Title: A Circle Of Unfortunate Events

Author: clarex_ama

Beta(s): thegreatdane_s, nefariousandrea, bbyluv (I love you guys!)

Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Rating: R/M
Warnings: Slash, UST
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers etc. I own nothing. This fic is only written for fun, no profit is made.
Summary: An unfortunate event leads Harry and Draco to discover a whole new level of perversity as it intrudes on their magic, making daydreaming, groping and dancing a strictly necessary part of their schoolday...Wtf?

A Circle of Unfortunate Events

By clarex-ama

Chapter 3

Magic that flows like syrup

When teachers say something, they usually want you to listen, but Harry wasn't paying any attention. He had had a hard time concentrating all day and the squeaking voice of Professor Flitwick was funnily enough not catching his interest at all.

No, Harry was doing something much more productive than learning; he was drawing random patterns on the surface of his desk with his index finger. Little drops of ink had fallen from the tip of his quill down upon the wooden table, and now he was smearing the black ink all over the place with his fingers, drawing little things like flowers, moons, stars, and circles…

Harry looked at his palm – stupid circle! Why it was there, he had no idea, and to be honest Harry was getting worried that maybe Malfoy hadn't been lying.

Harry sighed and placed his palm flat upon the table, he didn't feel like thinking about it.

The wind outside was making the old windows rattle and grey clouds were floating around in the sky, moving closer together. It was probably going to rain soon, Harry thought, and only seconds after he'd thought that, big, drowsy drops of water were slamming against the roof, sliding down the windowpane.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed and elbowed him in his ribs.

"Ouch!" He looked at her while rubbing his sore side, "Why did you do that?"

Hermione made a movement with her head, gesturing to him that he should look in the direction of the blackboard.

On the tall stack of books stood the tiny professor, looking at Harry, obviously waiting for him to do or say something.

"Em…" Harry could feel his cheeks redden involuntarily, "could you please repeat the question, sir?"

"Sure," the professor squeaked happily, "I was just asking you to demonstrate the spell we've been learning about for the last twenty minutes."

"Oh, em, right." Feeling rather lost, Harry looked at Hermione for help. She was frantically muttering the name of some spell, but Harry couldn't hear exactly what she was saying. It sounded like Em-pimenta or Impimenta or, or… Impedimenta! That must be it; Harry did think he'd heard it before. But what was his target? Harry looked around, spotting a yellow bird flying around the classroom. That was probably it.

He cleared his throat, pointed his wand at the flying bird and said the spell.

But somehow it felt strange as his magic ran through his arm and out of the tip of his wand. It wasn't the strong rush he was used to. The magic felt slow, almost as if it were thick and tired, only succeeding in getting out of his wand by luck.

"Acceptable, Mr. Potter, but try to pay a bit more attention next time," said the professor and went back to writing something on the blackboard. Harry stared at his wand; he'd never felt like that before. Why was his magic suddenly feeling so weak? He had managed to slow the bird down, like he was supposed to do, so there was nothing wrong with his spell… but it had been such a weird feeling using his wand, almost as if the magic had difficulties running out of him…

Harry shook his head - he was probably just imaging it…

XXX

Harry was sitting in the common room along with Ron and Hermione - The last class had ended, and they were relaxing before going down to dinner.

Ron was lying on the couch, idly poking Harry's knee with a quill. Harry himself was sitting in an armchair, legs dangling from the armrest, not really caring about Ron and his poking. Hermione on the other hand was the only one doing something productive, she was sitting next to Ron on the sofa, nose buried in another book, taking notes and scribbling down other important facts she found useful.

"Instead of just lying there, you two should start studying," she said, taking a moment to look up from the pages, "we have so much homework to do."

"But 'Mione it's so boooring," the redhead whined, and gave Harry's knee a firm poke as to prove his point.

"And poking Harry's knee with a quill is not?" the bushy-haired girl asked, raising an eyebrow at the two boys.

"Okay, okay, we'll start studying," said Harry, ignoring Ron's groan of pain as he gave in to the book-loving girl.

