Wasteland

Harry Potter shifted in his seat and stared at his breakfast. For some reason he was feeling sick and skittish, and he had no idea why. It could have been because he had spent a whole school year without Quidditch, on top of a summer off his broom. Harry was really worried he had lost his knack, and would get kicked off the team. That was a totally irrational fear, but he had it nonetheless. Then there was the paranoia that Voldemort was lurking behind every corner and in every shadow, and that was a rational fear. Of course, his nerves could be caused by the fact he had an exam in Potions and hadn't studied as hard as he should have.
Perhaps, though, the cause of the skittishness it was something closer to home. Something like a little disturbance in the fabric of his world. A rip in the corner called Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy had been oddly absent and silent the whole three weeks they'd been at school. That was a first. Harry let his eyes drift over to Malfoy's seat at the Slytherin table, filled for the first time since school started. There was something very different about the way Malfoy looked. He was always so put together, so slick, in a 40's playboy kind of way, his hair perfect, his sneer unwavering. Now, however, he looked as if a strong breeze might throw him over and scatter him to the four winds, getting dull white chunks of Malfoy in everyone's food and all over the walls. Even weeks of living in the cupboard under the stairs hadn't left Harry looking that near-dead. But it wasn't cupboard-living that had left Malfoy looking like that. It something Harry couldn't put his finger on.

"Ron? Notice anything weird about Malfoy lately?" Harry elbowed Ron, who was deep in conversation with Dean about muggle girls.

Ron glanced at the Slytherin table. "What, you mean besides the fact he's an evil git? He looks trashed." Ron suddenly turned with more attention. "Funny I didn't notice it before. He looks like utter hell!"

"You'd've thought he'd be prancing around like he owned the place with You-Know-Who back. This is the first time I've seen him out of class at all." Hermione mused, having been drawn out of her book by Ron's gleeful voice.

"He hasn't said a single word to us, hasn't tried to get us in trouble, hasn't done anything." Harry frowned, "And he's said nothing about Cedric. Is this some new plot of Voldemort's?"

"What's that? Turn Malfoy into a junkie?" Ron was still smirking.

"A junkie? I thought he might not be sleeping because he was out all night terrorizing muggles." Harry frowned a bit more. Truth be told, that was kind of the look Malfoy was sporting.

"Well, maybe. But one of Charlie's friends got into drugs after he got out of Hogwarts." Ron said, dismissivly, "Freddy Warble. He was in Ravenclaw, got a really job in the Ministry after he graduated here, and the pressure was too much. Started with pot, moved on to coke, and ended up in some muggle rehab with a serious heroin addiction. I hear he's a councilor now." Ron gave Hermione a pointed look as if to say that was probably her fate as well. "But you two aren't seeing the point, are you?"

"Is there one?" Hermione snapped, glaring back at Ron.

"If he's doing drugs, we can catch him, and get him expelled!" Ron was almost bouncing up and down, much like a Japanese school girl over the next episode of some girlie cartoon.

"And how are we going to do that?" Harry demanded.

"I don't know yet, I'll think of something. Oh this is bloody brilliant." Ron dreamy grin spread from cheek to cheek.

"Yes, well, I was just thinking, our first match is against Slytherin, and Malfoy doesn't look like he's in any condition to play. It wouldn't really be fair." Harry tried to ignore the little voice in his head that was actually worried about Malfoy. The whole thing was throwing Harry off. It was almost as if he didn't know what to do without Malfoy insulting him every three seconds. It was as if something had been removed from his life. Harry started. He thought he had just thought about Malfoy as being part of his life. Harry had to grudgingly admit, he was. No one else ever fought with him, no one ever didn't care he was the Boy Who Lived. At least, no one his age.

"Harry?" Ron poked Harry in the forehead with a cob of corn. "Harry are you with us?"
"What? Yeah, sorry?" Harry tried to smile at Ron, wondering how long he'd been staring at the back of Malfoy's head.

"I was just saying that Slytherin cheats plenty, and it's perfectly fair that Malfoy was dumb enough to let himself go like that. We're going to clobber them!" Ron was almost dancing, and Harry nodded, his eyes drifting slowly back to that suddenly ratty head of painfully blond hair.

Draco knew paranoia came with the territory of a drug user, but he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching the back of his head. It was probably just his imagination. It could be, of course, the fact that Goyle and Crabbe were on either side of him, grunting as they ate, making Draco feel like he had two very dumb bodyguards. Then again, that was the service they had both provided since first year, so he should have been used to it. But a few weeks in isolation made it more painful to have his space invaded. If he could only convince them that he didn't need them to walk him to Potions. He was starting to feel the pressure of the world closing in on him, and needed something to mellow him out, he needed some time alone.

While his mind was elsewhere, a hand with long, bony fingers had been creeping slowly towards his arm, and it suddenly attacked. Draco gave it a dirty look before forcing a smile up at Pansy Parkinson. If it meant getting Pansy's hand off his arm, Draco would very willingly do just about anything. The girl had been after him since First Year, and he hadn't minded, but lately the idea of girls wasn't half as appealing, and the idea of kissing Pansy in a dark corner was making Draco sick. Girls didn't hold a candle to his goddess. Heroin was perfect, Heroin never simpered, Heroin was never petty.

The feeling of being watched was back again, and Draco couldn't take it anymore. He snapped around, looking for whoever it was that had the nerve to stare at him, and was startled to find himself looking across the Great Hall, right at Harry Potter. Even through those ugly glasses, Draco's eyes caught on Potter's brilliant green ones, and for a second, it was as if the world was reduced, the way he saw when he was cooking up. Just as suddenly as it started, the feeling shattered when Potter turned his head quickly away. Draco was mildly amused to see what looked like Potter blushing. Then again, his own ears felt a little pink. He turned back to Pansy, and resigned himself to dealing with her, at least until he could get away.

What was I thinking? Harry fumed, trying to keep his face bent over his food so no one would see the fact he was beet red. I was staring at Draco Malfoy, and then we had a moment. It was straight out of a trashy romance novel, the kind Aunt Petunia loved, "and their eyes met over a sea of people, and they both felt the tugging of their hearts" or some such rubbish. Only this was Draco Malfoy, and Harry would never admit to tugging on his heart. Admit to it? Oh bugger, his heart had tugged, hadn't it? And over Malfoy, of all people. Very suddenly Harry wanted to do nothing more then be curled up in his bed with a teddy bear, avoiding the world.