Seekers Play Rough

SEEKERS PLAY ROUGH

I hit you and you hit me back
We fall to the floor the rest of the day stands still
Fine line between this and that
When things go wrong I pretend the past isn't real
I'm trapped in this memory
And I'm left in the wake of the mistake slow to react
So even though you're close to me
You're still so distant
And I can't bring you back

It's true the way I feel
Was promised by your face
The sound of your voice
Painted on my memories
Even if you're not with me
I'm with you

You, now I see, keeping everything inside
with you
You, Now I see, Even when I close my eyes
With you

No, no matter how far we've come
I can't wait to see tomorrow

With you
You, now I see, keeping everything inside
with you
You, Now I see, Even when I close my eyes
With you

Chapter 8:

Revealed

While the rest of the castle was cold, damp and drafty during the fall and winter months, Trelawney's class somehow managed to retain it's oppressive heat, it's stuffy atmosphere. Seamus clutched his throat and gasped dramatically as he settled into the room, eliciting a few chuckles from fellow students as they slipped one by one through the trap door into the dimly lit class.

"Come, my flock! Come-come-come." Trelawney, seated on a large beanbag chair on a low dais at the head of the class made a flourishing gesture, beckoning them into the various seats scattered around the cramped, hot room. Harry stumbled to a green and orange seat in the corner, fighting to draw breath in the heavily-scented medium. Ron, stonily silent since breakfast, settled himself a few seats away. Trelawney was wearing a black unitard, with an orange and gold gauzy shirt over that, belted in the middle with a green macrame belt. She had several gaudy pendants hanging from her neck and equally gaudy rings on every finger. Atop her head was piled a sheer scarf of various shades of green, and from her ears hung a set of large, beaded earrings. Harry felt immediately ill.

"Well, dears," she began, her enormous eyes tracking a bit of incense smoke as it floated through the air, "who would like to present their assignment first?" Harry sighed. Of course, he hadn't done the assignment. He and Ron had never done any substantial work in Divinations, all they needed to do was throw some horrible prediction together. Theirs were always dark predictions of death and loss. Which was precisely why Trelawney loved them.

"Mister Weasley," her piping voice called out, "what did the stars illuminate to you?"

Sighing, Ron paused for a moment, gathering as many dire predictions as he could. Then, he stiffened and shot a glare at Harry. "Last night, the position of Uranus meant that there will be change in my life." He hesitated again. "The position of... uh... Orion in the... fifth quadrant went on to narrow down what the change would be." He licked his lips and cast a meaningful look at Harry. "I will lose touch with someone I used to be very close with."

There was a lapse of silence as Trelawney, who had been listening raptly with her head resting on her hands, sat, apparently waiting for more. When Ron offered nothing else, she asked "Is that all, Ronald?"

Ron still had his eyes locked meaningfully with Harry's. When the Professor spoke, he broke eye contact and turned pointedly away. "Yes, Professor. That's all."

Harry sat in stunned silence for several minutes more, while Trelawney bemoaned Ron's fate, then carried on to tearfully project the death of other students. He felt as if he had been punched in the stomach.

God. He hates you too.

Dazedly, Harry let his head tumble back limply onto his "poofle" as he stared up at the ceiling.

Congratulations Potter. This had been quite the week for you, hasn't it? Not only did you make out with Malfoy last night, but you've just managed to alienate your best friend! What will you do now?

I'm going to Disneyland, he thought with a snort.

Firmly Harry reminded himself that Potions--joy of joys--was next class. When Snape announced that Malfoy had gotten the elixir, Ron and Hermione would put two and two together, and forgive him. This Potions class was a pivotal point in Harry's life, he knew it. He knew--with a desperate certainty--that once he had gone to this class, everything would be okay again. His confused world would become ordered again. All he had to do was hold out until then.

Harry sighed deeply, vaguely aware of Trelawney's voice as a far-off annoyance. He rolled his head and stared out the huge, round window she was perched before. The radiant morning had turned to a gray and dismal day, with the grim clouds hanging within arms reach. Harry stared out at the featureless ashen sky, feeling numb fatigue seep into his bones his muscles. He felt suddenly certain that he couldn't move, would never move again. He'd stay stuck in the horrendous room until the end of his days. Maybe even longer.

