Part 4: Jealousy

Hi! (Pythia you evil wench, you'd think I'd need a stapler to shut that undeniably humoungous 'trap' of yours? Could you _pleez_ not humiliate me anymore? I am NOT your slave forever... Just for now... Til Christmas is over. Then you are one hunk of pepperoni to me. )

Thank you to the wonderful reviews! Here's the next part, uhm... please tell me if there are any errors. I'll revise. And oh yeah, I think Draco/Harry fans will like o,O. Kwehehe.

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Draco's POV:

A new, fresh surge of guilt flooded me as I got a glimpse of Harry a little later. He looked considerably okay with that f****d up Weasley and that mudblood.

I kept an eye on Harry, even when I was at my house table, sitting with Crabbe and Goyle. I couldn't help it... I couldn't resist. But that's pretty ok since everyone's too messed up with their own F****d up life to notice my staring. Yes, by this time everyone was up and about, the morning before the Quidditch match.

There was always something about that "boy-who-lived", and I couldn't understand it. Ever since I first laid my eyes on Harry Potter in the robe shop I knew he was "someone". When he refused my hand of friendship, I immediately knew that I had lost to him, and shit, I'm sounding like a raving, love-stricken lunatic right now.

I tried to divert my attention to the morning mail, but I always caught my grey eyes sliding over to the Gryffindor table countless times.

::What is wrong with me?! I hate him I hate him I hate him hate him hate him hate hate hate hate hate hate.::

A groggy voice in the back of his head.

/God you think too damn loud. *yawn* Did I fall asleep? What time is it?/

::…it's breakfast time, you farting conscience.::

/Oh, damn, did I miss any drama?/

::Your bloomin' weird, you know that?::

/*shrug* I wasn't the one chanting hate all over the bloody place, mind you. And at least *I* don't pick fights with myself so early in the morning./

::I'm not the one who fell asleep while his other half was wide awake..::

/And lets guess who the other half is, hmm? frolicking so friggin' untimely in the blasted morning and leaving his other self in the shadow of restful sleep? /

::You were awake a while ago. Shut up!::

/I will if you will./

Suddenly…

::Oh shit, is it just me or—?!::

/Uh oh…/

Normal POV:

Draco, though fighting non-sense with his own mind saw red in anger at what lay before him.

Ron, who was sitting next to Harry had a wide grin on his face. Draco wished he could swipe it off the redhead's face, as Weasley edged over closer to Harry, whispering something into Harry's ear, a finger softly tracing down the dark-haired boy's cheek; hardly noticeable, that was.

The blonde's silver-grey eyes squinted, pure venom, as he saw this. Something whirled within him, something hit him inside. Oh no, it wasn't the food.

/*snort*/ Draco's conscience.

He didn't reply.

He just kept glaring. Wouldn't be too surprised if Ron's head exploded in flames and left a hole through his skull.

Well, he actually liked the idea, but alas it was hardly possible.

Then, Draco felt stabbed. Was Harry smiling?

His fist slammed unto the Slytherin table; nobody seemed to mind. The noise filling the Great hall was enough to mask the sound… Draco looked away.

His eyes met with a Slytherin banner, Goyle's pudgy head, a brown barn owl, then a teacher's sharp black eyes…

He stared back at Snape, and Snape nodded at Malfoy. Looking away almost immediately, Draco concentrated on his food. But behind all his cool façade, he wanted nothing more but to freeze Ron's blood and make sure it would never flow again, puncture his eyes out with an icicle, and take Harry. Show Ron that Harry was *his*, only *his* and forever *his*.

/Hm, I think my influence has finally rubbed in on you. You change so quickly./

::Ron has no chance with Harry. He's mine.::
/Uhm, your food's getting cold. Hurry up and eat, I'm hungry./

::Mine.::

/Yeah I get it already. Sheesh./

The day grew darker for Draco. Whenever he actually looked at Harry he would get nothing back but despise and hate to his best friend. The way those two behaved towards each other;

…that Ron.

