17. Lose Yourself
He was sitting still, staring out of the window. The morning had brought heavy rain along, just as he had expected. The grounds were melancholy grey, the mist making the view almost scary. They were the last rains that came down as water before the early approaching winter. How beautiful.
Draco Malfoy huddled his arms even more around himself, leaning his forehead to the glass of the gothic window. He saw his own reflection as marred, spoiled by all the down-flooding drops that made the window blurry. It was fifteen minutes till the breakfast would begin, but he found out he had no real appetite.
Harry Potter had taken that away.
Draco was sitting on the same windowsill than a couple of days ago, in front of the hump-backed witch. He had often found the place rather peaceful, despite one certain interruption from Terri Boot. And now Draco had returned there once again, wanting to dwell in his own thoughts, without being questioned by his housemates.
Oh, for fuck's sake… What's happening to me? What the hell is happening to me! This bloody circus has to stop. My father comes here tomorrow. And he expects me to stand up to the family honour.
Draco heaved a sigh, letting his pale fingers slip down the cold sheet of glass.
Father would go sheer rabid if he knew what Potter and I were up to…Unless I could convince him that this is all part of the plan to please the Dark Lord.
Draco puckered his brow.
But this IS the fucking plan to please that show-off, mental…Er, dangerously glorious Master of Darkness! This really is! I'm NOT interested in Potter, far from that. Potter's just… Potter… Harry… Fuck…
A chill went down Draco's spine. He didn't know if it was because of the cold.
Potter's making me completely crazy with his behaviour. He's like… he's vicious! Otherwise he wouldn't be doing things like this to me. That nonsensical sod!
Draco didn't even try to think what he meant by 'things like this', he was so angry at himself for getting a weak spot in Potter. He jumped down from the windowsill and started to bang his head furiously on the wall, as if he'd been some pathetic, masochistic house-elf. He felt the pain in his forehead increase by each thump, but he honestly didn't care. He desperately wanted to get back to his senses. Desperately. And he only added the force to his bangs, so that his forehead finally began to bleed with little scrapes from the rocky surface. The pain was welcome. Very welcome.
"Umm… Malfoy? What're you doing?"
Draco hit his head on the wall one final time and then turned slowly around.
"Well, what the hell does it look like, Potter? I'm banging my head on the fucking wall here!" he murmured, anger radiating from his voice.
Harry scowled at him. "I can see that."
"Good."
They stared at each other in silence for a couple of seconds.
"You're crazy, Malfoy, did you know that?" Harry asked, furrowing his oh-so-bushy black brow.
"Yeah, I fucking realized that about…" Draco took a glance at his clock. "About fourteen minutes ago."
Harry couldn't say anything to that. Draco eyed the Gryffindor from head to toes, immediately wanting to continue the head-smashing.
And so he did.
"Stop it! Just bloody stop it, Malfoy!" Harry cried, running the steps to the Slytherin and hauling him away from the wall. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Draco wrenched his arm away from Harry's clutch and glared. "Do you think there's something wrong with me? What? Don't you like my looks anymore?"
"Honestly… I thought your arrogance couldn't get to any more higher a level," Harry sighed, but smiled all the same. "Obviously you have some issues here. But I really don't want to find out more. And yes, you're still as charming as always. Want to have a go?"
"What?" Draco asked, fluttering his lashes in amazement.
Harry looked at him impatiently, hands on his hips. "I said, do you care to have sex with me before we go to the breakfast."
Draco had the grace to look extremely confused. This wasn't Harry Potter speaking. This was somebody else.
"You know, Potter, I should be one to make those suggestions, not you. Dirty language just doesn't suit you at all."
"Who cares about the language?" Harry grinned at Draco's bewilderment and grabbed the Slytherin from the décolletage. "Well, how is it?"
Draco couldn't help feeling aroused when Harry held him like this, dominating his every movement. The Gryffindor's hot breaths caressed his lips, and before he realized it, he was moaning against that sweet mouth, giving in to Harry's request.
"Oh, fuck!"
"Mmh?"
"Draco, we're late from Charms! We missed the breakfast entirely!"
"We did?" the Slytherin muttered against Harry's chest, still dazed with his previous handling. Harry had been rather profound and possessive, to say the slightest.
