Regrettable Circumstances
How idiotic can I be? bows head in shame. I cannot believe how much of a fool i've been (you will not believe how stupid I feel right now, lol). My greatest thanks to elisebanana for pointing out in her review that 'I hate you' and 'I love you' actually differ in three letters, not two! I've gone through these chapters and edited the phrase as appropiate, but I can't help but feel incredibly stupid right now, lol. Hope you can forgive me. However, am I the only one that feels the phrase just doesn't have the same ring to it anymore?
A/N; Well, to be honest, I've been a little bit naughty today. See, I have this essay which is over a week late that I sat down earlier today with the intention to finish the damn thing, but instead I ended up spending almost the entire afternoon writing this. Despite the fact that this means I will now have to stay up really late tonight to write that essay, I'm incredibly happy because I have actually finished this fic!
I've separated this into two chapters, to make it easier to read, so the next will be posted tomorrow or the day after.
Also, I direct readers of 'Veela Genes' to a note at the bottom of this chap.
Disclaimer; I borrowed the idea for 'Hogwarts book of secrets' from an online site (Sunday Secrets, AKA postsecret) where people really do send postcard-sized secrets in to be published in books and on the web. The idea, therefore is NOT MINE! It belongs to Frank Warren. Also, I borrowed the characters of Harry Potter to play with for a while, but have now returned them. I advice JK not to sue, for she will be wasting a great deal of time and money chasing after money I don't have.
Enjoy!
Oh, warnings (I forget every time); slash. Slash. Slash. Read that again; Slash. Nothing pornographic (sorry folks) but slash all the same. HPDM, but also a slight bit of SBRL. Only slight, because it's only mentioned once, and it only lasts for about ten lines. Slash. Slash. Lovely, yummy slash. Oh, and swearing.
XXxxXX
"Get the hell out of my way, Weasel!"
"Push off, Ferret."
"Ooh," a blonde-haired Slytherin male sneered, ignoring the snickering seventh years following him "big words. It's nice to know that, despite your severely lacking intelligence, you've still managed to gain a sufficient grasp of the English language."
"Piss off, Malfoy." Harry stepped forward, nudging his best friend with his elbow to stop the scowling red-head from drawing his wand.
"Ah, the wizarding hero coming to his side-kicks aid, as usual. Honestly, Potter, I'm sure the world wouldn't mourn the loss of just one of the Weasley spawn; in fact, I should think most of us would rejoice to hear of it."
"Well, sorry to disappoint you, but we're all going to be rejoicing at your death before you ever get the chance to party because of ours."
Malfoy scowled at the shorter teenager, his hand already grasping his wand.
"Was that a threat, Potter?"
The Gryffindor rolled his eyes, letting Hermione tug on his arm and pull him away down the corridor.
"Not really, Malfoy," he called over his shoulder "if I wanted to threaten you, I'd be using more than just words."
"I hate you, Potter!" the words rung in his ears just before the trio rounded the corner, and Harry couldn't resist turning back to face the blonde. The words hadn't surprised anyone in the vicinity, and so the students milling around them simply moved on without more than a glance at the sparring par. The small smirk, however, that played upon Malfoy's lips, was something that intrigued him, for it was one he didn't see all that often. It was almost as though the blonde was more amused than pissed off, as though inside he was laughing at a joke only he was privy to. Shrugging carelessly, Harry tossed him a bored look with his reply.
"Trust me, the feeling's entirely mutual."
xxXXxx
Harry looked up, startled, as an excited squeal filled the common room, surprised to find it had come from the entrance that Hermione had just walked through.
"Harry!" She cried, a happy grin on her face as she bounded over "you'll never guess what I've found!"
"A singing banana peel?" The teenager jumped at the voice that spoke into her ear, batting away her boyfriend's hands that were snaking around her waist from behind.
"No. What?"
Ron laughed as he sat down in the plush chair opposite Harry, pulling his blushing girlfriend onto his lap with a chuckle.
