Author's Note: the timeline of this shot is vague for I don't think where to put this into the timeline, but it's after the second book: Chamber of Secret.

Status: unedited (and most likely will never be edited:D grins)

Botched Poison…Or is it?

It was cold in the Slytherin common room, but Draco Malfoy put no heed for the temperature. He was dedicatedly focusing all of his attention to the small transparent vial on his right hand. On the table in front of him a silver cauldron was filled with bubbling foul colored orange liquid. A malicious smirk was slowly forming on his lips.

"If this doesn't work, nothing will," he giggled, no, chuckled, he was too manly for giggling like a girl. "Soon, Harry Potter will be no more and no one will stand on my way. Sleep well tonight, Potter, for perhaps it will be your last!" he then laughed loudly.

"SHUT UP! I'm trying to sleep here!"

"Augh!" A thrown clock landed on his face, causing him to drop the vial right on his foot. His boot was sizzling, as if acid poured into it.

"GYARRGHHHH!!!!!!!!"

The Golden Trio was doing homework, well actually more like Ron trying to make reason to not do the homework while Hermione shot down all of his so-called reasons, when Harry looked up from his half finished essay and put down his quill to the table, frowning.

Hermione noticed his strange behavior. "What is it, Harry?"

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Ron inserted.

"That! That painful scream, as if something horrible had happened to someone."

"Scream?" the bushy haired witch questioned, fearing for her friend's sanity…or hearing.

"P-painful?" Ron added nervously.

"Never mind. I must be hearing things," he waved his hands when his friends looked at him as if he had lost his marbles. Inwardly, Harry was sure he wasn't hearing things.

Malfoy spent the next two days recovering in the Hospital Wing for his painful blunder, muttering how Potter would soon get his share and how it would be permanent.

Days later, Harry was running down the Gryffindor Tower to Great Hall in hurry. His friends trailed off behind him. Ron's red hair was still messy and he looked sleepy, because he had just woken up. Hermione looked mighty pissed off.

"This is all your fault!" Hermione glared at her friend.

"How come?" he protested.

"You're too difficult to wake up this morning, Ron. Great, now we're going to be late!" Harry jumped two steps of the stairs. "McGonagal is going to kill us!"

"Harry, be careful!" Hermione admonished, but her friend paid no heed.

Malfoy was drumming his fingers impatiently at his house's table. He was waiting for Potter to arrive, but so far the blasted boy hadn't showed up. Where the hell was he?

The blonde had even forced himself to wake up two hours earlier for this day. And Scarface had the gal to now showing up!

Crabbe and Goyle were sitting dumbly beside their boss, wondering why they didn't go to class like the other students. Unfortunately for them, Malfoy wasn't even aware that the others had dispersed to go the their own classes, for he was staring at the door where Gryffindor usually arrived from.

He blinked and grinned victoriously when the trio arrived breathlessly, bur frowned when they ran out of the Great Hall.

"But Harry! We haven't eaten breakfast yet!" Potter's sidekick cried out.

"So?" Potter snapped. They had to hurry so they could reach their Transfiguration class before McGonagal came.

Malfoy was fuming and his lackeys were edging away when they saw smoke came out of his red ears. "Erm, Draco? Are you alright?"

The blonde aristocrat suddenly turned around angrily at his dimwitted goons. "Do I look like I'm alright, huh?" another vial of poison had gone down the drain, because Potter had skipped breakfast. His rant was cut off by the ringing bell. "Shit! The class!" he had forgotten completely about it. He scrambled out of his seat and ran. "Fuck! My bag is still in my room!" he swore. Damn Potter!

Lucius' son had the misfortune to get a detention with Filch that night for his lateness. Apparently McGonagal didn't appreciate his attempt to shift the blame to Potter who looked at him in confusion and indignation. He had to scrub the dirty floor in the dungeon that night—and no magic to help him.

