Warning: Bit of naughty things down there...hehehe. Remember HMDP slash, only way to have it! And bad, bad, bad language.
AN: I don't even want to look at the 'last update' date because I'm going to cry if I do. I won't even say the S word because I'll fear I'm gonna get whacked... :S I'm just gonna say 'Hallelujah!' because that's really how I feel right now. I feel victorious to have overcome that nasty WB and that lack of plot too. I'm good now. I even had to cut it out a bit! I feel good, so good, so good, I feel good!
Heeere I give you, fifth instalment of 'Ironic'! Tadam!
I gasped loudly as I came back to consciousness. The voices, the cheers, the lights, the songs, the odours, the colours, they all came back to me at once, lurching at me. I must have blacked out for a while there. I squinted at the painfully heavy lights, blinked a few times. My thoughts were scrambled, my vision were blurry, my mouth scorched as my eyelids were slowly fluttering open as if my eyelashes had been glued together.
The pain had passed away and I had not idea what caused it. Not this time, not the earlier one.
But now, I could feel the blood in my head pumping frantically, it resounding loudly in my mind, my veins seemed ready to implode, explode, whatever. It was just unpleasant, very unpleasant for that matter but not painful, not yet, at least. I could hear strange voices in the back of my head, all kinds of tones and sounds, girls, boys, men, women, old and young, cheery or sad, angry or calm.
I could also feel several emotions flowing through me, numerous waves of moods, of sensations surging through my chest, but they were emotions that somehow I thought that they did not belong to me. Cheerfulness, happiness, delight, joy, contentment, gladness, brightness. Not feelings I could say I felt often and certainly not today, on this bleak day of Christmas.
However, there was another stream of feelings, of sorrows, fears, doubts, worries and pain too. Crushing emotions, destructing a mind, a soul. I knew these for I had felt them often and still, I did. Feelings of unworthiness, of terror, of defeat, of powers stronger than oneself, or powers capable of killing one's heart and one's hopes, even the one such as fool's hopes. But I felt they were not coming from me.
There was also something else. It felt weird, it felt unhealthy. Although I could not describe it accurately, I could tell it felt empty yet as the same time, it felt as if there was an intrusive, unwanted energy...somewhere. It felt corrupting. I just hoped that I wasn't the target for it felt awfully close to me. Then, all of a sudden, it...electrocuted me? I felt jerked away as if I was the unwanted one.
Poppycock...Gah!
I clutched at my head, trying to stop this unwelcome buzz in my mind but to no avail. It stayed and seemed adamant on staying. I closed my eyes and focused on staying calm, composed, serene. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on...nothing? Well, it did seem to diminish the unsolicited voices and thoughts but only a little. Not as much as I would have wanted. I wondered why I was feeling and thinking these things that did not belonged in my mind.
I thought I had read about it somewhere. The power to feel others' thoughts, other's emotions, others' energy, others' karma, to feel truths and lies. Similar to Legislemency, Empathy, as it was called, was a Gift, not a charm nor a curse though some viewed it as a curse. Not even a complex Mind-Heading Potion could compare to it. It did not show images of past or future nor desires, fears and such, it made the Empath feel through his heart, as if they were his own, others' sentiments.
But Empathy was a rare Gift such as the Gift of Foresight. Seers and Empaths did not roam in hordes at the surface of the Earth. It was a privilege and honour, it was a true offering. Seemingly, those gifts were granted by blood and by blood only. Not a single potion or charm could grant these to one. And even then, it was not definite that one would be bestowed with such a gift even if every single one of their lines had been. A bit like what happened with Squibs.
The last of the Empaths had been seen nearly fifty years ago...Well, the declared ones, at least. But I knew for a fact that that kind of peculiar blood did not flow in my veins because that was not something Father would've hidden from me, he'd rather have flaunt it again and again and he would have made me do it too for it was something to be proud of. But...I had been rather tired these last days, hadn't I been?
Perhaps I had hallucinated everything.
"Hey, Malfoy? You okay? "a bothersome voice asked me.
Well, it wasn't really annoying...but it seemed nosy, worse, it seemed concerned.
"Huh? Potter? What the hell do you want? "I snapped at him, more out of habit really.
"You just passed out, for crying out loud! "he shouted back, furiously running a hand through his hair. "I-I was kinda worried, "he said more softly.
"Merlin's beard, we're bloody enemies, Potter, or haven't you noticed?"
"Have you ever heard of 'worrying about others', 'having a bit of a heart' and 'having something akin to scruples'? Well, have you, Malfoy? "he snapped back with a humph..
And then, he...? Pouted?! Oh goodness' sake.
"Don't try that silly pout with me, hero, it won't bloody well work."
Well, it wouldn't...would it?
