Chapter 1
Dedicated to Sarah "Trephinia Cealyn" McKinney, one of the best Draco/Harry drama writers EVER!!! Her fic Physical is beyond goodness, so read it! She has a sequel out for it now (it's still in progress) called Closer. READ IT!
Disclaimer: I am but a poor girl in love with slash. Sue me not. I own little but the plot (*cough*).
Little by little, Harry had noticed he was getting more and more forgetful. He frantically searched through his drawers, scouring his room for any signs.
"Ron, have you seen my other glove? I've about lost it!"
"Awww Harry..." groaned Ron. "That's the third bloody pair this month! What did you DO to deserve such a bad short term memory?!"
"I'm positive they were in my hands at the Greenhouse. And then..."
"Never mind Harry, I'll have mum knit you another pair."
"No really, where are they going to?"
"Well, they can't just walk off, can they?"
"You never know..." mused Harry as he observed McGonagall and Dumbledore batting their eyes at each other, which convinced Harry to believe anything was possible at Hogwarts.
Meanwhile...
The boots of a cold and calculating person tapped lightly on the hard stone floor. Fingers lightly brushed small bobbles and objects on either side of them as the person walked down the middle of filled shelves. A pale and delicate hand possessively stroked a pair of gloves, and practically snaked to the other end of the room, continuously petting the glove.
~~~
Harry frantically searched for his quill. Not only had it been a gift from Hermione, but it also spurted irreversible purple ink all over if someone ever tried to steal it. Ever since Hermione's SPEW days, he's always been reluctant to rub her temper the wrong way and promised himself he'd look all over the common room for it once Potions was over. Galloping into the classroom, he noticed Snape had his back turned to the class as he languidly flipped through a thick black book of charms. Draco had sat in the very front of the class on the far left, and Harry didn't get a glimpse of his loathed enemy before sliding into his seat in back with Ron.
"Did you see his face?" Ron whispered excitedly, poking Harry in the ribs. "It was bloody brilliant! He had purp-"
"I will not tolerate if you want to talk to your little friends during class, Weasly. Perhaps you would remember more soundly if you had to scrub the dungeon after today's lesson, hm?" drawled Snape in his infamous hushed voice. Ron groaned and buried his face in his arms, and the lesson stretched on for another hour.
~~~
Walking through the unwelcoming atmosphere of the dank common room, a hurried figure swathed in black made way towards their dormitory. A tiny hand fitted into a black glove lightly skated across the railing on the way up, and the other hand was hidden as it clutched the cloak closer. The snakelike furniture was welcoming, while that afternoons escape had not been. Purple pen was not something one could easily be rid of, and asking for help had been a thousand more times humiliating. And surely Potter was bound to recognize the pen, but only in his wildest dreams could Potter know why it had been taken. A few harsh steps into the room, the figure let the cloak slide down and smiled as thoughts of reviewing the "collection" danced in their head.
~~~
"Ginny? Have you seen my glasses?" asked Harry, frantically patting up and down his shirt pocket.
"You're wearing them Harry."
"Ah. Capital." The Boy Who Lived had lately been turning out to be The Boy Who Lost His Mind, finally forcing Harry to a near breaking point. Hermione had been kind enough to ask Flitwick for a Finding Charm, but there was a slight mishap with it, ending up with Neville asleep in Madam Pomfrey's office for more than three days. Harry could almost feel his hair turning grey as he looked for his pen one last time in his bag. A slithering tingling sensation crawled up Harry's back. Someone was watching him. Turning around, he saw no one but Crabbe and Goyle trudging through the mud on the way in from the greenhouse. Harry bit his lip, and bent down trying to find a spare parchment tie. He rummaged and rummaged, but became distracted when Snape strode into the Great Hall on the heels of the two blockheaded gits. As Harry looked closer, he saw a slight movement that was detached from Crabbe and Goyle. Snape bent down and whispered something, nodded curtly, and strode back out. Gathering up his stuff, Harry began to get the feeling something was amiss and hurried out of the Great Hall after Snape.
