For starters, this will only be in this chapter, so read it carefully. I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with him. Everything you recognize from said books belongs to JKR.

AN A brand new story! Horary! The chapters will be long this time. Twenty pages each or so. Sorry, but I couldn't help it. This means they'll come out less often then in Changing of a Slut. Hope you all like this story.


Chapter 1

Harry was distraught. He was sitting in the back of his parents' car, slowly watching as his old life was put behind him. The life where he was known only as Harry; Dean Thomas' boyfriend, the basketball star, fantastic at math and art, but tended to fall asleep during history. A computer whiz. Popular and handsome, best friend to almost everybody in his class.

Now, he was going to be Harry Potter the new boy, one of the country's best teen basketball stars. The kid with messy hair and bright green eyes, and a weird shaped scar on his forehead. Unpopular and unhappy. The gay kid.

"Cheer up, son," his father, James Potter, said from the driver's seat. "You'll make new friends, I'm sure your new life will be great!"

"You can call Dean later tonight, if you want, sweetheart," his mother, Lily, added, trying to cheer him up from her place next to her husband in the passenger seat.

Harry didn't say anything. He just sighed and returned to staring out the window.

He missed his friends. Dean, Justin, Blaize, Hannah, Cho, Pansy, Terry, Susan, he even kind of missed Colin. He had known them since grade school, and wasn't ready to give them up. But most of all, he missed Dean.

The break-up had been hard, saying good-bye had been worse.


For the first time ever, Harry resisted one of Dean's kisses. "D, wait," he said, leaning back into the slightly torn fake leather of the booth they were sitting at.

Dean pouted, "what is it?" He asked, looking at Harry with his beautiful black eyes.

Harry took a deep breath, "I have to tell you. I mean, I don't really have to, but I need to... I mean, I-"

"Harry, what are you talking about?" Dean was starting to look nervous.

"I'm- moving."

It took a moment for what he said to sink in, but when it did, Dean jumped up in shock and fear. "What? Why? When?" He paused, "what about us?"

Harry shook his head, tears threatening on the brim of his eyelids. "My dad got a promotion, so we're leaving after the school year ends, around middle of June, I think. We're going up to some town in northern England," he said.

Dean sat down, his dark face pale, "what about us?" He repeated in a whisper.

"I don't know." The tears he had been holding back suddenly fell, and Harry collapsed into his boyfriends warm and welcome embrace.

"Well," Dean said decisively, always logical, "we have till June, then."


He was brought out of his memories when they turned off of the freeway and started making their way through a picture perfect town. A sign by the off- ramp welcomed them to Hogsmeade, and Harry snorted, glaring heatedly at it. About half an hour later, they pulled into a drive at the corner of a street named Godric's Hollow Road.

It was one of those double entrance drives, but Harry wasn't impressed in the least. He'd prefer his old unpaved driveway, personally.

Harry got out of the car and stared up at the structure in front of him. It was painted light blue with white shutters and trim. It was much larger then their old home on Hangleton Avenue, the lawns were larger, more lush. There were pretty flower gardens on either side of the door and Lily immediately started examining them, pushing her dark red hair back into its messy ponytail. Large windows were curtained off, not revealing what lay inside. And smaller windows led down into the basement, hidden slightly by deeply dug drains.

James went to the front door and unlocked it, beaconing his family inside.

It was big. Not overly, but enough to echo slightly. It was painted white, and small pieces of furniture from their old home were already placed around it. Harry frowned and walked into the living room. He snorted, before making his way to the kitchen. There he sighed, before going all the way back and heading up the stairs to the second landing. It wasn't much better.

There was one main room, probably to be furnished with a television, and a hallway with doors placed on either side. Harry walked down it, opening the doors and mentally keeping track of the rooms as he passed. Closet, bathroom, bedroom, another closet, study, yet *another* closet, and finally, the master bedroom. He went back to the first bedroom and frowned.

It was pink.

"You can have this room," his father said from behind him, "or, the basement. It's actually rather nice down there, spacious. There's a bathroom and everything."

Harry brushed past his father and went down the stairs to find the basement. A door in the kitchen led down a set of slightly circular stairs, and Harry was surprised. It *was* nice. Relatively high ceilings, bathroom with a tub and shower, a few windows, good lighting. He could manage here.

Harry went back up the stairs and found his mother in the kitchen, unpacking the things they had brought with them in the car. He went immediately to her side and gave her a hug.

"I want to go home," he whispered, "I miss home, and Dean. Please, mummy, can we go back?"

