Ok, this is my first (finished) yaoi / shonen ai / slash (whatever you want to call it. I can even give you more terms, if that wasn't good enough for you! Boy/boy / boy love, etc. Ok, so that's the rest that I could come up with) fic. It also happens to be my first Harry Potter fic, so I don't know how well it's turned out. Good, I hope. I've tried to make it kind of humorous, but if it's not, please tell me! I'm trying to make my writing more entertaining, but sometimes it doesn't work.
It's also not very long, but I feel that making it any longer would seem like rambling, and I know that I tend to skip over stories that ramble on and on and on forever, much like this author's note is, so I shall leave you in peace! Ja ne!
But wait, there's more!
!WARNING!
This is shonen ai! That means slash, people! And if I really have to explain that one, it means boy/boy. People seem to need warnings for these stories, so here's mine. I don't really understand their purpose, though. I mean, if you've found this story, you obviously know that it's shonen ai because not only does it say on the summary, but Draco and Harry are the characters listed.
Disclaimer:
I don't own Harry Potter. C'mon, if I did, do you really think that Harry would have gone out with Ginny in the sixth book? I'm writing bloody HP fanfiction! And slash, at that! That's like the low of all lows! So do you really think that I own HP, the glorious HP? I don't even own a plushie… :sniff:
Summary:
While Harry is not-so silently fuming, Draco is having a merry old time. It's about time Harry should do something about it. After all, they were, weren't they? And what's this about chaos? Surely not! Drarry Slash.
Serene Chaos
Harry was going to go insane. Absolutely bonkers. He didn't think he'd be able to last one more agonizing minute of this full-scale torture session. Correction. He knew that if he spent another fraction of a second surrounded by this incredible agony, he'd spontaneously combust. It was pure, unadulterated hell. There was simply no other way to describe it.
"Harry, y'alright mate?" Ron asked hesitantly, prodded by Hermione into noticing the anguished look on his friend's face.
"I… can't… take it… anymore!" he erupted furiously.
"Er… can't take what, mate?" Ron asked, glancing around the busy, chaotic Great Hall.
There was nothing out of the ordinary. Oh, sure, Malfoy, the stupid ferret-face, was behaving obnoxiously, but that was nothing new. He glanced back at Harry. He was fuming, fists curling and uncurling. His defiant, electric green eyes were flashing behind his thin, black-framed glasses. He was glaring over at the Slytherin table.
"Harry, don't mind him, Malfoy's just being a stupid git," Hermione soothed. Or rather, tried to.
"But how could he—why would he—how—" Harry stuttered inarticulately.
"Not following you, mate," Ron supplied helpfully. Hermione sent him a wrathful glance, promising a lecture on empathy later. Ron suppressed a groan.
"I don't understand why you're so mad Harry. Did something happen?" Hermione asked anxiously.
Harry snorted derisively. "Oh, something happened. And look at him! Acting as if nothing did happened!" Harry fumed. "Sitting there, all smug, not a care in the world, while here I sit…" he continued to mutter furiously under his breath, still glaring at Draco.
Ron was still looking mightily confused, but Hermione's gaze travelled from Harry to Malfoy in sudden understanding.
"Oh," she said softly.
Ron, anxious for any scrap of insight as to what was wrong with his best male friend, pounced on the sound.
"Oh what? What oh?" he asked frantically.
Harry, oblivious to it all, suddenly stood up, knocking the bench back. Or would have, if others weren't sitting on it. As it were, the occupants sent him disgruntled looks.
Fists still clenching and unclenching, he strode towards the Slytherin table and stopping in front (or rather, behind) a certain blond individual.
"Malfoy," he bit out.
Draco, startled, whirled around. Or tried to, as it is somewhat difficult to twirl on a bench. His eyes widened at the sight of who was standing seething in front of him
"Potter," he ground back.
"How dare you?" Harry demanded.
For a moment, Draco looked confused. His face cleared up as soon as the emotion passed, however. Slowly and sedately, he stood so he was even with Harry. They were of equal heights, with frames running along the same long, lithe lines, Harry only slightly more muscular than Draco; the end result of playing Quidditch longer.
"How dare I what, Potter? How dare I dress impeccably? How dare I show my dashing face? Or how dare I—"
Whatever he was about to say was cut off as Harry's lips crashed down upon his own. A startled gasp swept through the Hall as the two enemies shared a fierce embrace.
One of Harry's hands captured Draco's head, holding it in place as his mouth rampaged the blond's. His other arm went about Draco's waist, pulling him closer. Draco's hands threaded themselves through Harry's dark hair. One hand stayed at the nape of his neck, tangled in the ebony hair there, while the other strayed slightly south, stroking his back leisurely.
Harry pulled back slightly, allowing them both to draw in much needed air.
"Kiss you," Draco finished softly, half-closed eyes raking Harry's face.
Harry smiled faintly and allowed his lips to caress Draco's, placing a delicate kiss in the corner of Draco's mouth, tugging gently on his lips. Draco moaned quietly, the sound reaching Harry's ears alone. Draco pulled Harry back down for a proper kiss and they both found themselves lost to the emotions that the other invoked.
"Ahem."
"AHEM."
"AH-AHEM!"
Startled, they pulled away, Harry's hand sliding down to rest upon Draco's collarbone. Draco's arm stayed wrapped about Harry, but they both looked at the source of the intrusion.
"While I'm enormously pleased that you've finally decided to admit your undying love for the other, kindly do it someplace else. This is a place for eating, not… frolicking," McGonagall informed them, obviously replacing the last word.
"Yes, ma'am," Harry chirped, his earlier distemper completely forgotten. Draco's arm tightened briefly and he leaned over to whisper huskily into his ear, causing a shiver to course its way through his body.
"Perhaps we should take her advice and take this… elsewhere," he suggested.
Just then, Pansy squealed something unintelligible, jumped from the table and ran from the Hall, still screaming.
"I think she took that well," Harry observed.
Harry, feeling stares boring into him from all angles, glanced at the nearest table, which happened to be Slytherin. Glaring at him, boy and girl, breathing and ghost, was the House that had declared itself Gryffindor's mortal enemy. And now their idols were found molesting each other during Lunch. An excess of students found themselves feeling a bit ill, and more than one rushed out of the Hall much like Pansy had, albeit without the shrieking.
Harry glanced nervously over at his own table. Sure enough, his friends looked dumbfounded. With the exception of Hermione, who was wearing a particularly smug look. He should have known that she'd figure it out.
"How did she know?" Harry muttered aloud.
"Who know what?" Draco murmured back.
"Hermione. She knew, somehow. I didn't tell her!" he protested against Draco's look.
Suddenly, as if the whole Hall had just been stunned from its trance, all the students began to babble at once.
"Ah, mass chaos," Draco observed happily.
"Naw. Serene chaos," Harry replied back, and pulled him into his embrace once more.