- Secrets of the Forbidden Broomcloset -
Authoress Ramble: I'm listening to by Kelis .. is that a bad thing to be listening to while writing slash or what? Thanks for reading, anyways, and have a lovely day! Eat cotton candy if you get sad, it helps.
Warnings: This story has been rated for repeated use of language and eventual sexual content (none now). Also, it is slash, though I don't feel that should influence the rating ... read as your morals and inhibitions permit.
Disclaimer: Obviously Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger et cetera, et cetera, all belong to J.K. Rowling, the rich genius authoress of the entire Harry Potter series, and also her publishers, et cetera, et cetera, though all original plot lines independent of her novels and her characters belong to me as they were derived from my own twisted mind, et cetera, et cetera, so please do not sue me as I am but a poor, lonely, slash-loving girl authoress, et cetera, et cetera.
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I like this set, Harry said absently, brushing his fingertips against a large bottle of burgundy liquid. Where did you get this?
Malfoy stood awkwardly at his side, staring at the other boy. He had bristled when he had touched one of his potion ingredients, but had for some reason chosen not to say anything.
Diagon Alley, he drawled, uncomfortable. You can usually find sets like these next to the cauldrons.
Harry replied absently, picking up a small jar containing the crushed, lumpy leaves of an unknown plant. What is this?
For someone who is currently failing potions, you sure are bloody fascinated, Malfoy mumbled, snatching the jar from Harry's hand. Mortared chilken weed. Odd that you picked it out, we'll be needing it for this potion.
What potion? Harry asked, turning his eyes on the other boy. They were wide with curiosity, and for an unknown reason sent a shiver down Malfoy's already rigid spine.
He had never seen Harry's eyes unclouded by hate. They were so ... open to everything. Even his attempts at teaching.
Those green eyes were unnerving him greatly.
An adrenaline draught, Malfoy answered, his voice laced with pride. Snape is having us brew it on Monday. I thought that if you practiced it in advance, you wouldn't completely screw yourself over.
He is? Harry asked, frowning. But how'd you find that out? Snape never tells us what we're going to be brewing in advance.
I'm just that special, Potter, the blonde smirked. Anyway, the recipe for the potion is in here.
He slid a small, rather dusty leather-bound book toward Harry, who picked it up, opening it hesitantly.
Harry answered, paging through the book in an attempt to find the adrenaline draught. Malfoy grinned at his bowed head, amused at how lost the other boy appeared.
Well, good luck, he said amiably, turning away from the desk with a smirk and making his way back to the warm leather couch.
Huh, what? Harry said, jerking his head up at this. Where are you going? Aren't you going to tutor me or something?
Malfoy hummed, sliding down into the comfortable loveseat. Well, to be blunt, no.
Harry gasped, incredulous. What kind of tutor are you?
The potion should take about forty minutes to brew, at which point I'll come to check it over, Malfoy drawled from the sofa, settling in and ignoring his pupil. After that, it need to ferment for a few days. It explains it all in the book.
That's it? Harry frowned, setting the book back down on the desk. You're just going to sit there while I work? Shouldn't you-
No, I shouldn't need to babysit you, Malfoy snapped, leaning his head back against the top of the back of the sofa. If I spoonfeed you, you'll never learn.
So that's the ingenious Malfoy teaching method, Harry growled in the direction of the back of the blonde's head. Don't teach the student anything and eventually they'll figure it out?
I've had a long day, Potter, Malfoy mumbled, closing his eyes. Just shut up and work.
Harry scowled at this, stepping toward his relaxing teacher.
A long day torturing my friend and then laughing at her while she cried! he snapped, drawing his wand from his robe. You're sick, Malfoy!
Put your wand away, Potter, Malfoy sighed, raising a few fingers to massage his temple. The longer you complain and the less you work, the longer we'll both be here.