"You're not gonna try the conscience thing on me, are you ? "I asked.
I was answered with a stubborn silence, the kind I usually give out.
"Yes, you bloody are. With an extra of the cold shoulder treatment...You're trying to make me feel guilty and sheepish and ashamed and embarrassed and sorry and..."
Merlin, I was rambling. Malfoys do not ramble. Heaven forbid if his tricks were working.
"Well, let me tell you something: it ain't working, "I spat, trying to convince myself more than him. "I must've forget to register for that silly fanclub of yours where each of their followers goes gaga whenever you're around, "I added in what I hoped a snappy comment.
But he had no snide remarks at that for he just stayed silent staring intently at his now empty plate. I heard him gasp oddly again just as he did some time ago that evening. His cheeks were flushed. His breathing sped up, hitching peculiarly. He blinked as if trying to stay awake, as if trying to fight off some curse or hex...actually, perhaps he was choking on his food?
But it had been a while since he'd eaten something, not that I noticed it or anything...
In any case, I saw him suddenly grip the table tightly, his nails firmly clenched on the wood, up to the point where his knuckles went white. His left hand shot up to his brow, massaging his temples. His eyes fluttered open again. I could almost hear But then he exhaled and looked totally composed as if I had just imagined this. Maybe I was tired after all.
An early slumber or at least a nap was definitely in order.
"Yeah riiight, Malfoy, you just wish. How do I know you're not the one presiding said fanclub of mine? "he said, smirking wickedly.
"In your dreams, Potter. I think you're mixing us up our lives here. I'm not about to confess my undying love to you, freak, "I said, trying to remain calm and unruffled. "But, you, on the other side..."
But then, a sudden stream of desire flowed through me, raw lust and hunger. It hit me straight in the chest, heat overcoming all of my body. Barely hidden want and yearning possessed me. His voice resounded in my mind, his then sensual voice talking to me. His words whirled in my ears, around me and hell, I was getting hard, painfully hard, and excruciatingly horny. Just because Potter here was talking to me.
And he wasn't even talking dirty!
Fortunately, it lasted only a mere instant. Still, it seemed too long. I barely heard him telling me to shut up already and before I knew it, I had done something utterly stupid, something dafter than switching for the Light Side or confronting the Dark Lord himself in an one-on-one duel, well, of course, I'd never really admit it. I could have kicked myself senseless just right and there for saying this. For his voice just called to me, my inner voice just pushed me to do it and I sodding did. Do not ever mention this to me again.
"Make me, "I said, Merlin forbid, eyes glinting evilly, licking my lips.
"What!? "he said, wide-eyed.
Well, perhaps it was worth it finally because the look on his face was priceless. Wide, green pools, undoubtedly shocked, stared back at me. Nervously, he licked his lips with an apprehensive tongue. A bit of pink painted his usually pale, porcelain cheeks. He looked somewhat...pretty, flushed like that. Whoa! Let me rephrase that: he looked somewhat silly, flushed like that. There, much, much better!
But...he seemed as if he was different now that he'd been the last couple of minutes...
He seemed shy and reserved now, more like the Potter I always had known and liked. But then again, minutes ago, he seemed impish and foul. He was all at once, as if there were two of him. And I couldn't overlook the surge of desire that overcome me earlier...just when he appeared...different? Evil? My, obviously sharp, inner voice was warning me that something was not right, that I was being fooled.
Could it be an act? Could the Boy Who Lived not be as innocent as one would think? And that damn mind-reading, mind-hearing thing was driving me crazy. There was this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that would not leave until I had finally acknowledged it. The feeling that I was being played with.
No, it could not be. This was Potter we were talking about. Bloody Virgin Potter.
"Don't tell me you didn't figure out the invitation? "I slowly said, arching an eyebrow.
"You know, Malfoy, if I didn't know any better, I'd assume you wanted me to kiss you, "he said, winking.
Winking!? Golden Boy Potter didn't wink after a comment like that. Hell, he didn't make a comment like that. Yet, there it had been. And he had cocked his head to the side as he had said this. He was talking with that husky voice again, which, for further notice, should be forbidden by the law, husky and suggestive. And still, he had bloody managed to remain appearing oh so ingenuous and vulnerable. How he did it was far, far beyond me.
But I noticed that it wasn't the same naivete that of a few minutes ago. It was a bloody naughty naivete as that of earlier was rather genuine. Evil Potter versus Holy Potter. Which was which, which was the real one? That was, again, far, far beyond me. And that damn mind-reading, mind-hearing, mind-feeling trick was bloody letting me down! Gah! Yet it didn't upset me that much finally...
