You Have to Understand
Disclaimer: Any characters you recognize are not mine. Oh, but if Draco were mine .
As Draco rounded the corner, goons in tow, he should have heard the tapping of heels on the stone corridor floor. He should have noticed that the hallway was not empty, and in fact that its only occupant was only inches away from the intersection he too was about to penetrate. But Draco, too involved in his own thoughts, didn't notice any of this, and ran right into her.
A black-haired girl he should have known stepped hastily away from him, sweeping her robes out of the range of his impending fall. And fall Draco did, hard, on the stone floor. Crabbe reached out a hand to help him up, but he slapped it away. "Watch where you're going next time," he growled at her even before he was up enough to look her in the eye. She sniffed and raised her eyebrows at him, incredulously, before swirling and swishing away.
"Ravenclaw," Goyle grunted.
"Stupid," Crabbe agreed. "Bad."
"If she's a Ravenclaw, she's none of the above. D'you know her, Goyle?" Without waiting for an answer - which he knew would not come - Draco dusted off the knees of his uniform and continued down the hall. Only once his thugs were safely in place behind him did he look back over his shoulder at her. And had he not been in such a hurry, he would have seen her do the same.
Back in the Slytherin common room, Draco pulled his cloak off his shoulders with an audible flounce and shook the snow off into the fire. He ran his fingers through his windblown hair and sat down in his favorite green armchair. Crabbe and Goyle took the couch facing him and sat in silence.
"A bit late to be practicing Quidditch, isn't it, Malfoy?" The head of Slytherin House, Severus Snape, loomed over the boys from behind Draco's chair. A harsh man with black hair, eyes, and robes, Snape knew everything about everything that went on with his young charges. He and Draco's father went way back to their days in this very house, yet where Snape had returned to teach, Lucius preferred a governorship in the Ministry of Magic. Some of his father's friends questioned Snape's loyalty to their cause, but he still bore the Dark Mark - Draco had seen it for himself - and this, for Draco, erased any doubts.
He turned in his chair to face his head of house. "Big game next week. It's got to be perfect."
"Ah," Snape hissed, nodding sagely. "And this gives you cause to be outside past curfew? You are not a first-year, Malfoy; you're in your sixth year. I cannot condone such behavior, even from members of my own house. Detention for all three of you. Malfoy, yours will be served with me." With a crooked smile, Snape flourished away. "See you at three o'clock, lads."
Draco rolled his eyes as he watched Snape climb the stairs to his private quarters. Silently, he retreated to his own bedroom, and after a moment or two, when they realized he'd gone, Crabbe and Goyle followed too.
Disclaimer: Any characters you recognize are not mine. Oh, but if Draco were mine .
As Draco rounded the corner, goons in tow, he should have heard the tapping of heels on the stone corridor floor. He should have noticed that the hallway was not empty, and in fact that its only occupant was only inches away from the intersection he too was about to penetrate. But Draco, too involved in his own thoughts, didn't notice any of this, and ran right into her.
A black-haired girl he should have known stepped hastily away from him, sweeping her robes out of the range of his impending fall. And fall Draco did, hard, on the stone floor. Crabbe reached out a hand to help him up, but he slapped it away. "Watch where you're going next time," he growled at her even before he was up enough to look her in the eye. She sniffed and raised her eyebrows at him, incredulously, before swirling and swishing away.
"Ravenclaw," Goyle grunted.
"Stupid," Crabbe agreed. "Bad."
"If she's a Ravenclaw, she's none of the above. D'you know her, Goyle?" Without waiting for an answer - which he knew would not come - Draco dusted off the knees of his uniform and continued down the hall. Only once his thugs were safely in place behind him did he look back over his shoulder at her. And had he not been in such a hurry, he would have seen her do the same.
Back in the Slytherin common room, Draco pulled his cloak off his shoulders with an audible flounce and shook the snow off into the fire. He ran his fingers through his windblown hair and sat down in his favorite green armchair. Crabbe and Goyle took the couch facing him and sat in silence.
"A bit late to be practicing Quidditch, isn't it, Malfoy?" The head of Slytherin House, Severus Snape, loomed over the boys from behind Draco's chair. A harsh man with black hair, eyes, and robes, Snape knew everything about everything that went on with his young charges. He and Draco's father went way back to their days in this very house, yet where Snape had returned to teach, Lucius preferred a governorship in the Ministry of Magic. Some of his father's friends questioned Snape's loyalty to their cause, but he still bore the Dark Mark - Draco had seen it for himself - and this, for Draco, erased any doubts.
He turned in his chair to face his head of house. "Big game next week. It's got to be perfect."
"Ah," Snape hissed, nodding sagely. "And this gives you cause to be outside past curfew? You are not a first-year, Malfoy; you're in your sixth year. I cannot condone such behavior, even from members of my own house. Detention for all three of you. Malfoy, yours will be served with me." With a crooked smile, Snape flourished away. "See you at three o'clock, lads."
Draco rolled his eyes as he watched Snape climb the stairs to his private quarters. Silently, he retreated to his own bedroom, and after a moment or two, when they realized he'd gone, Crabbe and Goyle followed too.