A Series of Connecting the Dots

Authors Note: Now it's Laurel's turn. This chapter is her's. You can either review here, or on her profile (DreamingInColour) or if you're extra diligent you could review on both. lol.

Chapter 4 – Harry – Bad Day

Malfoy blinked at the prediction, but I could tell he thought it was just a load of tosh, who wouldn’t think that when the eyes looking into the ‘future’ belonged to Sybill Trelawney.

“Are you sure?” he scoffed. “It might just be the Grim or some other trite nonsense such as that.”

I snorted with laughter. Malfoy must have heard of Trelawney’s usual predictions concerning me as this was our first year having Divination together. I was actually surprised he was taking it; I would have thought he considered himself too good for a class like this. Then again, I didn’t really know all that much about him.

Despite Malfoy’s disregard for the tealeaf reading, it still got under my skin. I couldn’t work out what to make of Trelawney’s predictions. Normally, I took her ‘seer’ moments with a grain of salt, but this time I wasn’t so sure. I had seen her make a genuine prediction before, back in third year: she’d completely spaced out and hadn’t even remembered saying anything afterwards. This time, I could tell she was completely lucid and didn’t know what to make of it, but her predictions sounded so genuine.

‘Judas and betrayal?’ Well, that wasn’t so much a prediction as an observation. My friends and my House – people I once considered family – had all betrayed my trust by abandoning me. Not that what I did was acceptable or that they shouldn’t have been angry, but to dump me like a newborn giraffe? That’s a bit extreme. I do feel betrayed.

But what did that say about the authenticity of Trelawney’s predictions? Could even she, locked up here in her ivory tower, have heard about my fall from grace? Even if she hadn’t, was it really so hard to deduce? Here I am, ‘Gryffindor’s Poster Child’ according to Malfoy, sitting here with a Slytherin – I would go so far as to say Slytherin’s Poster Child – when there are other Gryffindors in the room for me to sit with.

‘Love and longevity?’ Now that prediction was a stretch! Nobody who looked at me thought longevity. I could see it in their eyes: they were all wondering how long I would live. Hell, even I wondered how long I would live.

It was easy to say she was just making them up, but – in my experience – Trelawney was an unoriginal fraud who wore those thick glasses for a reason: to her, the outside world was nothing but a when she ‘saw my future’, she saw ‘the Grim’: she saw my untimely death; they all did! She – along with everyone else – knew that one day I would come face to face with the most powerful Dark Lord of the age and was nothing but a 16 year old kid. What hope did I possibly have of walking away from that battle?

So why, then, would she have predicted love and a long life? It made no sense.

Love. That was my other worry. Love? Just the thought made me nervous. I was a very emotional person; I felt things deeply, which was why I often came across as being a little on edge. When I was friends with somebody, I was a true friend in the deepest sense – unwavering loyalty, complete trust, total faith – which was why my abandonment had cost me so much. When I hated somebody I hated them furiously – which is why this exchange with Malfoy has me so confused. And if I was ever gifted love – I would love them truly and for as long as I had breath in my body. But I could not fall in love: a long life was never something I was destined for and I could never – in good conscience – leave my lover a broken widow.

“Is she mad or what?” Malfoy’s voice yanked me unceremoniously from my thoughts and I realized I was still sitting at that little table with him in Divination.

“What?” I asked, still distracted. I didn’t care what he had to say, but I wasn’t about to be rude to the one person in this castle that still seemed to be talking to me.

He nodded his head towards Professor Trelawney who was now sitting with Lavender Brown, feeding her some nonsense about Prince Charming and a June wedding.

What a load of crap.

I instantly felt better. She really was crazy. Those predictions meant nothing.

“Definitely off her rocker,” I laughed, nodding my head to emphasise the point.

“How she stays under employ here is beyond me. I’ve complained to my father about her, but he says Dumbledore is adamant about keeping the old bat around,” Malfoy told me pompously.

What a self important git! It infuriated me that his whole world – no, sorry, in his opinion the whole world – revolved around the Malfoy family and his father, Lord Malfoy. What a joke! Lord Malfoy who kneels at the feet of a lunatic. Oh yes, very important Malfoy, your father spit shines the shoes of the monster who cowers at my very existence. I was sooo impressed. Sometimes, I wished I could literally knock some sense into his brain so he could see what a phony his father really was!

I tried to keep a hold of my anger, and for the most part I think I succeeded. I hated the fact he was still able to fire me up so completely, but – worse – I hated the fact that he delighted in it. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Do you always run to daddy when something doesn’t go your way?” I asked calmly. There was still an edge to my voice, though, and it undoubtedly gave away my harsher intentions.

