Something Impossibleby Cassandra Claire

"Draco Malfoy," said Dumbledore, glaring intently over the top of his goldspectacles, "In the time you have been at this school, many and varied havebeen your depredations and your offenses against all that Hogwarts holdsdear. In general, I have looked the other way. Boys will be boys, after all. Iremember in my day..."

Dumbledore proceeded to tell a very long story about a goat, a bag ofnewts, and a Hufflepuff sixth-year class. Draco tuned him out with the easeof long practice. The Headmaster's stories never ended well and they werealways distressingly goat-centric. He let his mind wander back to thatafternoon, the look on Potter's face when he'd -

"Do not smirk at me, Master Malfoy!" Dumbledore shouted suddenly.

Draco jumped, and scowled. Why did everyone always tell him he wassmirking when he was merely smiling? Just because his lip had a habit ofcurling up slightly on the left. Privately Draco thought it was endearing."Sorry, Headmaster."

"You destroyed Harry Potter's Invisibility Cloak today," Dumbledore said. "Acruel and thoughtless act of vandalism."

"He was using it to spy on me in the bath," Draco said.

"I highly doubt that."

"Well, he might have been," Draco said. "None of the other students get tohave Invisibility Cloaks. Why should Potter?"

"Because it was an heirloom passed down from his father," Dumbledore said.

"Bah," Draco said. "In case you haven't noticed, Professor, Potter and I havea rivalry going. I am his nemesis. In order to be an effective nemesis, I haveto pose something of a threat. I don't see how I can pose a threat tosomeone I can't even see. I was just trying to level the playing field."

"You are not his nemesis," said Dumbledore, who was getting a bit red aboutthe tips of his ears. "Voldemort is his nemesis."

Draco felt insulted. "Then what am I?"

"You are about to be expelled, my boy," said Dumbledore. "That's what youare."

Draco was horrified. "Expelled! You can't expel me! I'm a Malfoy! We'vegone to Hogwarts for generations! If I were expelled, my family would beshamed and dishonored!"

"Because your father's close personal ties to Lord Voldemort don't causeshame and dishonor to your family?" Dumbledore inquired.

"They are very impersonal ties," Draco pointed out haughtily. "A mereexchange of cards at Christmas."

Dumbledore scoffed.

Draco felt irritable. He hated being scoffed at. "My education is veryimportant to me, Headmaster," he protested desperately.

"I've heard there are some excellent programs in agricultural maintenanceat the local polytechnic," said Dumbledore. "I am sure you would enjoy acareer as a Muggle farmer. Overalls would become you."

Draco reeled and clutched at the edge of the desk for support. "There mustbe something I can do. I'll do anything."

"You can apologize to Harry Potter," said Dumbledore.

"Sure. Fine. I'll send him a note."

"No," Dumbledore said. "You will apologize to him in the Great Hall, thisafternoon, in full view of all the students, and myself. I will be watching you,Mister Malfoy. And it had better be a good apology," he added. "You musttruly earn his forgiveness, Mister Malfoy, or expelled you will be. It is hightime you learned humility. Besides," he added with an an enormous twinkle,"it's high time you learned to crawl, you little wanker."

Draco was appalled. "What?"

"I said that will be all, Mister Malfoy, thank you." Dumbledore smiledblandly.

"That's what I thought you said," muttered Draco.

* * *

Sitting in the Great Hall, Draco looked miserably over at the Gryffindor table.Lunch was nearly over and he had barely been able to choke down half hissteak and kidney pie. The looming horror of having to apologize to HarryPotter rose up before him like a looming, horrible thing. He choked anddropped his fork with a groan of agony.

"If you're not going to eat your pie, can I have it?" Goyle inquired, lookingup briefly from his underlined copy of Being and Nothingness.

Draco turned to him. "Quick, Goyle, stab me with your fork. If I'm horriblywounded, Dumbledore can't possibly expel me for not apologizing to Potter."

Goyle shook his head. "But then he'll expel me."

"I fail to see your point," Draco said.

"Oh, just go on and do it, Draco," said Pansy, giving him a superior lookacross the table. "Potter's such a wimp. The second you apologize he'llbuckle like a cheap belt."

With another groan, Draco pushed his chair back and headed across theroom, rehearsing apologies under his breath. "Hello there, Potter. I'm sorry.Yeah. Sorry we ever met. Sorry about your stupid face." He sighed. "Thatwill never work."

