Wand Light

Wand Light

By Stacy Galore

 

 

Disclaimer: Based on the works of J.K. Rowling and Stephenie Meyer.  I do not benefit financially from the electronic distribution and archival of this story; nor do I own the rights to the characters depicted therein – I just play with them.

 

Warnings: This story contains material suitable for mature readers only, including strong language, explicit sex, and graphic violence.  As the introduction alludes, this story is heavily laden with delicious slash (male homosexual relationships).

 

Chapter 5: Theories and Confessions

 

 

Harry tapped the Marauder’s Map with his wand and whispered, “Mischief managed.”  The black ink faded and disappeared.  He folded the yellowed parchment and put it in his back pocket wondering where Malfoy could have gone in the span of an hour.  It was dinnertime, but Harry wasn’t hungry.  He was too preoccupied and overwhelmed.  He shuffled back up to the Gryffindor dormitories, and as he ascended the stairs, it hit him.  Malfoy was probably in the Room of Requirement again.  He sprinted up to the seventh floor and came to an abrupt halt at the wall opposite the troll tapestry.

 

“I need to see what Malfoy is doing inside you,” he spoke to whatever magical entity that governed the door to the Room of Requirement.  Nothing happened.  Damn it.  “I need . . . to see Malfoy.”  Still nothing.  “I need to . . . be with Malfoy.”  The wall remained unchanged.  Forget it – this is stupid.  Harry turned away dejectedly and started to walk away.

 

“So you changed your mind?” came a smooth voice behind him, startling Harry.  He didn’t have to turn around to know it was Malfoy.  When Harry did turn around, the sight of the other boy was still staggering.  He was wearing a sweater vest and an Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up and his pale forearms looked slightly more toned than Harry remembered – Malfoy was always such a lanky boy.  He quickly rolled down his sleeves, as if hiding something.  His eyes were silver again, shining in the torch light like stars.  Then he smirked – oh, god - that sexy smirk worked like a confundus charm on Harry.

 

“You’ve got to stop doing that,” Harry said.

 

Malfoy looked coy and asked, “Doing what?”

 

“Dazzling me,” he replied, quite beside himself and not in full control of what came out of his mouth.

 

Malfoy chuckled softly, “I take that as a yes, then.”  He stepped closer to Harry and reached out for his necktie, pulling Harry towards his body to bridge what little space was between them.

 

Harry blinked, trying to regain his composure and stammered, “No, erm, I . . . I just wanted to talk.”

 

Malfoy slowly cocked his head to the side and whispered, “Talking is for girls,” as he leaned in to kiss Harry softly.  This wasn’t the ravenous kiss they shared in the greenhouse.  It was tender, yet still carried a predatory edge to it, like Malfoy was luring him into a deadly trap.  He was still holding Harry by his necktie.  As much as he didn’t want to, Harry closed his eyes and yielded to the kiss, easing into his cool lips.

 

“Erm, but, I really need to talk to you,” Harry mumbled distractedly against Malfoy’s gentle kisses.

 

“Can’t it wait?  I’d really like to take you some place a little more private to snog you properly,” Malfoy replied, befuddling Harry with his intoxicating drawl.

 

“Privacy would be good,” Harry said softly.  Then he snapped to his senses, stepped back feeling dizzy, and straightened his tie.  “But we’re going to talk.”

 

Malfoy rolled his eyes and said patronizingly,  “Fine.  Where do you want to go?”

 

“I know you’re familiar with the Room of Requirement,” said Harry.

 

“Indeed, I am.  But is your need dire enough to open the door?” Malfoy asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

“It’s worth a try.”  They walked a few paces to the unmarked door.  Harry spoke firmly, “I need a private place to talk to Malfoy.”  The wall didn’t budge.

 

Malfoy snickered.

 

“What?” Harry asked defensively.

 

“You have to really need it to use it.  We could talk privately in a hundred different places.  You’ll have to come up with something else to make the door appear.”

 

Harry’s competitive edge was coming into play.  He huffed and said more forcefully, “I need to talk to Malfoy alone.”  Nothing.

 

Malfoy snorted, “Well, we’re alone now.  You could bloody well talk to me right here.  You don’t really need the room for that.”

