Punk'd Love

Harry sighed, as he looked himself over in the mirror. Next to him, Hedwig hooted softly. He turned his head and stuck his hand slowly into the cage, ruffling her feathers with an almost worried look in his eyes.

"Yeah...I hope it's okay too."

He pulled his hand out of the cage and ruffled his own shortened hair. For the first time in almost six years, he'd willingly cut it, covering the Dursleys' bathroom vanity with dark, almost curly, messy pieces of hair. It had caused a fit with Aunt Petunia, but was worth it to have the hair out of his eyes. It had really gotten out of hand when he had begun to tie it back into a ponytail.

When Dudley changed to adopt a punk lifestyle, he'd changed style as well. Having to live with hand-me-downs, as his normal clothes no longer bothered him because he liked the new clothes. His (practically) brand-new wardrobe was mainly black, navy blue, dark red, silver and some other sinister looking colors, and his aunt and uncle couldn't do a thing about it.

The real deal was...he wasn't coping too well with the disappearance of his godfather. Sometime over the summer, Sirius had stopped writing, and in his depressed mental state, Harry took it as something was wrong with himself. As something that would make Sirius not like him. So, in a fit of hormonal teenage rage, he decided to flip his whole life. He decided to change who he was to make Sirius like him again.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

In a less than rare fit of ignoring him, Harry had managed to get a few piercings. He got two in his ear, one in his chin, and a barbell through his left eyebrow. It gave him a nice look - with the dark of his hair contrasting sharply with the light of the silver from his piercings. Maybe he could become Goth or something...and wear lots of grease paint. And laugh at the silly Muggle people!

Harry decided then that he was quite possibly going mad.

He picked up his gel and ran it through his hair, spiking it into tiny pointy tips - tips that were silver, due to a quick dye job at the barber. The gel dried quickly, leaving the hair hard and stiff.

Harry looked once more in the mirror, and then took a quick peek into the hall to make sure the Dursleys were all still asleep. If they weren't, he wouldn't be able to finish his little morning primping. They would yell at him to get ready for the train and then shove him out the door in their haste to get him out of their lives.

Seeing the coast clear, Harry dashed to the bathroom and softly shut the door behind him. He took a quick glance around before opening the medicine cabinet and taking out the contacts case. He had to buy them himself but, nonetheless, he was glad to have them. The color enhancers made the dusky green hue of his eyes stand out against the dark lashes.

Maybe he was becoming a bit vain, but he liked the way he looked now. For once in a long time, he was glad for the green forest of his eyes and the way they shone out from his eyelashes. But, he had ulterior motives to looking better. Someone he wanted to look better for...not just Sirius...

He swirled the contacts case around and took off his glasses, settling them inside a case and shoving them into the pocket of his jeans. He robotically put the contacts in and blinked a few times, waiting for his eyes to clear. Once they did, he looked in the mirror once more before adjusting everything and stepping out of the bathroom.

He went over to his uncle and aunt's room, knocked twice on the door, and then slid back to his own room, satisfied with the annoyed grunt of his pudgy uncle. He sunk into his bed and waited...

Waited for the time when he would go back to Hogwarts...

Waited to see his friends again...

Waited to see...him...

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

In a completely different area of Britain, a boy the same age...the same shape...was just waking up to the ever annoying trills of Krinky, the House-Elf. Damn elves. Damn...damn.

"Master? Master, Krinky is sorry to disturb you, but the Master, Master Lucius demands your presence at once, sir. In the upper library office. Sir?"

Draco stared out of one eye at the pitiful creature before him. It was water-eyed at his blatant refusal to acknowledge its request. It was a sad-looking thing with big eyes and droopy ears.

"Sir?"

It was near tears now. He supposed he could do something.

"What do you want?"

It now looked scared. Whatever. It can be scared if it wants to.

"Sir, Master Lucius demands your presence in the upper library office. Do you need a quick-dress charm?"

Draco considered the offer, and then nodded his head once in the affirmative. The little elf looked frightened as he snapped his fingers, muttering linenus spedus. Draco was instantly dressed and squeaky clean, but not awake. Damn the mornings.

