A/N: I would like to say, the characters and places are not mine, just the plot (and maybe a couple of things). I hope you enjoy the first chapter to this fic, the second will come soon.. So check back or something. If you read.. Review, I like it.
Chapter One: Wishing Star
All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
"What? Huh? Oh." Hermione just brought Harry back from a daydream; he's been having these often lately. Ever since that night in the prefect's bathroom with. .
"What has gotten into you lately?" Hermione asked seriously, then it dawned on her. "So who is now, Harry?" She gave Harry a knowing grin.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry grabbed an apple from a plate on the table and went to take a bite. Before he was able to, Seamus Finnigan gave him a violent (but friendly) nudged and knocked the apple clear out of his hand. "Hey, now what was that for?"
Seamus just laughed. "Come on, Harry!" His voice got slightly more serious. "So, who's the lucky girl?"
Girl? Oh, if only Seamus knew. It was true that Harry was daydreaming about somebody. But a girl? Hardly. "No one, Seamus, really."
Harry's best friend, Ron chimed in, "Oh, come on, it's so obvious you have a crush on someone. What's the harm in telling? It isn't like you couldn't get her, anyway." Ron was backed up by the rest of the group, they were either nodding or saying something that ran along the lines of "really".
"Ron, Seamus, guys, I'm telling you, I don't like anyone. I've just been really caught up in work is all." Seamus scoffed, along with Dean Thomas; they weren't buying his story. They had a good reason not to. Although Harry wasn't any sort of whore, he sure as hell was no saint. Any girl he wanted, he could have, easily. He was, after all, The Boy Who Lived.
But this was different, he wasn't dreaming about any girl. Harry wasn't even sure if he liked girls. Ever since that night a couple of weeks ago, he wasn't able to think straight, he was acting different. It wasn't anything serious, of course. They both were drunk, and Harry was quite sure the other boy didn't remember it at all.
The looks on Harry's friend's faces showed they definitely weren't buying his story. "I'm not lying, you guys," Harry protested. "I've just been really caught up in work is all." Seamus rolled his eyes.
"You're repeating yourself! See! You're not even thinking straight! Tell us who the girl is and we will leave you alone to take action." Harry shot Seamus a dirty look, almost as if he was trying to get Seamus to shut up. He didn't shut up, but he did tone it down a bit. "Or do absolutely nothing about it, whatever you'd like.."
"I'm telling you, it's nothing."
"Just leave Harry alone about it," Hermione stepped in. "If he doesn't want to share his crush, it's own business."
"Thank you, Hermione." He went and picked up a new apple, and managed to take a bite this time.
"So there is a crush!"
"Seamus," Hermione snapped and glared at Seamus, "cut it."
"Okay, okay." Seamus and Dean stood up with their books. "We have to take care of something before classes anyway." They walked off, mischievously laughing silently.
"Good job, Hermione," Ron said as he turned to Harry. "So, who is this lucky girl?"
"Ron!" Hermione scolded.
"What? I thought that was just a show to get them away. It's not like I'll tell anyone." Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. "So tell us, Harry."
"Ron, it isn't anyone. So leave me alone about it, will you?" This whole thing was putting a damper on Harry's already crummy mood. He put down his half-eaten apple, sighed and placed his face in his hands. "Just leave me alone."
"Sorry," Ron truly stopped this time. Stopped with the girl questions, that is. "So what is bothering you then?"
Harry inwardly sighed. "It's nothing, Ron. Just leave me alone about it, would you?" He folded his arms and rested his head. There was about fifteen minutes until Potions; he might as well get some rest while he can.
This didn't help at all. Every time Harry would close he eyes, he would think of him. What killed Harry the most is that the one he was so infatuated with, was certainly in no way feeling this way towards him. They were drunk; Harry knew that much, and he knew the other boy just thought that. If he even remembered that night, that is.
But he couldn't help but think of being in that bath, alone with the other boy, so close to him. It killed him that he possibly would never feel that way ever again. If he ever did, it wouldn't be with that boy, and that's all Harry knew for sure. It's all he needed to know that it wouldn't be the same. Things would never be the same. Not for him, at least.
Harry bit down on his lip, trying to hold back the memories. This didn't help all that much, he still saw the other boy, felt the other boy. The only way to stop this was to never close his eyes again, ever. And no matter how hard Harry would try, he could never stop thinking about the boy for more than ten minutes at a time, tops. His grades were slipping, he started losing sleep, and he wasn't eating much. All for one boy.
