Metamorous

Chapter 4 - Dragon's Blood

I'm not sober all the time

You bring me down at least you try

Until we see this eye to eye

I don't want you

It took so long to see

You walked away from me

When I need you

Wake up I'm pounding on the door

I'm not the man I was before

Where the hell are you

When I need you

Wake up I'm pounding on the door

I won't hurt you anymore

Where the hell are you

When I need you

I'm not angry all the time

You push me down at least you try

Until we see this eye to eye

I don't want you

Wake up I'm pounding on the door

I'm not the man I was before

Where the hell are you

When I need you

Wake up I'm pounding on the door

I won't hurt you anymore

Where the hell are you

When I need you

~Wake Up, Three Days Grace

I walk into the dorm to grab the invisibility cloak, pointedly ignoring the fact that Dean and Seamus stop laughing and joking around the instant I push past the door. I perversely take my time, getting some enjoyment out of their discomfort. Seems like I take what I can get these days. Throwing the cloak over my arm I grab my chess set and head off to Hermione's room. My world has shrunk considerably since the beginning of the plan. (Here's another random Harry thought: Should the plan be called 'The Plan', to distinguish it from any other plans floating about?) My world now consists of classes, Quidditch, and exactly four people: Neville, Ginny, Hermione, and Draco. Comforting huh?

Speaking of Quidditch, practice has to be the worst thing ever. Ginny's the only one who talks to me during, before, or after. They won't kick me off the team though. There aren't angry enough to throw away the House Cup. But I have had more Bludgers come after me in just this month than in all my other years of playing. It's a damn good thing I'm not the Captain. Ron is, in case you were wondering. We were going to have a big celebration but that fell through, obviously enough.

But the reason I'm heading off to Hermione's room is because it's the one place we really talk. The library, sometimes, when no one else is around. But since she has her own room, why bother? She doesn't want to get caught by Ron and I don't want Ron to catch her. Makes sense right? Of course when I say it that way it seems like we're having an affair rather that a conversation, but hey, whatever.

The Head Girl's room is on the second floor, three portraits past the mural of the Cornish Pixies. I could never look at that thing the same way after Lockhart. They look so funny and innocent in that landscape. And they are so not. Jesus. I'm babbling again.

Sighing, I poke Circe to wake her up. Are these ruddy portraits ever awake anymore?

"Wha..." she mumbles sleepily.

"Faust."

"Oh. Password. Right-o then. In you go." And without another word the frame slides upwards, revealing a door rather than a portrait hole.

You should see the Head Boy and Head Girl rooms. They're awesome looking. Currently a mix of red, gold, and purple, the colors of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff because Ernie Macmillan is Head Boy this year. He's still as pompous as ever, in case you wanted to know. Ack, here's a frightening thought: What if Draco had ended up Head Boy? That could have been awkward. Quite awkward. Thank God for small favors.

I tap lightly on the door to Hermione's bedroom.

"Come in."

She's sitting in her rosewood desk in the corner, writing a bloody treatise on something or other. From the looks of it it's heading towards four feet long. Good Lord Hermione. If someone was ever destined to be Head Girl it was you.

She turns around, smiling slightly. But then her smile disappears. "Who's there?"

Oh. Shit. Forgot to take off the invisibility cloak. Silly me. I flip the hood back. "Sorry 'Mione."

She's smiling again. "Oh Harry, it's you! I was wondering when you were going to sneak up here again."

"As soon as ruddy possible," I mutter. "At every chance I get. It's good to talk to at least one of my best friends."

Her smile starts to disappear again. "He misses you, you know. He doesn't say that... but I know he does."

I shake my head. "Doesn't miss me enough apparently." Well this is just going to get me depressed. New subject. "Wanna play some chess? Haven't had anyone to play with lately."

To my surprise Hermione jumps up and hugs me. "I'm sorry about all this Harry. They'll get over it, I know they will. It's just... it's... you know... Malfoy."

