A/N: Just wanted to start this story off with a quick hello and several warnings! So hello :) Aaand now also some warnings! This story is rated P for Profanity and AL for Awkward Love. (It won't stay awkward for long, don't worry.) It has sneaky Slytherins, manipulative schemes, immature banter, teen homosexuality, blond virgins, first dates, involuntary sounds of a decidedly flamingo-like nature, and a sweet and awkward Harry Potter. There will be all kinds of language you were taught not to say as a child, as well as all kinds of smut your parents hoped you never knew existed as a child. But let's ignore all those forgotten lessons and past-parental hopes and get into this thing, friends!

And we start, as we rightly should, with an Oscar Wilde quote:

"The truth is rarely pure and never simple."
―The Importance of Being Earnest

Aaand now we may begin :)

Chapter 1

"He's staring at me again!" Draco hissed, resisting the urge to slam his fist down on the table they were sat at. Madam Pince would most likely gut him if he dared injure her precious books, and Draco could think of much better things he would prefer to be doing rather than dripping entrails all over the floor of the library; he preferred his entrails where they were, thank you very much. His guts were far too good for the library floor.

"He's not staring at you, Draco, let it go," Pansy said, rolling her eyes without ever once actually glancing in Potter's direction to check if he really was staring at Draco or not.

"Yes, he is!" Draco insisted, feeling Potter's gaze on his skin without even having to look over. "I'm telling you, he stares! All he fucking does is stare! Constantly! All the time! I think he's planning on murdering me!"

At the dramatic statement, Pansy rolled her eyes again and Draco considered flicking ink on her, ultimately deciding not to risk it just in case it landed on a library book and Madam Pince really did crucify him right there in the library as an example to all other would-be book-defilers, all of whom were worse than the Dark Lord in her eyes.

I wonder if she's ever wanked over any of the books, he wondered idly, dismissing the disturbing thought in the very next second and wondering what sort of fucked-up war trauma he was repressing that had possessed him to think such an awful thought. If he was thinking such horrendous things, it was probably already long past time to seek professional help.

"He's not going to kill you, Draco," Pansy drawled, sounding far too indifferent to Draco's impending doom. "It's Potter, he's far too boring and noble to ever be interesting enough to be actively planning another student's death. If any deaths ever result at his hands, it'll be from sheer clumsy stupidity, not premeditation."

"He could be planning my death, you don't know," Draco huffed, slinking down in his seat. Why did Pansy just dismiss the thought that Draco was worth thinking and obsessing about to the point that somebody could literally spend all their time staring at him and plotting his death? Draco was more than capable of inspiring such intense obsession in a person—he was obviously talented like that, even if the world refused to admit that inspiring fanatical hatred throughout a nation could be just as impressive as inspiring fanatical love; they were both fanatical forms of obsession, after all.

"Look at him!" Draco demanded, glancing over to the brunet to prove to Pansy once and for all that he was right and she could suck it, only to find that Potter was no longer looking over, having buried his face in his notes what must have been only seconds earlier.

Looking over, Pansy turned back to him with another heavy eye roll. "Like I told you, Draco, he is not looking at you. Besides, how do you know he's not looking at me? He could just as easily be plotting my death, you know."

"He is not plotting your death, Pansy, he's plotting mine!" Draco ground out, not sure why they were arguing over such a strange thing as which of them got to be murdered by Harry Potter. "He's already tried to kill me once in that bathroom and he's now plotting a way to finish the job!"

"I was the one who tried to turn him over to You-Know-Who!" Pansy said staunchly, apparently refusing to accept the truth that Potter obviously never thought about her as much as he thought about Draco, even if those thoughts were all murderous ones. "Stop dismissing that it might be me he's plotting to kill!"

"Oh please, that happened once and you gave up far too easily," Draco rolled his eyes. "And it's not like you tried to physically drag him to the Dark Lord yourself; all you did was point at him and get shunned by three-quarters of the entire school for it. I actually did try to physically drag him there. Clearly, he's planning on killing me."

