The Ivory Tower

The Ivory Tower

Ivory Tower = state of intellectual isolation

Straddling a chair, Draco glared as, all too comfortably, Zacharias Smith nestled on a cushiony sofa across the room. The boy was a Slytherin at heart, but lacked intelligence at times. Unfortunately, as Crabbe and Goyle were proof of, this was not an uncommon trait in Slytherins.

But this did not include Draco. Or Pansy. Or Blaise Zabini. Or Theresa Nott. Or a number of other Slytherins Draco didn't count as friends or enemies but counted as allies. Allies in the quest for glory and respect. It had all begun during his second year. They had agreed to be united, to strive for their goals together, and to be undefeated, unforgiving, and merciless. They were intelligent, intellectual individuals. They swore to never give up, to face their fears, if ever came the time when they, Slytherins, had to admit to any.

Most important of all to Draco was that they, everyone, not just his Housemates, knew where he stood. It was impossible for Draco to do anything without paying his full attention to it, putting his all into doing the activity and doing it well, enjoying it with feelings so passionate and fierce that at times even his associates were intimidated. He only did so if he was sure it could not in any way be interpreted as weakness, of course. Emotions could, at times, in certain situations, be weak. Draco strived in every moment of his life to be anything but weak. No one ever saw him as weak. He was the strongest Slytherin.

Things were slowly breaking apart, though. As their sixth year neared the end of October, disagreement, questions, curiosity, and shame rose to a threatening high. Fights broke out among Slytherins. Backstabbing became even more common, as well as nosing into other's business. Draco supposed it could be because of the war, but still...he had trusted his Housemates, assumed that at least they, if anyone, would maintain control of themselves and not let other people, whispered secrets, rumors, or surreptitious glances defeat them.

His House was weakening. Yes, his House. Draco was the King of Slytherin. Snape was the Head of House, but lately he had been absent, busy spying and researching for Dumbledore. Besides, although the Slytherins respected and idolized Snape, Draco was their anchor, their strength, the one they were proud to let lead them, at times. Of course, there never really was one leader in Slytherin. It was a constant power struggle. But Draco was the one who had, throughout the years, remained confident, strong, and believed in them all the most. His followers stuck by his side faithfully, without betrayal or conflict. Lately, though, conflict had arisen, even among such close friends, if they could be called that, as Draco, Pansy, and Blaise Zabini.

Trying to push such thoughts away, Draco took another sip of his drink, wondering if it was possible to become so immune to alcohol--because of drinking too often--that it didn't affect him, or make him forget anything. That was his wish right now--to forget. But it was impossible. He wasn't even able to let go of reality for one second. It clung to him, just as trust had once clung to their group, the united Slytherins that were slowly breaking apart. Also the House itself was breaking into little cliques, betraying, making up rumors; Slytherins were being as nasty to each other as they were to other Houses, if not nastier. It took more to break the Slytherins' cliques apart than the House, even if it was the Slytherins doing the breaking.

Tonight was clubbing night, but instead of going to the Three Broomsticks as usual, many of the Slytherins stayed in the common room. A few sofas and chairs had been shoved out of the way to make room for a dance floor. The burning fire in the fireplace, as well as the green tapestry, made weird colors bounce from wall to wall, to transform Draco's Housemates into other beings. Sweaty bodies twisted and grinded against and around each other, flesh and the comfort of sweet obliviousness and drink pushing and tumbling and blurring them into a pack of visceral ferocity.

Nearby, Blaise Zabini was twirling around in a drunken attempt to keep dancing. Draco couldn't help but grin as, laughing hysterically, the boy finally gave up and sat on the floor. It had been two months since their argument on Hogsmeade visit day, and still no apologies had been given. Blaise was too stubborn to be the one to surrender and make peace. His mind was hardened against all onslaughts and he had an I-can-deal-with-anything attitude. And Draco was much too proud to even consider apologizing, but intelligent enough to know that the usual manipulation, bribery, blackmail, confrontation, fear, or ignoring-that-person tactics would not work. Draco found himself inwardly cringing with the knowledge that his friend had been miserable since the fight. At least Blaise was happy when drunk.

