FIC: From the Bottom Back to the Top (Harry/Draco, Neville/Draco)

[bottom_draco_comm]

Title: From the Bottom Back to the Top
Author: razra_eizel 
Prompt: Prompt #128
Adapted from: Hana Yori Dango
Pairing: Harry/Draco, bits of Neville/Draco
Word Count/Art Medium: ~9900 words
Rating: PG-13
Contains (Highlight to view): *none except you want to count OOCness and non-canon compliance*
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: beta-ed by purple_lights 

I was scanning through the prompts list and... well, not many I know of. Some prompts I’ve read on somewhere else so I stayed clear from those, some prompts I’m working on myself (like Final Fantasy X ._.) so I stayed clear from them too. This sounds like a fun prompt, and since I used to watch the Taiwan adaptation of the manga, I figured, why not?

I keep thinking that I haven’t done this prompt justice :( so apologies in advance, just in case it really does suck, but sincere wishes that you will like it >.>

And yes, I’m aware that the summary sounds cheesy as heck. I’m not good at writing summaries, so sue me >.>

And um, more notes at the end??

Summary: Draco returns to Hogwarts wishing for a peaceful last year, determined to lay low and generally be invisible among the annoying, proud Light students who were getting on his nerves with their constant boasting and bragging. However, without him knowing, the school system had changed. He helped a fellow Slytherin who was bullied out and the next day a school owl came in carrying a blank piece of red paper for him; and suddenly he found himself at the bottom of the social status. However, he was not a Malfoy if he gave up just like that, and so he fought on, trying to bring an end to the stupid system; and while he’s at it, find his happy ending

From the Bottom back to the Top



The war had ended and Draco was pardoned for being on the wrong side of the war after Potter had testified on his and his mother’s behalf. He was required to do community service as soon as he graduated from Hogwarts, but for now, he was free to go back and finish his education along with the other ‘eighth years’. He stared at the castle with almost dread but resolutely made his way to the dorm. He had to do this, and he would finish what he started.

No one dared to outright bully him, thankfully, because they were scared they’d have to answer to Potter. Most of them thought that since Potter stood up for him during his trial, he would continue to do so at school. However, that didn’t mean they weren’t constantly trying to make him feel like crap by reminding him of what the Dark side had done during the war and what they had done to contribute towards the war.

Contribute my arse, Draco thought sarcastically. Most of them cowered in fear and didn’t even lift a finger. Even he had contributed more to the war, both for bad and good.

It was hard for him to put the Malfoy pride aside, but the Malfoy name didn’t bring about the respect it once had, so he had no other choice. He was determined to study hard and lay low during his last year to prove that he was a brilliant student who could help society more by being given a proper job and to avoid troubles while he was still in Hogwarts. After all, it wouldn’t do to get himself expelled.

The first few days went almost peacefully for him, which he was thankful for. He read the Prophet every morning at breakfast to stop people from trying to talk to him, except for some of his close friends. He’d grab something to eat and bring it up to the library for lunch, and wait until dinner was over to sneak into the kitchen. The elves were used to his presence in the kitchen since fifth year, so they didn’t even blink when they saw him there.

Second week in, he witnessed something he really didn’t want to see.

A fourth year Slytherin boy had accidentally tripped and bumped into Potter from behind, causing the proclaimed Saviour to fall face first onto the floor. Granger had helped him up while Weasley stared warily at the Slytherin boy, as if waiting for the boy to make another move. The boy apologized again and again, and Potter dismissed it. The boy walked away, looking dejected and defeated, and Draco wondered why.

His question was soon answered when the school went into an uproar, chattering on about the red paper or something, he really didn’t understand. He noticed the boy who had bumped into Potter looking pale and scared, and it started from there. He was subject to various pranks, from the mild to the horrible. The Headmistress had forbidden the students to hex or curse fellow students, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t devise pranks or practical jokes.

The poor boy was so scared that he even asked to transfer to another school. The Headmistress had gotten angry at the students for treating a fellow student like this, but since there were too many students involved, she couldn’t punish them all. She banned the use of magic outside of class for those who were involved, and they started pulling pranks while in class.

“Stop it!” Draco shouted as he pointed his wand at the other students and he silently wondered where his sense of Slytherin self-preservation had gone off to, replaced by reckless Gryffindor bravery—or suicidal tendencies. “It was an accident! How long are you going to torment him for something he couldn’t control?”

“Would you look at that?” Weasley scoffed. “The cowardly ferret standing up for someone.”

“Ron, stop it,” Potter chided. “He stood up for us too, or at least, for me.”

The other students stopped, reluctant to continue pranking, especially since Potter was there. He would undoubtedly get mad if anyone was to hurt Draco, especially since he had just said that.

However, they weren’t them if they gave up so easily.

The student Draco had stood up for couldn’t take it anymore and had opted to transfer to Beauxbaton. The Headmistress had apologized profusely at his parents for being unable to control her students better and caused this to happen. Because of his transfer, one by one the Slytherin students started transferring out as well, much to the Headmistress’ disappointment. She had gotten angry at the students again, saying that they were slowly becoming the Dark Lord while the Slytherins were the Muggles. Potter had gotten angry at them too, but none of them would listen, their hearts filled with self-righteousness and self-justification.

One morning, Draco was eating breakfast peacefully. Only a few Slytherins were left, including him. Potter was missing from breakfast, which was unusual, since he never did before, and it was then that it happened.

A school owl flew towards Draco and dropped a small piece of red paper. He picked it up curiously and inspected it, but there was nothing written on it. He ran several spells on it, but it came clean too, meaning it was simply a blank piece of red paper.

Still wondering what it meant, a fifth year Ravenclaw suddenly shouted. “Draco Malfoy has gotten the red paper!”

Draco stared at the paper in confusion. He turned to ask his friends what it meant and paused. Pansy had a tearful look, Theo was staring at the paper in horror, and Blaise was very pale.

“What is this?” Draco asked. “What does it mean?”

The whole Great Hall went into an uproar. They started talking and no matter how much the Headmistress tried, order couldn’t be restored in there that morning. Longbottom, who had gotten quite close to the Golden Trio since their seventh year, was talking to Granger, both sporting the same, annoyed looks. Weasley was looking smug, while Potter, who had just gotten inside the Great Hall, looked positively murderous.

