Harry overhears Draco's rants about him. The insults AND the fantasies. Will he fulfill Draco's deepest darkest desires, or is he repulsed at the thought?
"Famous Potter. With his stupid glasses and his stupid green eyes, and let's not forget his terrible hair that never looks like it's ever seen a brush", ranted Draco. "I fucking hate how he wears his hair, and his clothes. Oh don't even get me started on his clothes. I swear he buys them at least three sizes too small, just to show off his chest, the prat. And his pants, those disgusting muggle things called jeans or whatever. Showing off his....his......his fucking everything. How can he be so damn callous as to not care what people will think of him, the complete idiot".
He was standing on a stairwell with his friends Pansy and Blaise, and for about the third time that day, he was ranting about Harry Potter and the way he was dressed. He was almost breathless when he was done, as was the usual, and his friends were smiling and smirking, and wondering when the truth would hit him. Right between the eyes, or even in his gut, and when he did realize what they already knew, he was going to rant even more, and for them it was entertainment. They couldn't wait. They were prepared for it.
But what none of them knew, was that someone else was also on the stairwell, and had heard every single word. The hero of the hour himself, Harry Potter. Classes were done for the day, and thanking the gods, was on his way to go and change out of his clothes, so that he and the guys from 8th year could get some exercise. Either Quidditch, or just running, but they all needed some form of release. He had stopped suddenly upon hearing Malfoy's voice. Holding onto the bannister, his eyes grew wide in horror.
He was reeling. He knew Malfoy hated him, but obviously never the extent of that hate, and hello! What was so wrong about his clothes? Granted, his dress sense had been deplorable, but now it was, different. Hermoine had called it sexy, much to Harry's dismay.
How was it possible for him to hold onto hate for so long, he wondered. Exhaling a breath he didn't even know he had been holding, he stayed where he was for a while, and then he carried on up the stairs, only to find that all three Slytherins were still there. Pansy leaning against the wall, Blaise next to her looking at Draco with a smirk on his face. What was that about?
And Malfoy sitting down with his head in his hands. Harry didn't want to be seen by them, but the damage was already done when he stopped and saw them, making them all turn their attention to him.
He gulped, and not wanting them to know that he had indeed overheard them, didn't stay to look at their faces, but ran up the stairs to do what he had planned on before this unfortunate event.
"Oh my god, I think he heard you", claimed Pansy when she could no longer hear footsteps.
"Bullshit. He's too absorbed in himself to hear what other people say Pans", Draco tried to reason, hoping to convince himself that it was true.
He sighed and stood up, and with his friends behind him, they made their way to the common room. Draco with his continuous thoughts of Potter, and Pansy and Blaise with the hopes that Draco wasn't going to go ape shit when reality finally hit home.
Harry had gone straight to his room to change, trying not to feel hurt or even angry at what he had heard. But it was hard. He had even spoken up at Draco's trial, so what was his problem. And how was it that his eyes were stupid. His hair had a mind of it's own, so that was a lost cause. And his clothes. So he had buffed up after the war, gaining muscle, height and strength, that didn't make him a prat. Did it? He would have to talk to Hermoine and find out what she thought of it all.
Leaving his room, he and the other guys from his year made their way to the field to practice Quidditch. He was dressed in a tight but old denim, with a white T shirt and boots. Climbing onto his Firebolt, he raced up into the air. This is where he belonged, he loved the feel of the wind on his face, his hands gripping the broom so tight his knuckles turned white. He threw the Snitch in the air, and chased after it.