"Just the twin's latest prank. So, go on then, what is it that's made you all excited? It better not be extra courses or something, 'cause I'm already workin' my butt out –"
"No, don't be so silly. As if the school has the resources to offer more courses – though I have always thought they should offer the opportunity to learn several languages…"
Harry and Ron shared an exasperated eye-roll, smiling despite themselves.
"No, this is what I wanted to show you," she finally said, tossing a thick book at Harry, who caught it just before it smashed into his face.
"What the hell? Are you trying to kill me or something?"
Hermione giggled, ignoring the shocked looks she was sent because of the action, and motioned towards the book.
"Well, go on. Read what it says."
Harry turned the hard-back book over in his hands, taking care to not catch any of the various bits coloured paper that seemed to be on the verge of tearing and falling out. The book itself was purple, but the Hogwarts crest had been embellished onto the front, the title of the book written in cursive letters and red ink.
"The Hogwarts book of Secrets, by The Students of Hogwarts. Umm – what is it?"
Hermione giggled again, causing Ron to look rather worried at his girlfriend's cheery mood.
"It's a book of secrets for everyone to contribute to."
"Huh?"
"Oh, honestly Ronald," Hermione sighed, her cheerful demeanour dying down a little as she began to explain.
"I don't know who it was started by or anything like that, but basically each person who finds it must add to the book by writing down a secret. They can stick it in on coloured postcards, add pictures, decorate their secrets – you can do whatever you like, so long as you don't modify anyone else's work. The finder then leaves the book in some obscure place for the next person to find, and so it goes on."
Harry raised his eyebrows at her, looking at the book in his hands with some degree of scepticism.
"Okay….so, what's the point of this?"
Hermione almost pouted, looking towards her boyfriend for support. Ron, however, was finding it hard to contain his laughter, and so received a light smack around the head from the girl.
"Well," she began "it's sort of like – it gives a sense of community, doesn't it? And it allows students to share their problems and not receive criticism for it – and, well…well, I think it's a fantastic idea!" She snapped, folding her arms rather crossly. Ron laughed at the action, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
"We never said it wasn't, dear."
Harry rolled his eyes at the couple, already flicking through some of the pages.
"So," he asked, "where'd you find it?"
"In the library," was the reply, at which the two boys both had to stifle laughter behind their hands.
The pages were many different colours, and each was filled with the handwriting of different individuals.
'I'm sorry' one read 'but I've been cheating on you with your twin (and pretending I can't tell the difference). Merry Christmas'. The secret was written in dark blue ink, and there was a hand drawn sketch of the Gemini star sign at the bottom.
'Snape hates everyone,' another read, causing Harry to give a little laugh 'it's not just you.'
The next page had a detention slip stuck to it, upon which was scrawled 'Sorry, Mrs.Tbut I only came for the grade.' Harry raised his eyebrows, wondering if it meant what he thought it might, and searched for a date on the slip. To his shock, the neatly written date informed him the detention had been ordered in 1959, and so flipped through the book until he found a blank page. He realised that the book had been enlarged, so that it held more pages than it looked was possible, and couldn't help but grin at the wonders of the wizarding world.
It vaguely registered somewhere in the back of his mind that his parents were probably in school just after this book was made – would it contain any of their own secrets?
"Well, pass it 'ere then!"
Harry passed the book over to his best friend, watching with some interest as Ron laughed at the various secrets he read.
"'Ere," he said, grinning "listen to this one. 'I thought that maybe Filch was shagging Professor Sprout, but then I realised that he only has eyes for that bloody cat'. And this one; 'I knew you would turn me down, so I made sure to curse your breakfast this morning. Don't worry, you'll be fine by next week (sorry you have to miss the dance!)'. Bloody brilliant, this!"
"Ron!" Hermione admonished, a small smile pulling at her lips despite her harsh tone of voice "you shouldn't be laughing at other people's private thoughts!"
"If they wanted them to remain private," Harry stated, folding his legs beneath him in the chair "they wouldn't have written them down for the whole school to read."
