A/N: Hello, Internet! Just a few quick warnings and then we can begin :)
WARNING: EXCESSIVE AMOUNTS OF DRAMA IN THIS CHAPTER. ALSO, ANOTHER NON-CON TRIGGER WARNING REGARDING RESTRAINT, ASSAULT, AND MINOR VIOLENCE. ALSO, A FINAL WARNING ABOUT EMOTIONAL CONFLICTION. Okay, warnings over! Shit's 'bout to start getting real, my friends! Muthafuckin' real. Let's do this.
THE LOVE THAT FOLLOWS
Chapter 4—Between Draco and a Hard Place
"But where the hell are the psychos even getting them from?" Harry demanded, laying his head down on the dining table and huffing angrily. "I mean, are there no age restrictions for something like this? Are sodding children really able to buy something as disgusting and dangerous as a goddamn love potion without any consequences?"
"She'll face consequences, Harry," Hermione's voice spoke somewhere above him, accompanied by a pat on the head, and he sat up to glare at her.
"Yeah, a month's detention and fifty House points. Those are hardly the consequences I want to see."
"This is her second attempt," Hermione soothed, patting his hand now that his head was out of reach. "McGonagall said the punishment this time will be much worse."
"Hopefully Azkaban worse," Harry grumbled, glaring down at his plate. "Thirteen years old! Who the hell raised these little psychos? I mean, I had a horrible upbringing and I was certainly never trying to drug someone at that age! It never even would have occurred to me to drug someone! Ever! Who the hell even thinks of that?"
"Well," Hermione began thoughtfully, "I would say a big part of the reason they tend to be popular, especially amongst the younger crowd, is the way that love potions have always been romanticized throughout the wizarding world. I mean, look at the name, for one. Love potions, not infatuation or lust or enslavement or obsession or anything far more accurate. It lends a certain air to the idea that the potion isn't truly enslaving another person so much as encouraging them to fall in love, which it's not. It's creating false intimacy and a dangerous passion within a person who clearly never felt either of those things for the brewer if the brewer is resorting to using such a thing, and I absolutely agree that the potion should be outlawed."
"Thirteen," Harry bemoaned, wishing for the hundred-thousand-millionth time that he could be someone other than himself. "Seriously, I ask you again, what the hell kind of deranged little perverts do we go to school with?"
"The young kind, apparently," Ron piped up across from him.
"More like the disgusting kind," Harry muttered. "None of the students who've tried dosing me have even attempted asking me out or even approaching me first! They just go straight to the potion! Is it like a self-esteem thing for all of them? Or do they really all realize what maniacs they are and know that there's no chance anyone would ever willingly choose to be with someone as freaky and fanatical and psychotic as them?"
"Er, the second one?" Ron shrugged. "Maybe both? Who knows, mate."
"I wish I did," Harry muttered. "But seriously, where the hell are all these nutters getting the bloody potions? Have they all been brewing them? Aren't love potions meant to be advanced? We didn't learn about them until sixth year! And these are all third and fourth years trying! Is your brother responsible for this? Is he the one selling it to all of them?" Harry demanded, turning to Ron. "I fund his entire bloody shop and he's responsible for nearly getting me mind-raped into lusting after a hundred different perverted children!"
Ron sniggered, but the amusement faded instantly away at the twin glares he received from Harry and Hermione. "No, it's not George," he said in an honest-sounding voice. "Trust me, I've asked. He even sent me a copy of his sales records. He keeps pretty strict track of things like love potions being sold, especially to anyone student-aged, because of the legal risks involved. Technically, you could choose to press charges against everyone who's tried, if you really wanted to." Harry instantly opened his mouth, intent on doing that right that very moment, but Ron continued speaking. "It'd be insanely expensive though, you realize, to press charges against all of them. It's not cheap to take someone before the Wizengamot, and it probably wouldn't even be addressed in court until after school has already ended. Plus, there's the fact that most of the charges wouldn't actually hold up since none of the little snots were successful."
"Well, that's just stupid," Harry mumbled angrily. "Stupid legal system. I can press charges against someone trying to give me a potion that's still somehow legal to buy and sell and brew? Why is the buying of it legal but the use of it is cause enough to press charges? What the hell do people think the buyers are going to do with the potion, stare at it?"
"The world's an imperfect place," Ron shrugged. "Hermione can add that to her list of things she wants to change once she's taken over the Ministry one day."
"I'm hardly planning on taking over the Ministry," Hermione said dryly. "It didn't really end up too well for the last person to try."
"Eh, all right then," Ron chuckled, "maybe not take over. But I do know that you want to go into some sort of career where you spend all your time standing up for those who can't stand for themselves and righting wrongs and changing archaic laws and fighting injustices all day and all that selfless sort of rot."
She huffed a laugh. "How well you know me, Ronald Weasley. I'll add love potions to the list of archaic legalities I intend to abolish, then."
"Well, there you go, Harry!" Ron said happily, "You have Hermione on your side now! Only a matter of time now before she gets them outlawed just for you."
