What's New, Pussycat?
***
-2. Scent
***
"Hello, Potter," Draco managed to rasp, the scowl completely wiped from his brow at this recent…interesting development.
Harry blinked slowly at him. For the first time in years, Draco felt scrutinized.
Apparently, Harry was satisfied with what he saw because, to Draco's surprise, a languid smile slowly spread across the Gryffindor's lips as he got onto all fours and crawled with unusual grace towards the blond.
"Wha—," Draco stammered, silver eyes wide as the brunette pushed his head against Draco's stomach, nudging and rubbing his face against the silky fabric of the Slytherin's black shirt.
"Draco…," said Harry. The blonde nearly screamed when the word rolled off from the brunette's tongue.
"You speak?" Draco demanded, leaping back in haste, causing Harry to tip forwards at the sudden loss of the body he'd been rubbing against.
Harry righted himself and glared at Draco indignantly. Suddenly his eyes widened, as though in realization, and he scurried back up the bed with a yell, pressing himself against the headboard.
"Malfoy!" Harry spat, his eyes narrowed. Draco stared at the brunette, completely confused by the rapidly changing reactions, but at least on more solid ground with the revulsion that his name had been spoken this time.
"What the hell's wrong with you?" Draco asked, reckoning that he might as well try.
"Wrong?" Harry asked, his head tilting lightly to one side. Then he scowled. "Wrong." He confirmed, relaxing from his tense stance against the wall and lightly stepping off the bed, stumbling slightly and looking confusedly at his feet, "Two…" he said, sounding completely baffled.
Draco watched in fascination as Harry stretched his hands towards the floor, as though grasping for something out of reach, his spine straight, face contorted in confusion. The Malfoy could only imagine what was going through the cat-boy's mind.
A few seconds later, as though getting bored of trying to figure out why he was bipedal, Harry shrugged and swept his wide green eyes carefully around the room, occasionally pausing at specific items of private interest. He then rested his eyes back on Draco's face, "Where?" he asked, sounding wary.
"My room," Draco said carefully.
Harry's eyes narrowed, "Why?"
"Parkinson drugged you, thinking you were Granger, then dragged you here in a blanket," Draco said simply, unable to help the smirk that crossed his lips as he spoke. Despite the complete idiocy of the situation, he had to admit that it was kind of funny.
Harry stared blankly at the Slytherin, his mind hazy and unfocused, his ears picking up distracting sounds that he was inexplicably eager to discover the source of.
"Granger?" Harry managed, looking a little worried. "Mione fine?"
"Hermione's fine, yes," said Draco, mentally rolling his eyes at how, even in this state of mind, Potter was still so concerned about his friends.
"Ron?" Harry asked, looking around as though expecting the red head to be lounging about somewhere in Draco's bedroom.
"Weasly's fine too. He's not here," said Draco.
"Just Malfoy," Draco heard Harry mutter as he padded lightly to the door, keeping close to the walls. The boy examined the door carefully, then looked at his hands. He grasped the doorknob expertly, and turned, frowning when he discovered it to be locked.
"It wouldn't be a great idea for you to go prancing about the Slytherin common rooms, naked or not," Draco supplied, sitting regally in a cushioned armchair and watching Harry in fascination. Despite himself, the Malfoy couldn't help admiring Harry's naked body as the boy quietly explored his new environment. Skinny as it was, the muscles were well toned all over, lithe and powerful in a careless, oblivious way.
"Hungry," Harry finally said, sitting back on the bed and glaring at Malfoy as though it would make the situation less alien. Draco's lips twitched at the stubborn glower on Potter's face. Some things don't change, he thought, getting up with a sigh.
"Stay here. I'll go get you something, then we can try figure out how to fix you," said Draco, not knowing why he was bothering to explain.
***
"What are you doing…?" Draco asked uncertainly as he entered his room with a tray laden with various meats, assuming that the boy's dietary preference would lean towards something carnivorous now that his mind's been felinified.
Harry sat up from his position on the floor and stared at Draco.
