Forbidden

Chapter Three: London Landings

The next day, Harry had decided to go to London to get out of the house. He loved the Burrow, but it was rather smothering after a month straight of being there. He stepped out of the house in a pair of black slacks, his t-shirt fluttering in the wind as he walked down the way.

He breathed in deeply, taking in the scents of the foliage around him. It was great to be out of the house and on his own. He ran his hand through his hair as he walked down the lane.

He strolled, lost in thought. Draco Malfoy was mostly what he was thinking about. That dream unsettled him, and showed exactly how deep his obsession could have been. It scared him, actually. He was supposed to loathe Draco Malfoy with everything he possessed, and here he was, thinking about him in a more than positive sense! He began wondering about his sanity when he found himself in front of the Leaky Cauldron. How did I get here? he mused as he pushed the door open.

Again, the place was deserted as he glanced around, heading for Diagon Alley. He taped the brick and went through the archway, glancing at the boarded-up shops. There was virtually no one there, except for one figure, dressed all in black, leaning against the boards of the Ice Cream Parlor.

Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy," he growled, trying to make it sound angry, and trying to find that tumult of rage he used to get every time he laid eyes on the platinum blonde...but it was no longer there, replaced with a wave of hope and the feeling that he'd just missed a step on a staircase.

He stepped closer to Draco and the butterflies began to riot under the skin. He moistened his lips, suddenly nervous about approaching the other boy.

Malfoy turned around and was practically staring straight into Harry Potter's emerald green eyes. He took a step back and stared involuntarily until he recovered, looking at him, willing his look to become imperious. It really wasn't working.

"What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy asked in his greatest attempt at cold disdain. Those eyes were captivating, but he wouldn't let himself be captured within the sparkling depths.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but he seemed to have completely forgotten all means of speaking, and the words evanesced off his tongue, even as he thought them. He felt the color rising in his cheeks.

"Nothing, Malfoy," he said as he caught his voice in the back of his throat, trying desperately to escape again. He tried to take a step, but was mesmerized by the steely grey of Draco's eyes.

For a moment they were enthralled, unable to step away from each other. The air around them became electric, but not out of hatred, or anger. It was fatal attraction at its very worst.

"What are you getting at?" Draco snapped, looking away from the staring contest, the air around them shattered like glass.

"Nothing!" Harry spat. Draco gave him a look that was anger, tinged with...helplessness? Sadness? Loss? He couldn't place it.

What was I thinking 'maybe I could talk to him?' He'd never look at me the same, Draco thought with a frown. Harry's brows furrowed. Draco opened his mouth but shut it again on the statement.

"Out of my way, Potter," Draco said, breaking away from the absorption of their stare, pushing the other boy's shoulder, but he froze again at the physical touch. He shook off the shocks of electricity running through his shoulder and began to walk away.

Harry stood, stunned, his eyes to the ground. What just happened? he thought to himself. He frowned, glancing over his shoulder at the Slytherin's retreating back.

"Malfoy..." he said in a soft voice, but Draco seemed to have heard it, or just looked behind him, because their eyes met again. Malfoy looked away again and began to walk faster down the alley.

"Stop playing with me," Draco said as he hurried away, frowning and stuffing his hands in his pockets. This was all too weird. He stopped before he entered the Leaky Cauldron and glanced back once again at the Boy Who Lived.

Harry still looked stunned, but also sad as he watched Draco retreat.