Disclaimer: Hasn't changed. I just got my David Copperfield tape today. Ah. I love that movie.
"cast out buried in a hole
struck down forcing me to fall
destroyed giving up the fight
well I know I'm not alright"
--Green Day "Stuck With Me"
That night, after Draco realized sleeping was a futile wish, he crawled from bed, pulled on some robes and went for a night stroll. He commonly did this sort of thing at the manor, wandering until he was too tired to move, or until he met a servant, who would lead him to bed again.
As he walked, he rubbed his hand, wincing as his fingers trailed over the tender skin. He had a bruise in the perfect shape of the glass bottle. Now that the pain had really settled in, he wished dearly that he could have yelled at Potter. The momentary pleasure of disappointing his classmates didn't measure up to the want to let Potter have it.
Hogwarts was eerily quiet at four in the morning, the bustling hallways now empty of students. Draco knew he was lucky that Filch's cat Mrs. Norris never came into the dungeons this late at night. Last thing he wanted was detention in the first week of school.
Draco's wandering brought him to the stairs leading up to the main hallways onto the Great Hall and the foyer, but Draco sat down on one of the steps and began to meditate. He felt ridiculous, knowing very well that Dumbledore could have some system of spying on the students, besides the obvious Filch and the system of portraits. But the staircase was void of portraits and cats and crotchety Squibs.
He was halfway through a breathing exercise when he heard footsteps behind him. Panicking, he turned quickly, flinging his arm out. There was nothing visible to the naked eye, but his arm caught someone's leg. With an almighty 'argh!', he and the person tumbled down the stairs.
But there was still no one there.
Peeves appeared at the top of the stairs, staring down at Draco. "Eh, eh, students a walkin' and students a talkin' when they should be a sleepin'," teased Peeves, dancing mid air. He looked delighted to have caught Draco.
The person that Draco had pulled down with him was lying on Draco's arm, and he lost it and yanked at the thin air. To his surprise, his hand grabbed a bundle of silk robes and pulled them away. Out of no where, Potter appeared. He looked at Draco in horror, then they both turned their attentions to Peeves, who was looking in shock between the two of them.
"I'm thinking Mr. Argus Filch would like to know where you all is going. Should I call him?" Peeves dropped his head back, opened his mouth, and screeched, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED!"
"Run!" Draco yelped, grabbing Potter's arm, but Potter needed no coaxing. The two boys dashed down the hallway, deeper into the bowels of the castle. But they could hear Peeves cackling as he zoomed after them, intent on leading Filch to them.
"In here!" Draco hissed, pulling on Potter's wrist and shoving him into a deep crevice in the wall that Draco had found in his first year. After Potter had squeezed in, Draco followed, and just in time, as Peeves rounded the corner and zoomed past the crack.
The only sound was the panting of Draco and Potter as they leaned against the damp stone. When it was assured that neither Filch nor Peeves was coming back, Potter whispered, "Thanks."
"What the hell did you have on?" hissed Draco, painfully away that all the nerve ends of the parts that touched Harry danced and sang with joy.
"An invisibility cloak. My fathers," gasped Potter. "What were you doing up so late?"
"I couldn't sleep. What about you?"
"Same." There was a pause, then Potter said in a croaky voice, "Do you think it's safe to go outside now?"
Blushing and grateful for the cover of darkness, Draco eased from the crevice, glancing up and down the corridor. "It's safe."
Potter slipped out of the split in the way and the two boys stood uncomfortably in the hall. The loud silence was interrupted by both their stomachs grumbling. They both had been trying to have serious expression, but Potter snorted and Draco grinned.
"Hungry?" said Potter jokingly. Draco gave a brisk nod.
"Well, my stomach doesn't grumble for the hell of it," said Draco, putting far more venom in his voice than he wanted too. Potter jolted, and his ears were stained red, but he said, in a meeker voice than before, "I know how to get food from the kitchens."
"Why the bloody hell do you care if I go hungry or not?"
It became too much for Potter. "Okay, fine, Malfoy. Forget it. I was trying to be nice. I don't know if your father ever taught you that…oh, wait. Sorry, you haven't talked to him lately; he's too busy being a Death Eater."
Draco felt anger and despair fighting for dominance in his stomach. "Shut up."
"Well, I am pretty damn sick of getting whiplash every time I talk to you."
Throwing his hands up, Draco countered, "Fine! Let's go to the bloody kitchens!" Potter held up the Invisibility Cloak and gave Draco a knowing look. Draco's shoulders slumped.
"Oh bloody hell," he cursed as they draped it over themselves and began to maneuver, making it an art trying to keep from touching each other and still remaining under the protection of the cloak.
Potter knew the way, and Draco had to watch the boy's feet to keep up with him, but soon enough, they were standing in front of a large painting of some fruit. Potter reached up and seemed to tickle the gigantic pear, which wheezed and chuckled before morphing into large green handle. Potter reached out and yanked it open, and Draco and he climbed into the large room.
Draco gaped at the frenzied activity of the house elves as they prepared for breakfast the following morning. They looked downright chipper as they fried bacon, extracted fresh pumpkin juice, and prepared pancakes.
