Well, I worked my butt off until closing last night, got home and fell asleep around 12, and then was woken again around 2 by some idiot trying to car-jack (loudly and poorly, without success, I might add) my neighbor's car. The only thing the unfortunate bastard DID manage to do was wake me up and irritate my Borzoi, who started barking out the downstairs window until I hauled my butt out of bed to go quiet her. Twice.

Needless to say, I was not happy…yet somewhere in all of that the plot bunnies woke up as well, and decided that they might as well get to work right then and there. So 3 in the morning found me hastily scribbling down notes on loose-leaf so that I could go to sleep (ah, wonderful, precious sleep) but still be able to get up and write this for you in the morning. I hope that you enjoy.

Sorry Duckies, this is not going to be nosebleed or squealing fodder…it is a relatively (comparatively?) serious short story, and while there will be a suggestion of Drarry, it will be the suggestion of male-on-male attraction, and not the suggestion of shagging-wildly-in-broom closets.

IMPORTANT!!! For all of you who just skip right over the author notes, you might wanna pay attention to this. I am almost completely disregarding the 7th book. I repeat; I AM IGNORING THE LAST BOOK. This means that, for all you sticklers out there, this will not match up with Rowling's storyline. I'm sorry, but I needed the leeway. Dumbledore is dead, but he was killed by deatheaters, not snape or malfoy, and his demise is in no way relevant to this story. McGonagall is headmistress, Snape is potions master, etc, etc...there was no sectumsempra cast by Harry on Draco, no nefariuos plotting on the slytherin prince's part that will make Harry obsess over him. But worry not, I'm not going to mutilate the plotline into something fluffy that ends with Voldie prancing through a feild of flowers and proclaiming his love for the world.

Disclaimer:...geez…they're not mine, okay? I shisted them off of J.K. Rowling…*pouts* only the plot is mine.

………………………………….

He had come back.

Potter had come back.

The whole school was buzzing with the news, and the speculation as to where he had been for the past 6 months was running rampant. Draco scowled, irritated that the Golden Boy could cause such a stir simply from walking into a room and sitting down like he had never left. Okay, so perhaps that wasn't quite what had happened, and as long as he was being honest, he was curious as to where he had been hiding too... but this was a bit ridiculous.

Potter had shown up at the start of school and gotten on the train, same as everyone else. He had been given his schedule, he attended his classes, and he was just as upset as everyone else was when Headmistress McGonagall announced that in order to promote house unity, all inter-house Quidditch games were to be cancelled, but impromptu games would be permitted. He did his work, laughed with his friends, and fought daily with Draco, same as he had for the past 6 years. Until, that is, he didn't show up for one of their scheduled duels about a month into the school year. Draco had looked forward to calling him a coward at breakfast the next morning, but he hadn't shown up there either. Neither did he come to class. For the first few days, the students speculated that he was sick, but as the days turned into weeks and the professors refused to say anything on the matter, the situation slowly became clear. Harry Potter had disappeared.

At first there were rumors flying about secret missions, or abductions by the Death-Eaters and the like, but Draco was of the opinion that the so-called "Chosen One" had simply run away. Eventually even the rumors died down, and as the months passed, many were sure that without their champion the war was as good as over. Draco was fine with that, and if he sometimes missed fighting with the cowardly prat, well, he would never admit it.

But now he was back.

They had been taking dinner in the great hall, and the conversation revolved mostly around the student-organized Quidditch game that was going to be held the next day. Everyone was, of course, placing their bets on Malfoy to catch the snitch…after all, without Potter around he was the best Seeker the school had. He was busy gloating about this inside, when someone entered the Great Hall and started walking towards the Professor's table. Draco took no notice at first, but as the room settled into startled silence, he too looked up…right into a pair of solemn green eyes.

Okay, so maybe Potter hadn't been looking at him, rather just sweeping the room with his gaze, but it felt to Draco like there had been the briefest moment of communication between them. It was a bit of a shock to his system, seeing Potter standing there before the Professor's table, not saying anything, just simply staring at McGonagall as though waiting for her to make a move. After a few tense moments, she rose out of her seat and inclined her head in his direction, her greeting given in a quiet voice that carried easily throughout the hall. "Welcome back, Mr. Potter. I will see you in my office after dinner, but you may take a seat with your housemates now."

Potter nodded to show his assent, and then went to take his place between Weasley and Granger at the Gryffindor table, amidst quiet cheers and a smattering of applause. Draco stared openly at him, along with the rest of the student body, all still too shocked to really process what had just happened. There had been no fanfare, no speech or display or explanation of any sort. In fact, the Boy-Who-Had-Just-Returned hadn't said anything at all. Not a single word…but there was something different about him. Draco frowned. He had spent his entire school life studying and making life hell for the Golden Boy –know your enemy and all that- and he fancied that he knew Potter better than even his friends. Yet this boy…this young man who had just walked in…he didn't know him. He looked a bit like Potter; the same messy hair, the dorky glasses slipping down his nose and the lighting bolt scar emblazoned on his forehead, but something was off. He didn't walk like Potter, he didn't stand or hold himself or look at authority figures like Potter…and looking over at him interacting with his friends…he didn't smile like Potter either. This person was a complete stranger, and that, even more than the quiet, inner sense of relief that came with Potter's return, was what shook Draco to the core and convinced him that perhaps he had better go to bed early.

