I do not own anything here, nor am I making a profit from this. It is purely to pass my time, and hopefully, interest other people. J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, not me.

A massive thankyou to SevLoverKat, Astrido, amdlara, Angel-Miyu, MaiKanon, ALPHAQ69, MirrorFlower and DarkWind, doyou000me, taramegareader, demonicfate616, Queenmarie124, xSaffire55x, Ritsuki Yonsago, a kitsune's light, and guest! Thanks for reviewing and for your support! :D

Just a little info out there for my readers :) Don't worry all you Neville Lovers, because I love him too, and I'm not planning on bashing him either. And "the list" was really hard to create, given Harry's circumstances, but I hope everyone likes it when it's revealed :)

Oh, I'm not sure if it should be slash or not, it's up to the general concensus on all my readers :) The way the story plays out it could be either haha

Thanks for all your support, I now have internet and a laptop again, so be prepared for updates!

Chapter Seven - It's all in the Wrist

Harry stared at The List in his hands, a frown crossing his face as he regarded it. It was good in theory, but would it actually work? If he had some sort of goal to aim towards, then his body wouldn't fall into ruin, right? However, some of these were impossible. Not just difficult, but would require a miracle to complete. And then there was the choice of what to do first. One he couldn't complete until the holidays, and even then it would be a fiasco; anything linking with the Dursley's would be.

Number eight was physically impossible. Would apparation count? But then, something so simple wasn't even worth being on this list, now was it? If he only had to apparate it would be a complete let down, nothing at all to celebrate with.

No one would notice if he did number twenty four; they didn't care enough to.

Number Thirty One…who would be willing to play with him?

That was how Harry found himself by the lake during his study Thursday afternoon, with a pile of rocks in his pocket, flinging them at the water with frustration. He had been at this for about an hour, and no matter how he tried, not a single one of them would skim. He had tried trying to throw them over arm, underarm, at different angles; all to watch with irritation as they sunk into the lake. How did people do it? He had thought this would be a relatively easy one to complete, after all, how hard could throwing a rock at some water be? Oh, only one of the most challenging exercises Harry had ever known.

He had even tried different sized rocks, pebbles, bits of gravel he had found at the edge of the lake…but none of them seemed to work! It was infuriating; one of the only things he could do at the moment, and it was hopeless. The closest Harry got to a skim was when the splash made multiple ripples glide across the water.

Gritting his teeth together angrily, Harry picked up the rocks and tossed them all into the lake, grabbing his cloak and making his way up to dinner. That, at least, he could do. Number Seven. Try everything, no matter how nauseated and simply not hungry he was nowadays. Be subjected to countless glares and remarks, all while he tried to stomach food that didn't want to stay in his gut. Very attractive list, this one was turning out to be.

Harry hesitated in his storming up to the castle, the uncomfortable feeling of being watching prickling at the hairs of his neck. There was no one here, though, which only irritated him further.

He glanced at the Womping Willow, swallowing as he took in its threatening branches. It seemed to know what he was contemplating, so he shrugged it off, making his way quickly to the doors…Bloody tree, he would tackle that one another day. Number Seventeen.

Great idea, Harry. Make a list to keep yourself occupied, then ignore the list. Bound to work.

Harry ignored the voice in his head, and the gaze from someone that followed his pace to the castle. He would complete the list.

He was betting his life on it.

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.

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Harry was pouring over books in the library, feeling a bit better after his skimming a stone failure earlier that day. If he couldn't do that one, he might as well do another. Keep himself busy. Said other was number ten, learn how to say hello in fifty languages. And yes, English counted.

It was more difficult then it looked, and he for once admired the effort Hermione went into for studying. He not only had to try to find fifty different languages, but he had to find that particular word, and how to pronounce it, and then remember fifty of them. And that being said, some of the languages he hadn't even heard of before. He didn't really know if Hmong, or Navaho were real languages, pure ignorance on his part, but he had found language books on each, and so was busy trying to scribble down the word and the pronunciation.

It was a gruelling process. Thank Merlin he already knew one. It wasn't cheating. It was his list.

