A/N: Yay! Glad that you peeps are likin' the story! And because I am just
so kind (yeah right), I've posted this chapter after about . . . um . . .
how many was it again? Err . . . about three weeks. Oh well. Oh yeah, and
I'm sorry for the crappy description of my ickle Draco making himself sick
in the last chapter - I just didn't know how to write it, since I don't
exactly know what to do.
Anyway, I might not be able to post more to this story soon, because in early June I have an entire four days of exams! *groan* And I have to revise for them. : ( So, I'm sorry for that, but hopefully I'll be back soon-ish!
Oh, and here are the more personal thank-yous . . .
Maria: Here's the next chapter! And, yes, Lucius IS a bastard. *scowls at Lucius* Please keep reviewing!
Chibi-Crysti: Thanks for the review! And, as I said before, I might not be able to post the next chapter up soon . . .
Yoink Daydurfurits: Thanx for the review, YD! (I can call you YD, can't I, YD?) Yeah, I know that ickle Dray isn't fat . . . but he doesn't. Meh heh heh . . . Oh, and please don't kill Lucius just yet - I need him for later on!
Celeste: Hey there! Yeah, I like Draco-angst stories too, so I'm glad that you chose to review my one, out of all the other good fics out there . . . Demanding and adoring public, eh? *chuckles* Thanx for that. Wish that the lurkers would review, though . . .
Slytherin-ferret: Hee hee hee! Yeah, I know that Draco ain't fat - but he thinks he is. Thanx for the review(s)! And here is the next chapter! (but don't expect the next one to come out any time soon!)
OK then, that concludes the thank-yous. And now . . . on with the story!
~~~~~~~~ There Is No Such Thing As Perfection ~~~~~~~~
Chapter 3 - He Saw
Draco entered Borgin and Burkes, looking around nervously. His father had requested him to buy some Dark Arts books, while Lucius himself went to do something else.
What that something else was, Draco didn't know, for when he asked his father where exactly he was going, Lucius just said, "That's none of your business, boy. Now get your fat arse over to Borgin and Burkes, if you can get there without falling over your fat feet, that is."
The 'fat' insults came more and more frequently to Draco; some stung more than others. And after each one, he'd usually make himself sick in the toilet, so that one day his father would miraculously announce that Draco wasn't fat anymore, that he was thin!
Draco snorted softly to himself. That wouldn't happen any time soon - after all, he was still fat. He just had to keep dieting and making himself sick until he got thin. Suddenly, his stomach growled loudly.
//Oh come on, you pussy. Can't you handle going three days without food? You're just pathetic, Draco. Pathetic.//
So, again, Draco denied himself the opportunity of food - he couldn't afford to get even fatter than he already was. That would make him even more imperfect in his father's eyes.
As Draco walked past shelves of skulls and other hideous things, he saw Harry Potter.
Harry Potter.
In Knockturn Alley.
In Borgin and Burkes.
Currently looking at what seemed to be a Dark Arts book.
"Potter," Draco said. It came out less spiteful than was intended.
Harry turned around and looked at Draco with scornful eyes.
"Malfoy," he spat, looking positively disgusted at seeing Draco a whole five weeks before school started.
"What . . . what are you doing here?" Draco asked, trying, and failing, to sneer.
What was wrong with him? He was supposed to be being horrible to Potter. But, after all, his father was nowhere near here, and there weren't any witnesses (apart from Mr Borgin, but he was at the back of the shop, apparently), who could inform Lucius of Draco behaving civilly when conversing with Harry Potter, so there was really no point, was there?
//Apart from the fact that I hate him because he's so bloody perfect.//
"What makes you think that it's any of your business, Malfoy?" Harry snapped at the fair-haired boy.
//Wow. He looks really hot today.//
Draco just shrugged.
"Just wondering what the world's resident Golden Boy is doing hanging about in one of the worst Dark Arts shops," he said calmly.
"Just looking for some books on how to fight Voldemort. Dumbledore sent me, if you must know," Harry retorted. "And what about you? Getting some skulls and books on 'How To Be The Most Loyal Servant To The Dark Lord' for daddy dearest?" the black-haired boy snapped.
