Chapter Twenty-One
Habits
Reminisce: Fall of 1992 - Flint's Atrocious Teeth
"Bloody hell," Ron sighed as a pack of Quidditch-geared Slyths cruised over the lawn where him, Toni and Hermione sat. The trio observed the Gryffindor team run into them and then the quarrel to unfold.
"Where do you think you're going, Flint?" Oliver Wood asked, or rather, challenged, the opposing team captain in green.
"Quidditch practice," Marcus Flint answered.
"I booked the pitch for Gryffindor practice today," Wood made clear.
"Easy, Wood, I've got a note," Flint defended, handing a scroll to the other captain.
Toni, wanting to get a closer look, rose and came up next to either team, Ron and Hermione to follow behind.
Wood snatched it from him, then unrolled the parchment to read, "I, Professor Severus Snape, hereby give the Slytherin team permission to practice today owing to the need to train their new Seeker." Wood quirked an eyebrow, and shot Flint a quizzical look. "You've got a new Seeker? Who?"
Two boys stepped aside so that Draco could provide the answer. Toni shook her head in annoyance and disbelief.
"You've selected Lucius' son, have you?" the Gryff Seeker, Kenneth Towler, said incredulously.
"Yeah, Towel, that's right," Draco declared boldly. "And that's not all that's new this year." He stabbed his top-of-the-line broom into the grass to give referral.
"Those are Nimbus Two-thousand and Ones!" Ron spoke up. "How did you get those?"
"They're compliments of Draco's father," Flint replied.
"You see, Weasley, unlike some, my father can afford the best," Draco boasted.
"At least no-one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They've got their own pure talent," Hermione brightly clarified.
Toni and Ron smiled upon her riposte, while Draco, among all his team members, clearly didn't voluntarily admit to the solid truth. The blond paced forth to glare down at their accuser.
"Nobody asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood," he assaulted.
Toni absorbed her friend's hurt expression, and hence mustered up plenty of seething fury. "How dare you?!" the redhead growled, backhanding the spiteful snob clean across the face.
"Back away now, Potter," Flint ordered while brushing her backwards with his hand on her chest.
"No, you snaggle-toothed jerk! I won't let him get away with such an insult!" she yelled, rubbing at her madly throbbing left hand.
"Pardon?" the seventh year Captain inquired crossly.
"You heard me!" she replied, now trying to barge through the three Slytherins in her way to continue teaching Malfoy a lesson. However, the older boys wouldn't budge.
"EAT SLUGS, MALFOY!" Ron asserted, drawing his damaged wand to shoot a hex at Draco, only to have it backfire and chuck him across the yard. When he hit the ground, the Slytherins had their laughs while the rest hurried for him, except for Toni, whose jacket was clutched by Flint.
"Don't like my teeth?"
"Let me go!" she rebuked, fisting his clothed muscular arm.
He grinned broadly. "These disturb you, eh?" he mocked.
Her insides churned at seeing them up-close. They were so, so bad. She almost pitied him. "Y-yes! Those are by far the most atrocious molars I've ever seen!" she confessed hotly. She turned her focus to the "whoa!"s the crowd yonder gave. "What is it?! 'Mione, is he okay?!" she shouted. Ron and Hermione sprinted by her subsequently. Ron's face was contorted into one of shock. Toni winced when he hacked up a huge inky black slug covered in saliva.
"We're going down to Hagrid's!" Hermione explained as she headed off in the direction of his hut with her arm around Ron's shoulder. Toni attempted to go along, but Flint wouldn't have that. With fiery nerves, she lifted her free right hand to beat herself out of the boy's grip, but availed none.
"Let me have at her, Marcus! It's my turn to get even!" Draco spat, tugging at her long hair ardently. "Is it a fight you want, Potter? Come on, then. I'll have your arse kicked in seconds!"
"Bugger!" she groaned, enthusiastically thrusting her right leg to his crotch, eliciting a hilarious response. The preteen dropped to his knees with a guttural moan, both hands at the stinging area between his legs.
Her glory wallowing was erupted when Flint wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, piercing through her shirt with his slightly overgrown fingernails. His mouth by her ear, he muttered, "That was stupid, Potter. You realize how much trouble you're in?"
"Bite me!" she hissed.
The boys around wore suggestive miens as Flint stared at her in momentary muse. Chuckling lowly and creepily, he said, "I guess you could say you're first kiss is about to be atrocious."
Panic became her as his words sunk in, and when the man pushing eighteen licked his lips vulgarly, she roused up enough adrenaline to escape his bearing on her and hightail it across the lawn.
"God! God! Oh, God!" she panted as the unsightly Slyth pursued her.
"Shove your tongue down the bitches throat!" she heard someone from the team bellow at him as he ran hot on her tracks.
"NO!" she shrieked as bile slithered up her gullet. Lord, if her mouth was infiltrated by as gross a mouth as Flint's, then she'd be rinsing with Hagrid's boiling cauldron water for sure. This would have perhaps been fun if her Scottish crush, Oliver, had been the one to chase after her with intentions of meeting his lips with hers, but this was a nightmare of hell.
