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The problem was that now, after he’d stunned his stalker, Harry wasn’t sure what to do. He tilted his head as he looked at him. His body was frozen; his eyes, however, were focused on Harry. Focused and scared. That wasn’t Harry’s intention, but what was he supposed to do when he found out his stalker was none other than Draco Malfoy?
Malfoy, who, despite what everyone else told him, Harry knew was responsible for all the weird things happening at Hogwarts. He didn’t need Hermione’s wits to know that it was Malfoy who cursed Katie, Malfoy who had tried poisoning Dumbledore. Finding out he’d been stalking him for the past weeks – Harry knew he was up to no good. Harry had no intention of becoming his next victim.
He needed answers. This was his chance to get the truth – once and for all. He had him at his mercy, and he had the means. Harry reached inside his pocket and felt for the little vial that rested there. A wave of his wand and ropes shot from its end and wrapped around Malfoy and the chair. Another wave and they tightened, ensuring Malfoy’s captivity. Even without moving a muscle, Malfoy somehow managed to show Harry his hatred; he was practically radiating . Harry ignored that and walked over to take Malfoy’s wand.
Malfoy was dangerous. He’d attempted murder, more than once. He was a Death Eater – Harry didn’t care what his friends said about him being too young – he knew that if he pulled on that sleeve, he’d see that disgusting Mark .
He pocketed Malfoy’s wand and took a step back. He then pointed his wand at him and cast the counter spell. The ramification was immediate.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Potter?” Malfoy spat at him. He tried to sound authoritative, which was somewhat impressive, considering the situation; but fear still lined his voice.
“Getting a confession, Malfoy,” Harry replied. It took all of his power to control his voice and prevent it from showing the tension he felt. It all seemed so simple in theory: catching his stalker, demanding answers. However, theory was one thing; actually doing it: having Malfoy at his mercy like that, seeing that scared look in his eyes… that was a whole different matter. But he’d already gotten this far.
“A confession?” Malfoy moved slightly in his chair, clearly uncomfortable.
Good , Harry thought to himself. Any doubt he’d had evaporated and he was determined to complete his task. He’d show Hermione and Ron. He’d show McGonagall. He’d show Dumbledore. He pointed his wand at Malfoy. “Yeah, Malfoy. I know what you’ve been up to – I know what you are – and you were lucky enough that no one believed me, but they will, now, after I get it out of you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The trembling of his voice told Harry otherwise. “And even if I did, and you got that so-called confession, do you think that anyone would believe you? They hadn’t so far! And it’s just the two of us here. All you’ll get out of torturing me, or whatever it is that you got in your twisted brain, is a one way ticket out of Hogwarts. Is that what you want, Potter? To go back to being an outlaw? To be without your precious friends’ protection? Without Dumbledore – “
“Don’t you dare talk of them!” Harry bellowed. His hold on his wand tightened and various jinxes tickled his tongue. Too many to choose.
“Why not? Because you know it’s true? ”
“Do you really think they’ll believe you , a dirty Slytherin, over me? I’m Harry Potter!” Harry tried to push out of his mind all the voices that told him that despite being Harry Potter, despite all the proofs he kept showing everyone – still no one believed him. “Tell me, Malfoy. Why were you following me?”
Malfoy narrowed his eyes at him. “Because I’m a nasty Slytherin and I have nothing better to do than follow you around.”
The wand shook in Harry’s hand. It was as if Malfoy was begging to be Crucio ed; but he was right. He wasn’t worth getting kicked out of Hogwarts for. He wasn’t even worth a detention. Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“I know you’re His minion. I know you’re set on a mission – I just don’t know exactly what your mission is .”
Malfoy snorted. “And you think that I’m going to tell you? If I am what you think I am, do you think He would’ve trusted me if I was gonna go around blubbering about it to the likes of you just because you have me tied to a chair? You’re even dumber than you look, Potter. And that’s pretty impressive. I swear I sometimes wonder how you make it through the day without someone reminding you how to breathe.”
“You’re awfully sure of yourself considering you are tied to a chair and I have your wand.”
“Please,” Draco snorter. “Both you and I know you don’t have it in you to really hurt me. I think it’d be best if you’d just let me go so we can both go back to the dorms before Filch finds us. Wouldn’t be so nice, wouldn’t it, to be caught in this situation. Right, Savior of the People?”
Harry’s rage kept boiling inside him, increasing when he saw the sneer on Malfoy’s face. When he heard him say the title that Harry hated so badly in such a disdainful way. “You might be surprised to see what I’m capable of, Malfoy.”
