(A/N: Heh, glad you liked that. *Grins evilly* as always, a big thank you
to all my reviewers! Love you guys! Imaginary cookies for all!)
Chapter Eleven
My brain suddenly went numb, as my hands grasped the glasses that had just fallen off my nose. My heart was beating so hard that I thought it was going to explode, as I pricked my finger on a shard of broken glass, though I did not seem to feel it. My mind was focused on something else at that moment. Something I did not want to happen.
"Give me my glasses back, Malfoy!" I looked over at Potter, and a wave of relief washed over me like a dip in the pool on a hot summer day. Potter was on his knees across from me, groping for his glasses. There was now a plausible explanation of why his glasses were on my face before they had fallen. His switching solution was so feeble, that instead of switching the two of us, all it had been able to accomplish was switching his glasses to my eyes.
I tossed Potter's glasses on the floor in front of him, and regaining dignity, I stood up gallantly and brushed off my robes. "Oh, Draco, you're bleeding!" Pansy Parkinson cried, rushing forward to look at my left hand, which was gushing blood from the palm and a few fingers. I had let my hand rest on some shattered glass from Potter's vial and glasses.
I sent him a glare, and snatched up my unharmed vial, set it on Snape's desk, and marched out of the classroom, letting Pansy follow after me with my bag and books. Sometimes it was useful to have people that worship you, even if they aren't your true friends. But, hey, maybe she wasn't that bad, after all.
Who was I kidding? She was annoying. And that was that.
~*~
"Mister Malfoy, your wand," said the pleasantly misty voice of Circe. Her outstretched hand was in front of me, waiting for me to surrender my wand to her. Not managing to surpass a painful sort of grimace, I slapped my wand into her palm and crossed my arms defiantly across my chest. Circe grinned. "You know the drill."
I sighed and submissively rose from my seat, making my way to the front of the classroom. I could feel he gaze of the whole class resting upon me as I cracked my knuckles nervously. Across from me, Circe looked calm, cool, and collective. The grin gracing her thin lips suggested that she was deeply enjoying the experiences of these lessons; all she did was hex the students while we stood totally defenseless against her. She was an Enchantress, who did not need a wand, even for extremely difficult magic; we were just students.
"Ready?" She asked, her voice layered in that sweetly processed tone of malice. Even though I was not ready, and never felt that I would be, I nodded, feeling that lump in my throat rise again. My mind tried, it really did, to will the magic flowing through my veins to stop he blast of purple sparks from hitting me, or at least o dilute it in the slightest way.
No avail.
I was hit full on with a blast, and knocked to my backside, with a harp pain ringing in my tailbone. Then, to my dismay, I started to giggle like a giddy little girl in a doll shop at Christmas time. In the blur of classmates, I could hear Celeste's cold laugh ringing out. I giggled harder.
"All right, now." Came Circe's mellow voice, sounding slightly amused. I stopped giggling at once and sprang to my feet, ready. "I'll have one more go at Mister Malfoy, then you will each have your turn thereafter," she said again. That wrought silence upon the entire class. Just once more, then it was my turn to laugh at them. "Remember, Mister Malfoy, to concentrate."
The thought of laughter soon left my mind, as I saw Circe straighten up to her full height and lift her arms. The sleeves of her long dress fluttered as if there were a breeze blowing them. From there on, something amazing and baffling happened. It was as if time were crawling forward at a snail's pace, and only I could break the spell of slothfulness.
Then everything came naturally. I raised my hands as Circe had done, and immediately following, a silver aura of light expanded out from my fingertips crawling out to encompass my whole body in a force field of bright light. Time sped back up to normal pace, and a jet of orange light echoed off my newly formed force field, hitting Circe square in the chest. She started to wheeze.
Before the class had a chance to ridicule her, she wheezed something foreign and straightened herself up, positively beaming at me. She was glowing with a sense of pride, as if I were her own son, learning how to do magic for the first time.
"Ten points to Slytherin," she said. "And full marks to Mister Malfoy, who has soared above and beyond my goals for this class." She grinned at the class as I settled back into my seat, looking for her next victim. Her emerald eyes fell on my two cronies. "Mister Goyle, step right up. . ."