“Father and I are close,” he said flatly. “You shouldn’t judge what you don’t understand.”

I felt like he’d punched me: the way I always felt when he took it upon himself to remind me that he had parents and I didn’t. This time, however, it was worse because I couldn’t even comfort myself with the idea that at least I had Hermione and Ron.

‘Like I’m jealous of your father, Malfoy!’ I thought to myself. ‘He’s nothing but a Death Eater!’

My fury rose in me again, but this time I was unable to control it. I was very aware of the fact that we were still sitting in the small Divination room and I tried not to draw too much attention to our argument. “I understand he’s a Death Eater,” I bit out, voicing my thoughts.

I didn’t expect any sort of revealing response – I just wanted him to know that I knew – so when he did eventually speak, he floored me with his openness. “My father has always done what is needed to keep us safe. If the only option he saw was to join the strongest side, then I have no doubt he would have made that choice,” he replied. It was carefully worded, but I knew what he was trying to say. His father was a Death Eater and he stood by that decision. He, too, thought I would fail.

“There is always more than one choice available to us, Malfoy,” I replied quietly. Malfoy seemed to know so little about life – he knew so little about death. I wanted to tell him there were things more important than your own life, things worse than your own death, but I didn’t – he was too wrapped up in his father’s and his own importance. Lucius wouldn’t agree with me and, to Malfoy, Lucius’ word was gospel.

He rolled his eyes and it hurt me to think I was letting him continue walking the path that would lead to his own destruction. “Not to be rude, Potter, but you of all people should know what would have come of making a different choice,” he said.

Ouch. Another stab at my parents. Did he actually believe I’d be better off in his situation: a child of darkness who still has his parents by his side? Like my parents even had that choice – of course, they had made their decision long before I was born – but following my birth and that prophecy, they really had no choice. It would have been me or Voldemort.

“Really Potter, has there never been a time, even one random second, where you resented the choices your parents made? If they had done what my father did, they’d still be here with you,” he pressed.

Why couldn’t Malfoy just learn to let some things drop? Does he think because I told him about Mike that I want to get all touchy-feely about my parents? Like we’re friends now and anything is fair game?

Then again, isn’t that what you want, Harry? I asked myself. Not even an hour ago I had decided to encourage a relationship with Malfoy to see where it would go: to see how he might be able to help me with Voldemort. Here I was with an opportunity to reveal a harsh truth to the Slytherin and hopefully encourage his sympathy.

I decided to take it.

“Voldemort would have killed me,” I replied, still sounding colder than I’d like; I hated him talking about my parents. “It wasn’t a matter of joining or not; it was a matter of die or let Voldemort kill me. How can I be resentful of people who gave up their own lives so that I could have a shot at one?”

He seemed dumbstruck by the new information and I could only hope it had the effect I wanted it to have. “The Dark Lord was after you?” he asked, sounding confused – rightly so I’d say. What is logical about a Dark Lord as ‘important’ as Voldemort actively seeking to kill one particular baby? Nothing, unless you know of the prophecy. I wasn’t going to give him that information though: only a select few knew about that. People I trusted – or at least used to trust…

I decided to change the direction of the conversation back to him, trying to make him understand. “What would your father have done if Voldemort gave him that choice? Would he have saved you or himself and your mother?” I asked.

“Two lives are more important that one,” he replied immediately. He sounded robotic, automated, like he’d been brainwashed and it was a rule he’d had drummed into his head.

I felt sick when he said that.

Poor Malfoy. He had this look on his face like he felt sick too. I felt sorry for him. Shouldn’t your parents love you more than they love themselves? Isn’t it programmed into you once you procreate?

“Your parents sound cold,” I said quietly. As I heard myself speak I realised I’d just probably made him feel worse and my hand moved over automatically to comfort him, he smacked it away.

“Do not presume that one civil conversation gives you the right to judge my life, Potter. You can keep your high and mighty sentiments to yourself,” he snapped, sharply reminding me who I was talking to.

I silently berated myself for letting myself forget in the first place. I was freshly aware that I would have to watch myself around him. He was able to suck me in far too easily and I needed to be careful, to protect myself.

By the time I went to respond, Malfoy was halfway out the door.

Class was over.

-

“Come to trounce your superiority over me some more, Potter?” he asked evenly, looking hurt. I don’t know why I followed him in here. My brain had briefly short circuited and I was standing in the bathroom with Malfoy before I had a chance to rethink it.

I cringed at his words. I felt bad enough as it was and I knew he was rubbing it in on purpose to make me feel worse. Congratulations, Malfoy, job well done. I wasn’t going to apologise though: they were hard realities to face, but necessary if I was going to win him over to my side somehow. I felt guilty all over again as I remembered that once I had won him I would need to use him to take down Voldemort and his followers – his father included.

