Flocci non faccio, te Amor

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything to do with Harry Potter, J. K. Rowling does…yup.

Summary: Ignores HBP—Yeah, I’m not going there. Set in their seventh year—Voldemort has been defeated partly thanks to a vision courtesy of one Draco Malfoy…hmmm….Harry will have to thank him for that… HP/DM, SB/RL, HG/RW, NL/LL.

Warnings: Slash…though why you would even be here if you did not KNOW that is beyond me. If you are the type who leaves flames, Te odeo, interfice te cochleare. This brings me to my next point. I always thought that they’d speak a lot of Latin in the Wizarding world, and I took it for four years—might as well put it to some use. I’ll translate at the end unless I forget. Oh, and er... mention of rape and torture. Character death.

I recommend downloading and listening to the song I listened to when writing it—set the mood *wink wink, nudge nudge*


…Flocci non faccio, te Amo…

Chapter One: Chocolate Frogs and Daily Prophets
(written to “Tsurugi No Mai” from the Samurai Champloo ST)

“Hey guys—there’s an article about the final battle in here.” Hermione said excitedly as she flipped through the Daily Prophet.
“Read it—let’s see how badly they messed it up.” Harry said grimly.
“I don’t think they would, a member of the Order wrote it.” Ginny piped in.
“That is true.” Hermione said, “here it is: It was a cold April morning that the Order of the Phoenix stationed themselves in Diagon Alley, awaiting the arrival of You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters. A psychic sixth year student—“
“Say that five times fast.”
“—Had been plagued by a vision of a Death Eater raid on the popular shopping district in which they planned to empty Gringotts, Take St. Mungo’s hostage, and raze the Ministry building to the ground. Had the Order not had fair warning You-Know-Who surely would have succeeded. While the battle raged on in the streets, Harry Potter was confronted by the Dark Lord, only sixteen years old…then it talks about the how no one knows what really happened…there is a list of casualties…a list of people arrested…some stuff about the DA…and that’s about it. I’m surprised the didn’t mention Malfoy’s name—he was the one who had the vision, after all.” She grumbled as she folded the paper.
“Do you think that Honeyduke’s could make an entire house out of chocolate?” Ron asked musingly as he assessed his chocolate frog before popping it into his mouth. The food trolley had dropped in a minute ago, and they (Ron, Harry. Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna) had bought nearly half of its load. Ron had refused to acknowledge the fact that Malfoy had helped the Order and for the most part saved his best mate’s life.
“I don’t think that would be a very good idea.” Ginny said as-a-matter-of-factly without looking up from her latest buy, “Animagi: Unlocking Your Inner Beast”. “Willy Wonka did and the entire thing melted.”
“Who’s Willy Wonka?” Ron asked fascinated.
“Oh, honestly Ron, don’t you read?” Hermione sighed as she scratched the ear of the cat by her side. “Or listen for that matter? Either of you?”
“What?” he demanded indignantly his mouth full of chocolate, “Who’s Willy Wonka?”
“He is the fictional owner of a fictional chocolate factory.” Came a smoothly aristocratic voice from the doorway.
The trio looked up to see Draco Malfoy in a clingy black shirt, tight black pants and black leather boots leaning casually on the frame of the door, his arms crossed with nonchalance, a clipboard dangling loosely from his hand. His just above chin length layered silver-blonde hair cascaded carelessly over his mercury eyes and he moved it aside with an articulate hand.
“What the hell do you want, Malfoy?” Ron demanded, chocolate and saliva dribbling from his mouth. Harry, meanwhile, had his emerald eyes fixed on Malfoy’s stunning figure.
“God, Weasel,” Draco said in disgust, “Where do you put it?”
“Put what?” he said swallowing thickly. Hermione rolled her eyes and said, “I’ll explain later, Ron. Malfoy, what do you want?” she asked patiently. (it was a new Buddhist approach she was trying—after Voldemort’s fall and her parent’s death in the middle of their sixth year, she tried to gain a more comforting take on death)
“Yeah, Malfoy! What are you doing here?” Ginny said as she pulled out her wand. (she was definitely not a Buddhist, nor did she know who or what a Buddha was)
Draco held up his arms in mock surrender and said, “I just need to talk to Potter.”
“What for?” Hermione and Ron asked in unison, Harry still gawking at Draco’s body. ‘When did he stop being a ferret and start being…damn.’ He thought.
“Potter!” Draco hissed.
“What?” Harry’s head snapped up.
“I’m up here.” He said, waving a hand pointedly over his face.
“He is enraptured by your stunning body, and, quite frankly, I agree with him.” Luna said to Draco.
“Luna!” Harry yelled, blushing furiously, “I do not—no!” he sighed and turned back to Draco. “What do you want, Malfoy?”
“Bloody hell, what is wrong with you people—Potter, for the fifth time, I need to talk to you!”
“Sod off, ferret face.” Ron seethed.
“Potter, are you going to here what I have to say?”
“Is it important?”
“Yes.”
“For me or you?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s for the good of the free world. Because I’m head boy this year, I need to—“
“Oh, God, I almost forgot you made head boy—you’ll be worse than Percy!” Ron groaned.
“Anyway,” He shot Ron a dirty look, “I need to know what days you are going to set quidditch practice for.”
“Why?”
“Because…that’s my job.”
“Oh—how do I know you won’t just take the days I want to practice away from me out of spite?”