Potions.

He only had to last until Potions.

Malfoy would get his antidote. They could be normal again. Ron and Hermione would understand. They would be normal again. He could put the events of these past few days behind him. He could be normal again.

"Mr. Potter!" Trelawney sang out his name triumphantly. "What knowledge have the Heavens graced you with?"

Without moving, without blinking, Harry mumbled something about darkness and death, pain and loss, anger and suspicion, hate and jealousy. He didn't even register a single word that came out of his mouth. It was all old news to him, dry and tired words he had repeated since the first year. He noted that Trelawney squealed in horrified delight at his words, but his consciousness trailed away after that, reducing her voice once more to a whine in the background.

Potions.

Potions, Potions, Potions.

As Harry concentrated obsessively on the upcoming class, another thought worked its way to the surface of his roiling mind, like a splinter working its to the surface of skin. It was just as painful, just as irritating. Like a splinter, it was small, but it was impossible to ignore.

This is your fault.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut.

You're the one who decided to flirt with him, when you knew--you knew--what it was doing to him. You deserved what he did to you. It must've been killing him. Bad enough that that elixir is probably tearing him up inside, he doesn't need you being a git about it.

Harry didn't bother to examine why Malfoy's mental well-being suddenly meant so much to him.

It just did.

All's well that ends well, Potter. Once he gets his antidote, everything will be fine again. The best you can hope for is a little grudge to carry over and, in the end, he'll hate you more.

This thought was reassuring and disturbing all at the same time.

~*~

Draco walked purposefully through the crowded hall, pushing other students out of his way, smirking to himself over the cried complaints. He had no recollection of what had happened in his first class. All he knew was that he was now going to Potions. Potions, where he'd talk to Snape, have him explain exactly what was going on, why his antidote didn't appear to be working. Potions, where he'd be in the same room as Potter, where he could test this apparently lax corrective.

Potions.

Eyes focused firmly ahead of him as he shoved his way through the halls, Draco headed to the dungeons, planning to get there early so he could have words with Severus before the rest of the students started clamoring. As he rounded a bend, however, something else caught his attention. Ahead of him in the milling, shouting crowd, Frizz and Weasel were walking alone. No Potter in sight.

Vaguely amused by the fact that Potter had abandoned two thirds of his little Triumvirate, Draco surged forward until he was walking behind them, until he could hear what was being said.

"You worry too much," Weasel was saying. He was staring at Frizz intently. Draco couldn't imagine why anyone would rest their eyes on that face any longer than was necessary.

"Maybe," Frizz said doubtfully. She shied slightly away from Weasel. Draco smirked.

There was a lapse of silence between the two of them.

"So," Weasel said suddenly, a little desperately, it seemed to Draco. "Who do you think got the elixir?"

Draco restrained himself from yelling something rude. Frizz looked at Weasel strangely. They fell silent again. Draco shook his head. Pathetic.

"Honestly," Frizz said into the relative silence, as the three of them moved away from the larger part of the crowd. "Honestly, I think Harry got it."

Draco choked.

Weasel looked up, surprised. Draco wished he could see the git's expression. "Really?"

"Well, you know how he's been acting lately. Up 'till all hours of the night, hardly sleeping, never eating, disappearing on his own, snapping at us..." She trailed away and moved her hands in some vague gesture. "Sounds right, doesn't it?"

Draco felt a feral, fierce grin pull at his lips. Oh, really? This eavesdropping was proving to be quite informative.

Weasel ducked his head "Yeah. I guess it does," was all he said.

They walked in silence for a while more, as Draco slipped along behind them. He abruptly remembered that he had been planning on getting to Potions early, so, as the two tag- alongs appeared to have lapsed into their own private word of awkward glances and unspoken words, he surged forward, pushing past them. He shot them both a withering look of distaste for good measure, then slinked on to class. He was certain he heard the Weasel cursing behind him.

~*~

"You're a disgrace, Harry."

