With a Smile
Chapter One: A Smile
Draco couldn't stop thinking about it. About his smile. The way he had smiled, just before diving. It had not been a malicious smile either. It had been...playful. Almost. But not quite.
Dismounting alongside his teammates, he became distracted by Harry. He was smiling, laughing with the Gryffindors who were swarming around him. But the smile he was giving them was not the same smile he had flashed at Draco earlier. No. That smile had been special. Draco had never seen Harry smile like that.
"Potter just got the best of you this time," someone was saying to him. "You'll beat him next time. It was just luck."
"Yeah, right," Draco replied distractedly, still entranced by the thought of Potter--Harry Potter--smiling at HIM. A stroke of luck, on his part. Maybe Potter was more interested that he thought.
Draco headed inside, showering quickly. If it wasn't for Potter he would have caught the snitch and won the game today. But of course, Potter had to go and throw him off gaurd by smiling. Funny, Draco thought, I missed the snitch because of a stupid smile that probably didn't mean anything.
But he hoped it had. He hoped with all his heart that famous Potter had finally decided to notice him. And then, if their relationship evolved into something serious, maybe Harry would notice him in even more ways...
However, the only thing Draco could do was push these thoughts aside, as he dressed for dinner.
------
Draco woke with a start. Where was he? Exhaustion lingered at the edge of his mind, but as he became fully awake. Then he remembered. He had gone outside after dark to collect his thoughts. And apparently he had fallen asleep on the rock by the lake.
"Well, at least no one spotted me."
"You wish, Malfoy," came a voice from behind him.
Draco snapped around and found himself looking directly into the eyes of Harry Potter. He was smiling, not as vibrantly as during the Quidditch match, but it was still there.
"Potter," he greeted, slightly wary because of the other boy's presence. "What are you doing out here?"
"I came outside because I couldn't sleep, but I saw something on the rock. You. Though I didn't know it was you at the time, of course." Was it just Draco's imagination, or was Potter blushing? No! His cheeks were turning red! Aha, Draco thought, I might have been correct after all.
"Whatever you say, Potter." He hopped lightly down from the boulder. "But you should know that you're turning beet red." Harry's cheeks flushed even darker at this, and Draco laughed. "I sincerely hope that no one sees me talking with you. That would be just perfect," he said, trying to sound smooth and calm. "As if it weren't enough that you had to beat me at Quidditch."
"I would think that you had become more accustomed to being beaten, as it happens every time you play against me. But I don't suppose that you can help that, can you? No, everyone knows that I just have the skills."
Draco arched his eyebrow, saying, "Skills? You? I doubt that. What you have is--" he paused, considering mentioning Harry's smile, "--you have luck, and, I hear, the Quidditch genes."
"I don't wear jeans when I play Quidditch," Harry said, chuckling.
Draco looked at him, confused. "Genes. You know, they're hereditary?"
Shaking his head, Harry attempted to explain. "No, jeans. J-E-A-N-S. Muggles wear them. . They're a sort of trousers made from denim, with pockets. Sometimes called blue jeans. Is any of this making sense?"
"Oh. So that's what all the girls were talking about when they got ahold of that photo."
"What photo?" Harry asked.
"The seventh year girls in my house found a picture of Snape wearing tight trousers--I think they might be the jeans you're thinking of."
"Snape, in jeans?"
Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "You'd be surprised at what people find."
Harry shivered, "Disgusting."
"Actually, he looked quite dangerous. Posing in his jeans with a whip in hand and steel-toed boots made him quite appealing...to some of the girls. And Crabbe and Goyle seemed to enjoy the sight as well."
Harry's expression was one of extreme horror.
"Goodnight," Draco said, laughing. "Hope you find some way to get that look off your face. It looks like you just imagined Dumbledore naked."
"Ugh," he groaned. "Bad mental images."
Draco heard this as he left and smiled brightly. Maybe their relationship was evolving after all...
