My Obsession

Draco wasn't entirely sure he'd thought this whole 'take-Potter-home' thing through properly. This was Potter, after all - the enemy of the Dark Lord Snake-Face, favored of the Creepy Old Man Headmaster, and, above all else, a Gryffindork. Did he really want to take someone so entirely hopeless back to his home for the entire summer holidays?

Potter had scorned him - he didn't deserve it.

Potter hated him - he didn't want it.

Potter wasn't someone who would appreciate it, and would probably do his best to get him in trouble while he was there, freeing the houselves and destroying wards and priceless artifacts. He'd no doubt search every nook and cranny he could find for something Dark and Mysterious to report to the ministry.

Was it really a good idea to try and keep him there for the entire summer holiday? They could barely stand to be in the same room as it was - being in the same house all day long, every day until Summer ended...it might just drive them both insane.

But was it worth it, to save that awed little boy that had been so eager for knowledge of the wizarding world and for his first set of wizard robes?

He remembered those green eyes, shy and shadowed, but curious, and immediately answered his own question - yes. It was worth it. Because that shy, unsure boy was also one of the strongest wizards to come to the wizarding world, despite his heritage, and of the things Malfoys were most drawn to, it was wealth and power (and, of course, beauty).

And Potter had plenty of all three. He was, if nothing else, an invaluable ally. He might even be persuaded to hold some hate for muggles, if Draco played his cards right.

Draco Malfoy didn't have many problems. He had beauty, he had wealth, he had nearly everything a wizarding boy could want. What problems he did have, though, he had by the cartful. What he lacked, he lacked miles of. Love, friendship, care - he didn't have those. He was obsessed with flying, hygiene, Harry Potter, and hating Ron Weasley.

His faults were his obsessions, and worked like mad to either eliminate them, or let them grow. His hate for Ron Weasley was something that grew and grew over time; his obsession with everything Potter grew with it.

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He hated the fact that bloody Potter got everything he ever wanted, while he was left behind pouting and hoping he wouldn't get in trouble. Even when things went right it was all wrong; Potter wasn't supposed to congratulate him as he caught the snitch out from under his nose, smiling and looking like he'd just gotten some sort of prize.

Later, Draco found out he had - competition. Now he had someone to train to beat, instead of a reason to skimp on practice; Potter was out on the pitch every day after, smiling, flying, and chasing after a practice snitch.

Draco did his best not to beat his head against the dungeon wall when he found out. More Gryffindor practices meant that the Slytherin Captain would have him out on the pitch every night, trying to catch up. Flint's replacement, Cole, was a much better captain than Flint had been, but that only meant more work for a team that hadn't won the Quidditch Cup in years.

He'd have much rather spent his time watching Raven, trying to pick apart his habits and odd little quirks, then spend time out on the pitch training.

That and he still hadn't found a way to get into the Gryffindor common room without alerting everyone already there that he'd come in. It would have been easy if he'd been able to get his hands on an invisibility cloak, but the only one he knew of was Raven's, and even that was only a guess. The way he turned up in strange places, without seeming to have been there before - the conversations he overheard - it just had to be a cloak.

He had no proof, of course, but he had his guesses, and Draco Malfoy was very good at guessing.

Not that it did him any good now.

"Looks like you're getting better, Malfoy - maybe you'll actually be some competition now." The words were obviously meant to be an insult, but the tone was all wrong, and the smile on his face was at total odds with his words.

Draco's stomach sank, although he had the snitch fluttering in his hands. It just Wasn't Right.

He'd won, but it felt like he'd lost something. He'd meant to catch up, darn it all! It wasn't supposed to be like this! Potter was supposed to be insulted! To throw a tantrum! Cry! Fall off his broom! SOMETHING!

Not sit there, smile, and deliver an insult that was more of a compliment than anything.

That had, he admitted, most likely been his undoing. He couldn't stand it anymore - he'd written his parents, asked if he could have a guest over, and made them swear that - whomever it was - they wouldn't be harmed.

