Draco Malfoy and his Unknown Fate:
Author's Notes: Another favorite here. More Harry, yay! And he's actually awake and talking. *Cheers*
Warnings for this chapter: Um. Taking god's name in vain? Bad Harry.
Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm merely borrowing them for the time being. This will be slash (eventually). Don't like it? Don't read it. Otherwise, enjoy.
Draco sorted through the numerous containers in the store room with capable, practiced movements in search of a certain ingredient. He finally found what he was looking for and clasped the large glass bottle with a little 'ha!' of triumph. The Slytherin made his way through the crowded, dusty shelves and ducked out of the room, walking into the more open stone potions classroom and towards his bubbling cauldron. He was here, ostensibly, to oversee a detention, but in actuality was busy working on his own projects. This particular one was a concoction that would, hopefully, cause the drinker to change colors depending on their mood. It was his first try at seriously inventing his own potion and considering the fact that he had spent his youth experimenting with various color changing potions on Peony, house elves, and during one unfortunate incident his own father, it was the most logical thing to start with.
Draco measured out a bit of the lavender oil, keeping a close eye on the heating spell he'd cast on the bottom of the cauldron. He'd had to leave it unattended in search for the lavender oil, but it looked to be fine. He was just tipping the oil in when a knock sounded on the door. "Come in." It creaked open and a messy head of black hair was promptly stuck inside, green eyes peering around cautiously behind their thick, glass shields.
"Malfoy. What are you doing here? Where's Snape?" Draco cast a quick sneer over his shoulder at the Gryffindor and began to gracefully chop up a few elephant-toe mushrooms before replying.
"Snape has better things to do than baby sit you Potter. I'm supposed to supervise your detention."
Potter groaned and wove his way through the desks towards Draco's workstation. "What, exactly, am I supposed to do?" Draco glanced swiftly at the other boy who was hovering nearby.
"First of all, stay far, far away from my cauldron." Potions and Potter never mixed and Draco didn't want to chance tempting fate. The Boy Who Lived was a bit better than Longbottom, but that really wasn't saying much. "Snape left some stink beetles to be ground especially for you. Be sure to do it by hand Potter. Magic makes the ingredients all wonky."
Grumbling, the Gryffindor rolled up his sleeves and set to work. He was wearing what was obviously muggle clothes with tight fitting trousers made of denim and a green pull over shirt made of cotton with long sleeves. They were in much better taste than the monstrosities Draco had found in the other boy's dresser, though it was probably better for everyone that he'd taken the clothes less likely to be missed.
Draco studied the odd outfit curiously for a moment, wondering what he would look like in clothes like that. Muggle clothes seemed to be much more revealing than the wizard robes Draco was used to and Draco did so love to show off his legs and arse, which were absolutely flawless. But good sense soon prevailed and he forced himself to concentrate on his work before the cauldron bubbled over. Draco scraped the mushrooms into the mix and set about crushing the pine nuts with his mortal and pestle to the sound of Potter's quiet and steady complaints.
Of course, Snape had given him the nastiest, most unpleasant grunt work to be had, but it served the Gryffindor right for calling the Potions Master a greasy git when Snape was standing right behind him. Potter hadn't known that of course and Draco had been in a wonderful mood that whole day from just seeing the expression on Potter's face when he realized that the 'greasy git' he'd been insulting had overheard him.
To be fair to the Potions Master though, Snape was utilizing a charm that made him much more unattractive than he really was, which was a standard practice for any professors under the age of fifty. Of course, Snape's nose actually was that big, but the hair and yellow teeth were merely for effect. It was there for good reason, really. Pansy knew about it and look what that had led to. Several other students had realized it too, but Potter and his cronies still didn't have a clue.
Not that that was unusual of course.
Draco dumped the nut paste into his cauldron and began to stir it twelve times widdershins. He turned to watch Potter who was blinking rapidly and grimacing from the fumes rising from his ground stinkbugs. "God, this is vile." Potter complained. "I won't be able to smell anything for days."
An insult sprang automatically to Draco's lips. "Considering your hygiene, or lack thereof rather, I'd think that'd be a blessing."
"Shut up Malfoy. At least I don't spend hours in front of the mirror preening." Potter glared, his green eyes sparking with anger. They were more striking than usual with Potter's green shirt and Draco was going to go Avada Kedavra himself if he didn't stop noticing these things. Ever since Pansy had stuck him in Potter's bed it was like some connection had been made in his brain. He had started seeing his rival as an attractive person where before thoughts of Potter had been quite separate from thoughts of sex and now it just wouldn't stop.
