I tried to promise myself I wouldn't get to the writing-point in the Drarry fandom but ...
By re-watching the movies with my new Drarry goggles, I'm seeing new possibilities, and this was inspired by my own cracky thoughts while watching Chamber of Secrets.
What was the said cracky thought? ... That Draco had in fact sent Dobby to warn Harry about Luscius' plan, he'd just ordered the Elf not to let Harry know he had.
And it went from that thought through the whole movie, to well ... This.
This will be the first drabble-thing I've done for the HP fandom, so I'm not sure if I've got the characterization, especially considering it's 2nd year Draco but ... Hopefully, people can still enjoy this regardless.
Lounging in the Slytherin common chamber, only Draco's perfect upbringing stopped him from chewing on his nails as he thought. What could he do to convince Potter that he needed to go back to wherever it was that he came from?
Ordering Dobby to do whatever it took to stop him from returning to Hogwarts had proved pointless, as had been sealing up the gates to the platform, and Draco just couldn't believe the rogue Bludger hadn't worked after the amount of times he'd tried to push Potter towards it.
What else could he do to convince the twit to leave before his father's plan actually worked? Draco studiously ignored the twist in his gut as he considered the consequences if his father's plot succeeded.
Of course, there was the fact that McGonagall had ordered everyone to their dorm's, which only implied that something had happened, and that certainly wasn't helping Draco's nerves. Was it Potter? Did the beast get Potter? The thought kept returning, no matter how many times he tried to quash it.
Crabbe and Goyle kept giving Draco furtive glances, but he made a point to ignore them, choosing instead to focus on the fire in the hearth, his silver eyes narrowed to slits. He equally chose to ignore he way that his leg was bouncing with anxiety, something that was an extremely un-Malfoy thing to do.
When McGonagall's voice magically appeared in their common room, requesting all students report to the great hall, Draco jumped up and almost bolted to the door until he remembered it was a remarkably un-Malfoy thing to do, and only by exercising severe self-control did Draco remember to look down at Crabbe and Goyle expectantly before sauntering out of the room, his heart racing to a staccato beat in his ears the entire way.
As they drew close to the Great Hall, Draco's eyes were invariably drawn to the scarlet underlining of the Gryffindor's cloaks, but he manage to force himself to keep walking, to keep his gaze focused ahead of him. He couldn't stop and pointedly look among the throng of people, trying to discern Potter's irritating self from the crowds. He was a Malfoy, and he still had pride, besides which ... If his father ever found out that Draco had actually been concerned about the life of Potter, he'd never be able to look his father in the face again, and he barely repressed a shudder at the thought of what his mother would do.
The very second he'd slipped into his place at the Slytherin table, however, Draco couldn't stop his eyes from sliding along the Gryffindor's as they wandered in, and with each and every meaningless face he took in, Draco felt a lump in his throat grow.
It wasn't until after the entire hall had stopped rustling and all the students were seated that Draco realised he'd swept up and down the Gryffindor table three times at least, and there was still no sign of Potter.
The lump in his throat suddenly became so pronounced that for a moment Draco couldn't breathe, and in the next instant a strangled gasp almost bubbled up past his lips.
Swallowing the gasp down harshly, Draco assumed an expression of nonchalance and played with the glass of water before him, even as his thoughts whirled. Potter isn't here, where's Potter? Potter isn't here – Where the bloody hell is he? And the fact that it seemed both the Weaslette and Weasley were missing did naught to calm Draco's frantic thoughts. If anything, it just made him more anxious – The Weaslette was a mere first year, and Weasley's wand was good for nothing since he was too poor to buy a new one.
Draco was almost bothered by the realisation he'd feel more at ease if that mudblood Granger were simply missing, instead of being petrified the way she was. At least that way there was a semblance of a chance that Potter might be relatively … safe, not that Draco cared if he was safe. He just didn't want him to meet his end through Slytherin's beast. Of course that was it, he had no idea why Goyle was giving him a curious look.
His leg had started to bounce beneath the table, but, again, Draco made a point to ignore it as he forced his gaze to remain unfocused in the general direction of the staff table. That didn't mean his thoughts weren't still repeating themselves though.
And there, in front of the staff table, was McGonagall, pacing up and down the length, her arms folded behind her back and her normally severe bun loose and unkempt. Even Snape looked unusually ruffled, a slight twitch in his jaw suggesting at his annoyance with the situation. Draco hid his anxious swallow by taking a sip of the water he'd been playing with.