For a brief, fevered moment, Harry was certain they knew. Certain they had found out about he and Draco. Certain they had found out that he was thinking about Draco, that he was dreaming about him. Had he screamed his name last night? Had he mumbled his name unconsciously during breakfast? He stared at Cullen and Brianna in numb horror.

"I--I didn't mean--" He had to confess. Maybe if he came clean, they wouldn't be so mad.

"Look at you," Brianna continued, face somber though her green eyes flashed with amusement. "Your tie's all crooked. You're a disgrace to the school. That's what you are."

Cullen and Brianna were standing with Harry in the hall outside Potions, as students trickled past them into the dark class. A few commented curiously on the missing door, but none dared to mention it to Snape. Harry was in no mood to care about a missing door. He was currently sure he would faint with light- headed relief.

"M--my tie--"

Cullen snorted in disgust, his tousled blonde hair falling in his eyes, dimples prominent as he suppressed laughter. "Look at your tie. I mean, look at it." Harry looked down dazedly as Cullen pulled at his red and gold tie, tightening it into a hard little knot. "I mean, I know being messy is your trademark or something--much like those foolish spectacles--but really, Harry."

"Pathetic," agreed Brianna, grinning wholeheartedly.

And then, laughing and joking, they disappeared into the class. This had become a favorite pass-time of Brianna and Cullen's. Harry Harassing. If Harry hadn't been quite so neurotic at the moment, he would've realized it and played along.

Instead, Harry stood stunned for a several moments longer, then reached up and loosened the tie again. It was a relief that Brianna and Cullen knew nothing--How could they?--but, at the same time, Harry couldn't deny the little knot of disappointment coiling coldly in the pit of his stomach. He could've admitted to everything, that none of it was really his fault--or Draco's--and then carried on with his life, with everything finally in the open.

At the same time...

It'd be making a big fuss over nothing. Draco would be getting his antidote in a little less than an hour anyway.

Harry tugged restlessly at his tie again. Suddenly, he couldn't help but smile. Draco was getting his antidote. Everything would be okay again! Everything would be normal again.

Grinning like a fool, Harry leaned against the cold stone wall, in no hurry to enter the dank and dark class. He though deliriously about the joys of being able to hate Malfoy again. To hate him, naturally and completely, to not be swayed by Malfoy's beauty, not be swayed by his own lust for the lithe body that glided through the halls of Hogwarts--and through Harry's dreams and thoughts--as if he owned it all.

And then, suddenly, he was there.

Draco Malfoy, standing alone in the hall, powerful and beautiful, like nobody else. Draco Malfoy walking towards him. Draco Malfoy eyeing him coldly as he passed. Draco Malfoy slipping wordlessly by him, into the class.

Harry Potter, stunned in the hall. He blinked. What was that all about? Shaking himself physically, Harry pushed himself through the stone archway into the crowding class.

"Get to your seat, Potter," Snape snapped from the head of the class. He appeared to be in a particularly foul mood, clutching a small, dark bottle in one pale hand. Head down, too embarrassed to meet Malfoy's eyes again, Harry slipped into his seat. Moments later, Hermione and Ron stumbled in, consequently loosing twenty-five points from Gryffindor for tardiness, despite the fact Blaise and Zander came in behind them.

Ron slipped into the empty seat on his left, Hermione on his right--almost guarding him, Harry thought wildly. Almost as if they were scared he might jump up and run off at any moment. Harry felt immediately claustrophobic. Part of him resented it, thinking that this was treatment worthy of a child. Part of him knew they belonged there, that he should be happy for such friends, and that part of him knew that if Ron and Hermione weren't there, he would jump up and run off. Or at least fidget with unnecessary vehemence. He simply couldn't sit still. He wanted to return to hating Malfoy, like the old days. He was in too good of a mood to pay any heed to the treacherous voice in the back of his mind whispering "Is that what you really want?" Closing his eyes briefly, Harry took several deep, steadying breaths. He forced his hands to relax, reminded himself that, no matter what, this had the makings of the best Potions class ever. Things would be normal soon.

