A/N: I wanted to do a multi-chapter Draco/Harry fic. I'll try to mix in a bit of everything (humor, romance, angst, etc), but I'm not perfect. The romance won't really come in this chapter. It's more Draco's starting to realize. Also, there's some teenage angst, but nothing really dramatic. The rating is T for now, but that may change later. NOTE: I'm not sure if I'm going to make this end happily or tragically yet. =/ Sorry... But do rate and review!

Disclaimer: I Luna Lovegood solemnly do swear that I am not J.K Rowling. My sole purpose of these fanfics is to provide much amusement to my readers. These characters sadly are not mine, and I do not have a British accent, a large sum of money, nor the most amazing ability to write. I am merely an obsessive slave of the HP fandom as well as a rather slash-loving person. Mischief managed....maybe. ;)

I really, really, really, really want to thank xdarkangeltwinsx for betaing this chapter (and I guess the future ones when they do come as well :D). Her fics are superawesomely amazing. Go read them...after you finish my fic. :3

Of one thing I was sure: I'd never drink another Firewhiskey in Blaise's presence, and definitely not five. Half of last night was a blur, and what I did remember, I'd rather forget. After cheering me on to "chug, chug, chug" Blaise had the brilliant idea of playing bewitched Truth of Dare.

Naturally, it wasn't something I'd usually agree to play, but under the influence of that much alcohol, I'd have been willing to do anything. Gods, I would have streaked had he dared me to. I made a mental note to ask Blaise about it. I might bloody well consider killing him.

But I gritted my teeth as I stood in front of the mirror. Worse yet was what I had to do today. My gag reflexes were working and I half considered going to the hospital wing. If it weren't for the way Blaise was devilishly grinning at me from across the dormitories, I would have.

"Do I have to wear this?" If looks could kill…

"Oh, but you're magically bound. I think I'll have fun watching you on the grounds. For once that fool of a Divination teacher got the weather right. I just can't wait to see the Gryffindors' faces." I groaned and stared darkly outside, hoping that it would miraculously start raining. It didn't.

"What will Father say?" Plan B: whining in as annoying a voice as possible in hope ('IN HOPES') that he'd take pity on me. But of course, this only made his smirk more defined. Casually sliding his hands in his robe pockets, a smug smile passed his face and his eyes scanned me up and down.

"Frankly, I don't care."

Pansy bounced up the steps, her head suddenly at the doorway as she peeked inside.

"Do you ever knock?" I snapped. Lifting her head up in disdain, a small pout formed on her face.

"I was hoping that you wouldn't be done dressing." I felt my face warm up as I gripped my wand. Blaise merely laughed.

"Oh, that's rich. Hoping to see Dray half-naked?" he asked, mocking her by batting his eyelashes and calling me by that annoying pet name she insisted on using.

"Or completely naked." A snake-like grin entered her face and she ignored the glare I was giving her.

"But you saw that last night." Blaise flashed a straight-toothed smile my way and that blasted laugh came as I began fuming.

"What do you mean she saw me naked?" I hissed out between tightly gritted teeth.

"I can always hope for seconds," Pansy replied to Blaise, ignoring me completely.

"I don't blame you. You weren't the only one who thought he looked attractive." Scowling impatiently, I stared at the ceiling.

"Excuse me, anyone care to tell me what the bloody hell went on last night?" As if seeing me for the first time, their eyes swiveled my way.

"Aw, Dray, don't be like that. It was all in good fun." If I didn't know Pansy any better, I would have said it was almost as if she was being sympathetic. I was about to comment on this when her facial expression rearranged yet again to its usual condescending smirk. "Though, I have to admit, you don't look half that bad in that. Nice job, Blaise."

"Thanks. You can say that I had fun picking it out." Before they got off on a tangent again, I figured it was time for me to ask another question.

"So, how did you even come up with this dare?" It wasn't something you just randomly dared a person to do, even if they were Pureblood, and it was painfully embarrassing to be seen in this.

"We asked you for one of your guilty pleasures." Oh, Gods. My face fired up at the thoughts of what I could have said. "I guess we should have asked for all of them," Blaise muttered, laughing at my horrified expression. "But you said Muggle clothing. So, I dared you to parade around in clothing that I picked. The Gryffindors will have a riot – Malfoy the amazing bouncing ferret strutting around in Muggle clothing. 'I thought he was too good for that,'" he huffed, imitating the Gryffindors' reactions. Part of me was relieved that I had chosen to answer that – not that it was a good thing, but it could have been worse, I figured.

"Well, at least I'm not in a dress." My nose lifted in contempt and I huffed out a breath.

"A nice pink one with frills around the edge. Nothing too bright; what do you say, Pans?" As both of them nodded enthusiastically, I tuned them out and stared instead sullenly at the mirror again.

