|A Series of Connecting the Dots
Author: Digitallace PM
A joint fic by Digitallace & DreamingInColour. Switching between Draco Digitallace and Harry DreamingInColour to form a turbulent story, where Harry and Draco are each trying to manipulate the other. How will it turn out? Not even the authors know!Rated: Fiction M - English - Angst/Romance - Draco M. & Harry P. - Chapters: 28 - Words: 180,200 - Reviews: 577 - Favs: 212 - Follows: 122 - Updated: 06-16-10 - Published: 02-24-09 - Status: Complete - id: 4883151
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Authors Note: If you tend to skip over these, please READ THIS one, it will be helpful I promise. Okay, so this story is written by both myself and my friend Laurel (DreamingInColour). This chapter in Draco's POV is mine and it will start out the challenge we've issued to one another. From there we will alternate chapters with her writing chapter 2 in Harry's POV and so on and so forth. We both have vague ideas of where we'd like to see the story head, but the other author could easily thwart that, so this story will be full of twists, turns and surprises for the boys, the readers and even us! We'll be posting the story on both our accounts, so you can choose where to leave a message and review (and we've given each other permission, so no one freak out when they see the story/chapter duplicated! lol)
Many thanks to Robert who is acting as impartial beta for our story! We love him! And now on with the story, please enjoy!
Chapter 1 –Draco- Gloom & Doom
The manufactured sky in the great hall mirrored my mood better than I could have ever imagined possible, almost like the castle had a door directly into my soul.
It was gray and gloomy and the stormy color of the clouds matched my eyes perfectly, as everything should. The sun was barely visible behind the clouds, but the persistent rays of somber light continued to shine through in spite of it.
It hadn't been the best of mornings, and it was rapidly getting worse with each breath I took. First I woke up with a headache that refused to cease regardless of the number of potions I took for it, then Goyle wouldn't stop droning on and on about his infatuation with Clarissa Brighton, a fourth year Ravenclaw he had stumbled into after Divination last week. He wouldn't listen when I tried to explain to him that even a first year Ravenclaw had intellect far superior to his own and that he would never get the girl to even look at him, let alone fall for him.
He had the nerve to lecture me about relationships being based on love not brains, as if he had ever had even one girlfriend before. Not that I really had either, but that was because I chose to remain unattached. I was observant, and I could see when a person was clearly no match for another, whether it be mentally or physically. Goyle was no match for Clarissa on either front.
To top all that off, they had muffins at the tables for breakfast, and as I rounded the corner of the Slytherin table I was forced to watch as Blaise Zabini stole the last blueberry one from the basket, leaving only banana-nut. I loathe nuts on muffins. I was forced to watch as he popped bite after bite into his mouth, staining his lips blue while he smirked over at me. He knew they were my favorite, the only breakfast served at Hogwarts that I truly enjoyed. I don't know what it is about them; maybe it's something to do with the warm buttery texture melting against my tongue or the way the juicy blueberries nearly pop when you bite into them. All of it gone down his gluttonous throat and I was left sitting at the table furiously picking the offensive nuts from my muffin, a sour look on my face for sure, when Potter walked into the great hall looking as smug and heroic as ever.
It was disgusting.
If that wasn't bad enough the magical ceiling chose that exact moment to morph into a brilliant sunny spring morning, as if it were heralding Potter's very presence in the room.
I groaned and Pansy shot me a concerned glance, but I waved her quickly away. She was like an annoying house elf, always trailing after me, trying to insinuate herself in my life in any way she could. It made me wonder if I could talk her into doing my class assignments and what it might cost me in return. The price would most likely be too high to pay; I knew her brand of currency was sexual.
Not that I didn't appreciate my fair share of sexual favors. I didn't find any of the girls at Hogwarts particularly attractive, Pansy included but I had no qualms with using them to fill my needs. That, however, was the extent of our arrangements.
I continued to glare at Potter from across the room, hoping that a small iota of my hatred would create some sort of a physical manifestation and do the boy actual harm. It never worked previously, though, and today was no different.
He was sitting to the left of Granger and no one was on his right, which was odd considering that usually he sat wedged between her and the Weasel. This morning the slug belching git was on the other side of her, furthest from Potter. Neither of them was talking to the Gryffindor Golden Boy. In fact, most of the table looked downright angry with him.
