3.Poison

When Draco Malfoy steered his graceful steps towards the Potions dungeon that morning, little did he expect to see Harry Potter standing right behind the entrance of the Slytherin common room, waiting for him. Sooner than he could open his mouth to say anything, Potter had grasped him from the collar and was now hauling him roughly away.

Just before disappearing in the rarely used aisle at their left, Malfoy saw his pals Vincent Grabbe and Gregory Goyle standing at the common room doorway, too thunderstruck to do a thing to prevent Potter from stealing away their bossy leader. Draco rapidly suspected that a real lightning-bolt had hit them, since it was now storming outside, and since their faces were even more obtuse than normally. Or had it been the lightning-shaped scar on Potter's forehead that had done the trick?

Draco's mind whirled back to the reality when Potter smashed him against a cold stonewall, out of everybody's sight.

"Watch it, Potter, you're ruining my suit! It's Wizard Armani, if you know what that means."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry snarled. He glared dubiously at the platinum-haired Adonis of the school. "I don't give a damn about your sodding clothes."

Draco sharpened his eyes, so that they narrowed into stripes. He observed Harry's expression calculatingly. Admittedly, it was very angry –but it was also insecure. However, the most important thing at the moment was that Harry was no more crumpling his costly design shirt with his detestable half-blood fingers.

"So, what do you want with me, Potter?" Draco growled, smoothing his collar back to its form. "Or, do you just plainly want me?" he sneered, as a clever afterthought.

Harry clenched his fists. He knew Malfoy was just trying to get a rise out of him, as usual. And because last night Harry had realized how exceptionally harshly he had been lately behaving, he made an extra effort this morning not to thwack Malfoy in the head.

"Did you tell them?" he insisted.

Draco pretended to be indifferent and clueless. "Tell what to whom?"

"You know very well what I mean, Malfoy," Harry sizzled, shooting deadly glances at the blonde boy.

"Ah, you mean your…" Draco began, smiling wickedly.

"Yes." Harry interrupted him flat. "Did you tell anyone?"

Draco could not help smirking slyly. This seemed to drive Harry out of his wits, but Draco admitted that the school's hero was doing a fine job controlling his muscles.

"No, I didn't tell," Draco answered. There was a glint of something half amused, half curious in his otherwise cold, grey irises.

"Why?" Harry blurted out, before he could prevent himself. He was so relieved.

"What do you mean ´why´?" Draco was reading Harry's face like an open book, but decided to tease him a little more, as usual. "Do you want me to tell, then?"

"No!" Harry gasped. "I want you to keep your bloody mouth shut, do I make myself clear?"

To enhance the effect of his words, Harry took a few steps closer to Draco, poking the Slytherin's chest with his index.

"Perfectly clear," Draco grinned, poisonously. "Except that there's a serious lack of some persuasive attractiveness in you."

"What do you want, then?" Harry was disgusted. Although, he had been half expecting that Malfoy would want something in return of his silence. It was only natural for the spoilt brat of the Slytherin house.

"You could start with, say, coming out of the cupboard under the stairs, of which I have heard so much gossip of," Draco took his most evil smile. "I would love to laugh at the faces of the people when they find out you are not straight."

Harry merely looked horrified.

"What did your Uncle do to you, Potter? Or your Muggle cousin?" Draco changed his expression, and pretended to be both interested and concerned about Potter's childhood experiences. Raising his eyebrows in an implying way, he whispered, "Some horrible things, perhaps?"

This was the last drop for Harry. He attacked Draco, kicking him down on the floor of the aisle. "They – Did - Nothing!" he yelled between his kicks. "I – Am – NOT - GAY!" he continued, storming over the helpless Slytherin who was lying on the ground. Harry clutched Draco's soft locks like the previous day, and dragged him into a sitting position against the opposite wall.

He was taken back when he found out that Malfoy was laughing his lungs out. Harry prodded the boy's head against the rough wall, and Malfoy moaned, however not capable of quitting his hilarious outburst.

"What the fuck is so funny, Malfoy?" Harry hissed from between his teeth.

Draco coughed a couple of times, and found out his nose was bleeding. "Fuck! Potter!" he uttered, looking at his fingers that were drenched in blood.

"Out of laughing, are you finally?" Harry mumbled angrily, horrified of what he had just done to the other boy.

"Oh, yes I am, bloody hell! Look at my shirt now!" Draco tried to stand up, but his head was swirling and he collapsed back down. Then he kicked Harry on the knee and made him jump backwards. Harry yelled with sudden pain.

"Bastard," Draco exhaled.

Harry backed and glared at his arch enemy, holding his aching knee. "What were you laughing about, Malfoy?" he repeated his question.

"Oh, just the way you take this whole thing. So seriously," Draco grimaced, trying to take a hold of his bleeding nose. "There would have been no point in telling anybody in the first place," he continued. "Which means you saw all this trouble of spoiling my clothes in vain. Who fucking cares if you have a thing about me? Everybody has a thing about me!"

Harry was confused. "You wouldn't have told?" he exclaimed, looking dumb.

