Thanks: A special thanks to the bestest beta ever, xdarkangeltwinsx. She helped me so much, and well, she's awesome, so I just need to mention her. :D I wuv you (no homo)!
Chapter 2
I woke up knowing happily that Monday was going to be back to normal. The thought cheered me up, and as I pulled out of my bed in my silk Slytherin-green boxers, I couldn't help but grin foolishly. There would be no more taunting and teasing. Now, there'd only be classes, which – for once – I was thankful for. My hands reached out to my robes and I began to put them on when –
"Ow! Dammit!" The clothes were flung off with magical speed and sent flying on top of a very disgruntled-looking Blaise.
"Draco, what the hell?"
"My robes burned me!" Someone was going to pay dearly. Everyone was angrily glaring at me after having been woken up early.
"They did?" I had never seen Blaise look happier in my life. This could not be good.
"Yes, they obviously did. My only question is why did they do that?"
"Oh, Gods!" Blaise choked out between laughs. "You're going to have to wear Muggle clothing again." Several other faces flickered into drowsy looks of amusement, before snuggling once more into the pillows.
"And would I have to do that?" My voice, on the other hand, was cold and dripping with venom. I was far from amused.
"That's what's so funny. I dared you that if you liked the attention on the first day, you'd be forced to wear it another day." Several people feigning sleep opened an eye slightly and grinned. Blaise Zabini was seriously trying to get me to kill him. He had to be. "You can wear jeans today, though." A wave sent them at me with another thin, white shirt.
"And no make-up? How generous of you… Oh, wait – it doesn't even matter because anything but robes to classes is against school rules." I would never drink another alcoholic beverage in front of him again, and definitely not play a game of Truth or Dare.
"There's no way in hell I'm taking away the eye liner." He shrugged. "You'll just have fun explaining to Snape that your skin will burn off if you don't." Just when I thought I was free and back to normal, another lovely dare presented itself. If I survived through this day, I would make sure Blaise did not.
Sighing audibly, I pulled on the jeans – low-riding, fashionably tattered ones which were frayed at the ends. At least they were more comfortable than yesterday's leather pants. The shirt fit nicely on, and a pleasant surprise was placed under it: a Slytherin tie. You knew it was pitiful if you were glad to be wearing a House tie. Putting it around my neck loosely and slightly crooked, I realized one challenge was left. The eye liner lay there for me to put on, and I had no choice in the matter.
So, after much struggling and erasing as well as various, creative curses, an obvious rim of it surrounded my eyes. The snickers had subsided and several other people had begun to dress. With a horrible sinking feeling, I realized this was my cue to go visit Snape. This was one visit I'd rather not have to make.
After knocking on the door, I quickly lowered my head. The last thing I needed was for him to notice the eye liner first. There was a pause, and I almost considered running away. It was sad – a Slytherin reduced to playing ding-dong-ditch out of fear. The slit on top slid open and his face appeared, glaring at me with sharp, black slits.
"Mr. Malfoy…" The drawl held impatience and his sneer was clearer than Veritaserum. "Why are you not in your robes? What are you doing still wearing –" the door opened and he waved up and down to indicate my clothes as he looked in disgust – "that abomination?" And now it was time to explain. This was not going to be fun at all.
"Blaise dared me to wear it yesterday."
"I understood that much, but that doesn't explain why you're wearing this today." I flushed and was unable to meet those impassive, crow-like eyes.
"He dared me to wear it again today." My voice was small.
"If there's something you're hiding, I assure you that I will find out. You might as well just tell me. You're beginning to sound like Mr. Potter." He continued to mutter something about two of a kind, miserable excuses as well as something about Potter's dad, but it was under his breath in a mad sort of way.
"He dared me that if I liked the attention that I would have to wear this another day." The words came out roughly and forcefully, and I couldn't do anything but nervously fiddle with my wand.
