The Anti Harry
Title: The Anti Harry
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 2,194
Warning(s): Muggle!Non Magical AU, College!AU, slightly OOC Harry (think a Harry who's had a childhood severely influenced by both Sirius Black and James Potter).
Summary: Harry has his eye on the new Fresher. The new Fresher has it in for Harry.
Author's notes: Written for dove_drabbles: go to an actual bookstore and slythindor100: back to school.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
“I’m telling you, the cute Fresher is totally checking me out.”
Ron and Hermione exchanged a long suffering look over their best friend’s head. Harry, bless his heart, was much too busy leering at the slender blond at the other end of the cafeteria to notice.
By Hermione’s count, the Fresher had been here for exactly thirty four minutes- of which fifteen had been spent selecting a chocolate muffin, nineteen in perusing An Introduction to Comparative Literature and a resounding zero in checking Harry out.
“Damn, he’s cute,” Harry muttered, shoving Ron to one side and leaning over for a better look.
“Yay,” Hermione deadpanned. “It’s stalking season.”
“The creepiest time of the year,” Ron muttered, shoving Harry right back and grabbing the last slice of pizza. Hermione huffed and scooped some salad on her boyfriend’s plate. Really, they may be college students but they didn’t have to eat like animals.
“I don’t stalk,” Harry informed them indignantly.
“Ha,” Hermione put in.
“Seconded,” Ron agreed, raising his hand.
“What the…? You’re supposed to be my friends!”
“We are your friends,” Hermione replied. “Heaven knows why, but we are.”
Harry shot her a wounded look at that. Big green eyes, sad little pout- the works. Despite all her assertions that she’d developed an immunity to the puppy dog face in their Second Year, Hermione melted a little and ruffled Harry’s hair.
“We love you just as you are,” she promised him.
“And what you are is a stalker,” Ron added helpfully.
“I don’t stalk,” Harry repeated and he was definitely whining now. “Name one person I ever…”
“Cho Chang.”
“Cedric Diggory.”
“Zach Ashcroft.”
“Marietta Edgecomb.”
“Lee Jordan, Michael McAllery, my sister Ginny…”
“And I repeat,” Hermione cut in, “ha!”
Harry scowled sulkily and crossed his arms. “I said one,” he grumbled.
Hermione ignored him. “And now here we are,” she said flatly. “Another year on campus, another unfortunate victim.”
Her brown eyes went back to the blond. He was still there, sitting at a table all by himself. His slim fingers picked absently at the muffin as he read, clearly unaware of the predicament he would soon find himself in. Poor kid, she thought with a sigh. Day one at Uni and he’s got a target on his back.
They never lasted long with Harry. Hopefully, this one wouldn’t end up in tears like Cho. Of course, she had only dated Harry to get Cedric Diggory to notice her.
Unfortunately, Harry had the same idea.
Hermione winced at the memory. And of what had happened afterwards, when Harry eventually got bored and dumped Cedric too.
That was the thing with Harry. He was persistent, right to the very end. He played the long game, got the girl (or the guy, didn’t really matter) and then he lost interest so fast, it left you blinking in the dust. It didn’t help that he was actually a sweet, funny and charming guy when you got to know him.
Also, the puppy dog eyes.
The pure and simple truth was that Harry was a chaser. He loved the challenge, he loved the game. But he couldn’t deal with what came after. He thought nothing of tearing around a soccer field until his legs gave out and he couldn’t breathe anymore, but give him the trophy and he didn’t know what to do with it.
It was exhausting.
“Harry,” Hermione said, and okay, maybe she was whining a little too. “I can’t go through this again. It’s our last year on campus. Can we please, please just have a normal, drama-free year, just this once?”
“You owe us, you know,” Ron added. “We’ve been looking out for you ever since you stumbled into our Freshers’ Icebreaker with Goldie Bradshaw and stumbled out with Chris Hooper. Who let you hide in his dorm while they hunted you down? Me. That’s who. It’s payback time. Listen to Hermione, let this one go.”
