- Tapestry -
A shorter chapter than the last, as well as a change of pace. Draco's point of view this time - loads of fun to be behind the eyes of a witty semi- villain. Review, please, it keeps my moral up; but a lack thereof will not influence the length of time before the next chapter, so no pressure! ^_^
***
As he ignored Hermione's nagging at his ear, Harry added a bit of an ingredient to the potion which frothed in his cauldron. His hand, in a movement so simple that it was rarely noticed, took the end of the ladle on the table and stirred the thick liquid lethargically. In the flickering candlelight his pale skin appeared a golden yellow, his flashing green eyes appeared amber flecked with emerald; his unruly hair was tarnished brass.
Hermione continued to nag. Nearby, Ron coughed an inappropriate joke as the professor turned his back to examine Neville's errors. Harry snickered along, his face creasing into a broad smile. At the next table, Seamus and Dean caught wind of the joke, and they, too, sniggered into their cauldrons.
I, on the other hand, had not heard the joke. I was across the room, hidden in a back corner between the mountainous and hairy Crabbe and Goyle. They snorted and spat into their potions, causing the liquid to steam and boil angrily. I rolled my eyes in the perfected bored expression, and once more turned my attention to the dark-haired boy across the room.
To Hermione's chagrin, Harry followed her advice and added a pinch more of this or that, and his cauldron began bubbling madly, frothing and spitting at him. He flinched, Hermione blushed, and I smiled slightly.
Snape slid past, ignoring my potion completely but murmuring, "Keep your eyes on your own cauldron, Draco." Shivers ran down my spine. He knew what I had been watching. He knew it was not another cauldron I was gazing at so adoringly.
Snape knows about my wanting of Harry; he is more than head of the house or a professor to me. He is my mentor, and I know that he has been where I am now.
In one of our lengthy conversations in the common room after hours, he told me of a time when he was quite taken by a boy called James - James Potter, Harry's dad, ironically enough. Unfortunately, James was already claimed by a girl by the name of Lily - and therefore was off limits to my mentor Snape. It would sting more than any of the barbs of plants in Sprout's greenhouses if Harry turned up with a girlfriend.
Instead of watching my potion, I found myself daydreaming, to be shaken by the amused gaze of Ron, who was chuckling into his cauldron amidst long glances in my direction. I flashed a Malfoy grin and, embarrassed, turned to the cauldron at my elbow.
***
Despite the perfectly marvelous selection of food at my bidding, I was not hungry. I barely touched the delicious spread in front of me, my gaze instead locked on the redhead two tables over. He was, as usual, sitting with Hermione, Neville, and - be still, my aching heart - Harry. And despite my usual habit of watching Harry discretely from behind my breakfast, I was not watching him - my gaze, as I mentioned a moment ago, was locked on Ron, and was not about to move.
As owls swooped and dove across the tables, one in particular caught my eye, diverting my attention from the redhead. Black and malevolent, this particular bird was dyed a deep blue, and its eyes were round and unblinking and rich amber. It paused over the Gryffendor table presently, and dropped into the lap of Ron Weasley a charcoal parchment tied with a blood red ribbon.
He took it in his hands hesitantly, as though he had no idea who had sent such a thing to him. I smirked, hidden by a glass pitcher half-full of pulpy orange pumpkin juice. Then he read the tag, and his pale eyes met mine with a look of thanks. He seemed to know what was in this letter, though I had not told him ahead of time.
Hermione scowled at the package, while Harry encouraged Ron to open it. Ron listened to neither, and, instead, tucked the parchment into one of many pockets in his robes.
The owl, having carried out its mailing duties, dropped from the air and onto my shoulder; I cooed at him and gave him a reward of sausage and a bit of orange marmalade. The owl had been a Christmas present from my father, who had been trying to buy me off since I was born, it seemed; I had named the bird Sykes and kept close watch on him ever since. Though I rarely sent anyone anything by owl (to whom would I send anything?), Sykes came in handy in occasions such as that darling redhead two tables over.
After the meal, he caught me as I took a secluded hallway away from the Great Hall. I had sent Crabbe and Goyle away; they tended to be more of a nuisance than helpful, and I had known Ron would catch up with me after receiving my gift.
"Malfoy - " he gasped, shaking the scroll under my nose. " - this can't be - it isn't - " His eyes widened as I nodded, smile tickling my lips. "Oh, God." He turned away, holding the parchment as though it was treasure, and I thought he was worried about being caught with Snape's next exam - including the answers - in his hands.
"Ron, he won't catch you," I reassured him, "And by some chance he does catch you - well - just leave that to me." He didn't answer, and I thought he would hand it back and leave if he was that upset over it all.
Instead, when he turned back, he caught me off guard by pinning me to the cold stone walls in a celebratory embrace. Not only was I not in the position to move, but also I had no intention of doing so. It had been a long while since I had experienced any human contact aside from the scrapes which broke out between Potter and myself, and this sort of attention was much more welcome.
