Irresistible Poison DRARRY

Irresistible Poison- Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Splintered

Love is a many splintered thing.

Harry woke up late the next morning, and was sufficiently distracted about last night's events while he rushed down for breakfast and raced off to class. Only when he stepped into the dungeons for double Potions with the Slytherins did the memory of last night come flooding back, as he saw Malfoy quietly enter and make his way to the other side of the classroom.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he watched Malfoy, but the blond head didn't once turn in his direction. It was as if nothing had happened, although Harry intuitively sensed that something had altered between them: a lack of the usual overt hostility, the absence of the familiar sneer that had become such a constant feature in Potions.

Something was definitely different.

As the end of the lesson approached, Ron nudged Harry when Snape's back was turned. "The entire lesson has almost gone by and Malfoy hasn't once tried to sabotage our potions or make a cauldron explode." Ron shot a sharp, suspicious glance across the classroom at Malfoy. "What's wrong with him?"

Harry was on the verge of telling Ron what happened the night before, but suspected that his friend might throw an apoplectic fit right then and there, so he decided against it. Maybe later.

Harry shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, and replied truthfully, "I don't know what's wrong with him."

"Well, we'd better not speak too soon," Ron said darkly. "The lesson's not over yet."

The shrill ringing of the bell a few minutes later concluded one of the strangest, most uneventful Potions class Harry could remember. His thoughts strayed to the memory of Malfoy kissing him last night, but he quickly caught himself. That was something he could do with not remembering for a long time. Preferably until after he was dead.

But why didn't he seem to be able to forget?

Across the classroom, Draco tidied away his books and cleaned up his cauldron, keeping his eyes averted all the time, feeling the weight of Harry's questioning gaze on him. He knew the Gryffindor had been sneaking furtive glances at him throughout the whole of Potions, but he hadn't dared to look up, cowardly as that seemed, simply because he wasn't sure what he might do if he had.

Draco found himself more attuned to Harry's emotions; he wondered if it was because of the potion, or that he just hadn't noticed before how outwardly Harry showed his feelings. Draco could feel the unresolved tension strung between them, the mild bewilderment in Harry's gaze each time it swept past him, bringing with it a strange fleeting warmth which stroked through his body.

And when Harry left the dungeons, accompanied by Weasley and Granger, Draco experienced that same feeling again; a muted longing, growing stronger and stronger as the other boy's footsteps faded away, tugging relentlessly at his heartstrings...

Draco slammed his fist into the table in frustration, knocking over a bottle of armadillo bile. He didn't care; he buried his face in the palms of his hands, which were now shaking, glazed with a sheen of cold sweat. It was still there, that- that feeling.

He tried to rid himself of it. Last night, the moment he'd discovered what potion he'd actually drunk, he'd spent almost an hour retching, forcing himself to throw up as much of the potion as possible.

But it was still there. In his blood, running like silver ice through his veins.

Angrily snatching his bag, Draco headed out of the classroom, ignoring Crabbe and Goyle's shouts to wait up for them.

* * * * * * *

Draco finally managed to corner Harry later that day, when the other boy headed out alone for Quidditch practice in the evening. Draco accosted Harry as he rounded the bend, walking toward the shed where all the brooms were kept.