Breaking the habit

Chapter one

Sep. 1st 1996

When I left the train and went back to Hogwarts, I saw Him. Harry.

He looks pretty damn good this year, indeed he does.

But that will not, obviously, change anything. He's after all my nemesis.

And I'm going to pick on him and his stupid little friends more this year than I've ever done before, just to prove that.

How DARE he look better than me!

Draco stopped his writing for a moment just to check himself in the mirror. He was pleased to see that though his features weren't particularly masculine, his face was still beautifully pale and his eyes were both silver and blue at the same time.

He ran a hand through his silver-blonde hair and sighed. 'That stupid ... annoying little ... Wonderboy! Thinks he's so good just because he defeated that bloody Voldemort. God, I hate him!' he spat out in the air. Thank god he was all alone in the boys' dormitories; the rest of them were downstairs talking about god knew what and Draco didn't exactly feel like participating in it. No, he'd rather just sit here, in his bed, writing in his diary. Perhaps it was a bit ... girlish writing your diary, but Draco didn't care. He didn't know what else to do to express his anger over that Harry fucking Potter.

I hate him! Draco thought.

Harry lay on his four-poster bed in the dormitory. He was so tired, didn't feel like doing anything but rest. He was alone in there because the other boys were downstairs and he had told them not to disturb him, and they wouldn't.

Harry didn't think about anything in particular, but all of a sudden his mind somehow wandered off and he started thinking about ... Malfoy.

He hadn't talked to the boy yet; he actually had tried to avoid him and his idiotic bodyguards.

Despite the fact that he hadn't talked to him, he had still noticed the way Malfoy looked. His silver-blonde hair had grown a bit over the summer so it went down to his shoulders, making him look a bit older. And although Harry obviously wouldn't admit it aloud, he found Malfoy rather ... handsome.

Not in that sort of way, of course! But it was undeniable; the boy wasn't ugly and he knew that perfectly well himself. Every time Malfoy passed by some third-year girls, they would start giggling uncontrollably and look at him as if he were some sex-god.

Of course, loads of girls looked at Harry too; his emerald eyes and black, untidy hair definitely draw attention to him. And then, the fact that he was the Boy Who Lived didn't exactly make it worse.

But it didn't matter how bloody handsome Malfoy was, Harry still loathed the piece of shit and didn't want to put his eyes on him; for all he cared, he might as well just go and die.

I hate him! Harry thought.

The day after they'd arrived at Hogwarts, Harry went to the Great Hall to eat breakfast early in the morning. Nobody was there except for some older students and they didn't really care about him. And so he sat down and tried to eat, but he was obviously too tired; he couldn't get one piece down his throat. He gave up the thought of eating at all and went outside instead.

It was only in the beginning of September, but it was already getting chilly outside. Harry wrapped his robes closer around him, but it didn't exactly help. And suddenly he heard a voice from behind him.

'Hey, Potter! Here without your stupid Weasel and Mudblood-friends, are you?'

Harry turned around to face Draco Malfoy.

'What do you want?' he hissed. 'That's rich coming from you, you're obviously not surrounded buy those bodyguards of yours!'

Malfoy smirked.

'You think they're my bodyguards, do you?' He looked into those green eyes and thought that he wanted to kill Potter.

'Yeah, I do, seeing you can't even talk to me without them around. What, scared I'll beat you up, are you?' said Harry and looked into Malfoy's eyes. If only I had my wand, Harry thought. Then again ... I can always use my hands.

'I doubt you could ever succeed with such a thing. I am much stronger than you are.' Malfoy actually didn't doubt that Potter could beat him up; after all, he wasn't that feeble 11-year old anymore, and Draco had noticed the muscles on his arms. But he didn't say that, of course.

'Oh yeah? Wanna make a bet? I tell you what: let's measure our powers in a duel. How 'bout that?' Harry stared into Malfoy's eyes, trying to make him insecure. But Draco just laughed and said: 'Yeah, let's do that! Just name the place and time and I'll be there!'

Actually, they had been in a duel before, in their second year when their Defence Against the Dark Arts-teacher Gilderoy Lockhart had started a Duelling-club to prevent students from getting killed by a monster (a Basilisk, in fact, which Harry later killed). And Draco had used a spell on Harry, which made a snake coming out from his wand. But Harry wasn't scared; he just hissed and the snake didn't touch him (that's how he found out that he was a Parsel-mouth).

And then of course, there was one time in their first year when Draco had challenged Harry to a duel, but he hadn't shown up. That blasted coward, Harry thought when remembering that.

'Alright,' he said. 'Midnight, Forbidden Forest.'

'The Forest?' Draco blurted before he could stop himself. 'But –'

'What, scared of werewolves are you?' Harry interrupted him. 'Either you come or not.'

'Fine,' Draco said. 'But – we won't bring anyone with us, no back-up. Just you and me, Potter.'

'Fine with me. I'll see you then.' And with those words, Harry left Draco and went back to the castle.

'I'll ruddy show you,' he muttered on his way back. 'You just wait.'