Malfoys Don't Bite

Chapter 4: Red Marks

Harry muttered the week's password to the portrait as quietly as he could and stepped in the bathroom to relieve himself and just maybe drown in the calming warm waters of a tub.

He'd noticed several red marks on his chest when he woke up earlier; they looked like typical ant bites, but at the same time, they didn't seem to be, and Harry was puzzled and confused. It didn't itch one bit but his skin was so swollen with what looked like small insect bites. But he'd left his blouse a little unbuttoned in case his skin was just feeling hot and needed some air.

Fourth year has just started, and he was already getting stressed over particularly nothing; and what he feared of all: Draco Malfoy and his sneer and his eyes and his...charm that drew him a little closer....

Stop this shit, Harry. He massaged his temples with his free hand, the other still holding on to the soft fabric of his invisibility cloak, afraid that it would slip from his grasp and possibly reveal himself to any... passer-by that lurked in and out of the school at hours like these.

Harry wasn't supposed to be roaming around at midnight. And he certainly wasn't supposed to enter the prefect's bathroom, seeing as he wasn't a prefect himself and just needed to clear his mind of all things disturbing.

How typical of me, being selfish and all.

But any desire to calm himself and even the idea of relaxation vanished when he saw Malfoy, his arms resting on both sides of the tub, eyelids closed and his chest rising up and down. He seemed to be enjoying himself, sinking into the depths of the warm water.

Harry didn't realize he was even in a trance before he leaned forward a little and tripped on something, causing him to land on his stomach (and probably bruising it), the invisibility cloak fanning around behind him like some sort of an imitation of a cape, and immediately fell with a thud.

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. I pray he doesn't notice me.

Harry shivered in the absence of the cloak's warmth and immediately twisted his body to try and grab it, but he immediately froze when he heard Draco's tired and surprised voice.

"Potter? What in Merlin's name are you doing here?! You're not a fucking prefect!"

He sounded desperate and...scared. Harry could've relished in the thought that he was scared of him, but any dark desire to revel in his fear was replaced with his fear. Draco did not like Dumbledore (it was common knowledge) but he would most certainly rat him out to him, and possibly get him suspended, or worst, expelled.

So Harry lay there for a few seconds like a dumb gaping fish who'd just been dragged onto land by a hasty fisherman before he stood up and grabbed the cloak, wrapping it around his arm and dusting himself off with a hand.

"Um...I.." Harry wheeled his arms around trying to come up with a good excuse. "I...tripped and somehow ended up here–"

But Harry's lie was cut short when he noticed that Draco was staring at his exposed collarbones which were swollen with those marks. Draco's face looked like it was drained of all blood, deathly pale.

"You know what, Potter? You can have the bath. I promise I won't tell on you. I was planning to leave anyways."

Harry barely had time to register what was going on as Draco stepped out of the bath, dried himself and magicked his clothes on in a blink of an eye, and hurriedly ran past Harry and into the darkness of the halls.