A/N: This story is slash, so if you are bothered by it, I'm sorry. It's not that bad, not like you'll throw up. Nothing graphic.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, J.K. Rowling does.

Takes place in 6th year.

He was as proud and as bigoted as they came. The essence of Slytherin was truly in this boy. Descending from the vilest of the vile purebloods, Draco Christopher Malfoy was the quintessential of the sexy bad asses. Every girl desperatelywanted him in one way or another, and most guys would even turn gay just for a night with him.

He ran a steady hand through his silvery blonde hair. "One strand was worth all the Gryffindors combined," he thought. He snapped his fingers, and one of the house elves brought him his hair gel and comb.

"Took you long enough," he scoffed at the lower being. Draco washed his face and styled his hair.

"Pansy, how do I look?" he demanded of her.

"Positively arousing, as usual, Draco," she whimpered in awe.

"As if there was any doubt," he said aloud, full of himself. "Come on. Crabbe, Goyle, it's time for breakfast." His cronies surrounded him, escorting him into the Great Hall. Draco received numerous looks on his way. He sighed loudly, "Poor half- witted admirers, will they ever learn?"

He regally sat down at the Slytherin table, so that everyone acknowledged his presence. Draco ate his meal with his own silver engraved appliances.

"So what's the schedule for today?" he yawned extravogently.

"You've got Care of Magical Creatures, followed by Charms and Potions, then a Quidditch Match, versus Gryffindor," piped Blaise.

"Excellent," remarked Draco, who stole a look at the green-eyed wonder. "You're going down, Potter," he mouthed, biting his lip.

Harry just rolled his eyes with a 'yeah-right' expression on his face.

He was the only person that didn't worship the ground he so rightly stepped upon and ruled. "But he'll be mine tonight," Draco thought with a wide smirk, sipping his ice-cold pumpkin juice in a golden goblet.

He arrived with his dark entourage at Hagrid's shack of a cabin. Harry watched him clamber on in, a scowl on his face.

"He's such a pretty boy," Draco smiled, "but not as much as me." He ran his hand through his hair once more, wallowing in his self-pride and glamor.

He looked on as poor little Potter did his own schoolwork. "What an amateur," he commented. Draco did, however, appreciate Harry's finely toned body as he helped Hagrid lift the bothersome crups into their outside cage.

Draco blew an unrequited kiss to his love. "Oh how easily the proud shall crumble tonight," he whispered arrogantly.

He made his way to Charms, fashionably late. His mind was still on his dark, raven hair. "I wonder what hair products he uses, I'll just have to get a close up later."

He doodled his way through Professor Flitwick's lesson, accentuating Harry's full lips and sparkling eyes, as well as his luscious features.

The bell rang and class was over, interrupting Draco's imaginative fantasies. "Oh, I've got to try that with him..." Draco envisioned with a knowing smirk.

Draco strode into Potions, late yet again. He was excited for the match, but even more 'excited' for the after-game party.

"Hey, Potter, you plan on playing a game that doesn't end with you in the hospital wing?" Draco snidely remarked, yet the thought of Harry tied up in bandages was rather arousing.

"Sod off, Malfoy, you royal git," Ron replied with a sneer. Draco glared as Harry actually thanked that incessant red-haired snot for saying such a mean thing.

"Oh stop protecting your little boyfriend," he drawled. "Only I get that privilege with him," Draco imagined.

Ron's ears and face went bright red as he stammered, "Sorry, mate." Harry shook his head with a smile, as if to effortlessly say 'don't worry about it'.

Draco only gazed at his lover's eyes from afar. He licked his pale lips in anticipation and want.

........

It was finally game time, and Draco was more arrogant than ever. After dawning his skin-tight emerald and silver uniform, he mounted his broom with a defiant smirk on his face and he hissed at Harry,

"You ready for some fun, Baby?" Draco squinted his eyes, and flew up in the air.

Harry sat, confused. "What the bloody hell did he mean by that?" he asked out loud, puzzled, but he went up after him. Draco staked out an area and relaxed. "Now to throw the game to boost his little self-esteem. Then he'll be all mine."

He sat back on his broom, watching Harry in action. He loved the way that scarlet fabric looked on his skinny, athletic frame. Draco softly purred under his breath, and then flew around the pitch to make it look like he was participating.

Within a half an hour, Harry had captured the snitch, clutching the victory over Slytherin 210 to 90.

......

Draco quickly washed up in the locker room and spotted his ever-elusive target. He strutted closer to the fair Gryffindor, and waited for the conversation with his prized weasel to be over.

"You were brilliant out there," Ron beamed, his cheeks flushing red.

"Thanks, Ron." Harry smiled, taking Ron's hand in his. Ron swallowed nervously, and stared at the ground.

"Calm down," Harry grinned. "No one is here, they're all up in the common room. You can relax."

Harry's eyes were full of comfort and compassion, and Ron couldn't help but take a relieving breath.

He sighed, "Good."

"Why's that?" Harry asked.

Ron turned to Harry, looking down at his shorter, handsome mate, "I love you,"

"I love you too, Ronald."

The red-haired boy leaned in and kissed him passionately, wrapping his arms around the Quidditch star. He responded happily, deepening the embrace.

Draco stood, frozen. He had everything. He had gorgeous good looks, a sharp mind, and loads of cash. The world was purposively his for the taking. Yet this pathetic weasel, as poor as dirt, an absolute nobody, had Harry.

Somehow, Draco felt that he came off worse in the end.

A/N: I really don't like the Harry/Ron pairing, but this just popped up into my head. Hope you liked it, please r&r!