Chapter Seven:
Lutte ou Méthode de Vol
"Fight or Flight Method"
"Why are you obsessing over the Slytherins?" Draco snapped finally. Potter stopped his fidgeting and threw him an annoyed look, something that surprised the blonde. Potter hadn't shown his even less than pleasing face since they're 'touching' reunion.
"Why are you obsessed with my hair?" Potter snarled back. Draco froze and simply stared at the boy. Something was definitely wrong. Even Weasley gaped at him and he was usually to preoccupied with his stomach to notice anything else when food was within a nine yard radius.
"Because my goal in life is to tame it," Draco drawled dryly eyeing the mess of hair disdainfully. He'd tried a new potion recently, an extra strength one, but to no avail. Potter blushed and looked away at that response.
"Just drop it Draco." He said with a pleading note in his voice. Weasley was frowning thoughtfully.
"Non, tell me or I will be forced to perform inspections in public. In the Great Hall. Every day." Even Weasley paled at that, causing Draco to sniff as he took offense.
All his inspections consisted of was fixing every flaw in their appearance so they wouldn't embarrass him. True they accused him of being girly for wanting them to look good, but neither was stupid enough to try and stop him. Not after Weasley had run off with horrible bed hair and Draco had been forced to petrify him, rather than let him go in public. They complained worse than Granger when he did her. And she actually cried from pain because the curling charm he used pulled on her hair horribly. Potter was even worse since Draco had started his war on Potter's hair. He would conquer it if it's the last thing he did.
"I agree with Draco, come on Harry?" Weasley pleaded blue eyes pleading. Potter caved under the combined pressure. Draco decided he would need to work on making both of the simpletons more resistant to persuasion. At least from everyone except him anyway.
"I just don't want to make a fool of myself in front of them. It's bad enough-" but Potter stopped eyeing Draco warily. The blonde scowled.
"Bad enough what?" he questioned, furious something had been going on under his watch. Weasley's eyes widened and he shifted uncomfortably.
"W-Well, er, when we weren't talking, they, eh, started messing with me some." Potter admitted looking up at him pathetically sheepish.
Draco's pride roared up. Both Gryffindors stared at him confused at the absolute fury and indignation marring his features. Draco had known the Slytherins didn't think him as their Prince any more. He'd even been harassed by them. But now it really struck him how little they seemed to recall the respect the combined heir to the Malfoy and Black lineage was owed. If it had been any other half blood Draco had taken interest in and given protection they would have been wary. But none of them. None of them, would have dared hurt something Draco owned.
He was something of Draco's and it was a direct slap in the face to the pride of Malfoy and Black that he was being disrespected. Draco even refused to take into account that they'd been raised since birth to hate him and that he'd destroyed the Dark Lord. No, this was to great a slight against Draco's well developed pride to accept.
"Who?" Draco questioned voice bland. Potter's green eyes were bright and wide. The boy seemed conflicted, but after a moment he spoke.
"Theodore Nott." He admitted looking incredibly guilty as he spoke. Draco literally flinched at the name. Would the insults never cease?
The Notts were a respected pureblood family. A tight nit, loyal people who kept to themselves and had a quiet passiveness that allowed them to get through any conflict unfazed and unscathed. But what the family lacked despite all their respectability and friendships with prestigious families was history. The Nott's were new blood as far as pure bloods went only tracing their family back to the mid 1700's. And though they had finally been fully breed into the pureblood society when their patriarch married the heiress to a family tracing its own ancestry back to the 400's they still weren't the same standard as the ancient Black or Malfoy lines.
To have him of all people take Draco's place was unforgiveable. Completely and utterly unpardonable.
…
The Bête was grinning like a cat who was about to toy with its freshly caught prey. Granger looked like she was going to grab a live cobra not a broom. Longbottom looked as if he would throw up. Potter eyed the broom with a mixture of wariness and curiosity. Nott looked mildly frightened through his calm façade. Weasley looked first at Draco then Nott, before taking a step back as if to get out of firing range. Madame Hooch looked between both groups of students, before looking heavenward as if in silent prayer.
Draco watched Nott with furious, slits of gray. Now he was stuck not only on the Slytherin side, but being near the little worm. He was vindictively pleased to note how ill at ease Nott looked. Not only was he stubbornly avoiding looking at Draco, but the dark circles under his eyes proved Nott wasn't settling in well.
Potter whispered something to Weasley on the other side, catching Nott's attention. Draco watched intently as Nott's blank faced twitched with disdain, before fading back into his pale mask. Only Nott's eyes still showed emotion and not the unease Draco had seen before. Nott had clearly forgotten to worry about Draco's displeasure, focusing instead solely on Potter and Weasley. Nott's eyes glimmered like dark stones, smooth and deep, deep brown.
