THANKS, stupid website, for making me wait two days for this. Grr. Anyways, to christen my new boredom, I am publishing my old stories. This one is about two years old.
It should be updated very regularly, considering 200 pages have been written.
Easy on flames, I shall only tolerate them to boost my review count, but otherwise they will make me very sad.
Draco Malfoy and the Lightning Scarred Wizard
It was the fourth of March. Draco Malfoy was fifteen. It was the kind of day someone never forgets; especially someone with a penchant for holding grudges. That day marked the beginning of the worst period of his life, when everything around him came crashing down and everyone he knew turned their back. Except one person who he had never expected and did not want to care for him. The fourth of March marked the darkest, foulest, most wretched period of his life.
It was the day Harry Potter kissed him.
Potter ran away after, confused by even his own action, leaving Draco by the broom shed, holding two school brooms and a battered Snitch in his hands. Draco wanted to call out for him to stop, but he didn't. He wiped the kiss from his face, put back the things back in the shed, and tried to forget the exhilaration of the flight, the challenge of the Seeker's duel, the pure joy on Harry Potter's face as his hands closed on the Snitch first and the smile he still wore as he pulled Draco close him, a smile which faded to confusion.
After Harry Potter kissed him it was as though Draco saw him everywhere. Whenever he walked through the halls at some point their paths would cross, and even sometimes when Draco was sitting alone by a window like he always did, reading, chills would crawl up his back and he'd stare into the empty air, certain that Harry Potter was there even if he couldn't see him. Paranoid and not knowing why, it was Draco who talked first.
He waited in the Owlery. Draco first sent a letter to his father, who he'd had a long correspondence with after the mass breakout from Azkaban, and then stayed there. Harry Potter sent enough letters only to be rivaled by a homesick first year, and he was in the Owlery just a moment after Draco arrived. Perhaps the letters were top secret, of epic, non-Voldemort-related-because-Voldemort-is-dead, importance, because Harry Potter stuffed them immediately into his pocket when he saw Draco there.
"It's perfectly legal to come to the Owlery on a Saturday," Harry Potter said, "Or did the toad make another law to prevent it?"
"You know why I'm bloody here, stop pretending." Draco hissed, "If you think you can just snog me and then spy on me for days on end without any retaliation than you are incredibly thick."
Harry Potter took a step back, stuttering, "I... I didn't snog you."
Draco took a few steps forward, closing their distance, "Then why, Potter, did you run away and leave me to pick up after our Seeker's Duel?"
"You..." Harry Potter took another step back and his back touched the owl roosts. One ornery owl, having woken up, pecked Harry and forced him to jump forward until he was only a few feet away from Draco and obviously incredibly uncomfortable. "You lost."
"So? Noble Gryffindor that you are you could have put your own broom away." Draco crossed his arms, "I had to forge your signature under return or you would have had even more detention."
Harry Potter's head tilted as he thought. "Why didn't you just let me get in trouble?"
"Please," Draco rolled his eyes, "I know what Umbridge does in detention and I'm certainly not condemning you to that before I get a straight answer." He smirked at Harry Potter's hand, which was partially hidden under a long sleeve, "Besides, any more detention and you're likely to split all the tendons in your hand."
"So I'm to believe you're being nice to me now?" Harry Potter's nose wrinkled in disbelief.
"No!" Draco shouted. He glared at Harry Potter, "That's not at all what I'm... you snogged me! You insufferable git! So tell me why the hell you did it and then we can go back to making each other's lives miserable!"
"I don't know-" Potter began and Draco interrupted.
"Then let's find out," he snapped. "Did I just look incredibly desirable to you with my hair messed up and being all sweaty?"
Potter's jaw dropped and he shook his head quickly. "No, I.. er..."
"Alright," Draco continued, "Were you just high off of flying?"
"Well," Potter's features screwed up in confusion, "I don't know."
"Well you'd better!" Draco shouted, "I'm not letting you leave until you give me a straight answer so you can stop bloody stalking me!"
"I don't... I don't stalk you." Potter frowned.