The Slytherin shrugged. The movement showed how tense he still was, but his face showed nothing but defiance. “We’ve been here for at least ten minutes now. Other than talking, you’ve done nothing. I’ll be surprised if you even know how to work this wand of yours – “
“ Silencio!”
The spell hit Malfoy right in the chest and clearly caught him by surprise. Harry could barely see from how angry he was. He took a few breaths to be able to think again. When he opened his eyes again he saw that Malfoy was glaring at him.
Harry kept staring at him for a moment as the realization that this wasn’t working sunk down. He wasn’t going to get any information out of him without using any measures . His thoughts wandered back to the vial in his pocket. He stole it so he can put it to good use. Getting the truth out of Malfoy was a good use . Getting a confession from him that he’s a Death Eater, that he was responsible for the curse and the poison, that was a good cause.
Having made his decision Harry reached inside his pocket and took the vial out. He saw Malfoy’s face twist in question, then in fear.
“Know what this is?” Harry asked, showing him the vial.
Malfoy just kept staring hard. It wasn’t exactly legal , Harry knew that. The thought crossed his mind as he opened the vial but it didn’t stay very long. Legal or not, whatever Malfoy was trying to pull was surely much worse.
He crossed the distance and forced the liquid down Malfoy’s throat.
*
Draco knew he was screwed the moment Potter disappeared in that corridor. He followed, regardless; was it feeble hope that he wasn’t, or self-destructive wish that he was found out? He didn’t have time to decide before the curse had hit him and the next thing he knew he was tied to a chair and completely at Potter’s mercy.
When he was finally released from the spell all he could do was to agitate Potter. It was his only chance of getting out of this without being forced to embarrass himself too much. Without being forced to say the truth. He couldn’t afford to.
But how could he have known that Potter had some tricks up his sleeve? That was not the boy he knew. Until today, Potter always played by the rules. He doubted what he already understood the moment Potter took that vial out of his pocket. It was hard mistaking the Veritaserum potion; at least if you actually knew your way with potions. Most potions had some color to them, but this one was clearer than water. When Potter brought it close to him and he could smell nothing his suspicion and panic increased.
There was no doubt left in him the moment the clear liquid touched his tongue, light as air. He knew he was fucked when the tension left his body. He felt like he was nothing but a mouth and mind, but they felt disconnected. His mind was still racing, terrified of the things he might say; but his mouth was eager to speak, eager to reveal his secrets.
Potter took a step backwards, looking, in Draco’s opinion, as surprised as Draco was that he’d actually used the potion. “ Finite,” he said, and Draco knew he would be able to speak again, should he try. “Now tell me,” Potter started. “Are you a Death Eater?”
The word left his mouth despite his mind screaming that he should keep quiet. “Yes.”
“I knew it!” Potter looked triumphant; his excitement was spilling from him, making Draco feel even worse.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that he knew it, now Potter did, too. And if Potter did… but Draco didn’t care anymore if others knew. He was doomed, anyway. It didn’t matter whether he completed his task or not: he knew that the Dark Lord had lied to him. He’d known it for a while now. He had no intention of redeeming his family; he was just using him to make them suffer even farther. Gone was his pride from the summer, when he received his Mark. It left him empty, and aching, and ashamed . And the last person he wanted to show his weaknesses to was bloody Harry Potter.
“At least someone celebrates it,” he found himself saying as he watched the victorious look on Potter’s face.
“I’m going to take you straight to Professor Dumbledore after this – if you’re a Death Eater surely you got the Mark. That’d let him see you for who you really are. Alright. But first, I need to know a few more things, and you’re going to tell me.”
As if I have a choice , he thought, but his lips formed “Yes.”
“Did you try to kill Katie Bell?”
Something twisted in Draco’s stomach. He didn’t particularly like Bell; but she was a decent person and he never intended for her to open the box. “No. I had no intention of hurting her.” Then the weight of Potter’s words sunk in. “She isn’t... dead, is she? I didn’t – I didn’t kill her?”
“No, lucky for you, she’s still alive. Still unconscious and at St. Mungo's, too, but alive. You’re not a murderer. Yet .”
Draco felt weight being lifted off his chest. “Good… that’s… good.”
For a short moment Potter just stood there and stared at him. Draco wondered if the look on his face meant that he believed him that he was truly worried. It wasn’t like he could lie under the Veritaserum . It was all he could do not to say too much, not to reveal what was really in his heart. But that brief moment of hesitation was enough to give Draco hope.
It was only for a few seconds, though.
“Why were you following me?”
