Make Me a Match—Chapter 9— A Howler and Firewhiskey

Author: Aian Omoi

A/N: Look! I'm updating!

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1


A few days later, Pansy had her plan set in motion. She licked the flap to a bright scarlet envelope and tied it to a pigeon's leg, which confusedly flew off to the owlery. She smiled. Pansy Parkinson would have her revenge, and she had Harry Potter to thank.

---

At breakfast that day, Harry sat talking to Ron and Ginny and Hermione about nothing in particular. Their schedules only overlapped a little, and Harry seemed to have predominantly Slytherin classes this year. He had potions with them, double charms, and defense against the dark arts, which would be taught by Kingsley Shacklebolt this year. The Order had decided that it was necessary to put Kingsley there as a permanent resident in case Dumbledore required assistance on the slim chance that The Dark Lord would somehow slip by the boundaries of the School.

However, the day would just be another day: Gryffindors jolly for the new schoolyear, and the Slytherins hating them. That is, except Draco, Pansy and Blaise, but all for different reasons. The mail arrived in a flutter of black, white, brown and grey feathers (and few "oopsies" from the first years' owls). Packages fell like rain, and the daily prophet circulated tables from owners to moochers with ease. Unfortunately, along with the packages came a red envelope right towards Ron Weasley.

Seeing it, Ron noticeably gulped, hoping the darn Howler wasn't addressed to him, but knowing it was his owl, he accepted his fate, trying to think of anything he had already done. Hermione just gave him a sour look.

"Honestly Ron, what could you possibly have done already?"

"I don't know, 'Mione! I can't think of anything!" The owl dropped the smoking envelope onto his plate of food and Ron quickly snatched it, trying to avoid a scene, but he wasn't quick enough. The letter burst into flames, transforming into a snarling but sublime mouth, and hovered in the air. Almost as if checking for everyone's attention, it spun around in the air, eyed its audience and began proclaiming at the top of its papery lungs:

"RONALD WEASLEY: YOU HAVE A CRUSH! COME NOW, YOU KNOW *HIS* NAME!!!! THAT SLYTHERIN BOY THAT FANCIES YOU, RONNIE-POO! I BET HE'D LIKE TO DO DIRTY THINGS TO YOU!" Ron's face had gone completely white, which was a feat considering that Ron was already very pale. In fact, he looked a bit green, only keeping from losing his breakfast because he didn't want to do it in front of the whole school. But the Howler wasn't finished: "MM-HMM! COME ON, RON! LET'S HAVE A GUESS! NO? LET'S JUST SAY ZABINI HAS A THING FOR LITTLE BOYS! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!" The howler's laughter only got louder as it ripped itself up until the first year girls had to cover their ears, and there was a collective ringing in the air with the echo of the laugh. Needless to say, Ron couldn't handle it any longer, and lost all of his stomach on his plate, which consequently disappeared to the kitchens for some poor house elf to clean. Hermione put a hand on Ron's shoulder, telling him not to make a scene, but Ron was far too gone to stop whatever bloodthirsty plan it was that he had. Blaise, for his part, had kept a level stomach, stood up, and was backing away towards the doors arched way of the Great Hall, tears streaming down his face.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Roared Ron, lunging like some savage animal across the table, sprinting after him. "EXPELLIARMUS! STUPEFY! PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" Hex after hex was flung at the Italian, and all he could do was deflect them before running away somewhere deep into the bowels of Hogwarts, with Ron giving chase. The school was stunned throughout the affair, which lasted all of four minutes, before breaking out into a cacophonic chatter of gossip. Pansy laughed, Draco just zoned out, shocked, Dumbledore shook his head and started directing teachers to sort it all out, and Harry was frozen solid. Harry's wings twitched something awful as he thought, knowing he could find Ron and fix this, but for some reason, not wanting to. It wasn't as if Blaise had ever done anything outright to them, but Harry kept having this nagging feeling that Blaise was the enemy. So all Hogwarts could do was wait until the teachers found Blaise dead or Ron wanting to die, as the ceiling turned a stormy black.

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"You know, Elmadora, secrets about your dates are NOT appreciated." Lyphinnea was whining again about Elmadora's affair.

"Shut up. I'm knitting." She was making a new scarf out of napaloff fur to go with the jacket she had already made out of the leathery hide. Sipathae groaned. It was starting again. Why couldn't Lyphinnea give it a rest? Elmadora would tell them soon enough, which was exactly what Elmadora said.

"But I wanna know NOW!" Lyphinnea twitched her bubble-gum pink wings to ruffle Elmadora's feathers, but ended up pulling out the thread from the scarf and unraveling a large portion as she tried to shake it off. Elmadora became so enraged that she launched herself onto Lyphinnea in a fiery blaze, while Sipathae sighed and continued making dinner.

"You messed up his scarf!"

"You won't tell me anything!"

"You don't need to know!"

"Yes I do! I'm your sister!"

"You're a jerk!"

"I know! Tell me!"

"No!" This continued for a bit until a sudden chill hit the whole room and Elmadora and Lyphinnea stopped wrestling long enough to notice what was going on. Dazed, they all stared at the three cards on the table as the door blew open to show Elder Zyphal barging in and staring at the cards with the three Matchmakers.

One card burst into flame and became a pile of screaming ash.

