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Chapter 6: When-could-this-have-happened?
Draco watched carefully, sneakily even, as Potter walked in to the Magic History classroom. Would Potter sit beside him today also?He hoped so—not.
He tracked the golden boy's movement across the room. He was walking towards Draco, yes! He was going to pull out the chair and sit besides him-.
"Hello, Seamus." Potter smiled that smile, all genuine happiness.
"Arry" The name was drawled out.
Draco stiffened as Potter walked past him, taking a seat beside Finnigan.
"Drunk again, I see." He chuckled, probably sweeping his hair away from his face—but Draco couldn't see because Potter wasn't sitting beside him, the gryffindork was sitting beside Seamus Finnigan. (*snarl*)
"You know me so well, babe.."
"Really?"
"Harry, you know you are really cute.."
Every one knew that Seamus' tongue tended to run when he got drunk. He had even called Hagrid a sexy bird once, making the half-giant blush red. But that information had fled Draco's mind completely and it was no surprise—or maybe it was to poor Seamus—when the quill in from of him puked it's content on the Irishman's face and the quill burst into flames singeing his eyebrows so that they could not be found on his face.
Harry couldn't help but grin—at Seamus' fate and at Draco's ram-rod straight back which belied all the tension the blonde thought he was hiding.
Draco was in denial.
He let the hat slip on his head.
Oh bliss!
Then, he could finally be truthful—at least to himself; he could lie to others how much ever he wanted.
He found Potter attractive (attractive? How about sexy, shagabble?)
Potter's body was very appealing.
His mile was beautiful.
His eyes warm.
Potter wore his heart on his sleeves but he wore a large cloak over the robes' sleeves and protective gloves.
He looked splendid when he flew...so free, so light.
He quite failed at Potions...and looked cute failing it.
His arse was a fine artifact that Draco would love to keep in his bedroom.
He liked making others happy.
He was brave and cunning.
Not a Lion. Draco thought. Not a snake either.
He grinned underneath the drooping hat. More like a fox.
Po-Harry was smart and goofy and quite content where he was.
He had nice lips, Draco had noticed,which he would like to taste very much.
Oh Dear Lord! He fancied Harry James Potter.
…
…
The world could be coming to an end.
It was time.
Harry looked at himself in the mirror.
Naked. Golden tan stretched across his body, uneven by his legs. Hmm...could he fix that?
Note:Ask Hermione.
He wasn't half bad looking was he?
His father was apparently really handsome. Didn't that make him sort of handsome since he looked like his dad?
He searched his face. He had changed. From his memory, he summoned a picture of his dad and frowned. His father din't have those cheeks—all ruddy and high—nor those lips.
He smiled a little. He didn't really look like his dad. It was just the hair—which he hated and loved with fierce intensity.
Still, he was okay-looking right?
He took out the photo album and looked at his parents' pictures. He grinned—he had his mother's cheekbones.
So, if his father was really handsome. And his mother was this beautiful lady. And he was this mismatch of beautiful people...then what was the problem?
How was he not good enough for a Malfoy?
A/N: *hangs head in shame* I'm a failure. I procrastinate. Well...here's another chapter for anyone who hasn't given up!