Draco swallowed. Out of all the questions Potter could have asked, this one was the one he feared the most. He knew that Potter already assumed he had joined the Dark Lord’s ranks; and he knew he was blabbering about it to his friends and to professors around school. But no one believed him anyway, not with Dumbledore’s stupid naivety and not with Severus lying for him. Potter already assumed it was Draco behind the cursed necklace, and still no one believed him.
But this…
He didn’t care about anyone else finding out the truth about this question. It didn’t matter if anyone believed Potter if he told them or not. If Harry found out –
“Why were you following me, Malfoy? Were you trying to ambush me? Am I your next target?”
“No!” Draco fought the potion’s effect. Potter asked him another question – but maybe – just maybe – he could manage not to respond –
“No? I’m not your next target? Then why were you following me?”
Draco felt the pressure in his chest. He could barely breathe, but he could no longer hold back from the potion and pretend he answered the question he was asked. The words left his mouth and he felt his world collapsing. “Because I’m in love with you.”
The silence that followed weighed on Draco’s shoulders. He refused to look at Harry – refused to face the disgust he would surely see there – but he felt his stare on him all the same. His chest heaved with each breath, the sound of the air coming in and out of his body the only sound in the empty classroom.
“You…” Harry said finally. The sudden sound of his voice made Draco look up; an action he regretted immediately. Harry was staring at him, his green eyes narrowed in what Draco could only assume was dismay. “What kind of game are you playing at, Malfoy?”
Well, that hurt . If Draco was playing any games – and he wasn’t quite in the position or mood for such things – telling Potter he had feelings for him would be the last kind of ‘game’ he’d think of playing. There was nothing in it for him, after all. Except for shame. It put all the power in Potter’s hands, gave him the worst kind of ammunition against him.
“I’m not – “
“You’re under the Veritaserum for fuck’s sake! Tell me the truth Malfoy, now! ”
Potter’s wand was now pointing at him. With Potter’s stretched hand it almost touched Draco’s forehead even at this distance. He stared at Potter’s enraged face. He was scared, but he refused to let his fear take over him. He’d faced much worse. He’d faced the Dark Lord’s fury. He’d seen his father being tortured, threatened. He’d been threatened himself.
He swallowed. The potion may have forced him to say the truth but he wasn’t going to give in to the fear. “I was telling you the truth,” he replied. He heard the vibration in his voice, the strain from forcing himself to appear calm. There was nothing he could do about it. “I wish I was lying, but I can’t.”
Potter held the wand at him for a moment longer before he started lowering it. Some of the tension in Draco’s body eased now that the danger of being hexed again was no longer immediate. He let his head fall, his chin resting against his chest. He felt the bangs of his hair tickling against his forehead. “You…” Harry said again, but it was different this time. He sounded more confused now, rather than angry. “Why? How ?”
The words left Draco’s lips before he even processed the questions. “How can I not?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean – have you met you?” Draco found himself saying. He felt that whatever little control he had on the words he said had disappeared; as if telling Potter how he truly felt about him had broken the dam that held Draco’s hidden truths away from the potion. “You’re everyone’s dream coming true. A selfless hero who proves time and time again that not only can you handle whatever shit the world throws at you, you also willingly throw yourself at danger to save – not only your loved ones, but strangers, too. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. You’re braver than I could ever hope to be. And humble. You have all this fame, everyone looking up to you, but you don’t let your piss go up to your head. You still wear those baggy clothes even though I know you have all this money to buy yourself stuff with. You use it not for you but for your friends. I’ve spied after you long enough to see it. And you’re not too bad to look at, either. Your eyes are beautiful and your hair makes me want to stick my hands in it and feel it between my fingers. I like your skin, you always look like you’ve just been back from some glorious vacation somewhere sunny and fun. And your lips make me want to kiss you and taste you. Even that hideous Gryffindor red looks great on you. And I… I have to keep looking at you from afar and pretend I hate you and that I don’t want to rip your clothes off and have you in my bed and – “
He finally managed to stop himself. His confession left him panting and drained. He hated himself for not being able to hold himself back, and he hated himself even more for the thought that crawled into his brain, telling him it was the potion. The potion forced him to answer a question truthfully; Draco had his mental training and could refrain from spilling details. But there was also something purifying about saying it all. Like draining a wound that had accumulated pus and was now clean and fresh, ready to be healed.
The room was silent again when he finished. He could only hear his own breathing, echoing in his ears louder than screams. He didn’t dare to move, didn’t dare to look up. There would be nothing worth seeing, nothing that could make him feel any better. His truth was out, and he was doomed. He’d be laughed at. Abused. Rejected by his fellow Slytherins who already started suspecting that he wasn’t as good as he said he was. They were already suspecting that he lied when he hinted that he was chosen by the Dark Lord. His status was already deteriorating and collapsing. Once this truth was out… Being pointed at and laughed at would be the least of his problems. Failing to complete his task would seem like a child’s play gone wrong in comparison to what would happen to him should the Dark Lord – or, and he didn’t even want to think about that possibility, his father – found out.
