A/N: Title and inspiration from the Morrissey song of the same name. Written in 2006 and originally posted on LJ. All credit for "little headaches" to the wonderful Douglas Adams.

Suedehead

Draco sighed, and not for the first time that day. Quidditch practise was so tedious, actually Quidditch in its entirety had become a colossal bore. He snorted quietly to himself. Become. Who was he trying to kid? It had always been a colossal bore, a vacuous past-time to amuse the common masses. He'd always hated it and had taken no interest in it, either watching or playing it…until Potter. By Merlin, that scar faced bastard had a lot to answer for.

Oh for the love of W…

He rolled his eyes in disgust as he watched Crabbe totally fumble an easy pass from Goyle and plummet to the ground with a shriek. Tragically, Madam Hooch was close enough to see it and spoil the fun. All too quickly she arrested the idiot's fall with a hasty wave of her wand.

Draco slumped on his broomstick. Why did the world conspire to suck all the enjoyment out of his life? He scowled down at the interfering witch below; by far the most interesting thing to happen all day and she'd ruined it.

As he lifted his head a flash of vivid red caught his eye.

Shit.

He risked a glance in the direction of the Gryffindor stand. Oh, Merlin's beard. There he was. Again. It was seriously starting to freak Draco out. Everywhere he'd gone over the last week, Weasley had gone too. If he didn't know any better Draco would think he was being stalked. But that was ridiculous. The Weasel had never shown any excessive interest in him before - well, other than wanting to knock his teeth down his throat on a daily basis.

So why all this intense attention now?

He looked again; Weasley hadn't moved, his gaze steady and focused solely on Draco. And suddenly it was all too much. Draco had had enough. Flying swiftly over to the stand he stopped a couple of feet in front of the redheaded boy, hovering in the air.

"What's going on Weasley? Why are you following me?"

Draco had been aiming for calm indifference, but days of building frustration overtook him, and the words came out as a shrill squeak that left him red-faced and panting.

Weasley responded with a single raised eyebrow and a slight twitch of his lips, but the blue-eyed gaze didn't falter.

"What? What is it that you suddenly find so fascinating about me?"

This time the lips curled up into a knowing smile.

"Tell me, you bastard! Say something!" By this time, Draco's voice had risen to such a pitch that there was every chance that all dogs in the vicinity were clamping their paws over their ears and howling in pain.

Weasley shifted in his chair, and for a moment Draco thought he was going to stand up, but the irritating tit just stretched his unfeasibly long legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles; letting out a sigh the ginger git then raised his hands over his head in a lazy stretch, before lacing his fingers together behind his head, and closing his eyes.

Draco found himself suddenly dizzy with the effort not to notice several things all at once; the way the cheap, black, muggle jeans hugged long, firm thighs; black, muggle, jeans worn thin in all the right places; the bare strip of flesh revealed under a faded t-shirt; a pale expanse of oh so lickable throat; ridiculously long eyelashes fanning freckled cheeks that Draco's fingers twitched with the need to reach out and touch...

Suddenly, Weasley opened his eyes, and clearly amused by what he saw, his face split into a wide grin. And before Draco even had a chance to collect his shattered wits, the cheeky bastard stood up, winked and walked away, leaving behind one shaken, thoroughly turned on Slytherin (who wasn't even going to try to kid himself, that he wasn't watching the way the Gryffindor's arse moved in those deliciously well-worn jeans).

Pansy grinned as she looked up at the stand. Draco was still staring at Weasley's arse. She started to laugh. It took on a slightly hysterical edge when she thought about what Draco was going to do when he found out. There was a very good chance that Draco was going to murder her - slowly over several weeks with blunt, rusty implements.

She watched as the blond boy manoeuvred his broom in order to be in a better position to watch the retreating Gryffindor striding back towards school. Or maybe he wouldn't…

Of course, the truly scary thing was that it all pretty much depended on Weasley, and what he intended to do with his new found knowledge. From what she had observed recently, it seemed pretty clear that Weasley was intent on teasing Draco into an inch of his life. Well, she was fine with that…Draco could do with a bit of teasing and Merlin knew, his ego could do with being taken down a peg or two. But she also didn't want to see him permanently damaged.

She guessed what it all really came down to was Gryffindor decency. Pansy couldn't imagine Weasley teasing if he had no intention of eventually seeing it through. After seven years of having to witness the ginger prat's overblown self-sacrificing heroics, she was fairly sure that he didn't have it in him to be maliciously cruel, even to Draco. And, if she hadn't had a reasonably strong hunch that the Weasel's own interest in Draco went way beyond animosity, then she would never have armed him with the means to humiliate her best friend. Pansy may have had a cruel streak that delighted in seeing Draco suffer, but she didn't have a death wish.

She just hoped her faith in Weasley's honour hadn't been misplaced. With one last wry shake of the head, she turned and followed the Gryffindor's path back to school.

"Ron, you're doing it again." Hermione frowned at her friend.

"Doing what?" Ron didn't bother to shift his gaze as he spoke.

Hermione's frown deepened. "Staring at Malfoy. You've been doing it all week."

"I know, it's brilliant isn't it?" Ron finally dragged his eyes away from the Slytherin table, and looked over at Hermione. "I'm sure I saw his eye twitch earlier."

Harry sniggered at that, halting abruptly as Hermione transferred her frown from Ron to him. He shifted uncomfortably under her fierce scowl before dropping his gaze back down to his plate.

Having successfully reigned Harry in, Hermione returned her attention to Ron (for all the good it seemingly did). The annoying sod was back to staring over her shoulder again. She decided to teach him a lesson. If he was going to be so irritatingly obtuse, then she would give him a short, sharp shock and wipe that smug grin off his face.

"You do realise, Ron that if you continue to gaze lovingly at Malfoy, then he's going to start to think you fancy him." She folded her arms across her chest feeling supremely pleased with herself, and waited for Ron's inevitable outraged response.