//OK, not a good thing to use those perfectly shaped lips for. Shouldn't say Voldie's name. It sounds wrong coming from that mouth. And also what the FUCKING HELL AM I THINKING?!?//
"Cat got your tongue, Malfoy?" Harry asked, looking smug.
Draco shook his head a bit, snapping out of his reverie.
"What?" he asked.
Harry rolled his eyes.
"Nothing. Just that you're not denying that you're father is a Death Eater who kisses Voldemort's arse," he said smoothly.
"You shouldn't be saying his name. It sounds alien coming out of your mouth," Draco said without thinking.
Harry frowned a bit, looking puzzled.
"What? What did you say, Malfoy?" he asked, trying to keep a mean edge to his voice, but failing, and only managing to sound curious.
"Uh . . . nothing, Potter, nothing, don't worry," Draco said, looking around. "So, erm . . . how was your holiday?" the fair-haired boy asked, averting his attention back to Harry.
"It was . . . OK. Not that you care," Harry said slowly.
"You're right, I don't," Draco said quickly.
"What, you want to tell me about --your-- summer, Malfoy? About how you became a Death Eater, and went off the serve the Dark-fucking-Lord, along with your spineless Dark-Lord-fucking father?" Harry spat out, eyes narrowing.
Draco was thrown for words.
//So this is what Harry thinks I've been doing? Well, it's not that far from the truth.//
Suddenly, a hand smacked down on Draco's shoulder, squeezing painfully, not that Draco showed it.
"Draco. Son. There you are," Lucius Malfoy said stiffly.
Draco swallowed slightly and turned around.
"Father," he stated.
Lucius's eyes narrowed as they fell onto the green-eyed boy standing opposite his son. Draco turned around to face Harry again.
"Potter. We meet again," the man said tersely, hand squeezing Draco's shoulder even harder.
//There're gonna be bruises there tomorrow.//
"Mr Malfoy. The pleasure is all --yours--, I'm sure," Harry said, quite insolently, in Lucius's opinion.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you to respect your elders?" Lucius hissed, leaning over to Harry, his grip on Draco's shoulder becoming almost unbearable.
"I refuse to respect anyone who's in league with the thing that murdered my parents!" Harry hissed back.
Lucius's eyes flashed, and Draco turned around just in time to see his father reach into his pocket to take get his wand out, so he quickly twisted out of his father's grasp on his shoulder, yelling, "No!", making Lucius (and Harry) stare.
Well, in Lucius's case, glare.
"What. Did. You. Say. To. Me. Boy?" Lucius hissed, looking so dangerous that Draco could have sworn that if it were not for the fact that Harry was here, and that they were in a rather public place, his father would have 'Crucio'-ed him without a second thought.
Draco swallowed slightly.
"I . . . I said . . . that Harry needs to go, doesn't he, don't you, Harry?" he said quickly, grabbing Harry by the arm, and practically pushing him towards the exit.
"Whatever, Malfoy," Harry snapped, pulling his arm out of Draco's hand and looking bad-tempered. Without a backwards glance he practically stalked out of the shop.
At least, that's what Draco thought. Once outside, Harry immediately pressed his face against the window to see how Lucius would react to Draco just - Merlin forbid - --saving-- him.
"What the hell was that all about, boy?" Lucius hissed loudly, making Draco wince.
"I . . . I . . .I'm sorry, I . . ." he couldn't really think of a plausible explanation. And just then he realised that he had called him Harry.
//Idiot.//
"Well?" Lucius demanded, looking down at his son.
"Is there a problem here?" Mr Borgin's oily voice sounded just above Draco's ear, startling him.
"No . . . not at all, Borgin. Now, if you don't mind, I think that you have some stacking to do," Lucius pointed out, as if daring him to disagree. Mr Borgin merely nodded slightly, and went to the back of the room again, although Draco could see his head poking out to try and see what Lucius and Draco where doing.
The elder Malfoy put a hand on Draco's shoulder, and dragged him over to the window, away from Mr Borgin's prying eyes (and ears).
