Quick author's note: I haven't forgotten this story, and I promise it will not be left unfinished. Honest, I meant to leave several months between updates. *cough* Really. Uh. Because my muses needed a nap.
Thanks, everyone, for the reviews and feedback. It's all so very kind, and I appreciate it completely. *beams*
* * *
Shadows like burnt oranges ringed Draco's eyes once again. He'd slept for two hours the previous night. It was now mid-afternoon and he was feeling the creeping tiredness taking over his system, but couldn't afford to sleep through any of his classes.
He'd lingered in the crypt-like room for an hour after his conversation with Harry, exactly 46 minutes longer than Wonderboy. He'd felt sad and stupid by the time he skulked his way back into the Slytherin dorms. Thinking out situations, planning outcomes -- Draco was good at that. He had worked out all possible conclusions to their meeting that night. Yet Draco always failed to take emotion into consideration, always forgot how sudden pangs of anger or hurt could warp the plot.
The latest entry in the nightmare journal involved a leash made of wire that cut like a razor, and Draco willingly slipping its sharp collar around his neck. He held the end of the leash in a bleeding hand. Draco wandered, lost; he had to find Potter, had to give him the end of leash.
This was different from his earlier string of nightmares. Those were disgusting and bloody but rarely resonated emotionally. Last night's dream, though tame compared to the others, left him feeling hollow and sick. So much that he'd abandoned the idea of sleep altogether and occupied himself by making corrections to Greg and Vince's Potions essays.
With warm air and stale perfume attacking his senses, he was having a hard time keeping his eyelids from dropping in Divination. At one point, Draco nodded off against Vince's shoulder until the other boy jarred him awake.
Sometimes, he just couldn't believe he'd been stupid enough to go to Potter for help with his nightmares. Sure, he was the obvious choice to talk to about such matters -- couldn't very well ask Fenwick or Parkinson how they slept through the night, could he? His only other option by that point was to ask Professor Snape for a Dreamless Sleep Draught, and suffer all the ill side-effects brought on by the potion. Even falling for Potter was preferable to that.
In retrospect, Draco was also ashamed at how easily he'd opened up to his nemesis. Like a sliding door, or Pansy's legs. They'd hardly had a civil conversation, and Draco had poured out his heart and innermost thoughts. Perhaps it was some hypnotic power from those green eyes... yes, if he had to explain it, Draco chose to believe he'd been bewitched.
Suddenly, he was jolted back to awareness thanks to a quick jab in the ribs from Vince. Trelawney was willowing her way to their table. "Rachel has requested you partner with her," the teacher said, "since you foretold her future so well." She smiled animatedly. "Her stars must be extremely clear to your eye, Mr Malfoy!"
Draco glanced at Hufflepuff Rachel, who smiled and waved shyly at him from across the room. Her brown curls were tied with yellow ribbons into twin bunches, making her look, Draco thought, rather like an oversized stray poodle.
Oh, if only he'd listened to his father and instead taken Arithmancy.
* * *
The way Weasel's loud voice carried through the halls alerted Draco to the trio's presence before he could see them. "Meet you after Quidditch, Harry!" broke through the crowd, and Draco realized it was too late to either dodge or elude Potter.
With long strides, the dark-haired boy fell into step next to him. "Hi, Malfoy."
The thick, chilling air of the stone room flashed to mind, air so damp he could drown in it. He was feeling that way every time Potter came near, like he was one watery breath away from drowning.
Draco gave a curt nod in greeting. "Potter."
Harry smiled at him, but kept walking a safe distance away from the blond. "Interested in meeting tonight? Same room?"
His heart jumped in his chest and Draco nearly accepted the invitation without thought. Instead, he looked straight ahead and forced out: "Sorry. I simply won't have the time tonight."
With satisfaction, Draco noted that Harry was genuinely stunned. Draco himself was slightly stunned; he wanted nothing more than to be in that room again, lips crushed to Harry's, pulling the other boy down to the slick, mossy floor.
Potter kept pace with Draco's quick strides. "Oh. Another night, then."
And because Draco wanted that more than anything, he couldn't let himself have it. He'd given far too much already; there was little more Draco could afford to sacrifice to Harry, who couldn't even trust him in return. Distance was best.
Harry's steps fell behind when he realized Draco was through talking to him. Soon, Draco couldn't feel the other boy's presence nearby at all.
* * *
The Gryffindor Golden Boy simply would *not* be ignored.
It'd been a week since they'd shared a night, each day easier than the last for Draco. He'd put distance and schoolwork between him and Harry and as a result, was getting near-perfect scores on everything he turned in. Sleep patterns were as cruel as ever; now he crashed into bed promptly following dinner and woke well before dawn. His days were dull and somnambulant, but all of it did well at keeping his mind and hands away from Harry Potter.
Until today's confrontation.
"You're avoiding me." The voice was harsh, accusatory.
Draco knew this was inevitable. He nearly ran into Potter's arm, outstretched and blocking his path. Cornered against the wall in a wave of passing students, Draco shrunk against the coarse stones. "I don't know what you mean."