Ron turned his head toward her and grinned. Standing up, he grabbed an apple from a bowl, took an enormous bite, and with his mouth still full, spluttered, "That's the plan!" And with a parting wink, he sauntered from the hall.

Harry snorted pumpkin juice through his nose. It wasn't pretty.

Dinner had been a bit of a trial if Draco was honest; every time he closed his eyes the imprint of Weasley's arse seared itself across the back of his eyelids, just like the annoying white spot left after staring at the sun too long. And didn't that analogy work, because Merlin knew, the red head's arse certainly rated as a heavenly body in Draco's world.

He watched now as Weasley stood up from the table. The annoying git had been staring at Draco for the entire length of the meal and suffice it to say Draco's nerves - not to mention other parts of his body – had had about as much as they could take. He let out a little sigh as he watched the lanky sod take an enormous bite out of an apple, devouring almost half in the process (the possibilities of what else that big mouth could devour suddenly darted unbidden into Draco's head and left him feeling a little woozy).

Pansy leant over to whisper in his ear. "Draco, are you sure you haven't developed asthma? Your breathing seems a little off these days."

Draco scowled at her. Bloody irritating bint. She'd interrupted a particularly vivid daydream.

"It's Weasley," he said, huffily.

Oh, I know it is Draco, Pansy thought. She shook her head in disgust at the boy's woeful attempt to cover up his blatant drooling over Weasley.

"His total lack of table manners is er…distracting," Draco carried on, oblivious to her pitying looks. "I mean just look at the over-tall idiot." And he paused to take another long look at the subject of his discourse.

Weasley was saying something to Granger, spraying her with stray bits of fruit in the process. Of course, the fact that he was bending down to lean on the table as he did so, was, Pansy was sure, in no way derailing Draco's train of thought. In fact, she was almost certain that Draco was hardly even noticing the way the black material of the boy's trousers stretched tight across his arse.

Yeah, right.

Pansy coughed loudly trying to bring the distracted blond back down to earth. When Draco continued to gaze across the room she tapped him lightly on the arm, but the dolt was clearly still frolicking on Planet Weasley. Exasperated, she slapped him hard on the back of his head.

"Bloody hell, woman, what was that for?" Draco turned to glare at her.

Well, she seemed to have finally regained his attention. "I was waiting for you to continue talking," Pansy said testily, hoping she looked as pissed off as she felt. Annoying little tit.

Draco frowned, still rubbing at his head. "Yes, well you didn't have to brain me. A polite cough would have sufficed."

Pansy rolled her eyes in disgust. "Of course it would-," but she got no further as their attention was arrested by a sudden commotion over at the Gryffindor table.

Weasley was walking away, while Potter appeared to have transformed into a human fountain.

"Oh, now that, that, is disgusting."

Pansy nodded her head in agreement; she tried to ignore the little voice that was trying to tell her that she really, really shouldn't find the sight of recycled pumpkin juice dribbling from someone's nose endearing. She sighed softly as she watched Granger hand the dripping boy a napkin.

"Parkinson, a word." Hermione nodded her head towards the exit.

Pansy raised an impeccably plucked eyebrow - repressing a shudder at the sight of the two hairy caterpillars nestling above Granger's own eyes - then stood gracefully, and walked slowly after the other girl. Normally she would have been tempted to tell the silly little Mudblood to bugger off, but she had a feeling that the upcoming conversation was going to prove entertaining.

Once outside, the girls began to walk slowly towards the lake.

"Right, Granger so what can I do for you?" Pansy glanced slyly at the other girl. "Need to borrow a plucking spell?"

Hermione scowled (which in Pansy's opinion did terrifying things to the caterpillars).

"What? No, it's about Ron and Malfoy."

"Oooh." Pansy stopped and turned toward the Gryffindor. "Is there a 'Ron and Malfoy' then?" She asked, waggling her own eyebrows.

Hermione stared at her open-mouthed for a moment before shaking her head and continuing. "Look I know you must have noticed Pansy so please don't play dumb - Crabbe and Goyle will feel threatened."

Pansy grinned, of course she'd never admit it, but she actually enjoyed her conversations with Granger; Hermione was really rather witty when the mood took her, and was certainly much more entertaining than most of the other blockheads Pansy was forced to share a common room with.

"I take it you mean Weasley's new found fascination with Draco?" Pansy asked.

Hermione nodded vigorously. "That, and Draco's suspicious failure to Crucio him in response."

Pansy nodded sagely. "Yes, that does seem rather odd doesn't it?" She smiled slyly at the other girl. "Unless, of course, you know all the facts."

Ten minutes later, both girls were sitting on the edge of the lake.

"Right, Granger, are you sitting comfortably?"

Hermione frowned. "Pansy, I swear I'll…"

Pansy grinned at the impatient Gryffindor. "Fine, then I'll begin. Last Friday evening after dinner, Draco and I got into a bit of a disagreement."

She was amused at Granger's look of surprise, obviously the other girl knew little about her and Draco's relationship. They had bickered incessantly since they had met at the tender age of four, and now they both felt the day wasted if they hadn't screamed a good few insults at each other before the sun went down.

On that particular evening, however, Draco had crossed the line, moved beyond their regular teasing snipes and touched a raw nerve. Of course, Granger didn't need to know that.

"Let's just say," Pansy continued, "that Draco threatened to tell my parents something that I rather they didn't know. I was so angry with him, that I left the common room rather hastily and the first person I ran into was Weasley. Quite literally. After he had helped me up - he's really rather sweet isn't he, the way he blushes and gets all flustered around the opposite sex?" She grinned over at Hermione, who glared back at her.

Pansy laughed. "Oh relax, Granger! Rest assured, I have no designs on your little Weasel." She grinned again. "The same, however, could not be said of dear Draco."

Hermione nearly gave herself whiplash as her head shot up to stare incredulously at the Slytherin girl.

"You mean…?"

Pansy interrupted her. "Yes, Draco fancies Weasley. Deliciously ironic don't you think?"