“Oh, come on,” Harry protested. He was practically squirming in his seat. His eyes darted back to the Fresher and glinted with determination. Hermione sighed.
Here comes the bargaining stage, right on cue.
“Look,” Harry began, with all the flair of someone who’d attended a theatre class that one time, “call me crazy…”
“Crazy,” Ron obliged.
“…but I believe in fate.”
“Oh for God’s sake,” Hermione groaned. Ron bussed a commiserating kiss to her head as Harry went on, apparently on a dramatic roll.
“Sure, I could walk away from the cute bloke who’s been looking me over for the past half hour- shut up Ron, I saw him- but that would be denying both of us. Now, say I’m wrong…”
“You’re wrong,” Hermione and Ron chorused.
“…but I see the hand of fate at play here. Who am I to deny the workings of destiny? Who am I to…”
“Oh my god, stop!” Hermione pleaded. She hid her face in one hand, waving Harry away with the other. “Go. With my blessing. Flirt with him, date him, dump him a week later…”
“In other words, the Harry Special,” Ron put in helpfully.
“Just remember,” Hermione warned. “When you cut him loose and he comes after you with a carving knife, I get to say I told you so.”
Harry jumped up, grinning happily. “You guys are the best,” he announced happily. “Wish me luck. I’m going in.”
Hermione buried her face in Ron’s shoulder.
Here we go again...
****
God, he was even better looking up close.
Harry ducked under a ‘Back to School!’ banner and prowled closer. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up just a bit more than usual. Cho always liked it like that and Zach had loved to run his hands through it.
Maybe Blondie wouldn’t mind mussing it up either.
The bloke wasn’t really looking at him yet, which gave Harry ample opportunity to give him the once over.
Oh, yes.
Sure, this wasn’t his normal type. Harry liked his partners pretty and social. The guy was definitely pretty, all perfect hair and sharp features. But there was a steely glint in those silver grey eyes. They remained resolutely glued to that boring book, stoically refusing to grace the world with even a glance. The boy’s narrow frame was stiff and he held himself like someone who’d been coached into developing the perfect posture. And those lips…pretty, pink, sinful lips which turned down in just the hint of a sneer. Everything about him screamed I don’t want to be here and leave me alone or I’ll bite you.
It should have turned him off. But Harry’s curiosity only deepened as he took one step after the other.
Finally, he was too close for the boy to ignore him.
Silver eyes flicked to him for a split second, before dismissing him completely.
“What?”
The tone was bored and dismissive. Harry blinked, a bit caught off guard. Maybe he’d underestimated just how standoffish this guy was. Maybe he was…shy? Freshers usually were. Yeah, maybe he was just intimidated by college and the big campus and a worldly senior coming over to talk to him.
Harry decided to play it nice. That would put the guy at ease, and things would fall into place. So, he plastered on his most charming smile and raked his hands through his hair again.
“Is this seat taken?”
The blond made an odd noise. Something in between a sigh and a snort of derision. One slim eyebrow rose in a perfect arch.
“Do you see anyone sitting there?” he asked. His tone suggested that he didn’t expect Harry to know the answer.
Ouch.
“Great!” Harry grinned, taking up the unoffered not-invitation and parking himself in a chair. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Hermione face palming.
He ignored her.
The blond frowned… and went back to his book.
Well, this was going well.
“So, first day, huh?” Harry pressed. “How’s it going so far?”
“Oh, it’s just peachy,” the blond sneered. “Oxford has the best Com Lit Programme in the country, but was I allowed to go there? Oh no. I just had to study at Father’s alma mater. Because tradition. And legacy. And it’s the only college I’m paying for, Draco, so shut up and pick a major!”
Harry sat stock still through the tirade, absently wondering if he’d bitten off more than he could chew. Then again, he did have a very critical piece of information now.
“Draco?” he tested the name on his tongue.
Oh, it sounded good.
Draco, apparently, looked less than pleased by his continued presence.
“Look, not to be rude or anything,” he began, “but I’m just trying to read my book here. So, could you and your hair go find someone else to bother?”
