Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1500
Summary: Harry's having girl problems, Ron and Hermione think they're doing the right thing, and Draco's the Matchmaker of Hogwarts. In a situation such as this, trouble is guaranteed.
Warnings: This is YAOI, slash, m/m; a story that features a homosexual relationship. If you dislike things such as these, just hit the backbutton now. I will not tolerate any bashing of my OTP.
Harry Potter was having girl problems.
The Daily Prophet stated as much, if the blaring, bold headline on the front page was anything to go by. The article, which had stretched from the first page, to the fourth, to the seventh, to the ninth, shunted aside the other, inconsequential pieces (with titles such as 'Goblins of Gringotts; Defecting to the Dark Side?' or 'Update on the State of Vampiric Civil Wars') made it known that the Boy-Who-Lived was suffering from some major womanly woes.
"It's really not so bad, Harry," Hermione attempted to console him meekly, as she carefully folded the Prophet up and slipped it into her bag. Obvious glances and barely concealed snickers were being directed their way, and Hermione could only glare in response to the rudeness of their classmates, her bushy brown hair flying every which way.
In reply, Harry merely groaned and buried his head in his arms. Could his life get any worse? His most recent break-up with Ginny Weasley, youngest of the red-headed clan, had been accompanied by an unfamiliar sting he had not felt with his past flings, and he was still suffering from its effects. Harry had no idea what had warranted the explosive argument that had resulted in the end of their relationship, but he had a headache simply thinking about it.
"Er, actually, Herm, it's pretty bad," Ron spoke up, between a mouthful of eggs. If his wince was anything to go by, Hermione had subsequently kicked him in the shins beneath the table.
"You're being insensitive again, Ron," she said, her tone warning. Harry raised his head from its hiding place amongst his arms to scowl at his best friends, indicating that he was not in the mood for their usual antics.
"How can my relationships be so bloody important that they make the front page, every single time?" he groused, grabbing his fork and stabbing the sausages on his plate furiously. Stupid sausages. They didn't have to suffer while Harry was humiliated in front of the entire wizarding world.
"Well, you have had five different girlfriends so far, Harry, and they've all broken up with you," Seamus felt the need to chip in, after biting his way through a buttered piece of toast. He continued humming cheerfully, even as Harry banged his head against the table.
Because it wasn't the fact that he was physically undesirable that sent females running. In fact, Harry was a top contender for Witch Weekly's 'Sexiest Wizards of all Time' list (though he couldn't fathom why). He simply wasn't as attracted to them as he used to be, and his lack of enthusiasm infuriated his girlfriends. Only Ginny's parting words had stung, though.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, undoubtedly appalled. She grasped Harry's head in her hands and held him in place to ensure the self-harm desisted. "Just because those girls were not the right ones for you does not mean that that special someone isn't out there!"
Ron snorted disbelievingly, but wisely did not comment. He had been surprisingly accepting about the demise of his sister and his best mate's relationship. He hadn't been too big a fan of it anyways. It was much too weird, seeing them snogging in the hallways. At the end of the day, she was still his little sister. He patted Harry's back in a supportive manner.
Harry simply shook his head. His friends wouldn't understand his dilemma, but he didn't expect them to. The lavish Hogwarts meal had been delicious when he had first tucked into it, but the taste had died in his mouth upon reading that bloody article. "I'm gonna head up to the dorms. Don't feel so well. See you guys," Harry said shortly, before rising from the bench.
He turned around in order to egress from the Great Hall, and came face to face with Draco Malfoy. Harry sighed. Just the person he wanted to see after being pubicly disgraced. His own personal tormentor.
Malfoy sneered, his pointed features contorting into their typical contemptuous expression. "Having problems, Potter? The Golden Boy himself can't get any?" he asked, laughing cruelly along with his cronies Crabbe and Goyle who were, as usual, flanking him.
Harry honestly didn't have the time, nor patience to deal with Malfoy at the moment. His pathetic need to bully Harry would simply have to be put on hold until Harry didn't feel like smashing his head into the nearest wall. Which sounded like a rather appealing prospect, now that he thought about it...