Draco rolled his eyes and drawled, "You've been following me around for four days."
"Er..." Potter said, and Draco rolled his eyes again. "Er... maybe I'm just... trying to figure it out."
"How hard can it be?" Draco said, "Just remember back to after the flight and tell me what happened, idiot."
"I never thought of myself as a pouf!" Potter exclaimed, "And... and there's Cho..."
"Oh please," Draco drawled, "Don't make me the other woman in this. You're under no obligations with me because I wouldn't mind if you jumped off of the Owlery right now and splattered yourself all over the courtyard; I just want a straight answer."
"Go... go snog Pansy Parkinson or something, why is this so bloody important?" Potter yelled.
"How is it not 'bloody important'? And for the record, Pansy has been dating Blaise for almost two years."
Potter frowned. "Didn't you go to the Yule Ball together?"
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Yes, they broke up and I didn't have a date. Exactly how long have you been stalking me?"
"I'm not stalking you!" He protested.
"Yes you are," Draco said. "You idiot, you can't even give me a straight answer and I'm even up here stepping in owl dung just to find out, I should have known you were too thick to give a reason. My first bloody kiss and you have steal it like the prat you are."
Potter's face twisted into pity and Draco wanted to slap him. "First?" He asked.
"Of course it is."
"But... I thought you were the kind who you know, would have lots of Slytherin girlfriends, and didn't... wasn't Parkinson bragging about kissing you after the Yule Ball-"
Draco interrupted him. "Alright, first, if my father found out I was running around dating every girl I saw he would personally burn me at stake, second, Pansy Parkinson was bragging to get Blaise jealous, and third, I don't want to sit here and be trapped in your pity party. Don't you dare look at me like that again."
"I'm sorry." Potter said.
"No, you're not, give me a straight answer and then you can be sorry." Draco snapped.
Potter took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, and his hands grabbed the robes on his sides. "I like you," he said through clenched teeth.
"I like you," Potter repeated, "just don't ask why because I can't give you an answer for that."
"You... like me?" Draco said incredulously. "You're joking?"
"No," Potter sighed as if he was reading his own death sentence, "I'm not."
"You're crushing on me?"
"Yes," Potter admitted bitterly.
Draco laughed, "You're serious? You are. You're bloody serious!"
"Thanks," Potter said stiffly. "I'm glad you think it's laughable, if you'll just excuse me I'll-"
He turned to leave but Draco grabbed his arm. "No bloody way," he said with a smile, "I'm not letting you leave now."
"Why? You're the son of Death Eaters; even if you liked me back we'd like be Romeo and Juliet." Potter said, almost mournfully.
Draco took his hand and pushed him back against the owl perches, "If we are, I am Romeo, you can be the girl."
"Let me go." Potter demanded, his face flushing as Draco closed their distance so that they were touching, faces close enough to see every detail, every eye lash.
"I can't, you have a crush on me, that's far too good for me to let go, don't you think?" Draco smirked.
Potter pushed him away, managing to hold him at arms length. "You don't return the favour," Potter frowned, "You just think this is part of some game we play. This is my life, so stay out of it."
"I'm already in it," Draco told him, and he grinned, "Maybe I don't like you and maybe I do, either way, do you really want to send the object of your affections away?"
"When the 'object of my affections' is you, yes." Potter growled.
"Hm." Draco stepped back, crossing his arms. "But you would like me to return the feeling, wouldn't you? You know it's stupid, but you want more than anything for us to be Romeo and Juliet."
"Er..." Potter swallowed. "Just stop, I'm leaving."
He turned, facing the door, and was a few steps away from it when Draco called out to him. "Snog me again."
Potter whipped around, "What?"
"Snog me again." Draco ordered.
"Why?" Potter shouted, "You don't like me at all! If you're trying to keep torturing me..."
"No, I've never had a crush." Draco told him, arms still crossed. "I've never even liked someone in a friendly way, so I don't exactly know how it feels. If you snogged me, maybe I'd realize that I do like you."
