Rated: T
Warnings: male / male, slight OOCness, stupidity, leather pants! Draco, innocent! Harry, uncensored words
Disclaimer: Pfft, I can only wish.
Author's Notes: There's this little role called beta and I need one. And keep the reviews coming! I love reviews ~ Oh, and keep an eye out for two quotes you might recognize. ;3


"What is this?" Harry questioned, peering at the clipboard that was placed in front of him.

"To Become a Malfoy: ABC Lessons."

The ravenette tilted his chin up to look at the Slytherin with the quirk of his eyebrow.

"Lessons?" he repeated.

Dropping his gaze back to the clipboard, Harry blinked.

"The headmaster assigned us twenty-six days. There are twenty-six letters in the alphabet," the blond explained in a monotone voice.

Harry looked up at Malfoy ( who was leaning against the wall with arms crossed over his chest and loose white-blond locks falling over his eyes ).

"You're serious?"

Malfoy shot him a look that clearly read 'are you seriously asking me that?' before pushing himself from the wall and strolling to where Harry stood.

"Of course," he answered, "it's more organized."

The ravenette glanced from the speaker to the clipboard.

This was going to waste his time. Taking lessons- ABC lessons- from Malfoy, nonetheless. He rather be playing Quidditch!

Say, today was-

"It's Saturday, right?" asked Harry half-consciously.

"It is," came the curt reply.

Harry frowned faintly.

That meant Quidditch practice at-

"I need to go. Uh-"

Harry shoved the clipboard into Malfoy's hands. "Dinner, right?"

"After dinner in the Room of Requirements."

Harry slung his bag over his shoulder.

"Right. See you-"

He darted off to the practice field quickly.


'I need a place where I can meet Malfoy. I need a place- wait- I need?'

Harry scowled at himself for messing up his train of thoughts in trying to open the Room of Requirements.

He needed- wait, no, he didn't need- gah!

The raven-haired figure glared at the wall.

He had been pacing back and forth for at least ten minutes now. What was the point of wasting more time outside the Room of Requirements? He could go back to the common room and play a game of wizard chess with Ron with the excuse that he couldn't get through the wall-

Snapping back into reality, Harry blinked.

The doors to the Room of Requirements were opening!

Well, there went his plans.

"Potter, you're late. A Malfoy is never late."

Harry huffed at the comment, but hurried into said room before the doors closed.

"I'm not becoming a Malfoy any time soon," Harry murmured to himself, casting his sights over at the white-blond.

Malfoy eyed him.

"What?"

Harry hesitated, his eyes darting elsewhere for a few moments before answering.

"Nothing."

He heard the opposing male snort, but no words followed.

Finding the situation safe, the Gryffindor peered back in said wizard's direction.

"So, what are we-"

Harry paused briefly and wondered on what was the correct wording to ask, but luckily, Malfoy cut in right there.

"Lesson A: Acting, Arrangements, and About."

Harry blinked.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and held up a hand towards the other armchair in availability.

"Have a seat," he welcomed.

Harry narrowed his green hues on the Slytherin male, thoughts trained on whether this was a trick or not.

In the end, though, Harry took the look Malfoy was giving him and sat down.

"We will start with Acting," the prefect began as he stood up.

Harry, on the edge of the armchair, shrunk back as Malfoy drew near while shrugging off his coat and throwing it aside.

"Potter," the blond breathed, looking at the Gryffindor with hungry eyes.

The ravenette's orbs widened when the sight of the taller male beginning to strip from his tie, all in while pressing himself against the back of the armchair ( a pitiful attempt in trying to get away from the drawing close Malfoy ).

"Mal . . . foy-?"

Harry watched with a mixed frightened and confused expression.

The Slytherin chuckled lightly and came to a halt in front of the piece of furniture the Chosen One placed himself in.

"Scared, Potter?" he questioned in a husky tone.