Harry felt as if his face might freeze in a permanent glare. "How the hell does that help me now? All the attempts at drugging me are happening now! I can't wait for the future! And that's probably going to take a hundred goddamn years to get pushed through, you know how the Ministry works!"
"Hey, just trying to cheer you up, mate," Ron said with a shrug, sipping at his pumpkin juice.
"Seriously, though," Harry turned back to Hermione, his only true friend he could count on in his time of immense suffering, "if they're not getting it from George, they have to be getting it from someone! There's no way these little shits are brewing it themselves! It's way too advanced and they are way too unbalanced, they have to be buying it somewhere."
"I've been wondering that myself," Hermione frowned, tucking a thick lock of hair behind one ear. "I asked McGonagall if I could keep a sample from this latest potion; I'm hoping I can match it up to at least one of the others and see if it's from the same source."
"Do you have any of the others?" Harry asked excitedly, wanting to kiss Hermione's brilliant brain for its absolute beautiful, kissable brilliance.
"No, I don't," she said apologetically, and Harry frowned as he took back every lovely thought he had about Hermione's brilliance and kissing her brain.
"Well, fuck," he sighed, trying to resign himself to a lifetime of having to check every single thing he ate or drank for evil slavery potions designed to evilly enslave him against his will.
"But I do have this latest attempt, Harry, and the next time it happens I'll be able to test them against one another. If they were brewed from the same batch, it's a pretty safe bet to assume that they were bought from the same supplier."
"Well isn't that just the worst dilemma ever for him?" Ron snorted. "You want to find out who it is selling the potions, yeah? But the only way to find out is for another student to try and slip you one. Stay on your toes, Harry, that's my advice. Never know where the next one's gonna come from."
"Uuuggghhh," Harry groaned, drawing out the sound as he hung his head. "Why am I the only one this is happening to? McGonagall said that nobody so far has made a single attempt to potion anybody else! So it's not like it's just some new craze sweeping through the impressionable nutters of the school. These lunatics are all specifically targeting me! Why am I still a target for evil? Why is danger always coming for me like this? Why does my life have to keep sucking dragon dick like this?"
Ron snorted again at the last question. "You have a point. You think you would've earned enough good karma by now for an entire lifetime."
"Exactly!" Harry agreed vehemently. "Tell that to the universe! It's bloody out of touch with itself!"
Ron chuckled as he took another bite of his dinner. "I'll get right on that," he said in amusement.
"Well, do it before another four-foot human decides to try again to make me into some sort of love slave."
"Why don't you just tell everyone who you have become a love slave for, hmm?" Ron suggested, grinning as he took another bite.
A blush spread across Harry's face and he ducked his head, biting his lip on a sudden smile as he thought back over the past three days. It had been three days since Harry and Malfoy had made up, and every day seemed to be going better than the last. "How do you know he's not my love slave?" Harry asked, flushing even harder as Ron laughed.
"Eh, all right, mutual love slaves, is that better?"
"I've been meaning to ask you something, actually, Harry," Hermione interrupted, sounding serious, and Harry frowned and nodded hesitantly. "Please don't take offense at this because you know I only have your best interests at heart, but…do you think there's any way, even the smallest possibility, that Malfoy might have managed to somehow drug you with a love potion?"
"What?" Harry gaped, nearly reeling from the question. "Of course not! That's ridiculous!"
"Is it?" Hermione raised her eyebrows. "He approaches you out of nowhere one night, saying that the time was right to talk to you, and then kisses you with no warning, without any fear of rejection. From what you told us, it didn't seem like rejection had ever even crossed his mind as a possibility. What if that was because he knew you were already under the influence of a potion? What if that was what he meant by saying the time was right? What if everything you've felt so far has been magically induced?"
"No," Harry said slowly, shaking his head. "No, that—that can't be true. It can't. I mean, I would know, wouldn't I? I would definitely know if I were under a potion!"
"No, Harry," she said in a soft, careful voice, "you wouldn't. That's the whole point of these types of potions; the drinker truly does believe it's all real, they refuse to accept that their feelings are not their own."
"But, then…" Harry searched desperately for an argument. No, he knew what he felt! "Wouldn't either of you have noticed? When Ron ate those spiked chocolates in sixth year, I knew immediately that there was something wrong with him! He was acting like a loony! I haven't been acting like he was!"
"Urgh, don't remind me," Ron shuddered.
"Well," Hermione said, still speaking in that same careful tone, "those chocolates had been in your trunk for months and love potions tend to get stronger and more potent the longer they're left to sit. And there are different strengths and levels of love potion, as well. Maybe you're under a weaker one, a sort of watered-down one designed to nudge you more into the attraction rather than shove you straight into obsession. But one that is still controlling how you feel about Malfoy."
"No," Harry said firmly. "No, Hermione, you're wrong. Draco wouldn't do that, I know he wouldn't."