There was a sudden yelp from the back, and a green blur as an elf raced forward and flung itself at Potter. It wrapped its arms around Potter as hard as it could and said with delight, "Master Harry Potter!"
Draco expect Potter to peel the elf off his legs, but he instead beamed down at the elf and said, "Hello, Dobby."
Jolting, Draco realized the little elf was indeed Dobby, his old servant. Dobby was almost unrecognizable. He was wearing a tea cozy upon his head, a horribly ugly shrunken maroon sweater with a vomit-green tie, and two different socks. He was certainly fatter than Draco remembered, and he had always seen the long, pencil thin fingers bandaged from Dobby's self-imposed punishments.
Dobby spotted Draco too, and pulled from Potter. "What is Draco Malfoy wanting? I is not serving my old masters anymore!" Draco blushed and stepped back. It was amazing that not only did the human species detest his presence, but servants did as well.
Reading his body language, Potter said to Dobby quietly, "Don't worry, Dobby, we were just hungry." Dobby looked suspicious, but the other elves perked when they heard Potter say this, and in moments they appeared again with platter laden with food and sweets.
"Wow!" Draco exclaimed. The elves bowed as the two boys picked from the platters. Potter lingered to speak with Dobby, who was talking rapidly about life as a paid house elf. Draco chewed on a mexerica orange, a fruit that you couldn't chew up enough to swallow, but instead drank the juices and then spit out the pulp, as he wandered through the front of the kitchen.
The elves courteously bowed to him as he walked by, and for his own entertainment, he bowed back occasionally. Eventually, Potter came over and told them they had best be getting back to their dormitories, since pretty soon the teachers would be up and about, and it was difficult to maneuver around people with two people under the cloak. After saying goodbye to Dobby, they began to slip out, and Draco was surprised as he heard Dobby yelp, "Good bye, Draco Malfoy!"
Draco inwardly shuddered, and was instantly ashamed. His own name disgusted him. They were silent as they made their way back down to the stairs leading to the dungeon. Draco ducked out from under the cloak and Potter momentarily let the hood fall, so his head hovered mid air.
"This doesn't mean we're friends," murmured Draco. Potter shook his head.
"Yeah."
"Because I don't want to be friends with a goody-goody, teacher's pet, valiant Gryffindor," continued Draco, studying Potter's face.
"And I," retorted Potter, frowning, "would rather pluck my eyes out with wooden spoons than be friends with a back-stabbing, Voldemort supporting Slytherin."
Spinning on his heel, Draco stomped down the stairs and went back to his dormitory. He got three and a half hours worth of sleep before Blaise ripped open the curtains and nudged him. "Come on, Draco, breakfast."
Rubbing his eyes and moaning, Draco pulled on his robes and trudged from the room after glancing in the mirror. His face was marred with deep bags under each eye. When he got to the Great Hall and glanced at the Gryffindor table, he saw that Potter looked no better. Weasel was listening to Potter talk, and he kept shooting daggers at Draco with his eyes.
Honestly, you go to the kitchens once with your arch-enemy and the whole world is against you.
Pansy looked carefully at Draco's face, her own mousy face screwed up in worry. "Oh, Draco, you look awful. It looks like you didn't get any sleep and…" she reached out and touched the almost invisible bruise on Draco's cheek from his father, then her finger traveled to the scabbed cut on his forehead. "You have a bruise and the cut looks awful!"
"Uh…" Draco muttered, scouring his mind for an answer. "I got in a…in a fight…last night."
There was a couple gasps. "With who?" eagerly asked Blaise. Draco cast a glance at Potter, who was being examined by Granger, and looked just as desperate for a reason to the questions Weasel was obviously firing at him.
"With…Potter. With Harry Potter," Draco said in finality.
Everyone seemed happy with the response, and Draco began to worry that Potter would be telling a different story, or worse, the real story.
Both boys' qualms were put to rest in the corridor, when Draco, Blaise, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle emerged from the Great Hall to be faced with Potter, Granger, Weasel, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnigan. The two groups glared at each other, until Pansy hissed at Granger.
"All you Gryffindors better leave us Slytherins alone, especially you, Beaver." The name was irrelevant, since Granger's teeth had somehow shrunken last year, but it obviously was still a sore spot with her, because she bristled at the insult and Weasel came to her defense.
"You should talk," he said, and Draco scoffed at the pitiful insult. Weasel's attention went to him.
"And what about you? Picking fights in hallways late at night?" Draco glanced at Potter, who was blushing and looking away. How…pleasant…that their stories should coincide with each other.
"Piss off," replied Draco, glaring at Weasel.
"Come on, Ron, let's go," Granger said, turning her nose up at Pansy and grabbing her friends arm. Weasel gave Draco one last cold stare and muttered, "Fag."
Draco launched himself at Weasel, bringing him tumbling to the floor, as Granger screamed.
Thanks: Kathleen, random reviewer (Well, yes, I see what you mean. Their true personalities, besides the evil bastard sides, don't come out until later), AmZ, Danielle, and Cordelia.
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