"bla-bla" talking

'bla-bla' thinking

Chapter 2: Obsession

Wednesday, September 2nd

The next morning, Harry and Ron found themselves running in the long corridor, heading for the great hall, hoping to catch the tail end of breakfast. They had forgotten to perform a waking spell the night before, and so had remained asleep; whereas their roommates had got up thinking they were already gone.

They entered the hall to find the Gryffindor table in uproar. Even Ginny, usually calmer than most, was screaming at the top of her voice and staring, disgusted, at the Slytherins - as was every other student in the vicinity. At the other end of the hall, Harry saw the Slytherins, whom, for their part, were seething with rage and glaring vituperatively at the Gryffindors as if they were to blame for the current disturbance.

The loud gathering was far too fast turning into a resentful and hostile skirmish between the two houses; but then the headmaster appeared, and there was a sudden hush.

By then, the two latecomers had reached their table. Still out of breath, Harry asked Hermione what was the matter. By way of an answer, she held out a piece of paper, their new timetables. Harry stared at it, flabbergasted: they had no less than three hours of class a day with the Slytherins.

Harry was so shocked that he didn't hear the Headmaster speaking. By the time he jerked out of his reverie Dumbledore was already finishing his sentence, "... and no modification will be made to your schedules. Moreover, I've the pleasure to introduce to you your new teachers: you already know professor Remus Lupin, who will teach you Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Thunderous applause rang through the Great Hall except, predictably, from the Slytherin table. Harry and the other Gryffindors, quite forgetting their timetables, were whooping and cheering with great vigour, and stopped only when Dumbledore set off several fire-crackers with his wand.

"To teach spell and magic control," Dumbledore carried on, "Professor Docius Lanx."

The students politely clapped and Hermione immediately began telling the others how she had read one of his theses during the summer. Dumbledore went on, "As teacher of Curses and Maledictions: Professor Atus Cast."

Some Slytherins clapped, but noticing Malfoy didn't move, stopped. The blond boy studied the teacher for a moment, his face remaining expressionless; then calmly turned his gaze towards the Gryffindor table and watched Harry. If he was surprised to find Harry eyeing him back, he didn't show it. They observed one another in silence for several seemingly eternal seconds; and then Draco suddenly applauded.

- - - - - - - -

Harry heard professor Dumbledore introduce the teacher of curses and maledictions, an option he would already have chosen in his sixth year if there had been an available teacher to take the post, but since the return of Voldemort, most suitable candidates had joined the Dark Lord's ranks, or were dead. The teacher seemed neither friendly, nor detestable, simply a teacher; but Harry , like many others was in two minds about weather to cheer for him or not.

However, a few Slytherins were welcoming the teacher, but, soon realising that one of their number didn't join in their applause, stopped abruptly. Harry puzzled, looked across to the Slytherin table: in the midst of them was Draco Malfoy. He was sitting, unconcerned, with his arms folded. Harry was conscious of Draco's intent gaze fixed on the new teacher's, as if trying to read his mind, his soul. As though aware of his rival's scrutiny, the Slytherin slowly turned his head toward him. Harry could feel his hair standing on end. Draco's unflinching stare made him shiver with ... fear?

'No way! I can't be frightened by this... this fucking bouncing ferret,' he raged.

The thought made him smile, then flush and finally blanch. 'No, no! where did that come from? He's not seductive, he's just a moron. just a…' Harry sighed, his eyes travelling over Draco's face, 'Malfoy. He's a prat. A Slytherin. The Sexiest person I ever laid eyes on.'

The electric shiver down his spine didn't go away, it became a tantalising tingle which spread down to the tips of his fingers, making them ache to reach out and touch Draco's fine silvery blonde hair, to map out with his fingers Draco's sharp chiseled features and his narrow, aristocratic lips. Harry quickly closed his eyes, and took the time to put his thoughts back into order. When he had rid his mind of the image of Draco in silk boxers, he re-opened them. But Draco was still looking at him, yet with a slight smile which lit his eyes with amusement and a trace of something else. Harry unconsciously grinned at the dragon. Still pinning Harry down with his gaze, Draco smirked then clapped. Dazed by the tingling in his spine and the warm feeling in the pit of his stomach, Harry too began to applaud.

- - - - - - - - - -
Dumbledore had patiently waited for them to make up their mind. He then continued, yet this time with a slightly more exultant tone.

"And finally, as Mrs. Hooch left us last year, flying will be taught by a recently graduated young man you all know: Professor Victor Krum."

There were shouts of joy from the boys, and a few faints among the girls. With much amusement, Harry watched Ron go from pink to red, then from red to white, with a short stop at purple.

The headmaster calmly finished his speech: "Please, make your way to your first lessons and present my apologies to your teachers for keeping you - quick, you're late!"

