Almost

Author's Note: This is my first Fanfiction, my first slash story, and my first Harry Potter story. Please let me know if I should bother to continue by reviewing! Thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot.

Draco Mafoy and Blaise Zabini were draped around the corner of the ornate Slytherin common room. Draco's leg was bent at the knee and resting on the table in front of him, and he tipped back in a silver chair. Blaise hunched over in a large green recliner, resting his head in his hands and staring out the lone window.

"..And then it came to me: toads. Live toads. Or would dead be better? You'd have to touch them, though. Maybe in his bed? No, his shower." Draco's arms spread out in front of both of them, as if trying to tickle the image onto the air with his fingers. Blaise only sighed.

"Do you honestly do anything besides bitch about Potter, or bitch at Potter, or think about ways to bring about more bitching, and more time with Potter?" Blaise groaned.

"Of course," Draco snapped, exasperated that his master plan had been interrupted. "You make it sound like you don't enjoy it."

" I don't. It's always the same. You call Hermione mudblood, Potter draws his wand, Potter gets detention and you mess up your hair." The comment was accompanied by his traditional well placed eye roll.

Draco raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Hermione? Since when is she Hermione?"

Ron, Hermione and Harry wallowed about the library. Ron spread out over a couch, his head hanging over the arm, and his eyes glazing over. Hermione's nose was deeply implanted in a book entitled, "The Reproductive Organs of the Common House Elf."

"...And that when it hit me," Harry said, sounding giddy. With a theatric waving of his hands, he continued. "Toads. Live toads. In his wardrobe! Oh, he'd pitch a fit!" Hermione snapped her book shut and shot a disgusted look up at Harry.

"Oh, please. Will you do something else besides think about Malfoy? Haven't you outgrown this?" Hermione barked, flipping around in the thick book, trying to find her lost page and ignoring a rude look from the librarian.

"It's always the same," Ron complained. "Malfoy calls her mudblood. We draw our wands. Harry, you get a detention..."

"Malfoy messes up his hair, and Blaise rolls his eyes at the lot of us." Hermione cut in.

She found her page and swiftly pulled the book up to her face. Ron sat up and stared at Hermione. Harry shivered and turned around.

"Blaise?" Ron asked, with a clearly dark tone. Almost envious. Hermione turned a color not available in the muggle or wizard's Crayola 164 box.

"Since when is he Blaise?" Harry asked, a sly grin spilling onto his features.

Almost

Does it count?

The almost of horseshoes

Hand grenades

Does it count?

Almost