Author's Note: HBP does not exist in this story. I refuse, at the moment, to write any story with HBP involved. That may change, but currently, my mind refuses to accept that continuance of the Harry Potter books. So please enjoy a nice, AU story set during Harry's sixth year.

Warning: Themes of angst, moderate slash, swearing, etc.

Pairing: The only pairing I ever do, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. A few sub-pairings of Ron/Hermione, attempted Ginny/Harry (and by attempted, I mean only attempted)

Summary: Harry finds a spell that will allow him to have one day that will have no consequences because no one will remember it, including him. But does he really want to forget after all is said and done? HPDM, 6th yr without HBP

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, etc, etc.


One Perfect Something

In Love With Hate

October 17 . . .

Over a month had passed since Harry's talk with the portrait. He had gone back several times to see Braden, but each time, the portrait had been empty. Harry got the feeling that Braden was purposely avoiding him, which angered him. He had spilled his guts to him and he was avoiding him. He should have expected it, since he had been a Slytherin, but still, he'd hoped for better.

Another strange thing since that rather peculiar day was that every time he saw Malfoy, the other boy would either purposely ignore him or start a bad fight. His insults were worse, the hate in his eyes magnified, and he'd even gotten physical with him a few times. Harry couldn't understand why, because the only thing he'd done to him that day was ignore him. Did Malfoy really hate being ignored that much?

He didn't know, but he realized that Malfoy wouldn't let himself be ignored anymore. The times he'd gotten physical had been when Harry had tried to ignore him. And since Harry refused to stay immobile in a physical fight, he'd fought back. Surprisingly, he'd actually liked fighting with Malfoy. Perhaps his attraction for Malfoy figured into it, but it was mostly the fact that physical fighting let out some of his inner turmoil. He liked letting his anger, frustration, and pain out on Malfoy.

On this day, Harry woke up itching for a fight. He hoped that Malfoy would instigate one, because Harry knew he could never be the one to start one. His friends might get worried about his mental state again, and they'd been rather relaxed about him lately. And Gryffindors were strange creatures. They thought someone had problems if they started a fight, but they saw nothing wrong with defending oneself if someone started fighting them.

He made his way down to breakfast a little early, surprised that he was a hungrier than he had been in a while. Shrugging, he helped himself to a heaping plate of sausage and biscuits. It was quite delicious.

A few minutes later, the main throng of students poured into the Great Hall. This included Malfoy and his cronies, and the Gryffindor gang. Harry had to physically hide his eagerness at a fight when Malfoy's eyes caught his for a moment. Instead, he coolly glared at the blond, who glared back. Hmm, Malfoy did look a bit peevish this morning. But was it enough to make him pick a fight?

"Harry, you're hungry today," Hermione noted, bringing his attention back to the Gryffindor table.

He lifted another forkful of sausage to his mouth and nodded. He didn't think she needed an actual verbal response. And apparently she didn't, because she turned to her own meal, a pleased smile curving her mouth. He rolled his eyes. Sixteen and she was already turning into a mini-Molly Weasley. He wasn't sure if the Weasley men could handle more than one Molly Weasley.

A few minutes of peaceful silence passed, and then Lavender Brown bounced up to the sleepy group. "Guess what I just heard? Malfoy is throwing a party tonight. Invitations are going to be sent any minute!"

Ron swallowed his latest bite of food and said, "So? It's Malfoy. Who'd want to go a party of his?"

"I do. I hear he's having it in the Room of Requirement and there'll be alcohol and dancing, and loads more! The teachers are turning a blind eye as long as everyone's in their dormitories by midnight."

Suddenly, black envelopes began falling from the ceiling, landing in front of several people in the upper years. Almost all sixth and seventh year Slytherins received one, as did several Ravenclaws, and a few Hufflepuffs. Interestingly enough, the Golden Trio each received one. Hermione and Ron looked stunned, and Harry just looked at his with disinterest.

Lavender, having not gotten one, became instantly furious that Hermione, and not her, got to go. "Give me yours! You're obviously not going, and I want to."

A smooth voice spoke from behind the furious girl. "Actually, Brown, it wouldn't matter if she gave it to you or not. Only those who were actually given an invitation can go. And besides, I wouldn't want you at my party if you were the last witch on earth."

Her face flushed bright red, and she hissed, "And you invited the three people you hate most? Where are your priorities? I am the most popular witch in school!"

