Draco walked through the corridors of the great Hogwarts. His charcoal-colored robes dragged after his feet, hurrying like an exhausted dog trotting after its master. He ran his slender fingers through his silver-blonde hair as he sighed with tediousness. He ogled at his feet while he walked.

Bump.

It was Harry Potter.

"Watch where you're staggering about, Potter," Draco said at once. "Don't want the professors to know that you've been busy." He then made a motion with his hands as if he was holding a bottle and gulping it down.

Draco noticed immediately when Harry tightened his fist.

"And I wonder where you've been getting the drinks." His eyes quickly darted to Ron's face. His lips curved into a little smirk.

He continued to walk about his business. He settled his hands in his pockets.

"Damn that Potter," he muttered to himself. "He's so popular because of some stupid scar on his thick head. People are so dense these days. Going mad about a ruddy mark on someone's forehead. And those stupid friends of his. A poor little twerp, and a mudblood. The boy doesn't know how to pick his friends."

"What are you muttering about, Malfoy?"

Draco glanced up. It was Professor Snape.

"Oh! Professor—I was just mumbling about how Potions is such a wonderful class. You must be making it so excellent, sir." He stared at the man.

Snape looked at him suspiciously.

"Good, Malfoy. 15 points to Slytherin." He then strolled away. The boy smiled ever so sinisterly. Draco silently crept into the Slytherin common room. He slumped down into a great chair in front of the crackling fire. He sighed, and stared into the big, scarlet flames.

"Why must Malfoy always be so rude?" Harry asked.

"I say he was raised incorrectly, that buffoon," said Ron as he flipped through the pages of a gigantic book. He squinted and leaned forward at it. "The text is so bloody small, I can hardly see it."

Harry drummed the table with his fingertips. "I can't stand that Malfoy any longer. I'd be clicking my heels if he was chucked out of the school."

"Stop your complaining about Malfoy, Harry. Nothing can change that boy," told Ron. "Hey, look! A man-eating squirrel!" Ron pointed his finger at a photo in the book. Harry sighed.

"I see you're quite busy with some reading." Harry looked at Ron, who was gasping at the book in amazement. He got up and left the library.

"Harry, look, it's a tortoise who can play Quidditch!—Harry? Hello?"

Draco got out of the common room. "I am so bored out of my wits. Maybe I'll go harass Potter some more." He stopped abruptly and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm…" He cackled madly. "Perhaps I can surprise him, that Potter."

He walked and walked, and halted at the painting of the Fat Lady. He stood, waiting.

Suddenly, the painting swung open. It was Harry.

Draco's eyes lit up maliciously.

"Malfoy?! What are you doing he—"

Before Harry could complete his question, Draco tackled him, sending him backwards to the common room. They tumbled, and hit a great red chair. Harry lay against the chair, while Draco had him cornered.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" demanded Harry.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. You must watch your language, Potter," said Draco. His lips curved into a little smile once again.

"What are you grinning about?"

Draco leaned forward, and his lips met with Harry's.

Harry blushed different shades of red. His emerald eyes were wide with alarm. Finally, Draco released.

"W-w-wh-wha—"

He shushed him, and gently put his finger to the confused boy's lips.

"There, there. No need to talk." He smiled evilly again.

"Take me to your dorm room."

To be continued!