Irresistible Poison

Please make sure you've read IP13 before you read this.

This interlude is a partial songfic to "Give You Back", by Vertical Horizon (incidentally it played on the pilot episode of Alias). I also realised how much the song lyrics fits Harry and Draco's situation now. You can listen to the song as you read this (right-click the link to download).

This interlude is fully integrated into the IP canon and leads into the final chapter, although there are technically no spoilers for IP14. It traces the thoughts of Harry and Draco right after the cruel IP13 kiss, and makes up for the intentional lack of Draco POV in IP13 with a glimpse into his mind.

In case anyone's wondering, that isn't Dan Radcliffe or Tom Felton in the pic. It's actually a touched-up photo taken from a movie called "The Edge of Seventeen" — rather appropriate for our two favourite boys. Captures quite remarkably I think Harry and Draco look like, and how I imagined the IP13 kiss to be.

Thanks to Slightlights and Minx, my beta-readers.

This is dedicated to Mabelyn (aka Tara)... thanks for being you.

---

I need to know if you were real
'Cause I've been known to get it wrong
When the memory comes
I'll say I'm always in the dark
You got me now

Harry didn't even hear Draco's retreating footsteps. The other boy trod so lightly that he made no sound, and the only thing Harry could feel was the silent withdrawal, and the aching cold that rushed in to fill the void where passion and hope once were.

The shadows swirled in mocking serenity, although they scattered as they neared the broad swath of light from the Slytherin corridor that cut into the darkened classroom. Draco had not closed the door when he had left, and the column of dusty brightness stood solemnly, unwavering amidst pillars of hooded shadow.

He had been so stupid.

Hermione had been right. What had he expected to come out of this meeting, anyway? Truthfully — nothing. But somehow, Draco had managed to shatter expectations Harry never even had, by finding new ways to twist the knife without even sinking the blade.

So he was wrong about Draco. It wasn't the first time.

A draught of cold air curled around his neck, caressing his skin with its chill fingers. Harry unconsciously touched his hand to his throat, a gesture that had recently become almost habit, to make sure that the ring hadn't slipped off without his notice.

But it wasn't there. Harry's fingers slid over bare skin, and it felt... empty, as if something were missing. It was strange how he felt such an immense sense of loss over something that he had never even owned in the first place. Something that symbolised the burden that had been thrust upon him,  which had wrecked every aspect of his life — Quidditch, studies, sleep, concentration, and worst of all, his friendship with Ron.

Then why did it still hurt so much?

Because he truly cared for Draco. Harry couldn't bring himself to even think the word love. Somehow that blond Slytherin held a place in Harry's heart that Harry never even knew existed, until now. Until he had lost it.

Harry felt his cheeks flush with mortification as he thought of the way Draco had kissed him only minutes ago. How he had responded to Draco's ravishing, losing himself in the kiss as everything else melted away in the heat of the moment. And then how Draco had jerked away, and calmly rejected him with a swift, killing word: "Nothing."

Draco had humiliated him, deliberately. He had manipulated Harry's feelings, stripping away his defences before delivering the coup de grace. Draco had drawn him into a helpless moment, and then cruelly mocked his weakness.

But wasn't that what he had done to Draco, as well?

The realisation made his insides coil. Harry sank back, lost in the haze of memories, which shimmered yet remained vivid like northern lights against a velvet night sky — and he was struck by the bitter symmetry of it all.

He had humiliated Draco by placing the handcuff upon him. A handcuff marked with his own name, branding Draco as his own. Even though he had meant it in part-jest, Harry remembered the shattered look in Draco's eyes, filled with pain but not quite hatred. And in a way, he had manipulated Draco's feelings, even though he hadn't meant to — during the Quidditch game, for instance. The memory of Draco's bloodied accident chilled him.

So many times before, he had drawn the Slytherin into moments of helpless anguish and yearning, so that Draco could not respond any other way than to kiss Harry, no matter how Draco tried to resist the attraction. Then Harry had mocked Draco's weakness — not with words, but with flat rejection. Like when he had turned away from Draco's kiss, during those moments stolen from Transfiguration class.

Harry closed his eyes, and leaned back against the cold hard wall. That shadow-lit memory seemed like eons ago. He felt a wave of gnawing pain wash through him, as the knife twisted deeper than he ever imagined — leaving a trail of defeat and regret bleeding in its bitter wake.

Maybe he deserved what Draco had done to him.

Quid pro quo.

And maybe he didn't deserve Draco after all.

* * * * *




I can't remember how it went
You looked like everything I wanted
And as you came along
Slowly everything began to change
I got you now

Draco walked quickly, and the cool air wafting from the dungeon stung his skin like snowflake kisses. But even in the chill of winter, his mind was clear as a cloudless summer day, washed clean like a sky after rain. It felt surreal.

Over the past couple of weeks, he had been so immersed in his dependence on Harry that being able to hold his own again felt strange, like a new skin that didn't quite fit. Of course, he'd quickly get used to being back to status quo with Harry. After all, that was what he had wanted all along.

Draco had known that it would only be a matter of time before Harry sought him out in private, and he had been carefully considering exactly how he wanted it to turn out. And the encounter with Harry had gone perfectly, just like he'd planned. As he strode away from the classroom where he had left Harry, Draco felt alert, poised, more in control of his faculties than he remembered having been in a long while.

And he liked it. The sense of power that he had regained rushed like adrenaline in his blood, invigorating him, making him feel as if everything were normal again. That he owned himself once more. He didn't need anyone else now.

He didn't need Harry.

And Draco had just demonstrated to Harry, in unequivocal terms, that he was in control now, and that he could conjure any beautiful illusion he wanted to, and shatter it at his own will. He should be proud of himself.

But he wasn't.

I need to know if you were real
I'd hate to think that I'd been fooled again
And as the vision fades
I'll say I was blinded by your eyes
I felt them burn

Draco realised that he was gripping his mother's ring so tightly in his palm that its smooth, curved edge had imprinted arced grooves in his flesh. He slowed his step slightly, and inspected the ring. Amethyst shimmered, and emerald eyes glittered back at him, winking in the dim light of the torches ranged along the walls leading toward the Slytherin dungeon.

Emerald eyes.

Draco had seen such pain in them, such wretched desolation, as Harry had stared back at him in disbelief before he slowly removed the ring and returned it. Draco had completely not expected that sort of reaction from Harry — but he had steeled himself to show no emotion.

Draco had no idea when things had changed, but he could sense the shift in the delicate balance between him and Harry. Although Harry wasn't the only one who was different now. He was, too.

Draco had not even spared Harry a backward glance as he left the classroom. The truth was that he couldn't bear to. And the complete lack of genuine satisfaction and gloating on his own part was puzzling, even disturbing. Hadn't he made a career of snatching victory from Harry Potter, and feeling nothing but glee each time he saw Harry stumble? That had been as conclusive a victory as he could dream of — watching the splintering of raw emotion in Harry's eyes, as the other boy bowed his head in quiet surrender.

But Draco felt no joy, only a lingering wistfulness that things had to end this way. It seemed neither of them had emerged from the love potion fiasco unscathed.

But there was nothing else he could do. It couldn't end any other way. There was too much involved now, and Draco wasn't going to risk losing more than he'd already let go of. And after he had been liberated from the love potion, he'd made a promise to himself — to never be so vulnerable to anyone. Never again, not in this life, would he make the same mistake twice.

Draco closed his eyes, and tried to let the memories burn.

~~~

In response to numerous queries: IP14 will be the last chapter, where we'll find out
how things are resolved... and in the meantime, leave a review before you go. Thanks.