Aburuptly, McGonagall stopped pacing and, with a tense back, forced herself to face the Great Hall filled with students, and the entire hall fell into an equally abrupt silence as they met her gaze. Draco felt the chill of fear settle into the pits of everyone's stomachs as they took in McGonagall's grave expression. Someone had died - The thought was obvious in the air, even if no-one had uttered a word.
The very second she opened her mouth however, a gentle "Minerva," made the hall jolt as everyone jerked around to look at the newcomer, though that voice could only belong to one person. It was the one that demanded attention with a quiet, but undeniable, authority. Even the Slytherin's who'd looked bored and eager until that point stopped to look at the Headmaster as he stood in the entrance.
Draco couldn't restrain the scowl as he saw Dumbledore standing there, his half-moon spectacles gleaming in the gentle candlelight. The Slytherin adamantly refused to admit that as he noticed the old fool standing there, his stomach had leapt up with relief, and he decidedly ignored the thoughts that whispered Thank Merlin. He'll be able to help Potter, He'll know what to do. Draco chose to focus, instead, on his indignant fury that someone would dare undermine his father's authority. He thought his father had successfully removed Dumbledore from the school?
The quiet fury dissipated however, as did the halls surprised murmurs of "Dumbledore! Dumbledore's back! Everything's fine now then, right?", as Dumbledore spoke, only the barest hint of a smile suggesting he'd heard the reaction to his appearance.
"Minerva, I believe it time the students returned to their dorms. It is rather late for a meeting, don't you think?" and then his eyes swept over the Hall, and Draco was disgusted to see the overjoyed expressions those of the other houses wore. "Off with you then, back to your dorms," Dumbledore told them, his tone that of a grandfather scolding his favourite grandchild, and Draco scoffed with derision.
That was all it took for the trepidation in the hall to vanish, and students barely even paused to shrug at the change of events and return to their common rooms, the hall abuzz with curious chatter as they filed out.
Still scowling imperceptibly, Draco waited until the majority of the hall had emptied before he rose and made his way to the doorway, Crabbe and Goyle faithfully waiting with him even if they couldn't understand Draco's reasons for loitering. As they walked through the Entrance Hall, he paid hardly any attention to their chatter as they began to argue about the game of Gobstones they'd left unfinished. Instead, Draco's eyes scanned every stairwell in sight, his teeth gnawing at the inside of his lip, until his wandering gaze came to rest on the figure of Dumbledore, and Draco paused as his eyes darted to each of his sides – and his breath was not caught in his throat as he hoped to catch a glimpse of Potter. Dumbledore just looked down at the three of them, smiled that infuriating smile of his that made it seem like he knew everything, and inclined his head towards the Dungeons, clearly indicating Draco and his friends should continue on their way.
It was with an extreme measure of control that Draco managed not to flip the Headmaster off on his way past, but that didn't stop him from cursing the old fool the entire way from the Entrance Hall to the Dungeons, his curses becoming more vehement as he realized he'd have to wait until the next day to find out whether Potter had been devoured by Slytherin's beast or not, and he was sure if Potter was anywhere … It would have been with the wizened Wizard.
That night, sleep evaded Draco and he cursed Potter and Dumbledore both under his breath for ruining his beauty sleep like this. Did they think it was easy maintaining his porcelain complexion? He needed sleep to not look pasty.
After hours of tossing and turning, listening to the heavy snores of Crabbe and Goyle, Draco sighed dramatically and rolled out of the comfortable four-poster, barely managing to bite down on his yelp of surprise as his feet came into contact with the icy stone floor.
Hurriedly locating his slippers, Draco padded up the stairwell leading to the common room and allowed himself to fall in front of the dimly burning hearth, forgoing the usual Malfoy-dignities he wore like a shield charm. Something deep within him was stirring uncomfortably, and every time he closed his eyes his mind's eye dredged up the image of glassy-green eyes and Draco didn't bother to repress the shudder at the implication.
He squeaked and hurriedly fumbled for his wand when he felt a hand fall to his shoulder, but a startled glance revealed it was simply a sleepy-eyed Goyle, and Draco gathered himself enough to not pout his disapproval. He chose to scowl and glare disapprovingly instead.
"You're meant to be asleep Goyle," he growled, mortification that Goyle had caught him while he was vulnerable making Draco unnecessarily defensive.
Goyle simply looked down at Draco with eyes that, momentarily, reminded him of Dumbledore's and his uncanny ability to know things he shouldn't, but the look was gone so fast that Draco wondered if he'd seen that flash of knowledge at all before Goyle grunted "So should you."
"I'm not tired," Draco huffed, holding his hands up to the dim firelight, hoping to instill some semblance on warmth onto them, even if his innards still felt chilled.
