The Daily Prophet.

There it was, sitting harmlessly on the large expanse of bed. Moving pictures littered the front page on what looked to be old parchment paper. Words in black and bold screamed loud headlines all over. Things such as "Scandal at the Ministry" or "Hogwart's will be enjoying another new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher". Meaningless and trivial stories that one did not care to read. No, what really interested people was the stories that actually lay inside the sordid news rag. On page three there was an interesting piece on a young man. A young man that they would forever call 'The Chosen One'.

Though one couldn't tell just by looking at the paper, the boy in the moving photograph had brilliant green eyes that shone with fire and spirit and went a curious shade lighter when he was being mischievous. Those wild, untameable locks were of the darkest black, out of control and free. Underneath those ordinary muggle clothes lay a body of a seeker; Lean, muscular and toned. Skin soft as melted butter covered those sinew bones. But alas, you couldn't tell that from the photograph. The photograph in which the boy was looking rather pleased with himself, having just won some award or another before going back to yet another year at school. That damn, arrogant bastard.

Harry Potter.

With a sneer of disgust, the pair of moon light coloured eyes that had been searching the article so diligently, tossed it aside with an unsatisfied huff. Always in the spotlight, basking in the glow of rewards and recognition for various deeds. He walked about like a God that everyone should pay some sort of homage too. No, not him. He would never bow down before the self proclaimed God. Eyes glanced back at the paper, laying haphazardly on his now wrinkled bed. Teeth chewed thoughtfully on his soft bottom lip for a moment, before deciding what to do. Nothing less than a wicked gleam meshed over harsh but beautiful features.

The languid male grabbed the paper unceremoniously and opened it up to the appropriate page where the 'boy who lived' smiled valiantly. Oh how he could have shoved something in that pretty little mouth that would cause him to choke and cry out. The thoughts that now ran through his mind were something of the naughty and devilish sort. Absentmindedly he began to trail his pallid hand in a downwards slope across alabaster skin. No clothing, save for boxers to interrupt his descent. Fingertips ghosted over the contours of his own abdomen, shivering at his own touch. Finally his hand had reached the destination. Slipping under the waistband of a pair of silk boxers, he pushed them down his hips, revealing the prize that lay behind the expensive fabric.

The blonde didn't waste any time in doing what he meant to do. Long fingers wrapped around his semi erect member and began to stroke himself in an easy rhythm. Eyes turned back to the page of the prophet, smiling to himself. Visions of Potter beneath him, begging for more, began to invade his mind, making his stroking speed up a bit. It didn't take long at all for his cock to stand to full attention as he continued his ministrations. The pace would change, faster then slower. Vivid pictures would dance through his filth ridden mind as he continued to advance himself to pleasure. Easy breathing had turned labored, almost panting as he continued to stroke his hard cock.

Eyes were closed, head was back, blonde tendrils began to stick to his now sweat covered skin. It would be only moments before the final act. One last flash of Potter coming all over his own stomach sent him over the edge. A low feral groan escaped parted lips as he released himself, shooting thick streams of a sticky, off white substance. It went everywhere, all over his stomach, his hands, his bed and to his complete amusement, all over the face of the picture of the famous Harry Fucking Potter. 'The Boy who Lived' just continued to smile through the dripping seed that was spread all about his face.

With a sigh of completion the male leaned back into the soft pillows that lay in his bed. Oh in a few days time he would be in another year of Hogwart's. Seventh year to be exact. The Dark Lord had been defeated for good but that didn't mean his followers had retreated. No, it was far from over but he wasn't worried about that. All he, Draco Malfoy, wanted was to show Harry Potter a little humility.

This year would be interesting.

September 1st had arrived sooner than he had thought. The day dawned bright and sunny, unusual for this time of the year. Generally thick and pregnant rain clouds hovered over the city, threatening to drown it's citizens with copious amounts of rain fall. The sun was obviously welcomed by London's patrons who were enjoying the moment as though it were fleeting. Multitudes of people had decided to mill about the city and to head to King's Cross Station for a bit of travel to other parts of London.

