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Chapter Four – The Sacred Conference of the Infamous Triumvirate
A lone wolf trotted towards Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Although it would seem damn near impossible, a fierce scowl permeated its features, and its fur was bristled from what appeared to be stress and tension. A pendant, depicting a silver crescent moon, dangled from the wolf's neck. It swung in sync with the movement of its owner, and a beautiful, musical chime sounded every time its surface bounced off the chest of the beast.
Hogwarts was just a winding path away now, and the wolf picked up its pace at the sight of it. It paused mid-step, scanned the area, then sauntered over to a wooded area just outside the wards of the school. Within moments, Draco Malfoy stood in the place of the pale-haired wolf, face tinged a lovely hue of pink. He smoothed out imaginary wrinkles from his clothes before clutching the now hidden pendant lying across his chest. It chimed loudly then as it shimmered a dazzling royal blue. The crescent moon spun a full 360, and before he knew it, Draco felt the familiar tug at his navel and was transported, by portkey, to the Dragon's Den, a place created only for the Slytherin Triumvirate deep underground the earth of the Forbidden Forest.
It was something the trio – Draco, Blaise, and Pansy - had created in times of an emergency; the three best friends had been together since they were only months old, and when the welfare of one of them had been threatened, the other two wanted to hear about it and do something about it. At first it had been created for Pansy's sake – poor girl seemed to be a magnet when it came to physical and magical maladies. But as the three got older, and more emotional problems started to surface, the stylish portkey of sorts became a way of solving stressful problems or plotting devious schemes for revenge.
And as Draco fell – with a dignified grace only blessed to a Malfoy – on his and Blaise's bed, he felt wholeheartedly that he was in a dire situation.
The cause of the esteemed 'dire' situation: who else? Potter.
Harry-bloody-Potter, The-Boy-Who-Is-Too-Damn-Adorable-For-His-Own-Good.
He couldn't get that smile out of his mind, the way he struggled to come up with small talk, the way he added with an almost self-deprecating smile, "at least I think so." It affected him so much more than he wanted, and Harry must have realized that as well because as soon as his façade slipped slightly to show surprise, Harry's smile got wider, and his eyes…oh…his eyes.
The emeralds just lit up!
Merlin, was he gorgeous! Almost everything about him screamed 'protect me' and 'I'm so weak, save me!"
And if Draco had anything to say about it, if the opportunity came up where he needed to save Boy Wonder, he would do it in a heartbeat. Like a bloody reckless Gryffindor.
But.
Harry was far from innocent; Draco knew it, Harry knew it, and everybody else knew it too. Judging from the outfit he had on in Honeydukes – those luscious, tight black jeans, and that mouth-watering emerald button down – and the way he appreciated Draco's own outfit, Harry wouldn't, couldn't, be considered remotely innocent.
And it only made Draco's hungry for him grow to unparalleled heights.
That's why he called the meeting.
As if answering Draco's subconscious calls, Pansy and Blaise swirled into view, with Pansy's sun pendent glowing a deep purple, and Blaise's star pendent glimmering a seductive crimson. The two grasped onto each other out of reflex – since neither had the grace of a Malfoy – and stared at Draco in concern.
"Draco," Pansy called. She climbed onto the king sized bed and cradled the now limp boy in her arms. "What's the matter?"
Draco looked into Pansy's pale green eyes and instantly felt silly for calling her and making her worry like this. Like most of the Slytherins, Pansy's personality was misinterpreted – her rambunctious nature made others think of her as loud and cruel in her teasing when really her spitfire behavior was similar to that of Lily Potter's. But being the Slytherin that she was, it was looked down upon. And her flirtatious nature with the boys got her the name "The Slytherin Slut" even though she didn't swing that way. Every Slytherin knew Pansy fancied girls! Her flirting with boys in other houses as well as her own was just a type of mockery – another joke from her twisted, yet hilarious, sense of humor.
It was a joke only Slytherins would be able to understand.
Draco often did the same with girls of other houses, if they were 'hot' enough. Merlin knows he had never and would never shag anything in a skirt.
Looking into her beautiful face – not pug-like…anymore – and seeing the concern there, he opened his mouth to answer her question, but noticed— "You dyed your hair."
She smirked, in a decidedly Malfoyish way, before combing her fingers through her now waist-length deep auburn hair, which framed her face in layers and curled loosely at the end. "I figured I wanted to be like the Golden Triumvirate," she said with mock admiration. "There was a need for a redhead in this trio; two blondes in a group, especially with one who looked much better as a blonde, seemed stupid."
