Chapter the Third

Malfoy felt ill. He wasn't sure what was going on, but at two thirty-seven on the morning after his seventeenth birthday, he woke up knowing that something was wrong. His head was pounding in a disconcerting way, and for some reason, he could feel Blaise's thoughts even though Blaise was in a different room. The other boy was having a wet dream about someone—wait… I recognize that hair.

"AHHHHHHH!" Draco fell out of his gigantic bed and wished for death. Blaise is not… he would never… he couldn't possibly be dreaming about Weasel that way. It's not possible. This isn't happening… oh, Merlin! Wake up from this nightmare already!

Suddenly, Draco realized that he wasn't watching Blaise's dream anymore. It was, in fact, more disturbing than that. He watched, horrified, as Crabbe dreamed longingly of making out with Argus Filch. Draco whimpered and crawled in a ball under the bed in an attempt to protect himself from the dreams before shoving the images out of his head with a push of his hard-learned Occulumency skills. Panting with the effort, he crawled out from under the bed before making his staggering way to Snape's private quarters.

"Stripped Vituperative Viper." The tapestry hiding the door to Snape's quarters dissolved into an oak door through which Draco entered the plush apartment. "Professor? I think the Chimera process has begun."

Snape strode out of his bedroom wrapped in a black dressing gown. The man looked as alert and sour as usual even at this time in the morning. "How do you feel?"

"Headache. And I found myself in the disturbing dreams of my house mates."

"Yes, your mind will be very open to the thoughts and probes of others. Any problems with your Occulumency skills?"

"It took a great deal more effort to push the dreams out than it normally would. Is that going to continue, or is it just because my mind is readjusting?"

"It is impossible to tell at this point. You may have powers that tend towards mind magic, but we will not be able to tell until the end of the process."

"How long do you think that will be?"

Snape looked uncomfortable. "Until you find and bond to a mate, your powers will not settle down, though they will probably stop growing within a month or so. Chances are that finding your mate will take quite a while."

"How will I know if I actually spot my mate?" Draco was picturing the Veela way, in which the mate began to glow ethereally whenever the Veela was nearby.

"Lust."

"Pardon?" Draco was slightly disturbed at the word coming from his godfather. It brought unwelcome images to Draco's already abused mind.

"Chimeras and their mates tend to constantly act like teenage boys in their fantasies." Draco's feeling of wrongness increased. This was not a conversation he particularly wanted to have with his professor.

Hmmm… fantasies. I wonder what Potter fantasizes about. Draco was again horrified by his own thoughts. I DO NOT want to know what Potter fantasizes about. He probably dreams about a threesome with Weasel and the Mudblood. Malfoy shuddered as the thought prompted the image of Blaise's dream. It was definitely time to get to sleep.

The good news was that the metallic flashes that had so annoyed him were gone. The bad news was that now everyone was surrounded by metallic auras. Harry had never seen anything as distracting in his life as he watched Hermione's bright green aura fight with Ron's light orange one. The two colors pushed at each other and kept trying to mix, which distracted Harry from what the two were saying. He realized suddenly that they were looking questioningly at him.

"What? Sorry, wasn't listening."

"I said, are you ok, mate? You look kind of peaky."

"Um. Yes, I'm fine. Just, well, just tired." And going mad he added silently.

"Oh, ok. Well, we have to go to Potions now or we'll be late. Are you finished with your breakfast?" Hermione eyed the waffles Harry had drowned in syrup and then systematically destroyed with his fork.

"Yeah. Let's go." Harry was nauseous again. He dreaded working with the smelly potions ingredients, but knew that skipping class was not an option. Ever since he and Snape had grudgingly finished Occulumency lessons, Snape had expected him to act like he had gotten something out of their 'remedial potions' sessions. That meant that Harry was to show up and do his potions right, which he did, most of the time at least.

As he and Hermione walked out of the Great Hall, they passed the Slytherin table. Harry's head lifted as he caught hold of the first scent that didn't make him nauseous that day. He stopped and looked to the source of the smell. Malfoy sat in his usual place among his adoring friends, but slightly drawn away from both Zambini and Crabbe. His perfect blonde locks framed his pale face, and the well cut robes outlined a very fit body. And for an inexplicable reason, Harry was suddenly hit by a surprising wave of lust. He turned away quickly to hid his teenage body's reaction and hurried after Hermione, not noticing the startled silver eyes that followed his progress from the room.

In the potions classroom, Harry tried to convince his excited body that it needed to reject whatever drugs it was on and get over its obsession with Malfoy's rather well formed biceps—no, he had to stop this train of thought. Harry was beginning to really worry about himself. Should he go to Dumbledore about this? As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he felt an immediate aversion to the idea. No, he decided, I am tired of having to go to Dumbledore for everything. It's not like he would tell me anything worthwhile anyway.

