Disclaimer: Blah blah blah.
I'd rather be dreaming
than living.
Living's just too hard to do.
It's chances, not choices
Noises, no voices
A day's just a thing to get through"
-- Loudon Wainwright III – "Dreaming"
Draco tried to get a couple good punches to Weasel's head, but Weasel, being the rat he was, squirmed and got a good hook into Draco's stomach. Infuriated, Draco concentrated, and his fist make a good connection with Weasel's mouth. Hollering in pain, Weasel, started moving his legs, and Draco realized he was aiming his knee right at Draco's crotch. Draco raised his own leg, and brought it down against Weasel's leg, stilling the movement and coming far to close to fracturing the bone. Weasel gasped with pain, grabbed Draco's arm, and wrenched it backwards.
Pain rocketed through Draco as he felt his arm straining against Weasel. The little bugger was stronger than he looked. It was only seconds before either Draco's arm broke, or his shoulder got disconnected.
They never found out which. Professor Clio and Professor McGonagall had heard Granger's scream, and many students had rushed to the door to watch. They pulled the two struggling boys away from each other, and Draco had never seen McGonagall look so livid.
"We haven't been into this term three days, and you all are already starting these childish games," McGonagall said, looking over the two groups. "Fifth years, you are not. You act like first years. Twenty-five points from Gryffindor, and twenty-five points from Slytherin and detention for both Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy."
Professor Clio, flustered, looked at all the onlookers. "All right, show's over," she called in a heavy Scottish accent. "Clear off, the lot of you."
Once the corridor was clear, except for the two furious professors, bruised and bleeding Draco and Weasel, and their entourage, McGonagall inspected both boys.
"Have Poppy put some ice on that cut, Mr. Weasley, then off you go to class. Mr. Malfoy, can you go without medical attention, or should I send you with Mr. Weasley?"
Rubbing his stomach, and grimacing a bit, Draco replied, "No, I'm fine."
"Good," Clio said, "then off to class you all go."
Draco shot Weasel one last glare and started rotating his arm, dragging his bag along the hall with him. Pansy ran to catch up with him, whimpering as she watched him test his arm. "I hate those Gryffindors," she said angrily as they walked the hallways. Draco had tuned her out. He was musing thoughtfully over the fact that both he and Potter had thought of the exact same stories.
Pansy was still talking about Weasel when they entered Charms, and Professor Flitwick smiled at them from his perch on his books.
"Welcome back to class, my dear students!" he squeaked. Draco smirked at him and took a seat against the back wall. There were feathers on each desk, reminiscent of their first day. As he waited for the rest of the class to come in, he began to make the feather float and twirl in the air. Pansy watched him with wide, adoration-soaked eyes.
"You have such beautiful wand-work," she said dreamily. Draco let the feather fall back down, and he settled his wand against the desk.
"Thanks," he muttered as Professor Flitwick clapped his hands for their attention.
"Welcome back to Charms class!" he repeated, now addressing everyone. "Today we will be doing the Deletrius spell. This spell is a simple one that either deletes something, or gets rid of the echoes of a Priori Incantatum. While the word is relatively simple, you must concentrate and aim careful, to avoid deleting something you don't want deleted. Therefore, I ask you all to spread out. No need to delete each other." Flitwick was delighted with this little joke, and laughed his high-pitched chuckle as everyone moved apart.
He spent the first ten minutes of class teaching them the proper way to hold their wands again, commenting that they seemed to have forgotten over vacation, then left them to their own devices.
Draco pointed the wand at the feather, muttered, "Deletrius," and grinned bemusedly as the feather flickered a little, but remained on the desk. No one else in Slytherin was having much luck, but since the other house with them were the Ravenclaws, their perfection was to be expected. Draco wondered for a moment why Granger hadn't been put in Ravenclaw, but the thought lost its appeal in moments and he turned to more important things; like feathers that wouldn't go away.
A couple failed attempts later, Draco bit back his frustration and tried to quell the anger in his stomach. He hated his temper that flared at the smallest things and made him unmanageable. So he set his wand aside for a moment and picked up his bag to look at his schedule again. Next he had History with the Hufflepuffs. The perfect chance to catch up on the sleep he'd missed the night before. Professor Binns was as blind as a bat.
"Having trouble, Draco?" asked Pansy from a couple feet away. Her feather was floating in the air, and she was trying to push it back onto the desk.
"No more than you, Pansy," he replied, watching her futile efforts to subdue the rebel feather.
"Well," she said, blushing furiously, "I've never been good at this. Not like you." Draco turned away, angry she continued to fawn over him, even though he had been remarkably cold to her this year. Rage coursing through his veins, he pointed his wand at the feather, muttered the spell, and with a faint 'pop' the feather was gone. Flitwick heard and said in an elated voice, "Congratulations, Mr. Malfoy!"
Smiling briefly, Draco set his wand back down and settled back in his chair. His breath had just been sucked away suddenly, and the old feeling of despair had returned to his stomach. It had always come and gone at the oddest moments, and now he sat, gasping for breath and some place to grab hold of to stay still. Tears, unbidden, lingered in his eyes. He felt afraid of something but he couldn't pinpoint it. There was a panic over something that was so dark his mind couldn't penetrate it.
Soon enough it passed, but it left Draco pale and shaky. Pansy noticed enough to keep quiet as they filed out of class. Halfway to History, Draco hung back, telling Pansy he had to go the bathroom, and left the building. The air around Hogwarts was scented with the fallen leaves of the beginning of fall, and the soft chill that came along with it.
Stowing his books away in a bush, he wandered to the far end of the lake, and sat on the edge. The grounds were blissfully void of students and teachers, and his small form was too far from any window for his face to be made out.
The giant squid surfaced for a moment, causing heavy ripples to vibrate through the pond, ending at the edge, where Draco was picking through rocks and sunken leaves. The sound of the water breaking against the edge was soothing, pushing away his angry thoughts.
At one point he reached out to pick up a rock, and noticed his hand was shaking rapidly. He hugged it to his chest, closing his eyes, his mouth frozen in a silent cry. He desperately needed his mother, or anyone to comfort him. To tell him he wasn't nothing, because that is all his body thought.
It never dawned on him his presence would be missed.
Because he sincerely doubted it.
He laid down, his face pressing into the cool grass, his heart aching. The position was so comfortable, and sleep was as welcome as death, he felt himself fall asleep.
And Draco Malfoy laid there on the side of the lake dreaming, because living was too hard.
Thanks: Kathleen (That was just a jab at Draco. It just struck a cord with Draco because he's so worried about what he's feeling. I think it is a horrible insult no matter whom it is directed at. But that's just me and my morals talking) Draco Petulans (Aw, yer gonna make me blush. ^_^ Gah, don't you hate it when stories are "Draco, I hate you" "Harry I hate you" "OMG!!!!1 I lyk SOOO!!!!11 luv u now draco!! kiss meh!!!' Grr. )
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