Darker Side of Me

Darker Side of Me –Chapter 4

Harry stared out the window of the Gryffindor common room. Light snowflakes were tumbling along in whirlwinds of winter air and covering the ground with a white blanket. The holidays were approaching at lightning speed and it had been a month since he had last spoken to Draco.

Every single day since that night in the dungeons Harry had cursed himself for saying what he had. He should have kept it inside, learned to hide it, controlled himself and, in essence, kept his mouth shut. He beat himself up internally every time he though about it now because not only did Malfoy now have something powerful to use against him whenever he felt like it, but he also seemed to be avoiding Harry. In the past this might have seemed like a positive, but not now.

Harry’s stomach churned and something gnawed at him as he attempted to stop himself from thinking of the Slytherin. His mid-term works were all glaring at him, ominously unfinished, from the table he was working at with his friends.

“Harry, come now…. You’ve been out of it for forever now.” Hermione looked up from her book on Defensive Curses, her voice ringing with worry. “You can’t even do your work properly. If you don’t snap out of it, your may not pass your exams.” Harry frowned and glared at his unfinished work.

“Hermione, there are things more important than exams in life, you know,” he replied disdainfully. She shook her head.

“Harry, please. I’m just worried about you. We both are…” She nodded her head to Ron, who was sucking on a sugar quill while he attempted to think up suitable predictions for his Divination homework. “Maybe you should consider talking to Dumbledore about how you are feeling… he might be able to help. You can’t go on like this, and you know it.”

Harry sighed and leaned over his work, picked up his quill and tried to force himself to work. He knew Hermione’s intentions were noble and she was probably right. In most cases, Harry would have taken her advice and gone to see Dumbledore, though he was quite sure that Dumbledore would not be able to help him in this particular situation.

“Hermione’s right, you need to get out of this funk,” Ron finally chimed in, after carefully documenting his extensive proof that he had foretold Harry’s death. “But I have a better idea than going to see Dumbledore. You should come back to my house this Christmas, spend the break with my family! You know you are always welcome.” Harry’s spirits brightened for a moment before plummeting once more. He would have liked to go spend Christmas with the Weasleys, but he could not, in good conscience go. Not after what he had done.

He finished his work and thanked Ron for the offer. He made up an excuse, however, as to why he could not go (something to do with extra training with Dumbledore for dueling) and went upstairs to the dormitory. He dropped down onto his bed and held his head in his hands.

What was wrong with him? He’d turned down going to spend Christmas with the few people in the world who really cared about him; the nicest family in existence… and for what? For solitude, loneliness and self-consumption. He sighed and put on his shoes and cloak, then left Gryffindor Tower to walk on his own.

*_*_*

“Yes, Father. Yes, I understand. Absolutely. I will not fail. I understand the consequences and they shall not apply. Yes, happy Christmas to you as well.” Draco’s voice was icy cold as he bid his father goodbye and turned away from the fireplace. He was alone in the Slytherin common room and glad of it. He pursed his lips and walked over to one of the black leather couches.

Running his fingers through his sleek blond hair, Draco sighed and shook his head. He was to spend Christmas at Hogwarts this year. He usually quite enjoyed going home for the holidays, though this year, it was probably for the best he stay at school. His father was not at all pleased with him, and returning home to his father’s dissatisfaction was not something Draco would do willingly.

Besides, his father had no right to be angry. It wasn’t his fault that events had turned out the way they had. It was beyond his control and he could not allow himself to press further if circumstances were already as volatile as they there.

Malfoy threw his head back and leaned back into the couch. He could not stop thinking about the last time he had seen Potter. It was far too much for him. He hadn’t seen the boy in just over a month and it was not entirely coincidental.

As he reviewed what had happened in his mind, he grimaced at himself and groaned. It had been so unexpected and so unplanned. He had been unprepared for that particular turn of events and, honestly, did not anticipate that it would be at all possible. Potter was supposed to hate him. It was not supposed to end up that way. He was simply supposed to become addicted to Draco, in a manner of speaking. There was no deeper emotion that was supposed to be involved.

Potter was ruining his finely laid plans!

Draco stood angrily, and huffed for a moment, overcome with anger. He quickly realized, however, that his anger was not directed at Potter, but at himself. It was true, there was not supposed to be any presence of deeper emotion, but there was. And the greater problem lied in the fact that Potter was not the only one to have them.

“That’s just not true!” Draco told himself, angrily. “He’s the one that feels that way, I’ll just abuse of it. Yes…. This way, he’ll trust me and listen to me if I want to lead him somewhere. He will be blinded by his emotions so I can take advantage! Yes, that’s how I’ll get to him….”

But Draco was lying to himself and he knew it. He shook his head again, grabbed his cloak and scarf and left the common room. He needed to find Potter.

*_*_*

Harry stood in the doorway of the boys’ change rooms, just off the Quidditch pitch. He sighed, remembering what had happened there. The air was cold and the wind was urging him inside. He was freezing from the snow and yet, could not bring himself to walk back in there.

