A Flawless Plan

VI. [Acceptance, Denial and What Lies in Between]

You know how the moon is so disturbingly yellow at times? So prominently standing out on the smooth, otherwise unblemished darkness of the night sky, that it makes your eyes hurt? I sat in my bed that night, looking at the moon. Because the moon was so not-complicated, so easy to define. It was round and yellow, and I didn't particularly like it. It was that plain and simple. Unlike whatever was going on between me and Potter.

Earlier that night, 'she' had gone to meet him, despite the urge I felt to lock myself in my room and never see a human face again. It didn't matter what I felt, though, because I did only what I reasoned I had to. Keep up the role, go on with my mission, because once I've started something, I do believe in finishing it.

~''~

As I said, 'she' had gone to meet Potter yet again earlier that night. He had been unusually silent, not that I'd been in a very talkative mood myself. He'd also been quite distant towards 'her'.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing." He shook his head.

Denial can be a very powerful driving force.

"Do you want me to leave then?"

"What? No... Why would I?" He sounded like he had meant it. I'd never figured it out - whether Potter was actually that good at acting or he had really meant it.

"You look like you could use some time by yourself, though. You'd barely spoken a word. Oh well, I guess I'll leave now." I had no intention of doing so, of course.

"NO! Stay!" He panicked. "I'll tell what's the problem." He appeared to be thinking hard. "Malfoy. He knows about us..."

Something stirred inside me. A sort of anxious anticipation, a mixture of excitement and fear.

"And?" I asked.

"And that's it," he replied in an irritated voice.

"You sounded like it's more." Come on, Potter, tell me about the kiss, I wanted to scream. Tell me you wanted it! But, of course, he wouldn't.

Still, I do know how to push people's buttons.

Potter slammed his fist onto a nearby desk. "It isn't!"

Naturally, he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince 'her', if not more. 'She' took a step back, looking frightened. One of my best performances. The effect on Potter was immediate.

"I'm... I'm sorry," Potter stammered. "It... it really bugs me that the bastard knows!"

I pushed it even further.

"And what do you think he can do about it, Harry? Go to Dumbledore and tell on us?"

"Yes, that's pretty much Malfoy's style."

How dare he presume he knew me that well!

"Well, then you can stop worrying. He won't do that."

"How can you be so sure?" He looked at 'her' suspiciously.

"Think for a moment, Harry! Malfoy is more likely to keep what he knows to himself and take his sweet time in tormenting you about it! Now, that's Malfoy's style."

You're wondering, why would I let Potter know that my plan was to torment him about his recently revealed 'secret'? Well, obviously because that wasn't my plan. I had something better to torment Potter about. But right then, it had to wait.

"And how come you know so much about him?" Potter raised an eyebrow, inquisitively. "You're not even a student here! I've never seen you at neither at the tables in the Great Hall, nor in the corridors during breaks!" It sounded like an accusation. Potter's patience was finally breaking.

"Maybe you didn't look properly," I replied on a bitter tone than I had intended.

"I'm tired of this game you play!" I could tell that Potter was very close to loosing control. "Why can you just tell me who you are? Why do you always have to leave after an hour? Why do I have to meet you only at night?" He looked at 'her' angrier than any time before.

That was the Potter I knew. That was the Potter I could handle.

"You don't really trust me, do you?... I thought you did." Potter really didn't stand a chance in front of that.

"No... I... Look, it's hard to talk about it," he whispered and let himself slide onto the floor. He stood there, his chin propped against his knees, stubbornly refusing to speak. I knew he was angry, but fought to maintain control because he cared about 'her' that much. Heart breaking, really!

I didn't speak either, but I was getting bored. So I figured kissing would be a nice compromise between not speaking and not actually doing anything.

Potter's lips were cold and strange that night. He kissed back for a while, but then retreated.

"I... I can't do this tonight!"

I didn't understand. I could very well tell why he wouldn't kiss me, but, before that night, he had always been very eager to kiss 'her'. It felt weird being rejected, it felt like nothing I'd known before. I hadn't been expecting it. And I didn't understand.

"Why?" 'Her' voice sounded weak and lost. Damn you, Potter!

He took a deep breath, and what he said next, despite not being the answer to my very direct and otherwise simple question, caused my jaw to drop.

"Have you ever thought about kissing another girl?"

I finally recovered from my surprise, and managed to retort.

"Maybe." And because he didn't say anything, I continued, teasingly. "Would you like to watch?" But I knew that wasn't why he asked the question.

"Stop it! I wasn't joking!"

"I know. But this isn't about me. Come on, Harry, admit it. Should I be jealous? Who's he?"