The next day Malfoy prepared to poison The-Boy-Who-Lived at dinner. This time there was no way he would skip breakfast because of sleeping late. But when Potter arrived at great Hall he immediately went to Gryffindor Tower.

"You're not going to eat, Harry?" Neville asked him questioningly.

"Nope. I have eaten in the kitchen," he said with a smile at his roommate.

Draco slammed his head to the table, causing everyone in the great Hall staring at him curiously.

"What's up with him?" Neville frowned.

"I think he had gone…you know!" Harry's finger made a circle as he pointed at his head.

"Ah…" his housemates chorused in understanding. Malfoy did seem to turn a bit loony these past days.

"Damn you, Potter! I hope you die soon!" Malfoy bellowed from his seat. "&#$&$$#"He let out curses that would make sailor blushed.

"Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagal looked at him in alarm.

"Urm, hi?" he squeaked, when he was reminded that he wasn't alone.

The Tranfiguration professor didn't seem impressed. "Twenty points from Slytherin and detention with filch for a week!" his housemates glared at him for reducing their house points.

Malfoy groaned and thumped his head on the table. Harry and the rest of Gryffindors laughed.

The next breakfast he attempted to poison Harry, Hedwig the white owl purposely knocked the goblet which was filled with poisoned pumpkin juice, causing its master to cry out in dismay, but otherwise safe from another murder attempt.

The attempt in lunch also failed after Neville chose that time to be clumsy and threw his half filled plate into Harry's favorite treacle tart. Harry was a bit miffed by the accident, but a quick run to the kitchen where Dobby gave him a basket of his favorite food quickly changed his worsen mood.

The next three days were filled with botched murder attempts. Malfoy wasn't happy and so was Harry, but for different reasons. Harry wasn't happy and starting to get paranoid that his food seemed to be targeted these past days and so he turned to the kitchen to provide meals for him. Ron dutifully followed his best friend.

A purple faced Malfoy was seething. The vial on his hand was filled with the last drops of poison he had created. After this he would only have another vial that could be filled with the poison. The ingredients for this poison were highly illegal, very expensive, and difficult to acquire. He was actually defying his father wish to leave Potter alone for Voldemort. That was why he had to use his own pocket money and by God did it put a dent on his now quite empty pocket, but that time he felt it was worth it. If the attempt didn't work again, he would resort to different method to kill the goddamn brat. Even hiring an assassin would be less expensive than this!

That night Harry squinted his eyes and looked around him suspiciously, while his hands were guarding the filled plate on the table.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Geez, Harry. Will you stop that? No one is going to ruin it!"

"Says you!" he retorted, but took a spoon anyway.

"Take the goblet, take the goblet! Damn it! Take.The.Goddamn.Goblet!" Draco Malfoy whispered furiously, as he watched his nemesis ate.

Harry reached for his pumpkin juice.

"Yes!"

But stopped when Ron shoved it and put a glass in front of his dark haired friend."

"Harry, try this! The elf seemed to have a new menu tonight!" it was a chocolate sundae with strawberry pieces and a mini broomstick to replace the usual umbrella.

"Sure. Hm…you're right, this is good!"

"NOOO!!" Malfoy clenched his palm and gritted his teeth. He was glaring at the youngest Weasley male, as if hoping that he would combust alive. His housemates edging away from him, thinking that they should avoid him when he was in this kind of 'mood'.

Half an hour later, a messy haired Malfoy (he had grabbed his hair in frustration) shouted in triumph when his archrival was holding the goblet.

Unfortunately his shout drew the attention of the black haired boy who—again—was holding back from drinking the poisoned drink, this time in favor to watch the blonde boy suspiciously to determine what he was currently plotting.

"NOOO!!!"

"…I think he went mental, mate!" Ron offered his opinion.

"Ron, that's rude!" the smartest witch in Hogwarts scolded.

"But it's Malfoy! And don't tell me you didn't believe he was mental!"

"…Well…"she trailed off, her cheek was rosy. "That has nothing to do with this!"