It had been a long time since I had felt as elated as I was feeling at that time. Predictably, both Crabbe and Goyle proved to be inept at magic, and were transfigured into a wide array of small furry mammals each. I was far too happy at that moment to recall my own experience as a small white ferret, compliments of that nutter Mad Eye Moody imposter.
To my greatest pleasure, Celeste had met a great downfall. She had been hit hard with a nosebleed charm, and had fallen backwards, ripping her robes and gushing blood everywhere. Her blonde hair looked unkempt, and her blue eyes flashed with rage. Even though Circe had set her right again, I couldn't help but laughing as she glared at me from across the room.
That had been one of those rare class periods where I was deeply disenchanted to hear the bell ring.
~*~
A light breeze played with the Quidditch robes I wore. The sun was shining brightly down on me as I tightened my grip on my Millennium. The weather was perfect for a Quidditch match, which was lucky, because it just happened to be that time. Though it was just the end of January, the weather seemed unnaturally pleasant and warm, leaving the lawn slightly slushy. But the ground did not matter; we were playing in the air.
Our opponent was Ravenclaw. They had already arranged themselves on the ground, as the hawk-eyed Madam Hooch waited for the Slytherin team to assemble on the slushy ground. I held my head high and aligned myself in my rightful spot across from the Ravenclaw seeker, a girl called Cho Chang. She was about a head shorter than I was, and had long black hair that she had tied neatly back into a long ponytail. It had been rumored that she was now seeing Potter, since Diggory was dead. Talk about shameless. . .
Madam Hooch's whistle sounded, and I jetted into the air, on immediate lookout for the snitch. This time, unlike the last, I would not waste my time shouting insults, as I always did to Potter. That, I believed, was the reason that I had yet to beat Harry Potter. I was not focused on the game.
I swerved to the left, nearly colliding with Chang, who shot me an angry look, as if I did not know how to fly properly. I bit my lip, not allowing myself to snap a cheeky comment about Diggory dying. Instead, I veered to the right, to go to the opposite end of the field, to seek out the snitch,
Big mistake, as it turned out.
On the side opposite me, Change had pulled into a smooth dive, closely tailing something gold and shiny.
Even though I streaked wildly across the field, I was far too late. Even though I owned the best broom in the world, Cho Chang was waving the blasted Snitch above her head in light of the Ravenclaw victory. The game had not even lasted five minutes. I hadn't stood a chance.
Most of the stadium was cheering madly, celebrating that Slytherin had met our downfall. The Gryffindors were applauding louder than even Ravenclaws, as this left their path to the cup almost totally clear. They had only to beat Ravenclaw now, as they had massacred Hufflepuff shortly before Christmas. Then surely victory was theirs.
It was a depressing thought. So depressing, in fact, that I left the pitch with only a visit to the locker room to lock my broomstick in safety. I punched my fist into my palm in a rage, and hid beneath the stands until everyone had cleared out.
It seemed such a terrible waste of my happiness. Just a week before, I was so pleased with myself for performing magic without a wand. Only the day before, I had done it again! Now there I was, unable to beat a girl at Quidditch. Potter's girlfriend, to make things even worse.
And I was sulking about it.
~*~
With the return of Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, my Quidditch woes diminished quickly. Again, I was the only one able to throw off Circe's charms, though Celeste was coming dangerously close to being able to repel Enchantress magic. She had been able to reduce several curses to a light mist, which had barely any effect over her at all.
It had been another satisfying lesson, I thought to myself as the bell rang. "Mister Malfoy," Circe's voice rang like church bells in my ears, and I felt her soft hand resting on my shoulder. A pleasant chill ran up my spine; that pleasantly chilling good kind of chill. I froze in my spot as the class spilled out of the classroom. "I think," She said slowly. I knew she was going to tell me how impressed she was with all that I had accomplished the past few weeks.
"I think it's time you see Professor Snape so that you may return Mister Potter his magic."
*
Needless to say, I was feeling more dejected than ever, the night I dragged myself down to Professor Snape's dungeons. I had been so happy with myself, for being able to execute magic without a wand, and all this time it had been Potter's magical talents, not mine.