It was Potter who broke the silence. “I can’t believe it,” he said. His voice was shaky – almost as shaky as Draco felt. It made Draco look up at him. But Potter wasn’t looking at him. His wand was still held high, still threatening to hex Draco at his slightest movement; but his face was turned away. A part of Draco was thankful that he couldn’t see his expression; but another, more pathetic part of him wanted to know . “You’re a fucking liar , Malfoy.” Potter spat the words, like it was something foul that he was forced to taste.
Before Draco managed to open his mouth and say anything Potter had turned on his heels and left.
Draco lowered his head again. “But I can’t lie,” he said weakly. He felt too tired, too drained to even worry about the fact that Potter left him in the middle of a classroom, tied to a chair, well into the night.
*
Malfoy was… in love with him?
That couldn’t be right. But how could he lie to him? He was under Veritaserum . And if he could somehow overcome the potion’s effect, then why would he admit to being a Death Eater? Why would he admit to be behind Katie’s curse? And why, for fuck’s sake, would he use his ability to say whatever he wanted, if that was indeed what he could do, to tell him he was in love with him?
It didn’t make any sense. None of it did, because the only explanation was… that he wasn’t lying.
But that couldn’t be right. Although his confession sounded awfully detailed, sounded like something no one could just make up on the spot. And if it was a lie, and Malfoy hadn’t paid attention to him all this time, then how could he know all the things he’d said, all the details about Harry’s appearance, his behavior? Harry never paid such thorough attention to anyone; not even his close friends. He didn’t know what their lips looked like, didn’t even know their eye color.
Except… he did know Malfoy’s .
He didn’t even realize that his wanders had taken him to the second floor’s girls’ bathroom. He heard Moaning Myrtle telling a small group of girls about how Malfoy was found tied up in the morning, and was now in the infirmary. He heard them speculating about who’d done this to him, as apparently, he wouldn’t tell…
But Harry didn’t need to speculate. He knew very well how Malfoy ended up there – and why.
It was an instant decision. It didn’t take very long before he found himself standing at the door to the infirmary. He stopped there, doubt and fear suddenly filling his chest. Myrtle said that no one knew who’d done that to Malfoy. But why didn't Malfoy tell on him? In Harry’s opinion, he had no reason not to. He could make his life so miserable that detention would be the least of his problems.
Harry had to prevent that from happening. He walked into the room and was immediately met by Madam Pomfrey’s worried face.
“Oh dear, you look almost as bad as the other boy I received today.” Harry almost rolled his eyes at her greeting. “What’s wrong?”
“I…” he had to think fast. “I got some candies and I think they might’ve been from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and now I feel really weird. Like my brain’s all fuzzy and stuff. And my left ear hurts.”
“Oh dear! Come, boy. Here, you can rest on this bed,” she led him, and then mumbled something and disappeared.
Harry used this opportunity to search the room. He didn’t have to look too far; Malfoy was resting two beds away. He seemed to be staring at the ceiling, unaware that he had company.
Well… he’d made it this far.
Harry slid off his assigned bed. “Malfoy,” his voice was barely over a whisper, but from the Slytherin’s reaction he felt as if he was yelling the word.
Malfoy sat up in his bed and looked at him, haunted. “Potter,” he said. Harry wasn’t sure whether it was relief in his voice, or panic. “What are you doing here?”
“I…” Harry started, and then realized he has no answer to that question. He hadn’t really thought before he ran here. “I had to see you.”
“You had to see me ? Why?”
“Why didn’t you snitch on me?”
For a short moment he stared at him; then he let out a pained sigh and looked away. “You know why.”
“No – I – “ Harry started; he still found it hard, almost impossible, to believe the truth of Malfoy’s words from last night. But the doubt still nagged at him . Because it was hard to believe that he’d just… made up everything he’d said. He frowned and tried to get his thoughts in order. There was only one option for him. “So you mean to tell me that what you said last night… you really meant it?”
Malfoy let out a wry snort. “You think I’d embarrass myself and say that if the stupid potion didn’t make me? Are you that dense?”
“I wasn’t sure,” Harry replied. The weight of this information was slowly dawning on him. Malfoy was in love with him. “Since... uh, since when?”
“Fuck, Potter, I don’t know. Third year? That’s when I realized it. But maybe since the first time I met you. Does it matter? You obviously won’t feel the same. Can you just…” he paused, and his face twisted in pain. He leaned back in his bed and looked at the ceiling. “I know I don’t really have a right to ask anything of you, but I’d still really appreciate it if you kept this information to yourself.”