"Malfoy, as much as I like having you all over me, I must insist you put your clothes in better arrangement and…"
"Alright, alright…" Draco growled, getting up from the floor and making a painful face. He closed his trouser buttons and cast some spells over his clothes, and they smoothed themselves back in their previous, perfect condition.
"Think we should go into the classroom separately." Harry was tugging his shirt in his jeans, very satisfied with how he'd made Draco whimper under his actions, during the forty-five minutes they'd been making it out behind the statue of the hump-backed witch.
"Yeah, if we would emerge together, your adorably always-worried friends Granger and Weasel might get suspicious," Draco grinned lopsidedly. "They'd think we had another fight."
"Well, we did have quite a struggle, didn't we?" Harry said, pretending to be displeased. "You just wouldn't give up to being under me."
Draco glowered and began smoothing his radiant white locks. "Not until you decided to beat the reason out of me."
Harry was amused how Draco gave him an insulted glance.
"I should go in first, you know, to put Ron and Hermione at ease," Harry suggested, grabbing his schoolbag from the floor.
"Whatever," Draco said silently, making another uncomfortable face. "Damn, you really took me aggressively, Potter."
"What can I say? This place reminded me of one certain time when you weren't that gentle with me…"
"Oh, sod off, Potter! It was because of that stupid Boot had made me angry!"
"Really?"
"No! Of course not!"
Harry laughed. He just sometimes couldn't help really liking Draco's twisted nature and comments. He thought Draco could be rather funny if he liked. However he didn't say that aloud, because he knew Draco didn't want to be considered funny, under any circumstances.
"Just… give me five minutes before you turn up, okay?" he grinned instead.
Draco nodded and they both headed towards the Charms lesson.
Professor Flitwick wasn't that pleased to see Harry Potter coming late for his class. Actually, he made a severe face and stared at the Gryffindor very disapprovingly.
"Mr. Potter, I hope you have a very good excuse as to why you're late?"
"Sure thing," Harry smiled, his eyes sparkling. "I was just ravishing Malfoy out of his wits and lost the track of the time. My apologies."
All the Gryffindor students and the Professor gasped, looking more than somewhat traumatized with Harry's easy statement. Instead, all the Slytherin students sniggered, understanding the truth behind that wicked meant-for-a-joke.
"Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter," Flitwick huffed. "This is very inappropriate behaviour."
"I guess it is, Professor," Harry grinned, and sat beside the stunned Hermione and Ron. "As I said, my apologies."
The teaching continued. Hermione and Ron were both too troubled to ask an explanation from their best mate, and thus the atmosphere slowly calmed down, everybody finally accepting Harry's excuse as a lame and distasteful joke. At least until Draco Malfoy strode into the class. Everybody's eyes turned to look at him, obvious interest reflecting from their eyes.
"Welcome, Mr. Malfoy. And what is your excuse for being late?" Flitwick snarled, annoyed of the fact that the class had been interrupted already twice. "And do not bother to tell us that you were having a wild make-out session with Mr. Potter, here. He already used that excuse."
Now everybody's eyes darted at the Professor, who had ventured to use such a liberal language. Even Draco, who always had a very composed expression on his face, looked relatively surprised. He let his eyes wander at Harry's direction, and received an evil smile.
"Well?" the Professor was asking.
"Um… I was… Aguishly banging my head on the wall in the third floor aisle and lost the track of the time, Professor."
Draco heard Harry chuckle whereas Professor Flitwick raised his brows in disbelief. "Pardon?"
"Earnestly, Professor! You can still see the scratches and bruises on my forehead," Draco exclaimed and lifted some locks of hair aside.
The dwarf-sized teacher sighed and tiredly beckoned the Slytherin to sit down.
"Incurably demented, these students nowadays…"
The rest of the Charms lessons went by rather normally. Draco had the time to heal his forehead bruises with the help of Zabini, and Harry had the time to smile and convince his friends that everything really was okay.
For one day in his life, Draco Malfoy was to experience a tolerable Herbology lesson, despite the fact that the class was still stuck working with the Gillyweed. The reason for this was Professor Sprout, who had arranged the students in groups again, positioning Harry Potter and his two best friends next to Draco, Crabbe and Goyle. Of course, she didn't mean it as a punishment, not being the same kind of a sadist as Professor Snape –but she was positively just too kind-natured and blind to see the open animosity between the six people in question.