Potter demanded to know who sent Draco the piece of paper, but no one owned up. Typical, Draco thought. Hiding away in the crowd when under pressure. Doing something that they wouldn’t admit to doing later on.

Draco watched as Potter and Weasley got into a row over it and wondered what the significance of the paper was. Before he could ask, Pansy was already dragging him outside the Great Hall with her.

“What is it, Pans?”

“You seriously don’t know about the red paper?”

“No. I think I heard about it somewhere, but can’t remember.”

“Remember the poor boy who had to transfer school?”

“Yes, what about him?”

“He was sent a piece of red paper,” Blaise interrupted as he joined them outside. “It’s basically a free pass for everyone to start pulling mean pranks on you, now that you’ve got it.”

Draco didn’t understand what got Potter so worked up about it then. He should be happy the whole school was not against him, pulling pranks, kind of like what he had done to Potter during their early years in Hogwarts.

However, he didn’t realize how bad the students could be when they had set their mind on something.

The morning after the day when he got the paper, a bucketful of raw egg yolk was poured onto him from above, courtesy of a floating bucket. He tried Vanishing it but it was charmed against magical cleaning, so he trudged along towards the nearest bathroom and started scrubbing it off. He didn’t have time to eat breakfast as he had to rush to his first class, and even then he was late. He sat through the class with a growling stomach, and after his first class, the deranged students saw it fit to lock him away in a broom cupboard.

He wasn’t let out until after lunch, meaning he missed his class before lunch and thus was given detention by Professor Slughorn who refused to listen to his excuse. His next class was History of Magic and he desperately wanted to sleep his hunger off, but he was afraid of falling asleep in the midst of the lunatics. Who knew what they would do when he wasn’t looking.

By the time dinner came around, he almost couldn’t see straight.

“I should curse all those arseholes,” Draco grumbled as he walked slowly, feeling his way through as he held onto the wall for support, fearing that if he took even one step away he’d immediately fall down.

“Figuratively or literally?”

Draco turned around to glare at Longbottom. “Longbottom, you are sick,” he bit out. “I certainly don’t need to know what kind of perverted fantasies you have of arseholes.”

Longbottom chuckled and walked over to Draco.

“What do you want?” Draco asked warily. “I assure you I still can scream loud enough to alert at least one portrait. This place isn’t secluded enough for perfect murder.”

“You read way too many mystery books, o paranoid one,” Longbottom said as he rolled his eyes. It was true, however, that when a Muggle-born Slytherin lowerclassman had showed him mystery books, written by someone named Christine or something, he became addicted to them.

Longbottom brought something up and upon closer inspection saw it was a paper bag with two sandwiches inside. Draco looked at him funny. “Well, it’s chaos in the Great Hall now, and I heard they’ve managed to find a way to ban you from the kitchen, so here.”

“Do I want to know?” Draco asked.

“Probably not,” Longbottom said with a shrug.

“And how should I know you haven’t tampered with these?” Draco asked as he scrutinized the sandwiches.

“Goodness, sometimes I wish you’re in Gryffindor,” Longbottom said as he rolled his eyes. “I swear I didn’t do anything to these, alright? I’m just being nice.”

“Well, I sure hope you will feel guilty if anything is to happen to me because I ate these,” Draco said as he sniffed haughtily, but nevertheless accepted the food.

“You are impossible,” Longbottom said as he shook his head. “Expect to be unable to eat peacefully for a while. I’ve asked one of the house elves to supply you with food wherever you are at meal times.”

Draco eyed him as if he had just given birth to a chimera.

Longbottom made a noise of annoyance and frustration before he stormed off. Draco smirked, knowing that he hadn’t lost his touch, and began nibbling on the sandwich.

If he was surprised to know Longbottom knew what he liked, he didn’t show it.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

True to what Longbottom had said, the students somehow always found a way to keep him from entering the Great Hall. There was a charmed mistletoe that kept him stuck at the entrance for over an hour. Pansy had tried to kiss him and release the bind but the mistletoe rejected all of his fellow Slytherins. It also rejected girls, apparently, because Brown and Vane had tried to kiss him—saying he was still hot, so whatever.

In the end, it was Potter, who was once again late to the Great Hall, that released him from the bind. He came up to Draco, kissed him chastely on the lips and ranted to Granger about how stupid the students were being.

Draco was indignant that Potter should be the one complaining while he was the one getting the brunt of their pranks, but Malfoys were trend-setters, not followers, so because Potter already ranted, he simply sulked quietly.

The next day there was an invisible barrier that kept him out; then there was the spider web thing—he still couldn’t get it completely off even hours later. He could see the school staff getting amusement out of his predicament and he glared at every one of them.

However, also as promised, the house elves somehow put a bag of food in his pack during meal times. Sometimes they would put a tub of yoghurt, fruits and nuts. Other times there would be sandwiches, and some hot food. He appreciated it a lot and began eating his meals outside, near the Black Lake instead.

In fact, he appreciated it so much that he decided to swallow his pride and express his gratitude to Longbottom. After all, he didn’t have to do what he did, but he chose to do it.

Typical Gryffindors.

“Thank you.”

Ah, yes, that gaping like a fish was also typical Gryffindors.

“No need to rub it in, Longbottom,” Draco said as he scowled. “I’m not an ungrateful bastard.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that,” Longbottom said defensively. “Oh, seriously, how could you turn everything into something against you?”

“Not everything,” Draco said easily, leaning back as if bored and inspecting his nails. “I’m sure pups still love me.”

Longbottom did another goldfish impression.

“Yes, yes, I know, Draco Malfoy, dog lover? Unbelievable, isn’t it,” Draco said with a smirk.

“No, I mean—well...”

“Don’t trip over yourself,” Draco said with a snort. “You have a habit of putting your foot in your mouth, I know.”

“I don’t!” Longbottom said indignantly and Draco raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, that is to say...”

Draco laughed and Longbottom scowled at him. “No worries. I’m sure some girls find it cute.”

“If I’m into girls,” Longbottom mumbled.

“What was that?” Draco asked, looking up curiously at the now tall and fit Gryffindor. He still couldn’t believe how much Longbottom had changed over the years, but at least his kindness was still there, that much he was sure. He was secretly thankful that Potter and Longbottom, two of the greatest war heroes, hadn’t let it get into their heads.

“Nothing,” Longbottom said quickly. “Well, I better get going if I don’t want to be late to my next class. See you around, Malfoy, and do try to stay away from prank prone areas.”

