Author: Michael Serpent (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Translator: Essy Ergana (email@example.com)
Beta: Rene (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Summary: Harry and Draco struggle for dominance in every aspect of their relationship. A little rough, a little gentle, a little strange… And Voldemort drinks mint tea ;)))
Disclaimer: Yes, not mine, not mine… calm down and just have fun… =)
Separately, I thank Rene – for patience in our eternal disputes, Daarhon – for all the “knuckles” found =)), and Moeri – for not letting me lose heart.
Chapter 1. Wings
Golden Snitch. Here he is, right under the ring on the Gryffindor half of the Quidditch field, running along a tall post. They saw him at the same time – and dived after him. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.
The students in the stands stood up impatiently, and Lee Jordan, the Gryffindor commentator, yelled into the microphone:
– Potter at lightning speed rushed after the Snitch, but from the other side, Malfoy is approaching him with dangerous speed. The Snitch doesn’t stand a chance – one of those two is going to catch it right now! Personally, I hope it will be Potter! Come on, Potter! Ay! Ay! Okay, okay, Professor McGonagall, I’ll try to be impartial… And here’s Malfoy, flying side by side with Harry! Both of them approach the Snitch at a terrifyingly high speed… Watch out Harry, you’ll hit the gate straight ahead if not… Potter dodges and so does Malfoy! One more move and they hit the helpless little ball… and collide with each other!
All the students and faculty rushed to the edge of the bleachers to get a better look at what was happening on the Quidditch pitch. Lee Jordan involuntarily clenched his hands into fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. In a trembling voice, he continued:
– They dive straight to the ground. Will they survive this terrible fall? Potter and Malfoy seemed to have rooted to each other. What’s the matter there? It looks like they are holding hands! Drop it, Potter! But where is the Snitch?
The spectators eagerly, but unsuccessfully, looked for the Snitch. Both the Gryffindor and Slytherin Chasers and Beaters stopped playing and watched their Seekers excitedly. And Malcolm Baddock was quick to take advantage of the situation.
– Oh no! Ten points to Slytherin! Score thirty – twenty in favor of Slytherin! Come on, Harry, drop Malfoy and take the Snitch! Oh no!!! They will now hit the ground. What’s going on with them? Why won’t they let each other go? Damn, they hit the ground!
The stands screamed furiously, and no one heard Lee Jordan’s comments – if he continued to say anything at all.
Something similar happened on the field. Malfoy and Potter simultaneously tried to grab the Snitch – and collided with each other. But the funny thing was that they both caught the golden ball, and now neither of them wanted to let it go for anything. They clung to the Snitch and were so busy fighting that they didn’t even notice that they were falling fast, and as a result they crashed into the ground.
“Let him go, Potter!” Malfoy grimaced as he lay on the grass next to the Gryffindor. His ribs hurt terribly – the broom had hit him in the side as they fell – but he grabbed one of the Snitch’s wings like a drowning man at a straw, and did not let go.
– Dreaming! Harry snapped, holding onto his stomach with his left hand, into which Malfoy’s boot had run into during the fall. With his right hand, he gripped the other wing of the Snitch tightly.
They cast murderous looks at each other. Her arms and legs hurt mercilessly, it was likely that the ligaments were stretched, but none of that mattered. The only thing that worried the Gryffindor and the Slytherin was the helpless fluttering of the golden ball in their hands.
Harry frowned and used his free hand to force Malfoy to loosen his grip and let go of the Snitch. Draco responded by kneeing him in his already aching stomach, and the Gryffindor lunged at him furiously, elbowing into his throat.
“Let him go, Malfoy, or you’ll be forever with your vile voice,” he hissed.
Draco almost choked, but still had enough strength to kick Potter again, after which he immediately took advantage of the chance, rolling so that he was on top, and immediately drove into the opponent’s jaw.
– He’s mine, I caught him first! It’s you who give up! he shouted, turning pale with rage.