The Slytherin boy was doing a bit of his own travels on this sunny day. It was start of the term for Hogwart's and he had decided to at least complete his technical seventh year. Last year should have been his last but had been interrupted by the greatest battle there ever was. A great and deadly battle between the Dark Lord and Harry Potter. The Dark Lord had finally been destroyed and all seemed to be well. The school had been mended and classes resumed. McGonagall was now Head Mistress and George Weasley had taken over the Defense of the Dark Arts position. Honestly, the place still didn't have the standards it should but at least he would finish out his education and maybe land a some what respectable job in the magical community.

Draco apparated to King's Cross Station, appearing in a secluded spot where no muggles could see him appear out of thin air. He was traveling alone today. His father was still not willing to show his face about anymore and his mother had been forced to stay home and look after Lucius Malfoy. The man had been reduced to a pile of nothing. His family had really declined since the fall of Voldemort. Though his family's standings had been quite diminished, it still didn't stop him from being prideful and walking with his head high, it just wasn't as high as before. The blonde had been knocked down quite a few pegs, especially since Potter had saved his life.

Potter. The name left a bitter and sour taste on the tip of his tongue. This year would be different. Harry Potter was also returning to school to finish out his seventh year, along with his mudblood friend Granger and the raggedy old Weasley. Though the Dark Lord had been destroyed it still hadn't changed the mindset of everyone about pure bloods and half bloods. There were still those who believed in separation, they just lay in wait for the perfect moment to begin an uprising.

The journey to Platform 9 3/4 was a well learned route and didn't take him long to arrive at his destination, students milling about him. He felt so much older than all of these children, it was weird to say the least. Rolling his trolley towards the train, he stowed away his trunks, making sure they were secured and safe amidst the other piles of trunks. Stepping onto the train, the well dressed male found an empty compartment. He really wasn't eager to mingle with any of his old chums at the moment. Goyle was dead, Crabbe wasn't returning and Blaise was off making friends with other houses. The world had been turned upside down thanks to Harry Potter.

A knock on the door of his compartment brought him back to life, there was Pansy Parkinson, smiling eagerly at him. "Hello Draco. It's been a while, so good to see you. You look fit." Good God, the girl was absolutely gushing. If it was possible there would of been a puddle on the floor from how wet she seemed to be getting just by being next to him again. The girl was eager to please though and always good for a quick shag whenever he was feeling like his hand wasn't enough. Raising his brow and giving her a nod, she sat down, staring at him intently. " 'lo Pansy. How was your summer?" Small talk, something he was never quite good at. Pansy didn't waste any time launching into a detailed account of how she spent her summer holidays. It was the perfect opportunity to zone out.

The stuck up brunette's awful rambling seemed to last an eternity, at least half the train ride to Hogwart's but alas the train hadn't even left the station yet. The low whistle of the train seemed to signal that it would finally be taking off. Good Merlin, would he really have to endure hours of this? No, absolutely not. This was not going to happen, not if he had anything to do with it. "Look Pansy, I really don't feel up to company. Could you just leave? Better yet, I'll leave." Without another word to the opened mouth girl, the blonde left the compartment.

The fat old witch who pushed a cart of treats and candy was saying her usual "Anything off the trolley?" as she strolled casually down the corridors of the Hogwart's Express. Scooting passed her, Draco found another empty compartment and made his way inside. Finally silence had been granted and allowed him time to think about what could happen this year. He was determined to make Potter feel a little more humble about life. Though the boy had saved his skin, Draco felt that it was only nessacery since had had saved Potter's ass before that. This year they would start a new.

"Look I think this one is empty" came a voice just outside the door. Draco had pulled the compartment shade down to ward off any intruders. He wanted to be alone for now. With a long sigh he waited for the new trespasser to open the door. The latch clicked open and the door slid to the side revealing the one person he had hoped he wouldn't run into for now, Harry Potter. "Oh Malfoy, it's you. Sorry." It was a grumbled, half hearted apology. "That's right Potter, go on, this one is occupied." The Slytherin's voice was low and almost venomous but it was half assed. His heart really wasn't in it just yet. The black haired boy stared with narrowed, green eyes at the blonde before him before turning and leaving him be. Merlin's beard this was going to be a long year.