History Repeats Itself

Authors note: Many thanks to my beta and the lovely young lady who requested this fic. Shannon. You'll be seeing her in the story soon! This story is moving much quicker than my fics usually do, so brace yourselves

Chapter 3 Nothing More Than Feelings

The next couple of weeks went by without another run in with Potter. His gaze deftly avoided mine at mealtimes and he never once glanced my way during classes. It was as if I was invisible to him, and it left me wondering if I had ever really spoken to him at all.

I went from being certain that he did it on purpose and getting angry over it, to being sure it was all in my mind and that he was acting the same as always, to being relieved that he was ignoring me and pretending my temporary bought with insanity hadn’t existed. At one point I even convinced myself that he was avoiding me because he had feelings for me as well and was afraid, which was complete rubbish of course.

I was in turmoil, unsure of what I wanted the answer to be.

Finally I managed to convince myself that I didn’t crave his attention, and certainly not his acceptance, and by no means did I ever want him to have feelings for me. That would be absurd.

Unless it was, of course, to tease him over it, but my heart just wasn’t really in it when it came to teasing Potter anymore. I tried, really I did. The word ‘scarhead’ was on my lips no less than a dozen times during that first week, but it never seemed right, just never quite the right time to hurl an insult.

Surprisingly Crabbe and Goyle noticed it instantly. I never would have thought of them as the observant type, but apparently they were very watchful when it came to me. To my benefit or my detriment I had yet to find out.

We were sitting in the Great Hall at breakfast, I had been watching Potter all morning, waiting for him to turn and look in my direction. I didn’t even know what I would do if he did look my way, and there was no reason to think he would since I hadn’t seen even a glimpse of those piercing green eyes in weeks, but I couldn’t seem to keep myself from staring.

I was curious to note that the boy seemed happier, sitting between his two friends, than he had before our chat that may or may not have even happened.

It was then that I realized that Vince had been speaking and I tried to pick up on the end of it. “- New transfer from Beaxbatons.”

“I heard she was supposed to be here before lunch and that she’ll be sorted by the Headmaster personally,” Goyle added.

“I hope she’s sorted into Slytherin. We could use a new girl in our house. Pansy and her giggling minions are getting annoying,” Crabbe replied.

“Does anyone know her name?” I asked, trying to contribute to the conversation.

“I already said boss, weren’t you listening?” Vince asked.

“He was probably still ogling Potter,” Goyle teased.

I lashed out, grabbing the front of Goyle’s robes in my fist and yanked him to his feet, leveling my wand at his jugular. “What was that, Goyle?” I hissed.

“Nothing, boss. I was only joking, honest,” he prattled, scrambling to get away from me as I let go of his robes.

I was about to hit him with a mild hex, just something to remind Goyle of just who he was teasing, when a spark of green caught my eye and I realized that finally I was getting my way.

Potter was watching me.

I found myself suddenly wanting to earn that gaze, so I lowered my wand and stalked from the room, unsure what to do with myself. No doubt it would rankle Potter’s noble Gryffindor sensibilities to watch someone, even someone he didn’t like, get hexed in the middle of the Great Hall.

I didn’t know what to do, but what I did know was that this whole situation was getting out of hand when I couldn’t even discipline my own lackeys.

I ducked down a side corridor close to the stairs and slumped to the floor in defeat. I should have never gone into the past, never even stolen that ridiculous life ruining time turner. If I hadn’t seen the easy and caring relationship that Orion and Edward had, I would never even look twice at Potter, and certainly not in that light, the light that made him soft and naked and yearning for my touch.

I shook my head violently, trying to clear the traitorous thoughts away and accidentally smacked my head roughly into the stone wall. I barely heard it when my name was whispered over my own painful groan.

“Malfoy,” it whispered again and I looked around for the source of the noise.

Hovering in an unlit recess was a pair of sharp green eyes, and I had to blink before the rest of Harry came into view. “Potter,” I hissed. “What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, secretly more pleased than I felt I could contain.

