Disclaimer: The characters named here are not mine, but property of J.K Rowling and the publishing people etc. The sole facet of the story I CAN claim is the plot.
Author: Felicity Gemfiar
Note: I apologize if my definition of a nun is incorrect. Please feel free to correct me if necessary.
Reviews would be nice, if I should continue with the story...but, until then enjoy this. And the next chapters will have more sex, angst, torture etc. Please be patient with me =D.
****************************************************************************************
Sanguicolous
*My Immortal by Evanescence
Chapter One-Bloody Tears
Harry rested his head against the pillow in his room on number four, Privet Drive, staring up at the cracked and peeling ceiling. His sixth summer away from Hogwarts, and still the Dursleys refused to treat him properly. Not even Mad-Eye Moody and his very convincing threats could avert Uncle Vernon from tormenting Harry.
So, this hot and sticky day in July, which happened to be his birthday, Harry was stuck in his room for another non-reason--in other words, just to get him out of the way. Looking up, Harry noticed the many patterned cracks in the walls and the slight tints and shades in the paint and sighed. Earlier this morning, very much earlier, he received a few things from Ron and Hermione, Hagrid and Lupin...but not Sirius. No, not Sirius.
A gaping hole, a vortex of swirling pain opened in Harry's bosom as his thoughts turned to his Godfather. It had been a year since his death, only a year, but each time Harry remembered his smiling face or quirky hand movements, the pain was torn afresh. It seeped grief and guilt, for Harry felt the blame rested on his shoulders... so many other options he could have chosen... A sharp stab in the chest and a twist of the knife sent Harry's eyes shut and rolling on his side, clutching his heart.
He tried to hold them back, forced himself to be calm--but the effort was in vain. The tears tumbled down his cheeks in constant trails to damp sheets beneath his flesh. The anguish was too deep, too new--going over and over Sirius' death in his mind, Harry could not turn his thoughts away...he missed his Godfather too much--
As if on cue, a body appeared in the middle of Harry's bedroom--right on the floor of number four. Yet, Harry was too wrapped up in the grief, the searing pain to really notice, and the tears persisted to pool. The body, however, was not dead, but warmly alive and soon sprang up on its feet, observing the surroundings. The sudden movement caught Harry's eye and he sat abruptly up and wiped the tracks from his face.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Malfoy?"
Draco Malfoy, wand out and poised, turned to face the speaker. His sleek blond hair had taken a tumble and sprayed over his storm gray eyes. A cold mask in place, Malfoy considered the boy before speaking.
"None of your damn business, Potter."
The shock at catching Harry off guard, and Malfoy being his greatest enemy, and Malfoy's connection with the death of Sirius, and Malfoy's rudeness in Harry's house more than topped the bottle of emotion in him and Harry exploded.
"None of my damn business?!" Harry snapped as he jumped from the bed to face Malfoy fully. "You are in my house, in my room and you have the fucking nerve to be rude like that and tell me off?! No, sir. Not fucking today. Get out!" With a loud and distinct shout Harry pointed, red anger saturating every pore of his features.
Malfoy was taken aback by the vehemence and rage in Harry's tone and stood speechless and statue-like for a few minutes. Recovering himself, he opened his mouth to speak when pounding footsteps and more shouting sounded from behind Harry's bedroom door.
"What's going on in there, boy?!" It was Uncle Vernon, clearly infuriated by the clamor Harry and Malfoy's discussion had caused. "What are you doing?!" A rattling of the doorknob ensued before Uncle Vernon remembered all the locks on the doors and began turning back the seventeen fixed bolts and chains.
Panicking, Harry thrust himself at Malfoy and pushed him under the bed with the scratches and knocks of Vernon at the door. Within moments of Malfoy's stomach hitting the boards, a fat body shoved into the space between the jambs.
"What was all the racket, boy? Why do you insist on interruptions? We are down stairs..." Uncle Vernon ranted and lectured the boy, while Harry inconspicuously covered Malfoy's seething face. The drone of Vernon's words was soon drowned by the throbbing in Harry's chest--the vacuum of emotion and nothingness into a gaping hole never to be fulfilled. With much more effort, Harry forced the tears behind his lids not to plunge down his features. Two sets of eyes pierced him, empowering his façade, but only intensifying the sinking vortex of unspeakable pain.
