Desolation Anxiety - Chapter 1
Title : Desolation Anxiety (1/?)
Author name : Random
Author email : lostophelia@hotmail.com
Rating : PG-13
Summary : Due to anger management problems, Harry and Draco find themselves stuck in the most unusual of places. The two try to work out their differences in a calm and civil manner. Too bad that doesn't work as well as they thought.
Disclaimer : This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Note : The following story takes place sometime after the fourth book, most likely in Harry's sixth year. Don't ask me, I'm only writing this thing. It does contain slash, so keep that in mind please.
-----------------------
Certainly I wasn't over reacting to this whole scenario. Yes, it did have parts in it that I found completely impossible to believe, but I am not someone to go mad because I can't believe my wonderfully unbelievable luck.
In fact, had someone sat me down right at this moment and slowly--very, very slowly--explained everything to me, I might actually understand it a bit. What I need is a book to carry around (despite that I would look like a Granger-wannabe) with a complete listing of terrible things that happen in the world and how to avoid them. I would be indestructible.
However, instead of comfortably browsing through the long listing of god-forsaken things that could happen to me, I found myself trudging through some slimy green substance, which didn't smell all that great in any form.
Said green liquid seemed to have some form of a brain, as I'm quite sure it was tickled pink when it sucked the boots from my feet a few yards back.
Not that I had given them up without a fight, mind you, but after they had actually been eaten by the slime, I had a hard time finding courage enough to go after them. How in the world my boots could have sunk in liquid that is only five inches deep is beyond me, but they seemed to have done that very thing.
So, after much snickering from the only other person down here (although where here is, I have no idea), I scraped the remainder of my pride from the back of my mind and went on without my precious boots.
Of course, said other person could only be the one person I wished most to not be near at the present moment. The Boy Wonder himself, all clad up in his scarlet quidditch robes (with boots!), smirking over the short lived humiliation I had taken part in moments earlier.
I still am rather upset about walking barefoot, but at least I haven't lost my robes. Yet. I'm sure if I keep on with all of these positive thoughts I'll lose them any second now.....Wouldn't that just be perfect?
I should be fighting with him at the moment, instead of musing over lost shoes, but we've already had the blame discussion and somehow it ended up coming down to being the fault of myself, which is not entirely true at all.
If Potter hadn't distracted me from trying to get back to the dungeons, we wouldn't be in this mess at all. Although, now that I think back to it, finding the dungeons shouldn't have been that hard to begin with. I suppose that's what happens when you run into (literally...) The Boy Who Lived whilst trying to sneak around Filch and the demon cat.
Of course, I wouldn't have had to sneak around like some Gryfindor wannabe if Pansy hadn't left my Defense Against the Dark Arts book in the library. Sometimes I wonder why I trust anyone enough to lend them my things.
She had seemed rather nervous about telling me she left my book though, so at least we've gotten the fear thing down right. I should have made her go and get it, but I could just tell that was going to go through one ear and out the other. It was best to just get it myself, I must have thought. How mistaken I was.
Actually, it is my fault we're down here, but I'm having enough trouble admitting that to myself. I'll be damned if I'm throwing out the rest of my pride and dignity to tell him so.
"How long have we been down here?"
Potter is now trying to begin a civil conversation...I sense an ulterior motive.....Of course, the way he's grumbling his sentence out, he certainly isn't trying very well. Gryffindors must just be too busy with righteousness and 'bravery' to concern themselves with conversational skills.
Not that I've taken a long winded course in civility, but I'm sure I'm quite capable of masking my hatred better than he is. I bet I don't even grit my teeth when I talk. Ha!
"Too long," I reply, glaring slightly at the wall protruding out of the ground in front of our path. It's quite convenient that we would come to a dead end, isn't it? The sudden urge to run around in circles and scream is bubbling up inside of me, but I think I'll wait until I'm completely insane to go and do that. I may not have my boots, but I still have a little bit of my sanity left.
Potter seems to notice the wall two seconds after I have, mostly because he just walked straight into it. Gryfindors never were known for their outstanding grace, were they? Or perhaps that's just Potter? I wouldn't be surprised...