Draco snarled inaudibly, as he waltzed through the corridors like he owned the place, striding towards outside, the Quidditch field.

The game against Gryffindor was going to start at any time, Draco had to be ready. Trying to shelve away thoughts of that Weasel and Harry, he strode off to the broom shed. Hopefully Granger mudblood put his broom in the right place.

***

It was a little later, in the middle of the game, to be exact. Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin seeker tried to fend off personal thoughts as he played in the Quidditch match. But he couldn't refuse watching Harry dodge bludgers efficiently, or observe him linger in space, his black hair dancing in the wind. Was it his fault Harry seemed to be the damnest most sexiest wizard alive?

It was difficult for him to keep up with everything too, being dazed by scrutinizing Harry and accepting that he had an immense attraction to the boy… All that was taking the toll.

A swerve to the left. Not a moment too soon as a bludger almost knocked Malfoy out.

It wasn't the first time Draco had found difficulty in fighting against 'The Boy Who Lived.' Being distracted by his desire to *censor* him, it was no use struggling to win.

Draco gulped as Harry swooped down, looking back at Draco momentarily.

Draco almost swooped down to join him, in impulse to think and wonder if Harry had spotted the Golden Snitch. But in the corner of his eye, he saw something gleam. A quick glance; there it was, fluttering it's delicate wings, luring him…

The Golden Snitch.

So Harry was faking it; Draco smirked and dashed over to the small, golden nugget. His broom worked wonders, he tried not to snicker. Almost there…

Almost…

A catch. He could feel the cold texture of the miniature ball, its helpless wings fluttering about wildly near his fingers. He had caught it. For the first time.

He had caught the Snitch.

He could hear the crowd make all sorts of noises, he didn't bother to check. He wanted to see Harry. He glided down steadily, couldn't help smirk.

His first won game… Draco is a sadistic boy after all, so even if it was against Harry, he felt proud. Immensely proud.

He hovered his broom above the ground, getting off carefully and handing over the Snitch to Madam Hooch. Hopefully no one noticed him scanning about, looking for a peculiar face. It was a habit to do so.

"Congratulations!" exclaimed Madam Hooch, the referee; Malfoy could hear the magnetized voice of that black Gryffindor boy, Lee Jordan,

"Oh, and by an immense cheating scheme—"

"Jordan… I'm warning you." Professor McGonagall eyed the commentator, Jordan pouted and revised his sentence.

"And Slytherins win by foul and devious—"

"JORDAN!"

"—luck… Oh well, no one fret, the good side will triumph in the end…."

Lee Jordan's strangled cries were heard for a moment, and Draco looked up to the box to see Professor McGonagall dragging away their commentator, a mix of disappointed and anger running through her face.

It started drizzling. Right after the Quidditch match rain had begun to break.

Picking up his broom, Draco inspected the area. Again. He resisted the urge to pick up another, wider simper as he spotted Harry, who had a very sad look on his face. But he couldn't hold back the grin. Malfoy meandered over.

"What's wrong, Potter?" Sneered Draco. "Finally able to savor losing? What were you trying to catch, the moon or the imaginary golf ball?"

::Why am I doing this?::

/The hell, you're still denying it. What happened to the 'he's mine' act, eh?/

Harry looked at him solemnly, opened his mouth as if trying to look for a good insult to throw back.

But someone else beat him to it.

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Part 5: Chocolate Lust

Finally, Draco confronts Harry… And Harry is torn between them. Draco has officially become Harry's stalker, and Ron's not too happy about that. So, who has Harry's heart? The Ice, or the Flame?

Pleaseies reviewies! Or I stay depressed. Oh well, I'll betcha 20 galleons Pythia's gonna review one hell of a paragraph concerning my 'slow brain' once again. *sigh* One day Pythia, We the opressed will rise up against you, just you wait, young woman... ((if you don't know who Pythia is, check the reviews and read. You'll see why.))