13

Chapter 14

The Italian Stallion

Bloody… hell…

Draco's head pounded painfully and he let out a little whine. He opened his eyes but shut them quickly due to the piercing sunlight that streamed into his room.

"Horrible…" he croaked. Determined to go back to sleep, he twisted and turned trying to find a comfortable position, but he ceased his thrashing about when his arm hit what seemed like another body next to him.

Draco froze. He didn't recall being with anyone last night. Then again, he didn't recall anything at all. He wanted to pull the covers away but he was a bit afraid of what he might see. What if it was a hideously disfigured girl with warts? He didn't think he would be able to handle it. But he knew he had to eventually uncover… whatever it was. So with a deep breath, he quickly pulled back the covers, only to reveal something worse. Much worse.

"Kill me now…" he whispered as he stared at a very much fast asleep Harry Potter. "What in the name of Salazar have I done?" Draco began to panic and before he knew it, he had fallen off the edge of the bed. "No, no, no, oh I can't have. Oh, my poor virginity—" He tried to run out of the bedroom, but ended up stubbing his toe on the door. "BUGGER IT ALL!" he shouted, jumping on one foot while holding the other.

Harry awoke with a jolt and looked at Draco, who was hopping insanely on one foot. "Draco? What are you—"

"You took my innocence!" Draco pointed a quivering finger at him. "You ripped the petals from my flower! You caught all the fish in my ocean!" and he added in a harsh whisper, "You climbed my Everest!"

Harry felt around for his glasses and put them on. Then he stared at Draco with his jaw open. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play games with me, you sex-fiend!" the blonde spat back. "I shouldn't have told you that I was still a virgin. That probably made you want me even more, aren't I right? It made you want a taste of the FORBIDDEN FRUIT!"

Harry jumped out of bed, "You—"

"STAY BACK, YOU VIRGINITY-STEALER! YOU…. STEALER OF… VIRGINITY!"

"MALFOY! You were drunk last night! I had to put you to bed but you refused to let me go!"

"Ha!" Draco snorted. "A likely story."

"It's the truth!" Harry protested. "You were acting like a child and wouldn't let me go to my own room. You forced me to stay here with you."

"Hm. Okay. Sounds like me," Draco shrugged.

Harry looked at him, wide-eyed, "Wait. What? Weren't you just angry a second ago?"

"Yes."

"Are you angry now?"

"No."

"But… just a second ago—"

"Oh yes, of course. But rage does hideous things to one's complexion," Draco smiled and said in a very cheerful voice, "Coffee?"

Harry left his coffee untouched as he watched in disbelief at the psychotic boy that sat across from him. Honestly, how could anyone be so narcissistic?He also wondered why Draco was looking into his coffee cup while pursing his lips and fluttering his eyelashes.

"I like my coffee black so I can look in it and see my reflection," Draco said, as if anyone cared. "Would you like to see my reflection, Potter? I look gorgeous in black."

"Malfoy, I'm looking at you right now. Why the bloody hell would I want to see your reflection if I'm sitting right across from you?"

"Because of this little ripple effect the liquid does. Look," Draco touched the surface of his coffee briefly. "Oh my goodness, I'm so beautiful. Look at me, rippling around in there." He grinned at his cup.

Harry rolled his eyes. But with a sly grin, he said, "That rippling effect makes you look like you have wrinkles."

Draco shoved the cup to the side and hissed, "Stupid coffee, I never liked you anyway."

Harry was about to open his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a tapping noise at his window. He turned his head and saw that it was a small messenger owl carrying a note in its beak. He walked over to the window, letting the owl in, and taking the note from it.

"Give it here," Draco said. "It's probably fan mail."

Harry looked at the address. "No, it's for me."

"Oh, gross. Who would send you mail?" Draco returned back to looking into his coffee.

"Your modeling agency," Harry replied, staring down at the letter.

"Stop being funny."

"I'm serious," Harry waved the letter in front of Draco's face. "They asked me if I wanted to model—"

"Yes!"

"— with Michelino Bonelli."

"No!" Draco tore the letter from Harry's fingers. He paced around the kitchen, reading the letter thoroughly while repeating "nope, no, nuh-uh, no way, absolutely not" over and over again. "I refuse to let you model with him."