While my mind drifted on thoughts of contact with Harry, Ron bubbled over with laughter, pulled away, and yelped happily into the echoing halls. It was as though a switch went off in his head, then, and suddenly he was very silent and had tucked the scroll back into his robes.
Solemnly, he addressed me. "Malfoy - " He saw me wince and corrected himself - "Draco, I have not been keeping up my side of this in the least." He wouldn't let me interrupt, not even to object to his apologies. "No, really - you've been sending me things - things like this - and I've done nothing for you!" He looked at me thoughtfully for a long moment.
"Give me twenty-four hours," he said, holding up his hand. "In twenty-four hours, I will have him for you - behind the tapestry. Be there at seven tomorrow night, and I promise you, I will have done it all for you."
I hesitated before agreeing. To be honest, as hard as that is for me, I had actually been enjoying giving Ron all sorts of little trinkets and baubles. I had adored seeing his face light up when he saw the next expensive present I'd sent him. If having Harry meant losing that small joy - then I didn't want him.
That thought alone startled me. Me, a Malfoy - Draco Malfoy - take back his want for something - someone? It was most unbecoming of me. What was I thinking?
I shook all of this aside and smiled for Ron. "Yeah, I'll be there at seven." He beamed.
"Good." As he turned away, checking to be sure of the presence of the parchment in his robe pockets, he flashed a grin over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Malfoy."
***
At breakfast the next morning, it did not seem as though Ron had attempted to seduce Harry for me. As harsh as it may sound, that is exactly what the redhead was brought into this plan to do - but he didn't seem at all interested in doing it.
At lunch, as well, Harry was acting just as normal as ever, and even Ron was acting a bit more relaxed than I remember ever having seen him in the past while interacting with Harry. Hermoine, to my surprise, did not find this suspicious. I can only assume that in his state of bliss and relief, Ron had made amends with her, and they were pleasant towards one another as they went about their business.
Latin, however, proved somewhat unusual. Halfway through the lesson, a ball of paper bounced onto my desk, and I pulled it into my pocket before the professor could see. I had long since learned not to test professors who were impartial to Slytherins in general - Snape was enough leverage for me to perform my miracles within the school. Once the paper was in my pocket, however, I began unrolling it as quietly as possible.
Once opened, I read it while pressing it to my lap - it was a note from Ron, written in Latin. I smiled; I was teaching him the art of cunning and the trait of wit. The note, in brief, told me that everything was as smooth as silk, with no hitches anywhere; the plan would continue as I had originally thought. In just a few short hours, I would have him. I'd finally have Potter.
I was beginning to get nervous.
***
A shorter chapter than the last, as well as a change of pace. Draco's point of view this time - loads of fun to be behind the eyes of a witty semi- villain. Review, please, it keeps my moral up; but a lack thereof will not influence the length of time before the next chapter, so no pressure! ^_^
***
As he ignored Hermione's nagging at his ear, Harry added a bit of an ingredient to the potion which frothed in his cauldron. His hand, in a movement so simple that it was rarely noticed, took the end of the ladle on the table and stirred the thick liquid lethargically. In the flickering candlelight his pale skin appeared a golden yellow, his flashing green eyes appeared amber flecked with emerald; his unruly hair was tarnished brass.
Hermione continued to nag. Nearby, Ron coughed an inappropriate joke as the professor turned his back to examine Neville's errors. Harry snickered along, his face creasing into a broad smile. At the next table, Seamus and Dean caught wind of the joke, and they, too, sniggered into their cauldrons.
I, on the other hand, had not heard the joke. I was across the room, hidden in a back corner between the mountainous and hairy Crabbe and Goyle. They snorted and spat into their potions, causing the liquid to steam and boil angrily. I rolled my eyes in the perfected bored expression, and once more turned my attention to the dark-haired boy across the room.
To Hermione's chagrin, Harry followed her advice and added a pinch more of this or that, and his cauldron began bubbling madly, frothing and spitting at him. He flinched, Hermione blushed, and I smiled slightly.
Snape slid past, ignoring my potion completely but murmuring, "Keep your eyes on your own cauldron, Draco." Shivers ran down my spine. He knew what I had been watching. He knew it was not another cauldron I was gazing at so adoringly.
Snape knows about my wanting of Harry; he is more than head of the house or a professor to me. He is my mentor, and I know that he has been where I am now.
In one of our lengthy conversations in the common room after hours, he told me of a time when he was quite taken by a boy called James - James Potter, Harry's dad, ironically enough. Unfortunately, James was already claimed by a girl by the name of Lily - and therefore was off limits to my mentor Snape. It would sting more than any of the barbs of plants in Sprout's greenhouses if Harry turned up with a girlfriend.
Instead of watching my potion, I found myself daydreaming, to be shaken by the amused gaze of Ron, who was chuckling into his cauldron amidst long glances in my direction. I flashed a Malfoy grin and, embarrassed, turned to the cauldron at my elbow.
