Disparity
Dadomz
Disclaimer: We don't own anything. But by God, we do wish we did own them. or Gundam or. Reichen and Chip! But hey, Gundam and Reichen and Chip aren't in this story, so. here's to desiring..
Warning: SLASH, it consists of five letters with millions and millions of synonymous meanings like Shounen-ai, yaoi, lemon, homoerotica and all that shit (Maybe not millions and millions though.). Anyone sending flames regarding the latter shall be burned in hell under the Islam gods (And sue me, I don't practise Islam) for the sin more commonly known as affected ignorance-die ignoramus! AU too and possible OOC!
Author's note: Okay, maybe this idea seems over-used-or as told by our friends-but hey, this thing is innocent, we didn't know other ideas actually existed-plus, we haven't read any-yet. Anyway, we're doing our best and trying and hopefully, you'd like it too. GUNDAM RULES (3+4, 1+2 and 5+Treize. by: Domz, the latter having been claimed as an act of pedophilia by Dada)
I. As Far as the Famous 'First Day of School' Went.
Some people dread the first day of school for some felt this odd toad-sized lump in their throats while others perhaps experienced that all-too familiar bizarre wrenching feeling in their gut. Of course, these frequent bouts of nausea and prolonged trips to the loo and the scared shitless situations have always had a common reason, but not because the subjects were pregnant, nay! The most probable reason would be: the impending lessons. Who the hell would want to go to school? Or perhaps it could have been due to their status. it would be quite pitiful knowing you've come out of the previous grade branded as the biggest loser ever.
BINGO! That would be it; social standing! I don't think I need to elaborate any further, if you've actually gone to school, you'd know what I mean and if you haven't, you can't be very well reading this fic without the rudimentaries now can you? I mean, come on, how about those popular girls you'd just love to throw gum at or perhaps recall those brainless jocks who are the most likeliest to fall for the bimbo airhead? Familiar, ey?
Typecasting but true.
So, there you have it, the ultimate reason to hate school.
But of course, those things only happen to some people and obviously, Draco Malfoy was definitely not someone you would be able to classify as mundane. Draco Malfoy had never felt any kind of fear down in the bottomless pit he called a stomach. In all actuality, he felt quite the opposite. It was the beginning of a new school year; another two whole semesters reserved for the sole purpose of tormenting the poor losers of Monkshood Preparatory. You've guessed it folks; Draco Malfoy was not only filthy rich but fucking popular and devilishly handsome as well, or so he'd like to think, which wasn't all that far off-excluding the last remark what with his beauty rivaling that of all the females in the entire bloody school.
And with his kind of social standing and position in the school hierarchy, he had nothing to worry about. After all, just a few off-hand comments to beautiful-and ugly-teachers alike here and there earns him recognition or perhaps a blow job for one of those straight and unsurprisingly lonely male professors would get him back on track. It wasn't as if he needed to wrap his teachers around his finger but the point was, he knew he could do it, so why the hell not?
He stopped before the door which led into his homeroom class, standing straight and proud-even if he wasn't at all that tall. He adjusted his tie and managed to pull a loose golden strand from his head. He adjusted his expensive leather bag up his shoulder and twisted the rusty knobs, prepared to make his grand entrance.
'Fashionably late. that's what I call it.'
He managed to smile at his friend, Pansy Parkinson, who directed a warm smile at him after slipping her boyfriend, Blaise Zabini, a note. He then managed to pull on his million-pound-smile at the highly-esteemed and-err. short-Professor Flitwick, his homeroom adviser and Economics teacher.
"And you must be.?"
"Draco Malfoy sir." He paused pulling an apple from his expensive leather (Gucci) pack. "I'm sorry I came in late, my father had wanted to have a word with me, a father and son pep talk, so to say, about doing well in school. I hope you'll accept my apology-my sir! And that's a wonderful tie you've got on."
"Really?" The short man's eyes lit up, pulling his tie. "I had it done personally by Madam Malkin. Anyway, take a seat young man, take a seat." He ushered the blond towards a seat far from Pansy and Blaise.
"Professor, I want to sit next to Pansy and Blaise." Draco managed his world famous patented Draco Malfoy pout.
"There isn't any left." Professor Flitwick started checking the third row for any excess chairs. "Not unless if you want to change with young Neville Longbottom, he'd be happy to do that at least."