"Exactly," Ron agreed, eyes still glued to the page in front of him. "I like this one too – 'Sorry, but when I said 'I love you', I really meant 'I hate you''. And there's a reply written at the bottom of it; 'It doesn't matter, because when I said 'I'll miss you,' I really meant 'Good riddance''."
The redhead remained silent for a few moments, turning the pages with some degree of interest before stopping on one particular page with wide eyes.
"Hey, Harry? Does this sound at all familiar? 'I know you don't like me, Evans, so I'm holding your diary hostage until you agree to go on a date with me.'"
Harry's eyes widened in shock as he jumped up, running around the back of the chair so he could read the book over Ron's shoulders. The message had been hastily scrawled at the bottom of a photograph that showed a small leather bound black book, the word journal clearly printed on its cover.
"And, look," the redhead continued "the one after it reads 'I know you have my diary, Potter, so I'm holding Mr.Tibbles captive until it's returned."
The handwriting was much neater, and the bright red ink formed loopy letters that sat just above another photograph, though this one showed a ragged looking brown bear sitting atop a pink and purple pillow.
"Do you think…that's a teddy bear?" Harry asked, disbelief evident in his voice. He couldn't help but laugh at the thought that his parent's obvious arguments had spilled over into even this book, and couldn't help but find the idea of his father owning a teddy bear rather amusing, despite the sadness that swept through him.
"Hey, that's Professor Lupin's handwriting!" Hermione pointed excitedly to the page after Lily's secret, which was completely blank except for a small full moon drawn in the corner of the page, half hidden behind dark clouds, and their ex-teacher's handwriting, positioned in the middle of the page.
'You're the only one who truly loves me for who I am. I am grateful.'
"Awe!" Hermione cooed, running her fingers over the rough parchment page "he found love after all! I wonder what happened to her?"
"Are you sure that's Lupin's writing?" Ron asked, cocking his head to one side and bringing the book closer to his face "how do you know?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, nodding at the same time. "He marked our work for an entire year, how can I not know what his handwriting looks like?"
Harry didn't like to tell her that he hadn't known either, but smiled sadly at the secret. So Lupin had been in love? He wondered why he had never said anything, before mentally kicking himself when he realised it was probably a painful subject.
"Hey, I wonder if this one is from that girl," Ron said, motioning to the writing on the opposite page.
'I know I've always pretended not to care about anything or anyone, but you make me say and do things that are so unlike me. I want to scream about my love from the astronomy tower – and I would, if it weren't for the fact that ever time we go there we end up getting distracted by, erm, more pressing matters.'
The secret (though it was more of a statement than a secret) was situated below a rather sketchy dog (or was it a wolf?) that seemed to be howling at the full moon drawn on Lupin's page, and Harry couldn't help but think he recognised the small, spiky handwriting.
"Wait, doesn't that look like…" Hermione was obviously thinking the same thing, but her eyes widened comically at the end of her statement, her hand flying to her mouth.
"Oh…" she trailed off, a small smile forming on her lips "oh, that's so sweet."
"What?" Ron asked, bewildered by her actions "what does it look like?"
Hermione blushed, glancing between the pair with a thoughtful look on her face, as though debating whether or not to tell them.
"Well," she said, her voice deliberately soft "it could be a spell, of course, and it could be my mind playing tricks on me, but…well, it sort of looks like Snuffle's writing."
"What?" Ron cried, jumping at the statement almost dislodging Hermione from his knee. "You can't be serious!"
Harry blinked a few times, registering the fact that Hermione was looking at him with a worried expression on his face, before taking the book from Ron's grasp and studying the page. Hermione was right. It sort of did look like his handwriting.
"Oh." Was all he could say, turning his head this way and that to look at it from different angles.
"I think you're right."
Hermione beamed at the smile that had wormed its way onto his face, giggling a little at Harry's next sentence.
"You're right, that is sort of sweet. A little mushy and 'oh-my-god-I-can't-believe-they-never-said-anything' but also sort of sweet."
Ron was miming gagging from his seat in the chair, so his girlfriend whacked him round the head.