He'd taken the fire-call in Snape's office, when his father had attempted to sort out the whole mess, and had been sure to get the promise from both his parents and Snape before telling them that he wanted to bring Harry Potter home for the holidays.

Like he was some sort of pet. To Draco, that's likely what it was - a pet that needed to be Fixed, Retrained, or Tempted to do what was Right.

After all of that, his parents couldn't say no - they'd already agreed he could come over, and had sworn not to harm him. Well, that and Draco always seemed to get his way with his parents. They indulged him a lot when they weren't in public, and being the Perfect Malfoys that they were.

Still, you're getting better, Malfoy.

He pretended that the words came from Raven, the Potter that was his Friend, and not the Boy Who Lived to Scorn.

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To the Guardians of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived;

My name is Draco Malfoy. Though muggles may not recognize the name, I am the son of an important Ministry Official in the Ministry of Magic. I am currently attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with your ward, Harry Potter.

I am writing to ask your permission to have Harry Potter visit me in my home over the summer holidays, for however long you would permit - I'd like to have him over for the entire summer, although I would understand if that was unreasonable to you. I also understand that he spends a considerable amount of time over the summer with the Weasleys - I would like to have him over for this time as well.

Please send your response as soon as possible, either by return owl (Lucifer will wait for a response, if necessary) or Muggle Mail. Should you wish to return via Muggle Mail, please send it to the address listed below.

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy

PS. Please disreguard any rumors of my father's hatred of muggles. He may have felt it necessary to kill several of your kind in the past, but I assure you that this habit is under his own control, at the current time. Thank you.

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Of course, the response was via owl. He'd included the post script to make doubly certain of it, as he was impatient for a response himself.

And if it had the added benefit of scaring the muggles into letting Harry Potter visit for the summer, well, all the better.

Draco was proud of the fact that he'd already gotten permission from his parents, his godfather, and Raven's relatives, and the boy wasn't even aware of it yet. It would be difficult to keep the secret under wraps for the three weeks that was left of the school year, but it would be necessary; he didn't want Potter running off to the Crazy Old Headmaster and snaking his way out of it - although it would prove that he was more of a Slytherin than most Gryffindors cared to admit.

No - the best time to tell him would likely be while they were on the train, heading for King's Cross, and it was too late. Draco was always the last to leave the train anyways, as prefect - it made things easier when there were fewer people, fewer trunks to sort through, and less animals to trip over. He could leave a little earlier, follow Potter, and watch the disappointment that came when he thought he was abandoned - and the horror when Draco told him why.

He would have no where to run to, once everyone had left and it was only Draco, Harry, Draco's father - and the car.

Of course, there really wasn't any reason for Raven to be upset over the change; there were plenty of advantages to coming with Draco for the holidays, and few drawbacks that he could see.

Uncertain, though, he started to make a list of all the things that might make Raven happier about coming to Malfoy Manor, instead of going home with those muggles.

Well, first off there weren't any muggles. That was the best benefit of all.

And then there was the Quidditch Pitch in the backyard - flying wasn't forbidden over the summer holidays, but the magic that kept it hidden from muggles was. Since there weren't any muggles near the manor, it was unnecessary, not to mention the fact that Draco's father was more than willing to put the wards up himself so that his son could get in the extra practice time.

There was the garden, too. It was nearly the size of the Quidditch Pitch, and had a maze in it that Draco had memorized by the time he was seven. The fountain in the center doubled as a small wading pool, shaded by the high bushes, and around the maze were rows of tulips (for the potions lab), roses (for the table decorations), and daisies (for his mother).

He thought there was even a corner that he could let Raven plant something of his own, if he wanted.

There were houselves, which was a plus. Houselves might look dirty and wrinkly, but they made the best sweets money could buy - even better than Honeydukes - and Lucius Malfoy had not spared any expense in buying them.

Not to mention that they were good to kick around when one got frustrated.

In fact, the only drawback Draco could see was that Potter would be going home with a Slytherin, and in the end that wasn't much of a drawback at all.

Really? Who could resist the charms of a Malfoy?