Just one, single, solitary boy. Harry shouldn't even be thinking about this boy; he shouldn't even be thinking about boys this way! Harry didn't know what was going on with him. He was sleeping again.
"Harry!" Hermione whispered harshly, trying to not startle Harry, just wake him up. "Classes are in eight minutes, we should be on or way so we're not late." Harry rubbed his eyes and got up. "Let's go then."
They didn't arrive outside Snape's room any more than two minutes later. Under normal circumstances, Harry would have been irritated by this. She woke him up from a brief nap, to arrive to his least favourite class six minutes early. But these weren't under normal circumstances.
Once in the room and Harry spotted the boy he was thinking about so much the past three weeks. This wasn't fair. Now he had to spend five minutes virtually alone in a classroom with this boy. So what if Harry was with his two best friends, and the boy was with his? Harry hardly noticed anyone else when the two were in the room together anyway.
This wasn't the first time they were, either. They had plenty of classes together, so Harry didn't know what made this morning so different. His thoughts were interrupted by the boy speaking to him.
"What are you doing here so early, Potter?" The blonde spoke, to him. He was speaking to him. Harry froze in place, he couldn't explain it. He just froze. The blonde picked this up immediately. "Well?"
"It's none of your business, Malfoy." Harry threw Draco Malfoy the best glare he could muster at the time and then he took his seat. Ron sat next to him, and Hermione next to Ron. There was nothing Harry could do but wait, wait until the class was over and hope he survived it. He was grateful that this was the only class he had with Draco all day. Other days he wasn't so fortunate.
Ron and Hermione got involved in a conversation, while Harry rested his head on his right hand and tried to relax. He would have just put his head down, rest that way for five minutes, but that would risk closing his eyes. Even though Harry kept himself wide-awake and his eyes open, he was still rushed with memories of that night.
Harry was clumsily drunk, and Draco was in control. It would have been expected for Harry to forget that night and Draco the one who would remember it. It was quite the opposite; Harry wished he were able to forget that night and everything that happened between them. But he couldn't.
Time passed slowly during the whole period, Draco being in the same room gave Harry an indescribable pain. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it and Draco, he couldn't succeed. The feeling only intensified. All Harry could do was try.
The majority of the period went by fine, without Draco speaking a word. Which was weird, considering this was Draco's favourite class. Harry might have thought something was wrong with Draco. Ten minutes to the end of the period, Harry was proved wrong, and Draco asked Professor Snape a question.
"Professor," Draco asked. His voice was like a thousand knives to Harry, all aimed at his heart. Harry sucked it up.
"Yes Mister Malfoy?" Snape turned around to face the blond.
"I was wondering," Draco started, "I was wondering if there is such thing as a 'Wishing Potion'"
Professor Snape raised his eyebrow out of amusement. "Well, Mr. Malfoy, I would expect a more intelligent question from you." He shook his head. "Out of all people. . Well, there is such a thing, but I have never looked into it myself. I suggest that no one here does so."
"Care to tell us a bit about it, Professor?"
"A little too interested are we, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape sighed and regretfully explained, "The Wishing Potion is a not so simple potion, and rarely produces any results. The conjurer drinks the potion, and makes a wish. They are to hold their breath with some of the potion still in their mouth and after thirty-three seconds exactly— it's all rubbish, actually. I don't even know why I'm explaining this to you. Back to the lesson."
But Draco wouldn't relent. "But sir, there has got to be some truth behind it, I'm sure someone has actually gotten there wish."
"Don't test me, Malfoy." Snape was losing his patience. "I'm certain that if any one did, in fact, get their wish it was purely coincidental. Nothing more. Now if you don't—"
"Have you tried it yourself?" Draco cut in, really getting on Professor Snape's nerves. This was unlike Draco, annoying his favourite teacher.
"Mr. Malfoy, one more word out of you and I will take points from Slytherin. Don't act like I wouldn't."
Even though Draco was pretty sure that no matter what, Snape wouldn't take points for that, he kept quiet anyway for the rest of the period. Harry was thankful; the last thing he wanted to hear was Draco's voice. It was too painful.
Everything about Draco, everything, Harry both loved and hated all at the same time. He hated seeing Draco, he hated hearing him, and he never got the chance to smell or feel him since that night. Thank God.
And all at the same time, there was no one that he wanted to smell or touch more than Draco. But he couldn't, the other boy did not like him back, he knew that the boy didn't even remember that night. Which made things a lot worse for Harry.
