Petty Revenge

It's only been a week since school started, but it sure felt like a year to Draco.

Everywhere he went, people stared at him with eyes that scorned his very being. 

He completely understood their anger. Of course they’d be angry at him - the ugly mark on his wrist served as a reminder that he had once bowed to the murderer of their loved ones, had once called him master and served him as such. Still, just because he understood their feelings didn’t mean their hexes didn’t hurt. And boy, did they hurt. 

It wasn’t like the school was ignoring the blatant bullying of the Slytherins, just that they did nothing to stop it. He still has scars from where a Fourth Year hexed him with a jinx way above his age. It was a Whipping Jinx, one that had an invisible crop whip the shit out of his legs.

Talk about embarrassing - he was the butt of kink jokes for the next two weeks. 

But Draco was far above petty things like revenge. The Fourth Year boy got off scot-free, but he didn't mind. 

What he did mind though, was a certain messy haired Gryffindor. Fucking Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World himself. It was a wonder that there wasn't a 24 karat gold statue of him in front of Hogwarts yet.

What a joke. Draco scowled to himself. 

After the welcoming ceremony, Draco kept to himself and busied himself in schoolwork, determined to wipe his slate clean and live proudly once more. He did all his homework on time, wrote excellent essays that exceeded the required length every time, and quietly disappeared into the shadows when he wasn’t needed. 

He thought he was doing a pretty good job of staying under everyone’s radars. 

Until now. 

It was Friday evening, and Draco was looking forward to another peaceful weekend in the library when he saw an unconscious student in a deserted corridor. 

He panicked. As much mental help he got after the war was over, Draco still freaked out whenever he saw someone unconscious. It just looked too much like death, and he had seen enough of that to last him a lifetime. 

While he really didn’t want to care for the student, he knew it would look much worse for him if he left the unconscious student all by themselves. In an empty corridor, at that. 

With that said, Draco placed his panic aside and crouched down so that he was in eye level with the student.

“Hey, wake up,” he said uncertainly. The student didn’t budge. Whatever had knocked him out had done a pretty good job.

Draco rolled the student over to see who it was, and blanched. Of course it was Potter. Why wouldn’t it be? Potter could never leave him alone, could he? It was like the universe was playing an elaborate trick on him.

Haha, have fun taking care of Harry Potter and explaining to McGonagall that you weren’t the one to knock him unconscious. Take that Draco, the universe seemed to say.

He shook his head. That was ridiculous. Universes didn’t talk(or did they?). It didn’t matter whether they did or not, because Potter chose that exact moment to open his brilliantly green eyes and grace little old Draco's eyes with the honor of staring into them. 

Except they weren’t green at all. Well, they were green to some extent, but there was a pink sheen to them, almost as if they were a doll’s eyes, mesmerizing and beautiful. But this was Harry Potter, and Harry Potter did not have mesmerizing and beautiful eyes, so Draco backed away from him, wondering just what kind of trouble the wanker had gotten himself into now. 

“Draco,” Potter said in wonder, smiling and reaching out to take Draco’s hand in his. Draco did not give him the honor of doing so and yanked his hand away, horrified at the boy’s usage of his first name.

What the hell? What’s gotten into him? The pure adoration and joy on Potter's face made him sick. Just a day before, he had fl

”What are you playing at, Potter?” Draco spat, shock morphing into anger in an instant. “I have my wand on me and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Potter didn’t seem to register anything he said. He just sat there, in all his stupid-haired Gryffindor glory, like an overgrown toddler. But the moment their eyes met, there was life in his eyes once more, along with fondness and an emotion Draco really would rather not name.

It was a look that Potter had directed at Ginny Weasley many times. Draco would know. It was sickeningly sweet and she melted into it every time, and then they would hug, black hair mixed with ginger. They would just do that publicly as if no one cared and no one watched. Well, he did. 

It was truly disgusting. And it was directed at him now. 

Draco was truly at a loss for words. He wondered for a second if it was all a dream, since Potter was a frequent visitor in them. But after a second, it all made sense. Vacant but happy stare, the usage of his first name, lovingly looking into his eyes - 

"You're cursed," Draco told the boy on the ground. "Did you drink a love potion?"

Potter shook his head. He frowned.

"I didn't, and I'm not cursed either," he said. "It's just kinda weird that, well, one minute, the mere sight of you annoys me and the next, I lo-"

"Stop." Draco hastily silenced him with a charm before he could continue. It was all just too much. "I'm just gonna go back to the Slytherin dorms, and you're going to head back to the Gryffindor dorms and we'll forget what just happened. A typical love potion will wear off in a few hours. Stay quiet until it does and don't say anything you normally wouldn't say. I just want to finish my education quietly. Do I make myself clear?"

Without waiting for his response, Draco turned tail and ran back into the dorms. 

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