I don't own anything. This is a crack fic, do keep that in mind while reading it. Please and thank you :P
Harry sat, back turned away from the fire, contemplating the next day. Yes, it confused him greatly. He was eager to get out into the halls and meet Mafloy, the little ferret.
Why on Earth did he feel this way? He reflected back on all their fights, and all their little encounters. They had lately been getting for violent, and less insulting. It was rather disappointing. Well actually no, it wasn't, that was the problem. The fact that they are violent to a really sort of pathetic degree with overused hexes could only means one thing.
Draco Lucius Malfoy had lost his touch.
Harry furrowed his eyebrows with a pained expression. It was slightly tragic how now he looked forward to these stupid little meetings, as it was a break from the usual horror of his life.
Harry reached decisively for some parchment and ink, grabbed his quill and began to write.
The next morning Harry flounced down to breakfast, quite satisfied. He watched as the post arrived, quite eager for things to be right once more.
His eyes widened with enthusiasm as he saw Malfoy slowly untie the letter it had taken him all of five minutes to write.
A flurry of emotions shuffled their way through Draco's eyes, leaving Harry satisfied. Honestly, Malfoy looked slightly disbelieving. And pouty.
Draco quickly snapped up and looked wonderingly at Harry across the hall. Harry nodded pityingly, as Malfoy gave him a look that usually only Luna attracts.
It was clearly asking Harry what in heavens name was wrong with him. The raven-haired Gryffindor merely shrugged and turned back to him toast, ready for the terrible verbal abuse to start once more.
However, on the other side of the hall, Draco found he couldn't eat. The blonde glanced back down at the letter numerous times, reading it through every few seconds.
Dear Malfoy,
You are doing something wrong. You see, I actually find myself looking forward to our fights as I find them petty, meaningless and stupid. I think of them as a break from my normal everyday life. Mate, I think you're going soft. I do not enjoy anticipating your appearance, so here are a few things that you can say or do to make me dread your mere presence once more and put the cosmos back in order:
Talk about my parents in a negative way
Call Hermione a Mudblood
Insult the Weasley's
Pretend I enjoy my current situation of living a horror movie
Mock me for my terrible life
Remind me that in the muggle world I am not appreciated as a person let alone a famous one
Remind me that the Voldemort is the most powerful Dark Lord in history, and I am the sole person who can destroy him, possibly getting there after he kills everyone I love
Taunt me about my dead Godfather
Insult Dumbledore or Hagrid
There. I hope you find that insightful. Lately you really have not been doing much. You send easily dodged and deflectable hexes my way and forget about the harsh words. You know, those were the reasons I hate you, not some pathetically fought duel.
Please get your act together you pathetic son of Death Eater.
With the utmost sincerity,
Harry J. Potter
Draco was immensely perplexed by this note of encouragement. Did that dork want to feel miserable? Did he want to feel hurt? Did he merely want a distraction? Or was he feeling much like Draco was; that their fights were nothing anymore, just two wizards getting out some testosterone in some poorly aimed hexes. There was no more rivalry behind it. No more fire or hatred or passion.
No, Harry was right. Something had to be done.
"Hey, Potter!"
Malfoy's voice rang across the hall. Many people looked up and a hush fell over the students.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry spat, trying his hardest to appear enraged. Or at the very least annoyed.
"You're parents are dead. Mine aren't."
"Ok, Draco, that was kind of lame," Harry looked at him, sympathy clouding his expression.
"I know!" Draco wailed. "But Harry…I just can't seem to come up with them anymore!" Draco's head dropped into his hands. He was now standing, and Harry stood with him.
Draco was still hiding his face in shame, and Harry carelessly placed an arm on his shoulder.
"Come on, Draco. Let's go have a talk. I think we need to get to the source of your dry well of insults. Come on, let's go. Don't worry, we'll get this all sorted out and it will be back to normal in no time."
Harry kept cooing reassuring notions to the blonde, and eventually he looked up gratefully.
"Do you really mean it?"
"Of course, Draco!"
The entire great hall was deathly silent by now. No one could quite figure out what just happened.
"Hey Potter. Fancy a ride on that infamous motorcycle of Blacks? Oh wait, you couldn't ride it anyway, it was destroyed when he crashed it, rushing into the Ministry to save you! Too bad he's dead, he might have been able to fix it."
"Stuff it Malfoy!"
"Shut up, Potter. Your voice irritates me. Didn't your parent's teach you never to talk down to your superiors? Oh wait. They couldn't have. They're dead and it's all your fault!"
"Oh, good one!"
"Thanks!"
Yes. Thinks were back to the way Harry liked them. Hateful, spiteful and wonderfully anger inducing. The best part was, Harry knew Draco didn't mean any of these things. It was just a way to pass the time, really. They both agreed that during these times it was ok to consider it fun, and that nothing said was intended to be harmful. It was merely playful banter between two people involving dead parents, manic mad men, imprisoned parents, and blood status.
And neither could be happier.
Ok well yes. Here you go haha. If you want it to be more than a one shot, I could post a sequel which would most like be multi chaptered, turning this into a proper friendship or romance, depending which everyone would prefer. But idk, people may think this is better standing alone :)