Draco stared at the robust boy, his uniform looking far too small compared to his built. Draco then remembered this little boy as his old seatmate in junior high, the same boy who picked from his nose and deposited all its glory under the desk.
Shaking his head and not exactly wanting anything ungodly on his ironed slacks, he turned around and thanked Professor Flitwick. "Thanks but no thanks, I wouldn't want any snots and bogies stuck to my preppy and ironed grey slacks, na-uh." He muttered in a hushed undertone.
He then took a seat on the far corner of the classroom, suddenly aware of the dust gathering on top of the desk. He then pulled out an ethanol bottle and started spraying it continuously until he saw the door bang open. Dropping his bottle, he stared at the boy totally aghast.
A tall and slightly muscular, from what he could see from that vantage point, boy entered, his sleeves still bunched up to his elbows with three buttons open from the top of his shirt, a wondrous sight-if you considered a fine chiselled chest a sight.
Draco rolled his eyes and gave a loud sigh, this boy had taken his title of being fashionably late-not that he was fashionable, no, not at all. the boy happened to be Harry-the great-Potter, whose football scholarship made no effect on his standing in school society. "And he's late!" He exclaimed aloud. "I would've said fashionably late but it never did occur to me that we had to wear rags to school."
"Draco!" Pansy mock-scolded him, "You know you're not allowed to make fun of those. less fortunate. than ourselves." She threw a scathing look towards a bushy-haired girl. "I mean really, some people just don't know how to dress-up, tell me. was it ever stated in the school handbook that we actually have to wear skirts below our knees. it says above the knees. but of course, If I were Granger. I'd do the same. Who'd want to wear short skirts with such hairy legs?"
"Settle down, settle down." Flitwick managed as the tight-ring group of girls surrounding Pansy giggled. "Mr. Potter, you've already disrupted my class, why don't you sit down. that empty desk over there would suffice." He pointed towards Draco. Draco was about to ask what empty desk? when he realised that a vacant seat was situated just next to him.
The tall boy didn't speak, if he was mad or nervous, Draco didn't know, from all the years Draco knew Harry Potter the great, he had realised that he never did show a sign of joy or perhaps sorrow, maybe irritation, yes but melancholy and laughter, never. Not even the time when he won against the Durmstrang Dragons.
But then again, Draco didn't really care.
I mean, why would he? Give me one good reason. No, not that you perverts!
Harry Potter wasn't a geek, he wasn't a loser, he was just an outcast-a self proclaimed social reject rebel type. Draco spread lots and lots of rumours about him-faux rumours, that is. For instance, how he never washed his hair or perhaps how Potter got a tattoo on his forehead in the shape of a faint lightning bolt or perhaps the part where he grew up in the jungle and was domesticated by aliens from the planet Uranus. He got a good laugh when it reached Harry, who, oddly nodded and shrugged and went back talking to his close loser friends.
When Harry first came to Monkshood, everyone wanted to be his friend. He was popular for a while, football quarterback and all. Handsome and gorgeous and exotic-looking, the knight in shining armour and the leading man in everyone's dreams. What made him tumble down from the hierarchy was the fact that he was never really sociable; Draco found him arrogant and that's saying something, after all, Draco was arrogant himself.
But Harry wasn't just arrogant, he was odd and he was silent and he was anti-social. The slightest thing could annoy him and he did have the finest taste. ironically speaking, I mean, mind you, Granger and Weasley?
First off, Weasley was this boy with bright red hair-he more resembled a carrot rather than a living human being. He had too many freckles, far more than the shillings in his parent's vault. Draco has heard that the Weasley lineage had noble blood in it, well. rest assured, this Weasley didn't have a trace of noble heritage, if you know what I mean.
And then, there's Granger. Bushy hair, bushy eyebrows-mono-brow, hairy legs, buckteeth and a mouth that doesn't dare close whenever a teacher throws a question. Sure, she was an independent girl who had managed to tackle Draco thrice in junior high for calling her a bint, but hell! Draco wouldn't actually want to marry anyone who looked like that even if she were the last woman on earth and he were straight-which was probably why he turned out gay.
But the matchmaker in Draco's soul flourished and he saw an opportunity for the Weasley and Granger nuptials, after all, Boring and Lousy did make quite a pair, didn't it? They could both compromise, Weasley could teach Granger how to shave and Granger could most probably be able to teach Weasley the difference between Math and Literature or Shakespeare and Einstein.