“Look, Malfoy...” I started, pushing my guilt aside and wanting to try and mend the fragile truce we had wordlessly established; if I lost that I would lose my window to Voldemort.

Before I had the chance to launch into my ‘let’s just avoid talking about our parents’ speech, he had grabbed my wrists in both his hands and pushed me roughly up against the bathroom wall. He pinned my hands above my head and leaned in close. I didn’t fight him: I didn’t want to.

“No you look,” he whispered hotly. “I don’t need this back and forth from you. I was trying to be civil, trying to share things with you because somehow we got thrown into the same lot together. I was trying to make the best of it, and you threw it back in my face.”

His breath tickled my lips warmly as he spoke and I suddenly felt extremely vulnerable; not that I thought he would hurt me, but I was worried I might want him to hurt me in the best way possible. I felt his knee press into me and brush across my groin; I knew from the mischievous glint in his eyes that he was doing it on purpose.

He was getting bolder: no more flirtatious suggestions – Malfoy meant business. I was no longer worried that I would lose my newest link to Voldemort, I was now worried I would lose my virginity right here in this bathroom – to Draco Malfoy.

My heart was pumping so fast it had me panting and it was all I could do to try and keep my breathing steady. I knew better than to give in to my desires and let Malfoy just have me like he wanted, as much as I wanted to throw myself in this feeling and lose myself in it just for a while, I knew all he wanted was to tick off the Harry Potter box on his list of ‘People I haven’t had sex with yet.’

“I’m just having a bad day, Malfoy,” I sighed.

“We all have bad days, Potter. It doesn’t give you the right to be cruel,” he bit out.

Me? Cruel? Oh that’s rich! I thought. I couldn’t help myself, I had to laugh. What a joke!

“I wasn’t being cruel,” I replied. “I was being honest. It was your idea to bring up our parents.”

“Clearly we can’t talk to one another,” he whispered no longer looking angry, but disappointed. “So where does that leave us?” he continued, leaning into me suggestively.

For a second I thought he was going to kiss me, but I didn’t move - I didn’t struggle. I knew if he kissed me, I would probably kiss him back. I would probably let go and just let him have me. I felt so broken – even though I tried to forget about my friends and move on, I just couldn’t, I still loved them – and I wanted to see if he could allow me even a moment’s peace to forget my problems in a crashing orgasm.

He didn’t kiss me. He just stood there – hovering – like he was waiting for me to kiss him. That was taking things a bit too far, I was happy to be a passive participant in this exchange, but not an active one.

It was just then I noticed the bathroom door open behind him and I realised what a suggestive position we were in. Fantastic. More rumours to add to the collection that were already circulating about me. Harry Potter is with Ginny Weasley, Michael Corner AND Draco Malfoy! Who else is the Gryffindor slut doing?

And then I saw the intruder’s face and I gasped at the shock of it. It was Mike. Shit! I’d been sprung, doing what? – even I wasn’t sure.

I should have struggled under Malfoy’s grip. I should have wriggled free, but I was frozen underneath him. Not again. First Ginny walked in on me with Mike, and now – not even twenty-four hours later – Mike was walking in on me with Malfoy.

I wanted to scream to him that it wasn’t what it looked like, that I wasn’t cheating on him, but my tongue seemed stuck to the roof of my mouth.

“What’s going on here, Harry?” Mike asked me, looking hurt, like he was thinking that I was nothing but a filthy cheater.

Malfoy looked over to the door, noticing Mike for the first time, and, when he turned back to face me, he didn’t look pleased about the intrusion. “I’d like to see where you and I might lead,” he whispered seductively into my ear. “You intrigue me, Potter.”

I felt my insides turn to jelly. That boy had some serious sex appeal.

Draco swept out of the bathroom leaving me alone and defenceless with a very pissed off looking Mike. I felt my insides seize up when I realised I didn’t know what to say here; I couldn’t tell him the truth – that Malfoy was trying to seduce me and before he walked in I was dangerously close to giving in – Malfoy was seriously hot, there wasn’t a man in all of Hogwarts that wouldn’t feel threatened by Malfoy if he was interested in their boyfriend… or girlfriend, whatever the case may be.

“Hey,” I greeted Mike carefully.

“Is that all you have to say? Seriously?” Mike scoffed, looking blindsided like he couldn’t believe he was in this situation; I could understand where he was coming from – he was supposed to be the other lover not the one being cheated on.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” I replied honestly. “I know it looks bad, but it wasn’t anything, I swear.”

