The Hearts Eclipse

Chapter 6: Disturbing Discussions

Harry found himself deposited flat on his back, on a stone floor almost the same as the one he'd just left. Next to him, he could hear Draco moving, and he'd barely pushed himself to his knees when he found himself staring at the tip of Draco's wand again. The other boy was glaring at him coldly, brandishing his wand at him as though holding a dangerous animal at bay.

A quick glance around told Harry that they were alone in the dungeon. To his side, an empty cell was waiting, door open, a key resting in the lock. The only sound was the echo of dripping water from some dark corner of the passageway. In the momentary privacy, Harry allowed himself a sigh, and a few seconds to breathe. He turned back to Draco, letting a multitude of thoughts swirl through his mind. What the hell had just happened back there? Strange, electric; it had flooded through him like a rush of icy water, bringing him alert and awake, making his body tingle and his breath catch, and he was certain Draco had felt the same thing. He'd seen it in the look of pure surprise written clearly across Malfoy's face as they locked eyes.

Now, however, there was no sign of it anywhere in his captor's demeanor. He could almost fool himself into thinking it had only been an illusion, but his instinct told him he knew better than that. He knew it had been real, and he was sure Malfoy knew as well. Settling back against his heels, he said with deceptive casualness, "I wonder where the party is."

"Shut up, Potter." Draco's voice had resumed its usual cold drawl, much to Harry's surprise. Not that he should have expected anything different. Draco motioned tersely with his wand towards the cell. "Get up. On your feet. And no fast moves. I'd be just as happy to stun you and toss you in there myself." There was no doubt that the warning was real. Harry raised an inquisitive eyebrow as he rose to his feet, never taking his eyes off Draco. The Slytherin was a little enigma in his own right, Harry decided. Just when it seemed that there had been a real change in the person Harry had always known as Malfoy, his father had arrived, and every precisely trained behavioral pattern had fallen back into place.

Well, perhaps not all of it. The Malfoy that Harry used to know had always appeared genuine, had never seemed like an act until now. And it had probably been quite authentic until that point, but apparently the seeds of doubt had been sown. Malfoy didn't even keep his friends close. But if Harry's hunch was correct, he'd just let his enemy get closer. Probably too close. Under-the-skin close. The look on Draco's face when their hands had touched had proven beyond a doubt exactly what was an act and what was real. In that instant, Draco's eyes had betrayed him. "Malfoy...?"

"I didn't give you permission to speak!" he snarled. "Just get into the bloody cell! NOW!" He jabbed towards Harry with his wand, as though to underline his command more strongly, but in reality it was a nervous movement, designed to cover the fear that seemed to be pulling at his vocal cords. Draco didn't have the luxury of considering the emotions and thoughts churning in his mind at the moment. He was desperately trying to bury them below the far more immediate situation. True, the room was empty save for them, but instead of putting Draco at ease, it had ignited every carefully trained nerve he possessed with alertness and caution. He couldn't be sure, but he suspected that he might be under surveillance.

That wouldn't have been a problem normally. He would have assumed his practiced, confident poise, been his usual haughty and self-righteous self. At one time, he would have properly enjoyed holding Potter at wand point, making both idle and not-so-idle threats. In the very least, he could have put on a proper show for the Dark Lord, or whoever else might have been watching. However, that wasn't so easy at the moment. His subconscious kept poking through the cracks in his fear, drawing him back to the instant his hand had connected with Harry's. The strange sensation that he'd felt when he'd touched Harry before had magnified, filling his consciousness. There had been a thrill in the human touch, a guilty sort of joy. He was dwelling on it, couldn't shake the ghost of the feeling from his body. It was almost as though a subtle connection had been forged between them, cementing their new understanding into something else, something he couldn't exactly define, something that left him edgy and unbalanced. Something that should never exist between them.