Fic: The Extent of My Sin for janicechess
Title: The Extent of My Sin
Author: chaeldub
Giftee: janicechess
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 6018
Characters/Pairing: Harry/Draco, Harry/Bill… sort of
Warnings: slight language, double entendres
Author's Notes: I hope I covered most of the bases on this, as I had quite a bit of fun writing it. The title comes from the N.I.N. track, Sin. Thanks go to my beta, littlecup and the other people who heard me wibble over it.
Summary: Draco tries to use a magical device to reek havoc in the life of Harry Potter.
Now - The Potion’s Cupboard
Draco shifted uneasily in the dark. He realised that, since being forcibly shoved down Goyle’s trousers, he had a rather odd feeling whenever he was in a dark, confined space.
“Ow! Watch where you’re standing. You just trod on my foot.”
“Well, I can’t see where I’m standing, there’s no light in here.”
“Oh, how astute, Potter. With your cat like reflexes and ability to state the bleeding obvious, you’ll have my mast - um, Vold, er, You-Know-Who absolutely quaking in his boots.”
It suddenly went very quiet, and in the confined space they were in, that was a hard thing to achieve.
“YOU KNOW YOU MAKE IT REALLY HARD, YOU DO!” Harry’s voice blasted him right in the face.
“I try.” Draco was really peeved there was no light; he had just managed to shrug his shoulders coyly and smirk at the same time.
“I saw that,” Harry said, calming down.
“What! It’s pitch black in here, you couldn’t have.”
“Malfoy, I don’t need to see to know exactly what you’re doing.”
In what his father would say was a most undignified thing to do for a Malfoy, Draco stuck his finger up at Potter.
“Put that down, you’ll have someone’s eye out,” Harry said.
“Potter, if you can see so well, why don’t you find us a way out of here?” Draco asked, exasperatedly, crossing his arms in a well-practiced move that was completely lost on Potter, as he couldn’t see.
“Alright, I will. Let me past so I can get to the door,” Harry said.
There was quite a bit of shuffling and tugging and pulling of robes and jumpers as they attempted to move past one another. First, Draco went left as Harry went right. This led to a meeting of two heads, with a thud, they fell backwards into the shelves, unsettling a myriad of bottles, boxes and vials.
“You complete moron, go the other way,” Draco said, rubbing his throbbing head. Harry went left and Draco went right, which suffice to say had exactly the same effect.
“Malfoy! That really hurt.”
“Aw, want me to call Weasley, or I could kiss it better?” Draco mocked.
“Just let me past,” said Harry, then under his breath, “git.”.
“Ooh, we’re resorting to name calling again are we, Potty?”
Draco took comfort in the knowledge that there was only one ring left for him to turn. He slipped his hand into his pocket and felt for the clicking sound of the ring falling into place.
“Luxuria, Potter,” he murmured.
“What are you mumbling about now, Draco?”
“Nothing. Uh, Potter? You just called me Draco.”
“No I didn’t. If it weren’t for you we wouldn’t be in here. If you’ll just let me through, I can get us out,” Harry grumbled.
Draco brushed his hands down over his robes, straightened out his collar and slicked back his hair.
“Be my guest.”
Draco heard, then felt, Potter moving past him.
“Draco, watch where you’re sticking your wand.”
“You just said it again, and I don’t have my wand. Snape took both of our… mmmh, oh, Harry..
Harry!”
Earlier - Defence Against the Dark Arts class (Why Draco and Harry end up in the cupboard)
Draco gazed out the window. He just couldn’t keep his mind focused, especially in class. There were so many things going on in his life that DADA was really not a priority anymore. There were tasks to complete and he had his eye on another prize. He heard a none too subtle cough from the front of the class, his eyes glanced to the side. Professor Snape was standing in front of the blackboard, arms crossed. The class had begun twenty minutes ago and still there was no...
“Potter, so glad you can join us. One hundred points from Gryffindor,”
Snape sneered down his nose at the late arrival.
“Sir, Harry was late because...” Granger piped up, as usual.
“Miss Granger, why Mister Potter was late is of no consequence.” Snape interjected.
“You never listen to anythi-“
“Fifty more points for impertinence. Now, split in to pairs. Potter, you can join, Mr. Malfoy for this task.”
Draco shifted uneasily in his seat.
“If weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been late,” Potter grumbled, as he sat down.
“Tsk, tsk, Potter. You can’t blame me because you can’t fly a broom.”
Draco dipped his quill and continued with his work. Then, as if in slow motion, he watched as Potter’s hand shot across the table and tipped his inkpot over. The black liquid spilled down the ancient wooden desk and began seeping into his parchment. Draco looked on, aghast, as the intricate scrollwork was almost completely obscured.
HA...Y..LOV..DR..O
“Now, look what you’ve gone and done. You... you...”
“Go on, say it. You know you want to,” Harry goaded.
Draco wanted to bite his tongue, but instead his hand slipped into his pocket once more. The ornate timber had only two more dials left to turn. He wanted to think long and hard about which of the two words he should use, but he always found diving in headfirst more fun.
“Irascor, Potter.”
“What did you say?”
Draco smirked. This had its usual and desired effect. Potter had his wand out and pointed at him before he could blink. Of course, he knew he would do that, so his wand was at the ready. Draco slid out from behind the desk, wary of what Potter might do. Professor Snape had conveniently taken this moment to leave the classroom, which was something he hadn‘t planned for.
“I hate you, Malfoy!” Harry shouted, as the rest of the students cleared from their desks and headed toward the back of the room.
“Really?” Draco raised an eyebrow, although he didn’t doubt him in the slightest.
“More than you’ll ever know,” Harry snarled and shot a hex at him.
Draco ducked under a table and the window behind him shattered. He was thinking that this might not have been the best of ideas when the table disintegrated. Left with nowhere to hide, he jumped to his feet and fired of a disarming spell. He was more than a little disheartened to see Harry deflect it with gracious ease. Draco ducked behind a large freestanding blackboard. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Granger, and for a moment was tempted to use her as a shield.
“Come out here Malfoy. I want to see the white’s of your eyes when I finally…”
Potter’s ranting was cut off by a loud grunt, followed by a thunderous crash. Draco peered around the edge of the blackboard. There was Weasley sitting astride Potters chest, holding him down. Draco smiled, then confidently walked out into the almost deserted room toward the pair of boys.
“At last Potter, Weasley finally has you where he wants you, pinned under him, squirming.” Draco said.
Draco looked at Ron. He suddenly looked rather angry. He looked back at Harry, who had gone slack, then back at Ron. In the time it had taken to glance down at Potter and back, Weasley’s face had gone from a freckly shade of pale to fire breathing red.
“Harry, I want you to know that Hermione’s going to kick my arse for this, but, ‘ave at ‘im.”
There was a moment when Draco actually thought that he was going to get out of this unscathed, that moment was about five minutes ago, right now he thought he was going to get his arse handed to him. Harry scrambled back up to his feet, his wand pointing directly at him. This didn’t faze Draco in the slightest, well at least outwardly it didn’t, as his wand was aimed at Harry in just as threatening a manner.
“I’m going to end you, right here.” Harry was almost foaming at the mouth.
“Oh do shut up, Potter. If you’re going to talk the talk…” Draco’s wand quivered slightly as he an incantation under his breath.
The large oak door that sealed the room from prying eyes burst open. It slammed against the wall with such force that some portraits fell to the ground, splintering, their subjects running to the nearest safe picture.
“Drop your wands, at once!” Snape snapped at them.
“Professor, it was Malfoy’s fault,” said Harry, “he has this…”.
