The Anti-Angst Movement

Chapter 1 : The Harry Has a Nightmare Cliché

~*~

"Aaaauuugghh!"

Several heads snapped up at once. Some had guilty looks, as if they had been doing something they shouldn't have been doing. Some looked fearful, as if one Professor Snape had found exactly what was in their Potions essay, because everybody knew that Snape didn't actually read the essays - he just took one point off if it was from a Gryffindor. For most of the faces now visible, there was startle and a raised eyebrow.

The source of the yell was none other than a huffing, puffing, I-am-SO-going-to-blow-someone-up Draco Malfoy. The ruffled Slytherin was pointing an angry finger at a bewildered Harry Potter. Now all of the students had raised eyebrows (just one per student!).

"YOU!" shouted the enraged blonde.

The class jumped as a whole. The eyebrows started twitching. Both of Hermione Granger's eyebrows had shot to her hairline; it looked as if she had no eyebrows at all.

Harry eeped.

"You!" hissed the angry Head Boy.

Harry dared to speak, even though all of his instincts were telling him to run like hell. "Er, what about me?"

Silver eyes narrowed, and suddenly Harry found himself shoved against the wall. A strong hand held his wrists above his head, while its mate held Harry's chin. Harry gulped as he stared up at Draco.

"You..." murmured the taller boy, as he leaned down and pressed his lips to Harry's.

~*~

"Aaaauuugghh!"

Harry Potter's eyes snapped open, the remnants of the dream... no... nightmare flowing through his mind. He bolted from his chair as if burned, wild green eyes focused on nothing.

Several heads snapped up at once. All eyes fixed on the Boy-Who-Lived, who was panting as if he had just run the entirety of Hogwarts with a very angry Severus Snape on his heels. The aforementioned Potions master, while not snapping at Harry's feet, stood from his desk and glared at the Gryffindor.

"Potter! What is the meaning of this?"

Harry didn't answer for a moment. His eyes cleared and, as if by magnetic pull, shifted to the blonde Slytherin at the front of the room, who was watching him. They stared at each other for a moment.

Understanding suddenly filled the silver eyes. Harry blanched. With a smirk, Draco Malfoy stood and ambled his way to the shorter Gryffindor.

"Why, Potter, I never knew you cared..." The silver-eyed Slytherin leaned down and pressed his lips to Harry's.

"Aaaauuugghh!"

All students jumped. This time, the scream came from Snape. He had seized his throat, and his face looked rather blue. The professor sputtered, turned over once, and promptly died.

Utter silence.

"Aaaauuugghh!"

Again the students were put in risk of heart failure as not Draco, not Harry, and definitely not Snape, but NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM of all people screamed. The clumsy boy rushed to Snape's side and threw himself over the prone body, either not noticing or not minding that his hand became very greasy as he ran it through Snape's hair.

"No! My love! Don't leave me! We haven't even consummated one hundred times yet!"

Several of the students turned green.

Draco pulled himself away from the wonder that was Harry Potter's lips, and smirked at the blue professor. "I told him that if he saw me kiss Harry that his tongue would turn into a snake and choke him to death, but did he listen?"

Harry, who was looking rather breathless, gazed up at Draco with verdant eyes filled with afterglow. "Draco... kiss me again..."

Said Malfoy looked down at his prize with another smirk. "If kissing you makes you glow like this, I can't wait until the honeymoon!"

At the word "honeymoon," Ron Weasley fell over in a dead faint.

Unknown to (or perhaps ignored by) all, Neville cried over Severus Snape's body, whispering that he would never let his love's sex drive have died in vain, and no, the handcuffs would not be wasted...

~*~

"Aaaauuugghh!"

Severus Snape bolted upright in bed. His black eyes snapped to the side, and the Potions professor relaxed as he found confused dark eyes gazing at him from under a dark black mat of hair.

"Severus? Honey, are you okay?" came the sleepy voice of his beloved.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Just a nightmare."

"Oh... good..." A playful glint entered the dark eyes. "Now that we're up, want to..."

"...shag? Brilliant idea, Sirius."