Harry pushed the splayed fist in the face, managed to knock him over onto his back again.
“I’ll just kill you if you don’t let him go now!” Gryffindor needs this victory!
“You’d think I’m such an idiot, Potter!” yelled Malfoy. – You always win, now it’s my turn!
“Damn you, Malfoy, I’ll shake your soul out of you!”
– Yeah, try it!
They looked at each other with burning eyes. Their faces were only a few millimeters apart, and Harry could make out even the smallest hairs on the blond’s furrowed brow. All of a sudden, their expressions became worried, and Harry’s expression was also clear of helplessness. Malfoy’s cold gray eyes stared directly into Harry’s green eyes, and both boys looked confused and scared at the same time.
“Yes, yes, Potter. What do we have here? Malfoy asked, and Harry couldn’t help but shudder. He was practically paralyzed with horror: he began to get excited!
Harry tried to move away, but Malfoy pulled him back by the collar.
“Afraid, Potter?” he grinned wickedly, and only now did Harry feel his erection against his thigh. Enraged, he grabbed the Slytherin by the silky blond hair and tugged hard. Malfoy squirmed in pain, and Harry felt the closeness of victory. But he also felt something else… pleasure? The fact that he now had complete control over Malfoy only turned him on even more. And besides… the Slytherin had such soft, sweet-smelling hair that Harry wished he could bury his nose in it and inhale the intoxicating apple scent.
“Potter, you’re a pervert!” growled Malfoy. – Release the Snitch immediately. And me.
It was only now that Harry remembered the Snitch again, which he was still struggling to hold on to. He looked down at Draco’s neat little fingers clutching the silver wing and slumped slightly. Malfoy immediately threw it off him, and now they were both lying on the grass, almost tearing the poor little ball apart. Soon they heard someone approaching footsteps and realized that these were the members of their teams, along with Madame Hootch, in a hurry to help.
The unfortunate Lee Jordan could not utter a word, watching the “battle” between the Seekers. To the audience, their fight looked far worse than Harry and Draco could ever have imagined. The stands yelled, and the players were ready to grapple with each other. Fortunately, Madame Hootch quickly got the situation under control.
– Boys, get up. Both,” she ordered, and they stood up without releasing the Snitch.
“Okay, now give me the Snitch,” the instructor continued. However, neither Potter nor Malfoy obeyed.
“I said,” she repeated in a harsher voice. – Immediately release his wings, otherwise you will break them.
No reaction. Madame Hootch began to rage.
“I said let him go or I’ll cast a spell and you’ll have to re-grow your bones again!” Harry already knows how much it hurts, and let Malfoy try to imagine it better! Now, immediately, RELEASE HIM!
Harry reluctantly unclenched his fingers. Malfoy followed suit.
“I think you caught the Snitch at the same time,” Madam Hooch nodded in satisfaction.
Malfoy gave Potter a scary look. The Gryffindor responded in kind.
– Sonorus! said Madam Hooch, pointing her wand at her own throat. Her next words were heard by everyone on the Quidditch pitch.
“Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Draco Malfoy both caught the Snitch,” she announced. – As a result, the result of the game is as follows: Slytherin wins by 180 points, Gryffindor loses by 170 points!
The Slytherin stands cheered in approval. The Gryffindor stands were silent. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were in mixed feelings. Someone nonchalantly applauded, someone smiled slightly, someone looked at what was happening with an indifferent look.
“But Malcolm Baddock hit the ball after we caught the Snitch!” Harry bellowed. – This goal does not count! The result of the game should be a draw!
“He did it before anyone saw we caught the Snitch,” Malfoy flashed his white teeth. – So a goal counts. No one can take this honor from Malcolm.
– What the hell honor?! Harry snorted. – He scored a goal at a time when everyone turned their backs!
“It’s nobody’s fault that you have such idiots on your team, Potter,” Malfoy declared peremptorily, crossing his arms over his chest. – Thanks to these ten points, Slytherin won against Gryffindor. For the first time in six years.