“Fifty points from… Gryffindor, Mister Potter. I didn’t ask for an explanation, just do as your told.”
“That’s not fair, Harry was only defending himself,” Hermione grumbled.
“Miss Granger, as taking points from your House appears to have no effect, detention, my office, tonight.”
“But I’ve got to study!” Hermione cried out.
“I’m sure you’ll take be able to study HARD with me, after all, you do take instruction very well. If you think that discipline is something that I take lightly, then you’re wrong,“ Snape was slapping his wand against his thigh quite hard as he said this, “I can be a very tough Master if I am crossed, as my House already knows.”
Draco shivered at the thought, Blaise broke out into a cold sweat and if anyone asked Theodore Nott later about the dark patch that had just appeared in his pants, he just told them it was pee.
“Malfoy, Potter,” Snape addressed them as he scooped up their wands.
“You can spend the evening re-cataloguing the potions supply cupboard.”
Earlier - The Quidditch Pitch. (Why Harry is late for class and Draco is so cocky)
“Well, well, look who’s finally shown up,” jibed Blaise.
“Typical, Potter. I was just about to leave. I have more important places to be, than waiting here for you,” Draco said, brushing the last remaining bits of chocolate sponge from his robe.
Potter looked right at him and Draco was sure that if he hadn’t been surrounded by his cronies that Potter might have pulled his wand out and given him the what for. Draco was one step ahead though, his hand was already in his pocket and firmly grasping wood. His wand felt smooth and powerful in his hand and he was tempted just to pull it out and use it on Harry.
“I’m here, so let’s get on with it.” Harry dropped his satchel, which was still covered in the remnants of everyone’s lunch.
Draco motioned to Blaise who handed him his Nimbus.
“I noticed you didn’t play much Quidditch last year, so you‘ll probably want to warm up,” Draco joked.
“We haven‘t seen you playing much either, Malfoy,” Ron retorted, coming to a puffing halt beside Harry.
“Who invited him?” asked Blaise.
“Your mother,” Ron said, smirking, pulling a stray bit of broccoli from his hair.
“You didn’t just say that, you did not just say that.” Blaise tapped Theodore on the shoulder. “Tell me he did not just say that.”
“Blaise, it’s not really a put down, all he said was that your mother invited him to the Quidditch pitch,” Theodore said, looking decidedly put out by being anywhere near any of them.
“Yeah for a quick…”
“Ron, not really the time for this,” said Harry, clamping a hand over Ron’s mouth.
“Let the Weasel fight his own battles, Potter. Grab your broom, we‘ve got a race to run, er, fly.”
Draco slid his hand into his other pocket, felt for the fourth ring, then turned it until he heard the click.
“Superbia, Potter,” he said.
“What?” asked Harry, who clearly twitched when Draco said the spell.
“Uh, I just said you’re super, Potter.” Draco rolled his eyes and stuck his finger in his mouth much to the amusement of his fellow Slytherin.
“So, what‘s the race?” asked Weasley.
Draco looked down the Quidditch arena to the goal at the other end. Then with a motion of his hand, Blaise jumped on his broom and headed toward the three hoops.
“It’s not a race as such, more like three challenges.”
“Well, this should be easy. After all, I’m only facing you,” Harry said.
Draco glared at Potter. He wanted pride not cockiness, although in Potter’s case they were one and the same.
“First score a goal, second race around the pitch, third catch a Snitch.”
“There’s no way you can do it faster than me, Malfoy. Are we gonna do this or are you just gonna stand around talking?” asked a clearly jittery Harry.
Five minutes later and they were one challenge apiece, Draco having scored the goal and Harry having raced around the arena faster. A large group of students had gathered to watch the final challenge. Draco figured there was only a few minutes until their next class, which was perfect.
“Blaise, release the Snitch. Potter, we wait a minute, then on my mark, we go. First to catch it wins.”
“Well, you scored a goal, but I’m obviously quicker than you, so this shouldn’t take too long,” said Harry.
“We’ll see. Pansy, how about a good luck kiss? “ Draco smiled at the dark haired girl.
This wasn’t something he would normally do, but everything had a reason, and this had a very good one. He grabbed Pansy around the waist, swung her around and laid one of his best kisses on her. There was a murmur from the crowd of onlookers. Draco smiled as he let the girl back up, breathless.
“When you’re ready,” Harry grumbled, sliding his broom between his legs.
“Pansy, Potter’s jealous, give him a good luck kiss too.”
“I am not jealous.”
“What’s wrong, Potter? It’s okay, we all know I’m a better kisser.”
Harry dropped his broom, grasped Pansy by the hand and repeated Draco’s kiss to the girl. Draco and the crowd watched on as Potter began a kiss that started in a similar fashion and then turned into something a little bit more. Pansy’s foot lifted off the ground, there were a few low moans and she even slid her hands in Potter’s hair.
“GO!” shouted Draco.
Potter dropped Pansy unceremoniously onto her backside, grabbed his broom and shot off down the stadium. Draco turned to the crowd, smiled or smirked, he was never sure which was which anymore, slid onto his broom and took off after the Gryffindor wunderkind. What Potter didn’t know was that the Snitch had been bewitched and was heading directly for the Forbidden Forrest. He followed behind Potter, over the edge of the stadium, over the school grounds and the horrible hairy brute’s hovel, into the air over the Forrest. For a brief moment Draco thought he spied the Snitch, but if he saw it, then surely Potter must have, too? Draco took his broom into a dive and realised that Potter had realised that he had over shot the prize and was plummeting toward him. Within seconds the Gryffindor was alongside him.
“You’ll never beat me, Malfoy!” Harry yelled.
“Really?”
Draco knew this wasn’t following the plan exactly, but he decided to do it anyway.
“Pansy said I’m a better kisser than you!”
Harry’s hand shot out grasped the front of his broom and yanked back. Draco was almost thrown off, and it took all the skill he could muster to stay on, as they came to a halt just above the treetops.
“She did not,” said Harry, taken aback.
“Sorry, Potter. Looks like I’m better in the lip-locking department than you.”
“Well, when I get back with the Snitch, we’ll ask her together. Actually, I’ll prove I’m better.”
“Yes, but she’ll always know that I’m the better kisser,” said Draco, goading just a little more.
“Fine, I’ll prove it now.”
Draco sat astride his broom hovering just above the top of a rather large fir tree, wondering exactly how Potter was going to prove it. It didn’t take him long to find out. With his free hand Potter grabbed him by the back of the head and pulled him forward. Before he could do or say anything his lips were being firmly, but tenderly, pushed against by the lips of the dark haired boy. Draco was going to protest, his mouth opened, but that was just enough to let Harry slide his tongue gently inside. He closed his eyes and, for a moment Draco, completely forgot where he was and what he was doing. Under the table had been different to how Potter was kissing him now. Here the young man was intense and doing his best to impress. As he felt Potter’s hand slide into his hair, pulling him closer, holding him with a care he had never experienced before, Draco opened his eyes. There was a fire, a desire to be right and a need to belong burning in Potter’s eyes. He could see it there, plain as day. He pulled back, even though Potter was trying to kiss him harder.
“Even you have to agree, I’m better,” Harry said, crossing his arms confidently.
“So, let’s get this straight, I scored the goal, you had the fastest lap and alleged best kiss and I caught the Snitch,” Draco said, leaning back on his broom, full of confidence.
Draco watched the look of confusion on Potter’s face, he really did enjoy annoying him, it was one of life’s little pleasures. In his pocket he turned the fifth dial, and, having committed the carved words to memory, waited for Potter to have his final word.
“You haven’t caught the Snitch, ferret-features. I won‘t let you, I‘m the better flier and Seeker..”
