Distorted Exposure

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you may recognize. Everything belongs to the wonderful JKRowling and others. I am making no profit from this. To put it plainly: don't sue.

VERY IMPORTANT AUTHOR’S NOTE: PLEASE READ

Alright, a couple of reviewers pointed out something very important. It is a matter that I had worked out in my head and for the longest time assumed that you readers were telepathic and therefore familiar with everything that goes on in my mind. Of course these two reviewers were kind enough to bring to my attention that that assumption was quite thick of me. So here is the explanation as I originally worked it out. If you have any problem with the ideas I’m about to present, please let me know. But keep in mind it is only my own theory and that only parts of it are logical. Oh and if you don’t care then just skip ahead.

Question: Why is it that Harry and Draco don’t just transfigure the couch into a bed, I mean they are magical aren’t they?

Answer: Well yes they are still wizards but that doesn’t mean that they can just do what they want. If all wizards could just transfigure anything they needed then no one would be poor. I mean if that were a possibility why doesn’t Mrs.Weasley just transfigure all her children’s old into new sets. That would go a long way towards their money issues. And why doesn’t every wizard in the world have every thing he or she wanted. Simply because it just doesn’t work that way.

What is more [now this is just my own theories and assumptions made for the purposes of this plot] magic like that is powerful but it also results in a physical presence. Stuff like that isn’t done because it would leave a magical residue. People wanting to clear land could just nuke it but why don’t they? Because it would end up being radioactive. It is my opinion that magic would be very similar. Any magic like that would give off magical waste and that would be hazardous. In a house like the one Harry and Draco are in, its function is mostly non-magical. Sets and such. So it is not built to endure high levels of magic, like Hogwarts is. There is no need for it to be and that would just be a waste of energy. Therefore Harry and Draco can’t simply turn a spare piece of parchment, or the couch even, into a nice fluffy bed.

Question: Harry and Draco are so famous, and important, why can’t Ren and Alex give them separate rooms?

Answer: Well because despite the mansion being so big, most of the rooms are sets, scenes, pools, dining halls, ballrooms and the like. The room that Harry and Draco are in is a set in itself and one of the few bedroom sets that exist within the mansion. And the company, though headed by Ren and Alex doesn’t include just them. Most of the house is in use at the moment, though Harry and Draco haven’t caught anyone else around. Therefore the other bedrooms, as few as they are, are in use. Ren and Alex are not the type to simply bow down before fame or money. They just don’t work that way, so they’re not going to kick people out of their rooms just to make Harry and Draco’s lives a tad bit easier. And so they figure, if one of them has to sleep on a couch anyways might as well stick them in the same room so that they get familiar with each other. This was off course before they found out the boys had a history, and afterwards they were a bit too curious about how things would turn out to do anything about further arrangements.

Now onto the story.

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Harry wandered aimlessly for a while, making sure to keep to the few routes that he had familiarized himself with so far. At the moment he had chosen to forget about his predicament and instead decided to pick a course of action. He could either wander around for another couple hours or so and face everyone at dinner or he could return to the rooms in hopes of showing that he was not a coward, and that what Malfoy had said had been baseless.

Deciding that getting one over Malfoy seemed like the course of action that would best sooth his bruised ego Harry choose to head towards their shared room. Perhaps it wasn’t the best of ideas but it was the Gryffindor choice and after all these years Harry still prided himself in having a little lion left in him.

Stepping into the room Harry wasn’t sure what he hoped to find. Part of him ached to see Malfoy bent over his luggage, packing to leave and another part of him wanted another chance to take the arrogant blond on. Therefore Harry found himself unsure as how to act when his entrance didn’t gain him so much as a disdainful glance from Malfoy who was laying, spread eagled on the bed, looking thoughtfully at the door.

In fact in the first dozen or so minutes that Harry spent drudging around the room, doing what he hoped looked to be more than busy work, Malfoy didn’t seem to move so much as a muscle. Harry stared at his form for almost two minutes straight from the back before he caught himself and forced his gaze away.

From what he could gather, Malfoy had taken to the ‘pretend he doesn’t exist’ form of interaction, and that was, for the moment, perfectly fine with Harry, though it left him wondering how things would turn out for the shoot. But considering the day’s events, he supposed that it really was a miracle that they were both still around, and in the same room no less.

It was a delicate tension that hung between them, one that Harry found himself anxious to see broken. He wanted Malfoy to snap, to turn around and begin to chew him out so that he in turn could give the brat an earful. That’s when it hit him, as he was rolling up a pair of socks he had worn the night before, still watching Malfoy for any sort of reaction. Malfoy had been right in saying that he always saw himself as the one wronged, that much was obvious in the fact that he refused to be the instigator.

