By: DaDomz (Branw3nand Lestat)
DISCLAIMER: WE DON'T OWN NOTHING.
WARNINGS:
1.) This is a HP/DM fic. But not entirely. Read it and understand.
2.) Also an R/Hr fic so be warned!
3.) Idea derived from the Travelers Incognito.
Authors' Notes: IMPORTANT!!! I think that we might have stated at some point or another during this story that Harry had somehow quite astonishingly defeated Voldemort. Now, whoever can state that chapter and point out at exactly what place it was cleverly shunted into a paragraph, please leave a review and tell us, please, we're desperate to fix that! Voldie did not die!!! Was not defeated!!! And this might provoke you to look for it since we can't find it, we'll send you the Eighth Chapter just to express our gratitude!
Chapter Seven: Stargazing and its Negative Side-Effects
Ron fought to stifle a yawn as he blearily took in his surroundings. Astronomy was indisputably the most useless subject in the Hogwarts curriculum. Divination was something you chose, out of idiocy, but Astronomy? Not that Professor Sinistra was particularly horrifying, or something like that. In fact, she was gorgeous, in that middle-aged sort of way. And as an added bonus, she absolutely abhorred Snape, but that bit wasn't important to the current situation. It was half-past midnight and he could perceive a few subtle noises emanating from beyond the classroom door.
Couples with enough gall to attempt their nightly endeavors while classes were conducted. If he weren't too tired, he'd have been snickering at those near-deafening noises. Sinistra had a lightly breezy voice, not to be mistaken with Trelawney's purposely mystically foggy one. It bothered him that he couldn't switch that with another subject. An hour in that bat's class was more than sufficient, thankyouverymuch.
He only wished that the teachers would have enough sense in them than place Gryffindors and Slytherins in the same classes. After all those years, they've still not learned their lessons. Deranged cows, the lot of them. Speaking of unbalanced educators, Sinistra was discussing the complexities of two particular constellations; Lupus and Cygnus.
He was too exhausted to even comment on any of them, that and just plain uninterested in the subject matter at hand. Hermione, on the other hand, was, as usual, assiduously taking down notes, the soft scratching of quill on parchment doing nothing to relieve him of his lethargy. Harry had already begun dozing off, head on a hand propped up on the table by his elbow. Distinguishable snoring came from the back of the class. He turned to regard them. Typical. Crabbe and Goyle. And a little bit to their right, Parkinson and Malfoy.
He shuddered. Just the thought of that little bugger… Stupid cross-dressing idiot. To think that all those invectives had been delivered by a girl… Not that he was discriminated against them in anyway. Hermione was a girl and she was the smartest person he knew. But Draco Malfoy, a girl. The ubiquitous thorn in his side, a female. And he'd thought he'd finally understood them, what with his dating Hermione and all. She had been impossible to understand! Even now, he still couldn't anticipate her every action.
Maybe Malfoy's being a girl was clear, though everyone had just been too thick to see it. Malfoy was volatile, ready to verbally spar with them, to stand up for him—herself, then threatening to set Crabbe and Goyle on them, sometimes even Zabini or sometimes seemingly unaffected by the world. Yep, women. No one could understand them.
He swiveled back in his chair just in time to observe Professor Sinistra casually walk by their desks, and without breaking stride nor speech, casually swipe Harry's forearm off the table and continue on, not pausing to check if her student, who had banged his head on the table due to lack of support, was okay.
The entire class, save himself and Hermione laughed. He tried to conceal a chuckle as Harry lifted his head off the desk, staring stupidly, while Hermione mouthed admonitions, shaking her head in that infuriatingly adorable manner. Harry rubbed his crimson forehead, shrugging, as he tried to get his surroundings into focus.
Ron snorted at him.
"Harry, must you do that? You've not paid attention in Astronomy since the start of the year. How can you expect to succeed in life if you refuse to focus?"
"Shut up, 'Mione."
She turned to glare at him and he cowered. Being attached did not do wonders to one's persona as was believed. He'd learned to shy away every time Hermione focused that frown his way.