Besides shuddering at that comment and ignoring the sudden rise of temperature in his cheeks, all Harry could do was stare with widened eyes.

What was going on-?

Should Malfoy be teaching him how to act instead-?

The Gryffindor sucked in a breath as the blond climbed onto the armchair and knelt in front of said male.

Without a moment's notice, Harry's face was cupped by both of the pale figure's hands. His attention, though, soon switched from hands to the slightly parted lips, that was drawing a bit too close for comfort. When the lips formed a faint smirk, emerald orbs returned to the dull gray eyes that were half-lidded during the process of the blond's head tilting to the side and leaning closer. The sound of his heartbeat pounded against his ears, deafening the sound of other quiet shuffles.

Harry swallowed, eyes still focused on the Slytherin.

Wait- what was he doing?

He couldn't move- his voice flew off somewhere- he was completely captivated by Malfoy, of all people.

"Do you want it?" The prefect murmured, mouth a centimeter away from the Golden Boy's.

A sudden urge to lean in and connect his lips to Malfoy's washed over Harry at that moment, but- this was Malfoy! Malfoy for Merlin's sake!

'Look away,' Harry willed himself. 'Why are you still looking? Look away!'

Harry, with all his power and mind on said command, turned his head ever so slightly. This, of course, seemed to be some sort of switch that activated the rest of his body.

Realizing how close the Slytherin was to him, Harry pushed the blond back, only to note that a moment later, it wasn't the best of choice.

Malfoy toppled backwards off the couch.

Lucky enough, as the ravenette breathed in relief, the floor transformed into a soft cushion, catching the other in a better fall.

Scrambling off the armchair, Harry knelt down beside the fallen figure.

"Malfoy, are you-" he hesitated briefly, "are you alright?"

'What a stupid question.'

Malfoy, in response, ignored the words and stood up before proceeding elsewhere.

"Wait, Malfoy. I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Forget it, Potter," the blond spat.

Harry slowly rose to his feet so that his sights were on said male's back.

Silence over took him as he gazed at the unmoving figure.

After a few moments, the ravenette took a couple of tensed steps forward.

"Malfoy?" he called nervously. "Look, I didn't mean to push you-"

Cutting his words short, the Chosen One stumbled back a bit when the Slytherin whirled around with gray eyes narrowing at him.

"I said forget it, Potter!"

Whoa, Malfoy was pissed and- wait, crying?

Oh, shite.

"Malfoy . . .?"

The prefect turned away ever so slightly.

"Uh, sorry-"

What was he supposed to say?

"Malfoy, don't cry-?"

'That sounded like a question.'

"I'm not crying, idiot," Malfoy hissed, glaring in his direction, tears threatening to escape.

Harry gulped.

"Er-"

The moment was very awkward, so Harry couldn't say anything, thank you very much.

All the Gryffindor could do was stare, which wasn't really helping in any way. Just as Harry blinked back to reality, Malfoy was back into the specified armchair of his, leaning to the right, arm propping up the side of his face, hand shielding his eyes.

What was he supposed to do now? Go over and comfort his arch enemy for five years?

Harry hesitated again.

He wasn't that great in comforting- why in the name of Merlin's pants was Malfoy crying, anyways? The fall couldn't have hurt all that much . . . right?

"Leave."

Harry jerked from his thoughts.

"What?"

The blond figure peered up in his direction.

"Leave, Potter."

Harry blinked once more and remained in place.

"Why?"

"Are you deaf, Potter? I told you to leave!"

Alright- Malfoy was definitely having mood swings.

"Okay, okay . . ."

Harry backed away then made a beeline towards the exit.

"Potter, wait-"

At the sound of the slightly panicked voice belonging to the blond, Harry halted in step and whirled around. Malfoy stared at him with a horrified expression.

"What . . .?"

The Gryffindor glanced over his shoulder, then back.

"Wha-"

When he reverted his sights back to the Slytherin Prince, the prat was laughing.