"I can't believe it!" He said, rubbing the sore spot "all those years I thought they were just good friends, and it turns out they were banging each other down the corridor! Oh my god! They might have done it whilst we stayed in the same house! I think I'm going to be sick!"
It was Harry who hit him this time, using the book as a weapon. Ignoring his friend's angry outcry, he flicked forward towards the most recent entries.
"If you don't mind," he said as he turned the pages "I'd rather not think about my godfather's love life. As sweet as it may be, it still sort of freaks me out. It's like discussing Mr and Mrs Weasley going at it."
Ron started gagging again, his face going bright red as he shielded his eyes from invisible images.
"Oh gross!" he cried, giving his girlfriend a light smack on the arm for her laughter.
A dark green page with silver writing caught his eye, making Harry turn back a few sheets to find the page again. It was a simple piece of Slytherin green card stuck to the parchment, silver ink forming the curly, almost girly handwriting that was in the centre of the card.
'I hate you and I love you differ in only three letters, and the circumstances in which they are said.'
Harry's confusion must have shown on his face, for Hermione asked him what was wrong. He passed the book over to her, listening as she explained.
"'I hate you' and 'I love you' differ in only two letters, and the circumstances in which they are said. Pretty deep – oh, don't you understand, Harry? The author is essentially saying that they mean the same thing – which is nonsense, of course. I think they might be implying that 'hate' is a word people say when circumstances won't allow them to say 'love'."
"Circumstances?" Ron question, shaking his head "surely it would be easier on everyone if they just said 'love' and were done with it. Talk about trashy romance."
Hermione clicked her tongue in impatience, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend. "You forget, Ronald, that society dictates there are certain people that simply cannot love each other; a pureblood is not supposed to love a muggle born, for example. Likewise, a wizard is not supposed to fall in love with a muggle, someone on the 'light' side should not fall in love with someone on the 'dark' and there are even still people out there who are against same-sex relationships too. What would you say if Harry told you he were in love with Malfoy?"
"Are you trying to tell me that every time Harry tells Malfoy he hates him, he's really saying loves him?" Ron was laughing, but disgust lingered on his face, his lips twisted into a grimace.
"No, don't be so silly," Hermione replied, smiling a little as she shut the book "but the author is."
Harry almost choked in surprise, coughing as his own disbelieving laughter stuck in his throat at her words.
"You've got to be kidding me!" He cried, returning to his seat for lack of anything better to do "we're always fighting!"
"Well," Hermione said, a knowing, playful expression on her face "some people would say he was just trying to get you're attention every time he insults you."
"Well duh," Ron replied, rolling his eyes "that bastard is always picking fights."
Hermione rolled her eyes, still smiling.
"No, I mean, some would say that he simply doesn't know how to convey his feelings. Think of it as – as pulling pigtails."
"Ey?"
"When you were younger, if you liked a girl, I bet you teased her instead of just telling her." Hermione explained, giving her boyfriend a knowing grin as he blushed "muggles call it 'pulling pigtails' because that's what young boys do to girls they like – they pull on their pigtails, simply because they don't know how else to react."
Ron started laughing again, but Harry was torn between being amused or disgusted, and found his shock that Hermione could even think such a thing outweighed both feelings.
"So now you're saying that what Malfoy is really doing is not picking fights, but instead trying to convey his 'hidden feelings'? What bullshit."
Hermione patted his head lightly, passing the book back to Harry, no doubt thinking he would want it for the pages his parents wrote.
"I'm not saying anything," she explained, smiling comfortingly at Harry "I was just explaining that secret, that's all. I didn't mean anything by it."
But the seed was planted, and Harry knew he wouldn't be forgetting her words any time soon.
xxXXxx
"Man, could this lesson be anymore boring?" Ron whispered, scowling at the back of their professor's head as she wrote out notes on the board for the class to copy.
Harry shrugged, dipping his quill into his ink well and writing down the next line.
"I suppose it could be worse," he replied in an equally hushed voice "she could be making us listen to a lecture on the various safety precautions we must always be aware of both in and out of lessons."