"Oh, please," she scoffed, sitting up more fully to glare at the blond, "he spoke out in favor of you at your trial! Why would he do that and then seek revenge? He's never once spoken up in my favor! Obviously I am the one he would rather see dead!"

"You didn't even have a trial, when would he have ever needed to publicly speak up for you?" Draco asked her, shaking his head in pity at Pansy's sad delusions, most likely the result of serious trauma. Poor girl. "And clearly, the only reason he spoke up for me at my trial was so he could keep me from Azkaban in order to kill me himself. You can't kill someone unless you have access to them first, you know."

"Well, you did nearly kill his best friend that one time," Pansy allowed, looking thoughtful, and Draco nodded in agreement. "And that was on Weasley's birthday, too, so extra points for that, I s'pose. And you also nearly killed one of his teammates with that necklace. And the whole mess with the Vanishing Cabinet and letting Greyback in the castle and indirectly getting the older Weasley mauled by him. And that whole business of Potter being dragged to your house during the war by a bunch of Snatchers and nearly being killed there…and—"

"You made fun of him once for fainting on the train from the Dementors!" Draco interrupted, no longer liking how many reasons there actually were for Potter to want to see him dead.

Pansy gave him an incredulous look. "Yeah, once. And all I did was make stupid ghost noises at him; noises that he ignored, mind you. You convinced Crabbe and Goyle to dress up in black cloaks and try to literally frighten him off his bloody broomstick during a Quidditch game! Obviously you're the one he wants to kill!"

Draco glared. "You once compared Granger to a chipmunk and called her ugly in an interview you did with Rita Skeeter in a goddamn issue of Witch Weekly!"

Pansy glared right back. "You called her a long-molared Mudblood right to her face that very same year!"

"You were the one conducting Weasley is Our King at every single Gryffindor game!"

"You were the one who wrote the fucking song!"

"You helped with the badges!"

"But you came up with the idea for the badges!"

"You made up lies about Hagrid in front of Potter right to Umbridge's face just to get him fired!"

"You tried to get his hippogriff executed when you were thirteen by faking an injury!"

"You always laughed the loudest at all of my impersonations of Granger in class and my jokes about Weasley's family!"

The incredulous look on Pansy's face deepened. "You were the one who made all the stupid jokes and the impersonations in the first place!"

Draco crossed his arms, refusing to be defeated. "You called Potter ugly on his date with Chang and specifically brought up Diggory right in front of both of them even though everyone knew what a basket case she still was over him!"

"You once deducted points from Gryffindor and then told Potter it was because you didn't like him! And then took another ten points from Granger for being a Mudblood!"

"You were the one who told the entire school about Potter nearly killing me in the bathroom and started telling everyone how dangerous and deranged he was and demanding that he be locked up in Azkaban!"

"You're the one who insulted his mother so badly after a Quidditch game that he tried his hardest to beat you to death in front of about a hundred witnesses!"

"Ha!" Draco exclaimed, forgetting the danger for his life from the librarian and slamming his fist down on the book before him. "So you admit it! I'm the one he most wants to see dead! He's already tried twice!"

Pansy fell silent, giving him a look that Draco could only describe as judgmental pity. "Is it time to visit Pomfrey again, do you think, Draco?" she asked kindly, placing her hand over his in a sympathetic gesture, one he glared at.

"You're the damaged one, not me," he muttered, yanking his hand back and crossing his arms with a huff.

"Hmm, am I though, out of the two of us?" she wondered, giving him a look. "You just sat here for five straight minutes arguing about how you would be the better one to murder."

"Yeah, arguing with you! You were arguing about it too!" he reminded her hotly. "Besides, I won that argument. So…you know, there."

Snorting, she shook her head at him in amusement. "If nothing else, Draco, I will always have you to entertain me."

