Make Me Scene

by Celestial-Dragon

Crackficish. Harry spends a summer holiday in America and reorganizes his priorities. How will his friends, and not so friends, react to the reinvented Boy Who Lived?

4. Chapter 4

Title: Make Me Scene
Pairing: HD, past H/OC, a bit of R/Hr
Warnings: emo!Harry, slash, crackfic-ish, AU sixth year.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all things such related are copyright J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, am making no profit, and mean no harm by spinning my amusing little tales. I'm but a lowly student low on the pocket change, so please don't feel offended.

xXxXxXxXx

Chapter Four

"We are young, and we don't care
Your dreams and your hopeless hair
We never wanted it to be this way
For all our lives ...
Do you care at all?"
- "Give 'Em Hell, Kid", My Chemical Romance

xXxXxXxXx

Harry rubbed tiredly at his eyes as he made his way down the hall. After hours of restless tossing and turning, he finally admitted defeat and just dragged himself up to get dressed. He had to face the day sooner or later.

He had been plagued all night with fears over what kind of havoc Malfoy would wreak on his already over-complicated life now that he knew. This wasn't just a secret - this was the secret. Not even Ron and Hermione knew. In his own defense, his interest in other men was a recent development ... and it proved kind of hard to bring something like that up in casual conversation. Harry rolled his eyes. It wasn't like he had found much time to do so between the strained dinner and Hermione's shouting last night.

And now this. If Harry hadn't just had a vacation, he would have been praying for one.

Standing just before the open doors, the Gryffindor could hear the voices of his classmates wafting out, both inviting and intimidating. Were they all discussing him, yet again? Just waiting for him to show up to be ridiculed?

With a deep sigh, and his face pointed squarely at the ground, he mustered his courage and forced himself forward. Around the corner. Through the doors. He came to a halt just within the room, eyes shut tight in anticipation, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Tentatively, he raised his head and cracked open an eye. Other than a few curious stares in his direction at his odd behaviour, most people had taken no notice of his entrance, still engrossed in their numerous conversations. Dumbledore cast him an amused glance from the head table, eyes twinkling as always. Ron was smiling and waving from the Gryffindor table, plate already laden with food. Hermione was next to him, staring moodily into her bowl of porridge and ignoring Harry completely.

There's no way he wouldn't have used this good of a secret against me, Harry thought. What's going on?

He looked to the opposite end of the Hall and found Draco's blonde head immediately. None of the Slytherins were snickering or pointing in his direction - in actual fact, they seemed the least interested that he had just arrived. Draco himself was immersed in a leather-bound novel and seemed completely determined to ignore him.

Harry cast him a wary glance as he went to take his place at his house's table. What is he up to?

"Hey Harry," Ron called brightly as Harry took a seat at the table across from him. "How are you feeling?"

The boy ran a hand through his raven hair. He was sure he probably looked like he'd been to hell and back, but slinked into the routine easily enough. "I'm fine. You?"

"Great," Ron replied, shoving a fork-load of eggs into his mouth with gusto. "Though, I think someone" - he glared pointedly at Hermione, who huffed unpleasantly in response - "has something they want to say to you."

"Oh, really?" Harry replied, rolling his eyes as he dished out some eggs for himself. "Do tell."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She folded her arms on the table and looked away, staring fixedly at an invisible spot on the wall above the staff table.

"Hermione ..." Ron began dangerously, narrowing his eyes and prodding her with his fork.

She sighed sharply, turning a narrowed gaze to Harry. "Ronald would like me to apologize for yelling at you."

Harry glared back at her. "So, are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Going to apologize. I'm all ears," he replied sarcastically.

"Not if you're going to be rude." She frowned and looked away again.

"Then we don't have anything to say to each other!"

"I guess not!"

Ron rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You guys-"

Two voices chorused in unison: "Stay OUT of this, Ron!"

He threw up his hands in defeat, and went back to his eggs, muttering under his breath about 'unreasonable friends' and 'stupid fights'. They sat in strained silence for a long while: Ron gazing back and forth a bit worriedly between his friends, Hermione swirling her spoon through her porridge angrily, Harry stabbing at his eggs moodily as he let his head slump against his hand.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

Jumping up, he tossed out, "I'll see you guys later," and stalked back to the tower to get his things, leaving Ron somewhat shocked and Hermione stabbing her porridge into deadly submission and pretending it was Harry's face. He wasn't really that hungry anyway.

