Harry's newfound confidence was nothing short of life-changing.
He felt practically invincible walking around and knowing Malfoy couldn't hurt him any more because he had decided to enjoy it, and nothing gave him more pleasure than the torturous discomfort on the Slytherin's face whenever he was around.
He could practically see Malfoy's internal debate - Do I try to hurt him and give him the opportunity to embarrass me by not being hurt, or do I ignore him and risk looking weak anyway? There was no good option for him, and they both knew it.
Harry had even managed to get his place back on the Gryffindor Quidditch team by early November after three weeks off, much to Ginny's anger and disappointment.
"Reckon you can keep your emotions under control and ignore the Serpents in the crowd?" Oliver had asked, and Harry nodded confidently.
They'd won the following match, and the next, and were shaping up to win the last match before Christmas, too.
All of this was a source of great distress for Draco, however. How was he meant to hurt Potter when all he did in return was laugh in his face and ask if he wanted a kiss again? It was mortifying.
He'd been front row of Potter's first game back on the Gryffindor team, not armed with a banner as he thought they were pretty tragic, but prepared to shout some demeaning things whenever the Seeker flew past him. But it had been no use! Potter had entirely ignored him, except for two occasions when he'd bit his lip and winked in Draco's direction.
Hateful, useless boy. What good was bullying when the victim decided he liked it?
The most terrifying thing of all was that Draco was beginning to almost like it too, in an angry, hungry sort of way.
He'd always loved the thrill of a good fight or a challenge, and Potter's blatant, unashamed enjoyment of every confrontation Draco offered was beginning to be exciting to him too, though he wouldn't admit it to himself. He'd teach Potter to laugh at him, to take pleasure in the conflict between them. He'd find a way to hurt him some time soon.
But Harry genuinely didn't care. Whatever Malfoy offered him in terms of spite, he laughed at, and promised to think about "later on in bed", and that never failed to make the other boy red with anger.
And he had been thinking about it. Later on in bed, that is. Harry had decided to allow himself to fully experience his attraction to Draco Malfoy, and that meant enjoying it in every way possible.
So he stored up every interaction in his mind, every shove, every arrogant comment, every vicious insult, and at night with the drapes of his bed drawn, he would replay them again in all their agonising glory.
Draco bleeding, spitting, swearing, lashing out at him, slamming him against the wall, kissing him hard to embarrass him, laughing about it later.
The montage of images was head-spinningly excruciating and untouchably beautiful at the same time.
Harry's favourite memory above all others was always the Halloween kiss, when those fangs left tender red grooves in Harry's lips for hours and the whiskey lay hot on Draco's tongue as he'd swiped it painfully over the cuts he was inflicting, a conscious effort to force the stinging alcohol into the lesions.
The kiss the following morning was one Harry dwelt on less, however. It had been a confusing hot rush as always, but the emotions on Draco's face at the time had almost embarrassed Harry in their sheer intimacy and vulnerability, like it was something extremely private that Harry had walked in on by mistake. He felt like it was Draco's deranged attempt at an apology, which was so sad it was almost funny.
Harry had taken to thinking about his parents a lot too in the past few weeks. He wondered if they'd have been the type to support him and give him good advice.
"I fancy Draco Malfoy, Mum," he whispered to the sky one night as he lay awake in bed, "But he hates me more than anyone else in the world."
All this 'boy stuff' is more Sirius' domain, laughed the James in Harry's mind, though he wasn't sure what made him think that. But if you want me to Hex the bastard, Harry, I'll give it a go.
"No, I'm OK, Dad," he whispered back to the imaginary voice, a small smile spreading across his face. "I can handle it for myself."
Harry sighed, and turned over again to try and sleep, but quickly realised it was no use. His mind was racing, his stomach was full and there was a heightening sensation just beneath it as his mind drifted back to the events of the day.
He and Malfoy had been sat right across the room from one another in Potions. It was the final lesson of the day, yet the Slytherin had been full of energy and was completely unperturbed by the distance; apparently still unable to leave Harry alone.
"Nice Potion, Potter," he'd said sarcastically as he sauntered past Harry's work station. "Looks like you threw it up yourself."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Harry replied absent-mindedly as he stirred the mixture in his cauldron. It was a nonsensical phrase that he'd picked up from George Weasley and now used as a reflex response for anything Malfoy said, regardless of the implications.
"What's that supposed to mean?!" Malfoy spluttered. It never failed to annoy and confuse him when Harry said that - because what was the right response? It was an impossible conundrum.
And of course, Harry only laughed.
They'd been making the antidote to Veritaserum that lesson and, granted, Harry's wasn't looking good. Hermione had agreed to work with Ron that lesson so that left Harry stuck with Neville, and neither of them really had any idea what they were doing.