Hermione shook her head in amazement.

So…," Pansy paused waiting for Granger to catch up to her; she didn't have to wait long.

"Oh Merlin! You told Ron didn't you?"

Pansy's eyes were sparkling with amusement now. "Better than that. I showed him."

For a moment, Pansy thought Granger's caterpillars were going to jump into her hair and disappear, and she couldn't help but grin. To her surprise, Hermione broke into a matching grin.

"I must say, Granger you seem to be taking this remarkably well." Pansy said; she had expected a much more explosive response.

Hermione shrugged. "Why wouldn't I?"

Pansy let out a snort (though she'd deny it to her dying day) and curled her lip. "Oh, let me see, first off, I've just told you that a Slytherin, moreover the boy who called you a Mudblood, and quite possibly your biggest enemy, fancies one of your best friends."

Hermione shrugged again. "Draco's not so bad."

Pansy narrowed her eyes and frowned at the Gryffindor in front of her. "We are talking about the same boy here, right? Skinny, pasty-faced, obnoxious, likes to torture poor defenceless kitties and the odd stray Gryffindor?"

"Yes, that certainly sounds like the chap." Hermione laughed.

Pansy just shook her head. May the Dark Lord save her from idiots, drunks and Gryffindors.

"Look, it's not that hard to understand." Hermione smiled at Pansy. "Sure, I hated Draco when he called me a Mudblood, and it was definitely one of the greatest highlights of my life when I punched the pointy-faced git on the end of his pointy nose." She shrugged. "But, that was then. We've all done a lot of growing up since then. Well, some of us have, I suspect Draco is still an immature little berk."

Pansy nodded, oh yeah.

"It just seems silly to carry on hating him for something he did when he was twelve."

"Actually, Draco called you a stupid, bloody Mudblood only this morning-"

Hermione gave her a look.

"You're right," Pansy rolled her eyes, "we were just crazy kids."

"So." Hermione looked at her expectantly.

Pansy looked back. "So…what, Granger? You may have to be a little more explicit."

The other girl pulled a face. "I mean, so what did you show Ron? And do I really want to know? I hear bleaching your eyes can be quite painful."

Pansy laughed. "Ah, yes, that. Well, I didn't actually show him myself. I just might have implied that if he broke into Draco's room, using the password 'Snuffles,' tapped his wand on the third drawer of the bureau while saying 'Weasley is my king,' then, he might, just might, find something of interest inside." She grinned. "If Weasley then chose to read what he found there is that really my fault?"

Hermione shook her head slowly. "You are truly evil Pansy."

Pansy grinned back. "I know. It's a gift."

They both burst out laughing.

Hermione recovered first. "So what exactly did the poor boy read?"

"Poor boy, Granger?" Pansy cocked her head to one side. "Does Weasley seem upset by what he read to you?"

Hermione paused in thought. Now that she thought about it, Ron had been really happy this past week, giddy almost. Whatever he had read it certainly hadn't upset him.

She smiled at the Slytherin girl. Hermione had been nursing a certain suspicion recently regarding Ron's feelings towards Malfoy, and if Ron had read something written by Draco that had him bouncing around with a silly smirk on his face, then Hermione could probably guess why.

Pansy was nodding back at her, smile wide and eyes bright. "Did you know Draco likes to draw, Hermione?"

After dinner, Draco decided to go for a ride on his broom. It had been a very trying day – everywhere he'd looked it was Weasley's arse, or Weasley's eyelashes, or Weasley's long fingers – he needed to clear his head, and a nice bracing ride in the fresh air would be just the ticket.

He spent the walk from his room to the entrance door, sternly telling himself, that the fact that he would also be able to spot Weasley better by air, had had no influence on his decision whatsoever. (Draco was vaguely worried that his inner voice was beginning to sound disturbingly like Pansy).

He had been flying around the grounds for about five minutes (and not at all looking out for vivid red hair), when Draco spotted him, lying alone on the grass on the far side of the lake.

He turned his broom and headed over as casually as he could. As he drew closer he noticed that the Gryffindor had his eyes closed. Relieved that he hadn't been seen by the red head, Draco leant forward, resting his chin on his crossed hands, and settled down to enjoy the view.

Ron smiled as he watched Malfoy's sudden change in direction. He trailed the blond's approach through carefully hooded eyes, suppressing the urge to grin as the boy halted above him. Well, seeing as Malfoy had made such an effort to join him, Ron felt it was probably only fair that he provide a decent show.

Biting his lip to suppress the rather girly giggle that was threatening to escape, Ron slowly reached a hand down to the hem of his t-shirt, lazily drawing the material up to his midriff. Sighing, he began to trail his long fingers languorously across the bared skin.

Malfoy fell off his broom.

Half an hour later, Ron was waiting anxiously outside the Infirmary. He had bitten most of his nails down to the quick and he had a familiar gnawing pain in his stomach; he recognised it as his dear old friend guilt. Ron hadn't meant to hurt Malfoy, just tease him for a bit. Trust the useless tosser to go and do something as overly dramatic as fall twenty feet off his bleeding broom. Luckily, Malfoy had landed on his head, so hopefully the damage would be minimal.

Just then, Pansy walked out looking very serious.

"Madam Pomfrey says you can go in now." She said. "Please try not to tire the poor boy out."

Ron nodded solemnly at her and headed through the doors.

Pansy managed to reign in her laughter until Weasley was out of sight, and then she let out a loud snort, before erupting into giggles, continuing to laugh herself into helpless hiccups as she made her way back to her room.

Oh, My Dark Lord. She was going to dine out on this for years.

Years.

Ron walked hesitantly into the ward really not sure about his reception. Malfoy was lying on one of the beds looking very pale and still, but there was no outward sign of injury. As Ron approached the bed, the blond opened his eyes and let out a groan.

"Oh Merlin, not you." He closed his eyes again and sank lower into the mattress.

