Disclaimer: Not mine.
in which there is romantical frustration (1)
Thursday, December 5th
Lower hallways, towards Great Hall
"Potter," Draco said, blinking blearily. "Remind me to never, ever do anything that involves you again."
Harry shot him a glance, albeit a lethargic one. "You're the one that got us detention, Malfoy. What kind of idiot jumps his best friend and attempts to kill him with crutches?"
Draco didn't answer.
Harry sighed. "Malfoy, look, I'm sorry I socked you but I was terrified you'd kill Blaise. And even Snape said that you were going a little over the bend. Look at it this way; at least we can skip first classes."
"Double CoMC and Herbology? Hardly anything to skip, when I've got Arithmancy and Advanced Potions right after lunch. Plus, Potter, the only reason we are missing these classes is so that we could clean all of these stupid, stupid bathrooms." Draco said this all in one, hissing breath, and Harry glanced at him in surprise, then rolled his eyes.
"Oh, sorry, I forgot. Malfoys just don't clean bathrooms."
Draco glared at him. "Oh, and you do?"
Harry thought about his summers at Privet Drive, working probably just as hard as a house-elf, if not harder, and his hours. Up at dawn and asleep around midnight. He suddenly began to develop a headache, and pressed his fingers to his forehead. Draco smirked at him.
"Oh, Potter, already getting tired?"
"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said.
"You know what you need, Potter?" Draco said, deciding to sneak in some of his mission. "A girlfriend. Someone to—help you out, when you need it."
"I don't want one," Harry said irritably.
"A boyfriend, then?" Draco mused, dancing almost absently out of Harry's grasp. "Never knew you swung that way, Potter…"
"I don't!" Harry said, horrified. "I fancy girls, Malfoy, girls. I'm nothing like you, you annoying ponce."
"Denial befits you, Potter," Draco retorted. "And besides, this is perfect. Seeing as you have now admitted that you like boys—"
"—we can finally get on with this." Draco smiled wanly. "We have enough time as it is. How many more detentions is it, Potter?"
Harry scowled at him. "Since someone sent all the first years into the forest and nearly got them all eaten by Arag—er, a troop of Acromantulas, and in my name, no less, we have two more weeks' detention. Mornings Thursdays and Fridays and Saturday detentions as well."
"Perfect," Draco said, smiling happily. "And, Potter, I've decided that you're coming with me to the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff match this Saturday after detention."
Harry glanced at him askance. "And what makes you think I'll be going with you, Malfoy?"
"Because I've got a plot, and you always want to know what my plots are."
Harry muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'never hit a cripple' and then shot off for the Gryffindor Tower. Humming lightly, Draco set off for Slytherin…and a bath.
Slytherin Common Rooms
"So…attack him directly?" Blaise repeated, eyeing Draco with new interest. "And what exactly are you planning on doing to…attack him directly?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, but Draco ignored it.
"More comments about Granger and Weasley, and about everything he's interested in. Such as my idea for the match on Saturday."
Blaise sighed. "You weren't listening to your Mindstreamer, were you?"
Draco gave him a pointed look.
"Sod," Blaise chided. "You're supposed to be getting on Potter's good side! Use all those things but use them nicely! Compliment his friends—"
"What? And get Weasley's hopes up?"
"Granger, then," Blaise amended. "But at least do something for the littlest Weasel. Hit on her a little or something. And have him lighten up about the Dark Lord. No one's dared mention it in front of him but you wouldn't have any problems twisting that, now would you? Hell, play around with the professors, or your own image! You've got free reign!"
There was a moment of silence after the outburst, and Draco's eyes took on a glittering quality Blaise knew meant trouble.
"You might be worth more than comic relief after all, Zabini," the blonde murmured. Blaise rolled his eyes.
"Thanks, you ponce."
"Ta, Blaise!" Draco called. He smirked jauntily as he strode out of the common room, and waved the wall shut. Behind him, Blaise inched his way towards the door, which was quite hard to do considering the ropes tied around his wrists and waist. And the bewitched Millicent Bulstrode who had decided he was her new playboy.
"Come here, Hun," she said.
Blaise's eyes widened and he attempted to speak around the gag in his mouth. "Mmph! Mmrph!"
