The early-morning sun began to drift lazily in through the window as Harry lay sprawled on his bed, flipping casually through the Prince's potion book. His covers were untouched, and his robes were un-changed from the day before. This wasn't the first time that he had stayed awake through the long hours of the night.
In fact, his sleep had been fitful quite a lot lately, and he had taken to dozing off in an armchair by the fire and trudging to his bed at dawn so that Ron and the others wouldn't suspect he was having turbulent nights. He wasn't sure what it was that was keeping him awake. It certainly wasn't nightmares. He knew the feeling of nightmares quite distinctly. No…it was something else.
His brow crinkled as he tried to wrap his mind around the predicament. All he knew for sure was that he'd been feeling ill at ease more and more frequently. It seemed to him that the stars were suddenly shifting and his psyche was following suit. He and Ron thought of Divination as merely a laughable joke, but Harry felt now that he would give a lot to understand why he felt so restless...so anxious. Something huge and profound was coming his way…if only he could figure out what it was.
A few hours later, Harry heard the unmistakable sounds of Ron slowly waking from what must have been a deep and blissful sleep. Grunts and the heavy rustling of sheets and blankets indicated that the red-head was no longer in the peaceful world of dream-land. Harry grinned and threw his pillow at the moving mound.
"Oy!" Ron mumbled groggily. "What'd you do that for?"
"Your rustling around is worse than your snores," Harry said cheerfully. "And anyway, it's near breakfast. You'd better get a move on." Ron grumbled incoherently for a few seconds before slowly pulling himself up into a sitting position.
"What are you doing already dressed?" he asked Harry, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Oh, er, I've been up working on that Essay for Snape," Harry lied, fidgeting with the binder of the Prince's book.
"Bloody marvelous, that is," Ron complained. "Leave it to Snape to assign us a massive paper with exams only a few weeks away." Then, noticing Harry's book, he asked, "What are you doing with the Prince? Find any new mystery spells for us to try out on an unsuspecting Goyle?"
Harry glanced down at the book and suddenly remembered the incantation he had come across while skimming the section on truth potions.
"Yeah, actually I did. Look at this. Bottom right corner." Ron strolled over and bent down to squint at the yellow pages. In scrawling blank Ink, the Prince had written the words, Sentio Sensum. The two boys stared eagerly at the spell.
"So, do you think it's some kind of a truth charm?" Ron asked intently. "We could always test it out on our dear mate, the Death Eater to be. I mean maybe Malfoy would spill something about You Know Who, or, even so, it'd be pretty bloody funny even if he just admitted something juicy about Pansy Parkinson. You know they've been getting close." Harry grinned at the thought of this and pulled the book shut with a snap.
"Yea, it'd be pretty bloody funny," he reiterated. "I might give that a go later if I catch him lurking around in a dark corner. But, for now, I think there's a bit of toast with my name on it, so come on already and let's get down there before there's no food left at all." Ron smirked as he threw on a pair of wrinkled robes, and the two of them leisurely began to make their way down to the Great Hall.
-
"Hermione, will you please stop bothering me about homework!" Ron growled as the bushy haired girl attempted to force a planner-notebook into his hands. The three of them were strolling the grounds after breakfast to enjoy the last day of the weekend before a Monday that promised to be no fun at all with Snape first period.
"No, I will not, Ronald," she insisted with fierce determination. "What always happens when you don't do your homework? You ask to copy mine. I think it's high time you start doing your own assignments. And you too, Harry. That Potions essay isn't going to write itself."
"Actually, Harry already finished his," Ron interjected smugly. "So we don't need to copy yours. Harry will let me copy his, won't you Harry?"
"What? Oh, er, yeah, right. That's right," Harry mumbled, becoming intensely focused on the stray thread that dangled off of his sleeve. Hermione gave them one last severe glance before huffing away, and Harry was left to think about the fact that lies just always seemed to catch up to him, even the little ones.
The two boys walked in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the sun and the feel of the grass on their ankles, until suddenly, over Ron's left shoulder, Harry caught a familiar glimpse of white-blonde hair disappearing behind a bush.
"Malfoy…" Harry thought tensely, feeling his stomach clench. He was about to spit out a crude comment about their mutual enemy to Ron, but, for some reason, the words stuck on the tip of his tongue. He remembered the mental war he had been fighting for almost the entirety of the previous night, and he realized that he wanted to confront Draco. And he wanted to do it alone.
Malfoy had been avoiding him for the past few weeks, and for some unknown reason, what should have been a blessing was a source of true irritation to Harry's spirit. Even though their frequent past correspondences had always been bitter and angry, there was something about them that lit a fire in Harry's chest, and he almost…counted on those interactions. Harry supposed that it was just a natural reaction. After all, every good guy needs a bad guy to remind him what he's fighting against, right? He frowned a little, unwilling to confront the holes in his own logic.
"Hey, Ron, you know what…I've just remembered that I have to go do that thing…you know, that thing I was telling you about, with, er, Flitwick, that bloody Charms thing I have to do. So…gotta go do that."
Ron looked at him with a baffled expression.
"You didn't mention anything to me, mate."
"Oh, well, must have slipped my mind then, but, you know, I have to go do it."
"What exactly is it?" But Harry was already walking briskly back toward the school.
