A Stipulation of Prospering
Warnings: Implications of very strong friendship between VC/GG/DM. I will probably explain this later on in the story. I find it a bit adorable to think of, though. Discussions of death. OOC Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, since you never get a chance to ever see how they act when alone.
Beta: CleopatraIsMyName
Chapter Ⅰ
Up to Something
"Watch it, Potter," Malfoy had snapped at him, adjusting his robes in an overdramatic manner, "Try to control yourself."
"You're the one that brushed up against me, Malfoy," Harry, against better judgment, countered.
A running rendition of letting him know about this, following that, a well-placed insult about his family, and then a comment on the latter's lack of a family, later...
It only really took a few seconds before the two were virtually at each other's throats.
"Mister Potter!" A nauseatingly sweet voice floated towards them, "I will not have you attacking other students. Detention!"
Umbridge, the toad, practically skipped away, happy to have another day to torture the ever bleeding Hell out of him.
Harry had almost had Malfoy; though, for someone who hadn't seemed to ever lift a pampered hand, let alone a fist, the prat had a rather good arm. The distraction that Umbridge had created with her bright-pink presence had caused Harry to loosen his grip by the slightest on the blond's collar, allowing the boy enough time to escape Harry's grasp and play the part of the innocent victim like a finely-tuned fiddle.
Snorting disgustedly, Harry shook his head and brushed away the dirt from his robes, muttering about prats and their cowardly ways.
That had been yesterday. As a result, Dumbledore had laid into them about their "ceaseless squabbling", and decided to give the two fifth-years the worst punishment of them all: the gift, or curse, of the other's presence.
How in the Hell were the two of them supposed to be in the same room together without insults flying? It was going to be a total and complete disaster.
Malfoy, the bloody tosser, hadn't even paid attention to most of Professor Dumbledore's lecture. He had just sat there and stared off into space.
What was weird, though... his demeanor was all wrong. He had the stance of a man sentenced to his death. Before the punishment had even been given.
Something was going on with the wanker, and Harry was going to get to the bottom of it.
Draco's POV
When he had gotten back to the Slytherin dorms, mask fully in place, Draco had no idea what to do about his current situation. Or even how to feel about it.
On one hand, he would be spending all of his free-time with Potter. On the other hand, he would be spending all of his free-time with Potter.
How was one supposed to keep a secret as his without eventually giving himself away? He had already done that, and fortunately Potter's innate lack of observant skills had saved him from being found out.
How do you prevent your glamour from falling apart when in a fight, or even from changing fully anyway?
All of the Malfoy library books he had looked at on the subject always pointed to two particular tomes for more information: Yowling and its Heartaches by Cassandra Hopper-Skip, and Genetic Inheritances and Coming to Terms with an Ancestor Shagging a Creature by Professor Nigelius Black.
There were many copies of these books, but none that Draco could get his hands on without providing clues to a condition he'd rather not speak of.
So Draco's only plans for today were to angst and fight off tears of frustration.
He just hoped his Godfather understood why he had skived off his class, today. He never did like it when he did so. Not that Draco could really blame him, but he had a valid excuse this time, and he would use it to his advantage.
About an hour or two later, Draco awoke to the sounds of his dorm mates shuffling in from Potions.
"Oi, Draco," Crabbe whistled, walking over to his bed, "You best be getting up; we have Transfigurations today with the Gryffindorks."
Draco stretched limberly, making small noises as he smacked his lips a bit and rubbed his eyes with a pale hand.
He could hear Crabbe snort and turned towards him, "What's so funny?"
"You look, oddly enough, like a kitten waking up from a nap," he chuckled, stuffing his Transfigurations textbook inside his bag, "But you probably know that already, don't you?"
With a disgruntled growl, Draco inspected his perfectly manicured nails. "No idea what you mean, dear Vinny."
Shaking his head, Crabbe put his bag's strap over his shoulder, "Whatever you say, Dray."
As Draco moved into the bathroom to inspect his face and hair, he realized that today was his last bid of freedom before he was to lie every day for the rest of the year.
With a sigh, he decided to get rid of the gel with a flick of his wand and cleansed his mouth a bit, straightening out his robes and performing the necessary charms to prevent them from slipping any and to get rid of the wrinkles from sleeping in them.