I can't believe you, Harry muttered, but put away his wand none the less, finding no threat in the other boy. You call this teaching? You're nothing but a lazy-
My teaching method is very simple, Potter, Malfoy continued in the same tired, frustrated voice. If you happen to fuck up the potion, you drink it, thus putting your own precious life on the line. It's called negative motivation.
Oh, that's original, Harry snapped. You're nothing but a blonde, adolescent Snape.
Malfoy bristled at this, groaning in a combination of anger and exhaustion.
Fine Potter, if you insist we raise the stakes, we will, he scowled from the black sofa. If you fail the potion, not only will you sample the godforsaken substance, you will have a word with Snape.
Have a word with Snape? Harry sneered, feeling mildly amused. That was the best punishment he could come up with? He had handled Snape relatively well in the past.
Malfoy answered dryly. My word.
Harry nearly laughed. And if I do it perfectly?
You won't, Malfoy sighed. But if by some miracle you do, I'll do whatever you want.
Whatever I want? Harry grinned. He felt slightly out of place from lack of sleep, and this sounded very advantageous.
Yes Potter, now get the fuck to work, Malfoy snarled, breathing heavily to control his temper and thus continue his relaxation.
Fine, you arse, Harry frowned, turning back to the desk with the hairs on the back of his neck all irately erect.
He listened to Malfoy's steady breathing as he worked the potion, finding the reminder of his presence strangely motivating. He made deliberately sure that he added the ingredients slowly and carefully, according to the directions of the cramped book. About fifty minutes later, he added the final ingredient, stirring it in quickly. The potion bubbled a bright, gurgling blue.
I'm done, Malfoy, Harry announced, spinning around triumphantly.
The steady breathing continued.
Come over here and check the damn thing, Professor Malfoy, Harry said rather loudly, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He waited.
The steady breathing continued, in and out, slowly.
Harry frowned, setting down his spoon and walking closer to the couch. Malfoy's head was slumped to the side, resting on the back of the couch, his platinum hair spilling around it.
Harry asked loudly, leaning closer to the boy.
Malfoy mumbled, shifting slightly. A moment later he sighed, and his steady, deep breathing continued, his chest heaving slightly.
You're sleeping, Harry said dully, surprised but more dumbfounded than anything. He sighed himself, standing fully and walking around the couch, kneeling down on the floor so that he was in front of the boy rather than behind the back of his head.
He reached out his hand, ready to shake the blonde gently awake.
Mmm .. oh ..kay, the boy mumbled, talking in his slumber, his lips barely moving. Harry's hand froze in midair, and he frowned, feeling his chest tighten. He didn't want to wake him just yet, some deep part of himself decided.
Instead, he stared at him.
Draco Malfoy looked startlingly different when he was asleep. His usually perfectly controlled expression was lax, his face relaxed and fully honest. His lips, usually curled into a tight sneer or scowl, were parted and flushed, releasing the air from his lungs in steady intervals. His silky blonde hair, usually gelled to perfection, was loose, falling around his pale face in gentle waves.
Harry's own lips parted as he continued to look on, his mind wiping itself blank. He didn't think a word as he let his hand reach out further, brushing against the top of the boy's head. His fingers glided against his hair, parting silky strands like waves in water.
He's beautiful, a voice whispered in the back of his mind, and he sighed, his heartbeat slowing in sadness.
Malfoy mumbled, and as Harry watched, the blonde shifted his head, forcing his still hand to slide down to the boy's pale cheek. Harry felt the muscles in his arm stiffen, and he waited, suddenly horrified, for the other boy to awaken.
Instead, as the depths of Harry's stomach lurched with fear and anticipation, the blonde sighed softly, and then, with such ease that it shocked the raven-haired boy, he smiled.
It was the most beautiful smile that Harry could ever remember seeing, a smile that seemed perfect- not fleeting, not born from laughter or momentary happiness. It was a smile that lingered, gentle and complete, a smile of perfect satisfaction.
Harry jerked his hand back, his jaw dropping. He had not thought Malfoy capable of a smile like that.