He was so engrossed by it that he didn't even hear someone approaching, nor did he notice the subtle cough until a book dropped onto his table. He jumped slightly, blinking up to meet eyes with Hermione and Ron. Harry was immediately wary, his quill hesitating in its scratching.

"…Do you mind if we sit here, Harry?" Hermione was the negotiator, taking everything in control and acting diplomat. She wasn't glaring at him though, and looked almost pleading. Before he knew what he was doing, Harry was nodding consent, moving a stack of books to the other side of the table.

"We've missed you, Harry." It was similar to what Neville had said, too much of a coincidence that Harry paused again, reaching over to fold his list in half and hide it in his pocket. He didn't want them knowing…this was just for him. And if they had consorted with Neville, and were trying some sort of war tactic, they weren't to be trusted. No matter how much his gut wanted to heave up his dinner at the thought.

"…yeah, me too." He managed to get out, swallowing as Hermione slowly opened her books, nudging Ron to do the same.

He didn't look good, Ron; he was pale, his own eyes a little bloodshot...but it was the constant frown that had taken control of his face that made him appear completely different. He wouldn't forgive yet, he was still too angry. Too much hurt had hit him at once. Harry's stomach squirmed again, thinking of how he would take it when Harry finally told them that he was slightly ill.

He wasn't going to fade, not while he completed his list. He wasn't allowing himself.

"What are you doing, Harry?" Hermione glanced at the books, her curiosity controlling her better than her subdued friendliness; it was so Hermione that Harry almost smiled. "Indonesian, Italian, Hebrew, Polish…what on earth are you doing?"

"Just a little side project." Harry evaded her eyes, flipping through the book to see if it had any pronunciations in it. The library was very lacking in different languages. As it was, he was going to have to order in a few books, maybe thirty, just to get the single 'Hello' out of them. He didn't mind, it wasn't as if he had to be frugal anymore.

"Keeping myself entertained." He didn't mean the remark to be cutting, but suddenly her level gaze was directed at him, cautious. She seemed to be trying to read him; is that what Neville had asked her to do? Told her he was unstable?

"Don't…you think you have a bit too much of school work, to be taking on a side project?" That was like Hermione, as if they hadn't been fighting on and off for the past few weeks. "We're getting tons of homework."

The homework didn't really bother Harry anymore; he completed the essays, but that was it. He had about half as much as everyone else had, because he didn't have to do the practical work. Anyway, as it was he finished most of it in studies, and then in any practical class they had anyway. It was almost as if he didn't have homework anymore. "I'm keeping up." He replied eventually, smiling softly at his bushy haired friend. "I'm ahead for the first time in my life; I need a project. Might get some credit points." If only to please her.

"…what class will languages help?" She really was too bright for her age. Harry avoided her eyes and kept searching, trying to seem blasé and knowing he was failing exceptionally well.

"It's sort of an individual assignment." He changed the topic, it working so much better than with Malfoy. "What about you? Falling behind?"

"No, I'm trying to finish the research for potions…" The calm table suddenly got uncomfortable, stiff. Hermione suddenly found her hands quite interesting, and didn't even finish her sentence. So, Neville had spoken to them. It seemed they were loyal still, just not to him.

"…It wasn't you, was it?" Harry spoke quietly, watching his friends exchange a glance before answering. Ron hadn't spoken yet.

"Of course not, Harry." She whispered back to him, tears in her eyes as she regarded him. "We're your friends." She repeated it fervently, in case he didn't believe her. "We're your friends. It might have hit you. Anyway, I don't think whoever did it understood what would happen; it was a horrible accident, Harry." Well, that left Parvati, Dean and Seamus. But, he had thought them to be his friends too.

He wasn't likely to find this out, not from them. Hermione had taken on Bellatrix, it was unlikely she would yield to Harry. Accident indeed.

Harry nodded, glancing at Ron again. He glanced back at Harry, smiling softly and pulling out his books. It seemed they were getting better, the three of them. Or, was it a part of their plan. Plan? What plan? Why would they plan anything?