The Gryffindors had evidently got word of his punishment, because half ofthem were sitting on the table when he got there, grinning at him likegargoyles. There was the gangling Weasel, his Mudblood girlfriend, theWeasel's red-headed sister, and a gaggle of Potter's other friends andcohorts. The Boy Who Lived To Annoy Draco Malfoy was barely visiblebetween Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan. He looked surprisinglynervous and subdued.

Draco came to a stop about a foot from the table. "I need to talk to Potter,"he said. "You lot piss off."

The Weasel gave him a superior look. "'I'm not sure Harry's available to talkto you." He glanced at the girl sitting next to him. "Hermione, could you askHarry if he feels like talking?"

Harry coughed. "I can talk," he said. "I'm not bothered." He smiled at Dracoover Ginny's head, a shy, heartbreaking smile filled with charm andvulnerability. "Hi there, Malfoy."

Draco looked at him with loathing. "Reveling in my humiliation, you sadisticbastard?"

Harry's green eyes opened wide. "I'm not -"

Hermione elbowed Harry sharply in the side. "Shut up, Harry. He's supposedto apologize."

"But he really needn't," Harry began. "I really -"

Ginny clapped a hand over Harry's mouth. "What Harry means to say is thatyou needn't think you're going to get off with an apology," she finished.

"That's right," put in Dean Thomas smugly. "We heard about whatDumbledore said. You have to earn Harry's forgiveness."

"That's right," Seamus said. "I think a spot of groveling might be in order."

Harry pushed Ginny's hand away. "No, it's all right, really! He doesn't haveto!"

Hermione shot Harry a look. "Don't you want to see Malfoy down on hisknees?"

Harry turned a violent shade of puce and seemed unable to work up a reply.Draco wondered briefly what on earth was wrong with him. Perhaps he hadbeen rendered speechless by rage. Draco decided he'd probably better actbefore Potter got any angrier. He clenched his hands at his sides and staredstraight ahead. "I'm-very-sorry-I-set-fire-to-your-Invisibility-Cloak-and-then-sat-on-you-and-tried-to-feed-you-the-ashes," he said all at once, andrelaxed. "Although you shouldn't have left it over the back of that chair likethat. That was stupid. There, I'm done. Can I go?"

Harry gazed at him moistly. "I forg -"

Harry was cut off midspeech by Dean Thomas, who sat on him. "I don't thinkthat apology is going to cut it, Malfoy," Thomas said, with some relish. "Ithink we need a bit more."

Draco was aggrieved. "More like what?"

"Like tasks," Ginny said. "I think Harry should get to set you some tasks."

"Malfoy should have to French-kiss a hippogriff," said Seamus Finnegan.

"Or Snape," said Ginny.

"He should have to run through the Great Hall in a thong," said Dean.

"Wah," said Harry, faintly.

"I would rather cut my own head off," Draco announced.

"That could be arranged," Ron said darkly.

Draco did not like the way Weasley was fondling his butter knife. He saidhastily, "If Potter has something he wants me to do, he can say so."

Everyone looked at Harry.

"He could help me paint the Gryffindor Quidditch shed tomorrow," Harrysuggested faintly. He seemed a bit short of breath, doubtless as a result ofbeing sat on by Dean.

"Fine," Draco said.

"Shirtless," Ginny added.

"Shirtless?" Draco said. "Why?"

Harry buried his face on his arms. "I am so humiliated," he said in a muffledvoice.

"Because," Hermione said hastily. "I'm in love with you, Malfoy."

"I thought you were dating the Weasel," Draco said, with some interest.

"She is," said Ron. "Strangely, however, I don't mind her illicit passion foryou."

"He's very understanding," Hermione said.

Draco looked at Ron pityingly. "Sucks to be you, Weasel."

Ron shrugged. "I'm not the one who'll be painting the Gryffindor shedshirtless tomorrow, Malfoy," he pointed out.

"I burn hideously in the sun," Draco wailed. "My skin is delicate."

Ginny smiled at him sweetly. "Better bring sunblock."

* * *

The Gryffindors were already down at the Quidditch shed when Dracoarrived the next day, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and a horrificscowl. Ron, Seamus, Dean and the girls were all grinning at him as heapproached. Harry simply stared with his mouth open. Draco noted withsome interest that Hermione was gripping Harry by the back of his shirt.Perhaps she was worried that in his all-consuming rage he would leap onDraco and start bashing his head on the ground? After all, Draco, thoughtshe is in love with me.