Harry immediately ducked his head down, but made sure that he could still see over the window ledge, without being seen himself.
"Why the fucking hell did you do that you insolent little shit? Rescuing Potter like a knight in shining-fucking-armour!" Lucius hissed. Draco knew that his father only used profanity when he was at home, or where no one else could hear him.
"I . . . I . . . I didn't think-" Draco started.
"That much is obvious," his father interrupted him.
Suddenly, he curled his hand in a vice-like grip around Draco's throat, lifting the boy up off the ground.
"If you ever do that again . . ." Lucius hissed, squeezing his son's throat even tighter, "you will still be unconscious in the next millennium."
Draco was finding it hard to breathe. He could feel himself turning pink.
Funny . . . his father had never tried strangling him before.
The grip around Draco's throat got tighter, and he could feel his eyes slowly rolling to the back of his head, when Lucius suddenly dropped him back onto the ground.
"Get up you worthless piece of filth!" his father spat at him. Draco got up slowly, coughing slightly. "Stand up straight, boy. If you think you can manage it without your stomach dragging you down, that is," Lucius said coldly, glaring at his son. Draco started rubbing his throat, wincing slightly as his hands went over the skin that his father had just bruised.
The long-haired man rolled his eyes as his son's weakness, and walked deeper into the shop, calling for Mr Borgin.
//I'm sorry father. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disobey you.//
Draco's eyes fell to the ground as he rubbed his throat, realising that he had shamed his father by trying to 'save' Harry. He didn't mean to do it - but he just couldn't let his father curse Harry there and then, could he? Draco tried to tell himself that it had nothing to do with the fact that Harry was a very attractive boy, and that he cared for him and that-
Draco suddenly looked up. He was being watched. He could feel it. He slowly turned his head towards the window . . . and his silver-grey eyes met Harry Potter's shocked emerald-green ones.
Draco felt like he couldn't breathe for one second. One thought kept going through his mind.
//He saw. Hesawhesawhesawhesawhesawhesawhesawhesawhesawhesawhesawhesawhesawhesaw . . .//
After a few seconds of staring into the pale blonde's eyes, Harry turned around . . . and ran.
~ TBC ~
Anyway, I might not be able to post more to this story soon, because in early June I have an entire four days of exams! *groan* And I have to revise for them. : ( So, I'm sorry for that, but hopefully I'll be back soon-ish!
Oh, and here are the more personal thank-yous . . .
Maria: Here's the next chapter! And, yes, Lucius IS a bastard. *scowls at Lucius* Please keep reviewing!
Chibi-Crysti: Thanks for the review! And, as I said before, I might not be able to post the next chapter up soon . . .
Yoink Daydurfurits: Thanx for the review, YD! (I can call you YD, can't I, YD?) Yeah, I know that ickle Dray isn't fat . . . but he doesn't. Meh heh heh . . . Oh, and please don't kill Lucius just yet - I need him for later on!
Celeste: Hey there! Yeah, I like Draco-angst stories too, so I'm glad that you chose to review my one, out of all the other good fics out there . . . Demanding and adoring public, eh? *chuckles* Thanx for that. Wish that the lurkers would review, though . . .
Slytherin-ferret: Hee hee hee! Yeah, I know that Draco ain't fat - but he thinks he is. Thanx for the review(s)! And here is the next chapter! (but don't expect the next one to come out any time soon!)
OK then, that concludes the thank-yous. And now . . . on with the story!
~~~~~~~~ There Is No Such Thing As Perfection ~~~~~~~~
Chapter 3 - He Saw
Draco entered Borgin and Burkes, looking around nervously. His father had requested him to buy some Dark Arts books, while Lucius himself went to do something else.
What that something else was, Draco didn't know, for when he asked his father where exactly he was going, Lucius just said, "That's none of your business, boy. Now get your fat arse over to Borgin and Burkes, if you can get there without falling over your fat feet, that is."
The 'fat' insults came more and more frequently to Draco; some stung more than others. And after each one, he'd usually make himself sick in the toilet, so that one day his father would miraculously announce that Draco wasn't fat anymore, that he was thin!
