Carpe Noctem (DRARRY)

Chaper 7- Murder Would Be A Solution For This Chapter

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Chapter 7- Murder Would Be A Solution For This Chapter

~Draco's POV~

"Okay, I know how this looks."

It was late at night, or perhaps early in the morning- it was hard to tell, but one sure thing was that a student had woken up and seen the heated snogging happening right outside the dorm. And it wasn't only kissing on the mouth- oh, no. The boys were far too impulsive and impatient for that. On the neck, on the collarbones, on the ears, everywhere that wasn't covered by cloth- and they were surely going to remove some of that cloth if they were allowed to continue.

Their session of rather scandalous kissing was interrupted by an uncomfortable squeak from the doorway of the Slytherin chambers, a mousy sort of noise.

The student gazed, wide-eyed, at the two boys. What was, before, a fearful expression turned turbulent. Eyes roiling like the ocean, teeth gnashing like white-washed waves. Sharp, gleaming teeth. "Oh? You know how it looks? Because to me, it looks like two fags sucking face in the hallway."

Draco's teeth ground against each other, trapping his tongue from lashing out. His jaw clenched, his eyes sharpened. He hated that word.

Harry took a threatening step forward, of which the effect was dulled by a slight wobble. "You say that again." He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. The other student laughed.

It was an ugly laugh, one that you would avoid at all costs, for its effect was nails on a chalkboard. "Why? Are you gonna get mad?"

Mad, indeed. Mad was a weak word for this emotion. Mad was a small, three-letter word for what fire raged inside Draco's chest. The embers of the student's laughter kindled the own flames in Draco's chest, lighting one blaze with another.

Like taking a match and lighting it from one candle, only to bring the fire to another. It wasn't as peaceful as this scene- it was more like wildfire. Wildfire kills, wildfire burns, and wildfire fucking destroys. Yes. Wildfire was the word for this emotion. A conflagration of anger. Oh, how angry was this. Angrier than the angriest fan-girls...

"Yes. Yes, I am." Harry stepped out of the shadows then, his voice strange. Cold and unfeeling, was this voice: and only at that one little word. How strange that words have such power, something that's only gibberish to other species.

Once Harry slipped out of the shadows, though, the student froze. He froze at the gleam of Harry's glasses and the unmistakable scar on his forehead. The student looked scared. More than scared. The black hair falling in Harry's eyes quieted the boy.

All of this left Draco watching. Watching with a quiet type of interest, but ready to fight nonetheless. I've been fighting too much this year, he thought with a humourless smile.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were... Well, Harry Potter." The boy's face turned into a smile immediately, laughing at himself. "If I did, I wouldn't have done that, I promise."

Harry didn't soften, and Draco knew why. So you would do that to a stranger, but not someone you want to suck up to?

"Just leave." His voice was an icicle. Sharp and cold and clear. Though he must've still been intoxicated, Harry showed none of the rich red wine in his voice. Though his hair still shone in the light: normally black, now it was tinged with berry maroon.

And the student went.

As soon as he was gone, Harry practically collapsed in on himself, an implosion of slumping shoulders and storm of closing eyes. "Draco. It'll get out. It'll get out, and we just fucking got together."