 

Harry turned around to face Malfoy and crossed his arms.  “Fine.  You try it,” he said challengingly.

 

The blond boy grinned mischievously, grabbed Harry by the front of his shirt, and slammed him up against the wall.  He pressed his lips to Harry’s in a furious wet kiss, threatening to swallow him whole.  Malfoy molded his body around Harry’s – grinding against him to create a delicious friction where their crotches met.  As the kiss escalated, Harry was sure Malfoy could feel his excitement growing exponentially in his trousers. 

 

Malfoy broke the kiss abruptly, leaving Harry breathless and yearning.  He stared hard into his green eyes and said, “I need you, Harry.  Like you wouldn’t believe.”

 

The wall behind Harry lurched open, sending him falling backwards into the Room of Requirement.  Somehow, Malfoy was able to keep his balance and stepped into the room casually with a smug grin.  He extended his hand to help Harry get up off the floor.  Harry noticed that Malfoy’s grip was vice-like and nearly bone-crushing.  He shook off the pain and the embarrassment as he stood up.  Harry looked around, perplexed at the surroundings that the Room of Requirement provided for Malfoy.  There was nothing in the room, save for a long mahogany table and one solitary chair at the head.  Before the chair, a neatly folded napkin was placed on the table, like the beginning of a dinner setting.  But there was no silverware and no china.

 

“Erm. . . This is weird,” said Harry.

 

“Very strange,” concurred Malfoy.  “I would have expected a bedroom or something,” he mused and then said teasingly with a smirk, “Maybe a bubble bath if the Room was romantic. Or a shower if the Room was kinky.”  Harry’s face reddened.  Malfoy strolled over to the chair and sat down.  He leisurely put his feet up on the table and said, “So are we going to talk, or was that just a stupid ploy to get me alone to do dirty things to me?”

 

Harry’s cheeks must have been the color of Ron’s hair by now.  It was so unfair that Malfoy could turn his lust on and off like a light switch, while Harry struggled to cover up the tent in the lap of his trousers.  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

 

“I don’t need to.  Everybody else already does,” Malfoy said smugly, resting his head in his hands leisurely.  “You can’t imagine how much action I’ve been getting lately.  Everybody’s cueing up to sleep with me,” he drawled arrogantly.

 

“Are you trying to make me jealous of you or something?” Harry said in an acerbic huff.

 

“No, Potter, I’m trying to make you realize that I can have anyone I want,” Malfoy began, and then turned his gaze on Harry pointedly, “but all I want is you.”  Harry gulped.  “Now, why is that, Harry?”

 

“I-I-I don’t know,” Harry stuttered nervously.

 

Malfoy stood up sharply in a swift, graceful motion then sauntered slowly towards Harry.  Harry unconsciously shuffled backwards as Malfoy approached with a predatory gleam in his silver eyes.  He put his hands on the wall behind Harry, trapping him between his arms.  “I’ve been thinking about it, Harry.  It is glaringly obvious that you want me too.” As he spoke, he slowly inched closer and closer to Harry.  Harry couldn’t focus his eyes and let them flutter closed as Malfoy’s voice intoxicated him.     “And if you cast some kind of spell on me to make me desire you, there must be nothing to it other than what’s apparent on the surface – no ulterior motive to ruin me.  Harry Potter wanted the thing he couldn’t have - the thing that he shouldn’t have – and the only way he could get it was with dark magic.  Tell me, Harry, how long have you been secretly pining for me?”  Malfoy asked, his lips so close to Harry’s that, if they were any closer, they’d be kissing again. 

 

Harry turned his face to avoid the inevitable collision of lips.  “You’re mad.”

 

“There’s no other explanation.  You said it yourself before - You’re Harry Potter.  I’m Draco Malfoy.  And we hate each other.”  Malfoy buried his face in Harry’s neck and purred into his skin, making every little hair stand on end, “Yet we want to fuck each other like the world is coming to an end.”

 

“I assure you, I’m not pining for you and I didn’t use any dark magic on you,” said Harry, trying so hard not to give in to Malfoy’s seduction.  He placed a hand on Malfoy’s shoulder and put a little distance between them so that he could speak without hyperventilating.  “Did you ever stop to think that maybe somebody else is doing this to us?” 