“Yes, if only I know where they are,” Draco said as he rolled his eyes. “I’m not exactly a Seer, you know.”

“I doubt even a Seer could predict their next moves. They can be unpredictable when they want to.”

“Then why the hell did you tell me to avoid prank prone areas? That’s like saying avoid the whole castle... and the surrounding grounds.”

Longbottom laughed. “Well, it was a gesture of good will,” he said with a cheeky grin. The next second, however, his smile softened and he patted Draco’s shoulder. “Stay strong. I don’t want to see you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Draco said with a haughty sniff. “Malfoys don’t back away from challenges.”

Longbottom grinned at him. “Good.”

Draco watched as the boy walked away curiously, wondering why it was good that he didn’t back down from challenges. Why did Longbottom want him to stay? Or, was it to do with the fact that he was a stubborn, feisty—wait a minute...

Draco winced at the thought of Longbottom having a kink towards feisty lovers. Considering his sick obsession with arseholes, it wasn’t really farfetched, maybe.

Later on, Draco wondered why he wasn’t as repulsed by the idea as he should be.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Two weeks later, Draco learned that there could only be one recipient of the red paper at a time, so when another person was sent the red paper, the old one was annulled. That meant, unless someone wronged the Golden Trio plus Longbottom (they’ve become the new group, but the student body had yet decided a name for their new group) terribly, Draco was stuck being at the lowest of the social ladder at Hogwarts and object of their pranks.

And as much as he found it tempting to Imperius a Hufflepuff to spill coffee all over Potter’s lower regions, he felt bad. Not to the Hufflepuff and certainly not to Potter. He felt bad wasting perfectly good coffee. Those elves really know how to do their job.

Good coffee that he was gratefully sipping. He sighed in delight as he leaned back in the couch. He was currently in the Room of Requirements. He had offered to help fix it because he spent a lot of time in it before and the Room was somehow familiar with his magical trace. It was repaired much quicker with his help and the Headmistress had allowed him to use it to get away from the students and he was secretly grateful to her.

He set his mug down on an end table beside the couch and picked up the tome on arcane runes that he had picked up earlier. He had decided to become a Rune Master, a fairly new profession that involved etching runes on magical objects. They act like charms but more permanent and stable. Also, ancient artefacts had their instructions written in runes and currently there weren’t many people in the Ministry capable of reading the runes so most artefacts were stored away. He figured that becoming a Rune Master would make him a valuable worker pretty soon; so he chose that job.

He was reading halfway through the book when he noticed the sudden appearance of a fireplace in front of the couch, and a set of blankets on the couch.

“Get out, this room is taken,” he said, without looking up from his book. He decided to keep the fireplace and the blanket though, because it had gotten a little bit chilly.

The door stayed open and Draco knew whoever the intruder was, they hadn’t gone yet.

“Can’t you understand simple English?” Draco asked in annoyance, still not looking up from his book. “Get out! This room is taken.”

“Eye contact with the person you’re talking to is basic manners, Malfoy,” the intruder said. “I thought you were raised better than that.”

Draco finally looked up at the speccy git that intruded on his alone time. “Shut up, Potter,” he said with a scowl. “What do you want?”

“Last time I checked, your name’s not engraved in this room,” Potter said as he walked in, closing the door behind him. Just as he did, an engraving appeared on the far wall, saying “this room is the property of Draco Malfoy and no one else may enter. Especially when he’s in here.”

“Brat,” Potter said as he rolled his eyes and Draco smirked at him. “I suppose I did kind of ask for it.”

“Good that you noticed,” Draco said with a shrug and went back to reading. “If you insist on staying, then kindly use only that half of the room and stay quiet.”

“What are we in, a prison?” Potter asked as he rolled his eyes. He walked over to the couch and sat down, pulling a blanket over himself.

“Potter!” Draco protested. “That side of the room, not couch!”

“I happen to like this side of the room, thank you very much,” Potter said with a cheeky grin.

“You’re doing this to annoy me,” Draco said accusingly.

“How do you figure?”

“I hate you.”

“I’m pretty sure there are people you hate more than me at the moment,” Potter said with an off-handed shrug. “Well, that annoys you, at least.”

“Yes, but you’re doing a really good job at climbing to the top of that list,” Draco said in annoyance.

Potter grinned unrepentantly at him. “I thought you’d like some company.”

“Oh, please. I’d rather be in the same room with Longbottom and his talking plants than you,” Draco said as he rolled his eyes and briefly wondered if he had imagined that flash of disappointment in Potter’s eyes.

“Why is that?” Potter asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. Draco wondered if it was typical Gryffindor to wear their hearts on their sleeves, and if it was typical Slytherin to wonder so much.

“Because they’d be too busy talking to each other and won’t bother me,” Draco said easily. He leaned against the armrest on his side and pulled the tome closer to himself.

Potter fell silent. “Am I bothering you that much?”

“Since when do you care, Potter?” Draco asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Oh, Saint Potter is trying to make everyone feel good at school, is he?”

“No, not really,” Potter said as he shook his head. “I care—oh, never mind,” he sighed in defeat then and made to get up.

“Well, no need to leave on my account,” Draco said as he frowned. “You’re still welcome to use that side of the room and shape it as you wish.”

“And it doesn’t occur to you that I’m here to see you?” Potter snapped at him and Draco glared back in defiance. “Oh, whatever. I’m not here to fight and if we can’t speak civilly then I’m not even going to try.”

“I never thought you gave up so easily,” Draco pointed out, his tone cynical.

“Maybe if you’re not being such a brat,” Potter said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t even know what I saw in you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Draco asked as he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Potter. “What, you think there is no more good in me, and now you’re starting to regret ever testifying for me instead of against me?”

“No, that’s not what I—argh!” Potter exclaimed in frustration. He walked out of the Room of Requirements, slamming the door behind him, and Draco glared daggers at the space where he was at before he so rudely left.

He sighed in annoyance, wondering how the atmosphere had changed from easy bantering into full out fight in such a short span of time. And there he went wondering again.

He looked down at his tome, about to continue reading before he was interrupted, and found a single stem of a perfectly bloomed red rose lying on top of it.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“I don’t think I was that desperate for a companion that the Room gave me a rose,” Draco said as he sat on one of the couches in the common room, rolling the rose between his fingers. “Besides, it’s not actually a talking rose.”