Harry shook his head, paranoia getting to him. Back to researching how to say hello in Japanese, and the pronunciation. What? There were five different ways of saying it? Harry frowned, trying to make sense of it. Languages were difficult; thank Merlin you didn't need to learn them here. Well, spells sort of counted, but that was all Latin; easy to say, easy to remember. Languages…why had Harry done this to himself?

He started tapping as he read, to calm his frustration, and partly, to frustrate Hermione. She was pouring through books, searching left right and centre for the potions answer and getting more and more irritable when she didn't find it. She had started muttering to herself.

"Mundane…I'll show them mundane!" She had murmured a few minutes ago, but now her glare was trained on Harry's fingers, tapping to a beat in his head. He had to hide a smirk as he paused his fingers…he waited a moment…then went right back on tapping again.

"Stop distracting us and do your work." Hermione was obviously straining not to snap at him, her eyes hardening as he shrugged, smirking slightly. This was just as it had been, two years ago.

"What work?"

"Potions! We've only got tonight to find the answer, and I can't find it! How can all the Slytherins have it immediately and yet none of the Gryffindors? I thought it was a pureblood thing," She sniffed, grabbing another book, "but Ron has no idea either." He had missed this.

Until Ron finally spoke. "What're you smirking at?" He asked darkly, eyes cold. "It's creepy; you look like Malfoy."

Harry blinked at him, smile disappearing. The first smile they had noticed, and they demanded he stop. It was as if he stabbed Harry in the chest, the way it was sinking. "So?"

"So, it's disturbing."

"Don't fight, you two! Help me with the homework." Hermione diverted both their attention with her desperate tone. She looked as if she were about to pull her hair out. "What do you think, Harry? I've tried almost all combinations to find the answer, and I cannot find it anywhere! I've tried children's potions, dark potions, useless potions! You would be surprised how many there actually are." She added darkly, almost shivering at the memory. "I think Slughorn gave us a trick question, actually. To test how far we would go to find the answer. He is the Slytherin Head, after all; supposed to be sly and deceiving. He had to be Slytherin somehow."

Harry smirked again, this one sharper and without the amusement, if just to piss Ron off. He would never tell him how much that comment had hurt, but it had, and now he didn't care if Ron apologized and joked around with him; all he wanted to do was leave the library. Toss the bucket list aside and use magic so much his chest would stop hurting and his gut would stop trying to heave. He was only doing the best he bloody well could. "Actually, if you want the answer, it's not in a potions book."

"What? What do you mean?" Hermione was staring as if captivated by his face, not even blinking as she waited for an answer. She loathed being outdone, even now.

"I mean I found it ages ago; first night it was given to us, actually. Well, no, Draco found it-"

"Ooh, Draco, is it?" Ron spat, confusing Harry slightly before he realised he had use his given name. Shit! Why did he do that? He even tried to think of him as Malfoy, for Merlin's sake! This is what happened when you got too talkative to someone supposed to be a rival. "What the fuck, Harry!? You have little study sessions with the Death-Eater now too?"

It unnerved Harry how quickly the anger filled him. "Shut up, Ron!"

"Merlin, I knew those rumours were true!"

Raw indignation coursed through Harry, radiating until it became rage. How dare Ron? Even if those rumours were true, a friend would stick by him and not give a bloody toss whether or not it was! And Ron just kept bringing it up; as if the subjectivity of the rumour was worse than Harry befriending Malfoy…not that he had.

Harry didn't expect the anger, but it came in a torrent. Hermione looked as if she were about to take for cover as he glared back at Ron, a snarl across his face. The memory of his first session in the hospital wing with someone present flicked through his mind, joining to his lips before he had a chance to stop it.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you, Draco and I are fucking behind your backs too." He felt a strange amount of pleasure in watching Ron turn bright red, his eyes bulging with either rage or shock. Hermione simply rolled her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief.

Harry raised his eyebrows, turning back to Ron to tell him to shut his mouth or get out, when lithe arms curled around his shoulders, pulling him close against someone's chest. His mouth snapped shut, swallowing perplexedly as vanilla filled the air, and someone rested their head on his shoulder, a smooth cheek brushing against his.

