DISCLAIMER: Everything belongs to JKR and Scholastic and Warner Bros. and a lot of other people who'd probably hang me if they could. I'm sorry! I take no credit!
A/N: Ooh, this is a fun one. One of my favorites! And I got reviews! Thankyouthankyouthankyou! Thanks also to my betas, or rather, a bunch of lazy sods who sat around pestering me to write more for hours on end. Anyway, and my computer and this site seem to have become mortal enemies, so here's to hoping this chapter doesn't get lost in cyber-space. Enjoy!
Draco entered the Great Hall the next morning in a thoroughly sleep-deprived state. He'd stayed up all night pacing, and had come to the conclusion that it did not, in fact, help one to formulate genius plans to win back scorned lovers. It was Monday, which meant his first class of the day was Potions. With the Gryffindors. Clearly, his suffering would never end.
Taking a sip of tea, Draco stole a glance at the Gryffindor table across the hall. The Golden Trio had their backs to him. Harry was sitting between Weasel and Granger, who were sort of huddled over him. That's right, protect him from the evil ex-boyfriend. You go, mudblood!
Damn, they'd got him so irritable he was saying the 'M' word again. Months of training from Harry, shot in two days. Draco supposed this probably said something about his willpower.
Draco snorted into his tea when, in a failed attempt to reach around Harry and grope Granger, Weasley fell off his stool. Laughing, Harry turned around to help the incompetent oaf up. As he pulled Weasley to his feet, he looked up. At Draco.
Oh. It seemed time had stopped, or something. They stared at each other for what seemed like about ten minutes, when Granger forcefully turned Harry back to the breakfast table. Weasley, making a valiant effort to ignore the fact that he'd just fallen gracelessly onto the floor, sent Draco a sneer as he turned around. Honestly, and people said he was the one with the thugs.
Breakfast ended far too quickly for Draco's taste, and he soon found his traitorous legs walking him to the dungeons. His equally traitorous arms picked up his bag from his room, and he was taken to the Potions classroom.
"On time, for once." Oh, lovely. Blaise again.
Draco smiled amicably. "It would seem I'm without a partner today."
Blaise shrugged. "I'm working with Seamus."
Draco lowered his voice and smiled somewhat evilly. "Zabini, if you don't work with me, I will cut off your balls and feed them to you. I've lost enough face this week, get your fucking cauldron over here. Finnigan will get over it."
Blaise had never been one to put up much of a fight, and moved over to Draco's work station. Finnigan, being the dull boy he was, looked highly insulted and pouted until Blaise promised to make it up to him later. Ewww.
Draco watched as the Gryffindors argued over who would work with whom. Weasley wanted to work with Granger, so he could so unspeakable things to her under the table and still get a good grade. How such a complete cretin had gotten into NEWT Potions was a mystery to Draco, though he suspected Dumbledore had something to do with it. Granger saw the necessity of splitting up with Weasley, since Harry was looking more and more morose by the second. Finnigan wanted to work with Harry, so he could ogle him the whole period. Fucking Finnigan. He then settled for Weasley, who, admittedly, had become sort of svelte over the past summer. Weasley of course was a homophobic shit and said he'd rather work with Harry, thanks. Finnigan pointed out that Harry was just as likely to stare at his arse. Harry looked mortified. Weasley said, matter-of-factly, that that was just a one-time thing, and his test tube immediately shattered. Everyone looked at Harry, who looked downward. Snape took thirty points from Gryffindor. And with that, things became right in the universe once again. Snape started class, surly as usual.
As he ordered Blaise around, Draco mused that in six years at Hogwarts, they had yet to learn how to bottle fame, brew glory, or stopper death. He'd have pointed it out, but that would call attention to the fact that Blaise was doing all the work on their potion. So instead he concentrated on his mental pacing. He discovered that this gave him a headache.
Potions passed without anything terrible happening, except for an awkward moment at the end of class when he and Harry tried to get out the door at the same time and sort of ran into each other. Draco could feel Harry looking at him, but the last thing he really needed at the moment were a pair of big green eyes making him feel bad about himself. He walked through the doorway and off to Arithmancy without a second glance in Harry's direction. He didn't feel as triumphant as he thought he would.
Arithmancy was uneventful, except for the fact that Granger kept trying to place blame on him without saying anything, the result being that she stared at him with Righteous Anger flashing in her eyes for an entire hour. Here he did feel triumphant, as she had forgotten to take notes for possibly the first time in her life. Served her right, fucking Granger.
After lunch, he had Care of Magical Creatures, with the Gryffindors again. By this point, Draco had given up on having a good day. Blaise was apparently a little irked about having to do all the work in Potions, because he all but sprinted over to Finnigan when it was revealed that they'd be working in pairs in this class today too. Surprise, surprise! Granger, sensing the potential awfulness of this situation, shoved Weasley in Harry's direction and marched over to Draco. She seemed to march a lot.
"We're partners," she announced, coming to a halt next to him.
"So we are," he replied.
"Right, well then." Granger marched off without another word, and returned with whatever beast they were trying not to kill today. Draco hadn't bothered to listen to Hagrid's lecture. It was against his personal policy to be taught by manglers of the English language.
Granger cleared her throat. If anyone had been around to bet, Draco would have bet a trillion galleons that Granger would say something about how he should leave Harry alone.
"You should leave Harry alone, you know."
Draco turned to her calmly. "I haven't the faintest idea what you mean. I haven't said a word to him since you dumped me. He, that is. Since he dumped me."
