Warnings: SLASH. You don't know what it is? Then I seriously doubt that you want to be here.

A/N: I am using a Japanese version of word to write this, so I've been having issues with boxes. However, I *think* that they have now been fixed. :crosses fingers:

Couplings: H/D, D/Blaise, potentially R/Hr. No, sorry people, this is not a fic where the entire wizarding population is queer.

Spoilers: Potentially everything. Just cause I don't have the supplement books yet means nothing.

Disclaimer: Nothing here is mine except for the story. Nothing. The story- is fully conceived and waiting to be written. The characters- I borrow.

Chapter Five: Pedestals

Or, The Seven of Cups

It was strange, but Harry soon realized that Malfoy's attention rarely fixed on the Gryffindor table. For some reason, this observation upset Harry- he had imagined, when he had bothered to think about it, that Malfoy hated him to the point of obsession. It had always seemed that Malfoy tracked his every movement and gloated over his every mishap. Seemed. On the contrary, Malfoy seemed to regard Gryffindor, and Harry, as nothing more than an afterthought, timing his empty glares to last only long enough to be noted.

Again, the crucial word was 'seemed.' Really, all Malfoy had done over the past year was sneer at Harry and occasionally poke vicious fun at him. There had been no half-baked pranks, no stand-offs in the corridors, and no further attempts at expulsion. To be perfectly honest, there had been nothing. Nothing.

Was that all he was to Malfoy- a nothing? Why should it matter even if he was? Because it shouldn't. But it did. And it didn't. Malfoy had never been a person to Harry, just as he supposed that he'd never been a real person to Malfoy. But there had always been something connecting them, even if it was only disgust. And now it seemed as though even that was gone, bled into nothingness.

Sometimes Harry felt like he was full of nothingness, with black holes flowing out through his ears and mouth, contaminating everything around him. He wondered if it had even gone so far as to contaminate this, his last bastion of normalcy. The one thing he'd thought he could always take for granted. Because of his life with the Dursleys, Harry had always found it easy to believe in the continuity and permanence of hate. All one had to do was look at Voldemort and the Death Eaters. And, Harry had always thought, Draco Malfoy. Was this, too, his fault?

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table. Malfoy was whispering something in Zabini's ear, his lips catching at her hair. She looked surprised, almost happy. Harry suddenly hated her, had to draw in a deep breath when she tore at Malfoy's raw lips. Her mouth came away bloody, gaping wound-like as she fell to the floor. Malfoy was uncoiling, speaking to Millicent Bulstrode. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He caught the drops with his tongue, smirked. Bulstrode snarled and sent her fist flying, stumbling backwards when Goyle caught her punch and quickly returned the favor. She crumpled like a felled ox, her legs twisting awkwardly as she struggled against the floor. Dozens of snake eyes fixed on Malfoy, glittering. Malfoy waved one of those rosewater hands at Goyle, and drawled a few words at Bulstrode. She bristled, doglike. Malfoy walked to the doors, then stood there with his head half-cocked as he waited for his opponent. Bulstrode made no move to lift herself off the floor.

Snap.

Had Malfoy actually snapped his fingers at her? Looking at Bulstrode, Harry mused that he had never even seen Ron turn that red. Never. Malfoy snapped his fingers again, barking out a sharp order as he left the dining hall. Hands flexing against the flagstone under her, Bulstrode shoved herself up and followed Malfoy outside. Zabini was now on the bench, her eyes narrowed as she licked blood from her lips.

"What was that about?" Ron's voice was dismissive.

When had Ron –and everyone else, for that matter- begun paying attention to the Slytherins? Even Hermione was staring at the now closed doors, quill tapping against her Arithmancy text in irritation.

"You would think that they could at least keep their power struggles private. We didn't need to see that." Only a few days ago, Hermione had used that same tone of voice to air her opinions on Trelawny and the walrus prediction.

"That was a power struggle?"

"Ron. What did you think it was?"

"A love triangle?"

"Ron, can you seriously see Malfoy –or Zabini for that matter- becoming involved with Millicent Bulstrode? You obviously have no concept of the meaning of 'wrong,' do you?"

Ron flushed and opened his mouth, obviously about to defend his position to its bitter illogical end.

"Um, guys? I'm going to go to the bathroom. I'll see you in class." Harry practically ran out of the dining commons, the hall doors swinging in his wake. Hermione favored Harry