Draco Malfoy's Bad Day

Draco Malfoy's Bad Day

By NoScrubs12345

It wasn't the commotion in the seventh year Slytherins' dorm; it wasn't the fact he'd be late for Potions if he didn't hurry and get dressed; and it certainly wasn't the fact that he'd been having a strangely erotic dream that made Draco Malfoy realize it was going to be a bad day. As he lay on his bed, green curtains askew, he saw a half naked Blaise Zabini parading around, singing show tunes. Draco groaned as the sound of Crabbe and Goyle's grunt-like communication came somewhere from his left.

"Neanderthals!" he thought as he turned over and covered his pale blond head with a pillow.

Although something was amiss in the Slytherin dorm, Draco was more perturbed by the dream he had been having for a few nights. It wasn't a bad dream really; it was the subject of the dream that bothered Draco. Not that there was anything wrong with an erotic dream.

"Harry bloody Potter," he muttered under his breath as he climbed out of bed, having given up on going back to sleep. Trailing his blanket behind him, in which he had wrapped around himself like a toga in order to hide a certain inconvenience, Draco headed for the bathroom to wash up. "Stupid Potty... can't even let me get any good night sleep."

As he brushed his teeth, Draco tried to think about Filch and Pince shagging- which everyone knew they were- to little avail. As soon as he'd toweled himself and gotten over with his (cold) shower, a too chipper Blaise waltzed in, singing something from "Oklahoma!" Draco winced when his friend clapped him on the shoulder.

"That sounded like one hell of a dream last night," the black boy said with a wink. "Who's the lucky girl? Or bloke?" Blaise winked again.

"Gerroffme," Draco said, shaking Blaise off and heading back to the row of sinks.

Blaise stared at him pensively for a moment before shrugging and exiting the bathroom singing "Oh What A Beautiful Morning." As the door closed, Draco dared a glance at himself in the mirror. Even though he'd shampooed his hair until he was sure he would look like the popular Auror of sorts that Muggles loved to put on posters called Bames Jond (or something like that), it still stood up at odd, blond angles.

As he tried desperately to smooth his hair, his thoughts strayed dangerously toward the delightful dream he had been having. He recalled the way Harry ran his fingers through his hair; the way Harry had trailed kisses down his neck, paying special attention to that spot between his neck and shoulder that drove him crazy; the way Draco had arched into...

Draco's eyes fluttered open. It really wasn't a bad dream; it was damn good, essentially, but he could do without that reaction right now. Yes, it was going to be a very bad day.

Grimacing inwardly, Draco realized that the towel around his waist was now tented in a very inappropriate place. With all the dignity he could muster- and thinking of Gryffindors breeding- he marched into the dorm as if he were marching to the gallows. Luckily, it was deserted. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks to any deity that would listen and let out a sigh. Looking up, Draco yelped as he caught sight of the clock. It was already ten past eight, which meant that Potions had started ten minutes ago. Yes, today was starting out to be a very bad day.

Deciding that if he was going to be late, he might as well be fashionably late and enjoy some perverted bit of this bad day. Draco pulled a pair of leather pants from his trunk. Now, these pants weren't magical like a pair shared by four friends over summer vacation, but they did have a bewitching effect on anyone who saw Draco in them. That included fangirls, some curious boys, a Weasley here and there, and even some middle-aged, suburbanite desperate housewives (and husbands). Not that Draco knew any desperate house people... elves excluded. If it was due to the magic of the pants or just his good looks, it really didn't matter.

He donned the leather trousers, did his shirt up half way, and draped his tie around his neck. Not the best outfit for a bad day, but it left very little to the imagination. Draco smiled as he saw himself in the mirror and chuckled a little as his reflection winked at him. With a smirk, he realized how oblivious Potter was about how he made Draco feel, not to mention those furtive glances when he thought the blond wasn't looking. Maybe he could get a little retribution today and make Potter squirm like in that ero-- Nope. Best not to think about that right now, else he might be even later to Potions.

As he grabbed his heavy bag and headed for the door, the mirror let out a wolf whistle, causing Draco to overbalance. He fell flat on his beautiful face, sending his bag and its contents flying across the waiting common room. His carefully written Potions essay was covered stained with his favorite green ink, which was also seeping into one of those cheap Muggle love stories his cousin had sent him. His books, quills and potions ingredients had flown to the far reaches of the Slytherin common room. With a feral growl, Draco jumped up and started to collect his things.

"Fuck today," he said with a snarl, "fuck this stupid paper, and fuck Snape!"

Draco grimaced painfully at that last sentiment. Yes, it was squicky, and yes, he wondered if his little soldier would be scared limp for life as he stuffed his effects back into his bag, grumbling. He was starting to wonder how this day could get any worse, but he dared not voice it in order to avoid jinxing himself. Then again, Murphy's Law didn't really seem to care if he jinxed himself or not- it just made his day hell. With a sigh, Draco collected himself and started out of the room, hexing some first years with a free period. As he exited the common room, he tripped again. The Slytherin corridor was filled with swears that would make a sailor blush.

~*~

The general consensus was that someplace very hot must have froze over when Draco Malfoy waltzed into Potions thirty minutes late, wearing the second tightest pair of leather pants known to wizard kind (the first belonging to Sirius Black, of course). Either that or he'd lost his mind. Everyone turned around to see the blond enter the musty old classroom, his crumpled and ink-stained essay in his left hand, trashy novel in the other. Without making eye contact with his fellow students, Draco marched forward and handed his paper to a dumbfounded Snape without a word. Draco turned sharply, not waiting to listen to Snape's belated snide comments, and met Potter's eyes from across the room.