Pansy buried her face in her hands and wondered why her friend was so socially challenged.

“Draco,” she started slowly, “has it ever crossed your mind that it might be a gift from someone... who likes you?”

“I don’t think the Room likes me that much,” Draco said with a shrug. “The only ghost that likes me is Myrtle, and I don’t think she’s the one either.”

Pansy hit him on the back of his head.

“Ow, what was that for!?”

“For being an idiot. Now, think about who just left when you got the rose.”

“Potter?”

“Yes, and?”

“And...? And—oh, you’re suggesting that Potter—but...”

“But?”

“But we always get into fights,” Draco said as he jutted his lower lip out. “I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“You’re just being your annoying self,” Pansy said easily. “Give a bloke a chance, Drake. Next time you see him, do try to be at least civil to him and see. If he likes you and shows it officially to the other students, then they won’t dare to touch you for fear of angering him.”

“Well, there’s that,” Draco agreed. It would be nice to have the students off his back, but he wasn’t sure he liked Potter enough to get close to him for that.

Plus, if what Pansy said was true and Potter did like him, wouldn’t it be cruel to play his feelings like that, only using him for his own gain?

Draco paused. Since when did he care about others’ feelings more than his own safety? Where did his sense of self-preservation go? All of his Slytherin ancestors would be turning in their graves if they knew.

Draco sighed heavily. “Alright,” he agreed. “I’ll try to not fight with him when I see him next.”

“Good. That’s all I ask for,” Pansy said, patting Draco’s shoulders. “The only reason those students haven’t harmed you is Potter, you know. It’d do you good to be on his good books.”

That night Draco went to bed wishing he had been in Hufflepuff from the start, because it seemed like the house with the least drama. Then again, his father would have killed him in his sleep, and he’d rather be alive than dead, so Slytherin was okay.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Something bothering you?” Longbottom asked as he sat down beside Draco and offered him a mug of coffee.

“A lot of things are bothering me, including that ghastly jumper of yours,” Draco grunted as he accepted the mug and took a slow sip. “It’s almost as bad as a Weasley jumper.”

Longbottom chuckled and took a sip from his own mug. “Have the students been bothering you that bad?”

Draco sighed. “No,” he said, “and that’s strange. I didn’t think they’d pass up the chance of free pranking like that.”

“They didn’t,” Longbottom said with a shrug. “It’s just that… Harry and I had a talk with them.”

“Gryffindors,” Draco said, shaking his head. “Why would you be standing up for me? In fact, you were the first to help me from those idiots.”

“Mmh, as you said, we’re Gryffindors,” Longbottom said as he lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “When we see a damsel in distress we just can’t resist.”

“Longbottom, does your sweater have any sentimental value?” Draco asked sharply and Neville looked at him questioningly.

“Well, no, I found it in a flea market—“

He jumped up and yelped in surprise when he felt coffee splash onto him and looked up to see Draco glaring darkly at him, holding his now empty mug.

“I hope it stains,” he said with a growl then turned to leave.

Longbottom watched in dumbfounded silence as Draco walked away, but laughed when he realized what Draco had just done. He had made sure that the sweater wasn’t irreplaceable before he did anything to it.

He smiled to himself and said, “So it seems you’re becoming Gryffindor-like too.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Draco walked towards the Room of Requirements and noticed that the door was already there. He opened it slowly and peeked inside, and saw Potter sitting on the couch, staring sulkily into the fire burning in the hearth. He stepped in before what little courage he had left him and he ran away, and to seal his fate even further, he closed the door behind him.

He walked silently towards the other end of the couch and sat down awkwardly. Potter looked up and stared at him questioningly.

“Um, hi,” Draco greeted awkwardly, about to start squirming under Potter’s intense, searching gaze. “I, uh, I’m feeling like getting away from the rest of the school too.”

Potter nodded and stood up, about to walk towards the other end of the room and in panic Draco shot out a hand and grabbed onto Potter’s arm.

“Wait,” he said. “I’m—oh, fine. I’m sorry, alright?” he grumbled, figuring that since he already expressed his gratitude to Longbottom, apologizing to Potter shouldn’t be a miraculous feat. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Out of all the Gryffindors, only you and Longbottom I can tolerate. I was only teasing you… I thought you knew.”

Potter sat back down and looked at Draco with an almost scrutinizing gaze. He scooted closer towards Draco and cupped his face with one hand.

“I know you didn’t mean it in a bad way,” Potter said, “but it still hurts.”

“I’m not a good person.”

Potter’s lips quirked into a smile. “But there’s still some good in you.”

“I’m just going to hurt you, like I hurt them,” Draco said almost regretfully and they both knew who he was referring to; mainly his mother and godfather. “I really do. I hurt everyone I care for.”

“I’m not a fragile doll, Draco,” Potter said as he pressed a light kiss on Draco’s forehead. “No matter what happens, I’ll still be here as your friend. I promise.”

“I’ve done nothing to deserve this,” Draco spoke up again, his voice shaking slightly.

Potter shook his head. “It’s not what you do,” he said. “It’s who you are that makes you deserve this.”

Draco looked up at him, his expression slightly hopeful. Potter’s smile widened at the sight.

“And so much more.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Have you reconciled with Harry?” Longbottom asked and Draco glowered at him. He still couldn’t believe that he had shown his vulnerable side to Potter, although it wasn’t the first time.

Well, that was the first time he willingly showed it. The actual first time Potter had caught him at it.

“He left for the Room with head bowed and shoulders hunched. He came back grinning, whistling, and walking with a skip in his step.”

Draco tried his best to imagine Potter making a fool of himself.

“What did you say to him?” Longbottom asked again.

“It’s none of your business,” Draco answered with a scowl. “Now please excuse me.”

He didn’t walk far before he was accosted by another Gryffindor, this time a female.

“Malfoy.”

“Granger.”

Granger stared at him then continued, “I am aware that you are the cause of the skip in Harry’s step,” she said. “He almost fell down the stairs, but that was his own fault for not looking.”

Draco nodded curtly and looked back at her, silently asking her what her point was. Granger sighed, her shoulders slouching slightly.

“Harry is… how should I say this, you know how he is,” Granger said. “He is courageous and has a hero complex. But, contrary to popular belief, he isn’t protective of everyone.”

Draco lifted an eyebrow at her, asking her what her point was.