Harry didn't notice the pair of silver-gray eyes following him out of the hall.

xXxXxXxXx

The day plodded along maddeningly slowly. Every class he had with the rest of the Trio - which was most of them - became unbearably strained and unpleasant. Ron repeatedly tried to bridge the gap between his friends to no avail.

Harry sat moodily by himself during Care of Magical Creatures, half listening to Hagrid as he taught, half lost in his own thoughts. He was watching Draco who, normally, was the centre of attention within the Slytherin crew, but today was sitting under a tree still reading his novel with a posture that clearly stated he wasn't a part of the class.

The whole ordeal was just confusing. He wanted desperately to know what Draco was up to, but he couldn't just walk up to the Slytherin Ice Prince and start a civil conversation. The Gryffindors would flip, not to mention the retaliation-hungry Slytherins. Such things just weren't normal.

He looked about the grounds outside of Hagrid's hut at the other students. A select few were seated directly in front of Hagrid and appeared completely enraptured in whatever he was lecturing on - enough, apparently, to satisfy the half-giant. Most were spread out on their backs, looking at the clouds, playing discreet games of Exploding Snap, or in the case of the Slytherins, talking and full-out ignoring the fact that a class was technically in session. His own friends were seated under a tree a ways from him, whispering heatedly to each other. Ron was probably trying to yet again convince Hermione to apologize.

The Boy Who Lived sighed, smiling slightly.

He was just lucky, then, that it wasn't a normal day.

Using as much stealth as he could muster, Harry crept around Hagrid's gaze to where Draco was sitting. Without so much as a word, he plopped down in front of the Slytherin and stared.

After a moment, Draco's amused eyes peeked over the rim of his book. He quirked an eyebrow. "Yes? Can I help you?"

Harry scowled. "Yeah, why the hell didn't you tell anybody?"

Draco smirked, laying the book open in his lap and giving Harry his full attention. "Tell everybody what?" he asked innocently.

"You bloody-" The boy began loudly, but was stopped abruptly by Draco's hand, signaling silence. Both boy's eyes darted around to check if anyone had heard. No one was looking. Harry lowered his voice with the slightest of blushes. "You bloody well know what I'm talking about, Malfoy. Don't play dumb." His eyes twinkled with mirth. "Or is this just your normal level of intelligence? It's the hair, right?"

Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Har har, Potter. Very funny." The Slytherin picked the book back up and began to read again. A few moments of silence passed. "Let's just say that I ... understand your position, and leave it at that."

"What?"

The blonde boy raised his eyes back to Harry's and frowned in disbelief. There is no way Potter is actually that dense, he thought.

Harry blushed darkly as the implications of what Draco had actually said hit home.

Draco chuckled, turning back to his book. "But ... honestly, Potter. A Yank?" He shook his head with a smirk. "Have you no national pride?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Har har, yourself." He paused a moment. "Why? Are you offering?"

Draco looked up with a start, surprised. Harry was immediately embarrassed, but held his ground, looking Draco in the eyes and hoping he wasn't blushing too hard. What in the name of Merlin made me say that?

The boys looked at each other in stunned silence for a moment. Draco slowly smirked in a unsettling fashion, making Harry fidget nervously. He opened his mouth and was just about to speak -

The magical, twinkling bells signaling the end of class sounded, and all the students breathed a collective sigh of relief, ambling off to their next classes. With a noncommittal shrug, Draco shoved his book into his bag and, heaving it over his shoulder, stood to leave. "See you around, Potter," he called softly over his shoulder as he walked back towards the castle.

Harry sat, stunned, for a few moments. Shaking his head eventually to collect his thoughts, he grabbed his things and dashed off to the castle, not wanting to incur McGonagall's wrath at showing up late to her class.

xXxXxXxXx

As Draco entered his favourite class of the day - Potions - and took his normal seat, he smirked to himself. If Potter's reactions were anything to go by, this was going to be way too easy. His loyalties to this American sorely needed to be tested. Shaking the blonde hair out of his eyes, he cast a surreptitious glance at the Potions professor. Snape was perched angrily over his desk, scribbling furiously at what looked like a particularly horrendous stack of fourth-year essays. So he's in a bad mood? Draco mused. Perfect.