Harry snatched the letter back from him, "You always wanted me to model. And now here's my chance."

"Well, I don't want you modeling with him."

"What's wrong with him?"

Draco sighed and rubbed his temples, "Do you even know Michelino Bonelli?"

"Er…" Harry glanced down at the letter. "Apparently he's some model."

"Some model?" Draco's voice became higher. "He's not just some model, Potter. He is the most sought after model in the Wizarding world. Besides me, of course. His face is on every magazine. And to make things worse, he's a stuck up arrogant git!"

"Okay, yeah, so are you."

Draco let out a strained groan and pointed a quivering finger at Harry. He opened his mouth to scold him, but it just came out in wordless frustration. He summoned up all his power to speak, but all that came out was, "Grrrrnoo."

"Grrrnoo?"

"No!"

Harry rolled his eyes and put his cup in the sink. "I don't need your permission, Malfoy. And anyway, this could be an interesting experience."

"Oh, it'll be interesting, alright," Draco muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"I said I was gonna cut your face off!"

Harry whipped around and let out an agitated sigh, "What is your deal?"

"I'm not queer!"

The brunette jumped back, slightly startled, "Never said you were. We weren't even talking about that!"

"Don't pose with Michelino."

Harry couldn't keep up with the rapid subject changes. "Can't you just—"

"It's not a good idea."

"What about—"

"Never."

"Just try and—"

"I can't hear you."

"You've got a pimple."

Draco yelped and scurried towards the bathroom, "The apocalypse!"

Harry lazily collapsed on the chair and ran his fingers through his black tresses. Draco was a total nutcase and extremely… confusing. He replayed the events of last night which just added on to the chaos that went on in Harry's brain. Draco did indeed say that he could fall in love with Harry. And Harry didn't make things easier when he responded with an "I think I can fall in love with you too." Did Draco even mean it? Who knew what went on in the minds of psychotic drunk models. But did Harry, who most definitely was not drunk, mean it too?

Well, maybe I did, Harry found himself thinking. A lot had happened during his time together with Draco. And something had changed. It was a hate that had changed into tolerance, tolerance turned to a twisted friendship, and friendship turned into… Could it be?

"You lied," Draco walked out of the bathroom looking relieved, but with a slight glare on his face.

Harry twitched, "About what?"

"The nonexistent pimple, that's what," Draco muttered, snatching up the letter and reading it again. An indescribable expression came on to his face as he set it back down. "It's this afternoon," he said.

"Would you like to come?"

"Even if you didn't ask me to come, I would've gone with you anyway. Now excuse me, I must beautify myself," he walked into his bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him.

Harry didn't have the slightest idea what was going on. He was at the photo shoot and several people were surrounding him making a big fuss. He had no idea what base was or what foundation was used for. But apparently, it was on his face and it sure smelled funny. And it was at that moment when he realized how painful and agonizing putting on eyeliner was. His eyes watered and he jerked back every time the tip of the eyeliner touched his eye. His head also felt quite heavy from the gel that was piled on top of his hair. Harry felt extremely hot and suffocated.

Draco was standing next to him, watching everything that was going on. He had a lot to say and criticized every little thing like, "No, that color doesn't match his skin" or "That hairstyle doesn't suit him." The stylists obeyed him, of course. Nobody really wanted to upset Draco Malfoy because that would result in chaos.

In the midst of preparing Harry for the shoot, the doors of the studio swung wide open and in walked a man. But he just wasn't any ordinary man. He just had to be one of the most beautiful creatures to walk the planet. His skin was the color of mocha and his hair, which was slightly wavy, was the color of dark brown. Long dark lashes surrounded his chocolate-colored eyes; he had a cute ski-jump nose, and lovely full lips.

"Hello, everybody," Michelino said in his strong Italian accent which Harry found to be quite alluring.

"Close your mouth, Potter. You're drooling," Draco mumbled, his eyes fixed darkly upon Michelino who had spotted the both of them and suddenly walked over.

"Draco!" he grinned, displaying perfectly straight white teeth. "It has been… quite long time since we last meet."

"Oh yes, of course, quite a long time indeed," Draco said, keeping a stern expression. "And how have you been?"