At first it was pride, that was something he could handle, but now after the first confrontation was over Harry couldn’t quite discern what kept him from getting on Malfoy’s case. Perhaps it was the self-possessed demeanour that Malfoy constantly upheld or maybe it was past hauntings but either way he found himself reluctant to start anything at all.

Harry forced himself away, in the short time that he had been around Malfoy, the conflict between them had developed into an unhealthy fixation, something that felt all too familiar for Harry’s comfort. In his past years Harry had found comfort in taking his frustration out on the likes of Malfoy and his cronies, it had provided an outlet for his disappointment, but now he was supposed to be above all that. Unfortunately the more time he spent in the presence of Malfoy, the more such an assumption was proven false.

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Draco lay on the bed, zoning in and out of thoughts pertaining to Potter for quite while before he was disturbed in any way at all. When the door did open, despite the fact that he had full view of the entrance, Draco still found himself following a wishfully line of thought in that he presumed it was Ren or Alex showing up to reprimand him.

Having of course been denied this simple sanction, Draco was forced to grit his teeth shut against an uncivil groan that threatened to invade the otherwise silent air, as he was faced with none other than Potter. Deciding it was best to pretend that the Boy-Who-Lived had simply ceased to be, Draco found himself pleasantly surprised with the fact that Potter did not seem actively adverse to the thought of ignoring one another. Maybe the afternoon would go without them coming to blows after all. Not that Draco would have cared either way, and never would he admit it but the couple inches and slight muscle mass that Potter had over him was enough to make him think twice about picking a needless fight.

So the evening passed in a static silence that seemed ready to shatter at the slightest degree of change in atmosphere. Fortunately, before Draco had a chance to witness such an event, the antique clock above the mantle tolled signalling dinner. Draco stopped himself from letting out a sigh of relief, and held himself back as he watched Potter race from the room without a glance back at Malfoy.

At last, Draco found himself able to breath beyond the tension that had slowly begun to dissipate at Potter’s rather hurried departure. Draco still couldn’t wrap his mind around how he had become so unsettled from the simple task of ignoring the overly perceptible presence of Potter. And yet the oppressive nature had, with every passing second, only seemed to grow.

Draco chalked it up mostly to the obvious animosity that he felt towards Potter, feelings that were most definitely mutual. Still, he couldn’t ignore the fact that at times he had felt Harry’s gaze rake over his form, causing him more unease that he would have liked. Of course whenever he glanced back, determined to catch the emerald gaze as he stole glances at him, Draco was faced quite resolutely with a view of Potter’s back.

Trying to ignore the little voice in his head that told him he was simply being paranoid, Draco pushed away his doubts and lay on the bed, simply twiddling his thumbs, an act so idle, it would normally sicken him, except for the fact that he found himself preoccupied with throwing a suspicious glance at Potter every couple seconds.

Finally after nearly an hour of such fanatical behaviour, Draco caught himself, disgusted by how rapidly he had once again become obsessed with Potter, much like his behaviour in his school years. From that point on Draco had forced himself to keep his gaze from wandering over to Potter, who seemed content to wander about the room in various states of action.

Finally the tension in the room rose to the point where Draco was forced to remove himself mentally from the situation, blocking himself off from the physical world, a wonderful tactic, or it would have been if he had not come to discover that he was still quite acutely aware of every step Potter took across the padded carpet. The entire day had been a very painful series of events for Draco, and it seemed that being trapped in such a nerve-wracking situation was just another rung in the ladder that led to Draco simply tearing off the head of the saviour of the wizarding world. Still he was a Malfoy, and being who he was he managed to keep a delicate grip on his ever waning cool.

But it seemed fate wanted to test even the iron strength of Draco Malfoy’s composure, to the extent where Draco was ready to simply leap up from the bed and storm out, all appearances be damned. It was then that he was offered sanction at last in the form of the clock tolling in indication of supper.

Draco waited long moments after his roommate had left, taking in deep easy breaths and gaining back his resolve. Being around Potter was really starting to get to him in a way he couldn’t begin to explain, and the feelings he experienced from simply being in the same room as him conflicted so severely with his rational mind that it took Draco longer than he would have liked to gather himself.

Finally Draco pulled himself up off of the bed and headed down towards the dining room, painfully aware of the fact that he was still wearing his outfit from the shoot.

Entering the dining room in much the same fashion as he had early that morning Draco was surprised to find that the others were just barely settling down to eat; it had seemed like he had lingered quite a while up in the room but apparently that had not been the case.

Taking a quick glance at the table Draco quickly assessed that either he could take the seat opposing Potter or isolate himself completely from the group by sitting at the end of the table. Not wanting to seem cowardly in the face of Potter, and reasoning with himself that Potter really wasn’t an issue if they continued their little charade of non-existence, Draco calmly took the seat opposite the brunette.

