Disclaimer: If I owned these kiddiepies, they'd be locked up in my basement doing nasty, dirty, raunchy things. OMG KIDDING! (Or am I…?)
Once in the library, Harry headed to a table in some deserted corner. He didn't quite want to be interrupted, and found doing something as incriminating as writing a sentimental letter for his supposed Arch Nemesis. He smiled a little to himself. Wasn't that cute, they had been in a relationship technically since first year. They had a title in connection to each other. 'My arch nemesis', 'my friend', 'my hot homosexual lover'…It was all the same really. They all had 'my' in it.
Harry took out some parchment and a quill, and some ink. He wondered why it was exactly they couldn't use pens. Too high-tech for Dumbledore? And how was it that they could all live the whole year with no music? Or computers. Or television. How did they survive? What did they do all the time?
Ahem. Back to the story, hm? Harry began to write. He did not know what he was thinking until he wrote it down, it seemed. It was lovely to have this sort of release. It was like he vomited all his feelings onto the page, and now he had a clear view of the chunky, raunchy, multi-coloured mess, so he could examine it properly to see what it was he'd eaten. He read over the letter and suddenly wondered if maybe he shouldn't give it to Draco after all. It was just so…true. Too true. Could he handle Draco seeing such…mush? Would he feel violated once he'd read it? Would it be like getting raped? Raped by Draco…hmm… Harry pulled a headdesk. Clearly he Needed to give the note to the blonde. He needed things to happen, he needed events to unfold. He felt stuck. Nothing was going to happen unless he did something. He knew that Draco wouldn't do anything more. He had taken his turn, and now the ball was in Harry's court. The ball, but not the balls, it seemed. Why was his thoughtless courage failing him? He slammed his hand down on the table. Then he stood up and shouted, "NO! It's not failing me! I'M DOING IT!"
Harry turned, a look of triumphant determination on his face, to see a slightly frightened Hermione. He had forgotten that the library was where Hermione was from 12 noon to 12 noon, Monday through Sunday. Practically. He decided to ignore her questioning (questioning the boy's sanity, maybe?) looks and flashed her a winning smile. Then he slowly backed away, smile never wavering.
"See you, Hermione!" he called as he left. Hermione most definitely thought he was crazy. But maybe he was.
"What's wrong with you, Draco?" Blaise hissed at Draco as they took notes. Draco raised his sharp grey eyes and regarded his friend suspiciously.
"What are you talking about?"
"Come on, Draco. I've known you forever. I think I can tell when you are Pining."
"Pining? This is a technical term, then?"
"Of course. You are pining for Harry. It's simply the best word for it."
Draco looked over his shoulder at the boy in question before turning back to Blaise.
"If I weren't used to this sort of thing, I'd slap you."
"Make it a spank?"
"Shuttey! I was talking. I would bitchslap you if it weren't for the horrible deadpan truth always layed flat on the table for me. How do you do that?"
Blaise smiled and shrugged.
"Well, I'm getting very impatient," Draco went on. "He had better hurry his fucking little arse up."
"I like that you mentioned Harry, fucking, and arse at the same time."
"I like that you listen so well."
Blaise snickered before answering, "Give him some time. If you do something else before he even responds to you, you'll scare him off."
After a short silence, Blaise snorted. "I bet Potter's a virgin."
Another short pause, and then Draco answered, "Well then, that just means I can teach him the proper way, hm? Nobody else could be better to learn then from me, right?"
"Yes Draco, that's right."
Just then, Draco felt a tap on the back of the head. He felt a quick flash of indignant anger until he looked down to see a crumpled piece of parchment. His heart and his hopes rose deliriously until he realized how lame that was and forced them back down. He picked up the ball with a questioning glance at Harry, who determinedly refused to meet his eyes. He peeled open the parchment under the curious and watchful gaze of Blaise.
Draco, it began. 'Ok,' Draco thought. 'No lovey nicknames, but no last names either…'
I thought of writing you a sickeningly delicious letter piled high with sarcastic declarations of my love for you and my adoration for your sexacious self, but then I realized that maybe that was too close to the truth to be funny anymore. I think maybe we shouldn't be enemies anymore. But I also don't think we could ever be friends. There's too much…erm…passion, there. This is kind of utterly and completely a little bit the hardest thing ever for me to say, but I think I may have developed a slight, tiny, itsy bitsy crush on you. Okay, so I worship the ground you walk on. I'm going to be honest here and tell you that I never Ever thought I would like to snog you, but after that, er, incident in detention, I think maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Or it would be the greatest thing that ever happened until the end of the world. I want us to be, uh, a thing. And unless you are totally just leading me on here, I think you do too. Well, do you want to? I can't get you out of my head. EW MY UPPER HEAD YOU SICKO!
Love me,
Harry
Draco read over the letter several times, and a smile involuntarily played over his lips. His insides were squirming with Tense Anticipation, and sweet, cotton candy-like mush, both at the same time. He saw Blaise staring at him and grinning. Clearly his face was giving him away. He looked over at Harry, who was still looking away, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. Draco tucked away the note and patted it satisfactorily. Now, he was ready. Now he could go in for the kill.
A/N: That's it! One more chapter done! Maybe your reviews will light a fire under my ass. Or in it HAHAA! Oh gods I'm dirty…