“Acedia, Potter,” Draco whispered,
“What are we doing out here looking for that Snitch for anyway? I think I‘ll just skip finding it and fly out to the lake,” Harry said, lying back on his broom.
“Well, I think I see the Snitch. What say, I go catch it and head back to the finishing line and you tag along in your own time?”
“Whatever,” Harry said, shrugging his shoulders.
“You do know we have Potions next,” Draco said, heading off in the direction of the winged silver ball.
“So, I‘ll get there when I get there,” Harry replied, then drifted slowly away toward the lake.
Earlier - The Great Hall (Why there is cake on Draco and Harry at the Quidditch Stadium)
Draco stared across the crowded room at Potter. No difference from any other day, except he still couldn’t take his eyes off him. It was driving him nuts the way those other Gryffindors could so casually hang off his every word. It made him sick the way they were fawning over him. Oh, to be Harry Potter, unkempt hair, messy clothes, late to class, everyone’s favourite little hero. Draco watched on as Weasley put his hand on Potter’s shoulder. That’s a little bit informal, he thought, reminding himself to curse Weasley later. He hated how close those two were, none of his friends every acted that way with him.
“Draco.” Pansy’s voice attempted to break his reverie.
“Mmmhhh.”
“If you can tear your eyes away from Potter for just one minute, I was going to ask you if you wanted to… ”
“I was just sizing him up,” Draco interrupted, an idea forming in his mind.
“Aren’t we all,” Blaise said, under his breath.
“What for?” asked Goyle, stuffing a piece of pie into his mouth, well, some of a piece of pie, most of it ended up around his mouth, on his shirt and splattered on the table.
Draco recoiled at the sight, but it was exactly what he had planned for Potter. A multi-level attack to get him right where he wanted him. It would take a bit of doing if he was going to pull it off, and everything had to fall in to place at the right time or it could all go of the rails. Especially after what had just happened outside the old git’s office.
“You’ll see,” he said, standing up, straightening his robe and making his way toward the Gryffindor table.
With every step he took voices hushed and heads turned. It wasn’t often that he left the Slytherin table. After all, why would he want to? Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor watched as he strode down to the end of the hall, turned and made his way toward where Potter and his friends sat. There was no mistaking where he was headed, Potter was always his number one target in the Great Hall.
“What do you want now, Malfoy?” asked Potter.
“I was wondering, as we don’t settle our differences during Quidditch anymore, do you want to meet me after lunch for a bit of a race?”
Draco stood patiently as Potter’s cronies debated the pros and cons of the meeting. For someone that they looked up to with glowing admiration, they sure had a lot of opinions to give, he thought. Draco was sure that Crabbe, Goyle and the rest had plenty of advice to give him, but they were smart enough to keep it to themselves.
“You, want to race, me?” Potter said, incredulously.
“Yes. What’s wrong, don’t think you can beat me?” Draco asked, knowing Potter would take the bait.
“Harry could beat you flying backwards,” Weasley said.
“Oh, you want to make it interesting? Fine, I’ll come up with some stipulation that is sure to make you want to win.”
The Gryffindors that had gathered around Potter broke into another round of bickering and squabbling.
“Lunch is over in half an hour, then we have a free class, I’ll meet you then. In the mean time you might want to go polish your broom.” Harry said, and broke out laughing with the others.
“Did I just hear you say something witty, Potter? How droll, a double entendre; we’ll see who has the last laugh.”
“At least Harry’s not a half-wit, like you,” Weasley piped up from behind Granger.
“If I’m a half-wit Weasel, then you must be a fuc…”
“Quit making up excuses, Malfoy. I’ll see you after lunch,” Harry said, turning back to the table.
Draco turned away from the table so that he could spring the first part of the plan. This time, there would be no interruptions. He slipped the wooden cylinder out of his pocket and turned the second dial.
“Avarita, Potter,” then Draco turned the third dial, “Gula, Gryffindors.”
There was an almighty ruckus brewing right down the entire Gryffindor table. First years were grabbing food from any plate in sight, which was starting to include plates from other tables. Soon every member of the house was out of their seat, snaffling as much food as they could get. It was a free for all, as food began flying everywhere. Within a few minutes the entire room was filled with the sounds of food flinging warfare. Draco decided that retreat was probably the better part of valour, either that or get eaten by the ravenous horde. He had just made it back to the other side of the Slytherin table when a half-eaten Black Forest cake splattered against his chest. Cream, shaved chocolate, cherries and sponge became one with his uniform. Draco wiped as much of the after dinner treat as he could off himself and ducked under the table, hoping to avoid wearing any more food.
He saw Crabbe running for the door, apple green jelly squashed on his back. Pansy was grappling with a Gryffindor girl, both of them had pie on there face. He laughed to himself, usually Pansy waited till lights out before eating pie. Then he realised the slobbering masses were getting closer and the route to the door was blocked. Draco grabbed the tablecloth and pulled it down, silently praying that no one had seen him. Someone Draco didn’t see was Theodore Nott, who was cowering behind a Slytherin banner a few feet away. Later on, if anyone asked, Theodore would say he hadn’t heard anything over the roar of the students full blown food fight, but he had. Theodore saw Harry Potter dive under the opposite side of the table, and this is what he heard a few seconds later.
“Uh, Potter, what are you doing?”
“I’m hungry.”
“I know that. I asked what you think you’re doing?”
“..n’t it obvi… .’m eat… som. .ake”
“Yes, it’s obvious, but that cake is on my leg.”
“Mmmmhhh. Yeah, well, I want it all.”
“Potter, ‘that’ is not my leg.”
“Yeah, but it tastes so good.”
“That does it, get off me, now.”
“If I can't have everything well then just give me a taste.”
“Ah, greed, uh, yes, just a taste mind you..”
“Do you mind if I have your cherry?”
“What!”
“Your cherry.”
“You want my cherry?”
“Oh, never mind someone’s already taken a bite out of it.”
“I think that was me.”
“In that case, I’ll eat it. Mmmhh, tastes fruity.”
“Potter, this is intolerable, I must insist that you stop at once.”
“Awww, but I’m not finished. Is that cream? I love cream.”
“Yes, but it’s on my face.”
“So?”
“Potter, you’re kissing me.”
“… … ….”
“Potter?”
“I’m not kissing you, Malfoy, I’m licking.”
“Oh.”
“Has anyone told you that you taste rather good?’
“On more than one occasion, if you must know, but that is beside the point.”
“You’re not a bad kisser either.”
“You said we weren’t kissing.”
“… … …”
“Potter, we’re not kissing, are we?”
“I’m hungry and you’re covered in cake, some of it is on your mouth.”
“Well, if this is what you call eating, I’d hate to see what you call making out.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“… … …”
“Malfoy?”
“I’ve really got to go and get ready. Keep helping yourself to the food, Potter. In fact, help yourself to whatever you want.”
“Really?”
“Potter!”
“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”
Draco emerged from under the table looking dishevelled, his face flushed, and his robes covered with the remains of the cake Harry had been devouring. He saw Theodore and gave him a ‘You didn’t hear anything, if you want to live,’ glare, which left the young man in a quivering mess. With one last look behind him, he headed for the Quidditch pitch. If and when Potter arrived, he would be a few pounds heavier from this experience. A heavy Potter was a slow Potter and soon he would be even slower, as Draco knew that it was a race he was guaranteed to win.