He had not thought anyone humancapable of a smile like that.
What the hell am I doing?! he thought suddenly, jolting himself back into reality. He withdrew his hand completely, his mind racing with his heartbeat; had he been imagining it? It couldn't have been real.
He couldn't have just watched that happen. Watched himself let it happen so easily.
Wake up, Malfoy, he said loudly, his voice now laced with desperation. He reached his hand out once again, but this time he shook the shoulder of the slumbering boy, confusion in his green eyes.
Please wake up, he muttered, continuing to jostle the boy.
Malfoy began to murmur incoherently, first in a voice that sounded pleading, then confused, and then finally annoyed. With a few moments, his silver eyes snapped open, finding themselves staring into deep, troubled green.
Malfoy jerked upright immediately, blinking several times from the shock. His heart was pounding in his chest. Potter, kneeling before him, looked pale as a ghost, staring at him as though he had just died.
Was I asleep? he asked, muttering the words angrily. How could he let himself let down his guard so easily when he was with Potter? Alone in a secret room with Potter?
What the hell is wrong with me?! he growled to himself, straightening his clothing as inconspicuously and quickly as he could.
You were, Harry answered, blinking several times himself. You must have dozed off while I was working. I'm done now, anyway.
Right, yeah, Malfoy muttered, trying to shake away the effects of just having woken up. Let's see.
Harry stood all too quickly, nearly rushing back to the desk. Malfoy took his time, stretching as he stood, all the while muttering angrily to himself. He could not let that happen again.
It's blue, Harry said, his former spirit falling back into his voice at the reminder of the potion. It was already becoming easy to forget the smile, at least for now. Just like the book says it should be.
Malfoy mused, looking down into the cauldron at the now still depths. Let me see that book.
Harry handed it to him, grinning hesitantly. The potion was blue, as it should be. Perhaps he'd won after all. Perhaps he would get to order him around, at least one single, grand time.
I order you to fall asleep and dream of something pleasant, so that I can watch you and see you smile like that again, like a bloody fallen angel.
He didn't think this thought but rather felt it, subduing it quickly with feelings of triumph at having beat Malfoy.
It is blue, the blonde affirmed finally, closing the book. Turquoise blue. Bright turquoise blue. It's supposed to be a very dark, navy blue, nearly black.
Harry frowned, his face paling. He'd ... lost?
Malfoy turned to him, amused for a moment by the horrified expression on Potter's face. It was pure joy to humiliate him. It always had been.
It looks like I've won, he announced maliciously. You forgot to add the dried yolk of a raven egg. Either that, or you added too little ... granted, the list was a bit smudged, but ... you might have asked.
Harry gasped, scowling. You were asleep, how the hell was I supposed to ask you?
Malfoy shrugged, smirking to himself.
Not my problem, Potter, he answered easily. Anyway. Tomorrow morning at breakfast, you will have a word with Severus. And in two days, once the potion has fermented, you will drink a sample in order to see just how much you screwed it up.
Harry snapped, casting bitter eyes on the ruined potion. What do I have to say to Snape tomorrow? Good morning, Professor?
Malfoy stared at him, his silver eyes laughing as his lips curled into a brilliant smirk.
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Draco: Hello, reviewers. The authoress is busy playing with her furry little rodents at the moment, too busy, in fact, to do her typical review and make me happy speech. So I've been assigned to do it for her. Here I go.
DO NOT REVIEW. That's right, bastards! Reviewing this story only perpetuates the sick circulation of slash fanfiction! It is all a TWISTED LIE. I am NOT ATTRACTED TO HARRY POTTER. I WILL KILL HIM AT THE END OF BOOK SEVEN AND THEN HAVE SEX WITH A WOMAN ON HIS GRAVE!
Either that or consummate my relationship with him and buy him a ring, but I think you know the truth. Therefore NO REVIEWING, YOU SICK MINDED FOOLS!