The Slytherin team cheered and whistled to themselves, then the players came over to give their Seeker a friendly pat on the back:
“You did it, Malfoy!” We knew you could! Well done!
“Well done here Malcolm,” Draco grinned at the hunter to whom they owed their victory. Baddock was beaming – well, as much as it was possible for a Slytherin to be.
Madame Hutch left the field, leaving the students to celebrate the victory on their own. Harry took one last look at Malfoy, who looked even more smug than usual. There was a pleasant tension in the lower abdomen. Malfoy was definitely attractive. Cursing himself, Harry turned and hurried after his team, which, delirious melancholy, left the field. Draco looked up at Potter. And he couldn’t help but grin.
Harry stood in front of the mirror in the Gryffindor bathroom. With a manic gleam in his green eyes, he carefully examined himself. His lips curled, and cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He brushed his hair away from his zigzag scar and leaned over the sink.
And he threw up.
– Damn, what’s going on? he muttered, lost in his own thoughts. What the hell, can someone explain to me? It doesn’t mean I’m gay or anything like that, does it? Because it’s not. It’s clear that I’m not gay .
Harry took another frightened look in the mirror and read the obvious doubt in his own eyes. He swayed and leaned over again.
– Damn it! Now Malfoy will ring the whole school about it, and my life will turn into hell! he winced. – But it all happened quite by accident!
He rested his elbows on the rim of the sink, watching blankly as what had once been his breakfast was sucked into the sink. Then he straightened up and again cautiously looked at his reflection. The eyes were in place, but they looked very alarmed. Harry thought they looked suspiciously like one of Snape’s poisonous potions. He then focused on the scar that always made him stand out from the crowd. The scar was almost white now, in stark contrast to the bronzed skin.
Harry winced and gasped at the sudden memory of Malfoy’s snow-white skin…
“Damn Malfoy, you filthy ferret!” he managed to hiss before throwing up again.
Behind him, the door opened with a soft creak. Glancing in the mirror, Harry saw that it was Ron who had entered.
– Hey, are you okay? – the red-haired Gryffindor quickly approached him. – Are you sick?
– What does it look like? Harry asked irritably. – Because I’m having a party here?
Ron glanced at the sink and took a step back.
“Are you sure you don’t need Madam Pomfrey’s help?” I want to say that the last Quidditch match was really tough. But I’m glad you hit Malfoy hard. He deserved it like no other.
Harry felt his heart skip a beat again.
– Don’t talk about it.
– All right, Harry! If you’re not going to the hospital wing, you could at least join me and Hermione at dinner. You haven’t eaten anything since the match! Although…. you don’t seem to like the food much, judging by the contents of the sink…” Ron grimaced.
– Phew. Harry blinked. He couldn’t hide from it forever! – Okay, I’m going, Ron. Give me a couple of minutes, okay?
“Agreed,” Ron nodded, looking worriedly at his friend. However, he walked out, leaving him to his own devices.
Harry splashed fresh water in his face. He knew he had to go. Meet it. Sooner or later he would still have to leave the room. The longer it drags on, the worse it gets. Today he will see a cheeky Slytherin.
Away from the Gryffindor tower, Draco Malfoy was enjoying his victory. He used to cause widespread admiration, but today he has managed to become the center of everyone’s attention. He was the hero, not Harry Potter. After the Quidditch match, Draco took a shower and changed. Then he combed back his soft, damp hair and threw his best green robe over his clothes. She looked especially good on the catcher’s superbly built body. And now he sat on the most comfortable sofa in the Slytherin common room, illuminating the dark dungeons with the light of his presence.