The Slytherins swaggered into the class just as the bell rang, and Harry's groin tightened as Malfoy smirked at him in passing.

Bubbotuber pus. Blast ended skrewts. Percy Weasley. Voldemort in a Speedo. Harry tried to think of the most distasteful things possible to get his mind out of the gutter. Snape in a Speedo. Oh, ick!

Snape himself swooped into the classroom just then and waved the day's instructions onto the blackboard. "You may begin." He said with a sneer at the lone pair of Gryffindors in his advanced class. The rest were Slytherins and Ravenclaws.

Harry gathered his ingredients and discovered a foolproof way to get his body off of the topic of Malfoy's arse. The smells radiating from the potions ingredients were turning him slightly green. The metallic auras were getting brighter as well. He noticed dimly that his own aura was gold, as was Malfoy's, that Zambini's was navy blue, and that Snape's was a dark forest green with an ugly dried blood-colored smear on it. I suppose that's from the Dark Mark.

Thinking about the Dark Mark made him think of the Death Eaters. He suddenly wondered whether he could tell who kissed Voldemort's robes through their aura. He glanced around surreptitiously, but did not see any other smears like the one on Snape's aura. That's a relief. At least I don't have any other true Death Eaters here to worry about.

Suddenly, Harry regretted his thoughts about the Dark Lord. Pain that was unimaginable in its intensity slammed into his head through his scar. Harry barely pushed out a chocked scream as the pain blasted his mind apart and pulled him into an abyss filled with screaming and blood and pain and death before going completely black.

Draco was startled beyond thought when he had been caught in the emerald green scopes of his rival. Lust slammed into his body, hardening him rather abruptly and shocking him into stupefied silence just long enough for Blaise to look at him questioningly. Potter had then fled, and Draco worked to pull his attention back to his friends. He dropped his normal Malfoy-mask into place but was shaken behind it.

"Draco, are you alright? You looked strange there for a moment."

"Yes, of course I'm fine. What were you saying?"

Blaise looked uncertain, but continued. "Well, the Gryffindors are really strong this year in the offence and the seeker positions, of course, but I think that the Weasel's still our best shot. The beaters aren't great, so that leaves him pretty unprotected. If we go for—"

Draco tuned his friend out to worry over this response to Potter. He had been having strange thoughts about the boy, but surely the fates wouldn't pair him with someone like that. The Bloody Boy Who Wouldn't Kick The Bucket would be worse to deal with as a mate then a Muggle, and that was saying something!

Suddenly, he realized what time it was. "Come on, we'll be late to Potions, not that it matters." He strode rather dramatically out of the Hall, his friends and bodyguards following behind him.

As he mixed his powdered scarab beetles and the diluted hinkpunk spittle, Draco concentrated on the lean back of the green-eyed Gryffindor that seemed to be the cause of his unfortunate hard-on. He wondered suddenly whether Potter had gotten Chimera blood through his mother or his father, if of course, he was actually Draco's mate. The idea was distasteful in theory, but Draco's body was very interested in the actual practice.

When Draco got the mental image of Harry—Potter—groaning under him, he decided he really needed a distraction. Before he could come up with something, however, the Golden Boy's head came up and his emerald eyes began surveying the room under the cover of thick, black eyelashes.

Draco had the urge to trace the line of Harry's jaw to the pulse point that would be pounding for him and him alone. He wondered whether Harry wore boxers or briefs. Perhaps he went commando? Draco's groin tightened even more at the thought.

Then the object of Draco's lust stiffened. Harry shot out of his seat with a strangled scream, knocking over his chair and table, before slamming to the floor, blood pouring out of the famous scar on his forehead. Harry screamed and writhed, yelling random words and phrases frantically.

"No! Help her god don't just stand there what is wrong with you people what the hell is your problem how could you do this why this is not my fault I didn't mean to it wasn't me please don't god help her no please no don't" he finished with another loud scream, his body convulsing and blood pouring over his face.

Snape pushed through his shocked students as he dug a vial from his pocket and Granger grabbed Harry's head to keep it from slamming against the ground as he convulsed. The two worked together in a way that surprised all the students to force a potion down the boy's throat. They forced Harry to swallow the blue potion and he went abruptly still.

There was moment of shocked silence in the room that Granger broke with a sob as she wiped at the blood that covered Harry's face and spread in a pool over the floor. The door to the potions lab crashed open and Weasley sprinted in, followed by Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey. Weasley dropped to his knees next to Granger but made room for the medi-witch to get the prone boy. Dumbledore, Snape, and the conscious members of the Gryffindor dream team waited pale faced for Pomfrey's prognosis. Draco suddenly found himself on the edge of panic and hyperventilation. He gripped his desk with white-knuckled hands.

"We may have a problem."

Draco heard the words and promptly fainted dead away.