McGonagall repeated her question, this time in harsher tones. This time she
was able to kick me back into reality.
"Nothing, Professor." I answered simply, looking at the stones below my feet.
Her eyebrows rose at the lack of spite in my voice. She and Dumbledore glanced at each other for a moment, and then McGonagall turned to me and said, firmly,
"Mr. Malfoy, if I ever catch you in this hallway again, I will quickly inform your Head of House. Now, if you please, could you return to your common room?"
I nodded and headed to the staircase, glancing back once to see if I could see any sign of Harry. The darkness was just as dark as ever, as darkness usually is, and McGonagall glared at me pointedly, causing me to rush down the stairs like a Flobberworm was after me.
I roamed through the hallways a bit, carefully avoiding contact with prefects or teachers, before finally catching sight of the hallway leading to my common room. If anyone else walked down this hallway, it'd just look like an abandoned path leading to nowhere. But, in fact, the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room was a stone door in a stone wall, which first- years always could never find.
Opening my mouth to monotonously recite the password, I realized, with horror, that I didn't -know- the bloody password. Shite.
Glancing around me for any sign of students, ghosts, or teachers, and finding none, I felt my temper rise. It was all fuckin' Potters fault! He's the one that kissed me and distracted me! He was the one who....
"Draco?"
Crabbe was poking his head out of the doorway.
"Get the hell out of my way!" I muttered, pushing the huge brute roughly aside as I stalked into the room, keeping my eyes to the floor and trying to ignore the stares of other students. What was Draco Malfoy doing back one hour late?
Climbing angrily up the stairs, I threw open the door to the bedroom and stalked to my bed, recognizable by the huge leather trunk and family owl sitting atop it, hooting madly.
"Shut it up, will you?" a bloke I didn't recognize asked, and I gave him the rudest glare I could muster before opening the cage, freeing my owl, then swinging the trunk heavily onto my bed. Hopping on, I piercingly glowered at my fellow roommates, who were silently gaping at me with mouths open, before harshly closing my bed curtains.
The moment my curtains closed, the chattering began again.
"What's wrong with him?"
"Probably didn't get shagged over the summer."
'Oh, but I did, you bloody bastards!' I thought bitterly.
"Yup, that'd do it." a person added.
"How many did you score?"
"Three."
"Only?" A scoff. "I got eight."
The fucking bastards! They had waited 'till I came around to talk about their stupid sex lives. Like I gave a rats ass who they shagged. Damn them.
Flipping open my trunk, I threw robes and sweaters out, boxers and tee- shirts, looking for a buried book at the very bottom of my trunk.
It wasn't there. Instead, a note from (who else) my father.
"Draco," it read, in thick, blood-red script,
"I've confiscated your so-called 'journal.' You did a horrible job in hiding it. I've read it and am very surprised to read that you're gay? Wonderful, my only son is a homosexual. So, who are you going to bring home next summer? Last it was Pansy Parkinson, next it'll be Harry Potter. You disgust me.
I will expect you home at Christmas, and then you will join Lord Voldemorts ranks. And yes, Draco, you will join him, or I personally shall hurt you. I would have no regrets doing it.
Have a successful school year.
Your father,
Lucius Malfoy."
Father? How dare he call himself my father? He was no more than a follower of dark magic, a carnal, murdering man who so happened to be married to the woman who had given birth to me. He wasn't my father. I didn't know that word.
Neither did Harry.
My anger quickly disappeared, almost as quickly as water evaporates in the sun.
Harry knew my pain.
He didn't have parents.
He didn't have love, which was evident.
Did he share my memories of death and abuse?
I shot out of bed at lightening speed, ripped open the curtains and raced to the window, whistling for my owl.
A letter. Go, Draco, it only took you half an hour.
After a minute, the bird hadn't appeared, and I was getting uncomfortable standing in a room of guys changing for bed, talking about their girlfriends and what they looked like.
Goyle even tried to talk to me. "What about you, Draco? How many girls did you.."
I cut him off before he could finish. "Shut the bloody fuck up, Goyle. I don't want to talk about my fuckin' summer so just fuck off." I turned back to the window and waited, almost as if I had never insulted anyone.
After a few minutes, my owl flew to my arm, hooted softly, and nibbled at my robe. Where in all hell had it learned affection like that? Certainly my family had never given it to him.