Harry gave an exasperated sigh. "You do so, Malfoy." They were jostled by an older Ravenclaw making a mad dash toward lunch. Potter held his ground, narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. "We met every night, nearly, and were getting on so well. Now, you've never got time for me. Half the time, I can't even catch you to talk and the other half, you said you were too busy to meet."
"Can't sacrifice my grades for a few snogs, Potter," Draco muttered. The line sounded flat, rehearsed -- which it was. He'd been waiting days for the opportunity to use it.
"Even the weekends!" His voice cracked, and Draco saw the boy's eyes shake with emotion. "You couldn't even see me -- "
"Look." Ducking from under Harry's skinny arm, Draco took hold of his wrist and dragged him away from the surging crowd of students. "I told you, didn't I? What I wanted?"
Harry snorted. "No, I don't know what -- "
"I said I wanted all or nothing," he clarified. "Your full attention, an actual relationship. I want to know you're giving as much as I am, Potter. Some clandestine snog session isn't enough for me."
The green eyes continued to shimmer with emotion, but Harry's expression was blank. After a minute filled with nothing but the echoing of others' voices in the corridors surrounding, he quietly said, "That's right. You did tell me."
"And you forgot." Vague pain crept into Draco's voice.
Harry nodded and glanced away. "I didn't think you really meant that. I mean. It just doesn't seem like... like a very Malfoyish thing to say. I thought you'd just forget about it."
Draco's pale hands trembled. Did Harry realize how much Draco had risked on that night? Only to be gently rejected in the end, in spite of everything he'd given.
"How could you," Draco choked. "Who do you think..."
Didn't think he'd mean it? He winced at the words. After all he'd revealed of himself... after laying his mind open for Potter... Potter still thought so little of him?
"Malfoy! Malfoy wait!"
Before he could even think of a proper response, Draco's feet had carried him far down the hallway, against the tide of wandering Hogwarts students. Many turned toward him as he carelessly shoved his way through the crowd. Tears stung his eyes and Draco willed them not to fall.
"Malfoy!" His arm jerked backward, grabbed by Harry's small hand. "Wait!"
Draco whirled around, wrenching his arm from Potter's grip. "This isn't happening," he growled, "ever again."
The first moments of Draco's morning days before flooded back to mind: the panic at the slavery in his dream, the horrible realization of what it meant, and the first pure instinctual reactions to reverse the damage that'd already been done.
That's all he could do now. Draco had to have resolve, had to kill the addiction where it stood.
As he stormed away once again, he shouted over his shoulder, "You stay away from me, Potter, or you'll be sorry!"
* * *
Thanks, everyone, for the reviews and feedback. It's all so very kind, and I appreciate it completely. *beams*
* * *
Shadows like burnt oranges ringed Draco's eyes once again. He'd slept for two hours the previous night. It was now mid-afternoon and he was feeling the creeping tiredness taking over his system, but couldn't afford to sleep through any of his classes.
He'd lingered in the crypt-like room for an hour after his conversation with Harry, exactly 46 minutes longer than Wonderboy. He'd felt sad and stupid by the time he skulked his way back into the Slytherin dorms. Thinking out situations, planning outcomes -- Draco was good at that. He had worked out all possible conclusions to their meeting that night. Yet Draco always failed to take emotion into consideration, always forgot how sudden pangs of anger or hurt could warp the plot.
The latest entry in the nightmare journal involved a leash made of wire that cut like a razor, and Draco willingly slipping its sharp collar around his neck. He held the end of the leash in a bleeding hand. Draco wandered, lost; he had to find Potter, had to give him the end of leash.
This was different from his earlier string of nightmares. Those were disgusting and bloody but rarely resonated emotionally. Last night's dream, though tame compared to the others, left him feeling hollow and sick. So much that he'd abandoned the idea of sleep altogether and occupied himself by making corrections to Greg and Vince's Potions essays.
With warm air and stale perfume attacking his senses, he was having a hard time keeping his eyelids from dropping in Divination. At one point, Draco nodded off against Vince's shoulder until the other boy jarred him awake.
Sometimes, he just couldn't believe he'd been stupid enough to go to Potter for help with his nightmares. Sure, he was the obvious choice to talk to about such matters -- couldn't very well ask Fenwick or Parkinson how they slept through the night, could he? His only other option by that point was to ask Professor Snape for a Dreamless Sleep Draught, and suffer all the ill side-effects brought on by the potion. Even falling for Potter was preferable to that.
In retrospect, Draco was also ashamed at how easily he'd opened up to his nemesis. Like a sliding door, or Pansy's legs. They'd hardly had a civil conversation, and Draco had poured out his heart and innermost thoughts. Perhaps it was some hypnotic power from those green eyes... yes, if he had to explain it, Draco chose to believe he'd been bewitched.
Suddenly, he was jolted back to awareness thanks to a quick jab in the ribs from Vince. Trelawney was willowing her way to their table. "Rachel has requested you partner with her," the teacher said, "since you foretold her future so well." She smiled animatedly. "Her stars must be extremely clear to your eye, Mr Malfoy!"
