Chapter 23 Some Boys

Draco didn't arrive back to his room until well after curfew. This wasn't too unusual for him; which is why he was rather startled to find a still awake Harry Potter sitting up in his bed, an odd, thoughtful look on his face. Still, he ignored it, making his way directly for his own bed. He was exhausted, beaten, and sore from his recent encounter and really couldn't handle Potter's incessant curiosity right now.

Harry hadn't been completely oblivious to Draco's late night wandering habits, however that and other things he'd observed weighed heavily on him. Though he'd tried to forget his unfortunate interloping at the Shrieking Shack he found he could not quite sate his need to know just what was going on with the boy. What information he collected only propelled him further into obsession. He noticed painfully that the blonde boy hardly ate anything at all, moreover he was alone almost constantly; the only attention people paid to him were through cruel jeers and hexes. His physical appearance had improved very little since the day Harry saw him on the train. His pallid complexion persisted, Harry watched with dismay as the color drained a little more from him with every day. His eyes were sunken and gray as usual, maybe even a little glazed today. He'd worried about that, too. Everything about this was screaming something is wrong at Harry; yet he watched the world, moving on, continuing with business as usual, as the tide slowly carried his eerily subdued former rival further and further out of reach.

So it was with forethought and much anxiety that Harry resolved he'd try talking to Draco tonight. So he gathered his Gryffindor courage and waited. But it only grew later and later. Draco was out much later than usual tonight. How many times had this happened? How many times had Harry fallen asleep still waiting for the soft, quiet steps of this silent nymph? No, Harry's mind was made up. He would wait, however long it took.

It wasn't until 2:54 a. m. that Draco came into their shared room, hiding a slight limp as he made his way, head down, directly to bed.

"Draco," Harry said softly, taking in the boy's defeated appearance. There were no visible wounds; but his skin was thick with the sheen of sweat, his eyes dark and empty. He moved about carefully, as though not to upset an unknown injury. The boy paused at his words, but he didn't look up.

"Not now, Potter, I'm very tired." He rasped, his voice quiet and hollow. Draco gently lowered himself into his bed, intent on sleeping but Harry was at his side in an instant, his voice low and worried.

"Are you alright? You look-"

"I'm fine." Draco snapped in a harsh voice, cutting Harry off. "Just go to bed, it's late."

Unable to argue, Harry went back to his bed and muttered a quick spell to turn off the lights. But he was fairly certain he would not sleep that night.


"It won't be much longer, dear brother. I will be back with the family soon. There's just one last thing I need to get." A familiar tall, beautiful, dark-haired man spoke in hushed tones through the floo to another pale looking gentleman.

"You mean... so it's there after all. I'm glad you bring good news." Said the blonde head floating in the green flames.

"Also, I'm thinking of bringing along a little snack. He's proven himself capable of taking what I can dish out." The man added, a vicious smirk curling up on his lips at the end. "I think you'll quite like playing with him. I'll let you have him first before I invite the rest of the brother, hah ha."

"I knew I was your favorite." The head teased back, the two of them laughing into the darkness.


Despite relentless tossing and turning, despite random, unfocused mulling and rumination, exhaustion took over Harry sometime around 6 in the morning. But sleep didn't bring him rest.

He was back at the Shrieking Shack. Peering through the cracks, watching his rival writhe in illicit pleasure, dark hair sweeping across his naked body. Dark hair that crept up, taking a life of its own, curling and winding around the slim blondes thin wrists and ankles, pulling, twisting, engulfing him as he let out one final, piercing scream.

Harry woke in his bed, covered in sweat, covering him mouth, desperate to get it to cooperate as he realized it was in fact himself who was screaming.