Hate Transforms

‘Doesn’t change a thing?’ – “Doesn’t change a thing?!” Harry exclaimed aloud as he stood flabbergasted in the library, pants still open, shirt ruffled.

He shook his head trying to figure out what just happened. He wasn’t exactly sure how he picking up Malfoy’s book after bumping into him led to kissing, then groping, then Malfoy giving him a handjob. The entire incident was surreal. He could still feel the blonde’s hot breath ghosting over his sweaty skin, which was now cold from the drafty library. The cool air brought Harry’s attention to the fact his fly was still down and his clothes were in disarray.

Harry gave up on finding the book he was after, rearranged his clothes, and walked back to his table. Despite the load of homework he had, he could not get the images of Malfoy out of his head; the way he moved against him, the way he stared into him, or the way he talked to him – you will come for me, Potter – just the thought made him shiver.

But what were Malfoy’s motives? He said that what happened didn’t change anything. Was Harry to believe that what just happened meant nothing?

Of course, Malfoy was just toying with him. If it meant nothing, then there was no way Malfoy fancied him.

This was retaliation for Harry kissing him on the train. Malfoy just upped the ante.

The more Harry thought about it, however, the more he was sure there was something other than just revenge. If it had just been payback then Malfoy would have done something much more public, in the style that was typical of Malfoy. There must be another motive Harry is not seeing, but he was determined to find out what it was. Everything had changed, whether Malfoy wanted to admit it or not; their rivalry had taken a new turn. The new direction was still foggy to Harry, but he would not let this go.

Before he could get completely lost in thoughts about how to approach Malfoy again, Harry was no longer alone. Ron and Hermione were approaching his table with their own stacks of books and parchment.

“Hey, Harry, find that book?” asked Ron with a defeated expression as he looked down at the tremendous stack he just laid down on the table.

“Nope,” he lied, and willed himself not to blush.

Hermione said, in her always helpful tone, “Really? I think I know where that book is. I can go get it, if you want?”

“No Hermione, its no big deal. I got loads of other things I can do.”

She smiled lightly at him, “Its no bother, I have to get a potions book near it any way.” Then she rose and quickly disappeared behind the rows and rows of books.

“Unbelievable,” Ron said resolutely.

“What?” Harry asked, trying to hide his alarm. Could Ron tell what he had just done – or what Malfoy had just done to him?

“I think she’s successfully memorized the entire bleedin’ library.”

They both laughed, though Ron more genuinely than Harry.

As silence settled in between them Harry could feel Ron scrutinizing him.

“Did Malfoy say something to you?”

Now Harry was sure his face was betraying something, either that or Ron was suddenly prescient. “What, why d’you think Malfoy said anything to me?”

“Saw him leave here, looking murderous. When I saw you come out of the same section I figured he said something, and you two rowed.”

Relief washed through Harry, and he grabbed hold of the excuse like a buoy. “Yeah, the prat got pissed ‘cause I accidentally bumped into him and he dropped his book,” which was the truth, but didn’t make Harry feel better about hiding the rest. “Then we exchanged un-pleasantries, and he got bent out of shape when I called him a Death Eater.” Harry prayed this would be enough of an explanation to stave off any more questions.

“I’m sure the sniveling git did,” Ron said angrily. Then he looked up at Harry skeptically, “So you still think Malfoy is up to something?”

“Yeah, I do,” Harry admitted truthfully, though the nature of what he thought Malfoy was up to may have changed, possibly.

Any further discussion was thankfully cut of when Hermione returned with the books. Both Harry and Ron knew it was better to drop the subject because Hermione felt as if they were using their animosity as fuel to unfairly find evidence of Malfoy planning something for Voldemort. To prevent another argument the trio fell into a comfortable silence studying.

*******
The following morning Harry had to drag himself out of bed. He had spent the majority of the night trying to figure out a way to confront Malfoy without causing a scene. It was obvious, after Malfoy failed to show to dinner, that planning was needed.
He still was unsure what he wanted to say or how he would approach Malfoy, but the entire incident from the day before didn’t sit well with Harry.

The day seemed to drag along. Breakfast and classes were going slower than normal. At least he had spotted the blonde in the Great Hall during breakfast, though there was no opportunity to corner him, especially when Ron and Hermione were sitting with him.

Lunch was a similar situation, and on their way to Potions, Harry was growing annoyed. He wasn’t really frustrated with anyone but himself. He just couldn’t understand what was happening in his head or body. He was searching for answers, and the only other person that was aware of the situation was Malfoy. He was sure Malfoy was up to something sinister, but whether it was connected to what had passed between them, Harry wasn’t sure.

Harry took his usual seat next to Ron, towards the back of the room. From here he had a clear view of the blonde Slytherin, who was already seated and talking to Pansy Parkinson. Harry couldn’t help from admiring the way Malfoy’s hair glowed in the dim candlelight of the dungeon classroom. Luckily, before anyone caught him staring Slughorn began class.

Today the class was going to brew an Anti-Aging Potion that included many ingredients they did not normally use. Harry immediately pulled out his book and scanned the margins for tips and changes to the directions. There were many lines scribbled out of the text with small angry notes next to them. He had to squint to decipher some of the writing. As he studied the notes and set up his cauldron he could feel, rather than see, Hermione’s disapproving looks.