"Are we going to keep this seating arrangement for the rest of the school year?" Draco asked loudly, glaring at Harry who relentlessly ignored him. "I don't want to sit next to Potter, I heard he's never washed his hair and god knows what lives in there."
"Cooties." Millicent squealed.
"No, you bimbo, lice!" Draco rolled his eyes. "So, can I please change places with someone else. except for Longbottom, please! Please! Please! I promise I'll contribute a wonderful donation to this establishment-or maybe I could. organize a fund raiser. or anything that involves money, yes. don't you just love the sound of that?"
"Until then, you're going to have to keep this current arrangement." Flitwick sighed. "I'll venture to call this discipline, people who lack discipline do not attain the full potential of their goals. it has something to do with the adage of the early bird getting the juicy worm."
"Bugger." Draco scowled. "Potter, will you stop staring at me? Uggh! I know you've got the hots for me but it's really aggravating. you staring at me like that and imagine my putting up with it every single day from now on!" Harry snorted softly before shaking his head and pulling out a spiral notebook from his ratty knapsack.
Draco extricated his own leather-bound notebook and an expensive fountain pen his father gave him for a gift. He started noting down the name of his teacher and admired his handwriting, doodling useless words and hearts and more words, framing the whole page, not realising that it was nearing the end of the period.
He then felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Would you mind if I. borrowed a pen." Harry asked cautiously. "I'll return it, I swear. Your ignorance about the natural qualities of hair is putting me off, though."
"Oh that's just sweet, you want to borrow my pen and then you insult me." Draco paused. "All right, here, you can keep it, I've got lots of them at home, just don't tell anyone it's from me.I mean, doing that would be like shoving my face own face in the toilet."
"Wouldn't bother." Harry shrugged. "Who's Adrian anyway?"
"That's none of your business." Draco slammed his notebook shut. "I lent you my pen, don't get chummy-chummy with me, mister. Oh. Did I manage to tell you that I want to be the next quarter back? No? Oh, okay then. I want to be the next quarter back. Good news is, I've started a petition bent on ousting you, you don't actually mind now. do you? I mean, I do look better in the uniform. I've got curves to die for."
"Be looking forward to it." Harry took the pen and started copying his notes.
The play of sunlight on that bronzed skin momentarily had Draco questioning his date choices. Blond, spry, semi-athletic and nearly-built men seemed paltry compared to tall, dark and Harry Potter. True, Potter had bigger feet than most of his dates but that old myth might be true. Hmm.the size of those gasp-tight trousers weren't just a trick of the light now were they?
Yes, and this was why Draco Malfoy should start paying attention during gym class and more importantly throughout the locker room intervals. Maybe Potter would be a bit more uninhibited about Draco seeing him naked if some sort of relationship was created to base any sort of future experience on? Draco wasn't one to be above casual fucking.
"You're so mono-syllabic." Draco said off-handedly. "I want you to talk with feelings when you're near me. It's as if I'm talking to some dead corpse. or a table for example. I hate being ignored, everyone knows that! I've been constantly the centre of attention since I was born, if you didn't know."
"Yes. and the world revolves around you-what's that word?" Harry pointed towards the board.
"Oh. Ethics-Doesn't it?" Draco asked innocently.
"Doesn't what?" Harry frowned.
"Oh, doesn't the world revolve around me?"
/&*&*&/
Draco Malfoy tugged at his dog's leash as he trotted jovially across the bourgeoisie Surrey neighbourhood, ignoring the big black limousine following him around. He occasionally bent down to pat his poodle's fluffy white head and consequently tug at the luminous pink bow. He raised his wrist to examine his expensive Rolex (women's size but unisex design, mind you. his wrists were tad too small.), the diamond studs gleaming under the faint light of sun.
Perfect, just in time. Four o'clock.
He bent down and scooped Precious, his poodle, in his arms before staring at the homely Dursley house, oblivious the lean and shirtless figure fixing the radiator and oil reservoir of his car. Draco walked towards the little door and waved his command to the limousine driver who parked across the street before knocking thrice.
Tapping the door more than thrice is utterly immoral.
Any sophisticate would know that, it was in the Malfoy law book, code number 17927.
