Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Parts One and Two may not be performed in whole or in part and no use may be made of it whatsoever except under express license from the rights holders of the work, J.K. Rowling and Harry Potter Theatrical Productions Limited.

-A serious fan of the Harry Potter book series dies from a heart attack. He meets Death who grants him three wishes and sends him to the world Harry Potter as his twin meet Harrison James Pervell Potter.

-A serious fan of the Harry Potter book series dies from a heart attack. He meets Death who grants him three wishes and sends him to the world Harry Potter as his twin meet Jake James Pervell Potter.

https://www.webnovel.com/book/14255426405774505/Reborn-in-Harry-Potter

Information of tv show character that I watch mostly tvd/to Xmen/marvel, problem more this information come straight off of the internet, this contained some boys that has been with boys and girls that has been with girls so no homophobic comments this is high key just for fun

A hero's unfortunate death. The birth of a villain who shall take the whole world by surprise. Will he fulfil his father's dream or give it one hell of a nightmare.

Hagrid grinned at Harry's amazement. She, Hagrid and Harry stepped through the brick archway. It shrunk back instantly into a solid wall. Emaline had never been to Diagon Alley before. She was just amazed as Harry and both were looking at everything they could set their eyes on. Hagrid turned his attention to Harry, who was looking at a store for cauldrons, in every shape, size and variety: copper, brass, pewter, silver, collapsible and self-stirring. "You'll be needin' one of those, Harry.", he said. "but first we need to get yer money." A low and soft hooting came from a shop with a sign saying Eeylop's Owl Emporium with owls of every size, shape and species, including some from North America. "At Ilvermorny," Emaline said to Harry, "We don't use owls. We use either ravens, hawks or falcons, and sometimes eagles, to carry our mail back and forth."
"Really?" said Hagrid.
"Yes. Well, they do allow owls but let's be honest, they are very rarely used," she said. "A lot of the rich kids use hawks and eagles."
As they walked down the street, there were people running around in every direction, doing their shopping and going about their business as they walked up the street. Harry looked around in every direction trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside of them on display. There was a plump woman outside an apothecary shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, 17 Sickles an ounce, they're mad..." There was a group of boys about Harry's age looking at broomsticks with their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "WOW! Look at it!" one of the boys said. "The new Nimbus Two Thousand! It's the fastest model yet." There were shops selling telescopes, shops selling robes. There were windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eel's eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon, and logs of wood from around the world, to be used for making wands and an ice cream parlor featuring every flavor imaginable, including chocolate (Emaline's favorite flavor.)
"Emaline," Hagrid said. She turned around to face Hagrid "If it's all right with ya, Harry and I are gonna have to leave you and head over to Gringotts and buy his supplies for school. We'll catch ya later. Do you need any money?"
"It's okay, Hagrid," said Emaline. "I have some shopping of my own to do. Bye-bye." She waved to them, turned around and disappeared into the crowd. "Come along, Harry," said Hagrid. "Let's head over to Gringotts." They vanished into the crowd far from her view and she walked on.
First she walked into Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions, looking for new clothes for school, feeling a little nervous. The owner, Madam Malkin, was shorter and older than Emaline sporting clothes of mauve. She was smiling. "Good morning, dear," she said to Emaline. "Good morning, miss. I'm here to get my robe." she said. Madam Malkin quickly noticed Emaline's accent.
"American?" Madam Malkin asked her.
"Yes, ma'am," she said. "I've been transferred to Hogwarts from Ilvermorny. For my sixth year."
"Got the lot here - fitting up another young lady right now. Just wait here, dear. Almost done." She returned to her client, a younger girl, who was five years younger than her and had long, brown, bushy hair and brown eyes and large front teeth. She was reading a book entitled: "Hogwarts: A History" borrowed from the shelf. Madam Malkin sat Emaline next to her. She took her purple and silver jacket and scarf off, placed them on a coat rack and slipped a robe over her head, pinning it to the right length.
"Hello," the girl said to Emaline. "Are you going to Hogwarts?".
"Yes," said Emaline. "I'm supposed to start my sixth year at Hogwarts. I'm Emaline Goode."
"Hermione Granger," she shook hands. "My father is buying a quill and parchment next door and mother is here with me, over there." She had a very bossy voice. "After this, I'm gonna go and buy some books for school."
"I'm planning to get a new broomstick after this," said Emaline. 
"Hopefully one of those new ones I saw in that store just down the street. I wanna try out for the Quidditch team."
"Are you on your own?" Hermione asked.
"Yep. I just got transferred from Ilvermorny. Arrived in London last night."