 

Malfoy froze then took a step back.  “Like who?” he asked suspiciously.

 

“I don’t know.  But it makes sense, doesn’t it?  Honestly, up until a week ago, I have always found you absolutely repulsive, and furthermore, I’m positively straight.  If you didn’t put a spell on me, and I didn’t put a spell on you, then it must be somebody else playing a sick joke on us.”

 

“Seriously, Potter, who would be so . . .” Malfoy trailed off as he seemed to answer his own question in his head before he even finished it, “sadistic and cruel?”  The realization must have struck Malfoy quite hard, for he backed off and didn’t stop until he hit the table.  Then he held on to the edge for support as he swooned.

 

“You OK, Malfoy?”  Harry asked.

 

“You’re right,” Malfoy said distantly, looking a bit green, rendering his perfectly white face an even more inhuman color.

 

“I usually am,” joked Harry.  He couldn’t resist – he thought he’d never see the day when Draco Malfoy would utter those words to him.

 

Malfoy sat down hard on the stone floor with a distant look in his eyes, lost in his own mortification.  “Oh, shut it, Potter.  Don’t you see how much worse this makes everything?  If neither of us is controlling this unnatural attraction, then neither of us can make it stop.  And it must be stopped.”

 

Harry felt slightly hurt at Malfoy’s emphatic declaration.  Then he asked, “Why would somebody do this?”

 

“He’s using me . . . to lure you in,” Malfoy said, sickened by the realization.  He stood up swiftly with a furious scowl.  “I’m not some fucking whore he can use as bait.  No, I won’t have it.”

 

Harry closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, worried that the other boy was going to go off on another crazy tirade.  “Wait, Malfoy.  Who’s using you?”  Harry asked.  But Malfoy was already gone, having exited the Room of Requirement so swiftly and silently that Harry didn’t even notice.

 

Harry left with more questions than he had answers.  But one thing gave him comfort – the fact that he wasn’t attracted to Malfoy on his own volition.  If he was under a dark spell, then it didn’t matter that he thought Malfoy was gloriously beautiful and that he wanted to kiss him again and again and again – it wasn’t real.

 

But Harry still wasn’t much closer to the truth.  There were other things about Malfoy that were strange – not just their mutual attraction.  For starters, the other boy was able to prevent Harry from being splattered all over the quidditch pitch last weekend in an inhuman feat of heroics.  Then there was the odd thing about the flitterblooms coiling around Malfoy as if he were as non-living as a stone, and as cold as one too.  Additionally, there were creepy things about Malfoy - he seemed to be able to hear his thoughts and move about like a silent ghost.  And then there was the mystery of Katie Bell’s disappearance and Malfoy’s possible involvement.

 

Maybe the spell encompassed others beside himself, including Katie in its sick web of desire.  He’s using me to lure you in – the words rang in his head like phantoms haunting his memory.  Had Malfoy unwittingly lured Katie to a grim fate?  And to whom was he luring his love-blinded victims?

 

Voldemort.

 

Harry remembered overhearing Malfoy bragging to his friends on the Hogwarts Express. New powers were bestowed unto him, possibly to aid in the completion a special task for a certain unnamed dark wizard.

 

Harry panicked and ran straight for the Headmaster’s office.  It all came out like verbal vomit.  “Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater and he is being unusually friendly to me so that he can hand me over to Voldemort and he had something to do with Katie’s disappearance and I know this for a fact because they were snogging the day she disappeared and -”

 

“Harry, calm down,” said Dumbledore as Harry paced his office.  “Here, have a sherbet lemon and sit.”

 

Harry did so reluctantly, bouncing his legs by the balls of his feet as he sat uneasily in the chair by Dumbledore’s desk.

 

Dumbledore popped a sherbet lemon into his mouth gleefully, incensing Harry with his apparent lack of concern.  “Let’s not come to hasty conclusions.  Do you really think Voldemort would employ a child to do his dirty work?”

 

“Malfoy’s a Death Eater.  He has to be.  Just like his father,” Harry spat.

 

“But he’s only a boy, Harry,” Dumbledore said dismissively with a chuckle.  “Voldemort doesn’t like to corrupt minors.  He tries to kill babies, attempts to enact genocide, and drinks the blood of unicorns.  But corrupting minors?  Not his cup of tea.”

