The Draco Faction
Rated: PG-13
By: Resident Goddess

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its corresponding characters belong to JK Rowling and not myself. This story does.

Summary: Hogwarts has been bitten by the lust-bug, and Draco Malfoy appears to be the only one immune. Unfortunately for him, he has no idea what's going on! So, his arch-nemesis decides to help him out…

A/N: One-shot. Slash. Harry/Draco.


Draco Malfoy sipped at his coffee quietly one very early morning in late February. The Main Hall was just starting to fill up, and already he could hear people buzzing around him. The Slytherin table was empty, save three or four first years that were getting worked up over a Defense Against the Dark Arts paper. They had glanced over at him several times through the morning, and each time he had given them a thorough Malfoy Glare. They had stopped after about four times, and Draco was getting the sneaking suspicion that there was something on his face. Or his hair was messed up. Or he had a sock stuck to the back of his shirt by static. Or something.

And yet, people at this school had been acting very strange indeed…or, maybe it was just him. What Draco didn't know was that it was just him…in a sort of quirky way. It was if the lust-bug had bitten the whole of Hogwarts, and they had discovered that they could gawk openly at Draco without getting slapped. This amazing revelation occurred the week before in the Potions classroom when Seamus Finnigan calmly asked if he could touch Malfoy's wand.

Draco just looked at him strangely, but held out his 12" ebony-and-unicorn-hair wand to the boy, who had in turn stared at him strangely. Things just went downhill from there.

News had spread like wildfire that Draco hadn't kicked Seamus' arse right there in the Potions classroom. People dutifully discarded the fact that Draco had missed the whole point of the question, but it didn't really matter. The message was there. The message being, of course, that you could ogle Draco Malfoy without getting pounded.

And people had been doing it ever since.

Frankly it was making Draco severely paranoid. The poor chap had no idea what was going on…and no one had bothered to try to point it out to him, either. So, since that day the week before, Draco had gone throughout his days being very self-conscious. Was he getting a spot? Did he have his shirt on backwards? Most of his time was spent in the bathroom checking to make sure that everything was in order. He was late for several classes, and when he did walk in late, everyone stared at him even more. Lavendar Brown always giggled profusely whenever he walked into a room. In fact, the Gryffindors in general seemed to stare the most. Perhaps because the Slytherins had gotten used to him over the last seven years. But you never know.

It unnerved him even more when his enemies stared at him so. Were they plotting something against him? And if so, did they think that staring at him would throw him off track? Gryffindors were more inane then he had once thought.

Draco held his coffee cup protectively. There wasn't anything about him that had changed…he did get a haircut a few weeks ago, but other then that, he was relatively the same. People were starting to stream into the Main Hall, and he had been distracted and hadn't actually eaten anything. He had made it a habit during the last week to eat before everyone else did…in peace of sorts. And now he had forgotten, and Blaise Zabini was walking over to him and getting ready to sit down. He could see that this was just not going to be his day.


Draco had made it through most of the day without too may big scares. He had almost gone ballistic when Orla Quirke, a 4th year Ravenclaw, continued to stare at him incessantly during lunch. Even after he had given her the glare. Apparently she wasn't interested in his facial expression, which made Draco even surer that there was a sock or something of the like stuck to the back of his robes.

But it was during Quidditch practice that night that things really came to a head. The Gryffindors and Slytherins were sharing the pitch. That right there should have tipped him off that something was going to go terribly wrong, but he was more interested in getting Potter to stop staring at him so, the boy was a menace! It was then that he realized that a small crowd had formed, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Blaise flying over.

"Malfoy, Potter wants a scrimmage." He said. Draco shot the Gryffindor captain a look; he was hovering and looking at Draco expectantly. Draco scowled and thought for a moment. The Slytherin-Gryffindor Cup Quidditch match wasn't for months, it was set for the beginning of June. The scrimmage could very well be a telltale of the Quidditch match to come. And there was a crowd. But he couldn't very well say 'no' to his arch-nemesis in front of…well, anyone. They might think him cowardly, and he got enough stares as it was. He sneered,

"Go ahead, Zabini. Tell Potter we'll play his little game." He jerked his head towards Potter. Zabini saluted him and nearly fell of his broom.