"Yeah," he lifted one eyebrow at her with a flat stare, "unless Potter murders me in the next week!"

"Well, then," she shrugged, "I'll try to enjoy your company as much as I can for the next week."

"See if I ever let you suck me off ever again," he grouched, sinking even lower in his seat.

"Oh, please," she snorted again, shaking her head. "First of all, what the hell kind of bloke actually turns down a blowjob when one is offered? And second, that happened once. In fifth year. I know that it was the best head you've ever and will ever have in your life, but it's time to let it go already, darling. I think it's about time you move on from me, for both our sakes."

"Well," Draco sniffed, "the next time you find you can't fight your overwhelming attraction for me and it does end up happening, I'm not returning the favor! So, there!"

"You didn't the last time either," she said dryly, shaking her head.

"Did I not?" Draco's nose scrunched up in confusion as he thought back, not technically needing to think back since he knew for a fact that he had never actually gone down on anyone before, ever, but still—he could at least put on a good show for his pretend confusion.

"No." Her tone became even drier if such a thing was possible. Was the poor girl parched? "You definitely didn't." She muttered something under her breath that sounded like "typical fucking bloke."

"Well, I'd hardly know that now, would I?" he asked, in a tone just as dry as hers—see how she liked being spoken to like a bloody desert cactus. "I've never sucked another bloke off now, have I?"

At that, a feral grin spread across her face. "I bet Potter would like it if you sucked him off," she said sweetly, grin widening. "Did you ever think that maybe that's why he keeps looking over at you? Maybe he doesn't want to see you dead, he just wants to see you on your knees."

"Yeah, while I'm being murdered," Draco said in disbelief, wondering where the hell such a comment had come from. Why would Pansy ever assume that Potter wanted…that…done to him by Draco? Potter's stares were clearly vengeful, not lustful; Pansy needed her eyes checked.

Glancing over at Potter once more, Draco saw the brunet quickly drop his gaze back down to his notes with a flush, leaving Draco wondering just what exactly that meant.

"He's doing it again!" Draco hissed, kicking Pansy's leg under the table.

"Ow, you prat!" she yelped, glaring at him and retaliating by throwing a piece of egg at his hair.

He dodged the yellow bit of egg flying toward him like the skillful Seeker legend he still was—even if he was no longer actually allowed on the team—and grinned widely at her, grimacing as she retaliated for his expert egg-dodging skills by kicking him in the same spot on his shin that he had gently and lovingly nudged her in, albeit a rather hard nudge with his shoe.

"Cow," he grumbled, reaching down to rub at his bruising—most likely broken and permanently crippled—leg.

"Git," she glared.

"Bint."

"Tosser."

"Slag."

At that, she narrowed her eyes. "Hufflepuff."

His mouth dropped open in shock. "You take that back!"

"Never," she said smugly, sipping her tea in victory.

"Who even invited you to sit here with me?"

"Um, excuse me!" she squawked, sounding amusingly bird-like. "You're the one who sat with me! I was bloody sitting here first, you knob!"

"Who's got a knob?" a voice interrupted, and they both turned to watch Blaise take the seat next to Draco and begin dishing himself breakfast.

"Pansy," Draco said automatically, smirking at her.

"Way bigger one than his anyway," she smirked right back, and he glared. "His sad, tiny Hufflepuff knob."

"Why is your tiny knob a sad Hufflepuff?" Blaise asked in confusion, taking a bite of toast.

The blond glared viciously at them both. "It's not, that's why! Stop saying that about me!"

"Is someone telling everyone that your knob is a sad tiny Hufflepuff?" Blaise continued, earning a snicker from Pansy.

"Pansy's just bitter that I won't let her anywhere near it anymore," Draco told him smoothly, wanting to kick Pansy again but wisely remembering the throbbing in his own shin.

She rolled her eyes. "This is as near to it as I want to be, trust me."

"Well, this is as near to you as it wants to be," he shot back, feeling victorious.