 

“You’re kidding, right?” Harry said with angry disbelief.

 

Dumbledore said calmly, “Harry, be reasonable.”

 

“I am being reasonable.  There’s a Death Eater in your school, Professor, and he’s going to serve me to The Dark Lord on a silver platter.”  Harry slammed his fist on the desk.

 

The professor was unmoved.  “Honestly, Harry.  Do you think I would allow Mr. Malfoy to remain at Hogwart’s, given his father’s recent conviction, if I didn’t trust him?”

 

Harry shook his finger.  “But what about Katie Bell?  He was the last person to be with her.”

 

“How do you know for sure?  Did you see them together?” asked Dumbledore.

 

Harry lied, “Erm.  No.  I just, erm, heard about it.”

 

“You can’t trust the gossip mills in Hogwart’s.  I can’t claim to know either Miss Bell or Mr. Malfoy that well, but from what I’ve seen, they are quite an improbable pair.”

 

“That’s the point, sir.  She must have been under a spell.  Maybe she was imperiused.”

 

“I suppose I could look into it,” the professor said noncommittally.  But Miss Bell’s disappearance has already been reported to the Ministry and they’re sending investigators over tomorrow.  Now, unless there is something else you need to tell me, I need to work on my written report for the investigators.” Dumbledore stood up, probably wishing Harry to follow suit.  “Thank you, Harry, for your help in the matter.”

 

“Are you seriously going to wait until tomorrow?  By then somebody else could go missing.  I could go missing,” said Harry desperately.

 

“Now, now, Mr. Potter.  Let’s not get melodramatic.  Please, you must excuse me.  I’ve a lot of work to do.”

 

Harry stood up disappointedly.  Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder and ushered him to the door.  Then Harry stopped.  “Professor, I’m curious.  Are there spells, dark spells, that could make two people attracted to each other?”

 

“Well, there are love potions.  Amortentia, for example.  But its effects are one-sided.  Usually the one who administers it is already obsessed with the person the potion is intended for.”

 

“But what if somebody wanted two other people to become attracted to each other?  Can Amortentia be used for that?”

 

“I doubt it, Harry.  I don’t think there is a potion that can do that.”

 

“But is there something, maybe not a potion, that would make two people who normally hate each other suddenly become attracted to one another?”

 

“My dear boy,” sighed Dumbledore with a reminiscent glimmer in his eyes, “The human heart works in mysterious ways.  Sometimes we find ourselves in love with the most unlikely person.”

 

That most certainly was not what Harry wanted to hear.  He left Dumbledore’s office feeling frustrated and hopeless.  It was time to tell Ron and Hermione about his suspicions, explaining as much as he could, leaving out the bit about being attracted to Malfoy and snogging him all afternoon.

 

Back in the Gryffindor common room, Ron made a sour face.  “Ew.  Malfoy and Katie?  She must have been under the imperius curse to snog that nasty ferret.”

 

Hermione said dreamily, twirling a lock of her hair with her finger,  “I don’t know.  Malfoy has been looking quite good lately.  All the girls are fawning over him.”

 

“Blech!  Not you too, Hermione!”  Ron looked positively repulsed.  “You wash your mouth out with soap, young lady.  Really.  ‘Good’ and ‘Malfoy’ should never be used in the same sentence ever unless accompanying the words ‘for nothing’ or ‘kick in the arse’.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron and then addressed Harry.  “Since Dumbledore won’t take your suspicions seriously, it’s even more imperative that you trail his every move.  I’ll keep my eye on him too. Carry your Invisibility Cloak with you in your rucksack so that you can slip it on after classes to see what he’s up to.”

 

 

The next day, the presence of Ministry investigators at Hogwarts and their reason for being there made the atmosphere tense.  Harry kept his eye on Malfoy all day, either on the Marauder’s Map or in classes.  But he wasn’t anywhere he was not expected to be.  Malfoy, on the other hand, avoided Harry like the plague, never once looking in his direction.  Even in Herbology on Wednesday, Malfoy pretended that Harry wasn’t there.  It annoyed him.  Two could play at that game. Harry didn’t let Malfoy reach even the corner of his eye. But he couldn’t help it and hazarded a peek at the boy.  He was biting his bottom lip and gripping the table so tightly that his knuckles showed through his nearly translucent skin.  Malfoy looked like he was in absolute, gut wrenching pain.