"I am not like that!" He raised his voice. "It's Malfoy who's the sick, perverted bastard!"

I must've gone livid. Thankfully, there wasn't much light, so Potter didn't notice. Then we started shouting at each other. Potter started it actually, but I followed. I assume he thought 'she' was jealous and lost 'her' temper.

"He's the one who kissed me, I didn't do anything-"

"You kissed him back-"

"Stop it! You don't know anything about-"

"You wouldn't be in this state if you hadn't kissed back!"

"It was his fault-"

"You're a coward, you wanted to-"

"I thought about it, all right! I don't know when it started! Maybe a year ago. It didn't mean I would actually kiss a boy. I just thought about it. It was supposed to be just a phase. Until today. I hate him! And I don't need this nonsense! My life's a mess as it is. Are you satisfied now?"

"No." I didn't realise I said it aloud until Potter spoke again.

"I'm sorry. I was so stupid."

But he didn't say what he was sorry for. For being honest? For trusting 'her'? For loosing his temper?

And, before I could come to a conclusion, Potter did something unprecedented. He stood up and left the classroom.

I felt my mind going numb and my body suddenly began to ache. I guess the right word to describe my state would have been be 'broken'. Except that a Malfoy never breaks. We live to break the others.

~''~

I felt tired and sick with how tired I was, yet my eyes simply refused to shut close and remain that way. I stood up from my bed and headed for my trunk. There it was, a small blue bottle, containing some Dreamless Sleep Draught.

I had considered using DSD before, but always managed to keep going without. Until then. You see, if I took it once, I'd be taking it for the second time as well, then for the third... I didn't want or need another addiction. Potter was enough of an addiction for me. But, at the same time, I felt my head was going to explode if I didn't get some sleep - with Potter and the sodding rest of the world out of my mind.

I did one other thing before taking the potion, though. Suddenly, I was experiencing the unstoppable curiosity to see myself, so I went to the mirror. I couldn't recall looking at myself properly ever since the madness had begun. How was it that I'd been so oblivious to my external appearance all this time, I couldn't understand!

"You look so depressing, dear! So pale and thin... Are you sure you aren't sick?"

The mirror had a point. I was too tired, though, to threaten it with breaking for insolence. What was worse, I could recall hearing the same words day by day, again and again, for weeks and weeks, and not paying the tiniest amount of attention to them. I had become such a wreck. I felt sick only looking at my reflection.

I used to be pale before, but it suited me back then. Now, my skin had a distinctive jaundiced nuance that made me shudder. If Mother had been able to see me in that state, she would have without doubt suffered a nervous breakdown. She always used to tell me I was beautiful, and made me swear I would never mock that beauty. For, Mother loved herself in me. Had I been born bearing less resemblance to her, I guess I wouldn't have been worth a lousy Sickle in her eyes... The way I was, however, she could never get enough of me. When I had been younger, she used to spend hours in my room, combing my hair and dressing me, the way you comb and dress a doll. Annoying, to say the least. Then she stood by my side in front of the mirror, looking at our faces together with such a deep fascination that it both enthralled and frightened me.

"You eyes are simply exquisite, Draco! The colour of the frozen winter sky on a cloudless morning. No other boy in this world has ever had eyes as beautiful as yours!" You wouldn't bare to look at my eyes, now, Mother!

Weeks and weeks of sleepless nights, transforming, meeting Potter and thinking of nothing else but how to get under his skin, had left a hideous pair of black circles under my once unaltered, 'exquisite' eyes. In addition to this, I had become thinner, to such an extent that it scared me. My cheekbones were standing out so prominently, that I actually dreaded imagining how my naked body looked under my robes. No, this was to end right there and then! I would sleep, Dreamless Draught or not, and I would re-became the Draco Malfoy I had been before, at least as far as the exterior appearance was concerned! I wouldn't let Potter do this to me! I had been weak. It wasn't going to happen again!

One sip from the small blue bottle which killed dreams and nightmares alike - and, for the first time after many tormenting nights, the potion left my mind devoid of thought and my sleep, Potter-free.

~''~

The next morning, at breakfast, Potter constantly avoided my gaze. Who would have thought that the Boy Who Lived was such a coward! It was like he had decided the kiss didn't happen. But what he had decided didn't matter to me. I had made my own decisions.

When I had woken up that morning, the restful, dreamless sleep had left my mind clear again, after a long, painful era of confusion. I realised I was inevitably drawn to Potter, a cursed infatuation I couldn't but acknowledge. More than this, even. An Obsession.