In spite of his feelings of guilt, Ron broke into a grin; he couldn't help it, there was just something about Malfoy that brought out his wicked side, and well, at least the other boy hadn't hit him with a curse. Yet.

Draco closed his eyes tightly and tried his best to disappear into the bed, hopefully if he stayed like that for long enough the stupid bastard would take the hint and bugger off.

He couldn't believe he'd allowed himself to become so engrossed on what Weasley had been doing with his hands, that he'd leant too far forward and fell off his bloody broom. Draco also had a horrible feeling that he may have been drooling just before he fell (with a bit of luck the teasing bastard had thought it was rain).

He heard the other boy shuffling his feet and wondered if he dared risk a peek. No, he had to be strong, this could only end in tears – Draco's tears. And that was becoming all too familiar lately. Pansy had suggested he check for breasts last week. Bloody cheek. They'd been manly tears of frustration.

"Er, Malfoy."

Oh shit, Weasley didn't want to talk about it did he?

Draco suppressed a groan. As if it wasn't bad enough that he'd fallen right in front of the stupid prick, but then Pansy had gleefully told him that she'd seen Weasley levitating Draco's unconscious body up to the Hospital Wing. Draco had no recollection between landing and waking up on the otherwise empty ward, having been out cold for the entire drama. His virtue could have been compromised and he wouldn't even have known. Draco sighed wistfully.

Weasley's cough dragged his thoughts back from their happy place. Draco took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

Ron let out a startled yelp as the boy on the bed snapped his eyes open and glared at him. He had just become resigned to the fact that Malfoy was going to ignore him until he went away, so was somewhat taken aback at this sudden reversal.

Unfortunately, now that he had the other boy's full attention, he wasn't exactly sure what to do with it. Ron had an uneasy feeling that he should apologise, but then, that would mean revealing that he'd known what affect his actions would have, and that would surely lead to shouting, broken furniture, rivers of blood (Malfoy's usual reactions to being thwarted).

He eyed the other boy's angry glare; yeah, there was a very good chance that Draco was about to throw all his toys out the pram.

Draco was clinging desperately to his anger as if it was a lifebelt. Sadly, he could feel his grasp slipping and had a feeling he was about to go under.

If only Weasley didn't look so completely adorable, shuffling nervously from foot to foot, with a delightful blush spreading over his freckled cheeks…

Fuck, Pansy was right he was turning into a girl.

"Oh, for fucks sake, say something, Weasley." Draco had to get the boy out of there quickly before he embarrassed himself. Again.

Weasley stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers causing Draco's eyes to drop instinctively to where the material was now stretched enticingly across his…

Draco bit his lip and willed his head not to explode. Rallying all of his remaining strength he managed to force his eyes back to the other boy's face. Luckily, Weasley was still staring at his feet.

"Could we please conclude this swiftly, Weasel? I have the mother and father of a headache, and I can feel lots of little headaches coming along."

Commending his spirit to whatever gods existed, Ron lifted his head, took a deep breath, and started to talk.

"Er, look Malfoy. I, er, didn't mean for you to...you know, fall, or anything."

Malfoy frowned, and Ron hurried on. "I just thought erm, it would be a bit of a laugh to well, er, tease you a little."

Ron looked back down at his feet blushing madly. "So, you see, I wasn't actually trying to injure you or anything." He looked up hopefully at Malfoy; Ron wasn't encouraged by the look he saw on the boy's face. Oh dear.

He continued in a rush. "It's just, after what Pansy said, you know about, about your erm, journal." Ron paused to take another deep breath, there was no going back now. "And I would never have broken into your room to read it, only she was so insistent that it was the right thing to do, and she went on so much about a violation of my human rights, and, and, so many illustrations, and positions and, and…" He came to a stuttering halt.

Draco's blush had reached his fingertips by the time Weasley shut up, but he felt strangely calm. The worst had happened. His previously happy, well-ordered life had been destroyed. It lay in tatters at his feet. Destroyed by his best friend. And yet, here Draco was taking it in stride. Handling it in a mature, measured manner.

Draco turned slowly toward the bedside cabinet, reached across to pick up the half-full jug of water there and hurled it at Weasley's head.

Luckily, years of living with Ginny had honed Ron's instincts and he was ducking before the jug left Malfoy's hand. He wasted no time after that in beating a hasty retreat; better part of valour and all that…

He was half-way back to the Gryffindor tower when Ron heard a blood-curdling scream echo off the castle walls.

Ron looked up at the sound of his door opening and frowned as Harry wandered in. One of these days, the Boy Who Lived was going to walk in on something that would dearly make him wish that he was the Boy Who Learned To Bloody Knock First.

Harry flopped down onto the bed.

"Er, something I can help you with, mate?" Ron smiled at his friend.

The bespectacled wizard looked up at him hopefully. "Don't suppose you've got any orphaned chocolate frogs looking for a good home?"

"Sorry, mate, you and Seamus cleaned me out last night." Ron didn't mention his emergency stash; he had a feeling he was going to need it later himself.

Harry shrugged philosophically. "Worth a try." He started nervously picking at the bed cover.

Ron had a feeling he knew where this was going, and he wasn't quite sure he was ready to have this particular conversation with his best friend. Or anyone.

"Er, Ron can I ask you something?" Harry continued to look at the cover.

Well, that couldn't be good, not if Harry couldn't even look at him.

"Sure, Harry. What's on your mind?" Ron hoped he sounded less nervous than he felt.

The other boy lay back on the bed and suddenly seemed to find the ceiling fascinating. Harry's next words came out in a rush, as if he was afraid that if he didn't get it all said at once he'd lose his nerve.

"Neville told me that you took Malfoy to the Infirmary after he fell off his broom earlier and that you waited to make sure he was okay and then even went in and visited him."

Harry paused to take a hasty breath. "And well, Hermione was right at dinner…you have been staring at him an awful lot, and then what you said, you know, about, erm, a plan to make him, er, think you fancied him."

