Blahs – Hello hello hello! It is me again!!! I've got this experimental fanfic, and I thought I'd give a preview. Warning! Harry/Draco SLASH! Rating might change! Disclaimers apply, blah blah blah. I wont be cute with you so on with the fic!
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It was an awfully comical sight. Harry Potter was sniggering loudly in their modest train compartment, while Ron Weasley was in heaps on the floor, guffawing so hard his abdomen hurt. Even Hermione Granger, the very prissy, demure, top-smart student was tittering away with her hands on her mouth and tears dampening her eyes.
"What is he –THINKING!?" Ron bellowed, between fits of laughter, "He looks like he's A DORK!"
"He always has!" injected Harry, as a matter-of-factly.
More laughter filled the area.
There was a very reasonable cause for all this starking humor. Draco Malfoy, the eye-catching, blonde, sarcastic brat was disturbingly seen wearing an atrocious turtleneck sweater and a black band tied around his forehead like some out-of-date mascot.
It was a pure contradiction since everyone else preferred less-conspicuous clothes, like normal muggle t-shirts, denim jeans and the like. But no, Draco had to look like a complete idiot standing amidst the crowd of Hogwarts students on platform 9 and ¾.
But Harry wasn't laughing about his peculiar choice of wear. What held him most amusing was that the usually supreme, collected, aloof Slytherin was looking abashed and furious at this whole ordeal. Why, Harry even suspected a blush.
Ron sat back up on his chair, recovering from the attacking hysterics. His face flushed, he took in a deep breath, doing his best to keep a calmer, equal voice, "So how was your summer, Herm? I already told you guys about mine."
"Well…" said Hermione, deep in thoughts. "I took muggle summer classes, mum and dad told me to attend it just once… And well I was pretty curious…"
Even after, when Hermione and Ron started talking about the new year that lay ahead, and many other different subject matters, Harry couldn't get over that picture. That simply adorable—
Ugh.
That unique irk that Draco held up as he made his way to his own cabin, a few hours ago. Why did he have to wear those strange clothing anyway? Was it because of his father? Why did his father want him to make a fool out of his own son? Harry tried shaking the topic off. Who cared about that Malfoy anyway!
But it lingered on a few more hours, thoughts and questions popping out of his mind on the Hogwarts Train. Occasionally, he would drop out of a conversation just because his thoughts drifted over to that "Slytherin Mystery" a bit too far. He didn't want to talk about it, though, for it would make both his friends question why Harry cared about that git. He couldn't stop himself, but in every neutral action he had done over a period of time, his thoughts were still upon that pale blonde.
Even more ours passed. Harry's eyes darted from Ron to the door. Surprisingly, Draco Malfoy HADN'T come up to them, on their scheduled pestering/boasting/bullying time. It astonished Harry that he actually missed the blonde.
(Of course, he wouldn't tell that to either Ron or Hermione. )
"Well, it's about time" Said Hermione, looking at her new water-based dial watch. "We better change to our robes now."
Before anyone could reply, the brunette grabbed her muggle bag and was out the door. Harry sighed and Ron gave him a wry expression, shrugging.
Harry and Ron changed in the compartment. After all, all they had to do was slide in their robes and tidy themselves up. Harry tried flattening his hair, but of course, after a long string of years trying, it had failed the messy contour that he probably inherited from his father.
His father. Harry mused lightly of what his father would have done. He, of course, never had a chance to talk to him –in fault of Voldemort— and he had always wanted the company of an adult that would approve of witchcraft, would help him with homework and give nice things instead of second-hand garbage. But reality was that his father and mother were dead.
Thinking about his parents' death made him suddenly seethe with anger. It had been Voldemort's fault that he had to live with the muggle Dursleys, that he had this goofy scar on his head, that he had never ever spoken a word to his father and mother who seemed promisingly pleasant!
"—Uhm, Harry," Hermione said, as she cautiously entered, "I think you're going to snap your wand in half."
Harry blinked, framed green eyes looking over to his wand, which he had a vicious grip on. He loosened it. "Sorry, Hermione. I was just thinki—"
Someone slid open the compartment door. Three heads looked up to see the visitor. Hermione dropped her bag, and all Harry could hear was that small 'thump' and the monotonous, steady thwifting of the train as it sped through its tracks. There was a stunned silence that followed. Ron blinked, incredulously, exclaiming "Neville?!"
Harry's jaw dropped. Neville Longbottom, who had previously been the stout, forgetful Gryffindor boy had grown severely taller (and thinner) then he had been, with a strong, well-defined chest, and a nice, firm form. He had straight chestnut bangs brushing near his eyes which were glittering blue, a bit enough to rival Harry's.
Neville blushed, "Hey guys, can I come in? I got kicked out of my compartment for tripping on Lavender's cat and, uhm… sent it flat onto the wall?"
"S-sure…" Harry replied, still bewildered at how different the boy looked. His facial features were extremely attractive, with a slim, shapely face and a gorgeous complexion. Neville gave a charming (and coy) smile and stumbled over to sit between Hermione and Harry. Harry pondered over the fact that Ron was gaping and Hermione had nothing to say, and decided to tease them with it later.
