Disclaimer: Not mine and will never be mine unless JK Rowling relinquishes it to me. Fat chance of that happening.

HALLOWEEN MADNESS (Courtesy of Draco Malfoy)

CHAPTER 6: OFF TO GRYFFINDOR TOWER

Draco was careful to conceal the disgust he felt as he watched Potter. He knew he had gone overboard with what he had been saying but who exactly cared? Sure, Potter did but he was out of the question.

White lies were perfectly normal. Not so white lies veiled over by complete Malfoy idiosyncrasy were normal as well-- for Malfoys, that is.

Harry Potter the Annoying Git was still retching his very innards on to the lake, and making it ripple with his vehemence.

He didn't keep an evil smile off of his face as he said, "You know, that's really nothing compared to the love triangle Peter Pettigrew has involved himself with."

Slowly, Potter raised those sickeningly doleful green eyes of his, met his amazing storm gray ones and pleaded, "Stop, please."

Without anything for barter? he thought indignantly. I think not. "He is in love with Avery, and no I'm not talking about a long lost female relative of the Death Eater."

Potter's eyes widened.

"What? You've never heard of homosexuals before? Oh, but that's not the end of it. Avery is in a relationship for the moment, mind you, with Nott. So, there. It's rather complicated because Nott has a rather ludicrous obssession for ogres."

A sort of pained expression passed Harry's face but Draco wasn't all too sure. As far as he was concerned, Potter only had two expressions, which he named, respectively, the Pity-Me-For-My-Parents-Have-Been-Murdered look and the I-Am-The-Boy-Who-Lived-So-Bow-Before-Me type of glance.

"But I really don't see what you're all acting up about. You haven't heard the worst," he told him in the most matter of fact tone he could muster.

"T-the w-w-worst?" Potter stuttered.

"Yes," he affirmed in dire tones. "You see Professor Severus Snape is actually a closet pedophile. Keen as the Headmaster is, he found out and asked the revered Professor to try to control his urges. So, now, he tries to rein in his unlikely penchant by being mean to the students he likes. I'm pretty sure you know what I mean," he told Harry with an underlying glance, meant to make Potter think of the implications of what he said. "Oh, and FYI, he had a thing for James Potter back in school. He's a relative isn't he?" he added deliberately.

"Malfoy," he said, then stopped, as if minding the continued churning of his stomach.

"Lost your tongue?" he goaded.

"I--I'll bring you."

His brows furrowed in confusion. Potter never really was coherent. "What?"

"I'll bring you to the meeting, as long as you stop torturing me."

Torture? He considered what he was doing as cheering Potter on, retch, that is, but nonetheless. "Why should I trust your word?"

"Why should I trust yours?" Potter bit back.

"Got your bile back, eh? Okay, Potter. Where do we meet and what time?"

"Seven tonight at the library."

And with a wave of his hands, he turned his back as a small triumphant smile curving his lips; his plans were starting to materialize and no one even knew he had them. He wanted to laud himself for being a great tactician. He controlled the urge to preen while he was alone, laugh maniacally even as the laughter bubbled within him and gloat over his success for those things were better done in the presence of someone who would be jealous of his greatness.

If there was something that Draco Malfoy hated most, it was waiting...and being told he looked ugly, or being told that he was worthless or someone telling him that he bought his way in to the team, or... All right, he conceded. There was an interminable number of things that he hated most but waiting was definitely a part of them.

And Potter was certainly making him wait. The stupid git told him to be there at seven. It was, by then, 7:02 p.m. Didn't the great Harry Potter have any sense of time?

He decided to stretch his patience longer. He better be here on the count of three, he told himself furiosuly. One...

No footsteps.

Two...

Even more silence.

Two and three quarters.

Mrs. Norris, Filch's ugly cat, walked passed him, all along giving him a wary look.

Potter...

There were footsteps that followed his annoyed call, then voices.

"But Harry," came the Sidekick Weasel's tone. "Why did you invite him to the meeting? For all we know, he could be a spy for You-Know-Who."