Finally she snapped and leaned over the aisle whispering, “You won’t learn anything if you keep cheating with that book.”

Ron snorted dismissively, “Not like we’re going to learn anything anyway. And it’s not cheating if it’s in the book, right Harry?”

“Right,” he replied distracted as he checked over his ingredients. He realized he needed to go to the supply closet to get some bubotuber pus.

As he looked up towards the closet he saw Malfoy heading towards it. His first instinct was to wait until the Slytherin was finished retrieving whatever he needed then heading over, but realized this was the chance he had been waiting for all day. He glanced over at Ron and Hermione; neither was paying attention to him or Malfoy. Hermione was cutting up roots, while Ron was still reading the directions, looking bewildered.

“Hey, Ron do you want me to get you some bubotuber pus? I was going to get some right now,” he inquired, hoping this would prevent an untimely interruption by his best mate.

Ron looked up confused, “We need bubotuber pus?”

“Yeah,” he said and pointed it out in the ingredients list. He couldn’t help but laugh at his friend’s dismal potions skills.

“Sure, if you’re already going.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Harry swiftly walked to the closet to one side of Slughorn’s desk and paused at the door. He peered inside and saw that Malfoy was alone inside. With one last glance around the room, he checked that no one was getting up or heading their way, and then he entered. The tall blonde didn’t realize he had entered the room. He had his back to Harry and was bent over reading labels on bottles and shelves. Without being able to stop his eyes he glanced at Malfoy from head to toe, and lingered on the ass that was prominent in the crouched position he held.

Harry forced his mind to abandon such distracting thoughts, and stayed focused. He had to ask about what had happened and why. But as he stared at the other boy anger rose in his chest, burning his face, and making rational thought difficult. He felt as if Malfoy was manipulating his emotions and thoughts by acting as if what happened was nothing. Of course in turn making Harry care even more, making him want to know the motivations behind the actions.

Then there was this sudden question about his sexuality. He now debated whether he was gay, and it was all because of Malfoy. From day one Malfoy was a complication, an aggravation, but this was worse than all the other times. This altered Harry’s perception of himself, and his future. Harry was pissed at himself, how could he allow Malfoy to get to him so badly?

Malfoy must have found what he was looking for because he pulled a vial off the shelf and straightened.

Harry gathered his courage before saying, “So if what happened doesn’t change anything, then what was the point?”

Obviously startled by his presence and statement Malfoy froze with his back still towards Harry. As Malfoy slowly began to turn, Harry tried to make sure his face was a mask of calm indifference. That damned sneer was already in place, and Harry prepared himself for the snide remark that was surely awaiting him. The normal derisive glare wavered as their eyes locked, but Malfoy quickly recovered, though less convincing this time.

“What did you expect Potter? Did you really think we were going to be boyfriends now?” he scoffed.

“Like I would have you,” Harry retorted, knowing it would piss him off.

Grey eyes narrowed ominously, and Harry could feel an electric shock go up his spine. Malfoy had the most intimidating glare he had ever seen. But he was here to get answers not be frightened by Malfoy. He called Malfoy’s bluff by moving in closer, cornering Malfoy against the shelves of potions ingredients.

“There had to be a reason, Malfoy. What was the advantage?” he pushed.

“I was merely throwing you a bone, or taking care of yours, as it were,” he said as he glanced over Harry’s form, causing Harry to blush, and Malfoy to smirk.

“Please Malfoy, there had to be something in it for you. Was it payback for what happened on the train?”

“No, I wouldn’t say it was payback,” Malfoy drawled, and pushed past Harry with his shoulder. He turned around to face Harry from the doorway. “It was more mercy; I would venture as far as to call it compassion, seeing as how you were in such need.”

“Like I’m supposed to believe that,” mocked Harry.

“Believe me or don’t. I’ll tell you what, Potter, I’ll prove I had no real malicious intent. I have told no one and will continue to tell no one-”

“So you won’t be as embarrassed as me, doesn’t prove much,” he interrupted.

“Honestly Potter, you think I wouldn’t find someway to twist what happened to benefit me, and completely humiliate you. Such little imagination,” he said with his trademark smirk. Harry thought about what he said, and knew Malfoy was right. Malfoy could take any situation and turn it into a gain for him and a loss for someone else. “So I will keep this little ‘rendezvous’ to myself to prove it was out of… compassion.” Then the blonde left the closet, leaving Harry with his jaw hanging open.

How did Malfoy always manipulate a situation so he was on top? Harry had a feeling he would never really get a straight answer out of Malfoy. Was he really supposed to believe Malfoy did anything without his personal interest in mind?

More confused than before, Harry grabbed two vials of bubotuber pus and headed back to his seat. He was left wondering if Malfoy was capable of a single considerate act, especially directed towards him of all people.


A/N:
I want advise! I am debating whether I should have Draco reveal his task to Harry, and if/when it should happen. Or should he just allude to something? What do you think?
Let me know!
(I know I’m not quite there yet, but I’m planning- possibly scheming)