"I'm sorry, baby," she said, smoothing his untamable hair, "but we can't, you know that." A tear fell on her shoulder and she gently lifted Harry's head to look in his eyes, so much like her own. "Baby, do you remember what Dean told you before we left this morning?"

"He told me to try to find someone better," Harry whispered, another tear falling. "But there's no one better! I want to be with Dean!"

"And I know he wants to be with you, but trust me, baby, this will work out for us... Did you see the basketball court in the back yard?" she asked, expertly changing the subject. "It's pretty well kept for a half-court. I'll play against you after we've finished unpacking, if you'd like."

Harry smiled, despite himself.

"You're on, shorty," he said, laughing.

Just then, James walked into the room, smiling widely. At the exact same moment, all of their stomaches growled.

"I think this is a good moment for someone to volunteer to go get some fast food," he said heartily.

He looked at Harry, who looked at Lily, who looked back at Harry.

Harry sighed.

"Fine," he muttered, holding his hand out for the keys to his dad's ugly car. A set was placed in his hand, along with twenty pounds for food, and Harry sighed again.

"I think your father put the car in the garage," said Lily, smiling. "Try not to scratch anything up, alright?"

Harry muttered darkly under his breath, "What, chip the puke green paint? Me?"

But he left the room anyway, heading out the front door and into the garage. He took no notice of the two people in the yard next to his. A man, and a girl about his age. The man, probably the girl's father, was in a black truck. The girl said something to him, handing him something to which he laughed, before driving down the street and around the corner, out of sight.

Harry reached the garage, and opened it before stopping and staring in shock. His father's ugly, dark green sedan was parked there, right next to a dark blue convertible. A large bow was sitting on its steering wheel, and there was a large card on the driver's seat that read, 'Happy Early Birthday! Love, Mum and Dad'.

"Are you just going to stand there all day with your mouth hanging open?" an unfamiliar voice from the next yard laughed, interrupting his momentary shock, "or are you going to introduce yourself?"

Harry turned around and saw the same girl he had seen talking to the man in the black truck. She was a little shorter than he was, with long, slightly frizzy, dark brown hair, going all the way down to her waist. She was wearing a golden yellow spaghetti-strap top that showed a bit of her midriff and white shorts that set off her amazing tan. She was pretty, with clever brown eyes and sparkling white teeth.

"Harry," he finally muttered after taking in this new girl, and holding out his hand to shake hers.

"Hermione Granger, but everybody calls me Mione," she said, taking his hand. They let go and she hopped over the hedge that divided the two yards. "Nice car," she commented. "Is it yours?"

Harry nodded.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm supposed to go and find some food, though I think my parents forgot that we just moved here, so I don't know where any restaurants are. And I totally wasn't paying attention as we drove down each and every street, trying to find our new house." Harry sighed, looking at the house behind him again. "Our new house," he repeated quietly.

Hermione looked at him closely, noticing the reluctance and sadness in his eyes.

"Well," she said decisively, "get in the car and I'll show you where all the good places to eat and hang out are. It's not far from here, ten minutes or so."

Harry nodded and got into the car. Hermione got into the passenger seat, and he started the car, backed out of the drive and started following her easy directions, all the while deep in conversation about school. His favorite subjects, sports, food, everything you can talk about in a span of ten minutes.


Hermione directed him to a street named Diagon Alley. It was a cobble stone street that you couldn't really drive in because of the masses of people, mostly teens, walking in the middle of it. It was lined with every kind of shop imaginable; teen dance clubs, fast food joints, book stores, music stores, clothing shops and other sorts of places. The girl then told him to park in front of a restaurant called The Leaky Cauldron, a cheerful looking building at the corner. It was the only place with a parking lot.

They walked inside the spacious building, and Harry stared at the walls, which were white, but covered in crayon drawings of almost anything you could imagine. However, from the moment they walked in, everyone stopped talking, and a sizeable group of teens came up to greet Hermione, and obviously get a good look at 'the new boy'. They were all making comments.

"Where'd you pick him up, Mione? He's gorgeous!" a girl called.

"Where'd you meet him? I swear I've seen his face somewhere before..."

"Now I'm glad I just got back together with Parvati. Hold on to your girls, mates, this one might steal them!"

There was a roar of laughter and Harry flushed, completely embarrassed.

"Come on, guys," Hermione said, laughing, "give him some air. Now, this is Harry, he just moved next door to me from Surry. Harry, this is the gang... well, some of the gang. Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottem, Parvati Patil, and Draco Malfoy."

