Harry Potter thought he had to have the most dratted luck in all the world.
All he'd been trying to do was hide in the utility closet long enough to
let filch pass through the corridor, then he'd fully planned to return to
his dormitory.
But when he'd stepped in and closed the closet door behind him, the last thing he'd expected was to see Draco Malfoy, sitting on an upturned bucket, smoking a cigarette. Malfoy appeared equally surprised to see him, nearly dropping the cigarette in his shock.
"Potter?"
Harry promptly turned back towards the door, more willing to face Filch than Malfoy any day, but found that he could not find the door.
"The door's gone!"
"It does that sometimes." Harry spun around again, this time finding Draco calm once more, idly puffing his cigarette. He felt his stomach clench as he realised that not only was he trapped, he was trapped with *him*.
"What am I supposed to do, then?"
Malfoy looked up at Harry, his expression blank. "Well, Potter, I suppose you'll have to wait until it comes back." He said as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. Harry merely stared at him, wondering if this sort of thing, doors just disappearing of their own free will, was a common occurrence in his strange and twisted life. Malfoy stared back at him, the icy silver eyes unblinking. He broke the gaze, then, long enough to push another mop bucket Harry's way, then returned to Harry's eyes.
"Have a seat, will you? You're making me nervous standing around like that."
Harry could have laughed out loud had his throat not been so tight with the pent up urge to scream bloody murder and pound the wall until help came. Honestly, I'm making *him* nervous?
"That's quite alright," He said, finding the barest whisper of a voice in his lungs, "I think I'll stand." With that he reached out and pulled the bucket to the wall and sat on it.
Draco laughed a bit. A laugh that contained real mirth and Harry wondered how such a monster could produce a sound as pure as laughter.
"Or you'll sit, I suppose. You're an odd bug, Harry."
Harry didn't respond, just sat watching his foe, waiting for the slightest tensing of muscle to show that he was getting ready to spring, and hurt him again. He couldn't stop the involuntary shudder that ran through him as memories of that night flashed in his head. Malfoy noticed this, and raised his platinum eyebrows slightly, and something about the look he was giving Harry caused something to snap in the raven-haired boy. Before he half knew what he was doing, he'd sprung across the closet tackled Malfoy and pinned him to the ground. Harry reared back with his right arm and brought it back down, hard, on Malfoy's mouth. He repeated the action several times, ignoring the pale boy's struggles below him.
"I hate you!" Harry shrieked in the madness that only months of emotional torment can bring on a person. "You bloody bastard! How could you do that to me!? I hate you! I hope you die! I hope I kill you right now, you bloody bastard! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" He kept on, screeching obscenities and punching and hitting until it seemed as if someone had pulled a plug inside him and all his anger faded away, replaced by the all too familiar sadness that always accompanied the tears. They streaked down his cheeks as he rolled off the beaten, bloody boy beneath him. Huge, body-shaking sobs racked his small frame, made even smaller by months of not eating properly. Harry felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest, and tasted the coppery adrenaline in his mouth, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He simply lay there, gasping in great gulps of hot air between his sobs. Somewhere, far off it seemed, he registered that Malfoy was crying as well, but he paid no heed. The only pain that was important right now was his own. It seemed to Harry that it took hours to cry himself out, but when he had he sat up and leaned against the wall, pulling his knees to his chest, sniffling the last few sniffles left in him. Malfoy sat, much in the same position, though looking a little worse for the wear, on the other side of the room. He looked up at Harry and his steely eyes burned with the sorrow and despair they held. Then he said the last thing Harry had ever expected to hear from him.
"I'm so sorry, Harry…"
TBC
AN: ( Howdy, folks! I've decided to make my sequel a chaptered thing, and here's the first instalment. I quite like it. ( Short yes but future chapters will be longer. ( Enjoy it!
But when he'd stepped in and closed the closet door behind him, the last thing he'd expected was to see Draco Malfoy, sitting on an upturned bucket, smoking a cigarette. Malfoy appeared equally surprised to see him, nearly dropping the cigarette in his shock.
"Potter?"
Harry promptly turned back towards the door, more willing to face Filch than Malfoy any day, but found that he could not find the door.
"The door's gone!"
"It does that sometimes." Harry spun around again, this time finding Draco calm once more, idly puffing his cigarette. He felt his stomach clench as he realised that not only was he trapped, he was trapped with *him*.
"What am I supposed to do, then?"
Malfoy looked up at Harry, his expression blank. "Well, Potter, I suppose you'll have to wait until it comes back." He said as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. Harry merely stared at him, wondering if this sort of thing, doors just disappearing of their own free will, was a common occurrence in his strange and twisted life. Malfoy stared back at him, the icy silver eyes unblinking. He broke the gaze, then, long enough to push another mop bucket Harry's way, then returned to Harry's eyes.
"Have a seat, will you? You're making me nervous standing around like that."
Harry could have laughed out loud had his throat not been so tight with the pent up urge to scream bloody murder and pound the wall until help came. Honestly, I'm making *him* nervous?
"That's quite alright," He said, finding the barest whisper of a voice in his lungs, "I think I'll stand." With that he reached out and pulled the bucket to the wall and sat on it.
Draco laughed a bit. A laugh that contained real mirth and Harry wondered how such a monster could produce a sound as pure as laughter.
"Or you'll sit, I suppose. You're an odd bug, Harry."
Harry didn't respond, just sat watching his foe, waiting for the slightest tensing of muscle to show that he was getting ready to spring, and hurt him again. He couldn't stop the involuntary shudder that ran through him as memories of that night flashed in his head. Malfoy noticed this, and raised his platinum eyebrows slightly, and something about the look he was giving Harry caused something to snap in the raven-haired boy. Before he half knew what he was doing, he'd sprung across the closet tackled Malfoy and pinned him to the ground. Harry reared back with his right arm and brought it back down, hard, on Malfoy's mouth. He repeated the action several times, ignoring the pale boy's struggles below him.
"I hate you!" Harry shrieked in the madness that only months of emotional torment can bring on a person. "You bloody bastard! How could you do that to me!? I hate you! I hope you die! I hope I kill you right now, you bloody bastard! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" He kept on, screeching obscenities and punching and hitting until it seemed as if someone had pulled a plug inside him and all his anger faded away, replaced by the all too familiar sadness that always accompanied the tears. They streaked down his cheeks as he rolled off the beaten, bloody boy beneath him. Huge, body-shaking sobs racked his small frame, made even smaller by months of not eating properly. Harry felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest, and tasted the coppery adrenaline in his mouth, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He simply lay there, gasping in great gulps of hot air between his sobs. Somewhere, far off it seemed, he registered that Malfoy was crying as well, but he paid no heed. The only pain that was important right now was his own. It seemed to Harry that it took hours to cry himself out, but when he had he sat up and leaned against the wall, pulling his knees to his chest, sniffling the last few sniffles left in him. Malfoy sat, much in the same position, though looking a little worse for the wear, on the other side of the room. He looked up at Harry and his steely eyes burned with the sorrow and despair they held. Then he said the last thing Harry had ever expected to hear from him.
"I'm so sorry, Harry…"
TBC
AN: ( Howdy, folks! I've decided to make my sequel a chaptered thing, and here's the first instalment. I quite like it. ( Short yes but future chapters will be longer. ( Enjoy it!