Stomping crazily through the courtyard and looping the castle's outer pillars for just over a minute got her nowhere but gradually nearer to him. Plotting transiently, she dashed straight past the final pillar leading to the hill where the hut was in front of the Forbidden Forest.
'He won't try to get inside, will he?' her agitated mind wondered. 'Hagrid will keep him away,' she reasoned.
A meager eighty feet uphill from said hut, a protruding stone that stuck out of the ground had the twelve-year-old somersaulting briefly before coming to an abrupt stop mid-hill. Dizzy, out of breath and bewildered she came to her feet to have Flint's hungry arms catch her. She yipped as he slung her back down onto the ground, and a foreign sensation of terror awakened when he fell on top of her.
"Think that beastly slob down there'll keep you out of my way?" the tall, flat black-haired enemy huffingly derided.
"Please! I'm sorry!" she cried underneath him.
"Look at my teeth," he commanded as he adjusted himself so that her legs were in between his own.
Her eyes had been sealed and she was frowning so intensely it almost looked as if she were giving a strained smile. Her head tilted back and forth in the grass. Flint repeated himself, and so did she.
"Antonia Potter," he spoke calmly, "Open. Your. Eyes."
She just couldn't.
"You know you're just as 'rude' and 'selfish' as my crew if you go by criticizing other people's physical appearances."
"You are vile," she murmured bravely. "I only insulted you because you did so to me-"
"Did I?" he articulated. "You were picking on my Seeker, so I rather gently told you to-"
"I WASN'T PICKING ON DRACO!" she argued with vice. "You daft rubbish! Did you miss what your precious Seeker said to my friend? He was picking on us!"
His large hand held her cheek down and dirty fingers pinched her flesh. "Relax," he breathed. "Now if you don't look at me I'm going to forget about the innocent peck I was going to give you and instead punish you with a french kiss. Do you know what that is?"
She went pale as she struggled to break free from him. "Do you, Potter?" he repeated in a purposefully throaty rasp.
"I-it's w-when you kiss with your - your um...tongue," she whispered.
"What a smart little girl. Now, since you're not opening your damn eyeballs, I'm going to have to assume that you want that sort of sno-"
Big, dark green eyes fluttered wide to see murky brown eyes for a tick before the captain said, "Look, are these so horrendous?"
She didn't respond, but only stared at the strangely misshapen and spaced out molars. She tried to turn her head in the other direction when he lowered his head, again wetting his lips while he did so. He locked her head in place with a single hand. This time, when her eyes shut snugly he didn't order her otherwise, simply too eager to kiss this pretty little redhead senseless, despite his physical maturity on her.
Rancid huffs worsened her grimace. Determinedly, he took her whole head in his hands and caressed the back of her head with his lengthy fingers. She prayed that he would make it very, very, very quick, with that promised peck and not a sloppy, slobbery session. When cool, moist lips pressed against her left cheek she quivered and envisioned Oliver to bring her soothing solace in this torture. Again, she pretended that the Gryff Captain was here with her when that same damp mouth planted itself on her forehead, and more than once at that. It was too affectionate to be classified as a mother's kiss. Toni wasn't aware what to think of this, being naive to romance still. She doubted she even got the gist of love making for what it really was. What? Would Flint teach her about that too while they were at it, here, in the dying grass where nobody else was about for the time being?
After a good lot of her face had been thoroughly kissed, Flint brushed his ajar mouth over the girl's for but a fleeting moment before hurried footsteps could be heard approaching. Biting out some swears that made the witch blush, he leant up to check out who the intruder was. Flint's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates at the wand that was aimed straight at him, and the wielder had Toni gaping just the same.
"Get off of her," Draco stated.
"...I think it would be in your best interest to run off, Draco, unless you want to be booted from the team," Marcus warned.
Draco laughed, shaking his head. "My father shouldn't be so appreciative of that, Marcus. He just might, I don't know, reclaim those high-in-demand, top-quality brooms."
Flint sighed, removing his hands from the girl's head to rest them on the ground by her ears. "Why are you defending the little scamp? Have you inspected your bound-to-be bruised balls?"
"I'm not defending her. I've payback to deliver. She's mine, not yours." He stepped down to prod the tip of his wand at his captain's head. "Head back. I'll meet with you shortly."
The boys narrowed their eyes at each other five seconds more before Flint scrambled off of Toni fumingly and stormed uphill. Draco blew a gust of air from his nostrils and scoffed before sharpening his gaze on the lain Gryffindor princess.
"Um, why did you-"
"Cram it!" he barked. "I'm burning like a mother where you savagely flung your foot! Would you like to see your craftsmanship?"
"...No." She giggled. He probably was awful colorful down there by now.
"Get up," he said coldly.
Shakily, she did. "Now you know better than to call Hermione such a horrid name," she said, crossing her arms.
"Shut your trap, Potter. You're just as filthy as the mudblood."
He flinched when she lifted her foot towards his junk to tease him. "HAHA! Chicken!" she giggled—to have it whipped away.