The greenhouse was hot and humid, like it had been all these over thousand years Hogwarts had existed. Draco amusedly observed how Granger's hair began to frizz like the previous time, and how Weasley's T-shirt glued to his awfully non-fit stomach, revealing a completely different amount of abdominal wonders than Harry's T-shirt. Ah, and speaking about Harry's T-shirt…
Draco was in front of a nearly impossible mission trying to keep his eyes averted from the dark-haired sexy Gryffindor bloke that was standing but a few meters away from him. Crabbe and Goyle were standing between them, looking very much gruff and porky, ready to keep the Gryffindor trio apart from their snobbish leader, completely unaware of the fact that Draco would have done anything if he'd been able to stand next to Potter without awaking thought in the other students. However, obviously Harry was thinking along the same lines, because soon Draco found himself in a fake quarrel with the boy.
As soon as Professor Sprout left the greenhouse in order to fetch some new bowls for the multiplying weeds, Harry Potter approached Draco with a smirk wavering over his lips. The electric sexual attraction between them two immediately began to hover in the air.
"So, Malfoy, bet you're enthralled about Lavender's beauty contest, aren't you? Being so cute, I'm sure you will win the Prettiest Girl award."
The Gryffindor students, except Lavender and Parvati, sniggered loudly, yet being rather surprised that it was Harry who started the clash.
"Well, that would still be better than to remain without a reward at all, like's going to happen to you, Pot-head," Draco growled, pushing Crabbe and Goyle out of his way so that he could face Potter properly. "But don't you worry –I promise to buy you a butterbeer as a booby-prize."
"Very nasty, Malfoy, asking me out for a date like this. Somebody would wonder if you hate me at all," Harry grinned, looking in Draco's similarly grinning face.
"Don't get over-excited, Potter. I think the winner of the Prettiest Girl contest has to take the Handsomest Boy out first. And that would be the Brown girl, mind, not you."
Harry couldn't help a chortle, and neither could the Slytherins and half the Gryffindors. Lavender, however, looked very horrified and was in the verge of crying.
"That was a really evil thing to say, Malfoy," Harry tried to keep his face straight. "After all, she's the one who arranges this wonderful entertainment for us."
"Yeah, very wonderful entertainment," Draco tried to look serious as well. "And how original, and clever, the Goblet of Beauty! I'd never have guessed! If it were in my power, I'd give ten points for Gryffindor for the first time in my life, for the imaginary usage of brains!"
The Slytherins giggled. Lavender looked smug, not catching the sarcasm. Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, who were looking slightly wary but still not yet overly worried about the quarrel. Thus, he decided he could safely continue talking with his secret shag.
"Care to give me some beauty tips, then, Malfoy? We all know that you're such an expert in taking care of your looks. Weekly manicure sessions, aromatherapy massages, hair-cuts with diamond-edged scissors…"
The Gryffindors started to laugh animatedly, having actually real fun listening to the loudly-spoken conversation.
Draco wiped some greenhouse moist away from his unnaturally black eyelashes and smiled. "Yes, Potter, I honestly could give you some tips. First of all, you need to do something to your impossible raven tresses."
And, out of the blue, Draco then grabbed a heavy brine container where his Gillyweed was lolling and poured it all over Harry Potter.
"Mmm… Much better. Wet-look's fashionable nowadays."
The Slytherins roared with laughter. Draco couldn't help starting to laugh himself when he received disgusted splutters and a heated scowl from the thoroughly soaked Harry. However, because of his hilarious reaction, Draco wasn't prepared to receive a similar can of sea water over himself. Gasping with the sudden touch of water and by-sliding weeds, he felt how his every garment glued on his skin like Weasley's shirt, leaving his fine-lined muscles exposed under the thin shirt canvas, just like Harry's now were.
"Alright! That does it!" Draco bared his teeth and attacked the sexily-wet Harry Potter.
Harry hissed and grabbed Draco's soppy locks as the two collided, and Draco twined hands around Harry's throat. They manhandled each other for a couple of minutes heatedly, at the same time absorbing every touch and look of their glistering, wet forms and tensed muscles.
"You stupid fuck, Potter, don't fucking pull my hair like that! I'm gonna tell Professor Sprout about you!" Draco growled as Harry's palms tousled the fine, silky Malfoy hair.
"What! You fucking started it, Malfoy!" Harry snarled, enjoying very much the touch of that hair under his fingers.