"B-but, Harry!" whinged his freckled friend, "it's homework!"

"I know, Ron, but she's right, we'll have to do it sooner or later," sighed Harry and took his wand from his pocket, "Now, where's my Potions book?"

"It's on the table," Hermione said, not even looking up this time, "You left it there along with your Charms books."

Harry's eyes darted to the table in the other end of the room, and indeed his books were lying there in a messy pile.

"Thanks, 'Mione," he said and pointed his wand at his books, feeling too lazy to stand up and walk over to fetch them. "Accio books."

And there it was again, this weird feeling of his magic being restrained, like syrup slowly running through his veins. The books on the table didn't fly through the room and into his arms, they only flapped around on the table for a brief moment and then they stopped moving.

Harry couldn't believe his own eyes, ever since his fourth year he'd never had any problems with the summoning-charm, so why was he having trouble now?

Was there a reason for his having so much trouble with his magic today? Was it possible for your magic to get weaker just like that?

Harry felt his heart hammer against his chest, and his palms were sweaty and warm – he was starting to feel slightly dubious – what if it really did have something to do with the circle in his palm?

Okay, concentration was the keyword, Harry mentally reminded himself. Maybe it was just because he wasn't concentrated.

Harry stared at the books so hard his eyes were almost squeezed shut. "Accio books!", he yelled, and this time the books did fly across the room but instead of landing in his arms, they flew directly into the back of Hermione's head, hitting her with a loud thud - the force of the attack so fierce she almost fell from the couch.

"Ouch!" she cried out loud and hugged her head, face contorted in pain.

"What are you doing?" asked Ron heatedly, "Just because she said we should do homework doesn't mean you can just hit her in the face with books!" He moved closer to Hermione, inspecting the back of her head, "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," responded the girl, releasing her head.

"I'm so sorry," said Harry, feeling awful about the whole accident and his poor magic skills, "It wasn't on purpose."

Hermione looked at him, puzzled, "It's all right, Harry, but I don't understand why your books ended up hitting me in the back of my head. What did you do wrong?"

"I-I don't know," said Harry, starring at the wand in his hand. His palm was tingling slightly, feeling warmer than the other. "I think I need some air," he said all of a sudden and walked quickly out of the room. Before exiting he looked back over his shoulder, "I'm really sorry, Hermione, see you both at dinner," and then he left, a thing he'd been doing quite a lot lately...

XXX

Harry looked out the window as he walked down the corridor; it was raining heavily now, water was pouring down from the sky, hitting the glass with a hammering sound.

Harry sighed and looked at his palm. What was wrong with him? Why was this stupid circle decorating his hand in such an annoying manner? Harry prodded it hard with his finger. Why didn't it come off? And for the love of Merlin why had he been acting like a retarded idiot ever since that stupid incident? Something was seriously not as it should be.

He reached the big oak front doors, pushed them open and walked out into the rain. He didn't care if it was raining; he needed fresh air to cool his brain.

Harry sighed and let the clear and cold water soak his body. His hair was already clinging to his forehead, and his glasses were dotted with raindrops.

Automatically, he headed in the direction of the nearest and biggest tree by the lake, but he hadn't taken more than a few steps towards his planned emo-spot before he realised that it was already taken. None other than Draco Malfoy stood under the tree, looking pensive and gloomy.

Harry stopped in his tracks, not wanting to shorten the distance between them; Malfoy was probably the last person Harry wanted to see at the moment.

This was so bloody typical! Harry gritted his teeth. Stupid Malfoy, standing where Harry had planned to stand…

Malfoy didn't seem like he'd noticed Harry yet. He was standing quietly, back leaning on the tree trunk, just letting the rain soak his clothes like he didn't care. His arms were crossed in front of his chest and he was frowning like he was in deep thought.

The red leaves on the branches and on the ground stood in sharp contrast to his fair skin and hair, and the pale sun was setting, partly hiding itself from view behind the hills and clouds, only adding atmosphere to the scenery.

Harry felt a new flare of annoyance burn his insides. Why was Malfoy standing on his spot, looking like he was posing for some god damned magazine?

