THE OPPOSITE of SEX
By: DaDomz (Br@nw3nand Lestat)
DISCLAIMER: WE DON'T OWN NOTHING.
WARNINGS:
This is a HP/DM fic. But not entirely. Read it and understand. Also a R/Hr fic so be warned! Idea derived from the Travelers Incognito.
Chapter One: The Female Reproductive System
"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione Granger shrieked angrily, causing her face to attain a crimson pallor. "Do not dare try to reason yourself out of this! Don't you dare!"
Harry Potter winced at her incessant screaming and glanced at his best friend, trying to see how he would react to her sudden outburst. As usual, though, Ron's eyes had glazed over, painting a faraway look on his features. He was enjoying this, Harry knew.
Ron thought Hermione was quite pretty when she got angry and that that was reason enough for him to anger her.
"Ron Weasley!!! Are you listening to me?!"
Harry tried to suppress a grin as he saw Ron come out of his own world in a rather comical way, shaking his head and blinking his eyelids numerous of times before focusing on Hermione.
This action seemed to infuriate her even more.
"How could you not be listening?!?!?!?!?!"
"Yes, how could he not have heard you? The entire Great Hall did," Harry muttered to himself, which Hermione had unfortunately heard.
She turned to glare at him.
Harry leveled with her, countering with a rather bored expression.
She continued to glare and he, too, proceeded with his ennuyé expression.
He wouldn't back down, Hermione wasn't his girlfriend, so it would absolutely be no problem to him if she stayed mad, Ron on the other hand, well. he couldn't speak on behalf on Ron. He returned his attention to the seething girl before him.
He knew when he had her, her glower faltered, knowing full well that she had not that much power over him, so, she turned her scowl on the one of the numerous people she did have control over, Ron.
He cringed as she reprimanded him harshly with another screaming fit, though Harry knew, from years of companionship with the red- haired boy that he absolutely loved every single moment of this supposed admonition.
"Ron Weasley! You are absolutely hopeless!" Hermione finally screeched as she had finally had it with Ron's inattentiveness.
She vacated the table in a huff, intentionally spilling a cup of pumpkin juice onto Ron's lap, not even turning around to bask in her triumph.
Ron, expecting the 'accident' to happen, quickly caught the goblet with reflexes that got him his position as Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, though he could not stop the inevitable drops of liquid that spilled down his front.
"Bloody hell!" he swore.
Harry offered a sympathetic smile as Ron snapped out of his daydream.
"What is wrong with that bleedin' woman! Got herself all worked up about something!!! Blaming me for every single fucking problem that comes her way!!! As if it were my fault Snape deducted about fifty points from Gryffindor!!! He's a soddin' bigoted bastard!!! She should, no, does know better than that!!!"
Harry raised a skeptical brow which Ron had apparently noticed.
"What?!"
"Well, technically, the point abatement was your fault. You did spill that cup of hot cocoa on 'Mione's six-feet thesis which had fueled your rather boisterous 'disagreement' in Potions class which provoked me to interfere when you had threatened to pound Malfoy into a pulp which, in the end, caused Hermione's aforementioned point deduction, your ending up with four detentions for injuring Snape's favorite, a detention for me together with Malfoy for interference."
"Oi!" Ron protested, frowning at his best friend. "I thought you were on my side!!!"
"Didn't say I was on anybody's side," the bespectacled boy shrugged nonchalantly, as if this were a normal everyday occurrence, which it was.
"But you didn't agree with Hermione."
"Well, I'm not agreeing with anybody," Harry asserted. "'Mione just assumed that I was defending your nonexistent case."
"Well," Ron shrugged. "That woman just about assumes that everything, every bleeding thing in this world is about her."
"Your world does seem to revolve around her," Harry murmured, making absolute sure that Ron would be able to hear him.
Ron stood up abruptly, face a mask of apallment (A/N: Not really a word but, CREATIVE LICENSE!!!) and disgust. "I do not have feelings for that.monster!!!"
"The way you looked at her, she could've been a piece of steak, not a Death Eater."
Ron's mouth opened to formulate a retort but his mind could come up with the appropriate comeback, so he resolved himself to sulking, propping a hand under his chin for effect.
"Well, I admit, it was my fault, though not for the reason she thinks it is."
Harry raised a brow questioningly and Ron purged on, "I didn't knock off the mug because 'Mione was screaming castigations in my ear, it was really an accident!!!"
Harry didn't reply yet kept his eyebrow raised, giving Ron a pointedly unbelieving glance, Ron once again attested to his own reasoning, adding, "Don't give me that look because it positively was and accident! I wasn't even listening to that girl!!! Too busy cheering 'cause Germany finally beat Ireland for the World Cup."
Harry smirked. "Too busy gloating over Seamus' dejected look, tell me if I had hit the mark on that one."
"Go badger some other hapless sap, would you?"
