A/N: Hey all! Well, I'm back with another chapter! Woohoo! Thanks to all those who reviewed the last chapter! You guys rock!
Some people have asked about other pairings in the story. To tell the truth… I don't know what I'm going to do. This story is kinda just writing itself as it goes along, so nothing is set in stone.
A big thanks to MysticSilverAngel for being my beta!
Disclaimer from the prologue applies.
Chapter 4:
Harry and Hermione somberly trotted down the corridor to their first summer class, which was, unfortunately, Dark Arts. Harry lagged a bit behind Hermione, his steps slow and sluggish; he had been dreading this class all week. He briefly pondered on the sanity of whoever decided to let Lucius Malfoy loose in a room full of relatively harmless teenagers.
Before he knew it, Harry was standing in front of the wooden door that opened into the Dark Arts classroom which, as far as Harry knew, had been an unused classroom until now. It was a short, wide door, made of dark ebony. Harry gulped- even the door intimidated him. He couldn't wait to see what was actually inside the classroom. His hand timidly reached out and pushed the door open with a creak. Harry and Hermione slowly shuffled into the classroom.
It was large and badly lit. The only source of light in the room came from small torches; they cast menacing shadows along the walls which flickered and danced in continuous movement. Though there were windows, they were closed off with thick, heavy curtains, blocking the sunlight from view. It was as if Malfoy had wanted the room to be as frightening as possible. Shelves lined one wall of the classroom; different sized bottles and jars sat upon them. Harry couldn't recognize anything in any of the bottles until, about halfway down the row, Harry saw a large, clear jar, which held dozens of what were unmistakably human hands. Harry decided he was glad that he didn't know what the other jars held.
Their peers seemed to all already be inside the classroom. Harry realized, with a start, that these were the people that he would be fighting alongside with for the duration of the war. There weren't many of them. Ron, Hermione, Seamus, Dean, Neville (who had arrived two days ago), Ginny (who was the only fifth year in the castle), Malfoy, Zabini, Nott, Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, and himself: these were the only minors who had taken it upon themselves to fight. Interesting, Harry thought, we're all Gryffindor or Slytherin. Harry knew that he would be taking classes with only these twelve people for an indefinite period of time; he knew that they would be his only companions, his only friends. Perhaps he'd see some of them die. Perhaps some of them would see him die.
That idea scared Harry shitless.
Harry's ponderings were interrupted when Hermione tugged at his sleeve, leading him over to the last two seats in the room. Harry sat down next to Hermione. Seamus was on his other side. He offered a shaky smile to the Irish boy, who barely smiled back.
Suddenly, the torches blazed brighter, shining more light into the classroom. A figure, shrouded in shadow, slowly slunk forth from a corner of the room. The shadows dissipated from around him as if he were removing a cloak, revealing shining blonde hair, ice blue eyes, and thin lips. Malfoy offered them a malicious smile, his thin lips stretching over his teeth and his eyes glinting.
"Thank you, Potter and Granger, for joining us." The blonde's sarcastic comment was barely louder than a whisper, but somehow everyone in the room heard it. No one moved. No one spoke. No one breathed.
"Now that we're all here," Lucius' malevolent eyes flicked over to Harry and Hermione, "I'd like you introduce you all to the wonderful world of the Dark Arts."
Harry looked around and noted that the Gryffindors seemed far more anxious than the Slytherins. Ron's foot jangled on the floor below him; Hermione picked at a loose thread on her robes. Poor Neville looked a bit green around the edges- Harry hoped he wouldn't faint.
Harry glanced to the Slytherin side of the room, catching the light gray eyes of Draco. His new friend offered him a small smile and turned back to the front of the classroom.
The elder Malfoy walked around to the side of the classroom, reaching into one of the jars. When he removed his hand, he was grasping a spider. Harry realized that Malfoy planned on repeating Mad-Eye Moody's performance in their fourth year. Hermione must have realized it too, because she sucked in a breath and looked worriedly at Neville.
Malfoy walked back to the front of the classroom, spider in hand. The spider was large and still. Its wiry legs were unmoving striped with orange. Harry noticed that Ron carried a horrified expression and his body was tense, ready to bolt out the door at any moment if need be.
Malfoy addressed the class. "I know that most of you were introduced to these curses in your fourth year, but I think it's about time for a little… refresher." He seemed entirely too gleeful. "Can anyone tell me about the first unforgivable curse? Draco?"
All eyes in the room flicked from father to son. "It's the imperious curse," the junior Malfoy started, "it allowed the caster to control the victim."
"Yeah, of course he'd know…" Ron grumbled under his breath. Ginny, who was seated next to him, elbowed him discreetly in the ribs.
The elder Malfoy either didn't hear Ron's comment or chose to ignore it. "That's correct. Very good, Draco." He took his wand out from underneath his robes and aimed at the spider. "Imperio!"