Pansy Parkinson and a group of Slytherin girls – Millicent, Blaze, Mary Ann and Tracy – settled down next to Draco and flirted with him tirelessly. Crabbe and Goyle bolstered their egos by telling everyone that Malfoy was their best friend, and the other Slytherins gave Draco big smiles whenever he looked in their direction. The seventh years, led by Montague, put up singing posters in the corridors so that no one would forget about Slytherin’s victory.
“Potter was furious today,” Blaise Zabini whispered into Draco’s ear. I never would have thought he was capable of such rudeness.
It looked like something really funny came into the Slytherin’s mind, as a dazzling smile suddenly flashed across his face.
“Yeah, he’s off the chain,” he said, trying not to laugh out loud. “Damn Potter, almost bruised my neck with his elbow!” Not very noticeable?
All the Slytherin princesses rushed to reassure Draco that it was the evil Gryffindor’s fault that the skin on his neck had taken on a completely blue-green hue. Malfoy chuckled and frowned playfully as he picked up the package of sweets from the table with a graceful movement of his hand.
“So did you really punch Potter in the face?” Mary Ann Greengrass asked as she leaned back on the couch next to Draco.
– I was forced to. He was so… unbridled,” the blond replied with a completely un-Malfoy snort. “Besides, I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. For fun, he added.
“Yeah, but it was so brave of you to do it in front of the entire school.” Millicent waved her long black hair right in front of Draco’s face. Tracy and Pansy just didn’t swoon with admiration.
Draco rolled his eyes. During the half hour remaining before dinner, he had to listen to praise from the girls in his honor.
On the way to the Great Hall, Malfoy again mentally returned to Harry Potter. Worse, when he reached the last rung of the stairs, he found himself biting his nails. Was this… the reaction of Potter’s body just an accident? Or was there something else behind it all? Is it possible that Harry Potter finds Draco Malfoy attractive? Of course, it was nothing new for Draco to be followed by girls and boys alike. He was not homophobic and knew many gay people at Hogwarts. There were two very funny Hufflepuff types – Justin Filch-Fletchley and Wayne Hopkins – Draco had no doubt they were dating. And then there was Montag from Slytherin and Terry Boot from Ravenclaw. Terry even once sent Draco a love letter – the Slytherin nearly vomited in disgust. Of course, he did not respond to the message. It wasn’t his style. But now the focus is on Harry Potter. Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. Was he gay? Hell no, of course not! In the world Draco lived in, this could not be. Even in the wizarding world. The Slytherin pushed the thought out of his head and tried to forget about everything. He sat down at the long table of his faculty next to Blaise Zabini and began to forcefully pile boiled crayfish onto a plate.
Entering the Great Hall, Harry thought that everyone was looking at him with excessive curiosity. He blushed slightly, but courageously approached the table. Most of the Gryffindors were already there, munching on their dinners. Hermione and Ron sat side by side, chatting merrily, and Harry took the empty seat opposite. In less than two seconds, Seamus Finnigan, whose mouth was full of red caviar, spoke to him.
– Today was a terrible match. You were completely out of shape, Harry. But I don’t blame you. This evil purebred brat! He will now be mocking you for a whole month, reminding you of “a brilliant victory for Slytherin in such an intense game,” as he put it a moment ago.
“I bet you will,” Harry replied, swallowing the lump in his throat. Reaching for the dish, he helped himself to six potatoes.
“Oh, you seem very hungry, Harry,” Colin exclaimed, photographing his plate. – The match was very exciting. Dennis and I almost lost our voices… – he coughed, – … cheering you on. You stood in the way of their victory and held on with dignity, so don’t worry about defeat
“Mmm.. thanks,” Harry muttered, melancholy shaking his fork with a piece of crab on it melancholy. He diligently tried to refrain from thinking about everything “tense” and “rising” .
Hermione and Ron looked at him worriedly. Harry had no doubt that Ron had told the girl about what he saw in the bathroom, and therefore avoided Hermione’s gaze, not wanting to answer her questions. In truth, he didn’t want to answer anyone’s questions at the moment. Turning the crab upside down on his plate, he bit his lip and risked a wary glance at the Slytherin table.
