Title: Harry Potter and the Slashed-Up Canon
Author: J.K. Rowling (with a little help from anthimaeria)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Word Count: 1358
Warnings: Er-- wandplay?
Summary: Harry finally does something about his obsession with Draco Malfoy.
Author's Notes/Disclaimer: All sentences in this fic were composed by J.K. Rowling from books in the Harry Potter series, and are her intellectual property. I merely rearranged the text. No malice is intended by this posting, and no profit is sought.I believe in good faith that the following is a parody and subject to the fair use exception under applicable copyright law, but will immediately remove this post at the request of any of the copyright holders. This fic will not be posted on any archives outside of LiveJournal and/or its mirror sites.

Additional fics in this series: It's Been a Very Weird Night, Harry Potter and Harry Potter and the Last of the Slashed-Up Canon.


“Nice one, Harry!” said Ron enthusiastically, waving the new pair of Quidditch Keeper’s gloves Harry had given him.

“No problem,” said Harry absentmindedly, as he searched the Slytherin dormitory closely for Malfoy. This map showed a set of passages he had never entered. "Hey...I don’t think he’s in his bed...”

Ron blinked. “Who are you talking about?”

“Draco Malfoy,” Harry said bitterly.

“That’s obvious,” whispered Hermione. She jerked her head at Harry, who felt his stomach clench.

Ron looked slightly disgruntled. “This is our last chance--my last chance--to win the Quidditch Cup,” he told them, striding up and down in front of them.

“Quidditch!” said Hermione angrily. “Is that all boys care about?”

Slytherin was leading the tournament by exactly two hundred points. If Gryffindor won, Harry knew that the whole House would forget they had criticized him and swear they had always known it was a great team. Harry, however, had never been less interested in Quidditch; he was rapidly becoming obsessed with Draco Malfoy.

To his slight annoyance, however, neither Ron nor Hermione seemed quite as curious about Malfoy’s activities as he was; or at least, they seemed to get bored of discussing it after several days.

“Maybe it’s a bit like an illness,” said Hermione, looking concerned when Harry confided in her and Ron. “A fever or something. It has to get worse before it gets better.”

“Right,” said Harry. His brain seemed to have jammed. At the same time, he had a most peculiar sensation somewhere around his midriff.

“Did you kiss?” asked Hermione briskly.

Harry looked from Ron’s expression of mingled curiosity and hilarity to Hermione’s slight frown, and nodded.

Ron choked on his bit of toast, and Hermione gasped.

“You kept that quiet!” said Ron. “McGonagall would go nuts if she knew---“

“Yes, she probably would,” said Harry dully.

“Well,” Ron said finally, looking up at Harry. “How was it?”

“Er--good,” said Harry. He felt that it would sound highly ungrateful, not to mention childish, to say, “I wish he’d talked to me, though. Or even looked at me.”

“That’s wonderful!” said Hermione, giving Ron a reproving look because he looked as though he was close to laughing.

“Come off it, you’ve ridden him, haven’t you?” said Ron.

“No way!”

Ron raised his eyebrows. “It’s okay, you know, you can tell me the truth,” he said.

“I didn’t,” said Harry. “I didn’t put it in. I was telling the truth.”

Harry’s heart was beating a violent tattoo against his Adam’s apple. “Help me!” he moaned to Hermione. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears.

“I can’t, Harry, I’ve still got four hundred and twenty-two pages to read!’ said Hermione, now sounding slightly hysterical.

Harry scrambled to his feet. "I’m going to see him," he said to Ron and Hermione.

“But--” said Hermione.

“Well, it’s about time he had a bit of fun,” said Harry.

Ron’s eyebrows rose so high that they were in danger of disappearing into his head. “What if they catch you? What if you’re seen?”

Harry frowned at Ron. “I don’t care. I still want to see him. I’ll meet you back here.”

Raising an arm in cheery farewell, he headed out the front doors into the darkness. Neither Ron nor Hermione wished him luck as they left; both looked rather annoyed.

~*~

“Do watch where you’re going, Potter!” Draco Malfoy was standing with his back to the door, his hands clutching either side of the sink, his white blond head bowed.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, and he meant it.