I really was useless, after all. I wasn't even good at Quidditch; I was only on the team because father bought everyone new brooms. I couldn't even beat a depressed girl at the ruddy sport, which probably made Potter especially, as she was his depressed girlfriend.
I had arrived at the large wooden door leading into Snape's dungeons. Another thought panged me. I was only getting good grades in Potions because Snape was head of Slytherin house, and knew father well.
I was a useless waste of space. Now I knew why father needed to be cruel sometimes. He needed to be, because he did everything for mother and I. He made sure we got what we needed. He welcomed us into his home. He made sure I got good marks. He made sure I was on the Quidditch team. He was the reason I was succeeding in life.
I heard footsteps pattering down the corridor. Potter was soon at my side, scowling with a look that seemed to be a look between pleasure, pity, and hatred, and the sight of me. "Let's just get this over with, Malfoy,' he said through gritted teeth. My hatred for him was so great that at that moment I only nodded.
I raised my hand to the wooden door, poised to knock. That was the moment I heard voices.
Snape was the first to speak. "They cannot know of it, Circe," he said. I looked sideways to Potter, who looked just as baffled as I felt. I leaned in closer, interested. My hand remained poised. "It would ruin everything!"
Circe's misty voice echoed throughout. "But Misters Potter and Malfoy are standing outside the door, listening to every word we say, Severus," Circe said. I lowered my poised hand. "They would light their rightful magic back."
~*~
(A/N: Don't you just hate me?! And here you were, thinking Malfoy and Harry had switched places! Tee hee, it's so fun to be the author. Anyway, the Defense Against the Dark Arts power-switching thing was inspired by Thistle, who left a review that possessed me to write that part. I was originally going to have Draco running around hexing random things with Harry's magic, but I liked that idea better! I love it when you guys review like that. :)
Okay, now what's up with Circe and Snapey? Heh, I'll give anyone who can guess an "Imaginary Clearly Clayr Dollar!"
And also, that chapter was a little short, because I can't wait to write the next chapter! ^_^ If anyone has the slightest idea of what I may be doing (Hint: This does not involve Circe and Snape) a MILLION "Clearly Clayr Dollars," which you can redeem at any Clearly Clayr store near you!
Waa hoo! I'm so excited! I love being struck by ideas!)
Chapter Eleven
My brain suddenly went numb, as my hands grasped the glasses that had just fallen off my nose. My heart was beating so hard that I thought it was going to explode, as I pricked my finger on a shard of broken glass, though I did not seem to feel it. My mind was focused on something else at that moment. Something I did not want to happen.
"Give me my glasses back, Malfoy!" I looked over at Potter, and a wave of relief washed over me like a dip in the pool on a hot summer day. Potter was on his knees across from me, groping for his glasses. There was now a plausible explanation of why his glasses were on my face before they had fallen. His switching solution was so feeble, that instead of switching the two of us, all it had been able to accomplish was switching his glasses to my eyes.
I tossed Potter's glasses on the floor in front of him, and regaining dignity, I stood up gallantly and brushed off my robes. "Oh, Draco, you're bleeding!" Pansy Parkinson cried, rushing forward to look at my left hand, which was gushing blood from the palm and a few fingers. I had let my hand rest on some shattered glass from Potter's vial and glasses.
I sent him a glare, and snatched up my unharmed vial, set it on Snape's desk, and marched out of the classroom, letting Pansy follow after me with my bag and books. Sometimes it was useful to have people that worship you, even if they aren't your true friends. But, hey, maybe she wasn't that bad, after all.
Who was I kidding? She was annoying. And that was that.
~*~
"Mister Malfoy, your wand," said the pleasantly misty voice of Circe. Her outstretched hand was in front of me, waiting for me to surrender my wand to her. Not managing to surpass a painful sort of grimace, I slapped my wand into her palm and crossed my arms defiantly across my chest. Circe grinned. "You know the drill."
I sighed and submissively rose from my seat, making my way to the front of the classroom. I could feel he gaze of the whole class resting upon me as I cracked my knuckles nervously. Across from me, Circe looked calm, cool, and collective. The grin gracing her thin lips suggested that she was deeply enjoying the experiences of these lessons; all she did was hex the students while we stood totally defenseless against her. She was an Enchantress, who did not need a wand, even for extremely difficult magic; we were just students.