"Were you under the influence of alcohol, Mr. Malfoy?" His condescending sneer was becoming unbearable and he glared down at me in a way no other could, making me feel small and insignificant. Nodding tensely, I continued to fidget. "You realize it is against the dress code to wear anything but robes to class?" I nodded again. "Well, you're bound to uphold the dare, no matter how idiotic it may be. But I assume your day will serve as an adequate enough punishment." Quickly I nodded for a final time and sprinted out, today's pants thankfully allowing me to do so.
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Entering the Great Hall, I was met with gasps of disbelief. Sunday was one thing, but Monday was beyond all limits. Jeers came from all four tables as well as empty insults. Although they barely stung, I figured it was best to avoid the spotlight. From the edge of the table, I grabbed and apple and ran out to the grounds.
It was wet outside, the sun hidden behind a thick layer of fog and refusing to peek through. Miserably, I climbed over to where I had sat yesterday, though there was no real need to do so; no one was outside. My head was buried in my knees after I sat down on the ground. The dew-covered grass was freezing and slight chills pulled through me, but I ignored this. It was better than inside – anything was at this point.
Just like yesterday, there was the sound of a branch being snapped, and I turned around, wand pointing accusingly. "Potter." Talk about déjà vu. Unlike yesterday though, he flinched and couldn't look at my wand. After what I'd done to him…
"Why are you wearing Muggle clothing again?" Although his tone was light and casual as if talking about the weather – far from a sneer – I angrily chomped down on the apple, though I lowered my wand. Why did he care?
"Why do you care?" My voice was colder than I intended it to be. I glared accusingly at him, though it wasn't his fault. Still, my temper flared as he gazed serenely at me with those discerning, green eyes. My mind absorbed every detail: every curve in his face, the angle of his features, the way his hair brushed against him like an artist's detail – even the rise and fall of his shoulders as he took gentle breaths. And it infuriated me that I noticed that.
All he had to do was give me one glance of those puppy eyes and my expression as well as my heart would soften. His stupid, lopsided smile was so completely Gryffindor, and yet I couldn't help but respond with my own silly grin. The way he shyly gazed at me and ran those long fingers through his raven hair made me stop and stare. That insufferable Golden Boy made me cross my arms over my chest as I pouted, wishing my heart would stop fluttering. "I asked you a question, Potter. Why do you care?" His only response was to begin walking toward me. "What the hell are you doing?"
Part of me went to go for my wand, but the way his lips twitched into that dangerously cute way cast me immobile. Even my legs were rooted to the ground and I found myself stuttering half-formed thoughts. And before I could protest anymore, his body was too closely pressed against mine, and peppermint breaths floated in my face. And then he closed the small space and leaned forward, our lips lightly brushing. My eyes widened in shock and he pulled away slowly, the aftereffects leaving me dazed. It was just the sort of first kiss no one would expect a Slytherin to have. It was sweet and innocent and left a sort of warm feeling in the pit of my stomach. "W – What the hell?" My heart betrayed my emotions and I clenched my jaw.
He didn't even reply or say the typical "I love you" in that annoyingly caring way Gryffindors tended to do. He just sweetly looked at me. In response, all I could do was sneer. But he didn't take it to heart. "You look sexy in eye liner." Childishly, he stuck out his tongue, and by some unknown instinct, I nipped at it. Harry responded by moaning and entwining his hand in my hair. A chuckle-like growl rose in my chest and echoed in our lips. Roughly, I shoved him against a tree and stared happily into his surrendering eyes, my mind greedily thinking, 'Mine! Mine! Mine!' My leg touched his and another moan escaped Harry's lips. Taking it as an invitation, my tongue dashed through and began feeling every crevice, every centimeter of his mouth. Harry melted in my hands as I wrapped my arm around his waist, and his tongue met mine in weak retaliation.
When I pulled back, both of us heaving raspy breaths, he leaned against the tree for support, eyes closed. Staring at him, I was able to be happy, and thrived on his mere existence. In the peeking rays of the morning sun, his face was illuminated to a brilliant, sandy tan, and the black strands of his rebellious hair lay across it in lovely designs. The expression was so calm and so endearing, that I nearly leaned forward for another happy kiss. Lips parted, and as minted breaths came out in tiny, angelic puffs, I found myself unconsciously tilting to breathe it in and soak him up like a withered sponge. And it dawned on me that I could spend an eternity standing there lost in the moment like a painting of a landscape, never moving nor changing, yet drawing one in with its precise beauty.