Harry stared.

Malfoy was definitely having some serious issues.

"Are you okay, Malfoy?" Harry asked cautiously.

The blond continued laughing and snickering, apparently very delighted by the Chosen One's confused expression.

And then- he completely stopped.

Malfoy's humorous sense drew away from him, and to Harry's absolute horror, the one from the beginning returned. The Ice Prince blankly stared at him while leaning back against the chair.

"That was acting, Potter."

Oh.

. . . Oh.

Harry stared back in peer disbelief.

All of that- from coming onto him to laughing like a maniac- Malfoy was actually rather good at it.

Not that Harry would ever admit that out loud.

"A Malfoy is high upon acting. From seduction to sadness to happiness."

Harry eyed the other warily.

"First- seduction. Us Malfoys use seduction for our benefits, usually to get what we want. Have you seduced anyone before?"

The corner of Harry's mouth twitched. What kind of question was that?

"No, of course not," the ravenette huffed.

"Then, I will teach you." Malfoy slid off the couch and whisked towards the area in which Harry stood, thunderstruck by such wording.

"The first thing is to get the person's full attention on you. Complete full attention. Next is to make eye contact. It does not matter how long or how short the eye contact is, as long as there was one, the person is closed in."

Harry took a step back from Malfoy, who was leering dangerously close.

"Then, you make your move. Whether it is winking, quirking your eyebrow, tilting your head up ever so slightly, smirking, or begin walking over, make sure that your target is still looking at you."

Malfoy stepped towards him once more.

On instinct, Harry backed away.

"Then, you lure them in. Don't do anything stupid."

The last statement came out in a mere whisper.

Harry's defense rose as his back collided with the wall.

Malfoy, coming dangerously close, trapped him by placing a hand on the side of each of his ear.

"After you lure them in, steer as close to their face as you can."

The instructions now came at a whisper as the blond acted out the parts.

"Reduce them to the pile of mess when they are on the verge of begging."

Half-consciously, Harry noted that one of the Slytherin's hands floated quite near his lower stomach.

Malfoy was also breathing softly down his neck, making Harry squeeze his eyes shut from watching any more. He felt the heat and hands leave his side a moment later.

Slowly peering through his eyelids, Harry noted that the Ice Prince looked really smug.

"I'm not going to request that you try to seduce me, because no one could."

Harry, finding his courage, snorted.

Malfoy waved the reaction aside.

"Crying. Malfoys do not cry often, but at times, when needed, it is mandatory."

The Slytherin began walking in a circle around Harry, making the Golden Boy a bit more nervous than intended.

"Think of something that upsets you, Potter."

Harry racked his mind.

What upset him? What sort of thing made him cry? His mind was blank.

The prefect stopped pacing in front of him and peered closely at his face.

"Weasley and Granger are dead," he said softly, emphasizing the word dead, "you are at their funeral. They risked their lives saving yours. You feel guilty. You blame yourself for their deaths."

The corner of Malfoy's mouth twitched, Harry realized, as he watched the mouth form the heart beating words.

"You stand in front of the two graves. You say your final words, then, you cry. You can not help it. Your voice cracks. You break down."

Somewhere in the distance, some sort of funeral music played. The comforting place in which the Room of Requirements provided dissolved into the outdoor world where Harry stood in front of two graves with tombstones labeled his friends' names.

Malfoy stood in between the graves, whispering what was going on.

Harry gulped, desperately trying to loosen the hold of such thought.

He was not going to cry in front of Malfoy. He was simply not going to show his weak side. He would not, not, not.

And yet-

Harry stood, his sights blurred. A trickle of the salty teardrop escaped from the corner of his eye.

He tore his sight away from the blond and wiped away the tears.

A moment later, he heard Malfoy whisper something else.

"Very good."

Next time he glanced up, the room turned into a clear white place.

"Take your anger out on me."