Harry looked at each of the faces and attempted to smile at them as Hermione said their names. His eyes got all the way down the line, before landing on Draco. Harry gulped. He was drop dead gorgeous. He had shiny, ash-blonde hair, stormy gray eyes, perfectly sculpted features and rich by the looks of his wardrobe. Harry felt like something the dog had dragged in, in comparison.

This boy was an artist's dream model. And Harry suddenly felt the itch to draw this perfection before it melted away.

Draco held out his perfectly manicured hand.

"Hogwarts?" he asked.

Harry nodded and lifted his own hand, staring in shock when Draco brought it up to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles.

Dean had never done that.

The world slowly compressed down on Harry's mind, cutting off everything else that was happening around him.

"Draco!" Hermione cried somewhere in the background. "Don't scare the poor soul! You don't even know if he's gay or not!"

Harry paled. //Oh, shit! DEAN!// his mind screamed.

"Why must you make a move on everybody like that? You just met him!" Hermione continued to rant.

Draco, who seemed rather oblivious, had his eyes still resting on Harry, who continued to stare back at him.

Harry pulled his hand away and, blushing slightly, turned to Hermione.

"Thanks Mione, but I have to get food for my parents, remember?" he whispered in her ear. "They're waiting for me."

Hermione nodded and pushed him up to the counter where a man who looked somewhere around fifty years-old was standing, drying a glass with a towel.

"Tom," she said, smiling at him, "this is Harry, and he needs food for him and his parents. To go."
Tom nodded and took a good look at Harry, before setting down his glass and heading back into the kitchen. He reappeared a few minutes later holding a bag of food.

"There's steak, a Caesar salad with Italian dressing, and a cheeseburger with all the trimmings except onions," Tom listed, pushing the bag at Harry, who stood in shock. "You're a good kid," he continued, smiling, "I can tell. Your first meal is on the house. Now, get home to your parents, lad, before I make you pay."

Harry nodded, thanking the man and taking the bag of food before turning towards Hermione.

"Do you need a ride home?" he asked, the girl shook her head and Harry nodded again, before heading towards the door. He made it out and all the way to his car before being stopped, a warm hand on his shoulder.

"You gay?" Draco's voice whispered hotly into his ear.

Harry nodded, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. He was suddenly glad his father had forced him to stay in karate all those years. He allowed himself to be turned around.

"Good," Draco continued, "see a movie with me tomorrow."

Harry froze.

"What?" he croaked. "Listen, I have a-" he swallowed hard. //No,// his brain reminded him, //you don't have a boyfriend anymore.// "-a lot of work to do tomorrow. Unpacking and stuff, helping my parents."

Draco raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow in an arch.

"I'll come and get you at six-thirty. Be ready by then... and dress nice," he said, leaning in, his perfect, soft looking lips temptingly close to Harry's.

Harry nodded, disgusted with himself, yet somehow secretly excited about the prospect of dating such perfection. Then Draco left, just like that.


Harry got back to Godric's Hollow, only managing to get lost once. He pulled into the garage and stared in dismay. The moving truck had arrived. He forced himself past all the boxes and furniture, making his way into the kitchen. It had been completely transformed from something new and bare, into something he could recognize from Surry. Harry dropped the food on the worn oak table and fished out his burger. He devoured it before finding his parents and thanking them for the car and telling them the food was on the table before heading down to the basement to unpack his stuff.

He got down the stairs, and was surprised to see that *that* space had been completely changed as well. No longer bare and echoey; all his old furniture, plus the old corner-couch and TV from Surry were now resting, as his father had promised, against the walls, a mountain of boxes labeled in his mothers elegant scrawl were sitting in the middle of the floor.

Harry first began moving the furniture around, finally deciding to push his bed against the far wall, right underneath a window. His bookcase went next to his bed, a small table went on the other side. He then somehow managed to steal a couple of the heavy curtains from upstairs and curtain off his bed from the rest of the basement. His worn edged desk went near the door to the bathroom. He managed to drag the couch away from the wall, leaving it near a corner, facing the TV. His stereo system went next to that. Harry then began unpacking.

He went to work, piling boxes of books by the bookcase, CD's and tapes by his stereo, and movies by the TV. All his clothes went inside the huge walk in closet, and his bathroom supplies went to the bathroom counter.

He pulled the first box towards him and opened it. It contained books, which he began to place on his worn wooden bookcase. Papers and pictures, old yearbooks, pens and pencils went to his large desk. He had been working for nearly two hours, almost a quarter of the way done, his wrist watch nearing eight thirty, when he was interrupted.

"Harry?" Came his mothers voice, "honey, where are you? Did you eat? Are you okay?"

