Hate Transforms

The corridors were blessedly empty as Harry made his way to the Great Hall for lunch, not that he would have noticed. His mind was reeling around the night and morning he had spent with a certain blonde Slytherin. He was so in his head he didn’t even see Nearly Headless Nick until he had already walk through him, making him feel as if someone dumped cold water into his stomach. At least the sudden chill brought him out of his reverie, and he looked around. Subconsciously he had walked to the Great Hall without really seeing where he was going.

As he entered the hall a wall of chatter hit him. All four house tables were full. Moments after he stepped in he was flagged down by Ron and Hermione. He gulped, and racked his brain for some plausible excuse. Library was out because they’d have checked there, or Hermione would have been there at some point anyway. Shit.

Harry walked down midway to where they were seated. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Malfoy watching him from the Slytherin table. He wished he wouldn’t. Between Malfoy and his two best friends watching him he was forcing down the blush that threatened to take over his face.

Right excuse… he was drawing a blank even as he sat down beside Ron.

“Where you been, mate?” asked Ron immediately.

“Flying,” it was the first thing to pop into his head.

Ron’s eyebrows went up and he laughed, “What all night?”

Shit, he forgot that Ron would’ve noticed he was missing all night as well.

“Yeah, well I’ve been so stressed with everything. After leaving the Hospital Wing when they sent Katie Bell to St. Mungo’s I just wandered ‘round the castle trying to clear my head. It didn’t work, but it did make me tired,” as well as everything he had done with Malfoy. “By the time I came in the room you were asleep. Then I left straight away this morning to go flying, and I guess I lost track of time.”

He prayed they would buy it.

“Did flying help?” asked Hermione, who was looking quite concerned.

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“That’s good,” she said, smiling slightly.

“Well at least I know you won’t be rusty on your broom for the first Quidditch match,” jested Ron. They both laughed, though Harry’s was forced it still managed to ease Harry’s fear of being found out.

The rest of lunch passed rather normally, except for Harry’s determination not to look up at the Slytherin table. Either way looking for the blonde would be a bad idea. If he was looking he would be annoyed and further confused about what the hell was going on between them. And if he wasn’t looking then Harry would be mad that he wasn’t looking, and, as much as he hated to admit it, he would be slightly hurt.

He wanted to know whether they were supposed to go back to hating each other or not.

Fuck, this was way more complicated than he wanted. But what exactly did he expect when he kissed Malfoy in the hall last night, as if kissing a Malfoy was going to be anything but complicated, especially when your last name was Potter.

Harry was pretty sure he was going insane. He lost his marbles the moment he saw Malfoy as anything other than his school nemesis.

“Harry, are you sure you’re okay?”

“W-what?” he stammered and looked up at an even more concerned Hermione, as he realized he had not said anything while they walked out of the Great Hall or acknowledged that they’d entered the Gryffindor common room.

“You seem really distracted.”

“It’s just… I’m worried about Katie,” he half lied, which made him feel terrible. He should be worried about her after all.

“Me too,” confided Hermione as she took residence in a chair by the fire. “I hope they find whoever did that to her. I mean they must’ve been in Hogsmeade to have given that necklace to her.”

In Hogsmeade…and feel bad about the wrong person being hurt by a cursed necklace. Harry prayed he was wrong with his suspicions. The two boys sat on the couch besides Hermione. Luckily the common room was nearly empty.

“Who do you reckon could have done it?” asked Ron. “You still think it was Malfoy, Harry?”

This was obviously a bad move on Ron’s part. Hermione snorted in disbelief and began listing off her usual reasons why this seemed unlikely, “Really Ron, there’s no proof. Besides there were loads of people there, it could have been anyone. Don’t you think you two are allowing your hatred for him cloud your judgment?”

“Are you defending Malfoy?!” said Ron with rising anger.

“Of course not!” she replied defensively. “I am not denying that Malfoy is an ass, but Death Eater? I don’t think so. It is more likely that there was someone there in Hogsmeade that was working for the Death Eaters.”

The two continued to argue about whether Malfoy was the culprit or not. Harry could not follow the conversation; it was causing his stomach to twist into a knot.

“So Harry, what are we going to do now that we’re down a Chaser?” asked Ron, snapping Harry out of his sulk.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” he admitted honestly, but thankful for a change in conversation. “I suppose I’ll offer the position to Dean, he was quite good at try-outs.”

“That would be brilliant,” responded Ron. “Hopefully we can get in enough practice before we face Slytherin this week.”