The order given by the Slytherin male was very easy for Harry to comply to do. Immediately, after the order was given, he vented out his anger of the assignment, the lessons, everything he could think of at that moment that did not involve Voldemort, whatsoever.

At one point, Harry even swung at the Ice Prince with a fist, but unlucky to his being, his wrist was caught and brought down.

"Now act horrified, Potter."

The tone taken by Malfoy was still soft and firm. Harry puffed his cheeks and tried to calm down from humiliating himself from his blow up of anger moments back.

"Now."

Harry scowled at how commanding the other was and ceased to obey.

"Do we need to bring out a boggart?"

A flash of surprise and terrifying expression flinted across the ravenette's expression.

Malfoy seemed contented by that.

"As for the last ; Malfoys usually act happy on occasions when needed."

No need telling, Harry simply flashed a stupid grin, and Malfoy passed him.

That was easier than he thought.

"Part one of Lesson A is done. Now to stage two."

Harry huffed.

Malfoy ignored that as well.

"We will start with the simpler arrangements, as in bed, items, and clothing arrangements."

Harry peered at the messy beds ( that just appeared ) with covers thrown aside, pillows halfway off, curtains just stopping a few paces from its original position.

It looked a lot like Ron's when he wakes up in the morning, not that that would matter, though.

"What are you waiting for?"

Harry snapped out of his trance and glanced over at the Slytherin.

"How?"

"You don't know how to make your bed?"

"I do."

"Then, just do it. I don't have all night, Potter."

Harry scowled and made his way towards the messy bed.

Dragging everything except the mattress on the floor, the Gryffindor started on tugging on the thin sheet of silk towards the bed. Moments later, he ran around and got the bigger and heavier blanket to top the thin one. Minutes after that, Harry could finally have the relaxation of putting the pillows of right and gazing over at Malfoy for approval. Instead of approval, though, the blond frowned.

"That took you seven minutes."

"The blankets were heavy," Harry murmured.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and lifted his wand.

"Magic, Potter. We are near of age."

With a flick of his wand, Malfoy rearranged the bed.

"Pillows sit up and are partly covered by the blanket. The other smaller pillows lean against the two main ones. All edges of the outer blanket must be shown. The curtains will remain completely opened unless you are sleeping. Is that clear, Potter?"

Harry, trying his hardest not to roll his eyes, nodded.

"Good. Moving onto items."

With a wave of the prefect's hand, the room transformed into a bathroom. "There is a specific arrangement for these products. The toothbrush and toothpaste are located on the left hand corner side. The hair products should remain in the cabinets along with hair utensils. Shampoo and soap are located within the second shelf in the cabinet."

Harry glanced at himself in the mirror, then at the blond.

Merlin, Malfoy can really talk a lot.

"Do you understand?"

Once again, Harry nodded without word.

"To clothing arrangement, then."

"Shirts, pants, coats, scarves, belts, shoes, and hats will be sorted by the fabric first, then color- dark to light."

The bathroom dissolved into a wardrobe that sat in front of them.

Harry looked at the clothing items separated by article in each basket, then at the blond who gave him a look to start sorting.

"Are you kidding me? This will take five hours!"

"Six, actually," the Slytherin corrected, "if you are sorting my wardrobe, but seeing this, maybe thirty minutes maximum."

Harry scowled.

"I understand what to do- why do I need to do it? I didn't touch anything in the bathroom arrangements."

Malfoy gazed at him wearily.

"Because it was already sorted."

"You've got to be kidding me," the Golden Boy groaned.

"Would you rather sort pictures?"

"I'm okay," Harry said quickly after the comment.

Malfoy folded his arms over his chest.

"So get started."

"This must be some sort of joke," Harry grumbled as he walked over to the basket of shirts.

"Magic, Potter." the blond drawled from the side.

Magic? Of course!

Harry mentally slapped himself across the head for not thinking of such- especially since he was a wizard!

Where was his wand?