The door opened to reveal an obese figure, hair oddly sticking out in all directions, apparently grooming one's hair was fast becoming a memory. Dudley Dursley's front bangs were streaked a shocking blue while the rest was bright red. His right elbow was propped up on his left hand, a diamond ring on his fourth finger.
"My. what a cute poodle!" He crooned, nasal voice high pitched and all.
Draco smiled proudly and held out Precious. "He's only a month old, his name is precious. precious. say hi to Uncle Dudley Lovely." Dudley took the dog in his arms. "Dud, I've got something really, really, really important to ask you.and I'd rather if you spoke the truth and tell me every single truth."
"What is it?" Dudley crooned at the little white poodle. "My, he's a little sweet. My cousin's got a dog somewhere, it's a large retriever, not exactly my type-manly dogs." He shrugged. "Anyway. what were you saying, Draco, love?"
Draco's expression of complete and utter glee transformed into a dark and mysterious one, he then grabbed Dudley's ear and twisted it, glaring at him. "Adrian's in college now and he seems to be slipping; screaming out words-allow me to correct myself-names, during sex . do you reckon you know anyone named Justin?" He paused, staring at Dudley's shaking head. "Justin. F? Strike any chords?"
"What Justin-OOOWW!!! Alright, Yes, I do! I know him. he's my classmate!" Draco twisted the shell once more. "ALRIGHT! GODDAMMIT! COME IN THE HOUSE AND I'LL EXPLAIN! QUIT PULLING MY BLOODY EAR OR IT MIGHT JUST COME OFF!" At Draco's complete and utter cooperation on that part, he gestured to an area right behind the blond. "Have him take care of Precious; mum and dad would just throw a fit if they realized that an animal, even one of such high breeding as Precious, had defiled their home."
"Your compliance is certainly much better." Draco smiled and dropped Precious on the floor. "Ey. Servant boy!" He motioned to the figure behind the hood. "Come and fetch my dog. Take care of him-you don't mind Dud, right? Right.-yes you, who did you think I was talking to?"
He was rewarded with quite a shock to the system when said figure emerged from beneath the hood, wonderful chest miraculously bare and fingers extricating grease from cuticles with a hideous rag.
Dadomz
Disclaimer: We don't own anything. But by God, we do wish we did own them. or Gundam or. Reichen and Chip! But hey, Gundam and Reichen and Chip aren't in this story, so. here's to desiring..
Warning: SLASH, it consists of five letters with millions and millions of synonymous meanings like Shounen-ai, yaoi, lemon, homoerotica and all that shit (Maybe not millions and millions though.). Anyone sending flames regarding the latter shall be burned in hell under the Islam gods (And sue me, I don't practise Islam) for the sin more commonly known as affected ignorance-die ignoramus! AU too and possible OOC!
Author's note: Okay, maybe this idea seems over-used-or as told by our friends-but hey, this thing is innocent, we didn't know other ideas actually existed-plus, we haven't read any-yet. Anyway, we're doing our best and trying and hopefully, you'd like it too. GUNDAM RULES (3+4, 1+2 and 5+Treize. by: Domz, the latter having been claimed as an act of pedophilia by Dada)
I. As Far as the Famous 'First Day of School' Went.
Some people dread the first day of school for some felt this odd toad-sized lump in their throats while others perhaps experienced that all-too familiar bizarre wrenching feeling in their gut. Of course, these frequent bouts of nausea and prolonged trips to the loo and the scared shitless situations have always had a common reason, but not because the subjects were pregnant, nay! The most probable reason would be: the impending lessons. Who the hell would want to go to school? Or perhaps it could have been due to their status. it would be quite pitiful knowing you've come out of the previous grade branded as the biggest loser ever.
BINGO! That would be it; social standing! I don't think I need to elaborate any further, if you've actually gone to school, you'd know what I mean and if you haven't, you can't be very well reading this fic without the rudimentaries now can you? I mean, come on, how about those popular girls you'd just love to throw gum at or perhaps recall those brainless jocks who are the most likeliest to fall for the bimbo airhead? Familiar, ey?
Typecasting but true.
So, there you have it, the ultimate reason to hate school.