He favored her with a smoldering look. "Well, I'm here. Shirtless. Mymuscles gleaming in the sun."

"I noticed," Hermione said. "Ron, could you hand him the bucket and thepaintbrush?"

Draco pouted. "Couldn't I just stand here and pose?"

"You know," Harry began.

"Shut up, Harry," said Ron, and shoved the brushes and paint can at Draco."Go to it, Malfoy."

Draco looked morosely down at the paint can. "Red. I look horrible in red."

Painting the shed was surprisingly soothing. Draco let his mind wander. Hethought of horrible things he could do to Potter when all this was over.Perhaps he could put Blast-Ended Skrewts in his bed, or bash him over thehead with a piece of driftwood and shove him in the lake. Ideally, of course,he would have liked to beat him at Quidditch, but after six years of beingroundly trounced at every match Draco had become philosophical about hischances. Damn Potter and his Firebolt. Damn him and the lissome, supplebody that made him such an excellent Seeker. It was hardly fair that he wasso very bendy -

A slight commotion amongst the Gryffindors caused Draco to glance backover his shoulder curiously. They seemed to be engaged in a curious ritual.One of them would shove Harry forward towards the shed. Harry would takea few steps towards Draco, then apparently think better of it and make aspectacular break for freedom. Another of his friends would chase andretrieve him, then shove him towards Draco again. It was all very

mysterious and Draco found himself baffled. He turned around and stared atthem curiously.

"I can't say I blame you for wanting to get rid of Potter so badly," he calledout finally. "But you're not doing a very effective job."

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Ginny, and gave Harry another shove.

Shuffling his feet nervously, Harry came over to the shed and stood next toDraco. "Malfoy, would you, ah, like a hand?"

Draco looked at him incredulously. "What?"

"I was just thinking you'd probably get this done a bit faster if I helped you,"Harry said, indicating the Quidditch shed with a wave of his hand.

"Yes, and I'd probably win more Quidditch games if you dropped dead, butyou've never obliged me before," said Draco crossly. "Come off it, Potter. Iknow you only came over here to mock me in my despair and humiliation."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're completely paranoid, you know that?"

Draco dunked his paintbrush into the can. "I'm just being realistic. I mean,we are mortal enemies, aren't we?"

Harry scratched his ear. "Well, I mean, I guess. Yeah." He soundedremarkably unenthusiastic. "Would you feel less, I don't know, mocked, if Imade the others go away?"

Draco was confused. "Doesn't that sort of defeat the point? What aboutHermione? I thought she wanted to gaze at me."

"It's not healthy for her to get this excited. She might have a seizure."

Draco mulled this over. "I see your point. Perhaps it would be wise to showthe poor, deluded woman some mercy."

"Absolutely." Harry waved brightly at his friends. "You! Go away!"

As the Gryffindors traipsed off in a sniggering group. Draco noticed Ron'sarm was thrown across Hermione's shoulders. I pity you, Weasel, Dracothought, she'll never love you like she loves me.

He turned back to Harry, who was gazing at him, a friendly smile on hisface. Trying to throw me off guard, Draco muttered to himself darkly. "Ifyou're just trying to get me alone so you can torture me and extract DeathEater secrets, it won't work," he informed the dark-haired boy.

Harry blinked. "Malfoy, you don't know any Death Eater secrets."

"I might."

"Oh yeah? Name one."

"Angus McNair likes to dress in women's clothing. Everyone thought PansyParkinson's dad left her mum for a Bolivian goat herder but actually it wasfor one of the goats. Avery Nott pays strange women to spank him.Zachariah Goyle smashes up Fizzing Whizbees and snorts them to get high.Oh, and the Dark Lord is a huge ballet buff. He made my dad Summon thewhole set of Swan Lake from the Royal Ballet House and install it in theManor. Every couple months he comes over and enacts the Dying Swandance."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I stand corrected. Those are quite some secrets."

Draco glared. "That is inside Death Eater knowledge."

"I hate to break it to you, Malfoy, but it's hardly a secret that Voldemort'sfollowers are a bunch of flipping whack jobs."