Draco's face darkened instantly.
Someone poked him in the ribs. Jerking, Draco hissed and turned his hot gray eyes to meet a pair of cooly amused green-hazel ones. Bête.
Blaise Zabini looked as happy as when he heard the news that another one of his step-fathers had died of a 'tragic accident' leaving his mother and he increasingly large amounts of wealth and estates.
"You look ready to kill little Teddy," Blaise said with false innocence, being, even if Draco hated him, improperly familiar with a classmate Draco knew he had little contact with.
Draco glowered at him and Blaise's eyes instantly brightened.
"Is your replacement's pedigree not to you liking?" he asked with false sympathy and sweetness. The only thing that ruined the act was his mocking smirk and the delighted look in his eyes.
Draco twitched a little at 'replacement'.
"I'm so glad I could entertain you," Draco hissed forcing himself to turn away from his annoyance.
"No need to be so sensitive." Blaise chided.
Draco wondered, mournfully, why the only time the Bête was talkative was when he was annoying Draco.
"Just shut it Bête," Draco told him, glaring firmly at the ground and trying to fight the urge to hit Blaise.
The only response was silence. Madam Hooch seemed to have decided to take advantage of the quiet and launched into instructions. Draco ignored her instead choosing to steal a glance at Blaise.
The boy was looking at Draco as if Draco had just announced he was engaged to his house elf Dobby. It took Draco a moment to realize what exactly he'd done to cause the unprecedented reaction. Draco had never called Blaise the name he'd always mentally referred to him as. Merde, he cursed, he hadn't told anyone the names he called them by. Well except Granger, but she couldn't speak French. Plus she wasn't included under the rigid rules of decorum involved in pureblood society.
For a second Draco felt horrified. You did not break your mask. Not even around those you thought were trustworthy. Especially not around those you disliked. There were specific guidelines to dealing with annoyance like Blaise. And they did not include insulting, out loud, Purebloods of the same status and affluence.
Then something clicked inside Draco. He wasn't part of that society anymore. The thought was revolutionary to him. All his life he'd followed them, had his actions dictated by years of tradition without even realizing it. And now he'd broken his mold from pure desperation. The rules didn't apply anymore. Draco's breath caught in his throat. He could say anything he wanted. Draco released his breath and smiled at Blaise daring him to comment on Draco's words. He hoped he would so Draco could let lose years of words he'd bit his tongue to stifle.
The shock had faded by now into a thoughtful expression, which disappeared the instant Draco's scrutiny was noticed. The owner of those green-hazel eyes took in Draco's fierce, defiant expression and did something unexpected.
He laughed.
Quiet spread through the air and Madam Hooch gave Blaise a stern look with her golden gaze. The boy ignored her until he'd finished and then gave the woman a borderline disrespectful look, since he still looked ready to laugh at any second.
"Would you like to explain what you found so funny Zabini?" the woman snapped sharply, appearing in front of them suddenly, clearly less than pleased at her student's reaction. The class watched captivated as Blaise seemed to force his amusement from his face. He succeeded for the most part, though it lingered in his eyes and smile.
"I'm sorry ma'am, I was just reminded of something my friend had told me. I hadn't meant any disrespect." Blaise said looking sufficiently contrite for his crime. The woman's gaze lingered for a moment, but then she tuned sharply away.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," Madam Hooch called as she walked back to the front, "and say 'UP!'"
"UP!" Draco said along with everyone else. Draco felt more than a little confused, and barely felt the wood smack harshly against his palm. His fingers curled around the broom, and he realized that only he, Potter, and the Greengrass girl had their brooms leap up first thing.
Draco blinked and quickly turned to Blaise, who'd gotten his broom the third time. The boy still had that amused smile, although a very small smile, lacing his lips.
"Why did you laugh?" Draco hissed quietly. Blaise gave him a long, slow look; eyes looking greener every second.
"It was just in that second I realized Gryffindors were good for something." Blaise drawled out eyes glowing as incredulousness bloomed on Draco's features.
"After all they managed to make you finally snap out of that icy little shell pureblood ideals and propriety kept you in." Blaise paused and the smile grew larger. "Besides, you're a lot less of an ass this way. Not as holier-than-thou. Or at least a more bearable version."
Draco simply stared, but before he could say anything Madam Hooch appeared and was correcting their grips. Draco could only think over Blaise's words with her there. And honestly they scared him a little. True, he'd felt an intense satisfaction at being able to say what ever the bloody hell he wanted, but that didn't mean he was going to change completely. And the way the Bête was talking he'd already changed.