Uncle Vernon, engulfed in his tantrum, did not spare the extra minutes looking at his nephew and thus did not see the water stains or the reddened eyes that stared back at him. "...should have the decency to be quiet..." Harry nodded, not trusting his voice to carry steadily. "...Now, shut up!" The fat man abruptly pivoted and exited Harry's quarters, slamming the door behind him. The following minute was filled with the rattle of locks being replaced.
Harry sank onto his mattress, clutching his aching heart again, head bowed and chin touching his rather expansive chest. The grief threatened to suck through his back, and dry sobs began to rack Harry's body.
As graceful as it is possible to get from underneath a bed, Malfoy rose from his position and stared at his now dirty robes, dusting them off.
"In concurrence with your Uncle, what the hell was that for?"
Malfoy glanced up and took in Harry rocking back and forth on the mattress, shaking involuntarily and suppressing something he willed to keep hidden. The sight unnerved him and he stopped moving completely.
"Can't even have a romp here, Potter, without the family interfering?" he sneered, though not quite as harsh as it sometimes sounded. Malfoy slipped into the only manner that ever made sense with Harry--blunt condemnation. What else was he to do with a sobbing male, of whom he'd been enemies for the last several years, and probably more to come? "Of course, you do live with Muggles..."
Slowly, very slowly, Harry lifted his emerald eyes, conveying something deeper than pain, to Draco's.
"Just leave." Harry whispered so softly Draco had to strain to hear his words. The deflated and raw tone unseated him even more and Malfoy turned to leave, confusion etched in his features. An audible, yet suppressed, snuffle stopped him. He hesitated, watching the water droplets now flowing freely from Harry's face. Draco never saw this side of Saint Potter, never gazed upon the real boy beneath the fame, never observed the struggle within him. But now it stood, bleeding and fierce, for anyone to see, anyone to tamper with.
Quite unexpectedly, Draco joined Harry on the bed, and engulfed the other boy in his arms. Draco did not know what possessed him to do such a deed, but he knew, could tell in his gut, that leaving Harry like this would not be right.
Engrossed in his pain, Harry did not realize who was comforting him, only that strong arms that seemed to take away the pain had suddenly appeared and he pressed closer into the body those arms belonged to. Harry's reaction, though unforeseen, relaxed Draco who did not realize how tense his gesture had made him until Harry sank into his side.
Stroking Harry's hair, Draco shushed his crying, rocking with his rhythm, washing away the sting of grief.
"It's alright..." Draco wavered again, "...H-Harry."
The pain became bearable, dull and pulsing, but no longer sharp and piercing. It was almost like a portion of the lead weight on Harry's chest had just been lifted. He could almost breathe normally, almost. He pushed closer to the solid body so near him.
A waft of Harry's scent flowed to Draco's unoccupied nostrils. It lingered there, something of mint and oranges, mesmerizing his senses and rendering him fairly vulnerable. With his arms never loosening their grip, Draco continued to rock Harry and calm his sobs.
Harry became conscious enough to realize whose muscular arms were wrapped about him and he stiffened. Why would Malfoy...Harry couldn't even finish his thought, it was ludicrous. Feeling just a bit uncomfortable, breaking down in front of Malfoy, being comforted by Malfoy, Harry tried to pull away. Draco, lost in the mesmerizing scent of the body pressed close to his, did not feel the first tug at his arms. But the second, with force from hands as well, brought Draco back to his senses. Abruptly, he retrieved his arms and scooted away from Harry on the bed while Harry detached himself from Malfoy's side. Both perched on the bed, a bit awkwardly.
Draco felt as if he lost something, something warm and continuous, from himself. There existed an emptiness within the circle of his arms, and he wanted to fill that void again with... No, that wasn't it. It was, no, he just needed to leave.
A coldness seeped into Harry's bones and he wanted nothing more than to feel the comfort again, the comfort that only... that only... he refused to accept whatever it was that lurked in the corner of his mind. There were others, so many others... like Uncle Vernon... Harry placed his head in his hands.