"Why don't you just apologise and put all this behind you."
"Well, if you were being a good mate and actually lending your sympathetic ear to this bloke, then you would know that I've got no explanation to give her. At one point or the other she's going to want to bite my head off."
"Then make up some ruddy excuse. It's you, for crying out loud! She'll eat up any excuse you give her. This little tiff, like all the others will pass, and you know it."
"What justification can I give then, eh? You going to make one up for me? I'm going to stutter, mess it all up, Harry. I can't lie good, especially to her, she knows me all too well, better than I know myself, actually. Told me my left eye twitched everytime I lied, she did."
"I'm not getting in between you and Hermione again. Saved your hide one too many times, I sure did. Just go and tell her the truth, then. Save you a whole lot of worry and trouble," Harry advised.
Ron looked at him as if he had grown an extra head. "Harry, are you daft or just deaf? If I tell her I wasn't listening, that would just spur up a whole cluster of other trouble for me."
"If you had just been careful you wouldn't be in this mess," Harry pointed out, wondering how the blame had suddenly been put on him.
Ron looked hesitant, which caused Harry to sigh and rub at his face in frustration.
"If it makes you feel better, I'll go with you, then, as long as you beg for her forgiveness right now."
"All right, I guess that's fair, considering the fact that I can use you as a human shield and all."
-----* * * * *-----
"That couldn't've gotten any worse," Ron grumbled as he dejectedly walked down the hallway adjacent to the library where he and Harry had just been thrown out of by one very agitated Madame Pince who had been alerted by his and Hermione's rather boisterous argument.
"At least she didn't curse us out of there," Harry tried to lighten the situation.
"She's a teacher, she's not allowed to lay a finger on us."
"I meant 'Mione."
"Well, she did try to."
"You have to consider her self-restraint."
"She was about to before Pince dragged us out."
"Then be happy since she could've done something drastic to our selves."
"That woman will be the death of us."
"Not exactly. Not really for me, I mean. Not as if I have any deeper feelings for her than friendship, so I probably won't die of a heart ailment if she decides to snub me for a period of time."
Ron frowned. "What in the world are you talking about, Potter?"
"The fact that you love her or something like that is going to make her being mad at you be pretty hard to deal with, for you."
Ron jerked to a stop, face turning red, as he watched his best friend's still mobile form continue to cross the hallway.
"I DO NOT HAVE FEELINGS FOR THAT.THAT WITCH!!!"
His out burst was so tumultuous that it surprised Harry, causing the bespectacled boy to jerk around and try to formulate a reply, though before Harry could, someone ran into him from behind, inducing Harry to stumble backwards falling on top of the stranger behind him, knocking his glasses off in the process.
"Oof!" he grunted.
He and the stranger were sprawled on the floor, him on top and the person he had ran into under him. He was almost positive that he had crashed into a female, for the figure below him was too small and thin to be a male and that smell in the air.
It was as feminine as hell.
'She' smelled of apples and cinnamon, though there was another smell underneath it some hidden traces of a exotic and exquisite flower he just couldn't place yet its smell had awakened something at the back of his mind like some forgotten memory he had yet to rediscover.
"Get off of me, Potter," the individual drawled, causing a chill of despair to shoot up through Harry's spine.
Harry fleetly got to his feet, tottering a bit due to the abruptness in his movements. He felt Ron hand him his glasses and he thankfully perched them on his nose, therefore attaining a better view of his adversary.
He was greeted by Draco Malfoy's intense scowl.
"Ever heard of exercise, Potter?" he drawled, brushing imaginary dust off of his robes.
"Ever heard of tape, Malfoy?" Ron bit back. "It would help control that overconfident mouth of yours."
"Only as much as you have, Weasley."
"At least I've been known to watch where I'm treading, you stupid sniveling git."
Malfoy yawned. "You forgot the 'amazing handsome bouncing ferret' bit, Weasel."
Ron fumed, apparently the brat had by now been immune to his insults. His hands clenched into fists and he was poised, ready to attack.
But before any blood could be shed, Harry, who had halted in scrutinizing Malfoy for a moment, finally intervened by quipping, "You know, Malfoy, you look so much like a girl, and to make matters worse, you sure act like one, too."
Malfoy paled, then a particularly bright shade of crimson rapidly took its place. "I will not stay and engage in conversation with both of you simple-minded simians."
And with a snarl he spun on his heel and left.
Ron, who had been laughing as the exchange had taken place, now clutched his stomach, wiping tears from his eyes.
"That was bloody good, mate! He's been exempt from that ferret thing for some time now, but this, his femininity, that'll give him something to rage about."
Harry shook his head.
"Really, he does look and act like a girl."
Ron shot him a rather funny look as they continued to walk down the hall.