"Really smooth, Potter," I comment, not bothering to stifle my snickers as he rubs his face slightly, checking to see if the 'crash' broke his glasses. Good things do come out of being stuck in an ancient tunnel without an exit.
Not surprisingly, he doesn't bother to respond to my comment. Gryffindors never were one for conversation, I suppose, which must be why he suffered at it moments ago.
Not that I want Potter to talk to me, mind you. Don't jump to any conclusions so early about me or my hatred for Potter. It's just that talking has been known to prolong the loss of sanity.
In case I'm the only one who has noticed, the only things I can talk to down here are Potter and the slime.
And, at the moment, I'm quite peeved at the slime.
"No, really, Potter, your grace amazes even me."
I'm already starting to feel better. They really should bottle this stuff.
"That must be because you don't have any."
....The bottle is not supposed to talk back. I want a refund.
I'm not the one who ran head first into a solid wall am I?"
"Wait....Maybe it isn't solid....This could be the exit!"
And a civilization of boot eating rats could be nesting in my hair.
Perhaps having only me for company has driven Potter to insanity, because he's ignoring the look I'm giving him and starting to push against the wall with both hands.
Maybe I should help?
"Try ramming your head into it again, Potter, that might open it."
Helping others really does feel wonderful....
"Why not your head, Malfoy? It seems to be pretty thick."
Touché, Potter. How long did it take you to think up that one, hm? I can imagine Gryfindors sitting up in their common room, a nice pad of paper in one hand and a pencil in the other, trying to decide the best retorts to any possible insult.
You know, I'm sure that must be why Weasley never has anything good to say. Too many literary skills involved for him.
"At least," he begins, looking up at me with a sparkle in his eyes, "I still have my shoes."
I could kill him now and no one would ever know. I could be very discreet about such things, if they happened to ever find his body (which isn't likely). 'Potter? Oh, I have no idea what he was doing severed in half in a long-forgotten cave, I've been snogging Pansy this entire time, do pardon me.'
She may not be the brightest knife in the drawer, but Pansy has her uses. Or at least she would if she co-operated from time to time.
I even know several people who would think me for such a generous act.
"Enjoy your little session with the wall, Potter, I'm going to go find the exit."
That caught his attention.
Jumping up, he grabs the wrist of my robes and, for a moment, it almost looks like he's going to jerk me backwards. However, he settles upon just tugging my arm slightly and then managing a look of puzzlement.
"Do you hear that?"
Actually, I hear nothing but Potter's breathing. This symbolizes two things for certain. The first is that Potter is off his rocker and there is nothing but us in this forsaken dungeon/tunnel/cave/thing. The second would be that alarms are going off all over my brain, alerting me that if I can hear him breathing this loudly, there is a good chance it's because he's dangerously close to me at the moment.
I can't say that the alarms in my brain have ever been proven wrong before, so panic decides to sweep itself across my nervous system and try to get me at least ten feet away from the other boy.
However, Potter's grace (or lack thereof) seems to be contagious, as I make it a good two feet before I realize he's still holding on to me and we both tumble into the slimy water.
Not the most pleasant thing I've ever been a part of, but it's even worse considering it's something else that is my fault. I'm getting rather good at this kind of stuff, really.
"Smooth one, Malfoy."
"Shut up, Potter, and let go of me already! And get off!"
"I'm not even holding onto you anymore, Malfoy!"
"Then why is your arm still attached to mine?!"
"....That's not my arm, Malfoy...."
"It's not?"
"No."
"Oh."
With that, panic seizes me again and I scramble up and bolt forward. Conveniently forgetting Potter was laying in front of me, I only just happened to trip over him and fall face first back into the water.
I should have stayed in bed today, I really should have.
Potter had apparently tried to do the same thing I had, but my tripping over him must have post-poned all escaping he had in mind. However, he didn't seem too concerned, and even smiled.
I didn't see anything to smile about.
"Neville! What are you doing down here?"
What in the seventh layer of hell is going on here? I swear, Gryfindors multiply like bunnies. Now there are two of them. Just, great.
"I-I'm lost."
As it would figure. Of course the smaller Gryfindor wouldn't know the way out of here. Because, of course, the only other person down here would have to be entirely useless and unimportant to the whole world.
Don't I have the grandest luck you've ever seen? Really, someone come and congratulate me on my fine achievements since being down here. Anyone?