He'd slowed down now, as though he'd realised where his words were taking him and had suddenly remembered that he might not want to get there.

Sitting up, he finally looked at Ron. "And well I was wondering if maybe, er, perhaps, possibly, erm, you did." Harry blushed. "Fancy him that is. Er…"

Poor Harry looked so earnest that for a moment Ron was tempted to deny everything, but he couldn't lie – not to Harry (besides Ron had a feeling that things had gone too far for lies).

"Yeah, Harry," he said. "Yeah, I do." Ron stared out of the window waiting for the fall out.

The other boy shifted on the bed. "Oh, okay. You do know that the stupid poncy git fancies you too, right?"

For a moment the only sound in the room was the metaphorical thud that echoed through Ron's head as his jaw hit the floor.

Harry was the first to speak. "Er, Ron, you might want to shut your mouth now." Then, with a wicked grin. "Malfoy might have a use for it but I'll pass if you don't mind."

Ron closed his mouth with an audible snap. He looked to where a still grinning Harry lay on his bed waggling his eyebrows madly.

"Right, that's it," Ron declared. "From now on, I'm rationing the amount of time you spend with Seamus."

Harry's only response was more furious waggling.

The next morning, Draco didn't so much walk from the Infirmary, as stalk. He clearly had something on his mind, and was almost certainly going to be sharing those thoughts with someone in particular in the very near future (there was more than a fair chance that this particular someone was not going to be enjoying the discussion).

When Draco arrived at his destination, he didn't bother knocking at the door - he actually considered it an act of supreme self-control that he didn't blast the bloody thing off its hinges.

The sole occupant of the room stood up at Draco's entrance and slowly raised her arm so he could see what she was holding.

Of course, Pansy had known that this day would come. And so, like a true Slytherin, she had taken the necessary precautions, had a defensive strategy all thought out. True, there was the definite possibility of casualties but such are the vagaries of war.

"Put the wand down, Draco," she paused, wiggling the thing in her hand. "Or the penguin gets it."

It all proved too much for the already distraught boy in front of her. He collapsed onto the floor and howled for Mr Snuffles.

Draco's gender transformation was apparently complete.

On Draco's fourth birthday, Lucius had taken him to the zoo.

This had come as a bit of a surprise to the small boy. His father rarely spent more than ten minutes of his busy day in Draco's company (usually just long enough to tell him what happened to naughty little boys who didn't grow up to be good little Death Eaters). A father/son outing to the zoo was pretty much low down on Draco's list of things to expect, even on his birthday.

Much to his relief, not thirty seconds after arriving at the foul-smelling place, Lucius had announced, in a most solemn voice. "This is not an excursion, boy. It is the start of your education."

Now, that was more like the world as Draco knew it.

He'd received a "Stern Lesson In Life" as his first ever birthday gift and had become rather familiar with the packaging over the ensuing years. This year's gift was entitled "Know Your Enemy" (batteries not included).

For the next four hours, Draco was dragged from one enclosure to the next, accompanied by Lucius' scathing commentary on how pathetic Muggles truly were if the animals they held in fear and awe were anything to go by.

The tiger, apparently, was a perfect example. It only had ONE mouth and no magical powers so really, what was all the fuss about? Why were they even kept in cages? On, and on, and on, the long day wore ever on.

Until they came to the penguins.

Draco took one look at the ridiculous waddling beasts and fell instantly in love. While his father berated their appearance and belittled the Muggle children with their noses pressed to the glass, Draco stood in stunned silence, eyes wide and a dreamy smile on his lips. (In the many years since that day, only one other sight had ever rendered him quite as awestruck - and really Weasley emerging dripping wet from the lake that time had been a truly magnificent sight).

It had taken Lucius twenty minutes, and several promises of eternities of pain, to finally haul the boy away from his new found love. However, once in the gift shop Draco had refused point blank to leave until his father bought him a stuffed penguin. He'd employed his usual means of persuasion - sitting down in the middle of the gift shop and screaming blue murder. After several moments of contemplation, Lucius had decided that the trouble of producing another heir, far outweighed the trouble of giving in to the red-faced howling beast that was currently possessing his son's body (lucky for Draco that his father was a screaming homosexual who'd really rather have his bits removed, than have to wave them anywhere near Narcissa again).

And thus Mr Snuffles made his rather inauspicious entry into Draco's life.

Pansy rolled her eyes at her friend's melodramatic response. It's not as if she'd ever actually damage the stupid thing. Pansy was cruel, but not that cruel; she knew what the ratty old toy meant to Draco.

Half an hour later, the tears had finally stopped, and most of the snot had been wiped away. They were both lying on Pansy's bed, Draco's head resting on her chest, as she stroked the stupid idiot's hair.

"What am I going to do?" Draco's voice trembled as he spoke. "Weasley knows Pansy. He knows. My life is over."

She somehow resisted the urge to smack him. "He's known for over a week, Draco." Pansy paused to allow her words to register. "And how exactly has your life in that past week been ruined again?"

Several minutes passed without a word. Then Draco sat up and looked down at her with a frown. "Well, now that you mention it…"

Pansy sat up too. "Exactly," she said. "Don't you think that he'd have reacted a little more hysterically if he'd been that repulsed by the idea of you wanting in his pants?"

Draco's thoughtful look morphed instantly into a scowl. "Must you reduce everything to your crass level, Pansy?"

She laughed, then said. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Draco, of course, I meant to say the idea that you want to serenade him on a nightly basis and have his babies."

"Sarcastic bitch."

Pansy stuck her tongue out. "Look, Draco, the point is, if the Weasel had really been appalled at what he read, not to mention saw," she paused to winked at him. "Then surely, he would have told Potter and Granger? The fact that Potter's head hasn't exploded in the last few days is probably proof of his continued ignorance, and as I had to tell Granger myself-"

"You WHAT?!"

Oops. Pansy carefully reached down to where Mr Snuffles lay forgotten on the floor; she had a feeling that she might need his services again in the very near future.