"You won't be laughing when they dance on your grave in hobnailed boots,"Draco said.

"No," Harry said, "probably not, because I'll be dead."

Draco felt suddenly morose, which made him angry. He glared at Harry. "I'mthirsty," he complained. "I'm probably getting dehydration and paintpoisoning. I might die. Think how silly you'll look if you've killed me."

Harry snorted. "I brought water, Malfoy." He produced a blue plastic bottlefrom the pocket of his robes and handed it to Draco. "Here."

Draco snatched the bottle before Harry could think better of the gesture,unscrewed the top, and poured the water over his head. It pasted his white-blond hair to his forehead, splashed down over his naked chest, ran downhis ridged, bare stomach and pooled along his hipbones, just above thebelted waistband of his jeans.

"Oh my God," said Harry, who looked as if he were about to faint.

Draco looked at him curiously. "What's wrong with you, Potter?"

"Paint fumes," said Harry in a strangled voice.

"Paint bothers you?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded fervently. He still looked as if he were going to faint. "Verybothered," he said.

An idea came to Draco. It was a bad idea, and yet gloriously appealing. Hecarefully set the water bottle down, picked up the open paint can, andstraightened up slowly. "Hey Potter," he said.

Harry looked at him hopefully. "Yeah?"

Draco upended the paint can on his head.

* * *

Nobody wanted to sit next to Draco at dinner, largely because he was stilldripping red and gold paint. Harry had, predictably, not reacted well tohaving nearly a gallon of scarlet paint dumped on his head. He'd grabbed forthe yellow paint and hurled it at Draco. Draco had punched him. Harry hadpunched back. They'd wound up rolling around the Quidditch field, sloshingpaint everywhere, and somewhere along the way Draco had torn Harry'sshirt off, which only seemed fair, really. It had all been quite satisfyinglynormal, Draco thought with a smirk. Just two half-naked boys rolling arounda field, smearing paint on each other. Draco's smile wavered.

"How are you feeling, Draco?" Crabbe asked, pushing aside the crosswordpuzzle he'd been doing in ink.

"Heterosexual, thank you," Draco said quickly.

Goyle blinked. "What?"

"Exceptional," Draco said. "I'm feeling exceptional."

Crabbe wrinkled up his forehead. "'Gender in a part of Essex, three letters?'"

"Sex, of course," said Goyle. "Really, Crabbe."

Draco toyed irritably with his fork. "Some goons you two are," he muttered."Can't you remember to act stupid? For me?"

"Oh, right," said Crabbe contritely. He balled up the crossword parchmentand ate it. "Better?"

"Much."

"So did Potter forgive you?" Goyle asked.

"He certainly has not," said Dean Thomas, who had appeared at Draco'sshoulder like a bird of ill omen. "Not after the stunt you pulled with thepaint, Malfoy."

Draco glared up at him resentfully through paint-clogged lashes. "Why'd hesend you over here? Too cowardly to come himself?"

"He's enraged," Dean said darkly. "We don't trust him around you. He mightrip out your throat."

Draco slumped in his chair. "I suppose he wants me expelled, then." Hesighed. "Goodbye, Hogwarts. Today you bid farewell to the handsomeststudent ever to grace these hallowed halls. Others you have known, morebrilliant perhaps, some, perhaps, with a better track record in Herbology, butnone with my stunning good looks and unerring fashion sense -"

"MALFOY," said Dean. "You can stop delivering your own eulogy. Harry'sagreed not to ask for your expulsion if you do one more thing."

Draco ran a hand through his paint-stiffened hair. "What?"

"You have to polish all the silver in the Gryffindor common room."

"Not with my tongue?" Draco asked worriedly.

"No, with a rag, you git-face. As if we want your Slytherin saliva all overeverything." Dean rolled his eyes. "Be there at ten o'clock sharp."

Draco shrugged. "Fine. Whatever."

***

Draco presented himself at the Gryffindor portrait door exactly on time.Having showered and rid himself of paint, his hair was damp and he smelledfaintly of soap and cologne. The Fat Lady beamed at him. "Well, you're ahandsome one," she cooed.

"I am Draco Malfoy," Draco informed her haughtily. "Please inform thehamfisted dimwits who inhabit your tower that I am here to fill their liveswith color and joy."

"Oooh, Draco Malfoy," she said, fluttering her eyelashes. "One of mystudents has such a crush on you."