"I'm down here, mum," Harry shouted, reluctantly placing his favorite photograph of Dean back on his desk.

"You have a phone call," his mother called down the stairs, "it's Dean, do you want to talk to him?"

"Just a minute," Harry yelled back. He had spotted a phone jack down here earlier, and he was just about to plug in his black cordless phone.

"I got it!" He yelled up the stairs, "Dean?"

"Hey, Harry, I miss you."

"I miss you too, D."

"What's life like up north, how much worse?"

"A lot worse, it's like one of those drawings a first grader would draw. A picture prefect town, I hate it here, D, I want to come back home."

"Oh, my poor baby," Dean teased, "were you missing me all the ride up there?"

"Yes," Harry admitted, "and I'm unpacking now and I remember everything we ever did in my old room. Especially on my desk."

He could hear Dean's chuckle. "And I did so love that desk. Have you met anybody yet?"

"A few people," Harry told him, bringing the phone over to his bed and collapsing on it. "My neighbor, Hermione Granger is okay, and I met a few of her friends."

"Any guys?" Dean asked, a grin in his voice. "It sounds like it because you're sounding pretty reluctant, Harry. Come on, tell me."

"A few," Harry sighed, smiling despite himself. "I've been asked out already."

"Like that's a surprise. Describe him to me." Dean demanded, "and you better have said 'yes'. I don't want you moping around and organizing your socks again."

A tear slipped down Harry's cheek. "How can you say that," he asked softly, "I thought you cared for me... I thought you-"

"I do care for you," Dean cut him off, "I want you to be happy where you are, because we both know that long distance relationships never work. You're going to a new school, playing basketball with new people. You're bound to meet somebody, and then you'll have to hold yourself back because I'm the one stopping you from having an amazing life. Or you'll promise yourself it's only one date, and then it will be just one more. Then you'll feel so horribly guilty that you drop every chance you have. It's hard, baby, but you have to move on. Now, tell me about this new boy."

"He's like a statue made of white marble," Harry said, refusing to let more tears fall down his cheeks. He knew Dean was right, "cold and too beautiful to be real. He's rich and snobby and doesn't take no for an answer."

"Hmm," Dean mused, "In the "I've just moved and I really don't want to be here" point of view that probably means he's drop dead gorgeous. You'll have to upload a picture of him to the site so we can properly analyze him, don't forget to post his résumé. I want the best for you."

"I know." Harry whispered.

"I still miss you," Dean repeated, "but I've got to go, Justin and I are going to meet the gang for ice cream. Want us to order for you?"

Harry's laugh was forced, "that's okay," he managed, "I think I need to lay off that stuff for a while."

"Whatever," Dean scoffed, "there is hardly an ounce of fat on *your* body Harry Potter, I know, I've seen it enough times. Now, go to sleep and call me after your date with this guy. I want all the details."

"Okay, but only because it means I can talk to you again." Harry sighed, "bye D."


Harry slowly removed the phone from his ear and hit the off button before dropping it next to him. Then he threw himself down against his pillows and began tracing Dean's face into them. Somehow it morphed into Draco's face, and Harry sighed again completely confused, but slightly less heartbroken then before. He buried his face in his pillow. He ended up falling asleep shortly after.


When Harry woke early the next morning, his glasses were digging into the bridge of his nose, and he felt sweaty and grimy. He headed into the bathroom, digging out a towel, fresh clothes and his shower things on the way. He stood under the warm water until it began to chill, which is when he turned it off and began to dry off.

Then he put in his contacts, changed into his running clothes, grabbed his trainers and scribbled a note to his parents, leaving it on the kitchen table. He grabbed a key from the basket near the front door, and let himself out. Then, he ran.

It was part of his morning routine. Every morning, he would wake up around five, shower, go for a run, usually three miles or so, eat breakfast, shower again before meeting with his friends and leaving for school. During the summer, he would eat breakfast and go practice basketball or flop on the couch and watch TV until it was time to go to work. Work, was a basketball referee at the Junior Sports Center. He would coach small kids and referee their games. After that, he would go home and wait till someone called and he made plans for the rest of the night.

When Harry got back to the house, his parents were already up and dressed, and sitting at the kitchen table eating waffles and drinking coffee. He flopped into the empty chair and speared himself a waffle, shoving it into his mouth.

"So," James said, "I noticed that you met somebody yesterday, who was she?"

"Hermione Granger," Harry said around his food, he swallowed. "She's our neighbor, and she showed me around town a little bit. Introduced me to some of her friends."

"That's good," Lily said, pouring her son a glass of orange juice. "Were they nice?"