It was made even more peculiar when the Weasel twins walked over. They got up from their own places further down the table and came to sit next to Potter, one on either side of him, nudging Hermione gently out of the way. I had seen the predatory way the boys would go after their latest victims before, but never directed at Potter, or any of their friends for that matter.
Everyone thought that the boy's dropped out before the end of their seventh year, opting to go out with a bang instead. A literal one even, made of fireworks and screaming Ministry Professor's and everything, but rumor had it, Mrs. Weasley made them come back. Not only did they have to retake their exams, she arranged for them to have to retake their entire seventh year because of their shenanigans. I would have loved to be a fly on the wall of the Burrow that day.
It was common knowledge amongst the Slytherin's that the twins would team up to conquer someone they found fascinating, and who could be more fascinating than Scarhead himself? Still, when the boys were through, they usually left their target in anguish and social ruin, so why they would attack a fellow housemate and friend was beyond my grasp.
Not even Slytherin's did that… often.
It was made worse when Fred – or was it George, I could never tell them apart – leaned in closer and rubbed his hand smoothly up and down Potter's leg. I could see Potter's shoulders tense, but that was the only sign that the boy had even felt the caress.
Then he turned slightly and I could see his blush. Not just a slight pinking of the cheeks as he got when he was publicly reprimanded and humiliated by Professor Snape, but a full on scarlet blush.
Potter liked the touch.
The other twin's hand slinked up the back of Potter's shirt and even from where I sat I could see the shiver that ran up his spine.
I blinked rapidly trying to make sense of this new information. The twins attack, the indifference of the other Gryffindor students, the snarling looks that Ron kept shooting Potter.
It all clicked quickly and firmly into place.
Potter must be gay and somehow the Gryffindor students had been made privy to the information and obviously they didn't like the idea. The very notion that the savior of the wizarding world was in fact a flaming poof was comical, but surely his own housemates would be more understanding of his sexual preference?
But it was the only explanation I could see.
George - or maybe Fred - proceeded to whisper something in Potter's ear, which elicited a different reaction from the boy altogether. He clearly didn't like what the other boy had said, as he got up from the table and stormed from the great hall followed by roaring laughter from the twins and a few other students at their house table.
Something about this infuriated me. I should be the only one able to create such reactions in the boy. I am his arch nemesis, after all. Some would say that his enemy is The Dark Lord; but no, it's me.
I've been there in the background, taunting him and manipulating him the entire time. I am his antithesis, the yin to his yang, the dark to his light, the evil to his good. We are forever bound together in this twisted dance of loathing.
It's the only thing I'm good at really, since, according to my father, I've rather failed as both a Slytherin and a Malfoy. This should still be mine though. I should be the only one who can make his brilliant green eyes flare with fury; I should be the only one who can make him storm away in anger, and I should be the only one permitted to mock him behind his back.
The twins were moving in on my territory and I didn't like it one bit, but at least I now had another weapon for my arsenal, something fresh to taunt the golden boy with. The dead parents and scarhead comments were getting stale, so maybe now I could use this newfound information to draw Potter into me, like a fly to a spider.
I could make him fall for me and then I could spring on him, leaving him weak and defenseless just as my father had hoped I would do our first year. There was time yet to redeem myself in my father's eyes.
Time yet to take down the famous Harry Potter.
It didn't take long before my suspicions were confirmed. Rumors were already flying around the potions classroom about Potter's preference to cock. I even allowed myself to indulge in a fantasy or two while I gathered my materials.
I could clearly envision Potter's lips around my growing erection, head bobbing up and down in my lap, and then the humiliation as I told everyone at school, or better yet, I could release the memory footage to the Daily Prophet.
The very idea of Potter – Gryffindor's Golden Boy – taking it up the arse by the son of a Death Eater would keep me going for weeks. Though it couldn't just be any Death Eater's son, no, it had to be me.
I'm not gay or anything, but the distinction means little to me. A hole is a hole, and if I can do something that will hurt Potter, while pleasuring myself, all the better.
I needed to be the one to conquer him. I needed to be the one to break his virgin arse.
If it was even still virginal at all – and I desperately hoped it was. Still, I needed to find out for sure. He was discovered after all, so who knows, maybe he was caught in the act, but more likely he was just caught kissing or groping another boy.
It did stand to reason however, that someone already had a leg up on me so far as the seduction of innocent Harry Potter was concerned. I needed to find out more about what happened.