"I think Potter's staring at you," Blaise said absently, snapping their attention onto him and effectively cutting off their extremely witty and mature banter.

"Ha!" Draco cried, slapping his hand down sharply on the table. "I told you! Thank you, Blaise! You are a real friend!"

He stared at Draco blankly.

"Oh, please, Draco," Pansy shook her head. "Remember how we decided that he's only staring at you while he tries to figure out a way to make your death look like an accident?"

"Is Potter trying to kill you again?" Blaise asked, taking another bite of toast.

"Most likely," Draco nodded, sipping his tea. "The boy is obsessed, what can I say."

"Hmm," Blaise said thoughtfully, adding sugar to his coffee. "Well, if I was going to murder you, I would probably try to make it look like some sort of horrific bleaching accident. I can't imagine anyone not believing that one."

"Okay," Draco glared, "I take it back. You're a terrible friend. For the last fucking time, I do not bleach my fucking hair! This platinum is all natural!"

"It really is," Pansy interjected, smirking at Blaise. "Trust me on that one."

"Hey," Blaise held up one hand, "I didn't say he didn't bleach everywhere."

"Who the fuck bleaches their pubes?" Draco asked incredulously. "Is that even possible?"

"I dunno, maybe we should go ask Potter," Pansy said in a sly voice.

"Sure," Draco rolled his eyes with a snigger. "I will pay you ten Galleons right now if you get up and go ask him that question."

"I'll pay you twelve Galleons if you get up right now and go ask him if he thinks Draco's are bleached," Blaise grinned, speaking to Pansy.

"Sure," she drawled, shaking her head. "Like I really believe twenty-two Galleons are worth getting my tits hexed off by every single Gryffindor just for daring to cross over to their side of the room."

"You finally grew tits?" Draco asked in astonishment, peering down at her chest and pretending to search. "Where? Show me."

Pansy responded with a glare and another hard kick. "I have tits, arsehole. Blaise, tell him how good my tits are!"

"You finally grew tits?" Blaise asked in astonishment, peering down at her chest and pretending to search. "Where? Show me."

"Cunts, the both of you," she glared even harder.

"Is that meant to be an insult?" Blaise grinned, raising one eyebrow at her, "Or are you still offering to show us things?"

This time it was Blaise who winced and reached down to rub at his bruising shin.

"Twats," she muttered, still glaring.

"You know," Draco said lightly, shifting his legs further out of the reach of her feet, "the more you talk about fannies, the more I get the feeling you really do want to show us something."

"Yeah, my foot up your arses," she rolled her eyes.

"Kinky," Draco and Blaise said simultaneously, turning to one another and sniggering.

Glancing past Pany's glaring eyes and twitching lips, Draco couldn't help but search out Potter, forehead wrinkling in confusion as, once again, he had just enough time to see Potter hurriedly drop his gaze down to his own plate.

Seriously, Draco thought, now getting worried, what the hell does that mean?

"Just go fucking ask him, then, if you're so convinced!" Pansy sighed in exasperation, refusing to open her eyes as she lay back on the grassy hill, soaking up as much autumn sunlight as she could. It wasn't as warm as Draco would have liked, but he had cast some warming charms over the two of them and they could at least pretend that it was the sun keeping them warm instead of the fact that they had cheated nature by using magic. Suck it, nature, Draco thought smugly.

"Yeah," he drawled sarcastically, "because every time one of us just walks right up to the other one out of nowhere and starts accusing them of things, it always ends well, doesn't it?"

"Sounds like the best way to know if he really wants you dead," she shrugged.

"Yes, but I think I would prefer to know that before he actually kills me," he responded dryly, sitting up higher on the large pillow he had transfigured out of one of Pansy's quills.

"No use fighting your fate, darling," she said sweetly, opening her eyes to give him a saccharine smile. "Just give in to it."

"Oh please," he rolled his eyes, "like either of us would be here, alive, if giving in to fate so easily was something we actually did."