Draco Malfoy graced her with his trademark smirk. "Yes, that may be true, but I am the most popular wizard, and Potter, as much as I hate to admit it, it just below me in popularity. I had the choice of inviting the most popular witch and the second most popular wizard, and so I decided that I'd rather have the one with an actual brain come. And I invited the weasel and Granger because I thought I'd give Potter some company. Sorry, Brown, but since you are neither one of my friends or one of Potter's close friends, you didn't make the cut."

Harry figured that since he'd been invited to Malfoy's party, that meant there would be no fight today. So, he decided to have his fun another way and so he interrupted any reply the furious Lavender might have made. "What makes you so sure I'll even come, Malfoy?"

"Oh, you'll come."

Only Harry noticed the special inflection Malfoy put on the word "come". And Malfoy knew he noticed. His silver eyes gleamed in challenge, as if daring Harry to protest such a disgusting thing. Which it would be disgusting if you were straight. But Harry wasn't, and so he felt he just had to reply, "Only if you make it exciting, Malfoy. Is it going to be exciting?"

The blond-haired Slytherin almost lost his composure at the blatant innuendo in his voice. Was Potter actually playing along instead of getting offended like he'd hoped? Well, two could play this game.

"It'll be exciting, I promise. A Malfoy never disappoints. But can you handle it?"

Harry merely lifted his eyebrow and curled his lips into a half-smirk, half-smile. Then, Ron had to ruin the moment by turning to him and blurting out, "You're not really going, are you?"

The shock in his voice caused Harry's next comment, "What, am I not allowed to have some fun?"

Hermione broke in, "Of course you are, but Harry, this is Malfoy's party. You hate Malfoy."

Cause and effect. Harry turned to Malfoy and asked, innocently, "Malfoy, do you hate me?"

The other boy frowned and answered, as if Harry were an idiot, "Of course I hate you."

Harry then asked, "And you still invited me to your party?"

Malfoy realized what he was getting at and sneered at Granger. He replied to Potter's question in a drawling voice, "Yes, I did."

Harry turned to his friend and said, "See. He hates me and he still invited me. I hate him, and I'm going. It all works out."

She looked at him as if he had gone insane, but he merely grinned at her and walked away, snatching his invitation off the table where it had been sitting forlornly. He opened it on the way to his first class. It read:

Potter,

You are invited to Draco Malfoy's Party

Being held on the seventeenth of October

In the room of requirement

You should know how to enter, Potter

Unless you've forgotten and then

Oh well, I guess you can't come

Be there at 8 o'clock

Dress code is anything

You want but it has to be dark

And remember this is a Slytherin party

No t-shirts or jeans

See you in hell,

Malfoy

Cute, he thought. Real cute. Now what did he have to wear?


Seven-thirty arrived and Harry stood in front of his trunk, panicking. He had to have something to wear that didn't make him look like a loser. This was a party, and you just had to look good at a party. It wasn't as if he wanted to look nice for Malfoy or anything, because he didn't, but he did want to look good because it was a party. And people noticed what you wore at a party. And he didn't want Malfoy to sneer at him because he looked stupid.

He thanked the Fates that Hermione had taken him clothes shopping when they'd gone for school supplies at the end of the summer, or else he would have refused to even attempt to go to the party. But even with all of these new clothes, he couldn't find something to wear.

Sighing, he knelt down and started digging through his trunk for the fifth time. After a few minutes, he decided that his dark-green silk button-down wouldn't look that bad, especially if he wore it with his pair of expensive black trousers. His dress shoes didn't look that bad, especially if he performed a spell to erase the scuff marks.

But what about accessories? He needed a good necklace to wear, especially if he unbuttoned the top few buttons on his shirt. Hmm, maybe that silver chain with the gryphon on it that Ginny gave him for his last birthday. And maybe he could change his stud earring for the small hoop one now that he'd had his piercing for at least six weeks.

But his hair! He spent ten minutes in front of the mirror attempting to tame his hair. Nothing happened, except that it maybe looked more shagged-messy than messy-messy. He gave up only when he realized that if he didn't leave soon, he'd be late for the party.

He left his dormitory and headed to the party. He met Ron and Hermione at the Fat Lady's portrait, Hermione having decided that going to the party maybe wouldn't be as bad as she thought it would be. She was dragging Ron by the arm, literally.

