returning, though. "I'm going back right now. Coming?" He rose up and held his arm out for the girl, leading her back to where the upper years were enjoying a stress-relieving party.

It had originally been a Gryffindor and Ravenclaw event, but the word had spread to all four houses like wild fire. It had been the Slytherin sixth years who had offered a specific region of the dungeons and who supplied the heavier alcohol in generous amount. Malfoy's smug face had dampened Harry's mood, especially when the blond effortlessly took the first shot of the night. From what he had heard, Ravenclaw seventh years were the ones supplying firewhiskey, so he took care to have some of that rather than taste Slytherin liquor.

Before he knew it, he was sitting in a large circle with about half of the party, and they were playing a bizarre game.

The one chosen would have three options: either accept a question that must be answered honestly, accept a challenge that must be completed, and if all fails, then they would be made to kiss a random member of the group. Harry couldn't help but think that it all sounded like Truth or Dare and Spin the Bottle, but when he mentioned it, Ron gave him a strange look. "What the bloody hell are those, muggle bands?"

It had started out innocently enough. Dean had to drink a mug in under a forty-five seconds. Parvati confessed to thinking Malfoy and Michael Corner were the most attractive in their year. Michael had to confess he'd never had his first kiss. Goyle was made to give Susan Bones a flower he had to conjure. Harry wore a bra for the first time in his life (a frilly one, at that). Justin admitted that he had had a nightmare the year before about marrying Seamus for their child but finding out later that Seamus had lied about a pregnancy.

Then Malfoy refused to kiss Ron to the vast relief of both Slytherin and Gryffindor house alike. He had to spin the top in the middle of the circle.

It seemed to take forever for the toy to stop. When it did, it succeeded to fall over and activate the white beam of light that flashed on Blaise Zabini's robes. The Italian seemed surprised at this outcome. He glanced at where Nott and Malfoy sat together, eyes vaguely troubled and questioning, before crawling over to meet Malfoy in the middle of the circle. Justin pretended to vomit, but Ron looked genuinely nauseous as the two Slytherin teenagers grasped each other by tie and leaned in to seal their lips together. It nearly seemed orchestrated. Hermione giggled nervously, as did Lavender Brown. Neville made a choking noise.

The kiss lasted longer than what seemed comfortable. Malfoy eventually pulled away and glared at Justin. "Have you had your fill yet or not?" He snapped.

"Wh- Was I supposed to tell you when to stop?" Justin stumbled to answer, and Malfoy seethed at him while settling back between Greengrass and Nott.

"No, I simply adore snogging my roommates. What do you think?" The blond was very pink in the face. He didn't look at Nott as the dark haired boy stared at him, instead selecting Hannah Abbot to punch Justin in the face. She ended up having to spin and kiss Seamus. The game resumed.

. . . .

"Harry? Harry, are you okay?" He groaned, swatting weakly at Hermione's hands. "Harry, we're going back to the tower now! Come on."

"Just leave him, 'Mione," said the groggy voice of Seamus Finnigan. "We'll take him, right, Dean?" The black boy released a familiar hum. He didn't know what happened next, but Hermione must have really left because it was just Seamus and Dean who roused Harry next. The Gryffindors began their long trek toward the tower, and Harry woke up a bit to listen to Seamus talk about the dares and truths that had him reeling. They were on the second story staircase when Harry swore.

"I left my wand in my robes!" he said, pausing behind Dean. The two startled boys looked back at him. "I'm going to go back and get it, alright? Go on ahead. I know my way back." There was hesitation on Dean's face; however, Seamus just grinned and waved his arm for the other male to go on.

"We'll see you soon, Harry! Come on, Dean."

The dungeons were ridiculously cold. Harry swore again as he retraced his route toward the party room, heading away from the Slytherin common room and into the west. The direction charm was still up so that he couldn't get lost. Following the lavender traced route led him into a large room with several chairs and his isolated sofa from beforehand. He could see his robes bunched up on it where he had left them. How could I have been so careless? wondered the brunet, picking up his robes to shake out. His wand clattered to the ground and rolled off toward where the main party had been just hours before. Harry followed it with a small groan.

However, he froze when another groan responded.

It should have been illegal to find out such a way.

Harry approached the room with caution. It was probably just a snogging couple, but he didn't want to startle them. He just wanted his wand. Prepared to just grab the stick and bolt, the Gryffindor entered the room and then promptly froze as though hexed.

Theodore Nott lay on his back, elegant robes completely shoved to the side and his tie loose. The boy's dark hair fluffed around his face in a way that Harry never saw him sport during class. Then again, his hair tended to not have fingers running through it during class. The fingers were pale, very pale, and long. They led to the ivory form of Harry's school rival, Draco Malfoy, whose own robes were gone along with his tie and first button of his dress shirt. Worse of all, Malfoy was straddling the thin form of Nott and leaning down so close that they could kiss. It almost seemed that they were.

But that was preposterous! Malfoys don't kiss Notts, and pureblood Slytherin boys don't kiss each other, an-

Nott released one of those groans that Harry had heard before, and suddenly he shuddered. Nott and Malfoy were snogging a mere few feet away from him. They seemed awfully into it, too, if Nott's hands on Malfoy's bottom said anything, or if Malfoy's frantic mussing of Nott's hair had an opinion. "Gods, Theo," the blond whispered, and he was panting for Merlin's sake, panting as though he had just finished sprinting a few laps around the Quidditch pitch. "I'm beginning to wonder who you really fancy. I'm your lover, not a cake with your favorite custard!" And it sounded so damned affectionate.

Harry didn't know how to feel. He knew that his wand was just a few inches from his foot, but he couldn't look away from the display in front of him.

"You kissed Blaise," stated the solemn voice that he didn't know well at all. "And that was quite the kiss, I always knew that he had his eye on you. But you're mine, Draco Malfoy." Suddenly, Nott sounded very possessive. Malfoy whimpered as his arse was squeezed, but it sounded so lewd. Harry felt his body give the sound a very confusing reaction. "You're mine, and I have to clean his taste from you."

Harry broke. He snatched his wand up and ran away as quickly as he could, disregarding the thunderous noise of his footsteps. All he could hear was the thundering in his chest, completely enveloping him in his shock.

. . . .

Theodore Nott looked like a rabbit.

Harry lay awake in bed, forced sober by the troubling revelations that spotting Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott snogging resulted in. Nott did look like a rabbit to him; he always seemed so jumpy and fidgety, and his anxious eyes were very dark. The shadows under them may have given off that impression now that he considered it. And his front teeth were rather large, which Harry had noticed because Nott often left his mouth open just centimetres, and maybe it was because he actually needed the extra room. All in all, he wasn't ugly. He had a strong jaw.

But to see him with Malfoy. Harry wondered if he should be surprised that the blond boy was bent. He always did act a bit like a ponce, with his hair all in order and his attire groomed to perfection. The Gryffindor had always assumed it was because he was a pureblood, but perhaps not.. Was Zabini a poof, too? Crabbe, Goyle? He didn't have any concrete proof about Crabbe or Goyle, but Zabini had seemed awfully comfortable with that kiss.

Harry squeezed his pillow over his face and wished that it would suffocate him.

Yes, this took place of me working on Body Swappin, Yo. I apologize for the wait, but rejoice over the update, my fellow Homestuck trash!

This may become a Drarry fanfic, but I've yet to decide on that. Also, because this fic is in Harry Potter's viewpoint, there are quite a few things that may not make sense now or later. I suppose I'm in aim for a stream-of-consciousness? Review any suggestions or opinions, please!