Not Just an Empty Emotion

Chapter 26-Doubting

Harry sat in an armchair next to Hermione and Ginny, smiling absent-mindedly. He didn't care that he was getting dirty looks from Ron, or that the quill he had thrown down because he couldn't concentrate on his work was now allowing ink to spread across his unfinished Potions essay. He didn't care right now, because he and Malfoy were OK again.

Yet again, Hermione was trying to make very forced conversation between the group. Though Harry, as ever, spoke perfectly normally, Ron was deliberately ignoring everything she said if it meant involving Harry in the discussion.

"How're the new tactics coming on? All ready to face Ravenclaw on Saturday?"

"They're fine," Harry said. "Ravenclaw have got a crap team this year, their Beaters and their Keeper both left last year, replaced them with worse ones than Crabbe and Goyle. We're pretty confident."

Ginny nodded in agreement, but when Hermione turned questioningly to Ron, he raised his eyebrows in disbelief and turned away. Harry shook his head in disgust-he was fed up of Ron's childish antics and pathetic approach to the whole thing. He couldn't really be arsed summoning up the energy to be angry through his happiness, so when he gathered up his books and inky quill and had said goodnight to everyone else, he bent down low towards Ron and hissed, so no one else could hear, "Get a grip, Ron, stop being so fucking childish."

"Get over yourself, Potter," Ron spat back, rather surprising Harry that he was actually talking to him.

"No, you get over yourself and think about what's important. Is my sexuality hurting anyone? No. Is the fact that I'm in love hurting anyone? No. Is the fact that if all our allies turn against each other making Voldemort stronger going to hurt anyone? Yes. You think about that, Ron, and then tell me if it's worth you being such a prick."

He turned and traipsed up the boys' staircase, feeling, despite everything, rather pleased with himself.

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Draco hadn't left the common room for days. He was glad it was the weekend; it meant he didn't have to socialise.

Or see Potter.

He wasn't really sure why he didn't want to see Potter, only that he knew he couldn't face it. He wanted to, God knows he wanted to. He felt he was the one in the wrong, like he had betrayed Potter in some way, or let him down. He hated Foster and Kierre for what they were doing, and desperately wanted revenge- especially on Foster- but he didn't dare.

Instead he did not move from his dormitory, lay in bed for most of the day, and did not say a single word to anyone, even Crabbe and Goyle. He tried so hard not to think about what Foster had done, and what he had said but it was impossible. No matter how hard he tried to force it to the back of his mind it was always there, always present, and every time he thought of it, remembered the touch of Foster's mouth, the rough way he had forced Draco, a fresh wave of nausea engulfed him. He had even tried to counter the memories of Foster with the precious memories of Potter, but it was no good. It was as if Foster had even taken Potter away from Draco, even the memories...

"Fuck!" he muttered out loud. He stood up and began to pace the room, trying to think of what he could do. It was impossible to think, though, with the weight of misery upon him. He knew that tomorrow, Monday, would be hell. He would have to leave his room, walk around the school, go to lessons, talk to people...and probably see Potter. And Foster. It was unavoidable.

That night Draco was in bed before anyone else. He pulled off his shirt and was unbuckling his belt when something happened which made his heart stop.

"Well, well, well," said a quiet, almost victorious voice, "you do put on a good strip-show."

Draco snatched up his shirt and held it close to his body before turning to face Foster.

"Fuck off," Draco whispered. He had meant to make it sound threatening, but it came out more a whimper, a plea.

Foster laughed heartlessly. "Be nice!" he cooed. "Oh, come on, you can put the shirt down. Let me see more of you...don't let me stop you...carry on where you left off, I was quite enjoying it...." His eyes strayed down to Draco's crotch.

"I fucking mean it, you Wanker, get lost!" Draco growled.

"You're so cute when you're angry," Foster said, a superior glint in his eye. He took a step further into the room and moved closer to Draco. "Come on. Don't tell me you don't want it. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it. You and I both know you love it...now, are you going to tell me what I want to know?"

"Never," Draco whispered furiously. "No matter what you do I will never tell you."

Foster laughed. "Have it your way, for now. We shall see, Malfoy, we shall see..." he turned to leave, but stopped himself at the last moment. He turned slowly and advanced upon Draco. "Oh yes," he said softly, "before I forget..."

