Ok, so we got this straight?
Me no own, so you no sue.
A/N: Helloa! How are we all today? Good? Good. Thanks for all your great reviews! (*through teeth* Tab, that was supposed to be a secret!)
Anyhoo, here's the next chapter, only a few days late, sorry!!!
Also, thanks to Ish for helping me create… The Plot!!! Wee! Yes! This fic has an official plot!!!
LUV PEACE AND FLYING PURPLE LLAMAS,
ELFEÄ
Always remember: Keep your llamas nice and shiny. Otherwise they won't fly straight..
: : RESPECT THE CHAIR: :
::Black Tangled Heart::
Settle Down
[ Chapter two ]
As Draco swept into the great hall – swept, not walked, Malfoys are above and beyond making such humble entrances - he scanned the four vast tables for any familiar faces.
To his surprise, and reflex-induced disgust, he did.
Granger.
Her mass of hair, untied, completely screened her face from view as she sat, engrossed in some book, mug of coffee steaming next to her.
Bloody typical.
And Draco had tried so very hard to be the first to begin studying for the end of year exams. Stupid, interfering, know-it-all Mudblood.
After a moments consideration, he sat down next to her and took a swig of the coffee, all in one swift movement.
"Not bad. Needs a bit of sugar, though." Draco said critically as he calmly replaced the mug.
Granger froze. Well, not so much froze as ceased to read.
She looked up and turned.
"Morning, Granger. Thanks for the coffee."
"Malfoy!" Granger gaped, midway between rage and surprise, shock.
"That's my name, don't wear it out." Draco chirped, irrationally happy (and clichéd) due to the caffeine he'd just consumed. (Draco's happiness, however, may have been brought on by his fiendish love for a good argument.)
Feeling that something needed to be done, Draco proceeded to put his feet on the table. Loudly.
Granger stared at Draco, too shocked for a few seconds to react.
Then, slowly, then gaining speed like a large bovine from an airborne craft, that shock gave way to rage.
"MALFOY! Get your dirty, stinking feet off of MY BOOKS!!" She shrieked, hair seeming to become more bushy and wild in her wrath.
From the word "filthy", all humour left Draco's face.
With eyes the colour of steel, or the sea in a black squall, he whispered
"You're calling me filthy? Reality check, mudblood."
With that he rose, deliberately knocking the coffee cup over as he did so, and stalked off to the Slytherin table.
"Oh, no you don't, Malfoy, you half-baked, pretentious… SCUM!!!"Petrificus Partialus!" Granger shrieked, rage gathering speed and momentum. Like a raging Hippogriff, it would keep on running until it crashed into something.
Draco sighed, and twisted, feet stuck to the floor.
"Fine, play it like that. But I thought you Gryffindors had enough calibre and chivalry at least to challenge their foes to a duel!"
Granger paused.
"Surprising you can pronounce words like chivalry, Malfoy." She retorted.
Draco turned. "Is that the best you can do?" His tone indicated boredom. A handsome achievement, considering how… irked he was at the time.
"Oh, I'm only just warming up."
"Really? That's interesting. Too bad you won't get to finish up! Reducio!"
Instantly, Hermione began to shrink, until a tiny, irate, action – figure sized girl glared up at him.
"You're just lucky my clothes shrank too, Malfoy!" She squeaked.
"I'll get you for this! Change me back! Change me back now!" She stomped a tiny foot.
"Not until you let me go, Granger." Draco smiled. Granger really did look funny, trying to be all angry and intimidating at 6 ½ inches tall.
"Fine!" Granger huffed, muttering the counter-curse. Draco was freed.
"Thanks, Granger." Draco smiled as he walked off.
"MALFOY!" Granger shrieked in her tiny voice.
Draco turned. "You called?"
"CHANGE ME BACK!"
Draco winced. It was interesting that someone with lungs currently so tiny could make that much noise.
"All right, all right. Don't get your robes in a twist…" Draco muttered 'Engorgio', thus returning Hermione to her proper size.
She promptly walked over to him, slapped him hard across the face, and stormed off.
" I love you too, Granger!" He called to her retreating back.
Draco sighed. That girl, he reasoned, was almost a complete oxymoron.
"How can someone obviously at least marginally intelligent be friends with people like Potter and Weasley? It just doesn't make sense.." He muttered, before gliding off to the Slytherin table, taking a seat at the backmost corner.
He called on a House Elf, ordering a coffee; "And don't forget the sugar!!", pulled out a textbook ("Transfiguration for advanced students, revised (Now in colour)"), opened to the chapter he had a strong inkling would be in the end-of-year exams ("Magical Improvisations – turn skinks into lesser Dragonettes, and so on"), and, after a quick, furtive glance around the hall, he pulled out the muggle music-playing thing, and pressed "play."
Nothing.
Draco shook the muggle music playing thing.
No response.
Then, he remembered.