~*~

"Aaaauuugghh!"

Harry Potter bolted upright in bed, his eyes wide. Quickly, he pinched himself in the thigh, and at the burst of pain caused by his too-long nails, Harry deemed himself in the real world and allowed his body to relax.

Only to have it tense up again as one Vernon Dursley banged on the door. "Shut up in there, boy! One more noise out of you and it's into the cupboard you go!"

Harry didn't move until the thundering footsteps faded away. He breathed a sigh of relief, and rolled over to go back to sleep.

"That was the scariest dream I've ever had..."

~*~

Chapter 2: The Draco Comes to Privet Drive 4 Cliché

~*~

Harry woke to the oh-so-wonderful sound of silence. Blinking, the seventeen-year-old Boy-Who-Lived sat up in bed, wondering if he had heard right.

Silence.

Oh yeah. The Dursleys were spending the day at the carnival.

Slowly, a gleeful smile crept across Harry's face. Harry tried to squash it like the bug it was, but it kept on creeping, so Harry let it stay. He slid out of bed, stretched, and skipped downstairs in only his very short shorts, knowing that Uncle Vernon couldn't get on his case for having (much, much, much) nicer legs than Dudley now.

Outside, a canary had started singing trilly. "Who wears short shorts? Harry wears short shorts!" A shoe promptly hit the canary, forcing it to shut its beak and figure out how to get out of a shoe.

Harry put Uncle Vernon's other boot down, cackled to himself, and shook off an image from the very strange dream he had had last night. After inspecting the list of chores that Aunt Petunia had left him (honestly, who cared if the shrubbery was clipped at a specific 23-degree angle? Of course he could do it, but it was so trivial. A 22.7-degree angle was much more prominent.), Harry mixed up some muffins, gathered up the mail and newspaper, and sat down to read.

Four paragraphs into an engrossing article about one of Uncle Vernon's rival drilling companies (oooh, was Uncle Vernon going to be mad when he read this one), Harry heard a cough to his left. Having not expected anyone to be home, Harry's reaction was understandable.

He squealed like a girl and dived behind his paper.

A pause, and then the stranger next to him began to laugh.

"Oh, oh," the decidedly male voice wheezed, "I never knew you had it in you, Potter! I haven't heard you hit that note since third year!"

Harry blinked stupidly at the text that read "SMELTINGS BOYS DISCOVERED TO WEIGH THE SAME AS SMALL WHALES" before jerking the paper down and staring at his unexpected guest.

Having never expected to see his school rival laughing himself silly in the Dursleys' kitchen, Harry's reaction this time was also understandable.

He eeped good-naturedly and fell out of his chair.

Draco Malfoy sniggered for a moment longer, then peered over the side of his chair at the long, shapely legs that led to the even shapelier bottom of the Boy Wonder, who, as opposed to feeling mortified, was cursing the day he had agreed to go with Hagrid to Diagon Alley. Then he would never had known Malfoy... Oh, if only!

A grin played on the silver-eyed boy's lips as he reached down and gently patted Harry's bum. "Come on, Potter, are you going to grace me with this lovely view all day, or are you going to greet me properly? Although I rather like you in this position..."

Now, Harry was mortified. So mortified his poor muddled brain missed the 'lovely view' and 'rather like you in this position' parts.

"Ack! No! Malfoy! Don't touch my arse!" The green-eyed Gryffindor leaped up from his rather ungainly splatter on the ground and covered his behind with his hands, backing away from Draco. He was suddenly very aware of how much of his body was uncovered, and how much the short shorts revealed.

Draco chortled, reaching down to pick up the dropped paper. He deftly folded the paper and laid it on the table before lifting his amused eyes to meet Harry's. The Slytherin stayed silent, as if waiting.

Harry figured he knew what the other boy was waiting for, but right now, mortification was still having tea with his inner self, so any normal train of thought was put on hold. "Uh, right. C-Could you hold that thought for one, ah, one moment, Malfoy? Let me be decently dressed before you kill me and all? Help yourself to b-breakfast." With a wild gesture to the plate of bacon on the table, the Boy-Who-Lived sped up the stairs as if a very angry Severus Snape was on his heels.

