Call It a Love Story

(Life changes for the boys when Harry reads Draco's diary one night.)

Author's Note: HPDM, slash, language, sex! That should be it. Hints of HGBZ later, maybe.

Disclaimer: I don't own. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfictions…

Beta: Beta-d by the lovely Epitome of Distraction!!!

Call-It-A-Love-Story

They were drunk: undeniably so. And Ronald Weasley was the sloppiest, craziest drunk you ever will or will ever hope to see.

It was his idea to crash the legendary Slytherin Saturday night party. Hemione was drunk, yes, but still not stupid by any means. She vetoed his idea in her stupor, but was still in the mood for something risky.

Harry, even after two and a half bottles of firewhiskey remained placid. He'd always been a quiet drunk. And you know what they say about those quiet ones.

(A/N: If you don't; that's just sad. Get off the computer and get some culture, you fanboy/girl)

Straight-faced and composed, he acted as if he were sober. Under the influence of alcohol, though, Harry couldn't control a single word that he said. And he remembered everything. It was almost as effective as vitaserum for him. The few social filters he had between his brain and his mouth were gone, and everything he was thinking (even in passing) came out.

Loudly.

"I say we raid their rooms," Harry proposed, perfectly serious. "No one's in there right now. They'll be at the party."

Hermione let out a somewhat ridiculous giggle and winked at Harry. She always got a bit too touchy-feely with her male friends when drunk. They figured it was all that sexual frustration that had built up, with her doing nothing but reading and all.

"I think it's a marvelous idea."

It was a miracle no one heard the trio as they clumped loudly down the stone steps. Harry, Ron and Hermione stalked awkwardly into the Slytherin rooms with mischief glinting in their eyes and alcohol heavy on their breath.

"Mione, look," Ron giggled through his drunken stupor. "They don't have… Voldemort posters!"

Hermione burst out laughing at the less-than-funny joke, her big brown eyes tearing up.

"Ron, that made me want to kill myself." Harry intoned, perfectly serious.

The trio picked through the somewhat boring personal items until they got to a large wooden door more ornate than the others.

"Must be Zabini's and Malfoy's!" crooned Hermione, smiling a little too big at Ron.

Harry was already halfway through the door and searching through his arch-enemy's things. Hermione pranced around Blaise's side of the room. Ron spun in circles with something unidentifiable on his head.

"You guys," Harry called over his shoulder. "Check this out! A diary!"

His friends ignored him and ran out the door, Hermione latched onto Ron's arm, chuckling. Harry only sighed and looked back to his findings. He flipped the cover open and turned to the first page. Draco's handwriting filled a sheet labeled, 'Forward.' Centering his glasses on his face, Harry began to read.

You could call this book a diary.

You can call it an auto-biography, or an anthology of poems.

You can call this history, maybe even a reference book, in the future.

You could call it fact, or fiction, or a damned muggle fantasy, if you wish.

But most of all, you can call it a love story.

Above all else, I have loved.

"Well imagine that…" murmured Harry, looking on to begin Draco's story.

Call-It-A-Love-Story

Author's Note:

About them being in the rooms: I understand that it would be really hard or impossible for them to get in the Slytherin rooms. But, for the sake of fluff, bare with me. It's fanfiction. Live a little.

Lord! I'm so irresponsible about fanfiction! Here, I should be working on Journey and I start up a whole other story! I'm sorry. But you know how things happen. Anyhow, review lots! Should I continiue?

I was a little bitchy in this chapter, huh? Sorry about that….

Have a wonderful day!!!

TruestBlue