Something down south was beginning to...indispose me. Must've been all this dirty, that hadn't been all that dirty, talk. Or it could've been his sensual, that hadn't been all that sensual, voice. Or it could've been his flushed, pretty, that hadn't been all that pretty, cheeks. Or it could've been the way his delicious-looking, that hadn't been all that delicious-looking, tongue had swept over his red, voluptuous, that hadn't been all that voluptuous, lips. Or it could've been...well, hehe, forget it... Really, forget it.
I bloody said to drop it already! Gah!
It couldn't have been him! Nah, too absurd, way out of reason. It could not have been because of him, him. I mean, c'mon, I hated his guts, I hated him since day one. I hated him, I insulted him, I insulted his friends, I even insulted his dead family! And he insulted me right back, he attacked my friends, my family, my loyalties, my values, my principles, my pride and honour. I'd hex him and he'd punch me back, I'd assault him and he'd curse me right back.
I hated him since the first goddamn time I laid eyes on him!
Erm...well...now, if you think about it carefully, I really started hating him on day number bloody two. Day one had been the encounter of the first boy I could have the chance to befriend at Hogwarts, which'd been only days from starting first term. Day one had been just meeting some new, fresh face, some bloody confused face but adorable altogether. I can just remember how he'd looked when I uttered 'Quidditch' to him. And look at him now: youngest Hogwarts Seeker in over a century!
Talk about some ironic shite.
And really, you'd have to make it 'hated his guts since day two'. On the Hogwarts Express and just before the First Year Sorting. And even though he had publicly refused my friendship as if I was the plague incarnated, I had secretly wished he'd be Sorted into Slytherin too, with me. Because he would've been almost forced to befriend me, to get to know me. And surely enough, I secretly hoped he'd come to like me enough to willingly be my friend. But none of that mattered nor happened.
For he'd been Sorted in Gryffindor, much to my heart's grief but not to mine...
And the past six years we'd beat the living hell outta each other, we'd bloody ourselves to death, we'd curse and hex the other into next week, we'd insult and attack every and last single person in our entourages that could mean this tiny little bit to the other. And if I was anytime past slightly reasonable tonight, I'd realize we had wasted six years of our existence. We had thrown away six years for the sole pleasure of getting under each other's skin and pushing our buttons...
Still, seeing as I was nowhere logical right now, my only instinct was to say 'Bugger off!' to that bit of philosophical shite I'd just experienced. And you're damn right I did exactly that. To hell with it, to hell with everything else! Long live the eternal rivalry that will, seemingly, always reign between the Hogwarts Houses of Slytherin and Gryffindor. We did a good job representing the enmity between both of them. But we knew it was downright personal, not about some little House competition. We were everything we loated, we were everything we wanted to be, we had everything we wanted to have. And of thus were born every single one of our constant fights...
But right now, I was bloody sure of something: I was not going down, he'd be.
"I really don't think I'd like to have you kiss me, hero. You wouldn't know a kiss if it bit you in the arse, "I scoffed at him.
"Oh, I really think I would..."he answered, a mysterious air about him. "Wanna bet, Malfoy?"
"I would've never guessed you played for the other team, Potter, "I sneered again.
"Well, you see, love, why would I limit myself to only birds when there is such a whole wide world before me just wanting me in every way one could ever imagine possible? "he said seriously, not blinking once. "And I can only guess you think of things in the same way. Flirt, use, discard."
Hey, that's my motto, you filthy thief!
"Quite a reputation you've got there, if I may. You're the one everybody talks about...even up there, in our, most humble, Gryffindor towers, " he said, smirking.
"Do you include yourself, Potter? "I whispered to his ear.
"You bet your Pureblood arse, "he growled back. "I've even got a picture of you just beside my bed. And I look at it everynight just before I go to sleep, "he said, winking at me.
Gah! If only he could feel the heat pooling in my body...lower body, that is...
"Care to show me what you've got ?"
He grinned at me and his hand disappeared under the table to land on my knee, creeping impishly to nether regions I'd rather not have it touch. But it was ecstasy, utter rapture. It felt like my usually chilly skin was set on scorching fire the second his bloody hand landed on my thigh; a cool palm when I would have expected a warm one, a confident touch when I would have expected a shy one, a slow tempo when I would've wanted a quick and be- done-with-it one. I just wanted to die right there with his hand on my thigh...just because it made me feel good.
But mostly because it made me feel.
"I can clearly see what you've got yourself, Draco, "he purred seductively in my ear.
The little bugger began a thorough exploration of my thigh, giving it a northern edge, but at an excruciatingly slow pace. His fingers were feathers on my thigh, teasing, taunting, torturing. I really began to think I was going to die there if he didn't come to an end and do something already. And then, I thought I had died already when he reached destination. It felt so good and all he'd done was to give it a small squeeze, a very small and brief squeeze, if I might add.