But as Millicent advanced steadily on him, he decided that friendship be damned, Draco Malfoy would get his.
As soon as he changed his pants.
Friday, December 6th
"Potter," Draco said conversationally. "Are you dating the Weasel's sister?"
Harry nearly choked on the smoothie he'd managed to get Dobby to brew for him. "What the hell kind of question is that, Malfoy?"
"An innocent one without any malicious fastenings whatsoever. Sort of."
Harry rolled his eyes. They'd finished late today, too late to get to the Great Hall and have at least some breakfast, and so with some reluctance, they had descended together to the kitchens.
"So, Potter, what is it?" Draco said, eyes wide with curiosity. "Can it be that you've decided to follow in the Weasel's ancestral footsteps and marry the Weaselette—and then shag like bunnies hopped up on MD?"
"What?" Harry cried in disbelief. "Malfoy, I ought to sock you now—wait. What's MD?"
"Magical Drugs, Pothead, nothing you need to worry about." Draco waved a dismissive hand. "So, then, you're single? And she is too?"
"Yes," Harry said irritably. "What's it got to do with you?"
Draco shrugged, but as Harry looked down (cross-eyed) at his drink, he missed the blonde's sly smile, and the silent paroxysms of laughter.
Saturday, December 6th
Quidditch Pitch (Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff)
1st Match of the Year
3:45 (Game mid-over)
Eros Mallory, Ravenclaw seeker, was the first person to sight it. He'd been quite intent of catching the Snitch at first, but by his second near-collision with a Bludger he was starting to lag behind. He allowed himself the chance to fly out of harm's way and glance around the pitch, if only because Hufflepuff's seeker was terrible.
And then he saw it.
It had started out shimmering lightly in the air, green and almost indistinguishable from the grass, until it darkened to a near-black color and Eros realized it was floating in mid-air. Actually, they. Letters, forming a sentence.
"And ooh, Carter just missed the Quaffle, but it looks like Dermott is giving him a run for his money! Look at Marie Kai's form out there! It's a damn good one, I must say, with curves in all the right places and—Merlin—a nice set of—"
Seamus Finnegan, new announcer for Hogwart's Quidditch games, cut himself off as he caught sight of the words as well. "In Circe's name…what is that floating out over the pitch?"
"It looks like a sentence…I can make out an exclamation point as well!" Seamus stood excitedly, despite a very red-faced McGonagall threatening for him to continue with the game while they got this sorted out.
Seamus, being himself, of course, was going to do no such thing.
"I can't believe," Draco gasped as he sprinted down the corridor, with Harry close behind him, "that Snape would keep us for that long. He knew there was a match, and he still made us clean his damned tubes!"
"We wouldn't have had to if you'd managed to keep your mouth shut to those kids, Malfoy, and kept your hands to yourself!"
Draco slowed till he was next to Harry, and looked the Gryffindor in the eye. "You know, Potter, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you hated me."
Harry gaped at him, mouth open in shock. He was so shocked in fact that he immediately stopped running. Draco skidded to a halt as well and turned around, glaring fiercely at Harry for good effect.
"Come on, Potter, the game's nearly over and I want to see if my spell worked!" He pouted and crossed his arms across his chest. "Don't tell me you're winded!"
Harry shook his head. "Malfoy, what do you mean 'I'd think you hated me'? I do hate you. I've hated you since first year!"
Draco rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine, you hate me. You are a hater, I am the hatee, and we are arch-enemies meant to kill each other in the heat of ferocious battle someday over who gets the last muffin at breakfast—is this really that important, Potter?"
"That's not what I meant!" Harry said. "I don't want to kill you, Malfoy. Sometimes I feel like killing you, but mostly that's just anger talking. What's gotten into you? You're so—weird!"
The Slytherin muttered something under his breath, and then with a quick, decisive glance at his watch, he marched over and grabbed Harry's hand, pulling the other boy closer to him.
"Potter, we can argue as long as we want but it doesn't change anything, trust me," Draco murmured. "What I can do, however, is promise you that we can finish this argument—later. Now, we have something to do so come on."
Without another word he tugged on Harry's hand, dragging the oddly complying Gryffindor to the pitch.
