Punk'd Love

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Draco sighed against the metallic lining of the compartment, pinned there by another hundred-and-forty pound boy. Even though he weighed the same himself, Draco was sure that he was being crushed.

Or maybe he was just imagining things.

Probably the second.

He squirmed as Harry ran a finger slowly across his back, unknowingly igniting memories; memories that he was desperate to bury in the confines of his dismal mind. Well, maybe not so dismal as just slightly insane.

Yeah, that would work.

Draco felt Harry's hand stop over a large scar he knew was on his right side. Cool fingers traced the roughened skin, and Harry let out a low breath.

"Draco, who did this?"

He winced, not ready to tell of the wrongs that had been committed on his pale skin.

"No-one. Just leave it alone." He told the other boy, exasperation evident in his strained voice.

But when he tried to turn himself back around, he found that even more pressure was being pressed against his lower back. Maybe if I... He tried turning around quickly, but soon found himself facedown in the seat. Not good.

The scars, in all truth, had come from his belligerent father, for supposedly 'displeasing' him. He was mad at Draco's blatant refusal to mar his flesh with the dark hatred that was the Dark Mark. Though the loyalty to his father may convince people that he was the perfect son, he was not. He'd refuse to do something his father wanted all the time.

And it always hurt.

Physically.

Emotionally.

In every aspect, his father's brutish temper and unearthly strength had scarred Draco, and it had him secretly scared witless.

"Draco. You tell me now. Before I do something I may regret. And I really don't want to do something I'd regret. 'Cause...ya know, I'd regret it."

By the time he finished, Harry's voice had lowered to a secretive whisper - with just a hint of hidden menace. Draco snarled lightly, getting confused so much in a day was wearing down his resolve.

"Listen, Potter, I have to get changed now. If that's okay with you, I mean. Since you're very well now my bloody boyfriend!"

Harry stepped back immediately, releasing the struggling boy from his grasp. The word 'boyfriend' flashed in his mind like little annoying Christmas lights. Only, they were incessantly trying. Damn them.

"Go on. Go change if you need to. We'll see you at Hogwarts, then."

Draco's eyes widened at the resigned softness of his counterpart seeker's voice. However, when he turned to leave, he stopped; hand on the door.

"Harry? What is," he gestured between the two of them, hand waving, "this?"

Harry lowered his eyes, turning away slightly.

"I don't know, Draco. I just...don't know."

With a downcast look, Draco swept out of the room, robes billowing lightly. Harry sighed, placing his head in his hands and running his fingers over his spiked hair slowly.

"I just don't know anymore."

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Hermione looked at the closed compartment door then at Ron, who was looking severely flustered. Harry was shaking his head slightly and muttering under his breath.

It was breaking her heart into tiny, edible, candy pieces. And some mean toddler was eating them, chewing rabidly with tiny little sharp teeth!

Ouch.

She moved silently over to Harry's side, placing her hand on his shoulder and rubbing in small circles.

"Harry? It's going to be all right... I mean, it's only Malfoy, right?"

To her great surprise, Harry smiled and sat up, wiping his hands across his darkened cheeks. He looked up at his best girl friend and smiled, eyes twinkling like little ... twinkling things.

"You're right, 'Mione. It is just Malfoy. I can get over him easy, right?" he looked between Ron and Hermione at the last question.

Ron nodded vigorously and made a few assertive grunts.

"That's right, mate! Just bloody old Malfoy! It's just bleeding wrong for you to be on about him... It is the first day of the school year and all, but we're not even there, Harry! Just...slow down with him."

Hermione's facial expression changed from anger to an almost adoring wilty-girly look in a split second.

"Oh, Ron!"

She threw herself on him, wrapping her thin, pale arms around his neck. She gave him a very non-platonic kiss on his slightly parted lips and sighed.

"That was brilliant! You really are growing up, aren't you?"

Ron looked like he was some sort of Hagrid's mutated vegetables. A bright, colorful red was flaring across his cheeks as he looked at Harry with child-like confusion on his face. He shrugged and watched the gangly boy take care of the...over-excited girl in his lap.

"Hermi, it wasn't anything. It just seems like Malfoy'd need some time, s'all. It's not like I decided that I would no longer play Exploding Snap at all hours of the night..."

Hermione stuck out her lower lip and began what she obviously thought was pouting.

Because it was pouting. And damn good pouting at that.

He could never pull off a face like that.

Damn that girl. Damn her.

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

Ron winced as a pasty hit his head, bouncing slightly off before landing face-up in the seat. The words 'ask her out, prat' were magicked into the top of it. He glanced up at Harry, who was currently sporting a very evil-looking smirk.