"We are too, apparently."
That's right, Potter, ruin my life some more. Go ahead and tell him about my impeccable grace while your at it, why won't you?
"Where are Malfoy's shoes?"
..........
"I hate my life."
They both turn to look at me, and Potter gives me an unsympathetic look. "This is still all your fault."
"How is it my fault that he's down here? Why do you always have people following you, Potter?"
"Why are you always an insufferable git, Malfoy?"
"It's not my fault we're down here!"
"Yes it is!"
By now we've both managed to stand and are in the middle of a staring match, whilst verbally attacking each other. We're just that good.
Longbottom has also stood, but thinks it wiser to stand a good distance to the side of us, as if he knows we'll both kill him if he intervenes. Still, that doesn't mean the goody Gryfindor isn't going to try to stop us from killing each other. "Umm....Harry? Malfoy?"
Too bad for him he's ignored by both of us.
"I was just trying to get my book, it's your fault that we fell into this stupid tunnel and your fault that the door closed!"
"My fault?! How is it my fault that you tried to kill me?!"
Oh, there is that....I suppose that conveniently slipped my mind for the time being. Not that it's that important anyway. Potter should have been more aware that I was going to attack him.
"I wasn't trying to kill you! I just wanted to get my god damned book and go back to my common room and sleep."
"Since when does going back to your common room include starting a fight with me?"
"I thought I would try something new."
Longbottom is now looking quite nervous, as we both seem to have a murderous glint in our eyes. Why shouldn't we? We're both stuck down here, why not vent some anger and finally fight without being stopped?
"Please stop fighting, you two!"
"Can't you just leave me alone for once?! Just because I'm a Gryfindor you have to fight with me?!"
"The fact that you're the fucking Boy Who Lived helps to add to that, you know. Maybe if you weren't so perfect I wouldn't have this uncontrollable urge to sever you in two!"
"Umm.....Guys?"
"When will you get it through your head that I don't want any of this? I'm not perfect and I'm not special."
"You certainly don't act like it!"
"Like you don't?!"
If Longbottom was at a loss before, he was even more so now. "Will you two please stop fighting?"
As of now, we were quite close, which made for all the more reason why I had the sudden urge to reach out and beat him to a bloody pulp. It was obvious we both weren't leaving until one of us were dead, despite Longbottom's feeble attempts at stopping us.
I had waited a very long time for this and I wasn't about to stop because yet another Gryfindor was trying to prolong the inevitable. Why not fight with Potter right now until we both were unable to move from exhaustion? Why not vent all my anger at him? Not only was he convenient, but he was willing to fight back.
I may have not quite wanted it, but I always needed someone to bring me back to reality every now and then. Like I said, Potter is convenient.
More than anyone else, he's always been the number one cause of these bursts of anger I tend to get. Just the fact that he's always here, always a reminder of who is he; more than anything he makes my blood boil. Maybe that's why I sometimes desire to hit him repeatedly with a brick. Or something equally as painful. It doesn't matter to me, I'm not all that picky.
"If you would just open your bloody eyes, Malfoy, you might actually notice that, not only am I human, but you are too."
"I'm quite aware of that fact, Potter, but I'm surprised you called yourself human. I was under the impression you thought yourself some sort of god for us all."
"I have never considered us different, Malfoy, besides the fact that you are so intolerable!"
"I'm intolerable?! Have you looked in a mirror lately?!"
"Harry, I think I-" Longbottom's intervention ended abrubtly with a short gasp from him and his eyes going as wide a saucers. Words were apparently beyond him at the moment, but I could hardly pay any attention to him.
Because, right now, alarms were banging against my skull and my nervous system seemed to be having trouble comprehending all the sudden emotions whirling around.
The only thing my mind could focus on was the fact that I was kissing Harry Potter, with quite a bit of force, although the anger had already seemed to have drained from my body.
Whatever possessed me to do such a thing kept me from allowing myself the luxury of pulling away as quickly as I could and fleeing. Some part of myself kept me standing there, holding on to the front of his robes, despite the obvious shock that was present in both of us.