Well, of course he was there. Sat like the master of the world, surrounded by his buddies, bitch Zabini and this Goyle. Draco Malfoy is the most slippery type, the worst bastard in the universe. Harry just needed to muster up the courage to ask him a question. Just one question. He really needed to know if the Slytherin had told anyone about the incident on the field. Because apparently the Gryffindors didn’t know anything yet. And Harry didn’t want them to know. He was willing to do anything as long as Malfoy kept his mouth shut. Anything.
Close his mouth with your lips…
Suddenly, Harry was horrified at such thoughts. Kiss Malfoy?! And then what? Take a shower with a snottail?
He left the Hall without touching his food.
By seven in the evening the sky had turned into a solid, heavy, dark gray mass of clouds. Harry sat alone by the bedroom window, listening to the still distant sound of the approaching thunderstorm. Tomorrow the first two lessons – Potions at Snape, of course, along with Slytherin. Harry found this fact both frightening and satisfying. Because even though he hated Potions lessons, tomorrow maybe he’d have a chance to have a word with Malfoy and see if he’d spilled the beans to anyone.
Talk to Draco Malfoy? Harry grimaced as he rubbed his stiff left shoulder. They had never really spoken before. The Gryffindor never tried to strike up a conversation. Never tried it, never wanted to – yes, in general, it didn’t really bother him. The times they had to communicate were mostly the result of a Slytherin attacking him, Hermione, or Ron. And now Harry needed to talk to him about something serious , even important . How to do it? What to say to him?
– Hey, Malfoy. Do you want to chat? – tried to experiment Harry. Frowning. Not this way.
– Hello, Malfoy. Do you have a minute? We need to exchange a few words.
Pushing his hair back, Harry sighed. It sounded completely ridiculous.
– Malfoy. Need to talk. Immediately.
Hm. Not bad.
– Hey, Malfoy! What, you boastful ass, do you have the guts to have a little chat with me without your fat bodyguard hogs?
Yeah. It already looks like something, but it’s just too voluminous. The previous version was better.
Harry frowned as he saw an owl flicker through the night sky, dragging a large package towards the Slytherin dorms. Even at this distance, he recognized him. Owl Malfoy.
“Maybe I should write to him?” Harry thought. – “Malfoy, you bastard. Tell me right away, did you tell anyone about what happened on the Quidditch field? I hope not. Because if you did, next time your stupid owl will bring you a shovel so you can advance dig your own grave.”
Harry suddenly put his hands over his mouth, horrified by his own thoughts. Did he just threaten Malfoy? Threatened to kill him?! Words and images flashed through his mind again. “I’ll just kill you if you don’t let him go now!” . Harry screamed. He was shaking. Did he really say that to Malfoy? What the hell is going on with him?
Closing his eyes, Harry felt a nasty chill run through his body. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He seemed to be really starting to hate Malfoy. Strongly. With every fiber of the soul. This aggressive behavior was so unlike him…. What happened? Malfoy’s usual childish taunts couldn’t have been the reason – they had never pissed Harry off like this before. No… But then, what’s the matter? Why was he so belligerent towards the Slytherin?
That night, Harry went to bed early, hoping he wouldn’t have his usual nightmare of Draco ripping his heart out of his chest….
That morning, on his way to Snape’s dungeons for Potions class, the last thing Draco Malfoy expected to see was Harry Potter in front of the Slytherin dorm. And in the next moment, Potter already roughly grabbed him by the collar and dragged him somewhere, preventing poor Draco from opening his mouth.
Before disappearing into an abandoned corridor, Malfoy spotted his buddies Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. They stood at the door to the living room, apparently too dumbfounded to do anything to stop Potter from kidnapping their leader. Draco guessed that they must have been struck by lightning, because a real thunderstorm was raging outside the window, and on the faces of this couple there was an even dumber expression than usual.