"Point, I suppose."

"Who has a point?" a voice said above them, and they both glanced up to find Blaise peering down at them. "Are the two of you still talking about knobs?"

"As always," Draco responded as Blaise took a seat on the grass next to him. "Pansy's is not only real but pointed and misshapen as well. Probably hairy, too. I wouldn't be surprised."

"Oh, you're only jealous because yours is so tiny and hairless," Pansy said with an airy smirk.

"Um, ew," Draco wrinkled his nose. "Who the hell wants a hairy knob?"

"I'm sure you'd be willing to settle for having any kind of knob at all," she continued in the same light tone.

"Are you saying that Draco is knobless and wants a knob for himself for personal use?" Blaise asked in amusement, "Or are you saying that he wants another bloke's knob for lusty purposes?"

"Both," she shrugged. "Either. Take your pick."

"I bet Potter wants to find out if Draco's knob is hairy," Blaise grinned, earning a snort from Pansy and a glare from Draco.

"Who thinks about someone's cock while they're murdering them?" Draco asked crossly, sitting up and glancing over at Potter, who was sitting alone beneath a large tree maybe thirty meters away. "Also, my cock is perfect! He would be so lucky to find out what it really looks like! Pansy! Tell Blaise how good my cock is!"

"You finally grew a cock?" she asked in astonishment, peering down at his groin and pretending to search. "Where? Show me."

Blaise laughed, the sound growing louder at the affronted look Draco could feel shaping his face. "Ten points to Pansy for that one."

She preened, flicking her dark hair over one shoulder smugly. "Don't be too sad, Draco. I bet Potter would be willing to help you search for your prick if you ask him nicely enough."

Draco glared through the blush he could feel staining his cheeks pink, deepening as he glanced over at the dark-haired Gryffindor sitting much too close to be so easily dismissed as coincidence only to find him already staring in Draco's direction.

Blaise laughed even harder. "There's really no other explanation, Draco. Potter either wants to kill you or he wants to fuck you. Possibly even both, who knows. Maybe he wants to kill you and fuck you at the same time."

"Not everyone is like your mother, you know," Draco shot back, still fighting the blush from Pansy's words.

Blaise's mouth dropped open, appearing just as offended as Draco had been hoping for.

"Oooh, ten points to Draco for that one!" Pansy cackled.

It was Draco's turn to preen, smirking at the dark-skinned boy sat to his right as he pretended to flick his blond hair over one shoulder.

"You don't even know my mother," Blaise sniffed, appearing offended but sounding amused. "I'm sure not all of them were on purpose."

"Which do you mean?" Draco asked, still smirking. "The killing or the fucking?"

Another loud cackling laugh burst from Pansy's mouth as she turned to Blaise. "Ten more points for that one, I'm afraid, Blaise."

"And Draco takes the lead where he belongs," Draco grinned, sounding even smugger than before, which was a feat he was quite proud of, to be honest. Anyone who said there was a limit to smugness was obviously wrong.

"Yeah, the lead in wanking," Blaise muttered.

"Oh, don't worry, Blaise," Draco's grin widened, "nobody could ever even hope to beat you. Your reign as Hogwarts wanking champion is safe. King Wanker, the people call you."

"Should we go ask Potter who he thinks the bigger wanker is?" Blaise drawled, giving Draco a pointed look.

"Well," the blond began, trying to ignore the strange shivery feeling that the simultaneous thoughts of 'Potter' and 'wanking' sent through him, "if by 'bigger wanker' you mean the person with the most cock with which to wank, obviously that would be me."

Pansy laughed. "You know, I'm almost tempted to give him another five points for that one. Maybe just quit now, Blaise, before he takes too big a lead."

"Listen to the girl," Draco grinned. "Everything about me is already big, Blaise—my lead, my cock, my…shoes."

"Your shoes?" he snorted, eyeing Draco with amused disbelief. "Why your shoes?"

