An Irishman and a Ferret
Chapter 2
Draco was not happy. Those damn Gryffindors, they think they own everything. Pitiful. Just wait until his father- oh, wait. He had forgotten that Father was locked away in Azkaban for the rest of his worthless life. To be honest, Draco didn't like his father very much. The only things he was good for were revenge, money, and guaranteed saftey from the Dark Lord. He should have known that things would backfire on him, and that life in Akzaban was inevitable. He was a mean man anyway, even Mother knew that. Draco had to give her credit; she knew what she was getting herself into when she was forced to marry him, and she faced him like a lady. The only reason that she never leaves the Manor is that she doesn't want to go through something like that again. She wanted him to live the life she never had, and that was exactly what he planned to do... eventually.
Mother had asked him if he wanted to come home for Christmas Break, but he had declined. Malfoy Manor reminded him of all the bad things that had happended to him. Father, the Dark Lord, even Aunty Bella; it was all bad memories. He knew that Mother would be lonley, but he just didn't want to go back, not yet. He should have, though.
If he had gone home for Break, he wouldn't have been the only Slytherin left in Hogwarts. Most of them had been killed off, arrested, or too ashamed to go back. The ones that had remained were the ones that had some common sense and fought for Hogwarts, and were deemed heroes. They were also the ones who hated Draco the most. He should have been sent to Azkaban; they knew it, he knew it, everybody knew it. The only reason why he wasn't was because Harry (he didn't have the will left to call him "Potter") testified for him, and he was deemed "not guilty." That's just one more bullet to add to the list of debts that Draco owed him.
If he had gone home, he wouldn't have been attacked by those vicious Gryffindors. They were mostly faces that he didn't recognize; the only one that he did was Dean Thomas. Dean was probably livid at hiim for what happened to the Brown girl, even though they both know that Draco had nothing to do with Greyback attacking her. The freak had just attacked her (he had known that he was always bloodthirsty), and Draco heard that she had died shortly after the attack. He suspected that Dean just wanted someone to take his anger out on, and he was now determinded an "easy target." Draco pitied him, but when he slammed his face into Draco's mashed potatoes, Draco couldn't help but attempt to hex him. He should've known what would have happened.
He had felt the world around him grow bigger, and then his vision was covered by something dark and... cotton? He was about to escape, if he could, when he heard a booming voice. It was obvious that the Gryffindors were being yelled at by someone with an... Irish accent. It wasn't McGonagall, the voice was too masculine. It must have been that Gryffindor... Finehands? Finehands? What kind of last name was that? It must be FInnigan. Why was he sticking up for him?
Draco felt the ground move out from under him, and he had the sense that he was flying. Someone had picked him up. He hoped it was Finnigan, he seemed to be the only sane Gryffindor left. Whoever it was, they smelled like pine needles, and it was intoxicating. Suddenly, the world stopped moving, but he was still suspended. Another voice started talking, and this time he knew it was McGonagall. Suspended? Justice has been served. Content with what had just been announced, Draco decided to relax, shuffling a bit to make himself more comfortable. Unfortunately, the movement caught the attention of Finnigan and Draco saw him take of the dark... shroud. Why was he so big? Draco decided to play dead as Finnigan's hand grasped him and gave him a light (but annoying) squeeze.
"I would prefer not to be squeezed, Finnigan." Draco said, but all that came out was a squeak, which surprised both of them.
Why had he squeaked? That wasn't very human of him. Wait. Everything is bigger... the squeak...
"...Draco?"
And now he had to share a dorm with him. Just peachy. Finnigan had been willing enough to take care of him, but he had called him a pet. Draco Malfoy was many things, but a pet was not one of them.
"...And I was thinking that we had to establish some form of communication, so... squeak once if understand." Finnigan had always been one to ramble, or so he'd heard.
"I understand you're a dolt."
"Good! So one squeak means 'yes,' and... how about two squeaks mean 'no?' Can you do that for me?"
"No."
Finnigan laughs, a loud, genuine laugh. "I set myself up for that one didn't I?"
Draco rolls his eyes; Finnigan sees it and grins a geniune grin. "And now for sleeping arrangements."
He searches around for a few minutes before he make a triumphant noise. "Ah, here we go."
From out from under his bed, Finnigan pulls out a shoebox. This is not okay. Draco is a human, and humans sleep in beds. Well, he's not a human right now, but he is at heart, and this is not okay.
"Do you expect me to sleep in this?" Draco squeaks angrily.
Finnigan sighs. "That's a negative, isn't it? Well buddy, it's the best I can do right now, so you'll have to deal with it. I can see what I can find tomorrow."
Draco groaned, which causes Finnigan to laugh some more. "You know what, Draco? You're really cute when you're a ferret!"
Draco glared at him. He was not cute. He was handsome.
It was official: Draco could not sleep. This shoebox was nothing like his bed back in the Slytherin common room. For the past half hour, he had switched postitions at least a thousand times, but it was impossible for him to get comfortable. Admitting defeat, he got up out of his shoebox and looked around the room. There was nothing really interesting in here, but Draco loved snooping through people's things anyway. He was halfway through Longbottom's underwear drawer (god, his underwear were bigger than Draco's human head) when he heard a quiet moan behind him. That's right, he forgot that Finnigan was still in here. He jumped up onto his bed, and the sudden movement woke him up.
"Hey, little guy," Finnigan said tiredly, "couldn't sleep?"
Draco shook his head. "Alright, you can sleep with me tonight."
Desperate for sleep, Drao crawled over to the pillow behind Finnigan and curled up into a ball next (closer than he expected) to his head. He quickly fell asleep to the rhythmic breathing and the smell of pine needles.
Draco's last thought before drifting off? Bliss.
