All is fair in love, war and Quidditch.
"Crabbe…Goyle…I need you to do something, er, unusual for me," Draco Malfoy whispered to his two muscular bodyguards outside the Slytherin common room.
"Whatever you need Malfoy," Gregory Goyle replied, flexing his left bicep and craning his neck to check for any wandering Gryffindor first years.
"Well its complicated, that's the only problem, maybe even too complicated for you to understand. Perhaps I should just hex a seventh year in the corridors, but I'm not certain I could stand the indignity of the consequences in a public place." he mused thoughtfully. Both Crabbe and Goyle's eyes were wide with confusion.
"Er…are you trying to tell us you want to get beaten up?" Crabbe said slowly, probing the issue with a delicacy Draco didn't know he possessed.
Draco smiled and slicked back his blonde hair.
"That's exactly what I want Crabbe…exactly that," he said quickly. "Would the two of you do me the honour of knocking me around a bit? A couple of cracked teeth and a few bruised ribs should suffice."
If their eyes had been wide with confusion before, they were practically exiting their eye sockets now. Crabbe tilted his head a little and coughed something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "Is he mad?"
"Are you okay, Malfoy?" Goyle added, stroking his chin thoughtfully with his huge hand.
"I'm better then ever. I just need a few convincing injuries in order to set my plan into motion," said Draco brightly.
"Would this be the plan involving you fancying Hermione Granger?" Goyle continued.
"WHAT!" Draco screamed in outrage. "I'd rather kiss a dementor then that filthy mudblood."
Draco continued to look on in horror as Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle exchanged a fleeting glance. Crabbe soon opened his mouth to continue the conversation.
"But we heard you talking in your sleep. Something about some Gryffindor girl. We naturally assumed it was Granger. Blaise was saying that there has been sexual tension for years. We never noticed it, but…ya know…we couldn't think of anyone else."
Draco rolled his eyes, staggered that anyone could say there was 'sexual tension' between himself and Granger. He promptly decided the truth was preferential to lies.
"Her name is Ginevra if you MUST know, and she is completely one-hundred percent pure blood. Infact, I happen to be her brother's best friend's godfather's father's brother's daughter's son."
"Does that make it incest then, or what?" Crabbe asked, questioningly.
Draco walked over and slammed his head against the wall several times before returning to the conversation.
"No you absolute idiot, it's a distant link. She is as beautiful as any witch at Hogwarts though, and for me to put my devious plans for her heart into effect I require you two to beat me up."
Crabbe shrugged and stepped towards Draco, grabbing him by his robes and pulling him closer where he landed a well-aimed head butt on his nose. A moment later and Draco was scrambling around on the floor trying to block the blood flow by means of a lime green handkerchief with the Malfoy family-crest neatly stitched in the top left hand corner.
"Our old house-elf made me this," he muttered, whilst trying to stop the blood. "Come on, put a little more effort into it!"
Goyle joined in, slamming Draco's back down to the floor under the heel of his shoe. Crabbe stepped back a pace and ran forward, kicking his supposed superior in the side and causing Draco to wince with pain on the ground.
"I need some blood on my face! I need some blood on my face!" he spluttered. Goyle quickly hoisted him to his feet and Crabbe smashed him in the cheek, his gold Slytherin ring leaving a deep purple bruise and an inch high cut that began to bleed profusely down his face.
"STOP!" Draco said abruptly, signalling them away with his outstretched hand. He spat out a mouthful of red saliva and grinned at them.
"That was perfect. You will both be rewarded. Now go back to the common room and don't tell anyone about any of this. I'll see you tomorrow."
"What do you mean tomorrow?" Crabbe asked. "Surely you'll be back tonight?"
"That depends on whether the Malfoy-charm works or not Crabbe, my old friend." Draco winked and walked away down the corridor.
On the other side of the castle, Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom were leaning over a stone sink frantically trying to scrub dried blood from under their fingernails.
"What do you think got into him, Dean?" asked Neville enquiringly.