Draco hadn't changed. He hadn't. Then again if you'd told him a few months ago he would actually sometimes, rarely, enjoy the company of a Mudblood he would have called you a blood-traitor and insane. But honestly he was desperate, not changed. Although he didn't insult Potter nearly as much now as he did before. Or even Weasley for that matter. But that was simply because he didn't wish to; he could if he wanted. Draco Malfoy wasn't changed and he didn't plan to be. Besides how would Blaise even now if he was less of an ass when he could speak his mind. Draco had always lived by those rules, until now anyway. He couldn't think of a single time he's broken out before.
Except…
Except on the day he'd learned he was related to Potter. He'd seen the Bête that day and he'd yelled at him, not really giving a damn about the consequences. Afterwards they'd actually talked without much hostility, after all Draco had gotten all he'd wanted to say out. Draco could remember saying some less than Pureblood friendly things at that time. He'd caught himself eventually though and quickly recanted everything he'd said. But he supposed the damage had been done. Draco had been anxious for days that Blaise would tell and Draco would have shamed the family. When a month passed without incident Draco put the talk out of his mind. Afterward he'd more than ever followed the rules. He didn't want his need to talk, well yell at someone, anyone, his confusion to effect the family.
Apparently the Bête hadn't forgotten.
Draco looked at Blaise feeling more and more like he knew nothing about him. Turning away and vowing to think about it later, Blaise did as the hawk-faced woman said, not really caring she corrected his grip in front of everyone.
It then took all of five minutes for it all to go to hell. Longbottom broke his wrist, Nott decided to do some grandstanding (probably giving in to reassure to prove his worth), and Potter, being the dumbass he was, decided to play hero before getting dragged off by th Queen Lioness herself.
"I'm sure she won't really expel him," Granger said patting Draco's shoulder in an attempt of comfort, not long afterwards, as they all sat in the Great Hall. Draco simply began banging his head against the table, cursing Potter long and good in French.
"She's right mate," Weasley agreed, looking more than a little upset about Hermione's proximity. "They wouldn't be that harsh."
"He is a dumbass who just had to play hero." Draco snarled, only leaving the insult in French.
"Well he couldn't just let the Slytherins take Neville's stuff." Weasley said sounding indignant at the thought. Draco stopped to wallow in utter disgust at such a Gryffindor-ish sentiment.
"He should have told a teacher," Granger said sensibly. "They would have gotten it back from them and Harry wouldn't have gotten in such big trouble. Oh, Draco I'm sure it's not that much trouble, stop hurting yourself."
"I'm going to kill him," Draco resolved firmly glaring up at the both of them as his cheek lay against the table. "I will string him up by his toes and let all the blood rush to his head and then kill him."
Weasley looked a little startled and Granger rolled her eyes. Draco snorted and muttered something unflattering in French under his breath. He wasn't unsure who it was directed at he was annoyed with the lot of them.
"Oh, stop it," Granger snapped seeming to have finally had her fill. Weasley stared at her wide eyed.
"Your dramatics are no longer amusing. Harry will be fine and I'm not going to comfort you like you're some unruly child. So stop mollycoddling and get in shape." She paused and gave him a stare that was almost Slytherin. "I'm embarrassed to be seen with you. If you are going to be around me, you have to look better than some ragamuffin on the streets."
Weasley's mouth dropped and he looked a little disapproving and Draco wasn't sure rather to be amused at Granger's attempt to kick him in shape through his pride or to check and see if he really did look so awful. Draco decided on amused even as he straightened his robes. He was fairly certain that was almost word from word what he'd said to her the second day of their 'friendship'.
Granger seemed pleased, and more than a little vindicated, "Look there, here he comes."
Sure enough Potter was heading towards them with an almost ecstatic expression.
"Now," she announced loftily, standing with an imperious air. "I'm heading to the library."
Weasley watched her looking perplexed and amazed before turning back towards Draco accusingly.
"You are a terrible influence, she sounded just like you," Weasley said in an almost reproving tone. Draco laughed and stood with a smirk growing on his face.
"Where are you going?" Weasley asked looking down at Potter pointedly.
"I'm going to annoy Granger," Draco answered smirk growing. "I can't just let her get away with that."
Weasley shook his head in what looked like a mixture of amazement and mystification. "You are the oddest person I've ever met mate, and I'm related to Fred and George. You have the weirdest friendships too."
Draco shrugged.
"Tell Potter I'll scold him later." Draco called marching away quickly and passing a bewildered Potter as he went, his eyes trained firmly on the curly haired figure retreating from the hall.
