DISCLAIMER: That's it. You know what? I'm gonna go find a ready-made disclaimer, I'm tired of typing these. Ehem: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Very professional-sounding, eh?

A/N: Sorry, short chapter. But some Very Important Revelations are had, so I hope that makes up for it. Also, I'm off to the Grand Canyon for some amount of time after this, so I think this'll be the last chapter for a while. Doesn't really matter though, everyone'll be too engrossed with HBP to care about my goofy fanfiction anyway, including me.

Chapter Four! Oh, I forgot to label the last one as Chapter Three, I hope everyone figured that out okay. I have faith in you guys.

It became abundantly clear on Tuesday morning that a great many people were taking the so-called competition very seriously. Draco raised a forkful of pancakes to his mouth as he watched Harry from across the Great Hall. Mudblood and the Weasel were sitting across the table from him, leaving the seats to Harry's right and left open. Draco was sure they'd done this on purpose.

Draco began to worry when the Weasley girl sat down on Harry's left and gave him what she probably thought was an innocent and shy smile. The effect of the smile was somewhat lessened by the fact that she pushed out her ample chest as she grinned. When Finnigan sat down on Harry's other side and winked. Harry looked mildly uncomfortable. Draco realized his fork was still poised near his mouth, and put it down, having lost his appetite.

And so he suffered. Weaselette continued to present herself as eye candy, to the point where several others at the Gryffindor table were slavering over her, but Harry seemed not to notice. Ha! If Harry really liked girls, Draco would eat his wand.

Finnigan, however, took a more direct approach and kept touching Harry in a manner that made Draco's blood boil. His fingers kept lingering on Harry's when Harry passed him something, and when Finnigan threw his arm around Harry's shoulders, Harry smiled weakly and valiantly attempted to continue the conversation he was having. However, when Finnigan's hand disappeared under the table, Harry jumped up violently and declared he was taking a walk.

Draco counted slowly to thirty before following. He wasn't really sure why he was following Harry, but it seemed like a good idea.

Draco peered down the corridor. There was no sign of Harry, he must have run somewhere rather quickly. Draco gave a mental shrug before heading toward the Slytherin dungeons to get his bag for class. Walking down a staircase, he could hear a voice coming from around a corner.

"Peeves, give me my glasses back."

Draco recognized the voice instantly as Harry's.

"Not until you've said the magic word, Potty!" came Peeves' shrill reply. Peeves had a special place in his heart for Harry, apparently; he was the only student above third year Peeves still picked on.

"Peeves! I mean it!"

Draco felt this was a perfect opportunity for him to be heroic, so he rounded the corner. "Peeves," he said exasperatedly, "just give him the bloody glasses."

Peeves found this to be quite amusing, and howled with laughter. What a nutter.

At that moment, luckily, the Bloody Baron floated through a nearby wall. "Baron!" called Draco, "Oy! Baron!"

The Baron glided over to them, looking frightening and ghoulish and all that.

"Baron," said Draco, "Make Peeves give Potter his glasses back."

The Baron stared at him, unmoved.

Draco sighed. "Baron," he said haughtily, "As a representative of the esteemed house of Malfoy, I request that you please tell Peeves to give Potter his glasses back."

The Baron looked at Peeves, who'd been frozen in place since his arrival. "Peeves," he croaked, "Give the boy his glasses."

"Y-y-yes, your Bloodiness." With that, he tossed the glasses back to Harry and fled. The Bloody Baron, looking bored (and scary!) floated back through the wall from whence he'd come. Draco felt somewhat triumphant. He supposed emotionally stunted rich pureblood families were good for something after all.

"Er…thanks, Draco," said Harry uncertainly.

Draco smirked coldly. "Thank the esteemed house of Malfoy, Potter."

"'Potter'? We're back to that? Look, Draco, I—"

"Save it, Potter." And with that, he turned around and walked away, not really sure of how he was supposed to feel.

After enduring another day of Finnigan groping Harry whenever he got the chance, Draco decided enough was enough. He approached Blaise in the Slytherin common room.

"Blaise."

Blaise looked up. "Mm?"

"Get your fuck-buddy under control."

Blaise blinked innocently. "What?"

"Finnigan. He's being inappropriate. Tell him to stop."

"Seamus isn't my problem anymore, remember?"

Draco sighed. "Yeah, but come on, you must have some say here."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Even if I did, why would I say anything?"

"Because he's bothering me."

Blaise smiled. "Sounds like someone's jealous."

Draco glared at him. "I'm not jealous. He's just being indecent."

Blaise's smile widened as he appreciated the massive amount of potential taunting this situation was bringing. "And why do you care, Drakey?"

Draco had to take a moment to calm himself down. No one called him Drakey except the ghost of his great-great-great-grandmother Isabella. The only reason she was even allowed to get away with it was because she was completely bonkers and would reenact her favorite scenes from operas in the middle of dinner when she didn't get her way. Father wanted to banish her, but Mother wouldn't allow it. Draco shook his head. He was drifting again. "I told you, Blaise, it's hard to concentrate in class when Finnigan's letting out his pent-up sexual frustration on unsuspecting bystanders all the time."

"You didn't even have a class with him today," said Blaise smugly.

"Yes, well," Draco stammered, before remembering that Malfoys Don't Stammer and promptly collecting himself, "I see him in the hallway, after all. And during meals. He's very annoying."

"And this has nothing to do with the fact that Harry's been his primary target?" asked Blaise sweetly.

"No," replied Draco firmly.

But Blaise kept on. "So you wouldn't mind then if I asked Harry out? He's such a nice guy, you know."

"Don't you dare, Zabini."

Blaise tilted his head, effectively reminding Draco of a confused dog. "Ooh, but I think I will. He's got no reason to say no, after all. I'm very approachable for a Slytherin, I've been told."

"No," repeated Draco, just as firmly.

Blaise's smile became cruel. "You were horrible to him for six months, you acted like you wanted nothing better than for him to leave, and now he has and you think you have some kind of claim on him? Think again, my friend."

Draco remained silent, gritting his teeth. He needed a witty retort, to shut Blaise up, before he got on a roll.

"Why," Blaise continued, mockingly, "do you care all of a sudden what happens to him, anyway? You never cared before. Why does it bother you so much that other people are interested in him? Why are you so obsessed with him?"

"Because I love him!" Draco blurted. Not exactly a witty retort. Where in the hell had that come from?

Blaise looked triumphant. "Ha! I knew it. Pansy owes me ten galleons."

Draco blinked, speechless. He'd just had a huge revelation, and they were betting on him? Sometimes he hated having Slytherins for friends. "I need a drink," he said faintly.

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