Warnings: 8th year. Draco being a seductive prat.

Hagrid is raising a flock of Hippogriff foals, and the 8th years work with them in Care of Magical Creatures class. Draco is a prat. Harry is great with Ferret.

Prompt: Sentence - "Funny how this thingy is always ready to see you"

A/N: I realize the stories in this fic doesn't really qualify as 'drabbles', least of all this one… However, I like the word too much to let go of it now, even now that I've been corrected. Besides, I couldn't help myself writing it this long! Apologies, enjoy anyway…

"Funny how this thingy is always ready to see you!" were the first words out of Malfoy's mouth when he saw that Harry was stroking the soft feathers of the Hippogriff. It had a color that Harry was shameless enough to peg as 'blond'. The creature glared angrily at the blond wizard, and Harry could not help but laugh, though he tried to do so as softly as possible - no matter what Malfoy said, he wasn't sure the strong hybrid animal trusted him fully. Even if it was just an a little over seven months old baby. With feathers, wings, beak and a horse body. Just a baby. Yeah.

Hagrid had raised this new flock of Hippogriffs from birth (Buckbeak had proved to have a very high stamina, when presented with a female of his own kind) and had introduced them in class. Most of the 8th year students had welcomed the animals with far more excitement than any of Hagrid's other projects in the past; maybe it was something about how helpless the foals were. They were so entirely dependent on love and care; Harry suspected Professor McGonagall had wanted the older students to see what it was like to truly care for something, in a way that wasn't about whether a psychopath was going to kill them.

This particular Hippogriff - Ron had dubbed it 'Ferret', since it loved eating chunks of ferret meat, at played around with fur, and he had argued that its resemblance to Malfoy's hair made the name appropriate - was now nuzzling itself against him, its razor-sharp beak scraping against his throat. It made him a little nervous - which was stupid, he'd defeated the darkest wizard the world had ever seen.

He kept his head still though, not jerking away.

He was pretty sure the creature was marking him or something; it REALLY didn't like its namesake, who now was drawling something about the quality of his own Hippogriffs feathers, thereby offending Ferret.

"You're so pretty, my dear Hippogriff!" Malfoy was saying. Some would perhaps say that he was, in some way, trying to make amends to the father of the infant, over the insult he had spewed to it five years ago. Well, Harry was the only one saying that. He was the only one still thinking about every little thing Malfoy did.

Ferret's head jerked angrily towards Malfoy, its playful nature that had been apparent in it before Malfoy had arrived and called it a 'thingy' (Ferret had bounded towards him at the beginning at the lesson; he didn't even need to bow, and had flapped its wings excitedly). In the process its beak almost cut Harry; he felt the cold, metal-like texture of the edge. It cawed loudly, angrily, and started moving towards the blond boy, apparently intent on punishing anyone who dared say other Hippogriffs were prettier. His fist curled into the fur on Ferret, both as a warning and an outlet for the fear that had gripped him. It turned its orange eyes back on him, snapped the beak impatiently. It reminded him of how Malfoy used to snarl. Malfoy never did much these days, except watch the world, as though slightly amused over how it could go on. His jabs at Harry weren't even that terrible anymore.

Ferret seemed to calm down after a few seconds, and Harry realized he was smiling to it. The thought of Malfoy's snarl seemed to be oddly cheering.

Ron was noting things down about Ferret's behavior - ("doesn't like Malfoy.") and Hermione was inspecting its feathers, both to make sure of its welfare and to write down everything about the physical development of the animal, as Harry started feeding it the ferret meat.

After an awful lot of ridiculous thoughts such whether Hippogriffs preferred smiles over blank facial expressions (or vice versa) or whether Malfoy would mind if Harry touched his hair, class ended, Harry said goodbye to Ferret, rinsed off the blood on his hands with a Scourgify spell and Hagrid started to follow them back towards his hut, but-

"Potter," a low voice said behind Harry. He turned, pretending not to recognize the voice. But of course he did. Even if he hadn't just heard it talk about the feathers on a magical creature, he'd always recognize it.

"Can we have a chat?" Malfoy asked. He wasn't drawling. He was looking serious, as always, and Harry couldn't see his eyes properly, so he couldn't tell whether he was plotting an attack or really just wanted a chat.

"We're going to the castle Harry," Ron said. Harry knew he was being given the chance to talk to Malfoy - which, Ron knew, he'd been wanting for quite some time. Ron didn't like it - of course he didn't - but it was better than nothing.

"Alright," Harry replied, as a reply to both of them, and hung behind with Malfoy.

Malfoy wasn't drawing a wand. Harry certainly wasn't going to, even if Malfoy did. He was done fighting. Fighting only lead to scars, to burning fires, to dying and dead friends.

However, though Malfoy wasn't drawing a wand, he was stepping closer, gripping Harry's arm in a surprising grip. Not harsh, or too tight - just surprising, because it was new. New, and weird.

He kept himself still though, not jerking away, just like when handling a Hippogriff. Who would have known that hanging around Ferret would prove useful in this way, he asked himself silently, as Malfoy's breath grazed his Adams apple, his breath hot and heady. Harry's obsessive mind noted that Malfoy smelled of lime and earth, a delicious scent. He had the strange impression that Malfoy was smelling him too. Not an entirely unpleasant thought.

Malfoy stepped closer. Harry still just stood there, breathing slowly, heat filling him slowly.

"That creature isn't the only thing that is ready to see you, you know," Draco whispered hotly into his ear. Harry made the corner of his lips twitch into a smirk, knowing Malfoy would sense that action. "Malfoy, we need to-"

He wasn't exactly sure what had prompted Malfoy's outburst. Maybe it was a joke. Though… There was a certain hardness pressing against his thigh now, now that Malfoy had come even closer, their hips barely touching. God, he hoped Malfoy couldn't feel his response.

Maybe, he thought, the reason was the thought of fire and broomsticks and sweat, the thought of an enemy gripping your hand to save you. Or maybe-

"Fine, yes, we need to talk. But not here. Cause there's a thing that wants you too much, in a way that doesn't involve talking… And I'm afraid that thing is me. So, the other thingy better get out of your way on Saturday. I don't want that bloody chicken interfering on our date to Hogsmeade."

Malfoy wasn't asking him out. He was stating that he was going to take him out. Well. Harry didn't have much choice then, did he? Nevermind that he didn't really mind not having a choice. Nevermind that he probably did have a choice. Nevermind that he could push Malfoy away and claim that he was disgusted, nevermind that Malfoy still talked condescendingly to him in classes, nevermind that Malfoy never before had stood so close to him… Actually, Harry thought, scratch that last. He definitely wanted to remember how close Malfoy was right now.

Harry allowed himself a shy, yet hopefully sly smile. "Are you sure you can survive spending all that time with me?"

"If you can calm down one of those goddamn creatures, I can probably survive you," Malfoy said with a shrug, and, leaning in, bit Harry's earlobe, smirked at the small gasp that escaped the boy…. then - he left.

And just like that, Harry had a date with the strange Slytherin, along with a raging boner.