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Goyle rolling his eyes. "Sure you aren't. That's why your eyes are damn near hanging out of your head Draco."
The blonde almost snarled that his eyes were not hanging out of his head, and that they were still attached quiet firmly to the inside of his skull, when he realized exactly how juvenile it would be. Not to mention it would have meant giving in to Goyle's goading and he was the leader of their little troupe, which meant only he was permitted to make comments like that, while the two of them sat there and guffawed at his every comment.
And that was precisely why Draco grandly ignored Goyle's presence, even as the yawning boy sank into a nearby couch, his posture implying he had no intention of leaving until Draco did. For just a moment, Draco felt a flush of gratitude towards Goyle, until he smothered it. Malfoy's had no business with feeling sentimental things like gratitude.
Then again, Malfoy's also had no business feeling useless things like concern for the ilk of Harry Potte, and yet … Was that not what Draco was feeling right then?
Of course not. I just don't want him to die before I can exact my own personal revenge for him humiliating me all the time. It's certainly not concern, not for Potter.
Draco was conveniently ignoring the varied thoughts and flushes of emotion that he'd been feeling most of the year. If he ignored them, if he refused to admit to them, then they didn't exist to anyone but the darkest reaches of his mind, and that was where they'd stay … Right?
Eventually, Goyle sighed heavily, briefly laid his hand on Draco's shoulder once more and stumbled away, seemingly too sleepy to remain in the draughty room anymore.
Draco only vaguely acknowledged his companion's retreat by muttering, "I'll be up shortly," when he heard Goyle's footsteps hesitate. He'd thought that would be the end of it, and of Goyle's strange behaviour. He hadn't anticipated the hushed "You shouldn't worry Draco. He'll be fine".
Initially, Draco froze so entirely he thought he might have been hit by a Petrificus Totalus charm, but then a snarl rippled up his throat and Draco snapped about to tell Goyle to sod the fuck off, because he had no idea what he was talking about, but the words died in Draco's mouth as he saw that he was quite alone in the room.
"What was that about?" Draco sighed, his silver eyes returning to watch the dying embers, his body slumping into a dejected position his mother would scold him for if she'd been there to see it.
As he watched the fire burn out completely, Draco decided that he liked Goyle much more when he was pretending to be an idiot instead of actually noticing things he had no reason to notice. But then, he was also pleased the friends of his choosing were not quite as thick as they made themselves out to be. Thinking on it, he thought he might have seen Goyle tucked away in some section of the library from time to time.
When his eyes began to blink open and shut of their own accord, Draco folded his arms atop the nearest sofa and lay his head down, still watching the embers burn. And as his mind slowly caved to exhaustion, Draco vaguely wondered if there was also more to Potter than outward appearances implied.
The next morning, Draco made a point to make it seem as though he had simply risen earlier than everyone else – A Malfoy would never admit to sleeping on a cold, stone floor, using a couch as a pillow. – And equally made a point to behave as though Goyle hadn't wandered downstairs to join him, something Crabbe seemed completely unaware of, which worked in Draco's favour.
As the three of them walked into the Great Hall, Draco paused for a mere millisecond before allowing his eyes to surreptitiously graze along the Gryffindor table. And then his heart was beating hard in his chest, and Draco was forced to fake a cough to cover his mouth as a barely there smile curled his lips.
Potter was alive and devouring his breakfast as though he hadn't eaten in weeks, and at the sight, that thing within Draco's settled down and finally curled up to sleep, it's anxieties stripped away.
As he perched himself on the bench at the Slytherin table, Draco thought that he'd seen a grin flash on Goyle's face, but then he and Crabbe essentially dove for buffet breakfast, and Draco shook his head, scolding them for being so unrefined.
It was all about keeping up pretences, even if all he felt inclined to do was dart over to Potter and shake him senseless for being so daft and putting himself in danger constantly. Instead, Draco found the orange marmalade and delicately buttered himself a slice of toast, deciding to ignore the way his stomach fluttered each time his eyes passed over the back of Potter's irritating, scar-addled head.
You know, I'm actually rather happy with the end result, and I like how I played with Goyle's character. Really, Crabbe and Goyle are the ones we know the least about in the entire series, so we almost have artistic license with them.
Aaaaanyway ... Hope you guys liked that.
Reviews would be highly appreciated so I know whether the characterization was alright. I'm really not sure when it comes to Draco. It was frustrating trying to properly portray a Draco that is still young enough to accept everything his father says as truth, while fighting these urges he has towards Harry ... Hmmm.
As I said - hope the fluff was enjoyable XD