Draco's POV:
Being the son of the Greek god of the underworld, Nico di Angelo was known for carrying an air of darkness. So naturally, being placed in Slytherin made sense, considering his family background and demi-godlike powers. What didn't make sense was how much the kid loved mint humbugs. Every so often there would be a bowl of them about the castle, or on the table at pudding and Nico went nuts - he ate as many as my could and what didn't fit in his mouth went into his pockets. Endearing, sure, but a blatant clue if anyone ever needed one. Tilting my head to the side, I observed di Angelo as me absentmindedly untwisted the wrappers on the candies while immersed in a heated debate with Pansy Parkinson about why dark arts classes were important. I noticed how he always twisted precisely four times until the white and green candy popped out and he stuffed the wrapper in his pocket. Like clockwork. This was just one among the many things that were fascinating about this boy, I noted. Picking at the remains of my yorkshire pudding, I thought about his backstory, like the many other times I had before. He sort of showed up here without much of a clue about where he was, and a lot of stories behind his dark eyes. I looked up at them; they were like shields. Nonetheless, he ended up fitting in nicely, keeping to himself most of the time, but a true Slytherin from what I could see. I flipped my hair out of my face and raked my fingers through it before catching his deep eyes again; this time his mouth was caught open and his conversation cut short, and he was looking right at me. I smirked and raised my eyebrows, "you look like a deer caught in the headlights, di Angelo," upon which he fluttered his eyelashes and returned his attention to Parkinson, though his awareness of my presence was greatly increased. He continued to throw glances my way and stumble on his words, which Pansy seemed to notice as well, apparent by the kicks the gave me under the table. I would sort him out eventually, but for the time being, this flirtatious cat and mouse game was entertaining enough.
Harry's POV:
Supper was over - the hall began to clear out and students head back to their dorms, and Hermione and Ron stood up on either side of him. "Well come on then," said his red-haired friend, now a few feet from the table, "you going to sit there all night?" Harry turned to face them, "I've just got something I'd like to check over," he replied, holding up a sheet of charms revision that he had pulled from his bag, "I'll see you two before we turn in." Turning back around, he pretended to glance over his notes until mostly everyone was gone, then hastily stuffed the sheet of paper back in his books bag. In reality, he didn't give a hoot about that revision page, but after some observation of the Slytherin table lately, had developed a peculiar speculation. Standing and turning around, he casually followed the last few Gryffindor students making their way up to their dorms. Before heading down the hallway that led to the Gryffindor dorms however, he ducked into a nearby wall cubby and shrouded himself in his ever-so-handy cloak of invisibility. The amount of trouble this thing had gotten him out of was ridiculous, and it was about to work for him yet again. Marauder's map and crazy theory in mind, Harry started off towards the Slytherin tower.
Nico's POV:
Blonde hair was a lot of people's weakness, and one of those people was Nico di Angelo. He could stop looking at it for just long enough that he'd feel compelled to steal another glance, and feel himself melt on the inside all over again. It wasn't fair that he had to be in such close proximity with this veela-ish boy, who lavishly flirted with him and yet made no sign of reciprocating any type of affection. Convincing himself that this was fine and that his studies were more important anyways, Nico tried to take his mind off the wisps of ghostly light hair that distracted him so much. It was just the hair though, Nico thought, that's all I admire. Just his hair.