Before Draco could do anything Foster had snatched the shirt from Draco and wrapped one arm tightly around him. His other hand felt Draco's chest between them...he leant forward and kissed Draco's firmly closed lips.

"Goodnight..." he let go, and was gone.

Draco collapsed on his bed, not sure how much of this he would be able to take.

*

Draco ate Breakfast as late as possible in the Great Hall the next morning, trying as hard as possible to avoid certain people. It was easy enough to escape them in his first lesson, Arithmancy (since only himself, Nott, and Hermione Granger took that subject at NEWT level), but he knew the rest of the day would be hard.

Somehow he managed to get through the whole morning without meeting anyone he didn't want to (though he did notice Hermione Granger's odd looks in Arithmancy), and even managed to get lunch alone.

But then came double Potions. A whole afternoon in the same room as Potter. He walked into the dungeon as though he were going to his execution. It certainly felt like that to Draco. He felt slightly sick, but he knew he had to go in. Potter was already in there. Usually they would have caught each others' eye, but not this time. Draco slunk past him without once raising his eyes from the floor, and sat down at a bench at the very back.

Snape swept in looking even more irritable than usual. "Instructions are on the board, and the extra ingredients you need are on my desk. Begin."

And with that the whole class started to follow the instructions written in tiny, barely legible handwriting. The lesson dragged on. Draco tried his hardest to concentrate on the brewing of his postion, but was finding it impossible. When he had first seen Potter he had wanted to run, fast, from the room. He felt sick and, for some reason, guilty.

About twenty minutes before the end of the lesson there was a smart knock on the dungeon door.

"Yes?" Snape snapped.

Professor McGonagall walked briskly to Snape's desk, bent down low and muttered to Snape in such a quiet voice that, try as they might, no one else could hear. Both Draco and Potter strained their ears but all they managed to glean from the conversation were the words "Dumbledore....now....Dark....tonight...you..." Broken words which meant nothing. But they both still knew what she was talking about. Snape was going to have to go to Voldemort tonight...Perhaps they would have felt sorry for him, had it not been for his next words. He stood up and addressed the students, as McGonagall left. "As you are now in sixth year I am allowed to leave you unattended for a short while. The Headmaster wishes to meet me immediately, so I will have to leave you. I won't be back before the end of this lesson. I want you all to finish your Potion and leave a clearly labled flask of it on my desk, understand? After that you may leave. And for homework complete an essay on why we must add Augery Blood to this Potion. I think even the least intelligent among us can understand those instructions." He glared at Potter, pointedly for a moment, before he left, slamming the dungeon door behind him.

Immediately, the usually silent Potions class burst into speech, some complaining about the essay, others wondering what Dumbeldore wanted from Snape. Slowly the noise died down as one-by-one the students finished their Potion, put it in a flask, and left the room. Finally only a few were left.

"Want me to wait Harry?" Granger asked.

"No, it's OK, you go. I'll be ages sorting out this Cauldron of crap..."

Granger laughed slightly, and smiled to herself as she left, knowing that now, as luck would have it, there were only two particular people in the room, but not knowing what had gone on....

Draco stirred his potion feverishly, willing Potter not to say anything. It was no good.

"Hi, Malfoy..." Potter said quietly. He hadn't noticed anything was wrong.

"Hey," Draco muttered vaguely. Shit, he thought, shit, shit, shit! Please shut up, don't talk to me, leave me alone, I can't face you, not now...

"Where've you been? I wanted to meet you at the weekend."

"Uh...not well," Draco lied. His potion was not finished, not by a long way, but he couldn't stand being in here alone with Potter any longer. He scooped some into his flask, cleared up his things, and snatched up his bag.

"Bye," he said, as he reached the door.

"Where are you going? Don't you want to talk?"

"Lots of homework," Draco choked. "Sorry." Finally he broke out of the door and ran along the corridor, wanting more than anything to be back alone in his dormitory. He stopped in a deserted corridor and leant against the cool wall, breathing deeply. He had felt so claustrophobic back there...

He yelled out angrily and kicked the wall as hard as he could. He cursed Foster for doing this to him, for taking away everything Draco held close, how had it happened? How had he let it happen?

He yelled again, and hit and kicked the wall as violently as he could, wishing it were Foster.

And speaking of Foster...