"Pansy," I whispered. She was always the two-faced queen of gossip, so if anyone knew the entire story by now it would be her. She leered at me and scooted closer. "Have you heard anything on the Potter scandal?" I asked her.
She guffawed, and it sounded partly like the braying of a donkey and partly like a choking duck. "Do I? Oh you'll never guess," she giggled, and I repressed the urge to make her hurry with her explanation. One couldn't seem too eager, people might start asking questions. Rumors have started over much smaller things in this school. "Apparently he was caught last night with Michael Corner behind the greenhouses."
"Caught doing what?" I asked impatiently.
"Kissing," she replied in a whisper.
"Is that all?" I demanded, a little too anxiously.
Pansy frowned and started looking suspicious. "Isn't that enough?" she asked.
"Of course, but I was just hoping he got caught doing something worse," I lied. A kiss I could counter, if they had been caught in a more intimate situation, there might be more competition there.
"Well, that's true. It would have been loads funnier if they caught Potter with his pants down, so to speak," she giggled.
"Who caught them?" I asked.
"The Weasel-ette," she replied.
"Really?" That was just too precious. Everyone knew that Ginevra and Potter were an item, or at least had been recently, probably right up until last night.
"Yes," she giggled again. "Apparently seeing Potter with one of her exes drove her a little batty and she went running for her brothers."
Well that explained the twin attack at breakfast, no doubt Ginevra's protective older brothers wanted to make Potter suffer. It also explained Ron's hateful looks.
Well, I would have preferred it to be a Hufflepuff he fell for, because that would have supplied the least amount of resistance, but I was up for the challenge a Ravenclaw might give. Would Michael fight for Potter, or would I have a clean shot at his heart?
The class began to settle and Snape floated into the room like a giant bat. The man only had grace when he walked or when he brewed; he was otherwise tactless and vile. My father said once that he had always been that way, even as a boy.
It was odd to think of Professor Snape as anything other than the stern teacher he was now. It was nearly impossible to fathom him dating, or getting married, or having children. Perhaps those things were just not in the cards for my favorite professor.
"Silence," Snape shouted, even though it was unnecessary. The moment he stepped into the room, the students all fell into a unanimous hush.
"Today we'll be working in pairs to brew the Draught of Living Death. You can find the instructions beginning on page ten of your textbooks," he drawled.
As he spoke, ingredients began listing on the blackboard behind him and students began scribbling furiously. I wasn't terribly worried, because I had studied this potion over the summer and knew the instructions front to back, as well as the proper method of brewing.
"Now, break into teams and gather your ingredients," he commanded and with swirl of billowing black robes, went to his seat.
My face split into a wide smirk as I saw Potter avoid the gaze of his partnered up friends and look around the classroom. All the Gryffindor's ignored him outright, which left a Slytherin as his only choice.
My usual partner was Blaise, and he was in the nurse's office with an uncanny case of diarrhea, most likely from the blueberry muffin he stole from me. It's peculiar because the school's food doesn't normally make students sick, but it simply had to be the breakfast, because it couldn't possibly have anything to do with that tiny little curse I threw at him for stealing my muffins.
I swear it couldn't. No way in hell.
Either way, it left Potter and I as the only two students in class without partners and a perfect opportunity for me to set my plan into action.
When Potter's brilliant green eyes flicked to mine I faltered for a moment. How had I never noticed the gemstone quality of his eyes before? He had certainly glared at me enough with them over the past several years. But I needed to compose myself, and quickly. For what I was about to do I needed complete concentration. It was only the idea of finally owning Potter that caused me to let my thoughts linger too long on his eyes, but that was irresponsible of me.
I was getting too arrogant, too sure of my victory before I had even started the game. I needed to focus and let all other frivolities fall to the wayside. Things like staring into Potter's stunning green eyes would have to wait until they were filled with tears because of me.
Yes, those eyes brimming with sorrowful tears would look just like precisely cut emeralds.
I pasted what I hoped to be a pleasant smile on my face and motioned for Potter to join me at my table. It might even give me an advantage to have him sitting at a desk surrounded by Slytherins.
Potter picked up his things and grudgingly came to sit beside me. The chair made an awful scraping noise and all the students – previously occupied gathering ingredients from the pantry – stared at the two of us. Professor Snape looked up and a slow smirk curled at the edge of his lips. No doubt he was thinking of all the ways I would torture his least favorite student through the duration of this project. If only he knew.