"How come?" Ron questioned.

"Because I say so!"

"How come!" he insisted.

Harry rolled his eyes as he watched his friends' ongoing verbal match. He snorted as he brought the goblet to his lips and drink it, not noticing that Malfoy's eyes had triumphed gleam and he was sneering maliciously. He frowned and put away the juice after taking a gulp. The black haired boy stared at his drink strangely. It tasted…different. Not bad, but…different and in fact it had sparked a late memory of his though for the life of his he couldn't remember which one. Did the elves try a new recipe or something?

Shrugging, Harry finished off his drink.

Malfoy looked flabbergasted that his archrival didn't drop dead as soon as he drank the poisoned drink. Why didn't he die? Just a gulp of that thing was supposed to kill even an acromantula! The book said so! Hell, the poison ran through his expensive dragon hide boot like a super acid! So how in the ninth hell the blasted Boy-Who-Lived was still alive? It was impossible! There was no way it could happen!

"What's with the long face, mate?" apparently Ron had finished his standard bickering with Hermione.

"The pumpkin juice tasted different," Harry answered simply.

"Really? Mine did not. Perhaps Dobby put something special on it?" Ron offered his opinion.

"You have a weird face on your face because your pumpkin juice tasted strange?" Hermione asked incredulously. She received a withering glare from her best friend.

"The strange taste reminded me of something. I felt it was important, but funnily my brain couldn't come up with the answer!"

"So it tasted bad?" Ron asked again.

"No, just…different I guess. It tasted pretty good actually," none of the trio knew this, but Draco Malfoy had eavesdropped their conversation. "Maybe I will ask Dobby for more of the drink later when I meet him."

"Hey, can you get another for me, Harry?" Ron asked enthusiastically. He would never say no to delicious treat.

Harry James Potter! Ronald Bilius Weasley!" Hermione shrieked at both of them, causing them to cringe. She soon chewed them on the importance of house elves' welfare. The boys shrunk on their seats.

When almost all of the students left the Great Hall, Malfoy disillusioned the goblet and summoned it to him. He was quite interesting with what his enemy had said. Perhaps he put his poison vial on the wrong drink?

Malfoy curiously stared at the goblet on his hand. While it was almost empty, there was still trace of the juice inside it. Potter said the juice tasted good…

He didn't know what came over him. It felt like his mind was shutting down at the moment. And so, Draco Malfoy, heir of the prestigious pureblood Malfoy family, drank the last of the juice that had been drunken by his archrival no less.

When he recovered from this last bout of idiocy five months later (though he still had to check in from time to time with St. Mungo's specialists—mind and nerve healers—every month for the next twenty years), Malfoy would later write on his secret diary that this was one of his (many) idiotic ideas of Potter-Killing-Attempt (which seemed to be brilliant when he first thought them) that almost succeeded in getting himself killed, and that it should not be repeated, unless he wanted to kill himself.

And if he really wanted to do it, he should do it the easier way. It was damn painful, both the experience of having his insides melt off and the recovery which used foul tasted potions and many other horrible treatments he didn't dare to say. He was lucky he only drank a little of it and he was brought in to Hospital Wing (and later the Emergency Ward in St. Mungo when Pomphrey felt she couldn't help him) just as he dropped to the floor with frothing mouth by his angry (at Malfoy's idiocy) and worried (for Malfoy's life) House Head who incidentally was his godfather.

Drinking a poisoned juice with basilisk venom as an ingredient was a sure way to get someone (or if he wasn't careful, himself) killed.

While Harry didn't know what exactly happened to Malfoy and didn't realize that he took an important part of the event, he and his friends got a laugh out of it. Perhaps Malfoy was truly out of his mind. After all no sane one would drink anything with basilisk venom on it.

The rest of the students couldn't help but agree with them.

The End

AN: the idea came to me when I remembered that the basilisk incident surely left Harry with something, like say…immunity to its venom:D