Chapter One: A Smile
Draco couldn't stop thinking about it. About his smile. The way he had smiled, just before diving. It had not been a malicious smile either. It had been...playful. Almost. But not quite.
Dismounting alongside his teammates, he became distracted by Harry. He was smiling, laughing with the Gryffindors who were swarming around him. But the smile he was giving them was not the same smile he had flashed at Draco earlier. No. That smile had been special. Draco had never seen Harry smile like that.
"Potter just got the best of you this time," someone was saying to him. "You'll beat him next time. It was just luck."
"Yeah, right," Draco replied distractedly, still entranced by the thought of Potter--Harry Potter--smiling at HIM. A stroke of luck, on his part. Maybe Potter was more interested that he thought.
Draco headed inside, showering quickly. If it wasn't for Potter he would have caught the snitch and won the game today. But of course, Potter had to go and throw him off gaurd by smiling. Funny, Draco thought, I missed the snitch because of a stupid smile that probably didn't mean anything.
But he hoped it had. He hoped with all his heart that famous Potter had finally decided to notice him. And then, if their relationship evolved into something serious, maybe Harry would notice him in even more ways...
However, the only thing Draco could do was push these thoughts aside, as he dressed for dinner.
------
Draco woke with a start. Where was he? Exhaustion lingered at the edge of his mind, but as he became fully awake. Then he remembered. He had gone outside after dark to collect his thoughts. And apparently he had fallen asleep on the rock by the lake.
"Well, at least no one spotted me."
"You wish, Malfoy," came a voice from behind him.
Draco snapped around and found himself looking directly into the eyes of Harry Potter. He was smiling, not as vibrantly as during the Quidditch match, but it was still there.
"Potter," he greeted, slightly wary because of the other boy's presence. "What are you doing out here?"
"I came outside because I couldn't sleep, but I saw something on the rock. You. Though I didn't know it was you at the time, of course." Was it just Draco's imagination, or was Potter blushing? No! His cheeks were turning red! Aha, Draco thought, I might have been correct after all.
"Whatever you say, Potter." He hopped lightly down from the boulder. "But you should know that you're turning beet red." Harry's cheeks flushed even darker at this, and Draco laughed. "I sincerely hope that no one sees me talking with you. That would be just perfect," he said, trying to sound smooth and calm. "As if it weren't enough that you had to beat me at Quidditch."
"I would think that you had become more accustomed to being beaten, as it happens every time you play against me. But I don't suppose that you can help that, can you? No, everyone knows that I just have the skills."
Draco arched his eyebrow, saying, "Skills? You? I doubt that. What you have is--" he paused, considering mentioning Harry's smile, "--you have luck, and, I hear, the Quidditch genes."
"I don't wear jeans when I play Quidditch," Harry said, chuckling.
Draco looked at him, confused. "Genes. You know, they're hereditary?"
Shaking his head, Harry attempted to explain. "No, jeans. J-E-A-N-S. Muggles wear them. . They're a sort of trousers made from denim, with pockets. Sometimes called blue jeans. Is any of this making sense?"
"Oh. So that's what all the girls were talking about when they got ahold of that photo."
"What photo?" Harry asked.
"The seventh year girls in my house found a picture of Snape wearing tight trousers--I think they might be the jeans you're thinking of."
"Snape, in jeans?"
Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "You'd be surprised at what people find."
Harry shivered, "Disgusting."
"Actually, he looked quite dangerous. Posing in his jeans with a whip in hand and steel-toed boots made him quite appealing...to some of the girls. And Crabbe and Goyle seemed to enjoy the sight as well."
Harry's expression was one of extreme horror.
"Goodnight," Draco said, laughing. "Hope you find some way to get that look off your face. It looks like you just imagined Dumbledore naked."
"Ugh," he groaned. "Bad mental images."
Draco heard this as he left and smiled brightly. Maybe their relationship was evolving after all...