Hello all! This is my first (published) story, so please, handle my baby with care! This is (obviously) a slash fic, a crack fic, and a delightfully cliched and mildly predictable fic. Still, I hope that you enjoy it, and give me your honest opinion when you review. I'll update a new chapter every day or so... the length of the story is still to be determined, though. I certainly have enough for a few chapters (that will be longer than this one, I promise) and who knows what will happen if the plot bunnies decided to take off with me again?
As I said before, this is a slash fic, as in DracoxHarry, as in male on male, as in covered in rainbow sprinkles and absolutely loving it. SO! If, for whatever reason, you have a problem with this, then you are in the wrong spot. Please, leave quietly and don't, for goodness sake, review just to preach to me about your views on homosexuality. As for the rest of you yaoi fangirls and boys, please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times, and enjoy the ride!
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Draco Malfoy walked through the empty corridors of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry; enjoying the absence of the two Neanderthals he called his "friends". 'hmph, as though I could really be friends with idiots like them. What does a guy have to do to engage in an intelligent conversation around here?' He was supposed to be in double potions right now, which was his favorite subject, taught by his favorite teacher. 'So why did Dumbledore have to go and ruin it by making us take it with those Griffendorks?' He had skipped, knowing full well that his godfather wouldn't report him, or even scold him for it. He would, however, look at Draco in such a way to make his disappointment clear the next time they saw each other. He always did. 'I'll apologize to Sev later.' he thought, dismissing any trace of guilt. He just didn't feel like dealing with Potter today. The prat had gone and gotten surprisingly good at potions, making it increasingly difficult for Snape to find fault in his work and make a fool of him in class. Not that he didn't still manage to find a way to take points from Griffindor on a daily basis, but Potter wasn't making it easy for him.
Draco sneered, the mere thought of the Golden Boy leaving an acrid taste in his mouth and darkening his mood further. It used to be that Draco had a bit of an upper hand in their rivalry; after all, he was better looking than Potter, his breeding was exceptional, his clothes were never anything less than immaculate, his taste was, of course, impeccable, and he was taller, smarter, wealthier, and much better at potions. Honestly, the list of what Potter was lacking just went on and on…or at least it used to. He scowled, reflecting darkly on the nerve of Scarhead to go and tip the scales on him. At first it had been a gradual change, the growing of a gangly boy into a young man, but when he had stepped onto the train this year, even Draco had done a double take…not that he would ever admit to it. Instead of the nerdy, speccy, awkward rival he was used to, this Harry Potter was lanky, toned and confident. Gone was the pale skinned boy in his cousin's cast-off clothing; this boy…no, this young man was tanned a honey gold, and wearing casual, but fashionable and fitted clothing that not even Draco could criticize. He had apparently ditched his dorky glasses sometime over the summer, opting to get his vision magically corrected, and without his lenses to hide them behind his vibrant green eyes seemed so much brighter. His fan-club had doubled, at least, and Draco had heard the girls, (and a few boys!), describe his eyes as "bottomless pools of jade." 'You have got to be kidding me…' he scoffed, rolling his eyes at the absurdity of it all. '…all the git does is develops some semblance of a fashion sense, and suddenly people are spouting poetry about him. Bad poetry, I might add. Besides, his eyes don't look a thing like jade… they're obviously closer to emeralds. Bottomless pools of emeralds.' A little voice in the back of his mind, one that sounded eerily like that know-it-all mudblood Granger, questioned why he knew exactly what color Potter's eyes were, but he ignored it. Quidditch and time had been good to the boy-who-lived-to-torment-him. Despite being a good four inches shorter than his own six-foot-two, the prat continued to systematically win every single Quidditch match, and it infuriated Draco to no end. Try as hard as he might, he still couldn't out-fly the Golden Boy.
Draco's brow furrowed, his eyes a stormy gray as he turned yet another corner somewhere deep within the bowels of the castle. As his brooding thoughts were all turned inward, he didn't notice the other boy until they collided painfully with each other. He staggered back, the impact throwing the other, smaller boy onto the floor as Draco caught his balance against the wall. Biting back curses, he looked down at the boy sitting on the floor before him, who was rubbing a head of dark, messy hair and muttering something about Merlin's balls, before raising familiar green eyes to meet his own icy ones. Harry's apologetic grin froze on his face when he realized who he had run into, before fading all together. The Slytherin ice prince narrowed his eyes, the all too familiar Malfoy mask, complete with smirk, in place as he drawled, "Dumbledore's Favorite skipping class? What in Merlin's name is the world coming to?" Harry scowled and stood abruptly, his sudden proximity forcing Draco to step back to avoid being hit. "Shove it, Malfoy." He said, his lips twisted into a frown, but his voice lacking the usual sting. Confused by his rival's apparent lack of fight, Draco forgot for a moment that he was a Malfoy and allowed one of Crabbe and Goyle's favorite words fall from his mouth. "Huh?" Harry looked at him for a long moment, his eyes full of nothing but boredom. "I'm tired Malfoy. Tired of you, tired of your shit, tired of this."
"…This?" Draco repeated, completely lost.
"This!" Harry said, exasperated, gesturing at the air between the two of them. "The constant hatred, the arguments, the stupid, petty fights. Think about it Malfoy, we have been fighting since the first day of school. The first day of school…six ruddy years ago!"
Draco's mouth opened and closed several times, before he managed to come up with some kind of a retort. "Well…well, that was your fault! You refused the friendship I so generously offered!" 'Smooth, Draco, real smooth. Way to sound like a petulant child, that'll show him!' Harry's irritated voice interrupted Draco before he could berate himself further.
"Of course I refused! You were being a royal prick! You still are!" Sighing, he stepped back, running a hand absently through his perpetually messy hair. "See? It's happening again. It's the same every day, Malfoy. We see each other, you say something idiotic, I retaliate, we get into an argument where you insult my looks, heritage, lack of parents, friends and house, while I insult your family, looks, attitude, friends, flying and house. Then one of use throws a jinx, we duel a bit, our wands get lost somewhere along the line, and we end up rolling on the floor beating each other bloody. I'm tired of it, okay? I'm just sick of the constant, pointless competition. I'm done with this whole thing…I'm done with you."
With that, he turned his back on the speechless blonde, and walked away. Draco didn't move until long after Harry's footsteps had faded and the dungeon cold had begun to seep into his bones. '…what just happened?'