Muggle machines won't work on Hogwarts grounds.
Cursing, Draco searched for something, he knew not what, until he found a button labled "open". Cautiously, he pressed it, holding the machine at arms length. (Draco had, after all, been born and raised in a magical world, where pressing buttons with even slightly slightly obscure meanings can have painful circumstances.)
The thing opened, innocently sitting in Draco's hand.
He inspected it. A round, flat disk with a black face and two pink outlines of dancing people on it stared up at him.
Well, being a muggle thing, maybe stared is an inaccurate term.
After a few minutes of cautious experimentation, Draco removed the disk, and inspected the inside of the music thing.
"The music-thing uses a laser to read little bumps on the bottom side of this round thingy, and then transfers it to sound! I can do that with magic!" He shook a fist at the air, and stared at the ceiling. "You can't beat me, Hogwarts! I can still listen to muggle music, ha, hahaha!"
His voice rang out through the hall.
Somewhere, for comedy's sake, a cricket chirped.
Draco blinked, and looked around self consciously. The hall was empty, save the presence of himself. It was, after all, still only 5:20 am.
Draco sighed inwardly with relief. (Malfoys do not talk to ceilings)
He placed the disk-thing on his outstretched right palm, and with his free hand (left), he grabbed his wand.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" He muttered, raising the disk a few centimetres from his palm.
"Please let this work, and have no horrible and disfiguring side-affects," Draco whispered, "Laserium Materialus! Right… that seems to have worked." The disk spun silently.
"Now for the final phase… "Sonorus."
Music could be heard throughout the hall. Draco grinned, and carefully placed his hand on the table, fingers outstretched. For it to work, the disk had to be close to his hand throughout the playing time.
A song that he had decided was almost his undisputed faveourite came on, about half an hour into this listening/studying exercise.
Draco decided, as no-one else was there, he would sing along… after all… he wasn't that bad a singer, was he?
"Take the rope to my heart
And fall
You may just be the last
To see the Black Tangled Heart
Faaaalll!!!"
As the closing lines of the song rang out through the hall, Draco decided, what the heck, it was time to mosh.
"Having fun, master Malfoy?" A quiet voice came from behind Draco.
Draco froze.
"Professor Dumbledore?"
"The one and only." The Professor smiled.
"I see you have discovered the work of Silverchair. If you don't mind my asking, Draco, where did you get this CD? I somehow find the image of the Malfoy family in muggle London." Dumbledore paused. "It seems a highly unlikely thing to occour." He shrugged. "And this CD probably isn't available in most music stores there." He finished, taking a bite out of an apple that hadn't been there moments before.
"CD, sir?" Draco asked, trying to steer the conversation away from how Draco obtained this… CD.
"Compact Disk. A rather precise muggle name for the thing." He looked over Draco's shoulder. "Studying already I see?"
"Yes sir."
"Good to see an enthusiastic student."
"I'm going to beat Granger to the dux of my year group one day, even if it kills me." Draco said with determination.
Dumbledore laughed. "I see the Slytherin nature of competition runs strong in you, Master Malfoy."
Draco grinned. "I guess it does, Professor."
Silence, apart from the music coming from the CD.
"So… professor… what do you know about… the people who sing this?" Draco asked, remembering that he would probably like to know… not that he'd ever be allowed to buy any of their other stuff… if they had anything else.
"Hm. Called Silverchair, contempory rock group from Australia… this one's called Neon Ballroom, if I remember rightly. There are three of them, the lead singer and guitarist's name is… Daniel Johns, I believe. Hm. The Drummer is… Ben? Yes, Ben Gillies, and then there's the Bass player… Chris… J something…. Joannou? Interesting group. Quite good."
"I didn't know you listened to muggle music, Professor." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Maybe they aren't only a muggle band. And I do listen to muggle music. Sometimes. And I like muggle lollies."
Draco smiled in berwilderment, then remembered something. "Sorry, Professor, but I have to go now, been nice talking to you."
"Indeed it has, young Master Malfoy. Quidditch practice?" He finished with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah. If I can ever get the team up, the lazy buggers… er… people."
Dumbledore laughed. "You'd better hurry, then, Draco."
"Right-o. See you, Professor."
Dumblefore chuckled, and watched as the tall teen ran off, books, coffee, and CD stuff clutched in one hand and one arm.
In a few minutes, he heard, faintly, "Get your asses into gear! Do you want Gryffindor to win the cup again?!"
Laughing, Dumbledore walked off to his office, preparing to start the day.
A/N: So, how goes it? As some of you may be able to tell, I added quite a bit onto the end of the chapter… I'm enjoying writing this ^_^ so the next chap should be up in… no more than a week. Ok? Ok. Please review, and thanks to all who have!
In the words of Ben (Revered Drummer);
Have fun, stay safe and be funky!
Meghan, Sovereign Llama, out ^_-.