Draco had to forcibly pummel several people in order to get to the top of the row of Slytherin stands, and by then he was out of breath. It took him a moment to regain it, and as he was panting, he realized a silence had unfolded.
"Malfoy—what the hell?"
Draco surreptitiously moved out of the grasp of the Gryffindor as he looked out over the field.
In sparkly, hot pink and cursive handwriting, the words Harry Potter Loves the Cock were written in impressively large letters. Draco cracked a large grin at his efforts, just as the crowd began to react.
Most of it was jeering, from he Gryffindor side, and a few outspoken Hufflepuffs. Then there was the raucous laughter of the Slytherins and the obvious snickers from Ravenclaw side. Everyone in Slytherin had looked directly at Harry, sneering insults forming quickly on their lips.
Draco was in the midst of turning to see Harry's reaction when something jerked at his hand. It took him a moment to register what was happening, and by the time he realized who had his hand he was halfway back to the castle already.
"Potter!" he spat. "I was in the middle of enjoying your very much humiliating and amusing demise! What the hell happened?"
"Malfoy," Harry said, grinding his teeth together. "Just once, I'd like to deck you and see you not get up. Just once, I'd like to find out what was under all that petty cloth and Malfoy mannerisms, and all the fake Slytherin trappings."
Draco was confused. "Um, Potty, would you like to go to the infirmary? I've got this wonderful lady who can help you out, but I'm sure you've met her already, she's a bit batty."
"Forget it," Harry said, rolling his eyes. And then, for good measure, he took his wand from his pocket. "Malfoy, someday I'm going to have you screaming for me to forgive you for this."
"Ooh, Potter, foreshadowing something? A bit too interested in Trelawney, now aren't we?" Draco smirked triumphantly as Harry heaved an exasperated sigh and spun on his heel, marching away. Draco made as if to return the match, but Harry's voice calling his name forced him to stop.
"What?" he said irritably.
It was as much as he got out before he heard the words for the Bat-Bogey hex and everything went black. Someday, Draco swore he would slowly disembowel and behead whoever had thought up the damn thing.
Sunday, December 7th
Slytherin Locker Rooms
Draco growled as he shoved on his dragonhide boots, feeling as angry as he could possibly get. This was a four-whiskey-glass day, he decided.
After being hit by Potter's stupid hex he'd been in bed for most of the day and only by sneaking out of the infirmary had he managed to attend Quidditch practice without drawing suspicion to himself.
He had been so distracted, seething as his stupid loss, that he eventually was forced to being completely and totally centered on his own body just to distract him (he figured, it worked to distract others; why not him?).
His plan backfired, of course.
When Snape came down to find him, on orders of Madame Pomfrey, he'd found all of Slytherin's Quidditch team yelling at an obstinate Draco.
"What is the matter here?" Snape had yelled irately.
Draco smiled winningly. "Oh, Professor, these bumbling oafs just don't understand the complexity and beauty of the human body!"
"Malfoy!" shouted Abigail Lennox, one of their Chasers and a sixth-year. "Nobody cares how great your ass looks in Quidditch gear! Nobody! And I'll be bloody well pissed six ways to Sunday and back before I ever come to a practice where all you do is talk about it."
Sitting alone in the empty locker rooms, Draco filed away a note to incinerate the girl's hair. Snape had ended up giving him an unbelievably long lecture on how idiotic his behavior was turning ("reminiscent only of a Gryffindor's such as Potter…") and then publicly reminded Draco of his detentions, of which the Potions master ensured Draco he wouldn't hesitate to add on more. With Potter.
"Fuck!" Draco cursed for the nth time as he realized his hands were trembling so much with rage that he could barely button his shirt. He needed something else to distract him, to force all thoughts of Potter, Snape, Potter, detentions, and especially Potter from his mind.
And he had the perfect idea.
Monday, December 8th
Great Hall, Breakfast
Harry had still been quite drowsy as he sat down to breakfast, but all the sleep disappeared from his eyes as he realized something odd.
There was no one sitting at the Slytherin table, no one at all, save for Draco Malfoy. The blond was calmly buttering his toast, idly poring over a newspaper as he did so. Nothing on his face betrayed any emotion whatsoever, and it seemed as though he hadn't yet noticed he was sitting by himself.
