A/N: Hey! Sorry it took awhile, but first I lacked inspiration (you should thank Anaita if you like this story, because I read a couple of her fanfics and they "got me in the mood" to write this chapter. Luv ya, Anaita!), then I couldn't get my computer to work like it's supposed to, and then I couldn't log on to the website. Maybe this is some sort of sign. Maybe I'm supposed to stop writing this fic. If so, screw fate. I'd also like to give a special thanks to Lyth Taeraneth for her input. Oh, and you know how the last couple of chapters have more or less been in Harry's point of view? Well, as of chapter twelve (next chapter), it'll be in Draco's again. And finally, for those of you who are pissed off with the withdrawing, "angsty" Harry, you might want to skip this chapter. For those of you who either really like drama, or don't really care, go ahead and read on (if you want to).
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Chapter Eleven
"Beneath this wave, I just can't take your breath away"
"Next To Nothing," Breaking Benjamin
Harry woke up the next morning feeling rather groggy, to say the least. In fact, when he entered the common room to make his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast, Ron took one look at him and sent him back up to their dorm. He must have looked absolutely terrible, because even Hermione had agreed with Ron, saying she'd get Harry's homework assignments for him. Joy. Homework was what mattered most to Harry. He slipped back underneath the covers, waiting for everyone to go downstairs for breakfast, then class. When he was sure everyone was gone, he put on his invisibility cloak and left the tower, wandering around the corridors aimlessly.
After nearly two hours he'd covered all of the territory that made up Hogwarts, with the exception of the grounds outside since rain was pelting the earth viciously. Realizing he was hungry, he made his way to the kitchens and tickled the pear in the portrait. He entered the kitchens, said hello to the elves, and left with an armful of food. He ate slowly, and when he was finished he found that he was extremely bored. On most occasions this would have been a reason to go see Malfoy. But Harry didn't want to see him. For some reason, Harry currently didn't want anything to do with Malfoy. And it wasn't because he was having a rather difficult time walking, either. No, it was because... well, he wasn't even really sure why. All he knew was that he was feeling... strange... and meeting up with Malfoy would probably only make things worse.
Harry snorted in disgust. He was absolutely pathetic. Since when had he been afraid to see Malfoy? Well, actually, he'd been avoiding him to a certain extent for the past couple of days. Something was going on, and it was starting to really piss him off. But at the same time, he felt... something. Something he couldn't really place. Something he was sure he'd never felt before. And it scared him. Scared him so much it made him nauseous.
Knowing he had to break the silence or go insane, Harry hurried up to his dorm and pulled out a stack of Dean's CDs. Soundproofing the room, he pushed play and turned up the volume on the stereo until Korn's "Trash" threatened to bust the speakers and shatter the windows. But it did little to make Harry feel better. If anything, it made things worse.
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Harry continued to eat slowly, keeping his eyes on his plate so he would not have to look up and see Malfoy trying to signal to him without drawing everyone else's attention. And to ensure that nobody would try to talk to him during dinner, Harry had borrowed Dean's portable CD player and turned up the volume until all he could hear was Deftones' "Minerva." And he pretended not to notice the worried glances coming from Ron and Hermione.
And then Harry made a mistake; he looked up briefly to grab his goblet of pumpkin juice. And accidentally looked at Malfoy, who was still trying to catch his attention. And before he knew what he was doing, Harry nodded. Which meant there was nothing for him to do but go and meet Malfoy for more sex. Which should have been a good thing. So why did he feel like his insides had spilled out?
He waited until the song that was playing was over, then stood up and made his way out of the Great Hall, pretending he couldn't see Hermione's lips calling out his name. Harry entered the hidden room next to the suit of armor, Deftones still blaring into his ears. Malfoy was waiting on the other side, his clothes already off. And Harry saw his lips moving. He stopped the CD and took off the headphones. "What?" he asked, removing the hooded sweatshirt he had put on to fight the draftiness of the castle.
"You look like you have something on your mind," Malfoy repeated patiently. He moved toward Harry slowly. "You want me to help make it go away?"