'Great,' he thought to himself as he realized the only available seat was next to Harry. With a small sigh, he marched to the back of the classroom, ignoring the little part of him that was throwing a keg party at the thought of sitting next to the green-eyed boy.

Three-quarters of the class's eyes followed Draco to his seat. Draco smirked, glad for the attention and praying he wouldn't fall on his face again. He smirked evilly as Harry blushed when he approached and took the seat next to him. The blond took out some parchment and started to copy notes from the blackboard.

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape said icily. "While you may be in my House, I cannot accept your blatant disrespect for school dress code and tardiness. Thirty points from Slytherin and detention tonight with Mr. Filch. I'm sure he could use some help Scourgifying the Owlery."

Draco blanched. He didn't know whether to pass out or throw up. He finally decided on a safe, "Yes, Professor Snape." Draco looked around the classroom. They all looked like deer caught in those ghastly Muggle automobile headlights. "What are you looking at?!"

The class turned away collectively, Blaise winking and now humming something from "Cats." Draco grumbled and searched his bag for a quill. Harry watched him carefully, eyes full of concern.

"Is everything all right, Malfoy?" he asked quietly.

"Everything's just fucking peachy," the blond replied with a sigh. "What are we doing?"

"Polyjuice," Harry said with a wry smile.

"Fuck," Draco said. "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck. Why did he have to assign such a complicated potion today of all days? "

Harry chuckled and patted Draco's shoulder. "Bad day, huh?"

"You wouldn't know the half of it, Potter," the blond replied, all too aware of Harry touching him. "Help me get started."

As he started to stand up to go find some ingredients from the cupboard, Malfoy fell backwards off his stool. Draco swore in three different languages as he took Harry's hand and pulled himself up.

"Damn it all to hell," he said as he helped Harry chop boomslang skin. Much to Draco's surprise (and delight), they brushed hands as they reached for a knife simultaneously.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled and pulled his hand back as if burned. His face was glowing.

"Don't worry about it," Draco said with a soft, genuine smile. The ecstasy didn't last long- Draco nicked himself slightly with the blade. It didn't bleed much, but it was enough to bring back his downtrodden mood. Harry, he noticed, was still blushing, lost in his own little world. If he hadn't been is such a bad mood, Draco would have found Harry's blush endearing, but for now, all he could think of was retiring to bed with his trashy romance novel and the wonderful dreams that were sure to come. However, thinking of Harry running his hands slowly down Draco's shivering form caused him to nick himself again.

Potions passed slowly, and when it finally ended, Draco felt like a pincushion and was utterly exhausted. At least a bit of his day had been good: Harry had had trouble keeping his eyes off Draco's leather pants. Seems McGonagall had the same problem too, though. He ended up with detention every day for a month with Hagrid shoveling thestral dung. Yep, today had been a very bad day.

~*~

It was long past midnight when Draco finished his detention with Filch. Deciding he could use some time by himself to reflect on the day's events (and the fact that he wasn't tired), Draco climbed up to the top of the Astronomy Tower to gaze out over the moon-kissed Hogwarts grounds. Draco didn't even notice when the trap door behind him opened and someone joined him.

"You'll catch your death out here," Harry said from behind him.

"Go away," Draco said without conviction.

"I'll do what ever the bloody hell I please, Malfoy," Harry said and walked to Draco's side. Draco tried his best to ignore Harry. It was a few minutes before Harry spoke again. "Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Draco?"

Draco turned slowly to face his newfound companion at the mention of his name. "You have no idea. I woke up ten minutes before class started to a show tune singing Blaise and grunting cavemen. Worst part is I was having the best dream."

Harry chuckled heartily. "Try waking up to Seamus and Dean fighting every morning. It's amazing how they break up every day before breakfast and are back together by noon. Makes a bloke kinda lonely sometimes...."

Draco studied Harry for a moment. "Are you trying to tell me something, Harry?"

Harry met Draco's eyes. "Of course not, silly." Draco felt his heart break. To his delight, Harry added, "I intend to show you."

And with that, Harry pressed his lips to Draco's, taking advantage of the blond's surprise to send his tongue to battle with Draco's. Draco kissed Harry back hungrily, pushing the black-haired boy into the telescope cupboard's outer wall. Draco moaned as he felt Harry's erection pressing into his thigh. He felt his leather pants tighten, and this time he relished the feeling... to an extent. even though you could hardly tell they were two people, it felt as if they were miles apart. Draco moaned again as Harry started trailing kisses up his jaw, slipping his hands under Draco's shirt. Harry's kisses left fiery trails along Draco's skin, and those hands-- words can't explain how good they felt, slowly running over his lower back and sides. Draco didn't know how much more of this he could stand, or why his shirt was now three feet away, but he was sure of one thing: he didn't want Harry to stop. Which-wouldn't you know it- was exactly what the stinking Gryffindor did.

Draco felt like slapping Harry, but the look in those green eyes made him melt.

"My dorm or yours?" he said.

Draco heard himself mumble something about whichever one was closer- he'd lost all sense of direction by this time- and let himself be led back to Gryffindor Tower, ignoring that voice in the back of his mind that sounded ominously like his father's when irate. Little did he know that in a couple of hours, he would be woken by Ron, who would find Draco and Harry wrapped in each others arms, would listen to the applause from Seamus and Dean, and would laugh every time Neville looked his way in Potions and blush. Sure, it had been a bad day, but things were starting to look up.