~*~

Harry was dressed and ready to face Draco Malfoy in less than twelve minutes. It would have been four, but Harry had quickly discovered that his only pair of fitting pants was in the dryer, and so had to run back downstairs, sneak past the kitchen, and dive into the laundry room to wait five minutes for his jeans to tumble dry. Plus it took an extra two minutes for the shirt to be found. Stupid Dursleys.

Let's see... Only pair of jeans that wouldn't slide off his slim hips even WITH a belt? Check. Tee shirt he wore when working in the garden? Check. Wand? Check, but he wouldn't be able to use it. Damn laws. Glasses? Check. Colog-- wait a second. Cologne?!?

Harry quickly dunked his head under the tap in the sink, then hurriedly wiped his head free of water with a towel. He looked at himself in the mirror, deemed himself decent, then hurried downstairs.

Oh, he was nervous. Definitely nervous as he peeked into the kitchen. Very nervous as he watched Malfoy bite into a muffin.

Wait. Muffin?

"My muffins!"

Harry forgot all nervousness and ran into the kitchen, heading straight for the oven. He yanked the oven door open and reached in, foregoing the usual oven mitt and even most of his sense.

Thankfully, the other occupant of the room still had some. Even if it was dwindling fast.

When Draco Malfoy had seen the young (not to mention extremely sexy) Gryffindor waltz into the room in naught but those tiny red shorts, the blonde Slytherin was sure he had died and gone to heaven. Very surprisingly, and somewhat worryingly, the tanned teen had completely ignored him, as if not even sensing his presence. Giving the density of Harry's head, Draco wouldn't have been surprised if that had been the case.

Apparently it had. After Harry had put his muffins in the oven and settled down with the paper, Draco had to clear his throat to get the boy's attention. After finding himself thoroughly amused by Harry's reaction to the fact that, yes, indeed, Draco Malfoy was sitting at his table, Draco had taken in as much of the view of the Gryffindor's lovely bum as he could. Sadly, the smaller teen had run off as fast as, well, as if a very angry Severus was at his heels. Draco decided to amuse himself with the Muggle newspaper in the meantime.

However, when Harry rushed back into the room in those pants... and that shirt... It was barely there! Draco had to check himself for drool. Merlin, does the boy not realize how fucking hot he is?! Apparently not...

Drool was forgotten when Harry stuck his hand into the oven to save the already saved muffins. Draco's eyes widened, and he leaped forward and grabbed the smaller boy's wrist before he could make his hand melt. He yanked Harry back, kicked the oven door shut, and leaned against the counter, shocked Gryffindor on his chest and all that.

After he had regained his sanity (and lost the battle with his libido, as he got a good feel of just how strong the slim Seeker's legs were when they were squeezed around one of his own), Draco leaned forward and touched his lips against Harry's ear. "Potter," he whispered, "You do realize that I already took your muffins out?"

The boy in his arms shivered, and Harry turned his head away, his face warm. "I knew that," he whispered back.

Draco snorted. "Indeed." Suddenly he was reminded of his purpose their. Reluctantly he let go of the Gryffindor and gently pushed him away, before stepping around him and reseating himself.

Behind him, Harry hesitated for a moment, then sat down next to him again. They sat uncomfortably for a minute.

Two minutes.

After three and a half minutes, Harry was finally regaining some of the very little sense he had. He eyed Draco suspiciously, as the blonde boy calmly ate one of his - was Draco Malfoy really eating his muffins? - muffins. Silver eyes flickered up to meet vivid green ones. Immediately a staring contest ensued.

Normally Draco would deem himself too mature for trivial games such as this, but this was Harry and he loved doing anything with Harry. Oh, yeah, he had come to terms with his love for Harry last year, blah blah blah, you know the drill. Father wasn't very happy, neither was Severus, but neither could very well do anything about it as he was pointing his wand at Lucius' crotch at the time.