"I started it? I started it?" Draco cried. "Are you demented, Potter?"
"But Sprout will believe me over you anyway because she likes me better, and when I say that you started this, then you bloody right started this, you insufferable asshole!" Harry pouted, his black locks dribbling with water.
Draco wrinkled his brows, looking very menacing, but all the same leaned to whisper in the Gryffindor's ear silently, "Insufferable asshole, eh? I wasn't so insufferable this morning, was I? Or my asshole, for that matter…"
Harry yelled with annoyance and kicked Draco high on the stomach that was alluringly visible under the white, drippy canvas of his shirt. Draco winced but succeeded to thwack Harry over the cheek before doubling over. Harry replied with another kick that hit Draco on the thigh. Draco positively fumed and out of nowhere jumped over Harry, jerking the boy's feet so that they both fell on the ground, Draco on top of the amazed Gryffindor. Pinning Harry's shoulders firmly against the concrete, Draco grinned devilishly and brought his face very close to Harry's, teasingly licking the dribbling water from his own, already-delicious-looking lips. Harry was trembling with fury and fervour, his immensely green eyes wide as Trelawney's crystal balls with sudden, uncontrollable lust.
"For fuck's sake, Malfoy!" he succeeded to rasp. "Get off me!"
"And what if I don't?" Draco leered, enjoying the uncomfortable situation he'd put Harry in. He couldn't resist leaning in, "This is just getting interesting… Especially on the lower department."
Harry fizzed and grabbed the soggy Draco from the neck, lifting his head upwards like a mother cat would carry her kittens, although Harry's grasp was a bit rougher. He succeeded to haul Draco on the side, however, not without having a great trouble immediately afterwards covering the paining erection that had previously been sheltered by Draco's body. For his luck, most of the people were more interested in watching Draco instead of him. The gorgeous Slytherin was now sitting on his knees right before Hermione and Ron, his back against them two, wiping some hair away from his glowing face.
"Already need a time-out, Potter?"
Harry was about to retort something mean but then he saw Ron grabbing his wand and pointing it at Draco. Harry halted his breath, both worrying and wishing that Ron would turn Draco into a toad. However, Harry's expression was probably very exposing, because all of a sudden, Draco shot his hand in the air, over his left shoulder, and stole Ron's wand so quickly that the red-haired boy didn't even realize it before he had said the incantation and it didn't work.
"Well, what do we have here?" Draco's overly sarcastic voice drawled around the greenhouse. He observed the wand in his hand, giving it a very derisive stare. "Aah, this must have been very expensive! Did you have to give head to Mr. Ollivander for this, Weasel? I'm sure your family couldn't afford this kind of wand!"
Harry clenched his fists. Ron's new wand truly wasn't very remarkable; it was just eight inches plain birch and contained a single Unicorn hair. But it wasn't really so bad that Malfoy would have had the reason to mock his best friend about it. Harry saw that Ron's face was pale with fear that Malfoy would snap the wand in two.
"Here's a nice-looking signature, too!" Draco continued. "Mr. Ronnekins Weasel –loser."
The Slytherin students were in real trouble holding their stomachs from not ripping when they laughed so hard.
"Give the wand back to Ron, Malfoy!" Harry found himself roaring.
Draco merely looked at him as if he'd said something very stupid. "He was bloody trying to hex me, Potter! Do you understand what could've followed, taken that your lovable Iddekins here can't even change the colour of a rat properly?"
Now, several Slytherins truly needed to sit down or lean against the wall.
"Give. The. Wand. Back. To. Ron!" Harry breathed heavily between each command.
Draco smiled very mischievously and, without even looking at the red-head behind him, handed the wand back over his shoulder. However, when its tip was pointed straight at Harry a moment before Ron could grab it, Draco silently whispered an incantation.
"Serpensortia!"
Immediately, a little nestling of a snake emerged from the tip of the wand, landing graciously right in front of Harry. Harry looked surprised and Draco content, whereas the rest of the students looked horrified.
"Well, I can't exactly say what your twisted motives for this little trick are, Malfoy," Harry licked his lips and casually began to pull up his drenched sleeves. "But I guess you have some."
"Talk to it," Draco silently said, curiosity open over his features.
