Chapter 8 Curiosity.
"So what is it you wanted to talk to me about, Professor?" Draco asked, uncertainty staining his voice as he shifted nervously in the plush velvet of the teacher's furnishings.
He thought that he was doing well enough in Potions since that unfortunate incident the first day, so he apprehensively wondered why now the man had called him to his office.
On cue Professor Albatross's voice broke in. "You must be curious as to why I've called you here today."
That's why I asked, Draco thought irritably. Draco watched him with careful eyes. He had to admit he was more than a little enticed by this man. While he was sure the professor's interest in speaking with him was mundane and trivial, he was finding it entertaining to construct fantasies of the professor calling him to his office for... something more. Draco found himself grinning stupidly as Albatross's voice faded into a soft, deep rhythm in his head. He watched with hooded eyes as the professor leaned closer, eyes still glowing madly.
"Draco, Are you listening?" His luminescent eyes questioned, snapping Draco from his reverie. He continued, satisfied with the renewed interest bright in Draco's eyes, "I have been informed of course of the unfortunate circumstances of your family. I know it must be troubling enough being separated from your parents like this, but you shouldn't have to put up with the harassment of your classmates. Yes, I now know that the accident on the first day was the result of a hex from a classmate, and I have to say, you should have come to me immediately about it." The professor's arrogance never failed to amaze Draco. Draco knew this wouldn't be something solved by the simple intervention of a teacher. No, he had earned this punishment, and he would stick by it right through the end. In a twisted way he felt like dodging a tireless string of curses could help him atone for all his previous cowardice.
Besides he felt it was justified; he had tormented most of them when he felt himself in his prime, why should they not torment him now, that he had fallen so far. He deserved so much more than he ever doled out; he was cruel to the weak, the helpless, but he knew that he was guilty, an evil person who needed discipline.
"Ah, it's no big deal really," he replied gracelessly, suddenly unable to bring his gaze up to meet his professor's. For some reason his heart was beginning to pound in his chest again, and the air sizzled electrically. Draco had barely registered the change in atmosphere when he noticed the seductive man was now mere inches from him. He felt his cheeks flush with an irrational blush as he tried desperately to collect himself.
Professor Albatross said nothing, but instead wound his hand into Draco's arm, his eyes dancing hungrily. The professor's face still loomed dangerously close to Draco's, his strangely cool breath sending tingles throughout Draco's body. For a moment Draco imagined what it would be like if they kissed; those hard, possessive lips claiming his own. The professor just gazed at him, his hands slipping away from Draco's and moving up to his arms. When he began playing with the fabric of Draco's robe at the wrist, moving his ministrations to the boys bare flesh underneath, Draco stopped him. The professor just smiled down at him though, chidingly. "Why do you always hide your arms like that?" The professor's question sent alarm immediately down Draco's spine.
"What do you mean?" He demanded, his voice shaking. "I just get cold easily." He tried to look as dismissive as possible.
"Oh? So that's what it is. Must be difficult, to be such a delicate boy." The professor's tone almost seemed mocking but the was another quality to it that overrode its insincerity. Draco could no longer determine the source of the wanton lust that penetrated the air now. He felt himself in a daze, where the professors words might have set him off before, he found he was only further drawn into whatever web the beguiling man was spinning.
The professor smiled at present, his fingers lightly grasping the underneath of Draco's chin, as if to pull it towards his slick, sumptuous mouth. "I want you to take me seriously," he purred, Draco struggling to stay focused. "I want to help you." The sudden candor in the professor's voice caught Draco off guard. Maybe his approach was still a bit... much, but Draco thought he felt an earnest glint in the teachers words. Sensing his closeness to the student the professor backed off.
"In the future, please come to me about anything. Don't feel like you don't have a friend in this world." With that his professor dismissed him, leaving him to feel kind of irritated, kind of confused, and strongly aroused.
Things had been going smashingly during Harry's first week back at Hogwarts, even despite the whole Draco-is-my-roommate thing. Actually, Harry had to admit that Draco didn't even come close to being a nuisance; he barely even saw the guy, and when he did, he was always immersed in studies. Zacharias Smith on the other hand had been driving him crazy every morning this week. Every morning following the first the lousy prat had been up in the bathroom starting at 6:20 a.m. belting out choruses from the most recent Weird Sisters album. To make things worse, he took so long in the bathroom that twice Harry nearly missed breakfast because of it.
Harry headed now toward his Transfigurations class, which was still being taught by Headmistress McGonagall exclusively for the 8th years. He found himself unconsciously checking for Draco's presence, this being the only class beside Potions they shared. Draco still had not asked him for help, even so, Harry had attempted to stem the flow of jinxes aimed at the persecuted boy1. He had watched helplessly yesterday as Draco had been the victim of some painful sort of curse, administered by a 5th year of his own house! He hated sitting back while another student was tortured. He had briefly thought of chasing after the wounded Malfoy, comforting him, but quickly realized that doing so would only serve to further injure the boys already mangled pride. Maybe he did have a hero complex. Maybe he did need to save everyone. Maybe that would explain his strange compulsion to to protect the very person that had previously been the bane of his existence.
But after a few seconds he spotted Draco's spectral from glide in and take the seat farthest back. He continued watching him, unable to remove his eyes from Draco's graceful movements, that seemed even more demure and ethereal now that he had become so waif-like and tame. Feeling the heat of his stare caused Draco's head to whip towards Harry's, their eyes locking like a magnet. Instantly the connection was broke however, much to Harry's chagrin.
Harry found himself seeking out the resplendent sterling of Draco's eyes several times during the lesson, each time eliciting more suspicious and questioning glances from a curious Hermoine. Harry didn't understand this fascination with Draco's well-being any better than Hermoine, and felt a mounting sense of frustration at her inquisitive peeks.
Near the end of the period, a small, squatish man entered the classroom, heading directly to the Headmistress to speak. Harry recognized him from the feast the first night, he was one of the new professors, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to be exact. Harry felt his interest pique, hanging back after class to see if he couldn't fish out whatever news the stocky man had brought. Hermoine cast another one of her challenging looks his way before disappearing into the hall after Ron and the other students.
"Mr. Potter?" Headmistress McGonagall questioned immediately, noticing Harry's hesitance to leave. "wondering what kind of trouble you can get into now that the dark lord is finished? Well I hate to disappoint you, but Professor Cyron only wanted to inform me that another student had reported their cat missing from the grounds. Nothing to worry about, the poor things, probably just wandered to close to the Forbidden Forest. You know what they say curiosity does to the cat."
The Headmistresses message was clear. Looking for trouble would win him no favors with her, and like a good boy he cleanly back off, muttering some apology before swiftly exited the room.
Why am I persecuted?!