As painful as it was for me to admit, though the pants were a bit uncomfortable, the outfit didn't exactly look bad. The white dress shirt was thin and clung to me. Blaise had insisted that I take a shower so that I'd be wet and it'd do just that. He called it "the wet look – no pun intended". The sleeves were rolled up halfway and the ends of the shirt lay untucked from my pants. Tight, low-riding leather pants sat on my waist. They weren't the usual black but more of a midnight blue. Experimentally, I attempted to bend over and only ended up wincing in pain. Altogether though, with my messy, drenched hair, I couldn't deny that I did look good. But then again, it was me.

"I wasn't drooling over myself. I was thinking about how ridiculous I looked."

"Could've fooled me. I still need to add one more touch." His wand hand raise, but rather than holding the obvious, a small crayon-like object was firmly being brandished.

"There's no way in hell I'm letting you put that on me."

"But that's the fun of it; you don't even have a choice." His wide, cat-cornering-mouse grin was enough to make me burry my head in my hands. "Now, chin up." Acting on an impulse, I went to grab my wand off of the stand. But nothing was there. A snickering Pansy held it in her hand, twirling it eagerly.

"I'm going to kill you." Her only response was to continue laughing as I lifted my face and looked at Blaise with a weak look of defeat. The eye liner was put on smoothly by Blaise. "Had practice, have you?" I snapped angrily.

"Pansy taught me how to." He was biting his lip in concentration.


"Well, you would have done the same thing if it meant seeing Blaise in eye liner." She did have a point.

"Oi! Better not give him any ideas," Blaise growled before dropping his hand. "There." Pansy giggled and handed me my wand back.

"What?" My voice was sharp, but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, it only amused her more.

"It accentuates your eyes." This was going to be a long day.


The Great Hall literally hushed as soon as I entered. People from Slytherin either smirked knowingly or stared in disbelief or revulsion. Mutters of, "Malfoy?!" were heard from throughout the room. This only made my face turn a delicate shade of pink and I tilted my head down, letting strands of wet hair fall to my face. Still, out of the corner of my eyes, I could see the pointing and shuddered as laugh after laugh issued from the Gryffindor table. But I had one thing to be thankful for –Potter, Weasley, and the Mudblood Granger weren't here.

"Welcome to hell." Blaise propped his feet on the opposing bench, shoving a first year out of the way. Glaring at him, I sat down, too.

"You're enjoying this far too much." I snatched a roll and put it on my plate before applying a thick layer of strawberry jam. It included much stabbing and smothering. It was just the response that Blaise wanted, and his grin widened.

"You should drink more often." Several laughs could be heard, including ones from Crabbe and Goyle. Betraying oafs…

"Oh, shove off." Deciding to go outside rather than face an agonizing while to eat my food, I jumped up and ran out, or at least tried to. After several elongated strides and pained whimpers, it was more like a limp.

My half-steps soon were a normal gait once and I entered the Grounds with a scowl to the ground. This was torture. I was a Pureblood, not some Mudblood who'd wear these clothes anyway. So, I'd tried once and thought they were more comfortable than the tight robes Father paraded me around in. When had that meant it was a guilty pleasure?

"That can't be Malfoy." Oh, the sneer was all too obvious in his voice.

"Well, if it isn't Weasley and Scarface? Lost the Mudblood or did she get eaten by the Giant Squid? Wouldn't that be great fun?" It felt so nice to be able to vent this out onto someone. I returned a signature Slytherin sneer to the redhead.

"Yeah, and you'd know all about fun, I see. Get plastered last night or just decide that make-up better fits your personality?" Harry's voice didn't hold its usual venom and instead he looked at me with a bemused expression, arms crossed and weight shifted to one leg.

"Neither, actually," I replied coldly. This, of course, was a complete lie, but I wasn't about to go singing my stupid decision to the whole world, especially not "The Chosen One".

"Then, what's the special occasion? Realized what a self-righteous bastard you are?" What was I supposed to say to that? There was no normal answer to why I would be wearing any of this. So instead I flicked him off. When in doubt, it was the easiest route.

"Malfoy's speechless?! And I thought this day couldn't get any better." Potter lightly nudged the Weasel with a look of mild disapproval. Was he actually taking my side on this? – not that I needed it…

"Come on, Ron. Let's go find Hermione." He gave no reason, but abruptly cut off and stared instead impassively at me. He scanned me over with those eyes – up and down – then turned on his heels and left. The way he had smiled left me confused. Since when did the bloody Golden Boy act like that with those mysterious smiles and taunting eyes?

Staring after him, I decided that it was all disgusting, anyway. After all, he was a Gryffindor. What did I care? He threw a glance over his shoulder as he walked away. As he noticed me staring, raven locks fell into his face, yet those emerald orbs shone right through them. I was the first to look away when my face got embarrassingly warm. Gods, this day just got worse and worse.