Ah.

"Uh . . ."

The ravenette stared at the clothes.

Behind him, Harry could sense that Malfoy had rolled his eyes.

"What spell do I use?" Harry asked, scowling at himself for resorting to his arch enemy for answers.

"Just focus on what you want to levitate. Use Wingardium Leviosa. Seriously, Potter, did you listen to the lesson from first year?"

Harry gritted his teeth against a smarty retort back, since after all, Malfoy could give him more clothes.

Wait- this was the Room of Requirements- he could wish the clothes to not be required!

Heh.

If only that worked.

So therefore, Harry looked into the basket again and began sorting. A moment after the shirts were all up on hangers, Malfoy stopped him from confining to the other baskets.

"Silk always come first, then the less important. Last are the part this and part that ones. Plus, this green is a shade lighter than this one, so it goes first."

Harry grumbled under his breath, but advanced onto fixing it nonetheless.

A good thirty minutes later, Harry flopped down on the armchair.

"Merlin, Malfoy. I'm not going to order my clothes like that. Why did I need to do it?"

The blond peered at him from behind the clipboard.

"Because I said so."

Harry snorted and leaned back against the chair.

"Now," Malfoy began, making the Gryffindor peer towards the Slytherin's direction.

Malfoy was rested in the opposing armchair with his legs crossed and hands folded together on his knee.

"Ask me anything that is not too personal."

Harry blinked and sat up ever so slightly.

"What?"

The white-blond figure rolled his eyes and leaned back against the chair, bringing up one arm so his chin could rest on the back of his hand.

"About Me is the third part of Lesson A. Ask me what you want to. We have thirty minutes."

"Er . . ."

Harry desperately racked his mind for questions.

"Are you a Death Ea-"

"Besides questions involving the Dark Lord," Malfoy cut in swiftly.

Harry huffed and looked elsewhere for an idea for a question.

"Uh . . . What's your favorite color?"

Malfoy gave him another one of his are you serious? looks.

"Pathetic question, Potter. But if you must know, it is green."

Of course, Harry knew that.

He sniffed.

"When's your birthday?"

"June fifth."

"Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws?"

The prefect shot him another one of those looks.

"Ravenclaws, of course. What the hell is a Hufflepuff?*"

Harry blinked.

"Hufflepuffs are particularly good seekers?*"

"Never mind, Potter. Continue."

The Gryffindor sniffed and rested himself against the armchair once more.

"Er . . . favorite type of food?"

"French."

"Why am I asking questions?"

"To get to know me."

"Then, why do I need the other lessons?"

"To learn my lifestyle."

Harry blankly stared at the blond figure.

"And I would want to learn your lifestyle?"

"Look, Potter, I'm not doing this for my health."

Harry crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest.

"Any more questions?"

"What's your father up to?"

"None of your concern," came the quick reply.

Harry quirked an eyebrow.

Malfoy glanced off.

"I said questions that will not pry into my privacy, Potter."

"But it's your father's privacy."

The Ice Prince glanced back and scowled. "

Which is my business. Not yours."

"Fine," Harry sneered, hopes of finding out what was going on with Voldemort crashed.

"Any more questions?"

The ravenette leaned back against the chair and searched his mind.

There were many things in which he wanted to ask Malfoy, but they all related to Voldemort or Malfoy's personal life. By Malfoy saying personal, that ruled out nearly eighty percent of all questions Harry had in mind. Now, he desperately groped for a question in which can benefit him.

"Uh . . . can I go now?"

"We still have twenty minutes."

The Gryffindor figure huffed.

What was to ask of Malfoy?

Hm.

"Why are we enemies?"

That was a good one, even though Harry already knew the answer . . . kinda.

"You rejected me," the Ice Prince replied blankly.

"So?"

"I am always never rejected."

"Oh."

Another awkward silence.

Harry dug through his mind of questions.

What would Ron ask? "Do you play wizard chess?"