“Potter,” Draco sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. “I’m not even on the team this year—I’ve already asked the other captains, and they didn’t give me shit, why can’t you just tell me when in the bloody hell you want to practice in case there is a schedule conflict with the other teams, you outré specimen of botched genetics!” He growled, thrusting the clipboard he was carrying into Harry’s face before storming out of the compartment, slamming the door behind him.
“What does outré mean?” Ron asked, dumb-founded.
“It means conspicuously or grossly unconventional or unusual.” Said Neville. “It was on my word-a-day calendar last week.”
Harry groaned in frustration and went after Malfoy. He peeped inside various compartments until he found Draco lying on the bench, his head in the lap of a boy he did not recognize. He looked to be their age, with shiny auburn hair that fell casually over his hazel eyes, and a lean yet firmly toned body. Draco was reading what looked like one of their text books while the other boy rattled on about his summer. Harry did not know why, but he had the sudden urge to AK the unknown boy into next week.
“I still cannot believe they transferred me to Hogwarts—it’s so small. There’s what, 400 students here?”
“Less, actually.” Harry said as he entered the compartment.
“What do you want, Potter?” Draco asked without looking up from his book.
“Potter?” the boy asked, his accent American, “Harry Potter?”
Harry nodded reluctantly.
“Congratulations on the whole killing Voldemort thing.”
“Er…thanks.”
“Evan, you are a changeling.”
“Yes, but you love me anyway, don’t you Drake?”
“Sure, why not.” He said uninterestedly as he continued to read.
“Draco, I’m sorry about back there—it’s just I don’t know if I’m going to play this year either.” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
At this, Draco put down his book and sat up. “Why the hell not?”
“Well, if you’re not playing there’s no real competition, is there?”
“Ohhh….that is the nicest thing any one has ever said to me!” Draco beamed.
“What?” Evan shot up. “I have said way nicer things to you—just this morning I told you that you have and ass that could—“
“Wow, Marc, be still my beating heart; hush my distempered breath.” He spat.
Harry laughed. Harry one, Evan zero. Wait…was he counting?
“Well, it’s true.” Harry said. “I’ve only lost three times, and twice it was to you.”
Draco continued beaming. “Cool—so if I get into Gryffindor I can play seeker?”
“We already have a seeker—Ginny Weasley.”
“Yeah, well, I probably won’t be in Gryffindor anyway.”
“Why not? You’re a tactless, exoterically minded simpleton—you’re perfect.” Draco grumbled. “At least Potter is reasonably clever and has the power and the guts to back it up. All you have is a decent arse and an innate ability to charm your teachers into having sex with you.”
“That was just the one time, Draco, and it was before we started dating!”
“You are a bastard.” Harry two, Evan zero.
“So, if you’re not going to be playing quidditch, what will you be doing?”
“Me.” Evan cut in.
Harry rolled his eyes and Draco wandlessly banished him from the compartment. “I am definitely breaking up with him.” He mumbled to himself. “I don’t know. I was thinking of resigning as head boy and dropping some classes as well—I’d really rather just do nothing this year.”
“Do you need a hug?”
“Excuse me?”
“You look like you need a hug—I could go get Parkinson or something—“
“That is really okay, Potter. If you don’t mind, this has been lovely, but I’d like to get some sleep before we get to the castle.”
Harry nodded and turned to leave but stopped suddenly, “Dra—Malfoy?”
“Yes, Potter?” he yawned.
“Thank you for helping the Order even with your family’s relations with Voldemort—that took guts. And for telling me about the other vision you had…when you told me how I would have to take him down—I never would have thought to use a sympathy charm without your help.”
Draco nodded casually and said nothing.
“And for having the vision of Sirius being trapped and figuring out how to save him.”
“Potter, it’s really—“
“And for knowing all that stuff about us but not telling your parents.”
“Really, Potter—“
“And for keeping a third eye on the escaped Death Eaters.” He paused for a moment to see if he forgot anything. Satisfied, he continued. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you defect to our side?”
“I do mind.”
Harry bit his lip nervously and changed the topic. “How long have you known you were psychic?”
“Since I was five, and had a vision of being attacked by a goose.”
Harry laughed. “Did it come true?”
“I don’t know yet—I haven’t gone near a goose since.”
“That’s hilarious.” Harry said, “Malfoy, I know we’ve never really gotten along before, but I’d rather just stop fighting and call a truce or something.” Did he just say that?
Draco looked taken aback. “Er…yeah, sure.”
“Really? Cool. I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Yeah, see you.”
Harry left the compartment and shut the door behind him to see the American boy waiting impatiently outside. When he saw Harry, he turned on him and said, “What have you and Draco been doing?”
“Nothing, we were just talking.”
“I mean for the last year—a person doesn’t suddenly change their allegiances because of a dream, they do it either because A,” he ticked off his fingers, “Someone they love dies, B, they’re shagging someone on the other side—I’m guessing it’s B!” He hissed.
“Wow…” Harry said, impressed, “You really would make a good Gryffindor.” He turned on his heel and left to change into his robes, leaving a fuming Evan behind.



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