Common sense seemed to have fled at the first signs of danger, leaving behind some traces of anger, fear, and some sudden fleeting feeling of sadness. I would have thought on it longer, but thought processing was too difficult. It was even more so as panic finally filled my body and I jerked away from Potter in complete shock.
On quiet observation, he didn't look any better than I did at the moment.
Really the only sure details about him were the look of shock written across his flushed face, although he was quite rigid and tense. He didn't even relax the slightest bit when I backed a good fifteen feet away from him.
I only made it that far before I sank to the ground and tried to convince myself I was still sane, although such a thought was quite impossible. How could I possibly still be sane?! There is no way in hell that I could have any sanity left at all. No way in hell.
Longbottom, for once, seems to regain his senses before both of us do and clears his throat in embarrassment. "At least you stopped fighting....."
That's one way to put it.
Potter swallows and casts a look at me, shock still evident in his eyes. "Y-You...."
I don't even bother to answer, as I'm not quite sure I even have it in my to think up something smart to say. I could say it was an accident, of course, but who would believe that? Was it even true? I hadn't wanted to kiss him, I know that for certain. My entire being was set upon the two of us tearing each other limb from limb; kissing didn't fit anywhere in there.
"Maybe we should find the exit now?" Longbottom suggests timidly, although it doesn't really sound as timid as it might have. Right now he's the only one willing to speak.
Okay, so he's one of two willing to speak.
"You two have an enjoyable time, I'm going to stay here and drown myself."
Finally, Potter returns his gaze to me and settles upon a look between anger and amazement. "This is your fault."
"I'm quite aware of that, Potter, but thank you dearly for bringing it to my attention!"
"I should be the one angry here! You kissed me!"
Somehow, it sounds a lot worse now. I did kiss him, didn't I? Maybe I really should drown myself.
"You think I don't know that, Potter? It wasn't intentional!"
"It certainly seemed intentional!"
"Umm....Guys?" Longbottom speaks up, finally managing to get out attention focused on him for the moment being. "This is how it started last time, you know."
Potter pales visibly for a moment and then turns away from both of us. "Maybe we should find that exit now."
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Author's notes: Thank you very much for reading :) This is only the first chapter, so you aren't safe quite yet. I appologize for the lack of elaboration in this chapter, but oh well ^_^
Author name : Random
Author email : lostophelia@hotmail.com
Rating : PG-13
Summary : Due to anger management problems, Harry and Draco find themselves stuck in the most unusual of places. The two try to work out their differences in a calm and civil manner. Too bad that doesn't work as well as they thought.
Disclaimer : This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Note : The following story takes place sometime after the fourth book, most likely in Harry's sixth year. Don't ask me, I'm only writing this thing. It does contain slash, so keep that in mind please.
-----------------------
Certainly I wasn't over reacting to this whole scenario. Yes, it did have parts in it that I found completely impossible to believe, but I am not someone to go mad because I can't believe my wonderfully unbelievable luck.
In fact, had someone sat me down right at this moment and slowly--very, very slowly--explained everything to me, I might actually understand it a bit. What I need is a book to carry around (despite that I would look like a Granger-wannabe) with a complete listing of terrible things that happen in the world and how to avoid them. I would be indestructible.
However, instead of comfortably browsing through the long listing of god-forsaken things that could happen to me, I found myself trudging through some slimy green substance, which didn't smell all that great in any form.
Said green liquid seemed to have some form of a brain, as I'm quite sure it was tickled pink when it sucked the boots from my feet a few yards back.
Not that I had given them up without a fight, mind you, but after they had actually been eaten by the slime, I had a hard time finding courage enough to go after them. How in the world my boots could have sunk in liquid that is only five inches deep is beyond me, but they seemed to have done that very thing.
So, after much snickering from the only other person down here (although where here is, I have no idea), I scraped the remainder of my pride from the back of my mind and went on without my precious boots.
Of course, said other person could only be the one person I wished most to not be near at the present moment. The Boy Wonder himself, all clad up in his scarlet quidditch robes (with boots!), smirking over the short lived humiliation I had taken part in moments earlier.
I still am rather upset about walking barefoot, but at least I haven't lost my robes. Yet. I'm sure if I keep on with all of these positive thoughts I'll lose them any second now.....Wouldn't that just be perfect?