"Obviously because foot size is directly related to cock size," Pansy answered, earning raised eyebrows from both boys. "Oh, please," she shook her head. "Just because the two of you own cocks doesn't mean that you're the absolute experts on them. You own one cock each—I've dealt with way more cocks in my life than you two sad fools ever have."

"Okay, I'm taking points away for that one," Draco declared, ignoring Pansy's outraged squawk.

"Why don't we go ask Potter how many cocks he's dealt with?" Blaise asked slyly, and all three of them glanced over in the brunet's direction again, only to find him still staring.

"He really is plotting my murder," Draco said hollowly, already knowing his nearing death to be impending and merciless and unalterable. What Harry Potter wanted, Harry Potter got, and clearly, he wanted to see Draco dead. Why else would he keep staring at the blond in such a way and following him around all the time?

"Hey," Blaise frowned, "how do you know he's not looking at me? Maybe it's me he wants to fuck! Or murder! Or both, even! You don't know, it could definitely be me!"

"Oh, please," Draco rolled his eyes, gaze flicking back to Potter. "As far as I know, you two have never even spoken. I doubt he even knows what your voice sounds like."

"Maybe the poor boy has just been harboring a secret love for me from a distance," Blaise nodded to himself, sounding like an idiot.

So Draco decided to tell him. "You sound like an idiot."

"Well, you look like a sunless twat," the other boy shot back.

"Um, aren't all twats sunless?" Draco asked in confusion. "Who suns their sodding minge?"

"Urgh," Pansy shuddered, "can you imagine getting sunburn down there? Good lord."

"Burnt toasted fannies are not an image I want in my head, thank you," Blaise protested, looking rightly traumatized—it was not an image Draco wanted in his head either.

In fact, fannies in general, crisped or otherwise, were not something Draco spent very much time thinking about, and it was not something that he wished to change. His head was perfectly fine being a fanny-free zone, which was something he had always seemed aware of about himself and yet unwilling to explore deeper. One day he would find a girl he was utterly attracted to, of that he had no doubt. And when he did, he was sure that he would think of nothing but her weird minge. It was only a matter of time.

Unless Potter kills me before I get the chance, Draco thought wryly, looking over to find the brunet still staring at him.

"It's obviously not either of you that Potter keeps following around!" Draco informed them. "It's very clearly me that he wants to do dark, unspeakable things to."

"I really can't tell if you mean murder or sex," Blaise said, raising one eyebrow.

"Just go ask him already, Draco, if only to shut you up about it!" Pansy sighed, sitting up fully. "Come on, let's go. Dinner will be starting soon. And Draco can finally ask which one of us Potter is plotting death for."

"Maybe I will," Draco sniffed, climbing to his feet and preparing to stalk off and bravely confront both Potter and his own doom, but when he looked over to the tree Potter had been sitting under, there was nobody there.

Potter had once again vanished.

"All right," Draco ground his teeth and rubbed his temples, glaring down at the library table. "That is it. I can't take this anymore!"

"Are you finally going to go speak to him then?" Pansy asked in a voice far too calm for the situation, scribbling something down in her notes.

"It's either that or wait for him to ambush you," Blaise said with a shrug, glancing over at Potter, who was currently sitting all by himself at a nearby table, head buried in some essay he was pretending to write. The Gryffindor had drifted in not even five minutes after the three Slytherins had found a table in a corner of the library, taking a seat nearby before they had even finished pulling out their books.

"Blaise is right," Pansy said in a bored voice, "it's either confront Potter or wait to be confronted by him. But either way, you may as well just get the confrontation out of the way now."

"Unless you're scared of speaking to him," Blaise smirked.

"Oh sod off!" Draco whispered furiously, careful to keep his voice low. "I'm not scared of the wanker!"

"Suuure," Blaise drawled, and Draco narrowed his eyes at the tone.

