The Scent Of Malice | drarry

fifteen | the revelation

Draco still wasn't looking forward to breaking the news to Potter when morning came around, but decided to get it over with first thing, waiting early outside the Great Hall in the hopes of grabbing Potter on his way in.

Sure enough, no sooner after 8am rolled around, Potter appeared with his pet Mudblood and the Carrot Top and Draco wasted no time in hauling him aside.

"I have to talk to you," he hissed, dragging the confused boy round the corner before he could even manage a complaint or an innuendo.

"Ow, Malfoy, you're hurting me," Potter whined, and Draco laughed hollowly.

"I'm going to hurt you in a minute when you've heard what I've got to say," he assured him, and then felt the tiniest jolt of something like genuine amusement, because he knew it was true. He was going to hurt Potter again.

"How?" Potter asked suspiciously, brushing Draco's grip off his robes and taking a cautious step away to lean heavily on the wall across from him.

Draco sighed. How to begin?

"You know that Potions class where we brewed Amortentia?" he asked.

Potter nodded with a slight wince. "Of course I do."

"Yeah, big day for you. You smelled me, right?"

Another nod. "Obviously, yeah."

"So, what I'm trying to say is - what if that was somehow wrong?"

Potter frowned. "Wrong how? I know what I smelt, and Amortentia doesn't 'get it wrong', Malfoy."

"Yeah, but... what if your vial wasn't Amortentia after all? What if it was..." he paused to fully gauge the other boy's reaction. "What if it was my cologne?"

Potter didn't disappoint. His mouth fell open, and anger flashed quickly through his eyes as he realised what Draco was saying. "You did fucking what, you ferret??" he exploded, and for a second Draco was almost afraid.

"Not me!" he leapt in hurriedly, throwing his hands up as if to wield off an attack. "Believe me, Potter, I'm sickened enough by the idea of you liking me to know for sure that I'd never fake that. Pansy and Blaise think they're funny, though."

Potter's own hands were busy raking through his dark hair, causing it to stand up in patches in a rather post-coital manner. "And you knew about this, did you?!" he seethed.

"I only found out by accident yesterday!" Draco protested. "I'm angry about it too, believe me."

"Why should I believe you? I don't even know what happened!"

Draco sighed, and reached reluctantly into his pocket. "Look, it's probably easier to show you than tell you."

Draco's hands only hesitated for a second as he passed the crumpled sheet of parchment to the other boy, whose face was screwed up with the same confusion Draco himself had felt when he first read it.

"What sort of weird joke is this?" Potter asked once he'd read it, looking like he'd like to rip the parchment up.

"It's not a joke," Draco shrugged. "It's your 'get out of jail free' card. It was all pretend, alright? You don't actually like me."

Potter faltered. "I think I do," he muttered, though his mind was clearly reeling.

"I actually don't care," Draco shook his head. "I really don't. You can think what you like, but we aren't going to carry on like this. As far as I'm concerned, I hate you, and you hate me. And that's the way I like it."

He knew he was being cruel, and relished it. Cruelty always made him feel better about his own hard emotions; it was sometimes the only thing he knew.

"Fine," Potter glared, tucking the parchment into his own pocket.

Draco wondered for a second if he should ask for it back, but decided he didn't care.

"You're easier to hate than to like, anyway," Potter shrugged, "And I suppose I never stopped doing that even through all of this."

"So you can leave me alone now?"

"Is that what you want?"

Draco stared back at him like he was mad. "Of course that's what I want, you moron! You think I've enjoyed you humping my leg like a horny puppy for the past few weeks?"

"I've barely touched you and you know it," Harry said disdainfully. "Certainly less than you've touched me."

"Isn't it hilarious how it was all for nothing, though?" Draco laughed. "You embarrassed yourself over me for literally nothing."

Harry hated him for that more than anything else.

***

He thought Ron and Hermione might go through the literal roof that evening when he told them what had happened, displaying the creased-up parchment as evidence.

"Those evil serpents!" Ron exploded, gripping the page so hard it tore a little under his fingers.

"It's manipulative and cruel to play with someone's feelings like that!" Hermione agreed hotly, banging the table for emphasis. "We should go to Snape about it - he may be on their side normally, but messing around in Potions won't be something he'd take lightly!"

"Or we could just beat the shit out of them?" Ron suggested with a crack of his knuckles. "Reckon I could take Zabini. What about you, 'Mione? Think you could handle Parkinson?"

Harry chuckled, his anger dissipating in a rush of affection. "This is very sweet, Ron, but I think you're forgetting Blaise is at least an inch taller than you."

"And I think you're forgetting I've got five older brothers, two of which are Fred and George bloody Weasley," Ron replied airily. "I know how to fight, Harry. I broke George's wrist when I was about ten."

"So does this mean Harry fights Malfoy, then?" Hermione asked with a wry grin. "Just so he doesn't feel left out."

"It isn't really Malfoy's fault," Harry said quietly, inspecting his fingers.

Hermione looked at him with pity. "Why are you defending him, Harry?" she asked. "Even if he wasn't directly involved, he was still pretty unpleasant with the aftermath."

Harry shrugged. He knew there was nothing he could say to explain himself; they all knew why he was defending the other boy.

He thought about what would happen next. Would he and Malfoy really be able to act like uncomplicated enemies again after all this weirdness?

I can show this to Ginny, Harry realised, She might take me back. He wondered how he felt about that. It didn't take much wondering. Everyone knew his heart was somewhere else now, regardless of the reasons why.

It was lying in Draco Malfoy's cold hands, where he kept painfully squeezing it whenever the urge arose. And it arose all the fucking time.

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a/n: hope you enjoyed this one! please vote and comment if you did🥰

the next chapter is pretty dramatic i won't lie, so sit tight for that! grab a drink;)🤍

~ paradisedraco