Earlier - In the corridor outside Dumbledores office (Why Draco is staring at Harry in The Great Hall)
Draco looked at the elaborate carving on the wooden cylinder, it was certainly very fine craftsmanship. His gaze travelled over the Latin inscriptions, one at the top, another on the bottom and between them seven concentric rings with a word on each. His Latin was rather rusty, even though Mother had insisted he learn it from an early age and most spells were routed in the ancient language. The words on the rings were easy to read, but the other writing was giving him trouble, there was too much scroll work. He looked to his left, ignored the person sitting beside him and pulled out his wand. He traced the writing on the top with the tip of his wand.
“Let he who is without sin cast…”
Well, that certainly ruled him out of casting anything, he thought. Then again, maybe it wasn’t a warning, maybe it was an activation code. The words on the rings had a blank space following them with an indicator to use a name. Draco had swiped the cylinder from Borgin’s when he was making arrangements for the Vanishing Cabinet. He figured that if it was in this shop it was valuable in some way; he just had to figure out in what way. The person beside him kept fidgeting and it was starting to make him a little mad. Come to think of it, everything the person next to him did made him mad. Draco decided, against any better judgment or long term planning, to use the device on him right now.
“Let he who is without sin cast…” he said out loud.
“What the heck are you on about, Malfoy?” asked Potter.
“Nothing,” Draco lied.
“I don’t even know why you’re here anyway.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know why you’re here.” Draco retorted.
“Well, just shut it, okay? I don‘t have time for you anymore.”
Draco ignored Potter, the small brown tube had grown suddenly warm in his hand. It was working, whatever it was, it was working. Now, to cast the first hex/curse/spell, all he had to do was turn the ring, say the word inscribed on it, followed by Potter’s name.
“Harry.”
A somewhat familiar, but not, voice called out. Draco ignored it and turned the ring.
“Invidia, ….”
“Malfoy.” The familiar voice interrupted, as the person came to a halt in front of them.
It was like a red mist rose up in front of Draco’s eyes. He could feel a burning sensation in his chest, but he had no idea what was causing it. Then he realised that it had been his name that had followed the spell, which meant that he was under its spell or whatever it was. He looked up to see who had interrupted him. It was Weasley, but not Weasley, because this Weasley was wearing a black leather jacket, a dragon tooth earring and had his hair tied back.
“Bill, what are you doing here?” asked Potter, excitedly, getting to his feet and hugging the man.
“Dumbledore asked me here. He mentioned a cursed necklace and I am, was, a curse breaker, so, here I am,” said the Weasley called Bill.
Draco resented the way they hugged, it was so informal, but at the same time he found himself wanting to be hugged in the same way. His father had never held him in that way, and certainly none of his friends. He watched on as the two chatted away, so at ease with one another. He wanted to be able to talk with someone the way they were, like an equal.
Then the Weasley one put his arm around Potter’s shoulders and Draco just about burst a blood vessel. Oh, to have a friend like that, or were they more than friends? They did seem awfully close for just friends, hugging and touching. Potter was sitting there with that ‘I am the Chosen One’ attitude of his and the red haired man obviously enamoured, was hanging off his every word. Maybe they were a couple, maybe Potter was having a dalliance with an older man. Draco didn’t want Potter having dalliances, affairs, seedy shower room groping, or anything of the sort with anyone other than him. There was the sound of grinding stone and they stopped talking and looked to the entryway. Dumbledore stuck his head out a wide smile on his face.
“Ah, Bill, good to see you’re here, you can come up now.”
“Sir, what about us?”
“Harry, Mr. Malfoy, you can run along to lunch.”
“You mean we’ve been sitting here all morning, waiting for you to give us some sort of punishment and you’re just letting us go?” Draco said, getting up from the seat.
“Punishment served, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said, smiling even more inanely, “punishment served.”.
Now - The Potion’s Cupboard.
“Potter, you‘re going to give me chapped lips.”
“I could always kiss something else?” Harry suggested, as his lips slid onto Draco‘s neck.
“I think someone might notice if I have a hickey,” Draco said, rolling his head to one side to allow Harry better access.
“Tell them Pansy did it.”
“Ewww, I‘ll give you one and say Granger did it,” Draco said, smiling at the thought.
“It must be the bad boy in you that I like so much, I just can‘t help it, now that we‘re alone together.”
“I wish we had some light.”
There was a renewed and frantic search for anything that would light, burn or combust.
“I think I’ve found a candle.”
“That’s great, Potter, now if you can just light it.”
“Wait, hold on... ” Potter mumbled something, then his face lit up as the enchanted candle burst into flame.
“Finally, at least we can see. Maybe we can find a way out now.”
“You want to leave?” Potter asked, and Draco could see from the look on his face that he wanted to stay.
“We can’t stay in here all night,” he said, trying to find some place to sit.
There was a clunk as the used up magical device fell from Draco’s robe onto the ground. He watched it roll slowly across the distance between him and Potter, where it stopped against his shoe. Draco leant forward to grab it back up and banged his head into Potter’s as he reached down to pick the device up.
“Ouch.”
“Idiot.”
“Moron.”
“Scarhead.”
“Ferret-features.”
“You know, you make it really hard sometimes,” Draco said, sitting back, watching as Potter turned the device over in his hands.
“I know,” Harry replied, smirking, “what’s this?”
“Dunno,” Draco shrugged.
“Liar.”
“I have no idea what it is or what it does, Potter. You’re used to messing around with magical artifacts, you tell me.”
“There’s something written on it.”
Draco blinked, time slowed.
“Where about?”
“On the bottom; it’s Latin.” Harry squinted in the candlelight.
“What does it say? I doubt it’s anything important, I’ve already used…” Draco let the words trail away.
“Obliviate,” said Harry.
There was a flash of bright light which rippled through the room and all across Hogwarts.. The Sin Cylinder fell from Harry’s grasp and rolled under one of the shelves, lost to view.
“What just happened?” said Draco.
“When?”
“Just then, we we’re outside Dumbledore’s office and now we’re in,” Draco looked around, “I’m guessing the Potion’s supplies cupboard.”
“I don’t know. Maybe you bumped against something in here that made us forget.”
“Why does it have to be my fault, Potter. You’re the one that’s always getting into trouble, sneaking around, not me.”
“You’re one to talk about sneaking around,” Potter said.
Before Draco could ask him what he meant by that, the door to the cupboard opened and Professor Snape peered inside.
“About time,” Draco said, jumping to his feet, “if I had to spend another second with him I would have cursed myself.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Malfoy. Why would I let you curse yourself, when I could have done it for you?”
“What are you two doing in here?” asked a clearly confused Snape.
“It’s Potter’s fault.” Draco replied, having absolutely no idea whose fault it really was.
“I doubt it.” Harry said, unsure of whether it was or not.
“If I’m in here, then it will be because of something you did, Potter.”
“Oh, I forgot, you would never do anything wrong. Malfoy the Benevolent, I think they’re calling you.” Harry said, jokingly.
“That will be enough, unless you’d like more… detention? No? To bed, both of you,” said Professor Snape.
Draco glared at Potter in the same way he had been for six years, oblivious to the day’s events. The steely-eyed stare was returned in kind, as Potter was never one to back down from anything. Professor Snape grabbed each of them on a shoulder, turned them in opposite directions, and pushed them on their way. That was where they parted company, completely unaware that if Harry hadn’t read the word on the bottom of Draco’s magical device how different their lives might have been.
When Harry awoke the next morning he had no idea why his lips felt so chapped, usually that meant he’d been kissing someone and he didn’t remember doing that. When he touched his fingers to his lips he saw a silvery glint on his index where there had previously been a gold one. Draco had no recollection for the teeth marks and bruise on his neck, whatever he’d been up to he must have enjoyed it, because he smiled at the memory that escaped him. He also had no explanation as to why he was now wearing a Gryffindor ring on his finger.