"Sir?"

Draco looked to the waiting House Elf and got out of his bed, stretching and mussing up his un-gelled hair. He'd stopped gelling it for the summer, letting the baby-fine hair drift into his face with an elegance that only an aristocratic boy could have. Draco decided, then, that he would stop gelling altogether. No one really liked that gelled back stuff anyway. It made his hair darker somehow, more normal. His hair was a fine bleached blonde color, and he loved to show it off.

The elf lead the way to a large office located in the second floor of the extensive library. Lucius was sitting at a lion-clawed desk, rummaging through the drawers. He finally found whatever he was looking for and slipped it into his sleeve.

He looked up at Draco imploringly when he came into the room, scrutinizing every fiber of his son's being. He motioned for the boy to sit.

Draco sat and stared at his father's calm face. He had something up his sleeve...in the non-literal sense.

"Draco, you're leaving for Hogwarts today, am I correct?"

The boy nodded once.

"And you are on the Quidditch team for Slytherin, correct?"

Another nod.

"And the Slytherin team is supposed to be the best, yes?"

A smirk and a nod.

"Then, tell me...what is keeping you from beating Harry Potter?"

Draco almost let slip a surprised gasp, but years of dinner parties had his face schooled into an indifferent mask.

"I don't know."

An eyebrow rose ever so slightly. "You don't know?"

"No. He's hard to beat. He's got a grace in the air that no one can match. Even with the new Phoenix...he's just bet-"

An object whizzed past his face, slicing a clean cut into the skin on his cheek. Blood began to drip down his face as Draco stared at his father, the fear quickly hidden and replaced by an obedient, disdainful look.

The expression on his father's face was murderous.

"No one is better than a Malfoy, Draco. You'd best get that into your mind before the next Quidditch match." With that, the tall blonde man walked out of the room with fast strides. Draco just sat and stared after him, almost afraid to even move.

He had to beat Harry Potter this year. He had to.

He had to be better.

Better than him...

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Harry pushed his trolley into the barrier to Platform 9 ¾. It let him through without a hitch, and he went to put his bags in the luggage compartment. Stowing them away, he heard mysterious giggles behind him and looked over.

A few of the sixth year girls were looking at him and giggling, before blushing and turning away. He could hear snippets of their conversation as he walked past to the obvious delight of the girls.

"I heard he's from Durmstrang and that he got kicked out for illegal magic..."

"Yeah? I heard he's some squib that just discovered his magic..."

"Oh my MERLIN!"

They dissolved into helpless giggles.

Harry pondered for a second on how they would feel if they knew it was he. The only reason they didn't was probably because of the black and red beanie covering the scar.

He had picked out baggy black jeans with iridescent stripes down the side and around the hems and a dark blood red T-shirt with a black button-up over it. He had a silver chain connecting his Muggle wallet to his belt loop and had the two piercings in his left ear connected by a silvery little chain. It looked nice, he decided, if not altogether 'Harry.'

But, he was tired of being just 'Harry.'

He just shook his head slightly and made his way to the train, crawling in an empty compartment that had become Ron's, Hermione's, and his. He knew that they would have to go to the Prefect's compartment for the first part of the ride and settled down with that knowledge. He took out a sketchpad from his rucksack and began to sketch the scenery, for lack of any living subject.

He'd been drawing since Hermione had sent him a sketchpad for his birthday once, and he had discovered a natural talent for the art. He found that he could take an image in his mind, and then his hand would follow the lines creating masterpieces.

When someone else opened the compartment door, he didn't even look up. He was too far absorbed in the drawing. But, when the unknown person sat down across from him and began studying him, he looked up, faintly surprised at the unexpected intrusion.

He nearly gasped when he saw the expression on the person in front of him, if not entirely because of the person himself.

Draco Malfoy. The expression itself was a cross between disbelief, confusion, and surprise. Draco's mouth was hanging slightly open, and Harry resisted the urge to push it back up. He had changed somehow...there it was...Draco no longer had any trace of gel in his hair. And a huge gash on his cheek...