But of course, those things only happen to some people and obviously, Draco Malfoy was definitely not someone you would be able to classify as mundane. Draco Malfoy had never felt any kind of fear down in the bottomless pit he called a stomach. In all actuality, he felt quite the opposite. It was the beginning of a new school year; another two whole semesters reserved for the sole purpose of tormenting the poor losers of Monkshood Preparatory. You've guessed it folks; Draco Malfoy was not only filthy rich but fucking popular and devilishly handsome as well, or so he'd like to think, which wasn't all that far off-excluding the last remark what with his beauty rivaling that of all the females in the entire bloody school.
And with his kind of social standing and position in the school hierarchy, he had nothing to worry about. After all, just a few off-hand comments to beautiful-and ugly-teachers alike here and there earns him recognition or perhaps a blow job for one of those straight and unsurprisingly lonely male professors would get him back on track. It wasn't as if he needed to wrap his teachers around his finger but the point was, he knew he could do it, so why the hell not?
He stopped before the door which led into his homeroom class, standing straight and proud-even if he wasn't at all that tall. He adjusted his tie and managed to pull a loose golden strand from his head. He adjusted his expensive leather bag up his shoulder and twisted the rusty knobs, prepared to make his grand entrance.
'Fashionably late. that's what I call it.'
He managed to smile at his friend, Pansy Parkinson, who directed a warm smile at him after slipping her boyfriend, Blaise Zabini, a note. He then managed to pull on his million-pound-smile at the highly-esteemed and-err. short-Professor Flitwick, his homeroom adviser and Economics teacher.
"And you must be.?"
"Draco Malfoy sir." He paused pulling an apple from his expensive leather (Gucci) pack. "I'm sorry I came in late, my father had wanted to have a word with me, a father and son pep talk, so to say, about doing well in school. I hope you'll accept my apology-my sir! And that's a wonderful tie you've got on."
"Really?" The short man's eyes lit up, pulling his tie. "I had it done personally by Madam Malkin. Anyway, take a seat young man, take a seat." He ushered the blond towards a seat far from Pansy and Blaise.
"Professor, I want to sit next to Pansy and Blaise." Draco managed his world famous patented Draco Malfoy pout.
"There isn't any left." Professor Flitwick started checking the third row for any excess chairs. "Not unless if you want to change with young Neville Longbottom, he'd be happy to do that at least."
Draco stared at the robust boy, his uniform looking far too small compared to his built. Draco then remembered this little boy as his old seatmate in junior high, the same boy who picked from his nose and deposited all its glory under the desk.
Shaking his head and not exactly wanting anything ungodly on his ironed slacks, he turned around and thanked Professor Flitwick. "Thanks but no thanks, I wouldn't want any snots and bogies stuck to my preppy and ironed grey slacks, na-uh." He muttered in a hushed undertone.
He then took a seat on the far corner of the classroom, suddenly aware of the dust gathering on top of the desk. He then pulled out an ethanol bottle and started spraying it continuously until he saw the door bang open. Dropping his bottle, he stared at the boy totally aghast.
A tall and slightly muscular, from what he could see from that vantage point, boy entered, his sleeves still bunched up to his elbows with three buttons open from the top of his shirt, a wondrous sight-if you considered a fine chiselled chest a sight.
Draco rolled his eyes and gave a loud sigh, this boy had taken his title of being fashionably late-not that he was fashionable, no, not at all. the boy happened to be Harry-the great-Potter, whose football scholarship made no effect on his standing in school society. "And he's late!" He exclaimed aloud. "I would've said fashionably late but it never did occur to me that we had to wear rags to school."
"Draco!" Pansy mock-scolded him, "You know you're not allowed to make fun of those. less fortunate. than ourselves." She threw a scathing look towards a bushy-haired girl. "I mean really, some people just don't know how to dress-up, tell me. was it ever stated in the school handbook that we actually have to wear skirts below our knees. it says above the knees. but of course, If I were Granger. I'd do the same. Who'd want to wear short skirts with such hairy legs?"
"Settle down, settle down." Flitwick managed as the tight-ring group of girls surrounding Pansy giggled. "Mr. Potter, you've already disrupted my class, why don't you sit down. that empty desk over there would suffice." He pointed towards Draco. Draco was about to ask what empty desk? when he realised that a vacant seat was situated just next to him.
The tall boy didn't speak, if he was mad or nervous, Draco didn't know, from all the years Draco knew Harry Potter the great, he had realised that he never did show a sign of joy or perhaps sorrow, maybe irritation, yes but melancholy and laughter, never. Not even the time when he won against the Durmstrang Dragons.