Please be sure to leave your feedback at the author's journal here.
Author: chaeldub
Giftee: janicechess
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 6018
Characters/Pairing: Harry/Draco, Harry/Bill… sort of
Warnings: slight language, double entendres
Author's Notes: I hope I covered most of the bases on this, as I had quite a bit of fun writing it. The title comes from the N.I.N. track, Sin. Thanks go to my beta, littlecup and the other people who heard me wibble over it.
Summary: Draco tries to use a magical device to reek havoc in the life of Harry Potter.
Now - The Potion’s Cupboard
Draco shifted uneasily in the dark. He realised that, since being forcibly shoved down Goyle’s trousers, he had a rather odd feeling whenever he was in a dark, confined space.
“Ow! Watch where you’re standing. You just trod on my foot.”
“Well, I can’t see where I’m standing, there’s no light in here.”
“Oh, how astute, Potter. With your cat like reflexes and ability to state the bleeding obvious, you’ll have my mast - um, Vold, er, You-Know-Who absolutely quaking in his boots.”
It suddenly went very quiet, and in the confined space they were in, that was a hard thing to achieve.
“YOU KNOW YOU MAKE IT REALLY HARD, YOU DO!” Harry’s voice blasted him right in the face.
“I try.” Draco was really peeved there was no light; he had just managed to shrug his shoulders coyly and smirk at the same time.
“I saw that,” Harry said, calming down.
“What! It’s pitch black in here, you couldn’t have.”
“Malfoy, I don’t need to see to know exactly what you’re doing.”
In what his father would say was a most undignified thing to do for a Malfoy, Draco stuck his finger up at Potter.
“Put that down, you’ll have someone’s eye out,” Harry said.
“Potter, if you can see so well, why don’t you find us a way out of here?” Draco asked, exasperatedly, crossing his arms in a well-practiced move that was completely lost on Potter, as he couldn’t see.
“Alright, I will. Let me past so I can get to the door,” Harry said.
There was quite a bit of shuffling and tugging and pulling of robes and jumpers as they attempted to move past one another. First, Draco went left as Harry went right. This led to a meeting of two heads, with a thud, they fell backwards into the shelves, unsettling a myriad of bottles, boxes and vials.
“You complete moron, go the other way,” Draco said, rubbing his throbbing head. Harry went left and Draco went right, which suffice to say had exactly the same effect.
“Malfoy! That really hurt.”
“Aw, want me to call Weasley, or I could kiss it better?” Draco mocked.
“Just let me past,” said Harry, then under his breath, “git.”.
“Ooh, we’re resorting to name calling again are we, Potty?”
Draco took comfort in the knowledge that there was only one ring left for him to turn. He slipped his hand into his pocket and felt for the clicking sound of the ring falling into place.
“Luxuria, Potter,” he murmured.
“What are you mumbling about now, Draco?”
“Nothing. Uh, Potter? You just called me Draco.”
“No I didn’t. If it weren’t for you we wouldn’t be in here. If you’ll just let me through, I can get us out,” Harry grumbled.
Draco brushed his hands down over his robes, straightened out his collar and slicked back his hair.
“Be my guest.”
Draco heard, then felt, Potter moving past him.
“Draco, watch where you’re sticking your wand.”
“You just said it again, and I don’t have my wand. Snape took both of our… mmmh, oh, Harry..
Harry!”
Earlier - Defence Against the Dark Arts class (Why Draco and Harry end up in the cupboard)
Draco gazed out the window. He just couldn’t keep his mind focused, especially in class. There were so many things going on in his life that DADA was really not a priority anymore. There were tasks to complete and he had his eye on another prize. He heard a none too subtle cough from the front of the class, his eyes glanced to the side. Professor Snape was standing in front of the blackboard, arms crossed. The class had begun twenty minutes ago and still there was no...
“Potter, so glad you can join us. One hundred points from Gryffindor,”
Snape sneered down his nose at the late arrival.
“Sir, Harry was late because...” Granger piped up, as usual.
“Miss Granger, why Mister Potter was late is of no consequence.” Snape interjected.
“You never listen to anythi-“
“Fifty more points for impertinence. Now, split in to pairs. Potter, you can join, Mr. Malfoy for this task.”
Draco shifted uneasily in his seat.
“If weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been late,” Potter grumbled, as he sat down.
“Tsk, tsk, Potter. You can’t blame me because you can’t fly a broom.”
Draco dipped his quill and continued with his work. Then, as if in slow motion, he watched as Potter’s hand shot across the table and tipped his inkpot over. The black liquid spilled down the ancient wooden desk and began seeping into his parchment. Draco looked on, aghast, as the intricate scrollwork was almost completely obscured.
HA...Y..LOV..DR..O
“Now, look what you’ve gone and done. You... you...”
“Go on, say it. You know you want to,” Harry goaded.
Draco wanted to bite his tongue, but instead his hand slipped into his pocket once more. The ornate timber had only two more dials left to turn. He wanted to think long and hard about which of the two words he should use, but he always found diving in headfirst more fun.
“Irascor, Potter.”
“What did you say?”
Draco smirked. This had its usual and desired effect. Potter had his wand out and pointed at him before he could blink. Of course, he knew he would do that, so his wand was at the ready. Draco slid out from behind the desk, wary of what Potter might do. Professor Snape had conveniently taken this moment to leave the classroom, which was something he hadn‘t planned for.
“I hate you, Malfoy!” Harry shouted, as the rest of the students cleared from their desks and headed toward the back of the room.
“Really?” Draco raised an eyebrow, although he didn’t doubt him in the slightest.
“More than you’ll ever know,” Harry snarled and shot a hex at him.
Draco ducked under a table and the window behind him shattered. He was thinking that this might not have been the best of ideas when the table disintegrated. Left with nowhere to hide, he jumped to his feet and fired of a disarming spell. He was more than a little disheartened to see Harry deflect it with gracious ease. Draco ducked behind a large freestanding blackboard. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Granger, and for a moment was tempted to use her as a shield.
“Come out here Malfoy. I want to see the white’s of your eyes when I finally…”
Potter’s ranting was cut off by a loud grunt, followed by a thunderous crash. Draco peered around the edge of the blackboard. There was Weasley sitting astride Potters chest, holding him down. Draco smiled, then confidently walked out into the almost deserted room toward the pair of boys.
“At last Potter, Weasley finally has you where he wants you, pinned under him, squirming.” Draco said.
Draco looked at Ron. He suddenly looked rather angry. He looked back at Harry, who had gone slack, then back at Ron. In the time it had taken to glance down at Potter and back, Weasley’s face had gone from a freckly shade of pale to fire breathing red.
“Harry, I want you to know that Hermione’s going to kick my arse for this, but, ‘ave at ‘im.”
There was a moment when Draco actually thought that he was going to get out of this unscathed, that moment was about five minutes ago, right now he thought he was going to get his arse handed to him. Harry scrambled back up to his feet, his wand pointing directly at him. This didn’t faze Draco in the slightest, well at least outwardly it didn’t, as his wand was aimed at Harry in just as threatening a manner.
“I’m going to end you, right here.” Harry was almost foaming at the mouth.
“Oh do shut up, Potter. If you’re going to talk the talk…” Draco’s wand quivered slightly as he an incantation under his breath.
The large oak door that sealed the room from prying eyes burst open. It slammed against the wall with such force that some portraits fell to the ground, splintering, their subjects running to the nearest safe picture.
“Drop your wands, at once!” Snape snapped at them.
“Professor, it was Malfoy’s fault,” said Harry, “he has this…”.
“Fifty points from… Gryffindor, Mister Potter. I didn’t ask for an explanation, just do as your told.”