"Harry, look at yourself," she sighed in exasperation, "you're calling him Draco, you're sneaking around at all hours of the night to meet him, you're forgiving him for everything and trusting him before you even have reason to, and you're refusing to even admit that there might be the slightest possibility that I'm right. You're acting…well, frankly, you're acting completely infatuated, which is what this potion does. You talk about him all the time and even when you're not talking about him, I can tell that you're thinking about him. Your eyes glaze over and you get this distant look on your face and it's like you completely vanish into your own thoughts of him."
"So?" Harry demanded, refusing to believe her at the same time he was unable to deny any of what Hermione had said so far. "Isn't that what everyone who fancies someone is like at first? All any of that means is that I want to be with him, there's nothing wrong with that and there's definitely nothing suspicious about that! If it was some stranger whom I'd never met before and who was five years younger than me that you were talking about, then I would see your point. But you listed the reasons my liking Draco made sense yourself in the dorm the other day! You can't give me a whole list of reasons to convince me I might just fancy Draco and then turn around and tell me there are no real reasons because it's just the result of a potion he gave me!"
"I'm just worried, Harry," she said quietly, staring at him with something that Harry did not want to admit to himself was sympathy. Christ, she really thought he had no mind of his own, didn't she?
"Well, don't be," he snapped. "I'm fine. I'm more than fine, I'm happy! And you should be happy for me, not trying to convince me that none of it is real! You're supposed to be my friend, Hermione, you're supposed to want me to be happy! Why are you trying to take this away from me?!"
"I'm not!" She sounded offended and Harry hmphed as he crossed his arms. "Harry, we are friends! We've been friends for years and I love you, you know that! But the more adamant you get about refusing the possibility, the more likely it is that you really are under the influence of a love potion, don't you see? You've barely even started seeing Malfoy and look at how you're acting about him! You're sitting there accusing me of trying to destroy your relationship on purpose when you should know that I would never, ever do something like that! Are you really saying that you trust Draco Malfoy more than you trust me? You and I have been through everything together, and you and Malfoy have only recently started even speaking to one another!"
Harry glared down at the table, arms still crossed. "I know what I feel, Hermione," he said tightly. "If I can throw off the Imperius curse and recognize being under it, even when it's being cast by fucking Voldemort, I think I would be able to recognize something like the influence of a student-made love potion. You're only saying any of this because it's Draco! If it was some other bloke I started seeing, like Seamus or Dean, you wouldn't be sitting there trying so hard to convince me that none of it was real!"
"Harry," Ron interrupted, frowning at him. "She's just worried about you. There's nothing wrong with being cautious, you know. Just go to Pomfrey and get yourself checked out. If there is no potion, then getting checked out can't do any harm, can it?"
"It can if Draco finds out about it!" Harry snapped. "How would you feel if the person you were seeing went behind your back to get themselves tested for some sort of suggestibility potion because you suspect them of slipping you something? Especially something as awful as a love potion? What if I do it and he finds out that I have zero trust in him because I suspect that he's secretly drugging me and that I think my own feelings for him aren't even real? He's already insecure enough about my feelings and our relationship, and I don't need something like this destroying everything we've been trying so hard to build between us. I won't let something like your own paranoia get in the way of my relationship. Not after it's taken him and me so long to finally get to this point! So I'm sorry, Hermione, but you're wrong, I'm not being influenced to do anything, especially anything to do with Draco!" Standing, he huffed down at the two of them. "I'll see you guys later, I can't be here anymore."
And turning away, he strode quickly from the room, feeling angry and frustrated and confused, wondering why exactly he had gotten so furious. But damn it, Hermione's fear was just plain ridiculous! Harry was clearly not under any sort of potion or spell, he knew he wasn't!
But even as he firmly agreed with himself, he could feel a tiny seed of doubt bury itself somewhere deep in his mind, somewhere deep and dark and unreachable, and Harry knew that if it was allowed to germinate, it would only fester as it grew, rotting his happiness away as it spread its tendrils through his entire mind, and it would not stop until it had consumed every ounce of joy he had once felt at the thought of Draco. How could Hermione, his very own best friend, be the one to shove that seed into Harry's mind and convince it to take root?
"Harry?" a voice spoke up behind him, and Harry turned to see Draco standing several meters away, staring at him cautiously, and Harry realized that he had both hands buried in his black hair, glaring at the wall as he paced before a bare stretch of stone. It was also possible that he had been muttering into the empty air like an insane creep, but Harry didn't like being thought of as an insane creep, even by himself, and promptly banished the realization of his talking to himself from his mind. If he just ignored it, it had probably never happened.
"Are you okay?" Malfoy asked cautiously, taking a step closer, and Harry nodded, a single sharp, jerky movement. "You don't look okay, Harry," Malfoy said, slowly edging closer. "You looked really angry when you left the Great Hall just now, what happened?"
"Nothing," Harry muttered, unsure what he should now do or say to Malfoy, unsure how to act around him or speak to him. God, Hermione really had ruined everything! What if Harry could never trust Malfoy ever again because of this, even when Harry knew that none of her suspicions were real?!