The glare Potter shot the Professor would have melted a lesser man in his seat, but Potter was always under the assumption that every man was less than him. That was my biggest problem with the boy. He walked around like he owned the world, and in a way he did, which only made his attitude that much worse. However, it wouldn't be that way for long.
Potter moved his chair as far from mine as he could while still remaining at the same table, and gripped the edge of the desk like he might break it off. "Let's get this over with," he grumbled under his breath.
I managed to stifle a laugh at his discomfort, but only barely. "So how did the Gryffindor mascot end up partnered with me?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
The hurt look in his eyes was unexpected, but I filed it away for later processing. I expected him to feel betrayed by his fellow housemates, but not to the point that he would so easily express it to me.
But it was then that I realized that Potter's eyes were the key. They would tell me far more than the boy's mouth would relay.
"Sod off, Malfoy," he responded, proving my previous point.
I held up my arms in defense and shook my head sadly. "You injure me, Potter. I was only trying to be friendly." I wanted to laugh out loud at the sheer absurdity of a my attempting to make friends with someone like Potter, but it was all part of the plan, and if I was going to seduce someone like him then I had a very specific part to play.
Potter sighed and rolled his eyes. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm sure you're well aware of what's going on with me: don't be coy, Malfoy. It doesn't suit you."
Coy actually suits me as nicely as Armani dress robes, but I didn't need to let him in on the act. "I'm not being coy, Potter. Do you really expect the entire school to keep track of the great Harry Potter's social interactions?"
He looked suitably chagrined for a moment, but switched gears almost at once, throwing me slightly off balance. "If you don't keep track of such things, then why did you ask?"
"I merely observed that every Gryffindor in this class ignored you and left you to the wolves, so to speak," I replied with a perfectly wolfish grin.
Potter rolled his eyes again, but looking closely I saw a hint of a smile twitch his lips, probably involuntary. It was progress, something of which I would take any and all I could get. "And I suppose in this scenario that you would be the wolf?" Potter asked.
"Undoubtedly," I replied with a flourish of my hand, sort of bowing in my chair. "Could you ever think otherwise?" I asked with a delicate eyebrow raised in question, leaning just a bit closer than necessary to get my point across. I relished in the expression of shock that flittered through his gaze at my words. Hopefully soon I would be experiencing a similar view of surprise when I tore him apart.
He really seemed to think about my question, which surprised me. I expected a biting remark, or a scathing comment just whipping from his thoughtless mouth. "I think I could be persuaded to think otherwise," he said at last, and thankfully he turned quickly away so that he didn't see my jaw hit the floor.
Had he really just said that? Had he already given plausibility to my scheme? This was too easy. I quickly composed myself and looked at him, but he was still turned away. When he turned back I could see the remaining traces of a blush on his cheeks and his eyes sparkled in a new way and I mentally frowned, though outwardly kept my cool and mysterious mask.
He was getting ahead of the schedule. If this went too fast it would fizzle out just as quickly. I needed to prolong his fascination with me, have him be the chaser, so that when it all came crumbling down around him he would have no one but himself to blame for his heartache.
"But I am the wolf, Potter. Don't forget that," I said with a mysterious air. Let him dwell on that for a minute.
Potter's face broke out into a thoughtful expression and I nodded in satisfaction, leaving him to stew on that piece of information as I went to the supply closet for the needed potion ingredients.
I had gathered the asphodel and the wormwood and was looking for the valerian root when Snape skulked into the pantry behind me, shutting the door and basking us in near darkness. "Professor," I acknowledged, interested to hear what my mentor had to say.
"What are you doing with Potter?" he asked, lips curling into a heavy frown at the name.
"I wouldn't possibly know what you're talking about, Professor," I replied as taught.
"I hope you know what you're doing. A slip up at this stage could mean your neck, or even your mother's," he snarled.
I stood up straighter and gave Snape the full weight of my gaze. "I know what's at risk, Professor. This is my chance to set things right," I told him, and it was true.
My father was out of Azkaban, but just barely, and my home was under constant Auror surveillance. Still, they never even noticed that Voldemort came and went as he pleased, threatening my parents as well as any other Death Eater he could get hold of.