“That’s not fair, Harry was only defending himself,” Hermione grumbled.
“Miss Granger, as taking points from your House appears to have no effect, detention, my office, tonight.”
“But I’ve got to study!” Hermione cried out.
“I’m sure you’ll take be able to study HARD with me, after all, you do take instruction very well. If you think that discipline is something that I take lightly, then you’re wrong,“ Snape was slapping his wand against his thigh quite hard as he said this, “I can be a very tough Master if I am crossed, as my House already knows.”
Draco shivered at the thought, Blaise broke out into a cold sweat and if anyone asked Theodore Nott later about the dark patch that had just appeared in his pants, he just told them it was pee.
“Malfoy, Potter,” Snape addressed them as he scooped up their wands.
“You can spend the evening re-cataloguing the potions supply cupboard.”
Earlier - The Quidditch Pitch. (Why Harry is late for class and Draco is so cocky)
“Well, well, look who’s finally shown up,” jibed Blaise.
“Typical, Potter. I was just about to leave. I have more important places to be, than waiting here for you,” Draco said, brushing the last remaining bits of chocolate sponge from his robe.
Potter looked right at him and Draco was sure that if he hadn’t been surrounded by his cronies that Potter might have pulled his wand out and given him the what for. Draco was one step ahead though, his hand was already in his pocket and firmly grasping wood. His wand felt smooth and powerful in his hand and he was tempted just to pull it out and use it on Harry.
“I’m here, so let’s get on with it.” Harry dropped his satchel, which was still covered in the remnants of everyone’s lunch.
Draco motioned to Blaise who handed him his Nimbus.
“I noticed you didn’t play much Quidditch last year, so you‘ll probably want to warm up,” Draco joked.
“We haven‘t seen you playing much either, Malfoy,” Ron retorted, coming to a puffing halt beside Harry.
“Who invited him?” asked Blaise.
“Your mother,” Ron said, smirking, pulling a stray bit of broccoli from his hair.
“You didn’t just say that, you did not just say that.” Blaise tapped Theodore on the shoulder. “Tell me he did not just say that.”
“Blaise, it’s not really a put down, all he said was that your mother invited him to the Quidditch pitch,” Theodore said, looking decidedly put out by being anywhere near any of them.
“Yeah for a quick…”
“Ron, not really the time for this,” said Harry, clamping a hand over Ron’s mouth.
“Let the Weasel fight his own battles, Potter. Grab your broom, we‘ve got a race to run, er, fly.”
Draco slid his hand into his other pocket, felt for the fourth ring, then turned it until he heard the click.
“Superbia, Potter,” he said.
“What?” asked Harry, who clearly twitched when Draco said the spell.
“Uh, I just said you’re super, Potter.” Draco rolled his eyes and stuck his finger in his mouth much to the amusement of his fellow Slytherin.
“So, what‘s the race?” asked Weasley.
Draco looked down the Quidditch arena to the goal at the other end. Then with a motion of his hand, Blaise jumped on his broom and headed toward the three hoops.
“It’s not a race as such, more like three challenges.”
“Well, this should be easy. After all, I’m only facing you,” Harry said.
Draco glared at Potter. He wanted pride not cockiness, although in Potter’s case they were one and the same.
“First score a goal, second race around the pitch, third catch a Snitch.”
“There’s no way you can do it faster than me, Malfoy. Are we gonna do this or are you just gonna stand around talking?” asked a clearly jittery Harry.
Five minutes later and they were one challenge apiece, Draco having scored the goal and Harry having raced around the arena faster. A large group of students had gathered to watch the final challenge. Draco figured there was only a few minutes until their next class, which was perfect.
“Blaise, release the Snitch. Potter, we wait a minute, then on my mark, we go. First to catch it wins.”
“Well, you scored a goal, but I’m obviously quicker than you, so this shouldn’t take too long,” said Harry.
“We’ll see. Pansy, how about a good luck kiss? “ Draco smiled at the dark haired girl.
This wasn’t something he would normally do, but everything had a reason, and this had a very good one. He grabbed Pansy around the waist, swung her around and laid one of his best kisses on her. There was a murmur from the crowd of onlookers. Draco smiled as he let the girl back up, breathless.
“When you’re ready,” Harry grumbled, sliding his broom between his legs.
“Pansy, Potter’s jealous, give him a good luck kiss too.”
“I am not jealous.”
“What’s wrong, Potter? It’s okay, we all know I’m a better kisser.”
Harry dropped his broom, grasped Pansy by the hand and repeated Draco’s kiss to the girl. Draco and the crowd watched on as Potter began a kiss that started in a similar fashion and then turned into something a little bit more. Pansy’s foot lifted off the ground, there were a few low moans and she even slid her hands in Potter’s hair.
“GO!” shouted Draco.
Potter dropped Pansy unceremoniously onto her backside, grabbed his broom and shot off down the stadium. Draco turned to the crowd, smiled or smirked, he was never sure which was which anymore, slid onto his broom and took off after the Gryffindor wunderkind. What Potter didn’t know was that the Snitch had been bewitched and was heading directly for the Forbidden Forrest. He followed behind Potter, over the edge of the stadium, over the school grounds and the horrible hairy brute’s hovel, into the air over the Forrest. For a brief moment Draco thought he spied the Snitch, but if he saw it, then surely Potter must have, too? Draco took his broom into a dive and realised that Potter had realised that he had over shot the prize and was plummeting toward him. Within seconds the Gryffindor was alongside him.
“You’ll never beat me, Malfoy!” Harry yelled.
“Really?”
Draco knew this wasn’t following the plan exactly, but he decided to do it anyway.
“Pansy said I’m a better kisser than you!”
Harry’s hand shot out grasped the front of his broom and yanked back. Draco was almost thrown off, and it took all the skill he could muster to stay on, as they came to a halt just above the treetops.
“She did not,” said Harry, taken aback.
“Sorry, Potter. Looks like I’m better in the lip-locking department than you.”
“Well, when I get back with the Snitch, we’ll ask her together. Actually, I’ll prove I’m better.”
“Yes, but she’ll always know that I’m the better kisser,” said Draco, goading just a little more.
“Fine, I’ll prove it now.”
Draco sat astride his broom hovering just above the top of a rather large fir tree, wondering exactly how Potter was going to prove it. It didn’t take him long to find out. With his free hand Potter grabbed him by the back of the head and pulled him forward. Before he could do or say anything his lips were being firmly, but tenderly, pushed against by the lips of the dark haired boy. Draco was going to protest, his mouth opened, but that was just enough to let Harry slide his tongue gently inside. He closed his eyes and, for a moment Draco, completely forgot where he was and what he was doing. Under the table had been different to how Potter was kissing him now. Here the young man was intense and doing his best to impress. As he felt Potter’s hand slide into his hair, pulling him closer, holding him with a care he had never experienced before, Draco opened his eyes. There was a fire, a desire to be right and a need to belong burning in Potter’s eyes. He could see it there, plain as day. He pulled back, even though Potter was trying to kiss him harder.
“Even you have to agree, I’m better,” Harry said, crossing his arms confidently.
“So, let’s get this straight, I scored the goal, you had the fastest lap and alleged best kiss and I caught the Snitch,” Draco said, leaning back on his broom, full of confidence.
Draco watched the look of confusion on Potter’s face, he really did enjoy annoying him, it was one of life’s little pleasures. In his pocket he turned the fifth dial, and, having committed the carved words to memory, waited for Potter to have his final word.
“You haven’t caught the Snitch, ferret-features. I won‘t let you, I‘m the better flier and Seeker..”