"You got it, boss." Draco watched him fly away and was immediately aware of Ron Weasley burning a hole in the back of his head, he had that feeling and could see him in his peripheral vision. He spun on his broomstick,

"What Weasley?"

"Nothing." With a shrug the keeper flew down to talk with his captain. Draco sighed, the day just got better and better.


When the Slytherin team had returned from the locker rooms, this time clad properly in their green and silver practice robes, the Gryffindors were already in the air.

"We need a referee." Potter said, his eyes shamelessly raking Draco's figure. Draco suddenly felt a wave of self-consciousness coming on. How nervy of him.

"You're right, Potter. Wouldn't want you cheating, would we?"

"I think he was talking about you, Malfoy." Weasley said, coming up from behind Potter. Draco rolled his eyes, as if to say 'whatever', and looked at the crowd behind them, trying to find someone who actually knew the rules of Quidditch.

"Uh-uh, Malfoy." Potter said, "We have to find someone who isn't part of your little faction to referee."

"My what?" Draco chuckled, getting a severe case of the giggles. Potter was off his dot. Faction?

"Ugh, I'll just go get Madame Hooch." Potter muttered, sounding annoyed. He mounted his broom and flew off towards the castle.

"Sure, we get all dressed up out here, and now we have to wait for you to find a stupid referee!" Draco called after him, afterwards noticing the strange silence that had settled in around him. People were looking at him. "WHAT?!"

Then they acted as if it hadn't happened. As if they hadn't actually been looking at him. He wanted to punch someone.

"Accio Blaise Zabini!" He yelled pointing his wand at Blaise, who was across the field chatting up some Ravenclaw. Nothing happened, and he supposed that you couldn't 'accio' people. Too bad, it really would be rather handy.

By that time Potter had come flying back, and Draco could make out Madam Hooch's figure flying behind him. Bugger.

"No messing off now, Malfoy." Potter said with a sly grin. Draco frowned, what had gotten into these people?

"All right, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, let's get this match underway." Madam Hooch said, she had the quaffle under one arm, her foot was on the chest that held the snitch and the bludgers. "On my mark," She muttered, and opened the case. The snitch flew past Draco's nose and was gone. With a quick glance to Potter, he flew higher and waited near the center of the pitch. The crowd below was getting bigger. If Potter beat him (as usual), it was going to be rather embarrassing. He didn't need one more thing added onto…whatever the other thing was.

Potter was flying below him, and Malfoy's eyes were darting around, trying to catch everything. He was almost hit by a bludger, but it missed, and he flew on. The game continued.

In fact, it continued until it was dark. Draco had spotted the snitch several times, and so had Potter, but neither of them had been successful. They had had a few good runs, though, and Potter had even fallen off his broom once. It was quite the spectacle.

Draco could tell that it was getting hard for Potter to see, but the moon was coming out and to his right he saw a glint of light which could only be the snitch. Unfortunately, Potter saw it too, and they both took off after it at the same time. Draco was closer.

Potter knew it too, and there was nothing he could do about it. Draco smirked. But the snitch was plunging down, almost like it was a lead weight. The ground was coming up awfully fast, but the snitch was so close…it pulled up, and so did Draco's broom. He caught it, and his broom tale hit the ground, which sent him flipping over backwards and right into Potter. They rolled around for awhile with the crowd watching, the pitch was quiet.

"Ooh, Potter, I don't want you like that!" Draco shouted, everyone was straining to see what was going on, "Hey! What are you doing, Potter?!"

A yelp.

"All right, Potter! Get off of him, it's clear that Malfoy has caught the snitch!" Madam Hooch said loudly. A cheer from the Slytherins, boos from the Gryffindors, and quite the uproar from the small crowd in the stands. Madam Hooch tried to pull Potter up by his robes, but by that time, Potter was already helping himself up.

"Potter!" Draco jumped up and pulled his robes around himself indignantly. "Were you--were you--"

"Yes, Malfoy?" Potter was smirking openly,

"Unnugh!" Draco stormed off, as he walked away, he heard Potter turn to someone and say 'What?'.

Harry Potter had just tried to feel him up.


The next day was not much better for Draco. The night before he had slept poorly, first he was abhorred that Potter had…felt him up, and second of all, he was appalled that he had somewhat enjoyed the touch of Potter's hand on his skin. SOMEWHAT being the operative word.