Harry didn't think he could have spoken even if he had wanted to as Malfoy's voice vibrated across his neck, soft and yet stilling the entire table. "I thought we weren't telling anyone?" He asked, amusement ringing in his voice.

Harry was about to brush him off; he was clinging far too tightly, his chest brushed up tightly against his back when Malfoy leaned forwards again, soft lips brushing against Harry's throat, leaving an innocent little peck. Well, it would have been innocent, and Harry was certain he would have been able to brush it away as a joke, if the blonde git had not kissed it a second time, this one not so subtle.

He sucked gently on Harry's throat, nipping down slightly as if to mark him. Harry wasn't ready for the jolt of nerves that trickled across his neck, or the sudden fact that it was oh so very hot in the library. He stiffened, swallowing tightly as Malfoy slowly released his lips from Harry's petrified neck, a hand coming up to ruffle in his hair softly.

Harry just stared across the table, not sure his eyes could go any wider. He…what?

Completely disregarding his friends, Harry spun around to catch Malfoy's insufferable blonde head leave the library with his Slytherin cronies. His initial shock gone, Harry bolted to the door to chase the evil boy, either to kill him or slog him one.

Why had he done that? And why had it felt…no! Just fucking no!

Harry spun around a corner to almost collide with the blonde. He had to skid to a stop, getting three very curious pairs of eyes flicker to him. Before anything could be said, however, somehow Malfoy's robes were in Harry's hands, and he was pressed up against a wall, not at all like Malfoy was envisioning it, Harry was sure.

"What the hell was that!?" Harry yelled, his voice cracking in the middle of the sentence uneasily. Confusion and anger traded places across his face, making him more nervous than he had been in a while. Was all the joking around with Malfoy before still a gag? Or was he serious? Were the rumours true? Had he started them? Why had his neck felt like it was on fucking fire?

But Malfoy only smirked at him, raising his eyebrows in that arrogant manner he had. His friends, Pansy and Blaise just stood amused to one side, not even attempting to help him. They were snickering to one another, but didn't so much as point a wand. "I was simply validating your story."

Harry growled at the sardonic answer, the anger winning this round. "It. Was. Said. With. Sarcasm."

"I'm not too good with sarcasm." Malfoy drawled, smirking as amusement flickered in Harry's eyes. Harry wanted to hit himself; he was supposed to be angry, not trying to keep a grin off of his stupid face.

"You've just ruined my life." He refused to let him go, despite how the grin was winning.

"You did that yourself."

"I hate you."

"I don't; I'm witty, handsome…" Malfoy grinned with Harry now, both boys rolling their eyes. Malfoy was one of the most immature people he knew, most of the time.

"Selfish."

"As are all good men in history." The blonde git had the audacity to look proud at the insult.

"Vain." Harry bit back, just wanting that bloody grin to go. It made it oh so hard to actually hate him, when he smiled like that.

"It's called looking after myself, grooming, sometimes using a brush…it's a fairly new invention, I'm not sure if you've heard of it. In fact, you should probably invest in-"

"Short."

"I'm taller than you." Harry was scraping at the bottom of the barrel here, not sure why he let Malfoy go at all; didn't he want to punch him a moment ago?

"…Blonde."

"That's actually a compliment."

Harry sighed, throwing up his arms dramatically, very much like the prat would, he was sure. "You're impossible!" He declared, still grinning and not know why exactly. But the blonde only winked at him, still very much amused.

"That's what you love about me." A growl from behind them had them both spinning around, watching a very livid pair of Gryffindors storming through the corridor. Ron looked ready to burst a pipe, and even Hermione looked a sickly pale. Surely it wasn't that bad of a thing…wait, what had he done this time?

Harry turned back to Malfoy, meeting his bewildered gaze before he had time to hide it. It was enough.

Harry burst into laughter. It was so ridiculous! They were angry at him, for what? For thinking he was gay? For trying to beat up Malfoy? Or for the Slytherin Twat trying to rape his throat with his mouth? He didn't know, didn't care…and for some unknown reason, mirth was giggling up inside him.