Draco swigged down the last drops of alcohol before slamming the goblet back down onto the table. Lips pursed, he stood and stopped momentarily to tighten his belt before leaving the common room. Attacks of lust-crazed girls often came when they thought him vulnerable, as most young men were when alcohol burned through their blood. The girls would pounce on him like rabid animals, and there would be heat and tangled limbs and clothing pushed and tugged and hands everywhere, all over him, grabbing, caressing. Of course, Draco only let them when he wanted it. But they still tried their hardest, using force if incensed enough. Usually that was when Draco found himself most often wondering where the fuck his belt had gotten to.

But not tonight.

Standing alone in the corridor, Draco closed his eyes, and listened. All was silent, not a whisper of air through the cold, dank dungeons. The world as he knew it was crumbling, and he had nothing to hold on to. But he would not weaken. Draco Malfoy would not accept defeat.

Suddenly, there was the sound of shoe against floor, and Draco quickly spun around. Grey eyes met with another pair of eyes, their hazel so bright they seemed to glow like diamonds. Draco narrowed his eyes. Diamonds, ha! Diamonds that cut and tore and promised nothing but pain and couldn't be controlled just as Draco couldn't give. No. Draco took. And here was Blaise Zabini, now surprisingly sober, standing before him, the only person who had ever dared to come back to Draco, even after the Malfoy had taken everything from him.

But Draco couldn't control Zabini, couldn't stop him from doing anything, from coming back and not giving up on Draco no matter what. It was impossible. Blaise saw through scheming plots, dodged revenge, and tipped his hat to Malfoy euphemisms as they flew past him only to boomerang back to Draco in an all too wounding fashion. The boy was unbreakable. Yet, he was also unfathomable to Draco, for although in intelligence and strength Draco didn't doubt their equality, the sarcasm Draco possessed and his ability to intimidate with a glance was lost on the ever-passive Blaise.

The Slytherin possessed a calm acceptance and quietness that made one suspect that he had devious intentions. And sometimes Draco thought that the hazel gaze could even pierce through his masks, rip apart his soul, and see every part of him wholly. If it weren't for the occasional snide comments, Blaise's obvious enjoyment in wicked activity and the morbidity to Blaise's silence, Draco would suspect Blaise to be a Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Blaise had a countenance more in sorrow than in anger. His ever-confident yet silent mood, his ability to merge with the shadows, and especially those almost impalpable movements, could actually shut the cruelly twisting lips of Draco Malfoy.

Immune to the entrancing hold of that fierce, penetrating stare, Draco's eyes flitted down, taking in the other Slytherin's absence of the uniform robes. He instead found himself looking at muggle clothing: a button-up sleeveless black shirt, and the accompanying black, slightly short trousers, with silver stripes going down each side. The green of the scarf around the boy's neck, Draco observed, brought out a certain glint in those eyes, and freshness to the black-brown shoulder-length curls and shaggy fringe. Then Draco's gaze flew up to notice Blaise's hands, fingers long and tapered, fiddling with a chain around his neck.

Breath got sucked in harshly through Draco's teeth. Dangling, coated with pretend innocence, on the silver chain, visible just above the unbuttoned, v-neck of Blaise's shirt, was an oval-shaped stone. Carved upon it, he knew from wistful yet hurtful memories, were the words Magna Cum Laude, which meant "with great distinction." It was the phrase Blaise and Draco had chosen as a symbol of their meaningful, forbidden, intense, and passionate past relationship, which had ended and begun with harsh silence and then harsh words, but had surpassed understanding and nearly reality during the harsh kisses and touches shared in the middle.

Just as Draco realized he had nothing to say, and no idea how to face the enigmatic, ever unpredictable Blaise, a telltale alarm ring sounded throughout the castle. Ever since the end of Fifth Year, there was a policy that, if ever the alarm bell rang, warning of danger or something important, all upperclassmen Hogwarts students--anyone ranging from Fourth to Seventh Years--were to rush to the Great Hall. Lower classmen were to go or stay in their common room and dormitories with their Heads of House.