-----* * * * *-----
There would be no way to describe a perfect dawn, except that its beauty was painfully gorgeous, orange and purple hues merging with one another serving as the perfect setting for the enormous and blinding ball of crimson that tinged the crystalline water forms before it with light ruby and topaz causing the water of the lake to glisten, as if it were made of thousands of luminous diamonds.
It was to this beautiful scenery that Harry Potter had awakened to.
Eyes squinting as he peered through the window situated beside his bed via glasses which were haphazardly perched on his nose, he noticed the tiny figures speeding around by the field.
He groaned.
"Shit! (A/N: I'm not absolutely positive if that word would be part of Harry's vocabulary but. Lestat said British people come up with the most swear words and that this would be part of it, take the Osbornes for example so.) We've got Quidditch practice! Today's Quidditch practice!" he exclaimed, frantically jumping out of bed and recklessly pulling out his robes, running a hand through his already sleep-tousled hair.
"Ron's going to kill me. Second time that I bloody well forgotten about practice! Now, he's going to rile me about being the 'Great Harry Potter' and me thinking my head's so big that I don't need practice," he grumbled disdainfully to himself.
He rummaged through his trunk and pulled out a pair of beige trousers, a size larger than his own would have been. It reeked of age and Harry was almost unequivocally sure that he hadn't worn that particular pair since he was five.
Without giving it a second thought, another glance, he sped out of the room and stumbled down the stairs, intent on heading towards the Prefects' bathroom.
-----* * * * *-----
Draco carefully lined up the dozens of tiny bottles of shampoo onto the sink as he meticulously checked his appearance on the reflective surface and rubbed his cheek as a sign of frustration. He could never get his hair to position itself in the way in which he desired it to. He then looked at the door eagerly awaiting his companion's arrival, clutching at the dark robes he was wearing.
He grinned, pulling out a strawberry flavored shampoo (A/N: Yes, flavored. Lestat wanted it that way. Crazy, said they could eat it as syrup. Wonder what'll happen when they sleep, won't they get eaten by bugs???) from the bunch.
He carefully spilled the grooming product on the floor, observing a straight line from the door to the Olympic-sized pool of a bathtub that occupied one side of the room.
He wrinkled his nose. "Damn, now I'm hungry"
But he smiled, the thought of Parkinson sliding her way from the door and into a tub of icy cold water keeping his supposedly gone mischievous spirit alive.
He then intently sat on a chair and stared at his nails, as if waiting for something to appear. Quite suddenly, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, hurried treads, too heavy to be a girl's. Draco's eyes widened as he tried to make his way towards the doorway but unfortunately, he was a tad bit too late, a smudge of black and green had suddenly emerged and instantly glided toward the edge of the bathtub, landing with a boisterous splash and even more clamorous but colorful swearing.
Draco opened an eyelid to see that it had only been Potter and that his anxiety had gone to waste on such an undeserving subject. He rolled his eyes. "Seems my plan didn't go to waste after all, though," he shrugged and picked up the discarded trousers.
"Trying to injure me?" A voice from afar asked.
"If I had been intending to injure you Potter, then you wouldn't be able to stand there and talk to me."
"How did you-" Harry sputtered, wiping the sweet smelling liquid off his face, wondering hoe Draco had known that he had been standing. The blonde hadn't turned around to face him anytime in the course of his entrance. Harry had decided it was part of the rat's senses and gave up. He didn't plan to receive a straight answer. "You should be thankful that I'm not in the mood to beat up something today and give me back my trousers!"
Harry limped towards Draco. Draco shrugged and handed Harry his trousers. A glimmer of gold and silver that had fallen on the floor caught Draco's attention. He abruptly shoved the trousers towards the Gryffindor and bent down to examine the lustrous object.
He quickly stood and gaped at the object he held in his hands.
"Give me that!" Harry demanded, trying to reach for the shorter person. Draco seemed unperturbed. He stared at the coin for quite some time before raising his head and staring Harry straight in the eye.
He raised the coin, allowing it to dangle in the air as he held the satin ribbon. "Where did you get this?" He asked softly, his voice tinged with a menacing tone he didn't even try to conceal, his eyes sharp as a hawk's. "How could you have managed to rummage through my trunk?"
Harry stared at him, obviously thinking that the shorter boy had gone mad. "Give that back!"
"Did you or did you not?" Draco demanded, adding a sneer for effect. "I know this ancient coin, I recognize it, it is one of our family heirlooms, part of the Malfoy family's heritage. I remember receiving this when I was four, I think. Where did you get this?"
Harry glared at him, not really caring much about the coin, for he knew not where it had originated from and how it had landed in his trousers, though his intent was just to win this dispute. "It's mine, I didn't steal it from you. I didn't go rummaging through your trunk.you're an egotistical bastard to think that."
"Then, that makes you an empty-headed kleptomaniac."
Harry was about to voce out another comeback when he noticed Malfoy briskly exiting the premises.
