“Get your hands off me, Malfoy. You don’t scare me ... I know what you did and I can get you expelled. Let’s see how your father reacts to that …”

The taunt rang in his ears, even weeks later – haunting his every waking hour. He bided his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity. One night, the perfect opportunity presented itself.

Years of stealing around Hogwarts after curfew had given him the advantage. He knew the right places to hide as he stalked the other boy through the darkened corridors. Before long, they reached a deserted stretch.

He watched impassively as the boy stood by the railings, waiting for the staircase to change. The staircase swung closer, stone grinding against stone. He narrowed his eyes, body tensed. The railings slid aside, and he decided to make his move.

There was a startled scream, abruptly cut short by the sound of something slamming with a sickly thud some distance away.

He peered over the railings, a cold, humourless smile fixed on his face.

Satisfied with his handiwork, he disappeared into the shadows. He did, after all, had an appointment to keep.

Draco jerked backwards as someone clamped a forearm under his chin and held him with irresistible strength. His hands flew up instinctively, clawing at his unseen assailant. Nails raked on skin, and he gave a strangled gasp as the arm tightened across his throat, cutting off the air. His feet scrabbled furiously, unable to find purchase on the flagstones as he was dragged into an empty room.

He grimaced painfully as he was slammed against the wall. His breath caught as unseen hands grabbed at his collar, yanking him upright. His hands flew to his throat, and he lashed out wildly, his foot connecting with something solid, but the grip upon him did not loosen.

“Damn you,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Quit playing games. Show yourself, you bastard.”

Something fluttered in the darkened room, and he found himself face to face with his long-time rival. The fury behind the green eyes chilled him, and for a moment he was left speechless. Then anger overcame him, and he lashed out wildly; but his wrists were trapped in a vice-like grip. He sank to the ground as Harry twisted his arm behind his back.

“Bastard,” he spat, as pain lanced up his arm. He grunted as Harry pinned him against the wall. “Let go of me.”

“No chance, Malfoy.” Harry’s voice was low, the menace unmistakable. “I know what you did to Colin Creevey.”

“Potter,” Draco said, his tone mocking, despite the pain. “What the hell are you talking about?”

The grip on his arm loosened, and he was flung onto his back. He fell awkwardly, his skin scraping against the rough stone, drawing blood. He hissed as a sharp pain shot up his elbow. Anger bloomed like a blood red cloud before his eyes. He scrabbled for his wand, but before he could move Harry pinned him down on the floor.

Harry stared at the prone boy, his eyes devoid of emotion. Suddenly, Draco felt very afraid. He bucked, trying to lodge Harry off him, but Harry merely tightened his grip and studied him silently. The air between them seemed to have frozen.

“You pushed Creevey off the staircases. That was no accident, was it Malfoy?” A statement, not an accusation.

Draco gave a hollow laugh. “Really? Blaming me for his clumsiness? That’s insulting, Potter.” He gritted his teeth as he tried to twist away, “Get off me, Potter.”

Harry pressed his forearm under Draco’s chin. “You pushed him just when the stairs was changing.”

Draco laughed, a harsh rasping sound. “Prove it, you bas –”

A sharp pain silenced him, cutting him off mid-sentence. His hand flew to his lips, and came away bloodied. Harry rubbed his knuckles, his green eyes boring impassively into Draco’s.

“You took my cloak without my permission. You stalked him, and then you pushed him,” Harry said quietly. “I saw you, Malfoy. That was why you were late that night.”

Draco lowered his eyes, unable to hold Harry’s chilling gaze. The blood tasted like tin on his tongue. “Exacting revenge on behalf of the Gryffindors, are you?” he spat out, “Famous Harry Potter, upholder of justice.” He gave a hollow laugh. “Why don’t we do this right? At least close the door before you dispense your justice. It’ll be awful if someone is to walk in and find their hero beating another student up, won’t it? Let’s not tarnish your reputation, eh Potter?”

“Why would you care about my reputation, Malfoy?” said Harry, his eyes gleaming dangerously. “But if you insist …”

He raised a hand, and gestured towards the door. It slammed shut with an echoing thud.

Something flickered in Draco’s eyes as a memory struggled to the fore of his mind. Harry could do wandless magic when he was scared or angry. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he felt Harry’s hand closing on his throat.

“Going to kill me, Harry?” Draco whispered.

Harry moved closer and looked into his eyes. “Why, Draco? Why did you do it?” said Harry, his voice shaking slightly, but his grip steady. “I saw you.”

“You’re bluffing,” Draco hissed. The grip on his throat tightened.

Harry smiled mirthlessly, “Guess what? I saw you too when you sneaked into the hospital wing to place that memory charm on him.”

