Care Bear
by Sirylu
Draco was having one of those days.
As a matter of fact, if someone had had the courage of asking for his fellow Slytherins' opinion, they would have grumpily said that the blond had been having seven of those years, but well, nobody would have truly believed them anyway.
But that particular day, when Draco had appeared for breakfast, looking slightly dishevelled and, in Crabbe's words –and to the general shock of his housemates- "as if someone had been 'having fun', you know what I mean", the blond seemed ready to launch himself at the throat if someone dared as much as breathing on him.
And whose fault was it?
The whole of the Slytherin population minus the currently fashion-challenged homicidal Malfoy fixed their 'Die Potter, Die!' glares on the faintly smirking, downright smug Gryffindor and collectively wished for his demise.
How the myopic imbecile –Pansy's words– had managed to have Draco tattoo an impossibly acid pink Care Bear –"Merlin, my eyes!" had screeched Blaise upon seeing it- on his arm with the blinking words 'I'm Harry Potter's personal BoyToy' would remain forever –"Thanks god," –Goyle had fervently muttered under his breath with wild eyes –a mystery.
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