My mind whirled about when his palm made contact with my groin. I sensed a startled jolt down there and judging by the smirk curling his lips, he'd felt it too. My thoughts were fuzzy. I had a many thoughts within only my head; it'd seemed the thoughts of others of earlier had returned. Their feelings enveloped, swathing me in an imaginary bubble, in a thick sphere of cotton. My senses were ablaze, sharpened, aware. But I wasn't aware of anything else in the Grand Hall anymore...
It was heaven, it was bliss and the next thing I knew was that everything had become black.
--------------------
I knew I must have had collapsed. The buzz was back, the thoughts, the voices, the incessant noise in my head was back. But this time, it was painful and the pain was too hard to handle. The pain...I suddenly stood up, swatting Potter's hand off my thigh and groin and quickly exited the Great Hall, ignoring the odd looks I received and never once glancing back to Wonder Boy. The pain reappeared. It just bloody ached. I felt like on the verge of dying. Hell, I think I really wanted to die back there.
I had to get myself immediately to the dungeons, to my room, to my bed but mostly the safety and peace of soul. But, yes, a bed, that sounded like it was a nice thought. Maybe I could smother myself under the pillows. Or I could drown myself in the shower. Or I could cast a spell and have it backfire on the mirror just to see my face when it would hit me. So many great ideas came to my thinking, but I seemed to have so little time left.
I can't remember clearly what events happened next, how they happened and even if they really did happen. I can remember the touch of the wall, the bricks, the roughness. I think I scorched my fingers hard too. I remember the dim lights of the candles on the walls, the shadows dancing around on the paintings, the characters snoring loudly and lifting their hats to me, faring me a very Merry Christmas, not noticing how bad I felt, how awful I looked., how ungraceful I strutted about.
I remember reaching the stone door between the portraits of the sleeping swan maiden and of the wooing knight, I remember mumbling out the password to the door... I remember the steel-grip I had on the walls, to the curtains to get through the Slytherin Common Room. I remember faintly the crackling and the warmth of the fire, the poor light it provided to the room. The shadows of logs, curtains, couches and statues danced and twirled about me, sometimes diving down on me, mocking me, taunting me, threatening me. I nearly had the strength to head to the boys' dormitories.
The pain still oh-so-present was unbearable, the images just kept flashing through my mind, the feelings kept compressing me as if they wanted to pour me into a tight mould. It made me dizzy and the long, sharp cry still remained. I wanted it to stop. At any costs. I even genuinely considered killing myself. I was so desperate, I was so pathetic, I wanted to laugh at myself. I felt again how I felt on those times Father told me how upset he was with me, with my failures, with my disappointing grades.
Father never did hit me, he never did use one of the Unforgivables and he never did use the Dark Arts on me though I knew he easily could. He never needed to. He knew it and I knew it too. No slaps, no hits, no kicks, no punches, no hexes, no curses. Just expressing his displeasure through that cold, expressionless voice could break me. He knew it, he saw it. But it didn't matter. He didn't feel anything. He still can't. He never will. Heartless. I wonder why she did marry him. I wonder why they did conceive me.
I had crumpled down on my bed, tears burning my cheeks, eyes shut, fists clenched. I began to promise myself things I would never even think about before. If only I'd survive this, I'd be a better person. I'd be Muggle- friendly, I'd be Mudblood-friendly, I'd be Dumbledore-friendly and I'd even be Golden Trio-friendly. I would have given anything to stop it. I was even willing to be Pansy-more-than-friendly and even Blaise-more-than-friendly. I'd drop the snobbish act, I'd drop the false air of pride.
I'd drop the Malfoy act. I'd still be proud of the name because one bad egg didn't mean the rest were bad too. I'd still be honoured to be of the Malfoy line. But I'd stop being snooty, I'd stop rubbing it into others' faces, I'd stop taunting Weasel...Weasley about being poor, I'd stop insulting Granger about begin a Mud...Muggle-Born, I'd even stop fighting with Potter for every other little thing. Hell, I'd be more than willing to be Potter-more-than-friendly.
Potter...
I just wanted to die already. Merlin, Salazar or anybody up there high and mighty, let it be the end, let it be all over now. I just wanted it to put a stop to it right there. The pain was agonizing, dreadful, horrible...words can't even to begin to describe it. All my body was sore. My mind seemed ready to explode any minute now. I could sense all the blood rushing through my brain with a loud throbbing. I felt my heart thump loudly. I even felt my bones and skin ache.
All that was left was a hair-ache, which, fortunately, I doubted of existing, lest of ensuing.
-------------
AN: Alright, you can slap me for making Draco an Empath But the way I see it, it's all good because this way, he'll be able to help a certain teaPot out...hehehe. I'm not telling more! Cheers!