"Food," he said with a grin, abandoning the Draco-scented cloak that he'd been playing with and leaping to his feet unstably, before trotting over to the delicious smells, his stomach growling in anticipation. Draco scoffed at the eagerness in Potter's eyes, unable to decide whether it was the boy or the cat who was so excited. Whenever Malfoy spotted the brunette across the Great Hall during mealtimes, he was either huddled together with his little friends, discussing something conspiratorial, or wolfing down food like he'd not eaten in days.
Draco carefully placed the tray on the floor before Harry, who had sat there and was staring up at Draco expectantly, before picking up his cloak from the floor where he found Potter rolling in it a moment ago, a brow raised in question. He glanced at the cat-boy who was completely preoccupied with his food, then looked away hastily, his pale cheeks burning slightly, from the sight of the other boy's pert bottom waving in the air.
"Merlin…," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief at his predicament as he hung up his cloak, averting his eyes from the bizarre…slightly arousing sight behind him.
***
"No!"
"Potter, just do it!"
"No! Nooo!"
"Stop moving…Don't– Potter, stop that! Do as I say!" Draco scowled, trying but failing to tug a pair of pants onto the squirming, complaining Gryffindor. Of all the original traits that he had to retain, it had to be his stubbornness…
"Don't wanna!" Harry yelled angrily, slipping out of Draco's grip and streaking to a corner of the room, pressing himself against the wall and glaring reproachfully at the blonde. Draco growled, throwing the pair of pants back in the closet and sat down with a huff on his bed.
"Potter, you can't remain naked the whole time you're here," Draco said irritably, scowling at the Gryffindor who in turn was glaring back at him. Draco sighed in defeat, "At least cover yourself," he said, throwing a blanket at the boy. "Who knew that Potter was a closet nudist…," he muttered, cursing his fate. Harry peeked out from under the blanked that had been thrown over his head.
"Draco's angry?" he asked hesitantly. Draco stared into the concerned green eyes and felt his heart twist in an unfamiliar way. He'd never seen that look in Potter's eyes before. Or in anybody's eyes, really. At least not directed at him.
"Just do what you want," he snapped, getting up and brushing past a hurt looking Harry, leaving the room and shutting the door a little louder than he'd intended.
***
"Draco," came a little voice behind him. The blonde looked up from the big tome about feline transformation on his desk that he'd brought back from the library. Since when had they been on a first name basis?
He turned around slowly, looking questioningly at the boy behind him.
"This okay?" Harry asked, a small grin on his face as he stood there with Draco's cloak draped over his shoulders.
"What's with your obsession with that cloak?" Draco asked, a brow raised. At least he wasn't naked anymore.
"Smells nice," said Harry lifting the collar and sniffing it appreciatively.
"Yeah whatever, wear that," said Draco, turning back around to examine the text. He wasn't finding anything useful and he shut it with a dull thump, turning to the next dusty book about verita serum, quickly flipping through it when something interesting caught his eyes.
"Rarely, verita serum is added to other potions, but when it is, it's often with interesting results. In a salve, the wound that it's applied to will appear to heal, but the pain or discomfort will remain. In a transformal potion, the subject's behaviour will also be altered into that which it had been transformed into. Higher dosages, however, has an interestingly reversed effect, causing the subject's appearance to remain the same, have it retain it's original and true nature, while altering the behaviour as well. This is probably due to the powerful strength of the potion. An example of this phenomenon can be seen in a 1312 journal entry by a Ms Belfry Lohnson:
"I hade gotten ane gift fromme myne sister Clover yesterdaye.
It is that of a dog.
Clover haden't knowne that myne true wish is for a fish.
Myne potions master suggested onne polyjuice potionne with ane single drop of veritaserume to change its nature alongside.
By mistake myne hands slipped and I added two.
Myne dog now slides about the house upon his belly, staring blankly at nothing.
He stille chases myne neighbour's cats though.
More than usual.
Barking and gasping at them as he slides along the floor.
I think they be verily confused.
"
Draco sighed. Well, at least that cleared up a few things. He examined the rest of that section in the book for an antidote, but finding nothing helpful.