“Acedia, Potter,” Draco whispered,
“What are we doing out here looking for that Snitch for anyway? I think I‘ll just skip finding it and fly out to the lake,” Harry said, lying back on his broom.
“Well, I think I see the Snitch. What say, I go catch it and head back to the finishing line and you tag along in your own time?”
“Whatever,” Harry said, shrugging his shoulders.
“You do know we have Potions next,” Draco said, heading off in the direction of the winged silver ball.
“So, I‘ll get there when I get there,” Harry replied, then drifted slowly away toward the lake.
Earlier - The Great Hall (Why there is cake on Draco and Harry at the Quidditch Stadium)
Draco stared across the crowded room at Potter. No difference from any other day, except he still couldn’t take his eyes off him. It was driving him nuts the way those other Gryffindors could so casually hang off his every word. It made him sick the way they were fawning over him. Oh, to be Harry Potter, unkempt hair, messy clothes, late to class, everyone’s favourite little hero. Draco watched on as Weasley put his hand on Potter’s shoulder. That’s a little bit informal, he thought, reminding himself to curse Weasley later. He hated how close those two were, none of his friends every acted that way with him.
“Draco.” Pansy’s voice attempted to break his reverie.
“Mmmhhh.”
“If you can tear your eyes away from Potter for just one minute, I was going to ask you if you wanted to… ”
“I was just sizing him up,” Draco interrupted, an idea forming in his mind.
“Aren’t we all,” Blaise said, under his breath.
“What for?” asked Goyle, stuffing a piece of pie into his mouth, well, some of a piece of pie, most of it ended up around his mouth, on his shirt and splattered on the table.
Draco recoiled at the sight, but it was exactly what he had planned for Potter. A multi-level attack to get him right where he wanted him. It would take a bit of doing if he was going to pull it off, and everything had to fall in to place at the right time or it could all go of the rails. Especially after what had just happened outside the old git’s office.
“You’ll see,” he said, standing up, straightening his robe and making his way toward the Gryffindor table.
With every step he took voices hushed and heads turned. It wasn’t often that he left the Slytherin table. After all, why would he want to? Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor watched as he strode down to the end of the hall, turned and made his way toward where Potter and his friends sat. There was no mistaking where he was headed, Potter was always his number one target in the Great Hall.
“What do you want now, Malfoy?” asked Potter.
“I was wondering, as we don’t settle our differences during Quidditch anymore, do you want to meet me after lunch for a bit of a race?”
Draco stood patiently as Potter’s cronies debated the pros and cons of the meeting. For someone that they looked up to with glowing admiration, they sure had a lot of opinions to give, he thought. Draco was sure that Crabbe, Goyle and the rest had plenty of advice to give him, but they were smart enough to keep it to themselves.
“You, want to race, me?” Potter said, incredulously.
“Yes. What’s wrong, don’t think you can beat me?” Draco asked, knowing Potter would take the bait.
“Harry could beat you flying backwards,” Weasley said.
“Oh, you want to make it interesting? Fine, I’ll come up with some stipulation that is sure to make you want to win.”
The Gryffindors that had gathered around Potter broke into another round of bickering and squabbling.
“Lunch is over in half an hour, then we have a free class, I’ll meet you then. In the mean time you might want to go polish your broom.” Harry said, and broke out laughing with the others.
“Did I just hear you say something witty, Potter? How droll, a double entendre; we’ll see who has the last laugh.”
“At least Harry’s not a half-wit, like you,” Weasley piped up from behind Granger.
“If I’m a half-wit Weasel, then you must be a fuc…”
“Quit making up excuses, Malfoy. I’ll see you after lunch,” Harry said, turning back to the table.
Draco turned away from the table so that he could spring the first part of the plan. This time, there would be no interruptions. He slipped the wooden cylinder out of his pocket and turned the second dial.
“Avarita, Potter,” then Draco turned the third dial, “Gula, Gryffindors.”
There was an almighty ruckus brewing right down the entire Gryffindor table. First years were grabbing food from any plate in sight, which was starting to include plates from other tables. Soon every member of the house was out of their seat, snaffling as much food as they could get. It was a free for all, as food began flying everywhere. Within a few minutes the entire room was filled with the sounds of food flinging warfare. Draco decided that retreat was probably the better part of valour, either that or get eaten by the ravenous horde. He had just made it back to the other side of the Slytherin table when a half-eaten Black Forest cake splattered against his chest. Cream, shaved chocolate, cherries and sponge became one with his uniform. Draco wiped as much of the after dinner treat as he could off himself and ducked under the table, hoping to avoid wearing any more food.
He saw Crabbe running for the door, apple green jelly squashed on his back. Pansy was grappling with a Gryffindor girl, both of them had pie on there face. He laughed to himself, usually Pansy waited till lights out before eating pie. Then he realised the slobbering masses were getting closer and the route to the door was blocked. Draco grabbed the tablecloth and pulled it down, silently praying that no one had seen him. Someone Draco didn’t see was Theodore Nott, who was cowering behind a Slytherin banner a few feet away. Later on, if anyone asked, Theodore would say he hadn’t heard anything over the roar of the students full blown food fight, but he had. Theodore saw Harry Potter dive under the opposite side of the table, and this is what he heard a few seconds later.
“Uh, Potter, what are you doing?”
“I’m hungry.”
“I know that. I asked what you think you’re doing?”
“..n’t it obvi… .’m eat… som. .ake”
“Yes, it’s obvious, but that cake is on my leg.”
“Mmmmhhh. Yeah, well, I want it all.”
“Potter, ‘that’ is not my leg.”
“Yeah, but it tastes so good.”
“That does it, get off me, now.”
“If I can't have everything well then just give me a taste.”
“Ah, greed, uh, yes, just a taste mind you..”
“Do you mind if I have your cherry?”
“What!”
“Your cherry.”
“You want my cherry?”
“Oh, never mind someone’s already taken a bite out of it.”
“I think that was me.”
“In that case, I’ll eat it. Mmmhh, tastes fruity.”
“Potter, this is intolerable, I must insist that you stop at once.”
“Awww, but I’m not finished. Is that cream? I love cream.”
“Yes, but it’s on my face.”
“So?”
“Potter, you’re kissing me.”
“… … ….”
“Potter?”
“I’m not kissing you, Malfoy, I’m licking.”
“Oh.”
“Has anyone told you that you taste rather good?’
“On more than one occasion, if you must know, but that is beside the point.”
“You’re not a bad kisser either.”
“You said we weren’t kissing.”
“… … …”
“Potter, we’re not kissing, are we?”
“I’m hungry and you’re covered in cake, some of it is on your mouth.”
“Well, if this is what you call eating, I’d hate to see what you call making out.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“… … …”
“Malfoy?”
“I’ve really got to go and get ready. Keep helping yourself to the food, Potter. In fact, help yourself to whatever you want.”
“Really?”
“Potter!”
“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”
Draco emerged from under the table looking dishevelled, his face flushed, and his robes covered with the remains of the cake Harry had been devouring. He saw Theodore and gave him a ‘You didn’t hear anything, if you want to live,’ glare, which left the young man in a quivering mess. With one last look behind him, he headed for the Quidditch pitch. If and when Potter arrived, he would be a few pounds heavier from this experience. A heavy Potter was a slow Potter and soon he would be even slower, as Draco knew that it was a race he was guaranteed to win.
