DISCLAIMER: 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.
A/N: Hello again! THIRTY-ONE REVIEWS! I LOVE YOU ALL! My attorney advises me to say that I'm very happy to be back and writing. Because she's stupid, and really my beta lizren in disguise. So! Another short chapter, and for this I apologize. However! It does include a brief and silent appearance from Ewan McGregor, and he's the best. And wearing a kilt. I had a lovely time in Arizona, not that anyone is interested, and I cried my eyes out at HBP. Oh god, the tragedy. I also discovered, through reading, that my Blaise could not possibly be any more out of character. Even if I tried. Oh man. Ahhh… funny stuff. I won't spoil anymore, for the three people worldwide who haven't read it yet. Enjoy this chapter… it's splendid. And um, bye.
Chapter le cinqieme
So. He loved Harry. This, it seemed, added to his problems tremendously. There was now a certain necessity for him to think of a Brilliant Plan to thwart Harry's many pursuers and win him for himself, as quickly as possible. Draco sat in the Slytherin common room staring at a wall, garnering many strange looks from younger students, trying to think of a suitable Brilliant Plan.
Blaise, of course, had been no help at all. After Draco had had his epiphany, he'd gone off to find Pansy and collect his money. The two of them had returned, and Pansy had demanded a confirmation. Draco, somewhat dumbfounded, had nodded blankly, fervently wishing someone would get him a firewhiskey.
He'd spent the last quarter of an hour trying to get his head around this new development, only to realize that it made his dilemma considerably worse. Now he'd gone back to his original strategy of mental pacing.
"Oh, sod it…" he muttered, getting up. He'd sleep on it, he supposed.
As he stepped into his room, he spotted Harry's tie, still on the floor. He froze. Of course! Harry! He'd talk to Harry and sort the whole thing out. Now completely awake and alert, he ran back out of the room. He was almost to the door of the common room before he realized he didn't know the Gryffindor password.
He scampered back through the common room, before remembering that Malfoys Don't Scamper and slowing to a more dignified stride. He made his way to the room the other sixth year boys shared, hoping Blaise was there, and opened the door.
He took in the room, realizing he hadn't been in it before. There were three four-poster beds, each with the curtains drawn. He wondered which one was Blaise's, before noticing that the wall behind one of them had a humongous poster of a delectable-looking Muggle in a kilt. Well, he knew which bed was Blaise's. He wrenched back the curtains before giving a strangled yelp.
Blaise was indeed there, but he was not the only inhabitant of the bed at the moment. Laying astride him was some Ravenclaw, named Corner if memory served. Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Can I help you?"
Draco quickly averted his eyes, looking instead at the first thing he saw, which happened to be the man in the kilt. He was quite good-looking. Draco cleared his throat. "What's the Gryffindor password?"
Blaise moaned. Apparently Corner hadn't felt the interruption was any reason to stop. Draco stared more intently at the poster. "Password's—'jobberknoll'—" Blaise panted.
"And who's this guy?" Draco asked, still studying the man in the kilt. "He's pretty hot…"
"Ewan McGregor—Muggle actor—" Blaise replied.
With a final glance at Ewan, who, since it was a Muggle poster, had remained in the same pose the whole time, Draco closed Blaise's curtains, vowing to knock next time, and set off for Gryffindor Tower.
After climbing what felt like ten thousand staircases in the dark and miraculously not getting caught, Draco stopped in front of a morbidly obese woman in a pink dress. "Jobberknoll," he said importantly. Casting him a suspicious glance, the woman's portrait swung open, revealing a large hole. He stepped through, and gave the common room a once-over. Harry's tell-tale messy hair did not seem to be sticking up from any of the scarlet chairs or couches. He must have gone to bed. Draco had only been up here a few times before, but he remembered that Harry's room was up the spiral staircase to the left.
Having reached the top of the staircase, he stopped before the door marked 'Sixth years.' However, before he had a chance to open it, it opened by itself, revealing none other than Ron Weasley. "What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy?"