“Did he tell you he liked you yet?”

“Are Gryffindors always this straightforward?”

“Not all of the time. So I’m assuming he has. Either way, you know now that he likes you, be it from himself or from me,” Granger concluded. “I’m not going to give you a lecture on how you shouldn’t hurt him, break his heart, yadda yadda.”

“I thought Gryffindors look after each other.”

“We do, but when it’s a suicidal nut who’s more stubborn than ten mules combined, we tend to let them run free.”

“I’m sure Potter hasn’t gone insane yet.”

The corner of Granger’s lips twitched as she obviously fought against laughing at that. “You’ve changed quite a lot from before, haven’t you? I’ve heard about it from Harry and Neville. I might just enjoy your sarcasm and snark now; well, unless I’m trying to hex you into next year, that is.”

“I might say the same to you, but I’ve learned early on to never argue with women.”

Granger laughed at this. “Yes, yes, I might just enjoy it,” she said to herself. “Well, I don’t know for sure what they saw in you, but they seemed to really like you. I’d support Harry in this, but they’re both my friends so whoever you end up with, even if it’s not any of them, we’ll still be here for you.”

Then she added as an afterthought, “You’re an honorary Gryffindor in my book now.”

Draco made a face. “Ew, Gryffindor.” He paused then and looked at her in confusion. “Who are this “they” you were talking about?”

Granger stared at him curiously. “You don’t know?”

“Am I supposed to know?”

“They’re being really obvious with it. Are all Slytherins this slow in the romance department?”

“Are all Gryffindors this cryptic and annoying?”

Granger shrugged. “We’re only annoying most of the times.”

“So who are they?”

Granger smirked at him. “Why should I tell you?” she asked. “School is annoying nowadays what with the idiotic students. My only source of entertainment is watching you guys from the sidelines, so why should I give that up for your sake?”

“Fine, so a Gryffindor would rather entertain themselves than help out a fellow student in need.”

“Yeah.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Some help you are, Granger.”

“Oh, pleasure’s mine, Draco,” Granger said with a teasing grin. “I certainly will enjoy this.”

“Glad to be of service.”

“Now, now, don’t be bitter,” Granger said as she patted Draco’s head and he snarled at her for ruining his hair style. “They’re good men. You’re really lucky to have them vying for your attention.”

Draco sighed, but then smiled slightly. “I guess I am,” he said. “As long as I know who they are.”

“Nice try. I’m still not telling you.”

“Darn.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Good morning, Draco,” a Gryffindor third year greeted sweetly and Draco glared at him, walking past him without saying a thing. It was in his nature to be curt and slightly dismissive, but when the one greeting him was one of those who gave him most trouble the past few weeks, he tended to up his rudeness level.

He walked easily into the Great Hall and was surprised. He turned around to look at the students and saw some of them scowling while Granger and Potter were grinning triumphantly.

Ah, must be their doings, then.

“Are you keeping up with the gossip pool, darling?” Pansy asked as Draco settled in beside her.

“Not really. What happened to make those idiots kiss my arse now?”

“The news of Potter’s apparent crush on you has leaked,” Pansy answered easily. “They didn’t dare hurt you because they knew Potter stood up for you and didn’t want to anger him. Now that you’re a candidate for the position of our Boy Wonder’s boyfriend, they’re trying to get into your good books to please Potter.”

Draco snorted derisively. “As if they could get into my good books after everything they’ve done.”

“And Granger also announced that you’re an honorary Gryffindor now. How could you, darling?”

“I never asked for it!”

“Well, at least I found amusement from the different shades of red Weasley’s face became. Apparently, he’s mad that three out of four stand up for you.”

Draco hummed. “And those arses listen to Granger?”

“Well, if you see that decoration courtesy of her, you’d do too.”

Draco looked up to see four students hanging upside down from the ceiling, their legs tied together with a thick rope. The ends of their ropes were tied to a rotating beam, much like a horizontal windmill.

“What is that?”

“She called it the Human Fan, whatever that means.”

“Must be a Muggle thing.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“I’m amazed at how much people like to kiss arse,” Draco commented. “And how far they would go for that. I mean, just this day last week they were trying to throw my book bag out a window and charm my school robe permanently pink—I didn’t let them, obviously; and now, they were carrying my books from class to class and complimenting my clothes at every turn.”

“I’m surprised you’re not preening in the attention.”

“Shut up, Longbottom,” Draco scowled as he glared at the taller boy. He continued glaring as he extended his right hand out and furrowed his brows, like a petulant child.

Longbottom chuckled and passed the mug of coffee to Draco. “You should go get your coffee yourself.”

“Why should I when I have a willing slave?”

Longbottom burst out laughing at that. “You’re completely mad,” he said with fond exasperation. “But you’re also madly beautiful.”

Draco peered up at him curiously. “Long—“

“Neville,” he whispered by Draco’s ear. “We’ve been hanging out for at least a month now. Am I not at least your friend?”

“Slytherins don’t have friends.”

“Oh? What is Parkinson to you then? And Zabini?”

Draco huffed and looked away.

“Why are you so nice to me, anyway?” Draco asked. “I’ve always been a prat to you.”

“Yes, but you were a prat to everyone,” Longbottom—no, Neville said as he smiled at Draco. “Back then, not only students from other Houses picked on me… even my housemates did.”

“That’s horrible,” Draco said as he frowned. “I thought Gryffindors stand up for each other.”

“Well, it’s a glorified version of Gryffindor life,” Neville said with a shrug. “I’m not a masochist or anything, but I preferred it when you were bullying me, because I knew you did it because I am a Gryffindor, not because I’m Neville Longbottom. It made me feel better knowing that you could’ve pranked anyone in Gryffindor, while they would prank me.”

“They weren’t the nicest to me, yet when danger approached, they turned to me for help,” Neville said with a sigh. “They bullied me because I am me, yet they’re the first to look for me for help. You never expected help from me.”

“Considering I’m an enemy…”

“But you were never the enemy,” Neville said, holding onto Draco’s hand and squeezing tight. “You’re just like them, rebellious teenagers who were pressured. The only difference is that you had to do something to save yourself and your family, while they hide away in fear and beg for help, unwilling to save themselves.”