"Watch it, Potter, you'll stain my robes." Malfoy put all the disgust he could muster into that sentence and stood from the bed.
Harry slipped his head up to peer at Malfoy from atop his fingertips. Conveyed within the depths of his bloodstone eyes was this pain, just too real, there was just too much that time could not erase. Malfoy faltered again, his storm gray eyes knotted with confusion and hesitation.
"Just go, Malfoy. Leave me be." Harry's toneless waves hit Draco like a fist.
"No."
"What?" Harry countered, startled enough to lift his face from his strips of flesh. "Why?"
"I'm not leaving."
Harry stared in shock. "What do you mean, you're not leaving? Of course you're fucking leaving. I'm kicking you out!" His voice grew from a whisper to a heated shout.
"Quiet, Potter, or your...Uncle will be returning," Malfoy sneered.
Harry glared spikes at Malfoy's handsome face, expansive chest...Blinking he growled.
"I'm warning you, Malfoy," Harry stated menacingly, "there will be hell to pay..."
Malfoy narrowed his eyes at the steaming form that was Harry Potter. He had the decency not to laugh, though it was at himself. A smirk appeared instead.
"Like I said, Potter, I'm not leaving--" he held up a hand to stifle Harry's retort, "because I can't."
"You can't." Harry looked on with disbelief plain in his features.
"Right, Potter. One for the rejected Ravenclaw."
"Now, why would this be? Have you forgotten how to do magic, Malfoy? Suddenly found you've become a Squib? Did a spell with Voldemort go wrongly?" Harry sneered back at Malfoy in bitter shades.
Draco flinched at the name. He never agreed with the Dark Lord, only followed along until he could finally get his own place of residence, out from under his brutal father's grasp...
"Take your pick, Potter, I haven't the patience to explain such complicated doings to something stupider than a slug." Malfoy answered. Draco didn't want to go into details with Harry, details that would leave his past bare, leave his being bare. And just showing his nemesis weakness...it was unacceptable, even if Harry wouldn't, couldn't laugh at it... "Just--just leave it that I'm stuck here. With you."
Malfoy turned and took the seat at Harry's desk. He reached for some of Harry's schoolbooks and began idly flipping through the pages.
"No, I'm not going to leave it. It may try the patience of a nun, but you are going to explain it to me."
"What's a nun?" Malfoy looked over quizzically.
"A nun is a part of the Catholic religion, she--she's taken a vow to never share herself with anyone as a, as a devotion to God," Harry found himself explaining automatically before he caught himself. "Stop trying to change the subject. Out with it."
Malfoy actually seemed pained. Smiling sheepishly, he averted his eyes from Harry's. Strange, Malfoy hasn't ever done that before...Harry thought. He looks rather sexy blushing... Draco began to speak softly.
"I-I--how to put this--you see there's--I just...I don't know my way back home."
At this Harry began to laugh.
"A Malfoy! Not know his way home! That's more a lie if I've ever heard one."
"Oh shut up, Potter. It really is none of your damn business." Malfoy replaced the book and shoved his arms across his chest.
"Come now, Malfoy. You've seen me," a bit of laughing ensued, and he swept the bed with a gesture, "you can surely tell me what's really going on." The mocking light Harry now emitted made Malfoy scowl.
"No."
Harry humphed and lay back on the bed, again staring at the patterns of the peeling paint. Brows knitted in thought, Harry looked very, well, sexy. He bit his lip in concentration, and Draco had the sudden urge to bite that lip himself. Unauthorized, a vision of him atop Harry, both kissing passionately, blocked his normal sight. The heat pooled in his loins, part due to how wrong it seemed and the rest how erotic the kiss would be.
Urgh. What am I thinking? This is Potter, just Potter. Malfoy frowned and turned to the desk, back to the forgotten book. Yes, the book, not to hide the small tent in his robes formed within the last moment. It's Potter! He shook his brain and focused on the text, which happened to be upside-down. Slowly, as to not attract Harry's attention, Malfoy turned the book back around.
"Malfoy."
He stiffened, afraid Harry could perhaps sense where his thoughts were. "What?" He attempted at annoyance to disguise his flustered feeling.
