Disclaimer: In no way do I attempt to claim ownership of Harry Potter and its associated characters, concepts or ideas. JKR kicks butt, and we all know it.
AN: Alright, so this might turn into an ongoing thing. Only because my two hour poetry class is way too boring for it's own good. Consider yourselves lucky.
Harry Potter: The Orphans Chronicles
Part 2: The Hallway
By: Sagi
The halls of Hogwarts High School pulsed sluggishly with muted life as the bell rang and student began to leave their classrooms. Some were unfortunate enough to have chemistry or history just before lunch so they were also the few who rushed from their classrooms the fastest – deeming escape from extra homework or severe boredom more important than proper curtsey to professors than a school like Hogwarts thought polite.
One boy in particular – who didn't suffer from chemistry or history before lunch – strutted down the hallway to his locker, speaking loudly, throwing his voice over the hallway noise, about everything from the sports he played to his test scores to the woman he loved. Somehow, however, all of those subjects brought him back to one of his classmate (who did have chemistry before lunch, the sucker) – and how that boy would never amount to anything. Because after all, he was only a dirt-poor orphan, not anybody of true importance.
"Potter," he snorted, hearing somebody near him mention the name (probably somebody else with chemistry before lunch, poor sod), "That good-for-"
"Yes, Weasley?"
That voice, definitely too calm and composed to be Potter's, caused Weasley to turn around. All activity in that part of the hallway stopped, everybody watching the confrontation between the two. Because standing there, blond and furiously angry, Draco Malfoy waited just in front of Potter – as though guarding him from the teen who had once tried to be his friend.
"What do you want Malfoy," Weasley sneered, he was going to be late for lunch now.
"I heard you talking about good-for-nothings and could only hope to wonder if you truly, finally, understood you place in this world."
A girl in the crowd tittered.
Weasley's temper flared, heating his face even faster than his embarrassment. "More than you apparently do, orphan child." He sneered again. Lunch could wait.
Behind the blond, Harry Potter's eyes flashed into a set of emerald flames – though that was no where near as dangerous as the line Malfoy's lips had thinned into. That anger vanished a moment later and a smirk appeared on Malfoy's elegant features instead.
"My apologies," he murmured, once again calm and composed, "I wasn't aware that you were top of our year, that you were the first choice in the athletic department, that you held the favor of all the professors and that you were dating the most gorgeous being in his school."
The crowd pulsed slightly, eyes now darting between Harry and Draco – not just Draco and Weasley.
Weasley grit his teeth together, not noticing this new development, his face refusing to loose its tomato blush. He hated being reminded that it was Potter who always beat him in everything. Potter was top of their year – besting all the previous academic records. Potter who held a special spot with the professors because he was so smart, and with the academic department because he was so athletic. But... as far as Weasley knew, Potter wasn't dating anyone.
Nobody at Hogwarts would date an orphan boy, Weasley was sure. Hogwarts was a school for the rich and elite. It was full of students who looked at appearance in their partners, but more importantly money and status. Potter didn't have that – nobody would look twice at him because he didn't have that.
Then, realization dawned on Weasley, and his face suddenly blanched in the full meaning of Malfoy's words. His embarrassment leaving him for horror.
"Most gorgeous being?" He choked out, "You? Hardly."
Potter's eyes flashed again, but Weasley didn't notice.
"Really? Your Granger's eyes follow me more often than they follow you. Surely you've noticed? Even though I am, as you say, an orphan child?" Malfoy mocked him. "I also seem to remember a certain French girl who paid no attention to you what-so-ever."
...But hit off an instant friendship with Harry. The words were unspoken, but Weasley still heard them.
"Draco," Harry said then, his cheeks now a delicate shade of embarrassment, probably from the probing looks he was now receiving. "Let's just go to lunch. Please?"
Draco smiled and nodded. "Of course, Harry. Just one more moment."
The blond then stepped so close to Weasley that their chests were close to brushing against each other.
"It's your fault that you lost your chance at Harry's favor. Only your fault that he'll always reject you, for me. We'll turn eighteen and gain our full inheritances – but you'll have to wait for your patents to kick the bucket, and then you'll have to split it with your siblings." Draco whispered directly into Weasley's ear, hot breath caressing the shell almost like a lover – but more like a predator playing with his prey. "He's mine, Weasley. And we're going to change the world – just for you."
"Draco," Harry said again. "We only have forty-five minutes left for lunch. All the puddings are going to be gone soon!"
Not that it mattered, Weasley dimly thought. The lunch ladies loved Potter too, and they would forever save him his precious puddings.
"Of course, Harry." Draco said again, his calm and composed face turning away from Ron. "I'll even give you my desert as an apology."
Then, in the middle of the hallway – at the attention of the crowd that had yet to disperse, he learned over and very purposefully kissed Harry's lips – cutting off his question of "apology for what?"
What really made Weasley fume, before he lost consciousness in his shock and pure anger, was the elegantly smug look that Draco shot him before the two orphans walked down the hallway and disappeared towards the lunch room.
AN: Remember that if you spot any glaring mistakes or inconsistencies that I'd like to hear about them. A writer really is her worst critic.
-Ja.