Draco glanced at Hufflepuff Rachel, who smiled and waved shyly at him from across the room. Her brown curls were tied with yellow ribbons into twin bunches, making her look, Draco thought, rather like an oversized stray poodle.
Oh, if only he'd listened to his father and instead taken Arithmancy.
* * *
The way Weasel's loud voice carried through the halls alerted Draco to the trio's presence before he could see them. "Meet you after Quidditch, Harry!" broke through the crowd, and Draco realized it was too late to either dodge or elude Potter.
With long strides, the dark-haired boy fell into step next to him. "Hi, Malfoy."
The thick, chilling air of the stone room flashed to mind, air so damp he could drown in it. He was feeling that way every time Potter came near, like he was one watery breath away from drowning.
Draco gave a curt nod in greeting. "Potter."
Harry smiled at him, but kept walking a safe distance away from the blond. "Interested in meeting tonight? Same room?"
His heart jumped in his chest and Draco nearly accepted the invitation without thought. Instead, he looked straight ahead and forced out: "Sorry. I simply won't have the time tonight."
With satisfaction, Draco noted that Harry was genuinely stunned. Draco himself was slightly stunned; he wanted nothing more than to be in that room again, lips crushed to Harry's, pulling the other boy down to the slick, mossy floor.
Potter kept pace with Draco's quick strides. "Oh. Another night, then."
And because Draco wanted that more than anything, he couldn't let himself have it. He'd given far too much already; there was little more Draco could afford to sacrifice to Harry, who couldn't even trust him in return. Distance was best.
Harry's steps fell behind when he realized Draco was through talking to him. Soon, Draco couldn't feel the other boy's presence nearby at all.
* * *
The Gryffindor Golden Boy simply would *not* be ignored.
It'd been a week since they'd shared a night, each day easier than the last for Draco. He'd put distance and schoolwork between him and Harry and as a result, was getting near-perfect scores on everything he turned in. Sleep patterns were as cruel as ever; now he crashed into bed promptly following dinner and woke well before dawn. His days were dull and somnambulant, but all of it did well at keeping his mind and hands away from Harry Potter.
Until today's confrontation.
"You're avoiding me." The voice was harsh, accusatory.
Draco knew this was inevitable. He nearly ran into Potter's arm, outstretched and blocking his path. Cornered against the wall in a wave of passing students, Draco shrunk against the coarse stones. "I don't know what you mean."
Harry gave an exasperated sigh. "You do so, Malfoy." They were jostled by an older Ravenclaw making a mad dash toward lunch. Potter held his ground, narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. "We met every night, nearly, and were getting on so well. Now, you've never got time for me. Half the time, I can't even catch you to talk and the other half, you said you were too busy to meet."
"Can't sacrifice my grades for a few snogs, Potter," Draco muttered. The line sounded flat, rehearsed -- which it was. He'd been waiting days for the opportunity to use it.
"Even the weekends!" His voice cracked, and Draco saw the boy's eyes shake with emotion. "You couldn't even see me -- "
"Look." Ducking from under Harry's skinny arm, Draco took hold of his wrist and dragged him away from the surging crowd of students. "I told you, didn't I? What I wanted?"
Harry snorted. "No, I don't know what -- "
"I said I wanted all or nothing," he clarified. "Your full attention, an actual relationship. I want to know you're giving as much as I am, Potter. Some clandestine snog session isn't enough for me."
The green eyes continued to shimmer with emotion, but Harry's expression was blank. After a minute filled with nothing but the echoing of others' voices in the corridors surrounding, he quietly said, "That's right. You did tell me."
"And you forgot." Vague pain crept into Draco's voice.
Harry nodded and glanced away. "I didn't think you really meant that. I mean. It just doesn't seem like... like a very Malfoyish thing to say. I thought you'd just forget about it."
Draco's pale hands trembled. Did Harry realize how much Draco had risked on that night? Only to be gently rejected in the end, in spite of everything he'd given.
"How could you," Draco choked. "Who do you think..."
Didn't think he'd mean it? He winced at the words. After all he'd revealed of himself... after laying his mind open for Potter... Potter still thought so little of him?
"Malfoy! Malfoy wait!"
Before he could even think of a proper response, Draco's feet had carried him far down the hallway, against the tide of wandering Hogwarts students. Many turned toward him as he carelessly shoved his way through the crowd. Tears stung his eyes and Draco willed them not to fall.
"Malfoy!" His arm jerked backward, grabbed by Harry's small hand. "Wait!"
Draco whirled around, wrenching his arm from Potter's grip. "This isn't happening," he growled, "ever again."
The first moments of Draco's morning days before flooded back to mind: the panic at the slavery in his dream, the horrible realization of what it meant, and the first pure instinctual reactions to reverse the damage that'd already been done.
That's all he could do now. Draco had to have resolve, had to kill the addiction where it stood.
As he stormed away once again, he shouted over his shoulder, "You stay away from me, Potter, or you'll be sorry!"
* * *