“I came to check on you. You seemed really angry back there,” he whispered.

My heart began beating wildly as I thought of Potter coming out here for my benefit alone and I walked over to the small alcove where he stood.

The space was cramped, and with the two of us, we were practically on top of one another. I minded it far less than I should have and I was sure that Potter would be able to hear the violent thumping of my heart it was so loud and we were so close, almost touching.

“So are you talking to me now?” I asked, annoyance leaking into my voice.

Harry cast me a subtle smile and rolled his eyes. “No, not really, but you seemed really angry back there, and seeing as you helped me out a couple weeks ago, I thought I’d return the favor.”

My heart sank into my gut at his words. “No need, Potter,” I huffed and turned to walk away but a warm hand grabbed mine and the feeling of Harry’s skin melted away all my doubts at his intentions. It was like electricity and Harry must have felt it too, because he dropped my hand almost immediately and looked down at his own like it was a foreign object.

Eventually Harry shook his head and looked back up to meet my eyes, his were filled with confusion and several other things I couldn’t begin to name, but the confusion I was familiar with. “Why didn’t you hex him?” he asked at last, pulling me sharply from my thoughts.

“Pardon?” I asked, knowing full well what he was referring to.

“You looked like you were going to hex Crabbe, and then you just walked away,” he said.

“It was Goyle, not Crabbe,” I corrected, deftly avoiding his question. I suddenly wasn’t keen on lying to the Gryffindor, but at the same time I didn’t feel like revealing my own turmoil.

“Does it matter?” he said with a laugh. “They’re both just big dumb oafs.”

I took a step back and folded my arms defensively across my chest. “They are no more big dumb oafs than your friends, Potter,” I replied with a hollow sneer.

Harry narrowed his eyes. “You mean the Weasel and the mudblood?” he scoffed sarcastically.

“I have not once called either of them names since we talked, Potter,” I growled, hurt that he took our little meeting of the minds or whatever it was so lightly.

He opened his mouth to no doubt spout more Gryffindor nonsense, but promptly closed it and looked suitably chagrined. “This is really strange, and I feel like I’ve stepped into some alternate dimension,” he muttered, “but you’re right, Malfoy. I’m sorry.”

I blinked, unsure I heard those words escape the pretty pink lips of my rival, and then silently berated myself for looking at Potter’s lips. I nodded curtly in reply. “It’s fine. We can’t all be raised with proper manners I suppose,” I said coldly and regretted it at once.

He scowled at me and seemed to be thinking of his next retort. What he finally did say was unexpected and possibly worse than any biting comment he could have made about me or my family or my housemates. “You never answered my question. Why didn’t you hex Goyle?”

I sighed and leaned back into the alcove. Potter’s proximity was getting the better of my brain cells and his scent, a mixture of cut grass, ink and something I couldn’t even name, was making me say things I shouldn’t. “Because you were watching me.”

“So what, everyone in the Great Hall was watching you,” he replied, looking confused.

“I could care less about any of them,” I said before thinking it through and mentally kicked myself for the comment.

His face softened slightly and his lips curled into a faint smile that looked as though he was trying to suppress. “But you care about me?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, I mean, no, not the way you’re thinking,” I stammered.

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” he asked, his smile growing wider. I wanted to wipe that smile from his lips, but the manner with which I wanted to do so was unacceptable.

“I don’t,” I replied honestly, though it was rumored how bad Harry was at occlumency, I’m sure I could have read his mind without him ever knowing. It infuriated me that the idea of raiding Harry’s private thoughts wasn’t appealing.

“Well, I sort of think you might have a crush on me, Draco Malfoy,” he said with a teasing lilt to his voice.

I willed my eyes not to widen at his words and to narrow instead. “Hardly, Potter,” I scoffed. “In fact, any day now I should be expecting a letter from my father detailing my new bride to be,” I added for extra persuasion, though I wasn’t entirely sure who I was trying to convince.