I sigh, exasperated. "Yes, I'm quite aware it's Malfoy. However, unlike popular opinion, he is not the Devil Incarnate, a Death Eater, or a right bastard at that. Yeah, he insulted all of us and made our lives miserable up until this year. So what? Didn't we do the same to him?" C'mon 'Mione, think! Remember S.P.E.W? Think justice, and second chances, and guilty until proven innocent and all that rot. (More random Harry thoughts: Harry Potter, telling the gospel of Draco Malfoy. Who knew they'd see the day?)

Her eyes fall to the ground and her fingers fly to her mouth. "I... I don't know Harry."

Inner sigh this time. "Cheer up Hermione. I'll be black, you be white. Ron may be the chess master, but I can still beat you."

It seems it was the right thing to say. She scrambles for the chessboard. "Sure Harry," she teases. "And I've got some swamp land in Bristol to sell you."

~~~~~~~

The Slytherin common room is not really my favorite place in the world. The heating hasn't been updated from the days of Salazar himself and the décor reminds me of winter: cold and sparse. But like any other Slytherin worth my salt I don't complain. I just sit as close to the fireplace as possible without setting my homework on fire. Then I feel a cool hand caress my shoulder.

"Drakie, I've missed you. Where have you been?"

That whiny, grating voice can belong to only one person. Pansy Parkinson, who seems to have not gotten the message I'm gay. Or maybe she has but still hopes to snag me before I hit the marriage mart. I'm a Malfoy after all, and Malfoys must have an heir. Gah. The thought of procreating with her is enough to make me swear off sex entirely. To quote Harry, 'Ick'.

"Pansy dear, I've got homework to do." So bugger off.

"Don't you want to have a little fun?" she asks slyly, her voice husky and honed to what she thinks is a seductive pitch. "No one's in the dorm right now."

And I'll say it again. Ick. She's supposed to be Slytherin for Mordred's sake. She's got all the subtly of a fuchsia elephant.

"Sorry. I'm off to meet Potter in the library. Wouldn't want to miss our date."

I sweep out of the room without a backward glance. Buhbye now.

~~~~~~~

"How the hell does that work?" I am so confused. Why must Potions be so damn obtuse?

Draco sighs. "Wolfsbane is a poison, yes, but it also has beneficial properties, such as those in the Wolfsbane Potion."

I'd rather skirt the whole werewolf issue but I also want to pass Potions, so here goes nothing. "How is that possible?"

"Think of it as... puking."

"Puking?" I am so not seeing the connection.

"Yeah. Normally it's a bad thing..."

"Duh."

"Shut up. Say you've poisoned yourself and you don't have the antidote. What's the best thing to do?"

Oh. "Purge your system."

"Right. So, in that case, puking's a good thing."

All right then. Whatever. "So even horrible things have their uses?"

He smirks. "Something like that."

"Ohhh," I exaggerate. "So that's why you're here."

"Ha bloody ha," he grouses. "Remind me why I keep you around again."

This, of course, is my cue to kiss him. As I do I wink at a third year Ravenclaw who's browsing the shelf behind us. She blushes and hurries away. Like I said, I gotta get my kicks somewhere. And keep my mind off the fact that I was kissing Draco. I try... not to dwell on that so much.

After another half hour of Potions explanations in which Draco proves his complete superiority, in his mind anyway, I notice Blaise Zabini has been watching us surreptitiously from a chair in the corner. He appears to be trying to catch Draco's eye. I'll take pity on the poor bloke. (You might have missed the mental sarcasm there).

"Blaise wants to talk to you."

Draco glances over his shoulder before giving my hand a quick squeeze. "Be right back love."

Pet names. Great. I really don't look attractive when I blush. Not that there's anyone around here for me to be attractive for.