“Really? Did you tell Ginny the same thing?” he spat harshly.

“No! Jesus, Mike!” I yelled, that was just a bit below the belt for my liking. “I hate Malfoy! And he hates me! He’s just getting off on the fact that I’m gay!”

“Yeah, I could see that!” he snapped.

Okay, I had to give him that; I just walked straight into that one!

“Not like that!” I huffed at him twisting my words on me. “He’s just being a prat about the famous Harry Potter being a pouf, he wants to make sure I know he knows,” I said, wondering how much of that was the truth and how much of it was a lie; I honestly didn’t know.

“Everyone knows, Harry,” Mike said softly. It looked like he was calming down a little bit.

“I know,” I sighed. “They all know about you too. I’m so sorry; I wish it didn’t have to come out like this.”

“Yeah, my dad isn’t happy,” he sighed.

I was afraid of that. He always said his father was homophobic.

“If it had been with anyone but you he may have disowned me,” he confessed.

“Really!?” I gasped, my eyebrows flew up into my fringe; I didn’t think things were that serious.

“Yeah, well, not legally, but I’d be, let’s say, unwelcome if I were to be myself, as it is I think he may be slightly impressed that I managed to snag you as my boyfriend,” he said smiling slightly. He was no longer angry, but I could tell he hadn’t exactly forgiven me yet.

“What did he say?” I asked, curious. I wanted to stay with Mike; it would make things easier with Malfoy if I had a boyfriend – someone I was committed to – and besides, I did genuinely like him.

“He just ranted about me being a faggot and then said ‘so Harry Potter eh?’ and that was it,” Mike shrugged. “It was the best I could have hoped for really.”

I smiled. “Does that mean we’re…?”

“Not if Malfoy keeps pinning you against bathroom walls,” Mike replied, smirking a little, but still sounding serious.

“Not an issue,” I smiled and walked over to him grabbing the front of his robes in my fists and pulling him up against me.

I kissed him lightly at first, not sure if he was still angry with me. I didn’t want to look like I was overcompensating for any guilt I might – okay, maybe did – feel.

Mike smiled, seemingly satisfied. “Seriously, he looked like he wanted to kill me with his eyes when I interrupted. Are you sure he wasn’t planning on fucking you into the tiles?”

I just laughed, trying not to sound nervous. I was actually positive that was exactly what he wanted to do. “Please,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Like I’d ever let him touch me: he’s a fuckin’ Slytherin! Besides, you are so much more delectable.” Okay, maybe I was overcompensating just a little bit.

“Really?” Mike teased me, sounding extremely sexy. “Is that so?” Oh God. I was starting to get hard. Hey, shut up! I was sixteen, alright? Mike could sneeze and I’d get a hard on!

“Mmph,” was how my ‘yes’ came out, muffled into his mouth and around his tongue which was lapping at my own.

“Perhaps I should fuck you into the tiles,” he purred after pulling his mouth away from mine.

I was at full mast by now and he pressed his hip into me to show me how aware he was of this fact. “Mmm,” I moaned agreeably, before pulling him into another kiss. My body was reacting in all the right ways, but for some reason he didn’t turn me on as thoroughly as he used to: there were no butterflies, no full-body hot flushes; just a burning groin and a hard dick. I refuse to believe Malfoy had anything to do with that though – I was just having a really bad day.

“Oh shit! Sorry,” I heard a small voice gasp behind Mike, before the bathroom door slammed shut. Someone had walked in on me again! Perhaps this wasn’t the most private place.

“We should probably go,” I pouted at Mike, wishing I could just tear his clothes off.

“Yeah, probably,” he sighed, sounding about as disappointed as I did.

-

Mike and I had decided not to purposely flaunt our relationship in front of anyone. We were coping with enough scandal as it was, and bouncing into the Great Hall for breakfast hand in hand would probably just make things worse. At least, that was the plan for now.

I sat by myself at breakfast the next morning. I was being thoroughly ignored in Gryffindor Tower, except for the small smile Neville afforded me as I entered our dorm room the night before: it made a world of difference. I was no longer being harassed at least – being invisible and ignored was not unfamiliar to me after my years with the Dursleys and I coped with it fairly well considering. I just went about my life quietly. I think the lack of abuse was Hermione’s doing: I could easily imagine her telling them all to leave me alone. It was nice of her, but I still noticed she avoided my gaze just as much as the others.

I noticed Malfoy eying me during breakfast that morning. I would look up every now and again and he would be discretely staring at me; I could tell he was pleased I noticed. It gave me butterflies to think he was paying attention to me, but it was still irritating. I’m not sure if it was the staring that I found annoying – that all Mike would have to do was glance at him and he would see him looking at me – or if I was annoyed that I was actually sort of enjoying it in a twisted way.