"Oh, honestly, Ron," he heard Hermione say. "Why don't you say the name? It's just 'Voldemort.' Three syllables. But I have to agree with him," she must've turned to Potter. "Having Malfoy at the meeting might be a risky thing."

"See?" Weasely insisted. "Hermione agrees with me."

"It's just this once," whined Potter. "You just weren't there so you wouldn't be able to understand how it felt. It was awful just to hear all those things he told me. Now, I know he played me for a fool for a while back there but still..."

They came around the corner to reveal themselves to him.

"For a while?" he echoed, not able to resist the urge when the three stopped in their tracks as they looked at him. "Excuse me, Potter, for thinking that you've always been one. I just thought that today was one of your better days as one."

"Malfoy," Potter greeted him curtly.

"Potter, Weasley, Hermione," he returned.

They stood there, exchanging glances with each other.

Finally, "Well, come along, then. I want to see how your meetings work."

"I'm telling you, you better just not want to go. It's best if you do not associate yourself with our kind," said Potter.

"No. I'm trying to stretch my limits, you see, in the hopes of being able to understand your simple minds."

With a frustrated sigh, Potter led the way.

He was greeted by suspicious looks when he arrived at the Room of Requirement. He ignored them. Instead, he commented, "Nice room. You say our old house elf directed you here? Hmm. He must have been of some use afterall."

No one had the better manners to reply.

A certain Hufflepuff, whom he recognized as one of the people Petrified during second year, was glaring at him openly as he growled, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm spying for the Dark Lord, what else?" A little provocation was what this lot needed.

Three of the members held the Hufflepuff back as he struggled to get to him.

"Malfoy!" came Hermione's sharp reprimand.

"He was asking. So, this is all you do here?"

"I refuse to be part of a meeting with that Slytherin here!" The Ravenclaw Seeker said.

There was a murmur of agreement from the other members at that.

"Well, I don't happen to enjoy being part of this meeting, either way," he told them airily. "I just need to be part of the organization."

Hermione's keen eyes focused on him. "Need?" she echoed.

"Want," he amended quickly. "I just want to be part of the organization."

If the look in Hermione's eyes were to be any clue, he knew deep in his gut that Hermione did not believe him and that that slip of the tongue would be his ruin if she decided that it was important.

Harry Potter, born leader, sighed helplessly and pleaded, "Let's just be diplomatic about this."

"Kick him out, and we'll be diplomatic," said a small, plain looking boy--another Hufflepuff surely.

"Yeah," the Hufflepuff Prefect seconded. "He might throw jinxes at us when we take down our guards."

No wonder they weren't going anywhere with their work. The Hufflepuffs have overpopulated the place, he thought. What sort of idiot would throw jinxes at a group of people who hated him and were learning defense together? Stupid Hufflepuff.

Losing all semblance of patience, Hermione looked at his direction, a finger pointed towards the door, and said sharply, "Out."

A look of utter indignation passed his Malfoy features. "You are going to talk. You go."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Everyone, out. Except you, Malfoy," she told him when he started to move to the door. "Don't dare eavesdrop on us."

All the members passed him as they filed out the room, some even holding their wands at an alarming angle (if he weren't any other than Draco Malfoy, that is), and the whole lot of them, with a great deal of suspicion in their eyes.

He feigned a look of complete innocence and even managed to smile at some of them.

When it was Longbottom's turn to eye him with a look of unadulterated terror (which he just relished, truly), he stuck a foot out. And inept and stupid as Longbottom was, he hadn't been able to see and avoid it in time, sending him to collide with all the other members.

He was the recipient of several Avada Kedavra glances for that stunt.

Draco soon found himself bored again.

He had finished going around the room, inspecting the things that adorned it. He also had already gone through having to think of things that he wanted, and seeing them inside the room.

But now, he was bored again.

What to do now? he asked himself.

He inched towards the door, careful not to make any noise, and slowly, laid an ear over the door. He couldn't hear anything. He tried to press his ear closer in hopes of hearing something but to no avail.

Damn, damn witch.