And now I was amongst his ranks, his Dark Mark hidden under my robes. Nothing was expected of me until after I graduated this summer, but I wanted to secure my place at the top, rather than work my way up his ladder of minions slowly after I graduated. If I could deliver him Potter, then I would prove to be even more valuable than my father. And if I could have a bit of fun in the process, then why not?
It would truly be fun breaking Potter.
"A package from your father arrived this morning. I'll put it in the usual place," Snape said, pressing the valerian root and sopophorous beans into my palm. "Don't fall for his tricks," he warned.
"Potter?" I scoffed. "He has no tricks. He's a Gryffindor remember?"
Snape shook his head. "Not completely," he replied mysteriously and left the room with a sudden swirl of robes.
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Not completely?
I blinked against the sudden onslaught of light and made my way back to the table, pleased to note that Potter still looked perplexed over my parting words.
"What did he want?" Potter asked as soon as I sat down, as if it were naturally his business. Sure technically we were talking about him, but can't a person talk behind another persons back without them getting nosey?
"He just wanted to make sure I was going to make your day sufficiently miserable," I told him, which wasn't an altogether lie, and something Potter would probably eat up.
"Is that your plan?" he asked me.
I only shrugged, letting him think what he wanted.
"Because if it is, you could do a better job," he added with a smirk.
A smirk? That was unacceptable. Smirks had no place on faces like Potter's, or any Gryffindor for that matter.
"He said something in there, that was a little odd," I began. It was important not to give away our conversation, but I could give him a tidbit in order to ease my own curiosity. Potter looked shocked that I would tell him anything, but he listened quietly. "He said you weren't completely a Gryffindor. What in the world does that mean?"
A bark of laughter escaped his lips and he turned away. "He would know about that."
"Know about what?" I asked.
Potter looked reluctantly at his own feet for several minutes and didn't look like he was going to answer, so I shrugged dramatically and sighed. "It's okay, Potter. You don't have to tell me, it's probably personal," I goaded.
He looked over and scrutinized me for a moment and then after a quick nod of his head began speaking. "It is a little personal but… no real harm in you knowing I suppose. Do you remember the Sorting?" he asked me.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, of course I remembered our first day of school, the day he declined my hand in friendship, and instead nodded with interest.
He blushed slightly and rolled his eyes. "Sorry, of course you remember being sorted. That was a stupid question," he said, and I wasn't going to argue. "Well, I was almost sorted into Slytherin."
"Almost? How do you almost get sorted into a house? The Sorting Hat always knows exactly where to put you," I stated plainly. It knew precisely which house to put me in. I never heard a case of the hat getting it wrong. What if Potter had been sorted into my house? How would things have been different? Would he be on our side of the war? Would he and I really be friends?
The possibilities were endless, and each one was more mind boggling than the last.
Potter only shrugged. "I can only tell you what happened to me. The hat said I would be a great wizard and that Slytherin could help me along to achieve that greatness. I told it no, that I would rather be in any other house, and after giving me several chances to change my mind, it finally put me in Gryffindor."
I had no idea what to say about that. "That's ridiculous, Potter. Why wouldn't you listen to the Sorting Hat? You could have ruined your entire life by ignoring it," I said, and it was true. If it said Potter would have been great with Slytherin's help, then maybe Potter would end up being a Ministry janitor now.
The thought almost made me laugh.
He made a face that looked between a frown and a laugh. "I doubt it has ruined my entire life," he said, but then looked around the room and grimaced. "Or at least, I would have said that yesterday."
"What did you do anyhow?" I asked, wanting to hear it from the horse's mouth.
"You just assume it was something I did?" he asked, seemingly offended. For a moment I even thought Pansy had been mistaken in her gossip.
I just shrugged casually. "It seemed the most plausible explanation since they're all mad at you, and you look guilty," I added with a grin.
Potter rolled his eyes. "Well it was me this time, though, usually it isn't," he was quick to add.
"Are you going to make me ask again? Or do I just need to ask one of the gossiping Slytherin girls for the dirt on your bad behavior?" I asked, laughing to myself.
Potter sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I cheated on Ginny," he said at last.
It surprised me that he cut to the quick of it instead of lingering the story out to make himself seem like the victim. "Is that all?" I offered, trying to establish the possibility that I could be on his side.
He just stared at me incredulously. "Isn't that enough?"
