What have you Done now? Chapter 2
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: See chapter one.
Warnings: Slash, male on male relationships. Don't like, don't read. :)
Author's Note: Now look at that- two updates in one day. I'm working on the third chapter as I type this now, so hopefully it'll be ready next week. Again: if you have time and would be willing to beta, please send me an e-mail at the account on my userpage; I won't be able to get to it right away, but I'll get to it soon! Updates hopefully every Wednesday.
Would you mind if I killed you?
Would you mid if I tried to?
'Cause you have
Turned in to my worst enemy
You carry hate that I don't feel;
It's over now, what have you done?
What have you done now?
-Within Temptation
He broke away from his sleep harshly as Ron shook his shoulder violently, urging him awake, the last vestiges of his Voldemort dream flashing through his mind.
"Harry!" Ron implored, "You've got to get up! You've got Snape in thirty minutes! He'll kill you if you're late!
"'M up," Harry murmured to his pillow and Ron finally relented, falling back on to his own four poser bed with a sigh. Harry clenched his eyes shut then allowed them to float slowly open, gazing into the cotton weave of his head support.
"Harry, we never talk anymore," damn it, Harry moaned to himself, "and Hermione and I- we're really worried about you. You haven't been yourself since Sirius-"
"Don't say his name!" Harry snarled from his place, raising his head up, emerald acid eyes glinting vividly without his glasses. Ron backed away, down casting his face, his neck and ears flushing.
"I'm sorry," Ron whispered, inclining his head, "we were just worried about you, okay?"
"You're worried about me as you and Hermione suck face? Bloody hell, I'm almost afraid she'll vacuum off your damn lips!" his words were vicious glaciers, each syllable a thrown dagger. Harry saw Ron visibly wince, but the larger boy said nothing as he got up from his bed, sparing not a glance to the brunette Gryffindor as he left the room. Harry immediately regretted his maliciousness, but Ron was already gone by the time his conscience urged him to apologize.
What did he have to apologize for? He hadn't done anything wrong, and yet...
Harry crushed his regret as he slipped out of bed, divested himself of his pjs and pulled on his uniform and glasses.
Casting a quick 'tempus' to check the time, Harry cursed, gathered his bag, and fled Gryffindor Tower, racing down towards the dungeons and Snape's own personal torture lair in the den of snakes.
"Mr. Potter," the potions master announced Harry's untimely arrival with an unpleasant curl of his lip, "so kind of you to join us. Thirty points from Gryffindor. And a detention," the King Snake added, swooping down on Harry like an enormous bat, his cloak billowing as he intimidated, "Friday, here, at seven. I trust you can find your seat, at least."
Harry wisely sat down, lowering his gaze to his shoes.
"Nice, Potter," he heard a voice next to his whisper and Harry glanced to the speaker.
"Right," Harry murmured, and Blaise Zabini's lips settled in to the smallest of smiles. For a Slytherin, Harry thought to himself, pulling out a quill and ink to take today's notes, Blaise Zabini wasn't bad, not too bad, anyway-- he could be like Malfoy, he mused, his eyes darting over to the Slytherin prat as the blonde boasted about his latest lay, yeah right. Harry almost laughed to himself, but he hid it with a cough, Malfoy's almost too gay to function; he's probably the one being laid. Potter? Potter? Are you paying attention? Where had that voice come from? That didn't sound like one of his voices...
"Potter!" an exasperated Blaise cuffed Harry outside his head and the brunette blinked owlishly at him for a moment before flushing.
"Sorry, Zabini. I was thinking to myself..."
"I could tell," the Slytherin dryly observed, getting up from his desk. "Okay," he noted," we're making Jezebel's Draught, which is supposed to make someone, for all purposes, be dead. Sort of like the potion Juliet takes in the end of Romeo and Juliet. With the right antidote, the person'll come back to life." Blaise bent over, skimming the page that detailed the potion's formula. "Potter," he prompted, "go and get the monkshood and the lily tears, and I'll get the shavings of rhyolite and Selene's blessing, okay? Don't do anything with the stuff. I'll put it together."
Surprisingly, under the tutelage of Zabini, Harry grew potion skills he hadn't known he had. He could actually halfway brew something, and thankfully, with Zabini as his partner, their potions turned out decently, always. Snape hadn't even made any snarky comments that he was so fond of lately.
When the bell rang signaling their release from Snape's torture dungeons, Harry fled the classroom, breathing a sigh of relief. One more day survived of NEWT potions.
"Potter!" a voice called out behind him, and Harry stopped, turning around at Zabini's voice, "Hold on a second, would you?" The Slytherin pulled him in to a side alcove, out of the way of the rushing students. " I wanna talk to you about something. Would you meet me in the empty classroom just before the painting of snake entwined in some flowers? I've got something important to talk to you about- let's say, after dinner? Oh! Make sure you don't sleep anytime soon..." Zabini winked, his eyes gleaming as if he knew something Harry didn't. "After dinner, then, Potter!"
Harry's mouth gaped, but then he nodded. "After dinner, then, Zabini," Harry murmured to himself, streaming in to the wild students on their way to class. Only six more hours of classes to go, Harry thought to himself, oh goody.