“Neville,” Draco said as he looked up at him and Neville looked back in pleasant surprise. He took a deep breath, as if mentally preparing himself, and reached out to rest a hand on Neville’s shoulder. “You’re a wonderful person. Do not let your past turn you into a bitter man. What’s done is done. You can no longer change the past. I’ve told you that people are such kiss arses,” Draco said with a smirk. “You cannot rely on others. Choose a select few to trust and only trust them.”

“Like you chose Parkinson and Zabini?”

Draco’s face fell slightly. “I chose Vince and Greg too.”

“I’m sorry, Draco. I didn’t mean to—“

“I know. It’s alright.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Neville said, and he wasn’t pitying. He knew how hard it was to lose loved ones. “Well, at least we still have people around us we can shape our future with.”

Draco laughed. “Gosh, Granger is right. I’m turning into a Gryffindor.”

Neville grinned at him. “You’re not a Gryffindor,” he said, and Draco looked at him with mock hurt. “You’re my Gryffindor.”

With that said, Neville pulled Draco close and pressed his lips onto the smaller, fuller ones in a passionate kiss.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Draco was walking slightly dazedly and nearly bumped into Granger as she was exiting the Great Hall.

“Hey,” she greeted. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“How mean to call your own friend a ghost.”

“So you’ve finally figured out who they are then?”

“If you meant Neville then, then yes, I have.”

Granger’s left eyebrow rose. “Oh, so he’s Neville now? That was quick.”

“Shut up, witch.”

“That’s not an insult, Drakie. I am a witch.”

Draco made fake gagging noises. “Oh, please spare me from further defiling of my beautiful name.”

“I can think of more beautiful names than yours. Anyway, what did he do to make you finally realize it? Have you two shagged yet?”

“Granger!”

“What? Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I cannot be crude sometimes,” Granger replied with an evil smirk and Draco scowled deeper. “Well, spill, then. I want all the juicy details if you have.”

Draco’s eyes promptly widened in terror and he fled, leaving a disappointed witch behind.

“Oh well, I might be able to pressure Nev into telling…”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The next day Harry was scowling everywhere he went, and was rumored to snarl at anyone who came within a two-meter radius from him. The students parted when they saw him coming, parting like the Red Sea as they didn’t want to become the recipient of his wrath.

“What’s got Potter’s knickers in a twist?” Draco asked curiously, taking his seat beside Pansy as he watched the Gryffindor students scoot away when Potter sat down, the only ones beside him were Weasley and Granger. Neville was nowhere to be seen.

“He overheard me telling Blaise that Longbottom kissed you, the nosy eavesdropper,” Pansy said with a scowl to match Potter’s. “I told Blaise that that was your first kiss and he heard it.”

“You’re nosy too,” Draco said as he rolled his eyes. “How did you know that was my first kiss anyway?”

“You’re such a prude.”

“Shut up.”

“So make up your mind, Drakie. Only women with no class lead guys on.”

“I’m not a woman.”

“Aren’t you? Could’ve fooled me.”

Draco really wished looks could kill. At least it would wipe off the smug smirk on her face.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Draco was walking past a corridor when he heard hushed whispers that sounded suspiciously like Neville and Potter. So, being the not-so-nosy-eavesdropper that he was, he walked closer and used his Extendable Ears to listen in on them.

“I’m not sorry we love the same man, and I’m not sorry I kissed him.”

Ah, that was Neville then.

“No one knows if it’s his first kiss for sure, but what does it matter? I certainly don’t care. I’m just sorry you had to feel this way.”

“No,” Potter cut in. “I talked to Hermione, and she’s right. I’m still immature if I could let my feelings take control of me like this. A relationship isn’t solely based on feelings. So what, if I feel like loving him, then I love him, but if I don’t feel like it, I ignore him?”

“It’s a commitment, Harry.”

“I know. That’s why I’m going to work on myself first before I make further attempts at him. I don’t deserve him yet.”

“But,” Neville added, “this is what love should be like. It brings out the best in you. If you’re willing to change for the better for him, then maybe you truly do love him.”

“What about you?”

“Honestly? I care for him deeply. I’m fond of him. I’m not sure I’m in love with him yet, though.”

“May the best man win?”

“May the best man win.”

Draco slowly walked away so as to not alert them of his presence. As he walked off towards the dungeons, a grin on his face and giddiness coursing through his body, he wondered when he had turned into a Hufflepuff as well.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

For a long time after the eavesdropping incident, none of the two did anything romantic or remotely romantic. Of course, Neville and Draco still talked, because he would hunt the Gryffindor down and chop off his head in the same way he had chopped off Nagini’s head if Neville suddenly stopped talking to him.

Draco began to have grudging respect towards Neville who didn’t use this chance to his advantage and instead opted to wait for Potter before they started again. Of course, the students didn’t try anything to him because the one kid that tried was hanging from one of the loops in the Quidditch pitch the next day, screaming as the mischievous pixies tickled him with no mercy.

He wasn’t quite sure who did that, but he placed his money on Granger, because the girl, he found out, had a secret sadistic streak. True was the saying that you should never cross a woman.

“Why are they being so boring?” Granger whined and Draco stared at her as if she had just sprouted a second and third heads. “They’re not doing anything!”

“So the watcher from the sidelines is getting bored,” Draco commented flippantly, returning to his book and ducking a swipe at the back of his head. “It’s practically your fault anyway.”

“What did I do?” she protested.

“You existed.”

“Ha ha. Very funny. Now tell me what I did.”

“Nosy and meddlesome,” Draco said as he shook his head. “You talked to Potter, didn’t you?”

“Pot calls the kettle black, Draco?” Granger asked as she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re nosy too.”

“Yes, but I’m not meddlesome, at least.”

“How could you meddle in your own love life?” Granger snorted and Draco glared at her. This witch was sometimes too cunning for her own good.

“You know, a long, long time ago, I used to have a crush on Potter,” Draco admitted.

“Same.”

Draco glared at her again while Granger grinned unrepentantly at him. “Are you trying to imply something, Granger?”

“No, no, I wouldn’t dare,” Granger said, the grin turning smug. “I mean, obviously a Malfoy can choose for himself who’s the best for him, right?”

“If that was sarcasm, so help me, I’ll sneak spiders into your purse.”

“I don’t mind spiders.”

“Yes, but your boyfriend does and you’ll have to deal with a freaked out loud ginger.”

“And what would he be doing with my purse?”

“Why won’t the spiders exit your purse and go terrorize your House mates?”