I took him to my bed and re-shut the curtain, settling down comfortably into my green and silver silk sheets. Grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill from my trunk, I settled down and started my letter.
"Harry,"
Good job Draco, I prompted myself. Now write more.
"How're you doing?"
Good, good, getting there.
"Listen, what happened in the hallway..."
Gah. I was stuck. Again, I was at loss for words.
"...wasn't bad. I mean, I'd like if it happened again."
I re-read over what I had written. I sounded like a bloody teenager, composing his first love note. No wonder Lucius had wanted me to take writing lessons long ago; I had the writing skills of a log.
Surprising myself by laughing, I continued.
"I was wondering, how was your summer? You know, you caught me in the train....and I was wondering...did you do that, too?
Anyway....have to go.
Cheers,
-D."
Yes! I had accomplished it. I had written a letter to Harry Potter.
Rolling it up and securing it with a bit of leather, I tied the note to the owls' leg and opened the curtains to let him fly free. Hopefully, Harry would send me a response.
Sine I knew it would be at least five minutes before Harry replied, I decided to get dressed and ready for bed. Dragging my trunk off the bed, it landed with a heavy 'clunk' next to the bird cage. I shifted that and began rummaging through my clothes for my pajamas.
Pulling on the evergreen silk trousers, I stowed the shirt back in my trunk, since it wasn't yet cold enough to wear it. Vaguely noticing the silence around me, I was pleased to see that all of the guys had either gone down to the common room or to the bathroom, and I hoped that they would stay that way.
A hooting sound, and my owl returned.
Untying the letter from his leg, I started reading it then and there, not even bothering to get back into my bed or charm some more light into the room.
"Draco -
I agree.
Answer to your question - yes. I need to tell you about it, and I want to hear about what happened to you.
When can we meet in secret?
-H."
I smiled and scribbled a response, then got into bed, grinning like never before.
A day in the life of Draco Malfoy:
-Get kissed by Harry Potter
-Meet Harry Potter in a secluded spot.
I vaguely wondered what color Harry's boxers were before falling into a deep sleep.
(Anyone know Draco's owls' name? Merci!!)
"Nothing, Professor." I answered simply, looking at the stones below my feet.
Her eyebrows rose at the lack of spite in my voice. She and Dumbledore glanced at each other for a moment, and then McGonagall turned to me and said, firmly,
"Mr. Malfoy, if I ever catch you in this hallway again, I will quickly inform your Head of House. Now, if you please, could you return to your common room?"
I nodded and headed to the staircase, glancing back once to see if I could see any sign of Harry. The darkness was just as dark as ever, as darkness usually is, and McGonagall glared at me pointedly, causing me to rush down the stairs like a Flobberworm was after me.
I roamed through the hallways a bit, carefully avoiding contact with prefects or teachers, before finally catching sight of the hallway leading to my common room. If anyone else walked down this hallway, it'd just look like an abandoned path leading to nowhere. But, in fact, the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room was a stone door in a stone wall, which first- years always could never find.
Opening my mouth to monotonously recite the password, I realized, with horror, that I didn't -know- the bloody password. Shite.
Glancing around me for any sign of students, ghosts, or teachers, and finding none, I felt my temper rise. It was all fuckin' Potters fault! He's the one that kissed me and distracted me! He was the one who....
"Draco?"
Crabbe was poking his head out of the doorway.
"Get the hell out of my way!" I muttered, pushing the huge brute roughly aside as I stalked into the room, keeping my eyes to the floor and trying to ignore the stares of other students. What was Draco Malfoy doing back one hour late?
Climbing angrily up the stairs, I threw open the door to the bedroom and stalked to my bed, recognizable by the huge leather trunk and family owl sitting atop it, hooting madly.
"Shut it up, will you?" a bloke I didn't recognize asked, and I gave him the rudest glare I could muster before opening the cage, freeing my owl, then swinging the trunk heavily onto my bed. Hopping on, I piercingly glowered at my fellow roommates, who were silently gaping at me with mouths open, before harshly closing my bed curtains.
The moment my curtains closed, the chattering began again.
"What's wrong with him?"
"Probably didn't get shagged over the summer."
'Oh, but I did, you bloody bastards!' I thought bitterly.