The next few days went on pretty much as normal…Potter was occasionally there during meals, but he didn't attend the classes with the rest of the Gryffindors, and Draco could feel the inexplicable knot of tension in his chest relax a little. So what if Potter's smile and walk were a bit off? Perhaps he had been imagining it; after all, he was in shock from having Potter's presence unceremoniously forced upon him again. His eyes were playing tricks on him…and what did it really matter? Everything else was still the same. It made no difference to him if the Chosen One was back or not…at least, that was what he told himself whenever he caught his thoughts drifting back towards the strange feeling of mild alarm that he got whenever he laid eyes on Potter. It wasn't very hard to convince himself that nothing had changed.

Then came the potions class that proved him completely wrong.

It was double potions with the Gryffindors, and once again Potter had not deigned to join them…not that Draco really cared. They had been in class for the better part of an hour, working slowly through a rather complex potion used to help control the effects of a werewolf's bite, when the door to the dungeon room opened and three students stepped through. They moved forward into the smokey room, two in front and one hanging slightly behind. Professor Snape rose from his desk like a bat out of hell, displeasure in every line on his face. The room stilled, and every pair of eyes turned to look with interest and pity at those foolish enough to show up to Snape's class late. He stalked forward, stopping and standing quietly at the very head of the room, glaring at the unfortunate latecomers in undisguised contempt, his lips curling into a sneer.

"Weasley. Finnegan." The two in front winced as he called their names, steadfastly looking at the suddenly interesting floor. "Don't even bother to insult my intelligence by attempting to come up with some pathetic excuse for your late arrival." They both seemed to shrink further into themselves, Finnegan biting his lip harshly, most likely to keep from blurting out some form of the excuse Snape didn't want to hear. "Detention. For the both of you. And 50 points from Gryffindor…each." He smirked at them, satisfied that they were suitably ashamed of losing points for their precious house. "Take your seats." They slunk towards their respective desks, sliding in beside their potions partners.

It wasn't until they were seated that Snape turned his attention towards the remaining tardy student. He opened his mouth to dole out another set of punishments, but stilled and closed it again with an audible snap. Potter stepped forward and, unlike his housemates, stared Snape directly and brazenly in the eyes as he stood quietly, waiting for him to say something. Draco looked at him with barely concealed interest, noting with surprise that while his stance was uncharacteristically casual despite the tense situation- robe open and hands hooked in the pockets of his muggle jeans- there was a subtle air of confidence around him that Draco had never associated with the lanky Gryffindor before. A long moment passed, and there was a feeling as though there was a silent power struggle going on in the room. Suddenly, Potter's stance was revealed for what it was; not casual, but rather, defiant. There was a challenge in his eyes as he looked at Snape, as though he held all the answers and, because of that, he owed the other man nothing- not even respect.

Snape's sneer turned into a frown, and he inclined his head ever so slightly, as though acknowledging Potter's challenge. Draco's eyes widened…never had he seen his godfather back down to anyone, much less a student. Yet here he was…what in Merlin's name was going on?

"You're late, Mr. Potter." Came the quiet statement.

Harry's eyebrow quirked upward. "Yes. I do believe that I am."

"I trust that there is some fantastic explanation for your tardiness to my class?"

"There is."

"I see. Care to enlighten the class, Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked at him for a heartbeat, and then smiled quietly, a smile completely devoid of happiness but suggesting the existence of some private joke. "No."

There was a gasp from one corner of the room, in the direction that Longbottom was sitting in, and Snape's displeased expression turned strained. "Sit down, Mr. Potter."

Draco's jaw dropped open just the slightest bit, and he wasn't alone in his astonishment. It mattered little to him what the rest of the class thought of this exchange, though. He sincerely doubted that they understood what had just happened half was well as he did…and even he was struggling to comprehend it. All that mattered was that Potter was standing up to Snape and getting away with it. This could not, would not, happen…it simply wasn't acceptable. He felt that it was his duty to speak up and voice his protest, so that was exactly what he did.

"Don't you think that's a little unfair? After all, Professor, you took house points away from the other two, why should Potter be any different?" Almost every pair of eyes in the room flickered to him, and then turned back to the two facing off, to see their reactions to what they had all been thinking. Snape looked at him for a moment as well, but the gratitude Draco had been expecting wasn't present in the man's dark eyes. Potter didn't even bother to look at him, but the corners of his mouth tipped up, and Draco was hit with the feeling that somehow, he had just made everything worse.

Harry's eyes seemed to spark for a moment in the dim dungeon light, hidden though they were behind his glasses. "Oh yes, Professor," Potter practically purred, "that wouldn't be very fair at all. And we wouldn't want anything to be unfair." His voice held a bitter note in it, and Draco's eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what had caused it. His thoughts were interrupted by the potions master clearing his throat.

Snape's face made it seem like his next words were going to physically hurt him, and his glare turned positively murderous. "There will be…no points taken from Gryffindor. Take your seat Potter."

Harry's voice was sickeningly, sarcastically sweet. "Of course Professor…whatever you say."

He took his seat next to Weasely, slouching down with his legs folded up in awkward angles beneath the desk and his hands still in his pockets, his arms all akimbo. He looked gangly and clumsy, yet despite his smallish stature and apparent lack of coordination, he radiated power. Draco shook his head, trying to understand how he was doing it. All Potter was doing was sitting there, in a way that made him look a bit like a puppet with its strings cut, and yet there was this air about him…and Draco couldn't tear his eyes away.

Potter was back alright...and he was about to turn Draco's world on end.

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well, there you are. the first chapter, with perhaps...one or two more to follow. comments and suggestions are welcomed and encouraged.

until next chappie....