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Chapter 5- You're Kissing The Wrong Dude, Dude
~Harry's POV~
Watching Draco speak to another boy, laugh with another boy, and smile at another boy made his insides squeeze as if his heart had stopped pumping blood, as if his mind had given up thinking in favour of an almost-silent buzz.
Hm. Weird.
Harry couldn't get it out of his head. Draco was definitely an idiot... He had almost started crying, for Merlin's sake. He didn't know Draco could cry.
Nevertheless, Harry had seen the boy- Freckles- and there was something off about him. Maybe it was the way he stuttered too much for it to be realistic, but Harry was just judging. Maybe it was the cold intelligence behind his dark eyes, but Harry was just imagining things.
Wasn't he?
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~Draco's POV~
Draco laid in his bed, sighing. Harry's scent was still ingrained into the forest green sheets, strangely enough. It would be hard to fall asleep with the image of his enemy- his friend?- in his head.
Finally, he wasn't hungry. After a good drink from a human's neck, he could be full for weeks... And Harry's grin brought an unknown feeling to pool in his fingertips and flutter along his spine like damp butterflies. Harry's sounds when he drank Harry's blood made him feel strange, too. An emotion he had never had; this fierce wanting, primal and embarrassing.
But as he laid there, his thoughts wandered beyond Harry and beyond Freckles. It drifted to boys with yellow eyes and switchblades flicking out with an almost-silent shhk. And he was almost grateful for the dark thoughts; they brought him back down from the cloud of cotton candy he was floating on back to earth. Back to lying on a forest green comforter.
Who were they? Did they know Draco was a vampire? Did they want to kill him?
His head hurt. Spiralling down into the abyss of overthinking was breaking down his mind, but the boys with the yellow eyes were a troubling problem.
His Allies? Seriously? A name like that could be in a trashy mystery novel. Why not choose a more interesting name, like... The Midnight Crusaders... Or... Blood Red Murder... Or...
He sighed and waved the thoughts from his head, sinking into the cool sheets.
Maybe it was time to stop thinking. To sleep. A part of his mind whispered, You'll only wake up again; what's the point? But he silenced it with a shake of his head. Yes, his clothes were still on, but the bed was comfortable. And yes, he hadn't brushed his teeth, but he'd do it in the morning... Probably. Sure, it was maybe eight p.m at the latest, but who cared? After all, he was Draco Malfoy. Who was going to tell him what to do but him?
That was when it all went wrong.
That one moment; when he put down his head and smiled because nobody would dare to hurt him. The moment you let your guard down is the moment your enemy destroys you.
It was then that everything went to hell.
You'd think it would start with angel feathers burning or seraphic screams; instead, it was the silence that was truly deadly. Because if any man can walk without a sound, or breathe without a whisper, he's not a man. He's something else; the things that stir the rose petals and draw the breath from your lungs before devouring, and devouring, and devouring.
It was silent like how a black hole was silent. Silent like how moonlight was silent. Eyelids closed, body relaxed, just drifting off and not hearing the deadly silence that would put him to a different kind of sleep.
That was then. It was only a moment, only a second.
And then it struck.
"Draco?"
The voice was sweet and soft, the voice of a boy with green eyes, but somehow more smooth, more perfect, younger. A plastic voice. Draco's eyes fluttered in his sleep and he rolled over.
"Draco." The voice sighed with a beautiful trill, and Draco stirred, barely opening his eyes languidly to reach out a hand into the darkness to try to reach the face of Harry.
From the darkest shadows of his room, the voice called. "Come on, Draco, get out of bed!" The voice tittered, and a figure in the corner tilted its head.
"I have an adventure planned."
Draco groaned and ran a hand through his hair, sitting up and pushing down the green covers to reveal his rumpled clothes. "How did you get in here?"
Draco's voice was thick with almost-sleep, and he rubbed his eyes before swinging his legs out of bed. His socked feet sank into the stiff carpet of the Slytherin chambers, and he could barely see as something grabbed his ankles.
There was that moment again. When everything flickered darker, and Draco wasn't even scared.
And then he was.
Horror gripped him, frozen. Stroking, cold fingers at his ankles, thin and long. Petting like they would a cat. Sickly comforting.
A practical joke?
"Harry," Draco laughed nervously, "This isn't funny."
Silence.
It was pitch-black, and something was dragging him- at least trying to. Bony fingers dug into his feet, his legs, scratching, tugging, screaming, smiling. Draco tried to grab at the sheets behind him, but his futile attempts were destroyed when he fell to the ground, knocking his head on something painfully solid. He was flailing in the dark, panic making his mind wild.
Draco was being dragged beneath his bed. He could barely see anything- just a bit of light from the crack in the door. The other beds in the dorms were illuminated just slightly; empty sheets mocked him.
This was why you shouldn't go to sleep at eight at night. If somebody tried to murder you in your sleep, you would be more venerable.
"Help..." Draco croaked, curling his fingernails into the carpet and fighting towards the figure in the corner. It just let out a quiet giggle, amused.