Draco was annoyed. "Only one?"

She looked disappointed. "So you know, then?"

"Yes, yes, Hermione Granger. Tragic, really. Hopefully she'll find somethingto distract herself. Charity work might do wonders."

The Fat Lady blinked at him. "Hermione?" she echoed. "But I thought -"

The portrait door swung open, cutting her off mid-squawk. Hermione stoodthere, hands on her hips, looking flustered. "We told you to get here at ten,not hang about chatting up the portrait for a half hour."

"Jealousy causes premature wrinkling," Draco told her smugly.

Hermione looked as if she were counting to ten but finding it too low anumber. "Get in here, Malfoy, before I feed you your own head."

"Temper," said Draco, and stalked past her into the common room. To hissurprise, it was deserted. It was also as hideous as he had always suspectedit would be. Clashing hues of red and gold assailed his vision. "Alas," hewailed. "I am blinded."

"Too bad," said Hermione unfeelingly, and handed him a rag. "Startpolishing," she said. "Chop, chop."

"I don't see why you lot care so much about the state of the silver in yourcommon room anyway," Draco muttered.

"House pride," said Hermione loftily, and disappeared up a set of stairs,presumably to the dormitories.

Draco stared after her for a moment, then set to work polishing acandlestick in a desultory manner. He felt strangely disappointed, but wasn'tsure why. He wondered if he were developing feelings for Hermione. Itseemed desperately unlikely but then why else should he feel so bereft thatthe expected group of Gryffindors was not in the common room, waiting tomock him?

Perhaps I am a masochist, he thought. Perhaps I enjoy torment andhumiliation and will grow up paying strangers to spank me, like Avery Nott.Although most people would probably be willing to spank me for free.

Before this thought could cheer him, he was distracted by a commotioncoming from the top of the staircase. It sounded like a group of severalpeople yelling in stage whispers over another voice which was raised inprotest. A moment later a series of thunks became audible, and Harry Potterbounced down the stairs and rolled into the common room, fetching up atDraco's feet.

"If that was your attempt to ambush me, it sucked," Draco said.

"It wasn't," Harry said crossly, sitting up. "Ron pushed me down the stairs."

"Your friends must not like you very much," Draco observed.

Harry leaned back on his hands and looked up at Draco. "Don't your friendsever want something for you just because you want it really badly, eventhough it's completely impossible?"

"I don't think I've ever wanted something impossible," Draco said.

Harry sighed. "Lucky you."

"There's still big clumps of paint in your hair," Draco pointed out cheerily. "Ifit doesn't wash out you'll have to cut it out with scissors. You'll have baldspots."

Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "I can think of one impossible thing youwant," he said. "You want to beat me at Quidditch."

Draco paused mid-polish. It was true, he supposed, he had always wantedto beat Harry at Quidditch, in at least one game. There had been a timewhen winning a game against Gryffindor had been all he had thought about.But all those years of playing against Harry had burned it out of him. Notbecause he'd learned to like losing, but because Harry really was just so

very good that it was a pleasure to watch him play. The Quidditch puristinside Draco couldn't help just sitting back and enjoying the privilege offlying on the same pitch as Harry Potter, even while the Slytherin inside himwanted to leap out of Draco's brain and strangle Harry to death with his owntonsils.

"Sorry, Malfoy." Harry sounded subdued. Draco looked up and saw thatHarry had moved to the sofa; he was sprawled in the corner of it, lookingglum and clutching a fringed pillow. "That was a rotten thing to say."

Draco sat down thoughtfully on the arm of the couch. He was still holdingthe candlestick and rag. Bits of Harry's soft untidy hair tickled his bareforearm. "Dumbledore told me something really strange when he wasthreatening me with expulsion," Draco said. "It came as quite a shock tome."

"Hagrid and Snape are very much in love," Harry said quickly. "Don't bejudgmental."

Draco blinked. "Okay, number one, yuck. And number two, that's not whathe said."

"Oh," Harry said. "Did I say Snape and Hagrid? I meant, um, Hape andSnagrid. They're first years, you probably don't know them..."

"Whatever, Potter. I'm not interested in our disproportionately sizedgroundskeeper's love life. I was talking about you and me."

Harry dropped the pillow he'd been holding. "W-what?"