"Don't take that tone with me," Harry moved his head to face Malfoy, "You are in my house after all. Well, not too much longer." He stared pointedly at the boy. "I want you out; now" Of course Harry wouldn't give up so easily, especially with Malfoy.
Draco scowled. "Fine! Just fine!" Red hot anger radiated off him as he shot from the chair. Malfoy mumbled to himself as he marched to Harry's bedroom door and attempted to open it. Turning the knob he pulled hard, but the door remained closed. He pushed instead, but still the door didn't budge. A distinct chuckling sound emerged behind him and Malfoy pivoted to see Harry laying on his stomach laughing uproariously.
"It's locked, Malfoy, remember?"
Malfoy morphed into a small shade of pinkish-red and rushed across the room to the window. He slid it open with fervor, and took a last look at Harry.
"Thanks, Potter, for absolutely nothing." And he hopped out the window.
Harry's smile faded when Malfoy jumped, and his laughing abruptly halted. Leaping from the bed, Harry took two quick steps before he could stop himself. Harry, this is Malfoy. He can take care of himself, his father is a Death Eater... but even those words did not comfort Harry's slight uneasiness. But the Muggle world is nothing like our world, he might...but it's him why should I care? He's been evil to me practically since we first met...
Harry went over the number of times Malfoy had attempted to get him expelled, or injured, and all those times he had poked fun at his family and Ron... Right, Malfoy definitely wasn't worth the effort. Harry walked to his desk and sat in the seat Malfoy vacated, picking up the charms book he so carelessly slammed on the surface. Harry read and re-read the chapters he needed for his essay. Time marched on, minutes and hours...
"...and thus Charms, in these instances, illustrate the best use of magic. Wizards worldwide would be wise to learn such tactics to better prepare themselves for--"
A rattling at his door forced Harry to put it in his line of vision. His Uncle appeared between the jambs again, less purple and upset this time.
"We feel you need some fresh air." Uncle Vernon's eyes turned menacing. He thrust Harry a holey and dirty sweater. "Get out."
Harry took in the black slacks and blue-tinted white shirt and tie with dress shoes to match, and deduced that the Dursleys were having company and wanted him out of the house, rather than their excuse for his health.
"Fine." Glad to not be locked in his room any longer, Harry grabbed the rag and walked from the room and straight out the door, without waiting for instructions. He was turning right, down the sidewalk, moth-eaten fabric still in hand, when a voice called out to him.
"Be sure to take a few hours. Four, to be exact." And the door slammed following, blocking the flood of light on the street. It was dusk, and the lamps did not help too much to disperse the darkness as of yet. He had four hours to kill, five if he could manage it.
He stuck his hands in his pockets, draping the garment over a wrist, and strolled down toward the park near his house. Thankful for the many large and leafy trees to hide his progress, Harry smiled to himself. This was a better birthday than most at number four. Normally, the Dursleys would give him something inconsequential and make him do slave labor in the hot sun as celebration of his birth.
Today, however, they locked him in his room, not having to do anything, and then forced him out of the house to take four hours of freedom. The only smudge of the day was the interruption of Malfoy in his room for twenty or so minutes. What was Malfoy doing there anyway?
He did not believe for one minute that he was truly lost. A Malfoy. Lost. Preposterous. Even though Malfoy was underage and it was the summer, Harry knew, just knew, there were spells around the boy to make even the kind of magic he employed un-plotable. A Malfoy lost, ridiculous.
His head bowed and chest bouncing with semi-silent laughter, Harry didn't notice the denser shadow in the tree he was passing. Lifting his chin, a broad grin swept his face as he entered under the branches with a light lively step in his feet. The sun had completely set in the space it took to get from his door to this spot.
"...should know...I worked so hard for it..." there was a bit more muttering, "...can't remember the address...Potter...just a curse..." Harry stopped dead on the spot. Turning his head to the side, he noticed a darker outline pacing near the trunk of the tree. The individual obviously didn't notice his passing due to all his mutterings.
The stranger passed in the lone and tiny beam of moonlight, and Harry was almost blinded by the gleam of white-blond hair that flashed by before the unfamiliar submerged himself in black shadow. His mouth dropped open and his eyes bulged as the identity dawned on him. The other turned and Harry could see his face.
