I speak: Babble, babble, babbling brook! Hi, wrote more to this! If you were reading this and happened to read the second part, I should warn you that that second part no longer exists...this one does. I liked this better, so I changed it...Confusing? Oh well, read, comment, and enjoy, okay? Warnings: HP/DM slash...I don't own anything from The HP series...

Cloudy With a Chance of Malfoy-Part 2

When Harry Potter strolled into the Great Hall the next morning, he was feeling absolutely marvelous; he felt completely refreshed and hundred percent at ease. Yes, today was going to be a wonderful day.

Or maybe not so wonderful, that greasy Malfoy brat was staring at him again. What could he want this time? Harry sighed and glared back, and while doing so, felt a jolt of energy go through him. "Oh shit," he thought, "has Malfoy hexed me in some way? What does this mean?" He turned to search the blonde's face for the fit of laughter or the knowing smirk that would appear, but there was none. Malfoy was just staring at him oddly. Harry glared again, and once again the zing of some strange energy current.

Harry lost track of his body as he felt the odd sensations running through it, and closed his eyes. When opened them again, he was already sitting down... At the Slytherin Table. "Oh shit!" Harry stated, this time not bothering to stifle his reaction.

"Oh Fuck", Harry tensed as the Slytherins stared, and found that under their, and especially Malfoy's, intense gaze, he was strangely unable to move. "Come on Harry", he muttered to himself, "Think of some jarring comment, something rude, a joke that could explain your actions...Insult him, come on..."

"Uh, hi...Dr-Malfoy..." Harry finally said, "Lovely weather, yes?"

That was so not what he'd meant to say, and what was with him almost saying Draco? Where were the insults, the jeers, and the attitude he needed? Why wasn't this working?

"Hello Harry," Draco commented nastily, "If you don't mind may I ask why the savior of the Wizarding world is sitting with at the Death Eater's in training table? Whatever did we do to deserve such an honor? Oh," he smirked "or is the great Harry Potter sitting here because he can't resist my deviously handsome self?"

Harry still sat there, unmoving. Why were no insults or jarring responding coming? Harry questioned himself mentally.

"Well, what is it Potter?" Malfoy insisted, "Do you want me?" He smirked, waiting for the adamant denial that was sure to follow that question...

Harry Potter finally replied. "Yes", he said simply. "Oh fuck!" he thought, "what the hell? I don't want that! Why would I say that? What the Hell?"

Harry wasn't the only one startled by his response. If he were to have looked around he would have seen that all the inhabitants of the Great Hall were staring at him with mixed expressions of horror, awe, confusion, amusement, and...lust? But Harry didn't look around, he continued to glance blankly at the table. This is so not good, Harry thought, and once again tried to flee without success. Why can't I move? Why did I say that? I don't want that! Do I want that? I'm not gay...I HATE.."

He was interrupted from his musings by a very pissed off group of Slytherins. Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and oddly enough, Vincent Crabbe (he can do something without Goyle!) looked mad enough to kill him. No, their expressions were decidedly unfriendly. These Slytherins, it seemed, we very unhappy with his responses. They continued to prove this point by bodily picking up Harry, which was the only way he was actually able to be removed from that seat for no amount of magic or jeering would work, and dragging him out of the Great Hall.

As Harry left the Great Hall in the clutches of this gruesome threesome, he saw that the rest of the Great Hall, including Ron, Hermione, Draco, and even Dumbledore were still staring frozenly at the seat he had just vacated...

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