Draco was still angry as they took their usual seats at dinner (his limping friends bore a variety of sore shins, aching ribs and throbbing feet as testimony to this fact).

Goyle leant over towards Crabbe. "So what's up with Draco?" he asked in what he probably thought was a discreet voice (it wasn't).

Crabbe nodded knowingly and glancing over at the still glowering blond answered in an equally indiscreet voice. "Pansy says it's his time of the month."

Greg screwed his face up painfully in thought. "What?" he said. "Tuesday?"

Draco dropped his head onto the table and groaned. Seriously, come the revolution and those two clowns were going to be first up against the wall.

Ten minutes of blissful silence followed. Sadly, it was cut down in its' prime when Goyle spoke up again.

"Funny though, I thought it was 'cos Weasley wouldn't stand still long enough for Draco to shag him."

Pansy made a mental note to commiserate with Potter at some point about just how painful it was when liquid spewed out of one's nose.

Once the throbbing in his head had subsided to manageable levels, Draco slowly sat back up. He had carefully avoided looking over at the Gryffindor table since taking his seat, but now he risked a glance in that familiar direction. And that's what really rankled, what made Draco's stomach clench and his heart sick. The thought that he would have to give that up.

For seven years, Draco's guilty pleasure had been Weasel Watching. It was his secret comfort. Weasley could despise him, loathe him, wish him dead or just gone, but he couldn't take this away from him. At least Draco was allowed to look. There had been times when that was all that kept him at the damn school. He'd lie awake at night, and anticipate the arrival of another day, another day he got to spend in search of all that vibrant fury (while Draco's dreams were filled with a kaleidoscope of reds and blues against a pale dappled background). And now, even that had been stolen from him. Stolen with a carelessness that made Draco want to scream and put his hand through glass.

So he took one last look. One final gaze before he had to deny himself even that. Draco let out a wistful sigh, that turned into a hitched breath, as Weasley raised his head and Draco suddenly found himself enveloped in blue. Startled momentarily by the shy smile that spread across the Gryffindor's lips, Draco missed his chance to look away, to pass off his own looking as nothing more than a casual glance.

And well, Draco found he didn't mind being caught after all. He didn't mind at all.

Pansy rolled her eyes in disgust as she looked at her friend. She couldn't believe that Draco had had the temerity to berate her for betraying his trust by revealing his deepest, darkest secret to all and sundry - two bloody people Draco - when all anyone had to do was look at the poor love-struck clown to know the truth.

She rammed her arm sharply into Draco's elbow, dislodging it rather effectively from where it rested on the table. Unfortunately, as it had also been supporting Draco's head the ensuing thud as the boy's chin hit the table echoed rather loudly throughout the hall.

Pansy tried hard to suppress her grin. "Oh dear, how clumsy of me." She smiled sweetly at a now fuming Draco as he rubbed furiously at his abused chin.

Glancing over at the Gryffindor table, she saw Weasley wincing in sympathy. Leaning closer, she whispered into Draco's ear. "Don't look now, Draco darling, but I think Weasley wants to come over and kiss it better."

Draco immediately stopped glaring at her and shot a look over at Weasley. Almost instantly his face transformed from dark scowl to ridiculous smile.

Pansy shook her head in disgust. Ain't love grand.

The looks being exchanged between the two besotted fools grew ever more heated, but little else occurred for a while, and Pansy was beginning to get bored.

Until the unfortunate incident involving Gregory and the bowl of mashed potatoes.

(Later, Draco was adamant that he wasn't to blame. Apparently, Weasley eating dessert required some sort of a health warning: "do not watch, as may result in those of a delicate nature developing sudden uncontrollable arm spasms").

Pansy looked across the table at Goyle's stricken face, then down to where the potatoes were slowly sliding down his chest. "Would you like gravy with that?" she asked, nodding helpfully at the boy's shirt front.

Crabbe leant forward, darting a quick glance at Draco who seemed oblivious to this latest development, and asked conspiratorially. "Is this something to do with Draco's 'time of the month' too?"

"Oh no, Vincent." Pansy flicked her eyes to her friend. "This was caused by Draco's extreme fondness for bananas."

She leant closer to Draco's ear and spoke louder in an attempt to distract the idiot from Weasley. "You see the stupid dolt didn't see the large bowl of them right under his nose." She nodded over towards the Gryffindor table. "And he thought Weasley was about to devour the last one and became a little over-wrought."

She nudged the blond boy with her shoulder. "Isn't that right, Draco?" She nudged him again, harder this time, and finally succeeded in tearing his attention away from the redhead at the other table.

"What?" Draco turned towards her, a rather dazed, beatific smile still on his face.

Pansy rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Isn't that true, Draco?" she asked. "Weasley's banana is the only one for you."

She watched in amusement as her words slowly seeped through to the bewildered boy's brain. The smile had slipped away to be replaced by a fierce scowl. "What the hell are you talking about, you silly bint?"

There you go, there's the Draco we all know and love.

Catching sight of Goyle, Draco shifted his attention to the unfortunate boy as he tried to remove the last of the potatoes from his shirt. "Merlin, Goyle, you are such a pig."

Then, shaking his head in disgust, he returned his gaze to Weasley, who was now reaching for a bowl of strawberries. Draco let out a contented sigh and rested his chin back onto his raised hands, the smile settling easily back into place.

Draco and Pansy were the last to leave the hall.

Draco claimed he wanted to finish his apple, but Pansy knew that after watching Weasley slurping his way through a dozen strawberries, Draco needed some time to erm…settle back down as it were.

She shifted herself up on to the table, ignoring Draco's appalled look. Leaning over she whacked the boy sharply across the head.

"Ow!" Draco clutched his head, frowning at her. "What the fuck was that for, you silly cow?"

"That," Pansy explained, "was for accusing me of sharing your big, ugly secret. Amid much arm waving and hysterical tears I might add!"

