The Scent Of Malice | drarry

eight | blood

After he was left outside the Hall by Malfoy that night, there was no better word for Harry's emotional state from that point onwards than destroyed.

He was plagued over the following days and weeks by constant obsessive thoughts about the other boy, driven mad when he couldn't see him, and constantly trying to find a way to get his attention, all while simultaneously despising him. All in all, this made for a pretty fragile disposition.

Malfoy had naturally been even more vile since the incident - Harry knew he shouldn't have tried to kiss him, but found it hard to regret at the same time.

Even weeks after his lips had last been kissed he kept touching them, deepening his infatuation every time he remembered that Malfoy's mouth had touched them too, he'd literally kissed Draco Malfoy, and it was dizzying, even with the memory of how hard he'd been rejected afterwards.

Draco found his hand to also be frequently drawn to his lips after the event, though more in frustration and disgust than anything else. He still couldn't believe Potter had had the sheer audacity to try something like that on him; couldn't the bastard take a fucking hint?!

He replayed the incident in his head relatively often as he did this, mentally watching the half-devastated, half-aroused expression on Potter's face as he'd shoved him back and spat on him.

It was gross but also intriguing to Draco that he could have that effect on the other boy after all the hatred they'd shared for one another. It was weird to think that that was all one-sided now.

Yet the more Malfoy hated Harry and the nastier he was to him, the more persistently interested he became in response. It was the only way he'd ever known how to relate to the other boy, the only attention he could get off him, and he relished it. He craved a reaction from him, any reaction, even disgust. Spit on me again.

But Draco, unnerved by Harry's reaction the first time around, didn't spit on him again, sticking instead to verbal conflict while maintaining a healthy distance from the other boy.

By now a chill was in the air and Halloween was just around the corner, and each House was planning their own party, which distracted each of the boys from each other for a little - Draco because he loved to help plan any elaborate Slytherin events, and Harry because of the significance of the date.

Since learning that it was the date his parents died, he had found it hard to enjoy the 31st of October, but this year Ron and Hermione were determined to take Harry's mind off things. Being only sixteen, the trio had had to ask Fred and George for a couple of bottles of Firewhiskey and Elvish wine, and they'd happily obliged, even throwing in a dangerous-looking little cask of Fred's own "home brew".

"It's probably highly toxic," Ron said cheerfully as the three of them stowed the small keg behind the Common Room curtains. "But it'll do the trick and get you drunk!"

"We can play Spin the Bottle!" Lavender Brown had gushed when they told the other Gryffindor Sixth years of Fred's 'gift'. "It's this really cool Muggle game, Ronny, you'll love it... Have you chosen your costume yet?"

Harry rolled his eyes sympathetically as Ron was dragged off by Lavender to "discuss outfits", and for a second wondered if he'd ever come off anywhere near that needy to Malfoy.

No, he decided, he had more self restraint. Apart from that attempted kiss, Harry knew he'd done a good job of keeping up the pretence of hatred - not that it much of a pretence was necessary; even nowadays he harboured more than a little resentment for the other boy on top of his attraction.

After a little thought about the night, and some shopping with Hermione during which he purchased an appropriate outfit for the party, Harry decided he was looking forward to it. His friends were right, this didn't have to be an entirely sad night, and it would do him good to have a distraction from Malfoy as much as from anything else.