"I've heard of that school. Which Ilvermorny house are you in?"
"Thunderbird. But I'm hoping to get sorted into either Ravenclaw or Gryffindor when I get to Hogwarts." Meanwhile, a boy with white-blonde hair and a pale, pointed face walked into the shop with his parents and sat down.
"Where are you from?" the girl added. 
"Portland, Oregon," said Emaline. "You?"
"Heathgate. In Hampstead."
"I have no idea where that is." 
"Oh. It's in Northwest London."
"Ms. Goode?" said Madam Malkin. "We're ready for you, dear."
"Okay, Emaline. Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts then," Hermione said. 
"Bye, Hermione." said Emaline. "Same to you." 
She walked towards the counter and paid Madam Malkin 11 Galleons for her robes. She grabbed her belongings, including her jacket and scarf, put them on, and began to walk towards the exit. "Allow me, my dear." said an older man who got up to open the door for Emaline. He appeared to be the boy's father. "Thank you, sir," she said politely and she began to walk towards her next stop.
Emaline bought a brand new Nimbus 2000 at Broomstix, following her ambitions of joining the Quidditch team for whichever house she would be sorted into. Her next stop was Flourish And Blotts, to buy books for her classes, including The Standard Book Of Spells, Grade 6 by Miranda Goshawk, Advanced Potion Making by Libatius Borage, and A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration. The shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather. Some were the size of postage stamps in covers of silk, while there were books with symbols on the covers and some with nothing on the covers at all. After a few more stops, including Slug & Jigger's Apothecary, Scribbulus Writing Instruments and Potage's Cauldron Shop, visited Eeylop's Owl Emporium and bought a new friend, a beautiful Great Horned Owl that she named Newton, she caught up with Hagrid, who was buying some ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. She walked inside and shouted "Hagrid!"
Hagrid turned around and saw her. "Ah! Emaline!" he said. "There you are! Looks like ya got a lot of shopping done!"
"I did!" said Emaline "I'm actually almost finished. Where's Harry?"
"Down the street, getting fitted for his robes at Madam Malkin's. Thought I'd get him some ice cream. Do you want some?"
"Yes," she said, "I'll take chocolate. It's my number one favorite!". Hagrid bought her a cone of chocolate ice cream.
Emaline accompanied Hagrid once again as Harry as he bought his supplies for Hogwarts. As Hagrid went into another shop, Harry sat down with her as she was enjoying her chocolate ice cream while Hagrid went to get some supplies.
"What's Quidditch? Harry asked. Emaline suddenly had a very shocked look on her face. "It's our sport, Harry" she answered. "Like soccer is to the Muggles and baseball is to the No-Majs."
"What are you lot talkin' about?" said Hagrid, as he walked outside with a bag of supplies for Harry.
"Quidditch," Emaline said.
"Ah," Hagrid said as he sat down next to Harry. "It's kinda hard to explain. I think they 'ave 7 players on a team and there are 4 balls I think."
"You are right, Hagrid." Emaline said. "You should see how Quidditch is played over in America."
"What's it like, Hagrid?" Harry said curiously.
"It's not like our game," said Hagrid. Someone else was listening to him talk. "It's much, much different over there, Harry. It's extremely brutal and violent and there are fights. You would not dare take the field unless you knew how to use your fists. Lots of them. I've heard some people have actually died during matches."
"Oh my goodness!" said an older woman who was sitting with her husband. "How awful!"
"Yep," Emaline agreed, "You'll find that we take our Quidditch very seriously over there in America."
"Where did you hear about Quidditch, Harry?" said Emaline.
"There was a boy I talked with at Madam Malkin's. He also talked about Hufflepuff and Slytherin. What is that?"
"Those are two of the four houses at Hogwarts." she said, "But the other two are called Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Those are the ones that I'm hoping for."
"Hey, Emaline, What are the houses at Ilvermorny?" Harry asked again.
"Well, there's Horned Serpent, Pukwudgie, Thunderbird and Wampus. They promote unity, strength, and friendship," she said. "At Hogwarts, you are sorted into one of the four houses based on the traits that you consider the most important. Meanwhile, Ilvermorny sorts you based on how you define yourself and what tools you prefer to use in your approach in life. All of the houses share a special pact of friendship."
"Interesting," said Hagrid.
"Yeah, My house is Thunderbird," she said, "It represents the soul and favors adventurers. It's definitely the best house. I'm not trying to brag or anything."
After a few more stops, Harry was reviewing his list of supplies and said "I still need...a wand."
"A wand? You'll want Ollivander's. There ain't no place better," said Hagrid, pointing to a narrow and shabby shop with a sign that read "Ollivander's. Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C."
"Why don't you two run along there and wait? I got some other stuff to do. Won't be long." He walked off to a nearby store. "Come on Harry," said Emaline.