Harry repressed a smirk. "I don't think you can," he said, too softly for Malfoy to hear.
"What?" Malfoy asked, lifting Harry's T-shirt over his head.
Harry sighed. "You can try."
Malfoy looked at him, a funny expression on his face. "Right."
And then Harry was up against the wall with his pants down, and Malfoy was sucking him off. Harry closed his eyes, trying to get his mind to link with his body, toacknowledge the pleasure his body was feeling. It was times like these when Harry was jealous of Malfoy. They both seemed to be able to disconnect their minds from their bodies. The difference was that Malfoy seemed to send his mind completely away and link with his body, and Harry just found himself completely absorbed with his thoughts while his body experienced temporary pleasure.
Malfoy grunted and shoved him against the wall, and then Harry was finally able to connect with himself. And he knew Malfoy wouldn't be happy about the wait. And he was right; Malfoy wouldn't let him come for an almost unbearable period of time. But when he finally did, he felt better. A little better. "Thanks," he said, sinking to a sitting position on the floor.
"It's part of the deal," Malfoy replied quietly. "And now it's my turn."
Harry nodded. "What do you want?"
"Fuck me," Malfoy replied simply.
Harry leaned forward and kissed Malfoy slowly, wanting to make him pay and trying to get into what they were doing at the same time. What was wrong with him, anyway? He'd never felt like this before, so why start now? He scraped his nails lightly over Malfoy's chest, willing himself to enjoy the shiver that ran through Malfoy's body. He placed his hand on the nape of Malfoy's neck and buried his fingers into his hair, teasing his nipple with his other hand.
Malfoy sighed and let his head fall back, placing his hands on Harry's shoulders. But instead of dissipating, the nausea Harry had been feeling all day just worsened. Until he couldn't take it anymore. He pulled away from Malfoy and rose to his feet quickly. "I..." he trailed off and ran his hand through his hair. "I have to go," he said, grabbing his jeans and putting them on hurriedly.
Malfoy more or less sprang to his feet. "What?" he asked, his voice dangerously low. "What do you mean?"
Harry continued to throw his clothes on haphazardly. "I have stuff to do."
"Yeah, like finish up your half of the deal." Malfoy's voice had a distinct edge to it.
"I owe you, okay?" Harry couldn't quite keep the snappishness out of his tone. He opened the room and left, not bothering to look back at Malfoy. He could practically feel his glare burning through him.
Harry ran into the girls' bathroom and almost missed the toilet when he threw up, losing the small amount of food he'd managed to consume that day. After a minute or so of dry-heaving, he exited the stall, temples throbbing, and stumbled over to the sink. He turned on the tap and splashed his face with cold water, swishing the bitter taste of bile out of his mouth. Then he turned off the water and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like a different person. His hair was wilder than usual and matted with sweat, his eyes were bright, and his skin was pale with an almost greenish tinge to it. And he was shaking violently. "What's wrong with me?" he asked his reflection, his voice trembling.
"Harry?" Myrtle asked from behind him. "What happened?" She reached out and held her hand right next to his hair, moving it back and forth as if she were stroking it.
Harry, instead of jerking away, found that her hand sent a cool sensation through him. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the mirror.
"Harry?" Myrtle asked, still "stroking" him.
"I..." Harry choked on his words.
"Oh, Harry."
A sob escaped Harry's lips, seeming to tear out of his throat. He dropped to the floor, turning so he was crouched in a fetal position with his back to the wall. And then he started to cry, shaking violently. Myrtle knelt beside him, running her hand over his hair.
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Harry woke up, feeling heavy, his head throbbing. When he tried to roll over onto his side, he realized he was laying on a rather hard, cold surface. And his limbs were more than slightly stiff. He sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.
"Watch your head," Myrtle warned, pointing at the sink above his head.
Harry looked at her for a few seconds, confused, then remembered he'd fallen asleep in the bathroom. He smiled at Myrtle shakily, running a hand through his hair. "You aren't going to tell anyone about this, are you?"
Myrtle shook her head. "You looked like you needed to cry."
