The house prefect leads us to the entrance of our dormitories; more well known as the Slytherin Common Room.
The Slytherin dormitory, albeit gloomy and grim, is simply breath taking.
An assortment of lit bright green candles levitate across the high ceilings emanating a neon glow.
Snakes, our wicked mascot, are dispersed throughout the room. Serpent statues with glistening emerald eyes follow us as we pass, and reptilian glass stained windows riddle our surroundings.
An assortment of long jungle-like vines hang from the skylight above us. Enchanted lime green fireflies peacefully rain from the skylight mesmerizingly fluttering across the room.
I eagerly look to Malfoy with a grin who apathetically yawns in response. Apparently the majestic, ripped-straight-from-a-movie dormitory that we now lived in wasn't anything special to the blond.
I had realized along our brief tour that Draco wasn't a man of many words. He kept to himself with a recognizable guard held up. He was possibly misunderstood and pushed people away.
That is, aside from his set of devoted groupies who have yet to leave our bloody tail.
Outside of Malfoy's loyal followers, I classified him as an outcast such as myself.
I generally ate most of my lunches alone even though I had a couple of friends from my lacrosse team.
And I was fine with that.
This was probably due to the fact that I never possessed the ability to truly connect with someone on a platonic or romantic basis. Growing up with little maternal or paternal warmth affected me greatly.
At least, that's what my therapist tells me.
Wait til she hears about this:
I apologize for my sudden disappearance, Dr. Smith. You see, I was off casting spells and flying on broomsticks at my new college for the last few months. Hope we can pick up from where we left off!
Yeah. That'd get me sent to a ward straight away.
Anyways.. back to Malfoy.
I saw myself in him, yet there was an inner discontent with this premonition. But beggars couldn't be choosers, and I was satisfied with the idea that I could find a good friend in Draco.
We're soon faced with the men's dormitory. Each dorm is divided into duo bedrooms just big enough for two beds.
Malfoy and I decided it best to room together. Neither one of us wanted to end up stuck living with Crabapple or Gargoyle.
We solidify plans to meet by the fireplace in a couple of hours to get to know each other better over a few drinks. In the meantime, I claim my bed in the corner and start to unpack.
I had the opportunity to finish unpacking and shower just in time to meet Malfoy.
It's well into the night, and I'm shocked to find that most of our housemates had already gone to bed.
I guess the cases of beer consumed on the train plus the humongous feast did the trick.
I find Malfoy reclined in one of the pine green chairs in the Common Room. The lamp hanging overhead projects an emerald glow against the whitish long bangs brushed across his forehead. He's wearing a dress shirt and tie underneath a tailored black suit.
I look down at my dirty converse, ripped jeans and colorful flannel in embarrassment. I guess I didn't receive the memo to show up dressed in attire fit for a job interview.
With one leg propped on the other, Malfoy turns to me holding a glass of bourbon with an ovular ice cube.
"Put that rubbish down," he harshly orders in disgust.
I peer at the cheap can of beer in my hand. He passes me and opens a diamond shaped glass vase filled with bourbon. The ice crackles against the warmth of the alcohol as he fills it to the brim.
I vehemently toss my beer in exchange for the whiskey. He takes a seat and I follow suit, grabbing the couch adjacent to him.
"You've certainly put Dumbledore into quite the panic. Trying to give the old man a heart attack, are you?" Malfoy smirks staring into the fire, the reddish hue lighting up his face.
"I'm sorry.. what?"
"The famous Harry Potter; a Slytherin," he continues the one-sided conversation in amusement.
"You know what; why does it matter if I'm a bloody Slytherin?!" My built-up animosity and impatience could be held back no longer. "Why am I the 'famous Harry Potter'?" I wildly quote with my fingers. "Why does everyone know who I am.. or give a shit for that matter?"
Malfoy makes eye contact for the first time since I entered the room. Apparently my impromptu interrogation sufficed his attention. His stormy grey eyes are dangerous and give off the unsettling appearance that he's closely zoning in his prey.
His prey, meaning me.
"You really don't know, do you?" he darkly states with lowered eyebrows. "I thought it was all an act."
"Thought what was a bloody act?" I pinch the bridge of my nose with my index and thumb. "All I know is that my biological parents are wizards. Hagrid didn't care to tell me much else."
"Hagrid?" I notice him dramatically grimace from out of my peripheral. "Well what'd you expect? That big bumbling oaf can't even count to ten."
"Oh shove off," I irritably groan. "Hagrid's my friend, mate."
Malfoy's eyebrows immediately furrow peering at me sideways. I stand my ground as I watch him process the defense of his unnecessary harassment.
Apparently my disconcerting comment was a difficult pill to swallow. I don't think the bloke was used to many people disagreeing with him to his face.
Well that was coming to an end.
He chose the wrong bloke to room with if he expected me to blindly follow him around and stroke his ego like dumb and dumber.
After another sip of whiskey Malfoy decides to guide the conversation back on track. "The reason you're the famous Harry Potter.." he agitatedly continues. ".. You're what they call the 'Boy Who Lived'."
"The 'Boy Who Lived'?" I repeat with a chuckle. "Lived through what? Surviving the suburbs of London for a large majority of my life? Sure, that was quite the feat I suppose."
Malfoy doesn't take well to my sarcasm. There isn't the slightest indication of a smirk or amusement on his face.
"Your biological parents; they're dead Potter," he impassively delivers the unexpected emotional blow.