He had almost hoped that Malfoy would be waiting for him inside. He felt mild disappointment when he realized that the rooms were completely empty and he was the only one around for miles. Everyone was, quite clearly, keeping to the insides of the castle in order to stay warm. Malfoy was probably with them.

“Reminiscing on the good old days, are we?” A cool voice came from behind Harry. His heart stopped for a moment. He did not turn around. He was mixed with a refusal to face Malfoy and a refusal to be disappointed in him not being there at all. He did not want it to be one of his crazy fantasies. “Honestly, Potter, either go in or get out,” the voice chastised him and a strong push threw him forwards into the warm change room. He finally turned around.

Malfoy stood just inside the doorway, his hair encrusted with little tiny icicles that matched the cold grey of his eyes. His cheeks were soft pink and his cloak was soaking wet. Harry felt his breathing increase and his heartbeat quicken.

“Perhaps I’m reliving a nightmare,” Harry spat coldly. He attempted to glare at the Slytherin, but managed only to create a rather misleading pout. Draco smirked.

“Not from what I remember,” he replied, stepping forward and removing his dripping cloak and scarf. He was wearing a black fitted turtleneck and dark wash jeans. “Or have you changed your mind about loving me?” Harry’s breath caught in his chest and he frowned.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he lied, quite poorly. Draco closed the distance between them.

“Don’t you?” he asked calmly. Harry’s glasses began to fog up slightly from the proximity and sudden heat.

“No, I don’t love you,” he answered. “I never did love you. I hate you, Malfoy. I ha-” But before he could finish, Draco had pulled him into a kiss. It was different, however, than they had been before. His kiss held no burning desire, no carnal hunger, no angry passion. Instead, it was marked by its tenderness and softness.

He held Harry in place, for a few moments. Their embrace did not break but Harry’s heart pounded as he succumbed momentarily to the Slytherin’s actions. Draco finally pulled away very gently, keeping his face within a few centimeters of Harry’s.

“I hate what you have done to me,” Harry whispered, his voice still full of anger and hatred, though his eyes now conveyed a deep and powerful sense of need and love. Draco took no notice of his voice, but stared into his eyes.

“I know,” he replied quietly, his fingers carefully removing Harry’s wet scarf and cloak. “But you haven’t been so nice to me either, you know, Harry.”

Potter’s eyes widened. Did that just happen? Did Draco say what he thought he did? Harry stood motionless while Draco calmly began removing Harry’s wet clothes. Harry suddenly shook his head and stepped back.

“What are you talking about?” Harry demanded, now shirtless in front of Draco. The blond smiled at stared at his chest as he heaved with every breath.

“I’m talking about what you’ve done to me,” Draco elaborated carefully, attempting to step towards Harry again. “Don’t think you’re the only one who was affected by what we’ve been doing. Honestly, you are such a drama queen sometimes.” Harry’s heart beat faster and faster.

“You… you aren’t lying?” Harry asked, in shock. Draco laughed and caressed Harry’s face with his hand.

“Were you?” Draco did not wait; he pulled Harry into another kiss. This time, Potter reciprocated, wrapping his arms around the blond and pulling him down to the floor. He carefully removed Draco’s shirt and kissed a trail of careful pecks down the boy’s neck, to his chest.

Draco straddled Harry, pressed their chests together and brushed the boy’s black hair away from his face. Draco traced a thin line over Harry’s scar before stopping, to look into his eyes. They both stared at one another for a moment, in silence.

“I’m staying at Hogwarts this Christmas,” Draco mumbled. Harry felt strange waves of emotion wash over him. The blond continued to lightly caress Harry’s scar as he spoke. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m staying too…” he replied, quietly, allowing his forehead to be stroked. No one had ever touched his scar like this before; it made him sleepy and serene.

“I suppose you and your friends will spend the time finding new ways to come out the hero and save the day,” Draco mused, with traces of spite. Harry shook his head.

“Ron and Hermione are going home for the holidays…. I’ll be here alone,” he explained. Draco cocked an eyebrow.

“Why aren’t you jetting off to stay with the weasels?” Harry frowned, slightly, then smirked.

“After being with you? You can’t think I would try to poison my own best friend with your essence,” he retorted. Draco stopped tracing over his scar.

“Yes, I’m tainted one.” Harry furrowed his brow and pushed Draco off. He sat up and picked up his shirt. Draco lifted a hand to stop him, but noticed the black mark on his arm slightly visible and thought the better of it.

“You can’t love me if you speak of my friends like that,” Harry stated, clothing himself and hoping the Slytherin might find some way to stop him.

He didn’t.

Draco said nothing, though his face had fallen as he watched Harry redress. Harry moved towards the door.

“You seriously have this brooding and sullen look down pact.” Draco’s voice came from behind him as he left. “Gets me every time.”