Harry ambled in minutes later, not far behind his friends, and sat down with them, determined not to acknowledge either of them or Draco, who was openly staring at the trio with thinly-veiled interest.

When the bells rang, Snape snapped up from his place and stood at the head of the classroom, fixing them all with a deadly glare. Neville whimpered and slid down in his seat, but Draco just smiled.

"Making a potion," he commanded gruffly. "Ingredients -" a flick of his wrist and the ingredients appeared on the board. "Partners -" another flick, and a paired list of names appeared next to the ingredients. He turned back to the class. No one moved. "NOW!"

The class sprang into frenzied action as Snape slid back into his desk, greasy hair clasped tightly in one hand as he graded angrily with the other.

The children all clambered to the front of the room in order to make out who their partners were. Harry pushed to the front of the sprawling mass as fast as he could, noting with pleasure that Ron and Hermione weren't paired with him. When he found his name, however, he flushed.

"Well, well, Potter," Draco drawled. Harry turned to his right and found that he was mere inches from the other boy. "It seems we've been partnered up ..." With a heady gaze, he sauntered back to the cupboards of ingredients, slowly but surely gathering everything they needed.

Harry felt as if his brain was imploding. "Why?!?" He slumped over to Draco's desk, tossed his things underneath it, and flung himself dramatically into his chair, folding his arms on the table and letting his head fall onto them with a punctuated 'thump'. He felt Draco return a moment later, and heard him chuckle.

"My, Potter. We certainly are emo today, aren't we?"

"Oh, shut -" The words registered. Harry's head snapped up. "W-What did you call me?"

Draco just looked at him and smirked, returning back to preparing his half of the ingredients. He pushed the other half to Harry's side of the table and said, "You'd best get started. I don't want to be on the wrong side of Professor Snape's wrath when we're the only group who hasn't finished. Do you?"

With a groan at the gleeful delight it would surely bring Snape to be given any excuse to thoroughly punish him, Harry begrudgingly set to work, immersing himself in finely chopping the valerian root.

He hoped he could get through this lesson as painlessly as possible.

"So ..." Draco began conversationally, pushing the bottle of Murtlap essence out of his way so he could begin chopping his own ingredients. "Tell me about this American tart of yours."

Apparently he couldn't.

Harry felt like breaking down and throwing a two-year-old tantrum.

Draco's eyes twinkled. "Is he a good shag?"

The raven-haired boy let his head fall into his hands. "I swear to God, I'll fucking kill you, Malfoy." He paused. "Or myself. Whatever will make this end faster."

The Slytherin tutted disapprovingly. "Honestly, Potter. It was just an honest question. No need to be snippy." The boy smirked. "If your love life's that pathetic -"

"My love life is not 'pathetic', thank you!"

"Of course it isn't," Draco replied condescendingly.

Harry groaned angrily. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"My face on the one dollar bill."

"I ... What?"

"Never mind," Draco replied, exasperated. "Honestly, Potter, don't you watch movies?"

Harry was confused. "And ... you do?"

Draco ignored him. "I want to know exactly what I asked you. Nothing more, nothing less." He paused, smirking. "Well, maybe a bit more, if you take my meaning."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not giving you any sordid details, Draco."

The blonde pouted playfully. Turning back to his ingredients, he slowly began to smile. With a chuckle, he breathed to himself, "Amazing."

Against his better judgement, Harry took the bait. "... What's amazing?"

Draco turned back to him with a soft smile. "You really do have a bit of a thing for me, don't you?"

"W-what?" Harry sputtered, flushing.

"Just something Blaise said," He smiled. "You called me Draco."

"Well ... I ... I mean -"

"Are you going to answer my question or not?" Draco asked, cold facade settling back into place as he waved a dismissive hand in Harry's direction.

"Not," Harry replied forcefully, turning away as his thoughts raced. So what if he had called the other boy by his first name? That didn't mean anything! It certainly didn't mean that he fancied the Slytherin. Or that he thought he had lovely hair ... and soft, beautiful skin ... and those eyes ... Stop! Stop! Harry berated himself. Don't even think those things! You don't believe them. He bit his bottom lip. Do you?