“You think I’d share something like that?” he then realized how that must’ve sounded. “I mean… I have no reason to spread this information around.” He looked at Malfoy, and understood what he’d said. This wasn’t a new thing; it didn’t even sound like a crush. Malfoy didn’t only believe it was love; he actually was in love with him.
He couldn’t help but think about all of their past interactions; all the times Harry thought Malfoy’s obsession with him was a result of pure evilness, or, at best, a childish jealousy. But now Harry suddenly realized – there could be another, third option. And, in a twisted way, it made sense.
This realization left him confused. It shouldn’t have had such an effect on him. So what if Malfoy was in love with him? It was still Malfoy . He was a git. He was a Death Eater. He was a horrible, annoying, piece of shit.
But he was also very clearly in some very deep trouble. Yes, Harry got a confession out of him; but now that he was farther from the situation, he realized that Malfoy didn’t sound smug about it. He didn’t sound proud about his situation. He sounded genuinely worried about Katie, genuinely regretful about what he’d done.
And he was also incredibly hot.
The thought appeared in Harry’s head out of nowhere – but it felt like in a way, it was always there. Harry realized that it was. Every time he talked about him, spied on him, thought about hexing him. Every time he searched for him in the dining hall, or secretly wished the shared class would be with Slytherin. Every time he dreamed about him at night.
"Malfoy," he said eventually. His voice sounded weird in his ears, distant in a way. "I -"
"There's no need to say anything," Malfoy replied dryly. "I get it. I wasn't expecting anything, definitely not your pity." He paused. Harry didn't even know how to respond; there were so many contradicting options in his mind and he couldn't lay his hands on any of them. "I won't tell on you, alright? I have much more at stake here than you. You can go now."
“Go?” the idea seemed strange to him, somehow.
“Come on. We both know you’re only here because you want to make sure I don’t rat you out. I know you got no reasons to trust me but I promise you, I’m not going to. So, goodbye, Potter. Leave me alone.”
"You think I came to beg you not to tell anyone about last night?” Harry asked with a frown. “No, I… I came to apologize.”
This made Malfoy turn his silver eyes back to him. “ Apologize ?”
“Yeah, you know… for last night.”
Now it was Malfoy’s turn to frown and for a moment he just stared at him. “Okay…” he sounded doubtful. He kept staring at him with a strange expression, like he was trying to decipher something.
Harry blinked. For a second, their eyes locked. He felt warmth spreading over his face and he looked away.
In the distance he could hear Madam Pomfrey’s footsteps. It was time to get back to his bed and –
“Hey, Potter?”
Harry turned on a reflex and looked at Malfoy. He barely had enough time to register how close Malfoy was to him, or to decipher the weird look he had on his face. He barely even had enough time to breathe, or reply, before he could no longer see anything but Malfoy’s golden lashes when Malfoy’s lips captured his own. He was too shocked to do anything, and the Slytherin pulled away before Harry regained enough of his brain to push him from him.
He felt flushed, and confused, and out of breath. “Malfoy, wha - “
“I just wanted to see what it felt like,” Malfoy cut into his words. This left Harry even more confused.
“You just wanted to - “ he started. His heart was still racing. Why did Malfoy have to - Harry looked at Malfoy again. He’d returned to his former position; resting on his bed, looking undisturbed; the exact opposite of Harry, as if he hadn’t just -
The thought brought the memory of Malfoy’s lips back and warmth spread through his body. Madam Pomfrey’s footsteps already sounded close - like she was standing just on the other side of the door - Harry’s heart threatened to jump out of his throat. As if in an attempt to prevent that, the words came out of him without thinking, before he even had the chance to realize he’d spoken at all.
“Don’t you think you should take me out before you go and kiss me?”
Harry’s breathing stopped when he realized what he’d just said. Next to him, Malfoy had moved his eyes from staring at the wall across from him and was staring at Harry, instead. “ What? You want me to - “
“Mr. Potter, I found the antidote I use for all of those horrible Weasley inventions.”
Madam Pomfrey’s announcement brought them both back to reality. Instinctively, Harry took a step back, creating as much distance from Malfoy as he could, and looked at Pomfrey.
“Oh, thank you! I actually already feel much better… I think the effect is already wearing off. So, uh, I think I’ll head to class now.” He turned,, and walked towards the door. He paused before he crossed the threshold and turned, looking at Malfoy. He was so going to regret this. “I think I do, maybe,” he said, and walked on without waiting for an answer .
What the fuck did he just do?