"Traitorous bitch!" he croaked before he shoved her downhill. The roll was awkward and had pulled many of her muscles, and when she reached the bottom just a ways from the hut, she glanced back uphill to see Draco present her his middle finger. He then stalked away.
Toni foraged the cabinet's interior and exterior alike to come clear with nothing she could put to use. Draco had been vigilant and left not a speck behind, not that she understood what he was doing with this whatchamacallit anyway. She snooped about other sections of the room and surveyed various objects and devices, but wound up leaving the room around thirty minutes after the Slyth had departed. Ultimately, she would have to reel the truth from him, and that wouldn't be happening anytime soon.
As she descended flight after flight, her invisibility cloak draped over her, she randomly thought back to the first time Draco had called her that derogatory and hideously sexist word. He'd been audibly naming her a bitch since the second day of their first year, but as for the other one…
Still, after all this time, what began with a simple C and ended with a simple T, when ground out from his forbidding graces, sent her cringing in a weird spiraled combo of disquietude, infuriation and hurt.
That initial account, he'd whispered, no, growled it into her ear straight after the announcing of the Triwizard Tournament's nominees. Everyone had treated her with hostility of some form that night, even Ron, who ignorantly believed that she herself spiked the goblet with her name, as if craving 'eternal glory', and boy, did it take an abiding while to assure him otherwise...
Toni remembered that night like it was just days earlier. Maybe he said it because he was envious, or maybe he said it just to be sadistic like he always was. He also violated her right ear with insults of how she was an "enormously zealous overachiever" for taking such an attention-needy chance. Pixies still to that day scampered in her belly at that fourth year overall. She was, for one instance, too damn shy to show off in competitions, especially ones of that much ensured feat. And she obeyed the rules, so when Dumbledore specified that only those of at least seventeen years may join, she reckoned that fair while Fred and George disputed at him and Crouch along with many others.
His parents were up for blame, but only to an extent. They taught Draco to look down on those who weren't of "pure" blood, but they certainly didn't recommend that he do or feel what he did for Potter. Lucius Malfoy was oblivious to what lustful verve had his son by, what was it? the heart, mind or dick, hell, probably all three. His kin would have more than likely disowned the boy had they seen whom he was after.
That term was putrid, which was why Toni adjudged it for Umbridge her fifth year. It was so necessary that McGonagall had herself a chuckle upon hearing the alias for the first time from an anonymous source. 'Highlady C' spread through the school like wildfire, not that said prof was very pleased with this when her Squad snitched…
The word itself, when considering its meaning...should have been used only for those who earned the titling the most, and the two intolerable women who did were Dolores and the one who'd introduced her to the word years before, Aunt Marge, when she was just a little girl of six. Toni didn't know what that word meant when she'd been called it with a sharp slap across the face after making the mistake of her life by trying to take her favorite Barbie out of Marge's bulldog puppy Ripper's bite, and she still wasn't quite sure what it meant when Draco had called her that at fourteen. When she offhandedly brought up the word to Mrs. Weasley on '94's Christmas Eve, the stunned-pale reaction from the older orange-haired woman had told her that she had spoken out of line—and gravelly so...but, she was only curious.
So laying in her bed that Saturday, well, early Sunday morning, she pondered Draco, and what in God's name he was, really. What would the man do next? He was nearly impossible to read. What did that cabinet have to do with anything? How was it assisting Draco with whatever he was trying to get at? How long before she'd wake up to miserable news on some student's or the headmaster's sudden murder?
This fellow was driving her crazy. Over six damn years of this emotional and physical abuse on his fault, and it had to discontinue yet. She hated him to the point of hot tears, to the long run of yearning to beat him to a bloody stump. And while she detested him along with a sad amount of others, she had to give him credit on how he kept her teeth bared and fists...fisted, ready, at all hours. Anger would help her through what was to rise, would it not? Holding a constant grudge felt, to her at least, to be a prominent tactic towards the nose-less monster and his army of egregious aids.
Though, the way he treated her...his outbursts were inexcusable.
…
That next Sunday morning, Toni paid Hagrid a visit with Ron and Hermione. Much to her grief, Toni walked in between either mate while they bickered at one another without stopping once to catch their breaths on the way downhill. Hermione had commenced it of course, because the rancor she had against Brown was of extraordinary potential.
Luckily, they both shut up once the three of them were actually in the hut. Toni still sat so that Ron was at one side and Hermione was at the other. Hagrid was brewing water in the cauldron for tea. He was evidently upset.
"Aragog's not doin' well," he sighed glumly. "Jus' turned fifty-four a week back. I don't think he's goin' ter live through the whole of this year."
'Thank God,' Toni thought with discourteous relief.
"Been me best mate for over FIVE decades! Misunderstood an' forced into hidin' all these years!" the half-giant bawled. "He's in a lotta pain. I brew up what alleviations I can for 'im, but it doesn't do the poor feller much good."
"Everything dies," Toni said, sounding more blunt than she had meant to be. Her friends gave her a grim look for her lack of compassion. "Aragog has lived a long life, especially for a spider," she finished.
