Title: Acrid

Disclaimer: Jo Rowling wrote the Harry Potter series. I had nothing to do with it, outside of my fantasies.

Warnings: Some swearing.

Boot Camp: OTP Camp

A/N: I wrote this for the OTP Boot Camp from the HPFC forum. I hope you enjoy it!

Prompt: Acrid

Draco was acrid.

Anger flowed through his veins and bitterness rose like bile in his throat.

It wasn't fair.

Okay, maybe it was, a little.

Maybe he did deserve it. But it didn't change the way he felt about it; the sense of... betrayal? - that he felt.

He shouldn't feel that way, he knew. He and Potter had always been enemies, after all. But Draco thought things had changed.

In the Manor, Draco had refused to identify Potter or his friends. Later, Potter had saved his life - twice. Then he testified on Draco's behalf, saving him yet again; this time from Azkaban. He saved Draco's whole family. And when he returned Draco's wand... well. Draco had poured his heart out to Potter. He assumed they'd put their past behind them and opened up himself far, far too intimately.

Potter had given him advice.

Good advice.

Great advice, even.

As a matter of fact, spectacular advice. It really was working for him rather well, and it had only been two weeks since he'd come back to Hogwarts.

Then the prat had just dropped him like a newly foaled thestral.

Of course he acted like it wss all Hunnydukes and Butterbeers whenever they met after that. The git.

And now... Now Potter stared at him all the time; watching for him to mess up. Stalking him, just like sixth year - memories Draco would very much like to put behind himself, thankyouverymuch.

Thinking that Draco was up to something, again.

Which he wasn't.

He just wanted to move on with his life and make amends - hadn't he told Potter as much?

But the idiot Gryffindor apparently didn't trust him.

And maybe Draco had only himself to blame for that state of affairs, but it didn't stop him from seething with resentment over it.

Maybe his actions in sixth year had earned him a permanent place on Harry Potter's black list, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. His heart clenched painfully just thinking about it, and he seethed some more.

He was upset with Potter's behaviour and the fact that the pillock had refused his friendship for the second time when he started back at Hogwarts. When he realised Potter was stalking him, that upset grew into resentment.

But then everything changed.

See, Potter approached him - he never would have gone crawling back to Potter; Malfoys do not grovel, not for anyone - and the git claimed to want to be friends. Made out like he'd wanted that all along. And Draco, fool that he was - for he bitterly acknowledged to himself now that he'd been a fool - took his pro-offered hand and thought for a little while that they could have a real friendship.

Ha, thought Draco.

Potter had pretended to be his friend while secretly (or not-so-secretly; Potter had all the stealth of a herd of rampaging hippogriffs) continued his spying and stalking of Draco.

That was when Draco became acrid; not just resentful - acrid.

He was going to have a long talk with Potter.

Tonight.

No one played a Malfoy for a fool.

No one.

Then Blaise gave him a reason to rethink his impending confrontation with the Prat Who Never Died.

"Potter fancies you."

Draco stared at Blaise as though he'd suddenly begun to sing like a Jabbernol.

"No, he doesn't." The very notion was mad.

"Oh, no? Look at Potter out of the corner of your eye; don't let him catch you, he's staring right now. And watch."

As insane as the idea was, Draco humoured his friend and peered discreetly at Potter.

"Watch," instructed Blaise. He casually leaned over, one hand on Draco's shoulder, the other resting on his thigh.

Potter tensed. Visibly, from across the hall. His eyes narrowed into slits and his gaze went from Draco to Blaise. If looks could kill, lightning would have fried Blaise but good in a heartbeat.

Blaise grinned, and Draco blinked at seeing his face this close up. He could have kissed him without moving much. Blaise really was beautiful. His eyes were a captivating shade of dark hazel. Draco's thigh felt hot where Blaise was touching it.

Draco shook his head to clear it. He had no romantic feelings towards Blaise; he was Draco's brother in all but blood. Strange that he would notice the other boy's attractiveness, and react to his proximity in a way he didn't with Pansy, who liked to Drape herself all over him whenever she had the chance. Blaise was, after all, a boy.

He moved away, and Draco felt relieved.

"Now look right at Potter," Blsise instructed. Draco flushed, just slightly. The odd, tingly feeling whenever he met Potter's eyes started already, just at the thought of locking eyes with him.

He looked over, straight into Potter's eyes. Those green, green eyes. Draco's flush deepened, but he didn't look away.

Potter did, though.

As soon as Draco met his eyes, he turned almost as scarlet as his house colours, and looked down at his plate immediately.

"See?" prompted Blaise, nudging Draco. "This is your chance."

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about, Blaise?" asked Draco.

"Potter," Blaise pressed. "What are you going to do about this?"

"Nothing," replied Draco. He needed time to digest this, decide if Blaise's theory was correct.

"Bullshit, Draco," he swore. "I know you fancy him; you have since you were eleven."

"Don't be absurd!" Draco scoffed.

Blaise eyed him knowingly. "I know you, Draco. Maybe better than you know yourself."

Draco rolled his eyes.

Blaise just smirked at him.

"Potter does not fancy me. And even if he did, I certainly do not fancy him!" Draco turned back to his dinner, an odd flutter in his stomach. He must have indigestion. How uncouth.

He would have to think about Blaise's theory of Potter fancying him. It certainly would put Potter's stalking in a more pleasant light. The thought bolstered his ego. After all, Potter was the saviour of the Wizarding world. It was a rather flattering idea.

Draco didn't really feel acrid anymore.