 

After Professor Sprout’s short lecture, they re-potted their flitterblooms. Harry and Malfoy worked in complete silence, but the tension was deafening.  Harry asked with harsh suspicion coloring his voice, “So did you hear about Katie Bell?  Strange, isn’t it?  Her disappearing like that?”

 

Malfoy’s head was bowed and he didn’t look up as he asked,  “Are you talking to me?”

 

“Yes. I’m talking to you, Malfoy,” Harry replied.

 

Malfoy asked disbelievingly “Are you trying to make small talk with me, Potter?”

 

“Yeah, I suppose I am.  So what do you think about that whole Katie Bell thing?  The Ministry came to investigate and everything.”  Harry’s tone was still more accusatory than conversational.

 

Malfoy snorted, “I don’t know.  It’s none of my business.  And it isn’t yours either.  Really, Potter.  Didn’t your parents teach you that it’s rude to gossip?”  He turned and sneered mockingly, his silver eyes cutting into Harry like daggers, “Oh, wait.  I forgot.  You don’t have any.”

 

Harry instinctively drew his wand and pointed it at Malfoy’s sour face.  “You slimy little git.”

 

Professor Sprout shouted in a high-pitched, infuriated voice, “Mr. Potter!  Put your wand down at once, young man!  Fifty points from Gryffindor!”

 

Harry put his wand away and sat down with a huff, cursing under his breath, “Bastard.”

 

Malfoy hissed quietly, “You’re the one who wanted to forget anything happened, Potter.  You don’t get to act hurt when things go back to the way they were.  And quite frankly, I think things are better this way.”

 

Ouch.  Harry didn’t know what hurt more: Malfoy’s words, or his heart-stabbing silver stare.  Either one would have made even Professor Snape shy away.  The tense silence ensued.  But Harry did have an important agenda, and Malfoy’s 360-degree attitude change towards him in the past several days couldn’t get in the way.  Throughout the day, Harry watched him from a distance, sneaking furtive glances at him whenever he could, and he couldn’t help but notice how tortured the boy looked.  Malfoy was battling some inner turmoil that cracked his normally unreadable exterior.  Perhaps it was guilt over Katie Bell.  Maybe he was having second thoughts about being a Death Eater.  Still, there was something endearing in his wistfulness – the presence of a soul and a conscience Harry had thought were absent from the ruthless Slytherin.  He dare say he felt pity for the boy.  He couldn’t bring himself to do stealth reconnaissance with the Invisibility Cloak – let the poor git wallow in his sorrows in peace, and maybe if he stewed in his own remorse for long enough, he’d be moved to confess his wrong-doings.

 

After Harry’s last class, he watched Malfoy’s dot move down to the dungeons, probably to the Slytherin dormitories.  Convinced that the other boy wasn’t going out to wreak havoc on their school, Harry headed up to his own room.  He was shocked to find Malfoy standing by the entrance to the Gryffindor dorms, still wearing his tortured soul all over his tragically beautiful face.  How did he get there so quickly from the dungeon?  Harry put his head down and tried to approach the door casually, hoping to skirt beneath Malfoy’s notice.  After what the other boy said to him today, he highly doubted that he was there to see him anyway.

 

“Harry, we need to talk,” Malfoy said gravely.

 

“Oh.  So now you want to talk to me again?” he asked bitterly, “Your mood swings are giving me whiplash, Malfoy.”

 

“Please.”  It clearly pained him to say this word to Harry.

 

Curtly, Harry replied, “Fine.  Go ahead.  Talk.”

 

“Alone.”

 

“No, if you have something to say to me, you can say it right here.  I’m not going anywhere alone with you.  You might do something to me.”

 

Malfoy sighed, “You’re right.  Forget it,” and started to shuffle away.

 

“Wait,” Harry caught Malfoy by the arm and felt a surge of cool electricity pass between them. 