So, the next morning, Draco wasn't really in the best of moods, despite the fact that he had caught the snitch and beat his enemy the night before. Because that so-called enemy had tried to feel him up--enemies just aren't supposed to do that.

So…what did that make them, anyway?

An owl fluttered past the Slytherin table and dropped a small piece of parchment into Draco's orange juice. That's great. He fished it out and pressed it dry with a napkin before opening it. When he did he sighed and shook his head,

Meet me by the second floor Prefects' bathroom at midnight.

It wasn't signed, but he knew who it was from. He looked over at the Gryffindor table, a few people were looking his way, but Harry Potter was engaged in conversation with Colin Creevy. Wait--Colin Creevy? Draco shook his head again…he needed a nap. Where was his coffee??


By eleven o'clock that night, Draco was thoroughly exhausted, and was practically falling asleep over his Charms homework. Bloody Potter, was he trying to kill him? Was this all just a ploy to make Draco Malfoy die from lack of sleep? If it was, it was working.

Blaise Zabini woke him up at twelve, and Draco pulled his hood over his head, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He made his way to the second floor, stumbling all the way due to the fact that his legs still seemed to be asleep, along with the rest of the rest of his body. He tripped twice. When he finally made it to the meeting spot, he was a wreck. Potter wasn't there yet, so Draco sat down and curled up in the fetal position. And promptly fell asleep.

He was shaken awake some time later…he didn't know how long, it could have been minutes, it could have been hours. All that mattered was that he was still tired.

"Sleeping, Malfoy?"

"You're the bloody bastard that said twelve o'clock. What time is it, anyway?" He yawned, Potter watched him before replying,

"Twelve thirty. You looked comfortable," He shrugged.

Oh God.

"You just sat there and watched me this whole time?" He could feel a blush rising to his cheeks. This sort of thing wasn't natural.


"You're sick, Potter."

"Am not,"

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"You are!"

"…What are we talking about again?"

"You being a perverted…person." Draco finished lamely and turned away and yawned again. When he turned back Potter was looking smugly at him. "And where do you get off--do you just go around feeling random people up, Potter?"

"No, just you."

"You're sadistic, Potter."

"Oh come on Malfoy."

"What do you people want from me, anyway? And why is everyone staring at me? AND why did you try to feel me up yesterday?"

"There was no 'try' about it, Malfoy."


"Well, whatever, answer the question!"

"It's your fault."

"Riiight, it's my fault that my worst enemy was groping me on the quidditch pitch!"

"Well, you made it possible, yes." Potter was saying, and he scooted a little bit closer. Draco eyed him nervously, noticing the rise in his heart rate. "Remember last week when Seamus er, asked if he could touch your wand? In potions?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with--"

Oh God. Oh bloody hell. Bugger, bugger, bugger. He was going to have to kick Finnigan's arse for this.

"Uh-huh. And you didn't ah, do anything to him, so everyone was just letting out some of their pent up…Malfoy watching."

"And what, you were just letting out some of your pent up Malfoy GROPING?!"

"Yes, actually, I quite liked it."

"Well, don't expect to be getting anymore, Potter, because I--" Draco stopped.

Harry had leaned forward and now was trailing his nose up Draco's neck, placing a kiss there every three inches.

"P-Potter--" Draco squeaked, his voice cracked. "Do you mind?" He said, pushing him back a little. Harry--er, Potter had pulled back and was looking at him dejectedly. "You know, it takes two people to snog, and if one person is unwilling, then it doesn't really w--"

Full on kiss, on the lips. Oh God. It was a peck, but it left Draco speechless.

"We aren't snogging, Malfoy. You're right." Harr--Potter said.

"Duh." Draco replied childishly, crossing his arms, and scooting a little further away from Harry. Harry scooted up next to him and sat down beside him. They sat that way for a few minutes.



"Are you ready to snog yet?"





"Potter I said--muhmfhhhmm…"

There were those lips again. Except this time it wasn't one of those pretty, nice-boy kisses. It was one of those I-haven't-had-sex-in-40-years kisses, and that was what got him. At that moment, Harry knew he had won, and it was all over for Draco. Harry pulled back and grinned, Draco grabbed him by the shirt,

"No getting away now, Malfoy."

There was no more talking after that.


[End fic]

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