Length of Fragment: 744 words
Fandom: Harry Potter
Main Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini
Rating of Fragment: PG-ish
May changes be made to what you've already written? Yes
Other notes: I was going through my writing folder, and found the start of a fic titled Seconds from *gasp* October of 2004. Yikes. I think it was intended to be a sequel to Best Served Cold, and so it predates HBP and is set during sixth year. It was originally going to be Harry/Draco, but there's NO obligation to keep it that way, or even to regard BSC as a prequel.
Halloween was approaching, and Harry still hadn't said one word to Draco Malfoy. He hadn't let himself think about him, or worry about him, or be concerned with him in the slightest.
Malfoy, for his part, had made Harry's task easy. He'd blended into the backdrop of the Hogwarts social scene effortlessly. The Slytherin balance of power had found its equilibrium: Zabini was king and Malfoy was second in command. Everyone else fell into place as usual, the wizard dare of September apparently forgotten.
By everyone but Harry, that is. He'd tried to forget, really he had -- but in the dark, when the curtains were closed around him, he remembered the feel of Malfoy's lips beneath his, the hot slide of Malfoy's tongue in his mouth, the way the other boy had felt pressed beneath him against a hard brick wall...
Even now, he shivered at the memory. He glanced across the classroom to see Malfoy exchanging smug grins with his cronies. Professor Flitwick was jabbering about engorgement charms, but Harry found it nearly impossible to concentrate. Not when Malfoy was acting as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't lured Harry into an alleyway and tricked him into kissing him. As if he hadn't enjoyed it too.
Malfoy's grey eyes flicked up in time to catch Harry watching him, and he smirked. Harry returned the expression with a glare and then looked away. He heard Zabini whisper something, and everyone sitting around him laughed.
Harry focused on the parchment in front of him, and vented his anger by tearing off a corner without touching his wand.
"-- and then we'll gather all the house elves of Hogwarts together and announce... Harry, are you listening?"
Hermione's sharp tone cut through Harry's thoughts. "Yeah, sure," he replied. Ron raised his eyebrows in sympathy.
"Honestly, Harry, you've been so quiet lately! We've been worried--"
"We?" Ron interjected. "Don't bring me into this!"
Hermione glared at him for a moment before turning to Harry with a patient expression. "I mean it, Harry. We know you've had a rough time of it, but please..."
Harry'd had a rough time of it; that was for certain. "Look, I'm sorry. I just--" He shrugged and stared down at his boiled chicken again. Rough didn't begin to describe his life of late. They couldn't possibly understand. He pushed his plate away and stood. "I'm sorry. I'm not very hungry."
He walked away, ignoring Hermione's pleas for him to come back, sit down, and talk.
He walked the corridors without a destination, uncertain where he should go, or why. He had felt so directionless since coming back to Hogwarts. No, longer: since June, and the Department of Mysteries. But he didn't think about that if he could help it.
He found himself standing before the entrance to the Room of Requirement, mind blank. What did he need? What did he want? He stared at the spot where the door would appear, if only he knew what he ought to do.
"Come to find a place to feel sorry for yourself, Potter?" Harry turned to see Zabini leaning against a nearby pillar, smirking in a rather Malfoy-like fashion.
"Fuck off," Harry muttered. He wasn't going to be bothered by the taunts of Zabini, a wannabe struggling to fill Malfoy's shoes as the new king of Slytherin. He was nothing like Malfoy: he was darker, more gangly, less refined, and not... not nearly as attractive as Malfoy was. Harry swallowed and intensified his glare. Zabini was hardly worth Harry's contempt. Harry looked away again. "I said fuck off, Zabini."
Zabini seemed affronted by Harry's dismissive tone. "Make me."
Harry mustered a smirk of his own and replied, "You're not worth it." The door appeared, and he opened it, ignoring the look of surprise on Zabini's face. He stepped through and closed it behind him, and then leaned against it with a sigh. He needed to be alone, perhaps.
Harry tried very hard not to shout in surprise at the sound of an all-too-familiar voice. Standing not ten feet away from him was Draco Malfoy, in the Room of Requirement.
"What the hell?" he gasped, stepping forward and then back again. This wasn't supposed to happen. The room shouldn't have opened if it were busy with someone else.
"Get out," Malfoy spat, looking just as surprised to see Harry there. When Harry didn't move, Malfoy shouted. "Are you deaf? Get out!"
yaycoffee wrote one ending here. It would be cool to see more!