Disclaimers : We all know, what's I'm gonna say
I don't own these characters, okay?
Notes: It's my first Potter fanfiction so don't mind if it's a bit ooc. I tried to do it as best as I could, well, we'll just see what you guys are gonna review. I mean, you are going to review, right? *glare* Okay, there's no Ron/Harry yet but there's Draco/Harry. Do you think I should make it R? Ho ho ho! Bad, wittle me. Oh yeah, watch out for slash. You know what it means right? Well, look over homosexual in a dictionary or something. BTW, I dedicate this to the people who read it in my school, like: Sam N., Tim J., Maira G., Ysabel, Chelsea and so on...
Warning: evil swearing and argumentative consciences.
"Blah" = talk, duh.
::blah:: = thoughts
/blah/ = conscience
*blah* = emphasis
Please enjoy!
Part 1: The FallThe boy yawned and sat up in his bed. A hand reached out towards his bedside table, grabbing his glasses. He held it in his hands, yawning once more, extremely weary, heavy-lidded and woozy. A glance around the room. Even if it was blurry, Harry was able to tell people apart from objects. His companions lay in bed, busy with a peaceful slumber.
Seems like he was the first to rise, yet again. It was a new season, Harry noted as he walked his way to the bathroom. A new season, and the first game of the year would start today.
::A game against Slytherin…:: Thought Harry, suppressing a soft smile. Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin.
He stepped into the shower, after fully undressing, his glasses next to the sink.
Ah, Slytherin may be tricky, may be sly, may be mean. But whenever he heard the word 'Slytherin' his heart would jump. He frowned and scolded himself mentally, shelving aside thoughts of the opposing seeker. Draco Malfoy.
But he couldn't help thinking about that boy. The blonde, with striking, cold eyes, and a cocky smirk set on his fine features. He couldn't stop dreaming of his arch enemy, his rival, his opposite.
::Gah! I do *not* like that prick!:: Annoyed at himself, Harry Potter twisted the blue shower knob full blast, wincing as the cold water hit. In a soft but challenging voice,
"I'm ready to face you, Draco Malfoy."
==
Across Gryffindor's dorm, in the Slytherins room, Draco sneezed.
Crabbe laughed a hearty idiotic laugh, sung with matching gurgling sounds. "Someone's thinking of you, boss."
Draco rolled his eyes, "Shut up, you git."
The porky, massive boy frowned, "I thought Goyle was the git…"
"bloody hell." Draco said turning his back on his undeniably stupid 'friend.'
"you bloody both are bloody gits."
Draco Malfoy wasn't truly like that, surely he had been nice to those two sometimes. Draco could actually be a great companion, along with his argumentative comments and dry, sarcastic humor. Draco could be a really suave social guy, that's why a lot of Slytherin girls fawned over him. Except, in the morning it was pretty hard to tell whether he'd greet you with an attentive comment or poked your eyes out.
He stomped off the Slytherins common room with his broom over his shoulder, walking his way towards the field.
Not knowing that a certain boy with messy black hair, glasses and a lightning scar atop his eyebrows was traveling over to that same place as well.
Draco sauntered towards the Quidditch field languidly, catching a glimpse of a boy zipping through the air above the field. An eyebrow raised, and he tried to cease the shameful heat that suddenly concentrated right below his abdomen.
::So Potter's here.::
As soon as he entered the gate of the field he tossed a leg over the broomstick and pushed off the ground, soaring eminently high towards the Potter boy.
"Hey Pothead. Pretty boring in your crummy smelly room isn't it? That's why you're out here. Looking for some sunshine?"
asked a nasal and sexy voice behind Harry. Harry turned, balancing carefully on his broom.
Demanding green eyes pierced Draco, and Draco winced inwardly. Dang, if good looks could kill he would've died a long time ago.
"Gee, Malfoy. That explains why you're out here as well?"
Draco blinked, partly because he got taken aback by Harry's reply or because the famous Potter just whizzed by him. Draco cursed under his breath, sharply maneuvered his way to tail Harry.
Harry jerked the head of his broom upwards, sending him looping around and changing the position. Now it was Harry trailing Draco. He desperately tried to kick Draco in some way probably impossible, Draco leaned to the left, expertly escaping Harry's poor attempt of murder.
The two dashed about the Quidditch field, darting, looping, swirling and maneuvering with all speed. Their purpose? To prove who was better. Well, in Harry's logic perhaps.
"Well where's the Weasel boy or that bitch mudblood of yours huh, Harry?" Draco shouted, quite angrily. There was burning hate when he said their 'nicknames', and he wondered why.
/Because they're close to your 'object of desire', you blundering buffoon. /
::Who, Harry!? That worthless git!? My object of desire?!::
/You're pretty dense. Well, in any case- yes that's exactly who I mean. And stop denying, it's annoying./
::f**** you.::
/Go f**** Harry./
Suddenly Draco found himself right next to Harry. He held his broom tight.
"Take this you bloody git!"
In a wicked grin he kicked Harry, sending him off balance with his broom. With the quick revelation of things, Harry slipped from his broomstick... And plunged down to the ground.
Draco's eyes went wide. He gasped loudly as he saw his rival descending down to the earth. In seconds he would be dead, and as the realization hit him his heart contracted.
He gripped his broom tighter, knuckles paling, and swooped down.
::Faster, faster, faster…:: Draco thought, his hair whipping about his face as he tore the wind. His eyes narrowed, teeth gritting, ears breaking and slight tears escaped his eyes. Wiped away as soon as it came.
Funny, how this unsuspecting accident could change him abruptly. Here was Draco, the willful, nasty, somewhat wicked wealthy teenager straining to save the one he despised the most.
/Or did he despise Harry the most?/
Lucius would certainly disown him if he knew what his son was doing. Or rather, who he was saving. But right now, Draco didn't give a damn. He had to save Harry.
But as the rushed moments played, Draco swallowed in doubt. Harry was hopelessly plunging quicker than he was. Draco shook his head. ::No he won't die, I won't let him!::
A soft murmur. A silent prayer.
"God, help me…"
==
Super thanks for Pythia for half the idea, and for both Pythia and Mariki for being the best friends I'll ever have! Aw, I'm in such a friggin' mushy mode right now. Someone click the un-lovable button, please...
Review! Reviews! And what's more? reviews!