Hey all,
Chapter three (revised edition) is ready to go!
First, copious thanks to bosch, who pointed out a problem with this chapter, which in turn allowed me to fix the problem. (Amazing how that works! ^_^) I am extremely grateful, and hope that it now makes more sense.
Again, a huge "thank you" to all of my reviewers. I truly appreciate hearing your thoughts on the story. Shoutouts to Kittchi, mandraco, valacirca (don't forget to thank the squid! ^_~), Dracona de Lioncourt (hopefully Draco's explanation of his reasoning will be pleasing--and re: your question, I'm not sure I understand it, so I'm afraid I can't answer), gwen (evil is enticing, isn't it? Draco says to tell you "*not* to compare me to Snape, especially in matters of. . .[and here his lip curled in distaste] grease."), and cdyeravr (here's your fix--may you keep on craving! ^_~).
Many Waters
Chapter 3
It was very important to be calm in these situations, thought Harry. Yes. Calm. The only way to deal with Malfoy is with your wits about you. I have to remember that.
Just because he could feel Malfoy's breathing suddenly, unexpectedly close to his ear didn't mean that he should be concerned. Right.
He bit down, harshly, on the urge to jerk away in surprise and panic. (It would not be until the next morning, when Ron asked him what had happened to his lip, that he would realize that he'd "bitten down" in more than a figurative sense.) Don't give Malfoy the satisfaction. Calm. I can stay focused. Even if he is acting really strangely, and he's breathing down my neck, and that smile just now was really. . .disturbing.
"Potter," came a puff of air just under his ear, "now you owe me."
"What?!" Harry asked, perfectly calmly.
Malfoy laughed.
At that point, if Harry had ever had any doubts about his feelings for Draco Malfoy, they would've been resolved. They consisted of a primal, unreasoning rage that curled up from his gut and threatened to choke him. No one, not even Dudley, had ever provoked him like this pale little sneering git.
"I saved your life, Potter," said Malfoy, backing far enough away that he could level an assessing gaze at his nemesis. "You owe me rather substantially, wouldn't you say?"
Harry's shock made him even more inarticulate than usual. "You--I can't believe you--that's--what the hell kind of reason is that for saving someone?!"
"You're a Gryffindor," Malfoy replied, simply. "Think about it. Can you honestly say you don't feel you have a debt of honor to me? Would you really be able to just go back to your little friends and go on living as if you didn't have to honor it, without feeling all tortured and conflicted and whatever else it is decent, upright people like you feel?" He gave a faint, derisive sneer, apparently at the thought of this.
"Malfoy, you do whatever you want to do; I'm not indebted--"
"It'll always be there, hanging over your head."
"I--you can sod--"
Malfoy was faster than Harry was, however, and interrupted him once again. "Do you really want to go on knowing that you owe me your life, Potter?"
You owe me your life, Potter.
Oh God.
He did.
If nothing else, Harry knew, he had a good imagination. And when he imagined spending every second of the rest of his life knowing that he owed that second to Malfoy, it was enough to make him feel ill again. Malfoy was right. It would prey on him, unless he did something to expunge it.
The sinking feeling in Harry's stomach was strangely like the one he'd experienced just a short time ago in the lake, and he was uncomfortably reminded of his last thoughts then--I'll give my firstborn child. . . .
It was a choice between giving Malfoy whatever remuneration he wanted--and if Malfoy found it satisfying, Harry was sure to find it humiliating if not horrifying--or living the rest of his life hating the knowledge of what his classmate had done.
Either way. . . .
Malfoy won either way.
Harry briefly debated throwing up again, just on principle, before he remembered that he didn't have anything left in his stomach. He took a deep breath instead.
"All right, Malfoy, what exactly do you want?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Draco smiled.
He found the idea of Harry living his life under the yoke of an unrepayable debt rather pleasing. Particularly satisfying if the debt was to him. Pleasing though it might be, however, it was to remain merely an idea. Draco had no intention of leaving the room without an absolute assurance that Potter would remain quiet about this little escapade. And the shame of weakness was no assurance. Decent people--like Potter--had a nasty habit of being subject to random confessional urges, Draco knew.
If, however, Potter had actually done something indecent, something bad, that would ensure his silence. He wouldn't want any of his precious followers to know he wasn't the good guy they thought him to be. And that was desirable, because Draco had had some time to think about this, and he didn't know that he particularly wanted the entire school to know that he'd saved Harry Potter's life.