"Where do you think you're going? Give that back!"
Draco turned, he was at the end of the hallway while Harry was positioned close to the portrait that served as the entryway of the bathroom.
He raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing Harry's appearance. "Forget your pants, Potter or are you so daft that you don't have the means to don your own clothing?"
Harry quite comically looked down at his now drenched boxers and colored.
"Come any closer and I'll have you sued for sexual harassment."
Harry glared at the Slytherin boy while Malfoy kept his countenance.
Harry was the first to relent, despondently trudging back into the Prefects' Bathroom while Malfoy smirked at his retreating back, then looked back at the coin, something overwhelmingly familiar tickling the back of his mind. Something about the coin, something he couldn't quite place, something he couldn't quite remember.
He shrugged and told himself that it was just disappointment at not getting back at Parkinson, yet the coin, it seemed to call out at him to remember.
He quickly pocketed the object and left for breakfast.
-----* * * * *-----
Harry sighed, forcing his eyes to glaze over and ears to shut, not wanting to hear any more distasteful comments from his two companions, who were, as usual, bickering. It was the basis of their love for one another. Every single moment after their first meeting had either constituted of petty little quarrels or reciprocated snubbing, in time, it would get old.
If not for the arguing parties, then for the spectators.
So, he decided to busy himself with other things, better and more important things. He knew, though, of the consequences of his lack of focus, during some point in their conversation, he was sure, positive, that they would ask him of his opinion on the matter at hand, one which they wouldn't bother to elaborate, not helping his usually befuddled situation and pointedly ask him to choose sides.
He didn't care, though. He usually reasoned himself out of the situation, taking the coward's way out; saying he needed to use the loo, or taking sides directly, saying that either Ron or Hermione was right, alternating the winner every time.
They've never noticed it, though and it worked every time.
He wasn't even sure if his opinion was important. It was just probably whose side he chose that was more relevant in their argument.
So, he decided it was all right for him to plug his ears and focus on more significant things. What, he didn't know, but it would be a lot better than listening to the bickering couple.
So he allowed his eyes to wander around the Great Hall, scanning the faces of his fellow students and teachers. His gaze landed on the Slytherin table situated opposite of him. He had decided to study the Quidditch players, examining them, looking for a sign of insecurity or apprehension or any of the like on their faces.
But he saw nothing but Crabbe and Goyle stuffing their mouths; Zabini and Bulstrode heatedly discussing the chances of Trelawney committing suicide and predicting her own death in the process; Nott and Parkinson trying to engage Malfoy in conversation while he fidgeted with something under his robes.
Harry seethed, remembering their encounter in the Prefects' bathroom the day before, where Malfoy took that coin from him. He didn't know why it angered him so much, he couldn't even remember from who it was from, but what he did know that it was important to him.
He just didn't know why.
And he decided, as he continued to glare at Malfoy, that he would extract his revenge on the field. He didn't know how, but he knew that he would succeed, that he had to succeed. His honor depended on it.
He meticulously observed Malfoy, absorbing every single move and locking it away to memory, for later use and interpretation.
Now that he actually really stared, not glared, at Malfoy, he could notice that the other boy did move rather gracefully, if it were the kind borne out of years of instruction or a natural elegance, he could not assimilate.
His features were overtly feminine as well, the high cheekbones framed a face intrinsic of a winged seraph he had once seen in a gallery a long time ago, it had caught his attention for he had not seen a being that could even compare with its beauty. The blonde boy's golden locks shone silver in the early morning sun and brought a certain reminiscence to his mind. An old friend might have once had tresses that were as magnificent as his, but friends had been scarce in his life before Hogwarts and it would have been impossible for him to have contact with any other human outside of his relations.
Malfoy lifted his head, his eyes caught the light, making the gray shine like liquid alloy as he faced Parkinson and went off in a heated tirade with the Slytherin girl as his target.
"Er, Harry?" someone tapped his shoulder.
"Uh, yeah?" he replied insipidly, taking his eyes off Malfoy and glancing at the girl beside him.
"What's wrong?" Hermione frowned into his face, giving him one of her patronizing stares.
His eyes went widely innocent, concealing his chagrin, "What are you talking about, Hermione?"
"You, staring at something or maybe even someone down by the Slytherin tables."
Ron, who had by now heard part of their conversation and had finally swallowed his food, joined them. "Leave 'im alone, Love, he's probably just sizing up the Slytherin team, though I can't imagine why, but whatever gets him through matches." Ron shrugged and returned his attention back to his plate.
Harry decided to follow suit, that is, until Hermione once again pestered him. "Is it really, Harry?"
He stared into her eyes and saw the concern in them, mixed with some other inexplicable emotion. Could it be that some of Ron's mischievous streak had somehow rubbed off on their friend?
"Yes," he replied firmly. "It is."
She shrugged. "Alright, then."
Was it really, though?