***
Despite the perfectly marvelous selection of food at my bidding, I was not hungry. I barely touched the delicious spread in front of me, my gaze instead locked on the redhead two tables over. He was, as usual, sitting with Hermione, Neville, and - be still, my aching heart - Harry. And despite my usual habit of watching Harry discretely from behind my breakfast, I was not watching him - my gaze, as I mentioned a moment ago, was locked on Ron, and was not about to move.
As owls swooped and dove across the tables, one in particular caught my eye, diverting my attention from the redhead. Black and malevolent, this particular bird was dyed a deep blue, and its eyes were round and unblinking and rich amber. It paused over the Gryffendor table presently, and dropped into the lap of Ron Weasley a charcoal parchment tied with a blood red ribbon.
He took it in his hands hesitantly, as though he had no idea who had sent such a thing to him. I smirked, hidden by a glass pitcher half-full of pulpy orange pumpkin juice. Then he read the tag, and his pale eyes met mine with a look of thanks. He seemed to know what was in this letter, though I had not told him ahead of time.
Hermione scowled at the package, while Harry encouraged Ron to open it. Ron listened to neither, and, instead, tucked the parchment into one of many pockets in his robes.
The owl, having carried out its mailing duties, dropped from the air and onto my shoulder; I cooed at him and gave him a reward of sausage and a bit of orange marmalade. The owl had been a Christmas present from my father, who had been trying to buy me off since I was born, it seemed; I had named the bird Sykes and kept close watch on him ever since. Though I rarely sent anyone anything by owl (to whom would I send anything?), Sykes came in handy in occasions such as that darling redhead two tables over.
After the meal, he caught me as I took a secluded hallway away from the Great Hall. I had sent Crabbe and Goyle away; they tended to be more of a nuisance than helpful, and I had known Ron would catch up with me after receiving my gift.
"Malfoy - " he gasped, shaking the scroll under my nose. " - this can't be - it isn't - " His eyes widened as I nodded, smile tickling my lips. "Oh, God." He turned away, holding the parchment as though it was treasure, and I thought he was worried about being caught with Snape's next exam - including the answers - in his hands.
"Ron, he won't catch you," I reassured him, "And by some chance he does catch you - well - just leave that to me." He didn't answer, and I thought he would hand it back and leave if he was that upset over it all.
Instead, when he turned back, he caught me off guard by pinning me to the cold stone walls in a celebratory embrace. Not only was I not in the position to move, but also I had no intention of doing so. It had been a long while since I had experienced any human contact aside from the scrapes which broke out between Potter and myself, and this sort of attention was much more welcome.
While my mind drifted on thoughts of contact with Harry, Ron bubbled over with laughter, pulled away, and yelped happily into the echoing halls. It was as though a switch went off in his head, then, and suddenly he was very silent and had tucked the scroll back into his robes.
Solemnly, he addressed me. "Malfoy - " He saw me wince and corrected himself - "Draco, I have not been keeping up my side of this in the least." He wouldn't let me interrupt, not even to object to his apologies. "No, really - you've been sending me things - things like this - and I've done nothing for you!" He looked at me thoughtfully for a long moment.
"Give me twenty-four hours," he said, holding up his hand. "In twenty-four hours, I will have him for you - behind the tapestry. Be there at seven tomorrow night, and I promise you, I will have done it all for you."
I hesitated before agreeing. To be honest, as hard as that is for me, I had actually been enjoying giving Ron all sorts of little trinkets and baubles. I had adored seeing his face light up when he saw the next expensive present I'd sent him. If having Harry meant losing that small joy - then I didn't want him.
That thought alone startled me. Me, a Malfoy - Draco Malfoy - take back his want for something - someone? It was most unbecoming of me. What was I thinking?
I shook all of this aside and smiled for Ron. "Yeah, I'll be there at seven." He beamed.
"Good." As he turned away, checking to be sure of the presence of the parchment in his robe pockets, he flashed a grin over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Malfoy."
***
At breakfast the next morning, it did not seem as though Ron had attempted to seduce Harry for me. As harsh as it may sound, that is exactly what the redhead was brought into this plan to do - but he didn't seem at all interested in doing it.
At lunch, as well, Harry was acting just as normal as ever, and even Ron was acting a bit more relaxed than I remember ever having seen him in the past while interacting with Harry. Hermoine, to my surprise, did not find this suspicious. I can only assume that in his state of bliss and relief, Ron had made amends with her, and they were pleasant towards one another as they went about their business.
Latin, however, proved somewhat unusual. Halfway through the lesson, a ball of paper bounced onto my desk, and I pulled it into my pocket before the professor could see. I had long since learned not to test professors who were impartial to Slytherins in general - Snape was enough leverage for me to perform my miracles within the school. Once the paper was in my pocket, however, I began unrolling it as quietly as possible.
Once opened, I read it while pressing it to my lap - it was a note from Ron, written in Latin. I smiled; I was teaching him the art of cunning and the trait of wit. The note, in brief, told me that everything was as smooth as silk, with no hitches anywhere; the plan would continue as I had originally thought. In just a few short hours, I would have him. I'd finally have Potter.
I was beginning to get nervous.
***
