The Trouble With Harry

LOVE

Harry LOVES Draco. Draco LOVES Harry. RonÂ…poor Ron, nobody LOVES him. THE END

They thought about Harry and how hot Harry was and they said, "Harry is so hot," and they thought some more about the hotness of Harry.

The Trouble with Harry

Chapter 1

: The Early Bird Gets the Â…ermÂ…Harry?

A beam of sunlight streaked down through the gap between the curtains of the dormitory window. Ron stirred and opened one eye as the beam fell across his face drawing him awake. He turned and looked at the clock on the nightstand next to his bed.

6:00.

Time to get up.

He pulled the blankets off of himself and dropped his feet to the stone floor, shivering as pinpricks of cold ran up his legs. He stood up and stretched and surveyed the dorm. All the bed curtains were drawn closed except that of the bed next to his. Good, still asleep.

He went to the window and peeked out as his breath condensed into a mist. Shivering he shut the pane. Ron never understood why Harry liked to keep it open during the night. It always got so chilly by morning. He had said something about it being less confining. Ron supposed it had to do with living in a cupboard most of his childhood.

Turning, Ron looked across the room past partially drawn crimson curtains at the bed and the boy sleeping soundly there. He walked over and stared down at Harry.

Harry Potter.

His best friend for the past six years.

Harry Potter.

His accomplice. His partner in crime. Almost a brother.

Almost.

Harry Potter.

That name had meant so much to everyone in the wizarding community, but it had never meant as much to them as it did to him.

Harry Potter.

The boy he loved.

He reached down and softly brushed a finger over HarryÂ’s scar. Harry shifted slightly and quivered in his sleep. Ron withdrew his icy hand and pulled the covers up around the sleeping boy. He once again regarded HarryÂ’s face. It was twisted into a slight grimace.

‘He always looks like that when he’s sleeping,’ thought Ron perturbed.

It gave him yet another reason to wish he could hold this boy in his arms. Just the thought chased away the chill from his body. To hold him and comfort him, run his hands through those midnight tressesÂ…Ron sighed looking at his watch.

Time to get ready.

After getting his clothes from the wardrobe, he padded lightly to the bathroom. He stripped off his bright orange Cannons pajamas and stepped into the steaming shower. Quickly he lathered himself up and washed the suds from his skin, grabbing his towel to dab himself dry. He threw his robes on over his head and stood in front of the bathroom mirror, hair dripping and hanging limply over his eyes.

"HmmÂ…this is going to take a while," he mumbled to himself.

He started to blow dry his hair, using a quick drying charm, resulting in a mess of red locks standing up every which way in a tangled heap, ‘fro style. He shook his head at his misbehaving mop…it seemed to be getting more difficult to manage than even Harry’s lately.

"OkÂ…letÂ’s get to work."

He took out a tube of Slick Trick™ Spell-Stay hair gel squeezing out a generous green gob onto his hand. He swept the hand through the bright flaming mess, flattening it with the heavy gel. Parting his hair, he worked the gel into the roots and started arranging it. He worked for about half an hour before he was finally satisfied and went to work on his clothes, straightening the creases and unwrinkling the wrinkles until everything settled just so. As a final touch he dabbed on some of the inexpensive cologne Ginny had given him last Christmas.

He surveyed himself in the mirror one last time. He looked all right. Still, the bright red hair threw off his look a bit and he hated those freckles. They made his skin look dirty, he thought.

Just too many freckles.

He sighed.

"ItÂ’ll have to do."

He looked at his watch.

7:30.

‘Record time,’ he thought to himself.

He did the same thing most mornings. Get up early and get ready. If anybody knew theyÂ’d think he was crazy, but he needed the time. He needed to get everything just right. It was more important than an extra hour or two of sleep. Everyone thought that he was still curled up in his bed, the covers pulled up around his head and the bed curtains shut tight. Up until this year he would have been too. Hermione had always complained about the fact that he liked to sleep in. "How do you expect to get a good start on your day if you waste all morning in bed?" she had said. He snorted. If Hermione could see him now. Up before the sun had even fully risen into the still violet sky. How very unlike him. But he couldnÂ’t help but wonder if all this would make any difference. Was he just wasting his mornings in the bathroom now instead of in bed? It all seemed so futile. Harry didnÂ’t appear to notice either way.

He turned towards the door to hear voices conversing, sleepy morning grumbles heading in his direction. The others were awake. Harry would be awake too.