Mother on the other hand was enthralled. To have the heir of a Hogwarts founder in the family! Oh, the bragging she could do! Among other evil plans, the matriarch of the Malfoy family set off to plan her son's marriage to the Boy-Who-Lived. Sirius, an old schoolmate, would of course be on her side; she was sure the Weasleys wouldn't be too happy, but she had been friendly with Molly in school, so hope resided there. Now, who to invite...

In other words, Narcissa Malfoy loved the idea. With Mother solidly on his side, Father couldn't do a thing about it. Mwahaha. He loved being rich and snobbish.

Right at that moment, the canary, yes, the very same one who had found itself in a shoe earlier, freed itself and started to sing its lovely song again.

"Who wears short shorts? Harry wear short shorts!"

The corner of Draco's mouth twitched upwards. Harry blanched. He couldn't... but he had to...

And so Gryffindor finally admitted defeat to Slytherin as Harry turned his eyes away to death glare at the evil canary.

Draco decided he would glare at the bird as well, as it had stolen Harry's glare from him. Never mind it looked like a Hufflepuff. It, in fact, reminded him of Justin Finch-Fletchley, who was rumoured to have a deep crush on the Boy-Who-Lived.

This thought only served to fuel Draco's glare. With gasoline.

The poor canary never knew what was coming. One moment, it was happily singing of Harry's wonderfully short shorts, and the next - well, I think you know the rest.

Draco clapped rather dryly as he watched Harry dust his hands off. "Good throw, Potter. But what will your ogre of an uncle do when he finds his boots in the yard? With a flattened bird underneath, no less?"

Harry thought about this, then shrugged it off. "I'll bring them in later. He won't know the difference."

"Ah, I don't think you'll be able to do that, Potter."

This caught Harry's attention, and emerald eyes swerved onto Draco's silver ones. Draco had to try twice before he could get any words out. That boy's eyes could kill. "I'm here to escort you to Diagon Alley. Dumbledore's orders. You will spend today and tomorrow in Diagon Alley, buying your school supplies and restocking on any other supplies, and then the day after tomorrow I will escort you to the platform. Also Dumbledore's orders."

Harry's eyebrows rose at this, and he blinked several times. "You're here to escort me?" he asked, a bit dubiously.

"Mm."

"And not to kill me?"

"Mm."

"Under Dumbledore's orders?"

"Mm-hm."

"...Since when have you listened to Dumbledore?"

"Since I joined the Order."

"... Oh."

"Yeah."

"..."

"..."

"...Why you? Why me?"

"Because I just happen to be the only person free at this time, and because you're Dumbledore's Golden Boy."

Harry scowled at the pen name but accepted the answer anyway, albeit grudgingly. "Aren't you supposed to be Number One Death Eater's Son or something?"

"Oh, I am. Don't worry about that."

"Then... why side with Dumbledore?"

Draco flashed a handsome smile. "The person I love is on Dumbledore's side. Besides, I don't want to be a Death Eater. The tattoos are awful, and have you seen those robes? Revolting."

Harry was stunned by this news. The person he loves? But what came out of his mouth was, "You don't want to be a Death Eater?"

"Merlin, no. I may not like muggles, and the Dark Arts may be fascinating, but I'm not much for world domination, thank you. I'm already rich enough to own all of Europe anyway." A self-satisfied smirk at that.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Right. I'll remember that next time I hear about a northern country on auction."

"I'll be waiting for the news. Meanwhile, you need to get your tight little Gryffindor arse upstairs and to packing. We don't have all day."

Harry flushed at the...compliment?...on his arse. He stared down at his lap for a moment, before looking up at Draco again. "Malfoy?"

Silver eyes glanced up from their study of pristine fingernails. "Hmm?"

"Are you... are you really on the side of Light? Against Voldemort and all that?"

Harry was shocked to see the silver eyes soften with what he could only define as affection. "I wish I could say yes, Harry. But for the risk of endangering my family, I cannot answer that question."

Emerald eyes held silver ones for a long moment. Harry finally broke the gaze and stood to walk to the door. He paused in the doorway, glancing back at Draco. "I'm glad, Malfoy," he said softly, before disappearing upstairs.

Draco had to smile.