A/N: Okay, so, this is my first Harry Potter fanfiction and once again I am colaberationg with Teya Teacup. It's a song story thingy, but it doesn't suck I swear! Review please and tell me what you think of the story. Tell me what you would like to see happen and I'll see what I can do about it. Enjoy!

A Fever You Can't Sweat Out

The Only Difference Between Suicide and Martyrdom is Press Coverage

Sit tight, I'm gonna need you to keep time, come on just snap snap snap your fingers for me.
Good good, now we're making some progress come on just tap tap tap your toes to the beat.

I walked into the club and the nondescript techno music assaulted my ears. Fuck I hated techno. I made my way to the bar and ordered a Blue Hawaiian. Yeah, I know that's so gay, right? Well, I am so fuck off.

And I believe, this may call for a proper introduction.
And well, don't you see? I'm the narrator, and this is just the prologue.

Oh, you probably want to know who I am, right? Fuck, I'm bad at this. My name's Harry Potter. I'm twenty-one. I have black hair and green eyes. My parents got in a car crash twenty years ago. Do the math. Anyways, turns out, the car crash was a set up.

Swear to shake it up if you swear to listen.
we're still so young, desperate for attention.

I aim to be your eyes
Trophy boys, Trophy wives

Applause! Applause! No, wait wait...

So, I was walking through this club, yeah, it's a gay club, and I saw this guy dancing. He was absolutely fucking gorgeous. He was also dancing with another guy. No problem, just butt in, right? Wrong. I don't dance. Didn't. I didn't dance. I do now.

Dear studio audience,
I have an announcement to make.
It seems the artists these days are not who you think.
So we'll pick back up on that on another page.

Anyways, I waited. I'm such a fucking chicken. I waited for him to come to the bar for about half an hour, not bad considering that's what I planned to do anyways. You know, sit at the bar and drink myself senseless. I was working up a fairly good buzz when he came up to me and started a conversation.

And I believe, this may call for a proper introduction.

"Hey," the enigmatic blonde said to me. Did I mention that? He had beautiful blonde hair. He was wearing a printed button up shirt with a brown blazer over top. His pants were on my floor. No, really, they were matching brown dress pants. Obviously very pricey.

"Hi," I said, trying my hardest to remain calm and seem cool although I'm really not. I wear these glasses. And, fuck, I wish I didn't wear them that night. You know, I could have always bought contacts, but I never even considered it until I met him. I'm such a geek.

"Draco Malfoy," he said as he stuck out his hand. What the shit is that? His name is Draco Malfoy? What the fuck? Okay, never mind about that. I was willing to get over the atrocity that was his name if he was willing to get over the fact that I have the ugliest shitting glasses in existence.

"Harry Potter," I shook his hand and finished my drink. "Drink?" I can be really slick sometimes. You wait, I'm completely serious.

"Yeah, whatever you were drinking looks awesome, thanks." See, already off to a good start. One problem, I happen to order the most expensive drink in the bar, so I couldn't be buying him too many more or I'd be running a tab.

So, I ordered the drink and we got to talking. Turned out we had more in common than we thought. We were both raised by our extended family, I by my aunt and uncle, he by his uncle. Actually, it wasn't his uncle, it was his godfather.

But, whatever, back to the story. His parents are alive. Trust me, very alive. They were just never there. Too busy, you see.

"Do you dance, or do you just come here to perv out?" he asked me.

"I perv out," honesty is always the best policy.

"Yeah, whatever, let's go."

"Where?"

"Dance floor." Those two words killed me. Reason being that after I showed him how awkward I was on the dance floor, I went to the bathroom. Reason two being that when I came back I found him talking to someone, a girl, and when I went up I got a glimpse of another side of the ever inscrutable Draco Malfoy. Which still stumps me – the name that is. I'll never tell him though.

Okay, so I walked up to them and he totally ignored me. He was having a conversation about something to do with business. It seemed like shady business, but what did I know?

It seems the artists these days are not who you think.
So we'll pick back up on that on another page.

Anyways, I was standing there behind them until I tapped him on the shoulder and said hi. He gave me this look like "what the fuck are you doing here?" I rolled my eyes and walked away. I may be gay, but I'm not a pussy or a pushover.

I wasn't about to let some guy I just met ruin my night, or my plans. I got up to the bar and ordered a shot of vodka. I needed to play the catch-up game. I wasn't to sure with who, but I figured that I should have been drunk by then. I took the shot, gave my head a shake and ordered another shot. I gave it about twenty minutes and ordered another shot. By this time I was about where I should have been - right fucked.

That's when he had the audacity to walk up and start talking to me like we were old chums. Fucking guy. I wasn't in any position to disagree though. He was hot and I was drunk.

I aim to be your eyes,

Trophy boys, trophy wives.

Ugh, the conversation ensued and the fucking weasel, this fucking guy, got my number from me! Can you believe that? I don't actually remember giving him this information, but he still got it. Want to know how I found out? The next morning I woke up with a screaming headache to the sound of a ringing phone. Not pleasant.

"Hello?" I asked the telephone.

"Hey, it's me Draco. You might not remember me. You were pretty drunk last night?"

"Then why are you calling so early?" I'm not a morning person. I'm really, really not. I hate everything when I wake up.

"I was wondering if I could pick you up for some coffee?" he asked me. Coffee sounded great - after about five extra strength acetaminophen.

"Yeah, pick me up in an hour. I live on-"

"I know where you live. I had to drive you home last night. You obviously don't remember."

"That's comforting. I'll see you in an hour."

So, after precicely an hour, Draco showed up at my house. He looked very perky and not to mention very sexy. I just looked like some poor asshole who should probably just go back to bed. Scratch that, I was a poor asshole who should probably go back to bed.

We arrived at Starbucks and found a table. I found myself thinking 'Who the fuck looks that good this early on a Saturday morning?' There was something a little off about this Draco Malfoy character. He was so perfect. Like a drug. He was obviously from a very prestigious family, so why did he call me back? What did he want from me?

"Why are we here?" I asked.

"What do you mean by that?" I hate that. Answering a question with another question. Two can play that game.

"Why can't you just answer the question?"

"Why are you asking me?" he finished his sentence with a smirk. I think I might have drooled in my coffee a little bit.

I gave up then. I really couldn't concentrate with him looking at me like that. "I asked first." Yeah, so what? I'm a complete loser, you already knew that. Fuck off.

"Fine, since you put it so eloquently, we are here because I asked you and you said yes."

"Dickhead, that's not what I meant and you know it." He was so hiding something.

It seems the artists these days are not who you think,

So we'll pick back up on that on another page.

A/N: Please review! I would love love love you!