"Polyjuice potion wears off, right?" Draco said, turning from the book to examine Harry critically.
Harry smiled drowsily at Draco as he lay comfortably on the bed, burying his nose deeper under the cloak.
"You're unusually friendly like this. Is that the cat's disposition or yours?" Draco continued.
"Draco's nice to me today," Harry said in reply, rolling onto his back. The cloak parted around his legs, revealing a strong thigh propped up for balance. Draco quickly looked way, feeling his face heat up.
Damn that Potter and his excellent anatomy.
"That's because you haven't been a prat," said Draco, turning tiredly back to the book. He glanced at his watch and realized that it was already gone two am.
"M'not a prat," said the indignant voice behind him.
"You are. Strutting about acting so misunderstood. What would you be without the attention? Nobody," said Draco, knowing that he was taking out his pent up bitterness on an undeserving person, but was unable to stop once he'd started.
"Don't want to be anybody," said Harry's voice softly.
"Neither do I," said Draco, scowling at the page, "Not anymore."
"Come to bed," said Harry. Draco spun around and stared at the boy's unexpected proposition.
"What?"
"Draco looks tired," said Harry. Draco scowled at the concern in the green eyes. Of course, the only time anybody cares about another person would be when they're delusional.
"I need to find a cure," said Draco impatiently, turning back to the book.
"Draco does not want me here?" Harry asked softly after a pause.
"Of course not. Why on Earth would I want you in my room?" Draco asked snappily.
"But…I can smell it," said Harry, sounding confused.
"What?" Draco asked, growing impatient of these odd questions and comments that the boy keeps imposing.
"Your scent…," said Harry. Draco paled.
"You can smell that?" Draco asked disbelievingly. Harry grinned and licked his lips, the sight sending a small shiver down Draco's spine.
Damn it! Why the hell was he releasing pheromones at a time like this??
Draco scowled at himself and turned back to the book with a growl.
"You got dosed with aphrodisiac, Potter. Just ignore it," he said sharply.
***
Draco shut the fourth book with a frustrated sigh.
Nothing.
He'll just have to hope that the effect will eventually wear off. At least until he'd gotten more research in tomorrow. Draco was silently grateful that it was holidays, and he didn't have to worry about sending Harry to class. The change wasn't completely drastic, besides the boy's sudden inclination for nudity, but his vacant looks and fluid movements were easily noticeable, not to mention his limited speech and thought.
"Reveals your true nature, huh," Draco scoffed tiredly, getting up from his chair and turning to his bed, stopping in his tracks, "Damn it."
Draco scowled. Potter had fallen asleep. On his bed. He should have seen this coming and made a bed for the boy on the floor. Because screw chivalry, there's no way Draco would be caught dead napping on one of the uncomfortable seats in the common room.
"Potter, wake up," Draco demanded. Harry didn't even stir. "Wake up you deluded fool!"
"Nyann," Harry mumbled, curling into a comfortable little ball. Draco was reluctant to touch the boy that he'd until recently loathed, but the thought of being caught the next morning lying on the floor while Potter was curled up in his bad turned his blood cold. Or, at least, colder.
Draco placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and shook him, not expecting the strong hand that suddenly gripped his sleeve and tugged, throwing his balance and pulling him face first into Harry's stomach. He felt his face heat up as he lay with his face pressed against Harry's smooth skin, a small trail of dark hair leading away from his vision directly into…Draco squeezed his eyes shut.
"Go away," Harry mumbled, his arms resting on Draco's back as he cradled the warmth that had suddenly fallen into his arms.
"L-Let me go, then," Draco spluttered, knowing that his pale skin was doing him no favours in hiding his blush.
"Sleep," Harry mumbled, pulling Draco's body up his own in one mighty tug and burying his nose into the nape of the blonde's neck, inhaling the delicious perfume that Draco was unintentionally releasing.
"Potter! Let go of me at once!" Draco demanded in alarm as Harry's arms wound around his waist and pulled him flush against the nude body, "Harry…!"
"Mmm… Draco smells nice…"
***
A/N: No, nothing more happens between them (you pervs)…not yet… XD