“Oh. I thought you were implying that Ronald secretly likes to carry purses around.”

Draco’s eyes widened in terror. “What the heck is wrong with you Gryffindors!? I certainly don’t need those kinds of mental images!”

“You brought it upon yourself,” Granger said with a shrug. “Now go and mull. Tell the one you like that you like them and be done with it.”

“I thought you’re getting entertainment out of this.”

“Yes, but they’ve been quiet for long and I got bored of it. Now, I’m going to get entertainment out of watching you and whoever it is be mushy and lovey dovey and sickening.”

“Closet voyeur.”

“Careful, you’re giving me ideas.”

Draco made a strangled noise at the back of his throat and fled the still smirking witch.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“How could you stand being friends with Granger?” Draco complained and Neville only smiled indulgently at him while he half-whined. “She’s crude and annoying! Not to mention a closet voyeur!”

“Do I want to know?”

Draco glared at Neville. “We were only talking about it.”

“Should I be jealous?” Neville asked as he chuckled. “Anyway, how have you been doing, Draco?”

“Hmph, you’ve been ignoring me and now you’re making small talks.”

“Aw, don’t pout.”

“I am not pouting!”

“Sure looks like it. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“I’ve been fine,” Draco answered testily. “Bored, but nevertheless fine. Still annoyed at these kiss arse students, but hey, you can’t have everything, can you?”

Neville laughed. “Yeah, you certainly can’t.”

Draco stared at the Gryffindor thoughtfully. “Is something wrong?” he asked. “You sound troubled.”

Neville shot him a winning smile. “See? My good, little Gryffindor.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Are you going to tell me or not? If not, I have better things to do.”

“My Gran wants me to go to the States,” Neville said softly. “She said I should… ah, broaden my horizon. Or something like that.”

Draco wasn’t sure why, but he felt a small piece of his heart breaking. “Are you… are you going?”

“I can’t say no to her, can I?” Neville asked with a sigh. “It’s kind of like you. You can’t say no to your parents.”

Draco nodded in understanding. “I’m probably going to miss you,” he said, still uncertainly. “After all, you’re my first friend outside of Slytherin.”

Neville smiled at him, holding onto Draco’s smaller hand tightly. “I hope Harry treats you well.”

“Why are you making my decisions for me?” Draco asked as he frowned.

“I’m not,” Neville said. “But while I’m away, he has all the time to court you, and you’ll learn to like him, and maybe more. I don’t want any random guy to suddenly start seeing you, because we don’t know how he truly is yet.”

“And it’s not possible that I like someone from Slytherin? Say, Blaise, maybe?”

“Draco, I’ve been watching you, and so has Harry,” Neville said as he shook his head. “If you have any romantic interest in Slytherin, I’m sure we would know about it.”

“Stalkers.”

Neville chuckled. “You be good while I’m away, alright?”

“You’re not… you’re not staying there for good, are you?” Draco asked as he stared at Neville hopefully. “I’m serious. About missing you.”

“No, of course not,” Neville said. “I’ll return to England one day. Until then, we can owl each other. Is that quite up to Your Majesty’s standards?”

Draco scowled at him. “Well, I suppose that’s acceptable.”

Neville smiled and patted Draco’s head. “Now, why don’t you work on that potion of yours? I want to see you succeed, Draco. It might be what the Wizarding World needs to see that not all Slytherins are bad.”

“I know,” Draco said. “I’ll keep working on it until it works.”

The first heart-to-heart talk the two shared a long time ago, when they had just gotten close and before the mess with his first kiss, was on their dreams. Neville told Draco how he dreamed to either become a Herbology professor in Hogwarts or have his own greenhouse and be a supplier to famous potion masters. Draco told him that he was working on a potion that would kill cancerous cells. It was a Muggle condition that had just happened in the Wizarding World, and the first death related to it had happened during the war, and had caused an uproar in St. Mungo’s because it was new. Granger had helped him research the disease, the causes and possible cures, when he had told her that he wished to make a cure, or at least something that would stop the growth of the malignant cells.

Potter also knew of it, although much later, and had saluted Draco for his dedication. He even went as far as helping him get the ingredients he needed, especially those from the Muggle world.

Right now, he had somehow managed to find a way to suppress the spread of malignant cells, although it was still growing. Neville, Granger, and Potter were always there to encourage him with it, and so did Pansy and Blaise who were simply being good friends, although they didn’t quite understand what exactly he was working on and with.

Draco couldn’t believe that he was halfway through with his last year at Hogwarts. The first few weeks were hell and he had wished for time to go by fast so he wouldn’t have to suffer for long, but now that he had befriended some of the Gryffindors (he had also somewhat befriended Lovegood who had approached him last month and told him that he had a bright and happy future ahead of him, as signaled by the nargles), he actually didn’t want this school year to end.

And by Neville’s prompting, he had also had a heart-to-heart with Potter, and told him of how he overheard his conversation with Neville months ago when he said he’d wait until he became a man that Draco deserved before pursuing him again. Potter had looked like he wanted to jump out of the window in horror and shame and Draco had to bind him so that he wouldn’t be accused of murdering the Golden Boy.

They talked about how they needed to let go of their childishness and jealousy. They then moved onto the topic of their respective childhoods, so they both had a better picture of why they turned out the way they were. They talked quite a bit, but they talked even more after Potter approached Draco and asked if he was okay, and told him that Neville had just told the Gryffindors that he would be moving to the States for a couple of years because he was asked to by his Gran.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Draco asked with a shrug. “It’ll do him good.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you won’t miss him.”

Draco frowned. “I already miss him. Ever since then it’s like he’s trying to distance himself from me.”

Potter had pulled him into a loose embrace, his hold tentative and hesitant, and since then, he had become Harry in Draco’s mind, simply for being a friend who understood.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Draco learned then that Fate hated him. When he wished for time to go by fast, it went by torturously slow, and when he wished it wouldn’t, it went by like a bolt of lightning.

That was the realization he came to as he stared at his NEWTs results. It was straight Os, of course, because on his free time he mostly studied, now that he didn’t have anyone to prank or be pranked by. His potion also had advanced quite significantly, so much so that it could now revert malignant cancer cells to benign cells, which could then be extracted via surgery. A trusted potions master who acted as a pharmacist in Muggle London had introduced the cure to the Muggle world and it was received quite well.