"Harry, you look nice," she complimented, smoothing out any wrinkles in her own outfit. He knew she wanted a compliment back, so he looked over what she was wearing and told her what he thought. She was wearing a burgundy mini-dress with thin straps holding it up, a silvery, sheer lace shrug, and ballet-strap wedge shoes that added three inches to her height. Her hair was perfectly straight, by use of a spell, he was sure, and her make up was smoky and stunning. A silver neck chain was her only jewelry, except for two silver studs in her ears. She looked amazing. "I am at a loss for words, except to say that I'm almost jealous of Ron."

She grinned, rolling her eyes because Ron wasn't even paying attention. Ron's outfit wasn't bad looking either, and it was obvious that Hermione had dressed him. He wore a black dress shirt and charcoal-gray dress trousers, very simple.

They headed to the party and arrived at precisely 8 o'clock. Other students were also making their way into the Room of Requirement, and Harry noticed that they had all had the same idea when dressing for the party. Mini skirts and mini dresses for the girls, and dress shirts and trousers for the guys. They all looked like they were going clubbing at an expensive club in London.

Inside the room, the only lighting was several torches along the walls. Loud music pounded against everyone's eardrums. There was a bar on the one side of the room, and several students were already helping themselves to the free alcohol. Harry joined them, snagging a fire whiskey. It burned a path down his throat, but after the first sip, it was pleasant. It immediately went to work on him. He loved it.

Malfoy lounged on a couch in the right-hand corner of the room, his eyes watching everyone like a hawk. His eyelids were hooded, veiling his molten silver eyes. And they were like molten fire, liquid, burning. They burned into Harry when they caught his gaze, and Harry finished off his fire whiskey in a single gulp. He stared at Malfoy, his own eyelids lowering, his emerald eyes darkening. Moments passed, and he found that his feet had carried him to the spot where Malfoy sat watching him.

"So where's the excitement you promised, Malfoy? All I see is alcohol and dancing," he lazily asked the blond-haired Slytherin. Malfoy didn't answer; instead he appraised his rival. "You clean up nicely, from the trash you usually wear."

Harry didn't respond to this. Instead he repeated, "Where's the excitement you promised?"

"Your friends look worried that you're talking to me, Potter," Malfoy whispered, his eyes burning.

Harry slowly turned his head to look at Ron and Hermione, who were pretending to be into the dancing, but were actually watching him. Ron merely looked perplexed, but Hermione looked apprehensive. He hated it, hated them then.

"Let them be worried. They don't own me. They don't know me." He stated, curling his lip in disdain. He turned back to Malfoy and felt recklessness seize him. He knew exactly what to use page 54 for. Having memorized the words weeks ago, he murmured, "Cle ise matrithé tur clara puire. Cle ise muire en ithra nar gwer'an."

As soon as he finished speaking the words, Malfoy started laughing. "You just spoke page 54."

Harry was stunned. Malfoy knew about page 54? How? "How do you know about it?"

A contemplative look came into the Slytherin's smoky silver eyes. "When you turned to Granger and the weasel, I spoke it."

The raven-haired boy was shocked, to say the least. Why would Malfoy have spoken the words to that spell? Malfoy must have seen the question in his eyes, because he drawled, "I plan on making you scream before the night is over, and not in pain."

A curious shiver raced across Harry's skin when he said that, and his mouth suddenly went dry. He licked his lips to wet them and said, "Oh? Well, since that's why I used page 54, too, I guess it's okay."

They looked at each other, both of them with a smoldering fire in their eyes, and anticipatory smirks curling their lips. This was going to be an enjoyable night, and the thing was, neither of them was going to remember it. They didn't dwell on each other's reason for saying the spell, only that they could do whatever they wanted, and no one would remember. They would have a night without consequences.


Influences: The Used; In Love and Death; Track 9

Note: I just realized I make page 54 sound like Area 54, where all the aliens the US keeps secret are. I am so weird.

The words for the spell are completely and utterly made up, basically sounding like a mix of Gaelic, old English, and French. I'm good at coming up with random nonsense. Let's just pretend the words mean something, okay?

Please review, even if it's only a couple words long, so that I can be motivated. I have the story written, but the more reviews I get faster, the quicker I'll decide to post the next update. I have the power here, sorry! I'm like a sneaky Slytherin sometimes, and I have the Slytherin shirt to prove it. Mwahaha! And yes, I have a lot of caffeine in me, so sorry about the random weirdness.

Have a great day!

Roslyn.