Draco opened his mouth to respond, but a hastily raised finger warned him not to even try it. He had quite a bit of experience with that finger so didn't attempt to continue.

"You have the absolute gall to wail at me about 'betrayal' and 'back-stabbing' and then, then," Pansy was in full flow now. "And then, you blatantly flaunt your so called 'secret' in front of two hundred gawking spectators!"

Draco frowned in genuine confusion. "What are you talking about? 'Blatantly flaunt'? I did no such thing. As always, I was a master of discretion and subtlety. I'm not even sure Weasley himself noticed my occasional glance in his direction, let alone anyone else."

Pansy slapped her hand to her forehead. "Oh please! Can you hear yourself?" She shook her head in disbelief. "'Discretion', 'subtlety', 'occasional'! Draco, you and Weasley spent over an hour and a half eye-fucking! Do you honestly think no one noticed?" (Good grief, she'd even seen McGonagall loosening her blouse and fanning herself at one point).

Draco folded his arms across his chest and pouted. "Really Pansy, I'm sure your parents would be thrilled to know that all the money that they spent sending you to that posh summer school for young ladies has paid off, producing such a well-spoken, genteel sort of girl as it clearly has."

Pansy gave him a pointed look. "Do the words 'pot', 'kettle' and 'black' mean anything to you, Draco?" She tilted her head as if in thought. "Now, let's see if I can remember the quote exactly 'every time I catch a glimpse of Weasley's arse, I just want to bend him over the nearest convenient surface and fuck him into the ground." She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Or how about, 'the sight of the Weasel in his Quidditch gear, makes me want to reach inside my trousers and touch myself until I co-'"

"Yes, yes, I think you've made your point!" Draco turned accusing eyes on her. "And that's another thing we've not really addressed. How dare you break into my room and read my diary. And then go off and tell someone else how to bloody well do it!"

He paused in thought for a moment, frowning deeper. "And just how did you know how to do it? I had taken very strong security measures to protect my privacy."

Pansy shook her head slowly. "Draco, my blind, half-deaf, curse-addled great aunt could have guessed your passwords."

Draco stared in open-mouthed shock for a moment, before recovering his wits. "Don't be ridiculous, Pansy. I have an extremely cunning and singularly devious mind, few if any can penetrate its depths."

Pansy snorted and rolled her eyes. Just then, the last occupant of the Hufflepuff table walked by. Pansy shouted over to him. "Hey you!"

The boy looked up startled at being addressed by one of the Slytherin hierarchy; he was a first year and clearly appalled to find himself the subject of her scrutiny.

"It's okay," Pansy tried to sound reassuring, but was well aware that the murderous look Draco was currently throwing the poor boy wasn't really helping her case. "Look, I just want to ask you something."

The boy nodded nervously.

Pansy smiled encouragingly. "If I asked you what Draco Malfoy's most treasured possession was, what would you say?"

The boy gulped loudly and his eyes shifted fearfully from Pansy to Draco.

"Don't worry," Pansy assured him. "I won't let him hex you."

If anything, this seemed to terrify the boy even more, but at least it forced a response, evidently he wasn't keen to stick around long enough to test her promise. Taking a deep breath and darting a last swift glance at Draco, he spat out, "Mr Snuffles!" After a brief pause he elaborated with, "that's his stuffed penguin."

The boy needn't have worried about Draco's possible response as the Slytherin was far too busy doing an impression of a demented guppy to do much else.

Taking advantage of Draco's momentary distraction - not to mention Pansy's laughing fit - the kid beat a hasty retreat towards the exit. Just before he reached the door, however, he stopped and turned back.

"Miss!" He shouted back to Pansy.

Pansy, still doubled over with laughter, could only raise her head in answer, but the Hufflepuff was happy to take this as permission to continue.

"I think that Mr Snuffles might be on his way out." He risked a quick glance at Draco. "And Mr Weasel might be on his way in!" And the cheeky bugger actually winked at her, before turning tail and running for his life.

That was it. Pansy fell off the table laughing.

Draco was trudging his way disconsolately towards the dungeons, his humiliation complete, when his way was suddenly blocked by a grinning Granger. Draco leapt back in fright, a rather high-pitched squeak escaping his lips. Bloody hell, her eyebrows were terrifying!

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He screeched at her. "Give a boy some warning before you set your larvae at him, for Merlin's sake."

Granger frowned, making the eyebrows do strange and horrible things.

Draco shuddered. "Never mind. What do you want you dirty little Mud…Gryffindor." Draco figured if he wanted to entice Weasley into his bed, then perhaps he should start making nice with his friends. Urgh, the things he did for a nice arse.

The stupid girl actually had the gall to laugh and then thrust a piece of paper at him. "Here! Ron asked me to give you this," she said, and with a flick of her bushy hair she flounced away.

Draco leant against the wall and stared at the paper in his hand. He was inordinately pissed off to notice that his stupid bloody hands were shaking. It wasn't as if he cared about what the ginger git had to say. Then, the big girly part of him (the one Draco liked to think he kept buried deep down inside, but which Pansy insisted go out shopping with her every Saturday), let out a groan and thought please, please let him like me. Draco let his head fall back against the wall. Fuck, he was doomed.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself away from the wall and looked back down at the paper in his hand. Then with shaky fingers he unfolded the note.

Meet me in the Gryffindor stand at 8pm. R.W.

Draco let out the breath he'd been holding and allowed a slow smile to spread across his face.

Weasley arrived first. Not too surprising, given that Draco had deliberately positioned himself behind the stand opposite, for the sole purpose of getting a good, long look at the other boy before he actually joined him.

Draco sighed loudly as the Gryffindor lowered his body into a seat and stretched out those long, long legs. Omnioculars were wonderful things.

Weasley reached up a hand and slipped his long fingers through his hair. Draco groaned and took a step closer. He watched in fascination as Weasley hitched a leg onto the back of the seat in front and let his knee fall outwards, giving Draco a quite magnificent view of…those amazing Muggle jeans.