"It doesn't look like noth—"
"Do you fancy me?" Harry interrupted, cutting the other boy off.
"Of course," Draco frowned, sounding bewildered. "You know I fancy you, I've told you a million times."
"But how much do you fancy me?" Harry pressed. "What would you be willing to do to be with me?"
"Erm…" Malfoy sounded even more puzzled. "Well, I fancy you more than anything, you know that. I really fancy you, Harry. And of course I would be willing to do anything to be with you."
Harry sighed. "Okay, maybe a better question is what would you not be willing to do to be with me? Where would you draw the line for what you would be willing to do?"
"I…" Malfoy looked utterly baffled. "I'm not sure that I understand the question. I'm not sure if there isn't anything I wouldn't be willing to do. I mean, are you looking for me to say that I wouldn't be willing to slaughter an innocent person or something?"
"Not really," Harry sighed again. "I—I mean…" Sighing once more in frustration, Harry gave up speaking and strode forward to tug Draco in close for a kiss, the most intense one they had shared yet. Harry poured every muddled, murky emotion he was feeling into it, channeling every ounce of doubt and frustration into the kiss, refusing to let up or pull away. Malfoy was surprised at first but quickly melted into it, pulling Harry in even tighter against his body.
Finally, after an entire century of somehow surviving without oxygen, Harry pulled back an inch, gaze flicking between Draco's eyes and his mouth. "You wouldn't, would you?" Harry whispered. "I know you wouldn't—you didn't. I know you didn't, Draco."
"Didn't what?" the blond whispered back, clutching at Harry as though terrified of letting go.
"Nothing," Harry shook his head.
"Tell me," Draco breathed. "Is this to do with the argument you got in with your friends when you stormed out of the Great Hall?"
Feeling uncertain, Harry nodded.
"Tell me, Harry," Malfoy said in a firmer voice. "Tell me what you know I didn't do."
"Well, there was this girl…" Harry began hesitantly, feeling Malfoy tense in his arms.
"A girl?" he asked, voice now flat. "Who, pray tell, was this girl?"
"She's a Hufflepuff," Harry spoke slowly, still not at all sure if he should be telling Malfoy any of this. But Hermione's words would not stop ringing in his head, bouncing around his skull in aggravating, echoing ricochets, every single one reminding him of the awful seed of doubt that he knew would only grow unmanageably large given enough time. "A Hufflepuff third-year. She…"
"What did she do?" Malfoy's voice was calm but Harry could see lightning in his grey eyes, making them seem like two angry storm clouds embedded in a pretty, porcelain face.
"She, er…" Harry felt so embarrassed to have to admit to something like this. "She tried to slip me a love potion today. For the second time. She tried to Disillusion it and levitate it into my pumpkin juice, but of course, Hermione saw the bottle and saw the girl at the next table pointing her wand at it, and she knew exactly what was happening."
"She did what?" Malfoy whispered dangerously, eyes narrowing. "Who is this girl, Harry? Tell me!"
"It's not important," Harry said, shaking his head. "I mean, it's really not an uncommon occurrence at this point."
"How many fucking times has something like this happened?" Malfoy demanded, sounding upset. "Who else has tried to do this to you? Tell me, Harry, so I can find them! How fucking dare they!"
"You sound so upset about it," Harry breathed, feeling relief course through him at the obvious anger in Malfoy's every word. If Draco was that furious at the thought of someone attempting to slip Harry a love potion, then surely that meant that there was no way the blond would ever have done that very same thing himself. Right?
Unless he's just upset because it might counter the effects of his own love potion, a nasty voice whispered in the back of Harry's mind, and Harry did his best to mentally strangle the stupid voice into silence.
"Of course I'm upset about it!" Malfoy said incredulously. "How the hell could I not be? You're telling me that other students attempting to potion you without your knowledge is a common enough occurrence for you to speak so casually to me about it, and then get surprised when I get upset? Did somebody slip you a moron potion as well?"
"So, you didn't then," Harry said in relief, resting his forehead against Malfoy's and clinging to his shoulders. "Oh, thank god, I knew it, I told her!"
"Didn't what?" Draco asked coolly, pulling back. "Are you saying that you think I might possibly be one of the ones you're talking about? Are you—" he wrenched himself from Harry's arms, "Are you standing there telling me that you think I've been secretly dosing you without your knowledge? You think—" he broke off to laugh, an edge of hysteria to the sound that sent chills down Harry's spine, "you think I've somehow been the one student successful in slipping you a love potion. You don't even trust your own feelings when it comes to me; you don't think any of this is real!"
"No, Draco, that's not true!" Harry insisted, trying to pull the angry blond back into his arms, but Malfoy continued backing up, glaring fiercely. "No, it was Hermione who was spouting that insane bollocks! I told her there was no way you would ever do that and that I know what it is I feel! I told her, Draco! She was the one who said it, not me!"