Draco stared at him, and then his eyes clouded in anger. Harry studied his face intently, looking for the slightest giveaway. He knew what he saw – he had been examining the Marauder’s Map, tracking Draco’s activities. Draco had showed up on the map, even though he was wearing his Invisibility Cloak. And when Draco had arrived in his dorm much later, the blond had doggedly hidden his hands in his pockets – no doubt to prevent Harry from seeing how badly they were shaking.

“You’re bluffing,” Draco repeated, his eyes darting sideways. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, as he tried to dislodge Harry off him.

“Creevey could have died. Did you even stop to think?” Harry pressed closer; their faces barely inches apart.

Draco laughed, a hoarse, mirthless sound, “Last time I checked, he was still alive –” He broke off, and grimaced as a slap stung his face. “Don’t worry, Harry. Your devoted little admirer’s still around to worship the ground you walk on.” Draco said bitterly.

“Admirer? What the hell that’s all about?” Harry stared at him impassively.

“You heard me.”

“Rubbish.”

Their eyes met. “I saw the way he looked at you. It disgusts me.” Draco smiled, but there was no humour in his expression.

“What?”

“Don’t pretend to be blind. Oh wait, has that bloody scar finally scrambled your brains?” Draco sneered.

Harry tightened his grip on Draco, confusion and anger fighting to gain the upper hand. “Keep talking,”

“You are stupid as well as blind,” Draco snorted derisively.

Harry sat up, a flicker of comprehension dawning. “You’re … jealous?” He stared at the prone boy incredulously. He moved his hands away from Draco’s throat.

Draco rubbed his neck slowly.

“I don’t deny it,” he said, very quietly. “But you’d never understand --,”

“Try me,” Harry challenged, his hands returning to grip Draco’s forearms.

Suddenly it was very quiet.

Draco shifted uncomfortably and lowered his eyes so that he didn’t have to look at Harry’s penetrating gaze any longer. The seconds lengthened, and still Draco avoided his gaze. Harry edged a little closer, his face blank, as it always become when he tried to hide his emotions.

And then it hit him – he understood.

“Creevey wasn’t the first either, was he? There was Zabini, Ginny – ”

Draco’s eyes veiled themselves.

“I never touched Zabini,” Draco finally spat. “You know that. He got into that fight by himself. Too bad he got messed up; should have judged his opponents more carefully.”

Harry gave a dry laugh, “You set him up, Draco. A cunning person like you would never stoop to get his hands dirty. Not when you could get someone else to take the blame.”

Draco gave a derisive snort.

Harry arched an eyebrow, and said quietly, “I don’t give a damn about Zabini. He probably deserved it, but why?”

“It’s Slytherin business. Keep your nose out.”

“Lame excuse. I bet you were the one who broke Ginny’s arm too,” Harry looked at him darkly. “What did you do this time? Polyjuice yourself into someone else and attack her?” He watched Draco’s face carefully, looking for any minute giveaway.

Draco made a startled movement. “Prove it,” he sneered, but looking worried. Harry hadn’t realised how close he was at guessing the truth.

Abruptly, the grip on his arms disappeared. Harry stood up and wiped his hand on his trousers, a look of utter loathing on his face. A pause; then softly, “You disgust me.”

He turned on his heels and walked away.

Draco’s face twisted with fury. He sprang up, blocked Harry’s way and shoved him, hard, and watched in surprise as the other boy staggered back. “Damn you,” he snarled, anger coursing through his body. “Don’t you dare walk away from me!”

He lunged forward, all magic forgotten; all he knew was that he wanted to hurt Harry as badly as he could. He ceased to care if he got hurt in return. His fist lashed out, and he grinned inwardly with satisfaction as it collided with the side of Harry jaw and they fell, backwards, onto the floor.

He clung to Harry, raised his fist and punched every part of Harry he could find. A hand closed around his throat, and squeezed; and he yelped in pain as Harry’s head smashed into his nose, hard. Blood flowed freely down his face. Draco’s vision blurred from pain and anger; he lunged at Harry, but the boy twisted out of his grip. He grunted as Harry hauled him by his collar and slammed him onto a low table.

A flash of silver glinted in the light, and before he knew it, before he could twist aside, the blade of Harry’s penknife skimmed by his ear, barely inches away from his head. The blade vibrated as it embedded itself into the table top.

Draco stiffened, his eyes widened in shock.

“Don’t make me angry, Draco.” Harry said very quietly. He stared coldly at Draco, then without warning, jumped nimbly astride him. His hand closed on the handle of his knife. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Fucking liar. Admit it, you want to.”

“I am not giving you that satisfaction.”

Harry didn’t look it, but he was fast. Before Draco could retort, he had grabbed both Draco’s arms and pinned them above his head. The blade flashed once again, and Draco squeezed his eyes shut. Suddenly, he was very afraid.

