Chapter 1
The first time Harry Potter saw Draco Malfoy slip away, under the cover of night, something inside of him snaked. A blink of suspicion, a hiss of something darker, something he couldn’t quite grasp. He excused it as curiosity, wonder. Malfoy was up to something–that was that.
However, it was not the curiosity nor wonder that kept Harry awake into the night, the dormitory silent. It also was not the thing that made his breath hitch when Malfoy faded into the shadows again.
This was something else.
Harry decided to start watching. At first it was from afar–following Malfoy’s footsteps through the Marauders Map, tracing the pathway along the parchment with his finger, studying the trail Malfoy took to the dungeons, memorising the way his steps took him to the seventh floor, the boy would always hover near the Room of Requirement like he was awaiting something. Harry started following him up close, lingering in the corridors Malfoy frequented, standing in the darkness just beyond the twinkling of torchlight, close enough to hear the quiet, rhythmic pace of his breath.
He was haunting the shadow of Draco Malfoy.
The obsession wasn’t fast, it crept up on Harry slowly, like ink bleeding through a parchment.
Harry noticed the way Malfoy’s hands would tremble, the manner of his shoulders curled inward once away from the crowd, and the way Malfoy’s exhales came out as a quiet, ragged thing.
It was obvious Draco Malfoy was scared.
It was not obvious, however, why Harry Potter wanted to know why.
It was even more than that, Harry desired to own that fear.
The way Malfoy stiffened, sensing a lingering anomaly, the way Malfoy’s eyes flashed to the darkness, seeking something unknown, it thrilled Harry. Malfoy was beginning to feel it, the presence of Harry and the weight of his gaze.
One night covered by the privacy of the Invisibility Cloak, Harry inched closer to Malfoy than ever before, trailing Malfoy through the dimly lit corridors, his breath shallow due to the thrill of being concealed.
Malfoy suddenly stopped, the footsteps ricocheting off the walls ceasing to exist.
Harry froze.
A long and heavy pause. Then, barely a whisper–
“Who’s there?”
Harry’s blood sang at the quiver in Malfoy’s voice.
This was the moment it all changed.