6. Tiffany Blews, Fall Out Boy (3:44, played four times.)
Oh, Merlin... Were the first words that came to Draco's mind. Harry Potter was an enigma to him. He always seemed to be stuck in caterpillar mode, waiting for someone to help him out. Not that he was ugly like a caterpillar. He just never seemed to get out of the ideas he cultivated when he was a child. Like he was evil... he shook it off, and continued to stare.
How or even why he did this was a question in itself. He never seemed to be the type to cross-dress, not that it was against the rules by any means, now that they no longer had to wear uniforms. Just had to wear their house badge, and a black over robe, and that was good enough. But God...!
He was simply dressed, classically dressed, in a little black sheath dress with a v-neck, not too revealing of anything he didn't have. He was of a slender build, no broad shoulders and thick muscle to mar the beauty he made in female clothing, and has hips that filled out the silhouette nicely. His thin, long long legs with feet strapped into black strappy heels, not too much of a heel, but enough of one for him. God, his legs could break a motorcycle in half.
His hair had grown in waves, gentle curls, with bangs and contacts as not to cover his green eyes, entirely too green, but entirely too perfect. His hair was left loose, framing his face, just brushing his shoulders, his lips in a perfect pout.
Draco's mouth started to water. He was perfect, timeless, classic, like a faded moon he shined in the room, lit it up in fact. Despite the fact it was breakfast, he already had a craving for something that wasn't on the menu. He carefully brushes his mouth and divests it of crumbs, and carefully picked his way over the mixed tables of all houses to go over to Potter, perfect little Potter, who even in his heels was still shorter than him, and looked up at him in surprise.
"What?" Potter asks, his black rimmed eyes widening in surprise. At this Draco pauses. He was usually one for words, but at the sight of Potter like that, no, Harry like that, he was devoid of all words. "Malfoy?"
"Call me Draco," he blurts. "Can I call you Harry?"
"You've always been welcome," Harry asks. "Is that all?"
"No, uhm..." Draco trails off, the splattered blush he loathed coming over his features, and he coughs slightly. "I was wondering if you had a date to Hogsmeade weekend."
"No..." Harry says, the confusion in his perfect green eyes slowly clicking to something that Draco couldn't quite place. "Are you...?" Draco nods, his blush still too horrifying for words, and Harry lights up. "I thought you'd never ask! Hermione suggested something radical, and I was skeptical about this...but it's worked!"
"What?" Draco asks, mirroring Harry's previous confused look. "You've been...?" Harry nods, excited.
"I like you," Harry says, a slight blush creeping onto his features, making him look adorable. "I've always liked you. You've just insulted in my first real friend, and it was sort of rash to do that. I got over that ages ago, but I never knew you did, too!" He grins, kissing Draco's cheek on his tiptoes. "I'm so glad!"
Now Draco's blush had permanently taken up residence on his cheekbones, along with a smudge of Harry's lipstick.
"Well, uhm, yeah..." Draco stammers.
"Will you go out with me? Proper, as a boyfriend?" Harry asks, his eyes hopeful. Draco can't speak, so he quickly nods, his hair falling into his eyes. Harry grins, leaning up fully and kissing him on the mouth.
Oh yes, Draco thinks hazily. Harry Potter was indeed an enigma...