Hidden

The following stanza is the theme for Part One of this fanfic and represents Harry's thoughts that apply to Draco:

He's the beautifullest

Fragilest

Still strong

Dark and divine

And the littleness of his movements

Hides himself

He invents a charm that makes him invisible

Hides in the air

Can I hide there too?

Hide in the air of him

Seek solace

Sanctuary

In the hidden place

--"Hidden Place"

From the CD "Vespertine" by Bjork

Drama, Romance

Written by The Ultimate Otaku/C.S. Bolte

HIDDEN

When indecision may cost them everything.

PART ONE

Prologue

"Aestuo pariter..."

The dream began as it always did. Darkness surrounding him, a suffocating feeling muffling each of his senses. His breathing, strained, came in loud, harsh gasps. Suddenly, once again, those words were uttered, and he knew a wand was pointed in his direction. But in the darkness he couldn't perceive whether it was pointed directly at him, or not.

And just as always, as soon as the spell was said and the wand disappeared, he was in water again, being pulled down by an unspeakable force, now with no gillyweed to help him as he had had on the Third task. Lungs desperate for oxygen, he furiously beat his way upwards, up through the water and towards the light.

Emerging from the cold water, he found himself half propped up on a rock, his legs still in the water. Crouching on the boulder, feral and sleek as a panther, was Draco Malfoy. His gaze, as always, piercing, locked with Harry's. Once again Harry felt himself drowning, but this time it was pleasant, because he knew sinking into that blue-grey gaze would not be fatal.

Then, it was as if a thousand mosquitoes began to swarm inside his brain; many twittering thoughts, jumbled and confusing, flew about. The fire of lust raged up inside him, uncontrollable and unlike anything before. Harry almost sunk back into the water, overwhelmed. Instead, however, he gave in to it.

Lunging upward, he grabbed Draco's face in his hands, and pulled the Slytherin towards him, burying his fingers in the fine, silk-like silver hair. His breathing ragged with desire, he then pressed his lips firmly to the other boy's, at once becoming lost in the sensation of those smooth lips against his own. The strong, sweet scent filling his nostrils and the delicious taste had just met his senses, as he pushed his lips harder, when suddenly, all became white. The kiss was beginning to fade away, like a remembered reality...

Harry sat up with a jolt, gasping for air. Black hair tickled his eyebrows; he was sure his hair was currently a hideous muss of chaos. Pale with exhaustion, he rubbed his itching eyelids, and slowly held up his trembling hands to stare at them, before lightly brushing a finger against his lips.

He sat there, mortified and yet at the same time fascinated by his dream. It had been the same for the past three nights. The days had crawled by slowly, with him pondering at the meaning of his dream, fearful and confused, trying his best to avoid Draco Malfoy.

He didn't know what was wrong with him, why he woke up from the same dream each night, not knowing if he, in the core of his heart, had truly despised the surreal experience. But the thought alone - that he might have enjoyed the kiss, made his cheeks burn with embarrassment, and he constantly had to reprimand himself for such outrageous thoughts.

Shivering, Harry lay back down, his breathing now normal. Clutching the blankets tightly around him, his eyes remained open. The rest of this night would be empty of sleep, that he knew.

Chapter One

Getting Pushed Around

Harry's stomach grumbled as he glanced over to see Crabbe and Goyle stuffing their faces full of Honeydukes candy. He groaned, bringing his attention back to his own table, as his stomach flipped again. And this time, the flip didn't have anything to do with staring at Malfoy.

Hermione looked up from her note scribbling, her brows furrowed, and, chewing on her quill absentmindedly, asked worriedly, "Harry? What's wrong?"

Ron turned towards him, slapping him on the back, saying, "Yeah, mate! We're at Hogsmeade! What could be wrong?" Harry jerked forward at the force of Ron's slap, the sudden movement making him feel as if he was going to puke then and there.

Groaning and cradling his stomach, Harry shook some hair out of his eyes, saying, "Ah, I had too much butterbeer and...ugh...Chocolate Frogs. Why'd you give me so many, Ron? I thought you'd eat them all."

Ron blushed, saying, "Sorry Harry, but there were so bloody many! I thought I'd eat 'em all at first, but...for a moment there, you, uh...looked too skinny for your own good!"

Harry chuckled at Ron's lame excuse, but then groaned as his stomach growled angrily at its mistreatment, and said, "Well, I certainly don't feel skinny now. I'm gonna go out somewhere and barf, kay?"

Ron helped Harry to stand up, saying, "I won't watch, but I'll come with you. Just in case that prat Malfoy decides to bother us. He hasn't so far today, and it's odd, so I don't want him to play some nasty trick on you while you're...uh...preoccupied."

Harry laughed, murmuring, "We'll be back in a minute" to Hermione before following Ron out the door.

Ron looked at him quizzically; in answer to his questionable laughter, Harry said, "Well, there is always the chance that he'd come at the wrong moment and I could decorate him with barf." Ron roared with laughter at this, and then quickly turned around as Harry ducked into an alleyway and began relieving his upset stomach.

"Ah, God Harry, can you be a bit quieter? I might feel like puking myself if you keep those disgusting noises up!"

Harry took a few breaths, saying, "Plug your ears, Ron."