Malfoy turned his head and looked in Harry's direction. As he noticed Harry, his eyes narrowed to dark slits in his face, clearly showing his distaste for Harry's presence. Harry glared right back.

Harry was glad that there was a distance between them because that meant he couldn't hear the other boy unless he shouted.

So there they stood, glaring silently at each other in the pouring rain…

"Harry, Harry, there you are! I've been looking for you, you left so suddenly. Dinner is already served in the Great Hall… are you feeling okay?"

Harry turned around and saw Hermione running towards him, jumping from side to side, avoiding big pools of water, trying to prevent her feet from getting too wet. She had a cloak lifted up over her head, keeping her hair dry.

"Let's get inside, you might catch a cold, and besides if we don't hurry Ron might eat all the chicken on the Gryffindor table." She smiled at the thought and put a hand on his shoulder, "Come on."

Harry nodded and threw one last glance over his shoulder. Malfoy wasn't looking at them any more; he pretended to be more interested in the bark on the tree…

"Malfoy?" Hermione said disbelievingly, "What is he doing out here in this awful weather?"

"I don't know, and I don't care," Harry said a bit harshly, "Let's go inside."

Hermione looked contemplatively at Harry but said nothing. She nodded and followed him towards the castle.

XXX

After the dinner Harry felt tired. He hadn't really felt like eating and Hermione's constant pondering stare hadn't helped his appetite at all.

Harry looked into the fire. He could feel the warmth from the flames on his legs, which were stretched out in front of him, closer to the fireplace than the rest of his body.

He was sitting in an armchair in the common room. A book lay open in his lap, but he couldn't find the will to carry on with the reading.

Ron was lying on the floor next to him, eating chocolate frogs while copying an essay Hermione had written. His parchment was stained with chocolate fingerprints but that didn't seem to bother the redhead the slightest.

"Thanks again for letting me borrow your essay, 'Mione," he chirped happily, "If you ever feel like copying any of my essays you're more than welcome."

"But you always copy my essays, Ron, so that would be the same as copying myself." She laughed and slapped his head with a Witch Weekly magazine.

"Do not!" Ron grinned and jumped up upon the couch to attack her, tickling her fiercely, making her scream loudly.

"Ron, Ron, stop it, stop it!" she laughed, tears streaming down her cheeks, "you win, you win."

Ron beamed and went back to the floor and his essay. He handed Hermione a chocolate frog before going back to writing, as a silent apology for the ferocious tickling attack.

Hermione accepted it, still chuckling a little.

Harry didn't pay them any attention; he was far too occupied with thinking about his own strange behaviour and the stupid circle in his palm.

He sighed loudly.

Hermione looked at him with a frown upon her face. She gave him that look she always did when she was concerned and pensive at the same time.

"Em, Harry, are you sure you're all right? You've been a bit strange here the last couple of days."

"No, I'm fine, Hermione, it's nothing." He smiled at her and pretended to go back to reading. He just hadn't noticed that he was holding the book upside down. Hermione sighed, took the book out of his hands and placed it on the small coffee table next to the sofa.

"No, you're not, Harry. Yesterday you rambled about a circle in your palm only you can see, today you've been very absentminded, you've been having troubles with your magic, you have no appetite, and you run around outside in the rain because you need to think… Ever since the detention with Malfoy you've been acting oddly, what is wrong?"

Ron stopped writing and looked at Harry. "She's right, you know, mate."

"No, it's nothing, don't worry. Seriously."

Both Hermione and Ron gave him a look that said they wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Harry, stop being silly and tell us what's bothering you," Hermione said in a way that sounded a lot like Mrs. Weasley.

"Yeah, Harry, we're your friends, you can tell us everything," Ron added sincerely.

Harry swallowed and smiled weakly. "No, really, there's nothing –"

"Harry," interrupted Hermione firmly.

"Fine, I'll tell you," Harry said annoyed, knowing there was nothing he could do. He looked at his hands. Well, he guessed the details really weren't all that important, as long as they got the big picture, right?