Draco sneered. "I'd like to talk to Harry, if that's not too much trouble."
Apparently it was. Weasley stepped out of the dormitory and closed the door behind him, standing between Draco and the entrance. "Piss off Malfoy, Harry doesn't want to see you."
"I'm sure he can speak for himself, Weasley."
Weasley didn't move, but did become angrier. "I'm telling you he doesn't want to see you."
Draco smirked. "What are you, his secretary? For your sake, I hope he's paying you for it."
Weasley seethed. Draco couldn't help it, it was so very easy to push the Weasel's buttons. He knew it wasn't sensible – the boy was a lot bigger than him and had a very short temper – but he continued. "Now if you don't get out of my way, I'm going to rape your sister until she bleeds."
Despite the fact that anyone with half a brain knew that Draco would never fuck a Weasley, let alone a girl Weasley, this was the last straw, and Draco found himself shoved up against the wall, with Weasley pressed up against him in a very intimidating fashion. Behind them, the door to Harry's dormitory opened.
"Problem?"
And there was Harry, looking more exasperated than anything else. Weasley froze, a handful of Draco's robes in one hand and the other hand balled into a fist, poised to hit Draco in the face.
Draco gulped. Harry was wearing nothing but a towel. He was wet, there were little rivulets of water trickling down his tanned chest. The towel was low on his hips, Draco could see his hipbones jutting out deliciously. Harry's damp hair stuck to his forehead, and he shook his head, flexing the muscles in his neck. Worst of all, Harry wasn't wearing his glasses, meaning that there was no protective barrier between him and Harry's gorgeous green eyes, which focused on him as Harry raised an eyebrow.
Oh, gods. Draco swallowed again, with difficulty. He was having another Harry Moment, he could feel his trousers constricting… He wondered if Weasley, who was still pressed up against him, would notice.
"ARGH! Gross!" Weasley shoved him away roughly. "Malfoy, you're revolting!"
Draco didn't have a chance to smirk or say anything scathing, as he realized that his efforts to regain his balance after Weasley's forceful shove were not working. He stuck an arm out behind him to break his fall, only to discover that the ground wasn't there; he was tumbling down the stairs.
He heard Weasley let out a smug, "Ha!" while Harry swore loudly and started down the stairs as well. Draco landed at the bottom of the stairs in a heap, attracting the attention of the entire common room. He tried to get up, and found that there was a sharp pain in his leg when he attempted to move it.
"Draco! Are you all right?" Harry was crouching next to him, looking concerned.
"I hate your friends, Potter," Draco muttered.
Harry smiled and helped him to his feet. "Can you walk?" Draco shook his head. "Let's get you to the hospital wing, then. I'll deal with Ron later." Somehow the idea that Weasley would get an angry talking-to did not seem satisfactory, but Draco didn't mention it. He slung an arm over Harry's shoulder and Harry held him by the waist, and they slowly made their way out of the common room. Draco looked behind them, to see Weasley's smile fading. Clearly, he hadn't assumed close physical proximity between Harry and the Evil Ex-Boyfriend From Hell would result. Draco shot him a toothy grin over his shoulder.
Teeheehee. Did anyone else notice that Harry left the common-room still clad only in a towel? I DID! However, that's because I wrote it. The poster of Ewan is based on a real picture, which I love dearly and have posted a link that might not work in my profile since they wouldn't let me link it here. Because they're dumb. Okay, well… it might be a tad longer until the next chapter, seeing as how I haven't written it yet. It's a celebration, bitches! Thanks ever so for the reviews, leave some more. Please?
Also, if anyone knows a good word for a fast, determined, and somewhat intimidating walk, I would be forever obliged, because "stride" was suggested by my father (Man, would he hate me if he knew what he'd suggested it for) and I don't think it fits quite right. You know, in the part where he's Not Scampering and all that. THANKS MUCHO. REVIEWWWWWWWW.