"He's barely heard you. Shouldn't you save your enlightening words for when he can seriously take them to heart?"
Yes,
finally achieving the impossible, having Hermione fall in love with him, could
turn one into a yellow-livered chicken in her imposing presence.
She raised her eyebrow, unsure of what to make of his comment; apology, sarcasm or unfazed impartiality. But she did suppress whatever remark might have come to her head at his first statement.
Sinistra had finally finished her usual rounds and had achieved her primary intention, waking the entire class. She had returned to her desk and was now explaining the point of their current exercise.
"Now, I would like all of you to locate either of the constellations on the board and specify the exact number of stars in them; specify their colors and uses. Research on ten other constellations coupled with Lupus and Cygnus are expected to be laid on my desk by the start of my class next week. I'd like you to pair up-"
At this, everyone had stood and begun screaming at their desired partner. Him and Hermione smiling at one another to indicate their coupling. He moved to Hermione and they exited the room, heading for the Tower, along with the rest of the pairs in their class. Here's to hoping none of them stumble upon a couple in a compromising position up there. He'd been in that predicament once and it was an experience he'd not want to repeat.
* * * * *
Damn that Sinistra. Yes, she had a personal vendetta against Snape, but why did he have to be the one to suffer for it? He trudged up the steps to the Astronomy Tower, just a few steps ahead of his partner, Malfoy, insistent on reaching it before he decided to kill the little monster, who, by way of greeting, decided to step on his foot, none to lightly, might he add. Stupid little brat.
Why did he have to have fallen asleep in class? He might've had Ron here, or stuck the deserting prat with the little whiner here, not that Malfoy actually whined, it was just something that one associated with a on his foot. Stupid Ron, not giving him enough warning to ask maybe even Neville to pair up with him. He couldn't possibly cause any mishaps with only a telescope as an instrument.
He vaguely wondered how he had managed to get to Malfoy that one particularly scarring night when, even now, the steps seemed infinite. He didn't notice that Malfoy was now in step with him until the shorter boy pulled him out of a snogging couple's way, just directly in his path. There wasn't enough light to foresee the pair until one was a step away from them.
He turned from the oblivious couple to the Slytherin who still kept pace beside him, nonplussed. How in the world-? Draco still continued to scale the stone steps and as Harry gazed at him at timely intervals, face a mixture of amazement and perplexity. He took the blonde into consideration and noted that the normally steely gray eyes nearly glowed a light azure in the dark. He shook his head. Human eyes did not glow. He really needed some sleep.
He nearly let out a sigh of relief as they approach the Tower proper and they advanced upon the only unoccupied telescope, which, by chance, happened to be situated between Ron and Hermione and Parkinson and Zabini.
Draco sauntered over to it, careful to stay close to Parkinson, who turned to regard him then give Harry a near appraising look before returning her attention to the bronze-plated telescope she and Zabini were utilizing.
"Well, Potter," Malfoy raised an eyebrow, sneering in his immediate direction, orbs glistening eerily in the dark. "Do you expect me to accomplish this project alone? I am not about to timorously accept that sort of abuse, especially from you."
What the-? Malfoy was getting stranger by the day. He'd never done such a thing in the past, and did not intend to. Why Malfoy would think so was beyond him. He heard the ominous cracking of knuckles and he glanced at its source; Zabini. Parkinson laid a consoling hand on his arm as they switched positions, achieving two things: allowing him to get within arms reach of Harry and to act as Malfoy's bodyguard. Made him wonder where Crabbe and Goyle were.
Struggling to concentrate on the task at hand, he tried to remember the point of the activity but despondently drew a blank. Malfoy, impatiently tapping a foot against the stone floor, sneered at him. Malfoy had probably expected him to start. Doubtless, the little prat was afraid of coming into close contact with any possible remnants of any other student's bodily residue.
