A/N: Okay, so it's seriously been more than a year since I last updated this… but, what the hell, it's Valentines Day! If you're looking for continuity, this is definitely the wrong fic. If you're looking for cactus Voldemort and plastic sheep sacrificing… ding ding ding! We have a winner!
Warnings: If you've made it this far, there isn't much I can do to scare you away, brave reader! Umm… more bad poetry, general nonsense, Draco brainstorming rap-like Valentine verses.
Chapter: Love potion number nine
"I can't believe Fred and George got so much candy! I mean, they don't even try… Harry, what are you doing?" Ron stopped his pacing and ranting. It was Valentine's Day morning, and both of the boys had received small heaps of candy and valentines. Harry had already gone through his pile; he hadn't known half of the girls who'd sent him valentines. He didn't let Ron see the one from Colin Creevey. Ron would never let him forget that one if he did.
Harry quickly closed his notebook.
"Um… homework?"
"Oh… and even Percy got more candy than me! But I think he might have owled some of those valentines and boxes of candy to himself, the git…"
Harry opened his notebook again. He thought he should give his Valentine's date some chocolate, and it seemed appropriate to send a poem with it. Only problem was he couldn't come up with anything. After all, that first poem had been a joke, really. Ah well, maybe he'd just buy some flowers.
Draco was sitting in the Slytherin common room, essentially in the same situation as Harry.
Blood is red,
Just like ketchup,
Don't fuck with me,
Or I'll cut you up.
Draco pressed his lips together. Was that romantic? He wasn't sure.
"Pansy," Draco called. "What do you think of this poem?"
A metal box in the shape of a heart whizzed past Draco's nose and slammed into the wall next to him.
Draco looked at it. To Pansy, Love Clovis, said the tag attached to it.
"Draco Malfoy," said Pansy from across the room. Her voice was low. Her hair was frizzy, almost poodle-like, and her eyes were bloodshot. "Do not ask my opinion on a love poem you're sending to some hussy. You could have told me before last night that you were going to the dance with someone else. Then I wouldn't be stuck going with Goyle."
That name was punctuated with a flying brick-like chunk of chocolate. Draco ducked.
"Gotcha, the "don't fuck with me" line is a bit much." Draco crossed out that line.
"Guys were lining themselves up, and I shot 'em all down, like taking out squirrels with a bazooka. They sent me love potions, cursed chocolates… Hell, one of 'em even sent a hand-crafted intoxicharm. He cared enough to drug me, Draco… And I told him no... for this!"
Draco inserted a few "mhmms" where it seemed appropriate. He was busy concentrating on his poetry. He thought of 'borrowing' someone else's poetry, but that might be a tad déclassé. He wanted to impress his date after all.
Far across the distance… and spaces between us…
Sometimes I feel I've got to (bum bum) get away…
Hello
How are you?
Won't you tell me your name?
Draco scribbled a few more lines then sighed. For some reason, he kept thinking of Harry Potter. He was definitely up to something, but Draco didn't know what.
Mary Mary, quite contrary…
Draco scribbled out "Mary" and replaced it with "Harry".
Harry, Harry, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
Draco snickered. An idea was forming in his mind. He ripped off the To Pansy, Love Clovis tag, scribbled a few more lines, and attached the note to the metal canister.
This would be a Valentine's Day Harry would never forget. Draco snickered to himself.
A shadow slid down the wall behind him.
Mission accomplished, thought the witch Anandeus.
At breakfast, Ron was still complaining about his dearth of Valentine's Day gifts. Harry suspected that he was really just upset Hermione hadn't given him anything, but, being a good friend, he just nodded and uh huh-ed.
Hermione sat down next to them at the table, and Ron finally stopped complaining. Neither of them spoke to each other. Harry sighed.
The owls came in, dropping of more Valentine's Day gifts and cards. Seamus got a particularly large, lumpy package. This started Ron complaining again, until he realized it was probably the "special project" Fred and George had been working on for the last week. Hermione and Ron ran over to stop Seamus from opening it, only to have the package explode on them, showering them and the surrounding people in red, white and pink panties.
While this was going on, a large black owl swooped low, nearly hitting Harry in the head with its package. Harry caught the thing, a metal heart canister with a note attached.
