The Scent Of Malice | drarry

thirty three | icarus

Draco turned the piece of parchment over in his hands, replaying the message in his head. Potter, sorry? Potter, grovelling for forgiveness? Good. That was just the way Draco liked him.

He smiled to himself. Time to see how far Potter's remorse would go, and how much Draco could take advantage of it.

***

By the third midnight awakening of that week, Harry decided to just give Theo, Pansy and Blaise the Gryffindor password so they could come and get him themselves whenever Malfoy caused a scene, without banging the door down and waking the entire dorm up.

"Potter, it's happened again," one of the Slytherins would whisper, shaking Harry's shoulder in the dark to wake him up.

And he would, he'd wake up, and he'd follow them yawning down the stairs, and he'd fetch Malfoy again and again and again. Sometimes he'd be lead to the woods or out to the lake, sometimes his job would be to coax Malfoy away from a fire, or down from the Astronomy Tower. Either way it was enormously draining.

Sometimes at least he'd get warning a few hours in advance, like the time over dinner in the Great Hall where Malfoy had stuck his tongue out with the coloured tablet on it, taunting Harry like a child from across the tables.

Harry had shot him the most dangerous warning glare he could muster, but Malfoy swallowed it too fast, an insolent smirk on his face.

"My bed or yours when you come running to save me tonight?" he'd asked mockingly under his breath on his way past the Gryffindor table, and Harry seriously thought about slapping him.

His pulse roared under his skin, making it hard for him to think.

"My bed it is, then," Malfoy grinned.

"Malfoy, no, I-"

"People are looking, Potter, don't cause a scene," said Malfoy witheringly. "I'll see you tonight."

"But I-"

Malfoy leaned down and fastened his hand hard and tight around Harry's tie. "I said watch your tone, Half-Blood, and remember your place," he hissed. "There are plenty of other people who would love to clean me up, make an angel of me. You should feel privileged."

Most times when Harry came to pick him up, Malfoy would laugh and laugh till he was nearly sick on the grass and Harry would ignore him, just hoisting him up and leading him numbly down to his bed.

This is my love, now, he thought. This is what we've become.

If Malfoy managed to fall asleep, that was the only time Harry could look at him without some part of him completely despising him.

Malfoy was the sun, he knew that, and Harry was Icarus, irresistibly drawn to his light without any sense of self preservation. So he put chains on his heart, chains of hatred and malice and fear, and those bound him to the ground, for which he was grateful.

If he was to be left to his own devices, Harry knew with total certainty that he'd find a way to entirely destroy himself with the other boy.

***

By a couple weeks of this chaos, Harry decided that it was high time (Malfoy laughed at the pun, though Harry found it less amusing) that the two of them did what he wanted for a change, and announced this thought to Malfoy one morning after a particularly hard and late night.

"Why don't you ask Zabini or Nott to take you back to bed when you take it too far?"

"Seems more appropriate to be you," Malfoy smirked. "Future saviour of the Wizarding World might as well be my saviour too."

Harry rolled his eyes. "What I'm really saying, Malfoy, is can you stop choosing me now? I'd rather not have any of you than have this."

They both knew he was lying, he went half insane whenever Malfoy ignored him. The drawing of himself wrapped round Malfoy's little finger sprang to mind, and he groaned inwardly.

"I'll always choose you, Potter," Malfoy replied slowly, and somehow he made even that phrase sound malicious. "Whether you choose me back or not, you're my Chosen One. And there's nothing you can do about it."

Harry couldn't even find it in him to be angry about this. At least he got to be around the other boy, even if it made him fucking miserable.

"Could you maybe want to see me sometimes when you aren't high, or just wanting sex?" Harry asked in a quiet little voice, his eyes fixed on his own hands, which were twisting in his lap.

Malfoy thought about it, and his nose wrinkled in confusion. "For what?" he asked.

Harry looked at him, trying to get inside his mind. What was it Malfoy felt? Derision? Irritation? It couldn't be lack of attraction, he'd proved that countless times now. He always seemed to desire Harry, more than Harry even wanted him sometimes, which was crazy.

And this desire always arose at the worst and least appropriate times - Harry would be sat in Charms, doing nothing even remotely suggestive, and suddenly Malfoy would give him that pointed look and he'd have no choice but to leave with him-

No, it couldn't be lack of attraction. Maybe he's not capable of romantic feelings, though, Harry thought.

"For what?" Malfoy said again, more exasperated this time. "I don't know what you want, Potter."

Harry faltered. "I don't know either, I just want a little more. You take advantage of me so much because you know I really-" he stopped himself as he saw Malfoy's face screw up- "Fine, I really care about you. Is that ok to say?"

Malfoy shrugged. "You could always keep your feelings to yourself," he suggested, hopping out of Harry's bed to pull his robes on. The two of them had hardly slept apart all term.

Harry ignored this comment. "You take advantage of me because you know I can't tell you no," he continued. "And you never do anything for me in return."

"Think of something you want to do," Malfoy countered, sliding his rings onto his fingers, "And tell me. And I might think about it. Ok?"

It wasn't exactly enthusiasm, but Harry hadn't been shut down either, so he decided to take that as encouragement.

What should I suggest we do?, he wondered, stretching back on his pillows as Malfoy left the room. A formal date seemed too intense, so a trip to Hogsmeade was likely off the cards. He couldn't imagine the two of them getting dinner together, or even just drinks for some reason.

We'll start slow, Harry decided. The way we should've done at the start.

He allowed himself to feel a ripple of excitement at the prospect. Did Malfoy realise that Harry would view whatever they did as a date?

As he planned the day, a small smile crept over Harry's lips. It's a date, he thought. I hope it changes things.

________________________________

a/n: thanks again for reading! please vote if you enjoyed this chapter - what do you think harry is going to suggest?!

the next chapter will be the date that isn't a date haha so stay tuned for that 🤍

~ paradisedraco