"Wait.. what?"
My chest severely tightens in dull pain. I'm shocked to find that the passing of my biological parents, who I've never even met, hurts this bad.
Plus, it only made sense that they were dead; I even questioned Hagrid about why they hadn't come looking for me themselves!
But that didn't make it any easier to hear the bleak truth.
"I give my condolences." Draco clears his throat shifting in his seat. He rests his arms on the sides of the chair while looking to me with – I think - sincere empathy. "Father says they were great. Too great, if anything."
I bring the rim of the glass back to my lips, welcomingly accepting the satisfying burn of whiskey as it slides down my esophagus.
I join Malfoy's gaze into the fire pit. "What happened to them?"
"Voldemort," he simply replies.
My foot nervously taps against the floor as I sit in a trance.
In remembrance of my ignorance of.. you know, my entire life, Malfoy continues. "My father refers to him as The Dark Lord. A master of great ambition and a proud Slytherin."
I'm antsy and can't sit still for the life of me.
I'm up on my feet again.
I press my palms to my forehead as I make my way to the self-serve bar. My glass is bone dry and I'm well aware that I'm going to need another drink.
"He's feared by all," Malfoy adds with noticeable admiration in his voice. "All powerful."
I think back to that kooky wand bloke from earlier. "He who must not be named," I think aloud as I fill my glass.
Draco snorts in amusement. "That's what the spineless lot around here call him. But I say his name with great pride."
I almost shatter the diamond vial as it comes slamming to the glass table.
"Maybe you're the spineless one, Malfoy," I seethe. "Who the bloody hell talks like that? You just told me he killed my parents."
I storm toward him with my fingernails digging into my palms. My pace hesitates as my eye twitches and begins to blur. I blink repetitively as it momentarily goes dark.
I sharply inhale, afraid of what my unpredictable bum eye would do next.
My deformity reacted to certain emotions as I grew up; anger and fear being the most noticeable. But as of late, the reactions had grown stronger and more debilitating. Certain things would happen that were unexplainable.
Certain things, at least, before I knew I was a bloody wizard.
I hear Malfoy's prominent footsteps and promptly turn away from him.
I'm naturally led to the soothing darkness of the corner of the Common Room where I blink over and over until vision returns in my right eye.
But this wasn't normal vision.
I reach my hand out into the pitch black, exploring the surface of objects that are now viewable.
I alternate closing each eye. The vision from my left eye promptly goes dark, and the vision from my right eye gives off some sort of fluorescent lighting.
I promptly learn that my bum eye gave me the ability to see thingsinthefucking dark.
My body temperature shoots through the roof as I break into a light panic. My feet stumble over each other as I back away from the shadowy area.
"Don't you want to know why he killed your parents?" Malfoy tempts from behind. My chest heaves as I begrudgingly turn to him. "You, Potter. Voldemort wanted you."
A light shiver runs through the course of my body. I slowly creep from the side of the room and fully emerge from the darkness.
"And when you didn't die, it damaged him a great deal. Some say he died. Father on the other hand-" Malfoy abruptly stops his sentence with shifty eye contact. "Your eye. What's it doing?"
"Nothing." I quickly cover it with my right hand.
"Lower your hand," he demands. He sets his glass down before impatiently pacing toward me.
The moment I feel his hand grab my forearm I instinctively shove him a few steps back.
The hand covering my face lightly relaxes as I peer at him through my fingers. He scoffs while frustratingly straightening his jacket.
To be honest, I was tired of keeping this unconventional condition to myself. And if anything, my corrupt housemate was in no place to judge.
I let out a grunt as I involuntarily take a step toward him.
"Bloody hell, fine." I promptly whip the hand protecting the right side of my face and daringly stare him directly in the eyes.
As expected I receive yet another disgusted 'what a fucking freak' expression. But it's short lived as a captivated smile creeps across his face.
"Brilliant," he states in clear admiration.
I glance to a silver handheld mirror and pick it up from the cocktail tray raising it to my face. I stare back at the bright, sunrise toned, orange and yellow color surrounding my pupil. My pupil had once again turned into a distinctive diamond shape that vertically stretches the length of my eyeball.
"So what they've been saying is true then?" Draco emerges into view from behind the mirror. The wild look of intrigue in his eye remains.
I slowly shake my head in confusion prompting him to continue. His voice lowers. "It's said, that when Lord Voldemort failed to kill you, it weakened him. Weakened him so greatly, that now, a piece of him lives inside of you."
My right eye pulsates as it begins to sting unlike before. I ferociously shake my head in denial. A wave of uncontrollable fear washes over me.
I make a run toward my unattended drink.
My shaky hand spills a bit of alcohol on the table beside the glass. "It's a little unnerving, how much you know about me, Malfoy. I would say I'm flattered, but-"
"Is anyone informed of your condition?" he ignores my statement. "Does anyone else know about your eye?"
"No."
"Your trust in me hasn't gone unnoticed, Potter." He grabs my shoulder forcing me to face him. "Now I'm certain there was a reason that tired old hat placed you in Slytherin."
My jaw remains locked shut and I'm barely listening to a word he's saying.
"You and I will make a brilliant pair, Potter. Unstoppable." Malfoy yanks the glass bottle from my grasp and neatly pours each of us a fresh glass. "But for now, your condition is best left secret." I peer back at him hesitatingly clinking my glass against his. "Our little secret."