"H- Harry!!" He yelled, close to crying. I can't die now.
"Help me! It-It... Harry!... Harry?!... Father! Someone!!"
The thing from the shadows grinned, yellow eyes catching the light, before vanishing into the dark.
Draco pressed his lips together, trying not to cry. "Harry... HARRY!" His voice cracked and he had to scrunch up his nose and take a deep breath. Maybe mysterious hands were taking him, too.
Draco flailed his arms across the floor, reaching for a wand or a book, anything. The floor was empty and the fingers crawled up his legs, stroking the sensitive backs of his knees affectionately before trailing back down to continue tugging.
Draco's vision blurred as he closed his eyes, letting out a trembling breath. "Somebody." It was quiet, a breath of a word. Warm and sad.
He took in a swallow of air, then let it out again. "Harry." If these were his last words, he was going to take this one. A pretty word with two syllables; a word that meant green eyes and glasses and an annoyingly cute laugh. A word that meant confidence and fame and their first angry kisses. Oh god. Draco had a crush on him, didn't he?
Draco let go of the carpet.
He let himself be dragged and closed his eyes.
At least he realized it before he died, right? Would this mean he went to hell- or wherever else they put boys who liked boys?
Pure, terrifying black bit at the edges of his vision and coldness leached through his limbs.
An image of his father's face danced in his head.
Maybe death wouldn't be so bad.
That was when he heard something he was never expecting. A burst of light, and a scream of words.
"Expecto patronum!"
The voice was panicked, scratchy with sleep, but familiar. Warmth seeped into Draco's limbs as a bluish, blinding silver animal charged at him; somehow, he wasn't scared. It went straight through him, and inhuman screeching grated in his ears for a second before the vision was gone. Draco's ankles were free, suddenly, and the room got marginally brighter.
"H... Harry?" He whispered, crawling from beneath the bed to sit criss-cross on the floor, looking up at a boy standing in the doorway.
"Ah, sorry I'm late." Harry scratched the back of his neck and smiled nervously, dark circles plain beneath his eyes. Draco launched himself at the other boy, almost knocking him over in the aggressive hug; Harry flinched at first, and it broke Draco's heart just a little.
"I was fucking scared, you fucker." Draco's voice shook marginally, even with the light tone, and Harry's arms tightened around him.
Now that the threat of death was gone, his thoughts really sank in. He was in love with a guy. To make it even worse, the guy was Harry Potter. Draco's face flushed slightly as he felt Harry's body heat through the fabric of their pyjamas. Why the hell did he hug him?!
They embraced for a few minutes, just breathing and letting their heartbeats slow. He sniffed from time to time and Harry pretended not to notice.
"What was that?" Draco asked finally as they separated, breathing deeply.
"I... I think it might've been a Decimor..." At this, he paused, then gestured wildly with his hands. "You know, the things that are dementors but blasted by a strong wizard??"
Draco looked up at him and nodded, smiling slightly. Harry blinked a few times, and their eyes met with surprising intensity. They were gravitating closer. Now that the danger was gone, it was just a dark room with two boys and a bed.
Holy shit, holy shit, is he going to kiss me, holy-
Harry gently placed a hand on Draco's shoulder, as if not sure if it should be there. Closer, closer still- their breath was the only sound, and their lips were getting closer-
The silence was ruined by the creaking of a door opening and the light being flicked on. They sprang apart, Harry brandishing his wand, but it was only a student with curly, light brown hair falling in his eyes and freckles across the bridge of his nose.
"Ah, sorry, I just heard something, and I was wondering if you were okay?" He asked Draco, then spoke to Harry almost as an afterthought.
"Also... How did you get in, Harry?"
Harry's smile was a bit strained as he started to leave.
"Magic," Harry muttered and slammed the door.
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It was time for another trip to the library. And another existential crisis about liking his enemy.
I don't really, right? I just think I do, because... Wait, no, I would never voluntarily like him. Back to square one.
Maybe I really do have a crush on him.
NO.
Draco shook himself out of his thoughts and picked up another book from the shelf, only to slam it down again, sighing. This was the third book by Gilderoy Lockhart that he'd run across: and he'd only been searching for 15 minutes.
Harry sat at a nearby table, reading a book on quidditch he had picked up and now could not put down.
"Harry, you fucking idiot pretty boy, could you please stop being such a quidditch fanatic and help??" Harry looked over at him, blushing slightly. Draco ran over his words in his head and pulled a face that looked sort of like a disgusted feline.
Pretty. He had actually called Harry Potter pretty in public. And judging by the shocked looks of the few Ravenclaw students in the library, they hadn't taken it as casual addressing between enemies.
"Oh, uh... Fuck." Draco stuttered, running a hand through his hair, then did the first thing he could think of.
"Fuck off. You heard nothing, or else you die." Draco snarled at the students, narrowing his eyes and baring his teeth. They nodded repeatedly, eyes wide, and snapped back to their books with a new type of focus.
