Bliss My Eyes

Part three: When I Think of You

Harry sits outside on the grass, head tilted up towards the sky, letting the sun warm him. His hands are playing absently with the grass in front of him, tugging on them and running his hands over their small thin green lengths.

He should be in class, Ron and Hermione are probably having a cow at that very moment, but he just isn't up to Snape's putdowns. So he sits there and he sits there, as time ticks by, and he waits for them to come find him, as he knows they will.

It feels like not very long before he heard them calling his name, and then they are standing over him, Ron looking puzzled and Hermione looking furious. Hands on her hips, glowering down on him, he finds himself wishing that he'd gone to a place where they would have had trouble finding him, instead of right where he always goes to be with them.

Bad plan, he thinks. Next time must find somewhere more hidden. He looks around carefully, trying to spot somewhere less obvious.

"Harry," she says, her voice cold. "You didn't come to class."

He looks at her like she's turned into a zebra with two heads, three tails and orange stripes. "I know. I was the one not there, after all."

"It's a good thing," Ron pipes up with. "Because Malfoy wasn't there and Snape was extra pissy. He took points off for them and even more for us, five because you skipped and another fifteen because Neville messed up. He kept shooting us all bad looks, if you'd been there he would have taken in out on you."

Hermione frowns at him for encouraging Harry.

"Malfoy wasn't there?" Harry asks, aware that this wasn't the point of Ron's story.

"Yes. But the point is-"

He has stopped listening. Ron sits down next to him and, eventually, Hermione stops ranting and does as well.

It is silent and Harry wonders to himself why Malfoy wasn't there.

Out of the blue, Ron comments to no one, "Changes are coming."

Hermione and Harry both look at him, as he's lain back in the grass and is looking up at the sky. Silently. Then they exchange glances and she sighs.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I feel lost."

"Me too," he agrees, and she leans against him.

***

Draco is lounging on the couch in the Slytherin common room, body spread out over the pillows. It's cold in there, he couldn't bring himself to start a fire, and privately, although he would never admit it, Draco finds it quite sterile-looking as well. He hopes that no Slytherins ever became decorators.

He can picture what the Gryffindor's room looks like, probably all warm colors and big soft armchairs, always full of laughing, excited students. Lots of people hugging and congratulating each other on their goodness, he would imagine.

He wonders what's wrong of him of late, he'd never thought about the room being sterile or Slytherins all being prats until a little while ago, and then all of a sudden he was comparing them to all the other groups, and he wasn't really coming down on Slytherins side any more. This was an upsetting development. Once he started doing that he started thinking about Harry, about why the dark haired messy scruffy popular gorgeous boy was such an obsession of his.

And then, of course, he realized that it was sickeningly, horribly simple. He was in love. With Potter. And that's when he decided that love was a terrible, terrible thing and being in love with Potter was even worse, but oh wouldn't it be nice to call him Harry for once and see what Harry tasted like and run his hands through that messy brown hair and see what their shadows would look side by side instead of being mingled together as they face each other down.

Goyle and Crabbe come bursting into the room making lots and lots of commotion, talking noisily and munching on food and just generally being a nuisance, but Draco is thrilled to have a reprieve from his upsetting thoughts.

So he turns his face up to his lumbering friends and says, "Hello."

They start talking about all the points Gryffindor lost in class, which does make Draco smile because, really he is Draco after all and having feelings for someone does not a saint make, and then go off on long, dull conversations about whatever pops into their simplistic heads. They don't ask why he skipped, if it weren't for their telling him what happened in his absence he would assume that they hadn't noticed.

He doesn't bother to listen, as he very rarely does, and his mind drifts to Harry. You're in love with Harry Potter, his mind mocks him, obviously used to mocking everyone and now unable to distinguish when it's all right to mock and when it isn't. His throat clenches at this, and he realizes that he's having trouble breathing and can't remember how to do it but how could he forget something so simple?

Crabbe and Goyle eventually notice that their friend is chocking but aren't sure what to do, so they just watch.

"You all right?" Goyle asks, as he is the slightly smarter of the two.

And then Draco remembers how, takes a few deep breaths and narrows his eyes at his friends. Why does the bad guy always need to have idiotic friends? he wonders but doesn't say it out loud, however badly he wants to.

"Peachy," replies Draco.

Goyle shakes his head slowly and says, "Changes are coming."

Draco gapes at him as Crabbe gives his friend a weary sideways glance.

"Fuck off," Crabbe says to Goyle, who chuckles and then turns away from Draco.

To Crabbe, Goyle says, "Sorry. Spaced."

Draco rolls his eyes.

Part Four: Standing His Ground

They face each other warily.

Harry wonders why it always happens this way, how he can't seem to go anywhere without bumping into Malfoy. Now, he tries to go to the library for some quiet, peaceful time, but as he tries to head in the door pulls back and Malfoy is in his way. He is surprised to see Malfoy leaving the library, as it occurs to him that he hasn't the slightest idea what kind of books Malfoy reads, what kind of music he listens to, what any of interests are- aside from being a cowardly, irritating nuisance, and overgelling his hair. Not that he finds that surprising, because last he checked no one goes around asking their arch-nemesis what they do for fun, but he is surprised that now that he's there, alone and face to face with Malfoy, his mind is suddenly curious about these things.

"Hello, Malfoy," he says, silently pleading to the heavens that Draco will just let him pass without incident.

And, much to his shock, he does. Malfoy nods and murmurs, "Potter," then pushes past and heads into the hall.

Harry watches him go. This is unbelievable. Now he thinks he's too good to even insult me? And so, pulling his mouth into a thin line, he storms after the other boy.

Draco looks at Harry, who is suddenly walking beside him, and his eyes are blank and emotionless, dark half-circles framing them.

Before he has time to even wonder why he's doing this, Harry blurts, "What? No insulting remarks about my friends? No witty repartee?"

"Nope," Draco turns away, keeps walking.

"Slipping, then?" he asks and Draco turns, a myriad of emotions suddenly evident on his face. Good job Potter, you've done it now... Nervous green eyes meet angry gray ones as Malfoy stops walking and just stares at him.

Ron and Goyle's warnings echo in their minds.

They both remember at once and Draco quickly turns away, his inability to sleep or eat properly having given him no patience and no desire to play their usual games. He's in love with Potter and it's driving him mad, fine he will deal with that. But he will not continue doing this. It's been long enough.

Sick of this sick of us sod offsod offsodoff...

"You skipped class."

Draco keeps going. "So did you," he calls, not even glancing backwards.

"Why?"

Tellhimtellhim maybe he'll shut up...

I need sleep.

Tellhimtellhim...

He turns a corner and is gone from Harry's sight. With a relieved sigh he rests against the wall and let's his head droop so that he's looking down at the floor.

He can hear the sound of Harry's shoes against the stone floor as he heads back toward the library.