* * * * *
By: DaDomz (Br@nw3nand Lestat)
DISCLAIMER: WE DON'T OWN NOTHING.
WARNINGS:
This is a HP/DM fic. But not entirely. Read it and understand. Also a R/Hr fic so be warned! Idea derived from the Travelers Incognito.
Chapter One: The Female Reproductive System
"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione Granger shrieked angrily, causing her face to attain a crimson pallor. "Do not dare try to reason yourself out of this! Don't you dare!"
Harry Potter winced at her incessant screaming and glanced at his best friend, trying to see how he would react to her sudden outburst. As usual, though, Ron's eyes had glazed over, painting a faraway look on his features. He was enjoying this, Harry knew.
Ron thought Hermione was quite pretty when she got angry and that that was reason enough for him to anger her.
"Ron Weasley!!! Are you listening to me?!"
Harry tried to suppress a grin as he saw Ron come out of his own world in a rather comical way, shaking his head and blinking his eyelids numerous of times before focusing on Hermione.
This action seemed to infuriate her even more.
"How could you not be listening?!?!?!?!?!"
"Yes, how could he not have heard you? The entire Great Hall did," Harry muttered to himself, which Hermione had unfortunately heard.
She turned to glare at him.
Harry leveled with her, countering with a rather bored expression.
She continued to glare and he, too, proceeded with his ennuyé expression.
He wouldn't back down, Hermione wasn't his girlfriend, so it would absolutely be no problem to him if she stayed mad, Ron on the other hand, well. he couldn't speak on behalf on Ron. He returned his attention to the seething girl before him.
He knew when he had her, her glower faltered, knowing full well that she had not that much power over him, so, she turned her scowl on the one of the numerous people she did have control over, Ron.
He cringed as she reprimanded him harshly with another screaming fit, though Harry knew, from years of companionship with the red- haired boy that he absolutely loved every single moment of this supposed admonition.
"Ron Weasley! You are absolutely hopeless!" Hermione finally screeched as she had finally had it with Ron's inattentiveness.
She vacated the table in a huff, intentionally spilling a cup of pumpkin juice onto Ron's lap, not even turning around to bask in her triumph.
Ron, expecting the 'accident' to happen, quickly caught the goblet with reflexes that got him his position as Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, though he could not stop the inevitable drops of liquid that spilled down his front.
"Bloody hell!" he swore.
Harry offered a sympathetic smile as Ron snapped out of his daydream.
"What is wrong with that bleedin' woman! Got herself all worked up about something!!! Blaming me for every single fucking problem that comes her way!!! As if it were my fault Snape deducted about fifty points from Gryffindor!!! He's a soddin' bigoted bastard!!! She should, no, does know better than that!!!"
Harry raised a skeptical brow which Ron had apparently noticed.
"What?!"
"Well, technically, the point abatement was your fault. You did spill that cup of hot cocoa on 'Mione's six-feet thesis which had fueled your rather boisterous 'disagreement' in Potions class which provoked me to interfere when you had threatened to pound Malfoy into a pulp which, in the end, caused Hermione's aforementioned point deduction, your ending up with four detentions for injuring Snape's favorite, a detention for me together with Malfoy for interference."
"Oi!" Ron protested, frowning at his best friend. "I thought you were on my side!!!"
"Didn't say I was on anybody's side," the bespectacled boy shrugged nonchalantly, as if this were a normal everyday occurrence, which it was.
"But you didn't agree with Hermione."
"Well, I'm not agreeing with anybody," Harry asserted. "'Mione just assumed that I was defending your nonexistent case."
"Well," Ron shrugged. "That woman just about assumes that everything, every bleeding thing in this world is about her."
"Your world does seem to revolve around her," Harry murmured, making absolute sure that Ron would be able to hear him.
Ron stood up abruptly, face a mask of apallment (A/N: Not really a word but, CREATIVE LICENSE!!!) and disgust. "I do not have feelings for that.monster!!!"
"The way you looked at her, she could've been a piece of steak, not a Death Eater."
Ron's mouth opened to formulate a retort but his mind could come up with the appropriate comeback, so he resolved himself to sulking, propping a hand under his chin for effect.
"Well, I admit, it was my fault, though not for the reason she thinks it is."
Harry raised a brow questioningly and Ron purged on, "I didn't knock off the mug because 'Mione was screaming castigations in my ear, it was really an accident!!!"
Harry didn't reply yet kept his eyebrow raised, giving Ron a pointedly unbelieving glance, Ron once again attested to his own reasoning, adding, "Don't give me that look because it positively was and accident! I wasn't even listening to that girl!!! Too busy cheering 'cause Germany finally beat Ireland for the World Cup."
Harry smirked. "Too busy gloating over Seamus' dejected look, tell me if I had hit the mark on that one."
"Go badger some other hapless sap, would you?"
