*~Aren't you proud of me? I've had this sitting in my comp for a while now,
waiting to be finished and then posted, so I finally got around to it. Hope you like it, especially the first bit with Draco... Skye, hope you're happy now. And vanilla, I took the info about Harry's suicidal thoughts from my own brain. That's what I know about it, and that's what I assume he'd know about it, because he and I have never tried it before. Oh, and random comment... For some reason ellipses don't show up in fanfiction.net stories... Like, you know, when you put three periods in a row. So if you
see something that's just got one and you're like, "Hey, that's weird,"
then you know why. But anyway, on with the fic.~*
Muggles, Draco grudgingly decided, weren't quite as stupid as he'd always imagined. In fact, some of the things they'd thought of to avoid using magic were positively astounding. Like that box, the TV. Ingenious. And the music contraptions they'd thought of were amazing, too.
However, he thought to himself, some of the things they made were just plain dangerous. Like, for instance, everything in the kitchen.
Three-quarters of the way through the movie he wasn't really watching, he decided to get a snack. That was his first mistake. Harry was still holed up the library, and Snape must have been upstairs somewhere. But, being himself, Draco had decided he didn't need help to work the strange Muggle contraptions.
So, he'd gone about looking for something to munch on. First, he opened the big white rectangle that sat on it's short end, positioned between a strange, counter-high box with a door on the front and four dark circles on the top. The instant he opened it, his face was hit with a blast of cold air, and something big, hard, and frozen fell on his foot.
He'd managed not to cry out at the sudden, unexpected pain as he shoved the item back in the box. It somewhat resembled a turkey. An uncooked, very cold turkey, but a turkey nonetheless.
Then he cautiously opened the other side of the box. A slightly warmer flow of air came from this one, and nothing attacked him. Inside was an array of fruits vegetables, juices, and sandwich meats.
Draco sighed as he closed that door, too. "I want something unhealthy, thank you very much," he mumbled to it. There was nothing in the contraption beside it, so he moved on to the cupboards. They, thankfully, contained something edible. He grabbed two bags of chips and stood in the middle of the room, looking at everything as he ate from one.
There was an odd device on top of the counter. There were blades inside and a cord extended to the wall. Curious, he pushed a button on the base of the gadget, and the blades came to life with a vicious passion. Slightly unnerved, he moved on to the thing next to the different- temperatured box he'd opened.
There was an array of knobs and buttons splashed across the back of it, and he hesitantly twisted one. The front left circle began to glow a demonic red shade.
Knowing he was being very stupid, but doing it anyway, Draco brushed his fingers against it. He yelped in surprise as the machine burnt him. As he reached forward to try and undo what he'd done, shaking his fingers slightly, his sleeve touched it, and he instantly burst into flames.
He quickly ripped off his robe, tossing it on the floor and smothering the flames. Glaring at the arsonistic device, he mumbled, "Fine, stay on. I don't care."
More cautiously, he continued in his exploration. The sink, at least, did what it was supposed to. He grabbed the small black nozzle and squeezed the trigger on the alien mechanism, and was rewarded with a blast of water in the face. Feeling indignant, he dropped it back into place.
There was another small black box hanging from the bottom of one of the cabinets. He opened it and shrugged when nothing happened. Nothing was inside, so he shoved the unopened bag of chips into it, closed the door, and began randomly pressing buttons.
A light went on inside and an odd humming noise filled the air. The numbers he'd plugged in started counting down, and Draco wondered what would happen when they finished. Oddly enough, as the numbers grew smaller, the bag inside grew bigger. A slight frown marred his features as he wondered what could cause this.
Suddenly, a loud exploding sound filled the air, and this time Draco couldn't help but cry out. Immediately, Harry was in the room, wand out and held in a threatening position. He was joined an instant later by Snape, who held his own wand in a similar position. Draco's eyes widened into the classic deer-in-headlights position as he faced them.
Harry took one look at the mess in the microwave, the still-heated stove, and the smoldering pile of robes on the floor before bursting into laughter. Draco's eyes narrowed in anger.
"Shut up," he snapped at the boy.
Snape glanced between the two teenagers. "What, exactly, is going on? What was that explosion?"
Draco blushed, and Harry laughed even harder, now doubled over on his knees. "Shut up, Potter!"