Fuck. Of course there is. I can really only stay in denial for so long.

~~~~~~~

"Zabini."

"Malfoy."

"Something you wanted to discuss?"

"Merely an observation. You've done well with your mission. I hope you remember those who helped you, when you get the chance to... reward them."

Or for those who don't speak Slytherin: 'You've actually managed to slip the potion to Potter, and since you're soon to be in Voldemort's good graces put in a word for me, especially since you owe me favors.' Except it sounds much more threatening his way.

"Of course Zabini. Those who help me will be helped in turn."

He smiles, but it's more a muscle spasm than an expression of emotion. "Good."

Smarmy bastard. I turn to walk back to Harry.

"I don't see you exerting any control over him."

Has to have the fucking last word doesn't he? I turn around again, rolling my eyes. "It's only been a few days Zabini, give it some time. It's not instantaneous you know." Git. "All in all things are going quite nicely." Is there a point to this inquisition? I give him a cool stare.

"Speaking of 'nice'... how good a kisser is Potter anyway? Inquiring minds are dying to know." He grins toothily in Harry's direction.

My vision flares red for a second. Blaise is looking at Harry with barely disguised lust. Inquiring minds my ass. What the hell has your dirty mind come up with lately? I expose my teeth in a feral smile. "How good a kisser? You want to know?" I saunter over to where Harry is sitting, copying Potion's notes. When I slam into the seat next to him he glances up in surprise.

"Draco, what..."

As I move closer the words die in his throat. It starts to hit me this is perhaps not one of my better ideas. Then my lips touch his and I think that it's my best idea. Ever.

~~~~~~~

When Draco came toward me I knew something was wrong. He practically stalked back over here, something flashing in his eyes. And now he's kissing me, pressing down onto me forcefully, marking me. Branding me. And that doesn't feel wrong.

His lips crush mine, hot and savage and totally belonging to me. Mine. He's mine. Mouths open, tongues battling fiercely, his hands fisting in my hair. I've got one hand on his neck; the other slips into his robe, sliding over his chest. He groans - or was that me? - and moves even closer. Practically sitting on me, practically straddling me. He yanks my head back by pulling on my hair, forcing my mouth open even farther. I don't care. I bite his lip, hard. What's pleasure without a little pain?

We share one chair now, a mess of legs and black fabric. Arching up against him I try frantically to pull off his robe. Skin. I want to see some skin damn it! And suddenly he's not there anymore. I whimper - or was that him? - and turn to see that Blaise Zabini has pulled him off me.

Oh, the evil green monster of jealousy has arisen. Get your slimy hands off my boyfriend you...

"As much I was enjoying the show you should probably go somewhere private. Wouldn't want to give Madame Pince a heart attack would we?" he asks a little too cheerfully.

Oh fuck. One huge, flying fuck. Think we took the acting a little far. I got excited. In the library. With Draco. I want to kill myself over the first part, 'Mione would kill me over the second part, and Ron would kill me over the third part.

I blush fiercely, grabbing for my books. I avoid Zabini's eyes and scramble for the exit. Draco's right behind me. My embarrassment isn't the biggest problem right now. Right now there is some physical evidence that's too obvious to ignore. This is not part of the plan.

Something strikes me as we rush out of the door. Either Draco had his wand in his pocket, or... Not gonna think about it. No. Nope. Nuh uh. This is me, firmly within the boundaries of Never Going There. I should not be thinking about that. I don't even want to think about that. Not at all.

~~~~~~~

Holy Shit. What the hell was I thinking? What did I have to prove, especially to someone like Zabini? Oh, right. I wasn't fucking thinking!

Hey, and Little Draco? I'm doing my best to ignore you right now. Go away. Don't want Harry to see you. Not that he could have missed you really, considering I was sitting on top of him! God though. That was hot. He was hot and gorgeous and fucking beautiful and you have no idea what I wanted to do to him. I wanted to mark every inch of him so no one would even dare to look at him because they know he's mine and he's always going to be mine.

Except he's not.

Get a grip Draco. It's hormones. You're a seventeen years old for Merlin's sake! A very horny seventeen year-old at that, not that I suppose there's any other kind. If McGonagall... well, not McGonagall. Sprout maybe, or Snape perhaps. His hair's pitch black, just like Harry's after all - but we're getting off track here.

It's not a big deal. It's not a big deal. That's what I keep telling myself over and over as I lean against the wall outside the library.

A few moments go by. By then I'm sufficiently calm enough to attempt a joke.

"So... my dorm or yours?" I whisper, deepening my voice to an overly masculine pitch.

Harry laughs and the sound is only a little forced. "I get the feeling the Gryffindors would stone us if I brought you anywhere near there."

"That could be a problem. Wasn't planning on that happening today." Wasn't planning on any of that happening today. Wasn't planning on any of this happening at all.

I can't think of anything somewhat intelligent sounding to say. Finally Harry wishes me good night.

"Night Harry." And what a night it's been. I get one last look at him as he rounds the corner. How can I stop things like that from happening when I can't even stop myself from checking out his ass every time he turns around? Control issues. Serious hormone control issues.