And then Harry realized that he really had needed to do just that. Cry. About his forced destiny. About the death of his parents, Cedric, and Sirius. About how he'd been feeling since sixth year. About... about the deal. And Malfoy.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Myrtle asked. "I felt absolutely dreadful about what happened to me, and after I told you about it I felt much better."
Harry shook his head. "No, you've done enough."
Myrtle nodded. "You shouldn't go back to your dorm looking like that, though. Your friends will be worried. I won't try to make you talk, but I think they might."
Harry stood up and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Myrtle was right; he looked like shit. His eyes were puffy from crying, his nose was red, and his hair was mottled and limp. "Ugh," he said, his nose stuffy. He turned on the tap again and splashed his face, trying to wake himself up. When he was done, he studied his reflection again and grimaced. If anything, he looked worse. And now his sweatshirt was splotched with water.
Myrtle eyed him sympathetically. "You can stay here tonight if you want to."
Harry shook his head and sighed. "No, thanks. I've spent enough nights out of the dorm. If I stay away much longer, my friends will start getting worried and stuff." He also didn't feel entirely comfortable spending the night in the girls' bathroom. He shrugged. "Thanks for being nice, Myrtle."
A grin played at Myrtle's lips. "Any time, Harry."
Harry tried to smile back at Myrtle, but his attempt came pathetically short. "See you." And he left the bathroom, his hands shoved in the pocket of his sweatshirt. It was then that he remembered he'd left Dean's CD player in the hidden room downstairs. He grunted in frustration and hurried to the room across from the Great Hall, looking at his watch impatiently when the wall seemed to take forever to open. When he could finally fit inside, he rushed in and searched the room hurriedly. It wasn't there. "Malfoy took it, then." Harry inhaled deeply and exited the room, shaking his head. He punched the wall lightly on the way up the stairs to his dorm. He'd have to ask Malfoy for the player back. And Malfoy probably wouldn't give it back to him, because Malfoy was most likely cursing his name.
Entering the common room, Harry debated sleeping on the couch, then decided it would be better to just deal with his roommates; if he slept on the couch, he'd have to deal with Hermione in the morning. He entered the dorm and braced himself for an interrogation. And was surprised when he didn't receive one. Ron merely asked, "How are you feeling, mate?" and then dropped the subject when Harry shrugged in reply. Seamus didn't even annoy him too much. And when he told Dean that another friend had borrowed the CD player, he said it was okay and he didn't ask which friend had borrowed it. But instead of making Harry feel relieved, he felt worse; his friends were deliberately avoiding the subject because they wanted to make Harry feel better.
Harry flopped onto his bed without bothering to change his clothes and closed the curtains. He heard everyone else moving around, getting ready for bed. He heard Neville get in bed and closehis curtains, then Ron, then Seamus... with his signature bounce, making the springs creak in protest... and finally Dean, who pressed play on his stereo first so that Pink Floyd's "Dark Side Of The Moon" filled the room softly. Harry silently thanked him; he wouldn't have been able to handle the silence.
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Harry left Divination, listening to Ron complain about how there were only so many times he could predict his death before his scenarios became unbelievable. Then Dean said something about that not being possible because Professor Trelawney would believe any prediction you made as long as you died somehow. And then Seamus was telling everybody about what he would "see" happening to him next time. Harry had to admit it was perfect; dramatic, yet simple enough to be believable.
They entered the Great Hall for lunch, sitting down at Gryffindor Table. Harry found that he was actually hungry for once, so he grabbed a sandwich. When he was about halfway finished eating, he glanced in the direction of Slytherin Table and saw Malfoy sitting there, his plate empty, with Dean's CD player. Harry, while relieved that Malfoy had it, also felt apprehensive about getting it back. That is, if Malfoy would give it back to him after what he'd done to him the night before. He contemplated signaling to Malfoy, then realized he wouldn't be able to get his attention without getting everyone else's as well. So he waited for an opportunity to catch him alone. Which came when Malfoy stood up and left the Great Hall.
Harry hurried after him, telling his friends he had to go to the bathroom, and caught up with him by the staircase that led down to the dungeons. "Malfoy," he called out, jogging up to him.