“Just trying to be friendly,” Harry offered. He tilted his head a bit, offering that kind of half smile that Ginny had always adored.
Draco’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t do friends,” he replied, snapping his book shut purposefully. He leaned forward in his seat and Harry watched as those grey eyes narrowed dangerously. “And I’m definitely not going to do you, Hot Shot. Read the room. Not. Interested.”
Just who did this guy think he was?
Harry’s grin faded, his fists clenched. “What the hell is your problem?” he snapped.
“For starters, the campus manwhore won’t leave me alone,” Draco drawled.
Sparks flew from Harry’s eyes. He stood up so abruptly, his chair went crashing back. “Isn’t that cute?” he retorted spitefully. “Here’s a little tip, Fresh Meat. People like to have sex in college. But don’t you worry. Something tells me you won’t be having that problem.”
“Not with you I won’t,” Draco belted back, and God, that grin was just spiteful.
And that was it.
Just like that, Harry lost his temper and he lost it good.
“Like I would touch you with a ten foot pole!” he shouted.
“Like I would let you within a hundred feet of me!”
“You’re a bloody mental case!”
“You’re a walking STD!”
People were milling about now, watching with avid interest. Harry didn’t care. The blood was roaring in his ears, his heart was pounding. He felt alive and exhilarated and bloody furious.
“Your hair is weird!”
“You should talk! Who cut yours, Edward Scissorhands?”
“Fuck you!”
“Not even if you boiled it in detergent!”
They were panting now, flushed and out of breath. Draco’s mouth was a tight line, his eyes flashing furiously. His pale skin was flushed and his slim frame was trembling. Harry swallowed against the dryness in his throat. His jeans felt uncomfortably tight.
Oh God, what was this?
“I’m late for class,” Draco bit out.
Harry stared as the blond shoved past him and started to leave. “Oi!” he snapped. “We’re not finished here! I’m not done with you yet!”
Draco turned back to him, irritation flitting across his sharp features. “Fine,” he retorted. “Walk me to class then, and try to keep up!”
“Fine!”
“Fine! And take these. I’m not lugging them around while you yammer on!”
Harry sneered as the git shoved a stack of books at him. He cursed and staggered under the weight.
“They’re called books,” Draco informed him sweetly. “You get them at the bookstore. It’s the big building next to the Taco Bell.”
“Shut up and start walking,” Harry snapped. “I’m only doing this so I can yell at you some more.”
“Fine by me.”
They marched off, Draco with his shoulders squared and his head held high, Harry muttering under his breath. The crowd parted for them without a word of protest. To be fair, nobody could have topped that screaming match if they’d tried.
Harry caught Ron’s eye as he passed them. Hermione seemed frozen solid, her forkful of salad hovering halfway as she gaped speechlessly at him. Ron just shrugged and gestured to the exit.
“Got somewhere to be?” he asked dryly.
“Oh, don’t you start,” Harry snapped. “I’ll be back after I drop that git to class and tell him exactly where he can shove it!”
“Good idea,” Ron agreed sagely. “Hey, you know what else you should do? Invite him to dinner so you can tear him a new one over pizza rolls.”
Harry frowned as he thought it over. “You know, that’s actually a good idea. I’ll…”
“Hey, manwhore! Are you coming or not?”
“In a minute!” Harry snarled, before hefting the books up and hurrying off. “See you, Ron. Mione. Oi, Ferret Face! Here’s something else you can…”
And with that he was gone, still yelling up and down the halls.
The crowd thinned and eventually disappeared. The uneasy mutterings in the cafeteria soon faded, and business resumed as per usual.
Only Ron and Hermione knew that somehow, everything had changed in a split second and things would never ever be the same again.
“I think…” Hermione took a deep breath to steady herself. Her slim hand clasped Ron’s shoulder for support. “I think,” she tried again, “that we’ve found the Anti-Harry.”
Ron nodded grimly. “How long do you think it’ll take them to cancel each other out?”
“I don’t know,” Hermione sighed, “but I have a feeling we can kiss our drama-free year goodbye.”
Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 2,194
Warning(s): Muggle!Non Magical AU, College!AU, slightly OOC Harry (think a Harry who's had a childhood severely influenced by both Sirius Black and James Potter).
Summary: Harry has his eye on the new Fresher. The new Fresher has it in for Harry.
Author's notes: Written for dove_drabbles: go to an actual bookstore and slythindor100: back to school.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
“I’m telling you, the cute Fresher is totally checking me out.”
Ron and Hermione exchanged a long suffering look over their best friend’s head. Harry, bless his heart, was much too busy leering at the slender blond at the other end of the cafeteria to notice.
By Hermione’s count, the Fresher had been here for exactly thirty four minutes- of which fifteen had been spent selecting a chocolate muffin, nineteen in perusing An Introduction to Comparative Literature and a resounding zero in checking Harry out.
“Damn, he’s cute,” Harry muttered, shoving Ron to one side and leaning over for a better look.
“Yay,” Hermione deadpanned. “It’s stalking season.”
“The creepiest time of the year,” Ron muttered, shoving Harry right back and grabbing the last slice of pizza. Hermione huffed and scooped some salad on her boyfriend’s plate. Really, they may be college students but they didn’t have to eat like animals.
“I don’t stalk,” Harry informed them indignantly.
“Ha,” Hermione put in.
“Seconded,” Ron agreed, raising his hand.
“What the…? You’re supposed to be my friends!”
“We are your friends,” Hermione replied. “Heaven knows why, but we are.”
Harry shot her a wounded look at that. Big green eyes, sad little pout- the works. Despite all her assertions that she’d developed an immunity to the puppy dog face in their Second Year, Hermione melted a little and ruffled Harry’s hair.
“We love you just as you are,” she promised him.
“And what you are is a stalker,” Ron added helpfully.
“I don’t stalk,” Harry repeated and he was definitely whining now. “Name one person I ever…”
“Cho Chang.”
“Cedric Diggory.”
“Zach Ashcroft.”
“Marietta Edgecomb.”
“Lee Jordan, Michael McAllery, my sister Ginny…”
“And I repeat,” Hermione cut in, “ha!”
Harry scowled sulkily and crossed his arms. “I said one,” he grumbled.
Hermione ignored him. “And now here we are,” she said flatly. “Another year on campus, another unfortunate victim.”
Her brown eyes went back to the blond. He was still there, sitting at a table all by himself. His slim fingers picked absently at the muffin as he read, clearly unaware of the predicament he would soon find himself in. Poor kid, she thought with a sigh. Day one at Uni and he’s got a target on his back.
They never lasted long with Harry. Hopefully, this one wouldn’t end up in tears like Cho. Of course, she had only dated Harry to get Cedric Diggory to notice her.
Unfortunately, Harry had the same idea.
Hermione winced at the memory. And of what had happened afterwards, when Harry eventually got bored and dumped Cedric too.
That was the thing with Harry. He was persistent, right to the very end. He played the long game, got the girl (or the guy, didn’t really matter) and then he lost interest so fast, it left you blinking in the dust. It didn’t help that he was actually a sweet, funny and charming guy when you got to know him.
Also, the puppy dog eyes.
The pure and simple truth was that Harry was a chaser. He loved the challenge, he loved the game. But he couldn’t deal with what came after. He thought nothing of tearing around a soccer field until his legs gave out and he couldn’t breathe anymore, but give him the trophy and he didn’t know what to do with it.
It was exhausting.
“Harry,” Hermione said, and okay, maybe she was whining a little too. “I can’t go through this again. It’s our last year on campus. Can we please, please just have a normal, drama-free year, just this once?”
“You owe us, you know,” Ron added. “We’ve been looking out for you ever since you stumbled into our Freshers’ Icebreaker with Goldie Bradshaw and stumbled out with Chris Hooper. Who let you hide in his dorm while they hunted you down? Me. That’s who. It’s payback time. Listen to Hermione, let this one go.”