Harry looked at the blonde boy sitting right in front of him, separated only by the form of the snake, and understood Draco's motive right away. Parseltongue probably sounded very sexy. Yet, Harry wasn't about to give Draco such a favour so easily.
"Talk to it yourself," he replied, crossing his arms. "I think she's very pissed but otherwise in the mood for a small talk."
Draco sharpened his eyes and looked around. "Why's she pissed? This humid environment's just ideal for her. Thought she'd like it."
"She does. But you interrupted her sleep," Harry chuckled. He was amazed that Draco didn't move farther away from the snake like the other students did.
"Oh, whatever, Potter, like I'd care," Draco shrugged. "Now make her dance! You know, spectacled cobras are very beautiful when they perform their dance."
Harry sighed and smiled when seeing the urgency in Draco's stare. The boy really wanted to hear him talking Parseltongue. Amusedly, he glanced at the terrified Hermione and Ron before opening his mouth for a hissing conversation with the offspring of a cobra.
"Fucking amazing," Draco whispered when the snake began to dance, although still looking very pissed.
"Eeeeek! Eeeeeeeeek! What is happening here! Eeeeeek!"
It was Professor Sprout. The glass bowls flew from her hands, crashing and shattering on the concrete floor.
"Take that snake immediately out of here!" she shrieked. "Whose is it?"
Everybody's eyes, except for Hermione and Ron's, turned to look at Harry.
"Mr. Potter! This is scandalizing! Putting your fellow students' lives in danger like this! Twenty points from Gryffindor!"
Draco and the other Slytherins looked very satisfied. Ron and Hermione were just about to protest when they realized two things. First, the incantation was made with Ron's wand, and that wouldn't look good under any kind of circumstances. And secondly, Harry was really trying to hold back laughter when collecting the cobra in his arms.
Was the Pride of Gryffindor losing it completely?
By the lunchtime, Harry had mostly recovered from the greenhouse episode and the sight of the wet Draco Malfoy. He was determined to keep his eyes averted from the haughty Slytherin brag now, no matter how much his heart and body rebelled against the idea. And truly, as if ordered, Hedwig then emerged from the window and soared towards Harry, giving him something else to think about than the fine ass of a certain Slytherin.
Hedwig hooted affectionately and nibbled Harry's earlobe. So much about his decision. Harry was immediately reminded of Nocens nibbling Draco's earlobe two nights ago.
"What did you get, Harry?" asked Hermione, sipping lazily her pumpkin juice.
"It's from Lupin," Harry replied when unfolding the parchment. "Let's see what he has to say about Voldemort."
Hermione flinched slightly, and Ron looked uncomfortable.
"Well?" Ron asked, when Harry had had the time to read the letter trough. "What?"
Harry bit his lip and looked very severe. He looked at the hasty handwriting with concern.
Harry,
I write in a hurry. We just learned You-Know-Who is far ahead of his schedule than what we would've thought. He has gathered a large army of various magical beasts, number of heads at least three hundred. His plans are yet unclear, though, since he hasn't used the army in attacks this far. Be vigilant, Harry. We have suspicions that his holding his troops back might have something to do with you.
Yours, Remus
"It's nothing for you to worry about," Harry said, putting the letter in his pocket. "Honestly."
If Hermione and Ron suspected anything, they didn't say a thing, only looked Harry with darkened eyes. Harry knew that they were thinking he was going mad. Harry knew he should be more open with his friends. Harry knew he should talk to Dumbledore. Harry knew he should do so fucking many other things differently in his life, but really, he couldn't care. He wanted to keep his life to himself. The dangers and the wonders of it, both of them.
In the afternoon lessons of Potions, the sitting arrangement was rather curious. Harry was sitting in the front row with Pansy and Millicent, but he was still allowed to have Ron and Seamus on his other side. And what was more satisfying, Draco Malfoy with his sidekicks was sitting right behind them, as well as Lavender, Parvati and Dean.
The lesson went by rather comfortably. Professor Snape had something important to do with his papers, and he was ignoring his students almost completely, asking them to write a five-inch explanation about why Polyjuice Potion shouldn't be used under any circumstances. And since nobody could come up with any reason, they silently began to talk with each other. And since the sitting arrangement was what it was, an argument between the Malfoy gang and the Potter gang was inevitable, once again.
"I hear you have finally got together with that Mudblood Granger, Weasel," Draco drawled, smiling smugly and then artificially sighing. "Sinking even lower than your father."
