Draco, Attack!

That night.

The silver-and-green curtains in the Slytherin dormitory swayed gently, while rippling light from the Black Lake cast shimmering shadows across the ceiling through the windows.

Having finished a busy day of classes, Master De hugged a silk pillow embroidered with his family crest. His platinum hair fell messily across his forehead, and his gray-blue eyes were astonishingly bright.

"Did you see that?" He suddenly sat bolt upright, squeezing the pillow out of shape. "How can Harry be so cute? She turned the Boggart into a kitten! Merlin, that little black cat looked exactly like Harry!"

Goyle and Crabbe were squeezed into the same armchair, the two sturdy boys like mountains of flesh forced to pile on top of each other.

They exchanged a glance, then immediately began nodding frantically as Draco's blazing gaze swept over them, so perfectly in sync that they might have been under a synchronization charm.

"I knew you understood!"

Draco lifted his chin smugly and tossed the pillow aside. "And there was Care of Magical Creatures! She insisted on riding Buckbeak with me. Isn't it obvious?"

Crabbe's Adam's apple bobbed, but he didn't dare remind Draco that Hagrid had been the one to suggest it.

Goyle stared blankly at Draco, hesitated, and asked, "What's obvious?"

Draco rolled his eyes at Goyle. "She definitely likes me, or at least she's fond of me. Ah, but that's only natural. Who could resist the charm of the Malfoy family's only son? Besides, I'm so handsome."

"Girls are all shy." Neither of them reacted, so Draco went on by himself, unconsciously twirling a lock of blond hair around his finger. "Looks like I'll have to make the first move."

He tapped twice on a bedpost, and the bedside table's drawer slid open, revealing a stack of letters tied with a green ribbon-all written to Harry, but never sent because he hadn't dared.

The ink on the top one had smudged, but words like "Your eyes are more beautiful than the shimmering waters of the Black Lake" were still faintly legible.

"Tell me," Draco said, suddenly turning around and making his two followers flinch, "how should I let her know how I feel?"

Goyle opened and closed his mouth like a stranded fish. "F-flowers?"

"Jewelry!" Crabbe added hastily. "My sister says girls like shiny things."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Back in first year, when I talked about doing something with Potter, you said the same thing." He looked disdainfully at their frozen expressions. "Forget it. I'll just go tell her myself!"

Normally, Crabbe and Goyle had no objections to what Draco said. Sometimes they even stopped thinking altogether and simply gave him a hand.

But this time, Crabbe's rarely seen intuition came into play.

"No!"

Crabbe suddenly lunged forward to stop him, his massive body nearly knocking Draco back onto the bed.

Being hit by a wall of flesh was no pleasant experience. Draco distinctly heard his waist cry out in pain.

I must have twisted it!

Under Draco's murderous gaze, Crabbe came up with an idea in desperation. "M-my mother said... you have to take things slowly when you're pursuing a girl!"

"Your mother?" Draco scrutinized him skeptically. "The one who works in the Ministry of Magic's Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office?"

Goyle quietly pinched Crabbe from behind.

"Yes! She said... said... a sudden confession will scare a girl! You... you have to give her a present first! Yes! A present!"

Draco sat back down on the edge of the bed, thoughtfully tapping his chin.

After a long while, he spoke.

"That makes sense." He suddenly smiled, certain of success. "Tomorrow at breakfast, go to the greenhouse and pick the freshest white roses! The kind with dew on them."

The two followers nodded as if they'd been granted a reprieve, not daring to ask what would happen if Professor Sprout caught them.

Draco was already lost in his own fantasy, his fingertip unconsciously drawing hearts on the bedsheet as he muttered things like, "Will Potter blush when she gets the flowers?"

Goyle quietly nudged Crabbe and mouthed, [He's done for.]

Crabbe gave him a despairing look in return. [So are we.]

Morning sunlight streamed through the Great Hall's stained-glass windows, casting colorful patches of light across the long tables.

The moment Harry stepped through the doors, everyone in the Great Hall turned to look at her.

Cho Chang rose from the Ravenclaw Table and headed out. When she encountered Harry on the way, she stopped her, a complicated light flickering in her almond-shaped eyes. "I hope you'll be happy."

She paused, her voice as soft as a sigh. "If only you were gay... I've liked you for three years."

What was going on? Wasn't she Cedric's girlfriend in my last life? What did she mean, gay? Gay how? Huh?

Cho Chang had already swept away, leaving behind the faint scent of magnolia. Hermione shook her head beside Harry. "She's still too timid. Sexuality is obviously fluid..."

Ron and Harry turned their heads at the same time, shock written all over their faces. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What? You don't think sexuality can change?"

"No need to explain!" Ron's ears were as red as his hair. "We understand!"

A chorus of teasing erupted from the Gryffindor table.

George and Fred appeared from somewhere and each took one of Harry's arms. "Dear sister~"

George drew out his words. "Your special seat is over there!"

Fred produced a small flag with a magician's flourish, "Potter Fan Club" embroidered on it in gold thread. Harry looked in the direction they were pointing-

The spot where she usually sat had been given a makeover with a spell, and the wood-grain tabletop had been polished until it reflected people's images.

A few white roses still bearing morning dew stood in a silver vase, the edge of each petal gilded with a gold trim maintained by magic.

A letter written in green ink leaned against the vase, its wax seal bearing the elaborate Malfoy family crest.

Ron snatched up the envelope, his expression complicated. After Harry nodded her consent, he opened it. He read it briefly, then recited with an expression like he'd eaten shit, "'Your lips are as delicate and beautiful as white roses-'" He looked as though he'd swallowed a toad whole. "'Have a wonderful day. Yours with love, D.M.' Merlin!" He shook the letter. "Malfoy wrote this sickeningly sweet love note?!"

The entire Great Hall fell silent in an instant.

Voldemort rolled around laughing. "Look, the great Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, is being pursued by another boy. Let's see who it is. Oh! Here comes the boy!"

A commotion suddenly broke out at the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy approached in specially pressed school robes, his platinum hair combed immaculately. Under everyone's watchful eyes, he stopped three steps away, his gray-blue eyes astonishingly bright. "Do you like my present, Pot-"

"Stupefy!"

A red light flashed from Harry's wand, and Draco fell to the floor. The entire Great Hall was dead silent.

"Sorry," Harry said expressionlessly, putting away her wand. "My hand slipped."