"Malfoy?!"
Author: Felicity Gemfiar
Note: I apologize if my definition of a nun is incorrect. Please feel free to correct me if necessary.
Reviews would be nice, if I should continue with the story...but, until then enjoy this. And the next chapters will have more sex, angst, torture etc. Please be patient with me =D.
****************************************************************************************
Sanguicolous
*My Immortal by Evanescence
Chapter One-Bloody Tears
Harry rested his head against the pillow in his room on number four, Privet Drive, staring up at the cracked and peeling ceiling. His sixth summer away from Hogwarts, and still the Dursleys refused to treat him properly. Not even Mad-Eye Moody and his very convincing threats could avert Uncle Vernon from tormenting Harry.
So, this hot and sticky day in July, which happened to be his birthday, Harry was stuck in his room for another non-reason--in other words, just to get him out of the way. Looking up, Harry noticed the many patterned cracks in the walls and the slight tints and shades in the paint and sighed. Earlier this morning, very much earlier, he received a few things from Ron and Hermione, Hagrid and Lupin...but not Sirius. No, not Sirius.
A gaping hole, a vortex of swirling pain opened in Harry's bosom as his thoughts turned to his Godfather. It had been a year since his death, only a year, but each time Harry remembered his smiling face or quirky hand movements, the pain was torn afresh. It seeped grief and guilt, for Harry felt the blame rested on his shoulders... so many other options he could have chosen... A sharp stab in the chest and a twist of the knife sent Harry's eyes shut and rolling on his side, clutching his heart.
He tried to hold them back, forced himself to be calm--but the effort was in vain. The tears tumbled down his cheeks in constant trails to damp sheets beneath his flesh. The anguish was too deep, too new--going over and over Sirius' death in his mind, Harry could not turn his thoughts away...he missed his Godfather too much--
As if on cue, a body appeared in the middle of Harry's bedroom--right on the floor of number four. Yet, Harry was too wrapped up in the grief, the searing pain to really notice, and the tears persisted to pool. The body, however, was not dead, but warmly alive and soon sprang up on its feet, observing the surroundings. The sudden movement caught Harry's eye and he sat abruptly up and wiped the tracks from his face.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Malfoy?"
Draco Malfoy, wand out and poised, turned to face the speaker. His sleek blond hair had taken a tumble and sprayed over his storm gray eyes. A cold mask in place, Malfoy considered the boy before speaking.
"None of your damn business, Potter."
The shock at catching Harry off guard, and Malfoy being his greatest enemy, and Malfoy's connection with the death of Sirius, and Malfoy's rudeness in Harry's house more than topped the bottle of emotion in him and Harry exploded.
"None of my damn business?!" Harry snapped as he jumped from the bed to face Malfoy fully. "You are in my house, in my room and you have the fucking nerve to be rude like that and tell me off?! No, sir. Not fucking today. Get out!" With a loud and distinct shout Harry pointed, red anger saturating every pore of his features.
Malfoy was taken aback by the vehemence and rage in Harry's tone and stood speechless and statue-like for a few minutes. Recovering himself, he opened his mouth to speak when pounding footsteps and more shouting sounded from behind Harry's bedroom door.
"What's going on in there, boy?!" It was Uncle Vernon, clearly infuriated by the clamor Harry and Malfoy's discussion had caused. "What are you doing?!" A rattling of the doorknob ensued before Uncle Vernon remembered all the locks on the doors and began turning back the seventeen fixed bolts and chains.
Panicking, Harry thrust himself at Malfoy and pushed him under the bed with the scratches and knocks of Vernon at the door. Within moments of Malfoy's stomach hitting the boards, a fat body shoved into the space between the jambs.
"What was all the racket, boy? Why do you insist on interruptions? We are down stairs..." Uncle Vernon ranted and lectured the boy, while Harry inconspicuously covered Malfoy's seething face. The drone of Vernon's words was soon drowned by the throbbing in Harry's chest--the vacuum of emotion and nothingness into a gaping hole never to be fulfilled. With much more effort, Harry forced the tears behind his lids not to plunge down his features. Two sets of eyes pierced him, empowering his façade, but only intensifying the sinking vortex of unspeakable pain.