Harry couldn't think of anything that he remembered more than that night. He wished he could prove himself wrong, or even forget the whole thing, but he couldn't. The memory of Draco and the prefect's bathroom was still there, and could possibly always be. And all Harry could do about it was nothing, absolutely nothing about it.
If he was able to, he would.
When class was dismissed, Harry gathered all of he books together quickly, waited for his two friends and went off to his next class.
Well he did it, he asked Professor Snape about the Wishing Potion. It proved useless.. So now what? There just had to be another way to settle things. He wished that night never happened. It was just too revolting. He was not gay, and he certainly had no interest in Potter.
The mere memory made Draco shudder.
He didn't remember too much of that night, but whatever he did remember he wanted to forget straight away. He was too ashamed, too embarrassed, and didn't care to know if Harry remembered anything. Well, he hoped Harry didn't.
Another boys flesh against his—Potters, nonetheless. The thought just grossed him out beyond belief, yet Draco could hardly stop thinking about it. But he wanted it to stop.
He didn't like Harry Potter, he didn't like boys, he was not gay, and he was drunk that night. Nothing more than that. He didn't enjoy any bit of it, or the memory of it. He just wanted to forget about it.
And that is exactly why he asked Professor Snape about the Wishing Potion; he wanted to wish the memory away.
It was a long shot, but Draco wanted to try it out. There was nothing else he could think of. Memory charms were too risky; he would prefer to keep all of his other memories. He just wished that the night in the prefect's bathroom never happened. The potion was his only hope.
Draco's thoughts were interrupted by a sharp kick in the shins. "Draco!" Pansy Parkinson whispered, "You're going to get yourself in trouble, pay attention!"
He didn't know where his mind had been, he was in Transfiguration class, his mind was elsewhere. As much as he was against Gryffindor and all the students in it, he couldn't help but like Transfiguration. It was interesting, not as interesting as Potions, but interesting.
Draco focused and tried to pay attention to Professor McGonagall.
Harry made his way to the Gryffindor table for dinner. He went through all day, even lunch, without running into, or even so much as seeing Draco. As long as this kept up, Harry would stay in a not-so-bad mood. Harry picked a few things to eat, and sat down.
The truth was Harry wasn't all that hungry. He starred at his food until his friends came to join him. "Hey, Harry," Hermione said as she took the seat in front of him. "Feeling any better than this morning?"
"Nothing was terribly wrong this morning, Hermione," Harry said, "But I am feeling way better." She smiled at him and then Ron came and took a seat next to her.
"I see you're feeling better, Harry."
"Yeah," Harry said as he forced himself to eat a roll. He was feeling better, better than before, but not good. He didn't see Draco all day, that made him feel better, but at the same instance, made him feel even worse. Half of him, maybe less, wanted to see Draco. Half of him, maybe more, did not. He just wanted to forget that night, or never see Draco again. Whichever came first.
Draco walked into the hall, and Harry noticed him immediately. He tried his hardest not to look over, not to make eye contact. He succeeded, he was able to seem much more interested in his dinner role than Draco.
"Harry?" Hermione said, "Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing, Hermione," Harry replied. He took another bite of his dinner roll, it wasn't bad actually, but that didn't change the fact that Harry wasn't hungry and he didn't want to be eating it.
Hermione sighed. "If you insist, Harry. I'm starting to worry about you."
"You don't need to."
Draco looked up from his dinner plate, only to see a pair of green eyes fixed on him. He avoided eye contact and looked back down to his plate, he shovelled a spoonful of creamed corn into his mouth and swallowed.
Potter was not looking at him. He was imagining things, besides, even if he was looking at him, he was probably just plotting revenge anyway. Or something. Draco looked back up.
See? He's looking down at his plate. . . Just like Draco was two seconds ago when he noticed Potter. .
Stop this! Draco told himself. He was making such a fuss over such a little thing. A thing that should never have happened, a thing that meant absolutely nothing to him. Nothing. So stop thinking about it.
Did he just catch Draco looking at him? Of course he didn't. See? He was just looking at his dinner plate. Which is exactly what Harry was doing two minutes ago when he saw Draco looking at him.
Whatever the case was, Draco wasn't looking at him in that way. He had a certain look of disgust when he saw Harry, and Harry noticed this. He wasn't offended, or even surprised. He would expect that kind of behaviour from a Malfoy.