Feeling an exquisite relief combined with a drowning, swallowing disappointment, Draco turned on his heel and promptly escaped to the Great Hall.

∫∫∫

DRACO'S POV

There was already a large crowd when Draco got there. Not taking time to sneer at Potter, Granger, or Weasley, he quickly slipped through a throng of chattering Fourth Years and went to stand with his Housemates. This was, he knew, of great importance. Either something horrible had happened, or war was finally crashing down on Hogwarts, or the Dark Lord was trying to snatch Potter again, or Dumbledore had to make an announcement.

Regardless of contrary belief, Draco was very dedicated to keeping others safe and avoiding the Dark Lord. His father's arrest the previous year had changed him. He never had wanted to be a Death Eater, and actually despised the Dark Lord. Before Voldemort, Lucius had been a strong man, firm in opinions and yielding to no one. It was with shame and anger that Draco greeted the news of his father's arrest, for he blamed Voldemort for corrupting his father. He had once idolized and admired his father, but the one time he had seen "the Master," and his father bowing before that sickly creature in reverence, it had revolted him to no end. He swore then to follow in no one's footsteps, and instead make a firm, inerasable track of his own.

So as he stood among his Housemates, waiting for Dumbledore to speak and for the noise to finally quiet down, he knew that he straddled the line. He was against the Dark Lord, but disagreed with many things Dumbledore and the Ministry believed. He was his own man, and stood alone, even when physically surrounded. As a Slytherin, he deemed himself allowed to make followers of his beliefs, and until recently, had been training and advising his 'subjects' smoothly. Nevertheless, he was isolated intellectually, for no one could understand his mind, and those who could were currently lost to him.

As if a button had been pressed, all went silent as Dumbledore stood up and lifted his wand to get their attention. Nodding, pleased, he sat back down, and addressed the upperclassmen student body.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have news for you all that is both good, and bad. As you all know, the war has been going on, fortunately outside of our precious castle walls. However, we have taken precautions. The Hogwarts Staff has been working diligently for the past two months. With help from prefects, Head Boy and Girl, and the Hogwarts Student Comittee, once the DA, we have mapped Hogwarts inside and out, improved the alarm bell, and made a few necessary new rules. The Committee's advice to myself and the Ministry concerning Hogwarts and other wizarding schools has been valuable. Also, they have somewhat united our Houses, due to being made up of three members from each House. In this time of tragedy and fear, I will tolerate no discrimination. We must work together to achieve victory.

"Everyone has contributed. I know this time is vexing, and often worry puts some of you on edge, but please do not let yourself panic. We are safe here at Hogwarts, and I am making sure that you are getting all the necessary needs for your education and health. Unfortunately, regardless of all this, I do have some bad news. Which would you like to hear first, the good news or the bad?"

The Hall was filled with noise again as cries of "Good!" came from most Hufflepuffs, while a third of the Gryffindors clamored for bad, Ravenclaws murmured in indecision, and Slytherins simply stared about in silence.

Raising his hands to quiet them down again, Dumbledore sighed, and said, "Alright. I will mix the bad and good together so you will all be satisfied. Firstly, the Ministry is now helping Hogwarts, and has successfully put some Death Eaters in their proper place." Here, Draco could almost swear that Dumbledore directed a subtle glance at him. He pointedly looked in the opposite direction, seething.

"But some of the Committee's valuable plans have disappeared, regardless of passwords being known only amongst me and the Committee members themselves. Their recent project is, I believe by some sort of curse cast on it, unable to do what the Committee made it to do. However, our protection is very strong and Severus Snape, our honored Potions Professor, is alive and well and soon will be returning from making the antidote to the Fonticulus Toxicum Sickness, which has been plaguing many students as of late."

Cheers erupted from the Slytherins upon hearing this, as well as some polite clapping coming from other Houses, mostly Hufflepuff. The Ravenclaws were forming a frenzied chat, already concerning themselves with the bad news, and a few Gryffindors looked a little less brave than usual, Draco noticed with a smirk.