"So he's not a good shag," Draco replied, nodding with a sense of finality. "I'll have to remember that for future reference."

"I didn't say that, he's loads better than you'll ever -" Harry stopped, mid sentence, realizing that Draco had just cornered him into a trap. Unwillingly, he had just confirmed what the Slytherin had obviously been trying to find out: that he, Harry Potter, not only fancied other men but had been thoroughly debauched by one - and thought quite positively about the whole experience. "Well ... Shit."

Draco laughed. Harry let his head sink onto the desk once more, and Draco patted it reassuringly. "Don't worry, Harry," he stressed, making the Boy Who Lived blush to the tips of his ears, as the blonde's laughter faded into a chuckle. "The secrets of your naughty gay trysts are safe with me."

Harry groaned. "Yeah, I'm sure," he muttered.

"POTIONS!" Snape bellowed, and the class immediately hushed, as everyone worked doubly hard to get finished and get out of there.

Especially Harry.

xXxXxXxXx

After what seemed like an eternity of mixing ingredients and weathering Draco's almost constant snickering, the class ended. Breathing an immense sigh of relief, Harry spelled everything clean and back to it's place, and dashed out of the room, grabbing his things almost as an afterthought.

Draco watched him rush about, amused. As the Gryffindor dashed away from the desk, something fell out of his bookbag. Confused, Draco bent to pick it up. It was a square package - made of plastic - with some sort of odd, swirling, design in blue, black, and orange. It said, "The Strokes" in the bottom left-hand corner.

Draco raised an eyebrow at it. "Potter ..."

But when he turned, the boy was already gone.

Frowning, the Slytherin studied it. It seemed to have a slit on the right edge. As he walked from the classroom he shimmied one of his nails underneath it, and it popped open with an audible 'click'. He started ... then peered closely. There was a rounded disk, emblazoned rather gaudily with the same text as the front, imbedded in the middle. He pulled it out and turned it around: it was printed on one side, and prismatic on the other. He twisted it in the light, mildly fascinated by the colour display, but ultimately confused as to what he was holding in his hands.

He loathed being confused.

Draco pondered, weighing his options as he walked to his last class, Ancient Runes. Entering the room he looked about, and zeroed in on just the black-haired head he was looking for.

With sweeping gestures befitting his most regal and noble ancestry, he maneuvered himself gracefully into the room and into the seat next to one Dean Thomas. Women sighed appreciatively and men leered.

Life was good for Draco Malfoy.

He looked down at the five-and-a-half by five hunk of plastic in his hands.

Well, almost.

Draco turned to his right. Dean had stopped writing mid-sentence and was staring at the Slytherin next to him with unabashed confusion.

Looking about with suspicion, Draco leaned in and whispered to the Gryffindor conspiratorialy, "This goes against all things I hold dear as a Slytherin, and know I would never normally do this, but ..." He held up the case and showed it to the amused-looking lion. "Tell me everything there is to know about ... whatever this is."

xXxXxXxXx

Enjoying the warmth of both the room and the soothing effect of the red and gold colours, Harry sighed in happiness. Thanking all the deities he had ever heard of that Potions was his last class, he kicked off his shoes and flopped onto his bed, bag and all, eyes closed.

"I need some music," he whispered, pulling his bag atop of him, blindly groping in the side pocket for his CD player. Pulling it out and tossing it next to him, he dove back in for the CD he knew he had with him.

It wasn't there.

He opened his eyes in confusion and looked in the pocket. It was empty.

Sitting up, he tore through his bookbag, pulling out sheets of parchment, random notes, an ink well and quills, books and all manner of rubbish stuck in the nooks and crannies.

It wasn't there.

Disbelief turning to anguish, he flung himself back on the bed with an angry sob. "Brilliant. First, Hermione yells at me and won't talk to me. Then, Draco finds out I'm gay. Then, he teases me relentlessly and gets me to think he's kind of amazingly sexy, the fucking prat. THEN, I lose my Strokes CD." With a very impressive emo-pout he moaned, "Why does the world hate me so damn much?!?"

Flipping over lethargically, Harry buried his face in his pillow.

After a few minutes of anguished breathing, he raised his head from the pillow slowly with a look of absolute confusion.

"Did I ... just say that ... I think Draco Malfoy is amazingly sexy?" He blinked several times. "God damn it, I am so fucked up."

xXxXxXxXx

The Previous Summer, August 5th.