Uncle Vernon, engulfed in his tantrum, did not spare the extra minutes looking at his nephew and thus did not see the water stains or the reddened eyes that stared back at him. "...should have the decency to be quiet..." Harry nodded, not trusting his voice to carry steadily. "...Now, shut up!" The fat man abruptly pivoted and exited Harry's quarters, slamming the door behind him. The following minute was filled with the rattle of locks being replaced.
Harry sank onto his mattress, clutching his aching heart again, head bowed and chin touching his rather expansive chest. The grief threatened to suck through his back, and dry sobs began to rack Harry's body.
As graceful as it is possible to get from underneath a bed, Malfoy rose from his position and stared at his now dirty robes, dusting them off.
"In concurrence with your Uncle, what the hell was that for?"
Malfoy glanced up and took in Harry rocking back and forth on the mattress, shaking involuntarily and suppressing something he willed to keep hidden. The sight unnerved him and he stopped moving completely.
"Can't even have a romp here, Potter, without the family interfering?" he sneered, though not quite as harsh as it sometimes sounded. Malfoy slipped into the only manner that ever made sense with Harry--blunt condemnation. What else was he to do with a sobbing male, of whom he'd been enemies for the last several years, and probably more to come? "Of course, you do live with Muggles..."
Slowly, very slowly, Harry lifted his emerald eyes, conveying something deeper than pain, to Draco's.
"Just leave." Harry whispered so softly Draco had to strain to hear his words. The deflated and raw tone unseated him even more and Malfoy turned to leave, confusion etched in his features. An audible, yet suppressed, snuffle stopped him. He hesitated, watching the water droplets now flowing freely from Harry's face. Draco never saw this side of Saint Potter, never gazed upon the real boy beneath the fame, never observed the struggle within him. But now it stood, bleeding and fierce, for anyone to see, anyone to tamper with.
Quite unexpectedly, Draco joined Harry on the bed, and engulfed the other boy in his arms. Draco did not know what possessed him to do such a deed, but he knew, could tell in his gut, that leaving Harry like this would not be right.
Engrossed in his pain, Harry did not realize who was comforting him, only that strong arms that seemed to take away the pain had suddenly appeared and he pressed closer into the body those arms belonged to. Harry's reaction, though unforeseen, relaxed Draco who did not realize how tense his gesture had made him until Harry sank into his side.
Stroking Harry's hair, Draco shushed his crying, rocking with his rhythm, washing away the sting of grief.
"It's alright..." Draco wavered again, "...H-Harry."
The pain became bearable, dull and pulsing, but no longer sharp and piercing. It was almost like a portion of the lead weight on Harry's chest had just been lifted. He could almost breathe normally, almost. He pushed closer to the solid body so near him.
A waft of Harry's scent flowed to Draco's unoccupied nostrils. It lingered there, something of mint and oranges, mesmerizing his senses and rendering him fairly vulnerable. With his arms never loosening their grip, Draco continued to rock Harry and calm his sobs.
Harry became conscious enough to realize whose muscular arms were wrapped about him and he stiffened. Why would Malfoy...Harry couldn't even finish his thought, it was ludicrous. Feeling just a bit uncomfortable, breaking down in front of Malfoy, being comforted by Malfoy, Harry tried to pull away. Draco, lost in the mesmerizing scent of the body pressed close to his, did not feel the first tug at his arms. But the second, with force from hands as well, brought Draco back to his senses. Abruptly, he retrieved his arms and scooted away from Harry on the bed while Harry detached himself from Malfoy's side. Both perched on the bed, a bit awkwardly.
Draco felt as if he lost something, something warm and continuous, from himself. There existed an emptiness within the circle of his arms, and he wanted to fill that void again with... No, that wasn't it. It was, no, he just needed to leave.
A coldness seeped into Harry's bones and he wanted nothing more than to feel the comfort again, the comfort that only... that only... he refused to accept whatever it was that lurked in the corner of his mind. There were others, so many others... like Uncle Vernon... Harry placed his head in his hands.
"Watch it, Potter, you'll stain my robes." Malfoy put all the disgust he could muster into that sentence and stood from the bed.