"God knows, mate," Dean replied. "I think he is finally losing it. To be fair though, I needed the extra money, and the opportunity to practise my right hook doesn't come up as often as I'd like since they moved me away from that Slytherin wanker in my Ancient Runes class."
"Why do you think he needed to fake an injury though?" Neville continued, his nails gradually becoming white again.
Dean moved away from the sink, and began to dry himself with a grey hand-towel. "There was nothing remotely fake about those injuries, Neville, you of all people should know that. You caused half of 'em!"
Harry Potter strode quickly and quietly across the cold stone of the second floor corridor, trying to disguise the incredible pain in his left ankle. The closer he got to his destination, the more he allowed his relaxed attitude to drift away and he began to put on a subtle limp. Using the back of his hand he smeared a little blood from his eyebrow down over his nose to increase the apparent severity of his injuries.
He smiled to himself, imagining the look of sympathy on Ginny's face when she saw his plight. He would pretend he'd been ambushed by the entirety of Slytherin and had to bravely fight his way out with only his fists for protection. He could already imagine her response. All he would have to do is work his trademark Potter-charm, and she would be his for the taking.
Draco Malfoy was thinking the exact same thought, mumbling to himself about Malfoy-charm as he walked in the other direction towards Harry.
The two old enemies walked around a corner near the female toilets and almost bumped into each other. Neither reached for their wands, they just stood in silence staring, before Harry slowly spoke.
"What."
A Dementor in Yorkshire lost its cloak in the wind.
"The"
Albus Dumbledore woke from a bad dream about stampeding horses.
"Fuck"
Ginny Weasley exited the girl's bathroom and eyed the two sixth years with mistrust.
"Draco…Harry… what are you doing out here? You're both bleeding. Have you been fighting each other?" she asked suspiciously.
"Er…no, of course not Ginny. We were just having a…er…Gryffindor pillow fight and I…. er…fell off my bed and hit Hedwig's cage and she…er…. attacked me." Harry lied unconvincingly.
"And isn't it an amazing coincidence that Draco here happens to be in the exact same state at the exact same time in the exact same place?" her brow furrowed and she looked at them accusingly. "You HAVE been fighting."
"No! No we haven't!" Draco quickly retorted, remembering his oily charisma. "I was attacked by house elves whilst raiding the kitchens. Those little bastards are the cause of my extremely severe injuries. Not that they er…. hurt or anything, I'm far too macho to feel pain, but they could still do with being properly treated for infection and so on by a caring female."
He sighed, and pointed at the blood coming from his nose. Ginny frowned again.
"Really? And in your moment of anguished pain you decided that the best person to make you feel better was me? I don't remember your family being particularly fond of mine last time we spoke."
"Sybil Trelawney told me that a flame haired Gryffindor fifth year would be my salvation." Harry quickly improvised.
"Did she really?" Ginny uttered, mildly intrigued but smelling the lie."Well that is interesting. Unfortunately I have remedial potions with Professor Snape this evening, so I will be unable to help ease the pain of either of your wounds. I suggest you go and see Madam Pomfrey if you are really hurt. Goodnight guys!"
And the conversation was over, with Ginny walking back down the corridor and disappearing off around a corner.Draco and Harry watched her for a moment before turning to face each other.
"Where were we Malfoy?" Harry asked rhetorically. "Ah yes, I was asking what the FUCK you are doing here looking like you've just come out of a wrestling match with a troll."
"I might ask you the same thing Potter," Draco snapped. "It's unlike you to be unaccompanied by the two prefects? What did you do…leave them alone? Bad idea Potter, Weasley will have those panties down before you can click your fingers, and Granger will be spitting horrific half-breeds out in every direction. What happens if you combine Weasley and mudblood?"
Harry clenched his fist and prepared to attack, before gathering his thoughts.
"Laying differences aside for a moment, what brings you here?" he asked warily.
Draco sighed. "Both of us injured at the same time in the same place. Presumably the same reason you are, Potter," he paused and glanced at Harry's scar, "you fancy Ginny Weasley too don't you?"