"Dawn patrol!"

"You've got to be kidding me."

As a general rule, Harry wasn't normally privy to being woken before the crack of dawn. Being woken at such a time by several over-excited Americans in surf gear was beyond Harry's comprehension so early in the morning.

"You wanna have fun with us this summer," Marlene called over her back as she searched high and low for her shortboard, "you've gotta learn to run with the big boys. Best time for that is right now!" She shook his mattress. "Outta bed, lazy-bones! There's a wave out there with your name on it!"

Somehow, Harry seriously doubted that. He flopped over and laid his head back on the pillow.

That only bought him a few more seconds of rest until he was covered with a surging mass of flailing limbs.

"Gaaaaah," Harry cried, tossing his arms over his head and attempting to curl into a fetal position, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Rolling on you!" Chance replied, grabbing one of Harry's arms from his face and pinning it behind his back.

"You're coming if we have to drag you out of this bed in your skivvies," Marlene called, rolling over Harry to the space between him and the wall, and pushing against him with all her might.

Harry attempted to push back. "Gods, can't you just let me sleep?"

"Nope!" They both chorused back, pushing and pulling and rolling about over him, poking him and asking him annoying questions like, "How 'bout now?" and "Don't you want to be our friend anymore?" and "Does my hair look alright like this?"

"FINE!" Harry yelled, allowing himself to be pulled from the bed. "If I say I'll go will you stop badgering me?"

"Yes," Marlene answered with a nod, looking down at Harry's face, scowling at them from the floor. Chance didn't look so sure, but nodded anyways.

Half asleep, he somehow managed to find his glasses and get dressed. When he made it back out to the living room where everyone was waiting, Marlene gave him a once-over with a pained look on her face.

"We really need to get you some new clothes," She shook her head sadly. "But not now! Now: we're off!"

It took several minutes just to get everyone's limbs situated safely within Marlene's Cadillac, and several more to actually get the old thing moving. The roads were almost completely empty: looking around the city as they drove, Harry thought it looked more like a ghost town than the bustling city he had been introduced to only the morning before. They made excellent time on the near-deserted highway, and swung around Clarita's Pass on a straight shot to the beach before the first tinges of colour even hit the sky.

Before Marlene had even parked people were jumping out of the vehicle, giving Harry a bit more breathing room, but frightening him all the same - were they honestly expecting him to jump into the ocean and go surfing right off the bat? What if he messed up? What if he made a fool of himself? Hadn't people died while surfing?

Without giving him time to voice his concerns, Marlene and Chance pulled Harry bodily from the car. Guiding him slowly but forcefully to where the others were already shedding their clothes, they pushed him down to a sitting position. "Danni here's gonna sit with you so you can watch us first," Marlene said, motioning to a blonde-haired girl with cat-eye glasses, holding a book, that had just sat down next to him.

"Hi," Danni waved pleasantly to him as the others ran off in a mad dash to hit the waves. Far from looking like the rest of the surfers, Danni had a bookish look about her - a paler skin tone that spoke of someone who tended to spend a lot of time indoors reading. She was dressed in a simple black tank top and matching black skirt, with those ever-present black Chucks that everyone seemed to be wearing.

Harry pondered her for awhile. "Danni?"

"Danielle," She replied, scrunching up her nose in displeasure. "But I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you." Harry laughed and she smiled at him.

She raised her book and Harry was able to read the title: 'A Brief History of Psychological Analysis: What You Should Know, What You Shouldn't Know, and What We'll Tell You Anyway'.

"You're interested in Psychology?" Harry asked, indicating the book with his right hand.

"Oh, of course!" She gushed happily. Apparently, Harry had hit on the right subject. Danni leaned forward in anticipation. "Once I graduate from school, I'm planning to go to muggle university and get certified as a real Psychologist." She sighed happily. "Isn't the human brain just the most fascinating thing?"

Harry smiled at her enthusiasm. "I suppose so."

They sat in companionable silence a while as Harry watched the others surf. It all seemed to be moving too fast for his brain to catch up, and he didn't feel like he was learning anything. He turned back to Danni.

"So, why aren't you surfing?"