Quidditch sustained as a topic until Hermione urged them into doing some much neglected homework.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The following morning Harry dared to look over at the Slytherin table at breakfast, only to be disappointed. The blonde arrogant boy was definitely nowhere to be seen. Before he could decide whether he cared or not, he was joined by Ron and Ginny, Hermione was close behind.

“Morning Harry,” chirped Ginny as she sat across from him, next to her brother, smiling a little too wide for this early in the morning. Harry figured it was because Ron told her Dean was going to make the team. She was probably happy her current boyfriend was going to play with her.

Harry just smiled politely; he was still preoccupied with watching the stragglers wander into the Great Hall, but none of who interested him.

Hermione who sat next to him drew him out of his reverie when she asked, “What do you think Dumbledore will show you tonight?” for tonight was the second private lesson with Dumbledore. He honestly had no idea.

“Dunno, maybe another memory? He said he’s trying to show me how Voldemort thinks and how he came to be,” he whispered, so no one else could hear him.
“I wonder how this will help in the end?” asked Hermione as much to herself as to Harry.

“Well with Dumbledore there’s always a plan, right?”

“Yes, I’m just wondering where this fits into the plan.”

Harry’s mind was reeling, trying to think of why Dumbledore would be showing him memories of Voldemort’s family, or his childhood.

After breakfast Harry and Ron returned to the common room, while Hermione went to Ancient Runes. Trying to clear his head he played wizard chess with Ron, and lost spectacularly. Once Ron’s queen was finished strangling his king they packed up their bags and headed off to Defense Against the Darks Arts.

Outside the classroom the queue was already forming. They went to the front where Hermione stood with several books in her arms and a frown on her face.

“I got a half meter essay to write for Ancient Runes, on top of three translations. The homework is not letting up this term,” sighed Hermione exasperatedly.

“Isn’t that the truth,” agreed Ron fervently, “I bet Snape gives us loads of work today.”

As he said this the door to the DADA classroom opened. The line of students filed in after the billowing cloak of Professor Snape. The trio took their usual table in the back of the class while Snape loomed over them at his desk. Harry took the seat on the aisle and began taking his book and quill out. His back was to the aisle when a familiar smell past him by, it was the faint scent of dark spices. He froze when the smell took him back to the hallway below the Hospital Wing, when he was pushing against a very firm and warm body.

He took a deep breath to clear his head before sitting down next to Ron. Automatically he looked over to the front desk across the aisle where Malfoy always sat with his fellow Slytherins. The blonde sat with his back to Harry, as he pulled out his own book and quill. When he finished he sat straighter than Harry thought was possible. Malfoy exuded aristocratic breeding. As Snape lectured Malfoy held the quill loosely in is right hand and wrote with little effort, unlike Harry who held onto his pen with a death grip and harshly scribbled on his parchment.

Snape was going over jinxes that work on giants and trolls. As he scathingly spoke he paced around the classroom glaring down at students. When he made another round down the center aisle Malfoy’s eyes followed the professor, then they landed on Harry’s face.

Harry could feel his face flush as Malfoy made eye contact with him. The blonde’s expression was unreadable, but then ever so slightly he smirked. It was just a small pull at the corner of his mouth, but it was there. Harry tried to return the gesture, but felt as if he failed miserably. The knot forming in his stomach made it very hard to relay messages from his brain to the rest of his body. All he could do was lower his eyes back to his notes.

Malfoy didn’t turn around for the remainder of class, nor did he look over at Harry for the entirety of Potions. Harry tried to will the other boy to look back at him, to make eye contact again, and smile again. But nothing happened. He was so distracted he switched the order of ingredients and ruined the Aging Potion he was supposed to be making. Slughorn was quite disappointed in Harry’s sudden slip up, since he had been the top student so far (thanks to the Half-Blood Prince, whoever that was).

“Harry, m’boy, what happened today?” asked Slughorn, concerned his star student, and member of the Slug Club was slipping in class and talent.

“Sorry professor, I just misread the directions,” he admitted honestly.

“No problem Harry, we all have our off days,” said Slughorn consolingly.

Harry quickly made his way out of the dungeons and away from the false fatherly tones that frequently issued from the Potion’s master.

As Harry walked back to the common room his mind wandered back to Snape’s classroom. He replayed the subtle smile on Malfoy’s lips. Merlin, Harry wished he could kiss those lips.