I should be fighting with him at the moment, instead of musing over lost shoes, but we've already had the blame discussion and somehow it ended up coming down to being the fault of myself, which is not entirely true at all.
If Potter hadn't distracted me from trying to get back to the dungeons, we wouldn't be in this mess at all. Although, now that I think back to it, finding the dungeons shouldn't have been that hard to begin with. I suppose that's what happens when you run into (literally...) The Boy Who Lived whilst trying to sneak around Filch and the demon cat.
Of course, I wouldn't have had to sneak around like some Gryfindor wannabe if Pansy hadn't left my Defense Against the Dark Arts book in the library. Sometimes I wonder why I trust anyone enough to lend them my things.
She had seemed rather nervous about telling me she left my book though, so at least we've gotten the fear thing down right. I should have made her go and get it, but I could just tell that was going to go through one ear and out the other. It was best to just get it myself, I must have thought. How mistaken I was.
Actually, it is my fault we're down here, but I'm having enough trouble admitting that to myself. I'll be damned if I'm throwing out the rest of my pride and dignity to tell him so.
"How long have we been down here?"
Potter is now trying to begin a civil conversation...I sense an ulterior motive.....Of course, the way he's grumbling his sentence out, he certainly isn't trying very well. Gryffindors must just be too busy with righteousness and 'bravery' to concern themselves with conversational skills.
Not that I've taken a long winded course in civility, but I'm sure I'm quite capable of masking my hatred better than he is. I bet I don't even grit my teeth when I talk. Ha!
"Too long," I reply, glaring slightly at the wall protruding out of the ground in front of our path. It's quite convenient that we would come to a dead end, isn't it? The sudden urge to run around in circles and scream is bubbling up inside of me, but I think I'll wait until I'm completely insane to go and do that. I may not have my boots, but I still have a little bit of my sanity left.
Potter seems to notice the wall two seconds after I have, mostly because he just walked straight into it. Gryfindors never were known for their outstanding grace, were they? Or perhaps that's just Potter? I wouldn't be surprised...
"Really smooth, Potter," I comment, not bothering to stifle my snickers as he rubs his face slightly, checking to see if the 'crash' broke his glasses. Good things do come out of being stuck in an ancient tunnel without an exit.
Not surprisingly, he doesn't bother to respond to my comment. Gryffindors never were one for conversation, I suppose, which must be why he suffered at it moments ago.
Not that I want Potter to talk to me, mind you. Don't jump to any conclusions so early about me or my hatred for Potter. It's just that talking has been known to prolong the loss of sanity.
In case I'm the only one who has noticed, the only things I can talk to down here are Potter and the slime.
And, at the moment, I'm quite peeved at the slime.
"No, really, Potter, your grace amazes even me."
I'm already starting to feel better. They really should bottle this stuff.
"That must be because you don't have any."
....The bottle is not supposed to talk back. I want a refund.
I'm not the one who ran head first into a solid wall am I?"
"Wait....Maybe it isn't solid....This could be the exit!"
And a civilization of boot eating rats could be nesting in my hair.
Perhaps having only me for company has driven Potter to insanity, because he's ignoring the look I'm giving him and starting to push against the wall with both hands.
Maybe I should help?
"Try ramming your head into it again, Potter, that might open it."
Helping others really does feel wonderful....
"Why not your head, Malfoy? It seems to be pretty thick."
Touché, Potter. How long did it take you to think up that one, hm? I can imagine Gryfindors sitting up in their common room, a nice pad of paper in one hand and a pencil in the other, trying to decide the best retorts to any possible insult.
You know, I'm sure that must be why Weasley never has anything good to say. Too many literary skills involved for him.
"At least," he begins, looking up at me with a sparkle in his eyes, "I still have my shoes."
I could kill him now and no one would ever know. I could be very discreet about such things, if they happened to ever find his body (which isn't likely). 'Potter? Oh, I have no idea what he was doing severed in half in a long-forgotten cave, I've been snogging Pansy this entire time, do pardon me.'
She may not be the brightest knife in the drawer, but Pansy has her uses. Or at least she would if she co-operated from time to time.
I even know several people who would think me for such a generous act.
"Enjoy your little session with the wall, Potter, I'm going to go find the exit."
That caught his attention.