Dedicated to Sarah "Trephinia Cealyn" McKinney, one of the best Draco/Harry drama writers EVER!!! Her fic Physical is beyond goodness, so read it! She has a sequel out for it now (it's still in progress) called Closer. READ IT!
Disclaimer: I am but a poor girl in love with slash. Sue me not. I own little but the plot (*cough*).
Little by little, Harry had noticed he was getting more and more forgetful. He frantically searched through his drawers, scouring his room for any signs.
"Ron, have you seen my other glove? I've about lost it!"
"Awww Harry..." groaned Ron. "That's the third bloody pair this month! What did you DO to deserve such a bad short term memory?!"
"I'm positive they were in my hands at the Greenhouse. And then..."
"Never mind Harry, I'll have mum knit you another pair."
"No really, where are they going to?"
"Well, they can't just walk off, can they?"
"You never know..." mused Harry as he observed McGonagall and Dumbledore batting their eyes at each other, which convinced Harry to believe anything was possible at Hogwarts.
Meanwhile...
The boots of a cold and calculating person tapped lightly on the hard stone floor. Fingers lightly brushed small bobbles and objects on either side of them as the person walked down the middle of filled shelves. A pale and delicate hand possessively stroked a pair of gloves, and practically snaked to the other end of the room, continuously petting the glove.
~~~
Harry frantically searched for his quill. Not only had it been a gift from Hermione, but it also spurted irreversible purple ink all over if someone ever tried to steal it. Ever since Hermione's SPEW days, he's always been reluctant to rub her temper the wrong way and promised himself he'd look all over the common room for it once Potions was over. Galloping into the classroom, he noticed Snape had his back turned to the class as he languidly flipped through a thick black book of charms. Draco had sat in the very front of the class on the far left, and Harry didn't get a glimpse of his loathed enemy before sliding into his seat in back with Ron.
"Did you see his face?" Ron whispered excitedly, poking Harry in the ribs. "It was bloody brilliant! He had purp-"
"I will not tolerate if you want to talk to your little friends during class, Weasly. Perhaps you would remember more soundly if you had to scrub the dungeon after today's lesson, hm?" drawled Snape in his infamous hushed voice. Ron groaned and buried his face in his arms, and the lesson stretched on for another hour.
~~~
Walking through the unwelcoming atmosphere of the dank common room, a hurried figure swathed in black made way towards their dormitory. A tiny hand fitted into a black glove lightly skated across the railing on the way up, and the other hand was hidden as it clutched the cloak closer. The snakelike furniture was welcoming, while that afternoons escape had not been. Purple pen was not something one could easily be rid of, and asking for help had been a thousand more times humiliating. And surely Potter was bound to recognize the pen, but only in his wildest dreams could Potter know why it had been taken. A few harsh steps into the room, the figure let the cloak slide down and smiled as thoughts of reviewing the "collection" danced in their head.
~~~
"Ginny? Have you seen my glasses?" asked Harry, frantically patting up and down his shirt pocket.
"You're wearing them Harry."
"Ah. Capital." The Boy Who Lived had lately been turning out to be The Boy Who Lost His Mind, finally forcing Harry to a near breaking point. Hermione had been kind enough to ask Flitwick for a Finding Charm, but there was a slight mishap with it, ending up with Neville asleep in Madam Pomfrey's office for more than three days. Harry could almost feel his hair turning grey as he looked for his pen one last time in his bag. A slithering tingling sensation crawled up Harry's back. Someone was watching him. Turning around, he saw no one but Crabbe and Goyle trudging through the mud on the way in from the greenhouse. Harry bit his lip, and bent down trying to find a spare parchment tie. He rummaged and rummaged, but became distracted when Snape strode into the Great Hall on the heels of the two blockheaded gits. As Harry looked closer, he saw a slight movement that was detached from Crabbe and Goyle. Snape bent down and whispered something, nodded curtly, and strode back out. Gathering up his stuff, Harry began to get the feeling something was amiss and hurried out of the Great Hall after Snape.