~~~~~~~

We were in Care for Magical Creatures this time. Observing water and forest sprites. You know, just watching them fly about and listening to Hagrid ramble on. And then one leans over and busses my cheek, giggling furiously the whole time. I can't even tell if it's a male or female. My eyes go wide.

"Hey! There is no kissing my boyfriend!" And Draco flicks his wand threateningly at the sprite before loudly kissing me on the lips, proving his point. The sprites giggle shrilly. On the other side of the clearing Ron glowers.

~~~~~~~

Studying in the library again. His hand brushes up against mine and my foot is lying on top of his, casually, almost carelessly. He brushes his hair back - with his left hand, always, just like I said - and taps his right hand unconsciously, thinking, biting down on his lip just the littlest bit, his slender hands running down the length of the book, searching for something or other. I can't even watch him read without getting hard.

~~~~~~~

We're walking hand in hand through the hall when someone catcalls. With a smirk I push Draco against the wall and kiss him ardently. When I stop neither of us have any breath left.

"Was that what you were waiting for?" I shout back, hating the way my insides are coiling up. Why does he do this to me? Why do I do this to myself?

~~~~~~~

Potions. Tuesday. I slice my hand with a knife. Nothing deep, but I must have made some sound or another.

"Here," Harry implores me, "Let me see."

He licks the blood from the cut. And my brain shuts down.

~~~~~~~

Draco leans over to kiss me again and I can't help the shiver that works its way down my spine. I've learned to stop fighting. It's pointless really. Two more weeks have passed quickly enough and they've shown me that no matter how I feel about Draco I like what Draco can do to me, even though I don't think he knows he's doing it. (A/N. Hell of a sentence there... ^ )

Talk about a contradiction. He's been a thorn in my side since I met him, he's insulted me and my friends from day one, and I was fairly sure there was nothing good in him at all. And then he has to go and prove me wrong. Why did I have to find a person under all the blind hatred? More importantly at this point, why did I have to find such a damn good looking person under all that blind hatred? People say love is blind but I think... hate's blind. Before he was Malfoy. I hate Malfoy. But now... I don't. And I'm not sure what he is.

It doesn't really change anything. There's a plan, goddamn it, and I'm sticking to it. The plan is to act like we're passionately in love. I can do that. Oh, make no mistake; there's no lost love between us. The physical parts easy enough. He looks good, he always does. And I've given up on trying to not notice that.

'Cause it's nothing more after all.

~~~~~~~

In Potions again. And now I cannot look at that knife without remembering. He licked the blood off my hand. Do you know what it did to me, seeing that redness smeared on the corner of his lip by choice? Now there's a part of me in him. Do you understand how erotic that was? Any idea how sexy? And he did it like it was nothing. I wanted to lick the edge of his lip, suck all of the blood off it, taste it on his mouth.

His image has haunted my dreams. Those luminous eyes in his pale face, peering around all that dark hair. His mouth, warm and red. It's only the end of September and Harry Potter is all ready driving me insane. Is he my torture or my salvation? My reward or my penance? I don't know anymore. I never did, never will. Right now all I know is that he's here. I'll suss out the rest somehow.

I just remembered one of the other uses of dragon's blood. An aphrodisiac. Irony isn't even scratching the surface.