He leant his head against Malfoy's shoulder, simply to remain standing. It was just so stupid! The entire situation, and the bad timing of his friends; you could be sure that the rumours would be back in full spirit tomorrow. Hey, the prophet might even get involved…now that, for some unknown reason, would be funny.

Eventually Harry stopped his uncontrolled bout of mad laughter, pushing himself away from the smirking Malfoy. He nodded, shaking his head in disbelief and retreated back into the library without a word.

Malfoy always made him…content, lately.

What had he chased after him for again?

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.

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Draco smirked at Potter's back, feeling smug in every possible way. He had made Potter laugh like that; not the Mud-blood, not the Weasel…him.

Basking in his own superiority long enough, he directed his gaze to his two astounded friends. They both looked as if they had been confounded, with their mouths to the floor and eyes wide. Well, Blaise just cocked an eyebrow; Pansy, on the other hand, looked as if Christmas had been cancelled. They exchanged a glance, quickly communicating to one another. It didn't matter if they said it silently or not, Draco could read every word immediately.

He counted to three in his head, waiting for the command.

"…Explain. Now." They both demanded, tones clearly indicating that they wouldn't take no for an answer.

Draco, still smirking, kept walking.

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Harry couldn't help but sigh at the lake, throwing more rocks into the water. Today had been just as good as the others usually were lately; beginning off with heated glares and whispers behind his back. Well, not too subtle whispers, as it were. More like shouts and constant berates as he passed through the hallways, no discrimination between any of the houses or the years; they were all coming together, demonstrating a fine display of inter-house unity against Harry.

Someone had restarted the rumours, and apparently no one blessed his fake choice of partner. They acted as if he was practising dark magic on his breaks, or claiming that he was going to be the next Voldemort after raising a copious amount of inferi.

That wasn't what annoyed Harry, not in the slightest. He was infuriated by the fact they thought it was, by some miraculous chance, their business! Harry had done his part for the wizarding world! He had given them the chance of freedom and peace and more. So why couldn't they just shut up and leave him to his own devices?

They didn't own him!

If Harry wanted to go out with Malfoy, he would, and they could all go and shove their disgusting opinions up their own arses! Not that, of course, Harry was considering this at all. It was simply hypothetical, relating to the rumours. And anyway, he couldn't very well date anyone, could he, if he was going to…if he was sick like this? It just wasn't fair on anyone if he did.

…

And the fact Harry didn't even like boys! And even if he did, which he didn't, it was still no one's business but Harry's!

He flung another rock into the water, gritting his teeth as it sunk immediately, hardly even making a ripple. Why was skimming a fucking rock so bloody hard? It only added to the irritation rising through his thoughts. Anyone, apparently, could do it! He had even seen Ron do it last year…

That thought didn't help his frustration. It had had to have been Ron or Hermione to start this rumour. They were the only ones that had read the note the other day, and to overhear Malfoy's joking exclamation. Well, them and Zabini and Parkinson. But Zabini hardly looked the type to revolve around idle gossip, and Parkinson would hardly do a thing if it could potentially ruin the reputation of Malfoy. So Ron or Hermione it was; they didn't care who got hurt, as long as their anger could be played out.

It was just so infuriating!

By tomorrow, he was sure the prophet would know, and then he would have everyone breathing down his neck. He could practically see the headlines now, and even his imagination made him cringe. They would be brutal.

Harry flung another pebble out to the water, growling as it sunk immediately. Not even a ripple. Damn it!

"You're abysmal at this as well."

Harry spun around as Malfoy strode over, eyebrows raised at the anger covering his face. What was he even thinking? If anyone saw them, the rumours wouldn't die down.

"Fuck off." Harry snarled, turning back to the water and pegging a rock at it none too gently. None of this would have started if he hadn't been friendly, lately.

"Wow, someone's got PMS this morning; you're obviously the bottom in our relationship."

"Is this funny to you?" Harry snapped, rounding back on the unperturbed blonde. "Because I'm not laughing! You've completely fucked up my life!"

"Me?" Malfoy just looked bored, completely at ease as if he didn't have someone bellowing at him from a few meters away. "You're blaming me?"