Harry slipped his head up to peer at Malfoy from atop his fingertips. Conveyed within the depths of his bloodstone eyes was this pain, just too real, there was just too much that time could not erase. Malfoy faltered again, his storm gray eyes knotted with confusion and hesitation.
"Just go, Malfoy. Leave me be." Harry's toneless waves hit Draco like a fist.
"No."
"What?" Harry countered, startled enough to lift his face from his strips of flesh. "Why?"
"I'm not leaving."
Harry stared in shock. "What do you mean, you're not leaving? Of course you're fucking leaving. I'm kicking you out!" His voice grew from a whisper to a heated shout.
"Quiet, Potter, or your...Uncle will be returning," Malfoy sneered.
Harry glared spikes at Malfoy's handsome face, expansive chest...Blinking he growled.
"I'm warning you, Malfoy," Harry stated menacingly, "there will be hell to pay..."
Malfoy narrowed his eyes at the steaming form that was Harry Potter. He had the decency not to laugh, though it was at himself. A smirk appeared instead.
"Like I said, Potter, I'm not leaving--" he held up a hand to stifle Harry's retort, "because I can't."
"You can't." Harry looked on with disbelief plain in his features.
"Right, Potter. One for the rejected Ravenclaw."
"Now, why would this be? Have you forgotten how to do magic, Malfoy? Suddenly found you've become a Squib? Did a spell with Voldemort go wrongly?" Harry sneered back at Malfoy in bitter shades.
Draco flinched at the name. He never agreed with the Dark Lord, only followed along until he could finally get his own place of residence, out from under his brutal father's grasp...
"Take your pick, Potter, I haven't the patience to explain such complicated doings to something stupider than a slug." Malfoy answered. Draco didn't want to go into details with Harry, details that would leave his past bare, leave his being bare. And just showing his nemesis weakness...it was unacceptable, even if Harry wouldn't, couldn't laugh at it... "Just--just leave it that I'm stuck here. With you."
Malfoy turned and took the seat at Harry's desk. He reached for some of Harry's schoolbooks and began idly flipping through the pages.
"No, I'm not going to leave it. It may try the patience of a nun, but you are going to explain it to me."
"What's a nun?" Malfoy looked over quizzically.
"A nun is a part of the Catholic religion, she--she's taken a vow to never share herself with anyone as a, as a devotion to God," Harry found himself explaining automatically before he caught himself. "Stop trying to change the subject. Out with it."
Malfoy actually seemed pained. Smiling sheepishly, he averted his eyes from Harry's. Strange, Malfoy hasn't ever done that before...Harry thought. He looks rather sexy blushing... Draco began to speak softly.
"I-I--how to put this--you see there's--I just...I don't know my way back home."
At this Harry began to laugh.
"A Malfoy! Not know his way home! That's more a lie if I've ever heard one."
"Oh shut up, Potter. It really is none of your damn business." Malfoy replaced the book and shoved his arms across his chest.
"Come now, Malfoy. You've seen me," a bit of laughing ensued, and he swept the bed with a gesture, "you can surely tell me what's really going on." The mocking light Harry now emitted made Malfoy scowl.
"No."
Harry humphed and lay back on the bed, again staring at the patterns of the peeling paint. Brows knitted in thought, Harry looked very, well, sexy. He bit his lip in concentration, and Draco had the sudden urge to bite that lip himself. Unauthorized, a vision of him atop Harry, both kissing passionately, blocked his normal sight. The heat pooled in his loins, part due to how wrong it seemed and the rest how erotic the kiss would be.
Urgh. What am I thinking? This is Potter, just Potter. Malfoy frowned and turned to the desk, back to the forgotten book. Yes, the book, not to hide the small tent in his robes formed within the last moment. It's Potter! He shook his brain and focused on the text, which happened to be upside-down. Slowly, as to not attract Harry's attention, Malfoy turned the book back around.
"Malfoy."
He stiffened, afraid Harry could perhaps sense where his thoughts were. "What?" He attempted at annoyance to disguise his flustered feeling.