Taking a small bow, Dumbledore then said, "You are dismissed," and walked away even as the many students tried to get out of the Great Hall before becoming swallowed up or separated from friends in the crowd. Leading a pack of Slytherins to the front, Draco successfully reached a corridor, other House members milling in and around the tight group the Slytherins made.

A loud shout of "Malfoy!" attracted Draco's attention, and he turned around to come to a stand still even as the Weasley boy charged towards him, unable to be held back by Harry. Huffing and puffing, Weasley stood across the corridor from Draco, powerless to get through the crowd to where Draco stood. Pointing an accusing finger at Draco, the redhead yelled, "It was him! He betrayed the Committee! He weaseled his way into it with bribery or blackmail, and now he's trying to do us in! Look at his slimy face, he's gloating that his plan worked! You bastard, Malfoy! I know you're the traitor, you pasty-faced Slytherin!" The hallways were silent. Dumbledore had not mentioned a traitor being the reason for the Committee's losses, but it had been implied, to those perceptive enough to figure it out.

Nothing stopped Ron, and he continued even louder than before. "We knew all along it would be one of you serpentine prats, Malfoy! You and your cronies planned this, but I see through you! I know you did it, I knew Slytherin House would betray us! You--" His further insult was cut off as his friends came up from behind him and dragged him away, a hand over his mouth.

But Draco stood in silence, anger pulsing through him, broiling in his veins, the Gryffindor's words ringing in his ears.

∫∫∫

HARRY'S POV

Harry sat down beside Hermione with a cushioned thump, sighing loudly. Brushing back a lock of hair, he yawned. With only he and Hermione in the room, and neither of them in the mood to talk, the silence was deafening. Hermione cleared her throat, the sound bouncing off the walls.

Laying his head back against a pillow, Harry said, "I just don't know what there is to do. Now that the project isn't working properly, and there's a traitor somewhere, there isn't much the Committee can do." He was pointedly avoiding the subject of Ron.

Hermione nodded, and for a few moments, there was complete silence besides the ever-continuing tick tock of the common room clock. Finally, unable to hold it in anymore, Hermione burst out, "And Ron! I can't believe him! Accusing Malfoy outright like that, how irresponsible! That's--" She was cut off as the portrait opened, and Ron walked in. Unnoticing of Hermione's irritated expression, he asked Harry to play a game of Chess, and soon both boys were absorbed in the game.

A while later, and Ron sat, gloating in silence after whoops of joy over his victory, which gave Harry time to go over some thoughts he'd had recently. It had all begun with Dumbledore summoning him to the office two days ago. Ever since last year, Harry often went to see Dumbledore to tell the Headmaster about recent dreams. Two nights ago, his dream had been not of Voldemort, but of remembrances of his fourth year, when Wormtail tied him to the tombstone, but most especially the snake Nagini. In the dream, he had been against the tombstone just as in his fourth year, but then the snake had turned to look him straight in the eye, and the cords binding Harry had fallen away. Then he had woken up.

Ever since then, Harry had been thinking back to his Sorting, and had even wondered whether he should try putting on the Hat again. When he glanced back to stare at the Hat during his meeting with Dumbledore, he had been expecting an answer, somehow, as if looking at the Hat would make it reply with an expression that would give him a sign. But it had simply sat there like any normal hat, and when he had turned back around, Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes were bright with curiosity, and the Headmaster had kindly asked Harry if the Hat had appeared in the dream at all. Shaking his head, and knowing Dumbledore had seen the intensity with which he had stared at the Hat, Harry had replied no.

A few hours ago Harry had been wondering, just playing around with scenarios in his mind, what it would have been like if he had been in Slytherin. But then he had quickly shoved the thoughts away. However, when Ron had so openly accused Malfoy like that, the thoughts came into Harry's head again, and he began to get curious.

Wanting a breath of fresh air, Harry grabbed his Invisibility cloak, ignored Hermione's warning that he was breaking the Committee rules about curfew and accompaniment, and rushed out of the common room.