"I'd hope not. You wouldn't want to traumatize your poor mirror any more than it already has been, would you?" Draco retorted smoothly, extracting his stirring rod and peering into his cauldron, pleased at the light blue color it had turned. He scraped together a few mandrake leaves that had been soaking in vinegar and sliced them carefully before dumping them into the cauldron.
"Oh, very witty Malfoy. I'm laughing my arse off over here." Potter's tone was flat and not amused at all. It changed to a whine quickly enough though when he moved on to a new batch of bugs to be ground. "Oh, yuck. It just had to be stinkbugs, didn't it?"
The question was rhetorical so Draco didn't bother to reply, too busy straining his royal wasp jelly anyway. Wasp legs would react badly with his concoction at this point and it took a great deal of concentration to make sure he didn't miss any. He added in the jelly and seven newt eyes before casting a freezing charm on the cauldron. He let the ice build up carefully, canceling the spell before there was any danger of icicles dropping into the brew. Then he cast a quick boiling charm on it and a puff of steaming smoke rose, obscuring Draco's vision.
Coughing, he waved it away and anxiously looked into his cauldron, surprised to find it a bright magenta red. "Hmm." Of course, this was a completely new potion so he really had no guidelines to go by, but it looked alright. He added two teaspoons of sugar and took it down from a boil to a slow simmer, stirring carefully once more.
"What are you making?" Came the curious question and Draco turned to see Potter watching him intently. Merlin, his eyes were so green.
He shook the thought away. "A new potion. It makes the drinker change colors depending on their moods. It's just an experiment."
"Oh, you mean like mood rings?"
Draco was confused at the weird reference. "What? What's a mood ring?"
"Muggle thing, never mind. So does it work?" He sounded genuinely interested so Draco bit back the sarcastic comment hovering on the tip of his tongue.
He settled for a neutral answer. "That's what I'm trying to find out."
"Oh." Was all Potter had to say on the matter. Draco ladled out a measure of the liquid into a medium sized container and scribbled a few notes down carefully on the color, smell, and texture of this particular mixture before turning to the covered cage next to him. The Slytherin peeled back the white fabric to reveal a rat he'd caught while patrolling the corridors. He'd caught the mangy thing yesterday evening while doing his weekly prefect duties, though not without considerable difficulty. Draco needed a subject to test his potions on and if someone was going to be so careless as to leave their pet to run free it wasn't his concern if the rat keeled over dead from whatever he fed it. It was obviously a pet, chubby as it was, though the owner had apparently neglected it. The thing was a disgrace to its species.
He dismantled the empty water bottle attached to the cage and poured in the red liquid, startled at Potter's curious voice sounding right next to him. "What are you doing?" He jumped and ignored Potter's snicker at the startled movement.
Draco drawled his answer casually, hoping Potter didn't notice the flush to his cheeks. Did he have to stand quite so close? There was such a thing as personal space! "Testing it. I'm certainly not going to drink a potion that's never been tried before. Do you think I'm insane?"
"Quite often." Potter said dryly, before continuing on. "It's not exactly fair to your lab rat though, is it?"
"I was going to feed him to my owl, but this was more practical." The rat squeaked, as if panicked, and Potter's attention turned to the bedraggled rodent for the first time. It really was a sorry specimen. Potter took one look at it and gasped, which Draco thought was a bit extreme.
"Oh my god. Oh my god! Malfoy!"
"What is it? What's wrong?" He asked hurriedly, afraid Potter had gotten the potion on him and was in pain. He screwed the top on the water bottle quickly as he spoke and set it down, turning to make sure the other boy hadn't hurt himself. That was all Draco needed, to have Potty running to Dumbledore crying that Draco had poisoned him.
However, he didn't seem to be in any pain. He seemed to be - happy? "It's Wormtail!" The Boy Who Lived was almost ecstatic and babbling nonsense to boot. "I can't believe this! You - you're absolutely brilliant Malfoy! I could kiss you!" The Gryffindor grabbed Draco by his shoulders and landed a smacking kiss on his cheek before grabbing up the cage and running out of the classroom as if the devil himself were on his heels.
Draco stared after him, stunned by the loss of both his lab rat and his senses. He prodded gently at his cheek, which still tingled, with his fingertips. Obviously, the world had gone insane. And he had a feeling he wasn't too far behind.
To be Continued
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