Tom

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"He kissed you?" Goyle frowned, his face screwing up slightly to comprehend what I was telling him.



"Shush!" I hissed, not wanting anyone to over hear, even though the room was empty. I felt more comfortable telling Goyle alone, no one else. Crabbe might be my friend too, but he didn't take some situations maturely and with tact. Goyle, on the other hand could handle something like this without laughing like a school boy who was just told a dirty joke. At least this is what I hoped.



"But... why?" Goyle whispered.



I sighed, "I have no fucking idea. He just held me down on the floor after I fell and... I don't know why but when he kissed me, I blacked out."



Goyle frowned, "That's really... strange."



"Look," I whispered, "I wasn't going to tell anyone this. But I thought it might have something to do with the charm Tom cast."



Goyle flipped open the old Advanced Charms book again and read through the section about the Arctic Nether charm. It took him a moment as he wasn't the fastest reader.



"I have good news and bad news," Goyle glanced up at me, "Says here any sort of bodily touch from the charmer to the charmed increases the energy transfer. So I guess him, uhm, kissing you created a strong bridge between you both, giving him a way to steal even more of your energy. I'm not sure why he used kissing but yeah, that's what it says. The good news is this energy transfer is a mostly temporary effect. The afflicted wizard will only feel 'drained' during the incident and for a short period of time after. Although the charmed wizard's energy stays increased for a lengthy period of time, days even, after the transfer. I still don't understand why he was casting this particular charm. What would he want your energy for?"



"To render me powerless? I dunno. Good thing it's only temporary, right?" I unconsciously slid the photos back from my pocket and laid them back out on the table.



Goyle just shrugged.



A thought came to my mind. "If kissing created a strong bridge between us..." I put my head in my hands, "Aw fuck. That explains my hours of blacking out..."



"What?" Goyle watched me curiously.



"It's just..," I kept my face buried and hidden away. My cheeks were mad flushed, I could feel them burning. I couldn't tell Goyle about Tom going down on me. But there I let my anxiety slip. I had to think of something else to say and fast.



"You kiss him back or something?" Goyle asked jokingly.



Thank you Goyle, I nearly sighed in relief, "Bloody well yes! I came to with my tongue half way down his throat!"



"Oh," Goyle fidgeted uncomfortably beside me, "Well... I guess that makes sense? Your unconscious mind was probably entangled in the connection between you and Tom. Or something..." Goyle purposely trailed off.



"Does the book say that?" I asked desperately.



Goyle shook his head, "No, I just kinda guessed."



I put my head back in my hands, staring down at the images of Tom. Then something caught my eye. A glimmer on Tom's chest. Something metal.



"How in bloody hell did I miss that," I murmured to myself, picking up the photo of Tom and Dumbledore.



"Hmm?" Goyle leaned over to look at the photo I had in hand.



"Look here, Tom's wearing a Prefect badge!" I pointed to the small glint on Tom's chest as he held up his trophy.



Goyle took the photo from my hand and squinted, "Well that should make him easier to track, I would think. Isn't there a wall in the library with tons of past Prefect photos all over the place?"



"Yeah, there sure is. And those plaques have full names! We can start looking there tomorrow," I smiled to myself for noticing the Prefect badge. Somehow I felt Tom had meant it to be a clue. It was still vague but at least it would get us somewhere. I glanced over at Goyle who sat staring at me with the Advanced Charms book closed on his lap.



"What?" I gave him a strange look.



"Your tongue was really down Tom's throat?" Goyle asked.



"Uh, yeah?" I felt uncomfortable with the way Goyle was staring at me. He suddenly seemed a little too interested. An awkward silence settled on us. I cleared my throat, looking away back down at the photos only to glance back up at Goyle seconds later. Just then, my friend's serious expression cracked and he snickered. I joined in, relieved he was only jesting.



"I didn't think Draco Malfoy was like that with boys," Goyle snorted in between a laugh.



"Shut it," I slapped him with a couch pillow and stood up from the couch. Goyle laughed as he dodged the pillow attack.



He stood up and patted me on the back, "Well at least the energy transfer has a temporary effect on you."



"Yeah, right," I punched him in the arm as we started up the stairs towards our dorm. I paused as I noticed my chest still felt funny. Deep down it felt a little... cold even. I wasn't sure if it was from the memory of the charm or a lingering feeling I hadn't noticed before.



I turned back to Goyle who was below me on the steps, "I still feel cold. I mean, like in my chest, I still kinda feel it."



Goyle shook his head, "You shouldn't unless the bridge was made for a lengthy amount of time, like an hour or so. Or unless there was more contact than that. I can't imagine how you could get closer to someone than tasting their tonsils."



I was uncomfortable with where this was headed. Instead of replying, I turned back to the stairs and continued to the door, quickly changing the subject, "I'm glad you guys stuck by me today, anyway."



"Anytime. That's what friends are for right? Beating people up."



We went up to bed, careful not to wake Crabbe snoring at the far end of the room. I still felt like I should tell Goyle everything. But there were some things I just wasn't ready to talk about. Maybe another time.



The relief of telling someone most of my story about the encounter with Tom had relaxed me a great deal. And knowing that, close by, my over-protective friends slept was reassuring. I had the letter from my father hidden under my pillow. I still wasn't allowed to tell Crabbe and Goyle about meeting the Dark Lord. It was killing me not to tell them but I would keep the man a secret, if he so wished.