"What kind'er life is takin' to the middle of the sunless woods? He wasn't all that satisfied, ye know...He confided in me some stuff recently, some personal business he'd never let me in on before. Made 'imself clear on keeping what he told me to meself only, but I'll let you three in on a bit of it." Hagrid sniffled, wiping away some dripping tears. "Aragog has the mind of a man...can't help that he's a 'menacin'' arachnid. He's intelligent, more so than a lot o' people I've met. Wanted ter do things he couldn't do, not in his body. Had a great lot goin' for 'imself, he did. Now I jus' hope that he will become something a bit more worthy in his death...he could come back a humern, like he wishes."
His heartfelt speech had the girls close to shedding their own tears, while Ron was so repulsed by spiders that he couldn't generate much sympathy. Hagrid lumbered over to the steaming cauldron and brought it over to three big mugs on his table. He had been crying since midnight, when he said he last visited his dying companion.
"His condition's deterioratin' by the blink." The hulking wizard blew his nose into a stained rag. "I'll give 'im till May. Yerp, I tink he'll be passed on by then."
With not a trace of harmony in the hut left disconcerting notions for the four of them, and none of them had anything of much decency to offer. Leaving Hagrid to himself to grieve crossed Toni as necessary, because whenever she was depressed she preferred going without the company of others, but she refused to just get up and jet without first asking.
"Would you like us to return later on?" the redhead cut in.
Hagrid instantly straightened up and shook his head as if to tweak out of his woeful manner. "I'm alright, I am. Have some tea, all o' you, please."
.
.
.
Aberforth was really the only person Toni spoke to on everything, from most, but not all, of the details of what went on between her and Draco, to that whirlwind kiss she compelled on Remus. He listened to her and gave his tidbits, never advising or opinionating too much, just as she liked. He wordlessly swore to withhold all that he heard from her. Basically, he was her counselor. At least this was how she placed him in her book.
"Am I a slut?" she uttered too hurriedly to give it any pre-thought.
Ab's mien was blank at that. "For snogging a gentleman twenty years your senior? Well, I don't know ye well enough to answer that. Do ye even understand the accurate definition of a 'slut', malady? If we're just accordin' to me, then, nah, I doubt you're one of those."
With her green hues stuck on the counter where her Merlot rested, she let out a huff. "I'm quite disgruntled, Ab. Everything is going to be crashing in on me soon, and the sole matter I have to worry about right now is a stupid mandatory date tomorrow with that Slytherin I told you about." She neared the barman to whisper, "I mentioned he's one of them, right? A death eater? He was proud to show off his left forearm to me a while back. He fooled me. He drew me into a trap and I can't tell your brother or anybody else that he's living illicitly. And I know you don't care enough to report such, do you?"
Ab put on a glower. "I care, Miss. Yet, I've other work to attend to. Obligations of diligent duty for your information. If I come to get those obligations out of the way, then perhaps I can assist you, but you need to do with your own problems as you'd like. It's your life, ain't it?"
"Yes, but I have always had difficulty running it." She closed her eyes and laid her tired head in her left palm. "Other people always do that for me."
"Why do ye let them?" he inquired urgently.
"I don't let them. They just take it over; make it theirs at their will. I've never actually had much say in a lot of things. I sort of tripped among the stampede early in life, and the rest is history. I was...trampled over."
The barman cursed something inaudible under his breath while he shook his head in disappointment. "You're only vulnerable because ye let yerself be, dammit. You're just another lost an' defeated-feeling woman whom allows the mightier and bulkier to 'trample' over them. Get ahold of yerself, whip her into cooperation and teach her to have unlimited dominion over herself, which translates to yerself. That's all I've got to say about that."
But it wasn't that simple, not for the chosen one. Why she never bothered with telling this man who she really was was a reckless omission. She was 'malady' and 'madam' and 'miss' and occasionally 'Antonia' to him. He never did give much of a damn as to what her surname could have possibly been, and this tavern was too dimly lit to make her scar visible to give him a humongous hint.
Toni smirked out of irritation, not believing she was actually about to do this. She stood from her bar stool and went to pick up one of the empty table's floating lanterns. She re-took her seat and set the glowing device down.
"Sir," she said, combing her hair back, then bending over so that her lightening-shaped mark could be seen clear as day, "you might want to take back your statement."
"...You're...Merlin," he grumbled in disbelief. "The Antonia...Potter? Are ye?"
"Yup."
"You're the Girl Who Lived?"
"I'm not just 'another woman' who just allows the mightier and bulkier to trample over me. I'm one of the rare few who can say that Voldemort is after me directly. Do tell me again of how I 'could' stand up for myself and not face an inevitable personal war with the darkest madman to ever surface this world. Ab, tell me how I'm going to be OK."
The barman had other patrons to tend to.
With Slughorn's permission telling the students they were assigned to concoct "something amusing" led Toni a page towards the end of the Half-Blood Prince's guide with a recipe titled: 'The Elixr to Induce Euphoria'. Reading about it, she discovered that getting the obstinate prof to consume just a teaspoon of this would induce both elation and that memory she had to get very soon.