But then again, Draco didn't really care.
I mean, why would he? Give me one good reason. No, not that you perverts!
Harry Potter wasn't a geek, he wasn't a loser, he was just an outcast-a self proclaimed social reject rebel type. Draco spread lots and lots of rumours about him-faux rumours, that is. For instance, how he never washed his hair or perhaps how Potter got a tattoo on his forehead in the shape of a faint lightning bolt or perhaps the part where he grew up in the jungle and was domesticated by aliens from the planet Uranus. He got a good laugh when it reached Harry, who, oddly nodded and shrugged and went back talking to his close loser friends.
When Harry first came to Monkshood, everyone wanted to be his friend. He was popular for a while, football quarterback and all. Handsome and gorgeous and exotic-looking, the knight in shining armour and the leading man in everyone's dreams. What made him tumble down from the hierarchy was the fact that he was never really sociable; Draco found him arrogant and that's saying something, after all, Draco was arrogant himself.
But Harry wasn't just arrogant, he was odd and he was silent and he was anti-social. The slightest thing could annoy him and he did have the finest taste. ironically speaking, I mean, mind you, Granger and Weasley?
First off, Weasley was this boy with bright red hair-he more resembled a carrot rather than a living human being. He had too many freckles, far more than the shillings in his parent's vault. Draco has heard that the Weasley lineage had noble blood in it, well. rest assured, this Weasley didn't have a trace of noble heritage, if you know what I mean.
And then, there's Granger. Bushy hair, bushy eyebrows-mono-brow, hairy legs, buckteeth and a mouth that doesn't dare close whenever a teacher throws a question. Sure, she was an independent girl who had managed to tackle Draco thrice in junior high for calling her a bint, but hell! Draco wouldn't actually want to marry anyone who looked like that even if she were the last woman on earth and he were straight-which was probably why he turned out gay.
But the matchmaker in Draco's soul flourished and he saw an opportunity for the Weasley and Granger nuptials, after all, Boring and Lousy did make quite a pair, didn't it? They could both compromise, Weasley could teach Granger how to shave and Granger could most probably be able to teach Weasley the difference between Math and Literature or Shakespeare and Einstein.
"Are we going to keep this seating arrangement for the rest of the school year?" Draco asked loudly, glaring at Harry who relentlessly ignored him. "I don't want to sit next to Potter, I heard he's never washed his hair and god knows what lives in there."
"Cooties." Millicent squealed.
"No, you bimbo, lice!" Draco rolled his eyes. "So, can I please change places with someone else. except for Longbottom, please! Please! Please! I promise I'll contribute a wonderful donation to this establishment-or maybe I could. organize a fund raiser. or anything that involves money, yes. don't you just love the sound of that?"
"Until then, you're going to have to keep this current arrangement." Flitwick sighed. "I'll venture to call this discipline, people who lack discipline do not attain the full potential of their goals. it has something to do with the adage of the early bird getting the juicy worm."
"Bugger." Draco scowled. "Potter, will you stop staring at me? Uggh! I know you've got the hots for me but it's really aggravating. you staring at me like that and imagine my putting up with it every single day from now on!" Harry snorted softly before shaking his head and pulling out a spiral notebook from his ratty knapsack.
Draco extricated his own leather-bound notebook and an expensive fountain pen his father gave him for a gift. He started noting down the name of his teacher and admired his handwriting, doodling useless words and hearts and more words, framing the whole page, not realising that it was nearing the end of the period.
He then felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Would you mind if I. borrowed a pen." Harry asked cautiously. "I'll return it, I swear. Your ignorance about the natural qualities of hair is putting me off, though."
"Oh that's just sweet, you want to borrow my pen and then you insult me." Draco paused. "All right, here, you can keep it, I've got lots of them at home, just don't tell anyone it's from me.I mean, doing that would be like shoving my face own face in the toilet."
"Wouldn't bother." Harry shrugged. "Who's Adrian anyway?"
"That's none of your business." Draco slammed his notebook shut. "I lent you my pen, don't get chummy-chummy with me, mister. Oh. Did I manage to tell you that I want to be the next quarter back? No? Oh, okay then. I want to be the next quarter back. Good news is, I've started a petition bent on ousting you, you don't actually mind now. do you? I mean, I do look better in the uniform. I've got curves to die for."