"For your entire house to turn against you? Hardly. Even Slytherin's are more loyal than that. I thought you were their poster child?" I replied.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm only their hero when it suits them, and most of the time I'm just some freak who shares their common room."
That was certainly interesting insight to the daily life of the boy who lived. "Would you like for me to talk to them?" I asked, having no intentions whatsoever to do so.
"Yeah, would you?" Potter replied with a genuine looking smile. My own smile faltered and he started to laugh. "I was kidding. I'm sure that would do about as much good as if I let them all fuck me."
I dropped the silver knife I had been using to crush the beans. The textbook said to cut them, but my father had taught me the proper method over the summer. Potter's statement startled me, but I realized that luckily it should have also startled the Draco in the part I was playing.
He laughed and blushed. "Sorry. I forgot to tell you the other bit. They are also mad because I cheated on Ginny with a boy."
My inner manipulator patted me on the back. "I had no idea," I said with genuine awe. I hadn't known it was even possible for the Gryffindor Golden Boy to prefer cock until just that very morning.
"No one did, except Mike," he responded.
"Mike?" I asked.
"Michael Corner, my boyfriend," he stated simply. "Or at least he was until all this blew up, now I'm not so sure."
"I don't know what to say, Potter. I thought I knew all the gay boys in Hogwarts, but I never suspected you or Corner," I mused out loud, letting my words sink in.
"Are you… are you saying that you're gay?" Potter asked.
Ah yes, here was the talent for jumping to conclusions I had so counted on. All I had to do was smile in order to confirm his speculations. I never had to say that I was gay, or anything of the sort. Potter was making this far too easy.
At my own smile, Potter practically beamed. "Well I guess we have more in common than I thought," he said.
"We just might," I said, still smiling and still not giving anything away.
The progress I was making today was beyond anything I could have imagined possible. Potter's entire class turning against him must have really struck a nerve to get him to open up to someone like me.
But maybe it was more than that. Maybe the attraction was already kicking in, making him less cautious than he would have otherwise been. Only one way to know for sure.
He was stirring the potion counter-clockwise as the books instructed and I placed my hand gently over his, not looking at him directly, but watching his reactions carefully out of my peripheral. "Do you trust me?" I said in the barest of whispers.
His whole body went ridged but eventually he nodded and after the sixth stir I changed the direction to clockwise for one stir, then changed it back for the remaining six, then back again for one stir. All the while Potter was staring at me like a salivating puppy in heat.
"How did you know to do that?" he asked when the potion turned the right shade of pale lilac. Looking around the class I noticed most of the other cauldrons contained horrendously different colored potions… if you could even still call them potions.
"I take private lessons in potions over the summer. I enjoy this subject a great deal," I answered honestly. An ounce of truth mixed into a cauldron full of lies, the result would be an infatuated Potter.
He turned up his nose slightly, but otherwise seemed unaffected by my statement. The silence stretched between us, and class was almost over. I needed him to suggest walking to the next class with me, needed enough people to see us together that it would get back to Corner.
As Snape stood to put our potions into stasis, I turned to Potter and let my hand fall over his as I gathered my things. I made it look like an accidental gesture, but when I looked into his face, I could tell the effect was not lost on him.
"We'll finish the potions tomorrow, some of you will need to start over," Professor Snape snarled, glaring balefully as Longbottom in particular. "You are dismissed for today."
Potter's eyes hadn't left mine for even a moment as Snape spoke and the flush to his cheeks was unusually bright. "So what do you have next?" he asked suddenly.
It was difficult to refrain from smiling as his absurd question. We'd had the same schedule as one another since first year, but since he was following my plan, I refrained from calling him on it. "Divination," I responded easily.
He made a face that resembled one that my father had slapped me for making after tasting a particularly bad batch of caviar but nodded and flushed again. Making Potter blush wasn't even a challenge anymore. "Me too," he muttered.
I waited for the words of him asking to walk with me, but they never came and I resisted the urge to pout. I seemed to be resisting a lot of things today. As I gathered up my things and made move to leave the class, he trailed behind me.
Snape shot me a suspicious look as I walked passed him and I left, wondering if Potter was going to join me or walk the entire way to the Astronomy tower ten paces behind me.
Authors Note: I hope you had a bit of fun reading this. Non-cursed blueberry muffins to all who review and look out for Laurel's update of Harry's POV in chapter 2 coming to a fiction site near you.