"Don't take that tone with me," Harry moved his head to face Malfoy, "You are in my house after all. Well, not too much longer." He stared pointedly at the boy. "I want you out; now" Of course Harry wouldn't give up so easily, especially with Malfoy.
Draco scowled. "Fine! Just fine!" Red hot anger radiated off him as he shot from the chair. Malfoy mumbled to himself as he marched to Harry's bedroom door and attempted to open it. Turning the knob he pulled hard, but the door remained closed. He pushed instead, but still the door didn't budge. A distinct chuckling sound emerged behind him and Malfoy pivoted to see Harry laying on his stomach laughing uproariously.
"It's locked, Malfoy, remember?"
Malfoy morphed into a small shade of pinkish-red and rushed across the room to the window. He slid it open with fervor, and took a last look at Harry.
"Thanks, Potter, for absolutely nothing." And he hopped out the window.
Harry's smile faded when Malfoy jumped, and his laughing abruptly halted. Leaping from the bed, Harry took two quick steps before he could stop himself. Harry, this is Malfoy. He can take care of himself, his father is a Death Eater... but even those words did not comfort Harry's slight uneasiness. But the Muggle world is nothing like our world, he might...but it's him why should I care? He's been evil to me practically since we first met...
Harry went over the number of times Malfoy had attempted to get him expelled, or injured, and all those times he had poked fun at his family and Ron... Right, Malfoy definitely wasn't worth the effort. Harry walked to his desk and sat in the seat Malfoy vacated, picking up the charms book he so carelessly slammed on the surface. Harry read and re-read the chapters he needed for his essay. Time marched on, minutes and hours...
"...and thus Charms, in these instances, illustrate the best use of magic. Wizards worldwide would be wise to learn such tactics to better prepare themselves for--"
A rattling at his door forced Harry to put it in his line of vision. His Uncle appeared between the jambs again, less purple and upset this time.
"We feel you need some fresh air." Uncle Vernon's eyes turned menacing. He thrust Harry a holey and dirty sweater. "Get out."
Harry took in the black slacks and blue-tinted white shirt and tie with dress shoes to match, and deduced that the Dursleys were having company and wanted him out of the house, rather than their excuse for his health.
"Fine." Glad to not be locked in his room any longer, Harry grabbed the rag and walked from the room and straight out the door, without waiting for instructions. He was turning right, down the sidewalk, moth-eaten fabric still in hand, when a voice called out to him.
"Be sure to take a few hours. Four, to be exact." And the door slammed following, blocking the flood of light on the street. It was dusk, and the lamps did not help too much to disperse the darkness as of yet. He had four hours to kill, five if he could manage it.
He stuck his hands in his pockets, draping the garment over a wrist, and strolled down toward the park near his house. Thankful for the many large and leafy trees to hide his progress, Harry smiled to himself. This was a better birthday than most at number four. Normally, the Dursleys would give him something inconsequential and make him do slave labor in the hot sun as celebration of his birth.
Today, however, they locked him in his room, not having to do anything, and then forced him out of the house to take four hours of freedom. The only smudge of the day was the interruption of Malfoy in his room for twenty or so minutes. What was Malfoy doing there anyway?
He did not believe for one minute that he was truly lost. A Malfoy. Lost. Preposterous. Even though Malfoy was underage and it was the summer, Harry knew, just knew, there were spells around the boy to make even the kind of magic he employed un-plotable. A Malfoy lost, ridiculous.
His head bowed and chest bouncing with semi-silent laughter, Harry didn't notice the denser shadow in the tree he was passing. Lifting his chin, a broad grin swept his face as he entered under the branches with a light lively step in his feet. The sun had completely set in the space it took to get from his door to this spot.
"...should know...I worked so hard for it..." there was a bit more muttering, "...can't remember the address...Potter...just a curse..." Harry stopped dead on the spot. Turning his head to the side, he noticed a darker outline pacing near the trunk of the tree. The individual obviously didn't notice his passing due to all his mutterings.
The stranger passed in the lone and tiny beam of moonlight, and Harry was almost blinded by the gleam of white-blond hair that flashed by before the unfamiliar submerged himself in black shadow. His mouth dropped open and his eyes bulged as the identity dawned on him. The other turned and Harry could see his face.
"Malfoy?!"