Ron snorted in laughter, ducking his head down and scribbling away when McGonagall turned around to glare at him.
Harry jumped a little when he felt something hit the back of his head, turning around at the snickering that followed. He found the source to be a gang of Slytherin's at the back of the room, a smirking Malfoy sat in the middle. He looked to the ground, finding a balled up piece of parchment, and quickly reached down to pick it up.
Unfolding the note, he saw what looked to be a sketch of a triumphant Slytherin team, the words Good luck for the match, Potter, written on the back. Rolling his eyes at the childishness of it, he stuffed the note into his pocket, returning to his work in favour of ignoring the blonde and his irritating antics.
A few moments later, another piece of parchment was thrown, though this one landed directly in front of Harry, creating splodges in his notes where it hit wet ink. Sighing, he unfolded the note, uncaring of the stains the ink would leave on his fingers.
Scared, Potter?
The statement conjured the memory of the first time that question had escaped the blonde's lips, and he couldn't stop the fond smile that the memory brought with it.
You wish. He wrote underneath it, using his wand to direct it back to its owner.
The reply came mere seconds later, landing in front of him once more.
You should be.
Ron took the note from him out of curiosity, snickering as he read the pathetic comments the two teenagers had written. This time, when McGonagall turned round, Ron wasn't quick enough to stifle his laughter, and so the note was taken from him by an angry Professor.
"You two should no better than to pass notes in my lessons," she snapped, reading over it with raised eyebrows.
"Mr. Malfoy."
"Yes, Professor?" the blonde's statement could have passed for innocent, were it not for the smirk resting firmly on his face.
"You and Mr. Potter here both have a detention tomorrow night, at eight, in my office."
"What? But, Professor-"
"Keep talking, Mr. Malfoy, if you wish for me to make that a week of detentions."
Malfoy shut his mouth instantly, scowling at woman as she returned to her position in front of the class before turning his glare on Harry instead.
"Thanks, mate," Harry complained, nudging his best friend playfully "just what I need."
"Sorry," Ron replied, looking guilty. "At least it gives you a chance to brag about our upcoming win this Saturday."
Their was no doubt in his voice, and Harry couldn't help wonder what he would do if they ended up loosing the match.
xxXXxx
"Oi, Potter!"
Harry couldn't stop the quiet groan that escaped his lips as Malfoy's voice echoed down the corridor. He had left dinner early, feigning sickness simply so he could return to his dormitory and flick through the Book of Secrets, and knew without looking that the corridor was empty except for him and the blonde Slytherin coming up behind him.
"What do you want, Malfoy?"
"Oh, just to thank you for the detention you've got me in to tomorrow evening."
"Me?" the Gryffindor snapped, turning around to face his rival "you started it!"
Malfoy rolled his eyes, his voice dripping with malice.
"Real mature, Potter. Of course it's your fault! If you and that pathetic excuse for a wizard you call your friend hadn't been snickering over your own lame jokes, McGonagall would never have found the note, ergo I would never have been given a detention."
"Well, if you hadn't sent the note in the first place, maybe Ron and I would never have been caught."
"Maybe if you'd been a bit more discrete you wouldn't have been caught in the first place." Malfoy snapped, rolling his eyes.
Harry sighed, realising the argument could go on all night.
"Whatever, Malfoy," he said, beginning to walk away.
"Hey!" the blonde called after him "I'm not finished with you yet!"
"Well I'm finished with you." Harry almost jumped at how much that sounded like he was breaking up with the boy, and was suddenly thankful that there were no witnesses.
"Finished with me?" Malfoy echoed his thoughts "sounds like you're breaking up with me, Potter. Trying to tell me something?"
The Gryffindor stopped, turning back to face the blonde with a cocky smirk on his face.
"To be breaking up with you, Malfoy, I would first have to be dating you, and the thought occurs that I wouldn't date you even if you tied me to a bed and threatened me with castration – and I wouldn't put anything past you."
Harry ignored the brief hurt that might have passed over Malfoy's face, instead listening as the blonde spat out his reply.
"I hate you, Potter, I hate you!"