It didn't help that Malfoy was continuously attempting to confuse them.
"Stir anti-clockwise, Longbottom," he piped up over the tables, a spiteful smirk on his face. "And use less of that crushed unicorn horn if you know what's good for you."
Or perhaps, "It should be bubbling up now, Potter! You're going to want it hotter than that!"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Harry replied, instead turning the heat rapidly down to watch the liquid cool.
As it turned out, Malfoy's suggestions were in fact the correct instructions for the potion, but he knew his reputation meant the two Gryffindors wouldn't trust him, and instead he watched on in delight while they effectively sabotaged their own potion.
It was a great surprise to exactly nobody, therefore, when the time came to test the potions, and Harry and Neville's concoction looked nothing like anybody else's. Instead of being clear, still, and odourless, theirs was cloudy, extremely effervescent, and with a slight smell of carbon about it.
"You take it, Harry," Neville said in a shaky voice, pushing the Veritaserum bottle towards his friend. "I think we're both aware that our antidote won't work, so at least everyone already knows all your secrets."
"Wow, thanks for the reminder, Neville," Harry said sarcastically, but he took five drops of the solution without being asked again, and prepared himself to talk about Malfoy for the foreseeable future.
On the Slytherin side of the classroom, Pansy and Blaise were annoying Draco again.
"I don't understand why you both decided to take that antidote so quickly after the Veritaserum," he grumbled as he wiped down his work surface with a flick of his wand. "You hadn't even answered my question before you reversed the truthful effects!"
Pansy and Blaise shared a pointed look, which didn't go unseen by the angry blonde.
"That's because you were asking us top secret information, Draco," Pansy smirked. "Which we aren't going to tell you."
"But it's about me!" Draco almost yelled. "I know it's about me! I just want to know whatever you were laughing about the other day, what 'hint' I didn't get which I'm now paying the price for!"
"We'll tell you eventually," Blaise grinned. "Just let us enjoy our joke for now."
Luckily for Draco, he noticed in that minute that Potter was causing a scene again, and was swiftly diverted from his anger into fascination again.
Is the boy literally allergic to dignity? Draco wondered. It seemed that way; he never failed to embarrass himself perfectly whenever the opportunity arose.
"I don't know if I want to punch Draco Malfoy in the face more or if I want him to punch me," Potter was declaring as Longbottom tried frantically to pass him the loudly fizzing and inefficient antidote.
"I want him to ram his tongue down my fucking throat again," he carried on after taking a useless swig from the bottle, and the class erupted into gasps and hysterical laughter.
Like Draco, Weasley was among those who found the situation hilarious, while Granger watched on in paralysed horror.
"Fifteen points from Gryffindor for obscene language, Potter," Snape drawled, and the Gryffindor at his right inhaled sharply.
"Professor, he can't help it!" she protested. "He's under the influence of Veritaserum, he has no control over what he says!"
"And yet you do have control, and you still choose to subject us to your thoughts, Miss Granger," Snape mused cruelly. "Fifteen further points from Gryffindor."
The girl's cheeks flamed red with anger, but she didn't stop there. "May I please at least give him some of my antidote, sir?" she asked bravely.
"Let this be a sort of punishment for Mr. Potter," Snape replied in a cold tone. "And we shall hope that next time, he will thus find motivation to make the potion correctly."
And punishment indeed it was, as two hours later at dinner Harry was still spilling his every thought to anyone who cared to listen.
Malfoy and his friends had forced their way through the crowd for "front-row seats" as the blonde put it, and Harry was not disappointing them.
"I'd love you to spit on me again, but this time in my mouth," he told Malfoy, his head spinning as he gazed up at the other boy.
"And I didn't have anything better to do the other night so I was thinking about that and I watched your name move around on the Marauders Map while I was wank-"
"Oohhhkay, that's enough from you!" Ron interrupted over a torrent of hysterical laughter from every student within earshot.
He and Hermione stood up and pulled Harry hurriedly along behind them, ushering him out of the Hall before he could somehow find something worse to say.
"What did the git watch my name on?!" Draco demanded, striding quickly to keep up with the group.
"Er, the Map?" Hermione asked weakly, for once quite panicked as to what she should say. "It's a sort of code name we use for an, er, book we have... nothing for you to worry about."
"Great, now Mudbloods are keeping secrets from me too," Draco spat, not caring if she heard him or not. "First my friends, now this. It's pathetic."
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a/n: a long update, sorry it's a bit late but i don't really have a schedule on this one though i do write at least something every day, whether i post it or not
either way, hope you enjoyed this one and please vote/ comment if you liked it!
~ paradisedraco