"Herm...?"

She looked into his sapphire blue eyes at the sound of her name. Raising her eyebrows, Hermione looked at him with a questioning glance.

"Yes?"

"Will you," he coughed a little, 'clearing his throat'. "Um... what I meant was..."

"Just ask her already, you prick!"

"Hermionewillyougooutwithme?" Ron blurted, taking a deep gasp of air afterwards.

Surprisingly, Hermione looked shocked. You'd think that she'd be able to predict things like that.

"Er... I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to...I just wan--"

He was cut off yet again by a very forceful kiss from the - it turns out - not so prudish girl. Soon, the two teens were practically on top of the other, with a slightly voyeuristic Harry watching them.

Why does this not affect me? Why am I more turned on by Draco than these two going at it like rabbits? Ahg. Just one more problem.

Harry looked out towards the approaching castle and sighed. This one-year was going to be a hell of a lot harder than the previous five. Even with Voldemort back in hiding, and the school a lot safer, he had other problems now.

Or, you could say, other people now.

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When they emerged from the train a quarter of an hour later, the first thing the famous trio saw was the heaving bulk of Rubeus Hagrid. Two pearly black eyes gazed at them from beneath the mass of black hair.

"'Allo there 'Arry! Nice ter see you. Ron, Hermione-you too. Looks loike you two 'ave hit it off well this summer."

Ron flushed red, the pink tinge coming up to dwell in the tips of his ears. Hermione merely smiled and grasped his hand lightly.

"Yes, we have, Hagrid."

A rumbling chuckle issued from the confines of Hagrid's belly.

"'At's nice ter see. I was always won'drin when you two'd hook up. Oy, 'Arry, are ya okay? You look a mite ill there."

Harry looked away from the dusty ground that had been occupying his vision, and up towards Hagrid's face.

"No, Hagrid, I'm okay."

He waved it off dismissively and started towards the carriages that were floating nearby. He didn't notice that Hagrid was looking after him peculiarly - or that Ron had muttered 'Damn Malfoy!' to no one in particular.

Once in the carriage, he leaned against the side of it, slightly tired from the long and confusing train ride. Moments later, the carriage shook as two more occupants climbed in.

"Harry? You kind of left in a hurry... Is what Malfoy said bothering you?"

Harry looked to her, his expression guarded. "I don't want to talk about it, 'Mione."

She glanced at Ron with a look of motherly worry spread on her features.

"Ok, then..."

They rode all the way to the school in silence, with Ron and Hermione occasionally sneaking little kisses to each other. Like Harry really cared what they were doing. That would be laughable.

No, Harry was thinking about someone completely different. What would have happened if no one had shown up after a while in that compartment? Why did he kiss Draco? Why the hell was he speaking all in questions?!

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

Draco looked pained, face contorted with a mix of boredom and utter loathing of the so-called companionship. With the oafish Crabbe by his side, and Goyle flanking him on the other side, it was really hard to look cool. Maybe protected, wealthy, and beautiful - but not cool.

When he and his two goons entered the Great Hall, he noticed almost immediately the raven boy sitting at the Gryffindor table. He looked sick, like he had been needing to cry or something - release tension maybe - but hadn't been able to. Or maybe...

It couldn't be because of him.

He hadn't hurt him that bad, had he?

Things had just gotten... out of hand. With the scars on his back... and those three Gryffindors seeing something not even people in his own house had seen... It was really just too much for him to take. He was confused; nothing normally got to him, but this for some reason, had.

Just like Harry had been getting to him lately...

The dreams were plaguing him at night, the thoughts by day...His face showing up in the tiny doodles on his notes. Raven hair and emerald eyes made such a combination that he was sure that this wasn't just teenage hormones. It was something deeper.

And he wasn't too sure if he could keep it bottled much longer...

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

The sorting ceremony went well, with the hat supplying a brand new song, and Gryffindor gaining another 12 students. But, Harry was having issues with keeping his eyes on the Gryffindor dominated side of the Hall. He constantly found his eyes trailing to the Slytherin table, a certain blonde one to be exact.

Said blonde was staring glazedly at the Head Table, his eyes unfocused and not really being used at all. He was thinking apparently, and though Harry had some idea about what, he still did not know the aristocrat's mind.

It was not to say that he didn't want to though. The very thought - the idea of seriously knowing the infamous Draco Malfoy was... intriguing to say the least. It brought on the prospect of competition; of the need to do what couldn't be done. It was what he was made for, right? The Harry Potter. He could do what no one else could.

Or, at least, try to.

And that's what counts... Right?

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