Albus had called her to his office the night before once she returned from Ab's. He was austere in reminding her that there was absolutely no time to waste. He needed this recollection, and badly at that. There was no feeding him her excuses nor her refutes. With a bright future first came victory...So, Horace should have been lighthearted in relenting after sipping this brew. Toni would even tell him it was like receiving a belated Christmas present if she had to.
Getting straight to work, she made sure she had what directed materials were going to make this potion magnifique. She stopped at the unoccupied supply cupboard at the end of the classroom for extra shrivelfig. The witch didn't have to stand there long before someone else snuck up.
From behind her, someone's pelvis had rocked into her. Toni gasped and set down the sought vial with almost enough immediacy and effort to crack the bottom. Two long, pale hands then rested on one of the lower shelves at either hip.
Grinding himself into her at a mocking rate and force, Draco spoke, "I'll be waiting at the second flight once you're out of transfigurations at three."
"We'll see, alright?!" she muttered as she fought to squirm away from him, checking her surroundings to make sure that no-one had noticed anything awry over here.
"I will be seeing you," he rasped into her left ear, giving her sides a sharp squeeze before he relented and got back to work at the other side of the class.
Toni wanted to kick the bottom shelf until her sizzling anger wore out. When would it end?! Practically jogging back to her cauldron, she peered over to where he worked across the faintly brightened room to see that he was invested in whatever he was making, as if he hadn't even moved from his station, Crabbe and Goyle even right there with him, snickering like the ignoramuses they were.
The attention she paid him didn't last. She relished in the certainty that she would not be seeing the poncy devil till after her final class—which would sadly arrive soon enough anyway. Scrupulously, her potion was concocted; this had to be perfect if the prof was going to cooperate.
.
.
.
While Draco loitered about that second flight, Toni dawdled up in her dorm as she changed out of her robes. She took great pride in keeping him waiting, and the best part of this was that she wasn't even prettying herself up too much. Her appearance wasn't for his fulfillment, and if he believed differently, that was his loss.
The other roommates had not come in, leaving her alone. They had presumably already made their stops in there to put on fresh clothes or do what they needed to do while the redhead made her own stop in over twenty minutes later than normal.
Putting her frets of Malfoy on hold, she reflected Horace's underwhelming reaction to that morning's 'amusing' brew. He did love it, and he did congratulate her advanced skill as per usual, but not enough to suck that memory out of his head for her to deliver to Dumbledore's office. Albus would not be too chipper about this...
On her way out, she prayed that she wouldn't run into Neville or any of the mates...She just couldn't have that happen now, not with her requisite meeting set up for the remainder of that afternoon. Mondays were already one of her more disliked days of the week, and now she had all the more acclaim to her reason.
She caught Ron speaking to Seamus while passing through the common room, but she mercifully went unseen in turn. Hermione and Gin might have been studying in the library and Neville may have been doing something festive in the greenhouse again. He had told her of his love for herbology countlessly over the years.
From the end of the hall leading to the staircases, Toni saw Draco where he promised he would be, talking to Nott, the Slytherins' smartest wizard so to speak. The witch waited at the bottom of the stairs as she observed the two lost in conversation. A full minute she lurked there, so when it seemed that Draco didn't notice her or had made other plans for that day, she merrily turned around to head back.
"Potter!"
She didn't get far…
Just slowing down in her stride, the back of her blouse had been snagged at Draco's clutch, and she was jerked backwards to bump into his chest. Months earlier she would have shrieked and pulsated like she were midst a feral and ravenous mountain troll again but now she rolled her eyes and scowled as the foe twirled her to face him with the customary harsh exertion.
"Where in Merlin's fucking name do you think you're off to? Furthermore, I thought we discussed your habit of coming round late. Have my warned consequences failed to penetrate that thick skull of yours? I'm damn weary of your inattentive demeanor, Pot-"
"And I'm damn tired of your biased—oh, never mind! You were conversing with Theodore so I thought that perhaps you'd forgotten about our...your plans."
His grip slackened. "Come on. We're leaving."
He marched down the corridor so suddenly that she had to trot to catch up with him. "D-draco, where are we going?" she blurted.
When he didn't answer, she smacked his shoulder and repeated herself. Incontrovertibly fucked up as this jumbled and disorderly relationship was, when one would even go as far as to call it a 'relationship', it was still fabricated with them both. Toni earned all rule to voice her concerns just as he did his own, as he had been brashly doing so all these years in all the mayhem they'd shared since September first of 1991. Arguments of contribution were going to be let loose on her behalf, and if that pissed him off, then fine.
Just as Hermione addressed Ron when she was frustrated at him, Toni muttered, "Draco Lucius Malfoy, you respond!"
He chortled, taking her cute vexation wrongly.
"Slow down! Answer me, damn it all!"
"Get your coat on, we're almost there," he said coolly.
"I don't have my bloody coat! I'm not leaving the castle."