Harry glanced around. Hermione and Ron were busy explaining the panties to Snape, who was holding Fred and George by their collars. They looked like they were about to choke, but Harry thought it wasn't because Snape was holding their shirts too tightly; rather, it was probably because a sheer, lacy thong had drifted down to land on Snape's head.
With some trepidation, Harry unfolded the note.
Harry, Harry, quite contrary,
How does your love life go?
I've been thinking of you fondly
And I just want you to know:
I dream about your skin
I think about your lips
I imagine what it's like
To lick your fingertips
Say you'll be mine
And I promise you this:
I'll give you a Valentine
You'll never forget
I'll be waiting on the stairs
At a quarter to nine,
And the things I do to you
Will send shivers up your spine.
Harry dropped the note on the table. Well, that was rather forward.
"Harry? Are you all right?" Ron had escaped from the panty fiasco and was leaning over Harry's shoulder.
Harry grabbed the note and stuffed it in his pocket.
"Yeah, yup, I'm fine."
"Because you're really red. Hey, did you get another thing of candy? Man, this just isn't fair. I swear, even Neville got more than me..." And Ron was at it again. Harry munched on some of the candy. He decided that his mysterious admirer certainly had a strange sense of humor. But the candy was good, anyway. It had a strange flavor, something fruity, like mango, maybe.
"Harry, Harry, let's go get ready!"
Well, he could ask his date what the flavor was when they finally met tonight, on the stairs.
"Hermione, a corsage… for me?"
Harry practically passed out in relief. All of Ron's passive-aggressive gift comparing had been driving him nuts. Hermione had finally given Ron a return gift. It didn't even seem to bother Ron that the lime color clashed horribly with his red dress robes, and Harry didn't have the heart to mention it. He just averted his eyes. The colors were head-ache inducing.
"Harry, are you coming?" Hermione inquired.
"Er… I'll meet you guys in a few minutes."
Ron nodded, and Hermione took his arm and stepped into the Great Hall.
Harry was starting to get nervous. It was almost nine and still no sign of his date. Most of the school was already crammed in the Great Hall, dancing and chatting.
It was very quiet outside. Harry sat down on the bottom of the steps and sighed. He tossed his flowers on the stone steps next to him. Some Valentine's Day this was turning out to be. A shadow loomed in the darkness behind him.
Draco stood at the top of the stairs, triumphantly looking down at the dejected form of Harry Potter at the bottom of the stairs. Now if his date would just show up, he could show her off to Potter and waltz off into the Great Hall, leaving Potter to wait for a date that would never come.
But his date, whoever it was, was late.
Draco frowned, wondering for the millionth time who could have sent those letters. Probably a Ravenclaw, clever poetry and all that.
Draco froze. Potter had stood up, as if sensing a presence behind him. His broad shoulders straightened, and he turned to face Draco. Draco froze like a deer in the headlights. This wasn't part of the plan, and where was his damned date?
"All alone, Potter?" Draco said with a sneer. He'd make the best of it, anyway. Potter would still be left waiting for his date, preferably feeling much shittier by the time Malfoy was done with him. "Poor Potter doesn't have a Valentine? How sad."
Potter began walking up the stairs towards him. Draco was confused. The set of Potter's jaw was very strange, and he had a look in his eyes that Draco had never seen before.
"Malfoy…" Potter said very slowly.
It took all of Draco's self control to keep from turning tail and finding a rock to hide under.
"Yes, Potter?"
"Malfoy… no… Draco. Can I call you that?" Potter looked a little lost, confused.
"What the… No! What are you smoking? Where did that even come-mmf!"
Harry's finger pressed against his lip, effectively silencing him. Malfoy's eyes widened; what exactly was going on here?
"Draco… I'm in love with you."
Harry removed the offending finger, and leaned towards him. The torches on the ways cast odd shadows on Harry's face, reflecting their fire in Harry's eyes. What was that unfathomable look in those green eyes? Draco opened his mouth. Whatever he was going to say was completely lost when Harry's lips met his own. In the Great Hall, fireworks exploded, but Draco was convinced the sound was his brain breaking.
Is Malfoy right? Has Harry indeed been smoking something in the boy's bathroom?
Stay tuned indefinitely for the next chapter of Love Letter!