---

The rumor was that Ron killed Blaise, but the truth was that he just cornered him on top of the Astronomy tower. After a confessional 'I love you,' Blaise jumped and plummeted to his death. For his part, Ron was just as shocked and mortified as the rest of the student body. Within the first week, Hogwarts had met their first death of the schoolyear. If it hadn't been a Slytherin, Snape would've been caught celebrating. But as it were, Blaise had been such a close friend to Blaise that the news kind of swept the school like a plague. Ron received ugly looks from even Gryffindors, and was told to 'get the hell out of here, hater.' The stress alone should've broken him, but the real victim was Draco Malfoy.

His crush, now dead, hit him like no other freight train before. He was almost catatonic. In fact, Draco had to be force-fed during the second day when the school held a funeral, Mr. and Mrs. Zabini attended, practically ready to Avada the Weasley child, who remained locked in the Gryffindor area, so that that would not happen. Only Dumbledore noticed the three bird-like figures circling above. White carnations and red roses adorned the casket, held magically aloft on a bed of clear water, which lazily stirred the lilies resting on its surface. Each tear from the attendees drifted toward the casket and became part of the water. Nobody noticed the cloaked figure on a distant hill that contributed his share of tears.

Draco fell quickly into a sullen state of depression, contemplating cutting or suicide or some kind of release. Anything, he moaned, Anything else. He stopped studying and his grade dropped (not potions though) and he zoned out, staring up at the ceiling, often wondering why it had to be his happy dumb-as-a-rock Blaise. During this time, he felt like he needed someone else to comfort him. Someone that could understand pain and death and responsibility. He needed Harry, but couldn't figure it out. Draco was desperate, and one night, after drinking far too many rounds of firewhiskey, started banging on the Fat Lady for entrance.

"Cool it! You're ruffling my oils, Malfoy! … Harry, dear!" nobody answered for a while until Hermione opened the portrait door.

"Shit, Malfoy! How drunk are you?" He hiccupped.

"Not too much that another go at some Firewhiskey can't handle!" drawled Draco, ccompletely plastered.

"Damn it. Come here. Oh god, you stink." Hermione hefted the Malfoy heir in through to the common area, empty of people, and laid him on a large couch. Running upstairs to send a charm to wake Harry up, Hermione rushed to get a glass of water. She came back down with boy in tow and handed the drunk Malfoy the glass with a goodnight before returning to bed.

"Draco, what's wrong with you? Ugh, you really smell." Harry's face scrunched up a little and Draco laughed hysterically before becoming depressed again and standing up, swaying, and walking over to Harry. Harry cast a quick cleaning smell and a breath-mint charm so he could stand Draco's breath.

"He's dead!" At this point, Draco went to take another swig from the firewhiskey bottle he held in his hand, but was stopped by Harry's hand. "Hey! Oh, whatever. Such a pretty boy…," said Draco as he stroked Harry's face. "Blaise was such a pretty boy. God, I'm sucha depressing fag! Mm-hmm! Oh Harry, Harry… You're pretty too. Pretty wings and pretty face. I think I'm drunk." By now, Draco had been wriggling around in Harry's arms, sliding down until he was practically out of his shirt, not even using his legs, and Harry was trying to hold Draco up, which was a little difficult considering Draco's inability to cooperate.

"Draco! Come on! Stand up! You're a Malfoy!"

"Malfoys can love too."

"Ok, but Blaise is gone."

"Can I kill that Weasel?" Draco had the biggest puppy-dog pout Harry had ever seen in his life, but with the drunkenness, it just looked pathetic.

"No…. He's my friend, Draco. Ugh, Stand up!" Draco made some kind of twisting move to try and stand up and ended up knocking the two over back onto the couch, spilling Firewhiskey and water all over. Harry sighed and casted a few charms to clean things up while Draco just lay there, kind of looking around.

"I wanna kill him. Why do you have wings?" Harry bit his lip, wanting really to tell Draco the truth, but not wanting to risk the delicacy of their friendship. After a bit of tribulation, Harry decided that Draco was so drunk anyway, that he'd forget it.

"Don't kill Ron, please. And It's because I'm something other than human I guess, and a certain part of that means liking you."

"oh. Ok. Pretty, soft wings. Can I touch them?" Harry hesitated.

"Um, ok?" Draco began to rub the upper part of a wing, feeling the light bone underneath and the soft downy feathers there. Draco felt hot little sparks running up and down his fingers and Harry's breath hitch now and then, accompanied by a soft breath of air across Draco's forehead. Very soon, Harry wrapped his leg around Draco, drawing him closer, snuggling deeply into the crook in Draco's neck.

"What do you mean, something other than human?"

"I'm a veela, Draco." Draco stopped rubbing Harry's wings, pulled himself out of Harry's embrace and back up from the couch. Harry sat up quickly. "What's wrong?"

"You like me then. That's why I can see your wings."

"Probably."

"I can't like you Harry. You're a Potter, I'm a Malfoy." Harry got up and crossed over to Draco, laying his head on the taller boys chest.

"Fuck our last names."

And with that, Harry and Draco were enveloped in flames, drawing a gasp from both boys, and causing Harry's wings to shiver and stretch out to their full span, before Harry and Draco both disappeared into nothingness.


A/N: PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! What a cliffhanger! Hahahahhaha :] So review so that I can write some more junk! :]