"But you're the one that believes it," Draco whispered, face twisted in hurt and rage. "You're the one who just brought it up. Did you even hear the sound of relief in your own voice when you realized how angry I was at the very thought of you being drugged like that?"
"No, Draco, I didn't believe it! I don't!" Oh, god, Harry had known this would happen! He had known exactly how Malfoy would react when he found out about Harry's stupid suspicions. Why had Harry allowed Hermione to get inside his mind like that? Why had he ever allowed her to plant the doubt he had known was not true?
"But you did," Draco glared, "you do. There's a part of you that did, some part of you that still thinks there's a chance I might just be guilty."
"No!" Harry argued, needing Draco to believe him as much as he needed to believe in Draco. "No, Hermione and Ron told me to get myself checked and I told them that there was no way I would do that because I trust you! I know that you would never do something like that to me, Draco, I know you wouldn't!"
"Prove it," Draco said in a low voice, and Harry tilted his head in confusion.
"Prove it?" he echoed, wondering what exactly Malfoy meant by that.
"Yes, prove it. Prove that you have no doubts. Prove to me that your feelings are real."
"But I don't…I have no idea what you mean, though, Malfoy," Harry said slowly, wondering how he could prove such a thing.
Without warning, the world suddenly started moving, everything spinning sickeningly as Harry felt something hard hit his back. When the world stopped twirling and everything fell still, Harry looked up to realize that Malfoy had grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around, slamming him up against the stone wall of the corridor and pinning his arms tightly to his sides.
"Malfoy…" Harry said in a low uncertain voice, not at all liking the new position or the steel glint in Draco's eyes.
"Prove it, Harry," the blond growled, tightening his hold on Harry's arms until Harry was sure he would have bruises. "Prove it. Look me in the eye and tell me, right now, that you harbor absolutely no doubts about either your feelings for me or the validity of our relationship."
"Get off me, Malfoy," Harry whispered, feeling the familiar fingers of panic begin to creep down his throat and into his stomach, spreading outward through his limbs until even his skin felt like it was tingling with budding fear. "Get off me right now. Please."
"Tell. Me," Malfoy grit out, leaning in even closer, and Harry turned his head away, trying to keep his breaths level as he fought the urge to physically fight his way free.
"Let me go," Harry warned, trying to raise his arms high enough to shove at Draco's chest, but they were pinned tightly to the wall and he could not move them. Oh, god, oh fuck, he thought, clenching his eyes shut tight and feeling a hot rubber band wrap around his chest, squeezing the breath straight from his lungs. Oh god, I can't breathe! His breaths began to come faster and his eyes snapped open as he realized that the darkness of his lids was only adding to his panic. He couldn't be unable to breathe and be lost somewhere in the dark, even if it was only the darkness of his own eyelids. He struggled again to move, thrashing against the wall and trying desperately to break Malfoy's iron grip on him. "Fuck, Malfoy, let me go!"
"Not until you say it," Malfoy ground out, shifting even closer, and Harry felt his eyes grow hot as the hallway seemed to swim before him.
"Please, Draco! Fuck, I can't breathe! Just—just let me go and we can talk about this!"
"Not until you say it, Harry," Malfoy said dangerously, squeezing even tighter, and Harry felt the band on his chest constrict further in response. "Not until you say it and I believe it."
"You promised you wouldn't do this again!" Harry cried, bucking against the wall as he tried to throw Malfoy off, but Draco was far stronger than he looked.
"And you promised that your feelings for me were genuine!" Malfoy snapped, glaring even harder. "I don't care if you refuse to say it aloud, I'll make you admit it!"
And before Harry even had time to wonder what those horrid words meant, Malfoy leant forward and captured his mouth in a deep, punishing kiss, ravaging Harry's mouth with an anger that Harry had never before been kissed with. It was nothing but pure fury and possession, sucking what little air Harry had inside his lungs straight up through his throat, and Harry began to grow dizzy as he struggled to breathe, his mind telling him that he was trapped, he was trapped somewhere airless and tiny with no hope of escape, somewhere he would surely suffocate to death in.
He whimpered and thrashed, trying to escape the kiss but Malfoy refused, pressing in even harder and biting at Harry's lips. Finally, after what felt like years, just when Harry truly was feeling only a second away from fainting from the lack of oxygen, he was able to wrench his head far enough to the side to break the kiss.
But Malfoy still did not release him. "You're mine, Potter," he growled, sucking and biting harsh kisses across Harry's throat. "You're fucking mine and you fucking gave yourself to me and I certainly did not need to use a bloody potion to obtain you."
"Obtain me?" Harry rasped, feeling fury mix in with the panic still pumping through his veins with every hammering beat of his frantic heart. "Fuck you, Malfoy, I'm not yours and you sure as hell didn't obtain me!"
"Tell me you're mine and I'll let you go," Malfoy whispered, licking a long stripe up his neck, and Harry felt an unpleasant shiver race down his spine.
"No," he said in a shaky voice, trying to twist his neck out of the reach of Malfoy's tongue and teeth. "I'm not yours, Malfoy! And you sure as hell did not obtain me! Now get the fuck off me right now before I fucking make you!"
