A/N: Three reminders: 1) This is slash, so don't like it, don't read it. 2) I don't own Harry Potter… even though I have spent many birthday wishes trying to change that :) 3) Extreme fluffiness may come in later chapters. I thought I should warn you now.
There were three things that Draco Malfoy knew with absolute certainty. The first of these was the simplest: he was a Malfoy. With that came the two other things; the manner in which a Malfoy conducted oneself and the way that a Malfoy chose their spouse.
The first two things he understood. With years of practice, he had perfected the art of being a Malfoy. He could be cocky and arrogant, even when he felt as though he was three feet tall. He was also able to smirk and put down anyone, especially those he admired. Most of all, he was able to box himself up and put on a Slytherin mask. In fact, doing so had become so easy to him, it was practically second nature.
It was the last thing that he hadn't quite grasped yet.
His trouble wasn't from lack of trying, however; it was far from it. These were the rules that he had strived to learn the most, purely because there were so many of them. He had even taken to writing them down in a list; adding each thing that his father told him, even if it did not make sense to him. He carried the list with him everywher3e, waiting to either add to it, or to finally be able to check something off.
Sometimes, he believe he had found the right person. He had even began crossing things off before. The farthest he had ever gotten was halfway down the list; until he realized that they no longer fit the criteria. Each time after that he wrote a fresh list, waiting patiently until he would be able to begin crossing things off again.
At the moment, he was still waiting to restart.
The first rule was the easiest to understand and therefore had been the first one he had learned. And although his father had made it a point to teach it to him, it was something that he had picked up on his own, merely by watching. It wasn't hard to see that Malfoys were superior, especially in looks. It was something he prided himself on and he definitely wouldn't settle for anything less.
The problem was, by sixth year, there wasn't many who were exceptional.
Most of the people in his year looked the same as the had when they were older, except for the fact that their faces had matured a little. The only truly beautiful girls he had already tried, but none of them could make it to the end of the list. He had even considered a few of the boys– luckily for Draco, the list said nothing about them being female.
He pretended not to realize that that sort of rule went unspoken. He pretended not to recognize the unwritten set of rules the way he also pretended that he would someday find someone, list and all.
After all, there had to be at least one person out there for him.
The first week of sixth year went by without much event, other then him getting what seemed like constant stalking from Pansy. He didn't mind the girl as a friend, but he had long ago ruled her out as a spouse. Unfortunately, he seemed to fit all of her criteria.
He was being chased by her, quite literally, down the hallway, that Saturday. However, this time it wasn't for any reasons of affection.
"Draco!" She yelled, attempting to grab the back of his robe as he hurried down the corridor. Luckily, he had longer legs and was able to easily escaped her grasp. "Slow down!"
He shook his head, clearly aware of how childish he must look. However, between not looking foolish and escaping Pansy's wrath, he had to say that he picked the escape.
"Draco, you're being stupid!" She shouted. He rolled his eyes. As if he didn't already know that. "I can't believe you said that to Millicent. She was just trying to be friendly! You didn't have to accuse her of being some–"
But her words were cut short as he collided very suddenly with a wall.
He felt his potions book slip out of his hand as he fell. He looked up quickly, searching for the lost object, only to see that it wasn't a wall that had caused his crash. It was a person, who was no staring right at him, also on the floor. A very solid person, Draco thought briefly, not caring to think how irrational that thought was, because the person also had the greenest eyes; he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed before.
The eyes were certainly beautiful, even he couldn't deny that. There was a type of sadness to them that made them seem old and broken, yet innocent and hopeful at the same time. Draco had never believed that such a green could convey all these emotions.
He heard a snort behind him, bringing him out of his stupor.
"Serves you right, Draco," he heard Pansy mutter.
"I agree," he heard a voice say from above. It sounded like Weasley. "Are you okay, Harry?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." Harry said, finally breaking eye contact with Draco. He stood up, brushing off his robes. He stood up quickly also, not wanting to be left on the floor, especially at Potter's feet.
He smirked at the Weasley and Granger, who were still eyeing Harry worriedly and turned to walk away. He hadn't gotten farther then a few steps, however, when he felt a tap at his shoulder.
He turned around, briefly meeting Harry's eyes before looking down quickly, trying to avoid any more contact with those irises. It was too hard to think that Potter could be associated with something that beautiful.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Potter handing him the potions book he had dropped. Draco took it wordlessly. Turning quickly, he continued to leave.
He waited until he was around the corner before he lightly fingered the list in his pocket.