Plus, watching Potter traumatize himself by doing something "wrong" out of his own free will would be just as pleasurable.
Torturing Harry Potter was so easy.
"Hmm. . . ." He crossed his arms and tapped one finger to his lips, in a caricature of one considering.
Potter, in the bed next to him, growled unappreciatively.
This was the only snag so far in an otherwise admirable plan. Draco didn't know that he did want anything in particular. At least, nothing that wouldn't be a waste of this unique opportunity.
Ah, well, he told himself. Suspense will eat at him more than knowledge, anyway.
"You needn't concern yourself with that yet, Potter. Just be ready when the time comes."
"Wait, so you're just going to expect me to wait at your beck and call?"
His lips turned up in a feral grin. "Problem with that, Wonder Boy?"
Potter's jaw set and his face settled into a determined look. Ah, there's that Gryffindor courage again. "Two conditions."
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"I won't betray my friends or harm anyone in any way."
"And?"
". . .and you won't tell anyone about--well, about. . . ."
"About exactly how pathetic a swimmer the great Harry Potter is? That he almost got himself killed after only a few minutes in calm water?" supplied Draco, barely repressing another smile. As expected, Potter was doing his work for him.
Potter, for his part, looked as if he were repressing a facial tic, or the urge to violently attack someone. Probably Draco. "Precisely. Yes."
Draco didn't even really have to consider. He didn't want the story out, either, and he figured agreeing or disagreeing to the first condition wouldn't change the monumental argument they'd have to have if he asked Potter to harm someone in any case.
He paused anyway, for effect.
"Agreed. And now I believe I'll let you think up a suitable story for your Giant friend while I go to the Great Hall and have dinner."
And Draco swept out of the hospital wing in a swish of robes, leaving Harry Potter gaping after him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To be continued. So, let me know how you liked it/didn't like it, or how you think I could make it better. Harsh reviews are also warmly welcome.
Draco: Masochist, you are.
Cutter: Harder! Hit me harder!
Harry: Oh, dear.
Cutter (reassuring): Don't worry; it's an author thing. Suffering for the purpose of making our art better and all that.
Draco (suspiciously): Are you sure you're not just a feedback whore?
~~Cutter
Chapter three (revised edition) is ready to go!
First, copious thanks to bosch, who pointed out a problem with this chapter, which in turn allowed me to fix the problem. (Amazing how that works! ^_^) I am extremely grateful, and hope that it now makes more sense.
Again, a huge "thank you" to all of my reviewers. I truly appreciate hearing your thoughts on the story. Shoutouts to Kittchi, mandraco, valacirca (don't forget to thank the squid! ^_~), Dracona de Lioncourt (hopefully Draco's explanation of his reasoning will be pleasing--and re: your question, I'm not sure I understand it, so I'm afraid I can't answer), gwen (evil is enticing, isn't it? Draco says to tell you "*not* to compare me to Snape, especially in matters of. . .[and here his lip curled in distaste] grease."), and cdyeravr (here's your fix--may you keep on craving! ^_~).
Many Waters
Chapter 3
It was very important to be calm in these situations, thought Harry. Yes. Calm. The only way to deal with Malfoy is with your wits about you. I have to remember that.
Just because he could feel Malfoy's breathing suddenly, unexpectedly close to his ear didn't mean that he should be concerned. Right.
He bit down, harshly, on the urge to jerk away in surprise and panic. (It would not be until the next morning, when Ron asked him what had happened to his lip, that he would realize that he'd "bitten down" in more than a figurative sense.) Don't give Malfoy the satisfaction. Calm. I can stay focused. Even if he is acting really strangely, and he's breathing down my neck, and that smile just now was really. . .disturbing.
"Potter," came a puff of air just under his ear, "now you owe me."
"What?!" Harry asked, perfectly calmly.
Malfoy laughed.
At that point, if Harry had ever had any doubts about his feelings for Draco Malfoy, they would've been resolved. They consisted of a primal, unreasoning rage that curled up from his gut and threatened to choke him. No one, not even Dudley, had ever provoked him like this pale little sneering git.
"I saved your life, Potter," said Malfoy, backing far enough away that he could level an assessing gaze at his nemesis. "You owe me rather substantially, wouldn't you say?"
Harry's shock made him even more inarticulate than usual. "You--I can't believe you--that's--what the hell kind of reason is that for saving someone?!"