"'I hate you' and 'I love you' differ in only three letters, and the circumstances in which they are said. Pretty deep – oh, don't you understand, Harry? The author is essentially saying that they mean the same thing – which is nonsense, of course. I think they might be implying that 'hate' is a word people say when circumstances won't allow them to say 'love'."
"Circumstances?" Ron question, shaking his head "surely it would be easier on everyone if they just said 'love' and were done with it. Talk about trashy romance."
Hermione clicked her tongue in impatience, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend. "You forget, Ronald, that society dictates there are certain people that simply cannot love each other; a pureblood is not supposed to love a muggle born, for example. Likewise, a wizard is not supposed to fall in love with a muggle, someone on the 'light' side should not fall in love with someone on the 'dark' and there are even still people out there who are against same-sex relationships too. What would you say if Harry told you he were in love with Malfoy?"
"Are you trying to tell me that every time Harry tells Malfoy he hates him, he's really saying he loves him?" Ron was laughing, but disgust lingered on his face, his lips twisted into a grimace.
"No, don't be so silly," Hermione replied, smiling a little as she shut the book "but the author is."
"Didn't you here me, Scar-head? I said I hate you!"
Harry's mouth hung open, his brain reeling from the sudden association of the word 'hate' with its opposite, 'love'; there was no way it was true. No way.
Sometime Harry's during startling – and just slightly disturbing - realisation, Malfoy had drawn his wand, and was now directing it threateningly towards the Gryffindor's heart.
"Do your Mudblood roots prevent you from understanding plain English?" Malfoy taunted, trying to get a rise out of his rival "or have you turned out to be a Squib after all?"
"Think of it as – as pulling pigtails."
"Ey?"
"When you were younger, if you liked a girl, I bet you teased her instead of just telling her." Hermione explained, giving her boyfriend a knowing grin as he blushed "muggles call it 'pulling pigtails' because that's what young boys do to girls they like – they pull on their pigtails, simply because they don't know how else to react."
Pulling pigtails? Was that what Malfoy was doing?
Harry mentally slapped himself; he and Malfoy were enemies – not to mention male – so there was just no way –
"…society dictates that there are certain people who simply cannot love each other…people say 'hate' when circumstances won't allow them to say 'love'…"
"…he's really saying he loves him?"
Malfoy had begun to step towards him, furious at being ignored, but also a little - worried?
'Not possible,'Harry decided, still staring blankly at his nemesis 'simple just not possible!'
"You know, if you stood there looking all helpless and defenceless like that in front of a real enemy, they might not be so lenient."
Harry barely caught the words, snapping back to reality as the elder teenager said them only to find the blonde standing just a little too close for comfort, Malfoy's face hovering mere inches from his own.
"Lenient?" Harry knew he should have questioned the 'real enemy' part of the statement – and, judging from Malfoy's raised eyebrow, the blonde knew it too – but he wasn't ready to know the answer.
"You're still alive, aren't you?"
Malfoy didn't wait for a reply, instead simply walking away, tucking his wand into his robes as he went.
"…still alive…"
Malfoy could have hurt him; there was no one around - no one to witness the event – and he hadn't even tried to defend himself…If that was what he had wanted, the Slytherin could have bound him within seconds, dragging him off to the Dark Lord with ease in a chance that he would probably never see again now he had simply waved it away.
But he hadn't.
'Love? You havegot to be kidding me…'
xXx
The crumpled note unfolded as Harry's fingers smoothed the parchment out, the elegant script unchanged from the last time it was read.
Good luck for the match, Potter!
The handwriting was cursive, full of complicated but oddly – pretty? – loops that reminded Harry of old style calligraphy. It was very different to his own messy scrawl, and Ron's small, spiky letters that were hastily laid onto day-late homework sheets, but not so different from Hermione's neat, curvy writing that was smaller than that which he now stared at in horror; this handwriting was all too familiar.
Harry felt around under his pillow for the Hogwarts Book of Secrets, leaning back against the wall once he'd found it as he opened the book to the dog-eared page that had become smooth and worn from over-handling.