Draco noticed with an amused smirk that his actions had earned him a pair of very surprised expressions and also much to his satisfaction, Potter didn’t so much as look up. At this rate, perhaps the end to this day wouldn’t be as bad as the rest of it.

Throughout the meal there was idle conversation, Draco kept himself adequately active in the chatter, quite proud of himself for managing to not send a single glower the way of his school-time rival every time he glanced up to see Potter staring disinterestedly at his plate. He had cleared most of it and now sat fiddling with the few remaining morsels of food, completely ignoring the conversation, a course of action that had Draco fuming silently inside.

For several long moments Draco sat simply watching the movement of Harry’s fork across his plate, not noticing the silence that had fallen over the table. In fact he didn’t even realize how intently he had been staring at the plate until a sudden stoppage of movement caused him to jerk out of his unseemly trance.

Then before Draco could gather himself, Potter stood up, his posture a mixture of defiance and exhaustion.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Harry said, his tone overly polite, and directed at Alex and Ren alone, “I think I’ll be getting to bed now.”

Harry pushed his chair back in and circled the table with his long strides, making it almost to the door before he paused for a single moment. Draco knew that Potter had turned to face the table again but he kept himself resolutely focused on his plate, after all Potter wasn’t supposed to exist in his world.

“Goodnight.” Came his voice, though now instead of being polite, or tired or formal as Draco would have expected, he detected an amused lint to his tone.

Ren who was beside Draco turned in her chair and gave what seemed to be a warm nod and Alex who was seated across gave him a short wave and a soft ‘Goodnight’ in response. Draco withheld himself from rolling his eyes at the obviously flirtatious gesture, doubting that Potter would notice the semi-subtle come on.

But Potter must have responded in some way because both Alex and Ren giggled at whatever he had done, making Draco itch to turn around and see for himself exactly what was so funny, but he resisted, finding that he was doing a lot of that in the presence of Potter and set about instead to finish whatever food was still left on his plate.

Nearly half an hour later, when Draco left the table he found that his mood had not improved in the least. Though the last part of dinner had passed without the painful tension that had hovered over the group while Potter had still been around, Draco still found himself annoyed. Not by the conversation, which was relatively mild, but by the odd glances Ren and Alex kept shooting each other when they thought that he was less than aware.

So when dinner ended Draco wasn’t sure whether he should have been thankful or irritated, because despite the dreadful thought of facing Potter, he still had the pleasure of going to bed, an idea that was more than welcome at the end of this particular day, especially considering the more than likely idea that there would be another photo shoot the next day if the siblings' attitudes were anything to go by.

Draco walked up the stairs, trying his hardest not to drag his feet, but failing miserably as his exhaustion caught up to him. It would be nice to climb under the soft folds of the sheets and just close his eyes, focus on something other than Potter for the first time that day.

“Fuck.” Draco cursed, unable to help himself as he caught sight of the bed he had been planning to collapse into. For a moment Draco seriously considered pulling out his wand and casting an unforgivable on the lump of a person curled up in his bed. It was as though Potter believed that he hadn’t been enough of a nuisance already.

There was a hazy groan from the lump on the bed, as though it sensed the danger that was looming over it and Draco tightened his grip on his wand within the pocket of his jacket. Then the covers which had previously been covering the ex-Gryffindor entirely slipped just a little and Draco was met with the sleeping face of Potter.

For a moment longer Draco clutched his wand, and then turned away scowling, and stomped through the near darkness to the couch. Not even bothering to change Draco lay on the couch, which was surprising comfortable and simply stared up at the ceiling, or rather the darkness that veiled the ceiling he knew to be above him. As he lay in the dark, his rage simmering and fuelling his ill-intentioned thoughts towards Potter Draco realized that he still had another forty days of this torturous hell.

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AN: I know it's a bit repetative, and there is no action but I needed this chapter. It sets things up for the next chapter and the positions of power, and control of power that will be set out from here on in. I promise the next chapter will be more action packed but for now bear with me, don't hate me, and most of all don't ditch me.

Next point of matter. I know I've taken a while to get this up but last week was really busy for me and then I had a hectic weekend so this is the soonest I could get this out. This week looks a bit calmer so I'm hoping to get the next chapter out on Thursday or something.

Insert: if you want to be notified of updates please say so and I'll send you an email whenever I update.

Final point: Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews. I can't belive I hit 100, that's a first. I was so happy I nearly cried. And I never cry. Every single one of them was apprecaited. And they all made me so happy it's undescribable. So please review.

Edit: Just fixing up a couple little things, grammer and typoes mostly.

The insanely happy,

- Incessant_Darkness