He took the napkin off his lap, put it on the table, and got up. "If you'll excuse me," he said to his two friends, and they replied in a nod. He left the Great Hall to his dorm room.
Harry threw himself on his bed, face first, into his pillow. He wanted to die, really. Well, not die, just disappear off the face of the Earth for a very long time. Very long time. Okay, Harry wanted to die.
He made himself as comfortable as he possibly could, laying down his stomach. He wanted to forget about that night, just because it hurt so much to think of it. He didn't want it to hurt like this, he never thought it would. Sure, he never expected to not be heartbroken over somebody, but he never thought, not in a million years, that he would be on the verge of tears thanks to Draco Malfoy.
His enemy, not his lover, Harry just needed time to get over it. But how much time would that be, anyway? It must have been more than two weeks later, and things were only getting worse for him.
He wasn't even sure why he was like this, for the thousandth time, it was Draco Malfoy. He was a boy; boys don't go with boys too well. At least, Harry didn't think so. Until he spent that night with Draco.
Sure, they were drunk, but they sure as hell knew what they were doing. To an extent, at least.
Harry let out a frustrated sigh into his pillow.
It was when dinner was over that Draco decided to go through with it. He scribbled the note on a piece of parchment and hurried down to the owlry.
He looked around for the bird he was searching for. He spotted a white owl and assumed this was the it. He inched his way closer, and when the thing snapped at him, he knew he was at the right owl. He reached out his hand to the bird's foot, to tie the note to it. The bird ruffled its feathers in protest.
"Yeah, you're his bird all right." Draco smirked and grabbed the bird's foot. After some struggle, Draco finally got the note fastened to the owl's foot. "Now," he said, "go deliver this note to Harry like a good owl." The owl hooted as if to protest some more, then flew off anyway.
There was nothing left for Draco to do but go back to his dorm and wait.
Harry slid into bed. He just finished putting his pajamas on. It was early, but he didn't care, it would take him long enough to go to sleep anyway. He looked up at the canopy and sighed.
Everyone was in the common room, laughing, and here Harry pitied himself. He couldn't help it; he was in the worst depression he ever went through. It didn't seem fair to him. He fidgeted a bit and then decided to join everyone else.
He walked clumsily down to the common room. He wasn't in bed for too long, but it sure felt like it. Everyone was still in his or her school uniform, except Harry. He was just about to turn back and around, until Seamus spotted him first.
"Harry! There you are!"
Harry forged a smile. "Hi guys."
"Just in time! Me and Dean were just about to show off our new invention!"
Harry didn't seem too excited about this. He was ready to turn back now. "And what is your invention exactly?"
Dean and Seamus exchanged excited looks and then Dean said, "Well, it isn't really an invention. More of a discovery."
"Yeah, we found out how you could make somebody. . ." Seamus giggled. "We found out that you can make someone fart," he giggled at the term, "with a single charm."
"Well, that's all nice and stuff, Seamus," Harry said, quite bemusedly, "But I would much rather be catching up on my beauty sleep, if you don't mind." Harry turned and made his way to the boy's dorms.
Seamus, already on the move, pointed his wand at Harry and said, "Liberare cariosus!" Much to everyone's (but Harry's) amusement, Harry let go of a big one. Seamus and Dean practically doubled over with laughter.
Harry left the room.
Harry arrived back at his room and sat down on his bed. If this were any other day, maybe Harry would have found that whole fart thing amusing. Today, he did not, at all. He noticed his owl was perched on his chair and looked over at her. "Hello Hedwig."
She hooted in return, Harry didn't notice the note attached to her foot, he laid down and looked up at the canopy. "Things sure can change over just a matter of weeks, can't they?" He sighed. Things sure can, he thought to himself, a month ago I hated Malfoy and now he's all I can think about.
He closed his eyes and next thing he knew it, Hedwig was at the foot of his bed affectionately nipping at his toes. Harry just smiled with his eyes closed.
Hedwig hooted softly a few times and Harry opened his eyes and looked at her. "What is it?" He then noticed the letter she was kicking around. "Oh, I'm sorry, Hedwig, I didn't notice that." Harry untied the letter attached to Hedwig, put the string on his end table and unfolded the note.
As soon as Harry read the note his jaw dropped and his heart sank. "I don't believe it," he whispered. But there it was, as clear as day, in Draco's handwriting:
Meet me in the prefect's bathroom at 11PM sharp.