Author: Mirai
Disclaimer: We interrupt this disclaimer to bring you… the Cheesy-Skeezy Harry Potter Joke of the Day!
That had better be a wand in your pocket!
We will now return you to your regularly scheduled disclaimer.
So, I don't own it. Anyway, two wizards walk into a bar…
Warnings: Actually, this is nice and spoiler-free. As for the other stuff… well, slash, lame songs, and general dorkyness
Author's Note: …Would I make Harry act stupid?! Er…Okay, Chica Who Is Not to Be Psycho, you've got a point, but I did WAY more Malfoy bashing! I think… Poor Harry. I'll try and be nicer to him. Try…



Harry Potter trudged out of the Hogwarts castle at first light. The scene that greeted him was textbook Disney. Birds were singing; flowers were just opening their soft petals to the warm morning sun; shimmering pearls of dew clung to verdant blades of grass. Harry had the urge to belt out the opening song of "Oklahoma!" He settled on whistling it. "Oh what a beautiful morrrrning… oh what a beautiful daaay… I've got a beautiful feeeeeeling… everything's going my way…" And so on.
Had a record of the musical been playing, it would have screeched to a halt as Harry turned the corner to the Quidditch field. There, like a storm cloud in front of the sun, crushing the verdant blades of grass and trampling the fragile flower petals, stood Draco Malfoy.
"What are you doing here!?"
Harry wasn't sure if he or Draco, or both of them, had said it.
"Practicing," Harry said, holding his broom out in front of himself.
Draco sighed, rather melodramatically Harry thought. "You know, Potter, following me around all the time isn't going to make my charm and good looks rub off on you."
"Hey, GQ, can you take your charm and good looks somewhere else? I'd really like to practice…"
Malfoy shrugged, and paused for a moment, as if to build up the suspense for whatever he would say next. "…I'll play you for the field. Assuming your supposed Gryffindor courage hasn't deserted you, that is…"
"Ha! You're on. I wouldn't be caught dead losing to a Slytherin."
"That's perfectly all right. You'll be alive when it happens."
Harry rolled his eyes, and in one smooth movement, Malfoy loosed the snitch from his pocket into the air. He looked at Harry expectantly.
Harry, about to jump on his broom, froze. He felt a strange shiver trickle down his back, and he was somehow sure it had nothing to do with Malfoy. He looked behind him but could see nothing out of the ordinary. Somehow, though, the day didn't seem as bright as it had only a few moments ago.
"Ahem." Harry looked up. Malfoy was already in the air, doing lazy circles. "If you've lost your nerve, Potter, why don't you just say so?"
"Shut up," Harry muttered, the familiarity of the situation making him feel a little better. He took off. Slowly, he relaxed. The sun was warm on his back, and he was glad for a chance to play quidditch, Malfoy and all. Between homework, his secret admirer, and the upcoming Valentine's Day dance, he had a lot on his mind. He rounded the Quidditch field several times, letting his mind wander.
He watched Malfoy, noting that his flying seemed to have improved considerably from the last time they had played. His movements were almost unconscious, more natural than Harry remembered. Harry saw a little white piece of paper drop out of Malfoy's pocket and flutter towards the ground. Without thinking, Harry dove for it. He slowed down and stretched his hand out, catching it high above the field. He stopped entirely, looking at it curiously.
"Give that back."
Harry started, Malfoy's voice was low and dangerous and very close to his ear. "Er-" He held out the slip of paper almost automatically, and Malfoy took it. Then Malfoy did the unthinkable. He dropped down to the ground, and walked off the field.




Harry was fretting. That was the second time Malfoy had backed down from a challenge in the past couple of days. It was incredibly odd, not to mention off-putting. He thought at first that Malfoy might be a little distracted. That had definitely seemed the case, particularly in potions. But Harry had been thinking about it all day, and he was sure he finally knew the reason behind Malfoy's strange behavior.
It was obvious. Malfoy was dying.




Harry spotted Malfoy in the hall on his way to lunch. He pushed through the crowd, and Ron followed awkwardly behind him. Malfoy saw him, glared, and was about to turn away when Harry waved at him. Malfoy stared, but stayed rooted in his spot.
"Um, sorry," Harry said, bowling over a student as he made his way toward Malfoy. Yes, it was all perfectly clear. Malfoy obviously was feeling guilty about being a horrible person, and he wanted to make amends in the only way he knew how. Malfoy seemed to be sorry, so it was up to him to do the rest. If Malfoy wanted to forget about the past, he should also make an attempt.
Malfoy opened his mouth, but before he even had a chance to say something, Harry said, "Listen. I know about it. I'm sorry." He patted Malfoy's shoulder awkwardly.
"What the hell are you on?!" Malfoy said, smacking Harry's hand, obviously a little thrown by Harry's behavior. "And don't touch me!"
Ron gawked at Harry, mouth open for a moment, but then gathered himself together. "For once I agree with ferret-face. What the hell are you on?! And don't touch him! You might catch something." He examined Harry's face critically. "You sure you didn't catch something?
Harry shook his head. His attempts at diplomacy obviously weren't working out very well. Come to think of it, what was he doing? If Malfoy was dying, it was probably indirectly his own fault. He had probably stolen candy from a baby, and the candy had been poisoned. Or… something like that. "Malfoy I know- Never mind." Harry tried a smile that quickly changed into a grimace. "Never mind," he repeated. "Let's go, Ron."
Ron followed, muttering under his breath.




Malfoy stomped into the Slytherin bathroom and leaned against the counter, glaring into the mirror. "'I know about it,'" he repeated to himself. "'It.'"
"What is it?" He shook his head. Something was very wrong with Potter lately. He didn't care, per se, but it was rather disconcerting, having your rival come up to you and apologize about nothing. It really made no sense. Malfoy couldn't quite explain it to himself; it was like Potter was talking in code.
He mulled it over for a full five minutes, and abruptly it became clear. Potter knew about the letters.
Potter was blackmailing him.
"Filthy little son of a…" The door slammed behind him.




Author's Note #2: "Curiouser and curiouser!" This chapter makes me laugh. Okay, I know this was a short chapter, and it took me forever to update (once again), but I'm working a lot of hours now that it's summer. Does anybody want to pay me to sit at home all day and scribble fanfics and insane rantings? Anybody…? Any takers…? Hmm. I give up. Oh, survey says I should put in some more pornorific poetry. I think that's funny! Maybe next chapter I will. Anyway, please review, and I'll try to update soon!