Hermione's done it again. She knew that he will do this and had put a charm on the door to prevent him from listening in on the discussion outside.

Clever, clever witch.

Annoyed, he sat down on a big, green, comfortable chair, which suspiciously looked like his favorite over at the Slytherin Common Room. What was he going to do now? Hermione has clearly ruined his plan already.

He eyed the bags that the members left with him and his eyes glinted.

He walked towards the pile of bags left inside the room. One had red stitches brandished all over it, in a flourished handwriting, it read: Neville Longbottom. Even his grandmum must think he's that stupid. He opened the bag, and looked at the pieces of parchment it contained; two of which caught his eyes. He had his name on one of them.

"List of things to say to Malfoy," he said aloud. "Interesting." He shifted his glance on to the other paper. "List of Things to Say to Ron when He Shows his List."

He vaguely wondered why Longbottom had the pieces of parchment with him, tossed the thought aside, and folded them to fit inside his pockets.

He discreetly closed Longbottom's bag and moved on to the others.

Harry Potter's bag looked like everyone else's but Draco's fortitude kept him from giving up. Finally, he found it, opened it, and found a cloak stuffed inside it.

He frowned and took the cloak out of the bag. It was made of very nice material, he thought.

His eyes grew round when he realized that his hands were invisible.

Potter has an Invisibility Cloak.

Why didn't father buy me one when he was with us? he asked himself a bit jealously.

He looked around just to make sure that no one was about and stuffed the cloak into his own bag, careful to put everything back where they belonged as not to arouse any suspicion.

When Harry Potter and his crew of do-gooders came back into the room, they didn't suspect that he, Draco Malfoy, had ransacked through their things.

But nevertheless, they still threw him suspicious looks.

"Malfoy," Potter said.

He raised a brow at him. "Yes?"

"We've decided to postpone the meeting for the night. You'll have to be initiated if you really want to be part of the DA."

"An initiation?" he repeated. "Why?"

"Just to check if you have good intentions on you," said Weasely.

"I don't," he told them matter-of-factly. "Let me assure you of that."

That left the group in dumbfounded silence.

"But I do want to learn more defensive and offensive magic. So, I'll be marginally less...evil."

Although that didn't suite well for the other members, they had to accept it. For they knew that Draco Malfoy was probably stronger than they all were.

"So, this meeting is dismissed," said Potter. "We'll keep in touch with you for the details of your initiation rites."

"That's very sweet of you, Potter," he said. "I didn't know you cared so much."

Potter rolled his eyes and exited the room with his cronies.

Draco waited until Potter and the other members were out of his sight. He opened his bag to take out the cloak and put it around him.

Let's see what Gryffindor Tower looks just like.

He followed them closely, even managed to jump after them at that bloody moving staircase. He's always thought that Gryffindor was up in Hogwarts somewhere but who would have thought that it was way up at the Towers?

Finally, the trio stopped in front of a portrait of a very fat lady.

"Malfoy is following us," said Hermione.

Draco blanched. How'd she know? Did she see through invisibility cloaks as well? He was so certain that he was so quiet. He was about to drop the cloak when--

"All right, dears," said the fat lady, and the portrait hole appeared.

He scrambled after the three Gryffindors to get in to the Tower. When he was inside, he thought, Bloody Gryffindors. I'm almost certain that it was the Weasel's idea of fun...

"I wish Malfoy would just tell us what he's up to," said Potter in a resigned voice.

"If I did that, I wouldn't be upholding Slytherin heritage, would I?" he asked out loud, removing the cloak.

Hermione gasped. "Malfoy!"

"Hello."

"What are you doing here?"

A/N: I know that this chapter isn't much and isn't anything to make up for the past two months that I haven't updated. But college is too much of a drag and I haven't much time to do much of anything else --;

Next chapter: Malfoy wreaks mayhem and havoc (with a bit more of his new character spice) into Gryffindor Tower, sending all the Gryffindors wanting to go to Azkaban just to have him farthest away from them as possible. And semi-revelations why Malfoy is acting all funny.