Harry nodded and reached for his glass. He dropped his eyes suddenly. "I've, um, got a date later today." He said softly.

His parents looked surprised. "So soon?" James asked, putting down his paper and exchanging a glance with his wife, Lily looked slightly worried.

Harry nodded.

"Well, I hope you're going to let us meet him," Lily said, after a moments pause, "what's his name?"

"Draco Malfoy." Harry answered, starting to slump down in his chair. "He said he'd pick me up at six thirty. Listen, I'm going to go finish unpacking my stuff. Thanks for the car again, by the way."

"Just be careful with it, sweetheart," Lily smiled.

Harry nodded and got up, heading back down to the basement. He could hear his parents talking after he left.

"He's distraught, James," Lily sighed, "he misses his old life. You know what it's going to be like for him at school. He's practically famous, especially after being named number one Junior Athlete last year. You know how much Harry hates all that attention."

"I know," James sighed, "I know Harry was planning on spending his summer at the Center, and being with his friends. But this is something that couldn't be helped, Lil, we really needed this promotion."

"I love you, James, and I will continue to do so until the world ends. And I love my son. Seeing him hurt like this is hard. He's gone from knowing everybody to nobody in less then a day."

"Harry is strong. He'll bounce back, he always does. It just, might take a little bit of time, and a little effort. Maybe this boy he has a date with tonight will be able to help him get used to the idea of living here."

From there, they stood up and left the kitchen to continue talking elsewhere. Harry heard the car motor start up and pull out of the drive, while heavy footsteps began going up to the second floor. Harry kicked the wall in frustration and shoved his favorite CD into his stereo, relaxing slightly as the lyrics of his favorite band started echoing around the basement and he began hanging up his clothes, making sure that they were ordered by color.

"Such a neat freak," Harry sighed a few hours later, staring at the rainbow of his closet and his alphabetized bookcase, but he couldn't help it, that's just how he was. Even if his old friends teased him mercilessly about it.

"I'll say," Hermione's voice said from behind him. "I've never seen anybody who organized their stuff *before* unpacking."

Harry turned around, "how'd you get in here?" He asked.

Hermione pointed towards the stairs, "your father let me in and told me where I could find you."

Harry nodded and collapsed the box he had just emptied. "So, now that you've seen my strange obsessive behavior about neatness, what do you want?"

"Draco told me he asked you out yesterday," Hermione said, leaning against his desk, "I hope he didn't come on too strong or anything."

Harry shrugged, "it could have been worse, he might have let me answer."

Hermione laughed, "I'm sorry about him, usually he's quite relaxed and normal. He only becomes the "Ice King" when he's nervous, upset or around his parents. To tell the truth, Ron told me that he seemed to freeze before we even walked inside the building last night, which struck me as odd."

"That's a relief," Harry muttered, opening his box of tapes and movies, and placing them in alphabetical order on the rack under the TV. "It's a good thing Dean approves, or else I'd probably feel even worse."


Harry pointed to the picture on his desk. "My... old boyfriend. We broke up about a week ago."

Hermione looked at the picture, noticing how the black boy seemed to be looking at something outside of the picture and still trying to keep a nice smile. "So," she said, turning her attention back to Harry, who was still organizing his tapes, "do you have any food in this place?"

Harry sat up, "waffles," he said, "juice and coffee. Probably more, I think my mum was going to go shopping after breakfast, but if my dad let you in, she's probably not back yet."

Hermione smiled, "it's almost eleven, are you hungry? My treat."

Harry pondered that for a moment, but the slamming of a door above him, and the shouting for help decided for him. "Mum's back, she probably got some good junk food." He grinned, "it's my treat."

They laughed and went to help Lily bring in her extensive groceries from the car, putting them away and sorting through them, looking for something good. Harry finally unearthed some frozen pizzas. "This good?" He asked Hermione, who nodded. He popped them into the microwave and began getting out silverware and place-mats. They ate lunch, Hermione telling him all about the town, and Hogwarts High School, the teachers and students. Who to look out for and what clubs were most active.

They finished lunch and Harry excused himself to finish unpacking. Hermione went back to her own house and Harry could see her talking on the phone, gesturing wildly.

Harry got down to his room and began unpacking everything else still in boxes. His posters, calendars, sketchbooks, lamps, trophies, ribbons and other memorabilia of his basketball career. He stashed the collapsed boxes in a little cupboard under the stairs. Suddenly, he found something he didn't remember packing. A leather bound book.