Blaise collapsed on the bed beside them with a burst of laughter, now truly noticing that they, indeed, look similar to the Gryffindor trio. The two sidekicks in both had the same hair color; all Blaise and Pansy needed to do was switch hair colors and they would be the Slytherin complements of the Gryffindors.
Draco, however, failed to see in the amusement in the statement. All it served to do was remind him of Hermione and Weasley, which lead to the idea of Potter.
Fucking Potter, fucking with everyone's fucking thoughts like a fucking idiot...
"But," Pansy started with the smirk still set on her features. "We're not here to talk about my hair, are we dear?"
Blaise's laughter was cut short. "Yea, Draco," he agreed with concern, "why did you call us?"
Draco stared at his two best friends before moving off his position on the bed and pacing steadily from one end of the room to the other. When in his Animagus form, all he felt was the intense need to call the rest of his pack; to band together and stand against the problem that had plagued his life. But now, as he watched Blaise and Pansy watch him with concern, thinking something life changing or drastic was happening, he felt…
Well, like a bloody Hufflepuff, of course!
Calling his friends just so he could share his feelings of the situation…ha! Who was he, Justin Finch-Fletchley? Colin Creevey? The Weaselette!
No!
He was a Malfoy through and through – devious, cunning, not to mention irresistible. Although he wasn't the evil bastard he thought he was – proven when he successfully deflected an attack from Voldemort on Halloween last year – he still was a Malfoy, and Malfoys always got what they wanted. He heard Blaise's speech echo in his mind.
"Be a Malfoy, Draco, and go get what you want!"
Too true, too true.
"Pining and bitching over Harry bloody Potter...
Hmph. Malfoys don't bitch.
…the bloke is gorgeous and you haven't done anything yet!
Mental note: torture Zabini ruthlessly for admiring his Harry.
What happened to the Slytherin Sex God who reigned supreme since he got here? What happened to your I-get-whatever-the-fuck-I-want-whenever-I-want-it-and-you-damn-near-better-give-it-to-me attitude that the Slytherins love and respect?"
It's still in him, damnit! So he was a bit distracted by permanently pouty pink lips, sensual olive skin, those jewels for eyes, not-to-mention tho—
He shook his head like a wet dog, trying futilely to rid himself of the unwanted – desired – thoughts. Enough of this!
"You are my comrades, more than the lowlifes that reign supreme at the bottom of the House of Slytherin, are you not?"
Blaise and Pansy nodded enthusiastically.
Draco paused for a moment before he took two giant strides to reach Pansy, grabbing her chin and forcing spring green eyes to stare unblinkingly into silver depths. "If I asked you," he started with a forceful whisper, "to ride into hell on a thestral and try to take the throne of Satan, what would you say?"
Pansy leaned forward and placed a forceful kiss on the lips of her leader. "Do you want that throne veiled in his blood or adorned with his head?"
He returned the kiss in earnest, even though he got nothing of the sexual kind of out it, then broke it roughly with an enthusiastic, "exactly!"
He whipped his head in the direction of Blaise and grabbed his chin much in the same way he did Pansy, this time forcing hazel eyes to stare unblinkingly into his own eyes. "And if," he started in the same tone of voice, "I asked you to slay all of the angels in heaven, what would you say?"
This time, Draco didn't wait for Blaise to initiate the kiss. He captured his lips forcefully, feeling Blaise respond immediately and with such a familiarity that it took his breath away. Ending the kiss with a small final peck on the corner of Draco's mouth, Blaise breathed out, "Do you want their bodies whole, sliced, to "disappear," or to be reduced to ash?"
"Excellent, excellent!"
He let go of Blaise and resumed pacing in front of them. He tilted his head askance briefly to eye the two friends. Both now had a gleam of anticipation in their eyes, causing him to inwardly crow with glee. He could always count on them.
"Your loyalty almost astounds me; it rivals that of a Hufflepuff."
All three shuddered.
"But of course, not giving your loyalty to me would result in a slow, tortuous death in the dungeons of the Malfoy Manor, so I suppose we could consider this… loyalty Slytherin-esque – it is, after all, self-preservation.
"Speaking of Slytherins, we are what makes the House of Slytherin the way it is today. It has always been that way, ever since we set foot in this Merlin-forsaken school. We have power, prestige, a presence that demands that everyone shut the fuck up so we can say our piece. Even before Hogwarts, while the others had mediocre dreams and low standards in life, we fought, kicked, and screamed our way to the top. It is that very reason why I picked the sun, moon, and star pendants for our emergency portkey.