Then, to Draco's wide-eyed wonder, he started to trail one hand lazily up the inside seam of his bent leg. Up and up it went, pausing at his groin, and then, down, down. Draco found his breathing unconsciously following the rhythm of those artful fingers - breathe in on the upward swipe, and out on the downward spiral - until he felt quite light-headed. Just when he thought he might keel over, the hand stopped.

Draco lifted the omnioculars up to Weasley's face, hoping for a hint of what he would do next.

Weasley waved.

The dirty, sneaky, conniving, sexy bastard was waving right at him.

Draco lowered the omnioculars and let out a huffed breath. So much for stealth.

By the time Draco was walking towards where Weasley was seated, he was pretty much over his fit of pique. After all, while it might well be a bit embarrassing to be caught peeking, surely the fact that the other boy had been willing to put on a show was a good sign.

Weasley was still sprawled in his seat, although both legs were now on the floor. Draco forced himself to stop just before he reached the other boy and leant back against the railing. Desperately trying for nonchalant (Draco was pretty sure he failed miserably), he nodded a greeting at the redhead.

Weasley leant forward, bracing both elbows on his thighs. He looked up shyly at Draco through pale eyelashes and the Slytherin nearly swallowed his tongue. Merlin, he was a dead man.

"So…" Weasley's voice was low and husky. "Are we doing this?" And he reached out a freckled hand to touch Draco's trembling thigh.

"Yes." Draco squeaked back.

Weasley stood up and pressed his long frame up against Draco. Placing his hands on Draco's hips, he leant forward slowly until their lips brushed feather soft against each other.

Draco suspected that his brain may have been melting out of his ears. He really didn't care. Suddenly, unable to help himself, he lurched forward and sucked Weasley's lower lip into his mouth. That seemed all the encouragement the other boy needed and he opened his mouth and let Draco in.

Eventually, they had to part or pass out. Personally, Draco would have happily opted for the second option, but sadly the other boy went with the first.

For a long moment, they just stood, wrapped in each other's arms. Then, Weasley grinned and said. "So, this journal of yours…"

Draco ducked his head and to his undying chagrin blushed. But really, just how much humiliation could one bloke take?

He was surprised by a low chuckle from Weasley. His arms were still wrapped tightly around Draco's waist so he used his nose to nudge the Slytherin's head back up until they were looking into each other's eyes. He smiled at Draco, and then leant forward to place a light kiss at the edge of his mouth. "I enjoyed reading it, Draco," he said softly. "You have quite the imagination there and who knew you were so artistic."

Draco buried his face in the redhead's shoulder but Weasley just leant further forward so he could whisper low in his ear. "I was particularly intrigued by page seventy-three…is that even physically possible?" He paused to suck wetly on Draco's earlobe.

Draco bit on his lip to stifle the groan that was fighting its way to the surface. He nearly groaned again - this time in disappointment - when Weasley released his now, rather soggy ear.

"Of course, I'm fairly limber, and surprisingly flexible for someone of my build," Weasley paused to allow his words to sink in, continuing only once the sudden hitch in Draco's breathing confirmed that they had. "So, it probably could work. Why don't we go back to your room and give it a try?" And he lowered his head and sucked gently at Draco's pale skin.

For a moment Draco thought his legs would give out, but then, one word filtered through the mist of lust that currently constituted his brain. Room. He grabbed hold of Weasley's hand and pulled the startled boy after him, as he set off running in the direction of the dungeons.

They were about half-way there when something other than "room", "bed", and "naked" finally penetrated Draco's brain. He stopped abruptly causing Weasley to crash into him.

Once he had recovered from the impact, Weasley stared at him with wide eyes, clearly wondering why they'd stopped.

When Draco looked up into Weasley's flushed face the sight of the Gyffindor's bright eyes and kiss-bruised lips nearly unglued him again. The temptation to just jump the gorgeous thing then and there was almost overwhelming, but then wiser heads prevailed - for page seventy-three he'd need more leverage and a softer landing.

"Er, Weasley, I think it might be better if we go to your room. Mine is, erm, currently occupied," he stammered.

"Oh, is that all," Weasley said, sounding relieved. And renewing his grip on Draco's hand, he started to run back towards the Gryffindor tower. Draco tried his best to remain upright as he ran along behind.

Thank goodness he'd remembered in time that he'd left Mr Snuffles enjoying a tea party on his bed with Fluffy, the stuffed Flobberworm, and Bendy, his rubber Grindylow.

While sharing the contents of his journal appeared to be working out in Draco's favour, some things really were just best kept to himself.

Four hours later, two tired, satiated, and very, very naked boys lay on Weasley's bed. Draco was trailing a hand lazily up and down the redhead's back, still lost in the newness of being able to touch.

Weasley sighed and his eyes fluttered open. He smiled over at the other boy. "Mmm…that's nice."

Draco smiled back and rested his hand on the small of Weasley's back. His smile suddenly fell away, as he watched Weasley's face break into a sudden scowl.

Oh shit, Draco thought. He's just remembered that he hates me.

Ron sat up and reached under his pillow. His fingers closed around the edges of what his hand had touched a moment ago. Pulling the object out from under the pillow he frowned down at Draco who was blushing madly.

It was a book, a book that hadn't been there when Ron had woken up that morning. He raised his eyebrows in mild enquiry at Draco, who was looking uncharacteristically embarrassed.

"Did you…?" He started to say, but Draco sat up hastily and interrupted him.

"Look," he blurted. "I didn't mean to imply that this would be anything other than a one-off. And, and I understand if you don't want to do it again." He paused to glance at Ron.

Ron gave him an encouraging smile and Draco seemed to lose some of his nervousness and smiled back. "But well, if you did want to…continue this, I thought you might want to study up…"

Ron sat up straighter and opened the book. Turning to the first page, he paused to cough dramatically, and then, with a wink at a now grinning Draco, he started to read. "The Illustrated Journal of Draco Malfoy, Volume Two…"