Laughing and chattering the students emptied the hall.

Harry's year were especially speedy- they had double potions next and didn't want to give Snape an excuse to take more points off them. When Harry and Ron finally arrived, panting, at the dungeons Hermione was already there waiting for them. As Head Girl, she had access to many of the school's secret passages. Obtusely, she refused to share their passwords and locations with her two best friends, because walking all the way would 'teach them punctuality.'

Draco, Harry noticed, was already there too, nose buried in a book.

"Did you see?" Ron asked, sliding into his seat and looking warily about for Snape.

Harry sat down beside him and replied, "see what?"

"Malfoy. He acted like the little chief of the Shit-there-in house," Ron said excitedly.

"That's not news," Hermione answered slightly impatiently.

"Maybe, but last year at least a few of them contradicted him, now they all bow to his merest whim! They act like they're scared shitless of him - he's a Death Eater for sure."

Harry sighed, remembering the way he'd looked at him. "Possibly...."

Snape finally appeared, black cape swooshing out behind him. He liked his first appearance of the year to be somewhat intimidating. The Gryffindors found it more bat-like than impressive though.

"This year, you'll be working in groups of two, one Slytherin, one Gryffindor. Well, what are you waiting for?"

With groans from both sides, the students stood up, each eyeing the other house with disgust, but this was apparently not fast enough for Snape. He began to choose the pairings himself, "Finnigan, there! Longbottom, at the far end of the class with. Goyle! Granger with Parkinson, over there! Weasley with Zabini, right there! Potter!", he smiled unpleasantly, "over here!"

He gestured toward the table in the corner, situated in front of his desk, and where another student was already sitting. Harry reluctantly picked up his bag and changed seats, cursing Snape under his breath.

"Malfoy," he said, by way of greeting, planking his bag down on the desk and rummaging through it for his potions book.

The blond put his book down on the potion table and stared at him. "What are you doing here, Potter?" he asked calmly.

"Snape"

"Hmm. So, we're to be…colleagues". Without a trace of emotion he picked up his book, and continued, "we're going to do a forium potion."

"A what?" Harry answered, puzzled by Draco's mild stance - he had been expecting insults, jibes and the kind of humiliating put downs the blonde was famous for.

"A Forium potion; it can create doors where applied on walls. Read this, it's all explained."

"Why?" Harry demanded, still in shock.

"Why what, Potter?". This time his voice had a more dangerous, impatient edge.

"Why are you doing this? You could leave me in my ignorance and see Snape take points from Gryffindor." Harry was becoming impatient with Draco's evasiveness. He wanted to know what his enemy was up to.

"I've no time for arguing this year."

This answer only made Harry even more suspicious. He hid his dissatisfaction though, uncomfortably aware of sounding like Hermione at her most annoying.

"Oh. The NEWTS." Harry replied, with a forced understanding.

"Yeah, partly.," Draco said somewhat hesitantly, a sad tone in his voice.

Harry studied him for a while, then turned his attention towards the chapter in his book the Slytherin boy had indicated.

--------------

Though horrendously long, the three hours went well, despite Snape's constant sniping at Harry. At the end of class, he spent break with Ron and Hermione. After that, Hermione had to run to her spell creation class, whereas Harry and Ron had double PS (personal studies). They decided to kick back and play a bit of Quidditch.

"So, how was it?" asked Ron when they finally flopped back onto the pitch, exhausted.

"What?" Harry replied, unsure of what his friend meant.

"Potions with the ferret boy," Ron joked, remembering with pleasure that particular incident.

"Ah. I survived, but I don't think our pairing will last long in future," Harry said.

"Why?" Ron inquired.

"Snape. He came near us several times, it seemed he wanted to talk to Malfoy, but then he remembered I was there and went away," Harry explained, perplexed by his teacher's behaviour.

"Maybe he's got something for him," Ron suggested, with evident delight. They burst into peals of laughter at the preposterous idea.

Calming down, Harry looked at his watch and groaned, "Dammit! We're late!"

"What? Leg it! Hermione's going to kill me!" Ron groaned, dreading her reaction.

"What do you have?" Harry asked, picking up his bag.

"Arithmancy. Hermione convinced me to try it this year," Ron answered, obviously still skeptical about this choice.

"Curses and maledictions," Harry said.

"Then good luck, mate!" Ron added enthusiastically.

- - - - - - - - - -

"… traditional civilisations. His survival points to the strength of his digging in the ancient magical thought. Many rituals are classified as captivation: by the look or by the blood, by carved symbols, conjuration or spirits' invocation. Yes?"

The teacher impatiently interrupted his speech, and was looking at the latecomer.

Harry quickly entered the classroom, and muttered an apologetic: "I'm sorry, professor."

"And you're?" he inquired.

