Hi guys/gals! This is the first chapter of my first FanFic. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Comments would be really appreciated – good or bad, I'm not fussy By the way, there is a lot of "A Very Potter Musical" and "A Very Potter Sequel" references in there. Both productions are by Starkid and are definitely worth checking out on YouTube. Enjoy ...
It was the day after the great Battle of Hogwarts. Relief hung in the air as real as the promise of tomorrow (and a serious amount of Redvines). Away from his friends, Harry wandered along the corridors of his school in disbelief that he could live his life without fear that he would die before the day was out, with no hope for the future; that any Redvine could be his last. He kicked a chunk of rubble and watched as it bounced across the ground and landed behind one of the only pillars he had seen that was recognisably intact. Swish! Pink material? No, it couldn't be... Umbridge? For a second his mind flicked to his memory of her appearance; tall, muscular, with a hint of very sexy man. Ah – how excited little Colin Creevey used to get at the sight of her. Poor kid. No one ever did tell him that she was a woman before he perished. Still, it was rumoured that even the great Albus Dumbledore had assumed that she was in fact a handsome man that liked to dress up as a ministry official with an interest in cat memorabilia than an ugly woman. Before he could continue, his pondering was cut short as familiar pale face poked out from the pillar. "Psssst!" Draco whispered. Harry stared in disbelief at his fuchsia-clad enemy.
"Malfoy? What the hell are you doing in pink? That is the most atrocious colour to put with your skin tone! I mean Snape would drop down dead if he saw a Slytherin looking like that. Oh, hang on, Snape is dead. Whoops. Should probably tell someone about that. Not that anyone would care. Horrible git gave me homework the night before I started on my quest to destroy parts of Voldemort's soul. ...
"Shut UP! Potter!" Malfoy hissed as he waved his arms frantically and nervously wriggled on the spot in the same way a toddler would when on the brink of wetting themselves. "No-one can know I'm here... hang on! Do you really think that about my dress?" At first glance Harry thought that Malfoy was wearing a fuchsia robe, but no, it was a dress. To Harry's interest, Draco had somehow gotten himself into a floor length, slashed at the hip, one shoulder, golden trimmed cocktail dress. Ouch.
"Dress? Dear Gok, Malfoy! Not only does that thing completely wash you out, and would make any Death Eater want to use the killing curse on themselves, but that cut does nothing for you figure! I would have gone for..." He stopped. What was he doing? Malfoy did NOT need to know about his secret LOVE of Gok Wan. Not that he could help it – living under those stairs from the ages of four to ten meant that he could hear EXACTLY what was on the television day and night for six years, and Aunt Petunia had a love of dear Gok. What could he say? Old habits die hard. "Ahem, yes, well... Malfoy. What was I saying? Oh yes, ahem..." *Awkward Turtle*Malfoy continued to wiggle and wave to the point that Harry thought he would fall over and his curiosity could hold no longer. "Malfoy, why are you squirming like that?"
"Oh, it's my Louie Spence impression, do you like it?" Wow.
"I thought you were just nervous...?"
"Damn! Why didn't I think of that... Nervous!" Malfoy stopped abruptly and stood up, his face inches away from Harry's, his slight embarrassment displayed in the pinkness of his snowy cheeks, but with the determination of a prima ballerina burning in his eyes. "Potter, just forget all of this for a moment. There's something I need to tell you. And Potter, call me Draco."