Chapter Eight: Potions, Smells and Faints.

After his odd outburst, they hadn't spoken to each other for a solid three days, and Draco thought he might die there and then. He was going mental with feelings: Sadness, Anger, Loneliness, he'd even caught himself having a fit of desire. He constantly wanted him there and to see him, even if he still didn't understand why. He decided that the git was... okay. He wasn't going to delve into that subject.

As he went to the Room of Requirements and sat in front of the mirror, as he did, he saw himself and the door opening behind him, he saw Harry coming in and sitting next to him; he saw him smiling and even putting an arm around his shoulders. He wasn't going into that subject either. During the time of Harry's absence his mark had reached his spine.

The real subject that Draco couldn't avoid was that they hadn't spoken for a solid three days before being paired together in Potions. Draco laid eyes on him and something melted in him.

He whispered, "Hi."

Harry sat down next to him and answered, "Hi yourself, Princess. Talking to me again?"

"Shut up," the Slytherin naturally replied.

Harry sent him a smile and no more was said on the subject. They were back to normal, well as normal as normal is for them. They saw each other from time to time, talked a bit more about non serious stuff.

He went to the Astronomy tower that evening, with a blanket round his shoulders and a rolled up parchment in his hands. He recognized the Malfoy emblem immediately when he saw it, and knew it didn't come from his mother. He sighed and decided that there was no point in waiting. He opened it and read.

Draco,

I have received notification from your school that you have been skipping class. I had initially supposed that you were doing your duty as ordered but Severus has assured me that you have done no such thing. I am deeply disappointed.

You have shirked your duty as a student, a Malfoy and a follower. How do you suppose you can succeed in life by abandoning everything?

This, Draco, is a gentle warning that you better start attending classes again, as well as keep up the Malfoy name and stay loyal to the Dark Lord.

I will not accept this kind of attitude any longer. Should I receive any more notice of these activities, you will understand the importance of the situation. Do not aggravate me.

Lucius A. Malfoy

Ps: I expect an especially good behaviour during your Christmas break.

Draco sighed at that. He had completely forgotten his father existed, he was too absorbed by Harry, and by himself in a sense. Still then, in fact. He put the letter on the ground and whispered: Incendio.

He got up and let the letter just burn with a last murmur of, "Well, fuck him."

"Today you will make Potion n°45," Snape announced come Thursday afternoon.

Harry and Draco were still paired together and probably would be until the end of the year. Draco did most of the work and Harry just fetched and chopped things. At the thought of Potion 45, Draco rolled his eyes.

Snape saw him and added, "I know Draco, but it's on the program I have to do it."

Draco simply nodded.

Harry looked between them both with a curious expression. "He sounded human then, almost," he whispered.

Draco raised an eye brow at him and replied, "He's pretty normal you know."

"Don't try to make me believe that, I won't," he answered with a smile. "Now, what is this Potion 40 something?"

Draco looked in his potion book all the while explaining, "45, Potter, don't you listen? It's a scent potion, basically. It is meant to have an individual smell, that is supposed to represent to represent a desire."

"Smell? How the hell can a smell be desirable?" Harry asked.

Draco shrugged and flicked over to the ingredients. "That's really not complicated. Suppose you are hungry, the potion might smell like your favourite dish; or if you want to be outside, you might smell grass."

Harry acknowledged that and added, "Ok, that makes sense."

Draco sent him something of a smile and turned to his books. He gave him the list of ingredients and sent him on his way while he made the pre-preparations. He wondered what kind of smell he'd recognize. When he was a kid trying out Snape's Potions, the smell of fresh air and the branches of his nimbus 2000 would reach him, flying was his passion after all. He supposed things would be different. He performed a quick time spell and noticed that Harry was taking far too much time; his potion was starting to bubble over.

He got up and joined him in the storage room, where he found him looking around the room at everything. He crossed his arms and said, "What on earth are you up to, Potter? Lost your glasses?"

"I can't find your sodding Chisdufflers or something," he replied with a huff.

Draco frowned and looked over his shoulder at the list. He rolled his eyes. "You really have shit on those glasses, Potter. It says Chizpurfle." He looked for it himself and found it in a jar on a top shelf. He tiptoed to get it and then turned round with a triumphant look.

His breath was immediately taken from him. Harry was standing so close to him that he could feel his warmth on his skin. He laid his hands next to Draco's head and looked straight in his eyes. His hair tickled Draco's fair skin and his body pinned him down despite being smaller. Draco got a whiff of a sweet smell when Harry breathed out. It smelt of the morning's pie and tea, it smelt of earth and sweat. It smelt of something that Draco would not define. Harry closed in on him, looking him straight in the eye as if asking for permission. Draco didn't have the strength to push him away. His eyes were closing from the intensity of the moment.

And he was gone. With a passing breeze Harry was away and back at his seat. Draco stayed rooted in place, feeling disoriented and alone. It must have been a hallucination, Draco saw no other option. This was the next step of his madness. But when he got back to his seat, he saw that Harry was avoiding his eye. He sighed. His heart beat went up as he sat next to him, keeping a side glance on him. With a shake of his head he dismissed it and sat up straight with perfect composer. He could not do this. Nothing would happen anyway.

He took a deep breath and sat down. It was awkward between them, until Draco got fed up with it and pushed some ingredients towards him with a, "Chop this up, Potter, instead of staring at Snape's arse or whatever."

Harry raised an eyebrow but smiled soon after that. "Oh, you noticed that did you?"

They went on preparing the potion. They couldn't look each other in the eye but their conversation remained the same. Draco made the entire potion without any hiccups and Harry mostly watched, writing down everything Draco told him to write. Finally, the mixture reached a deep red colour and Draco smiled triumphantly.