"He said I wasn't your nemesis," Draco said. "And you know, I'd always kindof thought I was. But maybe not. Maybe you've moved on." Draco heaved asigh. "I'll have to find someone else to torment."

Harry sat up so fast he almost fell off the couch. "No! Torment me! I like it!"

"You're not supposed to like it, Potter. I'm supposed to be a thorn in yourside!"

"I don't! I mean, you are!" Harry's eyes had gone oblong behind his glasses."I loathe you! You make my every day a misery! I wish you'd drown in thelake!"

"You're just saying that to be nice."

"I'm not!" Harry's voice hitched. "I really, really, really, really...hate you,Draco."

Draco sprang up in agitation. "You called me Draco! I told you it was over.I've failed you as a nemesis." He bit his lip. "Do you think Weasley wants anarchenemy? I'm not sure I could work up the same kind of hatred for him,but I could try."

Harry jumped off the couch. "Please don't." He shoved his hands in hispockets. "You're a great archenemy, Malfoy. Nobody else could think of thesame kind of sadistic things you do. Who else would have the patience towait an entire Potions class for my project to almost be done before theydropped a Filibuster Firework into it? Who else could set up so manyelaborate double-crosses that wind me up in detention for crimes I've nevercommitted? Think the points you've made Gryffindor lose! Think of thesleepless nights I've spent thinking about how much I, er, hate you! Plus,"Harry added, "you're gorgeous, and blond."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Possibly nothing," Harry admitted. "The point is, I hate you. Please don'tleave me."

"Hmm. You make a strong case, Potter. "

Draco was interrupted in his wavering by an exasperated sigh. Both boysswung around to see Ginny Weasley standing on the bottom step of thestairs, her hands on her hips.

"You can come down," she called back over her shoulder. "They're justtalking." Somehow, she made it sound as if she had discovered themengaged in some kind of criminal act. "Really," she said, looking at Harry,"you're completely hopeless."

"We can't keep out of the common room forever," Ron said crossly, comingto stand behind his sister. He was followed by Hermione, Seamus and Dean."People need to study, Harry."

"I didn't say you had to keep out!" Harry yelled. "You pushed me down thestairs!"

"Because you wouldn't have come down on your own!" Ron snapped.

Draco wondered, not for the first time, what exactly was going on. PerhapsHarry had been supposed to do some horrendous thing to him but had takentoo long about it. It made sense. Harry always seemed to wind up doing thedirty work for the rest of his House but he was also notoriously softhearted,a fact Draco had frequently exploited to his advantage.

He set down his rag. "I'm done cleaning anyway," he said. "I'll just begoing."

Hermione jabbed a finger at him. "Don't you move."

"Nobody asked you." Draco turned to Harry. "All right, I cleaned yourcommon room. Do you forgive me yet?"

Harry looked miserable. "Sure, Malfoy, I, uh -"

Hermione stepped in front of him. "No! Isn't the rule three tasks?"

"What rule?" Draco asked, rather reasonably, he thought. "This isn't thebloody Triwizard Tournament."

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Dean Thomas.

"That's right," said Seamus. "It's always three tasks in stories, isn't it?"

"Three tasks," agreed Ron, who appeared to be thinking desperately, nevera Gryffindor strong point. "Tomorrow, Malfoy, you have to, um, you have to-"

"You have to kiss Harry," said Ginny loudly. "In front of everyone."

Harry turned a shade of green that matched his eyes. "Noooooooo," hewailed. "Ginny! Shut up!"

"I told you your friends didn't like you, Potter," Draco said loftily. Then hetwigged. "Wait, you want me to kiss him?"

"Yes," said Ginny, Seamus, Ron, Hermione and Dean.

"No, they don't," Harry protested quickly. "They said miss me. You have tomiss me, er, next time you try to run into me on the Quidditch pitch andknock me off my broom."

Draco regarded the Gryffindors coldly. "I see how it is," he said.

They all looked startled. "You do?" said Hermione. "That's a bit hard tobelieve, you've been completely thickheaded about it so far."

"I do indeed," Draco said, even more coldly. "I should have known betterthan to expect fair play from a bunch of Gryffindors." He bent a glacial gazeon Harry, who looked horrified. "I suppose I'll see you tomorrow," Dracosaid.

"It's okay," Harry said faintly. "Really, Malfoy, you don't have to -"

"Oh, shut up, Harry," said Draco, without thinking, and stalked out of theroom.