And so, there, beside the envelope containing his NEWTs results, was another envelope containing an offer of apprenticeship from a renowned potion master, second best only to Severus Snape. His friends had all told him he’d be pretty daft to refuse the offer, and so he had sent back a confirmation letter expressing his willingness to become the old master’s apprentice.

He had returned to the Manor after the exams were done, keeping his mother company. The window of his room rattled and he saw a small owl looking dazed, apparently it didn’t know the window wasn’t open and had rammed into it. He got up and let the small owl in, before taking the note tied to its leg.

Draco,

Please come meet me at Heathrow airport, 12pm, today.

It wasn’t signed, but he didn’t need a sign to know who it was from. Granger’s handwriting wasn’t as manly, and Harry’s wasn’t as legible. Pansy had expressed her unwillingness to travel outside of England so there would be no reason for her to be at the airport, while Blaise was off to Italy for holiday with his mother.

Casting a quick Tempus, he determined that he only had thirty minutes left before the appointed time and quickly got ready. He Apparated to the nearest Apparition point and walked all the way there.

“How Muggle of you. There’s international portkey for a reason, you know,” Draco said with a scowl as he came up to the tall Gryffindor.

Neville laughed, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a luggage sitting near his feet. “Well, yes, but I’ve never been on a plane before, so why miss the chance?”

“It’s a Muggle death trap,” Draco said, his scowl deepening. “Now, why have you called me here?”

“Can’t I say goodbye to a friend?” Neville asked and Draco’s scowl was replaced with a frown. “My flight is in one and a half hours, but I have to go inside in a bit.”

They stood there, not saying anything, for a good five minutes. Draco stared at Neville defiantly, not wanting to be the first to crack.

“I heard of your apprenticeship,” Neville said finally, resting his hand on Draco’s head. He was quite a bit shorter than Neville and whenever the tall Gryffindor did that, it made him feel like a little kid. “Congratulations. I knew you could do it.”

Draco kept his eyes anywhere but on Neville. Neville chuckled at his reaction and leaned forward to steal another kiss from Draco; the second one he had gotten from the Slytherin.

“I guess this is it,” Neville said with a small shrug. “I hope he makes you happy.”

“Don’t become a deviant,” Draco said, his voice cracking slightly. “You be good too.”

“I’ll be back for the holidays,” Neville said. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Dragon.”

“I’d never get rid of you,” Draco said with a small smile. “Who’d throw away such a good, willing slave?”

Neville laughed. “Well, it’s time for me to go in now. Be well, and I’ll see you for Christmas, maybe.”

“Alright,” Draco agreed. He watched as Neville dragged his luggage with him and entered the airport. Slow yet firm footsteps walked up to him and he listened to the rhythmic taps, not once looking behind him, and only closed his eyes when a pair of arms wrapped around his waist from behind.

“Are you sad?”

“Not really. He’s not gone, after all.”

He was pulled in further into the embrace and settled against the firm, broad chest pressed against his back. He hummed in pleasure as he closed his eyes and relaxed.

“Want to go somewhere to drown your sorrows?”

Draco chuckled. “Your treat?”

Draco felt himself being turned around and opened his eyes to stare at the face of his boyfriend. They had gotten together a month before Neville was scheduled to leave for the States, and while Neville was sad that Draco didn’t choose him, he was happy that Draco had found someone who would be there for him when he couldn’t be.

“Of course,” Harry said with a grin. “Have I ever let Your Highness pay?”

Draco swatted at his arm playfully, and together they walked towards the nearest Apparition point and Apparated to Draco’s favorite ice cream parlor.

Ever since they got together, Harry had made it his personal mission to teach Draco all about Muggles. He was also the one to explain to Draco about airplanes when Neville told Draco that he’d be going to the States with one. He was surprised himself when Narcissa gave him her permission to bring Draco to Muggle London often and told them it might do them good to find a place together there, away from the prying eyes of the Wizarding World.

As he ate, he remembered the day two months ago, a month after Neville had dropped the bomb on him. After the heart-to-heart Harry and Draco had together, and the time when Potter became Harry, they had started talking again and became fast friends. They kept talking and getting closer until one day Harry confessed to Draco.

“I know I’m still childish and easily jealous, and that sometimes you still see me as an immature brat, but I swear that one day I will become a man worthy of your love!”

Draco’s heart had skipped many beats then, and it felt like it was trying to break free from his ribcage and hit Harry on the head for saying such cheesy thing. However, he couldn’t fight the deep blush that colored his cheeks nor the ecstatic beating of his heart.

It was then he knew who he had chosen, even before he himself knew it.

Years later, when Harry and Draco were finally married and moving in together, their friends came to help them pack and move. Pansy was packing Draco’s important and sentimental stuffs when she came across a plain red paper. She inspected it to see if there was any writing on it or anything special, but there was nothing. It was simple, plain red paper.

She put it back in the bag and was about to join the others in the living room when she finally remembered what it was—the same red paper that Draco got, the thing that had started everything in Draco’s eighth year; the thing that had caused him to be close to the Gryffindors, and ultimately, got him his current husband.

She chuckled as she walked to find him. Who said Slytherins can’t be sentimental like a Hufflepuff?



End Story






Author's Notes: I had to change the summary because the first summary was crap. Then had to change it again because of how the story progressed. I couldn’t think of a suitable title for this fic so for the longest time I had it saved as “Fest fic – Hana Yori Dango” D: how stupid can I be? My brain sometimes just refuses to work >.>

I think I have to apologize to all Neville/Draco fans. I’m quite a fan myself, to be honest, but I’m going to focus on H/D for a little bit longer before I branch out to other pairings again.

I’d like to make this longer, but I was running out of time. I feel like this fic is quite rushed, and that in every scene, there’s always a progression, sometimes slow, sometimes rapid. I think the worst is the scene where Neville told Draco of his leaving to America >.> sowie~

Anyway, to the original prompter, I hope you enjoyed this, because if you didn’t, then this story is pointless :( I had started freaking out halfway through January because I just realized that I don’t have much time left to finish this >.> and I somehow made the resolution to never, ever, join a fest, ever again D: but let’s see how I hold up with that resolution :P

Note: the last scene where Harry shouted out his confession was taken from the scene where Mikoto confessed his love to Megumi after being time and time again thought of to be a little brother by her. In the end she chose Mikoto instead of her three male friends (from the comic Kakumei no Hi or Day of Revolution)



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