Word Count: 514
Rating: G / PG
Warnings: Flangst-ish, sorta?
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This drabble was written for fun, not for profit.
Author's notes: (1) Beta-ed by dysonrules
(2) X-posted to harrydraco, hp_creatures and hp_animagus
Start at the beginning - Meow
Sequel to Transformations
For the second time that term, Draco waited for a Gryffindor attack. For the second time that term, it never came.
Draco had considered launching a preemptive strike against Potter. He was sorely tempted to tell his fellow Slytherins how the great Harry Potter had kissed him in the Room of Requirement. However, there were two flaws in that plan. First, he was certain they would want to know why he was in the Room of Requirement with Potter in the first place. And while Draco was sure he could fabricate some reason that didn't include him receiving Animagus training from the Gryffindor, his close friends would see through that in an instant and want to know the real reason. Secondly, he wasn't entirely sure just who kissed whom. Potter probably had just as much right to claim that Draco kissed him.
Potter didn't even try to speak to him about the incident. Okay, perhaps he had tried to speak to him once or twice, but Draco's habit of diving into the nearest loo whenever the Gryffindor came close seemed to dissuade the dark-haired boy after a while. At first Draco was relieved when Potter finally left him alone. However, as the days passed, he grew more and more angry about the ordeal. How dared Potter kiss him and then not say anything? The git hadn't even tried to owl him. Surely the situation warranted an owl. The fact that Draco probably would have hexed the animal and sent it away was beside the point. Potter should have tried.
As his mood steadily blackened, Draco's housemates took to diving for cover whenever he entered the Common Room. None of them knew what was wrong, they just knew that he was apt to suddenly start throwing hexes without reason or provocation. After he'd cursed Millicent Bulstrode with a particularly nasty case of boils (that only improved her looks if you asked him), Pansy had yelled at him and threatened to cast several nasty curses on him herself if his attitude didn't improve immediately. Draco wasn't entirely sure that she even knew how to cast a few of the things she'd named, but you could never be sure with Pansy. In a huff, the blond had stormed to his room, throwing open his bed curtains in preparation for flopping on his bed and having a good, long sulk.
Instead of doing so, however, he froze when his eyes landed on the item lying innocently in the middle of his green satin comforter. Draco gingerly reached out and grasped the t-shirt between his thumb and forefinger. As he raised his arm the red material unfolded to reveal a Gryffindor crest. Intrigued, he grasped the shirt in both hands, turning it this way and that. He was amazed at how soft it felt. A quick search of his bed revealed no note of any kind, however, when he pulled the garment close he caught the distinct scent of Potter. He checked again for a note, casting several Revealing Charms but there was nothing.
What was Potter up to?
Next: A New Approach