"You don't know anything," the blond huffed, crossing his arms as he felt his heart begin to pound wildly. He could do this—he could speak to Potter. Just because he hadn't spoken to Potter since the day of his stupid trial didn't mean he couldn't, it just meant he was smart enough not to.

"I dare you to go speak to him," Blaise said with a wide grin.

Draco rolled his eyes at his stupid friend. "Oh, like I'm that easily manipulated."

"And Pansy will give you a blowjob."

"No she won't!" Pansy squawked, and Draco really was starting to suspect that she was part flamingo somewhere along her family line. He wasn't actually sure what flamingos sounded like, but they seemed like they would be squawky birds, and Pansy was definitely a squawky bird. Yep, part flamingo, he decided firmly.

"Like I would've taken him up on that last offer anyway," Draco smirked at her, the expression widening at her glare.

"All right," Blaise said lightly, "how about she won't give you a blowjob if you go talk to him, then?"

"Stop using my impressive cock-sucking skills to bargain with, Blaise!" she snapped.

"I think it was more a lack of your cock-sucking skills he was using to bargain with," Draco said absently, glancing at Potter, who was now staring resolutely down at his notes, but Draco felt a flash of satisfaction jolt through him when the brunet lifted his gaze to Draco's only to immediately drop it with a flush the moment he realized the blond was staring at him.

"You two are such bloody prats," she grumbled, dotting an i on her essay so viciously the quill punched a hole through the parchment.

"I'll do it," Draco said suddenly, right as Blaise was opening his mouth to reply to Pansy. "I'll talk to Potter and find out what the hell he wants, and then when I'm right about everything, I will come back over here and say I told you so and feel vindicated at your overwhelming shame and you will then apologize for ever doubting me and grovel for my forgiveness."

"Forgiveness for what?" Blaise asked in annoyed amusement.

"For doubting me," Draco said, in a tone that he hoped even dumb Blaise would be able to recognize as condescending.

"Blaise and I can't wait," Pansy said in a tone that even dumb Blaise would be able to recognize as sarcastic.

Blaise turned to her in confusion. "Do you mean that we can't wait to doubt him or we can't wait to be forgiven by him?"

She snorted. "Mostly I mean we can't wait to watch him willingly walk to his death by going over there to confront Potter."

"That should definitely be entertaining," Blaise nodded, "at least for a few minutes. It'll be a nice break from studying."

"As if you've even started studying," Draco said with a glance at Blaise's closed textbook.

"Oh, just go meet your black-haired death already," Blaise responded, flipping him a two-finger salute.

"Fine," Draco said, hoping he sounded brave and determined. Lord, how his heart was racing, and he hadn't even stood up yet! "I will. And I'll be far more manly about it than either of you would be in my shoes."

"Prove it," Blaise said with an evil grin—Draco knew evil when he saw it, and Blaise's smile was most certainly evil.

"All right then," he said, insides squirming. Looking over, he waited in silence for the exact right moment. After ages of Potter staring down at his essay, scrawling something across the surface of the parchment that was most likely inane and inarticulate, Draco made his move, rising from his chair and shooting Pansy and Blaise a pointed look that very clearly said "You two will be the ones to most miss me when I've been brutally murdered by the green-eyed prat". His looks were so telling and expressive that he didn't even need to say the actual words aloud.

Crossing the library as quietly as he could, Draco took immense satisfaction in slapping his palm down sharply on the table Potter was sat at as he dropped into the empty chair across from the brunet, earning a loud gasp and a violent jump. Draco fervently hoped that Pansy and Blaise had been watching and had noticed the excellent reaction—he knew he would certainly treasure the memory of it.

Potter's eyes widened in…was that fear? No, Draco mused, it appeared to be more like panic, surprising Draco; it certainly was not the emotion he would expect to see directed at him from the person actively plotting his murder.

"Malfoy," Potter croaked, eyes dropping down to his notes before flicking back up to Draco only to flit away again in the next second.

