Draco was sitting in Potions class and could once again feel himself being watched. It wasn't that normal, 'good god, there must be something bloody fascinating attached to my forehead' feeling, but a strangely unnerving one. Draco shivered, brushing himself off as if a spider had fallen onto his shoulder. He snuck a sideways glance at the Professor's desk.
He saw exactly what he had thought; Snape was looking at him with that unnatural gleam in his eyes. Draco tried acting like he hadn't noticed the peculiar stare and sent the man his best smile.
Snape's lips twitched upward to form a distracted smile of his own. The pale Slytherin hoped that he wasn't distracted with thoughts on a certain someone. He forced down another shiver and turned back around.
"My god... do you see him... did you...?" Draco had elbowed Pansy's side and was whispering in an almost appalled voice about what he'd just seen.
"Well of course I do! He's sitting right over in his desk."
"No, I mean his smile and that look I told you about... do you see it?"
Pansy narrowed her eyes in Snape's direction, as if searching out something tiny on his face. "Umm... nope, I don't see it, Draco." She rolled her eyes, turning back to their assignment. They were supposed to be writing an essay on a certain kind of antidote, but Draco was far too uncomfortable.
As if to add onto his uneasiness, Snape stood up from his desk and began doing his usual rounds around the classroom, making sure no one was cheating or talking when they were supposed to be working. He hadn't said anything about his whispering to Pansy, which he must've noticed.
This made Draco turn back to his paper quite quickly. He began scrawling his first few sentences, not knowing exactly what he was writing, but somehow knowing it was right. He always got perfect marks in this class. Though he was starting to wonder if it had something to do with him being favored by the Professor.
After five minutes or so, he could feel those eyes returning to him. He tried ignoring it, but he knew Snape was coming up his row. Moving very closely to the desks as well. And somehow he knew that the man's hand was going to linger on the edges, hoping to perhaps brush over a certain someone's own hand. Draco slowly pulled his hand onto his parchment, and he did it just in time. Snape's hand ran smoothly over his desk, just centimeters away. Draco froze.
He stayed that way for a while, until he saw the Professor return to the chair behind his desk. His gaze seemed to keep on Draco, but the boy was expecting it and didn't look up to check. He was already getting scared, as if the Professor was going to grab him right at this moment and take him off somewhere. He wanted to leave so badly.
Then an idea occurred to him. He could just pretend he was feeling sick. The Professor would believe him. He had a few other times, after all. So, tentatively, Draco looked up and began to raise his hand.
Before it was barely off of his desk, he became aware of Snape's wistful look. It was still positioned toward him, but it didn't look as though he was actually looking. Then, much to Draco's horror, the man's lips parted to run his tongue slowly over his upper lip. Draco's hand instantly fell back onto his desk, and with wide eyes, he locked them onto his unfinished essay.
"Pansy," he whispered, his voice hardly audible. He didn't turn his head at all.
She didn't respond or make any sign of hearing him.
"Pansy," he said, more loudly this time.
"What? I'm trying to work!" She glared over at him.
"Snape just..." He stopped. He didn't think he could say it. He thought he was going to have a panic attack. "... he, well... I don't think I can stay here. Can you raise your hand and ask if I can be excused?"
"Why can't you do it?" She sounded annoyed.
"Don't ask me stupid questions. Just do it."
She gave him another dirty look and did it without saying anything else. Snape's eyes finally snapped away from Draco and instead onto Pansy. "Yes, Ms. Parkinson?"
"Can Draco be excused from class? He isn't feeling well."
Snape's stare returned to Draco once again, and seemed to scan over him before he gave an answer. "He looks fine to me, Ms. Parkinson."
Pansy nodded lightly, going back to her work without another word. Draco watched her incredulously, not knowing why she had given up like that. Snape had to have said that just so he could stay and watch him some more. And he couldn't have that; this was all insanity!
"Professor Snape, I have to go. I think I might really be sick," Draco spoke up suddenly. His voice shook. The Professor watched him closely.
"What sort of sickness, may I ask? This essay is important, Mr. Malfoy."
"It's..." He paused to think for a moment or two, "...well... nausea."
"I have a potion for that in here. I'll go fetch it for you, since there's no need to miss this assignment when the period is almost over."
"But, I--"
But Snape had already gotten up and swept toward his cabinet filled with many vials of potions. He had moved a bit too quickly, as if eager to help the one object of his attention. Draco swallowed, honestly feeling as if he were going to be sick now; he probably wasn't even going to have to pretend when the man turned around.
A minute later, Snape turned around, holding a small vial of maroon-colored potion. He wore his normal, expressionless face as he did, but Draco knew it was because a fair amount of students in the class were now watching them. Snape strode over to Draco's desk. "Here you are. Drink half of it."
The man grabbed Draco's wrist lightly, pulling it up so he could push the vial into the boy's hand. Draco's eyes closed instantaneously, knowing full well that had been necessary. He wasn't sick enough that he couldn't have picked up the vial after Snape set it on his desk. "Thank you," Draco choked out.
His arm was let go of, and he let it rest on the desk. He didn't look up, but if he had, he would've seen a slightly confused, and slightly something else shown on the Professor's face.
"Do you need assistance in getting it down, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape's tone was that of impatience this time. Draco wasn't sure if it was real impatience or not, but he didn't want to sit and guess and wait for Snape to pour it down his throat for him.
"No, Professor... I actually don't need this. I apologize." Draco carefully pushed the vial to the end of the desk. Snape eyed him sharply.
"You've been cured, have you? It wasn't necessary to waste my time. I was in the middle of grading papers, if you and Ms. Parkinson hadn't noticed."
"I apologize," Draco repeated.
"Your apology isn't good enough, Mr. Malfoy. You'll be serving detention tonight." Then, with a swish of his robes, he had turned around, the vial back in his hand, and began to make his way back to the cabinet.
At his desk, Draco put a shaky hand over his face. He never got detention. What the hell was Snape doing? Everyone else was bound to notice his strange behavior, and then they'd begin asking him questions, and then they'd watch him just as much as Snape was... and then... god, he didn't want to think about it.
Snape was going to bloody do something, Draco knew it.