Malfoy turned around slowly, his face devoid of any emotion. "Yes?"
"Um, that CD player..." Harry said, motioning toward Dean's player.
"What about it?" Malfoy asked. The expression on his face was now decidedly irate. Not good.
"It's Dean's," Harry replied stupidly as if that would clear things up.
"So? What does that mean to me?" Malfoy asked, turning around and walking down the stairs before Harry could say anything more.
"That didn't go very well," Harry said to himself. Then again, what else could he have expected? He'd been doing a lot of stupid things recently, and Malfoy had finally had enough. That shouldn't have bothered him so much, since the deal was supposed to be impersonal, but when Harry felt his stomach twist into knots, he knew that the knowledge of this didn't really help matters.
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Harry was more or less sprinting along the dungeons, late for Potions yet again. Which meant Snape would take the customary ten points from Gryffindor. Son of a bitch. He was only a little way away from the classroom when he was grabbed from behind byhis robes and yanked intoa nearby supply closet. He hunched over for a few seconds, catching his breath... apparently running like a bat out of hell and then getting the wind knocked out of you via mild strangulation took a lot out of you... before he looked up to see who had literally sent him flying. "Malfoy?" he asked, both hopeful and nervous. You just never knew when it came to Malfoy.
"We'll have to move fast," Malfoy said. Harry only continued to stare at him. Malfoy stared back at him for a few seconds before saying, "I can say I overslept, and you can just not show up or something. Because if we both go to class late, that will look suspicious. Unless we make it look like we were fighting. But either way, you could start any time now."
"Huh?" Harry asked.
Malfoy sighed and rolled his eyes. "Sex. You owe me sex. Or a blow job. As long as it gets the job done..."
"You... what?" Harry asked, knowing there was something going on, but not quite able to comprehend the situation.
Malfoy looked like he was ready to smack himself in the forehead. He reached out and undid Harry's robes, then his pants. Harry just stared down at Malfoy's hands, still trying to figure out what was happening. "Er..." he said, trailing off when he felt Malfoy's touch through his boxers. Malfoy grasped Harry's chin with his other hand and lifted it up so they were eye to eye. "Potter, fuck me," Malfoy commanded before dropping down to the floor.
Well, that worked well enough. Harry got down on his knees and moved to straddle Malfoy. He kissed Malfoy, entering him simultaneously; better to get the job done before he lost his nerve again.
Malfoy moaned and closed his eyes, arching his back and spreading his arms out. "Make it fast," he said.
Harry nodded, thrusting into him. Malfoy inhaled and opened his eyes, looking directly into Harry's. And Harry found that there was something very compelling about Malfoy's eyes. And when Malfoy came, Harry saw... something in them. It was almost as if, for just an instant, the eyes that Harry had believed were two chunks of ice had melted. Why hadn't he noticed that before when they'd had sex? Because it had never been there before. And then he came, collapsing onto the floor beside Malfoy.
A few seconds later, Malfoy rose to his feet and began getting dressed. Harry stayed where he was, waiting for his breathing to slow down and return to normal. But when he heard the doorknob squeak as Malfoy turned it, he forced himself to sit up. "Wait," he said softly.
Malfoy closed the door quietly. "What?" he asked. Harry opened his mouth, but Malfoy interrupted him. "I've told you before that arguing doesn't affect the deal."
"Um, I was just going to ask about the CD player," Harry said, half-lying. He had wanted to know why Malfoy was still bothering to look at him, but he hadn't planned on asking him about it.
Malfoy looked down at the floor. "Right," he said, clearing his throat. "It's in my dorm. I'll give it back later."
"When?" Harry asked.
"Tonight." And with that, Malfoy left the room quickly.
Harry could sense that something had just happened between him and Malfoy, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what it was.
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A/N: That's the end of chapter eleven. I warned you about Harry's being stupid. Actually, while I was writing this, I was thinking, "God damnit, Harry! Snap out of it, you idiot!" But don't worry; there are several more chapters to go, and one of them is about to crack very, very soon.