Disgusted with myself – and to avoid Mike noticing anything untoward – I got up from my half finished breakfast and left the Great Hall to get my books while the rest of my dorm mates were still eating. On my way back down from Gryffindor Tower, as I made my way to Transfiguration, I was thinking over this whole Malfoy situation when I ran head first into another student. My books scattered across the floor in every direction and I swore silently to myself and to the student that ran into me – probably on purpose.

I looked up to see who it was in case they were planning some additional act of homophobia. I was surprised to see it was Malfoy and he was just standing there smiling at me.

“Jesus, Malfoy,” I huffed, feigning my annoyance and sighing at all my books spread along the corridor. I expected him to laugh or make some snide comment as he watched me pick them all up.

“Sorry, Harry,” he smiled, looking unfazed and possibly pleased with himself. “Here, let me help you with this,” he said as he bent and began picking up all my things.

I just watched him gather everything and didn’t help once: I was just too shocked. Malfoy wouldn’t do this for anybody, not even his friends, yet here he was picking up all my books. Perhaps yesterday did happen.

“Here you are,” he said handing them all over to me.

“Uh, thanks,” I said, accepting them back tentatively. He smiled at me again and walked gracefully down the corridor leaving me completely stunned in his wake.

I didn’t see Malfoy again for the rest of the day except at meals, and he didn’t glance at me even once. I wondered what he was doing with me. It felt suspiciously like he was playing with me, confusing me on purpose to meet some end. I wasn’t sure what he was doing or why so I couldn’t tell if I was playing right into his hands or if I was being uncooperative. I hoped it was the latter.

I did still want to foster a relationship with him – if only to get closer to Voldemort – and I wasn’t yet sure how I could do that when I was still dating Mike. Understandably, he wasn’t thrilled with Malfoy right now and he was dead against him even being in the same room as me, let alone talking to me or being friends with me. I would have to manage it somehow though, since defeating Voldemort was more important than dating Mike. However, I was certain that if I didn’t have a boyfriend to ground me, Malfoy would suck me into his world before I even knew what was happening.

It was getting late and I hadn’t seen Malfoy since yesterday morning. I found myself almost looking for him at meals before I managed force myself to focus on my dinner plate rather than who was or wasn’t sitting at the Slytherin table. I was walking back to my room from the library, where I was spending a lot of my time these days away from Gryffindor Tower, when I saw another student walking towards me.

“Hey,” he said. My body flushed as I noticed his familiar blonde hair and arrogant swagger.

“Hi,” I greeted in return, not knowing what else to say.

“Still an outcast I see?” he teased slightly.

I tried to smile, but I still wasn’t used to being alone. Just this evening for example, I found a book in the library that Hermione would just love to get her hands on and I almost ran straight up to the common room to show her; of course, then I remembered we weren’t friends anymore. “Yes, well I’ve come to accept it,” I said sounding contrived.

“Have you?” Malfoy countered raising his eyebrows so I knew he thought I was lying.

“No,” I admitted sadly after a short silence. “But what other choice do I have?”

“You could join me in Slytherin,” he joked; I could tell he was trying to lighten the mood. “Apparently you belong there anyway.”

“Oh, Mike would love that,” I forced myself to laugh and hoped it sounded genuine.

“So there’s still a Mike then?” he asked.

“Yes, there’s still a Mike,” I replied with a slight smirk. I thought he would be unhappy about this given his parting words in the bathroom, but he didn’t show anything other than curiosity.

“Interesting,” he mused. “How did he take the bathroom incident?”

“Oh, he was very pleased,” I replied sarcastically.

Malfoy laughed at this. It was nice to hear: I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard him laugh before – I had heard him snicker and chuckle evilly before, but never genuinely laugh.

“He wants me to stay away from you,” I confessed. I wanted to see his reaction, to see if he would give anything away.

“He said that?” he smiled; he just looked amused at the notion. Typical Malfoy, he was so arrogant to think that Mike wasn’t a threat in the least, that he couldn’t prevent him from getting to me.

“Not in so many words, but yes,” I answered honestly. I didn’t smile, I wasn’t amused.

“Do you plan to?” he asked seriously. I thought he looked almost worried now, given my reaction. He was right though: Mike couldn’t prevent him from getting to me if I wanted him to. Mike couldn’t stop me from doing anything.

“I make my own rules, Malfoy,” I told him and, for the sake of dramatics – since I know how fond Malfoy is of them – I walked away without another word and without giving the blonde a chance to respond.

Authors Note: Now I have a challenge to answer!! How should Draco respond? lol