The Darkness that Dreams Are Made Of

For The Death Of a Soul…

"Harry? Harry? Harry!"

"Hmmm? What did you want Hermione?"

"What do I want? I've been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes!"

Harry shrugged lightly and propped his head up on his hand, "So?…"

Hermione shook her head in disbelief, "Well, for one thing Ron hasn't said a word since this morning when you supposedly talked with him. Second, you suddenly went and completely rearranged your schedule, without talking to Ron or myself before or giving ample reason, and now we're sitting in the middle of Potions and for the entire class period you haven't taken any notes or started on the assignment due at the end of class but, what really take the cake, is the fact that Malfoy, has been sleeping in you lap the entire time!"

"Miss Granger, I feel it is safe assume you are finished with your assignment, seeing as you have been talking with Mr. Potter most avidly." Snape loomed.

"Oh, Professor! Sir! I'm almost finish I was just helping Harry…"

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor, I would strongly think about doing your own work from now on. I'm sure Mr. Potter can complete his own work without your help."

"Sorry Sir." Hermione bowed her head apologetically until Snape moved away, "What is going on Harry?" She hissed between clenched teeth.

Harry shrugged, "The rumor floating around is that it's a bet Draco and I made."

"I don't care about a rumor!" She practically wailed, "I want to know from you, the truth Harry!"

"You should ask Ron, he knows."

"He's practically in comatose up in the hospital wing!"

"Well, would you look at that, I'm out of ink." Harry murmured peering into his ink well.

"You're changing the subject! What…!"

Harry carefully pulled out his quill sharpener and tested the edge along his thumb. Finding it sufficiently sharp enough, he opened his left hand, palm up and pressed the edge deeply into his flesh as Hermione watched in abject horror.

"Harry…What are you doing!?"

He didn't even flinch as the blade cut though his skin, creating a pool of dark crimson in his palm. He carefully tilted his hand letting the blood drain into his ink well.

Hermione shuddered. "Harry," She whispered, "What has happened to you?"

A soft sigh came from under the table as Draco pulled himself back up into a sitting position. He yawned and rubbed his eyes before noticing Harry and his bleeding hand.

"You cut yourself." Draco stated softly

Harry nodded, "I did."

"You did it on purpose?"

Draco took Harry's hand into his own two as Harry nodded silently.

The entire room now watched in silent fascination. Before it had been believed to be a bet between Harry and Draco, although no one was sure who had won. During breakfast Harry had served Draco's food and been overly kind, considering their previous relationship, but if Harry had lost the bet, wouldn't they have eaten at the Slytherin table? Then there was the rumor that, not only had Draco blown his friends off but that there was troubled waters between Harry and the rest of the trio.

To think, it was only their second day back at Hogwarts.

Draco clenched Harry's hand with his own tighter causing it to bleed ever the more. Harry closed his eyes and let out a deep breath as the pain overwhelmed him.

Draco's face was contorted with something akin to rage, mixed with pain and denial; a tear ran down his face as he brought Harry's hand to his mouth and began to carefully, slowly, meticulously began to lick the blood from Harry's hand.

No one in the room moved and not a sound was heard even as Draco finished and licked his lips contentedly. Even as the class ended no one spoke nor moved until Harry and Draco had left the room.

By the time lunch came around everyone was talking about Harry and Draco's, incident during Potions. It was said that Snape had gone to infirmary where he was given a relaxation draught and that the rest of his classes for the day were canceled. Both the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables were furious at each other and the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were simply standing at the sideline watching the proceedings but no one could have ever guessed the outcome of the upcoming confrontation.