Earlier - In the corridor outside Dumbledores office (Why Draco is staring at Harry in The Great Hall)
Draco looked at the elaborate carving on the wooden cylinder, it was certainly very fine craftsmanship. His gaze travelled over the Latin inscriptions, one at the top, another on the bottom and between them seven concentric rings with a word on each. His Latin was rather rusty, even though Mother had insisted he learn it from an early age and most spells were routed in the ancient language. The words on the rings were easy to read, but the other writing was giving him trouble, there was too much scroll work. He looked to his left, ignored the person sitting beside him and pulled out his wand. He traced the writing on the top with the tip of his wand.
“Let he who is without sin cast…”
Well, that certainly ruled him out of casting anything, he thought. Then again, maybe it wasn’t a warning, maybe it was an activation code. The words on the rings had a blank space following them with an indicator to use a name. Draco had swiped the cylinder from Borgin’s when he was making arrangements for the Vanishing Cabinet. He figured that if it was in this shop it was valuable in some way; he just had to figure out in what way. The person beside him kept fidgeting and it was starting to make him a little mad. Come to think of it, everything the person next to him did made him mad. Draco decided, against any better judgment or long term planning, to use the device on him right now.
“Let he who is without sin cast…” he said out loud.
“What the heck are you on about, Malfoy?” asked Potter.
“Nothing,” Draco lied.
“I don’t even know why you’re here anyway.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know why you’re here.” Draco retorted.
“Well, just shut it, okay? I don‘t have time for you anymore.”
Draco ignored Potter, the small brown tube had grown suddenly warm in his hand. It was working, whatever it was, it was working. Now, to cast the first hex/curse/spell, all he had to do was turn the ring, say the word inscribed on it, followed by Potter’s name.
“Harry.”
A somewhat familiar, but not, voice called out. Draco ignored it and turned the ring.
“Invidia, ….”
“Malfoy.” The familiar voice interrupted, as the person came to a halt in front of them.
It was like a red mist rose up in front of Draco’s eyes. He could feel a burning sensation in his chest, but he had no idea what was causing it. Then he realised that it had been his name that had followed the spell, which meant that he was under its spell or whatever it was. He looked up to see who had interrupted him. It was Weasley, but not Weasley, because this Weasley was wearing a black leather jacket, a dragon tooth earring and had his hair tied back.
“Bill, what are you doing here?” asked Potter, excitedly, getting to his feet and hugging the man.
“Dumbledore asked me here. He mentioned a cursed necklace and I am, was, a curse breaker, so, here I am,” said the Weasley called Bill.
Draco resented the way they hugged, it was so informal, but at the same time he found himself wanting to be hugged in the same way. His father had never held him in that way, and certainly none of his friends. He watched on as the two chatted away, so at ease with one another. He wanted to be able to talk with someone the way they were, like an equal.
Then the Weasley one put his arm around Potter’s shoulders and Draco just about burst a blood vessel. Oh, to have a friend like that, or were they more than friends? They did seem awfully close for just friends, hugging and touching. Potter was sitting there with that ‘I am the Chosen One’ attitude of his and the red haired man obviously enamoured, was hanging off his every word. Maybe they were a couple, maybe Potter was having a dalliance with an older man. Draco didn’t want Potter having dalliances, affairs, seedy shower room groping, or anything of the sort with anyone other than him. There was the sound of grinding stone and they stopped talking and looked to the entryway. Dumbledore stuck his head out a wide smile on his face.
“Ah, Bill, good to see you’re here, you can come up now.”
“Sir, what about us?”
“Harry, Mr. Malfoy, you can run along to lunch.”
“You mean we’ve been sitting here all morning, waiting for you to give us some sort of punishment and you’re just letting us go?” Draco said, getting up from the seat.
“Punishment served, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said, smiling even more inanely, “punishment served.”.
Now - The Potion’s Cupboard.
“Potter, you‘re going to give me chapped lips.”
“I could always kiss something else?” Harry suggested, as his lips slid onto Draco‘s neck.
“I think someone might notice if I have a hickey,” Draco said, rolling his head to one side to allow Harry better access.
“Tell them Pansy did it.”
“Ewww, I‘ll give you one and say Granger did it,” Draco said, smiling at the thought.
“It must be the bad boy in you that I like so much, I just can‘t help it, now that we‘re alone together.”
“I wish we had some light.”
There was a renewed and frantic search for anything that would light, burn or combust.
“I think I’ve found a candle.”
“That’s great, Potter, now if you can just light it.”
“Wait, hold on... ” Potter mumbled something, then his face lit up as the enchanted candle burst into flame.
“Finally, at least we can see. Maybe we can find a way out now.”
“You want to leave?” Potter asked, and Draco could see from the look on his face that he wanted to stay.
“We can’t stay in here all night,” he said, trying to find some place to sit.
There was a clunk as the used up magical device fell from Draco’s robe onto the ground. He watched it roll slowly across the distance between him and Potter, where it stopped against his shoe. Draco leant forward to grab it back up and banged his head into Potter’s as he reached down to pick the device up.
“Ouch.”
“Idiot.”
“Moron.”
“Scarhead.”
“Ferret-features.”
“You know, you make it really hard sometimes,” Draco said, sitting back, watching as Potter turned the device over in his hands.
“I know,” Harry replied, smirking, “what’s this?”
“Dunno,” Draco shrugged.
“Liar.”
“I have no idea what it is or what it does, Potter. You’re used to messing around with magical artifacts, you tell me.”
“There’s something written on it.”
Draco blinked, time slowed.
“Where about?”
“On the bottom; it’s Latin.” Harry squinted in the candlelight.
“What does it say? I doubt it’s anything important, I’ve already used…” Draco let the words trail away.
“Obliviate,” said Harry.
There was a flash of bright light which rippled through the room and all across Hogwarts.. The Sin Cylinder fell from Harry’s grasp and rolled under one of the shelves, lost to view.
“What just happened?” said Draco.
“When?”
“Just then, we we’re outside Dumbledore’s office and now we’re in,” Draco looked around, “I’m guessing the Potion’s supplies cupboard.”
“I don’t know. Maybe you bumped against something in here that made us forget.”
“Why does it have to be my fault, Potter. You’re the one that’s always getting into trouble, sneaking around, not me.”
“You’re one to talk about sneaking around,” Potter said.
Before Draco could ask him what he meant by that, the door to the cupboard opened and Professor Snape peered inside.
“About time,” Draco said, jumping to his feet, “if I had to spend another second with him I would have cursed myself.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Malfoy. Why would I let you curse yourself, when I could have done it for you?”
“What are you two doing in here?” asked a clearly confused Snape.
“It’s Potter’s fault.” Draco replied, having absolutely no idea whose fault it really was.
“I doubt it.” Harry said, unsure of whether it was or not.
“If I’m in here, then it will be because of something you did, Potter.”
“Oh, I forgot, you would never do anything wrong. Malfoy the Benevolent, I think they’re calling you.” Harry said, jokingly.
“That will be enough, unless you’d like more… detention? No? To bed, both of you,” said Professor Snape.
Draco glared at Potter in the same way he had been for six years, oblivious to the day’s events. The steely-eyed stare was returned in kind, as Potter was never one to back down from anything. Professor Snape grabbed each of them on a shoulder, turned them in opposite directions, and pushed them on their way. That was where they parted company, completely unaware that if Harry hadn’t read the word on the bottom of Draco’s magical device how different their lives might have been.
When Harry awoke the next morning he had no idea why his lips felt so chapped, usually that meant he’d been kissing someone and he didn’t remember doing that. When he touched his fingers to his lips he saw a silvery glint on his index where there had previously been a gold one. Draco had no recollection for the teeth marks and bruise on his neck, whatever he’d been up to he must have enjoyed it, because he smiled at the memory that escaped him. He also had no explanation as to why he was now wearing a Gryffindor ring on his finger.
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