The Morning Before
'Do you even own a comb, Potter?' The thought was just as unwelcome as the gesture that went with it; the furious running of fingers through perfectly kept hair.
Jealousy: that green-eyed monster whose eyes could not be as beautiful as the boy's across the hall.
'I wonder what those eyes would look like as he screamed in ecstasy. Hmm.' Cool, grey eyes fluttered closed in fantasy. Thin, pale fingers tapped against a thigh.
'Breathe, you stupid git! They're looking at you!' And indeed, his two best friends were watching him intently.
"Uh, Draco? Y-you asked Potter if he, uh, owns a comb. But, uh, he's over there," Vincent Crabbe pointed to Harry, seated at Gryffindor's table, King of his House, as was Draco at Slytherin, "Uh, and you're, uh, over here. So how are you talking to him? And, uh, why?" Gregory Goyle nodded dumbly at Vincent's side.
"Vincent, haven't I told you to stop playing with those godforsaken Extendable Ears? You, too, Greg! You are, once again, hearing things. Now, it's time for Potions, how you two got into NEWTS Potions, I will never understand. Let's go before those stupid Gryffindors foul the place up!" Draco stalked off into the corridor without waiting for his friends.
On the way, the Golden Trio passed Draco. None of them acknowledged his presence and Harry even pushed past him a little. As they walked away, Draco found himself holding something. It was a folded up piece of parchment, apparently from Harry. Draco waited until he was seated in Potions to read it.
MEET ME IN THE RESTRICTED SECTION OF THE LIBRARY AT 2:00a.m.
'Tonight,' Draco thought, as he turned to look at the sender, 'I'll need my comb.'
