Desperately Seeking Draco
Title: Desperately Seeking Draco
A Harry Potter Obsession Fic
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Harry Potter had a problem.
A Draco Malfoy-shaped problem.
It started small. Just a little curiosity.
Why was Malfoy always so dramatic? Why did his hair always look perfect, even after Quidditch? Why did he talk like he was starring in a Shakespeare play at all times?
Then, curiosity became obsession.
He started memorizing Malfoy’s schedule. Not on purpose! It just… happened.
He knew Malfoy’s favorite foods. (Crispy bacon. Who knew?)
He counted how many times Malfoy flipped his hair in a day. (Average: 27.)
He stole a Slytherin scarf. Just to see what it felt like. It smelled expensive.
By Sixth Year, Hermione was concerned.
“Harry,” she whispered, “why are you staring at Malfoy’s lips?”
Harry blinked. “I was?”
Ron snorted. “Mate. You’ve been following him for twenty minutes.”
Harry turned red. “No, I haven’t.”
Hermione sighed. “Harry, you wrote ‘Potter-Malfoy’ in your Transfiguration notes. Again.”
Harry slammed his book shut. “Okay, maybe I have a tiny, little, completely normal—”
Ron raised an eyebrow.
“—obsession.”
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The Malfoy Madness Intensifies
Things escalated.
Harry accidentally called him "Draco" in front of the whole class. (McGonagall stared. Malfoy smirked. Harry wanted to die.)
He started defending Malfoy for no reason. (Even when Malfoy actually deserved detention.)
He caught himself doodling little blonde stick figures in his notes. (Oh no. It’s terminal.)
He learned French. Just in case Malfoy secretly spoke it. (He didn’t.)
Then one day, it happened.
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The Confession (Sort Of)
Harry was hiding in a broom closet.
Why? Because he had accidentally written "Harry Malfoy" on his Potions essay.
And Snape had read it out loud.
In front of everyone.
Harry considered moving to Albania. Maybe Voldemort had the right idea.
The closet door slammed open.
Draco Malfoy stood there, arms crossed, looking way too amused.
“Well, well, well,” Malfoy drawled. “Potter. Fancy meeting you here.”
Harry died internally.
“Malfoy,” he croaked.
Draco smirked. “So. Harry Malfoy, huh?”
“I—I—it was a mistake!”
Draco leaned against the doorframe. “Was it?”
Harry turned red. “YES.”
Draco tapped his chin. “Shame. I was rather flattered.”
Harry.exe stopped working.
Malfoy winked.
And left.
Harry stood there, broken, confused, and somehow even more obsessed.
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The Beginning of the End
From that day forward, Draco Malfoy made it his mission to ruin Harry’s life.
Winking at him across the Great Hall.
Calling him “darling” just to watch him choke on pumpkin juice.
Leaning in too close whenever they fought.
By the time Seventh Year rolled around, Harry had completely lost his mind.
So one day, he snapped.
He grabbed Malfoy by the tie, slammed him against a bookshelf, and growled:
“IF YOU’RE GOING TO FLIRT, THEN JUST KISS ME ALREADY.”
Silence.
Then Malfoy smirked.
“Well,” he purred, “since you insist.”
And kissed him.
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The Aftermath
Hermione won 50 Galleons from betting they’d get together.
Ron refused to make eye contact for a week.
Pansy Parkinson started a fan club.
And Harry?
Harry was still obsessed. But now, he had a Malfoy of his own.
The End.