"We are," he corrected keeping at his pace. "I told you that I'd be taking you someplace fancy, did I not?" He shrugged. "Now you're going to be freezing your little bum off for the next twenty minutes. Shame."
"Wha?—Why don't you be a gentleman and lend me your coat?"
He scoffed. "I already did."
"I don't have that one anymore…" She smirked. "I threw it out my window."
This had notably irritated him. "That was custom made, you twat. Mm, you won't be getting another one."
The frigid air outside was unforgiving. The mere walk to the carriages proved almost too much for the girl to handle. Her tightly crossed arms didn't make for compensating insulation either. Draco found mirth at her uncontrollable shaking.
"Dr-d-draco, please," she begged.
"Keep talking, sweetheart. Your voice is music to my ears," he taunted.
Fast losing her temper, she grabbed at his wool coat's collar and tried to yank it down his arm. Her left hand was stolen by his own for the remainder of the travel.
"If you want to undress me, Potter, then we can retire to our special room upstairs."
"Oh, piss off!" she groaned. "I'll undress you when your father gets baptized."
Her nose was then bopped hard enough to make it tingle, though not bleed, or break again.
"Don't mention my father," he scorned.
"Oh, how is he? How's he holding up, I mean, bending down lately?"
"Shut up!" he screeched, crushing her hand to enunciate his point. She let out a small scream in pain, but few students were in the vicinity to notice. Students seldom went out on Mondays.
"Okay! Okay!" she yelped. "You have some grave issues with keeping your anger at bay...Just take it easy."
"You take it easy! I'm on a mission and it involves more responsibility than I can offer to meet expectations. You, Potter, have two ears and an exquisite mouth that I've come to crave, much as it nearly tears my brain from the twinging stem it rests on. I'm losing my fucking mind this year. Who knew hell could be so exhaustively tedious?"
"Ha! It seems karma has come knocking at your door! It's about time, I'd say, especially after what monster you were last year."
"I could have been worse, you know. Crabbe and Goyle were shoving first years' heads into toilets. On several occasions, Crabbe even did it to some unfortunate souls after he'd shat in it. Now I refused to stoop that low."
Toni about gagged. "God! What?! Those - those animals! Don't tell me you got a kick out of it?"
Draco rammed her into the carriage with an ogre's finesse, then hopped in after her. "Did at first, but it got a trifle old after the thirtieth kid."
Toni's shivering barely eased with the subtle warmth the carriage had to give. "...Where are we going?"
"Don't much like surprises, do you?" he sneered. "Sit tight. You won't be disappointed."
…
Icy fingertips pried around her eyelids as she was blindly led into what she discerned to be a pub considering the indistinct aroma of mead or whiskey that hung in the air. Draco had cut off her vision halfway down High Street, informing her that he would show her into what place he'd picked out while she couldn't see where they were until he removed his hands. She could only sigh at his efforts that resembled that of a playful boyfriend with his beloved other. This wasn't natural, and neither was this enmity they'd long established for one another.
"Open your eyes," he said once his hands were down. The 'big surprise' was nothing to widen her eyes at. If it was even possible, this tavern, The Hobgoblin, was shadier and darkly lit than Ab's. What she sniffed reeked stronger than the dry and stuffy air in Ab's too. Draco took her way back into the pub, and on the journey she smelt a fusion of urine, smoke, vomit? and vodka, or perhaps rum; she could not tell.
The deeper they advanced, the more wary Toni felt. "It reeks back here," she complained. "Go figure! We're not sitting by the entrance because you wouldn't be able to show off with your abusive larks." She studied their background, and few were seated around. "Typical…"
"Would you prefer our regular hang-out, love? I just wanted a change of scenery for once, and you know I won't 'abuse' you if you behave yourself to my liking."
"And just how do I do that? You smack me just about every time I speak."
He slid into one side of a cornered booth where their area was illuminated by a lone candle on a nearby curtained window ledge. When she took her place at the other side, she was both addled and grateful that Draco didn't wrest her over to sit by him, and she genuinely thought he would do that.
"Don't argue with me," he said. "Oh, and don't make childish jibes at my father either. That's one way to keep your body clear of bruises."
"You have yet to leave a bruise on me!" she admonished.
"I can. Just you toy with my final nerve, Potter. I am quite capable of mangling you up."
"A fact of life, Draco, you can't always get your way, no matter how stinking rich you are. Take that to heart now, um, if you even have one of those. It'll save you a lot of damage later on."
Draco tsked passionately and averted his hard stare to the salt shaker at the end of the table. "Lowing your hardcore optimism should make fate easier for you, pumpkin. I've accepted that my future is going to be one damaged, chaotic plight thanks to this." He waved his left arm after bunching up his sleeve. "If you think I'm an evil man now, just you wait another five years or so. It's my destiny to bring pain and loss to those lesser than me, even if I would rather swing for another route...Let's just say that I don't have much say in what I'm obligated to perform."