"Yup, that'd do it." a person added.
"How many did you score?"
"Three."
"Only?" A scoff. "I got eight."
The fucking bastards! They had waited 'till I came around to talk about their stupid sex lives. Like I gave a rats ass who they shagged. Damn them.
Flipping open my trunk, I threw robes and sweaters out, boxers and tee- shirts, looking for a buried book at the very bottom of my trunk.
It wasn't there. Instead, a note from (who else) my father.
"Draco," it read, in thick, blood-red script,
"I've confiscated your so-called 'journal.' You did a horrible job in hiding it. I've read it and am very surprised to read that you're gay? Wonderful, my only son is a homosexual. So, who are you going to bring home next summer? Last it was Pansy Parkinson, next it'll be Harry Potter. You disgust me.
I will expect you home at Christmas, and then you will join Lord Voldemorts ranks. And yes, Draco, you will join him, or I personally shall hurt you. I would have no regrets doing it.
Have a successful school year.
Your father,
Lucius Malfoy."
Father? How dare he call himself my father? He was no more than a follower of dark magic, a carnal, murdering man who so happened to be married to the woman who had given birth to me. He wasn't my father. I didn't know that word.
Neither did Harry.
My anger quickly disappeared, almost as quickly as water evaporates in the sun.
Harry knew my pain.
He didn't have parents.
He didn't have love, which was evident.
Did he share my memories of death and abuse?
I shot out of bed at lightening speed, ripped open the curtains and raced to the window, whistling for my owl.
A letter. Go, Draco, it only took you half an hour.
After a minute, the bird hadn't appeared, and I was getting uncomfortable standing in a room of guys changing for bed, talking about their girlfriends and what they looked like.
Goyle even tried to talk to me. "What about you, Draco? How many girls did you.."
I cut him off before he could finish. "Shut the bloody fuck up, Goyle. I don't want to talk about my fuckin' summer so just fuck off." I turned back to the window and waited, almost as if I had never insulted anyone.
After a few minutes, my owl flew to my arm, hooted softly, and nibbled at my robe. Where in all hell had it learned affection like that? Certainly my family had never given it to him.
I took him to my bed and re-shut the curtain, settling down comfortably into my green and silver silk sheets. Grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill from my trunk, I settled down and started my letter.
"Harry,"
Good job Draco, I prompted myself. Now write more.
"How're you doing?"
Good, good, getting there.
"Listen, what happened in the hallway..."
Gah. I was stuck. Again, I was at loss for words.
"...wasn't bad. I mean, I'd like if it happened again."
I re-read over what I had written. I sounded like a bloody teenager, composing his first love note. No wonder Lucius had wanted me to take writing lessons long ago; I had the writing skills of a log.
Surprising myself by laughing, I continued.
"I was wondering, how was your summer? You know, you caught me in the train....and I was wondering...did you do that, too?
Anyway....have to go.
Cheers,
-D."
Yes! I had accomplished it. I had written a letter to Harry Potter.
Rolling it up and securing it with a bit of leather, I tied the note to the owls' leg and opened the curtains to let him fly free. Hopefully, Harry would send me a response.
Sine I knew it would be at least five minutes before Harry replied, I decided to get dressed and ready for bed. Dragging my trunk off the bed, it landed with a heavy 'clunk' next to the bird cage. I shifted that and began rummaging through my clothes for my pajamas.
Pulling on the evergreen silk trousers, I stowed the shirt back in my trunk, since it wasn't yet cold enough to wear it. Vaguely noticing the silence around me, I was pleased to see that all of the guys had either gone down to the common room or to the bathroom, and I hoped that they would stay that way.
A hooting sound, and my owl returned.
Untying the letter from his leg, I started reading it then and there, not even bothering to get back into my bed or charm some more light into the room.
"Draco -
I agree.
Answer to your question - yes. I need to tell you about it, and I want to hear about what happened to you.
When can we meet in secret?
-H."
I smiled and scribbled a response, then got into bed, grinning like never before.
A day in the life of Draco Malfoy:
-Get kissed by Harry Potter
-Meet Harry Potter in a secluded spot.
I vaguely wondered what color Harry's boxers were before falling into a deep sleep.
(Anyone know Draco's owls' name? Merci!!)