He opened it curiously and smiled despite himself. For inside were pictures of all his friends. The very first picture, his first day of school, where he had thrown paste at some bully for making fun of one of his friends. Second grade, in the school play, where he had been forced to play the prince and refused to kiss the princess. Third grade, his first real basketball game, complete with uniforms, forth grade, and him dressed as a pioneer. Fifth grade, at their winter holiday party, trying to drink more punch then Pansy, and getting all the way to twenty three cups before making a mad dash to the boys room. Then, it was middle school. His first dance, where he had gone with the group, rather then a single date. Endless basketball games, going to regionals and barely winning. First realizing he was gay, his first date, first kiss. Starting high school, dating Dean, parties, memories, weird faces. It was all there.

The very last page was full of messages from his friends.

"Make sure you get all the way to regionals, Harry, it won't be fun unless you're there. And besides, you might be the best player on our team, but we can still manage without you. Just don't go *too* easy on us." His fellow teammate Justin had written.

"History won't be fun without you Harry," Pansy had scrawled, "who else will we be able to poke and watch drool all over his notes? And then nobody to laugh at when the teacher yells at you. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you in photography, Harry," Colin had written, "even if you did complain about the smell. I didn't think it was that bad, myself. Promise that you'll always remember us."

"I still don't believe you were against kissing girls all the way back in second grade! I felt horrible when you wouldn't even touch me in that play!" Susan had put, "but, I guess it all makes sense. I pity every girl up there, they're going to be heartbroken."

"I don't care if you're going to a new school. I'll still cheer for you at regionals this year." That was Hannah, the head cheerleader.

"I never told you this, but thanks for standing up for me all those years ago. Sure, you were five, but it was nice to have such a great friend like you. See you around." Blaise, the reason of the paste war.

All the signatures were endless, some dredging up memories, other's telling of old puns, and still more were encouraging him not to be too shy.

"Try to color out of the lines, Harry. Art teachers might hate it, but it's a good way to meet people. Try to relax on the first day of school, join a club. Do something, just don't start organizing your underwear by the date you received it. Try to leave a sock on your floor for a day. It might help you relax. Then again, it would probably drive you mad and cause you to spontaneously combust... I'll finish off now, because Dean's starting to glare at me... Terry."

Finally, he got to Dean's.

"Hey, Baby, hope you like it. It took months to get all the pictures. You wouldn't believe how many pictures we have of you! Millions! Most of them were Colin's, surprise, surprise. Do you remember that time Fauker found us making out in the in the sick room? Or when I snuck in on you in the showers after the finals game? Anyway, I want you to remember every moment of your old life, but I also want you to be able to get on with your new one. Remember the good, but know it can get better. Love, Dean."

Harry traced over Dean's name and sighed, closing the book and placing in on his desk. With a look around, Harry realized he had nothing left to unpack. He stood up and looked at the time. Four fifty-seven.

He turned off his music, grabbed his basketball and headed up the stairs, opening the sliding glass door that led into the back yard and headed directly to the basketball court his mother had pointed out to him yesterday. Within moments, he felt all his emotions drain out of him as the rhythm and movements began to take over his train of thought. Here he was in control, here he could take on anything thrown at him. He could do this for hours, practicing new movements, tieing them into old ones, forever trying to improve his game.

"Harry?" His mother called, nearly an hour later, "if your date's going to be here at six thirty, maybe you should start to get ready."

Harry shot one more basket before turning around. "What time is it?" He yelled back.

"It's nearly six, sweetheart."

Harry grabbed his basketball and hurtled into the house, almost falling down the stairs in his hurry to get to the bathroom. He started the shower and while waiting for it to heat, went to his closet and dug out his favorite jeans. They were baggy, and black, outlining his hips and leaving everything else to the imagination. Then he dove into the shower and began ridding his body of the sweat accumulated throughout the day. He got out, dried himself off, put his contacts in, used the toilet, and began to get dressed - before realizing he hadn't brought in a shirt.

He opened the door and nearly died in shock.

Draco Malfoy was leaning casually against his couch, taking in what Harry had done to the basement. When Harry left the bathroom, he sat up and whistled lowly. "Nice," he commented.

Harry refused to be embarrassed, instead he rolled his eyes at Draco and headed past the curtains into his "bedroom" and then proceeded into his closet and grabbed his green fitted tee-shirt, pulling it on, before starting to search for his shoes. He found them, laced them up and went back into the main room.

By this time, Draco had stood up and moved towards his desk, picking up his picture of Dean and frowning. "Old boyfriend?" He asked, turning around.

"Yeah," Harry muttered, taking the frame and placing it back on his desk. He smiled dully, remembering the day that that picture had been taken.