But Malfoy’s eyes were shining malevolently, and they were fixed on Harry.

Harry felt a huge jolt of excitement. He had not been this close to Malfoy since he had watched him muttering to Crabbe and Goyle during Dumbledore’s speech about Cedric.

The words came out before Harry had quite got his tongue around them. “You--er--look nice,” he said awkwardly.

He felt the heat rise in his face and neck. Why did he have to go red now? Why? His hand gripped his wand under his robes.

A gleeful smile spread across Malfoy's pale face. “Thank you, Harry,” he said. He looked at Harry, who did not look away.

Harry smiled back at him. It was the first time he’d smiled in days.

“How are you?” Harry asked him in a low voice, moving forward to stroke the feathery head. They shook hands.

Malfoy shrugged. “Well, I suppose you want to--?”

Harry’s throat went dry. “What?” he said confusedly. “Oh...er..” The honest answer was yes, but he didn’t want to give it.

Malfoy’s thin mouth was curving in a mean smile. “Harry, you must be very scared--”

“I’m not scared!” said Harry at once, and it was perfectly true; fear was one emotion he was not feeling at all.

For a split second, Malfoy stared at him. “I don’t believe it,” he said hoarsely.

Harry nervously flattened his fringe down again. “Will you let me have a go?”

Malfoy made an angry movement toward Harry, but stumbled over his overlong robes. He considered Harry for a moment.

“You want to?” he said. “You mean it?” His voice was carefully controlled, but Harry could sense his excitement.

“Yeah, I mean it!” said Harry. He couldn’t move a muscle; he could only gaze up at Malfoy, who smiled broadly.

They stared at each other for a moment, then Harry said,”Well--er--shall we go, then?”

“Go on, then, Potter,” Malfoy said quietly, drawing out his own wand.

Harry took a deep breath. Now was the moment to do it. He leaned even closer, tilting his head, trying to see...

Malfoy was smirking more broadly than ever. “Point me,” he whispered to his wand, holding it flat in his palm.

“How does it work?” said Harry nervously. He knocked Malfoy’s arm out of the way and-- he was at Malfoy’s ankles-- he was level--

“Don’t you know, Potter?” breathed Malfoy, his pale eyes narrowed. Something silver-white, something enormous, erupted from the end of his wand. “There you go,” he said.

Harry drank deeply. It was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted and seemed to heat every bit of him from the inside. He had never tasted anything like it before, but enjoyed it immensely. “Well done,” he croaked. “What were you saying, Malfoy?”

“Are you going to enter?” Malfoy repeated. He looked down at his wand, which he was still clutching in his hand. His smirk widened.

“Er...okay,” said Harry.

Harry was now marking Malfoy so closely their knees kept hitting each other. There was something comforting about his warm weight. His body felt smooth, powerful, and flexible.

“Got there at last, have you?” taunted Malfoy.

“Yeah, well, it’s harder in the dark--“

Panting, Harry sped up, his face hot, his feet very cold. “Whoa!” he said, pulling backward as hard as he could.

Malfoy staggered. His whole body was shaking. “Harry! Harry!”

“What’s the matter?” Harry said.

“There was no need to stick the wand in that hard,” he said gruffly, clambering to his feet. “It hurt.” And without warning, he burst into tears.

Harry froze. “You all right?” he said.

Malfoy stiffened and glanced over his shoulder. “Just--prod me or something in future, all right, don’t bend over me like that...”

Harry bit his lip. Then something clunked into place. “Er--d’you want to come to Hogsmeade with me on Valentine’s Day?”

Malfoy looked as though he was fighting down the urge to shout, or to vomit. His light grey eyes narrowed. “Oh--yes...”

After several long moments--or it might have been half an hour--or possibly several sunlit days--they broke apart.

“Don’t start crying again,” said Harry warningly.

“Well, you never know,” said Malfoy with a ghost of a smirk. He looked slightly sheepish. “And now, it really is time for bed.” He heaved a sigh.

“’Night,” said Harry.

Draco Malfoy laughed. “Keep your wand at the ready, Harry,” he said brightly. And without looking once at Harry, he swept from the dungeon.

The End