"Ready?" She asked, her voice layered in that sweetly processed tone of malice. Even though I was not ready, and never felt that I would be, I nodded, feeling that lump in my throat rise again. My mind tried, it really did, to will the magic flowing through my veins to stop he blast of purple sparks from hitting me, or at least o dilute it in the slightest way.
No avail.
I was hit full on with a blast, and knocked to my backside, with a harp pain ringing in my tailbone. Then, to my dismay, I started to giggle like a giddy little girl in a doll shop at Christmas time. In the blur of classmates, I could hear Celeste's cold laugh ringing out. I giggled harder.
"All right, now." Came Circe's mellow voice, sounding slightly amused. I stopped giggling at once and sprang to my feet, ready. "I'll have one more go at Mister Malfoy, then you will each have your turn thereafter," she said again. That wrought silence upon the entire class. Just once more, then it was my turn to laugh at them. "Remember, Mister Malfoy, to concentrate."
The thought of laughter soon left my mind, as I saw Circe straighten up to her full height and lift her arms. The sleeves of her long dress fluttered as if there were a breeze blowing them. From there on, something amazing and baffling happened. It was as if time were crawling forward at a snail's pace, and only I could break the spell of slothfulness.
Then everything came naturally. I raised my hands as Circe had done, and immediately following, a silver aura of light expanded out from my fingertips crawling out to encompass my whole body in a force field of bright light. Time sped back up to normal pace, and a jet of orange light echoed off my newly formed force field, hitting Circe square in the chest. She started to wheeze.
Before the class had a chance to ridicule her, she wheezed something foreign and straightened herself up, positively beaming at me. She was glowing with a sense of pride, as if I were her own son, learning how to do magic for the first time.
"Ten points to Slytherin," she said. "And full marks to Mister Malfoy, who has soared above and beyond my goals for this class." She grinned at the class as I settled back into my seat, looking for her next victim. Her emerald eyes fell on my two cronies. "Mister Goyle, step right up. . ."
It had been a long time since I had felt as elated as I was feeling at that time. Predictably, both Crabbe and Goyle proved to be inept at magic, and were transfigured into a wide array of small furry mammals each. I was far too happy at that moment to recall my own experience as a small white ferret, compliments of that nutter Mad Eye Moody imposter.
To my greatest pleasure, Celeste had met a great downfall. She had been hit hard with a nosebleed charm, and had fallen backwards, ripping her robes and gushing blood everywhere. Her blonde hair looked unkempt, and her blue eyes flashed with rage. Even though Circe had set her right again, I couldn't help but laughing as she glared at me from across the room.
That had been one of those rare class periods where I was deeply disenchanted to hear the bell ring.
~*~
A light breeze played with the Quidditch robes I wore. The sun was shining brightly down on me as I tightened my grip on my Millennium. The weather was perfect for a Quidditch match, which was lucky, because it just happened to be that time. Though it was just the end of January, the weather seemed unnaturally pleasant and warm, leaving the lawn slightly slushy. But the ground did not matter; we were playing in the air.
Our opponent was Ravenclaw. They had already arranged themselves on the ground, as the hawk-eyed Madam Hooch waited for the Slytherin team to assemble on the slushy ground. I held my head high and aligned myself in my rightful spot across from the Ravenclaw seeker, a girl called Cho Chang. She was about a head shorter than I was, and had long black hair that she had tied neatly back into a long ponytail. It had been rumored that she was now seeing Potter, since Diggory was dead. Talk about shameless. . .
Madam Hooch's whistle sounded, and I jetted into the air, on immediate lookout for the snitch. This time, unlike the last, I would not waste my time shouting insults, as I always did to Potter. That, I believed, was the reason that I had yet to beat Harry Potter. I was not focused on the game.
I swerved to the left, nearly colliding with Chang, who shot me an angry look, as if I did not know how to fly properly. I bit my lip, not allowing myself to snap a cheeky comment about Diggory dying. Instead, I veered to the right, to go to the opposite end of the field, to seek out the snitch,
Big mistake, as it turned out.
On the side opposite me, Change had pulled into a smooth dive, closely tailing something gold and shiny.
