The last place Harry Potter wanted to be was in Defence Against the Dark Arts with Draco Malfoy. But here he was, sitting next to the shit because Godwin decided he liked the seating arrangements as they were. At least they were done with their bloody projects.
Thinking about their presentation from only a few weeks ago made Harry feel unsettled. They had presented a short tutorial on how to prepare for Occlumency. To the audience, it must have looked like child play: to close ones eyes and sit there while the other waved his wand. But to Harry, he had felt torn between keeping his guard, and opening his heart up. There had been flashbacks of his life: the Dursleys, the ghosts of his parents, Dumbledore, his Christmas at Godric’s Hollow, his death walk into the Forbidden Forest. These memories had also been mixed with more recent events: times when Harry and Dra—Malfoy had fallen asleep together, tossed each other off in the Quidditch showers…and of course, there was that kiss on New Year’s.
When Harry had eventually decided to fight back, the images changed. Soon, he had found himself seeing Draco’s life: riding his first broom, his reaction when Harry had rejected his hand, his first sexual encounter with Pansy Parkinson, his times fixing the Vanishing Cabinet in sixth year and even a few incidents that had sent Draco to the hospital wing because the Carrows wanted him to be a better prefect.
The memories faded just as quickly as they appeared when Draco had broken eye contact with him. And that had been that. Or so Harry had thought, until Draco had brought up the memories later that night.
They’d met up in their usual empty Charms classroom, where they’d snogged and groped each other for a while. That had been a night where they knew they had to talk to each other, if not about the war, then about themselves. It was a night Harry didn’t want to forget, getting to know Draco so much better.
But now, he wasn’t so sure. Harry snuck a glance at Dra-Malfoy, who was promptly taking notes on Patronuses. Malfoy wore his usual mask of indifference but he was gripping his quill so tightly that his knuckles were white. He was slouching slightly in his seat, and Harry noticed that there was some still puffiness and bruising around Malfoy’s left eye. Harry could feel his heart clench a little. He had done that, but it didn’t mean that Draco hadn’t deserve it.
If he hadn’t overheard Zabini and Parkinson’s conversation in Potions, Harry would have still believed Malfoy was a changed man. But Harry knew better now. Draco Malfoy was still the stupid, selfish prick that wanted to make Harry’s life miserable. It was almost embarrassing that he hadn’t seen it before. Why else would Malfoy have a sudden interest in him? He had had plenty of chances to approach Harry before. But it turned out that Parkinson and Zabini wanted to see if Malfoy could pull him in for a bet, and nothing more. They were all probably laughing behind his back, knowing that their Chosen One was bent. And that was what had forced Harry to track Malfoy down in the Charms corridor so he could punch him in the face.
A sudden snap jerked Harry out of his thoughts. He had broken his quill from stabbing his parchment too hard. Of course, that also had to be his only one he had on him. Harry glared at the few people who had the nerve to look at him. It was all Malfoy’s fault that he was in a foul mood. Harry would have no problem beating the crap out of Malfoy again, if only he could. However, he didn’t want to cause any more trouble. McGonagall had already subtracted seventy five points each from Gryffindor and Slytherin before threatening to expel him and Malfoy and giving them a week’s worth of detention. Yes, this was definitely Malfoy’s fault. If only he wasn’t such a prick—
The nudge of a sharp elbow in his ribs told Harry that it was Malfoy. Harry ignored him, concentrating on playing with his broken quill. A loud cough sounded beside him. Harry almost bit through his lip when Malfoy stomped on his foot under his desk. He was surprised when Malfoy shoved a piece of parchment towards him, practically throwing his peacock quill at him in the process.
Harry didn’t have to wait for an answer when Godwin announced the end of class. He managed to stuff all his things in his bag before taking off. He could hear Ron and Hermione calling his name, but he ignored them and walked faster. He needed to get away…fast.
Too late. The familiar footsteps were already behind him. Harry ducked into a deserted corridor, hoping to hell that it wasn’t a dead end. Rounding the corner, he was relieved to find it went straight. He started to break into a run.
“Don’t be like that!”
Harry only ran faster, never looking back. Blood was rushing through him, and he was just feeling so angry yet hurt that he really didn’t know what else he could do. If he could just get away…
“Harry, just hear me out.”
“What?” he called out, finally stopping to turn around. Malfoy had never taken the liberty to call him by his name, and it almost made Harry curious why he was bothering now.
“Look, there’s just some miscommunication,” explained Malfoy, looking rather nervous. He cleared his throat. “I honestly don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll make sure to tell Blaise and Pansy off. They’re always ones to make bets with each other, but you have to know that I have nothing to do with this!”
“A likely story,” grumbled Harry, crossing his arms.
“I’m not lying to you!”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Why shouldn’t you?”
Harry gritted his teeth together. “Malfoy, just leave me alone. We can pretend that this never happened.”
A dark expression came over Malfoy’s face, looking something in between hurt and anger. But it vanished instantly, and the next thing Harry knew, Malfoy had him shoved against the wall.
“Is that what you really want to do?” asked Malfoy in a dangerously low voice. “Act as if you never snogged me senseless or sucked my cock? Because the last time I checked, you liked doing both very much.”
“Right. And I’m sure you and your friends had a good laugh over that.”
“You think I told them everything I’ve done with you?”
“What do you take me for, Potter? If I wanted a one-off, I could have gotten that elsewhere.”
Harry had heard enough. He grabbed Malfoy by the collar of his shirt. “Well, when you ever figure out what you want with me, let me know, yeah? I don’t have time to deal with your mind games!”
With that, Harry pushed Malfoy away from him as hard as he could. He watched Malfoy stagger back in shock before taking off. He never noticed the small slip of paper that fluttered from his bag and landed on the floor.
Oh,dear! Looks like our hot-headed boys aren't doing so well. Harry's being a bit silly, and well, let's hope Draco can get his Gryffindor back soon! Still in the process of compiling more entries that are back-dated from March. I'm hoping to get some out that lead up to the Easter hols, so we'll see what happens. Stay tuned for more!
Need to catch up? Start out with the first post! Don't forget to watch the community here for more updates!