“Oh, come on,” Harry protested. He was practically squirming in his seat. His eyes darted back to the Fresher and glinted with determination. Hermione sighed.
Here comes the bargaining stage, right on cue.
“Look,” Harry began, with all the flair of someone who’d attended a theatre class that one time, “call me crazy…”
“Crazy,” Ron obliged.
“…but I believe in fate.”
“Oh for God’s sake,” Hermione groaned. Ron bussed a commiserating kiss to her head as Harry went on, apparently on a dramatic roll.
“Sure, I could walk away from the cute bloke who’s been looking me over for the past half hour- shut up Ron, I saw him- but that would be denying both of us. Now, say I’m wrong…”
“You’re wrong,” Hermione and Ron chorused.
“…but I see the hand of fate at play here. Who am I to deny the workings of destiny? Who am I to…”
“Oh my god, stop!” Hermione pleaded. She hid her face in one hand, waving Harry away with the other. “Go. With my blessing. Flirt with him, date him, dump him a week later…”
“In other words, the Harry Special,” Ron put in helpfully.
“Just remember,” Hermione warned. “When you cut him loose and he comes after you with a carving knife, I get to say I told you so.”
Harry jumped up, grinning happily. “You guys are the best,” he announced happily. “Wish me luck. I’m going in.”
Hermione buried her face in Ron’s shoulder.
Here we go again...
****
God, he was even better looking up close.
Harry ducked under a ‘Back to School!’ banner and prowled closer. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up just a bit more than usual. Cho always liked it like that and Zach had loved to run his hands through it.
Maybe Blondie wouldn’t mind mussing it up either.
The bloke wasn’t really looking at him yet, which gave Harry ample opportunity to give him the once over.
Oh, yes.
Sure, this wasn’t his normal type. Harry liked his partners pretty and social. The guy was definitely pretty, all perfect hair and sharp features. But there was a steely glint in those silver grey eyes. They remained resolutely glued to that boring book, stoically refusing to grace the world with even a glance. The boy’s narrow frame was stiff and he held himself like someone who’d been coached into developing the perfect posture. And those lips…pretty, pink, sinful lips which turned down in just the hint of a sneer. Everything about him screamed I don’t want to be here and leave me alone or I’ll bite you.
It should have turned him off. But Harry’s curiosity only deepened as he took one step after the other.
Finally, he was too close for the boy to ignore him.
Silver eyes flicked to him for a split second, before dismissing him completely.
“What?”
The tone was bored and dismissive. Harry blinked, a bit caught off guard. Maybe he’d underestimated just how standoffish this guy was. Maybe he was…shy? Freshers usually were. Yeah, maybe he was just intimidated by college and the big campus and a worldly senior coming over to talk to him.
Harry decided to play it nice. That would put the guy at ease, and things would fall into place. So, he plastered on his most charming smile and raked his hands through his hair again.
“Is this seat taken?”
The blond made an odd noise. Something in between a sigh and a snort of derision. One slim eyebrow rose in a perfect arch.
“Do you see anyone sitting there?” he asked. His tone suggested that he didn’t expect Harry to know the answer.
Ouch.
“Great!” Harry grinned, taking up the unoffered not-invitation and parking himself in a chair. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Hermione face palming.
He ignored her.
The blond frowned… and went back to his book.
Well, this was going well.
“So, first day, huh?” Harry pressed. “How’s it going so far?”
“Oh, it’s just peachy,” the blond sneered. “Oxford has the best Com Lit Programme in the country, but was I allowed to go there? Oh no. I just had to study at Father’s alma mater. Because tradition. And legacy. And it’s the only college I’m paying for, Draco, so shut up and pick a major!”
Harry sat stock still through the tirade, absently wondering if he’d bitten off more than he could chew. Then again, he did have a very critical piece of information now.
“Draco?” he tested the name on his tongue.
Oh, it sounded good.
Draco, apparently, looked less than pleased by his continued presence.
“Look, not to be rude or anything,” he began, “but I’m just trying to read my book here. So, could you and your hair go find someone else to bother?”