Draco took a double glance at his class notes - and quickly shoved the used parchment in his bag and grabbed a new one while the teacher's - and most of the classes' - attention was elsewhere. Millicent tended to borrow his Charms notes - he couldn't let her see ones he'd written "Potter" and "Raven" all over. It would be unseemly. Most unbecoming of a Malfoy.

He copied his neighbor's notes instead, quickly read them over, and then attempted to charm the white feather in front of him to change colors.

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Raven Was Not Happy that night at supper. Draco couldn't quite figure out what was wrong, but he was sitting at least five rows down from the mudblood and the I'm-so-red-I-could-pass-for-a-muggle-street-car,-thankyouverymuch Weasley. He was barely even attempting to put his fork to his mouth, and what little he did eat was where he'd torn off chunks of bread and shoved them in his mouth to keep from answering someone or another.

He hadn't even touched his pumpkin juice, and Raven loved pumpkin juice.

Of course, Draco wouldn't have any way to tell what was wrong - not now, and not later either. He could clearly see that the other was angry, but the most he would be able to do with that knowledge would be to tell the other Slytherins to stick together if they went near him, and to keep the insults light unless they were actually looking for a fight (which a few of them would be, no doubt).

It was something that really tended to annoy him. Ok, so it was kinda fun to get underneath the skin of the Boy Who Lived, and annoy him until he wanted to hex you and know that, while he could probably do something about it and get away with it, he still had reservations about disobeying rules, and likely wouldn't.

But that didn't mean that he was always in the mood to bully Potter. There were more important things, after all - like planning a way to get Saint Potter to become something less of a bloody-do-good and into more of a self-respectable, surviving, suave, Slytherin. Ok, so maybe he would never be quite as independent and self-respectable as Draco would like him to be, but he could improve on some things, surely. And he already had something of a knack for surviving - although how much of that was pure luck and how much of that was survival instinct was up for debate. And he would probably always keep that just-got-out-of-bed look, but - with any luck - Draco might be able to change it from just-got-out-of-bed to just-got-shagged.

A look that Raven just might be able to pull off successfully.

Of course, that look would be horrible on Draco. He had an image of perfection to uphold, remember? And anything less than that was just Not Done.

So - first off, what was it that Draco had to fix most desperately?

Well, there was a lot of work to be done. First would probably have to be the clothes, because Malfoys simply did not work with wizard-wannabes who wore red flannel under their robes, and didn't give their overly-large, fashion-stunted muggle clothes a proper Death By Fire. It just Wasn't Done.

But then again, it might be best to teach him not to poke his nose where it didn't belong, and try to play hero. He couldn't fix Raven if the boy didn't live long enough to complete the retraining.

Decisions, decisions...

If only it were possible to do both at the same time; but that was just absurd - it would be hard enough to get it through Potter's thick head that clothes were supposed to, at least somewhat, conform to the body. If he tried to teach the boy not to touch anything that looked different, or might have a dark curse on it at the same time...well... it would all probably go over the fool boy's head.

Potter was exceptionally thick, after all. Really - he'd gone and touched everyone that had been petrified! Even the Slytherins had heard about that oddity - and the way he seemed to feel the need to touch everything that had been affected by magic...

People might start to think he had a complex!

It certainly wasn't helping his image, anyways. Hmmm...maybe if he cursed all the clothes that Were Not Suitable, and left the Right Clothes alone, Potter would eventually learn to be careful about what he put his hands on. Something simple, of course - warts, maybe. Skin color. Itchy skin. Boils. Vomiting slugs...

Of course, his curses would always land on the right person.

Draco took a moment to savor the memory of the Dunderhead-With-Less-Sense-Than-The-Slugs-He-Threw-Up cursing himself in second year, and having to wait out a curse he'd tried to perform on the Perfection that was Malfoy.

It was such a sweet memory - definitely one for the scrapbook. He'd made certain to get plenty of copies of the pictures that Moron that followed Potter took - Creepy or Creally or something like that.

So - clothes were a definte first then. Potter could take the survival training later - assuming that he survived, that is.