The next morning, while everyone was at breakfast, Harry Potter walked into the Great Hall feeling extremely sore, ignoring the confused looks that Hagrid shot his way. Draco, also sore, smirked as he saw the young professor's limp.

"Serves you right." He murmured, biting into his toast.

Chatter quieted down as Harry made his way to the table, and he noticed that most of the students' eyes were locked on him. Most Gryffindors, especially the first years, looked worried. The Slytherins, on the other hand, were smirking and throwing subtle gestures of approval Draco's way.

"'Arry, ya look 'orrible. What happened to ya?" Hagrid asked, frowning at the dark-haired wizard as he took a seat beside him, cradling his head in his hand as he took a sip of coffee.

"Got into a bit of a fight with Peeves last night." He muttered, and then glanced down the table, where Malfoy was smirking at him. The blond faked a sympathetic gaze, and then returned to his bastard sneer.

"I always said that ghost's trouble!" The tall man boomed beside him, dropping a bit of egg into his beard, but Harry knew better than to point it out. Hagrid had a habit of making a mess of his meal. He expected it was because of his abnormally large hands.

"It's okay, Hagrid. I'm okay." He claimed, slowly bringing a spoonful of cereal to his mouth. If anyone knew it was actually from he and Malfoy fighting, they didn't speak up. Harry feared that, if it happened again, there would be consequences however. And so, he spent the rest of breakfast avoiding the blond's gaze, and focusing on not moving his arm the wrong way, in fear of a shooting pain that might occur.

~△⃒⃘~

In class Monday morning, Harry moved from table to table slowly. Any wrong move still brought an uncomfortable pain to his shoulder blades, as it proved Malfoy had quite a fascination in targeting those when he fought. For a kid who had grown up using magic for almost everything, he had to admit the blond had a pretty good arm.

"Professor?" He looked up from his desk to find the girl who resembled Ron, part of the new trio from Gryffindor, to be displaying her arm high in the air, desperately trying to receive his attention.

"Yes, Miss Morgan?" He asked, hoping that the student wouldn't require his assistance standing up. He'd just managed to make his chair feel comfortable, and today was one of the few lessons that the class wasn't on their feet.

"I'm sorry sir, but so many of us are curious, and I just have to ask," Madeline Morgan began, gesturing around to the rest of the Gryffindor first years before focusing on Terry Belski (the boy with dreadlocks), and Isaac Warren (the ridiculously smart one), and then back on the professor. "What's going on between you and Professor Malfoy?"

The other students stopped working on their assignment and turned to the conversation in interest. Harry's eyes widened, and he swore he could feel a ghost pain tremor on his back again. The blond had seemed so light and fragile, but had managed to pin the messy-haired professor ninety percent of the time.

"Absolutely nothing!" Harry exclaimed suddenly, cheeks turning pink.

"You sure, 'cause you're walking like you got shagged in a broom closet or something." Terry asked, a mischievous grin on his face. He set down his quill and balanced his head on his hands.

"Absolutely not. That- we- that would never happen. We're not like that." The professor sputtered, causing laughter to spread among the classroom.

"Do you like him?" Madeline asked, and Harry's cheeks turned even redder.

"No, I definitely do not. Ew, why would I like Malfoy?"

"You've said 'absolutely' twice, and 'definitely' just then, sir. Those are positive statements, so, are you positive that you don't like him? You both did look a bit suspicious at breakfast that morning." Isaac claimed, and Harry felt as though he'd faint. Were people really thinking he liked Malfoy? That's disgusting!

"Mr. Warren, you would do well to return to your studies. Same goes for the rest of you. Me with Malfoy? Someone must've spiked your pumpkin juice." He scoffed, readjusting himself in his chair. He would never like Malfoy. That idea was absolutely preposterous.

~△⃒⃘~

"Professor, I know you hate when we talk in your class, seeing as you despise Gryffindors, but I actually believe we have some interesting news for you!" Madeline Morgan cheered almost as soon as she walked into the Potions classroom that afternoon.

"And what could possibly be so important that you find it necessary to scream at the top of your lungs, spite me being not ten feet away from you?" Draco asked, rolling his eyes as the Weasley wannabe bounced happily on her heels.

"We know someone who's got a crush on you!" She squealed, not even caring that he'd insulted her yet again.

"Really? And who might that be?" Draco asked, tone sounding bored, though he was actually more interested than he'd ever admit. He did despise the Gryffindors, and this alleged crush was most likely some lame first year that didn't understand how disgusting it was to like a professor; not that he could blame her, however, as he found himself to be quite attractive.

"Professor Potter." The Gryffindor with dreadlocks cut in, a smirk on his face. Draco's eyes grew wide then, and an expression of shock crossed his face.

"Potter? As in, Harry Potter?" He asked in disbelief, and the ginger girl nodded.

"Absolutely, sir! We asked him about you today and he got all red and flustered. It was rather charming, really." She stated, but Draco wasn't really listening. Potter had a crush on him. How... Interesting. He would definitely use this to his advantage.

"Ah, of course he's got himself a crush. Bastard never could be normal, after all." He murmured.

"Do you like him back?"

"Are you two dating?"

"Do you two shag in broom closets?"