"What-were-you-doing?" Harry forced out amidst panting for air and trying to control his laughter. Still grinning madly, he forced himself off the floor and moved to the stove, easily spinning the dial from eight, the highest setting, to "off."
Draco crossed his arms indignantly. "None of your business," he snapped.
"I repeat, what was that explosion?" Snape demanded.
"The microwave," Harry supplied. "Draco must've tried to cook something for too long." He reached inside the device and pulled out a mangled mess of burnt plastic and potato chips, quickly dropping it onto the counter before he burnt his fingers. "For future reference, you do not put plastic in there," he added, his voice ringing with amusement.
"Well, how was I supposed to know it would blow up?" Draco demanded. "Who would put that kind of freakish device in a kitchen?"
Harry shook his head and began cleaning up the mess, sweeping the contents of the microwave into a trashcan. He picked up the forgotten robes and glanced them over. The sleeve was a bit mangled, but it would survive. "Here," he said, tossing it to the Slytherin boy. "Don't try to use the sewing machine. You might kill someone."
§§§§§§
After the fiasco in the kitchen, Harry decided that until the others learned how to work the Muggle devices, he would be the only one allowed to cook. He managed to pull together a decent dinner, which the two Slytherins accepted without thanks.
When he finished eating, Harry wandered into the living room and put in a movie. Before he'd gotten through the previews, his housemates had joined him.
No one spoke as they watched it, and when it was over, they dispersed silently. Harry was slightly surprised that there hadn't been any nasty comments towards him or his parents or his choice of friends, but he let it slide. Maybe the others were having an off day.
Not like he needed the constant reminders of his own failures and mistakes. His conscience made him feel guilty enough, thank you very much. But still, he couldn't help but wonder what had gotten into the two.
§§§§§§
Draco was crouched at the top of the stairs, staring down futilely into the darkness below. He knew he shouldn't be-it was, after all, rude and disobedient, but he couldn't help it. He always heard the screams whenever Father had his "friends" over, and he was dying to know what they were doing, and who was screaming.
But then he heard a new voice from the deep. A familiar voice, the same one that had cried out in agony moments before. The words were laced with malice, pain, and disgust. "I'm glad I did it. You're not worth it. You're not worth groveling and killing and destroying. You're nothing."
"Professor Snape?" he mumbled softly to himself.
Another high, cold, voice said, "Cucio," and more screams tore through the night. Draco winced, struggling to see anything, but for naught. He unconsciously flicked his hand to his pocket, checking for his wand. It was there, and he pulled it out. Truth be told, he didn't even realize what he was doing until he was downstairs, standing in the middle of a rather large group of Death Eaters.
His father immediately jumped forward. "Draco, what are you doing here? I told you to stay upstairs in your room!" he snapped.
Draco's eyes darted nervously around the circle, pausing briefly on his head of house's mangled appearance, before replying. "I heard screams," he replied, trying to stay as close as possible to the truth. "I thought there might be something wrong."
That icy voice spoke again, and Draco couldn't help but shudder. "Draco, is it? I've heard a great deal about you, young Malfoy," it said as its owner stepped forward. It seemed to be the very embodiment of evil--tall, pale, almost one with the shadows, but for a pair of blood-red eyes.
Draco didn't need to ask who the menacing figure was. "And I about you, Tom Riddle." He didn't know what had possessed him to say the man's true name, and he saw his father's hand lurch forward out of the corner of his eye, no doubt to strike him for his insolence. However, the slightest gesture from the older wizard made Lucious freeze.
"I'm sure you have," Voldemort said, a smirk on his face. "Why are you here, Draco? Did you hear your precious Potion's Master crying for help? He is a traitor, boy, and he's getting what he's earned." The cold expression in his eyes left no doubt as to what exactly the Slytherin head of house was going to get.
Draco abruptly lurched out of his dream, heart pounding. He took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down. The memories were bad enough in the daylight, let alone in the pitch-black or night. After a moment or so, he pulled himself out of bed, headed again for the kitchen. Water. That would calm him down. And now that he knew how to use some of the blasted Muggle appliances, he should be able to get it without alerting the entire household.
