A/N: Finally, chapter 3 is up! My muses left me halfway though the process, so it took considerably longer than it should have. Thank you to everyone who reviewed so far, i really appreciate it! And to everyone who favorited this or put it on their story alert: thanks so much, i would love to hear from you as well!

Disclaimer: Nope, Harry Potter is still not mine.

Chapter 3: A kidnapping

So, a knocked out Harry Potter is lying at my feet. And while there was a time when I would have rejoiced in such a scenario, right now the panic rising within my chest is threatening to freeze my usually rather eloquent thought process.

My first reaction is to just run away (shocker), but that would buy me only so much time. After all, the only Death Eater in Hogwarts would be the first person suspected of harming the Boy-who-lived-twice.

"By Merlin, what was I thinking?"

I could just hide your body, let you wake up somewhere inconspicuous…but you would still know. And if you mutter one word, I'm done for. It would be the perfect excuse for the Aurors to lock me up in Azkaban and throw away the key.

I could always obliviate you…but if anyone ever discovers that I tampered with your mind I would be Dementor-fodder.

Or, I could try to reason with you, after all, you did draw your wand as well...right, who am I kidding? If there's one thing Harry Potter isn't, it's reasonable (or patient for that matter). You've never been able to drop your habit of shooting first and talking later (I would know, seriously, who uses a spell they don't know anything about on a fellow student?).

But what option do I have left that's even remotely feasible? I'm running out of time too, dinner is going to be over soon, and the Ravenclaws (and Granger, which means Weasley as well) will be invading the library shortly.

It is probably best if I talk to you in a private environment though, just in case it escalates to an argument I do not wish to have witnessed by anyone. Thank Salazar us 8-year students were provided with our own personal chambers.

Trying to ignore the fact that I'm now basically kidnapping you, I pick up your wand and put it my right pocket. After disillusioning you, I proceed to levitate your body while I slowly make my way back to my room (you weigh next to nothing, have you been eating enough?). There are a few close calls, but we make it to the portrait guarding the Slytherin common room undetected.

"Redemption."

The password selection for our portrait has been delivering quite a few poorly hidden messages to us Slytherins this year. (Nice effort, McGonagall, but it will take more than words to put us back on the "right track".)

Once I cautiously levitate you into the common room, I carefully hide my wand within the folds of my robes, while still channelling the levitation spell. It is at this point that the Slytherins' silent agreement to ignore me at all times comes in handy: barely anyone lounging in the common room bothers to acknowledge my presence, not one of them greets me (and no, it doesn't hurt me at all, they are all beneath me…damn them). I cross the room with my head held high, adopting the persona of Slytherin's Ice Prince, for I will not let their judgement bring me down (my dignity, or at least what's left of it, is one of the last things I'll give up on).

Against all of my expectations, I successfully make it to my private chambers without being caught (and no, my knees are not shaking, it's merely a cramp). Carefully, I lower you onto my bed and take off the disillusionment charm. Taking a deep breath to try and calm myself, I allow myself a moment to just look at you. Were it not for the slight frown between your eyebrows, you'd look almost peaceful, as if you were just sleeping on the green sheets of my bed (and by Salazar, I have dreamt of having you in this exact position for too long). Yet I also see the blemishes on your skin. The bags under your eyes, the paleness of your face, the chapped skin of your lips, the skin stretched taught over your cheekbones: all signs of the struggle you've been going though this year. It makes something in my chest hurt, and I can't avoid the clenching of my teeth. But enough stalling, I am a coward, but even I know that the longer you are missing, the higher the chance somebody will start getting suspicious.

And now for the moment of truth: waking up the sleeping dragon. If you were a damsel, this could be fun, but this is you: there will be no kisses, instead, a whole lot of fire. I make sure I still have your wand tucked away safely and just in case, I take a step back from my bed. It would not do to avoid being hexed only for you to punch me in the face instead.

"Rennervate".

The effect is instantaneous. With a gasp, you immediately sit up and take in your surroundings, your right hand desperately grasping for your wand, only to come up empty. Once you spot me, your whole body freezes and your expression goes from anxious and confused to angry and calculating.

"Potter, looking for this?" I ask, showing him his wand.

"Malfoy. My wand, give it back."

"Oh Potter. Manners maketh man, and I did not hear a "please" anywhere in that sentence," I drawl in as condescending a voice as I can muster. "Being raised by Muggles does not excuse you from proper conduct."

"Fine, let me rephrase that for you: give me back my wand, now!"

"It seems living in a cupboard didn't just stunt your physical growth. If you keep behaving like a child, I shall treat you as such. Starting with…"

With every word spoken, I can see you losing just a little bit more of the already tenuous control you have on your temper (I just can't help myself, just imagining what you could do to me if you only thought about me they way I secretly think about you…). And I see the moment you snap, so when you lunge at me, I simply sidestep you and level my wand at your chest, stopping you from proceeding.

"Tssk, must you be such a brute? Does the concept of a verbal dispute personally offend you? Sit down, Potter."

Growling, but glancing warily at my wand, you sit back down on my bed. I can practically feel the waves of tension radiating from your body, your every muscle poised to pounce the moment you see a chance to escape.