"Malfoy, come on!" Goyle bellowed, stomping his foot once.
"Keep your shirt on," Draco sassed, checking for his bag. "Vinny, Greg, do you know where..."
"Your bag is?" Greg coolly remarked, holding out the messenger bag on a single finger.
Deeming himself ready, Draco said, "Okay, we can go. And I need to speak to you two after dinner."
Nodding their heads, the two boys took a deep breath each, before donning on their personas. 'Too bad no one will ever know how utterly brilliant these two really are,' Draco thought to himself sadly, before donning on his own cold, aloof mask.
When they had gotten to Transfigurations, the class was nearly full. And, for once, all of the Gryffindors had taken their seats already. Didn't mean the rowdy bunch wasn't louder than usual, though.
'Looks like Potter's told his precious friends,' he remarked mentally, inspecting all the dirty looks being tossed at him. Draco merely shrugged, used to the already-familiar treatment.
'It's not like I don't deserve it,' he thought, 'I do tend to wind him up, especially with the derogatory remarks I make towards his family, self, and friends.'
"-ter Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall screeched, mouth pursed, "I'd advise you to pay attention; this will be on your O.W.L's."
When she had her back turned, Goyle made a sly remark about how sour her face looked, to which Draco snickered quietly.
The class didn't end soon enough, and they departed for lunch.
The rest of the day was entirely uneventful, aside from the weird looks he got from all of the houses, and the yelling done by Umbridge. Apparently, he shocked the entire school with his change of hair style. And they didn't seem to like Umbridge either.
But on another note, Draco wasn't pleased in the least that he had absolutely no effect on Potter whatsoever.
'It's not like it is a bad thing,' he thought to himself, 'The less he reacts to me, the less likely I'll ever slip up too much.'
When dinner came and went, Crabbe and Goyle immediately sought refuge in their dorm room, waiting patiently for Draco to come in and tell them what he needed to say.
"Remember the fight I told you I got into with Potter yesterday?" He asked from the vicinity of his bed. Crabbe and Goyle were sitting across from him on another.
Nodding silently, his two best mates, Draco winced at the word, no, friends urged him on.
"I slipped up a bit on my glamour..."
"What?!" Crabbe shot up, "Draco, I thought you've been exercising extreme caution with that!"
"I have, Vinny," Draco pouted and reassured, "But being so close to Potter makes things happen. You know that."
Crabbe's face softened slightly, before he lamented with a quick jerk of his head.
"This morning, Dumbledore assigned us a year-long punishment; we'll be forced to spend all day and night together, until curfew."
"Oh no," Goyle muttered, shaking his head furiously, "No, he can't."
"Dray," Crabbe's voice cracked, face skewed a bit, "Wouldn't that cause an early death? What if, due to his meddling, and the denial of the bond, you eventually cease to exist before even the end of term?"
Draco bowed his head, warding off tears. He still had his pride, dammit, and he wouldn't surrender to tears.
After all, True Malfoys Don't Cry.
"I don't know about that, but it sounds like a possibility.
"I-I just... this would've been so much easier had I not acted like such a berk when we had first met," said Draco, "Maybe we could've had even been the slightest of friends. Maybe then I wouldn't have to choose death over a life sentence of unhappiness.
"You know what that rejection on the Hogwarts Express did to me Greg, Vinny. What if he, unknowingly says something that the creature, the other me, takes as another one. I don't think I can survive such a terrible thing, again. My heart and soul had burned so much..."
Both boys scrambled off the bed, unable to not comfort their fragile friend. They embraced him tightly, and pet his hair soothingly.
While Crabbe focused his empathic abilities on projecting warm, comforting thoughts, Greg was the rock that held the two together, the anchor.
'If only I could bond with these two,' Draco thought to himself. 'They are not nearly as bad as others would think it.'
Soon enough, Draco fell into a deep slumber, all thoughts of inheritances and the unfairness of fate being swept away by the continuing flashes of warmth and platonic love enveloping him.
Author's Note:
I had to read all of the chapter summaries for the Order of the Phoenix in order to recall the events. This story will be set in their fifth-year, but you probably already knew that.
Ummm, this will be before the Quidditch match where Draco insults Harry, Fred, and George. Ya know, when they attacked him?