"Yeah, just a thing, I'll see you later though," he called over his shoulder nervously. "What the hell am I doing?" he thought, picking up his pace.
Rounding the corner, Harry stopped and threw a furtive glance over his shoulder. Ron had continued to meander up the path, apparently unsuspicious of Harry's flustered responses.
When Harry was sure that the tumble of red hair was sufficiently distanced from the bush where Malfoy was hiding, he emerged and backtracked to the place where he had seen the boy vanish. For a few seconds, he stood motionless in an awkward way, unsure of how to approach the situation now that he was here. He couldn't just come out and tell Malfoy that he missed having insults catapulted at him. Who would miss that?
"Don't stand there like an idiot, Potter," came a slow drawl from behind the bush. Harry started and instinctively reached for his wand. Malfoy chuckled. "Yes, I know it's you, Potter. It's called a shadow. I'd recognize that ridiculous mop of hair anywhere." Harry cleared his throat sharply, trying to regain his composure.
"I saw you sneak off into that bush Malfoy. I hope you're not planning any funny business."
Malfoy laughed casually.
"Potter, Potter, Potter. I am rather glad it's you. I can always get a laugh out of your hilarious accusations. Is sitting behind a bush criminal activity now? If so, then please…arrest me. I promise I won't fight back."
Harry didn't dignify that statement with a response, but stepped sideways and crouched slightly so that he could squeeze behind the bush. Malfoy was sprawled comfortably up against the leaves with his arms crossed against his chest.
"See? No loot back here, Potter. Just me and my criminal self."
There it was again. Something about Malfoy's detached attitude made Harry itch with frustration.
"What's the matter with you, Draco?" Harry spat before he realized quite what he was saying.
"Well…aside from being rudely interrupted in my leisure time, nothing."
"Why isn't your wand out? Why aren't you yelling out insults about my family…or my friends…or, or trying to curse me?" Harry's breathing was becoming shallower, constricted.
"Frankly, Potter, I just don't care," yawned Malfoy, closing his eyes half way to peer up at Harry in a bored manner.
Harry felt hot irritation bubbling to the surface of his skin, and he longed to make Malfoy angry. He longed to do something rash…something stupid even, to get a rise out of the seemingly indifferent boy sitting in front of him. He needed to believe that he could still provoke some kind of a reaction in Draco. Something strange was going on, and Harry desperately wanted to find out the truth.
Before he could fully comprehend what he was doing, Harry yanked his wand from beneath his robes, pointed it at Malfoy's chest, and almost whispered the words, "Sentio Sensum."
The air seemed to vibrate slightly for a few seconds, and then... all was still.
Harry had never really planned to use the spell on Malfoy. From personal experience, he understood that unknown incantations were dangerous. But Malfoy's disinterest had been grating on his nerves to such an extent for the past few weeks that he was desperate to know what was really going on.
In appearance, Malfoy remained seemingly unchanged. He had cowered back slightly when Harry had forcefully drawn his wand, but other than that, the only difference was a confused expression that had replaced the complacent one.
"Harry…you…cursed me," He said quietly, a horrible realization spreading across his features. There was a moment of silence in which Malfoy's expression became more and more agitated. "You cursed me! What did you do to me? Harry, what did you do?" His voice was taking on a panicked tone now, and he jumped to his feet, wild fear in his eyes. Harry stumbled backwards, feeling his breath catch in his throat. What had he done?
"No…I swear….not a curse…I was just trying-"
"Just trying what? What did you do?" His voice was frantic now, and his face was only inches from Harry's.
"What? No…I don't understand. Draco…what's going on? I'll take you to the Hospital Wing. I don't know what I did to you. I'm sorry. Calm down…"
Malfoy looked at Harry, his breath coming in short, distracted gasps.
For a few seconds that seemed to last an eternity, neither of them spoke. They simply looked at each other in wild confusion. Harry had the feeling that if he could remain absolutely still, he would be able to postpone the moment when he would have to think about the fact that, once again, he had experimented with unknown magic on Draco Malfoy.
Then, suddenly, his reverie was shattered when, in one quick movement, Malfoy closed the space between them and put his lips firmly onto Harry's.
Harry stood completely frozen, unable to mentally process the inexplicable event that was taking place. He had a half-formed thought that this must be some bizarre dream that he would wake up from any moment, but right then, Malfoy seemed to come to his senses, and he pulled violently away from Harry's mouth, leaving behind a burning heat that convinced Harry that this was, in fact, reality.
Harry tried to speak, but he found that words would not come, and he simply blinked in utter bewilderment.
Malfoy was slowly backing away now, his expression changing so rapidly that Harry got the impression of an old silent film, the ones where each character's features are overly dramatized to the point of absurdity.
"Draco…" he ventured carefully, "you, y-you…" His mind was a complete blank.
Malfoy took a few more steps back and ducked down to get to the other side of the bush. Harry thought that he was going to walk away, but Malfoy crouched so that his face was visible to Harry.
Pain and anger dripped from his features.
"You bastard," he whispered quietly, his voice full of venom.
"You…you make me sick." Then he jumped up and disappeared, and Harry listened to the dull tread of his footsteps, the footsteps of the boy who had just kissed him…his enemy…as he sprinted away as fast as his legs could take him.