The blonde snapped back to reality as Harry slammed him back against the cold stone wall.
“Hey, Potter, be careful, you’ll tear my suit!” This, by the way, is Magical Armani, if you know what it is, of course.
“Shut up, Malfoy!” Harry growled, looking dubiously at the platinum-haired handsome man. – I don’t care about your clothes!
Draco squinted so hard his eyes were two narrow slits. He studied Harry’s expression carefully. The Gryffindor wasn’t just angry – he seemed to radiate danger. The only consolation was that his disgusting mudblooded fingers finally let go of the blond’s beautiful and expensive shirt.
“So what do you want from me, Potter?” Draco snorted, straightening his collar. – Or maybe you want me myself ? He grinned contentedly at his brilliant suggestion.
Harry clenched his fists. Of course, he knew that Malfoy was only trying to piss him off. As always. And only yesterday’s thoughts about his own overly tough behavior helped Harry gather all his composure and not smack Malfoy.
– Did you tell them? he asked harshly.
Draco tried to look indifferent and calm.
Did you tell what and to whom ?
“You know exactly what I mean, Malfoy,” Harry hissed, giving the Slytherin a murderous look.
“Ah, so you’re talking about your…” Draco began, smiling wickedly.
“Yes,” Harry cut him off sharply. – Did you tell?
Malfoy could not help the inexorable grin spreading across his face, which, apparently, brought the Gryffindor to white heat. However, it was impossible not to admit that he controlled himself well.
“No, I didn’t,” the blond replied, and something between amusement and curiosity flashed in his cold gray eyes.
Harry immediately felt better.
– Why? – involuntarily escaped from him, before he could think what he was saying.
– What does “why” mean? – Slytherin read his face like an open book, and decided to tease a little. What do you want me to tell them?
– Not! Harry breathed. – I want you to keep your dirty mouth shut. Did you understand me well?
He stepped towards the blond, poking him in the chest with his forefinger.
“Very well,” Draco grinned venomously. – Although…
– What do you want? Harry spat. Of course, he assumed that Malfoy might demand something in return. What else could you expect from a Slytherin bastard?
“Well, for starters, you could eventually crawl out of your closet under the stairs,” the blond chuckled viciously. – I would have a good laugh at the expressions on some people’s faces when they find out that you are not straight .
Harry felt horrified.
“What did your uncle do to you, Potter?” Or your Muggle cousin? Draco’s face was both interested and worried (obviously from Potter’s difficult childhood) at the same time.
Raising his eyebrows in fear, he whispered:
“They did terrible things to you, didn’t they?”
It was the last straw. Pushing Draco so that he fell to the floor, Harry pounced on him with his fists.
THEY DID NOTHING! he shouted, alternating words with blows. – I-NOT-GAY!
He furiously attacked the helplessly prostrate Slytherin, grabbed his hair and pulled, but this only caused a storm of fun. Then, in a rage, Potter slammed his head against the stone wall, and Malfoy groaned through poorly suppressed laughter.
“What are you laughing at, Malfoy?” Harry gritted his teeth. Coughing hard, Draco found that his nose was bleeding.
– Damn it, Potter! – he got angry, looking at his blood-stained fingers.
Did you finally laugh? the brunette muttered furiously, suddenly terrified of what he had just done.
– Oh yes, no doubt! Just look at my shirt!
Draco tried to get up, but his head was spinning and he staggered to the ground, managing to kick Harry in the knee. He jumped back, crying out in sudden pain.
“Bastard,” the Slytherin breathed.
Harry stepped back, holding on to his aching knee, never taking his eyes off his enemy.
“What are you laughing at, Malfoy?” he repeated his question.
– Yes, just about how you perceive it all. So serious,” Draco grimaced, trying to stop the bleeding from his nose. What’s the point of telling me about it? he continued. You just ruined my clothes for nothing. Who the hell cares that you like me? You might think you are the only one…
Harry was confused.