Draco snorted softly to himself. That wouldn't happen any time soon - after all, he was still fat. He just had to keep dieting and making himself sick until he got thin. Suddenly, his stomach growled loudly.
//Oh come on, you pussy. Can't you handle going three days without food? You're just pathetic, Draco. Pathetic.//
So, again, Draco denied himself the opportunity of food - he couldn't afford to get even fatter than he already was. That would make him even more imperfect in his father's eyes.
As Draco walked past shelves of skulls and other hideous things, he saw Harry Potter.
Harry Potter.
In Knockturn Alley.
In Borgin and Burkes.
Currently looking at what seemed to be a Dark Arts book.
"Potter," Draco said. It came out less spiteful than was intended.
Harry turned around and looked at Draco with scornful eyes.
"Malfoy," he spat, looking positively disgusted at seeing Draco a whole five weeks before school started.
"What . . . what are you doing here?" Draco asked, trying, and failing, to sneer.
What was wrong with him? He was supposed to be being horrible to Potter. But, after all, his father was nowhere near here, and there weren't any witnesses (apart from Mr Borgin, but he was at the back of the shop, apparently), who could inform Lucius of Draco behaving civilly when conversing with Harry Potter, so there was really no point, was there?
//Apart from the fact that I hate him because he's so bloody perfect.//
"What makes you think that it's any of your business, Malfoy?" Harry snapped at the fair-haired boy.
//Wow. He looks really hot today.//
Draco just shrugged.
"Just wondering what the world's resident Golden Boy is doing hanging about in one of the worst Dark Arts shops," he said calmly.
"Just looking for some books on how to fight Voldemort. Dumbledore sent me, if you must know," Harry retorted. "And what about you? Getting some skulls and books on 'How To Be The Most Loyal Servant To The Dark Lord' for daddy dearest?" the black-haired boy snapped.
//OK, not a good thing to use those perfectly shaped lips for. Shouldn't say Voldie's name. It sounds wrong coming from that mouth. And also what the FUCKING HELL AM I THINKING?!?//
"Cat got your tongue, Malfoy?" Harry asked, looking smug.
Draco shook his head a bit, snapping out of his reverie.
"What?" he asked.
Harry rolled his eyes.
"Nothing. Just that you're not denying that you're father is a Death Eater who kisses Voldemort's arse," he said smoothly.
"You shouldn't be saying his name. It sounds alien coming out of your mouth," Draco said without thinking.
Harry frowned a bit, looking puzzled.
"What? What did you say, Malfoy?" he asked, trying to keep a mean edge to his voice, but failing, and only managing to sound curious.
"Uh . . . nothing, Potter, nothing, don't worry," Draco said, looking around. "So, erm . . . how was your holiday?" the fair-haired boy asked, averting his attention back to Harry.
"It was . . . OK. Not that you care," Harry said slowly.
"You're right, I don't," Draco said quickly.
"What, you want to tell me about --your-- summer, Malfoy? About how you became a Death Eater, and went off the serve the Dark-fucking-Lord, along with your spineless Dark-Lord-fucking father?" Harry spat out, eyes narrowing.
Draco was thrown for words.
//So this is what Harry thinks I've been doing? Well, it's not that far from the truth.//
Suddenly, a hand smacked down on Draco's shoulder, squeezing painfully, not that Draco showed it.
"Draco. Son. There you are," Lucius Malfoy said stiffly.
Draco swallowed slightly and turned around.
"Father," he stated.
Lucius's eyes narrowed as they fell onto the green-eyed boy standing opposite his son. Draco turned around to face Harry again.
"Potter. We meet again," the man said tersely, hand squeezing Draco's shoulder even harder.
//There're gonna be bruises there tomorrow.//
"Mr Malfoy. The pleasure is all --yours--, I'm sure," Harry said, quite insolently, in Lucius's opinion.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you to respect your elders?" Lucius hissed, leaning over to Harry, his grip on Draco's shoulder becoming almost unbearable.
