Draco Malfoy and his Unknown Fate:
Author's Notes: Harry's in this chapter. So is Snape.
Warnings for this chapter: Er… Neville warning?
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.
The weather warmed up and the snow and frost disappeared altogether, leaving Hogwarts slightly slushy. However, the return of the bright, warm sun after a season of cold and gloom more than made up for it. The only bad part about the arrival of spring was that Draco disliked the way his robes seemed to get wet from the knee down every time he had went outside for Care of Magical Creatures or as he liked to call it, Care of Slavering Beasts. And unfortunately for Draco, whenever the animals hurt anyone it was inevitably him.
Every single damn time.
He spent a week in the infirmary after getting poisoned by the Streeler Hagrid had captured for the class thanks to a certain Ron Weasley. The slimy snail, temporarily a bright periwinkle color, had managed to smear its venomous slime on the grass during the beginning of class. Half an hour later, the Weasel had tripped him and sent Draco sprawling into the affected area and subsequently covering him in poisonous goo.
The poison might not have been deadly to humans, but it kept Draco throwing up the next three and half days and fairly nauseous for the two after that. Draco could barely keep water down and he had been gratified to learn that Weasley had received a particularly nasty howler from his mother. Greg had sabotaged his cauldron during potions while Snape had managed to remove a truly stunning amount of points from Gryffindor for the red head's 'clumsiness'. The Weasel also ended up with detention under Trelawny's supervision, which was harsh punishment indeed.
And with Draco out of commission, Longbottom managed to land himself alongside Draco in the infirmary three different times in one week. Apparently, Potions class was a great deal more difficult without the Slytherin to help him; according to Longbottom only one of his potions had managed to come out correctly. And didn't that make Draco feel absolutely splendid, having stooped to chatting with Neville Longbottom of all people. The fact his stomach was staging a revolt didn't help matters any either.
He received the usual get well gifts from his Slytherin friends, as well as a few chocolate frogs and a couple of peppermint toads from Potter. This offering wasn't anywhere near as nice as the model Hungarian Horntail he'd gotten last time he ended up in the infirmary, but Draco wasn't willing to have the Cruciatus curse cast on him again for something that was. Oddly enough, he and Potter seemed to be on friendlier terms, though they were by no means actually friends. Not that he cared one way or another of course. Oh, who the fuck was he kidding?
At any rate, when he finally got out of the infirmary Tuesday morning he barely had time to breakfast, bathe, and get dressed before attending Potions. Upon entering the classroom, the first thing he noticed was that one, he was late, and two no one was sitting in their proper seats. Snape paused in his scathing diatribe on his inattentive students and flashed Draco a quirk of lips that might have been called a smile if one squinted.
"Ah, Draco, there you are. I see you have managed to survive, despite Mr. Weasley's best efforts. Take a seat next to Mr. Potter, if you would. You can copy his notes. I have taken the liberty of reassigning lab partners since your absence alerted me to the fact that Longbottom has obviously been taking advantage of your gift for potions and leaving you to do the majority of his work. Hopefully, Granger can put some of her vast store of trivia to some use for once and get something through his impossibly thick skull. Well, don't just stand there, boy. Sit." It was true, everyone had a new partner and some of them were even from the same house, unlike the Slytherin/Gryffindor pairings they had been forced to endure previously.
Draco sat, plopping down in the chair next to Potter. The movement lacked his characteristic grace, but recent events surely excused him. He took out some parchment and his self inking quill, tugging Potter's paper over without a by your leave. The Gryffindor didn't even protest, only exhaling in an annoyed fashion before he turned his attention back to Snape who was still regaling his class with a blow by blow account of their numerous faults. He got like this sometimes, so irritated with the lackluster effort his students put forth when he himself was incredibly passionate about his craft. Draco ignored him with the ease of long practice and got caught up on the week's notes while Snape's silky voice ranted on in the background.
He put a great deal of his concentration into copying Potter's parchment and was startled when he looked up to hand them back and saw that Potter was just as absorbed - with him. The Gryffindor took his parchment back and focused all his attention on Snape, obviously embarrassed at having been caught staring. Draco might not have even noticed if he hadn't spotted the tell tale flush on the other boy's cheeks. He jostled Potter's leg with his knee, flashing him a smile when Potter glanced over at him. Potter grinned back a little and ducked his head coyly in a way that made something weird and oddly warm swell in Draco's chest and he suddenly felt lightheaded. He shook it off and smiled at Potter again, who was still peeking at him from underneath that fringe of unruly black hair.
Streeler poison certainly did have strange side effects.
To be Continued
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