The spider leapt from Malfoy's hand onto Parkinson's desk. She let out a fearful shriek and scooted her stool back as far as it could go. The spider skittered over to Zabini's desk (the boy looked relatively unaffected) before crouching low and springing onto the desk behind Zabini- Ron's. The redhead let out a shriek which was, embarrassingly enough, higher pitched than Parkinson's. He stood up from his chair so quickly that it fell over and ran in a full sprint from his desk to the opposite side of the room.
At the front of the room, Lucius Malfoy rolled his eyes and ordered the spider back to his hand. It pounced from desk to desk, finally landing back into Malfoy's palm. Ron, seeing that the spider was a safe distance away, slowly walked back to his desk and sat down. His face burned a deep red, the flush making its way to the tips of his ears.
"I don't know how you expect to battle bloodthirsty wizards, Weasley, if you can't even stomach a spider." A cruel, mocking voice came from the very back of the classroom. The students turned around in unison.
The woman who stood there was tall and slim. Her dark hair shone brightly in the light and her dark eyes glittered with a touch of insanity. The woman's slender, bony hand clutched her wand tightly as she surveyed the children before her. She chewed on a blood red bottom lip as her eyes fixed on Harry. They lingered on him for a moment, before she looked away from him and instead fixed her calculating gaze on Lucius Malfoy. For some reason, Harry was wary of this woman- though she had done nothing to him yet, he decided that her suspicious aura reeked of malevolent intention. "Sorry I'm late, Lucius. Had a little- erm- situation to deal with."
"Quite alright, Bellatrix. I was just about to show them the second unforgivable. Perhaps you'd like to…?" Malfoy left his question open-ended.
"Of course, of course! It would be my pleasure." The woman, who Harry discovered was his other professor, gracefully swept to the front of the classroom. "Good, good. Now, who can tell me about the second unforgivable? Longbottom, perhaps?" Harry promptly decided that his intuition was right: she was a heinous bitch.
"It's the- the Cruciatus curse, sir. It- it causes pain to the victim." Neville's voice seemed small and quiet and it made Harry's blood boil.
Without warning, Lestrange leveled her wand on the spider in Malfoy's palm. "Crucio!"
It seemed to Harry that she had uttered the word with far too much gusto.
The spider shrieked and recoiled, its spindly legs folding under itself. It twitched violently and jerked around in Malfoy's palm, the incessant screaming never ending. The long legs bowed up above the body, stretching impossibly far in the creature's agony. The leg joints strained and slackened alternately. Harry looked upon the spider with pity; he knew what it felt like. Even Ron, with his hatred and fear of spiders, had an expression of pity written across his face.
Lestrange ended the curse reluctantly and the spider instantly relaxed. Its small body still twitched in pain, but its stance had loosened. It now lay sprawled across Malfoy's palm, squeaking in relief. Now Harry pitied the spider even more; it had no idea what was coming next.
"Okay, now for the final curse. Anyone want to tell me what that is? Potter?" Lestrange was almost panting; Harry was sickened that the woman sounded as if she had been in ecstasy whilst performing the curse.
"It's the killing curse." His reply was clipped and short.
Her blood red lips curved skyward in a sickening grin, before she aimed her wand at the spider, which was still unmoving. "Avada Kedavra!"
All it took was a flash of emerald light and what sounded like something large and invisible heading through the air towards the spider, and the small life was gone. The tiny body lay in Malfoy's hand, upturned onto its back. The long legs were spread in all directions and twitched no more with pain. Harry felt a lump in his throat as he looked at the small spider. Was that what his parents had looked like? Had they, too, been blasted onto their backs by that curse? Harry could see them in his mind's eye now: they lay unmoving on the ground, glassy, emotionless eyes turned towards heaven. The lump grew and grew, until Harry had to clench his eyes tightly to ward off the oncoming tears.
Once he had gotten his emotions under control, Harry looked up again. Everyone in the class was just as still and quiet as he had been. They still stared at the spider.
HPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTR
"Hey Harry, wait up!" Harry turned around on his way downstairs and saw Malfoy waving his hands and running after him.
He urged Hermione to go to the Great Hall for lunch without him and she did, after shooting Harry a worried look.
The blonde caught up to him and smiled, now walking alongside Harry at a normal pace. "Do you want to take a walk outside or something?" His invitation sounded good to Harry, who nodded gratefully.
Once they were outside, the two began walking through the gardens outside the castle. "Listen, I'm really sorry about my dad and Bellatrix. What they did was terrible- making you and Longbottom answer those questions."
"It's okay… I know it wasn't your fault. I'm fine, and Neville will be alright." Harry wasn't so sure about the last part, but he wouldn't let the blonde know that.
"I saw you, you know… after they did it. You looked pretty upset. Do you need to… I dunno… talk about it, or anything?" A light pink dusted the blonde's cheeks after his statement. He seemed embarrassed about something.