– You won’t tell? he asked stupidly.
– Oh Merlin, if I knew that it would give you so much headache, I would definitely do it! Draco said as he struggled to his feet again. – So now I….
“Don’t worry, Malfoy! Harry said in a threatening tone, pulling out his wand and thinking about the oblivion spell. He looked at Draco, noticing how beautiful his face was in the torchlight. Her silvery hair shone, and her pale skin seemed to take on a velvety peach hue.
Oh shit. Oh shit! Only not this! Again! Harry felt that his jeans were getting too tight…
And at that moment – fortunately or unfortunately for the Gryffindor – Professor Snape appeared at the end of the corridor, interrupting their long meeting. Snape was furious. Half of the students who were supposed to have Potions crowded behind him, watching. Harry tried to quickly hide his wand, but it was too late: the professor had already noticed it.
– Mister Potter! growled the teacher, and his voice was cold as ice. – Try to explain what’s going on here!
Snape looked from Harry to Draco, noting the bleeding nose and bruised cheek of his favorite student. Malfoy yelped and defiantly clutched his stomach, adding to the effect. But judging by the fact that he managed to quietly send an evil smirk to the Gryffindor, the pain was not so bad. Harry gritted his teeth as Snape spoke to him again.
– One hundred points from Gryffindor! Now the professor’s voice was trembling with anger. “And you’ll get additional punishment, Mr. Potter, as soon as Professor McGonagall finds out about this!”
Glancing at Draco, Snape walked over to help him up.
– And you – in the Hospital wing, Mr. Malfoy. Immediately.
The Potions lesson was like a nightmare. Harry was forced to sit between Crabbe and Goyle. These two egg-headed jerks were very arrogant towards him – well, of course, because he beat their adored Draco Malfoy! They constantly pushed Harry with their fat elbows and tried to crush his legs, leaning on him with all their impressive mass. The behavior of this couple reminded Harry of his unforgettable cousin Dudley. Thinking about the Dursleys, the brunette suddenly thought again of Draco and the words he had said about his Muggle relatives.
“Bastard,” Harry muttered under his breath as he tried to peel the mandrake root. – Of course, Uncle Vernon and his family are not a gift, but they never did anything like that to me! I swear by Morgana’s hair, they are so disgusted with me that they are even afraid to touch a finger!
Goyle looked up at Harry from under bushy black brows.
“Why did you attack Draco, Potter?” he frowned. “Are you jealous that now he plays Quidditch as well as you?”
Harry snorted and firmly met the Slytherin’s small transparent eyes.
– He’s no better than me. Yesterday he was just lucky, in fact the match was supposed to end in a draw.
The Slytherins protested loudly, to which the Gryffindor half of the class did not fail to respond. The bickering was about to escalate into the first real fight in Snape’s dungeons when the professor finally decided the fight had gone too far. Finishing his lesson five minutes earlier than usual, Snape left the classroom, heading for the Hospital Wing. He’d just brewed a potion that was supposed to help Draco feel better.
“Until Wednesday, you brats,” he growled in parting.
“What’s wrong with you, Harry?” Ron asked as they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. – You’ve been acting so aggressive lately… Very strange.
Harry didn’t answer. He concentratedly looked at his feet and remembered which false steps he had to jump over.
“You know, Harry, you can tell us anything,” said Hermione, slightly out of breath under the weight of her impressive briefcase.
– But not about that. It’s just me and Malfoy,” Harry finally said.
– Did he do something to you? Ron clenched his fists. Because if so, then I…
“I’ve already taken care of everything, buddy,” Harry interrupted, surprised to see that he was smiling. Ron smiled back at him, but Hermione gave him a strange look.
“That ‘s not how you usually put people in their place, Harry. Even if it’s about Malfoy.
– You’re right. But I just had some kind of inner need to destroy something beautiful, and I could not stop in time. And then it was already too late.
