"For the last time, Ron," Harry says through gritted teeth. "I do not love Malfoy!"
Hermione sets down her goblet of pumpkin juice and looks carefully at Harry over the top of her newspaper.
"Right," she says, and Harry glares at her. He is looking the perfect picture of denial: a flush is creeping up his cheeks, and his previously vehement arguments are becoming less passionate.
"You can tell us, mate," Ron says, turning and picking up his fork again. The Great Hall is alive with the noises of breakfast. The trio doesn't notice a pair of grey eyes belonging to a certain person watching them from the Slytherin table.
"I would," Harry spits, his jaw set and his eyes bulging. He is turning a shade of purple that would've made Uncle Vernon proud. "I would tell you, if there were anything to tell, WHICH THERE ISN'T!"
Hermione makes a disbelieving sound from behind the Daily Prophet.
"Honestly, Ron, Hermione," Harry says. He's beginning to plead now. "Believe me. I do not love Draco Malfoy."
Hermione's eyes appear over the top of the page, her bushy hair creating a halo-like effect around her head.
"Okay," she says simply, and then turns the page.
"Is that an okay, I believe you or an okay, whatever?" Harry asks hopefully.
"It's an okay, just shut up now," Ron mutters.
Harry lets out a yell of frustration and jumps to his feet, upsetting his plate onto the table.
"Okay, I tried, but you won't believe me!" he cries, storming out of the Hall. "I do not love Malfoy!"
The doors slam behind him, leaving an uneasy silence in his wake. A Ravenclaw bursts into frightened tears.
"Well, I never!" Professor McGonagall says heatedly. Nobody notices the doors open and shut a second time.
"Uh…" Ron says. "Should we, ah, follow him?"
Ron and Hermione sigh and leave their breakfasts to follow the irate Gryffindor.
eighteighteighteighteight
They pause at the hallway leading to the Gryffindor common room. Harry is definitely at one end, but there is already someone with him.
"I saw that," a voice says calmly. "Rather, ah, disturbing scene."
"Well, I don't," Harry's voice shouts back, reverberating off the stone walls. Hermione and Ron wince.
"Don't what?" the voice says.
"I do not love you, Malfoy, and you know it!" Harry's voice cries. Ron slumps to the floor.
"That's Malfoy with Harry?" Hermione whispers, peering round the corner. Harry is backed up against the wall, with Malfoy standing in front of him.
"Don't you?" Malfoy asks quietly. When Harry starts to shake his head violently, Malfoy reaches up to put a hand on each of Harry's cheeks, stopping him.
"Well, then," the blonde whispers, leaning in. "I guess that could be changed."
"Malfoy, what are you talking –"
Before Ron or Hermione can react, Malfoy is gently kissing Harry on the lips, knocking his glasses askew with his forehead. Harry's green eyes go wide before flickering and closing. Malfoy pushes him against the wall and, after a moment of hesitation, Harry's arms wrap around Malfoy's neck… just as Snape comes rushing around the corner at the other end of the corridor.
"Potter," he begins, "Are you – Malfoy? What – AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"