Even though I streaked wildly across the field, I was far too late. Even though I owned the best broom in the world, Cho Chang was waving the blasted Snitch above her head in light of the Ravenclaw victory. The game had not even lasted five minutes. I hadn't stood a chance.
Most of the stadium was cheering madly, celebrating that Slytherin had met our downfall. The Gryffindors were applauding louder than even Ravenclaws, as this left their path to the cup almost totally clear. They had only to beat Ravenclaw now, as they had massacred Hufflepuff shortly before Christmas. Then surely victory was theirs.
It was a depressing thought. So depressing, in fact, that I left the pitch with only a visit to the locker room to lock my broomstick in safety. I punched my fist into my palm in a rage, and hid beneath the stands until everyone had cleared out.
It seemed such a terrible waste of my happiness. Just a week before, I was so pleased with myself for performing magic without a wand. Only the day before, I had done it again! Now there I was, unable to beat a girl at Quidditch. Potter's girlfriend, to make things even worse.
And I was sulking about it.
~*~
With the return of Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, my Quidditch woes diminished quickly. Again, I was the only one able to throw off Circe's charms, though Celeste was coming dangerously close to being able to repel Enchantress magic. She had been able to reduce several curses to a light mist, which had barely any effect over her at all.
It had been another satisfying lesson, I thought to myself as the bell rang. "Mister Malfoy," Circe's voice rang like church bells in my ears, and I felt her soft hand resting on my shoulder. A pleasant chill ran up my spine; that pleasantly chilling good kind of chill. I froze in my spot as the class spilled out of the classroom. "I think," She said slowly. I knew she was going to tell me how impressed she was with all that I had accomplished the past few weeks.
"I think it's time you see Professor Snape so that you may return Mister Potter his magic."
*
Needless to say, I was feeling more dejected than ever, the night I dragged myself down to Professor Snape's dungeons. I had been so happy with myself, for being able to execute magic without a wand, and all this time it had been Potter's magical talents, not mine.
I really was useless, after all. I wasn't even good at Quidditch; I was only on the team because father bought everyone new brooms. I couldn't even beat a depressed girl at the ruddy sport, which probably made Potter especially, as she was his depressed girlfriend.
I had arrived at the large wooden door leading into Snape's dungeons. Another thought panged me. I was only getting good grades in Potions because Snape was head of Slytherin house, and knew father well.
I was a useless waste of space. Now I knew why father needed to be cruel sometimes. He needed to be, because he did everything for mother and I. He made sure we got what we needed. He welcomed us into his home. He made sure I got good marks. He made sure I was on the Quidditch team. He was the reason I was succeeding in life.
I heard footsteps pattering down the corridor. Potter was soon at my side, scowling with a look that seemed to be a look between pleasure, pity, and hatred, and the sight of me. "Let's just get this over with, Malfoy,' he said through gritted teeth. My hatred for him was so great that at that moment I only nodded.
I raised my hand to the wooden door, poised to knock. That was the moment I heard voices.
Snape was the first to speak. "They cannot know of it, Circe," he said. I looked sideways to Potter, who looked just as baffled as I felt. I leaned in closer, interested. My hand remained poised. "It would ruin everything!"
Circe's misty voice echoed throughout. "But Misters Potter and Malfoy are standing outside the door, listening to every word we say, Severus," Circe said. I lowered my poised hand. "They would light their rightful magic back."
~*~
(A/N: Don't you just hate me?! And here you were, thinking Malfoy and Harry had switched places! Tee hee, it's so fun to be the author. Anyway, the Defense Against the Dark Arts power-switching thing was inspired by Thistle, who left a review that possessed me to write that part. I was originally going to have Draco running around hexing random things with Harry's magic, but I liked that idea better! I love it when you guys review like that. :)
Okay, now what's up with Circe and Snapey? Heh, I'll give anyone who can guess an "Imaginary Clearly Clayr Dollar!"
And also, that chapter was a little short, because I can't wait to write the next chapter! ^_^ If anyone has the slightest idea of what I may be doing (Hint: This does not involve Circe and Snape) a MILLION "Clearly Clayr Dollars," which you can redeem at any Clearly Clayr store near you!
Waa hoo! I'm so excited! I love being struck by ideas!)