Disclaimers: I don't own any of the caracters, they totally belong to JK Rowling. She's a fantastic author, and I respect her so much, I would never steal anything or claim anything.

Authors Note: First of all, thanks to the one who reviewed on Drunk! It means A LOT to me! - keep doing it, lol. I'm sooo bad at putting in commas. I hope you'll forgive me for that! I've been very busy with school-work, I'm having a few repports to make and some exams to go to, so It might take time between updates. But watch this space!

Please review!

Drunk

Chapter 4

Confessions

Harry felt the air leave his lungs, as he stared at Draco in disbelieve.

"You... you don't hate me?" He couldn't believe it. This had to be some kind of a sick joke.

"No. I don't know how or when it happened, but I've somehow stopped hating you", Draco said tiredly and let his head, rest against the wall.

"- Don't get this wrong, I still despise you, loath the sight of you... but I don't hate you. - I couldn't!"

"I... I don't get it", Harry said, confused. "You said it was my fault? Did I do something when I was drunk which I don't remember? I mean... except for the kiss". He blushed.

"No. Er yes... well, it doesn't matter!"

Draco made a move to leave, but Harry stopped him.

"What is it? You know something?" He looked at the other boy suspiciously.

"Tell me, Malfoy!"

"No. It's not important." Draco opened the door, and walked out in empty hallway. Harry followed him, not wanting to let Draco get away that easy. " You can't just walk away!!" he cried, getting into steps with Draco.

"Watch me", Draco sneered

"Look, you haul me into an empty classroom, you yell at me for doing something to you, which I have no clue about! If you want me to somehow help you, you have to talk to me!"

Harry stopped and crossed his arms before Draco. "Now, tell me!"

"No."

Harry sighed. Malfoy's were truly, stupid pricks.

"Talk. To me."

Draco spun around, and gave Harry a furious glare.

"For Fucks sake, NO!" He shoved Harry away. "Can't you just understand that I don't want to talk to you? Fuck. OFF!"

Harry felt the anger rise inside him, as he steadied himself from almost falling.

"Fine! Do as you please, you irritating little prat! I just wanted to help you, for Christ's sake!"

"Damn you, stupid Malfoy's", he muttered as he hastily walked down the hallway, away from Draco.

Draco watched Harry disappear, and slowly began to walk his way down to the Slytherin dungeon. He cursed the Gryffindor boy under his breath. Potter just didn't get it. He had no idea of the troubles he had caused to him and his life. He had no idea of the seriousness in this matter.

"Fuck you, Potter", He thought as he climbed to bed, still dressed in all his clothe.

"Fuck you, Potter", he thought as he tried not to let a warm tear fall from his eye. Malfoys never cried.

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"I don't know how to get this essay done in only two days" Ron whined, from his spot on the soft carpet by the fire in the Gryffindor dungeon. "Snape is such a slave driver, he has already given us homework enough to keep us busy the next three years, and now suddenly an essay about cauldrons and their effect on the night of a full-moon?"

He sighed and threw his half-written paper into the flames. "I give up, I can't figure it out!"

"If you had started earlier, you wouldn't have to write two essays at the same day, Ron" Hermione said and grabbed for a new book in her already huge collection beside her. The book had the title "Sickness and death of Wizards in the middle age", and sometimes the book sneezed with such force, she had to close it with a handkerchief.

Harry didn't pay his friends any attention, he was deep in thoughts of Malfoy, and didn't even hear that Hermione called his name.

"Harry? Harry? HARRY!?" "What? He slowly turned his head, looking at her blankly.

"You've been awfully quiet today", she said looking at him nervously. "Something bothering you?"

"No...no, not at all, I'm just a little tired", he said, giving her a weak smile.

"Oh...but you know you can always talk to me, okay?" She smiled.

"Of course, thanks... well, I think I'll go to bed now! Goodnight!"

"Night' Harry!" said Ron who had started to make himself some grilled marshmallows, and was now sitting crossed-legged on the carpet, making it look like a picnic.

Harry smiled and shook his head. He started to walk up the stairs. Before he entered the bedroom, he heard the sound of the book of "Sickness and death of Wizards in the middle age", sneezing Hermione right in her face.

He wondered what time it was... the moon was lightning up the room, making a ghostly whiteness creep into his bed, falling onto his face like a kiss from someone who once was...

Alone. He felt so alone, lying here in his big king-size bed, watching the moon and the stars through the hangings of the bed.

Harry...

How many times had that name haunted his dreams this night? He couldn't tell.

Kiss...

Oh fuck... not again.

"Stop."

Kiss...!

"NO!" He sat up, covering his ears with his hands.

"I don't want him!" But you can't forget... the kiss...! "It didn't mean anything! – Nothing!"

It's too late; you can't stop now, not now...

"Please...! Stop..." His whole body was trembling. He wanted to hide under the duvet, but he was frozen to his spot on the bed, not able to move. The voices never stopped. They never disappeared. He thought he had got rid of them long time ago. Last time they had come to him, he had been seven years old. One night they just started talking to him. They told him things, things he could still remember literally, word for word. Things about himself.

About... kisses.

About one kiss he hadn't believed in.

Because it was dangerous.

Because it was unthinkable.

Because... it was fate, and he didn't believe in fate.

"Do you believe in fate, Draco?" his father used to ask him. "No", he would repeat, not knowing what else to say. "Good". Fate makes people weak. Fate makes you feel. A Malfoy does not feel, Draco. Remember that".

And he did. And he didn't believe in fate. But this had to be fate, didn't it?

He didn't sleep that night.

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The first thing Harry noticed, as he walked into the Great Hall next morning was, that Draco was missing.

He frowned. He couldn't even remember the last time the Slytherin had been absent from breakfast. The boy had always been the centre of attention, always would be.

Harry wasn't blind, he was aware that Draco was a good-looking. A lean and slender body... white... milky skin, silver hair, which fell into his eyes...,-

"Oookay, that's enough already," he told himself, embarrassed for letting himself get that far.

Jeez! He didn't know why he was having these thoughts about the other boys, recently! It seemed that Draco someway had taken a hold at him... he just hoped he would be able to get out before it was too late...!

But somewhere, deep inside his very soul, something told him that he hadn't been quick enough.

He's a lion. A lion waiting for its prey. The darkness surrounds him, making him invisible for anyone who may walk by.

There it is. Tall and dark, green eyes shining in the shadows. The lion waits. Predators always do. They wait for the right time, the right victim to be so close, they can almost smell the scent of fresh meat.

Now. Attack.

He is taken by surprise. His eyes widen in shock, as the lion attacks its mouth to its victim, firmly pressing the prey against the wall, as he, the lion, moans with pleasure. The prey gasps as the lion force its tongue inside his mouth, exploring every corner, every secret that might be there...

"Mmmmfff... Dra..Draco? Oh god!"" The prey looks at him with eyes filled with confuse... but also, the lion grins evilly. With something much more satisfying:

Lust. He feels it. The lust. He feels it now, at his own body, as the prey now strikes back, biting and sucking at his jaw, making the predator growl with pure pleasure. Suddenly he hears them. The voices. They're stronger than usual, pleading and demanding, loud and filled with anger.

KISS, KISS, KISS, KISSSSSSSSSSssss!, They hisses, making him shake with both fear and arouse. "Shit!" he cries.

Then he lets go of the prey, turns around and runs away as fast as he can.

Predators don't leave their preys unfinished.

But he's not a predator.

He's lost.

TBQ