Everything was visible on his face. Beneath those tilting wisps of hair lay that reminder of what could have happened. That lightning bolt was daily proof that he had a purpose no one could ever fulfill. And it proved that he was mortal, just like his parents, just like everyone around him. This wasn't some moment in a picture meant to last forever, even if it was sun-faded and worn at the edges. This was reality and now. Each breath was near, and after sometime, maybe even soon, they could stop. It wouldn't be the glory everyone would make it up to be; he merely wouldn't be there. And it wouldn't matter to anyone. He was created with a purpose, and no one cared what happened after that. After all, Harry was the Chosen One.
And then reality hit. He was the Chosen One. This wasn't anyone – it was Harry fucking Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived-to-Ruin-my-Life. He was the epitome of misery in my life. Those jade eyes, with all of their fucking innocence couldn't touch me. Then why did the mere look of him make my hands clammy and my heart flutter like a ballistic butterfly? I was Draco Malfoy, a Pureblood, and he was the enemy of my father's reverence. Moreover, he was a boy, and there was no way in hell I was gay. The ethereal, green-tinted glow of the light on his skin disgusted me, didn't it? Didn't it?!
What would Pansy say? Or Blaise? More importantly, what would my father say? This wasn't even some Pureblood Slytherin, be it a guy or girl. This was the Gryffindor enemy I'd taken from the moment we'd met. He wasn't only a miserable half-blood, but he was on the wrong side, supporting Mudbloods and blood-traitors. If Father found out, the result might very well be my last. The thought left me shuddering and frightened.
'He's an insufferable excuse of a human being,' I told myself. Father's accusing face appeared in my mind. I had to escape; it was the only option. And I had to do it now. If I stayed here too long, this wouldn't end well. That fucking Gryffindor –
"Draco?" My attention lay fully focused on the gentle rise and fall of his chest, every bloody, fucking strand of hair, the way his eyes gazed at me with deep concern. Concern – I could laugh. We were enemies, weren't we? But then why had we kissed? It didn't make any sense! "Draco?" It was now or never.
"Gods, Potter, you think that just because everyone else likes you, I do too. I don't. You're just like the rest of the bloody Gryffindors. And you think you're so special walking around with a scar on your forehead. Pathetic…" I finished my mini-rant and felt a stab of remorse – oh, how I detested the feeling! The way he displayed his heart on his sleeve, I could see every ounce of emotion enter his face. There was confusion – so much of it – as well as shock. A small hint of anger and betrayal flickered over as well. But what stung the most was the pure mix of agony and fear – fear of falling in love and fear of losing it. And I felt pity and remorse because of it, for Potter no less!
It would be so easy to go over there and feel the curves in his arms, the sweet flesh of his lips against mine while I whispered a thousand words to take back what I'd just said. He would let me. His arms would wrap around me protectively, and loving, passionate kisses would adorn my body without a second thought. Yet what kept me strong and stead-fast was the knowledge of what would happen if I admitted to myself that there was even a tiny chance that I might be in love with Harry Potter. I didn't love.
Turning on heels, I walked away from the densely wooded Grounds and into the warm school, Harry's rooted-to-the-ground, pained expression still the focus in my mind's eye. I could see it; why did it affect me? This wasn't even fucking possible!
Double Potions awaited me first, and I made my way down to the Dungeons despite the fact that it wouldn't start for another hour. And as I sat there waiting for class to begin, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Somehow, he had possessed me.
A/N: Okay, I'm really sorry that it took about eighty years for me to publish this next chapter. It's been hectic 'round my end of the internet, and though I have written up to chapter six or seven in my lil', blue notebook, I haven't gotten any chances to get online. So, I hope you liked it. Please review! I love reviews more than anything else in the universe! (Actually, that's a lie....) But thanks for waiting, and - again - I really hope you liked it!