"Be looking forward to it." Harry took the pen and started copying his notes.
The play of sunlight on that bronzed skin momentarily had Draco questioning his date choices. Blond, spry, semi-athletic and nearly-built men seemed paltry compared to tall, dark and Harry Potter. True, Potter had bigger feet than most of his dates but that old myth might be true. Hmm.the size of those gasp-tight trousers weren't just a trick of the light now were they?
Yes, and this was why Draco Malfoy should start paying attention during gym class and more importantly throughout the locker room intervals. Maybe Potter would be a bit more uninhibited about Draco seeing him naked if some sort of relationship was created to base any sort of future experience on? Draco wasn't one to be above casual fucking.
"You're so mono-syllabic." Draco said off-handedly. "I want you to talk with feelings when you're near me. It's as if I'm talking to some dead corpse. or a table for example. I hate being ignored, everyone knows that! I've been constantly the centre of attention since I was born, if you didn't know."
"Yes. and the world revolves around you-what's that word?" Harry pointed towards the board.
"Oh. Ethics-Doesn't it?" Draco asked innocently.
"Doesn't what?" Harry frowned.
"Oh, doesn't the world revolve around me?"
/&*&*&/
Draco Malfoy tugged at his dog's leash as he trotted jovially across the bourgeoisie Surrey neighbourhood, ignoring the big black limousine following him around. He occasionally bent down to pat his poodle's fluffy white head and consequently tug at the luminous pink bow. He raised his wrist to examine his expensive Rolex (women's size but unisex design, mind you. his wrists were tad too small.), the diamond studs gleaming under the faint light of sun.
Perfect, just in time. Four o'clock.
He bent down and scooped Precious, his poodle, in his arms before staring at the homely Dursley house, oblivious the lean and shirtless figure fixing the radiator and oil reservoir of his car. Draco walked towards the little door and waved his command to the limousine driver who parked across the street before knocking thrice.
Tapping the door more than thrice is utterly immoral.
Any sophisticate would know that, it was in the Malfoy law book, code number 17927.
The door opened to reveal an obese figure, hair oddly sticking out in all directions, apparently grooming one's hair was fast becoming a memory. Dudley Dursley's front bangs were streaked a shocking blue while the rest was bright red. His right elbow was propped up on his left hand, a diamond ring on his fourth finger.
"My. what a cute poodle!" He crooned, nasal voice high pitched and all.
Draco smiled proudly and held out Precious. "He's only a month old, his name is precious. precious. say hi to Uncle Dudley Lovely." Dudley took the dog in his arms. "Dud, I've got something really, really, really important to ask you.and I'd rather if you spoke the truth and tell me every single truth."
"What is it?" Dudley crooned at the little white poodle. "My, he's a little sweet. My cousin's got a dog somewhere, it's a large retriever, not exactly my type-manly dogs." He shrugged. "Anyway. what were you saying, Draco, love?"
Draco's expression of complete and utter glee transformed into a dark and mysterious one, he then grabbed Dudley's ear and twisted it, glaring at him. "Adrian's in college now and he seems to be slipping; screaming out words-allow me to correct myself-names, during sex . do you reckon you know anyone named Justin?" He paused, staring at Dudley's shaking head. "Justin. F? Strike any chords?"
"What Justin-OOOWW!!! Alright, Yes, I do! I know him. he's my classmate!" Draco twisted the shell once more. "ALRIGHT! GODDAMMIT! COME IN THE HOUSE AND I'LL EXPLAIN! QUIT PULLING MY BLOODY EAR OR IT MIGHT JUST COME OFF!" At Draco's complete and utter cooperation on that part, he gestured to an area right behind the blond. "Have him take care of Precious; mum and dad would just throw a fit if they realized that an animal, even one of such high breeding as Precious, had defiled their home."
"Your compliance is certainly much better." Draco smiled and dropped Precious on the floor. "Ey. Servant boy!" He motioned to the figure behind the hood. "Come and fetch my dog. Take care of him-you don't mind Dud, right? Right.-yes you, who did you think I was talking to?"
He was rewarded with quite a shock to the system when said figure emerged from beneath the hood, wonderful chest miraculously bare and fingers extricating grease from cuticles with a hideous rag.