Love or Death || Drarry

Chapter fourteen

Harry was in potions. But he wasn't paying attention. His mind was on, not surprisingly, Draco Malfoy. It seemed the Slytherin never left Harry's mind nowadays. Harry rested his head on his palm, trailing the dark stained wood of his desk. It seemed someone had a bit of an accident with an acidic potion, a huge corner of the desk was missing. He wonders why nobody bothered to fix it. Has it always been there?
That was by far Harry's worst attempt at occupying his mind with anything other than grey eyes and blond hair, pathetic, really.

Harry thinks back to breakfast. It was almost completely ordinary except for the fact Harry could barely keep his eyes off a certain table. No surprise which table it was. Harry was watching Draco Malfoy. His friends didn't notice, too busy with being all coupley and everyone else were talking with each other. Draco had only eaten half a slice of toast. Even if he threw up after eating too much of something shouldn't he at least try? Harry supposed that was what the boy had been trying to do for the last six months, well, it obviously hadn't worked.

Maybe Harry should mention Madam Pomfrey again? Surely she would be able to help, offer some medicine or advice? Harry didn't know how long the Slytherin could last with what he was eating, or not eating, as it were. It worried Harry more than he cared to admit. Harry starts to bite his nails, not daring to look up from the wood of the desk in fear he would get caught staring at Draco, how embarrassing that would be indeed.

"Mr. Potter? Do you mind answering my question?"

Harry snaps his head up, cheeks tinting when realising the class was looking at him and so was Slughorn. So much for being his favourite student, Harry thinks bitterly.

"Uh... sorry, could you repeat the question?" Harry asks softly, extremely embarrassed and trying his hardest not to look at Draco, who he could feel the piercing gaze of more than anyone else in the room, including Hermione's. Which was a feat on the Slytherins behalf, because Hermione was known to have a very sharp stare.

Slughorn gives him an appraising look which Harry replies with an apologetic one. "We're on the topic of felix felicis, and since you have knowledge of what this potion feels like, having taken it, I asked if you could describe what it felt like to the rest of the class, in your own words, if you please."

Harry swallows. It felt like years ago when he took that potion, longer than when it was, anyway. It feels like being drunk and high at the same time. Harry thinks, but he could hardly say what he thought out loud. "I-I, uh, it feels like you're... floating, and your shoulders and chest feel so light, there's nothing on your mind at all. It's peaceful, relaxing." Harry finally replies. Nothing like how I feel now.

Slughorn mulls over his answer and seems to accept it, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, yes, couldn't have described it better myself, thank you, Harry."

Harry nods and offers one of his fake smiles before going back to trailing his finger lightly on the wooden desk. He was making random shapes and words, faintly listening to the professor saying something but also not really caring.

Harry looks up without thinking, his eyes locking onto Draco's, who's are filled with something Harry can't place. Draco smiles very lightly before turning back to the front of the class. Harry looks around to try and see if anyone had noticed the little exchange. Hermione was feverishly taking notes on her parchment, Ron was dazing absentmindedly at the wall, his mouth dropped open and eyes half closed. Everyone else we're paying attention keenly or hiding behind their books while they slept. Nobody noticed.

Harry smiles lightly at his desk, cheeks flushing pink.

But Hermione notices that.