Harry joined him at the bookshelf and smiled softly. "Draco. It's fine. I'll talk to them, and you know... They'll listen to the, quote on quote, 'great Harry Potter'." Draco turned on Harry, frowning, then let out a sigh. His shoulders drooped.
"Yeah, I know. Sorry..." He blinked, then his eyes lit up again, grinning mischievously.
"Pretty boy." Draco nudged him. Harry rolled his eyes and started to move towards Draco, but then sighed and stepped back.
"Right... We're in public... Forgot for a second. You're lucky because I might've just punched you otherwise."
Draco smirked. "Oh really?"
Harry rolled his eyes, plucking another book from the shelf.
"Oh gods, Lockhart?"
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"Levifolds? Do you think that might be it?" Draco yawned, looking to Harry and dog-earing the page of the book to keep his place. Only soft snoring answered him. Harry was slumped across from him, a thick journal open beneath his folded arms.
"Oh... Right... Normal people have to sleep..." Draco laughed softly and guiltily to himself, patting Harry's soft black hair before shaking him gently.
"Harry. Harry, wake up."
He made a small noise angrily, burying his head in his arms, and Draco smiled softly. Sighing, he resolved to put the books away and bring Harry to the Gryffindor chambers. He picked up a stack, easing the journal from beneath Harry's arms.
That was when he heard a voice he wasn't expecting but wasn't loud enough to be out of place.
"D-Draco?" It was a gentle, smiling sort of voice, and Draco almost dropped the books.
"What're you doing up this late?" Freckles scuffed his feet and fiddled with his hands in a charming, shy sort of way. He was wearing casual clothes, that he had probably brought from home. They looked almost purposefully innocent, blue and worn.
Draco sighed. "We're vampires. That's a stupid question."
Freckles laughed at that, softly, shyly, like always.
He always spoke like somebody might catch his breath and lock it up.
Draco set the books on a nearby table, raising his eyebrows at the other boy. "So? Why did you come here? And don't try to bullshit your way out of this, I know you were looking for me."
Freckles smiled slightly.
"What?"
The boy shrugged nonchalantly, peering up at Draco. "I w-w-was gonna help y-you guys research. C-Cause I already r-ran across some stuff, if you w-want to go over it." His voice faded away at the end, guiltily.
Guilty? Why?
Was he stuttering more than usual?
He was soon distracted from those thoughts. Draco's stomach was thrown to his throat, tumbling hopelessly. Freckles glanced up at him and Draco took a step back, a sick, fluttering feeling building inside the space where his stomach would've been.
It was butterflies, irritating his stomach lining and making him want to throw up.
Looking back, maybe it was a warning or intuition. Maybe he had seen through the illusion of time for just a second and knew what was about to happen. But as much as 'maybe' wants to be true, it wasn't. Draco Malfoy had no idea what was about to happen, so perhaps you could forgive him when it did.
Not Freckles. Oh, god, not him. It can't be.
Not Robin, when Harry was at the other table.
Freckles smiled innocently.
He was so innocent.
Fuck. Fuckity-fuck.
Major fucking shit.
I have a crush on him, too?!
Draco nodded stiffly and motioned with his hand for Freckles to continue. The boy disappeared into the shelves and Draco forced his legs to follow him.
Freckles, as it happened, was reaching for a book on the top shelf. Stretching, a small strip of skin showing between his blue button-up and jeans. Draco uncomfortably looked away.
"C-can you h-h-help me with th-this?" Freckles glanced at Draco.
Well. It's not like he had a choice at that point.
Looking back, he was just being a gentleman. It wasn't his fault what happened next- it was just how things happened. Just like Harry was destined to see it, and how later, Draco was destined to be attacked yet again and have nobody there to save him. But we're not at that part of the story yet.
Draco smiled tersely and reached for the book. That cliche romance-movie scene that always happens- you know, the clusterfuck of the library scene- happened. The shy main-character girl stares into the taller boy's eyes who's getting down the book.
This time, though, it was two gay vampire boys who had absolutely no business kissing in the school library.
One can't say that this wasn't meant to happen, because it was. All things were meant to happen. But this was most definitely a mistake in the eyes of everyone involved. Everyone, of course, but Robin.
Draco did his best not to make contact. But then they were pressed together, and warmth seeped out, and then their eyes were locking. And they were kissing.
There was no explanation for it. They weren't kissing, and then they were. Freckles' eyes were closed, but Draco's were wide open. Bet he likes that; taking people by surprise. Shy kids are always the deadly ones.
His lips were soft, like his words. Warm. Very slightly chapped.
Draco's eyes almost fluttered close as well.
Almost... And Freckles was so warm, and small, and..... So...
So wrong-feeling, he realized.
He didn't fit into Draco's arms as Harry did.
Harry.
Draco broke out of his daze and saw a boy out of the corner of his eye.
Harry's hair was mussed, shoulders tense, eyes dark and blinking rapidly, arms wrapped around himself.
Draco tore away from Freckles, yelling out a "WAIT!";
But Harry was already gone.
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{{Theme Song: Greek God by Conan Grey}}
Words: 2,834
lmao sorry not sorry