His thoughts remained on the certain Slytherin until he made it to Gryffindor Tower. The next few hours before his meeting with Dumbledore were spent studying. He made little progress on the extremely difficult essay assigned by Snape, nor did he finish the Transfiguration homework due the next day.

At a quarter to eight Harry packed his books and headed out of the common room towards the Headmaster’s office, with a farewell from both Ron and Hermione.

That night Dumbledore continued to show memories collected in the Pensieve. That night Harry saw the young Tom Riddle in an orphanage and discussed his personality with Dumbledore.

To see the darkest wizard in history as a young boy was hard for Harry to absorb. After leaving Dumbledore’s office Harry walked distractedly back towards Gryffindor Tower. He thought how the world would be different if someone realized the grave threat that young boy posed to the entire world. If only Dumbledore had known what the young Tom Riddle would become then there would be no second war, Harry’s parents would be alive, and so would Sirius. But no one thought that an eleven year old boy could be so evil, and now he has grown up to become a living nightmare and possibly Harry’s death; for neither can live while the other survives.

Harry reached the bottom of a staircase leading up to the Fat Lady portrait when he heard steps descending the stairs ahead. He paused as a sudden wave of panic washed over him. He was out past curfew and he didn’t have his cloak or map with him. With his luck Filch or Snape were headed straight for him ready to dish out detention.

But when he looked up the stairs he saw none other than Draco Malfoy, who looked equally surprised. If Harry wasn’t mistaken he thought Malfoy looked as if he was being caught doing something terrible. But that was probably due to the fact that he thought Harry was Filch. Even with the surprised expression Malfoy continued down the stairs until they were on the same step.

“What are you doing out?” asked Harry, sounding more accusatory than he meant to.

“Tut tut Potter, I’m the prefect,” smirked Malfoy. “So you answer me, why were you out?”

Shit, Harry couldn’t tell him the truth. Only Ron and Hermione were allowed to know about the private lessons with Dumbledore. “Detention,” he answered automatically.

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if he knew Harry was lying. Then he looked Harry over before saying, “And what no cloak to walk back in?”

“Didn’t think I’d need it,” and he was glad he didn’t have it, but knew he should have it since Dumbledore told him to carry it everywhere.

“Right.” Now the air between them grew increasingly awkward.

Harry had a million questions to ask, but had no idea where to start. He figured he should just dive right in, “Malfoy we – uh – need to talk about what happened over the weekend.”

Malfoy’s face softened a fraction, and he nodded. “Yeah, about that” he stopped then looked around, “ – we should find a better place to talk first.”

Quickly and quietly the two of them headed to an empty classroom. Malfoy opened the door and held it open for Harry. When Harry passed him his skin tingled. All he could think about was Malfoy’s cock in his mouth and the salty taste of his cum.

Malfoy closed the door behind them. When Harry turned to look at the tall blonde all thoughts of erotic escapades dissolved. Malfoy stood across the room by the door, shoulders hunched and eyes on the floor. Harry prepared himself for the worst. He had a sinking feeling from the defeated look of Malfoy’s stance.

Harry tried to prepare himself for the let down and rejection. His heart nearly stopped when he heard Malfoy whisper, “I’m sorry.” Shit he knew this was going to end, but he was still surprised at how soon it was happening.

“Potter, I shouldn’t have just rushed out of there like I did Sunday morning.”

Okay this wasn’t exactly what he thought being dumped would sound like.

“It’s okay,” he heard himself say.

“It is most definitely not okay, Potter. I knew you were well…” he trailed off. Malfoy had shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes, and looked as if he was totally out of his element.

“Knew I was what?” his voice spiked at the end of his sentence.

Malfoy raised his grey eyes to his before answering, “I knew you were inexperienced…”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Harry implored as his voice rose with defensive anger.

“It means I should have been more considerate,” Malfoy answered quietly. “Tell me, Potter, how many people have you been with? How many blokes have there been?”

Harry couldn’t help but blush. There had only been Cho, and they had only kissed. Malfoy was his first in everything else, short of sex, straight or gay.

His voice was strangled as he forced the words out, “Just you.”

Malfoy just stared. Then he began to regain his composure. His pointed features set in place, but colder than before. His face had lost the softness that had been there.

“You idiot, Potter,” Malfoy’s voice was no longer quiet it was harsh and sharp.

“What are you talking about?” Harry’s heart was racing now.

“Let me make it plain,” Malfoy started menacingly from beside the door, “stay the fuck away from me if you know what’s good for you, Potter.”

Then Malfoy turned and exited through the door, leaving Harry with a growing ache in his chest.