The library was empty except for Madam Pince. My quills and parchment sat beside me as well as an opened textbook. I was reduced to doing homework on a Sunday night. Dipping my quill into the ink, I focused my death glare at the parchment, trying desperately not to notice the suspicious look Madam Pince was giving me.

After several minutes, she had stalked away and I was left to write my essay in peace. Sighing miserably, I began to scribble down an answer. About quarter of a meter of parchment later, I was done. With my Transfiguration essay finished and out of the way, that left some Charms work for Tuesday. When had I taken Granger's role as class suck-up? At least I didn't have the beaver teeth and wouldn't dare to frantically wave my hands around like I was drowning every time I knew an answer. Any spare parchment was shoved into my bag and I angrily stalked out of the library. Lost in my own thoughts, I rounded the corner when –

He had run into me, hand brushing against my thigh. I went to sneer some sort of insult at him but realize with horror at how increasingly uncomfortable my pants were becoming. "Oh, sorry." There was no hint of apology in his voice; nothing other than perhaps a smugness. I felt exposed for a moment as his eyes slowly trailed downward to the annoying bulge between my legs. His lips slightly parted before a pink tip dashed out to wet them. A hand automatically reached up and ran through his disheveled hair before his eyes snapped back up to meet mine. Taking a step back and cursing myself at the marvelous lack of response, I moaned a half-hearted sneer, though my eyes stayed on his. "See you 'round, Malfoy." And then he was gone and I was left standing around like an idiot. Dammit.

Just then, Blaise came up to me. "Oi, mate, you coming to dinner?" Was it really that late? Glancing over at a clock I saw to my surprise that it was seven o'clock. I'd avoided embarrassment for most of the day. It was best to keep it that way.

"No, I'm not hungry." As if deciding now would be a perfect time to announce that I was in fact starving because I hadn't eaten a single, bloody crumb, my stomach growled. "Well, not that hungry, at least," I replied to his skeptical look. My stomach continued to growl for a moment before turning into a whine.

"I think you could use a good bit of food." An evil smile planted itself on Blaise's face. Why me? Throwing my hands up in despair, I allowed myself to be dragged downstairs to endure further ridicule. It wasn't like I even had a choice in the matter.

The chatter didn't cease altogether this time. That was definitely an improvement. Instead, several people sniggered and pointed while others ignore me completely. At least there was one thing I could do. While I walked slowly toward my table, eyes straight ahead as I held myself upright, a pair of eyes followed me. There was no need guessing who the intense gaze belonged to. I could practically feel the Avada Kedavra-colored eyes boring into me.

As I approached him, my eyes lazily scanned over him, the usual defined smirk on my lips. I cocked an eyebrow and followed his little game, letting them wander shamelessly over him. He flushed and was now the first person to glance away. Score one for the Slytherin! Oh, Gods, I was even thinking like a tactless Gryffindor. Yet, I still couldn't help but feel smug as I walked by and saw him busily scraping at his plate as if suddenly acquiring the appetite of someone who hadn't eaten in days. I could even hear Granger reproving him. "Harry, you shouldn't eat like that; it isn't healthy. You're acting like Ron." I snorted quietly as Ron mumbled something meant to be a retort, though it was impossible to tell exactly what with that much food shoveled in his mouth.

With renewed confidence, I strutted over to the table and sat down, silencing a first year's laugh with a single glare, even if it was with eye liner-covered eyes. I was definitely back in the game. "I don't appreciate it when people laugh at me," I drawled. The first year fiddled with his food as Gryffindor's number one prat had and I let my lips turn into a venomous grin. This was much better.

"Hey, Malfoy, you still haven't explained why you…" I whipped around to find Potter behind me, arms crossed and that same stupid glint in his eyes. Sneering as he trailed off, I pretended not to care about the way his green eyes widened and how he nervously kneaded his lower lip between his
teeth. Slytherin ground wasn't familiar territory for him, and the cold, sharp glares were probably not what he was used to.

"Explain what, exactly?" I asked, even though I knew the answer. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be intimidated. Stupid Gryffindor pride…

"Why you're dressed in leather pants and wearing make-up," he replied bluntly. He just wouldn't let this go, would he?

"Blaise Zabini dared him to," a first year squealed. My hands turned into fists and I whipped out my wand.

"I know spells that could make you cry in pain." If it weren't for Harry's wand ever so casually lifting toward me with the obvious intent of stopping me, I would have hexed him right there and then.

"So, did you get plastered last night?" You would have thought Christmas had come early from the way he beamed. Even Slytherins were laughing along. This. Was. Miserable.

"Watch it, Potter. I'm not afraid to hurt the Golden Boy."

He had to be a prat today of all days, didn't he?