Potter stepped forward. Gingerly, he unclenched his right hand and set it on Draco's shoulder, concentrating on where he was touching more than anything. "You do realize that if Umbridge caught us you'd get detention for this"
"No I wouldn't." Draco told him, "I'm one of her favorites, I can't get in trouble."
Potter chuckled. Stepping closer, hand trailing to the back of Draco's neck.
Get on with it. Draco thought.
Harry Potter leaned forward, pulling Draco closer, until their lips just gently brushed against each other.
He pulled them away, and then Draco reached forward and yanked him closer until their lips mashed against each other.
This time it was Draco who ran away, practically flying out of the Owlery before Harry Potter had a chance to say a word.
Harry cornered Draco Malfoy in the library. The last time he'd seen him there Malfoy had been reading the forbidden Quibbler along with Crabbe and Goyle, frowning. The memory of when they were still enemies jumped to mind as he saw the Quibbler with the interview again in Malfoy's hand. "I never asked you," Harry said, feeling much calmer than he actually was, "Which part are you? Do you believe Voldemort's back or not?" His heart pounded and searched over Malfoy's every feature, from the long white eyelashes, the grey eyes which stared up at him, the white hair slicked back to perfection, every detail as if a sculptor had painted it.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but he was in the back of the library and he knew that with the cool weather lately there would be nobody nearby. "On the record, no, I think you're mad." He told Harry, folding up the Quibbler article and placing it in his potions book. "Off the record, of course I know he's back, do you think I'm an idiot?"
"Had to check?" Harry told him. He was tired, but he had run over this meeting in his mind so many times he knew the answer to practically anything that Malfoy could say.
"I think it's rather interesting what you said about my father in the interview, 'sniveling at Voldemort's feet, begging for mercy'." Mafloy mentioned.
Except for that, Harry had no idea what to say to that.
"It's a good likeness," Malfoy told him, "that's honestly no stretch of imagination. Unfortunately, when everyone realizes you're right my father will be disgraced. He'll probably tell me to kill you."
"Would you?" Harry asked and then could have slapped himself for how stupid that was.
Malfoy just shrugged nonchalantly. "Probably not if only to spite him, but if you've come to snog me again I just might."
"You asked me to!" Harry shouted forgetting he was in the library.
"Shut up!" Malfoy hissed and Harry's eyes widened.
Lowering his pitch considerably, Harry said, "I just wanted to talk about it."
"About what? We both have crushes on each other apparently, but like you said, it would never work out. I'm the son of the servants of your worst enemy." Malfoy scratched his nose which somehow brought the feature to Harry's attention.
How exactly can a nose be perfection? Harry wondered, staring at it for a moment. Malfoy snapped his fingers to bring Harry back to the conversation, but instead of drawing attention to Harry's lack of focus he just took it in stride.
"Frankly, it was a stupid idea to snog you in the first place. But we can't exactly put the past behind us." Malfoy frowned, "We're in a terrible situation."
"Terrible? The fact that you like me too..." Harry cut himself off, saying, "If you really want we can just pretend it never happened."
Malfoy shook his head, rubbing his temples for a moment to think. "That would get me killed."
Malfoy glared at Harry. He sighed, consenting, and explained, "Have you ever heard of Occlumency?"
Harry couldn't help it, he laughed.
"What?" Malfoy snapped.
"It's, it's nothing. I have, yes, I have. Continue explaining." Harry said.
"Fine." Malfoy glared at him. "When I become a Death Eater the Dark Lord will look into my mind and he will see that moment, I won't be able to hide anything from him."
"Wait." Harry demanded. Seriously, he said, "'When you become a Death Eater? Not if or maybe? You're actually planning on it? Even after... er... after us?"
"Harry Potter," Malfoy drawled. If he had a crush on Harry he certainly didn't show it. He was staring at Harry liked Harry's intelligence was equal to Crabbe or Goyle. "My mother and my father are Death Eaters, I've already seen the Dark Lord, do you think he'd ever let me go? Do you think my father hasn't begged him to brand me?" Harry was speechless. Malfoy shook his head, "It's going to happen, whether I like it or not. I don't know when but... unless you kill the Dark Lord within the next month I am his... cattle."