* * *

Draco stalked into the Slytherin common room. Crabbe and Goyle werewaiting for him on one of the leather sofas. Goyle was halfway through acopy of A La Recherche du Temps Perdu in the original French. Hebookmarked it and set it down when Draco walked it. "How'd cleaning theGryffindor common room go?"

"I must flee the school," Draco said. "The Gryffindors have decided to killme."

Crabbe raised his eyebrow. "I find that hard to believe," he said.

"They've set me another task," Draco said. "They want me to kiss Potter, infront of everyone. Of course, I saw through this ruse right away. They'regoing to make it look like I've tried to attack him with murderous intent andthen everyone in the school will set upon me and tear me limb frombeautiful limb. Or they'll make him wear poisoned lip balm. Or..."

"Or he just really likes you," said Goyle. "God, you're paranoid."

"Or he what?" Draco said.

"Harry Potter," said Crabbe, with emphasis, "likes you."

"Everyone knows he likes you," said Goyle.

"No offense, Draco, but you'd have to be an idiot not to notice," said Crabbe.

"He has a huge crush on you," Goyle elaborated.

"It's epic," said Crabbe. "The whole school knows."

Draco reeled. "How do you know?"

"Pansy told us," said Goyle. "In December, when he asked her if she thoughtyou'd go to the Yule Ball with him."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Draco yelled.

"We thought you knew," said Crabbe.

"Everyone knows," said Goyle.

"Well, I DIDN'T," said Draco.

"Now you do," said Crabbe calmly.

Draco sat down heavily on he sofa between Goyle and Crabbe. "What shouldI do?"

"Well, let's see," said Goyle. "Harry Potter wants to kiss you. He's gorgeousand rich and great at Quidditch, and you've been obsessed with him sinceyou were eleven."

"I'd say you should flee the school," said Crabbe.

"Definitely," said Goyle, and picked up his book.

"What are you reading, Goyle?" Draco demanded in exasperation.

"I just like the pictures," said Goyle serenely. " De profession a profession aprofession, on se devine, et de vice a vice aussi..."

Draco subsided into a sulk.

* * *

Crabbe and Goyle were no help at all, Draco decided, all they did was starepityingly at him as if he were a not particularly bright Fluttering Fern thathad somehow learned to talk. He sat on the edge of his bed and stared intothe mirror over the headboard and felt sorry for himself.

Gorgeous and rich and great at Quidditch. Surely of all people in the school,that best described himself, not Harry. He spared a moment to admire hisown reflection. As always, the curves of his cheekbones were poetry in theform of bone structure, his lips were pouty, his hair was artfully styled.Harry, on the other hand. Harry was messy, his hair was untidy, his glasseswere always sliding down his nose, he dressed as if every day was laundryday. He had long sooty lashes and a kissable mouth and a shy unassumingmanner that was sexy because he didn't know it was sexy.

"Gah," said Draco, utterly shocked, and fell off the bed. He landed on thestone floor and lay there staring up at the ceiling. You've been obsessed withhim since you were eleven, Goyle had said. "I have not," Draco said aloud."Just because he's the first person I always look for when I walk into a roomand I spend every spare moment thinking about ways to upset him just sohe'll pay some attention to me and I get so distracted staring over at theGryffindor table at mealtimes half the time I forget to eat..." Draco trailedoff gloomily, aware of the cold seeping through the stone floor and into hisskin. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "I wish I'd known I was going to have anepiphany, I would have dressed for it."

* * *

It was cold and dank under the third floor stairwell and Draco was beginningto fret mightily that hideous, clammy things were happening to hiscomplexion. On the other hand, he didn't particularly want to come out fromunder the stairwell, either. Kneeling where he was, he had an excellent viewof the legs of everyone who was heading downstairs to the Potions dungeonfor their three o'clock class. When a pair of familiar feet in blue trainerspassed by, Draco stuck out a hand and grabbed Harry by the ankle. "Psst,"he hissed. "Potter. Down here."

Harry bent down and peered at him, green eyes blinking behind his glasses."Malfoy, what are you doing under the stairs?"

Draco thought of several possible explanations, and discarded them all asimplausible. "Just get under here," he hissed.

With a resigned look, Harry got down on his knees and crawled into thesmall space where Draco had been hiding. "Is this some kind of game, orhave you finally lost your mind?"