~~~~~~~

Two more weeks pass. It's mid-October now. Now when his hand finds mine I grasp it. When his lips touch mine I move so it's easier to reach him. When he calls me 'love', or 'babe' or one of a thousand other endearments I don't bat an eyelash. And while I do all this I remind myself desperately that this is all a charade. It's one huge fucking lie. And that's it.

When I'm near him I try not to think of how he seems to fit perfectly in my arms. I try not to think of the sleekly muscled body that lies underneath his robes. I try to remember that I hate him but the truth is I don't. Not anymore. And sometimes when he kisses me, I can forget for a few blessed seconds who I am. Does this mean I'm using him? I don't think so. If I am, it's not any worse than his using me as his cover story is.

There's yin and there's yang. Black and white, good and evil, light and shadow. There's a balance to everything. I think of this as just one more example. The world has come to a full circle. Hip, hip, hooray.

~~~~~~~

I don't remember exactly how the fight started. It had been a bad day for both of us. McGonagall had given me a week's detention for some reason or another and Harry was still upset that yesterday Gryffindor had barely won its match against Ravenclaw. We were both looking for a fight. So we picked it with each other. And really, it wasn't so much a fight as a... well, I don't know exactly.

"Git."

"Idiot."

"Bastard."

"Ass wipe."

"Ponce."

Ignoring the stares we're getting, I push Harry through the door of an empty classroom. For a brief moment I see shocked faces in the corridor but then Harry slams the door and locks it, both of us completely forgoing the silencing charm.

"Poof."

"Bitch."

"If either of us is a bitch it's you."

Growl.

"The last one strike a bit too close to home?"

We glare at each other. I lick my lower lip suggestively. "I'll show you who's the bitch around here." And then I pounce.

Oh, the look on his face is glorious. Complete and utter shock. Eyes wide, mouth open, eyebrows raised nigh to the ceiling. There's a Kodak moment if I ever saw one. I grasp his wrists tightly and raise his arms above his head. "At my mercy." I nip his collarbone hard enough to leave marks even through the fabric. "Mine, and don't you forget it."

I don't know exactly what I was thinking. To be completely truthful I never seem to do much thinking when Harry's around. But my body seems to be screaming, Jump Harry! and I happily comply.

I bite the underside of his chin right along his jawbone. "Mine." Oh, he's almost the same height as me and it's all too easy to force his legs apart. I press up between them, holding both his hands with one of mine, leaving the other to move freely underneath his robe. "My Harry."

"Yours..." He says it so quietly I almost don't hear it. Maybe he doesn't say it. But I like to think he did.

Harry makes me think of fire. It's so beautiful you can't help but want it. It'll hurt you, and you know that, but sometimes the price of pain is worth the pleasure. Or maybe it's the other way around. But still, Harry reminds me of fire, covering me in a thin sheen of sweat, making me hot and burning through me recklessly. He smells of wood smoke and dusk, tastes of shadows and warm summer air.

I'm barely breathing; I don't want to take the time to bother with something so insignificant right now. I let go of his hands, unable to control my need to touch him freely. I run my hand gently over his collarbone where I bit him a moment before. My mark upon him. He kisses me, hesitantly at first, then with increasing passion. God, yes. I wrap my hands in his hair, the darkest of colors made even more so against my pale skin. It's so beautiful. I can't believe I ever made fun of it. I wrap my fingers in its silken strands, thinking that if even Death wore Harry's face I would answer to it.

"Draco..."

I pull back, staring into that beautiful, beautiful face. Please...

"... we can't..."

I feel a surge of anger. Of course we can't. You mean you can't. You can't do this with someone like me. I'm good enough to talk to, good enough to be partnered up with now and then, but you can't kiss me except in the name of a lie. Try to deny it all you want Potter, but you want me as much as I want you. But not anymore. Oh hell, what was I doing anyway? I don't want you.

I push off of the wall violently. "We're going to be late to class." Thank the Gods my voice sounds normal enough. I think even Harry's surprised at that. Picking up my bag where I dropped it I unlock the door and step back out into the hall.

Until we see this eye to eye

I don't want you