Granger pretended not to have heard him. He hated when she did that. What's that, Granger? You're wrong? Oh, just kidding. It never happened. Let's erase it from time altogether. Fucking Granger. "You're always staring at him. It's quite obnoxious, you know, he told you he didn't want to see you anymore and he meant it."
Draco was well aware that Weasley and Harry were watching them, so he suppressed his urge to hit her. Instead, he smiled sweetly. "We'll see."
This, of course, sounded like he had a plan. Which, he reminded himself, he did not.
He and Granger thankfully lapsed into silence, and stood watching their filthy animal roll in the mud. Draco took a routine survey of the class. Longbottom was making an arse out of himself, Blaise and Finnigan were bordering on obscene, Patil and Brown were watching and giggling, Greg and Vince looked stupid, as usual. Draco let his gaze come to rest on Harry, who had gotten his and Weasley's mud-beast very excited about something, since it was hopping about madly and emitting sparks. He smiled broadly and let out a laugh.
Draco could feel himself grinning just from watching. Harry had the best smile in the world. He looked so innocent and cute and all-around lovely. His green eyes lit up, glittery and almost ethereal. There was a slight breeze, and the hair in his face made him look even cuter. His laugh was light, and went straight to Draco's heart. And, unfortunately, his groin.
Draco realized far too late that he was having a Harry Moment of the worst possible kind. The kind that always, always ended with an erection in an entirely inappropriate place. Fucking Harry and his fucking smile. Who becomes physically aroused from watching people smile? It made him feel a bit horrible, to tell the truth. His smile is so nice and innocent and whoops, looks like explicit sexual images are coming to mind again!
Well, this was problematic. Harry didn't seem to be showing him any mercy, either, since he took that moment to remove his cloak. His school uniform was conservative enough, but his neck was now in full view, and a bit of his collar bone poked out when he stretched. Draco could feel his brain shutting down, and became unbearably hot. He was hardly in a position to take off his own cloak, however, so instead he suffered, hot and uncomfortable, for the rest of class.
Afterwards he had a free period, during which he wanked. A lot.
Fucking Harry.
"Merlin, ever heard of a silencing charm?" grumbled Pansy as Draco sat down for dinner.
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Don't need 'em, I've got my own room, remember?"
"Well you'll need one if you keep screaming like that all the time!"
Draco froze. "I wasn't screaming."
Blaise invited himself into the conversation. "You were. You're lucky most people had classes or the entire house would know you get off on boyish smiles and innocent laughter. Pervert."
Blaise's death would be a long and painful one, Draco decided.
"I told you you were a screamer," Blaise added around a mouthful of lamb chops.
"I am not. You and her," he waved an arm in Pansy's direction, "probably had your ears pressed up against the door, listening intently. Who's perverted now?"
Pansy smirked. "Still you. So, what, do you go to primary schools to watch the little boys giggle on their way down the slide?"
Pansy would have to die too.
Blaise chuckled. "No, it's probably just one of his weird Harry things. Ooh, remember when he made Harry wear makeup for an entire week?"
He'd make the pair of them beg for mercy.
"And those really tight trousers, they looked good on him…"
Draco cleared his throat. Blaise and Pansy looked up, shaken from their reverie. "Right, sorry," said Blaise. "He has a fabulous arse, though. You'd know that, though, wouldn't you? Lucky bastard."
Pansy huffed. "What would Finnigan say if he could hear this?"
"Oh, he and I broke up," Blaise said nonchalantly.
Pansy didn't look surprised. "When?"
"Care of Magical Creatures."
Draco choked on his pumpkin juice. "But you were all over each other in Care of Magical Creatures!"
"Well, it was after that."
"Why?" demanded Draco.
"Well, we can't really compete if we're together, can we?"
Pansy laughed. "Over…what?" Draco asked uneasily.
"Harry, of course."
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, HARRY!"
Blaise rolled his eyes. "Calm down, Malfoy. No need to broadcast to the entire school!"
Draco lowered his voice to a venomous hiss. "What the fuck do you mean, you're competing over Harry? Harry's mine!"
Pansy let out a dry laugh. "Not anymore, he's not. Blaise and Finnigan aren't the only ones, either. It's a school-wide event. There are representatives of every house. Gryffindor has Finnigan, Weasley, and"—
"WEASLEY!" No. No, anything but that…
"Girl Weasley, that is. Jenny or whatever. Patil will probably join in too, she thinks she's got some sort of long-standing claim on him because of the Yule Ball in Fourth year…Hufflepuff has Finch-Fletchley and possibly Susan Bones, from Ravenclaw there's Chang—" Draco clenched his fists automatically, "—and dear old Blaise is representing Slytherin."
Draco blinked. "And what about me?"
"You're not allowed, you're the ex."
"You can't just treat him like some prize to be won! He needs someone who cares about him, not someone who wants to show him off!"
There was a brief pause, and Blaise and Pansy looked at each other. They'd been handed a golden insult opportunity; who would take this one?
Draco sighed. "Oh, fuck both of you. Yes, I get the irony. You've made your point. I've learned my lesson. For Slytherins, you two are awfully morally correct."
"We weren't teaching you a lesson, stupid," smirked Pansy, "There actually is a contest."
"But congrats on having taught yourself a lesson!" said Blaise cheerfully. "You're so morally correct!"
Reviewers are the best ever ever twice. Concrit is wonderful and brit-picking is t3h sexxors, and that means a lot coming from someone who abhors typing that way.