But Harry couldn't get over the lighter-than-possible shade of soft hair hanging in Draco's face. He wanted to touch it.

Harry realized with a jolt that he had been studying Malfoy. Malfoy!

"Malfoy..."

The one word seemed to startle the boy out of his reverie. The sweet gray eyes narrowed, and Harry noticed vaguely that they weren't actually gray, but a soft baby blue with silver like highlights.

"Who are you?" Draco asked softly.

He saw Harry and couldn't believe his eyes. Suddenly, the dreams he had harbored since their third year bubbled to the top of his thoughts again.

Harry raised one eyebrow before setting his sketchpad down and leaning over the space between them to place a hand on Draco's cool forehead.

"What are you doing?"

Harry merely shrugged and leaned back again. But, recreating the space between them did nothing to stop the erratic beating of Draco's heart.

"Just seeing if you were feeling okay Malfoy. You do realize you just asked a person you've hated and loathed for the last six years who he was?"

Only two years, Harry... I only hated you for two years...

"I...just...what is that?" Draco quickly changed the topic and turned his attention to the pad at Harry's side. Harry glanced to it, then picked it up and handed it to the other boy. Draco took it cautiously and flipped it open.

The pictures amazed him. None of them moved, but the real emotion settled in the people's faces was...unbelievable. There were a few of that Granger girl...some of Weasel...oh, my...

Harry stiffened. He's found it. Earlier the year before, he'd seen Draco with his hair down once, studying at the library. He'd sat down a far distance away and drew what he saw. The beautiful concentration, eyes relaxed and searching, mouth parted slightly. He'd only colored the eyes and just a swipe of blue pastel across the colored bit. It was his favorite drawing in the whole book.

Draco studied the picture, noticing the extreme care that had gone into his facial expression, and he noticed the blue swipe. His eyes were blue? He had thought they were the same cold gray as his father, but apparently not.

He looked up at Harry, whose face was showing off the fear of an outburst at the drawing. But, Draco was curious.

"Why'd you draw that?"

His voice was soft, questioning the motives for taking such great care to draw him...the person who made Harry's life hell for the last six years. But, Draco was now looking at him with emotion formerly foreign to the green eyes.

"Because...I saw a picture perfect moment...someone who let down their mask to study...and so I drew it. I draw what I find beautiful or nice to look at...and, at that moment, you were beauty. It became you. So, I made that moment last."

Harry let out a long sigh and hoped to high Merlin that Malfoy wouldn't laugh and spoil this lovely dream of his. He averted his eyes to the darkening countryside, watching the hills of Scotland go by. When he ventured to look back at Draco, he saw what he didn't believe at first. Draco's head was in his hands, and his shoulders were shaking slightly.

Harry made a strangled noise in his throat, trying to decide whether or not to go and comfort the boy. In the end, Harry moved over to the other side of the compartment, next to Draco. Gently, he laid a hand on Draco's shaking shoulders.

"I...can't...I'm not supposed to feel this...not for you...not...not for you."

Harry's eyes widened at the soft murmuring coming from the slightly smaller boy. But, he was overjoyed that he could feel this way about him...he dreamed so long about this. Though, he was not gay; Draco was the only boy he liked, and that was a love-hate relationship. He just...liked Draco.

Draco eventually stopped shaking, his breathing slowed to a normal pace, and he looked up at Harry from the corner of his eye. The other boy was looking out at the fading sun, emotions playing across his features. The red light made the beanie on his head seem like liquid, and his eyes shone with an almost internal fire. Draco felt something on his back and glanced at whatever it was, and then slowly realized that it was just Harry rubbing patterns on his back.

It was wracking his nerves to have Harry this close...to have Harry touching him. Draco had known he was different when he started having feelings for other boys. But mainly, he felt only for the beautiful creature that was sitting next to him, absently rubbing his back.

"Harry..." he said hoarsely, voice weak from silent sobs.

Harry looked down at him, but he didn't remove his hand.

"Hmm?" He turned his face back to the scenery.

"Why? Why are you being nice?" Draco asked.

Harry smiled like he had a secret.