"This entire mess if your fault!" Why was he standing there with a single fucking eyebrow raised? Harry wanted to grab that thin line of blonde hair and pull it off! See if he would be indifferent then! "If you hadn't sent those notes then they wouldn't get the idea! You bloody hell raped my throat yesterday!"

Amusement flickered into Malfoy's eyes, a smirk beginning to spread across his face. "You're clearly in need of some educating on 'throat raping'. A peck doesn't qualify."

"Stop laughing! Comments like that is what got us into this mess!" Harry pulled at his hair, swallowing tightly. "You do know the prophet is going to get involved, don't you? You do know that your oh-so-valuable reputation is in jeopardy?" Malfoy just blinked at that, the smirk fading a little. Finally, something that Harry could use to force him to understand that it wasn't amusing. "If you didn't think everything was a joke all the time, your reputation would be okay!" Harry curled his hands into fists, "I would still be friends with Ron and Hermione, Gryffindor wouldn't hate me...and…and I would be able to spend the next few months relatively happy." He finished quietly, turning back around and tossing another stone at the lake, to watch it sink yet again. "So, really Malfoy, just fuck off."

Harry knew that it wasn't really fair, to blame Malfoy for everything that was wrong at the moment; most of it was his fault, after all. He was just so angry today, and tired, and bloody well irritated beyond belief that he didn't care.

"Actually, Potter," It would be too much, of course, to hope that Malfoy had a conscious and would actually leave Harry alone. "My standing in Slytherin has nothing to do with rumours, and they couldn't care less if I was in a relationship with you or with Longbottom; they would draw the line at Weasel, however. Bestiality and all… Anyway, quite frankly, it's none of their business."

Harry refused to look up at him, instead continued staring out at the lake, pleading with any god that was listening that he would just leave. "Secondly, you most defiantly wouldn't still be friends with Weasel and the Mudblood, because you weren't talking even before you began speaking to me civilly. And Gryffindor is about as loyal as a pack of Death-Eaters. Neither of these would have changed even slightly just because of a note I sent you."

Harry clenched his teeth irritably. Yes, they would have. They were already becoming friendly again, joking and chatting normally. It would have been fine.

"And finally," Harry almost jumped as Malfoy spoke; he hadn't realised he had edged closer at all. "I didn't hear you complaining."

"Was the shove against the wall too subtle?" Harry scoffed, falling silence as Malfoy took one of the pebbles in his hand, turning to fling it at the water.

It leapt across the stilled surface, ripples cascading as it edged further and further away. A perfect skim.

The bastard.

A disgruntled Harry watched as Malfoy started picking up various stones. He was amazed that Malfoy would want to get his hands dirty at all, actually.

"They have to be flat." Malfoy stated, placing a rather large stone in Harry's hand. "You hold it like this." He positioned the rock between his thumb and his finger, his hands remarkably soft. It was a struggle to pay attention to where the rock was supposed to go, and not stare at those long fingers. His hands didn't have any scars on them, not the tiniest blemish. How?

"And you flick your wrist. It's all in the wrist movement." Malfoy grabbed his own stone, quickly tossing it towards the water. He didn't watch the skim, though; his grey orbs were focussed on Harry's hand, not yet moving.

Harry sighed inwardly, knowing it was hopeless. He had been trying for hours, he wasn't likely to get it now. He swung his arm out, trying to copy the wrist movement that Malfoy had made, knowing it would be a mimic of a copy but attempting it nevertheless.

His stone hurtled towards the water. Harry crossed his arms, waiting for it to sink as they always did…and blinked in surprise. His stone jumped along the water three times before falling through the surface. The perfect skim.

He glanced at Malfoy grinning, utterly in shock. He had skimmed a rock…he had completed the first thing on his list! His rubbish mood vanished in a second, the unfamiliar mirth flooding into him, like it had a few times this past week. He had skimmed the rock!

Malfoy was smirking, though his eyes remained soft and not cruel; he wasn't sneering this time, he was amused too.

Harry grabbed another rock, flinging it towards the water again. He laughed as it rebounded, this time leaping four times before sinking. He didn't even think to wonder why Malfoy had ventured down to the lake in the first place.

29. Learn to skim a stone