A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop. They both walked inside Ollivander's and Emaline put her school supplies and Harry's stuff to the side. Emaline walked off to a corner of the shop and took a seat on a spindly chair and waited. "Hello?" said Harry, hoping to see if anyone was there. "Hello?" he repeated. "Good afternoon," a soft voice replied. Harry jumped. An old man appeared before Harry who rode on a sliding ladder. His wide, pale eyes shone like moons through the glooms of the shop. And then, he smiled. "I wondered when I'd be seeing you, Mr. Potter." It wasn't a question. He got down from the ladder.
"Hello," said Harry.
"You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday that she was in here, buying her first wand. Ten and quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. nice wand for charm work.", Mr. Ollivander said. He moved closer to Harry. He wished that Mr. Ollivander would blink his eyes. They looked a bit creepy. "Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it - it's the wand that chooses the wizard, of course. It's not always clear why."
"Greetings, young lady," Mr. Ollivander said, noticing Emaline. "Are you a friend of Mr. Potter?"
"I guess you can say that," she said. "Emaline Goode is my name."
"Would you mind if I see your wand, my dear?" Mr. Ollivander said to her. Emaline walked up to the counter, pulled out her wand from her pocket, and gave it to Mr. Ollivander and he examined it. "Hmm. Interesting," he said, as he looked it. "Not like any wand of my making. Pacific Madrone, thirteen-and-a-half inches, thunderbird tail feather and surprisingly swishy. Excellent for Astronomy, Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration. It's extremely powerful. Your wand packs a serious punch thanks to the Thunderbird tail feather that resides within your wand. Treat it carefully." He gave it back to her. "Tell me miss, do you know Shikoba Wolfe, by any chance?" he asked.
"Yes." she said, "She's doing very well."
"Good," he said. "Be sure to give her my love."
"I will," she replied.
After Emaline sat back down, he flittered around the shelves, taking down random boxes until he pulled out one certain box and opened it. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible." He gave the wand to Harry. Harry just looked at him. "Give it a wave!", Mr. Ollivander said suddenly. Looking foolish, Harry waved it around a bit, and then a number of boxes flew out of the shelves and on to the floor. "Mercy Lewis!" Emaline exclaimed.
Harry put the wand on the counter. "Apparently not." Mr. Ollivander said. He returned to the shelf and came back with another wand box and opened it. "Perhaps this. Ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches. Give this a try" He put it Harry's hand and he waved it, causing a vase full of water and flowers to explode, which in turn, caused Emaline to scream and take out her wand in self-defense. "No, no, definitely not!" He said. "Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match for you here somewhere, Mr. Potter." He tried a couple more. All of them ended up on the counter.
Ollivander then found another box and looked at it. There was silence. "I wonder..." he said mysteriously as he walked back to the counter. "Try this one: an unusual combination - holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."
Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. His hand began to tremble. A breeze began to suddenly fill the air. Emaline got up from her seat, whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried. Harry smiled. "Curious," he said, "Very curious..."
"Sorry," said Harry, "But, what curious?"
Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale, icy stare as he took his wand.
"I remember every wand I have ever sold, Mr. Potter. It just so happens that the phoenix, whose tail feather resides in your wand, gave another feather. Just one other. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar." Harry swallowed.
"And who owned that wand?" he said.
Mr. Ollivander exchanged a surprised look with him. So did Emaline.
"We don't speak his name, Harry," she said.
"That's right, Ms. Goode. The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter," Mr. Ollivander continued. "It's not always clear why. But I think it is clear that we can expect great things. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, yes, but great. He gave Harry his wand. "Harry," Hagrid said as he was tapping on the window and carrying a cage. "Harry! Happy Birthday!". Harry turned around and in the cage was a beautiful white Snowy Owl. "Wow!" Harry said quietly.

In this prequel to The Secrets Of The Gordian Knot, Hogwarts has never had an American student before in its 1000-year history. That changes when Emaline Goode, 16-year-old Mozart-loving witch, astronomer, philosopher, and Thunderbird who is wise beyond her years, discovers that she has been transferred from Ilvermorny to Hogwarts for the 1991-1992 school year, the same year Harry Potter began his schooling at Hogwarts and is sorted into Ravenclaw. Along the way, she makes a decision that will change her life. Forever.

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.

A young man who was acclaimed as a genius by everyone was currently reading Harry Potter, his favorite novel but  was complaining about the story and end up dead by your ever kind god Truck-sama.

I don't own the universe of Harry Potter nor their Characters.

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Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (Official Book)

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