Darker Side of Me

Darker Side of Me –Chapter 2

“Harry… Harry!” Harry’s eyes snapped open as he threw his head back in shock. Hermione’s voice had forcibly brought him back to consciousness. He looked down at the parchment before him on the table. He had allowed his quill to leave a large black ink stain in the middle of his Potions essay when he had fallen asleep.

“What’s with you lately?” Ron asked, placing a comforting hand on his best friend’s shoulder. Harry shook the sleep out of his head and blinked a few times. He replaced his quill on the table and used a magical eraser to get rid of the blob of black.

“Nothing, nothing,” he lied to his friends. “I just haven’t been sleeping very well… stress and all, you know.” He was indeed lacking sleep but the truth was that he had been plagued by images, memories and feelings that stemmed from what had happened with Draco, not stress.

He felt as though eons had passed since that day but the images in his mind, the sensations from Draco’s touch and the feelings that welled in Harry’s chest were as powerful as though it had happened no more than an hour ago. He brought his fingertips to his lips, as though reminiscing about the first time Malfoy had kissed him. As he did so, Harry felt his throat get dry and his heartbeat increase. He shook his head again. He needed to concentrate on the task at hand. If he didn’t pass this essay, Snape would have his head.

“Harry, maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey about it… I’m sure there is some kind of potion you can take to help you rest better.” Hermione hardly looked up from her essay as she suggested possible solutions. Her potions essay on truth draughts was nearly twice as long as Snape had requested, so she was writing in infinitely small lettering to make it all fit. Harry sighed, staring at his half empty roll of parchment.

“No, I don’t think so,” Harry replied. “I don’t really want to have to try and explain it to her. I’ll just… try harder, or something.” Harry improvised his response as he concentrated hard on the one passage in his book relating to his essay. He was supposed to write a whole roll of parchment on a topic that was only discussed for three lines.

As he stared at the words, however, they began to shift into outlines and draw figures on his page. He couldn’t stop his mind from musing over what had happened. He didn’t even know what to call it; the “thing”. Finally he decided that he needed to get out and take a walk. The dust from the heavy stacks of books that Hermione had brought into the common room (all of which only scarcely mentioned truth draughts) was only adding to his haze.

“Look, I’m going to get some air. I’ll finish this later.” Without another word, Harry got up and left Gryffindor tower, heading for the grounds.

When he hit the brisk fall air, wearing only a sweater, Harry felt all of nature wash over him and breathed deeply. He walked out towards the lake, wondering what to do about his problem. He thought that maybe he was trying to avoid it too much and so his mind was forcing him to tread on those memories. Perhaps if he forced himself to relive it, he might realize that it’s old news and move on to something more important… Or something.

“Alright, I’m going to sit down here and do nothing but think about it… for a while. Then, I will never think about it again,” Harry told himself with false conviction. He sat down against a large tree just off the edge of the lake and stared into the dark waters.

Amidst the murky liquid, visions of Draco pushing him to the floor and undressing them arose. As though they were chalk drawings on a blackboard, the thoughts that Harry had been trying so hard to repress came to life and rolled smoothly in the water like a film. A strange compressing sensation came to Harry’s chest as he watched the mental pictures. His breath caught in his throat and he felt shivers run over his whole body. His glasses were cloudy from the heat of his breath as he forced himself to exhale.

“What the hell is wrong with me!?” Harry finally yelled, grabbing his head and pulling his hair. He clenched his teeth and refused to look back at the lake.

“You know, I’ve been asking myself that very question from day one,” a cold and mocking voice came from behind him. “And, I must say that there is just no one right answer. The list is far too long to sum up for you, so you might want to reconsider your makeup as a whole.” Draco stepped forwards, sneering at Harry’s pain as he leaned against the tree next to the Gryffindor.

“What do you do, stalk me?!” Harry exclaimed, caught off-guard by the source of his malcontent. Draco shook his head and laughed.

“For example, allow me to point out some of your more obvious short-comings,” Malfoy continued, ignoring Harry’s question. “Your nose is far too pointed. Your eyes are slightly too close together. Your hair is a mess and, need I even say it, your scar is just unsightly.” The blonde boy rolled his eyes as he mocked Harry, pointing at each of his features as he named them. “I could continue if you like, but I think you get the point.”