Well, Harry didn't know what to do and he wasn't going to make himself look like an idiot before the Slytherin. Malfoy growled and laid a hand on the telescope, muttering incoherently as he moved the viewfinder from left to right, pausing at spaced intervals to attain a better view of a particular constellation. When he finally succeeded in locating Lupus, he grabbed Harry by the tie and pulled him down.
"Look."
Harry bared his teeth in a snarl but complied, though a tad bit reluctantly. Draco took a few steps away from him, retrieving a scrap of parchment, a bottle of ink and a quill from his bag. Pansy casually strolled by while dropping down to retrieve her own supplies, grinning at Draco evocatively.
"What are you laughing at, Parkinson?"
"Oh, nothing. Just that you suit each other."
"What are you talking about, you stupid sow? Never do make sense most of the time, if not all."
"Well, he is tall dark and handsome and excluding his insipidity and ignorance towards your current situation…"
Pansy's eyes took in her form with much scrutiny then allowed her mahogany orbs to trail off to where Potter was diligently making notes, leaning against the rough stone sill, running a frustrated hand through his hair, peering out the viewfinder then returning to his annotations.
Draco's eyes widened in disgust and revulsion at the implications of those words and her hand curled up into a fist. Faster than normal, her knuckles made contact with Pansy's stomach. She fell to the ground, clutching her stomach, her breath coming out in labored gasps.
She hadn't expected that. A biting comment, an evenly paced kick to the shins, yes, a smack to the ribs with unrestrained force behind it, well, that just wasn't Draco's style. What with the blonde knowing she didn't have much physical potency in her, that had been an absurd action. Pansy stood, retrieving her wand from her robes, she pointed it at Draco, sneering at the shorter girl. No one did that to Pansy Parkinson and got away with it.
Draco growled at her. Wait, since when did her eyes glow like that? Damnit, she looked absolutely feral. It was then that Pansy Parkinson regretted her irrationality.
* * * * *
Hermione sniffed disappointedly at Ron, who seemed to enjoy sneaking furtive glances at her parchment, obviously assuming her lack of attention on that matter. Well, he'd have to be stealthier than that to get past her. If she didn't love him enough she'd have sworn she would have rung his neck by now. At least Harry was striving to complete his project by himself, though she did have suspicions that he wouldn't be so determined if he had been paired up with someone other than Malfoy.
She sympathized Harry's plight with inequitable educators. Yes, she would admit to that fact. She wasn't blind to such prejudice, as Ron and Harry had presupposed. Though she tried to not let the faults of the few hinder her views of all but it was getting quite difficult, struggling to find good points in each educator, though that crusade was thankless and grueling, she'd not give it up for the world.
She needed to think that in each and every being there was something noble that was worth saving. It was what she had been born to believe and a belief she held on to in these dark times, what with Voldemort gaining an indefinite amount of power through undetermined sources and followers.
Malfoy had proven that everyone had some good in them. Well, being a girl wasn't exactly some saving-grace but it was a start. It had to be. Even Snape, she was relieved to say, had some sort of redeemable factor to him. Well, having a strange obsession with the Astronomy professor wasn't adequate in any way but it did show that Snape was capable of an emotion other that hate. Well, it was some sort of love-hate sentiment but different, nonetheless.
It was getting absolutely arduous, finding bright points in others' psyches but rewarding nevertheless. Ron, for instance, had as many good attributes to him as well as enough unappealing ones to balance them out. But she loved him and was willing to overlook those. And Harry. She loved him as well and just couldn't pin any horrible qualities to his persona but she was sure there were some dark thoughts he kept from the rest of the world, matters he had only confided in Ron or in the recesses of his mind.
Well, indifference might be counted as an awful trait. Harry seemed too unaffected by the revelation of his worst enemy's gender. Insipidity could be one, as well. Though she cared for him, sometimes, that boy was too slow for his good. His academic skills were quite average but when it came to applying them…that was another story.