"First order of business. You assignments." Harry froze. All around him, students surged to their feet, one by one placing battered papers on Snape's empty desk. He watched them all with a small sneer. When Harry's ameorelation assignment, quite forgotten in the wake of the past few day's events, didn't appear on his desk, Snape turned to look at him coldly, eyebrows raised in an innocent query.

"Mr. Potter? And your assignment?" Everyone turned to look at him. Harry felt his cheeks flushed, and hated it. He glared at Snape knowing that this man was the cause of all his problems for the past few days--hell, since day one!--but knew, just as well, that there was nothing he could do about it. He willed the red in his cheeks to fade.

"I. Um. The assignment. Well." His tongue seemed to have turned into his own personal enemy, battling against the words he tried to force around it.

Snape stared down at him, hands clasped calmly as he waited with malevolent pleasure.

"I forgot it," Harry finally tumbled the words out, staring resolutely at his desktop. He heard Hermione groan in dismay at his lame excuse. One simply didn't make up excuses in Snape's class and get away with it.

Snape settled himself against his desk, evidently enjoying himself thoroughly. "And why's that, Mr. Potter?"

Harry licked his lips nervously and opened his mouth to respond--as best as he could--when a calm, cold voice interrupted from the back of the class. Harry's heart faltered and he felt himself flush a deeper crimson.

"He's been busy, Professor."

As one, with a rustle of cloth and papers, the entire class turned in shocked silence to stare at Malfoy, leaning nonchalantly on his desk.

"What was that, Mr. Malfoy?"

Malfoy smirked. Harry's throat tightened. What are you doing?

"Oh you know how it is, Professor," Malfoy waved his hand vaguely. "The life of a celebrity is demanding. You can't expect him to do silly school assignments." Draco locked eyes with Harry, cold as ice and just as beautiful. He sneered. "Bigger fish to fry, Potter has."

There was a moment of two of shocked silence. Complete and utter silence. Every student, Gryffindor and Slytherin alike, was gawking at Malfoy. Draco, however, was glaring at Harry, and Harry was staring back, eyes wide. They stayed in the position for several long moments, until Snape's voice sneered through the silence, dripping with contempt.

"Indeed," he said, gaining the attention of every student--except for a certain smirking Slytherin and a certain shocked Gryffindor. "Well, Potter, as trying as your life is, and as petty as these assignments are, you are expected to complete them. Thirty points from Gryffindor and Potter--" Harry finally turned and looked up at him warily "--detention. Tonight." Harry winced as the Gryffindors hissed and the Slytherins smirked.

Apparently satisfied, Snape carried on. "You're all aware that today is the day I will reveal who truly had the amorelation elixir." He cast dark eyes around at the students as they fidgeted expectantly. "I have no doubt that this has been an... interesting few days for you all." He smiled like a fierce and very insincere wolf. "I had been keeping the antidote--" He held up the tiny black bottle "--on my desk, for those who simply couldn't wait until today. Last night, someone did indeed decide they couldn't wait to be told the truth, and thus--" He uncorked the bottle and upended it, illustrating how devoid of antidote it was "--there is no antidote left for the true victim of the elixir."

There was another moment of stunned silence, until Malfoy's voice sliced through it once more, tight with an emotion Harry couldn't identify. "What if the true victim is the one who drank the elixir last night?"

Snape smiled unctuously, pointed canines glinting whitely in the half-light on the dungeons. "But it wasn't, Mr. Malfoy."

Harry looked back at Draco. His face was pale, his hands were balled into fists and his eyes were glittering dangerously. "What do you mean, Professor?" His voice was ominously low.

Snape turned and set the bottle down nonchalantly. "What I mean, Mr. Malfoy, is that you were not the recipient of the amorelation elixir."

A few students snickered, but Harry didn't hear. He stared at Snape, incredulous. He barely stopped himself from screaming What?? at the top of his lungs. Draco didn't have the potion?

Before he could stop himself, Harry whirled around and stared at Draco. The Slytherin sat, utterly motionless, staring with glazed, glassy eyes at Snape, his mouth compressed in a thin line.

~*~

Draco felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. He couldn't breathe, couldn't react.

Lying. He's lying. He has to be.