"Shit, man!" Toni punched the table just as Vernon used to when he was outraged. "What are you obligated to do?! What the fuck is the point in even being in your presence like this if you won't even confide in me? And you want my friendship?! How is that supposed to happen if you refuse to enlighten me as to what the hell's up?!"
"I don't want your friendship, Potter. I want your listening ears, as I've already explained, and I want you for you. You alone make for a blessed coping mechanism, so please do feel flattered over that." He reached over the table separating them and seized her right arm. "I spent almost two hours explaining to you what you make me feel, pet." His fingers hugged her wrist as he brought her hand up to his lips. "You're all I ever dream about," he muttered. "You've been haunting me all these fucking years. I surrendered myself to ditsy Parkinson in desperation. I needed you out of my head. So she didn't work; didn't do sodding shit to rid you of my fantasies, and here we are."
Paying no heed to his tasteless compliments, she said, "If you're so in love with me, then why didn't you treat me with respect from the start? Why did you have to harass Ron straight off the bat when you knew I'd befriended him? Why did you send me crying in mortification and anger all those times up until now? I would have shaken your hand if you had worded yourself politely, you know. And your becoming a death eater, that was all on you. Your dad inspired you, I'd reckon, and...here we are. You've yourself to blame, Malfoy."
"It's always in one ear and out the other with you, Potter! I've lectured you numerously that I am without an option! I've been chosen to carry out a vital favor and fucking it up will result in the death of my parents and I. There, I wasn't going to tell you that much in a million years, but I did! Savor that information because that's all you're getting on that terrain. You'll find out the entire deal eventually anyway."
"...I will? When-"
"Afternoon, what would either of you like to drink?" a barmaid addressed.
"I'm fine, thank you," Toni said.
"...I'll take a shot of port, if ya have it," Draco grumbled.
"So, um, when will I find out?" Toni asked.
"When you find out."
Emotionally exhausted, she closed her eyes and rested her head in her palm. These cycles her and the Slyth would go through...how did she keep up? These contemporary dreaded encounters were unlike what scum the two shared in earlier years, the main difference being the habitualness of them.
"We don't get along because we conflict each other too much by personal standards, Potter. Neither of us will ever be at peace together, but we're still going to stand by one another. We'll fight and we'll long to kill each other, but it will get us off just as well. It's a twisted crock of an addition, but we thrive on it."
"I don't get off or thrive on this, you swine. I goddamn hate it! Filch is more tolerable than you. My uncle is, my cousin is, Snape is, your friends are, Umbridge, and she's saying a load. I won't go as far as to list off Voldemort, but I hope you're getting my context."
"Without me, you'd be a perpetual walking obliteration. You're alone, as am I. We do relate to one another in our miserable temperaments. Our mates don't get us, but they're convenient in their similarities to us. They're agreeable in our eyes. We rant to them, and we tell them what measly secrets we can tell them, and in that form, they are useful, like tools, per se. And there's us, a man and a woman of opposing Houses and alternative nature. As cheaply cliched as that saying, "opposites attract" is, I'm afraid it defines what we are precisely."
The barmaid returned with his shot.
"You've lost it," she said.
"You just don't see it because you won't come to terms with it. It's conspicuous, Antonia. If you had such an aversion to my company then you'd have mouthed off to the dumb old door quite some time ago."
"You had me swear straight against that with our 'Vow' for Christ's sake!"
"Funny, I recall executing that weeks after I fractured your snout, and what's more hilarious, I was never hauled down to the coot's office that night, which infers that you kept our little altercation to yourself. I forgot to thank you for that."
She was at loss for a decent reply.
"I've called you some of the nastiest names the English language has to offer, shoved you down, spat on you, touched you in areas your prude self doesn't like to be touched, smashed your nose, and degraded you enough to make it sound like I've never breathed a harsh syllable at the mudblood. At least what I've said to you is incomparable to the phrase we purebloods use to express such contamination...And never once have you skipped off to the head to rat me out. That's had me perplexed for longer than what I'm comfortable with."
"Well, your father was so involved for a while, so I doubted you'd be expelled. Honestly, I would have probably gotten into trouble instead, what with Snape always on your side for everything. Not a single bloody House point was dropped from you snakes when you enlarged Hermione's teeth and my breasts that day back in fourth year, and I'd guarantee he knew bloody well who initiated that squabble."
"Baby, if you're going to make up excuses that below par then you ought to keep them to yourself. I can assure you that Dumbledore or that wrinkled old bird McGonagall would have had my arse if they'd been informed of what I did to you on the train."
"Goodbye!" she clambered out of the booth with her hand still entwined in his. "Supreme nuisance! Give me my hand, you ferret!"
"Sit down, pet, you're making a scene."
"I don't care! I'll make a scene then! Maybe then somebody will come over here and help me!"
"Unlikely. You realize where we are? A couple of vampires and ex-cons aren't going to rush to your rescue, not when they enjoy having their own women writhe, claw and scream at them for mercy."
"You're worthless."
"You are one remark away from retribution," he threatened, squeezing her hand as if it were his property.