She stifled a yawn and allowed her head to fall on Ron's shoulder. He gave her a hazy smile as he proceeded to fill in his parchment with facts in his sloppy handwriting. He unconsciously rested his hand on her waist, fingers tapping out an erratic beat as he concentrated on his work, occasionally glancing at Harry's own for comparison.
What he didn't know, though, was that Harry was copying off him too. Hermione stifled a chuckle. They could be such goobs sometimes, though lovable goobs, at that. They never failed to make her laugh, in their own unintentional way. Not that she felt like telling them of their err.
She jumped at the near-deafening crash. Ron turned towards the direction of the noise, bringing her with him. She spied Harry from the corner of her eye, calmly raising his head and with a total lack of curiosity resumed his work. Typical Harry.
When she finally glimpsed of the source of the resounding bang, she was as shocked as anyone. There was Pansy Parkinson, pointing a wand at one glowering Draco Malfoy, expression suddenly changing from one of fury to unabashed nervousness. Malfoy, on the other hand, glared at the channeling object, then without warning made a grab for it.
If there was one thing she could say about Draco, it was that she was exceedingly swift in her actions. Before one could blink, she had Pansy's wand in hand and threw it to the ground after she stared at it curiously, which in itself was strange, Malfoy was a pure-blood, wands were as customary as dressing oneself to them.
A collective gasp was uttered, she was quite astonished to hear her own horrified intake of breath in the chorus, as Malfoy made a leap at Parkinson, utterly enraged. Pansy had just enough time to widen her eyes in shock while Draco's lithe form sailed at her, knocking both girls to the ground. Pansy tumbled into a fetal position, clearly affected by the force of the impact while Malfoy landed on her palms and heels, teeth bared and eyes gleaming, positioned in an attacking posture.
She reared up, ready to attack Parkinson once more when she was snatched out of the air, mid-leap, by Zabini. He held her by the shoulders but failed to successfully detain her for she turned to face him, drew her hand up and managed to mar his visage, three shallow scratches positioned lucratively on his cheek.
He let go of her, wincing as he slapped a hand to his face, staring at Malfoy, evidently confused. She whirled around and began to circle around Pansy, intent on causing her bodily harm.
"What in the bleedin' hell's wrong with Malfoy?"
She hated it when he swore, which was quite often, but she let the thought, or what might have been a contemplation if it hadn't been spoken by one Ronald Weasley who was a master of subtlety, go. No need to reprimand him about using such language when she herself was thinking along similar lines.
Malfoy continued to stalk Parkinson relentlessly. This made Hermione wonder what in the world Professor Sinistra was thinking, leaving teenaged students, from opposing houses, by themselves in the infamous Astronomy Tower.
Malfoy struck again, bounding up to Parkinson, nearly hissing.
"Oh my Lord!" Lavender let out.
Well, Hermione echoed her thoughts as well when Harry, out of nowhere, suddenly grabbed Malfoy by the scruff of her neck and locked an arm around her waist. Malfoy was breathing heavily, face a bit flushed from the exertion of her actions. She stubbornly struggled against his hold, absorbed in kicking him but her actions were completely ineffective for Harry had lifted her off the ground and she managed to come into contact with a multitude of minute particles in the air.
After struggling for a few seconds, she finally gave up and rested her head on his chest, claming down as she leant against him, apparently listening to his breathing as he set her down on the ground.
This situation was quite disturbing, to say the least. She could perceive the turning of the infamous Hogwarts Rumor Mill. Malfoy going ballistic, attacking her fellow housemates then only having Harry's much appreciated intervention from keeping her from mauling her peers. She could hear whispers behind her, even Ron wasn't exempt from the circumstance.
"Harry and Malfoy?"
"Ron, you surely don't believe that, do you?"
He gave her an incredulous look. "What am I supposed to believe, 'Mione? Just look at him and Malfoy. He even saved the little bugger's life! Something he didn't even bother to tell us!"
She gave him a distraught look. How could he think such things of his best friend?
"Ron, please think. This is Harry here. Harry Potter who comes to the aid of the plight of all? He'd surely not have an affair with Malfoy while he's with Jaundice, now would he?"
