Draco Malfoy wanted to be the best in everything he did, which was one of many reasons he despised Harry Potter and his stupid, Gryffindnor cronies. Potter had never failed to beat him at Quidditch in seven years, Granger was always 5 points ahead of him in every class they shared, and the Weasel, well…Draco didn't really need a good reason to hate him. Now that the Dark Lord had been defeated and the newly minted Headmistress McGonagall had created an "eighth-year" for all of the students who either completed their last year under the unfortunate leadership of Severus Snape and the Carrows or didn't come back at all, Draco had the opportunity to finally best his foes both on and off the Quidditch Pitch. It was especially important that Draco excel in his studies this year, as his father had been sentenced to a life in Azkaban and the manor and most of their assets seized in reparations for war crimes. Now, Draco couldn't take his time in choosing a career, it was imperative that he get a job right out of school, and a good one at that. So, despite his love of sleeping in whenever allowed, Draco was up at the ungodly hour of 8 in the morning and walking to the library to prepare for a History of Magic exam the following week.

As he walked, he allowed his mind to drift back to his family's trial. It was for certain that his father wouldn't be able to smooth talk his way out of Azkaban, not with the atrocities that had come to light. There was enough testimony on Lucius alone to land the three of them in the wizarding prison, if not for the bloody Chosen One. Harry fucking Potter himself had deigned the Malfoys worthy of his attention and had spoken on behalf of both Narcissa and Draco. He wood the Wizengamot with the story of a mother, whose love for her child superseded any other allegiance, even that to the Dark Lord, and a boy, barely out of puberty, forced by his last name to take the dark mark and witness horrors that no 16-year-old should have to, both whom, in spite of the danger it presented to themselves, lied to save Harry Potter's life. They were pardoned, but with a strict warning that if they so much as brewed am Amortentia, they would swiftly find themselves under the loving care of the dementors.

After the trial, Potter had come up and stiffly shook Draco and his mother's hands. "I hope that this serves to pay back the life debts I owe you two," he said softly. Of course he didn't do it out of the kindness of his heart. Who would speak out for the Malfoys if not for some personal gain? They were pariahs now, lower even in social standing than the Weasleys. Draco shuddered at the thought. Long gone were the days of lovely garden parties and balls, of too many invitations and not enough time. He could hardly understand how his mother was coping so well. Husbandless, friendless, eventless, the woman must simply be losing her mind from boredom.

"Well Harry, what is this big secret that you couldn't tell us in the common room?" A shrill, know-it-all voice pulled him out of his reverie. Secret? Potter? Well, now Draco's interest was definitely piqued. He walked towards the empty classroom with the door slightly ajar, intent on getting some blackmail on Potter.

Draco heard a deep sigh coming through the cracked door, "Well, and I just want you guys to know that I'm still the same person that I always was, and that I understand that it will be a surprise and that it'll take some getting used to-"

"Oh, for the love of Merlin, just spit it out, Harry!" For once, Draco and the weasel were in agreement. Potter was a nervous rambler.

"Fine, I'll spit it out! I'm gay! I'm a shirt lifter. A nancy boy, fag, poof, cockmuncher. I broke up with your sister because I realize that she's missing a very important piece of anatomy. A bloody cock! You happy now?"

Draco stepped back from the door. He wasn't sure what he had expected the big secret to be, but it surely wasn't this. Potter, gay? It wasn't looked down upon in the wizarding world, per se, but it certainly wasn't the norm. Wizards and witches highly valued their children, seeing as it was so difficult for them to conceive, and because for gay couples to have children required a surrogate, purebloods especially frowned upon the lifestyle. Draco himself, though he liked both and had known that he would inevitably end up with a woman for propriety's sake, had always preferred the company of men, but that wasn't popular knowledge. Draco at least had the good sense not to be blurting these things out in unwarded rooms, much less with an open door.

This got him thinking. Potter was gay. There were maybe 5 or 6 other out gay boys in the whole of Hogwarts, Draco, and now Potter, nonwithstanding. If he wanted to experiment, there were very limited options. And Draco, with his aristocratic features and beautiful silvery blonde hair, was more handsome than the lot of them put together.

This new information meant he had much more important things to do with his morning than study the importance of Lord Archival Prewett's reform of wizarding policies. The Slytherin in him was practically cooing. It was all too perfect. Draco hadn't felt this optimistic since, well definitely since before the return of the Dark Lord. All he had to do now was seduce a closet case with presumably no experience with boys. Draco pointedly ignored that they hated each other, because what was hate but a step away from love? He smirked, his most self-assured, devious smirk. Oh, Potter had no idea what was coming. Draco would win him over, get Potter to fall in love with him, and then he could return to his life of comfort and ease as he should have. Oh, did Draco have work to do.