Disclaimer: This stuff is so not mine. Pfft I WISH! Then I would be my own hero…
A/N: Hey there homies! Alright. So this is my VERY FIRST fanfic and I would really appreciate some encouragement! I wrote this in the summer for my friend to read and now have decided to post it. It was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but I couldn't end it. Not there! Ok so read and…enjoy?
Harry was bored. He was very, very bored. He indifferently watched Hermione scribble furiously, glancing up at Professor Binns every once in a while. She noticed Harry staring at her and gave him a look that clearly said 'get to work'. Harry pretended he missed the look and turned away from her. He sighed. Ron was asleep beside him, so he couldn't amuse himself that way. Harry tried to zone out and daydream like he usually did, but today he felt restless. He scanned the classroom for any kind of entertainment, and stopped when he caught sight of a blindingly blonde head. Perfect, he thought. Now...what to do…what to do...Hmm. He grinned. This should be interesting. He dipped his quill in ink and started writing, smirking the whole time. He quietly crumpled up the piece of paper, dropped it on the floor, and using his wand guided it to Malfoy's chair.
The blonde had been sitting with his head in his hand, tuning out Binns' droning, when he felt something tap his ankle. When he didn't respond, it happened again and again, harder each time. Annoyed, he looked down to see a crumpled ball of paper. Probably from Pansy, he thought. He often received notes from the dark-haired girl; stupid useless drabble, usually. He was surprised when he had carefully smoothed out the paper and saw that the handwriting didn't look anything like Pansy's. He read it over.
My dearest Draco, do you like me?
Underneath this line were three boxes that were clearly meant as choices for him to check off. Yes, no, and maybe. Draco snorted at the juvenile nature of the note, which woke up Blaise, who had been sleeping with his eyes open beside him. Blaise looked at him, but soon fell back into his stupor when nothing happened. Draco looked around the room, trying to figure out who the author was. He noticed a certain Gryffindor Boy-Who-Lived looking at him, grinning like an idiot. He raised an eyebrow at Harry, who in turn wiggled both of his in what would be a suggestive manner, had he not been collapsing in silent laughter. Draco rolled his eyes.
How immature. He contemplated his answer to the ridiculous note, which somehow reminded him of a movie he once saw about a 12-year-old girl.
It's not that ridiculous, his other self commented.
Yes it is! What am I thinking? It's Potter for Merlin's sake.
Yes...Potter...with that great body and those gorgeous emerald eyes, look at him sitting there laughing! He looks so effing cute!
CUTE? POTTER? What the hell is wrong with me? I must really be losing it...
You've already lost it.
See? You're telling yourself to shut up. You are so far gone you can't see the edge anymore.
Oh god...should I use this stupid opening to tell Har— Potter how I feel?
But what if he rejects me? I could never show my face again!
Uh, am I the only part of your mind that wasn't wiped out by blonde-ness? He already rejected you once and you still show your admittedly perfect face all the time. In fact, the voice in Draco's head added slyly, I believe you show that face to Harry more times then could be considered coincidence.
SHUTTEY! Anyways, that's different! If Draco hadn't been having this whole debate inside his head he would have utterly embarrassed himself with the whiney tone that was taking over. What if he thinks I'm crazy? Or…icky. (Yes, icky.)
What if he doesn't?
That one had him. Draco was struggling. He had barely just admitted to himself that he liked Harry. How could he admit it to the dark-haired boy so soon? He shot a look in the boy's direction. Potter was still staring at him, waiting. . .
A/N: Did you like it? Huh huh?