 

Malfoy gazed at Harry with sorrowful eyes and said somberly, “Harry, it’s best if we don’t talk.  Best for you.  That’s all I really wanted to tell to you.”

 

Harry said astringently, “Well, that’s stupid.  You wanted to talk to me to tell me we shouldn’t talk. Anyway, I thought we already established that in Herbology.”

 

“Yeah, but,” Malfoy bit his bottom lip and looked up at the ceiling, grasping for words or the courage to use them.  “The thing is, I can’t not talk to you, Harry.”  He lowered his voice to a desperate whisper, though the passing Gryffindors still stared at the two adversaries conversing unusually close to one another.  “I want to talk to you.  Just to be near you.  Just to hear your voice.  But even that isn’t enough.  I need to touch you and taste you.  God, Harry, ever since we kissed, it’s been like an addiction.  Do you know how hard it was to sit so close to you in Herbology – in the very same spot we first kissed?  I just wanted to pounce on you and snog you senseless, right there in front of everybody.  Even now, I want to throw you up against that wall and ravage you.  And I can tell from that gleam in your eye that you wouldn’t complain if I did.”  Harry blushed at Malfoy’s words.  “But you know right well why we can’t.”

 

“Because it isn’t real,” Harry said evenly.

 

“No, Harry.  It’s real.”  Malfoy stared hard into Harry’s eyes.  “What ever has been done to us is real.  And I can feel it in every fiber of my being that it will never be undone.  The danger lies in why it was done.”

 

“To lure me in,” said Harry.  Malfoy nodded.  Harry asked, “To whom?”

 

“I think you know.  Please don’t make me say his name,” Malfoy pleaded softly.

 

Harry whispered sympathetically, “I won’t.”

 

“The thing is, I have no idea how my feelings for you would possibly aid him in getting to you.  If anything, it protects you.  Because, Harry, I would rather die than let him take you away from me.”  From the furious sparkle in his silver eyes, Harry knew that Malfoy was sincere.  “The most frightening part is not knowing how I’ll be used, or when I’ll be used, or if I can do anything to fight it.  The smart thing would be to just stay away from you, and for you to do the same.  But here’s the rub.  I can’t.  I’m unbelievably drawn to you.  Everything about you.  I can’t even bring myself to tell you to stay away from me – it hurts too much.  So, please Harry, understand how very dangerous it is to be with me.”

 

That was entirely unexpected.  Malfoy already had him at ‘we need to talk’, and by now Harry had melted into a puddle of lovesick goo.  What could he possibly say after Malfoy’s startling confession on Harry’s home turf?  “I’m sort of used to living dangerously.  My name is Harry Potter after all,” Harry joked.

 

Malfoy chuckled, “Indeed.   Three-headed dogs, mountain trolls, dementors.  Tangling with an evil wizard’s whore shouldn’t even register on the scale of dangerous living.”  Harry laughed at Malfoy’s wit.  “So why not spit in the face of danger and tempt fate a little?  What do you say, Harry?  Fancy a little stroll up to the Room of Requirement?”  He asked with a sexy smirk.

 

“Danger is my middle name, didn’t you know?”  Harry tried his best to mirror Malfoy’s smirk, but probably just looked like he was in pain.

 

Malfoy laughed and the two started to walk together.  “I thought it was John.  Or Jim.”

 

They walked right past Ron and Hermione.  Ron opened his mouth, probably to spew something foul at Malfoy by the looks of it, but Hermione put her hand on his chest to stop him.  Harry gave her a sidelong glance and a wink, but she already understood that Harry was ‘investigating’.

 

“It’s James.  Synonymous with Danger.  Like Bond.  James Bond,” Harry said in jest.

 

“Who?”

 

“Muggle films.  Forget it,” Harry said dismissively.

 

As they walked up to the Room of Requirement, the bass line of the James Bond theme music played in Harry’s head and he just had to laugh inwardly.  He wondered what Malfoy’s Bond Girl name would be.  And then Harry realized that ‘Draco Malfoy’, apart from being the wrong gender, was already the perfect Bond Girl name.  He’d be a bad-girl, of course.  A devilishly sexy blond spy sent to seduce and kill 007. . . erm, wait a minute. . .

 

Maybe this is a bad idea, Harry thought to himself.