Harry reached out, grasping Malfoy's hand. "Then I'll kill the Dark Lord," he said impulsively.
"You're not a killer." Malfoy told him, "You are many things Potter, but you could never be a killer." He didn't move his hand out of Harry's grip; he turned it slightly so that they held them together.
Harry stared down at the hands, seeing the graceful, long white fingers connected to his own callused hand. "If you asked me I think I could," he told him.
They looked at each other, not saying a word, for a long moment.
"Everyone always says your eyes are so green, and they really are." Malfoy said quietly. "Bright... brilliant green." He held the gaze for a long moment.
Suddenly, he pulled his hand out of Harry's and coughed, turning away.
"Right," Harry nodded. "So we have to..." he blanked, "What can we do about it?"
"Nothing," Malfoy told him. "We can do... absolutely nothing about it. I am certainly not a skilled Occlumense, are you?"
"No," Harry admitted, "I've been trying."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow.
"Well, er..." Harry mumbled, "I've been taking some lessons... because of the whole Voldemort thing, and I'm pretty bad at it. I can't exactly clear my mind, especially because of everything that's happening, with you, and Cho, and Umbridge."
"I certainly hope you haven't snogged Umbridge too." Malfoy smirked playfully.
"What? Ugh!" Harry shouted, "Why would you-"
"Please keep your voice down." Malfoy said through clenched teeth.
"Right." Harry whispered. He caught a glimpse of a smile cross Malfoy's face but it was gone in an instant.
"I figured, with the fact you look like you haven't slept in weeks, that you're having trouble sleeping." Malfoy told him, "I just attributed that to horror."
"Horror? Why horror?" Harry asked bemused.
"Well, you did seem so worried that you were a 'pouf'."
"Oh." Harry remembered.
Malfoy nodded, tapping away with a finger on the table as he thought. He stopped, crossed his arms, and then said, "In the magical world we don't have half as many... prejudices as the Muggle world does. The sexual liberation happened thousands of years ago and it was a lot more intense, because most wizarding people had already given up the 'evulutun' thing Muggles talk about in favor of just plain 'magic'. No one cares if you're married to a... centuar, or a werewolf, or even if you're half-elf. Any homosexual ignorance that we had was squashed out before the modern century... or actually before that, because it was just after that where the human-giant relations were made legal."
"Oh," Harry's face was screwed up in something akin to disgust.
"Come on," Malfoy rolled his eyes, "The gamekeeper is half-giant."
"No... it's the half-elf thing... they really have that?" Harry said, thinking of Dobby.
"Yes," Malfoy told him, "Do you pay attention in history or are you one of those people who just fall asleep and copy notes?"
"Er..." Harry shrugged, "Well... Professor Binns is very boring..."
"Right," Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I'm just informing you that if you did decide to go off and date a bloke the only people who'd think it was strange would be the Muggle-borns."
"So... someone raised like me?" Harry reminded him.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'm just trying to help you feel better about this whole thing."
Harry's eyes widened and a goofy grin came onto his face. "You're trying to cheer me up?"
"No." Malfoy said immediately. "Yes. Maybe, just shut up. I'll see you in Potions class tomorrow." He stood up but Harry jumped up, grabbing his wrist.
"But..." Harry protested, "What are we supposed to do about this whole thing? If Voldemort found out you would..."
Malfoy just shrugged.
"Don't do that!" Harry grabbed his shoulders, pleading, he said, "Let's just figure something out. I want to help you, please Malfoy."
"I'm far cleverer." Malfoy told him, "I'll figure it out when you're not bothering me."
"Let go." Malfoy demanded and Harry obliged. Malfoy took a step to walk away, before he seemed to remember something. Turning to Harry he said, "My name's Draco, by the way."
Harry smiled, "I'm Harry."
Awkwardly, Draco stood there, staring at him for a moment. "Right," he nodded, "I'll be going." He hesitated before turning around.
"No goodbye kiss?" Harry teased hopefully.
Draco snorted, "I'm not a girl." And he left.
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