"You're not the one in charge here, Potter," Malfoy growled, biting down harshly on the skin between Harry's neck and shoulder, and he cried out in pain and surprise. "I've already told you what to do if you want free."
And at that, Harry saw red. The world was shaking before his burning, furious eyes, panic and rage surging through him with every hammering, deafening beat of his white-hot heart. As Draco lifted his head and leaned in closer, most likely to try to kiss the life from him again, Harry snapped his head forward, catching Malfoy by surprise as the blow caught him across the brow, a throbbing pain spreading through Harry's forehead at the point of contact. The blow was hard enough to make Draco stumble back a step, and Harry felt the other boy's hold on him loosen.
The moment Harry felt Malfoy's grip slacken, he wrenched his arms free and shoved at Malfoy as hard as he could, sending him reeling back and nearly falling over, a nasty bruise already forming over one brow as he stared at Harry in shock.
Fumbling in his pocket, Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it straight at Malfoy's face, his hand shaking as his chest rose and fell with rapid breaths.
"Harry," Malfoy whispered, a horrified look crossing his face. "Oh my god, Harry…I-I didn't…oh, god, I'm sorry…!"
"You promised," Harry said, the two words trembling nearly as much as his limbs. "You promised that nothing like that would ever happen again. Fuck, Draco! What the fuck is the matter with you?!"
"Harry, no!" Draco cried, wringing his hands together. "No, I don't know what just happened! That wasn't—I didn't—I would never have—"
"Yeah, because I stopped you!" Harry shouted, and Draco jumped as a nearby window cracked. "What the fuck were you planning on doing, Malfoy?! How fucking far were you planning on taking that?!" A cold, hysterical laugh escaped the brunet. "And this all happened because you thought I was imagining reasons not to trust you! Well, congratulations, because now I really don't." Tears prickled hotly in Harry's eyes, his heart still hammering within his chest and his hands still shaking. "Don't ever come near me again, do you understand me? I don't ever want to speak to you again."
"No, Harry, please!" Malfoy wept, and Harry was shocked to see a tear slide down his cheek. "Please, you have to believe me, I don't know what just happened! It was like this…this blinding rage that I couldn't even breathe through! I wasn't even aware of what I was doing until—"
"Oh, well isn't that just fucking convenient," Harry snarled, shaking his head in disgust. "None of that was your fault, it was just your own anger and stupid fucking insecurity that's to blame, hmm? Don't you dare give me any excuses right now, Malfoy, not one single goddamn excuse, do you hear me?!"
"Harry," Malfoy whispered, grey eyes shining with tears, and Harry felt his hand shake even harder, holding his wand in a grip tight enough to hurt as it hung trembling in the air between them.
"I mean it, Malfoy," Harry said in a low anguished voice, "don't ever come near me again. Whatever this was that was happening between us, it just ended right here in this corridor. Don't even look in my direction anymore, do you understand me?"
"Please, Harry, just—just let me—Harry, please, just let me—"
"Don't you dare follow me," Harry said coldly, unwilling to listen to the other boy's words any longer. He had to get out of there. He had to get out of there right now. He could still feel panic rushing through him, could still feel his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, and he knew he was only seconds away from falling apart completely.
Praying to god that Malfoy would have the good sense not to try to force another confrontation, Harry turned and fled, deciding that the House stereotypes could go fuck themselves and even Gryffindors were allowed to run from such horrible situations. He turned a corner and ducked down a secret passage, racing down a side corridor and through a short hallway hidden behind a tapestry, until he was gasping for breath and could run no more. He leaned against the wall as he panted heavily, chest throbbing and head pounding as he tried to hold himself up on weak legs made of rubber.
Deciding that standing could also go fuck itself, Harry sank to the floor and curled into a tight ball, bringing his knees up to his chest and burying his face in them as he wrapped his arms around his legs and tried to draw even breaths. Without warning, something seemed to snap inside him and before he could stop them, sobs were wrenching their way free from his throat and tears were streaming down his cheeks. Agonized confusion was scalding through every inch of him, burning Harry up from the inside out, as though somebody had replaced all the blood in his veins with lava and molten fire. What had just happened? How had everything gone so horrifyingly pear-shaped in such a short amount of time? What the hell had happened to Malfoy? That had not been the Draco that Harry knew!
But how well did Harry really know him? The Malfoy of the past had always been vicious and spiteful, but never like that. Even when Harry had hated him, he had never, ever been afraid of him. But the fear and panic were still searing through him, and he raised a trembling hand to his face to wipe the stupid tears away.
Well, at least the encounter had proven one thing—Harry had never been under the influence of a love potion. If he had been able to refuse Draco like that and been able to walk away from the blond, even telling him to never speak to him again, Harry clearly was not under any sort of magically-induced compulsion to be near the other boy. Hermione had been wrong about the potion but right about Harry not being able to trust him.
