I am just pumping out these updates! Inspiration has struck!

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Chapter 6: A Test of Skill

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"Your homework," she said in the dark of the Library, in her cool, professional, only slightly snide voice, "is to apply these skills to your life." It was one week from the Quidditch match, and now he only daydreamed of Draco; his training regularly left him too exhausted to dream at all. It was not his sexual knowledge he would be applying, she had said, but his new manners and social proprieties. "The change should be obvious," she told him. "If no one has noticed, you have failed and are most likely screwed." This was said very frankly, as if she was talking about the weather. Harry wasn't entirely sure just how seriously he took all this; he was desperate for Draco's touch, but terror was creeping in on the edges; fear of making a fool of himself, fear of betrayal, and maybe if he admitted it to himself, fear of rejection.

Harry honestly doubted his ability to be this person Alice was nurturing into existence. In her presence, he had learned how to walk with an air of upright professionalism that oozed eroticism for no apparent reason; he had the ability to erase 'um', 'like', 'bloke', and other signals of "common" breeding; he now knew a few basic spells to improve the make and color of his clothing. The list went on, at least in theory. He still had trouble containing his lush and he could not convincingly hide anger, but he could limit the redness and keep his face to an expression of irritation rather than intended genocide. Savine, for her part, could not decide between pride and disappointment.

This homework was the reason for Harry waking up an hour early. He showered and carefully applied a texturizing product to his hair, trimmed his fingernails, and carefully applied cologne which looked terrifyingly expensive. The other boys were only just stirring when he cast the charms he had memorized on his clothing, saturating the color and improving the length; seams were brought in slightly, but he was skittish to make any major alterations in the tailoring. He put on the new aged and distressed dragon leather shoes and sleek-rimmed glasses Savine had purchased for him.

Harry wasn't sure how he felt about the final product. He could admit to himself that the thinner frames brought out the green of his eyes and that the cut of his pants accentuated… well, everything, but he suddenly felt like he was playing dress up; he certainly didn't look like himself. "Potter, try to understand," Savine had said when he had brought this very feeling up. "We all felt that way. Though we make it appear so easy, every pureblood in Slytherin was groomed and trained from infancy to meet the standards you are trying to reach. Draco has naturally good taste, but it had to be built upon, and while I've always had a natural inclination to being reserved, it was trained and ingrained into me. At one point, it was a mask for all of us." She momentarily got quiet. "It still is for some of us." She had taken a sip of the pumpkin juice she had brought with her, and it had not been brought up again.

Dressing had taken him until most of the other boys had finished their showers; standing in the bathroom, a large percentage of them turned, one by one, to see a very different Harry Potter than they were used to. He would have blushed, but this new Harry did not blush so easily, especially not for them. He nodded and left with a wave over his shoulder, heading into the dorms to grab his books.

"Harry! What happened to you, mate?!" Ron demanded, stark naked minus the towel he was drying his hair with.

"I thought a change would be nice," he said with a shrug, picking up his things. Mission accomplished, Savine, he thought. The looks didn't stop there. Colin Creevey, now fifteen, fair ogled him on his way down the staircase. As he entered the Common Room, whispers followed his steps; the Patil twins giggled to each other, and even Ginny, who had been regularly dating and unfazed by Harry's presence, watched him carefully from the corner of her eye. He had to carefully hide a full on grin; instead, he pretended he didn't notice, only nodding to a few select people and monitoring the way he walked ("upright carriage, chin down slightly!").

He had to steady himself as he walked into the Great Hall. This was, presumably, the first moment Draco Malfoy would see him like this, and the thought brought heat to his body with a flash of the feeling of Malfoy's hips. Goaded, he walked through the entrance and into the light.

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It was the murmurs of his housemates that made him look to the entrance of the Great Hall, and he felt hot shock course through him. It was Potter, only better. He walked with a powerful dominance that reminded Draco of the fierce kisses he gave. He was dressed in something other than trash; his hair, though still a riotous mess, looked like it was meant to be that way all along. His heart pounded; it was only years of careful tutelage that kept his face clear.

And he wasn't the only one who noticed. Where normally he would have rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, Potter laughed brightly at the look on the mudblood's face, and the other men at his table had begun to clap. The Ravenclaw's were tittering about his change, undoubtedly hypothesizing on the reason for his transformation from drab to deliciously refined. The Hufflepuffs, as tactless as ever, were talking loudly and pointing, dear sweet Merlin; they were a lost cause, the lot of them. Harry had sat down between the mudblood and the Weasel. Incredible. His entire carriage was different.

Blaise's words came back to him. "Why don't you just take him and get it over with? I'm sure it would be…satisfying."

"I can see now why you want him so badly, darling," murmured Blaise into his ear. "Striking, when properly groomed. He has untapped potential." Blaise continued to eat his breakfast in his naturally quiet manner, all of his movements as graceful as water; there were times when Draco just loved to watch him. This morning, he easily pulled his attention away to watch Potter carefully with lowered eyes. He ate quietly, stewing over the sudden change. Moments later, Blaise put a hand on his shoulder in parting and got up; he always preferred to be early to his classes. Just as Draco was about to get up himself, a lithe female hand reached over his shoulder to take an apple from a bowl. He turned around to see Alice Savine standing comfortably, her apple in one hand with a single bite missing, and her eyes on Potter.

"Well, Draco," she murmured, lowering her face close to his shoulder so that only he could hear, "Doesn't Potter look rather… scrumptious thing morning." It wasn't a question. She smiled at him a secret in her eyes before walking away, tossing the apple onto a first year's plate.

Now what did she have to do with all this? He took a sip off his coffee as if he hadn't heard anything; better not to show his hand at all until he knew what she was about. He kept his dace impassive as they were dismissed by the bell to first classes, just behind the Gryffindors.

"I see Potter has finally grown some taste. Playing dress up, Potter?" he said snidely, surrounding by laughing Slytherins. Harry turned around slowly to face him, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder to silence him. He looked at Draco straight in the eyes, his face clam with two smoldering green gems.

"Are you?" he asked quietly, before turning with dignity and continuing, a deceptively strong grip on the redhead's wrist.

The blonde, just have rolled his eyes or made some gesture to cover his lack of comeback to his housemates, as they continued to laugh like the lecherous hyenas they were, but he was unaware of any action on his part. He was startled by Potter's words. It had been calm, suave, and oddly deep – there was only two available options to explain it.

Either Potter had grown a sense of charisma, or he was harboring an alien in his chest cavity.