∫∫∫

HARRY'S POV

The roar of many voices cheering met Harry's ears clearly even through the castle walls. Taking a deep breath, he stood by the area of wall he knew to be the entrance to the Slytherin common room, and waited.

Harry had decided, after some thinking, to go to the Slytherin common room and secretly visit. Everything was important, now that the war had begun. Any wrong move, or inattention, or misunderstanding could mean death and danger. It was okay to be overly cautious and paranoid, because Harry had to be in order to feel that he was contributing, that he was doing a good deed and looking after others, and not just sitting on his butt being the well-protected ever-brave Boy Who Lived. He wanted to be more than the stereotype hero people made him out to be. And if this meant prowling the corridors at night and seeing everything as a threat, then he had to do it.

Plus, he had been unable to hold in his curiosity, wondering if the dream and Nagini related to something that was about to happen in real life, as his dreams often did. They were symbols of reality, and he had been unable to ignore this one. Ever since the war had begun, Harry had been filled with a resolve to pay more attention to everything and everyone, fearing that if he didn't, some seemingly insignificant fact or words would slip his memory and cause a disaster.

He had been slightly distant as of late, caught up in deep thoughts and unable to pay attention to his friends or his studies that much. Hermione had confronted him once, suspecting depression, but Harry had simply explained that he preferred some time alone every day to think, and sometimes was too preoccupied with a new theory to pay attention to other things. He didn't want to get his friends involved in the things he thought about, although he didn't like to worry them, but sometimes the things he thought about and considered were things he suspected only he could understand, things that had too much depth and strangeness for him to be comfortable telling his friends about.

On the advice of Professor McGonagall, Harry had begun carrying a little notebook around in his pocket, in which he wrote down such things as ideas for the Committee, theories involving Voldemort and himself, dreams, plans, and other observations. He decided that now was a good time to start investigating the Slytherins. After all, Dumbledore had said he would like that each House becomes familiar with the other houses, and Harry had read in a book somewhere to know your enemy. So really, he thought to himself, I'm not doing anything bad by wanting to spy on--er, I mean observe--the Slytherins a bit, because I'm only doing what I was told, and following my instinct. Doing this hasn't always had bad results...

A few minutes later, and two Slytherin first years rushed down the corridor, and whispering the password so inaudibly that even Harry couldn't hear it, rushed into the common room. Harry managed to slip in just as the door was about to close and quickly flattened himself against a wall.

The atmosphere of the Slytherin common room was raging. Sofas and chairs were pushed aside to make room for a gigantic crowd, and drinks were being passed around. Many of the Slytherins raised their fists into the air, chanting words that, upon listening closely, Harry finally interpreted: "Hail to the king, hail to the king, hail to the king!"

Moving so that he was on the left side of the door, Harry moved closer to a makeshift stage, sliding along the wall to avoid bumping anyone on the edge of the Slytherin mass. Suddenly, all went silent, as, standing on a table, Draco Malfoy raised his hand to shush them, smirking as a great cheer of "Speech, speech!" rose up from the crowd, one member of whom was a very loud and flushed Pansy Parkinson.

As the room finally fell silent, Harry looked on, trying to squelch the anger that automatically flared up in him at the sight of his school enemy. He listened intently, feeling out of place but definitely intrigued and curious as Malfoy began to speak.

"My fellow Housemates, as many of you know, tonight, we have been assaulted. I have been personally assaulted. By a Gryffindor, no less." Boos rose up from the crowd, but were soon silenced as Malfoy continued. His tone was commanding, passionate, and firm. Harry couldn't help but listen with interest, his annoyance fading, as he scribbled notes down. Malfoy was the Slytherin leader what with Snape's absence, he supposed; any future plans of theirs or important words said would come from him. Whether he was writing down notes for spying purposes, to gather valuable information, or simply because he was intrigued, Harry wasn't quite sure.