"Wonderful!" Michelino answered. "I make visits to my family in Italy. It has been long since I have time to be with them. This modeling is very… how you say… time-consuming."

"Yes, yes, time-consuming, it is … quite…" Harry found himself giggling quite stupidly until Draco jabbed him in the ribs.

Michelino turned towards Harry's direction and smiled widely, "Mr. Potter! It is an honor to meet you." He leaned forward and kissed both of Harry's cheeks. The boy froze while Draco was fuming beside him. "I admire you very, very much. My family too, they admire you. And they are very happy for me because we will be sharing a camera together."

Harry felt another stupid giggle begin to surface, "Oh please, call me Harry."

"Oh please, call me Harry!" Draco mimicked him once they were outside of the studio for a break. "You were practically standing in a puddle of your own drool."

"You're reading way too much into this. I was just trying to be friendly."

Draco snorted. "Oh so friendly. You put your hand on his chest."

"Malfoy, we were posing. The photographer told us to do that."

"If the photographer told you to kiss him, would you have done it?"

Harry rolled his eyes and walked away from him, "You're overreacting."

"I am not overreacting!" Draco quickly caught up with Harry and walked beside him. "I'm just… I don't know."

Harry glanced at Draco through the corner of his eye and saw that the blonde looked like he was mentally beating himself up. He had a screwed up expression on his face and was muttering under his breath. Curse words by the sound of it.

"What have you got against Michelino?" Harry asked curiously. "He seems decent enough."

The corner of Draco's jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth, "It's nothing. Just leave it."

"Malfoy—"

"I told you to just leave it!" Draco snapped, turning to Harry, his eyes flashing. "You meddlesome fool. What are you going to do? Write a book about me?"

Harry glared. He turned away from Draco and kept his eyes focused on the ground. That stupid brat is just a bundle of emotions, Harry thought to himself. That's the last time I'll ever talk to him about anything. Then Harry heard Draco let out a sigh.

"Look… Potter… I didn't mean—"

"Hello!" came a loud voice in the distance. "Draco! Harry! Wait for me, please!" The tall and built figure of Michelino Bonelli was making its way towards them. Harry waved and Draco made a noise like an angry kitten. "May I join?"

"Well, you see, Harry and I were in the middle of—"

"Of course you may," Harry said kindly, ignoring Draco's grunt of disapproval.

"Thank you very much. I have brought us drinks," Michelino handed them both cans of soda. "It is … how you say… scorching out here!"

"Mhm, scorching," Harry said absentmindedly.

"I'll show you scorching," Draco muttered while taking a sip of his drink.

The three boys stood around sipping their drinks in silence when Michelino suddenly spoke up.

"Harry. Fancy a shag?"

Harry choked on his soda while Draco accidentally spit it out all over his shirt. They both whipped their heads around to look at Michelino who was holding up a cigarette.

"What is the matter?" he asked curiously. "You do not smoke?"

Harry laughed as he finally understood. "Oh, you meant fag. Haha. No thank you, I don't smoke."

"No chance for a shag then?" Draco said bitterly.

Harry shot Draco an icy look.

Michelino glanced uncomfortably at the two boys, "Did I interrupt something?"

Draco, who still had Harry locked in a glare answered, "No. You're not interrupting anything. Since there is nothing going on between me and your dear Mr. Potter."

Harry never took his eyes off Draco either, "Michelino, how would you like to go out for coffee after the shoot? Since there is nothing going on between me and Mr. Malfoy."

"How about a shag after?" Draco said between clenched teeth.

Harry narrowed his eyes, "I plan on it!"

"Fine!"

"FINE!"

Michelino stood there, not quite understanding what was going on, "I have not even given my answer. But okay."

"How cute, he said yes," Draco hissed. "Well, I hope you two have a vain modelistic life together! And I hope you both are blessed with thousands of… magazine covers!" With that, he stomped off, leaving a very frustrated Harry and a puzzled Michelino.

"I hope you… are cursed with a million pimples!" Harry called after him.

Draco stopped in his tracks and turned around. His lower lip quivered as he gave Harry a fierce look. He sniffed, turned on his heel and walked away; while the raven-haired boy stood there. His heart sinking.