There was a dull thud, as metal made contact with wood, and Harry sat up. Draco twisted his arms, but he couldn’t move them. He arched his neck, and saw, to his horror, the blade embedded in the small space between his wrists. Harry had pinned his sleeves together with the blade. He cursed and struggled furiously.

Harry loomed over him, a look of utter frustration etched on his face.

“Last chance, Draco,” Harry said flatly, looking straight at him.

Sweat trickled down Draco’s forehead, blurring his vision. His chest rose and fell erratically, and he struggled to maintain his composure. He turned his face away, and fixed his eyes firmly on the wall.

When Harry saw that Draco was not going to answer, he went on in a bitter voice.

“Give me a reason why I shouldn’t turn you in to Dumbledore.”

Draco bit his bottom lip, as he was wont to do when nervous or agitated. The silence was stifling; he could hear nothing but the overloud sound of his heartbeat thumping. He forced himself to relax.

He became acutely aware of Harry’s weight on his legs, and Harry’s hand planted on each side of his head. He inhaled deeply and said hoarsely, “Zabini found out … he threatened to tell my father about – ,” Draco trailed off, suddenly unsure. He risked a glance, and then lowered his eyes quickly. “ – us.”

Harry gasped sharply, and a cold prickling started on the back of his neck. He gripped Draco’s shoulder, urging him to go on.

“Ever considered the repercussion, Harry?” Draco’s voice was soft, almost gentle.

Harry shook his head before he could stop himself.

“I thought not.” Draco said flatly. He looked up at Harry. Their eyes met. “Father would get you expelled on some ridiculous charge; and tell me, who would protect you outside Hogwarts? You’ll be dead before the week is out. No, let me finish — ,”

Harry shut his mouth with a snap.

“ — the Dark Lord is after you, and his minions will kill you on sight. Are you so stupid and eager to die?” Draco looked at him, his face a mixture of pain and frustration. Then very softly, “What would I do without you?”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise at these totally unexpected words. He opened and closed his mouth several times. He seemed to have lost the ability to talk. His fingers dug convulsively into Draco’s shoulder, as if the very act was his anchor to reality. Draco smiled bitterly, his eyes gleaming wetly in the dim light.

“What would I do without you, Harry?” Draco repeated. He looked away and squeezed his eyes shut, determined that Harry would not to see him broken. Not like this. Draco kept his eyes shut, forcing the bitter tears away. He felt a sharp, sick swoop of frustration in his stomach.

At long last Harry believed him. He felt empty and deflated as his anger ebbed away, to be replaced swiftly with concern. Draco had ceased struggling; there was a strange expression on his face. He appeared unexpectedly frail and vulnerable.

Draco tuned out the room and closed his mind. Let it come, he thought. Let me know once and for all.

And then a hand was brushing his face – slowly, gently. Then Harry’s hand was cupping his jaw, warming his skin.

“What you did was wrong,”

“I know.” Draco finally answered, his voice vague and troubled.

“Then why? Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Harry quietly.

“I don’t know.”

“What if someone else found out what you’ve done?” Harry gripped his chin firmly, forcing him to look into his eyes. There was a note of distress in his voice now. “Did you stop to think about it?”

Draco lowered his eyes, as his chest tightened painfully. He shook his head, and turned his face into his arm, unwilling to look at Harry any longer. He felt invisible claws tearing into his heart, as remorse threatened to crush him. Reason and emotion were a separate matter; his blind jealousy and insecurity had driven him to his actions. Harry would hate him now, and he deserved every iota of Harry’s revulsion.

Then, Harry was calling his name, softly – pulling him back into reality. “I don’t want to hurt you, Draco. You are precious to me.”

Harry reached up and pulled out the penknife from the table and hid it somewhere on his self. He slid off the table and turned his back towards Draco. He ran his fingers through his hair, and his hand came away bloodied. There was a cut on his forehead where Draco had hit him. He was aching all over, and the worst agony was in his heart. Harry closed his eyes and tried to block the pain that was gnawing his insides like acid.

Hot tears prickled at the back of his eyes, and before he could stop them, before he could blink, his vision blurred and the tears splashed wetly on his shoes. Nothing he did could stem the flow, he clenched his fists, nails digging painfully into his palms.

Draco lay staring at the ceiling for long moments. He waited for the footsteps to start; for Harry to walk away, to walk out of his life. Minutes passed in absolute silence. He sat up slowly and saw Harry standing, still as a statue, barely ten feet away from him. Harry’s head was bowed, arms hanging limply by his sides, his shoulders sagging in dejection.

Remorse overwhelmed Draco, he couldn’t bear seeing Harry that way. He put his arms around his shoulders, hugging himself as if to protect his heart from any further pain.