He smirked at her. "It's Shayne this week, Hermione."
She stared up at him. "Shayne, Shayne Anders?"
He nodded. "There really is something wrong with him, isn't there?"
She slapped his arm. "Ron!"
"It certainly is true, isn't it? He's becoming a legend for what he does! They say he's coming to be more like his father and Sirius when they were his age."
"I'd like to take a psychological stand to this situation and say that he needs affection. Lack of aforementioned prerequisite has caused him to subconsciously hypothesize that such said emotion does not exist, though not for the entirety of humankind but just for himself, therefore we may conclude that…"
* * * * *
"I think she's asleep, Snape," Sirius Black smirked overbearingly at Severus Snape, who ended his tirade.
The slimy overgrown bat couldn't simplify a story to save his hide. Who could expect a child to understand such words. Sure, they did come out of Hermione's mouth but he thought a child of her age could process those terminologies? She had a genius I.Q., as had been explained by her father but what child would take the time to process the implications of statements they did not deem important?
Snape put on one of his patented sneers, as if hearing his thoughts. This action caused Sirius to wonder what his wife had ever seen in him.
"I applaud your technique, though, having her bore herself as you ceaselessly droned on and on and on…" Sirius shrugged. "I bow down to your acumen; she was out like a light when you took over."
"I accept your praise with the intention that I may utilize it as material to further boost my ego," Snape retorted, with what Sirius and Harry had agreed on calling the patented 'you-are-lower-than-scum-in-my-eyes-and-should-be-so-since-I-think-of-you-as-such' sneer or sneer#4 for short, planted on his face.
"You do that, Snape, considering I could never comprehend with what had run through Dumbledore's head when he decided to appoint you as a teacher."
"And I with Lily's consent to your caring for her child."
They went on as such for quite some time, nearly overlooking the fact that the child they had worked so hard to put to sleep was slumbering in the immediate vicinity.
* * * * *
Lucius Malfoy lounged on a massive garishly colored velvet-bedecked couch, its blood red hue coinciding with his present mood. He grumbled to himself as he spied his wife's lithe figure settled upon a cushion on the carpeted floor as she examined a number of photographs which she extricated from an envelope fashioned from a large piece of parchment paper. Bloody woman! After displaying her sickening elation through inappropriately squealing about while she rushed her house-elf to convene a conference with that horrid Zhuan woman, who for all her fabulous designs insisted on dressing up as a two-bit Gypsy of sorts. She had been adamant about altering Draco's rather smart-looking school trousers into garishly undersized pleated skirts! He had tried to put his foot down on that but being the persuasive woman that she was, his wife had talked-ahem, seduced- him into yielding.
"Oh, my! This would just be perfect!"
His head whirled at the sort of squealish noise and confronted its source, his wife, with a rather rankled glare.
"What is it now, Narcissa?" he snarled, muttering to himself. He was sure she was mental when he married her, but she was beautiful and a pure-blood whose ancestors could be traced to about seventy-eight generations. Yes, she fit the profile of a Malfoy bride, yes, there was also that tiny little fact that she was enamored with him and her father had offered her to him with a tremendous dowry, but that couldn't even compensate what tragedies she had done to his family.
She whirled to face him, quite gracefully at that, face glowing with something indiscernible, maybe barely suppressed excitement, and practically gleaming with pride. "Oh, Lucius! Our little Draco's interested in someone!"
That made him bolt upright. Please no, please no, Aphrodite, no! "And just who is the lucky girl? Parkinson?"
Her
mouth morphed from a lovely smile into a wide O, then quickly recovering, she
giggled and walked up to him, gently slapping his cheek in a reprimanding
manner. "Oh you silly wizard! Of
course not!"
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!! Stupid boffin of a child!! Wait! His wife was prone to jumping to conclusions when it involved her little girl, most especially when it involved her daughter and a boy. That woman would have his so-er, daughter married off before she graduated, if she had her way. Damn her.