So much for being absolutely crazy about him, Harry thought, the thought sending a jolt of sharp agony tearing through him and earning another sob. But the awful confusing thing was, Harry was still crazy about him. Not the Malfoy from the corridor, that Malfoy had been terrifying and horrible, but the Draco from the boathouse; the Draco from the North Wing, the Draco who had whispered to Harry that he had always wanted him, always longed for him.
"Why the fuck did he have to ruin everything like that?" Harry muttered angrily, swiping at his cheeks with both hands in an attempt to erase every trace of what had happened. Sighing, he reached up one hand to rub at the stiffness in his neck only to grimace as his fingers pressed down on a particularly sore spot.
Conjuring a mirror, he held it up to his neck and gasped, staring blankly at the reflection of the large bite mark on the muscle between his neck and shoulder. It had broken skin and was red and angry-looking. Harry prodded at it with a gentle finger, wincing as it throbbed painfully, and he heard another sob rip its way free from his throat. He made a sharp, angry sound at the sight of the rest of his neck, covered in purple-and-red bruises from Malfoy's teeth and lips.
Hand trembling, Harry raised his wand to his throat and began spelling the bruises away, the process taking nearly a quarter of an hour from how hard his wand was shaking.
Harry did not move from that corridor for a very long time.
oOo
Harry woke the next morning with a stiff back and swollen eyes, his blankets twisted uncomfortably beneath him. His body ached but his mind felt completely numb, his insides a hollowed-out mess of blank emotions all swirling through him until they became utterly meaningless and almost nonsensical.
He still could not believe what had happened last night.
Sighing, he pulled back his curtains to discover bright sunlight pouring into the empty room. Checking the time, he was surprised to see that breakfast had long ended and that the first class of the day was nearly over.
Well, fuck it then, he thought, coming to the firm conclusion that classes were stupid and school was horrible and Harry did not want to be around any other people, possibly ever again for the rest of his life. Maybe I'll just become an Animagus and go live with my own animal-kind and never have to see another living person ever again for the rest of eternity.
The thought cheered Harry up somewhat until he remembered that people were everywhere, and he would hardly be able to escape them all when they insisted on crawling over every inch of the planet's face like bug-eyed insects. Larger bug-eyed insects than the normal bug-eyed insects crawling all over the planet, of course. Stupid annoying insects who seemed determined to assault Harry with either potions or their own hands, and he was sick to death of it all.
Groaning, he sat up and raked both hands through his hair roughly, deciding he better get moving before class ended and Ron came up here looking for him. He had most likely gone to class thinking that Harry would meet him there despite missing breakfast, but once he realized Harry was not actually in class, the brunet knew Ron would be back up to the dorm like a shot the first chance he had.
Tugging on a new set of clothes and his thick winter cloak, Harry slipped his feet into his boots and swung the Invisibility Cloak over himself, deciding the best thing for him would be to get out of the castle entirely. He paused long enough to grab some breakfast from the kitchens before heading out the doors and into the bright winter sunshine, golden rays smiling cheerfully down at everything in a way that annoyed Harry. Couldn't the sun see how miserable and gloomy the day should have been? The outside world should be matching everything Harry was feeling inside, and nothing about Harry's insides were bright or sunshiny. Harry supposed his insides were as cold as winter though, so he would grant nature that one, at least.
He spent the day wandering the forest in a daze, seeing the world through hollow eyes and wondering when his life would finally stop hurting so much.
oOo
"Harry."
An annoying voice was speaking above him. He tried to ignore it, burrowing his head even deeper into the warm pillow.
"Harry." The voice sounded exasperated now, and Harry shot a rude hand gesture over his shoulder, yelping when the pillow and blanket were suddenly tugged away and he was left cold and uncomfortable.
"What do you want?" Harry grumbled, still refusing to look up.
"Wake up already, Harry, for fuck's sake!" Ron sighed, shaking his shoulder. "Everyone else has already gone down to breakfast! And you can't miss two days of class in a row! Hermione will kill me if that happens, not you. So for the sake of my own life, get your bloody arse out of this bed right now and get dressed!"
"I don't want to," Harry whined, cracking one eye open to peer blearily up at the redheaded blur standing over him, and Harry didn't need his glasses to make out the glare on Ron's face.
"What is going on with you, Harry?" he demanded, beginning to throw articles of clothing onto Harry's bed. "Hermione and I didn't see you at all yesterday! You didn't go to a single class or a single meal! I even broke into your trunk and looked for you on the Map during one of the breaks and you weren't anywhere on it! Did you leave the castle? What the hell is going on?!"
"I was still on the grounds," Harry muttered. "Sort of."
"What the hell does that mean, 'sort of'?"
"It means…" Harry sighed loudly, blowing the bangs from his eyes. "It means I spent the day in the Shrieking Shack, all right?"
"What?!"
If Harry had been capable of being amused, he would have laughed at how high-pitched Ron's voice had gone. Sounds like a Muggle cartoon character.
"You went to the Shack, Harry? Why?!"