*~Blah. Hope you enjoyed. I tried uploading it from a different typing
program, so I hope this formats okay...~*
waiting to be finished and then posted, so I finally got around to it. Hope you like it, especially the first bit with Draco... Skye, hope you're happy now. And vanilla, I took the info about Harry's suicidal thoughts from my own brain. That's what I know about it, and that's what I assume he'd know about it, because he and I have never tried it before. Oh, and random comment... For some reason ellipses don't show up in fanfiction.net stories... Like, you know, when you put three periods in a row. So if you
see something that's just got one and you're like, "Hey, that's weird,"
then you know why. But anyway, on with the fic.~*
Muggles, Draco grudgingly decided, weren't quite as stupid as he'd always imagined. In fact, some of the things they'd thought of to avoid using magic were positively astounding. Like that box, the TV. Ingenious. And the music contraptions they'd thought of were amazing, too.
However, he thought to himself, some of the things they made were just plain dangerous. Like, for instance, everything in the kitchen.
Three-quarters of the way through the movie he wasn't really watching, he decided to get a snack. That was his first mistake. Harry was still holed up the library, and Snape must have been upstairs somewhere. But, being himself, Draco had decided he didn't need help to work the strange Muggle contraptions.
So, he'd gone about looking for something to munch on. First, he opened the big white rectangle that sat on it's short end, positioned between a strange, counter-high box with a door on the front and four dark circles on the top. The instant he opened it, his face was hit with a blast of cold air, and something big, hard, and frozen fell on his foot.
He'd managed not to cry out at the sudden, unexpected pain as he shoved the item back in the box. It somewhat resembled a turkey. An uncooked, very cold turkey, but a turkey nonetheless.
Then he cautiously opened the other side of the box. A slightly warmer flow of air came from this one, and nothing attacked him. Inside was an array of fruits vegetables, juices, and sandwich meats.
Draco sighed as he closed that door, too. "I want something unhealthy, thank you very much," he mumbled to it. There was nothing in the contraption beside it, so he moved on to the cupboards. They, thankfully, contained something edible. He grabbed two bags of chips and stood in the middle of the room, looking at everything as he ate from one.
There was an odd device on top of the counter. There were blades inside and a cord extended to the wall. Curious, he pushed a button on the base of the gadget, and the blades came to life with a vicious passion. Slightly unnerved, he moved on to the thing next to the different- temperatured box he'd opened.
There was an array of knobs and buttons splashed across the back of it, and he hesitantly twisted one. The front left circle began to glow a demonic red shade.
Knowing he was being very stupid, but doing it anyway, Draco brushed his fingers against it. He yelped in surprise as the machine burnt him. As he reached forward to try and undo what he'd done, shaking his fingers slightly, his sleeve touched it, and he instantly burst into flames.
He quickly ripped off his robe, tossing it on the floor and smothering the flames. Glaring at the arsonistic device, he mumbled, "Fine, stay on. I don't care."
More cautiously, he continued in his exploration. The sink, at least, did what it was supposed to. He grabbed the small black nozzle and squeezed the trigger on the alien mechanism, and was rewarded with a blast of water in the face. Feeling indignant, he dropped it back into place.
There was another small black box hanging from the bottom of one of the cabinets. He opened it and shrugged when nothing happened. Nothing was inside, so he shoved the unopened bag of chips into it, closed the door, and began randomly pressing buttons.
A light went on inside and an odd humming noise filled the air. The numbers he'd plugged in started counting down, and Draco wondered what would happen when they finished. Oddly enough, as the numbers grew smaller, the bag inside grew bigger. A slight frown marred his features as he wondered what could cause this.
Suddenly, a loud exploding sound filled the air, and this time Draco couldn't help but cry out. Immediately, Harry was in the room, wand out and held in a threatening position. He was joined an instant later by Snape, who held his own wand in a similar position. Draco's eyes widened into the classic deer-in-headlights position as he faced them.
Harry took one look at the mess in the microwave, the still-heated stove, and the smoldering pile of robes on the floor before bursting into laughter. Draco's eyes narrowed in anger.
"Shut up," he snapped at the boy.
Snape glanced between the two teenagers. "What, exactly, is going on? What was that explosion?"
Draco blushed, and Harry laughed even harder, now doubled over on his knees. "Shut up, Potter!"
