Draco Malfoy and his Unknown Fate:

Author's Notes: Thank you kindly for the reviews, everyone. Draco gets a bit of his own back in this chapter.

Warnings for this chapter: Bit of angst, swearing… I think that's it for this one.

Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm merely borrowing them for the time being. This will be slash (eventually). Don't like it? Don't read it. Otherwise, enjoy.

Draco adjusted his dragon hide gloves for a moment, lifting his head to look around the greenhouse. He was partnered with Goyle, who had gone to get supplies. The students were chattering softly since the Herbology teacher permitted it as long as they did their work. Harry was paired up with the Weasel, and they were both leaning up against the glass and waiting for further instruction from Sprout. He had a streak of soil on his cheek and he kept shooting Draco glances that were probably meant to be surreptitious. Draco ignored the looks with stately arrogance and turned back to his baby Man-eating Venus flytrap.

The flytrap was young and therefore relatively small. It was as tall as Draco's hips and it's trap, with its teeth like cilia, was about as big as two of his hands together. The carnivorous plant snapped at the air every now and then in an aggressive manner. The acidic digestive and antiseptic juices the trap secreted were necessary for many potions and, because Snape was running short, the flytraps had been added to the Herbology syllabus at the last minute. Longbottom's Venus Flytrap had shut on his hand and a flustered Madame Sprout was attempting to free him.

Greg finally lumbered back and tossed the slab of meat he'd gotten into the waiting jaws of the trap. It snapped close and, after watering the plant, the boys took a seat. "Potter's staring at you." The larger Slytherin murmured out of the corner of his mouth.

"I'm aware of that, Greg."

There was a moment of silence and then Goyle spoke up again. "Blaise said you two haven't been talkin' lately." It was true. They weren't talking to each other. Recently, Harry had been spending all his spare time in the library with Granger and Weasley, though Draco didn't know why. When he'd approached the Gryffindor with an offer of a one on one Quidditch game, the other boy had brushed him off. Draco knew when he was being rejected and after that had spent all his time with his fellow Slytherins. He respected himself too much to beg for any more scraps of affection from the Boy Who Lived.

"Blaise is worse than that Violet portrait when it comes to gossip." Draco said sourly, peeling off his dragon hide gloves.

Greg picked at his thumbnail for a moment before speaking up again. "Y'know how Crabbe was s'pposed to watch the Gryffindors?"

"Yes?" Draco inquired, lifting one eyebrow.

"He said somethin' the other day. About how Finnigan was going on about Potter."

"And?" He asked impatiently, watching the flytrap attempting to digest its meal.

Greg flashed Draco a lopsided grin. "Potter's been busy. Tryin' to save the world again and all. I wouldn't take it too personal."

Draco only shrugged. He wasn't up for a discussion about Potter. All he knew was that the other boy had hurt him and didn't even seem to notice. Or care. Of course, at the moment he was swiveling his head of messy black hair around to stare at Draco every three minutes, but Potter's sudden case of rubber-neck wasn't his problem.

The rest of the class went by without incident and Longbottom's hand was retrieved with all due haste and he was sent down to the Infirmary. Draco gathered his things and, grateful he had a free period after class, prepared to leave. He only managed two steps before Harry stepped in front of him nervously. "Draco. We need to talk."

Greg was almost out the door already, but paused as soon as he noticed the confrontation. The Gryffindor gave the large boy a dubious look before turning back to Draco, lowering his voice to speak to his Slytherin friend. "Please, Draco. It won't take more than five minutes."

Draco bit his lip for a moment, undecided. When Potter's eyes dropped to stare for a moment at the way his bottom lip was being held between his teeth, he was decided. "Go on, Greg. I'll meet you in the Slytherin common room before dinner to go over our Potions homework."

Harry sighed with relief. "Thanks, Draco."

Greg grunted in acknowledgement and left, shooting one last worried look over his shoulder before he was out of sight. Madam Sprout bustled into the back room at just that moment, leaving Harry free to man handle Draco into another greenhouse where he shut the door behind them. Draco smoothed his robes with a scowl. "Do you mind?"

"Sorry." Harry said halfheartedly, obviously not sorry at all. "I just. I know you're mad at me and I know why."

"Oh?" Draco asked, raising one eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest. "Do you? It took you long enough. One would think with the way you've spoiled Voldemort's plans so often you'd be a bit faster on the uptake."

Harry flushed, but didn't argue the point. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to ignore you. But I'm just so busy and… well. Something's come up and it's important. I'll spend time with you as soon as I can, I swear."

Draco was disappointed that Harry hadn't quite gotten it yet. Apparently he'd decided to completely ignore their 'experiment'. Typical Gryffindor attitude; ignoring his own problems in favor of tackling some insanely dangerous dilemma. "So, what exactly has come up? Anything I can help you with?"

"Er. No. I mean, I'm sure you could. It's just that…"

"You don't trust me." Draco said flatly.

"No. I mean, I do. It's just. Hermione wouldn't mind, really. But Ron would kill me if I told you. I really am sorry." He offered, ducking his head so that his glasses slid somewhat down his nose.

Draco sighed and smoothed down his gelled hair with one hand. "Fine, Potter. Whatever." He turned around in a swirl of robes that would have done Snape proud and stalked out of the greenhouse. He paused on the threshold and without turning around spoke. "When you manage to get out from underneath the Weasel's thumb you know where to find me. Until then, don't even bother."

To be Continued

Comments and constructive criticism are more than welcome.