Harry slumped against the outside wall of the castle, feeling the lump rise in his throat again. He took a quick look around them and noticed that they were obscured by bushes and trees. The lump finally decided to burst and Harry's throat closed up tight. His eyes stung and watered, before the dam broke and salty tears splashed over his cheeks and down his chin. He hadn't meant to break down in front of the Malfoy boy, but the scene in the classroom had really gotten to him. "It was so small… dead… and my pa-parents probably looked that way too. It's like… like they never even mattered. How can… how can she just kill something like that? And they didn't have to die either! The pro-prophecy… wrong… wrong… small… dead."
At first, Draco didn't know what to do. He stood next to the weeping boy, confused as hell. Then, he reached over and slid an arm around the other boy's lower back. He hugged Harry's body close to his own, running his hands through the boy's shining midnight locks. Harry clutched Draco's robes and whimpered softly, tears still streaking his handsome face.
Draco didn't know what possessed him to do it. He hadn't had some long-time, pent up lust for the boy. He was most definitely not in love with the boy. But something possessed him all the same. He removed his hand from the boy's raven locks and tilted the shorter boy's face up to his. Harry's eyes looked huge and wet and green; the sparkled in the sunlight and would have been beautiful if not for the sadness within them. All Draco knew was that one moment, he was standing awkwardly next to a sobbing boy, and the next moment, his lips were softly pressed against the other boy's.
Instead of pulling away, as he expected Harry to do- hell, he wouldn't have blamed him, either!- the boy returned the kiss by pressing his lips back against Draco's. The kiss was slow and comforting; Draco took the lead and moved his lips sensually against Harry's in an open mouthed kiss. Harry's eyes fluttered closed and the side of Draco's nose rubbed against his own. The blonde's hand massaged slow circles onto Harry's lower back while clutching Harry's body closer to his own; his other hand rubbed the sensitive skin behind Harry's ear. Malfoy's tongue hesitantly dipped into the other boy's mouth. It was soft and warm as it rubbed with Harry's own tongue. His tongue curled around Harry's and coaxed it into the blonde's own mouth. He sucked on Harry's tongue lightly, earning himself a weak whimper from the other boy.
Suddenly, as if realizing just what he was doing, Harry broke the kiss and took a step away from Malfoy. "What… what was that?" He looked adorably confused.
Malfoy backed up against the wall and sunk down onto the ground. "I don't know. I swear I didn't plan on doing that."
Harry sat down on the ground beside him. "Err… you don't… you don't like me or anything, right?"
Malfoy's eyes widened and he stared at Harry for a moment, his shock displaying itself on his face. "No! I like you as a friend and all but… that was an accident, I swear."
His confession lightened Harry's heart. "Good… I didn't want things to get weird…er… between us. I don't like you either- I don't think I like anyone at the moment, to tell the truth. Friends?" Harry's tears had dried and now he had an expectant, happy look on his face.
"Friends. Just friends." The Malfoy boy said. He wished he could feel the same in his heart, though.
HPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTRHPTR
Tom Riddle stalked down to his dungeons and conjured up a nameless, faceless, sparring partner from a dirty sock. As soon as the body materialized, it aimed a roundhouse kick to his face, which he skillfully avoided, making an attack of his own.
He had just been taking a walk alone in the gardens outside the castle, when he had heard soft whimpering. The Dark Lord had cautiously turned a corner of the castle and peeked behind a rose bush, before seeing the single most infuriating sight he had ever had the displeasure to witness. Potter and the Malfoy boy were attached at the lips. Harry's body had been flush up against the blonde's; their mouths had moved together smoothly and slowly. Two things were blaringly obvious to the Dark Lord: one, that the boys were obviously familiar with each other's mouths, and two, that the boys were undoubtedly deeply in love. Why else would the Malfoy boy have handled Harry so gently? The boy, as far as Tom knew, was usually cold and arrogant.
He struck his conjured partner with his fist. I have no right to be so angry, he thought, it's not like I have a claim on Potter or anything! He grabbed hold of the fist aimed at him and used it to twist his partner's arm. And why would I want a claim on the brat anyway? I don't like him. I don't!
His thoughts must have distracted him, for his 'enemy' caught him in the face with a solid right-hook. The Dark Lord incinerated the thing with his wand and sunk to the floor, cradling his face in his hands. But what if I am attracted to him? Doubtful he could ever stand my presence; after all, I killed his parents. Even if he could, he is with the Malfoy boy.
Tom resolved not to dwell on Potter any longer. He'd only be setting himself up for heartache- he didn't need that on top of everything else! He'd just concentrate on winning the war, nothing else. He didn't have time for anything else. He didn't care about anything else. At least… that's what he tried to tell himself.
A/N: THIS STORY IS HARRY/TOM! I promise! It looks like Harry/Draco right now- but it isn't! Don't kill me!
And now… I'm going to do some shameless advertising. My other story, Dancing Through Sunday, hasn't been getting much love on here. If you'd read/reviewe it, I'd really appreciate it… I really want to know what people think. It's unlike anything I've ever written before. Thanks!