One might point out, at this particular moment, that Potter was a boy and so was I, and it was all wrong. At least, that's what I had been raised to believe, which was extremely hilarious in a rather non-amusing fashion, as I happened to know very well that many of Father's 'friends' constantly engaged themselves in sexual practices that made a liaison between two persons of the same gender appear innocent by comparison. Nonetheless, that uncanny need I felt for Potter was wrong. I didn't have a problem with that, actually. It made me want him even more just because it was wrong. You see, I may not be generally honest to the others, but I believe in being honest with myself.

And Potter was drawn to me in a similar way, and there was no way to deny it, yet he did precisely that. I didn't know what was going on under that thick Gryffindor skull of his. Maybe he was ashamed, or maybe he was scared, or perhaps both. The worst for him, then! Because it wouldn't stop me from getting what I wanted. I am selfish. It's a family trait. When a Malfoy wants something, we don't ask for permission, we don't long, we don't wait patiently for a miracle - we take. Right then, I decided I wanted Potter and nothing else, so, naturally, I would have him, regardless of anything. But then what about my mission, you wonder. Well, I hadn't forgotten about it. In fact, my new decision fitted it all too perfectly! Because Potter was so keen to push me away! And that made me and His Grim Evilness share a common goal for the moment. Make Potter hurt, break and fall apart!

I was experiencing such a revengeful mood that morning I almost frightened myself. Oh, well, Potter was to blame for everything. Or so I kept repeating in my mind.

After finishing breakfast, my legs carried me almost unaided to the Gryffindor table. Most of the people there stared at me like they'd seen a Hippogriff waltzing, but Potter seemed very determined to keep ignoring me. Not once had he lifted his gaze from his plate. Really, when had bacon become that interesting! It was time to awake Scar-Face from his apathy and to find out just how much his so precious friends knew about our 'interaction' the other day. I had had my little performance very carefully planned on the way from our table to theirs.

"Hello, Potter!" I greeted him in cheerful voice. I think I remember Granger gasping at that point, and Weasley forgetting to close his mouth. Must've been the shock... Potter, however, still refused to grant me a look.

"Well, don't mind me then," I continued, acting friendly enough to unsettle him. "I've just dropped by to thank you for yesterday!"

I am truly a master at figuring Potter out! The instant I had finished speaking the previous words, he snapped, practically jumping from his seat and spilling pumpkin juice all over the table.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?"

It was real hate I could see in his eyes. Strange, how it seem to warm me inside.

"Oh, Potter, but you surely know what I'm talking about, don't you?!" I faked amazement in a intended obvious manner.

At that point, Potter would have probably taken out his frustration by punching my face, but I guess not even he was that reckless as to start a fight in full view of all the teachers and the headmaster.

"I heard you skipped Transfiguration and McGonagall, the old dear, went so mad at you that she took like, what? Fifty points from Gryffindor?" I continued in a casual tone. I don't know if any of Potter's friends noticed the imperceptible sigh of relief he let out as soon as he heard my response.

"With the amount of points you're losing in Potions, now that you've decided to extend this lovely habit to Transfiguration as well, the House Cup has 'Slytherin' practically written all over it this year! So you have my eternal gratitude for this, Potter!" These last words, I uttered in a slightly ironic manner. After all, I didn't want the others to believe I was actually acting friendly towards Potter.

Granger scowled at me. "Get lost, Malfoy! Whether Harry skips classes or not is none of your business."

Weasley simply gritted his teeth menacingly.

"How enchanting, Potter! Your friends here are defending you... I suppose, then, you told them why you skipped in the first place. It was a perfectly understandable reason, after all!"

The furious look on Weasley's face and Granger worried expression, told me exactly what I wanted to know. Potter had told nothing to either of them.

"Shut up, Ferret face!"

"Make me, Weasel!"

"Leave it, Ron. Let's go." So Potter was back to ignoring me... For the moment, I let him leave with his friends. At least now I knew without a doubt that he hadn't spoken a word to anyone about what had happened between us the other day. And that meant only one thing. The kiss had indeed awaken something that scared the hell out of Potter.

~''~

I remember the rest of that day slowly dragging by, until there were no more classes left and I was finally on the way to my room, determined to have some homework done, and then try to get some rest before transforming to meet Potter again.

The corridors were deserted at that time of the day and I didn't pay any particular attention to the path I was taking. That's how I came very close to stumbling over something that laid on the floor, and almost breaking my neck. It turned out that the 'something' was in fact a person, crouched against the wall, face buried in his knees. But even so, I knew him in a heartbeat.

"Potter..."

He lifted his face, gave me an empty look and resumed his former position. That was to show me he didn't care. About life, about me - which one, I couldn't tell. But I wasn't going to make it that easy for him. I went to the opposite wall and allowed myself to slide along it, until I was mirroring Potter's position, except that I didn't hide my face, but kept staring intently at him. He eventually lifted his gaze again and, this time, he didn't looked away from my eyes.