"Because," he shrugged, turning away from Ron. "I spent a while in the Forest and I got cold, so I decided to go to the Shack instead and I spent the rest of the day in there."
"That's not a reason though, Harry," Ron said, sounding confused and upset. "Why were you in the Forest in the first place? What the hell is going on? Are you still mad at us for dinner the other night?"
"No, I'm not mad at the two of you," Harry responded listlessly, still not making any sort of move to get changed. "I just didn't want to be in class, all right? And I didn't want to be in the castle either. I just needed time to myself, somewhere I could be all alone and think, all right?" Harry didn't add that after all his thinking, he still had no conclusions about anything in his life—probably even in the entire world.
"Think about what?" Ron sounded much more confused than upset now. "What happened?"
"Just…stuff. I don't want to talk about it."
"Shit, Harry, maybe you really should get checked out by Pomfrey." Ron sounded concerned now, but Harry didn't want his concern. He just wanted silence. "Something is clearly wrong with you. I mean, look at yourself!"
"I'm fine," Harry said hollowly.
"Yeah," Ron said sarcastically, "that's why you're still lying in bed refusing to get up, isn't it?"
"I'm a teenager, Ron," Harry pointed out, "that's practically what teenagers are known for."
"Not on sodding schooldays!"
Harry covered his head with his arms and groaned loudly. "God, fine! If I get up and come down to breakfast and go to stupid class, will you drop it and just accept the fact that I'm fine?"
"Maybe," Ron said, seeming to think it over. "I'm leaving it open for debate though. I'll give you my final verdict later."
"You're not the Wizengamot, you know," Harry glared, finally sitting up and beginning to get dressed, "you don't get to pass bloody verdicts on people."
"Eh," Ron shrugged, "they're not actually here right now, so I'm electing myself honorary Wizengamot or whatever. It's not even important, stop deflecting."
"I'm not deflecting, you're deflecting," Harry muttered, jamming his feet into his shoes.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, real mature."
"You're real mature," Harry shot back, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
Ron raised an eyebrow at that as he led them from the dorm. "Really, Harry? We're gonna play that sort of game?"
"You're gonna play that sort of game."
"Is this what you're going to be like all day?" the redhead asked in exasperation.
"It's what you're going to be like—"
"Enough, already!" Ron shook his head, but Harry thought he saw his lips twitching.
"You're enough already," Harry said beneath his breath, unable to stop now that he had begun.
"I'm the best-looking bloke in this school."
"You're the best-looking bloke—" Harry cut himself off with a glare, the expression deepening as Ron laughed.
"Yeah, not such a fun game now, is it?" Ron grinned.
"You're not such a fun game now," Harry muttered, feeling petulant. Ron gave him a look and Harry sighed. "Oh, all right, fine then."
They reached the Great Hall and Ron hurried them over to the Gryffindor table near the end, where Hermione sat across from Neville. They slid into seats and began serving themselves breakfast, Harry trying his hardest to ignore the burning gaze Hermione was raking over every inch of him. Thank god for Neville, he thought fervently, knowing that Hermione would not accost him with concerns in the other boy's presence.
As Harry sipped at his tea and took small bites of egg, he couldn't help but glance up, eyes immediately searching out the Slytherin table, and he nearly dropped his fork in surprise. His heart started pounding furiously in his chest as his gaze locked on Draco, only to find the blond already staring at him with a look intense enough that Harry could almost see it in the air, could almost hear it slam into him, could almost feel it pierce his flesh.
But what really struck Harry was the expression on Malfoy's face. He looked absolutely agonized, his face crumpled in pained sorrow, misery and regret shining out from his eyes and cascading from every pore until he was nearly hidden behind a tangible wave of his own remorse.
The sight made something in Harry's stomach twist sharply and he dropped his gaze, unwilling to delve into how much the sight of Malfoy's regret made him feel. Damn it, Malfoy didn't get to feel regret. Harry was the one who should be feeling regret—regret for ever allowing the prat into his life.
But despite what happened, Harry couldn't regret it. He wasn't sure if he would ever be able to regret what they had shared in the boathouse or the North Wing, even if it turned out that Malfoy really was an unbalanced lunatic. Even if it had only been for a short time, he had been Harry's unbalanced lunatic—at least, up until Malfoy had allowed his lunacy to push him too far out of balance.
Dropping his gaze, Harry stared down at his plate and refused to look back up, refused to find out if Malfoy was still staring at him. He managed to swallow nearly half a piece of toast before pushing his plate away from himself. He was itching to get up right then and wander his lonely way to class as slowly as he could, but he knew that if he left the Great Hall without Ron and Hermione, Malfoy was sure to follow and sure to somehow corner him again.
After all, it was what the man did, wasn't it?
Finally, Ron and Hermione rose from the table, and it was with a sigh of relief that Harry trailed from the Hall behind them. And if he allowed his gaze to swing one more time to the Slytherin table and lock onto a burning pair of stone-grey eyes, well, nobody had to know but Harry, right?
TBC