I watched as his face faltered from a look of smug teasing, to that of a boy who had been rejected to something neutral and nondescript in a matter of moments. Hurt was still shining in his eyes though, and I realized in that moment that Potter had probably been just as confused as me. “Right,” he said quietly. “I was only teasing. Could you imagine?” he asked with a forced sounding laugh. “You and I? If the school knew I’d be Voldemort bait in an instant,” he joked.

I cringed at the thought and knew at once that it was true. If even one Slytherin got a hold of information like that, it would eventually get back to my father and be detrimental to both our life spans, shortening them significantly.

“We couldn’t even be friends could we?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

Harry just shook his head, mussing his already permanently windswept hair. If I knew any better, I’d say he looked upset about it. “Look Malfoy, I was only ignoring you because it’s just easier that way. I’m afraid if I pay you any attention then people will suspect something, and even though there is nothing to suspect, you know how easily rumors get started at Hogwarts,” he said and I nodded, agreeing and wholeheartedly disagreeing all at once. “So, please don’t pull a stunt like that just to get my attention anymore,” he added.

“What?” I asked incredulously. “I didn’t do it to get your attention.”

“But you said-“ he began but I promptly cut him off. I should have just let him think what he wanted, because the real reason was much worse.

“I said I didn’t hex him because you were watching me, not that I was going to hex him to get your attention,” I corrected.

“But-“ he began again and I rolled my eyes.

“Potter, he called me out, saying that I was staring at you. That’s why I grabbed him, and that’s why I was going to hex him. I stopped…” I began, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly to gather my nerve. I might as well finish what I started. “ I lowered my wand because I didn’t want you to think less of me,” I said at last, looking away so as not to see the humor I expected to in those brilliant green orbs. “I have no idea why I told you that, and if you ever breathe a word of it I’ll deny it and hex you into next week,” I was quick to point out.

“Draco,” he whispered, and the sound of my given name in his deep and sultry voice made me shiver. “Draco, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. “

“It doesn’t matter,” I said with a wave. “It’s just the… journals I read working their way into my mind. It’s just a phase I’m sure, and soon enough I’ll be back to the old Malfoy,” I huffed.

“I hope not,” Harry whispered. “Because I like this one,” he added.

I turned on him, wonder and surprise etched plainly on my face, certain he meant something besides what I thought he did, but allowing myself to hope nonetheless. “You-“

Harry’s laughter cut me off and I turned away from him, berating myself for being so ignorant. He grabbed my chin and turned my face to look at his. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I’m just laughing at the situation. This is all very ridiculous, you have to admit.” Harry said.

“What’s ridiculous, exactly?” I prompted.

“Well, I’ve had a crush on you since the moment I saw you. I was terribly upset that you turned out to be the enemy,” Harry admitted with a wry grin.

“You… what?” I asked, completely baffled.

“I thought for a moment, when we talked before, that you might think about me too, but I guess I was wrong,” he said with a shrug. “And if you leak a word of that to anyone I’ll deny it and hex you into next week,” he added, mimicking my words from earlier.

“I realized though, that it didn’t matter. Whether you felt the same or not, we could never be together. I’m never able to keep anything about my life secret, and if people were to find out, it would mean your neck and mine,” he continued.

I gaped at him openly for several minutes before sealing my fate. “I don’t care.”

“What?” he asked.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m confused, but one thing I know for sure right now is that I like being with you and I’m not ready for it to stop,” I whispered.

Harry blushed a vivid red and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss on my cheek. “I feel the same,” he whispered. “But I won’t ever risk that pretty neck of yours,” he added, running feather light fingertips along my throat.

I didn’t get a chance at a rebuttal, because in the very next moment, Harry was briskly walking away and the Great Hall was emptying of all its students so the corridor was filling rather quickly. I would have to choose another time to confront Potter about this little revelation, and I was determined to get my way next time.

Authors Note: Nudge, 'Review' Nudge. Okay then, how about for a freshly baked blueberry muffin? What if Harry baked it?