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Temporary Complications in the Life of Draco Malfoy

by Invisigoth

WARNING: SLASH

AN: Lots of musing, and it's not a PWP, though it seem like it at the moment. It actually goes somewhere. This is a bit of a story I wrote, but was embarrassed to post. If you like, I'll continue. If you don't, I'll return to my little corner of cyberspace and cry. j/k ;) Well, please review.

(_*_)

I'm not obsessed, simply..intrigued. I admit that I've fallen prey to a...er..fascination with Boy Hero Number One-a detatched, purely clinical fascination, of course. I'm not in *love* with him, god no. However, there's a sense of ironic inevitability surrounding my *highly* temporary fascination with green eyes, horrid thick glasses, and flyaway hair. After all, who hasn't been drawn in by him? This whole school, the entire bloody wizarding world seems to revolve around poor little Potter. The tragic hero of Hogwarts, whose brilliance is overshadowed only by his incredible naivete. Anyway. Who hasn't fallen in love with Harry Potter? I'm not saying that I am, of course, that is completely preposterous and out of the question and how *dare* you imply such a thing, eh? The nerve. As I was saying..The moment that miserable boy survived that curse, he was destined to be loved- reguardless of his character.

Disgusting. The lot of it, you know? Loving Harry Potter is like witnessing a Muggle car wreck. No matter how much you just want to ignore it and shake it off, you end up giving it a second glance. Then a stare. Then an outright focus. And then, poof! It's Avada Kedavra, it's the Demetor's Kiss, you're screwed screwed screwed. Sucked in, stuck to the child like a fly in amber. And of course, the stupid git has the flaming *audacity* to be absolutely perfect. I repeat, disgusting. So, the Boy Who Lived was born loved by loved parents, became globally loved because of a sick twist of fate- and continues to be loved because of his inane sense of justice. His morality. And where does that leave me?

We're parallels. I was born to hate and be hated and feared. Which, I am. That's my lot, as much as Potter's is his own. I really shouldn't hold his luck against him- he couldn't help it. But his damned innocence drives me insane. After a while, you can't just sneer at something so irritatingly perfect. and of course, I just *had* to give the second glane at the poor little boy wonder..Really, hormones are SUCH a bitch at my age. Honestly. This whole fuss started innocently, as innocent as Malfoy motives can be- well, "innocence" and "Malfoy" in the same sentence is a tad oxymoronic, but I had no other ulterior motives involved, so you could call my motives innocent-viciously innocent? Anyway.

It was all fun at first, but the satisfaction from sneering at His Magnificence (heavy sarcasm there) slowly dwindled to a thirst for action. Malfoys are men of action, not words. We may not be loyal and moral and all the rest of that rubbish, but damned if we're not perservering, proud bastards. Gradually, the git's very prescence was insinuated in my mind's eye. Naturally, this grated on my nerves just a little bit. Watch your exact opposite flourish in the limelight like some sort of Muggle boyband star, and you'll start feeling some frustration. So, being the proud, stubborn Malfoy I am, I decided a course of action was in order. Courses of action required planning. Planning required-you guessed it-Potter Surveillance.

Like some sort of screwball birdwatcher, I spied on Potter as he stumbled through his day. It was sick. The boy was saccharine-sweet, not a damn misstep in his wide-eyed purity. The child probably shits roses and daffodils. After a few days of PotterWatch, I was starting to go slightly off. Malfoys and perfection do not go together- do not mix, like oil and water. Or, in my case, 1 part Malfoy (me, Draco) and 1 part canned Hero (the aforementioned Boy Wonder, Potter) mixed, with disasterous results. As I said, I'd started to go a bit off. Wild half-thoughts broke into my musings throughout Potions:

I wonder what Potter would do if I magicked his robes into a string bikini...I wonder what he would do if I suckered Goyle (stupid lout would do it anyway, I know he swings ways like a bloody chandelier) into asking him out- loudly...I wonder what he would do if I kissed him..?

Wait. Just. A. Moment. Immediately, my brain screamed at this new muse invading the sterile hallways of my mind and beat it into submission. For about 10 minutes, that is. Like a true Malfoy, this thought pattern relentlessly featured itself in hot-pink bold print in my head until I was forced (kicking and biting and screaming, naturally) to pay attention. Rationalizing it was no fun. I have my reasons for hopping on the Potter Fan Bandwagon. I could taint him, drag him down of his quaint little pedastel, for the pure joy of shock value...So, the bastard of a muse dared to trick the rest of my mind into thinking PotterWorship was a perfectly normal course of action. Hardly. Gah, and I thought I would never sink to the level of those stupid Mudbloods. So, I bode my time, watching on the sidelines. Waiting for the inevitable to end, and considering a rational course of action..Really, hormones can be such a bitch at my age..Honestly

A/n: well...er...that's all for now. reviews would be nice. ::feeble smile:: please dont hurt the meek goth chica in the corner! ::hides behind Draco::