"Why don't you just apologise and put all this behind you."
"Well, if you were being a good mate and actually lending your sympathetic ear to this bloke, then you would know that I've got no explanation to give her. At one point or the other she's going to want to bite my head off."
"Then make up some ruddy excuse. It's you, for crying out loud! She'll eat up any excuse you give her. This little tiff, like all the others will pass, and you know it."
"What justification can I give then, eh? You going to make one up for me? I'm going to stutter, mess it all up, Harry. I can't lie good, especially to her, she knows me all too well, better than I know myself, actually. Told me my left eye twitched everytime I lied, she did."
"I'm not getting in between you and Hermione again. Saved your hide one too many times, I sure did. Just go and tell her the truth, then. Save you a whole lot of worry and trouble," Harry advised.
Ron looked at him as if he had grown an extra head. "Harry, are you daft or just deaf? If I tell her I wasn't listening, that would just spur up a whole cluster of other trouble for me."
"If you had just been careful you wouldn't be in this mess," Harry pointed out, wondering how the blame had suddenly been put on him.
Ron looked hesitant, which caused Harry to sigh and rub at his face in frustration.
"If it makes you feel better, I'll go with you, then, as long as you beg for her forgiveness right now."
"All right, I guess that's fair, considering the fact that I can use you as a human shield and all."
-----* * * * *-----
"That couldn't've gotten any worse," Ron grumbled as he dejectedly walked down the hallway adjacent to the library where he and Harry had just been thrown out of by one very agitated Madame Pince who had been alerted by his and Hermione's rather boisterous argument.
"At least she didn't curse us out of there," Harry tried to lighten the situation.
"She's a teacher, she's not allowed to lay a finger on us."
"I meant 'Mione."
"Well, she did try to."
"You have to consider her self-restraint."
"She was about to before Pince dragged us out."
"Then be happy since she could've done something drastic to our selves."
"That woman will be the death of us."
"Not exactly. Not really for me, I mean. Not as if I have any deeper feelings for her than friendship, so I probably won't die of a heart ailment if she decides to snub me for a period of time."
Ron frowned. "What in the world are you talking about, Potter?"
"The fact that you love her or something like that is going to make her being mad at you be pretty hard to deal with, for you."
Ron jerked to a stop, face turning red, as he watched his best friend's still mobile form continue to cross the hallway.
"I DO NOT HAVE FEELINGS FOR THAT.THAT WITCH!!!"
His out burst was so tumultuous that it surprised Harry, causing the bespectacled boy to jerk around and try to formulate a reply, though before Harry could, someone ran into him from behind, inducing Harry to stumble backwards falling on top of the stranger behind him, knocking his glasses off in the process.
"Oof!" he grunted.
He and the stranger were sprawled on the floor, him on top and the person he had ran into under him. He was almost positive that he had crashed into a female, for the figure below him was too small and thin to be a male and that smell in the air.
It was as feminine as hell.
'She' smelled of apples and cinnamon, though there was another smell underneath it some hidden traces of a exotic and exquisite flower he just couldn't place yet its smell had awakened something at the back of his mind like some forgotten memory he had yet to rediscover.
"Get off of me, Potter," the individual drawled, causing a chill of despair to shoot up through Harry's spine.
Harry fleetly got to his feet, tottering a bit due to the abruptness in his movements. He felt Ron hand him his glasses and he thankfully perched them on his nose, therefore attaining a better view of his adversary.
He was greeted by Draco Malfoy's intense scowl.
"Ever heard of exercise, Potter?" he drawled, brushing imaginary dust off of his robes.
"Ever heard of tape, Malfoy?" Ron bit back. "It would help control that overconfident mouth of yours."
"Only as much as you have, Weasley."
"At least I've been known to watch where I'm treading, you stupid sniveling git."
Malfoy yawned. "You forgot the 'amazing handsome bouncing ferret' bit, Weasel."
Ron fumed, apparently the brat had by now been immune to his insults. His hands clenched into fists and he was poised, ready to attack.
But before any blood could be shed, Harry, who had halted in scrutinizing Malfoy for a moment, finally intervened by quipping, "You know, Malfoy, you look so much like a girl, and to make matters worse, you sure act like one, too."
Malfoy paled, then a particularly bright shade of crimson rapidly took its place. "I will not stay and engage in conversation with both of you simple-minded simians."
And with a snarl he spun on his heel and left.
Ron, who had been laughing as the exchange had taken place, now clutched his stomach, wiping tears from his eyes.
"That was bloody good, mate! He's been exempt from that ferret thing for some time now, but this, his femininity, that'll give him something to rage about."
Harry shook his head.
"Really, he does look and act like a girl."
Ron shot him a rather funny look as they continued to walk down the hall.