"He must have meant a lot to you," Draco said, eyeing him closely.

"He does."

"So, was it mutual or one sided," Draco asked, continuing to look around Harry's room, pausing to examine his CD tower and almost ridiculous amount of basketball trophies.

"Mutual, because I was moving. He doesn't want to hold me back by being a burden."

Draco didn't have anything to say to that. Instead he turned back to Harry. "The movie starts soon, we should probably go. It's an old one. On Fridays, there's always an old movie being played against the side of a building. It's pretty cool, unless you want to do something else."

"Movie sounds good," Harry said, not wanting to think about what else they could do, his mind showing him pictures of them dancing extremely close together.

Draco nodded, "let's go then." He reached for Harry's hand and Harry allowed it, being dragged up the stairs. He flashed a smile at his parents before he stopped.

"Mum, Dad, this is Draco Malfoy, Draco these are my parents."

"Nice to meet you, sir, I've already had the pleasure of meeting your wife." Draco said to James, his manners perfect.

James smiled, "nice to meet you as well, Draco." He then turned to Harry. "Be home no later then eleven, got it?" He requested.

Harry nodded, then, he was being tugged out the door and into Draco's green jeep with gray interior. Draco started up the car and drove off.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, over the blare of music. "Because there's this great place by the park. It's not very greasy, and the wraps are sensational."

Harry looked out the window. "I am a little hungry," he admitted.

Draco nodded and turned into a small fast food restaurant. He chose to go through the drive-through, ordering two chicken wraps and two medium soda's, tossing a credit card at the girl.

"Hold these," he instructed Harry, passing a slightly warm, non-grease soaked bag over to the black haired boy. He then placed the drinks into cup holders on the dash board. He smiled at the girl, took back his card, and drove off.

They reached the park, where the blond let Harry choose where to sit, even though the black haired boy decided that the best place would be under a small secluded tree. They were barely late, still in time to see the beginning of the movie. It was one of those old horror movies, that are incredibility predictable about the ending, and not in the least bit scary. The two boys ate their food and watched the movie, it was half over when Draco turned to Harry.

"You know what's really depressing?" He asked, "the fact that you've only been here for two days and your house already looks better then mine does."

Harry gave Draco a strange look. "I bet your house is amazing," he said.

"Sure, amazing. Decorated in only the most expensive things money can buy. A bloody manor, full of servants and silence, except for my music, most of which is banned. Almost no colors except for black, white and gray. My mother is always rushing off for some appointment, and my father is always out of town on business. Would you believe that the last time I saw them together for longer then an hour was last Christmas?" Draco sighed, laying back against the tree trunk. "Such a bloody amazing life."

Harry was unsure what to say, he hadn't really expected Draco to actually have a reason for acting so cold. So, he turned his memory back to what Dean had said the night before. "I'm going to need a picture and rèsumè," he said finally.


"To make sure you're good enough." Harry smiled, "I can't exactly date somebody I just met, besides, it's a good way to get to know you. And, my contacts back in Surry will want to analyze you, possibly meet you."

Draco actually laughed, "alright," he said, sitting up, "my full name is Draco Xavier Malfoy. My birthday is April third, I just turned sixteen. My father's name is Lucius Malfoy, my mother is Narcissa Malfoy. I live at three Magnolia Crescent Road. I'm going to be a junior this year, and my favorite subjects in school are science, Latin and art, well, sculpting really. I have the second highest grade in the school, Mione's one point above me. Favorite food is a mushroom burger at The Leaky Cauldron, and my favorite color is green. I spend most of my time with my friends, hopefully with you as well. I like singing and dancing, especially dancing." He chuckled, "do you make everyone you date do this?"

"Pretty much," Harry said smugly, moving to sit closer to Draco. "Do you play any sports?"

"Nah," Draco said easily, wrapping an arm around Harry's waist, "something about sweat, locker rooms, public showers, and shoes squeaking on gym floors makes me avoid the gym as much as possible."

"Do you even follow sports?" Harry asked hesitantly, wondering if Draco had only asked him out because of his fame. "Any sports, even teen stuff?"

"Not really," Draco replied, giving him a strange look and wrapping his arm a little tighter around Harry. "I think my dad does, though, not that I would *really* know..."

"Well, you're going to hate me," Harry laughed, very relieved. "I love sports, even if I'm not playing them. And I usually spend hours a day after school in the gym, or on some basketball court. Works up quite a sweat, you know."

"Hmm," Draco said, pretending to think about that, "well, I guess if you showered enough..."

