Drunk

Chapter 2

Realization

Something was wrong. He felt it in his stomach, twisting and squirming, making sweat start forming on his forehead. - Something was starting to change, he just didn't know what. He hadn't slept one hour since he woke up way too early this morning.

"Potter kissed me," he thought, trying to push way another memory of last night events. He scowled. Why couldn't he just forget it? Why couldn't he get over one little kiss? He had tried to tell himself over and over again, that it was Harry Potter who had been the one kissing him, Harry Potter his archenemy, his competent - and last but not least, a BOY! He hated himself for thinking about it, for playing the scene of red lips closing over his, over and over again.

"I hate him, he hates me, that's the way things are and will always be," he thought, making it a mantra to play in his head on a repeat.

Enemies. Archenemies. He was the son of a Death Eater, he was supposed to kill Potter some day - or at least - hand him over to the dark lord. He was supposed to follow in his father's steps, making his family proud. Soon the mark would be burned into his skin, sitting there on his arm and grin at him with black empty holes of eyes. That's why he shouldn't be thinking about Potter. This shouldn't matter at all.

But it did.

***

He was going to die.

He was sure of it.

Slowly, Harry opened his eyes, only to feel the bright light of the morning sun burn his eyes hot and unforgiving. He groaned in pain and closed his eyes quickly. It felt like his brain was trying to leave his cranium through his ears, everything was pounding and buzzing, making him moan in misery.

"Harry? Are you awake?" A smiling freckled face appeared from behind the curtains.

Harry hid his head under his pillow, croaking a half-hearted, "NO!" Ron grinned and took a seat on Harry's bed.

"People are talking about you, you know," Ron said. "Hermione is really mad at you, you were a complete arse to her!" Harry felt the guilt rise inside him. Ron was right; he had been a real prick. He had to apologize to her later. He ducked his head, looking fascinated at a drooling-spot on his pillow.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"You should probably save that for Hermione," Ron said, giving him a serious look. "How much Vodka did you even drink? I've never seen anyone that drunk before!" Harry thought about it for a few minutes. Then he shook his head.

"I don't really remember. I stopped counting after glass number 4."

"Wow," Ron said, looking at him amazed. "- Well, you better lift that lazy arse of yours, or you will miss breakfast." Ron handed Harry his glasses and waited for him to get dressed. They walked out of the portrait hole and walked down the stairs of the Gryffindor tower.

"So . . . what did you do after you left the Great Hall last night? Some first-years saw you stumbling down some corridor, but you never returned." Ron waited for Harry to answer, but Harry suddenly froze. A strange feeling of unease was starting to creep inside him.

"I . . . I actually don't remember, anything that happened after I left the party!" he said. Ron gave him a funny look. Then his eyes widened in realization.

"Are you serious? You really don't remember anything?" Harry frowned in concentration, trying to replay scenes from the party in his head. He gave up with a sigh and shook his head.

"There's nothing. I must have passed out, in some hallway, everything seems blurred." They continued walking in silence. Harry was walking around a corner, but suddenly found himself lying on the floor, feeling the weight of a heavy body, pinning him onto the cold stone.
"What the fuck!" Harry looked up . . . and directly into the eyes of his archenemy. He suddenly got the weird feeling of Deja vu, when he saw those cold grey eyes widen in shock. "Do you mind getting off me, Malfoy?" Harry asked, placing his palms at Malfoy's chest, to push him away.

At the moment Harry's palms touched Malfoy, the boy made a strange sound, almost as a whimper. Harry felt dizzy with disbelief as he felt something hardening against his tights. "Oh my god," he choked as he realized what was happening to Malfoy. The boy was aroused. Malfoy was getting aroused, by being on top of him. Harry thought that even if Snape walked pass them this very minute wearing a pink thong and singing a muggle pop-tune, it wouldn't be more grotesque than this.

"I'm . . . It's not that . . . uhm . . . fuck!" Malfoy's face was bright red, and he looked like he was about to throw up any minute. Malfoy let go of him and quickly got to his feet. He stood there for a while, looking down at Harry with an unreadable expression. Then his eyes hardened and his face twisted into a furious grimace.

"I swear Potter," he spat. "If you ever tell anyone about this, I will make your life a living hell! Do we understand each other?" Harry didn't seem to be able to speak, so he only nodded quickly, not wanting to see Malfoy getting more upset than he already was. Malfoy gave him another suspicious look. Then he turned around and disappeared around a corner.

Ron helped Harry to his feet and looked after Malfoy curiously. "What was that all about?"

Harry who could still feel his cheeks burn, was glad Ron hadn't seen Malfoy's... accident and shrugged:

"I have no idea."

TBC