A couple weeks later
Draco's POV:
Music was filling the Slytherin common room, echoing from cups that were hexed to work as speakers. We were all arranged in a sort of haphazard circle, and in the centre, Blaise Zabini had just found out how to transfigure his cup of water into pure vodka. It was forbidden, of course, but exams were all over, and it was three in the morning - everybody welcomed the newfound treasure. Cheering ensued as Blaise was brought a large jug of water on which he promptly cast the spell and after confirming its authenticity, called "SHOTS ON ME!" With a whip of his wand, he began pouring a long row of shot glasses, which were already disappearing into eager hands. Draco, knowing the spell already, poured himself a glass of water and with a swish of his wand, transfigured the clear liquid into a mint cocktail - his non-lethal poison of choice. Reclining in the plush armchair, Draco noticed something. The festive atmosphere of the room wasn't being enjoyed by everybody here. He transfigured up another glass of mint cocktail and gracefully made his way over to the dark shape hunched on the windowsill which he knew to be Nico di Angelo - still in his school robes and seemingly uninterested in partaking in the lively party surrounding him. "How are you feeling, a little warm in all those robes?" Malfoy almost whispered as he sidled up to the heap of pure Italian death child beside him. When this garnered no response, Draco attempted contact again by setting down his drink and pushing aside the curtain of dark hair that shielded Nico's face. Peering under his hood, Draco's blue eyes caught Nico's intense brown ones, and he felt his heart flutter for the first time in over a year. The type of flutter he used to get when he looked at his former heavy crush, Cedric Diggory. Surprised, he dropped Nico's hair and returned to his former stance. He looked at his manicured nails before trying yet again to get the young boy to enjoy himself somehow. "Look," he murmured near the boy's ear, "I know you're a bit pissed at me for playing around with you," and at this point he recieved a scoff, "but I'd love if you would have a good night." Nico sat up and turned to face Draco, taller than him for the first time since he was sitting on the windowsill. "Why would you care at all about how my night is going," Nico questioned bluntly, looking at the Malfoy with contempt, "why don't you go spend your time wisely on a rich girl or someone of the like?" Maintaining the iron gaze, Draco narrowed his eyes and replied, "because this is my party, and that's my mint cocktail beside you unless you wanted to drink it, and I can't have sulky... people, whomever they may be, perching like thunderclouds at this celebration." Breaking the gaze and turning away, he downed the rest of his drink and adjusted his shirt collar before returning to his usual spot of the large armchair. Determined not to give in to the piercing glare of Nico from across the room, he waved his wand and made the spiders walk in rows on the tabletop. Damn it, the boy was giving him too much attention now, it was so difficult not to cave. But why was Draco even thinking this way? Draco was supposed to be the dominant wizard here, and instead was being intimidated by this little kid, not to mention fluttery and a little flushed over. He brushed it off as the alcohol messing with him but really, he knew something was going on, and he wasn't sure he hated it.
Nico's POV:
Okay so maybe Nico did curl up in the windowsill and maybe that wasn't appropriate party behaviour but sleeping wasn't an option, the dorms had music blaring as well, also he had never been to a party before and his stress levels were through the roof. That was before a certain blonde decided to come up to him and mess with his head. Again. It wasn't even like he was being excessively rogue with di Angelo, but the subtle connotations seemed to be getting less abrasive and more seductive as of late, and Nico wasn't sure this was on purpose. Draco could play with Nico's emotions, but do could the latter do the same in return. Throwing off his school robes, Nico revealed a black hoodie and skinny jeans, littered with zippers and rips. He walked over through the throng of people to the table of ever-filling shot glasses and without thinking too much about it, downed the largest one right away. A couple cheers emerged from the crowd as he slammed the shot glass back on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Vodka maybe did the trick, but was it ever nasty-tasting. This was his second time drinking after all, and he was just a tiny thing. That's when he remembered - Draco had brought him a mint cocktail, that might be easier to stomach. He squeezed through a bunch of girls and grabbed his tall glass filled with silvery green liquid, and tentatively took a sip. The drink was delicious. He had nearly finished it by the time he was back in the centre of the room and near the bunch of girls again. This is when he started to feel the effects of the muggle juice kick in. His coordination was worse than ever, he positively stumbled and his voice was helplessly slurred. This was slightly irritating, since Nico liked to feel in control of his body, but he told himself he had to go with the alcohol and do what he needed to do. Nico stole a glance in the direction of the head Slytherin to ensure that his icy blue eyes were still tracking him, and while looking directly at them, finished the rest of the minty drink in one swig, before winking and disappearing his cup with his wand. The blonde furrowed hiw brow lightly. Turning around, Nico abruptly found himself face-to-face with an attractive Korean guy that was wickedly good at applying tasteful eyeliner, Nico was sure his name was Baekyoo. In less than a second, he crashed lips with the boy and upon receiving an enthusiastic response, continued kissing him until he needed to come up for air. Pulling away, he smirked, leaving the boy lingering for more, and dragged his hand across the Baekyoo's chest as he slunk through through the crowd again. There were a few hollers, sure, but this was nothing compared to what was yet to come.