Taking his silence as some sort of acknowledgement, Malfoy continued imperiously, "If you decide you're not too good for them, perhaps you would like to consider my services. Imagine the headlines of the Prophet, then! 'Son of a Death Eater helping Savior of the Wizarding World'. Think of the publicity!"
"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry replied, wondering what in the world Draco Malfoy meant by 'my services'. He knew better than to show his ignorance, so he simply settled for that rather elementary response. Malfoy chuckled condescendingly, piercing grey eyes seeming to bore into Harry's skull.
"If that's the best comeback you have, I can see why you're so unpopular with the ladies; intellectual conversations are obviously not your strong point. Not that the glasses or hair could ever be considered attractive to women, either, but I see some potential," the Slytherin said, his tone musing as he gave Harry a once-over. For some odd reason, Harry's ears began to turn an unflattering shade of red at the boy's attention.
Before Harry could reply with something scathing, however, Malfoy was already swaggering away, in the direction of the Slytherin table, his mocking laughter following in his wake. Feeling worse off than he had before, Harry hung his head and continued in the direction of the dorms. Perhaps he'd find a nice wall along the way. Preferably one that had head-smashing potential.
Ron and Hermione remained at the table, conferring as Harry stormed off. Really, there was only one option left, as desperate times did call for desperate measures. Hermione glanced over at the Slytherin table, where she could see the top of a pale-blonde head of hair, surrounded by other luxuriously-robed students.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she whispered anxiously, furrowing her brow as she returned her gaze to Ron.
Ron wrinkled his nose with blatant distaste, but said grimly, "It's the only option we have left. He's the Savior of the Wizarding World, and he has a reputation to uphold. I say whatever it takes, even if we have to get help from bloody Malfoy."
Looking determined, yet resigned, the two rose from the Gryffindor table and began to reluctantly make their way towards the opposite side of the room. When they had finally reached the Slytherin Prince, the entire Great Hall had fallen silent, waiting with bated breath to see what two members of the Golden Trio wanted with the son of a Death Eater.
"Malf- Draco," Hermione began, gathering her courage and wrapping it around herself like a cloak of strength as she continued, "We need your... assistance."
Malfoy smirked as his head swiveled around. He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, encouraging Hermione to walk further down the figurative plank she had constructed for herself. Already a few sniggers could be heard from various groups at the Slytherin table, but aside from that, the silence in the Great Hall was nearly tangible.
Hermione lowered her voice and shifted closer towards Malfoy, regarding her nosy schoolmates with something akin to loathing. "We would like to utilize your services... for Harry. Potter."
Malfoy snorted derisively at her clarification, for what other Harry could she possibly be referring to, other than the Boy-Who-Lived? However, he was too maliciously gleeful to pay much heed to such trivial matters. Harry Potter, needing the help of Draco Malfoy! Where relationships were concerned, in any case.
However, Draco kept his elation carefully concealed beneath a mask of aloof disdain. He held out an expectant palm, "That will be one Galleon."
Ron grumbled something that sounded suspiciously close to, "Like you need anymore bloody Galleons. If I didn't know better, I'd say you bathed in them," but he was studiously ignored. Hermione extracted one Galleon from her coin purse, having worked rather hard for it for this very purpose.
"Th... Thank you, Draco. We'll notify Harry immediately," Hermione said, nodding once as she turned on her heel and walked towards the exit of the Hall. Ron trailed just behind her, discreetly munching on a spare slice of bacon.
"Do you think it'll be worth it? I dunno how trustworthy he is, 'Mione," Ron said after a while, as they ascended the Grand Staircase on their way back to Gryffindor Tower.
"We may not like it, but Malfoy is the official Matchmaker of the school. He hasn't made an inaccurate prediction once, Ron, and he's Matched most of the couples at Hogwarts. 163, to be exact," Hermione replied, matter-of-factly, though displeasure still managed to trickle into her tone. She was every bit as unhappy about leaving Harry in Malfoy's care as Ron was, she just hid it better.
"Poor mate."
"I know."
Suddenly, they heard a peculiar, muffled thumping nose from down the hall, almost like the sound of someone hitting their head against the stone.
Ron shook his head, bewildered, and continued onwards.
"Probably Peeves."