"Harry Potter, sir," he answered, somewhat impressed that there existed a person in the wizarding world that didn't know him.

"Five points from Gryffindor for being late. Here's a place. Sit down there and pay attention." The teacher continued his lecture without even lifting an eyebrow at the famous name. "Bewitchments, evil spells and even the Imperius belong to one of the royal roads of the primary paganism: the medicine by transfer or transfer magic."

Harry sighed and slid into the empty seat on the first row.

"You again Potter? If you go on this way, people might think you want to sit next to me," commented his new neighbour without even looking up, or pausing in his note-taking.

"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry replied, sounding irritated but inwardly relieved that his archenemy had reverted back to his normal, insufferable attitude.

Draco just smiled, clearly amused.

- - - - - - -

"What're you doin' mate?" Ron came over to Harry and sat next to him,

"Reading."

"You're starting to sound like Hermione!", he put his hand on his friend's forehead, "but your temperature seems normal, though."

"Ron." Harry rolled his eyes.

"I was just a bit worried that's all. Since the beginning of school you've been, well...distant. Did you pick a fight with Malfoy or something like that? 'Cause we can go and beat him up, if you want." Ron smiled encouragingly, "or we could go do that anyway if you like..."

"No, it's...," Harry sighed heavily and put his head in his hands, "I have this odd sensation, as if my mind is drifting off, and I can't concentrate on anything but him and I try to detach my thoughts from him but I can't and I want to react but I can't and I."

Ron stopped him mid-sentence. Since Cedric's death and the events of their fifth year, Harry had fallen into an emotional crisis. He talked and talked, and if nobody stopped him swiftly, his ramblings degenerated into hysterical shouting. His mental state had improved over the past two years, but Harry still got all mixed up at times. So Ron clasped Harry tightly to him in a hug, encircling him with his long arms, comforting him with soothing words, softly spoken.

"Are you better?" he finally asked.

"Yes. I think, thanks Ron. I just needed to say something, it's a strange feeling and I can't help reacting in this way. You can let me go now, I promise I won't be all hysterical again. Ron?"

The boy was looking at him, concern in his eyes.

"What?"

"Harry, you're my best friend. So, if you want to talk to me about who's bothering you, I'm here, OK?"

Harry nodded. "The moment I understand what is going on, I'll tell you."

Ron hugged him reassuringly, and added "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. if we lost you, Hermione cares about you so much."

"Ron?"

"Yes?"

"There are no better friends than you two, really. But for now, I just need some time and space to think by myself. Are you up for wizard chess?" Harry said to change the subject.

"Anytime, mate, anytime."

- - - - - - - - - -
Harry heard the grandfather clock in the common room strike two o'clock in the morning and turned over once more in his bed.

Harry felt as if he could see himself lying there in his bed, watching the curious sensations that crept insidiously into his blood and throbbed through his heart. They picked his mind apart with secret, silver eyes burning him from the inside out as if sluggish lava flowed through his veins. The smell of the ambrosial cologne surrounded them, his arm reached out to touch Harry's fevered cheeks, his lips and-

Harry sighed profoundly, 'Merlin balls! what has happen to me? This morning, I couldn't help but keep my eyes upon his, totally smitten by his gaze. hypnotised. spellbound!'

This last word woke Harry from his reverie. Silently as a cat he swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded over to his trunk. Rummaging through his belongings, he finally felt his books buried under Quidditch robes and old socks. 'Charms. transfiguration. ah! 'Dark magic: first year theory', that's it!'

Harry tiptoed out of his dormitory and crept down the staircase to the empty common room. Whispering, 'Lumos', Harry perched on an armchair near the dying fire, and opened his textbook.

'Fascination is usually considered as the primary form of bewitching, and is the ancestor of the Imperius curse. Empirical evidence suggests that both spells affect the human organism in a similar fashion and with equivalent intensity. Malfoy in his room. In Antiquity, the power to fascinate was attributed to gorgons and snakes. Unlike the Imperius curse, it does not require the use of a wand. Fascination is a charm operated by the eye - the fascinating Eye hypnotizes its victim - it is sometimes referred to the eye's charm. The result of the spell is that the charmed one does not see reality as it is anymore. Malfoy laying on his bed. He is thrown into a world of happiness and pleasure; his only desire is to stay in it, however high the price should be. When the enchantment reaches the zenith of its capacity, the performer of the spell's orders are finally perceived as the only possible realisation of the victim's unfulfilled desires, giving the cursed one the impression the orders are his own. So Malfoy bewitched me. The git! But why did he choose to... to bind me to him when he could have. I don't know… tortured me, or have me commit suicide. Malfoy's bare chest. Aah! Why do I care?!? He must have used a very dark spell on me and he's going to pay! Malfoy in boxers. But for now I need to get rid of this fucking spell! … rather in briefs.'