"I refuse to respect anyone who's in league with the thing that murdered my parents!" Harry hissed back.
Lucius's eyes flashed, and Draco turned around just in time to see his father reach into his pocket to take get his wand out, so he quickly twisted out of his father's grasp on his shoulder, yelling, "No!", making Lucius (and Harry) stare.
Well, in Lucius's case, glare.
"What. Did. You. Say. To. Me. Boy?" Lucius hissed, looking so dangerous that Draco could have sworn that if it were not for the fact that Harry was here, and that they were in a rather public place, his father would have 'Crucio'-ed him without a second thought.
Draco swallowed slightly.
"I . . . I said . . . that Harry needs to go, doesn't he, don't you, Harry?" he said quickly, grabbing Harry by the arm, and practically pushing him towards the exit.
"Whatever, Malfoy," Harry snapped, pulling his arm out of Draco's hand and looking bad-tempered. Without a backwards glance he practically stalked out of the shop.
At least, that's what Draco thought. Once outside, Harry immediately pressed his face against the window to see how Lucius would react to Draco just - Merlin forbid - --saving-- him.
"What the hell was that all about, boy?" Lucius hissed loudly, making Draco wince.
"I . . . I . . .I'm sorry, I . . ." he couldn't really think of a plausible explanation. And just then he realised that he had called him Harry.
//Idiot.//
"Well?" Lucius demanded, looking down at his son.
"Is there a problem here?" Mr Borgin's oily voice sounded just above Draco's ear, startling him.
"No . . . not at all, Borgin. Now, if you don't mind, I think that you have some stacking to do," Lucius pointed out, as if daring him to disagree. Mr Borgin merely nodded slightly, and went to the back of the room again, although Draco could see his head poking out to try and see what Lucius and Draco where doing.
The elder Malfoy put a hand on Draco's shoulder, and dragged him over to the window, away from Mr Borgin's prying eyes (and ears).
Harry immediately ducked his head down, but made sure that he could still see over the window ledge, without being seen himself.
"Why the fucking hell did you do that you insolent little shit? Rescuing Potter like a knight in shining-fucking-armour!" Lucius hissed. Draco knew that his father only used profanity when he was at home, or where no one else could hear him.
"I . . . I . . . I didn't think-" Draco started.
"That much is obvious," his father interrupted him.
Suddenly, he curled his hand in a vice-like grip around Draco's throat, lifting the boy up off the ground.
"If you ever do that again . . ." Lucius hissed, squeezing his son's throat even tighter, "you will still be unconscious in the next millennium."
Draco was finding it hard to breathe. He could feel himself turning pink.
Funny . . . his father had never tried strangling him before.
The grip around Draco's throat got tighter, and he could feel his eyes slowly rolling to the back of his head, when Lucius suddenly dropped him back onto the ground.
"Get up you worthless piece of filth!" his father spat at him. Draco got up slowly, coughing slightly. "Stand up straight, boy. If you think you can manage it without your stomach dragging you down, that is," Lucius said coldly, glaring at his son. Draco started rubbing his throat, wincing slightly as his hands went over the skin that his father had just bruised.
The long-haired man rolled his eyes as his son's weakness, and walked deeper into the shop, calling for Mr Borgin.
//I'm sorry father. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disobey you.//
Draco's eyes fell to the ground as he rubbed his throat, realising that he had shamed his father by trying to 'save' Harry. He didn't mean to do it - but he just couldn't let his father curse Harry there and then, could he? Draco tried to tell himself that it had nothing to do with the fact that Harry was a very attractive boy, and that he cared for him and that-
Draco suddenly looked up. He was being watched. He could feel it. He slowly turned his head towards the window . . . and his silver-grey eyes met Harry Potter's shocked emerald-green ones.
Draco felt like he couldn't breathe for one second. One thought kept going through his mind.
//He saw. Hesawhesawhesawhesawhesawhesawhesawhesawhesawhesawhesawhesawhesawhesaw . . .//
After a few seconds of staring into the pale blonde's eyes, Harry turned around . . . and ran.
~ TBC ~