"We meet again, Malfoy..." said an icy voice. Malfoy spun angrily on the spot, pulled out his wand and yelled the first hex he could think of. Foster only just managed to conjure a shield around himself in time. "Be nice, Malfoy, or I might get angry..." he said in a would-be sweet voice.

"Whatever," Malfoy spat.

"Don't worry, Malfoy....I'll be seeing you later...unless there's something you want to tell me..."

Draco didn't reply, just tried to dodge around Foster. But Foster put out a hand and stopped him. "I don't think so." He shoved Draco into the wall roughly and leant in close. Draco could feel his ragged breathing on his face. Once more Foster's lips met with Draco's, no matter how much he struggled. Foster's hand was low...far too low...

Finally it stopped, and with a sickening grin Foster strode away down the corridor, leaving Draco white and shaking.

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Across the other side of the castle, Harry lay in bed, listening to the light spring rain tapping on the windows. He was confused. Why had Malfoy behaved like that? Surely he hadn't changed his mind? Not now. He had wanted to talk but obviously Malfoy had had other ideas...

Or maybe he was being harsh. Maybe he really did have homework he had needed to do...maybe he, Harry, was being unfair.

What could he do? He wanted to see Malfoy, to talk to him properly, like couples should do....but it was so difficult to do it anyway, and Malfoy didn't seem keen to help matters...

Harry tossed and turned for hours before he finally got to sleep, but he still had a nagging doubt, a shadow at the back of his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco locked the door that night, even though he knew it would be no good. He didn't even try to sleep, but had his wand hidden in his bed next to him, ready for when Foster came. It wasn't "if" Foster came in, he knew, it was "when".

He lay shivering for what felt like hours. Heard the noises of the other boys in the Dormitory coming to bed. Surely, he thought, he wished, Foster wouldn't want me now...not with everyone else around. Surely he won't do it now...he'll stay away for tonight....

He lay awake, listening, his eyes sore with tiredness yet not daring to close them...there was no noise at all, save for the deep breathing of the other four boys...

It wasn't going to happen. It wasn't tonight.... He felt an enormous surge of hope well up inside him....Not tonight...

But he knew. He knew it was a false hope. The second he heard the door creak open the hope drained away from his body. He clutched his wand even tighter in his hand; he was ready to strike, yet so nervous that he felt he knew he would be too late...

Through the darkness he sensed the curtains around the bed open, felt the bed sink a little lower as Foster lowered his body onto it. Draco held onto a sob as he tried not to think of Potter- Potter was something clean, something pure, something he couldn't, no, wouldn't let Foster ruin for him.

"Hi Malfoy, you stayed awake for me then?" Foster teased, sickeningly.

Draco tried to reply but found he couldn't. Instead he raised his wand but before he could mutter a hex Foster had grabbed his hand and torn his wand away. Draco heard it clatter onto the floor.

He was defenceless.

Foster laughed quietly; the sound made Draco feel sick with hatred.

All of a sudden he could smell Foster's breath, sense his agitated heartbeat and feel his excitement. And then Foster's lips were on his. Foster's tongue next to Draco's. Foster's hand next to Draco's skin, trying to strip him.

And Draco couldn't stop him.

Foster's breathing was ragged as he desperately tried to make Draco succumb. To his wishes. The blond couldn't do anything to stop him, he couldn't clench his jaw tight enough, nor keep his body rigid enough. Soon, Foster knew, Draco would give in and let him do what he wanted to him.

Foster had wanted this for so long, without knowing it for so many years...the wait was making it even more wonderful that it had been in the countless fantasies he'd had over the years.

He slowed an little and whispered, "You can't take it can you? You know you're going to give in, Malfoy so just let me do it...it'll be over faster that way. Who knows, you might even enjoy it. It'll give you some experience to share with that bitch of a girlfriend you've got!"

Malfoy couldn't help it, he cried out in pain and hatred as Foster spoke the last words. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop him. He felt too weak. It would happen anyway, even if Foster had to beat him into submission to get what he wanted, it would happen...

Foster's tongue was making its way down Draco's body over his, now naked, body. As Draco whimpered helplessly he felt Foster press himself against his leg.

"You know you're going to like it Draco. Try it, why don't you?" Foster said maliciously, reappearing.

"No," Draco whispered.

"Do it," Foster grunted. He pushed Draco's head downwards and moaned in ecstasy, as it began.