Cliché

chapter 7: Sweet Poetry

Harry sighed. It was November now and everyone was getting excited for the Hookup Day. He was a little annoyed, wondering why he couldn't find a nice person-a girl- to spend the holiday with. He wasn't interested in sex with anyone, but he just wanted the company. He wasn't asexual, he knew that. After the dreams he had been having he knew he wasn't.

He was walking by the Black Lake, making sure not to fall in this time, when he saw Draco.

The Slytherin was sitting in the field, on a stump, hitting things down in a leather book. Harry watched him as a small, blue butterfly landed on the top of his nose.

The blonde smiled, going cross-eyed. He said something, but because of the distance between Harry and him he didn't know what he had whispered to the butterfly. All he knew were a few things.

Draco's light skin glowed like moonlight in the sun.

His platinum hair was parted to the side, slightly messy, which made him look absolutely immaculate.

Malfoy's eyes brightened from grey to blue which shocked Harry. Why did his eyes have to change color? And why hadn't he noticed it before?

And lastly;

Malfoy looked absolutely adorable... which was a pleasant change from him just consistently looking hot.

Harry sighed, not breaking his gaze from the boy. Draco was wearing a tight, white sweater with a pair of jeans. The Gryffinsor breathed heavily, feeling extremely odd. He glanced down, noting that he was becoming noticeably hard, and gathered up his things, shocked and raced back to his Dorm before anyone could see.

                              {}

Draco gazed at the beautiful view of the Forbidden Forest. The leaves were in lovely autumn shades, and the weather was perfect. He had been sketching the Womping Willow when his mind started to wander. When he looked back down at his notebook his eyebrows lifted. He hadn't sketched the tree.

He had sketched a pair of eyes. Eyes with long lashes hidden behind a pair of circular glasses.  Draco swallowed, unsure of what he had just done.

Words raced through his mind and he quickly jotted them down, not forgetting a word. He knew what he needed to do. He needed to go to Poet Night in the Great Hall.

Poet Night happened once a month, the second Saturday of the month. It was held in the Great Hall from 8:30-10pm. It was an open house but it was mostly just a group of Hufflepuffs and self-loathing Ravenclaws. Draco had been twice. Once was as a joke, but he was taken aback by the thought and care that had gone through each person's poetry. The second time was so he could share his own poetry.

Surprisingly his words had made a few people breakdown and they begged him to come back.

It was called Poet Night, but most of the readings were personal testimonies of their struggles and how they overcame such obstacles. Some were just personal information that needed to be heard. It was technically unsupervised group therapy sessions.

                             {}

Harry headed out of his Dorm, about to study for a quiz in the Library when he spotted Hedwig with a note. Picking up the note he read the message,

'You should go to Poetry Night. Great Hall, 8:30. Don't be late. Trust me.

-Your friend.'

He had no clue who this was and couldn't recognize the handwriting. He shrugged, and decided to humor his 'friend' and quickly changed. It was 8:05 so he decided to head down.