Adverse Alliance - Chapter Two - Confronting Mr. Adverse
I had found out a lot that day. Potter could hear my thoughts. Read my mind. But not at will, it seemed only to happen at certain times, but I hadn't figured out the pattern. This could be dangerous… What if Potter could hear me right now? Thinking all of this? I felt so violated, like an open book, no longer having any privacy whatsoever.
I blew out my candle, a ritual happening every night now. Bloody Potter. My head hurt, and I was angry. Everything in my life had seemed to come crashing down altogether, and there was nothing I could do about it but lay in this bed and brood.
I spent the last day of summer break locked up in my room. I desperately had to figure out all meaning behind the Potter situation. There were several things I noticed when I sat next to Potter the day before. He said he heard my thoughts back at that Muggles' house, when he was angry. That had to have been about a month ago. And when he heard my thoughts there, at those tables, he was angry. I saw a pattern forming.
I began to pace the room nervously. The sun was fading behind the Muggle buildings outside my window, but I paid no attention. Anger. Was that the spark? Did we have to be angry for a connection to be made? I was angry that night when Potter heard me. I was angry yesterday when Potter tapped into my mind again. Was that it? Anger was the answer to it all? I sat on the bed, head in my hands.
But another thought came to me. Why can I not hear Potter's thoughts? Is this only a one-way street? There were so many questions churning in my mind. The room seemed to close in on me, and I suddenly felt the need to get out. I opened the door and ran down the hallway, but stopped. Where would I go? I sunk down to the floor outside a miscellaneous room, head in my hands again, and thought. And thought until my head felt like it was going to split into a hundred tiny pieces. Nothing helped.
Suddenly the door I had sunk down next to opened and light flooded the hallway. Grudgingly I looked up; the biggest mistake of my life.
"Malfoy." I should have left. I should have run. But I didn't, I just sat there dumbly as Harry Potter stared at me from his doorway.
Looking left and right down the hallway, Potter miraculously came out and shut his door, engulfing the hall in darkness again. He slumped against the wall opposite me and said nothing.
"Why?" I managed to say eventually.
Potter's green eyes caught the small light from a lamp outside and shone bright in the darkness. "Your guess is as good as mine."
"I didn't mean to end up here. I'm not stalking you," I mumbled.
"I knew it was you yesterday," he said. "I didn't ask for this. I don't like having someone else's thoughts in my head. It's scary, I can't control it, I suddenly hear what you think and I have no way of turning it off."
"I can't."
"You can't what?"
"I can't hear yours. Why?" I kept asking why, and the why's never got answered.
"I don't know." We sat in silence in the darkness, only the sound of the train rumbling past breaking it.
"What happened with Lucius?" Potter asked. I looked up at him, hatred filling my eyes.
"How dare you ask me that? How dare you! That is between me and my father, business that is not yours!" I realized I had stood up now, and Potter followed suit.
"You don't think I understand, do you? Oh poor Potter, he has no father so he wouldn't be able to get what I'm feeling. Well I do! I do, and I hate it! I hate being able to hear your bloody thoughts because it gets me bloody angry and then-" Potter suddenly stopped. I did too. I felt like my mind had suddenly emptied, a strange feeling washed over me. Then I heard it.
Bloody Malfoy, always thinking of his bloody self…
I gave Potter a strange look.
I do not. I unconsciously thought those words, and they seemed to have some effect on Potter.
"Yes you do," Potter spoke. I was shaking, and I slumped to the floor again. Potter followed.
"But how…?" I mumbled, wiping sweat from my forehead.
"I don't know. But it only happens when I'm angry. When we're angry. That's why I asked you about Lucius," Potter said, a slight triumphant look on his face.
"You bloody bastard," I said. He gave me a small grin, and I then realized what I was doing. Conversing with the enemy.
"I've got to go. I, er, have packing and, er, train, tomorrow…" I got up and started down the hallway.
"Malfoy."
I turned around.
"Not a word to anyone."
"Why would I want to tell anyone I have a bloody Gryffindor in my head? The thought makes me sick. Not something I would want to brag about," I turned on my heel and walked away.
I lay in my bed that night thinking. It occurred to me that I did a lot of that, and I should probably stop before Potter knows me inside and out. But one thing that bothered me was that I didn't know the reasoning behind everything. Why on earth would Potter be able to hear my thoughts, of all things, of all people? Who would I be able to talk to about this? I can't face my so-called friends, or my family, or anyone. There was always Snape, but he was in close ties with my father. I felt alone and angry. I wanted to Kadavra something.
Blowing out my candle for the last time, I closed my eyes and drifted off into another punctured sleep.
A/N- Wow, I didn't expect good responses for this. I posted it on another site and most of the comments were that Draco was slightly out of character. Don't worry, he'll get back to his pmsish self in no time.