"You're a Gryffindor," Malfoy replied, simply. "Think about it. Can you honestly say you don't feel you have a debt of honor to me? Would you really be able to just go back to your little friends and go on living as if you didn't have to honor it, without feeling all tortured and conflicted and whatever else it is decent, upright people like you feel?" He gave a faint, derisive sneer, apparently at the thought of this.
"Malfoy, you do whatever you want to do; I'm not indebted--"
"It'll always be there, hanging over your head."
"I--you can sod--"
Malfoy was faster than Harry was, however, and interrupted him once again. "Do you really want to go on knowing that you owe me your life, Potter?"
You owe me your life, Potter.
Oh God.
He did.
If nothing else, Harry knew, he had a good imagination. And when he imagined spending every second of the rest of his life knowing that he owed that second to Malfoy, it was enough to make him feel ill again. Malfoy was right. It would prey on him, unless he did something to expunge it.
The sinking feeling in Harry's stomach was strangely like the one he'd experienced just a short time ago in the lake, and he was uncomfortably reminded of his last thoughts then--I'll give my firstborn child. . . .
It was a choice between giving Malfoy whatever remuneration he wanted--and if Malfoy found it satisfying, Harry was sure to find it humiliating if not horrifying--or living the rest of his life hating the knowledge of what his classmate had done.
Either way. . . .
Malfoy won either way.
Harry briefly debated throwing up again, just on principle, before he remembered that he didn't have anything left in his stomach. He took a deep breath instead.
"All right, Malfoy, what exactly do you want?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Draco smiled.
He found the idea of Harry living his life under the yoke of an unrepayable debt rather pleasing. Particularly satisfying if the debt was to him. Pleasing though it might be, however, it was to remain merely an idea. Draco had no intention of leaving the room without an absolute assurance that Potter would remain quiet about this little escapade. And the shame of weakness was no assurance. Decent people--like Potter--had a nasty habit of being subject to random confessional urges, Draco knew.
If, however, Potter had actually done something indecent, something bad, that would ensure his silence. He wouldn't want any of his precious followers to know he wasn't the good guy they thought him to be. And that was desirable, because Draco had had some time to think about this, and he didn't know that he particularly wanted the entire school to know that he'd saved Harry Potter's life.
Plus, watching Potter traumatize himself by doing something "wrong" out of his own free will would be just as pleasurable.
Torturing Harry Potter was so easy.
"Hmm. . . ." He crossed his arms and tapped one finger to his lips, in a caricature of one considering.
Potter, in the bed next to him, growled unappreciatively.
This was the only snag so far in an otherwise admirable plan. Draco didn't know that he did want anything in particular. At least, nothing that wouldn't be a waste of this unique opportunity.
Ah, well, he told himself. Suspense will eat at him more than knowledge, anyway.
"You needn't concern yourself with that yet, Potter. Just be ready when the time comes."
"Wait, so you're just going to expect me to wait at your beck and call?"
His lips turned up in a feral grin. "Problem with that, Wonder Boy?"
Potter's jaw set and his face settled into a determined look. Ah, there's that Gryffindor courage again. "Two conditions."
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"I won't betray my friends or harm anyone in any way."
"And?"
". . .and you won't tell anyone about--well, about. . . ."
"About exactly how pathetic a swimmer the great Harry Potter is? That he almost got himself killed after only a few minutes in calm water?" supplied Draco, barely repressing another smile. As expected, Potter was doing his work for him.
Potter, for his part, looked as if he were repressing a facial tic, or the urge to violently attack someone. Probably Draco. "Precisely. Yes."
Draco didn't even really have to consider. He didn't want the story out, either, and he figured agreeing or disagreeing to the first condition wouldn't change the monumental argument they'd have to have if he asked Potter to harm someone in any case.
He paused anyway, for effect.
"Agreed. And now I believe I'll let you think up a suitable story for your Giant friend while I go to the Great Hall and have dinner."
And Draco swept out of the hospital wing in a swish of robes, leaving Harry Potter gaping after him.
To be continued. So, let me know how you liked it/didn't like it, or how you think I could make it better. Harsh reviews are also warmly welcome.
Draco: Masochist, you are.
Cutter: Harder! Hit me harder!
Harry: Oh, dear.
Cutter (reassuring): Don't worry; it's an author thing. Suffering for the purpose of making our art better and all that.
Draco (suspiciously): Are you sure you're not just a feedback whore?
~~Cutter