The Gryffindors began swamping Draco with questions, and he found himself to grow angry, and huffed in agitation. Of course, seeing as Potter liked him, and had told the students, the little brats would naturally think he liked him back. That was not the case. Draco Malfoy did not like men, and he most certainly didn't like messy-haired wizards by the name of Harry Potter.

"Stay put, you hoodlums." He snapped, and rushed from the classroom quickly, speed-walking through the dungeons and along the corridors until he found himself outside Harry's classroom. Once he'd caught his breath, he barged in the room and glared at the surprised wizard who had been holding a fire-breathing lizard. He placed his hands on his hips, and cleared his throat, ignoring the group of Slytherin and Ravenclaw fifth years who faced him.

"Professor Potter, if you would be ever-so-kind as to step into the corridor with me real quick, that'd be splendid." He stated, crossing his arms over his chest, ignoring the stray blond hair that had undone itself from his magical gel and was now hanging in the center of his face.

Once Harry had secured the lizard in a fireproof cage, he followed the blond into the corridor with a confused look on his face, finding his muscles to have calmed down quite a bit with the help of Madam Pomfrey's relaxation serum.

"What do you want?" He asked, standing in a similar stature as Draco, with his arms across his chest.

"Do keep in mind that information spreads like a wildfire in this school, Potter. I think you'd do well at keeping your secrets to yourself, and not getting me involved." The blond snapped, and the green eyed wizard looked at him in confusion. After a moment, realization crossed his face, and a silent "oh" escaped his lips.

"The crush thing? I can assure you, Malfoy, that's entirely made up. Maddy was trying to get me to say I liked you, but I don't, and so she and her friends spread it."

"Well, Potter, whether you do like me or not, I want no part in this. I do not want to take part in your weird, gay fantasies you and your students plot. I like women, not men."

"So do I! I swear, it's a rumor. Just like in fifth year, when it was going around that Millicent Bulstrode had boy parts." Harry explained, a fearful look on his face.

"In case you forgot, Potter, that rumor happened to be true. And Miles Bulstrode is doing quite well now, thanks for your concern." Draco spat, and Harry's eyes widened.

"Hermione had to duel him in second year. That's not fair!"

"Served the mudblood right, thinking she could take on a Slytherin." Draco stated smugly.

"You don't have to be such an arse about my friends, Malfoy." Harry snapped, crossing his arms at the arrogant little prick.

"Do you really want to do this again, Potter? In broad daylight, where everyone can see the awesome and honorable Harry Potter get taken down by vile, pathetic Draco Malfoy? Oh no, you'd probably like me on top of you, wouldn't you? It's no wonder you and the Weaslette failed." The blond had an expression on his face that Harry found himself to despise. He didn't care about the students who had been peeking at the pair from the doorway, or the few that had just finished up classes that were watching them from the end of the corridor, and with a mighty "argh!," he lunged at the smug aristocrat.

They began throwing punches much like they had three nights ago, and all around them, students cheered and placed bets on who would be victorious. Again, Harry was so caught up in the moment that he didn't care, and swung at the blond again, nailing him right in the cheek. He was on top this time.

"How do I know you don't like it when we fight, Malfoy? How do I know you're not getting off right now at the thought of me on top of you?" He spat, punching the blond again, who winced in pain.

Just when Draco managed to swing them around, the sound of heels running down the corridor amplified, and soon the headmistress was standing before them.

"Mr. Malfoy, Potter, enough!" She shouted, and cast her wand at them, separating them. Once they were sat on the floor a few meters away from each other, McGonagall turned to the students with a stern look on her face.

"All Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions classes are to be canceled for the rest of the day!" She claimed, and students cheered, but then silenced as she continued to glare at them. "You will report to your houses at once."

Once the corridors had cleared themselves of students, the headmistress led the still fidgeting professors to her office, and used magic to restrict them to their chairs, in order to prevent them from lunging on the other again.

"You two have gotten out of hand. I was hoping Friday night would be the last time I would witness you two fight, but it appears I'm not that lucky. And Mr. Potter, saying such vulgarities in the presence of such young students? Shame on you!" Minerva McGonagall seemed beside herself with anger. Her face was a crimson red, and her eyebrows were stitched downwards. She looked as though she'd explode.

"Malfoy started it! I was just teaching my class when he stormed in uninvited like that!" Harry exclaimed, but the headmistress held up her hand to silence him.

"Unbelievable. Draco, you are already on bad terms with the Ministry right now. Would you like word getting out of you picking fights with colleagues? And Harry, you're considered a hero. Do you want people thinking you're unsteady, and promote violence in front of young minds?" She asked, sitting back in her chair.

"There it is again: perfect Potter. I'm sick of it!" Draco exclaimed, turning his head to glare at the green-eyed wizard.

"Enough, Mr. Malfoy. I brought you two here hoping it would make you see that neither of you are the bad guy, but you're so focused on keeping childhood rivalries alive — if it weren't so stupid, it would be kind of honorable. However, it is not to be honored on such bad terms, and so, I propose this. I believe it is about time that the Dueling Club starts up again. If you're going to be violent in front of our students, you should at least do it in a proper setting. It is this, or I temporarily bond the two of you together. This'll force you to spend a lot of time together, and perhaps even grow to be civil." She gave them each a stern look, and they shuddered.

"The decision's inevitably yours, isn't it?" Draco asked, an exhausted but irritated look on his face. The decision was hers, and let's just say, neither professor much liked the outcome of it very much.