The same loop on the 'f', the same twist at the top of the 'l', the same 't' that was crossed with a slanted line, written slightly separate from the other letters, the same elegant curl on the end of vowels – the same size handwriting, the same style handwriting, the same handwriting.
Harry slammed the book shut, letting both it and the note fall to the bed-covers beside him, choosing instead to hide his head within his hands. Malfoy had written the words that had been troubling him so much – there was no denying it.
'But maybe whoever wrote it used some sort of charm on the page' his mind supplied, determined to make one last effort to disprove the theory'and even if he did write it, it doesn't necessarily mean he was talking about us. I mean, he insults Hermione just as much – and Ginny, too, he's always disliked her…'
'But when has Malfoy ever told them he hates them' his conscience asked, the words slithering into existence and trampling over his previous arguments in a single statement.
Harry rubbed a hand over his face, the other running through his hair as he tried to recollect every fight he and Malfoy had ever had, the details of each argument swirling away like water down an un-plugged drain. When hadMalfoy ever told them he hated them? When had he ever told anyonehe hated them? In fact, before the first instance he called recall when Malfoy told Harry he hated him wasn't until the middle of sixth year.
With his last argument dismissed, Harry found himself lost. In some completely illogical and round-about sort of way, it all made sense; Malfoy was at the centre of his world, never a day going by when the two didn't fight, never a class going by when the two didn't compete, never a quidditch match passing when his concentration wasn't almost completely focused on the blonde, never a meal passing when he didn't look for the blonde…
Oh. Shit.
"Trust me, the feeling's entirely mutual."
A noise similar to that which a Hippogriff makes when lesser beings – no names mentioned – were stupid enough to insult them resounded around the dormitory, followed by a hollow thud as Harry's head hit the wall behind him.
No. Freakin'. Way.
He had actually – he had almost – he – he –…he had been talking as though it washe who was in love with Malfoy.
'No chance in hell. I was insulting him when I said it – I watch for him because he's always up to something! I-I-I…I'm all out of ideas again.'
Needing to distract himself, Harry picked up the wrinkled parchment again, flipping it over to study the picture which he had hardly glanced at when he first received the note. The picture – which was surprisingly good, considering how fast it must have been drawn – showed Malfoy standing at the fore-front of the Slytherin team, his face glorious as the snitch fluttered its wings hopelessly despite the elegant fingers curled around it. His hair was windswept from the game, and his quidditch robes were slightly creased (and yet still as perfect as ever). The rest of the Slytherin team stood behind him, sketchy in detail but clearly supporting him with cheers and sneers towards the put-out Gryffindor team that was just leaving the pitch.
Harry, Ron and Hermione were the only other people drawn in any sort of detail, though Ron's form had been made lanky and out of proportion (Harry didn't doubt that it was on purpose), his face twisted in disappointment, and Hermione was clinging onto his arm, her curly locks bushier than in real life. Harry, though, was standing slightly ahead and to the right of them, facing the Slytherin team with an almost teary expression as his right hand clutched painfully at his broom. As the Gryffindor watched the image, it was with some surprise he realised the depicted blonde was turning towards the darker haired boy, a small smile on his lips that was more friendly than triumphant. Harry, in turn, gave a mock bow, a grin on his own lips as he rose back up, winking at the blonde as he did so.
And, with a strangled cry of shock, Harry tore the note in half.
XXxxXX
A/N; well, there it is, the first chapter. I'll post the next either tomorrow or the day after.
Reviews are appreciated!
A note to readers of 'Veela Genes'
Well, it's been rather a long time since I last updated that fic, hasn't it? I'm sorry, but these last months have been crazy (on top of everything else, our mother decided we should up and move house, so among packing, unpacking, living without the internet for nearly two months [I don't know how I survived! so things have been a bit hectic)!
Anyway, I am determined to finish that fic, but every time I sit down to write it I get writers block. I have, however, already written the last chapter, so no matter how longer it takes me, I will finish it. Please bear with me!
Hugs to all!