Fine, electrify mine
Electrify my golden tooth
Can't look at your eyes
Without sparking some
"And...wrap," Draco said, pressing the red Record circle on his phone to stop it from filming. He watched the recording back, taking in the writhe of his muscles under his striped cashmere sweater, the sway of his natural blond hair to the music, the artful swing of his sterling silver crucifix necklace. "Damn, with some editing, this TikTok will be more immaculate than the conception of Jesus." Being a Christian bad boy wasn't easy, but Draco paired "god-is-good" and "devil-may-care" with minimal effort or trouble. This was probably why he had 3.6 million TikTok followers.
Greg Goyle, the star quarterback and Draco's longtime friend, put down the fan he was using to blow the blond social media star's luscious hair back. "When do I get to be in one?"
"As soon as we find a song that fits your physique," said Draco, eyeing Goyle's decidedly non-middle-parted hair. "Allow me to edit in peace, please."
A few moments of quiet passed before Draco spoke once more. "And...post." The TikTok joined his other content on his public page.
"Ya think Pansy'll peep it?" Goyle asked, mentioning Draco's ex-girlfriend without batting an eye.
Draco didn't have to wonder for long - she'd already commented.
GO TO HELL YOU PREACHY WAD
"It would seem she has, indeed, 'peeped it'," sighed Draco, flashing the comment at Goyle.
"She broke up with ya," said Goyle, "so why does she care so much?"
"Wish I knew," said Draco, with feigned confusion. He knew full well why she'd suffered a broken heart - she thought he was in love with Harry, the suave, grungy, not-good-Christian band leader. The one with abs of steel and a jawline that could cut that steel and bend it into a promise ring.
Okay, so maybe Pansy wasn't that far from the truth.
Draco couldn't stand Harry, but there was certainly something about the dark-haired boy's star power and attitude that wrapped Draco's feelings back around into a sort of animalistic desire. Just think of Harry jumping around the stage in his mesh muscle shirt, glistening with sweat and oil, drew Draco to infatuation's edge.
He remembered Pansy's parting words -
"I guess there's two pansies in this relationship - and you're the bigger one."
- and bit back his lust. What would dating Harry do to his carefully crafted image?
"Y'alright?" questioned Goyle. "You seem hot. Like, flushed, not like, hot hot."
"It's nothing," said Draco, "I'm just warm now that the fan is gone." He got up and walked out the theater door. "See you tomorrow, and have a nice football practice." Goyle nodded a goodbye.
Walking down towards the school exit, Draco suddenly heard a sound that made his hairs stand on end. Harry's voice, gravelly and cracked, filtering through the band-room door. Sucked towards the sound like dust to a Hoover, like liquid through a straw, like a retiree to Florida, the blond boy peered through the band-room window. His rival was singing all alone, Harry's hands sensually gripping the microphone, his sheer shirt leaving noth to the imagination. What a man, Draco thought. Impulse and hormones seized him, and he opened the band door.
Harry jolted to a stop faster than one could say "hunk", which would have described him well. "What are you doing here, you..." He trailed off without finding an insult. His thoughts were clearly disrupted by the heavy, electric tension between them. You'd need a sword to cut it, Draco thought: a knife would never do. Potter probably owned a sword, to be honest. At least one. He'd probably look sexy wielding it...
"Just enjoying the music," Draco said, cutting off his own embarrassing train of thoughts. "It's better without the other three slabs of dead weight." Curses, had he just implied Harry was a slab of dead weight? He didn't mean that.
"Shove it, prick," snarled Harry, revealing his prodigiously pearly top teeth. Was it Draco's imagination, or had Harry just torn his gaze from Draco's crotch? "New rule: no entitled arses allowed in the band room."
"Speak for yourself, son of a hedge fund manager," Draco spat, turning on his heel to stop Harry from seeing the brimming tears of anger in his eyes. He'd come here to ask this jerk out? Unbelievable. Draco, you've really tumbled. "I didn't want to hear your drivel anyway."
"Then why'd you come in?" teased Harry, a sharpness and softness both in his voice at once. Draco stormed out the door. Potter had definitely won this battle.
In the hallway, Draco was visited by a vision of Harry - or so he thought, for a singular moment. After processing, he realized it was Colin Creevey, resident Harry poser, wearing dark denim and wire glasses frames with no lenses, his hair dyed dark and touseled in a crude imitation of Harry's constant morning-after look. Taking in the sight, an idea rushed into his head.
"Hey, Creevey," Draco drawled, taking advantage of Colin's evident confusion at Draco's exit from the band room, "would you like to go to church with me this Sunday?"
"Why?" Colin managed to stutter. He had none of Potter's effortless charm, though he had mastered the slow-on-the-uptake part.
"You have a sort of rugged look about you I can appreciate in a male specimen." Draco layered on the flattery.
"I-I do? Are you asking me on a date?" Colin looked like he was about to implode. Draco confirmed his question with a nod. "I don't think Harry would like that. I don't want to make the band break apart."
"Just between you and me, I think this little entreaty would bedevil Potter to no end, but I think he'd also be seized with jealousy of my tryst with you. Haven't you seen the way he looks at you? He'll come to his senses about your loyalty and charm and suddenly, he'll be begging for you to follow him around like the old days." Draco could see he'd hit a nerve. "Besides, church has communion wafers."
"I'm in," said Colin, and Draco smiled.
"Great. I'll text you with more details." He aggressively ushered the younger boy into the band room before continuing on his way. Almost at the end of the hall, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Whirling around, he saw it was Luna Lovegood, her lipstick-colored pleather jacket sitting jauntily on her shoulders, entangled with her olive-khaki tweed scarf.
"Lovegood. Just who I was looking for."
"I usually come looking for other people," she admitted. "What could you want to see me about? I thought famous folks hated the media."
"I could use your help in this case. Would you please run a front page story about how I'm dating Colin Creevey? I'm willing to pay like it's an ad buy, my dad-"
"Is famous Southern pastor Luke MalFois," Luna sighed, finishing his sentence. "Believe me, I know."
"So you're in?" he inquired pleadingly.
"It seems I am," Luna said. "What a sad day for the free press, and yet what a good one for drama. Before I write this, though - why do you want it?"
Draco was caught off guard - something which rarely ever happened. "I just, you know, love Colin-"
"You're making someone jealous." Luna didn't phrase it as a question.
"Something like that. But please don't say anything in the paper. I'll Venmo you something to the tune of a hundred dollars later." He felt flustered, which he hated. All this for Potter.
"Three hundred, take it or leave it," Luna stated, bobbing in place as she laid down her ultimatum.
Before he could respond, the bell had rang and he was surrounded by people. Luna disappeared into the crowds like frost on a windowpane that's been heated and cooled and heated again.
Draco stared at the throng of kids with apprehension. Soon, they'd all be privy to the latest gossip about his relationship.
This fiasco better end with his lips against Potter's.
YOU ARE READING
Lockers Full of Thorns
Fanfiction{Harry Potter - High School AU} It's Harry's junior year at Goswarth High, and things are going well - he's got a girlfriend, he's set for life with riches from his dad's hedge fund, and his band is taking off. But with great success comes great res...