Jumping up, he grabs the wrist of my robes and, for a moment, it almost looks like he's going to jerk me backwards. However, he settles upon just tugging my arm slightly and then managing a look of puzzlement.
"Do you hear that?"
Actually, I hear nothing but Potter's breathing. This symbolizes two things for certain. The first is that Potter is off his rocker and there is nothing but us in this forsaken dungeon/tunnel/cave/thing. The second would be that alarms are going off all over my brain, alerting me that if I can hear him breathing this loudly, there is a good chance it's because he's dangerously close to me at the moment.
I can't say that the alarms in my brain have ever been proven wrong before, so panic decides to sweep itself across my nervous system and try to get me at least ten feet away from the other boy.
However, Potter's grace (or lack thereof) seems to be contagious, as I make it a good two feet before I realize he's still holding on to me and we both tumble into the slimy water.
Not the most pleasant thing I've ever been a part of, but it's even worse considering it's something else that is my fault. I'm getting rather good at this kind of stuff, really.
"Smooth one, Malfoy."
"Shut up, Potter, and let go of me already! And get off!"
"I'm not even holding onto you anymore, Malfoy!"
"Then why is your arm still attached to mine?!"
"....That's not my arm, Malfoy...."
"It's not?"
"No."
"Oh."
With that, panic seizes me again and I scramble up and bolt forward. Conveniently forgetting Potter was laying in front of me, I only just happened to trip over him and fall face first back into the water.
I should have stayed in bed today, I really should have.
Potter had apparently tried to do the same thing I had, but my tripping over him must have post-poned all escaping he had in mind. However, he didn't seem too concerned, and even smiled.
I didn't see anything to smile about.
"Neville! What are you doing down here?"
What in the seventh layer of hell is going on here? I swear, Gryfindors multiply like bunnies. Now there are two of them. Just, great.
"I-I'm lost."
As it would figure. Of course the smaller Gryfindor wouldn't know the way out of here. Because, of course, the only other person down here would have to be entirely useless and unimportant to the whole world.
Don't I have the grandest luck you've ever seen? Really, someone come and congratulate me on my fine achievements since being down here. Anyone?
"We are too, apparently."
That's right, Potter, ruin my life some more. Go ahead and tell him about my impeccable grace while your at it, why won't you?
"Where are Malfoy's shoes?"
..........
"I hate my life."
They both turn to look at me, and Potter gives me an unsympathetic look. "This is still all your fault."
"How is it my fault that he's down here? Why do you always have people following you, Potter?"
"Why are you always an insufferable git, Malfoy?"
"It's not my fault we're down here!"
"Yes it is!"
By now we've both managed to stand and are in the middle of a staring match, whilst verbally attacking each other. We're just that good.
Longbottom has also stood, but thinks it wiser to stand a good distance to the side of us, as if he knows we'll both kill him if he intervenes. Still, that doesn't mean the goody Gryfindor isn't going to try to stop us from killing each other. "Umm....Harry? Malfoy?"
Too bad for him he's ignored by both of us.
"I was just trying to get my book, it's your fault that we fell into this stupid tunnel and your fault that the door closed!"
"My fault?! How is it my fault that you tried to kill me?!"
Oh, there is that....I suppose that conveniently slipped my mind for the time being. Not that it's that important anyway. Potter should have been more aware that I was going to attack him.
"I wasn't trying to kill you! I just wanted to get my god damned book and go back to my common room and sleep."
"Since when does going back to your common room include starting a fight with me?"
"I thought I would try something new."
Longbottom is now looking quite nervous, as we both seem to have a murderous glint in our eyes. Why shouldn't we? We're both stuck down here, why not vent some anger and finally fight without being stopped?
"Please stop fighting, you two!"
"Can't you just leave me alone for once?! Just because I'm a Gryfindor you have to fight with me?!"
"The fact that you're the fucking Boy Who Lived helps to add to that, you know. Maybe if you weren't so perfect I wouldn't have this uncontrollable urge to sever you in two!"
"Umm.....Guys?"
"When will you get it through your head that I don't want any of this? I'm not perfect and I'm not special."
"You certainly don't act like it!"
"Like you don't?!"
If Longbottom was at a loss before, he was even more so now. "Will you two please stop fighting?"