"Hey," Seamus whispered across the table, eyes gleaming. "It looks like Malfoy's gone and outdone himself. It must have taken him all night!"
"To what? Shag everyone so senseless they had to stay in bed this morning?" Dean hazarded a guess worthy of Seamus' mind, and was rewarded with a high five from his best friend.
"Nah, mate, but it would've been just as cool. What Malfoy there seems to have done is hidden all of his housemate's most valuable possessions."
"Malfoy stole their jewelry?" Ron asked, confused.
"No," Seamus said. "The one thing they absolutely needed, which was the least spelled and protected because they wouldn't think anyone would steal it."
"Their wands?" Harry said.
Hermione shook her head. "It couldn't have been, their magical signatures are all over them, and I've heard whatever it is that's missing the professors have been searching all morning. They can't be sure Malfoy did it, thought, which is why he's left alone."
"Bloody smart," Harry muttered into his pumpkin juice.
"It was really smart," Seamus said, just as a cacophony arose at the Gryffindor table.
"Harry!" Ron said, scandalized. "Did you just compliment the Ferret?"
"He's learning to forgive and forget, Ron, something you haven't mastered yet." Ginny rapped her knuckles onto the table as though she'd just remembered something. "That's right, you're still learning to count past one hundred, aren't you?"
"Don't be mean to your brother just because you're smarter than him, Ginny," Hermione mumbled absently. Ron gaped at her.
"Hermione! I can't believe you just said that!"
Harry glanced back and forth between the two. "Please don't start fighting. It's too early. Seamus, just tell us what it is already."
"Can't. You've got to guess."
"He's doing it on purpose, Harry, ignore him!"
"Ron, can you please remind that little nut called your brain that Harry doesn't want to ignore Seamus, he wants to find out what Seamus is talking about!"
"Ron! Put the butter knife down!"
"But Hermione, did you hear what she said?"
"Guys, are you guessing or what?"
"Was it their quills?" Neville entered the conversation unexpectedly, followed quickly by Lavender Brown.
"No, Neville, it must have been their makeup! Those Slytherins just can't have that pale skin naturally!"
"Don't turn this into a beauty contest, Lav."
"Seamus, do us all a favor and shut up. You're the most conceited person in Gryffindor."
"What, not in the world? Big-headed wanker."
"What? What? What? Hermione, don't give me that look!"
"It's the only look she's able to give you, Ron, one of pure disgust…"
"What did I say about that knife, Ronald?"
"Seamus, tell us!"
"No can do, Harry, not till they stop fighting. Dean, mate, what do you think?"
"I don't think they need socks that badly, Dean."
"You sure love yours, Harry."
"Dobby made them."
"Because a vomit-colored dwarf with ears the size of Africa knit you socks and banged its head against an oven for you a few times, you'd wear them?"
"Our little hero!"
"Ginny, that comment about the vomit-colors was not appreciated amongst the house-elves."
"Oh, God, Hermione, not UPCHUCK again."
"Oh, Merlin, shut up!" Harry slammed his hands on the table, forcing those around him to stop talking. Ginny gave him a very meaningful look which made him regret she wasn't shy and managed to talk to him now, before she looked expectantly at Seamus.
"Well?" she said slowly. "What was it?"
"Seamus grinned triumphantly. "If you find this genius, you all have to show your appreciation for the master that is Draco Malfoy."
"Spare us your wet dreams, Finnegan." Dean placed a melodramatic hand over his forehead, and laughed when Seamus elbowed him.
"Agreed?" The Irishman grinned as everyone nodded, and leaned in.
Across the Great Hall, Draco Malfoy looked up as Gryffindor table suddenly began clapping and waving and hooting in his general direction. Puzzled, Draco merely gave them a faint smirk before looked back to his food in a perplexed manner.
All he had done was hex away all his housemates' underwear, Merlin…
sorrysorrysorry for being late. Writer's block is a bizotch.
GO APOLLO! (that was for the Olympics, just in case you didn't know. Shaun, baby, I'm rooting for you too!)
that was also the reason I couldn't update anything, because Solizlet
held me ransom as she drooled over Shaun White. For the WHOLE THING.
Other than that, I've got nothing, so sorries all around.