"Three times a day enough?" Harry deadpanned. "Once when I wake up, one after my morning run, and usually one around ten o'clock."

"That might work." Draco said laughing, "now, tell me more about you, I had to fill out a bloody form..."

Harry straightened up, "Harry James Potter, born July thirty first, almost sixteen years old. Parents are James Potter and Lily Potter. Just moved here from Surry, where I suffered slight heartbreak. My address is eleven Godric's Hollow Road. I live for art, math and basketball, computers are my best friend. I break windows when I sing, my eye sight sucks, and I am extremely shy in new environments. My favorite colors are red and blue. I love chocolate ice cream."

Draco laughed again, making it sound like bells ringing. "I love singing, I'm actually in the jazz choir at school. My parents think it's a waste of time, but I think it's fun. The choir teacher, Mrs. Sprout is trying to make me write my own songs now. You tell one fib, pretend a poem for English class is a song, and suddenly your life is hell. Besides, I try to avoid computers, and that's usually how she wants me to write the lyrics, something about having too fancy of handwriting." He shrugged.

"Did I mention that I'm a neat freak?" Harry asked suddenly, "you should see my closet-"

"A bloody rainbow of colors," Draco finished for him, "Mione told me. She called me this afternoon, told me where you lived and everything. She thought it was hilarious."

Harry pouted, "nice to know some things never change." He huffed, "I was voted "Biggest Neat Freak" back home, they actually took a picture of my locker for the yearbook! I felt so insulted."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm not allowed to be messy either. Ron Weasley, however, is like a walking black hole. Never give that boy something to hold on to, because it will be lost within five seconds. Less if he's at his locker."

Harry shuddered and looked back up at the building, the movie had finished while they were talking, and most of the people were starting to leave.

"It's only nine thirty," Draco whispered in Harry's ear, making the boy shiver as hot air traveled across his skin. "Is there something else you wanted to do, because if there wasn't I could take you home."

"Take me home," Harry decided, "and then I can try and teach you the ways of the computer, I'll show you our website, it's pretty cool. My friends will have set something up for me to put your picture and rèsumè."

Draco rolled his eyes, "your friends are very protective of you," he muttered standing up.

"You have no idea" Harry whispered, before raising his voice to normal level. "Wait till you find out about Pansy's very large, very vicious dog. That thing can rip you apart." He gestured to his ankle, "I've got a scar from a "welcome" greeting." Harry sighed, remember that day and accepting Draco's hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

Draco chuckled. "I might actually start to fear you," he said. They headed back to the car, and Draco began to drive back to Harry's house. They headed in and went down to the basement. His computer was set up on his desk, and Harry sat down, hitting buttons and typing in passwords. He logged onto the internet and accessed a web page titled "The Gang: Surry" There was a new link on the top, which made Harry blush the moment he read it.

"Harry's First Date Survey." Draco read over his shoulder as he clicked into the link. "What's his name, what does he look like... what did you wear, what did you eat, do, talk about. Laugh rating, smile rating, personality rating, eye rating," his eyes widened, "Kiss rating?! Your friends are perverts!"

Harry laughed and began typing, Draco reading it aloud behind him.

"Hey guys, I guess word got around pretty fast. I just got back from my date, and decided to humor you. His name is Draco Malfoy, I'll upload a picture as soon as our scanner is up and running again. I wore my baggy black jeans and green shirt. We went to see an old movie that was playing on the side of a building. We talked about a lot of different things.

Laugh rating: on a scale of 1 to 10, 9.7.

Eye rating: on the same scale, 10, you should see them, absolutely amazing...

Smile rating: 1 to 10, 9.6

Personality rating: 1 to 10, 9.9, he would have gotten a perfect 10, but he's in choir and doesn't play any sports.

Kiss rating: on a scale of none of your business: NONE OF YOUR BLOODY BUSINESS!"

Draco laughed. "Do I really rate that high?"

"It would probably be higher," Harry admitted, "if I didn't want my friends to think you were perfect so they would come and steal you from me... make you into an experiment or something."

"So, everything we did tonight made it onto the list." Draco said, consulting the page Harry was about to upload. "Except for a kiss, wouldn't want to disappoint them, would you?"

Harry looked up, somewhat surprised. "Are you hinting something?" He asked suspiciously.

Draco just looked at him, before slowly starting to move closer. Harry's breathing stopped as their lips pressed together, silken skin rubbing against his own. It was perfect. Draco pulled back and smiled. "How's it rate?" He asked.

"Perfect," Harry whispered.


AN Review and I'll update... eventually.