"What do you want?" Draco asked flatly, leaning back in his chair and eyeing Potter as suspiciously as he could whilst his heart hammered fast enough to hurt.

"Me?" Potter squeaked, looking horrified at himself for the ridiculous sound. He cleared his throat and tried again, face bright red. "Me? What do you mean what do I want? You're the one who came over here!"

"Yes," Draco agreed, unable to disagree with the exclamation. "But you're the one who followed me here. And don't even try to deny it," he added, holding up a hand as Potter opened his mouth to most likely argue the very unarguable statement. For once in their entire time of knowing one another, Draco was one hundred percent in the right. "Is stalking me some sort of compulsive need of yours or something?"

If possible, Potter flushed even darker, appearing embarrassed and somehow oddly sweet for it, startling Draco with the awful unMalfoy-like thought. Potter was not sweet, no matter how almost-adorably flushed he seemed as he shuffled his notes with nervous hands. Damn it, the other boy was a prat, and certainly not a cute one! Prats were never cute! They were pratty!

"I know you've been following me around," Draco continued, feeling strangely proud and annoyed at the fact that Potter seemed unable to look at him for longer than three seconds at a time. Draco had very clearly been the one Potter had been following around and obsessively staring at over the course of the entire month of term, had he not? And yet now that he was sat right in front of the blond, Potter seemed so unwilling to actually look at him. "So just tell me what you want already, Potter. You're freaking me out."

"I'm not following you," the brunet muttered, glaring down at his essay, although the expression was rather ruined by the blush still painting his cheeks crimson.

"Oh, please." Draco would have rolled his eyes if only Potter was willing to actually look up to see the sarcastic gesture—the selfish sod, not looking at Draco's very telling and expressive gestures. "Who do you think you're speaking to, Potter? I know exactly what it's like to be stalked by you."

Potter finally looked up to glare at Draco, and Draco couldn't help but smirk.

"Just tell me what you want," the blond said in a low voice, leaning forward to fix the other boy with a fierce stare. Potter's breathing quickened in response as a light shiver seemed to rake through him, which Draco frowned at. That was certainly a reaction he had never seen in Potter before. Draco dropped his voice even lower. "Tell me what you want from me, Potter."

Potter inhaled sharply as he fidgeted in his seat, and as Draco leaned closer to ask the question yet again, he noticed an odd thing—Potter was no longer staring at Draco's eyes, but about two inches lower. Potter was staring at Draco's mouth. He didn't even appear to be blinking, he was so transfixed.

"Potter," Draco whispered, tilting his head curiously, and Potter's breathing sped up. "What do you want from me?"

The question finally succeeded in catching Potter's attention and he wrenched his gaze back up to Draco's eyes, jerking away as though Draco had lunged at him. "N-nothing," he stammered, swiftly collecting his belongings and jamming them into his bag before leaping to his feet and tearing from the room.

Draco watched his unexpected retreat with a frown, brain slowly coming to a conclusion that he had never once paused to consider as a reason for Potter's insistent stalking. Wandering back over to his two friends, Draco took a seat in a slight daze, unsure just what it was he was feeling.

"What the hell happened over there?" Blaise immediately demanded, gaze darting between Draco and Potter's recent path of flight from the library. "What the hell did you say to him to make him run away like that? I've never seen him run away from anything! I didn't even know he knew how!"

"Did you threaten him or something, Draco?" Pansy asked, staring at Draco oddly. "Because if you did, I am willing to award you fifty points for it right now. It'll most likely come back to bite you in the arse at a later date, but who knew you had the bloody stones for something as bold as outright threatening Harry fucking Potter?"

"No," Draco glared, mind still attempting to sort through everything that had happened. "Of course I didn't threaten him, I'm not a fucking idiot. I did, however, finally figure out why he's been following me around and just what exactly it is that he wants from me."

"Right." Pansy and Blaise exchanged a look.

"Well, what is it, then?" Pansy pressed.

Draco took a deep breath. "Harry Potter is in love with me."