“Just trying to be friendly,” Harry offered. He tilted his head a bit, offering that kind of half smile that Ginny had always adored.
Draco’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t do friends,” he replied, snapping his book shut purposefully. He leaned forward in his seat and Harry watched as those grey eyes narrowed dangerously. “And I’m definitely not going to do you, Hot Shot. Read the room. Not. Interested.”
Just who did this guy think he was?
Harry’s grin faded, his fists clenched. “What the hell is your problem?” he snapped.
“For starters, the campus manwhore won’t leave me alone,” Draco drawled.
Sparks flew from Harry’s eyes. He stood up so abruptly, his chair went crashing back. “Isn’t that cute?” he retorted spitefully. “Here’s a little tip, Fresh Meat. People like to have sex in college. But don’t you worry. Something tells me you won’t be having that problem.”
“Not with you I won’t,” Draco belted back, and God, that grin was just spiteful.
And that was it.
Just like that, Harry lost his temper and he lost it good.
“Like I would touch you with a ten foot pole!” he shouted.
“Like I would let you within a hundred feet of me!”
“You’re a bloody mental case!”
“You’re a walking STD!”
People were milling about now, watching with avid interest. Harry didn’t care. The blood was roaring in his ears, his heart was pounding. He felt alive and exhilarated and bloody furious.
“Your hair is weird!”
“You should talk! Who cut yours, Edward Scissorhands?”
“Fuck you!”
“Not even if you boiled it in detergent!”
They were panting now, flushed and out of breath. Draco’s mouth was a tight line, his eyes flashing furiously. His pale skin was flushed and his slim frame was trembling. Harry swallowed against the dryness in his throat. His jeans felt uncomfortably tight.
Oh God, what was this?
“I’m late for class,” Draco bit out.
Harry stared as the blond shoved past him and started to leave. “Oi!” he snapped. “We’re not finished here! I’m not done with you yet!”
Draco turned back to him, irritation flitting across his sharp features. “Fine,” he retorted. “Walk me to class then, and try to keep up!”
“Fine!”
“Fine! And take these. I’m not lugging them around while you yammer on!”
Harry sneered as the git shoved a stack of books at him. He cursed and staggered under the weight.
“They’re called books,” Draco informed him sweetly. “You get them at the bookstore. It’s the big building next to the Taco Bell.”
“Shut up and start walking,” Harry snapped. “I’m only doing this so I can yell at you some more.”
“Fine by me.”
They marched off, Draco with his shoulders squared and his head held high, Harry muttering under his breath. The crowd parted for them without a word of protest. To be fair, nobody could have topped that screaming match if they’d tried.
Harry caught Ron’s eye as he passed them. Hermione seemed frozen solid, her forkful of salad hovering halfway as she gaped speechlessly at him. Ron just shrugged and gestured to the exit.
“Got somewhere to be?” he asked dryly.
“Oh, don’t you start,” Harry snapped. “I’ll be back after I drop that git to class and tell him exactly where he can shove it!”
“Good idea,” Ron agreed sagely. “Hey, you know what else you should do? Invite him to dinner so you can tear him a new one over pizza rolls.”
Harry frowned as he thought it over. “You know, that’s actually a good idea. I’ll…”
“Hey, manwhore! Are you coming or not?”
“In a minute!” Harry snarled, before hefting the books up and hurrying off. “See you, Ron. Mione. Oi, Ferret Face! Here’s something else you can…”
And with that he was gone, still yelling up and down the halls.
The crowd thinned and eventually disappeared. The uneasy mutterings in the cafeteria soon faded, and business resumed as per usual.
Only Ron and Hermione knew that somehow, everything had changed in a split second and things would never ever be the same again.
“I think…” Hermione took a deep breath to steady herself. Her slim hand clasped Ron’s shoulder for support. “I think,” she tried again, “that we’ve found the Anti-Harry.”
Ron nodded grimly. “How long do you think it’ll take them to cancel each other out?”
“I don’t know,” Hermione sighed, “but I have a feeling we can kiss our drama-free year goodbye.”