Harry grinned weakly. "Looks like we've both gone for the same sort of sympathy vote." Draco nodded slowly, a thin smile creeping across his lips. "She's always been such a compassionate girl." He added thoughtfully.
Harry looked at his watch. It was almost 8PM.
"Well, Potter, as they say…all is fair in love, war and Quidditch. Let us be honourable and agree not to get in each other's way. Let the girl choose." His smile turned into a sneer. "Will she choose the man with the target on his forehead and the scruffy haircut, or the ambitious, good looking, wealthy blond?"
"May the best man win!" Harry replied, still staggered by Malfoy's arrogance after over six years of putting up with it. "Perhaps appealing to her sympathy isn't the smartest way of winning her heart though, Malfoy, you wouldn't want to ruin those apparent 'good looks' of yours."
"To each his own, Potter. I have a carefully planned strategy, and nothing you say can stop that. I have loved her since the first day she stepped into this castle."
"Ha!" Harry retorted, "well she fancied me during the entire first four years! It won't be hard for me to rekindle her lust."
Draco reached into his inside pocket for his handkerchief. For a moment Harry thought he was reaching for a wand, until the green cloth emerged and wiped fresh blood from his left nostril.
"This conversation has gone on long enough Potter. I would wish you luck, but I wouldn't want it as an enemy. Goodnight." Folding the handkerchief back into his pocket he turned and swept off back down the corridor.
Harry stood alone for a moment, before walking slowly back towards the Gryffindor common room pondering the originality of his situation. To be fair, it wasn't original in the slightest. A battle for the love of a woman with his greatest enemy as his adversary. Interesting…
"Mr.Potter," Snape said slickly, "please come to my desk and drink my juice."
Harry raised his eyebrows and incredulously turned to Ron, who looked back blankly.
"Quickly Harry, you heard him, go and drink his juice."
Hermione edged closer and placed her hand on his shoulder, nodding slowly.
"It'll be fine Harry, really, just go and drink Professor Snape's juice," she said calmly.
Harry's mouth gaped open. Were they implying what he thought they were implying? Was Snape coming onto him? Was this some sort of perverted attempt at forcing Harry to perform a sex act on a teacher now he had reached sixteen years of age? Luckily it was revealed seconds later that it was merely an attempt by Snape to gain the love and respect of his NEWT students.
"Hurry up Potter, this fruit juice is getting warm," Snape said coldly.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief and climbed to his feet, striding to the front of the classroom and towards Professor Snape. The moment he reached Snape's desk, he felt a cold hand on his backside. Snape's mouth curled into a smile.
Harry screamed and sat up rigidly in his bed, sweat pouring out of his skin. Ron was leaning over him, his stereotypically concerned look of distress on his face.
"Harry! Harry! Are you okay, what did you see? Was it a bad dream? Was it about you-know-who?" he asked hurriedly.
"Er…no," Harry replied, rubbing his eyes, "I was being groped in the Potions classroom by Snape."
The expression of anguish on Ron's face fell, and he collapsed back onto his own bed, assessing any possible significance of Harry's dream.
"Better not tell Trelawney about that one," he laughed, sweeping back the curtains to obscure him from view.
"Indeed," Harry muttered to himself. "Indeed."
The following morning Harry entered the great hall to the usual whisperings that accompanied his entrance, and took his seat next to Ron at the Gryffindor table. Hermione was engrossed in The Daily Prophet, and neither noticed him exchange a brief nod with Draco on the other side of the room.
"So, been dreaming about Professor Snape anymore Harry?" said Ron, laughing into his cornflakes. Hermione didn't say a word, but Harry could tell that she was sniggering behind the newspaper.
"I like to think of it as a nightmare, thanks Ron," Harry replied. "Infact, it probably has something to do with all that Occlumency. Snape's left a little bit of himself inside me."