Moments passed in silence.
"So… How's everything?" asked Harry quietly, not liking the subtle stillness at all.
Neville's appealing face lowered immediately, smile fading. It took a while until he actually said something, and he said it softly, almost like a whisper, "My grandma died."
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In the Slytherins area, Draco slammed the bottle of "Raspberry-Fire Juice" to the nearest wall and it shattered throughout the floor. Draco Malfoy, still wearing that horrid turtleneck and that strange bandana gave out another yell.
"I said I don't WANT to change!"
"Why?" Said Blaise Zabini coolly, sitting down unaffected at the other side of the compartment. He squinted his fascinating purple eyes down on the Malfoy, "What have you got under there?"
"Nothing!" Snapped Draco a bit too quickly. "I just have a knack for this turtleneck, okay?" Then he sneered up at the other boy, "At least I don't go strutting around in leather pants."
Crabbe and Goyle, who were sitting at the edge of their seats, more than terrified, started chortling nervously at Draco's attack.
Blaise lifted an eyebrow, not a movement of embarrassment at what he was wearing, "At least I know how to defend myself, and don't go 'strutting'-as you nicely put it- around with two goons at my side."
Before the three hurtled over to Blaise however, Parkinson pranced into the room, balancing atop thin, high heels.
"Hey boys," she said, winking at them. Blaise sighed; the woman was right on time. She usually was, and he was particularly thankful to that right about now.
The 'woman' as Blaise liked to entitle, had grown a few inches over the summer and was taller than the average girl. Her pug face had changed into one of the skinny type, but her russet curls gave her appearance a rounder approach. She had dark eyes and luscious lips to match, and to most Slytherins, an attractive, bad-girl on high standards.
The moment Pansy Parkinson saw, with her almond eyes, the very livid Draco standing in a ruffled manner, she grinned, and sauntered over.
"Pansy, not now." Draco said, tense. But Pansy latched on to his arm, curls bouncing slightly, "but—"
"ARG!!!" yelled Draco, pained and he pushed her away immediately. Pansy looked hurt for a second but then another sudden emotion charged through rapidly. No boy would just push her off like that! How dare he!
"Tut, fine! Push me! But DO expect me to tell this to papa." Pansy smirked haughtily as Draco suddenly changed his expression. But before he could say anything, Pansy had waltzed off.
Blaise squinted his eyes even more, leaning down serenely on the train sofa.
Draco's reaction was a bit too much for a little of Pansy's touch. Something's going on.
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Sunset closed upon them rather quickly, Harry barely registered everything in his mind as it all came too fast. Disembarking from the red train, traveling over to Hogwarts, attending the sorting hat ceremony had been done and done over that Harry seemed to have gotten a tiny bit bored. But of course, this was far better than staying in a smelly, small muggle house for two months, and so still, he seemed appreciative.
The week had gone off just as fleetingly. Lessons flew by, the Potions classes in exception. Potion classes never flew by. They stormed away, like a whirlwind messing the lives of many innocent students as it passed.
"Potter? Would you like sitting —like the rest of the class— or standing there like a fool?"
Professor Snape's low voice echoed throughout the dank dungeons, accompanied by insulting snickers from the Slytherins. Harry blushed, slightly annoyed, and walked over to sit next to Ron.
Between gritted teeth, Harry muttered, "I *hate* him."
"We haven't noticed," Ron gave him a wry expression yet again.
"Just like he hadn't noticed that his hair's way greasy and he needs a bath."
They tried not to snort too loudly.
"And—What— are you two talking about? Care to tell the class?"
Snape was glaring at them, a wicked grin on his gaunt face.
All the words in Harry's vocabulary left his mouth at exactly the wrong moment. And from the look of things, Ron was having no such better luck. This always happened. When a teacher suddenly gangs up on you, looming over with this frightening aura, you feel sort of guilty and caught, and you're lost for words.
Before Harry could open his lips, and try to arrange a few scrambled, edgy words, Snape continued, "No? No explanation? Alright, 10 poi—"
A loud, horrifying crash made Snape whirl around, and Snape's eyes flashed dangerously as he strode over and found Neville with his cauldron on the floor.
"I, I—m sorry profes—"
"LONGBOTTOM! 5 Points from Gryffindor! And detention!!! And –what— is everyone looking at? Get back to work, especially you nosy Gryffindors!"
Tense silence followed for a bit. Everyone (Slytherins in exception) looked away from the incident and got back to work nervously. Harry glanced at Neville strangely. That accident was awfully too much in time to get them out of trouble. Just as he expected, Neville glanced back up at him, hair brushing over his eyes as usual, smiling.
And did Neville just wink?
Harry grinned back apologetically and Ron muttered, "I think he did that on purpose."
Hermione leaned in, "I think that too."