“I seem to recall you referring to my appearance as ‘sexy’,” Potter spat back sarcastically. Malfoy raised his eyebrows.

“You must have been mistaken; I would do no such thing.” Draco took to examining his nails as he messed with Harry’s mind. The Gryffindor got to his feet and stood to confront Malfoy.

“No, you said it loud and clear,” Harry recalled. “Right before you forcibly undressed me in the locker room.” Harry grimaced at Draco, attempting to force the explanation he had never been given.

“Fantasizing about me, Potter? I didn’t know you were the submissive kind.” Draco stepped forwards, slowly closing the gap between the two of them as he further lied to Harry. Potter, however, froze. He had no real proof that it hadn’t all been his imagination. What if he had really been fantasizing about Draco? What if it had all been of his own creation? Harry’s pupils dilated as Draco gave him a torturous smirk. “Besides, I don’t remember you protesting much at all…”

“You little prick,” Harry snapped, pushing Draco against the tree. “Why did you do this to me??” He pinned Malfoy against the trunk angrily. If it hadn’t been for Draco, he might not be so screwed up; he might be able to concentrate long enough on his work to finish his assignments… he might never have considered these feelings.

“What did I do to you, exactly?” Draco inquired, making no effort to push Harry away. The sky began to turn a dusky grey. “I did nothing that you did not want. You know it’s true!” Harry began to breathe heavily, his eyes darting from Malfoy’s petulant face, to the ground.

“You never gave me the chance to refuse!” Harry protested, letting go of Draco suddenly. The blonde smiled and shook his head.

“Would you really have said no?” Harry opened his mouth to answer, but found that he could not say it. He couldn’t honestly tell Draco that he would have refused, had he been given the chance. He normally would have lied anyway, but he was too surprised by the truth that he shut his mouth and looked away. He hated to give Malfoy this kind of satisfaction. “I thought not.” Draco brought his hand up to Harry’s face and caressed his jaw. “I wasn’t lying when I said you are sexy when you’re angry. Though I must say this defeated look is even more priceless.”

Harry turned to retort, but Draco caught his mouth with his own and pulled Harry into an unexpected kiss. The Gryffindor tried to pull away at first, but finally succumbed to the action and pressed himself against Draco’s body, pushing him back into the tree. The heat between their bodies rose and Harry lost himself to the emotions that coursed through him.

Draco slid his hand under Harry’s shirt and into his pants, softly stroking his skin. Harry wrapped his arms around the blonde boy and pressed his hips against Draco, allowing the dam to break and let all the emotions he’d pent up for so long course through him as his excitement increased.

Draco moved into Harry as well, as he let his hands explore Harry’s body with careful and sensual movements. The black-haired boy pulled away from the kiss to nibble on Draco’s bottom lip, wanting so badly to pull Malfoy down onto him. But the blonde pulled away. He kissed Harry once more and stepped back.

“Its sickly sweet isn’t it?” Draco whispered in his ear. “The unsatisfied feeling I’m going to leave you with…” He turned to walk away and Harry tried to restrain himself from pulling Draco back, from showing Malfoy his need.

“So you are just done with me? This is how you are going to end what you’ve done?” Harry called to him, frustrated and confused. Draco stopped and looked back at Harry over his shoulder.

“Oh no, Potter.” Draco’s soft pink lips curled into a smile. “I’ve only just begun…”

*_*_*

Ultimately unsatisfied and angry with himself for bringing it upon himself, Draco walked back towards the castle, trying to calm the beating of his heart. He licked his lips as he made his way through the dark and winding corridors to the Slytherin commonroom. The cold air from the dungeons soothed his agitated soul as he walked and clenched his forearm, almost wishing that he could make it go away.

Something was terribly wrong with his plan. His initial orders gave him free range to use any means necessary, but perhaps he had not chosen the best course of actions. But really, what choice had he had? This was the only way he could even come close to accomplishing his mission. A resounding uncaring voice echoed in Draco’s head; his father reminding him of the consequences of failure.