“I’m sorry,” Draco’s voice shook. A tear coursed down his cheek, and he pressed his face into the heels of his palm, trying to will the tears away. What he had feared most would now happen; Harry would walk away, taking along with him all his hopes and happiness, leaving him an empty, emotionless husk.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, his voice breaking.

Draco buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t stop the howl of misery that was threatening to rip through his chest. His body convulsed as tears racked his body. Images flashed behind his eyelids – Creevey’s scream of terror as he fell through the empty space, Ginny’s bewildered eyes as he broke her arm, the blood swirling with the water as he washed his hands repeatedly, trying to scour the guilt, the physical evidence … Harry holding him, whispering endearments, smiling contentedly as their limbs entwined protectively around each other.

And then, Harry was by his side, pulling his hands away, gently, and without warning embraced him fiercely. Draco choked back a dry sob, half-paralysed with relief. He raised his arms and wrapped them hesitantly around Harry, his face buried in the other boy’s chest. Draco gave in to his emotions, perhaps for the first time in his life.

Harry held him tight, crushing him against his chest as he vented his misery. A hand stroked his hair, even as Harry whispered soothing words in his ear. He clutched at Harry, hard, unwilling to let go, even after he had cried himself into exhaustion.

Finally he pulled back. His eyes stung, and his nose was swollen – he must look a mess. Draco stared at the floor resolutely, not daring to look at Harry. Then Harry was kneeling before him, looking up into his face. He brushed Draco’s fringe off his forehead, studying him in the soft light, and their eyes locked.

Draco recoiled as he saw the telltale streak of tears on Harry’s skin. Harry held out his hands and reached for him and pulled him gently. He slid down to the floor, and moved closer, until their knees bumped together. Harry tugged his hands urgently, and he shifted onto the boy’s lap, melting into the circle of his arms.

“Did I hurt you?” Harry whispered, his gaze fixed upon Draco. His hand brush gently against his jaw, and Draco leaned into the touch, brushing his lips against the palm.

Draco nodded mutely. No more games. They were through with playing games.

“Yes … but I deserved it.”

Harry looked at him, and then quietly. “Forgive me.”

Draco shook his head. “No, it is I who should seek your forgiveness.” He placed a finger on Harry’s lips, cutting off his protest. “I should have never doubted you, or let my jealousy and insecurity blind me. But I did,” A pause, then softly, “I’m sorry.”

He turned his face away, as fresh tears threatened to spill.

“Draco –,” Harry hugged him tightly. He interlaced their fingers and kissed him gently.

Draco freed his fingers and clasped both his hands over Harry’s. He ran his thumbs slowly over Harry’s knuckles, and then bowed his head and pressed his lips against the back of Harry’s hands.

Time stood still, or so it seemed.

After what felt like a lifetime, Draco looked up and pressed their foreheads together, until all he could see was Harry’s eyes. Then he let go, his hands moving down Harry’s sides, before coming to a rest on his hips. He looked at Harry in half-apprehension and half-hope.

He edged closer and brushed his lips tentatively against Harry’s. He murmured something, but Harry heard only the words, “I wish …”. Harry knew from the tightness of his shoulders, the hammering of his heart, that Draco was still afraid.

Harry pulled back and cupped his face. He gazed upon Draco, tenderly. He kissed his brows and stroked his hair, tucking in a stray lock behind his ear. The tension left Draco, and he relaxed against Harry. Harry shut his eyes, and held him protectively.

Possessively.

“Love,” Harry said, using the word lightly, as a name rather than a vow.

Draco pulled back, startled.

“If you fall, I’ll fall with you. I will not let you jeopardise yourself without sharing the risk.” Harry pledged, his tone serious.

Draco’s eyes widened; he could only nod mutely, words failing him utterly. Harry kissed him on the mouth, and let it develop slowly. Draco kissed him back, their tongues flirting with each other, and when they broke apart, Harry held his eyes – not searching, not forcing – but opening up to him, to give him his confidence.

“Let’s go,” Harry said finally, reluctantly releasing his hold.

Draco nodded and slid off his lap. Harry stood up and held out his hand. He pulled Draco to his feet, brushed the fringe off his brows and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips. Draco smiled at last, taking his hand.

Together, they departed from the room, their heads bowed, their hearts racing, and their minds heavy with thoughts of the future.

But as of now they have each other.

And it was enough.

* * *

End of part 2

© Zed Adams Possession, Obsession & Mine Cycle
Started on: Sunday, 30 March 2003 Completed: Sunday, 27 April 2003 2:34 AM

Footnote: Each segment can be read as a stand alone.

Part 1: Possession Part 3: Mine

Feel free to review: Love it? Hate it? Can’t be arsed? Let me know