"For Merlin's sake, I surely would have, if I had known it would cause you this much head-ache!" Draco said, trying again to stand up. "As such, I…"

"Don't even think about it, Malfoy," Harry threatened, once more, and grabbed his wand, thinking of a memory charm. He looked at Draco, whose bloody face was beautifully outlined by the flames of the torch standing on the wall behind his back. His silvery hair had a golden rim, and his pale skin seemed to get a velvety, peachy tan.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit! Not again! Harry felt his jeans become tighter.

For both Harry's luck and misfortune, Professor Snape emerged at the end of the aisle just then, finally interrupting their quarrel. Snape was looking infuriated. Half of the Potions class was curiously leering behind him, trying to see what was going on. Harry quickly tried to hide his wand out of sight, but Professor Snape had caught a glimpse of it already.

"Mr. Potter!" the black-haired teacher bellowed, his voice as cold as liquid nitrogen, "What the hell is going on here?"

Snape's eyes turned from Harry to Draco, taking in the bleeding nose and the bruised cheek of his favourite student. Draco squealed and held his stomach, to make the impression even more striking. In secret, he flashed Harry a malicious smirk, which proved he was half acting. Harry ground his teeth when Snape addressed him again.

"One hundred points from Gryffindor!" the Professor's voice was trembling with fury. "And you shall also get detention, Mr. Potter, as soon as Professor McGonagall hears about this!"

Snape looked back at Draco again. He went to the boy, helping him up. "Hospital Wing, Malfoy. This instant."

The following Potions class was a nightmare. Harry was forced to sit between Grabbe and Goyle. The two nut-heads were acting very threateningly towards him, because he had beaten up their ah-so-wonderful leader Draco Malfoy. Every other second, they were jostling Harry with their porky elbows and stepping on his toes with their remarkable weight, which behaviour reminded Harry of his cousin Dudley. Thinking about Dudley and the Dursleys again brought now Draco back to Harry's mind, and the horrible things he had said about them.

"That rotting piece of waste," he murmured under his breath, while trying to peel some mandrake root. "Although Uncle Vernon and his family have been what they have been, they've never done anything like that to me! Aw, by Morgan Le Fay's raven hair, they are too repulsed to even lay a finger on me!"

Goyle looked at Harry under his thick, bushy black brows. "Why did you batter Draco, Potter?" he frowned, "Jealous of him getting as good at Quidditch as you are, eh?"

Harry snorted, and encountered the boy's little, leaky eyes with the feeling of utmost obstinacy. "He's not better! Yesterday was mere luck, and the game should have been a draw."

All the Slytherins around him protested loudly, which made the Gryffindor half of the class enhance their voices as well. It was close to become the first group fight in Snape's dungeon, until the Professor himself decided the quarrel had gone too far. He ended the class five minutes earlier than due, and left the room for the hospital wing. He had just brewed a potion for Draco that would make him feel better.

"Till Wednesday then, brats!" Snape snarled and disappeared, his dark cloak furiously swinging behind him.

"What is wrong with you, Harry?" Ron asked, as soon as they were walking back towards the Gryffindor Tower. "You've been acting very aggressively, lately. Very strangely."

Harry did not answer, only stared at his feet, remembering to dodge the trap step of the stairs.

"You know, you can talk about anything to us, Harry," Hermione said, being slightly out of breath, heaving her heavy schoolbag.

"Not about this. This is between me and Malfoy," Harry finally spoke.

"Did he do something to you?" Ron clamped his fists together. "Because, if he did…"

"I took already care of that, Ron," Harry found himself smiling. Ron smiled back, but Hermione gave him a strange look.

"It's not like you usually beat up people, Harry. Even if it was Malfoy."

Harry shrugged. "True. But I just felt the urge to destroy something beautiful, and I couldn't help myself, until it was too late."

Beautiful? Did I just say beautiful? Harry made a face at himself.

"I think I'm skipping the Divination today, Ron," he continued, hoping that his friends would not pay attention to his previous words. "You know, I don't need more ill experiences for the day. And, I'm not feeling very well, either."

Ron and Hermione changed meaningful gazes, and silently agreed to be quiet. If Harry wanted to tell them what was going on, he would do it when he was ready.

"Every-flavour beans!" Hermione said, and the Fat Lady swung aside, letting the trio enter the Gryffindor common room.

The day was indeed stormy. Outrageous. Wonderful act of nature. Reflecting perfectly the state of Harry's feelings.

Harry raised his eyes at the nearly black sky and decided to go out for a walk. He wrapped himself tightly in his blackest cloak, pulling the hood over his shaggy locks. The eyeglasses he left on the table, them being so useless under the pouring rain. He cast a spell for his eyes to see perfectly well without them, and strode off towards the Forbidden forest.

Harry was soaking wet already before he reached Hagrid's cabin. He saw the warm light flooding outside from the Key-keeper's window, but did not feel like going to knock on the door. He wanted and needed to be all alone right now.

What has gone into me? He thought, as he walked slowly along the border of the sinister forest. Well, at least I made myself clear to Malfoy. He knows what will happen if he… Oh shit, that's exactly what I meant! What has gone into me? Harry slid the hood down from his head and looked straight upwards, letting the heavy raindrops patter against his face. He tasted them, licked them with his tongue off his lips.

Some of them tasted salty.

…TBC…