"I'm terrified." Sarcasm duly noted. He thought he was so special, didn't he? Well, I wasn't just going to sit here and let him ruin my day anymore. While he leisurely stood there, focused on what was going on but still at ease, I flicked my wand up. "Expelliarmus." A lazy flick of his wand and a repetition of his signature move led to my wand flying out of my hand. As the laughter echoed around me, I stormed out of the Great Hall and to the Grounds.

No one was there, thankfully, and I stalked into the thicker brush where no one would be anyway. Potter was the most annoying, insufferable, excuse of a human being. I loathed him and that stupid gorgeous smile he would teasingly give me. I saw the way those emerald eyes scanned me up and down, leaving me shuddering slightly and hated him for it. "Bombarda!" Several nearby rocks exploded, shards flying everywhere. At least I could find constructive ways of releasing any anger. A branch cracked from behind me and I turned around, wand help firmly in my hand.

"Potter." My wand didn't lower. Why should I lower it? Instead I focused my steely gray eyes at him and let my mouth form an expression of my pure hatred.

"Malfoy." He returned the glare for a moment, hand distractedly pulling through his hair. My eyes traced his fingers gently ran through, tousling his already messy locks. My throat constricted slightly, but I shoved it off with a pretentious roll of the eyes. Still, I couldn't help but watch as it slowly fell back into place, several particularly rebellious strands flung in front of his eyes. He dropped his gaze and looked instead at the ground. Since when was moody Potter suddenly nervous? What game was he playing at?

"Er, I guess I'll just go to Hagrid's then." So, that's why he had come out here. He took several steps toward me, yet still refused meet the piercing glare I was now giving him. Something wasn't right.

"Don't come any closer or I'll hex you into oblivion." I didn't trust him; it was as simple as that. As sad as it was, I, a proud Death Eater's son was afraid of Dumbledore's favorite student. And I was mortified to admit it to myself.

"Like you did last time?" A faint trace of a smirk formed. Another step forward.


"Why should I?" Step.

"I'll hex you." His features rearranged once more into that arrogant, so Slytherin-like sneer.

"Then, do it already." Step. I couldn't give a response. "Coward." If there was one thing I wouldn't be told, then it was that I was a coward.

"Crucio!" His wand flew to the ground with him, but scattered away with impact. Screams broke the buzzing silence and I gaped in horror and shock as he writhed on the ground in agony. The curse was broken, but even then he lay panting on the ground, clutching it for support, eyes sealed shut. Oh, Gods, what had I done?

"Oi, who's out there?" It was the half-giant's voice. Panicking, I was about to take off when out of nowhere Harry seemed to gather the strength to stand up and lunge at me, screaming again. He pinned me down and – with what seemed like considerable effort – slammed his fist as hard as he could into me. Stars flashed in my eyes and I distantly realized that I was screaming. Yet what was oddest of all was the way he draped himself over me as if – I might have puked – snuggling and the way his jaw clenched as if this was more of a methodical act of self-hatred than an emotional response. Crashing footsteps approached.

"Harry, what the hell are you doing?" The oaf pulled him back and though dazed, I could feel blood dripping down my face from my nose.

"Malfoy," he started, but then paused. The idiotic Gryffindor probably wanted to create an air of suspense before he did me in. Instead, when he continued, I was shocked. "He insulted Ron and Hermione. I'm just stressed." There was a sheepish look down at the ground and the half-giant sighed.

"I don't want to get you in trouble." It was more of a thought to himself than anyone else. "If you promise not to rip Malfoy apart. And that goes for you, too." He looked over at me."

"Do I look like I'm about to rip everyone apart?" I spat out while wiping away some blood.

"And – er – get Malfoy cleaned up." I shot him a dirty look as he lumbered away. Stupid half-breed oaf.

"I guess I should thank you," I muttered reluctantly as soon as that miserable excuse of a professor had left. I expected a snooty, full of himself response, but Potter surprised me once more.

"You should wear eye liner more often," he shyly remarked in a sincere tone. He then added with a sigh, "You go ahead. I – er – need to do something." I could have called him out on the like. But I didn't.

"One more thing."

"Yeah?" He was obviously exhausted.

"Someone needs to fix my blood nose – no pun intended."

"The famous Draco Malfoy knows how to throw a damn good Cruciatus Curse, but has no clue how to fix a broken nose – how typical of a Slytherin. The insult was only half-hearted. Two spells later, my nose was back in place and the blood gone.

The Common Room was filled with jeering and tactless insults. "Hey, Draco, what will your mom say about this?"

"Oh, of course she'll be wondering where her make-up went!" an idiotic second-year screamed, greeting the high-fives of his classmates. I rolled my eyes.

"And I'm sure she'll be upset that you can pull off the look better than she can." I ignored everyone and instead climbed on upstairs. Surprisingly, I was exhausted.