"Would you care to inform me, then, of what is probable?"
"Adrian Pucey!"
He frowned. "Who?"
"The little boy who accompanied young Crabbe, Zabini and Pansy when they came to visit Draco, you silly dear. Don't tell me you've forgotten!" She giggled once more, irritating him. This was not a joyous occasion! "Yes, he is somewhat height-challenged, a few inches taller than Pansy at the most! But a fine looking young man."
She shoved a colored photograph before him, nearly causing his nose to bleed from a nearly unavoidable paper cut. He pulled his head back in order to properly examine the subject within the picture. A smarmy git looked back at him, well, he might've been biased but that didn't matter, what with the boy provocatively and incessantly raised and lowered his eyebrows, winked and showed a glimpse of blindingly white teeth without pause. Seemed a lot like that Lockhart chap he had met while his hair and nails had been attended to by Miss Tabitha in her salon.
His observation could be summarized into one word. "Ugh."
She pursed her lips while her eyebrows met in thought. "Oh, you are hard to please, darling. We do have another choice, as Pansy had so conveniently supplied."
"That Parkinson woman's child's been tampering with Draco?????????" he bellowed, only to be overlapped by the boisterous din which exuded from the manor's main hallway. Loud footsteps suspiciously echoed off the carpeted marble floor. His eyes widened, only one person in the entire known universe could cause such a ruckus.
"OI, YOU BIG-EARED WATCHAMACALIT! REMOVE YOURFILTH-RIDDEN HANDS FROM MY CANE! TAKE MY CLOAK!" A pause. "WELL, YOUR LACK OF PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES DONOT CONCERN ME AND SEEING AS TO YOU'VE TAKEN ENOUGH OF MY TIME-" Bonk!
"Gods, no!" he mumbled while Narcissa scurried about the massive sycamore double-doors, clasping her hands to her chest animatedly.
The doors were forcefully thrown back, nearly thumping Narcissa's awfully expensive schnozzle and successfully bestowing upon Lucius a seizure of sorts at the thought of how another professionally cast nose charm would cost him.
Majestically standing beneath the massive arched doorway, amid a haze( what the fuck?) of mist like some divine being was the infamous Lucretius Malfoy, silver hair plastered to his head and done in one of those barrister-style wigs, bright purple cloak another clue as to how sane he truly wasn't.
He peered into the room as a house-elf side-stepped past him and into the room, carrying a bowl of Lucretius' favourite soup, chicken, revealing to the curious occupants the source of the ethereal-like miasma.
He stared back at his father with a deer-caught-in-headlights expression plastered on his features as his father extricated himself from Narcissa's embrace and thundered his way to his son. "WELL, DON"T JUST STAND THERE! COME AND GIVE YOUR FATHER A HUG!"
He sneered. "Good evening, Father."
His father stood there, arms still outstretched.
"I'd rather not, if you don't mind."
Lucretius shrugged, not put off in any way and set out to looking about the room and at the terraces protruding from the floors above. "Where's that child of yours? I'm sure it would appreciate a hug. It's friend to, Poopsy?"
Narcissa trilled out a musical laugh. "Oh, no, Father. She isn't here right now. She's in school, with Pansy."
"Prissy?"
"Pansy."
"Poppy?"
"Pansy."
"Pippi?"
"Pan-"
"Will the both of you kindly close your mouths?!?!?!"
Lucretius shook his head and tsk-ed to himself, leaning close to Narcissa and stage-whispering, "I've always thought that son of mine was a dramatist."
Narcissa giggled.
"Where's that grandchild of mine then?!"
Lucius sneered. "At a proper educational facility, seeing as to it is November and Draco will not be appearing 'til late December."
"Has that child of yours yielded me a great grandson as of late?"
Lucius and Narcissa's mouths simultaneously dropped open but to a level of respite, the latter recovered promptly and concealed her shock with an empathetic grin. "Oh, Father, really. Our little Draco's just a young girl, now-"
"YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT I'VE A GRANDDAUGHTER??!"
