Emily's first fic all by her very own self! Yay! Slashy goodness! Emily is now a full-fledged D/H shipper. No, the OTHER D/H!!!

Author's Note: This was written laaaaate at night (the time on the paper says that it was finished at 11:51 PM, 5/27/01). This is my very first fanfiction, so reviews and constructive criticism are much appreciated. Thank you, and have a nifty day! (Oh, yeah, this is slash. Also, it's called the Yellow Paper Fic because it was written on a yellow legal pad.)

Irony Polka!

Or

The Yellow Paper Fic

"Watch your mouth, Malfoy." The tall, bespectacled young man turned towards his opponent, almost growling as he spoke. The aforementioned Malfoy was leaning against one of the thick marble pillars surrounding the snow-covered Quidditch field. He took his time in responding, pausing first to light a cigarette. He inhaled deeply, and then answered.

"Defending those Mudbloods again, Potter?" Malfoy tsked disdainfully. "Such a waste."

"Better Mudbloods that Deatheaters, ferretboy." A slightly pained expression briefly crossed the shorter blonde's face as he recalled that particular run-in with transfiguration.

"Touché, Potter. But, if I'm not mistaken, you share blood with the Lord Voldemort himself, hm? Why insult the servants when you possess the genes of the master?"

"Not by choice, you Deatheater wannabe," Potter spat.

"Nice try, flyboy," Malfoy smirked. "The hotshot seeker who can't keep himself on a broomstick."

"I could say the same about you, blondie. Look, it's the hotshot pureblood who doesn't seem too worried about spreading the family lines around."

"Goody two-shoes."

"Kiss-arse," retorted Potter.

"Suck-up."

"Two-cent whore!"

"Little orphan boy!"

"Wanna make something of it?" hissed Potter. He stepped forwards, nose almost touching Malfoy's.

"Maybe I do." Malfoy dropped his forgotten cigarette, crushing it with the toe of one of his black leather boots.

"Well…well..." Potter burst out laughing, falling into Malfoy's arms. The two embraced, kissing passionately before separating. "I always lose!" giggled an indignant Potter. He threw his arm over the shoulder of an equally hysterical Malfoy.

"You have much…to learn…grasshopper," gasped Malfoy, choking back peals of laughter. They kissed once again, and headed off to the Great Hall in search of hot cocoa.

"Little orphan boy? Laaaaaaaame."