"We have enemies. As Slytherins, we make enemies easily, and become enemies even more easily. We have lived with discrimination against our House for years. But now, the time has come where we must do something about it. They are against us. Who are they, you ask? Everyone! Dumbledore. The Ministry. The other Houses. We've been here just as long as everyone else and we will not leave unless we want to. They can't kick us out, they can't destroy us, and they definitely can't intimidate us! We are a group in ourselves, not just a House. We are a group because we have certain beliefs. Each individual Slytherin is as valuable to us as the next. We must remember the promises we made to each other. We must uphold our honor! I WILL NOT TOLERATE BEING UNJUSTLY ACCUSED! I didn't join the Committee in peace, but nor did I join it in enmity. I want revenge. I want respect. Not just for myself, but for all of you as well. We deserve as much as they do."

The room was silent, breaths held in awe, each Slytherin drinking up Draco Malfoy's words. His voice was honey coated, but the solidarity of his purpose was unbreakable. He stood as one undefeated, unquestioned, unchallenged.

"I don't care about being understood, about breaking rules, or what Dumbledore or the Ministry might say, nor do I want anyone's sympathy. They hate us, and that's fine with me. But I believe we have the right to be here just as much as them."

Draco's voice was filled with passion, his voice rising louder in vehemence with each sentence.

"If they think that being who we are makes us the scum of the world, if they think that everything we do is laced with ill intentions, that any unfortunate thing that happens is our fault, then they are WRONG! We must believe in ourselves, be united! Shun us, and they will not be satisfied, for we don't give a damn. But call us something we aren't, blame something on us in bias, and we will NOT forgive them! We are who we are, and they must learn to accept that. Deny us our rights, say unfounded accusations, and we will rebel as ONE!" He pumped a fist in the air as he said this, echoing shouts of "ONE!" filling the room.

Then his voice lowered to an awful, deadly serious tone sprinkled with possible threats to those who dared disagree. "There must be no disunity among us, for together, we can teach them a lesson. Dumbledore has attempted to influence us, to change our ways. But just because we are Slytherins does not mean we are in the wrong! We refuse to be changed, to be anyone other than who we are: Slytherins. Lately, there has been trouble among us--betrayal, conflict, and misunderstandings. I will not accept this. This is no way to run a rebellion, a group stolidly standing to say what they believe in, and sticking by it. A House divided against itself cannot stand! If we can't even trust each other, how can we expect them to trust us? They must trust us, in order for their wrongdoings against us to stop.

"I want to be able to be myself, to live my life the fullest I can, for every moment of every day! I refuse to stop being who I am just so that they can be comforted, so that they can try and make me one of them. We can be united, trust each other, crush them and find our glory, because WE ARE THE SLYTHERINS!!!"

Loud cheers filled Harry's ears, but he refused to listen anymore, was deaf to the world. Tucking his notebook away, he stumbled out of the common room, and once out, took a breath of fresh air, leaning so that his forehead touched the cool, soothing wall surface. He tried to get a hold of himself by breathing slowly, repressing the panting gasps that threatened to emerge from his throat.

What were the Slytherins going to do? What was Draco Malfoy planning? These thoughts pounded in Harry in the form of a headache as suddenly his privacy was intruded upon, and he quickly tugged his invisibility cloak back on. Apprehension, fear, anger, and shock were all jumbled up inside of him. Thinking seemed suddenly dangerous; he had so many thoughts to think.

Barging through the doorway of the Slytherin common room suddenly was Draco Malfoy, his stride determined and slow, the gait of a panther. Harry watched, eyes wide to catch every detail, as the young man went to lean against the wall, facing away from it, taking a swig from a flask at his waist. Another figure emerged from the shadows, hair unable to be classified as brown or black glinting in the dim light. Squinting, Harry recognized the person to be Blaise Zabini.

The two Slytherins stood a few feet apart, one resting against the wall, posture that of one fatigued yet still demanding respect, the other standing straight and tall, chin held high as if to state pride or determination, Harry didn't know which.

Zabini's voice, low and yet feathery light, almost feminine, was just barely audible, even to Harry's good ears.

"Brilliant performance, Draco. You've put spirit in them."