"Oh, well," She replied, shifting a bit as if she were embarrassed. "We have to take it in turns. Eventually, someone will come ashore and let me have a few rides. I ... I don't have a board of my own." She ducked her head. "They're way too expensive, and I've got to save my money for college."

Harry made a mental note to buy her a board as soon as possible.

Chance flopped down into an ungainly heap between the two, soaked and flushed, but happy looking, and extended his board out to Danni. Harry watched, amused, as her eyes lit up. Well, that's two things she really loves, he thought.

They both watched as she raced off to the surf, shedding her clothes as she went. Chance chuckled. "That girl," he said, "I swear she must have been born in the surf."

Harry smiled. "She certainly seems at home."

"That's why I came in so early," Chance whispered, with a sly grin. "Everyone's pretty selfish about their boards, they like to stay in until they're completely tired out; then she wouldn't have anyone to surf with! She's a sweet kid, she deserves a nice big chunk of fun in the sun."

They sat together for a moment, watching their friends surf.

Chance pointed at Danni's book. "Did she tell you about her 'dream for the future' yet?" Harry nodded. Chance shook his head sadly. "That's just something I don't understand. I don't know about you, but I'm a muggle-born. When I found out I was a wizard, you couldn't have torn me back to the muggle world with wild horses."

Harry wasn't quite sure what to say to that. He couldn't lie and say the idea hadn't appealed to him, but at the same time he understood the pull. In that regard, Chance reminded him of Hermione. He wondered idly: would they get along if they ever met?

The sun-kissed boy chuckled, looking back out at the sea. He gestured to his friends. "All except for this." He looked thoughtful. "And music; though I never thought of music as either a muggle or a wizarding thing, eh?" He looked at Harry curiously. "I always figured music was something that belonged to everybody. Don't you?"

Harry frowned slightly. "I ... don't know. I never really thought about it. I've never really gotten the chance to listen to music."

Chance balked. "You mean, you're sixteen and you don't have a favourite song? Or a favourite band?"

Harry blushed slightly and shook his head, 'no'.

"Well, that's definitely something we need to fix first. Music is way more important than surfing!"

Chance grabbed Harry by the hand and whisked him off down the boardwalk, with Marlene screaming after him, "If you ever say that about surfing again, I'll make you eat your swim trunks, you freeking Stu!"

Harry was confused. "What?"

Chance laughed as they ran. "A Stu. That's slang for a failure or jerk surfer. She calls me that whenever I make her mad." He paused. "So ... a lot."

Harry laughed in return, just barely keeping up with the other boy as they hurtled around corners, running so fast they were making the plank-boards shake underneath them. They stopped in front of the only store that had it's lights on at such an ungodly hour. It was too dim for Harry to see the name before Chance pushed him in the door.

"I used to work here," Chance explained, waving to the store owner as he ushered Harry further in. The man waved in return.

They were surrounded by rows and rows of CDs and vintage LPs, organized into every sort of musical genre imaginable: rock, classical, techno, pop, world, new age ...

Chance took off down one of the rows marked 'rock'. "I can't tell you much about other music genres," he said, glancing left and right at the CD racks, attempting to orient himself as Harry followed him dutifully, "but I can tell you a whole hell of a lot about emo."

"Emo?"

Chance spun around and smiled. "We'll start with the basics, then." He looked intently and grabbed a CD from the rack to his left. "This," he held it up, "is Rights of Spring - veritable godfathers of the modern emo rock scene."

Taking off his glasses and wiping them, Harry prepared to immerse himself in the flood of emo lore that was forthcoming.

xXxXxXxXx

Blinking at the strong light filtering in through the windows, Harry felt disoriented. His thoughts had been so tumultuous he didn't think he would ever be able to fall asleep, but his body had won out eventually - he simply could not stay up longer than 24 hours.

Though, dreaming about California wasn't the most comfortable thing, either. In retrospect, he couldn't remember how long they had stayed in that record store, just talking about music and life in general. It was relaxing to just talk with someone. If he missed anything, it was that feeling. And not ... well ...

Eventually, though he felt completely lethargic and still quite a bit anguished from the night before, he made his way to breakfast, and then on to his morning classes. Treasuring the lunch hour when it finally arrived, he sped into the hall to grab some food and sped back out into the sunshine. Walking around the lake, he found the perfect spot - his favourite spot: a lovely, tall willow tree on the right shore of the lake. It was secluded enough that he felt like he could be alone with his thoughts, but was open enough that he could still see all his classmates lounging across the grounds.