"You called me Harry."

"So?"

"You've never called me Harry. Always Potter..." He mocked the other boy, practically spitting the last word. Draco realized it was true, and didn't go any further than that.

"But...before...why? You could have just laughed at me or something..."

Harry looked at him, eyes darkening.

"Because I'm not like you."

Draco looked up, then back down at the floor.

"I know. That's why..."

"Oy, Harry!"

Draco started, and his face became a flawless mask of resigned hatred. Harry sighed, and yanked the beanie off, resisting the urge to ruffle his hair. Draco looked surprised for a second, and then turned to the boy at the door. Flaming red hair sprung from the boy's head, and the smooth white skin was covered in tiny brown speckles.

The boy's brows creased slowly before saying slowly, "Um...I think I have the wrong room. Excuse me." He turned to leave looking decidedly confused.

"Ron!" Harry called to him, surprised at how, when his enemy could at least tell who he was, Ron couldn't.

Ron turned back around and stared open-mouthed at Harry. A soft, feminine voice came from down the train, wafting into the room.

"Ron? What on earth are you doing in the aisle? Go in!"

Ron was suddenly shoved in, and he sat down with a thump on the seat across from Harry. Draco yawned lightly and looked at the gaping boy. Hermione followed in immediately after, took one look at Harry and dropped her bag, mouth wide. Harry smiled and looked at Draco.

"Suddenly, I'm very glad you just asked me who I was."

Draco very nearly smiled at Harry's amused expression. He then rose and went to the door of the compartment. As if on second thought, he turned and faced Harry again.

"I'm going to give you three some...quality time to catch up on things. See you later...Harry." With that, he strode out and closed the door with a click behind him.

Harry smiled inwardly at Draco's attitude. It was a nice change from mean, nasty, and totally fucked up. He looked over at his two friends and started laughing. Ron was looking between the door and Harry, while Hermione was just gaping open at him, looking ready to drool.

Harry smiled innocently.

"Hi there! So, how were your summers? Mine was fun. Dudley went on a punk rocker streak...I'm rather liking it. And you?"

His friends just stared back. He laughed and took Ron's hand, shaking it lightly. "Ron glad to see you." He looked to Hermione, then leaned over the gap and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. "And you, 'Mione. Have you done something with your hair? It looks nice."

Hermione snapped out of her reverie, blushing at the kiss. Ron noted the blush silently and his ears flushed slightly with silent anger.

"Erm...yeah. I got it cut. Though, I could ask the same of you...what did you do?"

"Apparently, a House Elf snuck into my room in the middle of the night, stuck a few very sharp pieces of silver through my face, cut my hair, and dyed it silver. Needless to say, I slept through it all." Harry finished with a smile on his face.

Hermione smiled, and then hit Ron in the stomach, making him cough.

"What was Malfoy doing in here?" Harry looked at Ron, his expression hardening.

"Look, give Draco a break. He's...changed. Please? For me?" Harry pleaded with his hands clasped in front of him, then lowered and averted his eyes.

"Harry, are you sure?" Hermione's sweet voice questioned him quietly.

"Yes." Hermione smiled at him, and then elbowed Ron to do the same.

"If you want us to, we will. However unwillingly..." she added with a sidelong glance at Ron.

"Thanks!"

Ron spoke up for the second time.

"What DID you DO to yourself? I'm not gay or anything like that, but I'm sure Hermione agrees with me when I say YOU'RE FUCKING HOT!"

Harry cocked an eyebrow and stared at both of them. Hermione was blushing madly, and Ron was pink in the face.

"I cut my hair, I dyed it silver, I got pierced...and I got almost new punk hand-me-downs because of a shopping spree gone bad," he explained quickly.

Hermione smiled. "All the girls are practically drooling over you Harry...along with some boys. The rumor is you're some new Durmstrang import. How did they not notice the scar?"

"Beanie."

Ron looked confused. "What?" Harry just held up the hat. "Oh."

Harry smiled widely. "So, any questions?"

Hermione thought for a moment before smiling and raising her hand slightly.

"Can I touch your hair?"