"It sounded like he wanted to get a little bit of himself inside you in your dream too," continued Ron. At this point, Hermione thought it apt to interject and threw him a disgusted look over the top of her newspaper.
"Ronald, seriously! You do realise there is a lady present. I don't want to hear your crude rubbish, and I doubt Harry does either."
Ron looked thoroughly ashamed and went back to eating, occasionally throwing Hermione the odd fierce look. Harry had been ignoring the entire conversation so returned to his breakfast briefly, before the short figure of Ginny Weasley came swaggering into the hall and sat on a nearby stool. Draco eyed her with interest from the far side of the room, an interest ignored by the other Slytherins who plainly sat about discussing their hatred of Gryffindor (or so some stories would make you believe).
As Ginny sat down, Harry vanished the remains of his meal and turned to face her, his eyes glossing over as he made contact. Hermione's eyes appeared over the top of her newspaper again, analysing his behaviour thoughtfully but silently.
"Finished your fight with Draco yet?" Ginny asked, glowering at him. "I know you don't like each other Harry, but that really wasn't necessary."
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked at Malfoy, who was still staring at Ginny from afar. He wondered how many times this had occurred with him ignorant of Malfoy's interest in the girl.
"We weren't fighting! I already told you that," he stammered awkwardly. "It was all Hedwig."
"Whatever you say Harry, but if I really cared I would buy some Veritserum and slip it into your drink," she said coolly.
If Harry had been shifting uncomfortably before, he practically fell out of his seat with angst at this point.
"I was actually here to ask you if you want to go with me to the next Hogsmeade visit. You know, just the two of us. What do you say?"
Ron and Hermione both smiled at the exact same time. Ginny noticed and gave them a condescending frown, whilst trying to avoid Harry's eyes which had glazed again.
"Harry? Would you like to then?" she asked gently.
But Harry wasn't there. He had drifted off into a world where the enigmatic expert of potions was teaching him how to bewitch the mind, ensnare the senses, bottle fame, brew glory and maybe (if he worked extra hard) put a stopper in death.
Harry saw himself in his first year again, sitting at a desk looking up in awe at Professor Snape standing in a dramatic pose, his black cloak billowing out behind him like a cape.
"There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class." Snape said slowly, before turning to face Harry.
Snape smiled deviously "Except you Potter…you can wave your wand at me anytime."
"ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH"
Harry sat up with a jolt in the Great Hall, his elbow in Ron's cereal and the entire table staring at him in confusion. Ginny was looking down at him from above.
"I think you must have dozed off for a moment Harry. Are you okay?" she said kindly.
"Yes, I'm…I'm fine," he lied, "just lost it for a moment there. Not sure why. Daydreaming."
Ginny stroked his hair maternally. "Well, in future please try to listen a little harder when I am engaging you in conversation. I hate to think day dreams are preferential to reality."
Harry sighed.
"So, would you like to come or not?" she repeated.
"Of course I will!" He exclaimed loudly. Ginny beamed and took the Daily Prophet from Hermione, who had just finished, and folded it under her arm.
"Good boy." She whispered cheekily in his ear, before turning and exiting the hall.
Harry took a moment to gather his thoughts. They were still jumbled from his increasingly erotic (and rather disturbing) Snape fantasies, and better still, the fact that Ginny had just ASKED HIM OUT ON A DATE.
He looked over towards the Slytherin table. Draco was watching anxiously, obviously completely unaware of what had just transpired but desperate to find out.
All Harry could do was smile and wave at his old enemy.
TO BE CONTINUED….
Authors Note
Well, I finally got tired of all the randomness so took a crack at doing a proper story of sorts. Its still weird and humorous, but I am attempting to actually add something vaguely resembling a story this time around.
If you like it, you'll be pleased to know a second chapter is currently being written. Please read and review, as I have this crazy thirst for reviews that only people reviewing my stories can satisfy. Special thanks go out to fanfiction.net members QueenSmithy (for doing editing duties and cleaning up the punctuation problems) and Polkat for writing generally amazing stories that you can check out if you go to her profile.