Ron immediately turned in his seat to face the pale Slytherin. "If I were you, Ferret-face, I'd keep my mouth very much shut! Otherwise something nasty might fly in there."
Draco acted coy and looked down at his quill that he was holding between his fingers. It was a long, silvery eagle feather. "Oh, we're getting already so heated, are we, Ronny Pooh? Say, how would you react if I said that, besides your taste in selecting a girl is beyond comprehension, you also suck at making her happy, which drives her into the arms of another."
Harry cast Draco a horrified and pleading look. Don't tell him, you slithery little monster! Don't you dare tell him!
Ron gaped at Draco with extremely pissed but also nervous expression. "What do you know about making anybody happy, Malfoy?"
Draco deliberately leaned closer. And, as if accidentally, he let the feather end of his quill stroke Harry's neck, the same time he scowled at Ron. As soon as the feather touched Harry's skin, the Gryffindor froze in the spot. He couldn't suppress a raggedy inhale.
Oh, for all the devils in heaven…
"I know about making myself happy," Draco smirked.
"Well yes, that is as much as obvious!" Ron seethed at Draco, completely unaware of the hilarious faces of all the Slytherins that were watching Draco's sly antics. "But why you're bringing Hermione into this, I really don't know. And I really don't care to know either. I know she's happy. Hear me? She. Is. Happy. With. Me."
"Hmm, there is only one way we could solve this little disagreement, now isn't there," Draco sneered, rolling the quill slightly and lowering it along Harry's neckline.
Harry would have wanted to retort, but found himself grabbing the table with white knuckles and holding his breath. Malfoy…Gods, what are you doing! We. Are. In. A. Classroom! And Snape's classroom, no fucking less!
"And pray tell me, what is that way?" Ron mocked, keeping his eyes locked with Draco's quicksilver ones.
"It's as simple as this… We just ask her. Veritaserum included."
Harry exhaled brokenly as the feather reached his ear, and suddenly retreated as Ron turned to look at him.
"Harry, why don't you say anything to this? You know how well Hermione and I are doing, don't you? Just tell him we're doing well!"
"Umm…" Harry remotely remembered what Hermione and Ginny had been talking about, after their little performance. "Er… But of course you're doing well, Ron."
Harry heard Millicent and Pansy giggling beside him, and found the innocent feather soon back and exploring the neck of his collar, immediately after Ron had turned away to smile at Hermione who was sitting on the other side of the classroom. Then Harry remembered the other Gryffindors behind him and carefully glanced over his shoulder, only to meet Draco's amused grey eyes.
"You fucking liar, Potter," Draco silently muttered, smiling lovingly. "What a friend you are, not even telling Weasel she's been cheating on him."
Harry shivered slightly when the quill was replaced with Draco's smooth fingers. But he forced himself to step out of the trance and look at his surroundings. And, for his relief, he found Parvati and Lavender talking about the beauty contest heatedly with Dean and Seamus, completely ignoring the fight that was going on over the other end of the table. Then the fingers retreated and Harry felt oddly cold.
"Harry, you think I should buy something nice to Hermione, as a gift? She does look a bit tense."
Draco chuckled, finding that his words had scared Ron, even the slightest.
"And nobody asked anything from you, Snow White!" Ron spat, crossing his arms and glaring at the Slytherin.
Draco's left eyebrow shot up. "Snow White?"
Harry forced himself to take part in the conversation. "It's a Muggle story. About an extremely beautiful princess, with ebony hair and skin as white as snow. But honestly I can't see how Ron would compare her with you, except for the skin colour part and symbolic name. She was nice, she liked poor and untidy people and her bad mother-in-law tried to kill her all the time."
"Oh, yes, of course a Weasley would know everything about Muggle stories. Must be something they learn at home." Draco fake-sighed and shook his head, then turning back to Ron. "But honestly Weasel, if you had any brains you should compare this Snow White girl with Potter instead of me. It goes with the ebony hair and all that stuff about some mental trying to kill her. Plus, Potter's at least as pretty as any Muggle heroine."
Harry bit his lip. Malfoy was horribly right. It really worked with him. Even the miserable conditions at home, his ability to talk to animals, well, at least snakes, and his good cleaning skills, trained by none other than Aunt Petunia. And he was also a good cook. He was good-natured, perhaps also a bit too trusting, and he certainly was generally considered as virginal, just like Snow White.