I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, finding myself instantly in the midst of a dream. I was in Professor Snape's Potions class down in the dungeons. There I sat, mixing a green bubbling potion in my cauldron. In the dream, I was excited with how my potion was turning out. I watched with satisfaction as the greenish yellow foam on top developed to the right consistency. In reality, I wasn't all that great at potions. But Professor Snape favored me and passed me with high scores, even when my potions were less than awful. The potion I had before me was unfamiliar, although in the dream I seemed to know exactly what I was doing.



Professor Snape walked by my table and nodded to me. I could even see a faint smile on his permanently downcast face. He passed by and moved back to his desk as I beamed proudly.



"Wonderful elixir you've got there, Draco. One of my favorites," A boy's sly voice whispered in my ear.



Surprised, I whirled around and, in the process, knocked over my cauldron. Tom's tall figure stood inches from me, smiling down at me as he carelessly knocked my chair aside. Crabbe stood at the table beside me. He didn't flinch as my spilled potion pooled at his feet. Snape sat complacently at his desk, going through some papers. No one noticed Tom. No one reacted to my potion spilling across the dark stone floor.



"T-Tom?" I stuttered, backing up into my desk. A paper airplane flew gracefully over my head and landed on a Gryffindor's desk.



"Two points from Gryffindor," Snape said without looking up from his papers. His voice was muffled, sounding very far away as if in a tunnel.



"I believe that's Farrin's Demise, one of the most potent paralyzing elixirs known in the wizarding world. I'm glad to see you've mastered one of my personal favorites. As you already know, I do enjoy rendering others... powerless. Hmm, now that I think about it, we have so much in common, you and I. We love the same things. We hate the same things. We're two of a kind, you know," Tom grinned as he moved closer to me, kicking the fallen cauldron away. It banged against a nearby desk and rolled to a stop in the middle of the aisle. Once again, no one reacted. Tom's voice, unlike Snape's, was clear as day. Tom's voice... Had I heard him talk before? I didn't think so, but it sounded oddly familiar. As far as I could recall, Tom only spoke through the diary.



"You want to help me, Draco. I know you do. You've offered your assistance more than willingly. And now I've found a way you can help. You wouldn't refuse me now, would you?," Tom stood inches from me, his hand on my chin holding my face so I stared, petrified, up at him. His other hand held firm to my wrist as if to keep me from running. His grip was painful. I found myself, once again, staring into Tom's haunting eyes. I had never seen anything like them before. Most people with black-ish eyes had some sort of color to them, some sort of life, a hint of brown or hazel undertones. But Tom's were pure jet black and strangely painful to look in. Or perhaps that was just my anxiety towards him, my fear.



"Who are you?" I asked. Tom stood staring down at me, a strange longing in his expression.



"Oh, we've met formally, you probably just don't recognize me as I am. No hard feelings though," Tom ran his fingers down the side of my cheek stroking my skin gently under his icy fingers. The feeling of his touch worried me more than any threats.



"We've met? I- I don't remember..." I mumbled, quivering.



Tom leaned closer to me. His lips hovered beside my ear, "You have something even I lack. Something I desperately need. In turn, I can give you great power. Will you help me, like you said you would? Like you promised?"



His lips trailed across my cheek.



"I... don't know," I winced as his grip on my wrist tightened. I didn't understand what Tom was talking about. I was nearly positive I had never met the boy before.



"What is it you want from me?" I asked as his lips paused over my own. He smiled briefly and closed his eyes.



"You. I just need you," Tom whispered.



His thin lips pressed firmly against my own as his dark hair tickled the side of my cheek. Tom had me pushed back on top of the desk as he leaned over me. My papers crinkled underneath me. I dared a glance at Crabbe beside us. He just stood facing the opposite direction and scratching his head. He was staring blankly down at his potion which was giving off a terrible smell. Crabbe didn't see us there on top of the desk, Tom's surprisingly skillful tongue slithering throughout my mouth. No one seemed to notice what was going on, let alone care. And I was thankful for that. The embarrassment would just kill me.



But wait, wasn't this just a dream? I had forgotten... Toms presence confused me, but now I remembered. Only a dream... this wasn't so bad. Tom's hand still gripped my wrist painfully but, otherwise, he wasn't doing anything terrible. No horrifying images flashed through my head as our lips met. I didn't feel cold at all. After a moment I found myself relaxing into the long wet kiss. It's not like Tom was bad looking. I didn't want to admit it, but in a way I envied him. Tom was tall and intimidating. I feared him without fully understanding why. He just had that effect as he towered over me. His face was neatly sculpted, stern, and serious. It was a face that radiated power and demanded respect. I've always wished for one similar, like my father's even. But I ended up with a 'baby face'. No one would ever take me seriously. But Tom...



My free hand moved of it's own accord and tangled itself in Tom's hair. I could do this. I bet I could.



"Draco! Wake up!" Crabbe's voice was distant, even more so than Professor Snape's. I glanced over at him. Crabbe was sitting in his chair writing some notes in his Potions notebook. He wasn't looking towards Tom and I, he had not the faintest clue what was going on just a foot away from his side of the desk. But I thought I had heard his voice? Tom held my chin and turned me back to face him, smiling. I was distracted again, caught off guard by the boy's savage lips as they found mine, his body laying partially over mine on the desk's hard surface.



"Why won't he won't wake? Here, go get some water," I heard Goyle's voice this time, barely audible, a whisper off in the distance. Tom suddenly pulled away and looked up, staring off into the distance.



"Oh hell..." he muttered.


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