-----* * * * *-----
There would be no way to describe a perfect dawn, except that its beauty was painfully gorgeous, orange and purple hues merging with one another serving as the perfect setting for the enormous and blinding ball of crimson that tinged the crystalline water forms before it with light ruby and topaz causing the water of the lake to glisten, as if it were made of thousands of luminous diamonds.
It was to this beautiful scenery that Harry Potter had awakened to.
Eyes squinting as he peered through the window situated beside his bed via glasses which were haphazardly perched on his nose, he noticed the tiny figures speeding around by the field.
He groaned.
"Shit! (A/N: I'm not absolutely positive if that word would be part of Harry's vocabulary but. Lestat said British people come up with the most swear words and that this would be part of it, take the Osbornes for example so.) We've got Quidditch practice! Today's Quidditch practice!" he exclaimed, frantically jumping out of bed and recklessly pulling out his robes, running a hand through his already sleep-tousled hair.
"Ron's going to kill me. Second time that I bloody well forgotten about practice! Now, he's going to rile me about being the 'Great Harry Potter' and me thinking my head's so big that I don't need practice," he grumbled disdainfully to himself.
He rummaged through his trunk and pulled out a pair of beige trousers, a size larger than his own would have been. It reeked of age and Harry was almost unequivocally sure that he hadn't worn that particular pair since he was five.
Without giving it a second thought, another glance, he sped out of the room and stumbled down the stairs, intent on heading towards the Prefects' bathroom.
-----* * * * *-----
Draco carefully lined up the dozens of tiny bottles of shampoo onto the sink as he meticulously checked his appearance on the reflective surface and rubbed his cheek as a sign of frustration. He could never get his hair to position itself in the way in which he desired it to. He then looked at the door eagerly awaiting his companion's arrival, clutching at the dark robes he was wearing.
He grinned, pulling out a strawberry flavored shampoo (A/N: Yes, flavored. Lestat wanted it that way. Crazy, said they could eat it as syrup. Wonder what'll happen when they sleep, won't they get eaten by bugs???) from the bunch.
He carefully spilled the grooming product on the floor, observing a straight line from the door to the Olympic-sized pool of a bathtub that occupied one side of the room.
He wrinkled his nose. "Damn, now I'm hungry"
But he smiled, the thought of Parkinson sliding her way from the door and into a tub of icy cold water keeping his supposedly gone mischievous spirit alive.
He then intently sat on a chair and stared at his nails, as if waiting for something to appear. Quite suddenly, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, hurried treads, too heavy to be a girl's. Draco's eyes widened as he tried to make his way towards the doorway but unfortunately, he was a tad bit too late, a smudge of black and green had suddenly emerged and instantly glided toward the edge of the bathtub, landing with a boisterous splash and even more clamorous but colorful swearing.
Draco opened an eyelid to see that it had only been Potter and that his anxiety had gone to waste on such an undeserving subject. He rolled his eyes. "Seems my plan didn't go to waste after all, though," he shrugged and picked up the discarded trousers.
"Trying to injure me?" A voice from afar asked.
"If I had been intending to injure you Potter, then you wouldn't be able to stand there and talk to me."
"How did you-" Harry sputtered, wiping the sweet smelling liquid off his face, wondering hoe Draco had known that he had been standing. The blonde hadn't turned around to face him anytime in the course of his entrance. Harry had decided it was part of the rat's senses and gave up. He didn't plan to receive a straight answer. "You should be thankful that I'm not in the mood to beat up something today and give me back my trousers!"
Harry limped towards Draco. Draco shrugged and handed Harry his trousers. A glimmer of gold and silver that had fallen on the floor caught Draco's attention. He abruptly shoved the trousers towards the Gryffindor and bent down to examine the lustrous object.
He quickly stood and gaped at the object he held in his hands.
"Give me that!" Harry demanded, trying to reach for the shorter person. Draco seemed unperturbed. He stared at the coin for quite some time before raising his head and staring Harry straight in the eye.
He raised the coin, allowing it to dangle in the air as he held the satin ribbon. "Where did you get this?" He asked softly, his voice tinged with a menacing tone he didn't even try to conceal, his eyes sharp as a hawk's. "How could you have managed to rummage through my trunk?"
Harry stared at him, obviously thinking that the shorter boy had gone mad. "Give that back!"
"Did you or did you not?" Draco demanded, adding a sneer for effect. "I know this ancient coin, I recognize it, it is one of our family heirlooms, part of the Malfoy family's heritage. I remember receiving this when I was four, I think. Where did you get this?"
Harry glared at him, not really caring much about the coin, for he knew not where it had originated from and how it had landed in his trousers, though his intent was just to win this dispute. "It's mine, I didn't steal it from you. I didn't go rummaging through your trunk.you're an egotistical bastard to think that."
"Then, that makes you an empty-headed kleptomaniac."
Harry was about to voce out another comeback when he noticed Malfoy briskly exiting the premises.
"Where do you think you're going? Give that back!"