Harry flushed when he realized he'd been thinking silently at least thirty seconds, staring all the time in Draco's exploring eyes.
"What are you meditating there, Harry?" Ron's voice made Harry start. "Is that badass trying to hypnotize you or what?"
"Er, I was just thinking that, um, maybe you really should buy something nice to Hermione. Malfoy could be right, you know. She doesn't always seem so happy."
"What! You say Malfoy is right?" Ron shrieked.
Fits of laughter from the Slytherins.
"Ron… I've made some observations myself, too. Something's, er, bothering her."
"Well, what is it?"
"I… Well… The classroom isn't the right place to talk about it, is it, Ron?" Harry managed to say, just before they found Professor Snape's black figure towering over their heads.
"Mr. Weasley! Mr. Potter! As much as I know that you need some relationship counselling from Mr. Malfoy here, I'd still suggest you do it in another time and place. Twenty points from Gryffindor."
Draco snickered heartily, and returned to Crabbe and Goyle, who were secretly eating some chopped daisy roots from a mixing bowl under the table.
Night is an inevitable guest after every sunset, even in the occasions where the sunset cannot be seen for the mist and grey rain. The rain that had continued all along the day now thickened somewhat as the darkness crept into the grounds. Heavy tapping of raindrops could now be heard as humming drumming all over the castle and the students were retreating to their respective dormitories, to have some chit chat and finally sleep.
Draco was sitting in the Slytherin common room, surrounded by many of his friends. Tracey, Mary-Ann and Blaise were musing whether any of the Slytherin girls would get votes for the prettiest face of the school from Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs, let alone Gryffindors. Bole and Warrington were having a heated argument with Crabbe and Goyle, having found out that those two dimwits had been stealing some of the booze that was left from Halloween, which the elder boys had stored up in their dormitory room. Millicent was sitting at Draco's feet with Pansy, braiding the blonde girl's hair in a fond manner. And Montague was having his own way with Etre in the shadowy corner, making some awfully inspiring moans echo around the dungeon room. Draco sighed and diligently continued to read the Daily Prophet in his hand. Or at least that was what he wanted the other Slytherins to think he was doing.
Staring blankly at the double page where he had found a test 'Is Your Lover the Right One for You', he came to think of Harry Potter, once again.
I know I've been having too much fun today. Spect he now bloody thinks that we're an item. Which we're not.
Draco forced his eyes to read the text for a while. 'Does she/he weaken your memory so that you often have to use a Remembrall?' the magazine asked.
What the fuck? No, he does not. I remember everything clearly as gin.
'Is there something about her/him besides the outer appearance that draws you to her/him?'
Bloody hell there is! He's just a good fuck.
Here, Draco felt a bit insecure, though. But he still tried to convince himself that there was nothing sexy in the way Harry talked, in the way he acted, in the way he thought about things…
Alright, alright! All fucking right! Perhaps he's got the touch. Yeah. …And we go forwards with this stupid query…
'Does she/he make you laugh?'
No, he does not. We never laugh together. He always laughs with the Weasel and the Mudblood. Never with me.
'Has she/he told you that you mean a lot to her/him?'
No, he has not. Merlin forbid, if he ever dares to say something like that to me, I'll be running out of the castle before he'll be able to finish his sentence.
'Have you told her/him that she/he means a lot to you?'
Of course not, you brainless twat! Guess how fast he'd run if I told him something stupid like that!
Draco exasperatedly threw the Daily Prophet into the flames that were roaring in the fireplace.
My Father comes tomorrow, and I'll receive the Dark Lord's instructions for Hailie's birthday. Mooning over Harry Potter doesn't really fit in the picture, now does it?
Draco closed his eyes and leaned to the backrest of the sofa.
Okay, he might be rather excellent, even the best fuck I've ever had, but I really don't see the reason why I should start to like him. Sex is sex, love is another thing. Wouldn't do me any good, that sort of a feeling.
Draco excused himself and retreated to bed.
A/N: Sorry it took so long to update… Lol, and I continue using names of well-known songs as my headlines… *ahem* I promise it won't become a habit.
A/N II: AND I continue with Blaise Zabini as a girl… My mistake, long ago, but won't correct it… SO sorry.