He called Snape over, who bent down and took a whiff of it. For a moment his eyes closed and he seemed tranquil. He got back up and said, "It is impeccable, as per usual. Good of you not to let Potter ruin your work, Draco."

Draco nodded as Harry rolled his eyes. The Slytherin gave him a sign of the hand for him to go first. He observed his reaction as he bent down over the cauldron. He closed his eyes and breathed in. His hair fell over his glasses, pearls of sweat rolling over his forehead from the condensation, his neck exposed and showing the shadow of veins. Harry let out a long breath and with a frown he took in another breath. He turned his head and looked Draco in the eye for the first time since the incident. He stared intensively, they both did. Draco could feel his heart racing and beating against his chest. Draco sent him a look but Harry turned away quickly.

Draco frowned at him and asked, "So what did you smell? It looked pleasant enough."

Harry shook his head and wrote something down on his parchment. "Nothing too interesting. Your turn."

Draco turned a sceptical eye and bent down himself. At first the smell was elusive and Draco couldn't pinpoint it; but when he did it took his breath away, quite literally. He stopped breathing for a moment, so did his heart. He felt a pressure on his chest, and when his breathing came back it was ragged. It smelt of earth, of sweat, that smell he could not describe and oh god he was so fucked. He realised idly that for the past weeks, the only thing he had truly thought about and had desired was Harry, ignoring his studies and even his family for the first time in his life. He didn't look at Harry; he didn't change his composure and sat back down.

"It hasn't change for the past ten years. Still smells like flying," he said.

Harry looked at him. "How the hell does flying smell?" he wondered.

Draco shrugged. "Get your arse up in the air, sniff and you'll see."

Harry puffed with a chuckle and turned to look at Snape. Draco didn't write anything down after that, he couldn't. He kept staring at Harry's hand, too afraid to look at anything else. He realised with a huff that he quite liked him. He wasn't as spoilt as he thought, less gold than expected too, he was even somewhat fun; and Draco felt good in his presence. He sighed. Nothing was coming out of this. Sure Harry was – apparently – attracted to men; he seemed to like Draco's company; he had just about forsaken the golden trio to be with him and all that... but bonding was different. They were good as acquaintances, maybe even as friends; but they could never be something important, something that truly matters. At the knowledge his heart sunk, and his entire condition with it. His mark started burning ferociously and he groaned. He held his stomach as a strong wave of nausea hit him.

He held up his hand quickly before the tears would start welling up in his eyes, he didn't wait for Snape to answer and said, "Professor may I leave? I don't feel so well and I have finished anyway."

Snape waved his hand in approval and Draco got up, leaving his books behind. He felt the tears and the pain, forcing him to run away from the class, before everyone's watchful gaze. Once out of sight he collapsed in a corridor, half between sobbing and fainting. He fell down to the floor but was caught quickly, two arms sneaking beneath his arms.

"What the hell is wrong Draco?!" Harry shouted.

Draco closed his eyes. He gritted his teeth and replied, "Leave me the fuck alone, Pot-" an outcry stopped his sentence.

Harry sat down and dragged Draco on top of him. "Oh come on, you can't pretend this is nothing."

Draco felt part of his energy seep back into him at the touch, though his mark still hurt as if they were miles apart. He managed to get up slowly. He breathed heavily and said with as much anger as he could muster, "This is a left over from your fucking Sectumsempra!" He turned round and ran.

He felt terrible, physically because of this situation, and emotionally because of what he had said, and because he realised that it was his future – literally – that he was ruining.

Back in his room, he started thinking. He knew it was going to end; he would probably never finish his N.E. ; this was it. He couldn't take the look on Harry's face out of his mind. He owed Harry something, he hadn't figured out what yet. He figured that they would never bond, but they were soul mates. He would not force him into anything; he wasn't even planning on telling him. His stupid brain couldn't help but feel bad for Harry. If he died, and he supposed he would, Harry would lose his soul mate, without realising it. He could and would be with someone else, but his soul mate would be gone. Draco decided he could not leave it like this, if only for his own sanity. He took a quill and started writing.

Potter,

I am afraid my conduct this afternoon was nigh on unacceptable. I do apologize. As you may have guessed, and if you hadn't you are stupider than you look – which seems near to impossible – my condition has no connection with our previous incident. It is quite simply a recent development in my health. It is nothing of great importance and I will not bore you with tedious details. Rest assured it is nothing, and I would appreciate your discretion on the matter. I am dealing with it and I would much rather people do not know.

Cordially,

Draco Abraxas Lucius Malfoy

Ps: You have called me Draco, Potter, do not think I forgot. Ask for permission, you berk.

He breathed in and called his personal owl. Tying the note to his paw, he watched it fly away with a tight heart. This was the first time he made a step towards him, and even though it was a small gesture, he still felt anxious. He was afraid to lose the git. The realisation surprised him, that those feelings were actually genuine. He returned to bed and put a pillow over his face, letting out a muffled groan into it.

He received an answer quite quickly and he immediately tore it open to read it.

DRACO,

You don't half sound posh in writing. So Sir, I accept your apology gracefully.

Your explanation is fine for now, but if you're going to keep on fainting like a princess in my heroic arms then I'll need more than that.

I'm glad it's not my fault though; and I'm looking forward to Potions Tuesday (Hard to believe huh?), or if you fancy a game of chess, I'm always up to losing.

Cordially, or whatever the hell that means,

Harry James Potter.

Finally some Drarry action! (Or something like that). I will warn you that next chapter will contain less Drarry, if none at all, but I need it for the story. Anyway, I hope you like and review xxx

*Edited