Harry.

"This is for you Harry. All for you," he whispered taking a deep breath and walking out the door.

***

A boy sat alone in the common room in front of a blazing fire. His eyes were closed and his hands were folded neatly in his lap.

He looked like an old portrait, refined and elegant with blaring hints of aristocracy, all velvet and silk reminiscent of pure luxurious perfection. His robes were perfect as they draped over his slim form, pooling prettily as they hit the floor near his feet.

His skin was a flawless milky white. Soft as cream.

A racket from within the dormitories forced open a lid to reveal a steady quicksilver eye fading almost imperceptibly into a gentle gray violet at the edges. The other eye opened as the noise continued and the pair followed the direction from which the sounds came.

So, the idiots are finally through.

The others had just finished their morning absolutions and were currently making their way down the stairs.

He rose majestically, taking an elegant swaggering step towards his companions, and promptly tripped on that beautiful pool of robe at his feet, sending him sprawling across the stone floor.

He heard giggles and snickers from the stairwell and looked up to see his ‘friends’ pointing and laughing at him. He blew a platinum strand from his face pulling himself off the ground.

Damn.

Now his hair was all mussed. HeÂ’d have to do it over.

HeÂ’d miss breakfast.

‘Damn,’ he thought again, making his way back up the stairs to the bathroom and shooting dirty looks at the others as he passed, shutting them up.

Yes his pride had been damaged and they had no right to laugh at him but heÂ’d deal with it later. Now he had to put himself right again.

He reached the bathroom and sighed staring at the mirror. Hair fell all over the place.

This wonÂ’t do at all...

He took his wand from his pocket and started to perform a series of setting spells. After about half an hour, his hair was almost back to itÂ’s perfect state except for a few strands that simply refused to be told what to do and kept making their way down in front of his eyes.

It was getting late. It would have to do.

Draco shook his head.

"WhatÂ’s the point of getting up at 6:00 and getting ready if I have to do it over again every time."

This was not the first time heÂ’d had to skip breakfast to fix hair that had befallen some mishap. It was practically routine now. HeÂ’d wake, fix himself up, fall down or walk into a wall or something equally ridiculous and then go back and fix himself up again.

It wasnÂ’t that he was clumsy. Maybe he just wasnÂ’t getting enough sleep.

This morning he had been startled awake at 5:50 by the blaring of his alarm clock. He had reached down under his bed and found a shoe which he chucked at the irritating timepiece causing it to blare from the ground across the room instead of from his bedside table. He had stuffed his head under his pillow to drown out the noise and almost fell back asleep until he remembered why he had set the alarm so early in the first place and grudgingly got up.

His roommates slept on peacefully. Most had gotten used to the alarm and some of the smarter ones had cast a silence charm around their beds the previous night. No one ever questioned why it was that Draco got up so early. It was just assumed that he would rise at dawn to primp and prepare. The kid was incredibly vain after all.

They were right of course except that they didnÂ’t realize just who it was that he was primping and preparing for. Besides, everyone knew Draco was a shower hog. It was better to let him have full reign of the bathroom every morning before everyone else got up.

After adequately using up all the hot water and fixing himself up, Draco had come and sat in front of the fire to mentally prepare his day. He had had it all worked out.

He would walk up to the Gryffindor table and let lose a barrage of witty remarks he had thought up last night. This would hopefully draw them into a fight. Then he would have an excuse to glare at the boy all day long.

And who knewÂ…he might even get to hit him.

Granted it wasnÂ’t a normal relationship, but it was difficult to have one of those when the other party didnÂ’t even know you were in love with them. For now heÂ’d have to take what he could get. But today he would get nothing.

He spent all that time prettying himself up for his love and now he was going to miss breakfast. Starting something in Potions was always an option, but he didnÂ’t fancy making too much trouble for Professor Snape. Hell, Snape was probably the only teacher who liked him at all; it was not something he wanted to change. Besides, Snape had enough to worry about, namely supervising incompetent Gryffindors.

Care of Magical Creatures was definitely out of the question. That oaf Hagrid wouldnÂ’t hesitate to give him a three-week detention if he so much as raised an eyebrow at the Terrific Trio.

Maybe in the halls?

If I hadnÂ’t trippedÂ…damn these beautiful robes of mine.

He sighed looking at his watch.

Time for Potions.

Oh well. IÂ’ll think of something later.

And with a final look and wink at the mirror, he walked out the door.