"Overworked and under appreciated, the sun, moon, and stars have dominion over some of the most important entities; they determine the time, the weather, the cycle of life and death, even going as far as to determine the moods of the people residing.
"The powerful radiance of the sun…"
He looked to Pansy, gently smiling at the bright smile elicited.
"…the gentle reassurance of the stars…"
Blaise smiled softly as he looked to him.
"…and finally, the calm, cool, collected stealth of the moon."
Draco paused in his speech and pacing – more so for a dramatic pause than a collection of thoughts – then resumed after retying his ponytail. "Sadly, however, there are certain factors that the three – the sun, moon, and stars as well as us being Slytherin royalty - cannot control. An example? Gryffindors."
Gasps sounded.
"Yes, I know. Simply dreadful, isn't it? But I have a plan, a plan that will benefit you and me both."
"But Draco," Pansy interrupted, "what does this meeting and plan have to do with…them?"
Blaise watched as Draco snapped an impatient, "wait!" before digging deep in his cloak pocket and pulling out an innocuous black velvet bag, which strings were tied in a fancy bow. He gingerly handed the bag to Pansy, and Blaise scooted close to her to view the contents of the bag. It certainly looked familiar, but they couldn't put a name to it.
"Draco?" Blaise questioned cautiously. Pansy's gaze snapped over to Blaise. The chestnut-haired boy was now a deathly pale, lips quivering, sweat beginning to trickle down his forehead in rivulets. It seemed that he figured it out. What in name of Merlin was wrong with him?
"What?"
Pansy looked to Draco and found that he wasn't fairing much better. Instead of becoming pale, his face became rosy and his breathing was labored as if he had just finished yelling. His hair was loose, seeing as he undid the ribbon when he raked his hand through his long hair, and his eyes were alight with such embarrassment that she had to wonder: What the fuck was going on?
"Why is this bag not the size of my torso?"
Click! It was as if everything slid into place. She knew what was going on, but…
She snatched the bag out of Blaise's hand and turned it over. 'Gasmati Gumballs' was stitched along the front in silver, laying flat across the velvety surface instead of being bumpy and enlarged as it always was after a visit to Honeydukes. She opened the bag. "Bloody hell, Draco!" she exclaimed as she showed the bag's contents to Blaise. "There must only be 50 of those gumballs in here!
"What happened?" she demanded, shooting up off the bed and grabbing Draco by the shoulders. "You usually buy the jug and steal the ones the third years already bought! What happened, damnit!"
Draco lifted his head high, as if facing his execution with dignity. "I gave some to Potter."
Silence.
Blaise blankly. "You gave some to Potter."
Pansy lividly. "You gave some to Potter!"
Draco with indignation. "He wanted some!"
Silence.
SLAP!
Draco automatically muttered a small healing spell to take off some of the sting from Pansy's hard slap. The now redheaded girl shouted the counter spell, making it sting worse than it did before. He glared at her.
"Now you listen here, Malfoy! You are a selfish, greedy son of a bitch! Why the fuck did you display goodness to the worse Gryffindor of the entire lot!"
Draco put one hand on his hip, shifting his weight to settle on his right leg. "I am a selfish, greedy son of a bitch," he agreed haughtily, but added, "he was being civil, though!"
Pansy knew of the crush he had on Golden Boy, and it was okay because the boy was bloody gorgeous but this. Now this was despicable. He was civil so he had to give away part of the one thing that drove Blaise and herself crazy! His fixation with those gumballs had gotten her injured, verbally shredded, and detentions because of his status as Head Boy and the son of a fucking bitch had readily given away his obsession because of the Measly Boy Wonder!
She resisted the urge to slap him again.
Instead, she lunged forward and grasped the front of his shirt, causing the two to tumble down to the ground. He struggled immediately, proclaiming that if she did not remove her hands from his person she would soon find them laying beside her, but she was prepared and yelled "Elanguesco," making him instantly relax in her arms. Followed by "Consopio," Pansy levitated the now sleeping boy onto the bed, making sure to be extra harsh in her treatment, watched the boy bounce a few times off of its surface, then motioned for Blaise to come.
"We have to plan, my friend."
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To Be Continued…
Sorry for the delay I had to take the ACT. Please review!
-MercuryGoddess-