"Malfoy," he finally acknowledged my person. I couldn't read his voice this time and it bothered me. I kept waiting in silence, wondering when or if he would decide to speak.

"What do you want?" he asked after some more moments of silence, his voice a bit uncertain now. I couldn't distinguish his features anymore. The corridor was flooded in semi-obscurity, as it was late enough for the sun to have already set, but not late enough for the torches to have themselves lit up.

"Oh, I know exactly what I want, Potter." I was stressing every word. "The question is, do you?"

Another pause. "I want you to leave me alone," he eventually spoke, sternly and very in control of himself this time. For a brief moment, it crossed my mind that maybe, just maybe, I was the one fooling myself and no the other way around, and Potter actually meant every single word of rejection he had spoken, that I was the one in denial, assuming without more evidence than my own wishes, that I could awake in Potter something else than the customary annoyance and disgust.

"Do you?" I repeated myself, aware that my voice was trembling just a bit and hoping Potter wouldn't notice.

He didn't answer this time, but instead buried his face in his knees once more and I could see his shoulders shaking.

"Merlin, Potter, tell me you're not crying like a baby!" My voice had been cold, but I was in fact horrified. Not of Potter's reaction, but because of it, of what it was doing to me. I wanted... I didn't know what I wanted. To go near him and stop the shaking, hold him like he had held 'her' in a similar situation, many, many nights ago. To go near him and kiss him, bruise him, hurt him, break him even more. Luckily, he raised his face almost instantly and whispered Lumos, holding his wand to his face, so that I could see he hadn't been crying.

"I wouldn't cry in front of you!"

"Well, Potter, what can I say? I'm glad you weren't. That would've been some pathetic performance, even for you," I drawled, hoping I was hiding well that I actually felt relieved.

"Sod off, Malfoy, and leave me alone!"

"If my presence disturbs you so much, you're free to go, Potter! I don't see you handcuffed to me in any way."

He stood up and my heart skipped a bit at the thought that he might actually leave, but he didn't. Instead, he walked right to me, looking down to my face.

"Just one question, Malfoy. You hate me, right?"

"You know I do, Potter."

"You've always hated me, isn't it so?"

"Ten points to Gryffindor for being so perceptive," I retorted sarcastically, feeling no real amusement.

"Spare me the show, Malfoy!" Potter was loosing his patience, and it was, in fact, a wonder he hadn't done so much earlier. "If you've always hated me, what's the difference now?"

It was my turn to stand up. "Now, Potter," I spoke, slowly closing the space between me and him, "I hate you differently."

I brushed around him in a fluid motion that brought me at his back. He wanted to turn and face me again, but I was quicker. In no time, I had Potter pinned against the wall, struggling to get free. I knew I couldn't hold him like that for too long. I didn't need to, I only desired him helpless and at my mercy for a few moments, so that I could make my statement.

"Very differently," I hissed into his ear, softly touching his burning cheek with my lips. And then I went away.

~''~

Eventually, the Christmas break arrived. Very few students had chosen to stay at Hogwarts for the winter break. In fact, me and Potter made up a quarter of the remaining students... well, you can do the math yourself.

I am certain that he had no idea I was staying as well. I didn't go down for breakfast on the first day of the holidays. When I woke up, Father's owl was patiently expecting by my bed with a letter which sort of... ruined my appetite.

Dear son,

Your mother and I are very sad to not having you home for the holidays, but we all have to make sacrifices at on point or another, don't we? I am very pleased with the recent development of your 'assignment'. In fact, your mother and I had invited some of your schoolmates and their parents for dinner last evening, and they told us how hard you've been working all those months.

Father had spies, then... Well, it didn't surprise me in the least!

It had also been brought to my notice this little piece of news that Potter is not quite 'well'. Lost and tired of living, I hear. It surprises me that Dumbledore has no better care of his little hero, actually! And what a pity it would be indeed to have Potter die of depression... As things are progressing, it might happen sooner than expected. You understand what I mean, I'm sure. Also, you should be glad that your assignment is almost complete now. Soon, everything will be over! But then again, every end is only a new beginning.

Your father,

Lucius.

This could only mean one thing. It was there, black on white - He-Who-Hated-The-Boy-Who-Lived was ready to make his move. It appeared that my mission had been accomplished without myself noticing it. There was no need to play 'her' anymore. Except that, somewhere down the road, my goal had changed, and now I had no idea how to obtain what I wanted, which was - as I'm sure I've pointed out several times already - Potter.

And there was so little time left that it almost hurt... Almost.

~''~''~