Yes. It had to be one of Snape's twisted jokes. In a few moments, he'll relent and give me the elixir.

Any minute now.

Draco stared at his professor, willing him to smirk and admit the truth, admit that Draco truly had the elixir. He had to.

He can't leave me like this! He can't joke like this!

I'm in love with Harry-fucking-Potter.

A chill came over him.

Some demon in his mind, some imp of the perverse had just presented him with a thought of his father. His Father. Lucius Malfoy. Lucius. Beautiful, strong, terrifying Lucius. His Father.

Holy hell.

If it wasn't cured, he didn't even want to think about what his father would do. What if he had to report who he'd fallen in love with, and Snape told his father?

Stop the fucking joke, he growled internally, desperately. Now.

Yet, undaunted, Snape continued his lecture. "Now," he was saying, "this all only goes to illustrate my point. You have to be able to tell when you're under the influence." He sneered. "Obviously, some of you were unable to discern the effects of the elixir from your own teenage woes." Draco's head was spinning.

Any minute now.

Say it, Snape.

"Draco Malfoy was truly under the influence of the elixir and, under duress, took the antidote before today's class." Say it.

Say it.

Please.

Draco felt his stomach knot as he was hit by waves of nausea, the back of his neck was hot, his hands were clammy.

Say it, Snape. This is nothing but a cruel joke.

"The true victim of the elixir was..." Draco sighed. Finally. His heart lightened, he felt light- headed with relief. He'll say it, he'll give me the real antidote, and everything will be normal again. He wouldn't have to worry about anyone finding out, not Snape, not his father. Draco smiled then, confidently, reassured in that moment that all would be well. Snape smirked at them all, enjoying the tense moment, before finally pronouncing the results, words that unfurled and hung ominously in the air around them:

"No one."

~*~

Harry choked.

Draco had never had the elixir. No one had it. It has all been a joke--a cruel, twisted joke.

There were a few seconds of stunned silence, long enough for Harry to think some vague thought about love and deceit, before a loud crash tore through the silence. Harry--along with the rest of the class--turned and stared at Malfoy. He was standing tall, hands balled into fists. He had never looked so dangerous--or so beautiful--in Harry's eyes as he did at that moment. His porcelain cheeks bore the uneven red splotches of color that appeared whenever Draco was infuriated. And he looked infuriated. His thin lips were pulled back from his pointed teeth, baring them like a feral animal, every muscle in his slim body was tensed, Harry could practically feel the power and the anger rolling of him in palpable waves. But most frightening, most captivating and entrancing, were those eyes. They made Harry lose his breath, as though he had physically taken a blow. They were ice and fire--they burned through everyone around him, all were insignificant beside the cold chill of those mercury eyes. They were storm and shadow--they roiled with dark cloud and flashed dangerously with lightening. They terrified Harry.

And he loved them.

And suddenly, they changed. The complete mask of control that snapped into place chilled Harry more than any amount of anger or screamed curses could. The way the powerful emotions died, the way the eyes froze, made Harry more frightened than any threats. It was simply chilling to see such a smooth mask of control snap into place, to see such lack of emotion after such passion.

"Fuck this," was all he said, in the flattest, deadest voice Harry had ever heard. It went perfectly with the dead eyes, the flat face. No emotion was betrayed. He was a Malfoy, now and always. And Malfoys do not lose control.

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape glowered, "kindly seat yourself and cease this embarrassing display."

Draco turned his deadened eyes to his Professor. He was clutching something in his hand. "Embarrassing display," he repeated, as if relishing the taste of the words on his tongue. And then he smiled. It was a horrible smile. A grimace of pain that made a mockery of everything a true smile stood for. It was a false smile, a smile of hate. And then he was gone.

A collective gasp passed through the shocked students as Malfoy disappeared into thin air with a crackle like lightening. Harry stared, numb with surprise at the place where he had been standing seconds before, as all around him students jabbered and gawked. Snape was standing stonily silent, lips pressed firmly as he glared dangerously at the empty spot as well. The only sign that Malfoy had stood there moments before, looking powerful and frightening and beautiful all at the same time, was a small black scorch-mark on the gray stone.