"Relax," I snap, rolling my eyes. "I will not be harming you, oh mighty Saviour. I'm not giving them any more excuses to vilify the Malfoy name. If I were to touch a single hair on your body, my life would be forfeited. "

"If you really believed that, you wouldn't have knocked me out in the first place."

"I was defending myself," I hiss back. "You were the one that came to me in order to start a fight!"

"What? You attacked those students first! All I did was confront you about it," you snarl indignantly. "Why would I want to waste my time fighting you?"

"First off, I never attacked any students. I simply saved a fellow classmate from being harassed by insolent children. And secondly, don't pretend you were merely defending them, you drew your wand because you were scared, Potter."

"Shut up!" you yell (and I suspect if you had your wand, I'd be getting hexed within an inch of my life at this very moment). "I have never been afraid of you Malfoy, and I sure as hell don't plan to start now. I've faced far worse than you, what makes you think you could ever make me fear you?"

I narrow my eyes at you and take a step closer, hoping nobody heard you yell since I forgot to put up a silencing charm in my haste to talk to you. I don't dare to put one up now, I don't trust you not to use the moment I'd need to cast the spell to try to overpower me (damn your quick reflexes).

"Oh I don't doubt your lack of fear in the face of a lowly Slytherin. What I think is that you were scared to find out that the person you hate most in this school is the one that understands you the best. I think that everything I said about you is true, and you've been denying that to yourself just as much as you've been trying to hide it from your friends."

By now you're seething with anger (and by Merlin, the sight of you is driving me mad), your hands are curled into fists and I'm quite sure your fingernails are leaving bloody dents in your palms. It's almost enough to make me back off, but even us Slytherins have our moments of bravery (or stupidity, let's see how this ends first).

"I hope you are not planning on a career as a mind-healer, because you could not be further from the truth," you lie through your teeth. "Just tell me what you want from me and let's get this over with."

I see I'm not getting anywhere with you, you'd rather bite off your nose to spite your face than admit the truth (bloody Gryffindor). Fine, time to take a risk then (ugh, I should ask the Sorting Hat to just resort me already if I continue like this).

"I don't want anything from you, Potter."

That being said, I lower my wand and shock you further by taking yours out of my pocket and holding it out for you to take back. Slowly, probably expecting me to change my mind or trick you in some way, you reach out for your wand. For a moment, as your hand finally wraps around it, you stop moving and just look at me, still suspicious, but also curious. And that's all I needed. Your legendary curiosity won't let you drop this. I have your attention now, for better or worse (the urge to smirk and laugh with glee is almost insurmountable, but I fear that'd rather ruin this lovely moment we're having).

Eventually, I let go of your wand, leaving it back in your possession, and take a step back. You just stay seated on my bed, your outstretched hand hovering in the same position I left it in, not moving an inch, following my every move with your eyes. It seems I've left you speechless.

For a moment, we just keep staring at each other as I wait for you to make your exit. But you don't move, and the silence filling the room is starting to feel oppressing.

"While I don't mind you spending the night with me," I quip, unable to keep my facial muscles from forming the famous Malfoy smirk, "I don't think the school's rumour mill could handle that. Think of the children!"

And just like that, a miracle happens: a smile! I, Draco Malfoy, dastardly Death Eater and pureblood devil, made you, Harry Potter, Boy-who-lived-twice and all-around saint, smile. You try to cover it quickly, ducking your head so your disgustingly cute hair can cover your expression. But I've already seen it, and oh crap, I'm smiling too now.

You lift your head, your eyes wide open and your face holding an expression I haven't seen before.

"You're weird, Malfoy," you state in a soft voice, the likes of which you've never used when talking to me before.

"I have my moments," I respond, shrugging my shoulders.

Your face adopts a more serious expression, signalling you've just made a decision (it's ridiculously easy to read you, sometimes).

"You are not my friend Malfoy, and I don't trust you, but you were wrong when you said that I hate you. As long as you stop with the destruction of foreign property, fancy calling a truce?"

"I thought you'd never ask," I respond (who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?), slightly bewildered. "But I stand by what I explained to you before, I was only saving you from further torment at the hands of those little brats."

Snorting, you finally stand up and transfer your wand into your left hand. Hesitantly, you hold out your right hand in order for me to shake it in acknowledgment of our newly formed truce, and I firmly grasp it in mine (stubbornly ignoring the chill it sends down my spine).

And then it happens. As soon as I see that glint in your eyes, I know you're up to something. But before I have the chance to do anything about it, you lean in and I just freeze on the spot. Disbelieving what my senses are telling me is happening, I feel your lips brush my cheek and hear you whisper:

"Well then, thank you, Draco."

And as soon as it's done, you turn around and saunter (are you swinging your hips?!) out of my room, leaving me stammering in your wake:

"W-what the fuck just happened?"

A/N: Soooo, what do you think? I'm thinking of writing maybe 1 or 2 more chapters, though i've learned that my stories often have a mind of their own. Btw, i do take requests, so if you have any suggestions as to what you'd like to see me writing next, let me know! And please, pretty please with a bow on top, review!