As of now, we were quite close, which made for all the more reason why I had the sudden urge to reach out and beat him to a bloody pulp. It was obvious we both weren't leaving until one of us were dead, despite Longbottom's feeble attempts at stopping us.
I had waited a very long time for this and I wasn't about to stop because yet another Gryfindor was trying to prolong the inevitable. Why not fight with Potter right now until we both were unable to move from exhaustion? Why not vent all my anger at him? Not only was he convenient, but he was willing to fight back.
I may have not quite wanted it, but I always needed someone to bring me back to reality every now and then. Like I said, Potter is convenient.
More than anyone else, he's always been the number one cause of these bursts of anger I tend to get. Just the fact that he's always here, always a reminder of who is he; more than anything he makes my blood boil. Maybe that's why I sometimes desire to hit him repeatedly with a brick. Or something equally as painful. It doesn't matter to me, I'm not all that picky.
"If you would just open your bloody eyes, Malfoy, you might actually notice that, not only am I human, but you are too."
"I'm quite aware of that fact, Potter, but I'm surprised you called yourself human. I was under the impression you thought yourself some sort of god for us all."
"I have never considered us different, Malfoy, besides the fact that you are so intolerable!"
"I'm intolerable?! Have you looked in a mirror lately?!"
"Harry, I think I-" Longbottom's intervention ended abrubtly with a short gasp from him and his eyes going as wide a saucers. Words were apparently beyond him at the moment, but I could hardly pay any attention to him.
Because, right now, alarms were banging against my skull and my nervous system seemed to be having trouble comprehending all the sudden emotions whirling around.
The only thing my mind could focus on was the fact that I was kissing Harry Potter, with quite a bit of force, although the anger had already seemed to have drained from my body.
Whatever possessed me to do such a thing kept me from allowing myself the luxury of pulling away as quickly as I could and fleeing. Some part of myself kept me standing there, holding on to the front of his robes, despite the obvious shock that was present in both of us.
Common sense seemed to have fled at the first signs of danger, leaving behind some traces of anger, fear, and some sudden fleeting feeling of sadness. I would have thought on it longer, but thought processing was too difficult. It was even more so as panic finally filled my body and I jerked away from Potter in complete shock.
On quiet observation, he didn't look any better than I did at the moment.
Really the only sure details about him were the look of shock written across his flushed face, although he was quite rigid and tense. He didn't even relax the slightest bit when I backed a good fifteen feet away from him.
I only made it that far before I sank to the ground and tried to convince myself I was still sane, although such a thought was quite impossible. How could I possibly still be sane?! There is no way in hell that I could have any sanity left at all. No way in hell.
Longbottom, for once, seems to regain his senses before both of us do and clears his throat in embarrassment. "At least you stopped fighting....."
That's one way to put it.
Potter swallows and casts a look at me, shock still evident in his eyes. "Y-You...."
I don't even bother to answer, as I'm not quite sure I even have it in my to think up something smart to say. I could say it was an accident, of course, but who would believe that? Was it even true? I hadn't wanted to kiss him, I know that for certain. My entire being was set upon the two of us tearing each other limb from limb; kissing didn't fit anywhere in there.
"Maybe we should find the exit now?" Longbottom suggests timidly, although it doesn't really sound as timid as it might have. Right now he's the only one willing to speak.
Okay, so he's one of two willing to speak.
"You two have an enjoyable time, I'm going to stay here and drown myself."
Finally, Potter returns his gaze to me and settles upon a look between anger and amazement. "This is your fault."
"I'm quite aware of that, Potter, but thank you dearly for bringing it to my attention!"
"I should be the one angry here! You kissed me!"
Somehow, it sounds a lot worse now. I did kiss him, didn't I? Maybe I really should drown myself.
"You think I don't know that, Potter? It wasn't intentional!"
"It certainly seemed intentional!"
"Umm....Guys?" Longbottom speaks up, finally managing to get out attention focused on him for the moment being. "This is how it started last time, you know."
Potter pales visibly for a moment and then turns away from both of us. "Maybe we should find that exit now."
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Author's notes: Thank you very much for reading :) This is only the first chapter, so you aren't safe quite yet. I appologize for the lack of elaboration in this chapter, but oh well ^_^