By the end of potions, Harry had asked his friends to go off their next class first as he voyaged over to Neville and ask what this was all about. Neville was usually stuttering, nervous, quivering and cowardly, but, maybe, due to the fact that his grandmother had died, that he had suddenly grown up. Rationalized. Leaped into the man he would be. And boy, how he grew! He was practically drool-worthy, according to Padma Patil. Half of the Gryffindor population hardly recognized him at all!
Why was he so charming now? Why did he wink at him? Why did he purposely tip his cauldron over?
Not looking warily at where he was heading, he bumped into a lean shoulder. Harry smelled the faint fragrance of raspberry before he was hauled roughly to the side.
"Potter!" Malfoy yelled, clutching his own arm. "In hell's name, do watch were your filthy feet are going!"
Harry blinked and glared back, almost expressionless. Draco Malfoy stood, flanked by his two companions, cringing in… pain? No anger, that hit didn't hurt him at all. He was probably just over-acting again.
Draco, this time, had his Hogwarts robe like everyone else. But UN-like everyone else, he had black long sleeves beneath those robes. And he still had that retro ribbon on his head.
Spotting 'Potter' eye his wear questioningly, Draco turned away, muttering, "Why do I waste my time on you?" And walked off. Harry fixed his glasses, shook his head in confusion, and walk opposite of the blonde, over to Neville.
Neville was cleaning the mess on the floor. At this angle, he kind of looks like a cuter version of Oliver Wood, thought Harry, as he stopped dead on his tracks. Neville looked up at him, again giving a sweet smile,
"Hullo, Harry."
"Hullo, Neville. Can I ask you something?"
Neville jerked his hand a bit too much and the pail fell with a loud, planking noise. Harry winced, as Neville picked it up and put it straight. "Sorry," he said, "Anyway, shoot."
"…Did you tip that cauldron of yours on purpose? Why?"
"Uhh," Said Neville, blushing beat red and staring at the floor. "Yeah… I figured losing 5 points was better than losing 10… I'm sorry if I did anything wro—"
"No no!" Harry said, now squatting to his side, "I'm really grateful… Ron too… Thanks." He gave out a hand, which Neville quickly took and shook vigorously, and then he gasped.
"Harry! You should get to your next class! Snape might see you!"
Harry's head jerked up in alarm, and he gently let go of Neville's hand. He smiled generously, and whispered, "See ya later then."
"You too."
---
That clean, smooth skin on that delicious neck. How beautifully curved, seems so soft, and tasteful… Smells so good, like cherries and lime…
Draco shook his head. What strange things to thinks of. Thinking of Potter's neck was highly revolting and… fascinating. He growled, pressing over to their next class, Herbology with the Ravenclaws, swiftly.
He made his way down the corridors of Hogwarts, sneering at any Hufflepuff or Gryffindor that came by. His two henchmen were at either side, following him silently, and he walked, chin held high, watching the fear of the others as they passed him. It almost seemed like the old days.
But he knew the old days would soon vanish from his mind. He clutched his arms, feeling the overwhelming, painful scorches that it produced. He made sure his face was expressionless or wickedly leering though, it would matter much if they'd found out that…
Don't think of that.
He let his mind wander.
Green eyes, half-lidded, a sharp cry, a whimper, a moan…
A lick on his neck.
How arousing…
Oh… And sweet blood…
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Instead of going to his next class, Harry Potter got lost. How? He did not know. One minute he was climbing up the stairs from the dreary dungeons and the next minute he was in complete darkness. He had lit his wand with the lumos spell, and had tried to make out of where he had gone. But alas, he did not bring the Marauder's map along with him.
He wandered around aimlessly, actually more intrigued than worried. He had never been at this part of the dungeons before. It was freezing cold, and eerily dark, the shadows towering over him like desert mountains towering over a small scorpion. But his bravery pushed through. He was put in Gryffindor, after all.
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"HARRY!" Cried Hermione, as the Boy-Who-Lived legend sat down in the Gryffindor table. It was half-way through the dinner hour already. "Where have you BEEN?! We were all so worried, you missed History of Magic, and Charm—"
"Sorry," Harry muttered, shrinking in his seat. Ron swallowed his chicken pie before he said, "It's fine. None of the teachers really cared."
"How could you SAY that?!" screeched Hermione. Ron took another bite, and said, mouth full, "S'all riyt."
"Got lost," Said Harry quietly, and he shrugged, pushing his robes accidentally a bit downward, exposing clean flesh at his nape.
From across the hall, the Slytherin blonde looked hungrily at that skin with silver-sapphire eyes, and his tongue glided sensually, licking his lips.
Mm… I want to just *bite* that delectable neck…And he snapped out of the trance, blinking, horrified, at what he just thought.
Damnit.
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Hello everyone! I hope you liked this first chapter, and I hope I'll get a lot of reviews for it! It fuels me into writing more! Some events might sound like it's dragging the story, but no fear, they have a purpose. Hmm, this story seems to have less humor then my other fics… Tsk tsk…Maybe I'll come up with some some more jokes next time. God bless!