Draco clenched his teeth and calmed his breath as he spoke the password and walked into the cold House of Slytherin. He did not stop to meet his usual cronies, nor did he hesitate for a moment when some of his friends called to him. He almost rejected Pansy Parkinson when she came to him, but he knew better than that. He had to keep up appearances.

“I have something for you, Draco.” Pansy’s voice was full of what she must have thought to be seductive lust, but Draco had never felt it. He thought only of the other black haired student… the one that actually managed to entice excitement from him. The girl held out a small bag covered in silver and green spirals. Original. “I’ll let you look at it alone… but you know where to find me if it, mm, floats your boat.” She winked at him and sauntered off.

Draco finally reached his dormitory, locked the door after making sure no one else was present, and dropped himself onto his bed. He pulled the curtains closed and emptied the bag of its contents. There fell a set of lacy black and green lingerie, laced with silver ribbon and white rhinestones. Draco rolled his eyes, and threw it to the end of his bed. He might just plant it somewhere later to start rumors amidst his classmates, but otherwise, this did not ‘float his boat’ at all.

Instead, Malfoy sat back against his pillow and stared at the tops of his bed hangings. He thought about what had just taken place at the lake and smiled. Despite his dissatisfaction, he relished the thought of what could have transpired. He had control now and soon he would have what he needed. Potter had wanted him just then. He wanted him now too, Draco was certain. The blonde Slytherin began to imagine different scenarios that he could make happen. As he did so, thinking of Potter’s skin, his lips and his movements when their bodies were in sync, Draco felt his excitement rise and he brought his hands down to his pants to release some of the tension.

But something worried him. Was he supposed to be so consumed by his task? Was it normal that he could think of nothing else? Perhaps this kind of thing plagued all Death-Eaters when they were in action. Perhaps it was simply his loyalty and determination to please his master that made him so vigorous in his mission. Perhaps…

Draco allowed himself release and exhaled heavily. He closed his eyes and thought more of what he could do, until he came to a very contemptuous next move. He would put it into action soon… A predator cannot give its prey too much leeway, or it might smarten up and fight back.

Draco couldn’t have that.

*_*_*

“I take it that you don’t feel much better, now,” Hermione remarked as Harry returned to the common room, throwing his books aside and crumbling onto one of the large red armchairs near his friends. He almost wanted to glare at her.

“No, not really.” Ron pulled something out of his bag and handed it to Harry. It was a chocolate frog. Harry looked at him, unblinking for a moment.

“Here, take it. Chocolate always seems to perk you up.” Ron shoved it at him with a smirk. Harry took it but continued to stare at him.

“But isn’t this your last one?” Harry asked. Ron rolled his eyes.

“So? You need it more than I do, trust me. Now eat it before I decide to shove it down your throat.” Ron chuckled and returned to his essay, which remarkably was no longer than Harry’s despite that he had worked on it more avidly. Harry smiled a bit and ate the chocolate. Ron was right; chocolate had been one of the only things to relax him lately. It reminded him of his third year at Hogwarts, when he had Dementor fighting sessions with Professor Lupin. That had been the year he met Sirius.

“So where did you go for your walk? You seem really flushed.” Hermione brought a hand to Harry’s forehead, seemingly worried about his health. Harry looked away briefly before replying.

“Just down to the lake, it’s cold outside.” She sat back in her chair and gave him a stern look. Harry gulped inaudibly.

“But it’s so calm there, what happened that got you in a mood?” Harry mentally hit himself.

“Malfoy showed up,” he told her, unable to find a more suitable response. He hoped they would accept that as reason enough for him to be angry. Luckily, they did.

“The little prat,” Ron snapped, throwing his quill down in forfeit. “He always shows up at the worst times to piss everyone off even more. Just seeing him around makes me want to punch him sometimes.” Harry laughed at Ron’s comment. He agreed with his best friend, but something was making him nervous. The way he had reacted to Malfoy’s advances was causing his stomach to churn. He couldn’t control himself anymore when he was in front of Draco. He felt this innate need to touch him now, to be close to him, despite how he felt about the little ferret.

Harry thought on that for a moment. How did he feel? He wasn’t so sure he hated Malfoy the way he had before. His feelings towards the blonde Slytherin were just as strong as ever, though he was mildly worried that they had changed their tune. Maybe it wasn’t hate anymore…