"Okay," Harry started, "you're right that it has something to do with the detention. Malfoy and I had to find this stupid flower in the Forbidden Forest, and we couldn't find it anywhere, and Malfoy was being a total jerk and, and," Harry blushed. He really hoped it wasn't noticeable in the dim lightning. "Then something weird happened. Malfoy found this coin-thingy and he was being real strange, and then, em, then he kind of showed it to me, and it was all… em, yeah and then he, well, I guess you could say he gave it to me, and then it disappeared and then we found the flower and went back. And…"

He looked up at Ron and Hermione. They both looked confused but said nothing.

"Well, the next morning I discovered I had this circle in my palm with the same size as the outline of the coin. The weird thing is that apparently I'm the only one who can see it's there… I mean, you guys couldn't see it right?" Both Hermione and Ron shook their heads. "Then I confronted Malfoy since it's entirely his fault, and I saw that he had a circle in his palm too, but he denied it was there, and now I'm all confused…"

Harry looked at Hermione who was looking very thoughtful.

"Do you think Malfoy is lying?" she asked.

"I don't really know. I mean at first I was sure of it, but now I'm not so sure anymore. What if he's not?"

"He might have hexed you," added Ron. "Maybe he wants you to believe you're loosing your mind or something."

"Show me your hand, Harry," said Hermione after a little while. Harry did as told. "And you're sure there's a circle there? Because I can't see any." She looked carefully at his hand.

"Yes, it's there," Harry said and pulled back his hand.

"And Malfoy had one too as far as you could see?"

"Yes. But maybe it's just me who's being tired lately. I mean, I bet it's nothing, it's not like we have any evidence that I've been hexed or anything."

"Maybe you're just worried about the upcoming match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. After all it is the first Quidditch match here at Hogwarts since the war," said Ron and Harry nodded.

"Yeah maybe that's it. Once the Quidditch match is over everything will probably go back to normal." Harry really hoped that was the case, because he didn't like the thought of being hexed, he'd had enough of that already.

"Hmm… maybe, but I doubt it," Hermione said, looking at Harry, "I don't think Malfoy is telling the truth. I studied him during dinner because I suspected he might have something to do with your strange behaviour, and he almost didn't eat anything, just like you. And when you were outside in the rain, needing the fresh air to think clearly, Malfoy was there too. How many people go outside in that weather to think, if there's nothing wrong?" She looked at Harry with her thoughtful, brown eyes.

"Hermione you're overanalysing things. It's just a coincidence," Harry insisted. Hermione shrugged but he knew her well enough to know she wouldn't reject her theory that easily.

"Yeah, Harry is right. Malfoy is a bastard and I wouldn't be surprised if he'd hexed Harry somehow, but at the same time I think you might just be nervous because of the Quidditch match, which is why you're acting strangely. I mean, I'm nervous myself."

Even though Harry really wanted to believe Ron, he couldn't help but think things probably were a bit more complicated than that. Harry picked up the book from the table and opened it on a random page. He didn't want Hermione and Ron to worry about something he wasn't yet sure about himself.

"Let's wait and see. As I said before, I bet it's nothing," Harry smiled at them, "Now, I better finish reading this book. I don't want another detention because I didn't finish it on time."

Hermione kept looking dubious and thoughtful, and Harry was sure she would start searching the library for knowledge about circles in palms first thing tomorrow. He sighed.

"I'm tired. I think I'll read the book in my bed. Goodnight." Harry got to his feet and walked up the stairs, not looking back over his shoulder. He could feel their gazes follow him all the way to the dormitory.

Harry knew they did it because they cared, but he just needed some peace to think for himself.

He sat down upon the bed and removed his shoes. He actually really was tired.

He laid back, eyes staring into the canopy.

Why did his life always have to be so complicated?

A/N: I know, I know - it's been ages, and I'm truly sorry! I guess I'll just have to accept that I don't have the time to write as often as I want to, I'm way too busy with school and musical (I'm appearing in a musical and the première is approaching). Please don't hate me! Even though I'm slowly, I won't abandon this story so I hope you guys won't either...