Disclaimer: JKRowling, WB, et cetra own Harry Potter. I do not. I merely own the plot, and I won't make any money off of this.

Warnings:

-Pre-HBP

-Future slash. Don't like it? I don't care, just leave.

-Minor language.

-This story is AU as the original idea was started LONG before Half-Blood Prince. Only now however, have I gathered the courage to start it again though.

AN: Hello I have posted this before, only this time I made it good. I am still working out the kinks, and I desperately need a beta. One that I can bounce plot ideas off of too. So if you're interested, please leave your email, or email me.

I watched listlessly as the snow tumbled to the ground around me. It was so enchanting, so beautiful, I dared not to leave. I leaned against a tree with an almost voyeuristic feeling as I saw those millions of flakes descend to the ground, as though they were the smallest of angels blessing the filthy ground; causing it to become pure, like them.

It was so engrossing that I didn't even notice that my hands had become so numb they were barely movable. I curse under my breath and the air absorbed it; making the foul word fragile, tangible and crystalline, adopting it into its angelic dance, if only for a short while.

I had gone outside to think because I couldn't stay inside anymore. I did that a lot these days: thinking, plotting, (and worst of all) hoping and wishing. I did enjoy the comfort of seeing a warm fire consume a few logs of wood. The crackle and malice that is hidden within those flames often fueled my thoughts of rage and hate, but recently, it reminds me of other things.

It reminds me of his passion, the light of his personality, and the unforgivable warmth that he unknowingly brought into my supposedly cold, black heart. Now, those harsh flickering flames, the ones that used to lick my internal wounds, seem to bite into my soul revealing things that I don't want to be revealed. Secrets of my being that I don't even want to know. Longings and forbidden thoughts that I hate and that tear me apart and put me back together again; thoughts that make things fit together so well and then allows everything else to fall to the floor and shatter like glass. I couldn't watch those flames any longer, they had been tainted.

So I ventured out. No one dared to question where I went. No one ever does, for I am Lucius Malfoy's son and though he still remains in prison, the name still commands a certain amount of respect.

Two birds flittered to the ground before me and began to peck at incessantly, one of them must have found something as the other seemed to bully it. I couldn't help but be reminded of him. With a white-hot flash of anger, I kicked at the ground, sending the flakes at the direction of the fighting birds and they flew away hastily. Once my pulse returned to normal, my heavy breathing subsided and my anger was in check, I felt quite foolish, and quite ashamed.

Why can't I just get him out of my head?

Sibyll Trelawney had been given back the right to teach this year, but only part time. She traded off classes with Firenze, but that was fine with her. And that was why one Harry Potter dragged his feet as he climbed the numerous stairs to the North Tower.

Finally, after what felt like months of hiking, he got there. He leaned back against the cool, stone wall and sighed. For once he had gotten there a little before it was time for class, and did not want to enter that airless room before he had to. The September sun shone quite brightly through the windows and Harry had to squint against the offending light as he observed Hogwart's glorious landscape.

Sealing his fate, he pushed himself away from the wall. He was about to go in as he heard footsteps rounding the corner to the classroom. Figuring it must be Ron (who had forgotten his book and had to retrieve it from the dorm) hesitated and about-faced to meet his friend.

"Took you long enough-" Harry started, but he cut off his words and glared bitterly instead at some one who was definetly not Ronald Weasley.

"I beg your pardon?" Draco Malfoy drawled as turned the corner, an elegant eyebrow raised in amusement.

"You read your timetable wrong," Harry stated, narrowing his eyes farther at the offending boy, hoping that it was the truth.

"How are you so sure you didn't read yours wrong, Potter?" Draco smirked. Harry glared at the aristocratic boy and Draco's smirk widened at Harry's discomfort. "Well, if you don't mind," the other pushed past Harry and then proceeded to dust off his immaculate robes, "I've a class to attend," the blonde boy spoke as he gracefully swept past Harry and ascended up the ladder.

Harry cursed to himself as he lean back against the wall again, resting his head back against it as he closed his eyes. He could not believe his luck; thus far, every single class he had was with the Slytherin boy. Harry had no doubt that this was not a coincidence. Dumbledore was behind this. After the previous year's sorting hat's song, it could hardly be avoided. But Harry was most definitely did not want to be near the boy, even if he understood Dumbledore's good intentions. His father was a Death Eater and after that death threat last year he was positive that Draco would follow in his father's footsteps. He also figured that after a summer without his father, Malfoy would have stewed about his hate for the ebony-haired boy, making it increase ten-fold.

He heard foot steps come from the stairs again, but this time he didn't bother to move.

"Wow, Harry, you look like death warmed over."

Harry opened his eyes and smiled weakly at his best friend, Ron Weasley.

"You will never guess who is in Divination with us," Harry's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes."

"Damnit."

"Come on, let's get this over with as quick as possible," Harry ushered Ron up the ladder, glad he didn't have to face Professor Trelawney's death predictions, and now, Malfoy alone.

The room reeked of foul smelling incense, just as Harry remembered as he and Ron went to their seats.

"Next time, Mr. Weasley, remember your book," Harry instinctively winced at the professor's wispy tone. "You may have noticed that there are people from different houses than yourselves in the class this year. I foretold this"-Harry and Ron snorted quietly, and Trelawney shot a look at them-"and created partners for each of you. These will be your partners for the year, no exceptions. I paired you all together by compatibility through each of your sun signs."

Harry sighed in relief. If they were being paired up by compatibility, there is no way in hell him and Malfoy will be together.

"Ronald Weasley and Susan Bones. Lavender Brown and Blaise Zabini."

Harry watched as his fellow students arranged themselves to sit next to their partner, and waited for his name to be called.

"Pavarti Patil and Justin Finch-Fletchety. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy."

Harry was floored. She must have made a mistake (which was highly likely considering just whom it was), because there is no way him and Malfoy could be compatible. At all. Ever. He made a slight coughing noise in the back of his throat as he raised his hand.

"What is it, Potter?" her voice sounded more like McGonagall's than her normal airy one, that snort earlier must've really peeved her off.

"You must have made a mistake with the partners, Professor, Malfoy and I hate each other," he looked to Ron for back up, and his friend was nodding vehemently.

"I made no mistake, Potter. You are a Leo, he is a Scorpio, you are compatible," Trelawney snapped. "Now go sit next to your partner."

Grudgingly, Harry went to sit next to Malfoy, who's smirk had finally been wiped off his face.