He looked up as he spotted a flash of silvery hair, and then his eyes lit upon the Shrieking Shack, where a green-cloaked figure was walking inside. His eyes narrowed, as he suddenly felt as if an invisible force was pushing him towards the Shack now. Glancing Ron's way, Harry yelled over to him, "Hey Ron, this may take a while, I'll be pausing and then barfing again a bit later, so go on and hang with Hermione; I'll meet you guys at Zonko's Joke Shop in a bit, 'kay?"

"Aw, alright Harry, I guess so. But really, how long can it take to retch the stuff up?"

"Longer than the amount of times Professor Trelawney has predicted our deaths, Ron."

"Do you realize how much of a lot that's saying, Harry?"

Harry smiled. "Whatever Ron, just don't worry about me and go ahead. I won't be too long, promise."

"Alright then Harry, see ya soon."

Harry nodded, even though Ron couldn't see it, and said, "See ya." Then, he leant down again, arms bracing himself against the wall, mouth slightly open, his chaotic hair pointing every which way, some hanging in his eyes, as usual. He shook his head, patted his now silent stomach, confident that it wasn't unhappy anymore. He then walked towards the Shrieking Shack to follow the semi-mysterious person he'd been almost sure was Draco Malfoy.

-----*-----

Harry jumped as the stair creaked beneath him. This had been a bad idea. The Shack, although not currently shrieking and obviously normally uninhabited, was creepy. Trying to shrug it off he reminded himself that, heck, he'd been in the Chamber of Secrets, and that had been when he was only twelve! He continued walking upwards, unconsciously holding an empty bottle he'd found in a menacing position.

He sighed loudly as he reached the top of the stairs. Whoo, what a horrid staircase. He'd almost fallen at least twice, and when he'd sat down for a moment and put down his butterbeer bottle, it had clanked eerily in the vacant house; he almost swore he'd heard someone whisper.

Suddenly, he heard a snigger behind him, and whirled around, wide-eyed. Leaning against the doorframe as if the Shack was home-sweet-home, was Draco Malfoy, smirking at Harry arrogantly. Harry tried to ignore the furious beating of his heart, as he mentally smacked himself for his immediate remembrance of the kiss in the dream. He wondered how Draco could look so damn sexy while giving Harry that annoying smirk. Being unable to control his thoughts only worsened Harry's mood. The situation itself gave Malfoy the opportunity to banter him; adding in that Harry already felt sour and that made it only worse.

His blue-grey eyes flicking from Harry to the bottle raised in the air, Draco asked, "What are you planning to do with that, Potter? Hit me over the head with it so someone else can have an ugly scar?" A puff of annoyance floated into Harry's mind; why did Draco have to be so extremely difficult? Not once through all their six years at Hogwarts had they managed to have even one civilized conversation. And it was mostly--no all--because of Draco. Harry honestly wanted to speak to Draco on a non-argumentative basis, he wanted to do more than just talk, actually--but no, Draco just had to keep the enmity between the Slytherin and Gryffindor at its peak.

Sighing again, Harry lowered the bottle. There was no use trying to stop the arguing; if he didn't respond with an insult, Draco would look down on him even more--as a wimp. Harry said, "No, Malfoy, I wasn't planning to do that. I was thinking instead of stuffing you inside the bottle and giving you to Voldemort as a present the next time he walks into town--unless you already follow him around like a dog."

Draco smirked, saying, "Oh ho, so you suddenly accuse me of being a Death Eater, is that it? Well, with death trying to relieve your soul by trying to chomp your ugly head off your body, no wonder the combination of the words 'death' and 'eater' make you cry."

Harry, although he could care less about the insult, was sick of it all. He lost it. The final match had been drawn; he refused to stand for it anymore.

"Bloody hell Malfoy, this is such a waste of time! What do you get out of this? Do you get some sick thrill out of taunting me? You have such stupid reasons for it: I beat you in Quidditch, have better grades than you, and Gryffindor wins the House Cup?!"

Draco looked taken aback for a second, but then, stepping menacingly towards Harry, he snarled, "Mind your own business and keep your grubby little nose to your own grades, Potter! And yes, I do get a thrill out of taunting you; you're gullible, you're ugly, you're stupid, and you have dirty secrets up your sleeve. You make you all the teachers and the Headmaster treat you as their pet! But you're actually nothing but a conniving, bratty little freak!"

"When you have a dad like yours who shouts at you about your grades every Parent Visitation day, there's no way I can't hear about them! And to get a thrill out of taunting me with stupid, meaningless insults, and shouting threats at me you never end up doing...I don't know why you're not secretly crying to yourself about what useless, wasted crap your life is!"

Harry lost his hot anger as Draco glided up to him, and, with the Slytherin's pale face so close to his that he could feel the other boy's minty, hot breath, Harry stood, cornered, as Draco angrily stabbed a finger to his chest with each word he said, emphasizing it. "Don't--create--another--version--of--you--to--mess--around--with--me--in--my--dreams, Potter. I hate all versions of you as it is, the real you and the fake one, so don't go making this snobby Potter creep into my dreams as a third one!"

Before Harry could really comprehend what Draco's words meant, he was pushed through the balcony, causing it to break. He fell with a heavy crash to the dusty floor of the Shrieking Shack.