Draco just looked at him. Now that Harry was here, kneeling inches awayfrom him, looking patient and infinitely adorable with paint still stuck in hishair and an ink spot on his nose, Draco could think of nothing whatsoever to

say. Surely there must be something they could talk about. Classes?Quidditch? "So, how do you fancy Puddlemere United's chances thisseason?" Draco asked conversationally.

"Oh," Harry said gamely. "I, uh, hadn't though about it..."

"Oh, sod it all," said Draco despairingly, and leaned forward and kissed him.

It was surprisingly nice. Harry started and then went still, and his eyesfluttered shut and he leaned into Draco and their noses bumped together.Harry's mouth was surprisingly soft and his hair fell forward into Draco's faceand smelled of soap and turpentine.

When they pulled apart, Draco was grinning. Harry, however, lookedanything but overjoyed. "All right, Malfoy," he said. "You did it. I forgiveyou. You can go now. I would have forgiven you anyway," he added. "Justso you know."

Draco, who had forgotten almost entirely about that aspect of things,gnawed his lip. "I actually am really sorry about your dad's cloak," he said."Really, really sorry. It was a horrible thing to do."

"It wasn't actually," said Harry, with a faint smile, "you didn't destroy mydad's cloak, you destroyed Hermione's rain poncho. You've just never seenplastic before. You're an idiot. And anyway, I already said I forgive you.You're not going to get expelled, Malfoy. Also," he added, "PuddlemereUnited sucks."

Draco felt confused. Things were not going to plan. "Hermione isn't really inlove with me, is she?" he said, realizing several things at once.

Harry gazed at him in disbelief. "I'm going to go now," he said. "I don't wantto be late to Potions."

"What? Why are you leaving?" Draco said. "I thought you liked me. Here Iam, offering you my Adonis-like body, and you reject me. Your behavior isinexplicable."

Harry looked horrified. "I do not like you!" He paused. "Who told you that?"

"Apparently everyone knows," Draco said crossly. "Apparently you toldeveryone except me."

"I did not," said Harry.

"Yes, you did," said Draco. "You asked Pansy Parkinson if I would go to theYule Ball with you."

"I did not," Harry said again. Then his shoulders sagged. "Okay, I did. Allright, Malfoy, I like you. I can't help it! It's horrible! I wish I liked anybodyelse but you. It's inconvenient and upsetting and strangely ironic, and Iknow perfectly well that you will never like me back, so would you please letme go to Potions already and we can just pretend that all of this neverhappened?"

"I didn't say I didn't like you," said Draco.

Harry blinked at him. "What?"

"You can go back to Potions if you want," Draco said. "If you stay, I'llprobably kiss you again."

"Er," said Harry. "Any particular reason?"

Somehow, Draco found, he'd suddenly leaned forward and grabbed Harry'sshoulders, and somehow he was kissing him, and more importantly, Harrywas kissing him back. Somehow they were tangled together, all arms andlegs, and somehow Harry's gentle mouth was opening under his, and hishands were in Harry's hair, which was soft and untidy and slightly spiky frompaint and there was nothing else in the world he'd rather have his hands on,except maybe other parts of Harry. There was a buzzing in his ears and asound like applause and people cheering. He felt like he'd finally won amatch against Gryffindor because somehow kissing Harry Potter was themost amazing thing that had ever happened to him. It was even better thankissing his own reflection in the mirror, which Draco knew because he hadtried it on several occasions.

"That reason," said Draco, sitting back with a satisfied expression.

"That's a good reason," said Harry.

"I thought it was convincing," said Draco.

They grinned at each other.

Something occurred to Draco. "Wait, wasn't I supposed to kiss you in frontof everyone?"

"You did," said Harry.

"What?" said Draco.

"The staircase moved," said Harry, pointing, "didn't you notice?"

Draco looked up and around and realized that they were sitting in a barepatch of hallway, the staircase having relocated itself to the other side of thecorridor. All around them the other students were staring at them; theGryffindors were laughing and looking smug, and Crabbe and Goyle wereregarding him with raised eyebrows and superior expressions.

Draco realized he still had one arm around Harry but he didn't mind becauseit seemed like a good place to have his arm. "I don't see what they'relooking at anyway," he said.

Harry laughed, and leaned against his shoulder. "Something impossible," hesaid.