"Fuck off, Blaise."

Harry's brows crinkled in confusion. Blaise? Usually when Malfoy addressed him in public, it was as Zabini. And he barely ever spoke to the other boy in public. Why the sudden personal approach? Harry supposed that all the Slytherins were simply distant in public, but were more close to each other, more personal, in private. It made sense. But there was an underlying...something, in Malfoy's voice, Harry thought. As if there was more than a threat there, but some discomfort coming from something other than interruption of privacy. Harry couldn't pinpoint what this something was.

"Don't tell me to fuck off, Draco. I stole those Committee plans to help you and your rebellion!"

Harry watched Draco's reaction closely. To his surprise, the blonde's mouth twisted downward in anger, and his tone of voice became one of quiet fury. "How could that possibly help me? I want them to trust us and THEN for us to rebel, not to lose their trust even more! Besides that, you have no business poking your nose in my plans. Just because you had the privilege of being close to me before doesn't mean I'll regard you with the same respect now. You might have eavesdropped on my plans, but that doesn't mean you understand me or my plans. Don't try to help anymore, or you'll regret it."

Blaise said nothing. Instead, he moved closer, and even as Harry watched with wide eyes, the flask in Draco's hand dropped with an ear shattering clash to the floor as the taller Slytherin pushed his lips against the Malfoy's. A horror rose in Harry at the sight, stomach whirling, even as he found himself unable to look away. It was frightening and surprising, but only because he had not expected it; thoughts of such things had never crossed Harry's mind. He couldn't call it disgusting, because he had such little experience in the area that it didn't matter. Eyes riveted to the scene, he stood, frozen.

The kiss was fierce and demanding. Blaise's mouth pushed with untamed viciousness at Draco's, the suddenness and force of it emitting a low growl from Draco's throat. Grabbing his victim's wrists, Blaise slammed Draco back against the wall, twisting and shoving even as Draco tried to escape, to make meaning of the situation.

Then a tongue, hot and lustful, probed at Draco's lips. When the Malfoy refused to open that luscious mouth and let Blaise drink of the goods, a grind of hips against hips allowed the tongue entrance into the cavern of his gasping Housemate's mouth. Bodies pressed against each other, a harsh mixture of sweat and flesh and desire; the two morphed into one brutal, hungry, fearsome creature of pleasure and pain. Harry watched this creature with unchecked awe, his knees shaking so badly he was forced to sit.

Two tongues battled to win, one ever evading and slipping away, the other continuously searching, and diving to catch its prey. It seemed, at one point, that Blaise had the advantage, as he pressed harder against his opponent and managed to trap Draco's tongue with one delightful swipe. Everything was speed and dominance and insistency and the refusal to give in to the other, a swirling catastrophic frenzy of moments foreboding impending doom of some sort. But then it all slowed down, and with a vicious snarl from Draco, in a moment of weakness born from assumed triumph, Blaise was pushed away.

Harry's breath was held as he watched, the tension between the two Slytherin's rippling so palpably it was almost visible. Two gazes locked, intruding into each other's souls in unbridled fury. But then, leaping forward, Draco pounced upon Blaise like a rabid animal fighting against the polished proficiency of the hunter, and eagerly ravaged the other boy's mouth with his own. Harry wished he could see what they saw in each other's eyes, wished he could understand this confusing confrontation.

He became aware of his surroundings again as he heard steps coming closer and closer towards him. Even as he sank against the wall, his lungs about to burst from lack of breath, Blaise and Draco ripped apart from each other just in time, one disappearing into the common room and the other standing to greet the Potions Master as he rounded the corner.

Turning around, Harry walked back up the corridor, the voices of Draco Malfoy and Snape disappearing as he rounded the corner, submerged in deep thought. It took him quite a while to reach the common room, for he had already taken one step into an alien world that didn't belong to him. But it was too late to escape, and now he had to prepare to face either the demons of his enemy, or his own. Unfortunately, this was unknown to him, so the unexpected came as unexpected even to the Boy Who Lived.