"On occasions."

What else? Hm . . . what would Hermione ask? "What rank are you in the school based on grades?"

"Third."

Harry sat up a little, his eyebrow shooting up.

"Really?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and smirked ever so slightly.

"Of course."

"Hermione's first, right?"

"Granger, Zabini, then myself."

"Oh."

Why didn't he know that?

Wait. Zabini? That name sounded very familiar.

"Anything else, Potter?"

"Do you believe in nargles?" A question from Luna.

"What the bloody hell is a nargle?" Malfoy scoffed.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly, then continued with Neville's question. "Are you good in Herbology?"

"I'm fair in that class. Quite boring, if you ask me."

Malfoy glanced off elsewhere, but Harry continued staring at the white-blond figure.

"Who do you like?" Lavender's question.

"That is none of your concern."

Of course not.

"Are you a virgin?"

Malfoy's head snapped back in his direction as the gray eyes glared daggers in his direction.

"What kind of question is that?" he spat, utterly displaying a disgusted expression. "Of course I am."

"Just wondering," Harry grumbled under his breath.

"Do you draw?" For Dean.

"Not unless it is mandatory."

"Do you prefer males or females?" For . . . Ginny?

"As in?"

The heir of the Malfoy fortune quirked an eyebrow.

"Er . . . as in romantic relationship?"

Harry couldn't help but felt his cheeks burn ever so faintly.

Malfoy smirked.

"Males, then. Females are too whiny for my tastes."

That answer made Harry sit up at the edge of his seat and stared. His mouth hung open, but no words dare make presence.

Malfoy, apparently noting this reaction, snorted.

"Why so surprised, Potter? It's not obvious?"

"I thought you- Pansy- you're- what?"

The corner of the white-blond's mouth twitched.

"Never mind that, Potter. Next question."

Still experiencing the shock, Harry hurried to ask another question that pulled his mind from the latest answer.

"Do you know what a telephone is?" For Mr. Weasley, of course.

"What?"

"A telephone," Harry repeated.

Malfoy's face twisted into some sort of unexplained expression.

"Is that some sort of muggle device?"

"Yeah."

"Then, no. Why would I fondle with muggle devices?"

Ignoring that question, Harry glanced off, attempting to come up useless questions.

"If you can dye, er, curse your hair-"

"I will never."

"Let's just say you will-"

"I will not-"

"Just pretend!"

When Malfoy didn't say anything, Harry continued.

"If you can curse your hair any color, what would it be?"

"A lighter shade of blond."

Harry's emerald hues surveyed the other's hair.

"Is that even possible?"

Malfoy snorted.

"Of course."

"Okay . . . how about eyes?"

"Green."

Harry blinked.

"Green is my most favorable color," the Slytherin explained rather quickly, and Harry left it at that.

"What's your patronus?"

"A ferret."

Harry's eyebrows sky rocketed.

"Really?"

He snorted back a laugh at the memory of the incident back in fourth year.

"It's not funny, Potter," the other male hissed.

The ravenette couldn't help it- he clutched his stomach and laughed.

It was just too funny.

( five minutes later )

"Are you done yet, Potter?"

Harry sucked in a breath and slumped against the armchair.

"A ferret . . . what a coincidence . . . ahaha-"

"I see you're not."

Malfoy stood up.

"I'll leave you to your mechanical laughing, then."

Harry scrambled to his feet quickly.

"Okay, I'm up," he announced, under his breath, though, he snickered.

A ferret, ahaha . . .

The blond rolled his eyes once more.

"Tomorrow after lunch, meet me in the Prefects' baths. The password is creme fillers."

Malfoy shot him one more look before leaving the Room of Requirements.

Harry couldn't help but grin as he walked out after the Slytherin.

Wait till Ron hears this.


* A Very Potter Musical quoted ; Dumbledore and Cedric said these two lines.
Review, pl0x?