"What-were-you-doing?" Harry forced out amidst panting for air and trying to control his laughter. Still grinning madly, he forced himself off the floor and moved to the stove, easily spinning the dial from eight, the highest setting, to "off."
Draco crossed his arms indignantly. "None of your business," he snapped.
"I repeat, what was that explosion?" Snape demanded.
"The microwave," Harry supplied. "Draco must've tried to cook something for too long." He reached inside the device and pulled out a mangled mess of burnt plastic and potato chips, quickly dropping it onto the counter before he burnt his fingers. "For future reference, you do not put plastic in there," he added, his voice ringing with amusement.
"Well, how was I supposed to know it would blow up?" Draco demanded. "Who would put that kind of freakish device in a kitchen?"
Harry shook his head and began cleaning up the mess, sweeping the contents of the microwave into a trashcan. He picked up the forgotten robes and glanced them over. The sleeve was a bit mangled, but it would survive. "Here," he said, tossing it to the Slytherin boy. "Don't try to use the sewing machine. You might kill someone."
§§§§§§
After the fiasco in the kitchen, Harry decided that until the others learned how to work the Muggle devices, he would be the only one allowed to cook. He managed to pull together a decent dinner, which the two Slytherins accepted without thanks.
When he finished eating, Harry wandered into the living room and put in a movie. Before he'd gotten through the previews, his housemates had joined him.
No one spoke as they watched it, and when it was over, they dispersed silently. Harry was slightly surprised that there hadn't been any nasty comments towards him or his parents or his choice of friends, but he let it slide. Maybe the others were having an off day.
Not like he needed the constant reminders of his own failures and mistakes. His conscience made him feel guilty enough, thank you very much. But still, he couldn't help but wonder what had gotten into the two.
§§§§§§
Draco was crouched at the top of the stairs, staring down futilely into the darkness below. He knew he shouldn't be-it was, after all, rude and disobedient, but he couldn't help it. He always heard the screams whenever Father had his "friends" over, and he was dying to know what they were doing, and who was screaming.
But then he heard a new voice from the deep. A familiar voice, the same one that had cried out in agony moments before. The words were laced with malice, pain, and disgust. "I'm glad I did it. You're not worth it. You're not worth groveling and killing and destroying. You're nothing."
"Professor Snape?" he mumbled softly to himself.
Another high, cold, voice said, "Cucio," and more screams tore through the night. Draco winced, struggling to see anything, but for naught. He unconsciously flicked his hand to his pocket, checking for his wand. It was there, and he pulled it out. Truth be told, he didn't even realize what he was doing until he was downstairs, standing in the middle of a rather large group of Death Eaters.
His father immediately jumped forward. "Draco, what are you doing here? I told you to stay upstairs in your room!" he snapped.
Draco's eyes darted nervously around the circle, pausing briefly on his head of house's mangled appearance, before replying. "I heard screams," he replied, trying to stay as close as possible to the truth. "I thought there might be something wrong."
That icy voice spoke again, and Draco couldn't help but shudder. "Draco, is it? I've heard a great deal about you, young Malfoy," it said as its owner stepped forward. It seemed to be the very embodiment of evil--tall, pale, almost one with the shadows, but for a pair of blood-red eyes.
Draco didn't need to ask who the menacing figure was. "And I about you, Tom Riddle." He didn't know what had possessed him to say the man's true name, and he saw his father's hand lurch forward out of the corner of his eye, no doubt to strike him for his insolence. However, the slightest gesture from the older wizard made Lucious freeze.
"I'm sure you have," Voldemort said, a smirk on his face. "Why are you here, Draco? Did you hear your precious Potion's Master crying for help? He is a traitor, boy, and he's getting what he's earned." The cold expression in his eyes left no doubt as to what exactly the Slytherin head of house was going to get.
Draco abruptly lurched out of his dream, heart pounding. He took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down. The memories were bad enough in the daylight, let alone in the pitch-black or night. After a moment or so, he pulled himself out of bed, headed again for the kitchen. Water. That would calm him down. And now that he knew how to use some of the blasted Muggle appliances, he should be able to get it without alerting the entire household.
*~Blah. Hope you enjoyed. I tried uploading it from a different typing
program, so I hope this formats okay...~*