Draco stomped angrily down the hall, utterly and completely annoyed with
the world at the moment. Everything was a bloody mess, and he wasn't in
the middle of it—he couldn't even get some decent information. Bloody
Potter was still getting so much thrice be-damned attention despite Draco's
best efforts. His father had refused flat out to answer any of his
questions concerning the escaped Sirius Black and why he would be after the
stupid git of a boy. His arm was not gathering quite as much attention
from the Professors anymore, and even Snape had ignored his attempts
earlier to get Potter to cut his eels' tongue.
And speaking of the Professor. Something had happened to Professor Snape, and he'd been acting rather strangely lately, especially around the students. There was talk about some "thing" that had happened, but no one was talking—no one had any facts. Not even the threat of Crabb and Goyle had been enough to coax some information, and it was starting to drive him crazy.
And then those two idiots had to go and completely destroy half of Greenhouse 3, earning them twin detentions for the next three evenings. It was turning out to be probably the worst week he'd ever had at Hogwarts.
He didn't want to go back to the common room, not with all the questions still flying around about Snape's behavior. That, of course, meant he couldn't seek out the Professor himself in the hopes of getting a little more information on other subjects. And the Great Hall was still full of people, and as he left he noticed one of the new Ravenclaws making a hasty retreat, followed closely by those ridiculous Weasley twins. The three glared at each other venomously before all went on their way.
Draco finally found a small classroom with only one person occupying it, and he barged in with a curt, "Get out."
The boy was tall, but when he turned Draco was surprised to see the foreign face of one of the new first years. He frowned severely at the cuffs and collar of fur the kid had added to his robes, and he noted the red and gold of his tie. Bloody Gryffindors. "I said clear the hell out, kid."
"I was here first," came the bold reply. He was standing near the window—he'd apparently been studying the grounds in the moonlight. Draco glared. Of all the stupid, rotten, bloody—
A sharp yip made him look down. At the other boy's feet was a small, white dog, and his face twisted in disgust. "Students aren't allowed to keep dogs," he said, feeling something like hope curl in his stomach. He raised his eyes to smirk at the kid. "You'll get in trouble if anyone finds out."
Instead of looking distressed, the boy only grinned. "McGonagall already approved—tell whoever you want, blondie." His grin only deepened when he saw Draco's expression drop. Serves him right, he thought with satisfaction. He headed out towards the door, raising a hand in a smart wave. "Later."
Draco could have shot flames from his eyes, and he was desperate, sorely tempted to pull out his wand and curse the little bastard across the room.
The dog passed just in front of him, and Draco's eyes narrowed angry. Walk away from him, huh? Not this bloody lifetime. Draco took two steps, wound up his foot, and punted the howling mutt smack into a heavy oak chair.
He had expected anger, shouting, maybe even an attempted hex. He had certainly not expected the boy to whirl around and snarl like some animal, then proceed to leap across the floor. Draco raised his "injured" arm to defend, but that turned out to be a mistake, as the kid promptly sank his teeth through the bandages.
"AAHH! Shit, what are you doing!" Draco made a fist with his free hand and began to pound on the boy's head. When all his high-pitched shrieking threatened to bring the whole school down, the first year finally let go.
Still snarling, the boy moved to pick up his dog—the damn mutt greeted him with almost no sign of injury. Draco meanwhile dropped to his knees, cradling his throbbing, bleeding arm. "You bloody little—you bit me! You just—"
"That's right," the kid retorted. He straightened and marched towards the door. "Now you can really complain about that arm of yours." Pausing at the door, he sent a red-tinted grin at the other. "Should teach you to leave Kiba and Akamaru alone." Kiba stuck up his middle finger and, with a bark-like laugh, left.
Draco whimpered, holding his arm close. Stupid, bloody, god-be-damned Gryffindors....
This was definitely his worst week ever.
And speaking of the Professor. Something had happened to Professor Snape, and he'd been acting rather strangely lately, especially around the students. There was talk about some "thing" that had happened, but no one was talking—no one had any facts. Not even the threat of Crabb and Goyle had been enough to coax some information, and it was starting to drive him crazy.
And then those two idiots had to go and completely destroy half of Greenhouse 3, earning them twin detentions for the next three evenings. It was turning out to be probably the worst week he'd ever had at Hogwarts.
He didn't want to go back to the common room, not with all the questions still flying around about Snape's behavior. That, of course, meant he couldn't seek out the Professor himself in the hopes of getting a little more information on other subjects. And the Great Hall was still full of people, and as he left he noticed one of the new Ravenclaws making a hasty retreat, followed closely by those ridiculous Weasley twins. The three glared at each other venomously before all went on their way.
Draco finally found a small classroom with only one person occupying it, and he barged in with a curt, "Get out."
The boy was tall, but when he turned Draco was surprised to see the foreign face of one of the new first years. He frowned severely at the cuffs and collar of fur the kid had added to his robes, and he noted the red and gold of his tie. Bloody Gryffindors. "I said clear the hell out, kid."
"I was here first," came the bold reply. He was standing near the window—he'd apparently been studying the grounds in the moonlight. Draco glared. Of all the stupid, rotten, bloody—
A sharp yip made him look down. At the other boy's feet was a small, white dog, and his face twisted in disgust. "Students aren't allowed to keep dogs," he said, feeling something like hope curl in his stomach. He raised his eyes to smirk at the kid. "You'll get in trouble if anyone finds out."
Instead of looking distressed, the boy only grinned. "McGonagall already approved—tell whoever you want, blondie." His grin only deepened when he saw Draco's expression drop. Serves him right, he thought with satisfaction. He headed out towards the door, raising a hand in a smart wave. "Later."
Draco could have shot flames from his eyes, and he was desperate, sorely tempted to pull out his wand and curse the little bastard across the room.
The dog passed just in front of him, and Draco's eyes narrowed angry. Walk away from him, huh? Not this bloody lifetime. Draco took two steps, wound up his foot, and punted the howling mutt smack into a heavy oak chair.
He had expected anger, shouting, maybe even an attempted hex. He had certainly not expected the boy to whirl around and snarl like some animal, then proceed to leap across the floor. Draco raised his "injured" arm to defend, but that turned out to be a mistake, as the kid promptly sank his teeth through the bandages.
"AAHH! Shit, what are you doing!" Draco made a fist with his free hand and began to pound on the boy's head. When all his high-pitched shrieking threatened to bring the whole school down, the first year finally let go.
Still snarling, the boy moved to pick up his dog—the damn mutt greeted him with almost no sign of injury. Draco meanwhile dropped to his knees, cradling his throbbing, bleeding arm. "You bloody little—you bit me! You just—"
"That's right," the kid retorted. He straightened and marched towards the door. "Now you can really complain about that arm of yours." Pausing at the door, he sent a red-tinted grin at the other. "Should teach you to leave Kiba and Akamaru alone." Kiba stuck up his middle finger and, with a bark-like laugh, left.
Draco whimpered, holding his arm close. Stupid, bloody, god-be-damned Gryffindors....
This was definitely his worst week ever.