The Malfoy patriarch's resounding outraged outburst echoed in his son and daughter-in-law's ears. Causing both to wince, one in shame, the other in pain.
Lucius winced as he the inevitable had loomed its unsightly head. This was why he loathed his father's visits, impromptu or forewarned. He had to live through the shame of his failure. "Yes, Father. Draco is indeed your granddaughter, as you've been informed of-"
"Has she met a spouse deemed suitable to bear the Malfoy lineage and name?!"
Yes, speechlessness and utter perplexity only occurred to Lucius Malfoy whenever his father was around. Those years chasing Lethifolds all over Africa had finally affected his father's previously unstable mental competence. After all, this was the man who had bonked him on his head with his cane, ruining his pristine hairstyle, when the MediWitches refused to allow him into the delivery room which Narcissa, driven near-fanatical with pre-maternity syndrome, occupied, voracious shrieks enveloping the entire floor.
Narcissa took this momentary pause on her husband's part to shove the photo of that Pucey boy in his father's face.
"What's this, then, eh?!"
His father apparently viewed speaking in a moderate tone of voice as an impediment.
"The young man Draco seems to be taken with, of course!"
His father scrutinized the moving photograph for a second before yel-ahem, stating his none-too flattering opinion of the boy. "RATHER HUGE TEETH, AREN'T THEY?! REMINDS ME OF A RABBIT I ONCE KNEW!"
His ears were about prepared to bleed at the deafening sound of Lucretius' blaring vocal chords but a part of himself, no, maybe more-hell, all of him to be precise, couldn't help but agree.
"Oh, Father," Narcissa sighed, pouting in a frustrated albeit beckoning manner. "Snipping at your granddaughter's future husband will achieve nothing other than complicate matters further."
"DRACO WILL DO NO SUCH THING!!!"
That was it, the last straw. Silently plotting his societal defeat was one thing but involving his father was quite another. He marched across the room, plucked the obtrusive item from his father's fingers and ripped it into shreds, oblivious to the house-elf which rushed in to quickly tidy up the carpeted floor.
"Couldn't have done better myself! Glaring teeth was giving me a headache!"
Narcissa harrumphed, fuming silently when she suddenly brightened, sending an ominous chill down her husband's spine, her father-in-law completely unaware of the situation as he entertained himself by yelling threats at the house-elf and throwing crystal objects at the creature.
"Dear, if you didn't like the boy you might as well could have just stated such! We do have another choice, as young Pansy has cheerfully supplied."
Lucius observed her retreating figure, appreciating the grace in his wife's graceful movements when the implications of her words finally reached him. Bleeding hell, no!!!!!!! Vacuous Parkinson child!!!
He leaned onto a wall, fingers fiddling with his cane apprehensively as Narcissa began to approach him, bearing another photograph. This one was unposed as compared to the previous one. The subject had his back turned to the camera but gradually turned to face him, as if studying its surroundings.
Two unbelievably large green eyes met his, causing him to drop the picture in shock.
"It's Harold Potter!" his wife squealed.
Lucius slumped to the floor, head banging on an ancient ornately-worked side-table, near unconscious, silently muttering curses under his breath while he imagined beating his daughter's head in with his beloved cane for her insolence.
* * * * *
A/N: We'd like to thank NayNymic and Lanevaly for drawing our attention to Bran's various errors in the first part of the chapter. Harry doesn't know that Draco's a girl yet. And Draco's dad's name is Lucretius, not Lucrecious as Bran so forgot to proof-read when she typed up this chapter. Stupid Bran! Lestat wrote the next one so hopefully it won't be as confusing as this one but we don't think she's proofread that either. And to Shinri, thank you for drawing our attention to something previously mentioned in the prologue. You'll be getting the next chappie for free! Roght, like anyone'd pay for this shit… But we did mean our mentioning Harry's defeat of Voldemort in the present not in the future. But thanks and to anyone, please, if you can even recall it, please tell us!!!!!!