Draco turned, he was at the end of the hallway while Harry was positioned close to the portrait that served as the entryway of the bathroom.
He raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing Harry's appearance. "Forget your pants, Potter or are you so daft that you don't have the means to don your own clothing?"
Harry quite comically looked down at his now drenched boxers and colored.
"Come any closer and I'll have you sued for sexual harassment."
Harry glared at the Slytherin boy while Malfoy kept his countenance.
Harry was the first to relent, despondently trudging back into the Prefects' Bathroom while Malfoy smirked at his retreating back, then looked back at the coin, something overwhelmingly familiar tickling the back of his mind. Something about the coin, something he couldn't quite place, something he couldn't quite remember.
He shrugged and told himself that it was just disappointment at not getting back at Parkinson, yet the coin, it seemed to call out at him to remember.
He quickly pocketed the object and left for breakfast.
-----* * * * *-----
Harry sighed, forcing his eyes to glaze over and ears to shut, not wanting to hear any more distasteful comments from his two companions, who were, as usual, bickering. It was the basis of their love for one another. Every single moment after their first meeting had either constituted of petty little quarrels or reciprocated snubbing, in time, it would get old.
If not for the arguing parties, then for the spectators.
So, he decided to busy himself with other things, better and more important things. He knew, though, of the consequences of his lack of focus, during some point in their conversation, he was sure, positive, that they would ask him of his opinion on the matter at hand, one which they wouldn't bother to elaborate, not helping his usually befuddled situation and pointedly ask him to choose sides.
He didn't care, though. He usually reasoned himself out of the situation, taking the coward's way out; saying he needed to use the loo, or taking sides directly, saying that either Ron or Hermione was right, alternating the winner every time.
They've never noticed it, though and it worked every time.
He wasn't even sure if his opinion was important. It was just probably whose side he chose that was more relevant in their argument.
So, he decided it was all right for him to plug his ears and focus on more significant things. What, he didn't know, but it would be a lot better than listening to the bickering couple.
So he allowed his eyes to wander around the Great Hall, scanning the faces of his fellow students and teachers. His gaze landed on the Slytherin table situated opposite of him. He had decided to study the Quidditch players, examining them, looking for a sign of insecurity or apprehension or any of the like on their faces.
But he saw nothing but Crabbe and Goyle stuffing their mouths; Zabini and Bulstrode heatedly discussing the chances of Trelawney committing suicide and predicting her own death in the process; Nott and Parkinson trying to engage Malfoy in conversation while he fidgeted with something under his robes.
Harry seethed, remembering their encounter in the Prefects' bathroom the day before, where Malfoy took that coin from him. He didn't know why it angered him so much, he couldn't even remember from who it was from, but what he did know that it was important to him.
He just didn't know why.
And he decided, as he continued to glare at Malfoy, that he would extract his revenge on the field. He didn't know how, but he knew that he would succeed, that he had to succeed. His honor depended on it.
He meticulously observed Malfoy, absorbing every single move and locking it away to memory, for later use and interpretation.
Now that he actually really stared, not glared, at Malfoy, he could notice that the other boy did move rather gracefully, if it were the kind borne out of years of instruction or a natural elegance, he could not assimilate.
His features were overtly feminine as well, the high cheekbones framed a face intrinsic of a winged seraph he had once seen in a gallery a long time ago, it had caught his attention for he had not seen a being that could even compare with its beauty. The blonde boy's golden locks shone silver in the early morning sun and brought a certain reminiscence to his mind. An old friend might have once had tresses that were as magnificent as his, but friends had been scarce in his life before Hogwarts and it would have been impossible for him to have contact with any other human outside of his relations.
Malfoy lifted his head, his eyes caught the light, making the gray shine like liquid alloy as he faced Parkinson and went off in a heated tirade with the Slytherin girl as his target.
"Er, Harry?" someone tapped his shoulder.
"Uh, yeah?" he replied insipidly, taking his eyes off Malfoy and glancing at the girl beside him.
"What's wrong?" Hermione frowned into his face, giving him one of her patronizing stares.
His eyes went widely innocent, concealing his chagrin, "What are you talking about, Hermione?"
"You, staring at something or maybe even someone down by the Slytherin tables."
Ron, who had by now heard part of their conversation and had finally swallowed his food, joined them. "Leave 'im alone, Love, he's probably just sizing up the Slytherin team, though I can't imagine why, but whatever gets him through matches." Ron shrugged and returned his attention back to his plate.
Harry decided to follow suit, that is, until Hermione once again pestered him. "Is it really, Harry?"
He stared into her eyes and saw the concern in them, mixed with some other inexplicable emotion. Could it be that some of Ron's mischievous streak had somehow rubbed off on their friend?
"Yes," he replied firmly. "It is."
She shrugged. "Alright, then."
Was it really, though?
* * * * *