Toni narrowed murderous eyes at his own that were just as vengefully sinister. Had she her wand, she wouldn't have used it, because the sole way to resolving this was through communication, impossible as it may have been to do so civilly.
"What are we getting at? You've told me all you say you can say, so what now? Are we to skulk around in here and ramble till nightfall? What do you need?"
"You distract me," he muttered, yanking her down to whisper. "Look at me! Look at my eyes! The bags and dark circles! I hardly catch a wink of shuteye anymore! All I can focus on is this fucking mission and it's eating me alive. This blasted objective is on my mind all day everyday and there's the beautiful relief where you come in and entertain me, just for being there. You're my angel, stupendously complicated and righteous as you are. Do you know how much consolation it would bring me if you would just talk to me? About - about anything! I don't give a damn! I'm not one who often seeks help, but I'm asking it of you. Help me, and I'll help you, yeah? Just sit back down and...fuck, just sit back down and be here."
"Draco," she began with a sigh, "you don't deserve any help. Look at who you are. Would you help yourself?"
"That's not what I'm getting at! Do as I say, damn you. All you have to do is talk. I'll even keep quiet, alright?"
"I-I don't have a lot on my mind," she said.
"Yes, you do. You of everybody else must have a plethora of worries in there."
"I speak to someone else about my issues, actually." Her buttocks re-met the cushioned seat. "You might not smile at what I have to say, but since you're so persistent, I'll discuss whatever thoughts surface. I've been feeling iffy and weird about kissing Remus at Ron's Burrow, you know, the one your aunt showed up to and burned to the ground. I mean, he reciprocated at first, but then he freaked out and asked me if I was off my head-"
"Are you?!" Draco blurted, a disgusted expression having taken over. "You kissed Lupin?"
Her cheeks heated up. "I thought you said you would be quiet!"
"Did he fuck you?" he asked, obviously jealous.
"What? No! Of course I-"
"Would you have let him?"
"Erm, well, I...um I think, I don't know…"
"Harlot!" Draco muttered at her. "He makes you wet, does he?"
The temperature seemed to rise by thirty degrees. She began to perspire she was so humiliated. "N-no."
He snorted. "I recall you telling me you are, or were, going out with Long-arse."
"I am, but-"
"Deceitful, adulterating little whore," he sniggered. "I'd have never imagined that of you, Potter."
"Don't ridicule me! You see, I try to speak my mind and you interrupt me with your stupid and rude thoughts!"
"I must, or else our flame will smolder. I can't have that happen. It'll bore me, and it will bore you as well," Draco excused.
"My friends bore me sometimes and I'm ducky with that! This is just...detrimental, Draco."
"Ah, fuck," he whined, looking past her shoulder at the clock mounted on the wall. "Luckily for you, you may have the rest of the afternoon to yourself, because I have some grueling business to take care of." He released her hand and slipped out of the booth.
"I'm coming up there with you. Whatever you're scheming is affiliated with that cabinet," she said.
"You can't, love. It's dire that I have my full concentration dedicated to what I'm doing. You'll distract me." He poured more money than what was due on the table from his coat's pocket. "If I run into you later, we'll begin where we left off, yeah?" Before she could think to retract, he smooched her forehead. "I'll have you elaborate on how hazardous you deem us."
"Dammit! You've got a woman who knows her worth and isn't prepared to compromise it! You better change, or else I'm having nothing more of you. I don't care what our 'vow' has dictated, and I don't care if you grovel at my feet or hit me. I can only do this and be with you if you make yourself worth my time and attention."
He considered her somewhat, and proved this by combing his fingers through her tresses and agreeing with, "Yeah, right then."
She watched him leave. When the barmaid returned, she used what currency Draco left her to have herself a bottle of sherry. She drank, she wept out of frustration and all the nonsense. She laid her heavy head in her folded arms on the table as her long-sleeved blouse caught her tears. She was so accustomed to this, but at the same time, so sick of this, sick of him.
Her face was buried in her arms for over a half hour before she heard somebody sit down across from her, just when she was treasuring her solitude! She groaned and apprehended his patronizing. When he didn't say anything for over twenty seconds, she grew impatient.
"Won't you leave me be, you pointed-faced LOSsss-" She trailed off upon seeing a girl she recognized from her year and House with long brunette hair, large, round, dark blue eyes, and pale skin.
"...Hi. I eh, just got here and I saw that you were um, well, you looked like you were crying…" The brunette glanced at the nearly empty bottle next to them. "Or maybe just resting…" She blushed. "S-sorry, I'll go-"
"Oh no! Please stay! I've just had a bad day," Toni explained.
The other witch smiled warmly. Holding out her hand, she greeted, "Antonia Potter, right? I've never gotten to really meet you...I'm fairly sure we're in the same year. I'm Fay Dunbar."
The girl's complexion rang a bell, and her name sounded more than familiar. "Yeah, I've seen ya round, Fay," Toni said, grinning crookedly with the buzz she donned. She shook her hand. "You can call me Toni, or - or Anne, or just Antonia. I go by different nicknames to different people."
"Sure." Fay nodded. "You want to tell me about your day, Ant?"