He settled against the trunk of the tree, and was just about to take a bite out of his sandwich when he heard a voice ring loud and clear from behind him.

"Hello, Potter." That familiar drawl. "You know," An amused tone. "I haven't seen you all day."

Draco. Harry thought bitterly, though blushing ever so slightly. Of course you didn't, because I've been AVOIDING you. Prat.

"Please, just go away. I'm eating my lunch."

Ignoring the Boy Who Lived's feeble protest, Draco plopped down next to him and looked about appreciatively, nodding his head at the surroundings.

Harry just stared at him. Wearily, he asked, "What do you want now, Dr- ... Malfoy?"

If Draco had heard the slip, he chose to ignore it. "Oh, not much," He waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, reaching the other into his bag. "You just ... lost something."

Smirking softly, Draco held up Harry's missing CD.

Forgetting who he was talking to, or what had happened between them the past few days, Harry broke into a wide smile. Snatching the CD back and holding it reverently, he gushed, "Wow, thanks, Draco! I've been looking everywhere for this. Where did you find it?"

"It fell out of your bag during Potions yesterday. You were rather in a hurry to get away from me."

Put that way, it made Harry kind of feel bad. He ducked his head in apology.

Draco sniffed haughtily. "Were you really that worked up about it? It's not that good of music, you know."

"I don't know," Harry replied, "It's not Radiohead or The Smashing Pumpkins or anything, but it's nice when you want to relax or -" He stopped abruptly. "Wait ... What did you just say?"

Draco didn't reply.

"Did you ... listen to this?" He asked, waving the CD in the air.

"Here," The blonde replied, turning to dig in his bag and ignoring Harry's question. "This is much better." He held out a different CD to Harry.

Reaching forward tentatively, the boy took it. He gazed confusedly at the front of the case. "... Placebo?"

Draco nodded with finality. "Much better." He smirked. "They're British. Didn't I lecture you already on the importance of national pride?"

Harry had to laugh at that. "Yeah, I think I remember something like that." He smiled. "If you're going to base your musical preferences off face value, you should try Depeche Mode. You share the same initials."

The Slytherin paused for a moment, in mock thought. "Well, in that case they must be absolutely brilliant."

"You narcissistic prat," Harry replied, without a trace of malice in his voice.

"Well. Take that and let me know what you think." Draco stood and shouldered his things. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe some first-year Hufflepuffs are in dire need of hazing." With a nod, he turned and strolled back in the direction of the castle, taking care to stick his foot out and trip a few young Ravenclaw muggle-borns playing Ultimate Frisbee.

Harry looked out over the lake and shook his head. His days were becoming weirder and weirder. Not a week ago, if someone had told him he would be sitting by the lake discussing music with Draco Malfoy - no matter how short lived the conversation was - he would have had them shipped off to St. Mungo's. So what was this going on between them now? He had to admit, if they were discussing something they both seemed interested in, talking to the Slytherin wasn't all that bad.

Still, he wasn't sure how he felt about all these. He was taking it with what he most assuredly felt was good grace, despite how tumultuous and queasy it was making him feel. What was he really doing, anyhow?

He looked back down at the CD in his hand. Placebo, huh? He thought to himself.

I guess we'll see, Draco Malfoy. I guess we'll see.

xXxXxXxXx

Author's Note: There's an allusion via Harry to a Dane Cook joke. And, if you can name the movie Draco quoted, you get tons of e-brownies. WOO, YOU'D BE SO SPECIAL! You want to be special, don't you? Of course you do!

Placebo was mentioned because I got the "Meds - Special Edition" for my birthday. OMG I LOVE THEM. I'm a total fangirl - have been forever. I also hate to mention "Rights of Spring," because it's near impossible to find one of their albums in a normal store. If anyone wants an mp3, I can direct you to one.

I just realized that you can reply to reviews via the website. :dies: I'm so lame. Honestly. I'll start doing that right away:bows for forgiveness:

I've been in University for the past ... many months, but I'm attempting to get a few things out and around before I go back on the 10th of January. We'll see, we'll see!

Much love,
Ashe