Beautiful? Did I just say BEAUTIFUL? Harry grimaced.
“I think I’ll skip Predictions today, Ron,” he continued, hoping that his friends hadn’t paid attention to his previous words. Enough bad impressions for today. Besides, I don’t feel very well.
Ron and Hermione exchanged meaningful glances and apparently reached a tacit agreement. It’s not worth arguing. If Harry wanted to tell them what was going on, he would do it himself when he was ready.
– Delicious caramels! Hermione said, and the Fat Lady’s portrait turned to reveal the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.
There was a strong thunderstorm outside the window. Still an amazing natural phenomenon. In addition, the weather fully reflected the internal state of Harry.
Looking up at the sky, he decided to take a walk. Wrapping his black robe tightly around himself, throwing his hood over, leaving his glasses useless in the pouring rain on the table, and casting a spell to see well without them, he left the castle towards the Forbidden Forest.
Harry was already very wet by the time he got to Hagrid’s hut. He saw the light streaming peacefully from the window, but he felt that he did not want to knock on the door now. He needed to be alone.
“What got into me?” he thought as he walked slowly along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. “Okay, at least I’ve told Malfoy everything. Now he knows that if he… Oh shit, that’s what I’m talking about! What’s gotten into me?”
Throwing back his hood, he threw back his head, letting the raindrops run down his face. He tasted them as he licked them off his lips.
Some drops were salty…
Draco Malfoy, surrounded by every kind of care from Madam Pomfrey, curled up in a hospital bed. He moaned and whined, trying to make the poor nurse freak out and run around him more than she should.
The blond Slytherin was bored. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy those moments of solitude after Potter’s execution, but Draco simply hated to lie around doing nothing. So he got out of bed and began to explore the spacious room. Suddenly, an uneasy feeling came over him.
“I wonder what the hell is going on with Potter? He’s never shown his hatred for me so openly.” Draco walked over to the bed next to him and slid his fingers over the neatly made sheets. “He hates me, doesn’t he?”
Biting his lip, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear.
“And I hate Harry… Just as much as ever. That disgusting, crazy Ass-Who-Lived.” Draco’s eyes widened in shock. “Did I just call Potter Harry ? Damn, I’m definitely losing my mind.”
Their confrontation began the day they first truly met. Harry refused to be friends with Malfoy, and he did not make further attempts to get closer. At Hogwarts, they immediately began to be considered enemies – later even mortal enemies. Moreover, this enmity concerned not only the two of them: both faculties, Gryffindor and Slytherin, enthusiastically supported their heroes in their mutual hostility. Therefore, every year Harry and Draco became more and more difficult to build a relationship. And now, in his sixth year, when Malfoy was no longer even thinking about any kind of friendship, Harry suddenly decided to use his fists to demonstrate his hatred for the Slytherin
Shrugging, Draco walked over to the window. It was already dark, and it was almost impossible to see anything. He looked at his reflection in the glass, blurry, indistinct, but Draco noticed his own pallor at once. Reaching out, he touched the spot where his cheek was reflected. A little higher, two dark eyes looked up at him.
Ice Prince. I have no idea why they call me that, he thought. Harry doesn’t look like me at all. Not at all.
At that moment, the door opened and Severus Snape entered the room, holding a vial of some emerald green liquid in his hand.
Hell, not emerald green!
“Draco,” he nodded.
Grimacing at the sight of his dean, the blond still tried to squeeze out some semblance of a smile.
Snape approached him with quick steps.
“Do you know what caused the mass brawl in my dungeons today?”
– Did the girls set it up? Draco joked as he watched the professor open the vial and sniff the potion.
“No, it was Potter,” Snape grinned wryly, handing Draco the vial. – Here, have a drink. It’s a pain reliever.
– And it does not by chance give a side effect in the form of a feeling of intoxication? – with hope asked Slytherin.
“I’m afraid not,” Severus replied. “But you will surely feel a slight weakness.