Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. They belong to JKR. :) The Lyrics belong to Bright Eyes.
Author's Notes: I enjoyed writing this chapter. I'm not best with dialog's, but I had fun doing it. I think the scenes I do best are when the character is thinking, like the scene about how Draco came about writing. Maybe you all think differently.
I found a beta, and I am have her do the first two chapter's. She'll be doing them from now on. She has yet to do this chapter because I didn't want to wait a week to put it up.
I wanted to thank those of you who reviewed my last two chapters. When I say "Critique" I don't mean "Compliment". I actually mean, i'd like you to tell me what I can improve on, and what I did well. What you liked or didn't like. It help's me grow. Though of course if you can't find anything I can improve on, compliments make me feel good. I just want honesty. :)
I'm sure you all don't want a long author's note. So, without further ado, here is chapter three:
The end of the paralysis
I was a statuette
Now I'm drunk as hell on a piano bench
And when I press the keys
It all gets reversed
The sound of loneliness makes me happier
-Bright Eyes / Poison Oak
Harry sat in the window seat in the dormitory. He looked out at the darkened sky. The moon hung low once more, star's scattering the heavens. He held a bottle of whiskey in between his palms, clenching it like a lifeline. He brought it to his lips, and took a gulp. It burned on the way down. The fire roaring through his esophagus, made a maddening thrumming sensation as it drained into his stomach. His inside's swirled threatening to lose it's content's upon the Oriental rug.
It helped though.
It drained his thoughts of meaning, and left everything with a glittering hue.
Yes, it helped.
The evening had not been what he had expected. But what had he really expected? Malfoy to greet him with open arms, and answer every question easily? No said an honest voice sounding much like Hermione. No , but I hadn't expected this...
A swirling of images and memories clouded his head, as he remembered:
The sun fell spraying the horizon blood-red, as though with an invisible paint set. Harry sat in a spindly-legged chair, in front of one of the windows in the common room. He watched as the red sunset turned black as tar, and was sprayed with opals. He checked his watch, fifteen minutes to ten. Harry stood up and found his way to the portrait hole. No one asked where he was going (Hermione and Ron were having there usual fight about homework). The halls were scattered with prefects. Harry had made sure his badge was pinned to his chest, earlier that evening in front of the mirror. He had wondered whether Malfoy would be able to make it to the Kitchens on time, seeing as he had lost his prefect badge last year. After tickling the pear on the portrait of the bowl of fruit, he entered the Kitchens. He was relieved to find Malfoy lying on top of one of the many tables, early. He was eating what looked like tossed salad with whipped cream.
"You're early," Harry stated.
"We have established that you state the obvious." Malfoy snarled, sticking his finger in the whipped cream and licking it off.
Crabbe and Goyle were in the corner eying Harry suspiciously. They stopped eating cookies every now and then to flex their muscles threateningly at Harry.
The bustling of working house elves, gave a soft hum of shuffling feat in the background. He sat in a chair next to the table Draco was laying on.
"You now that's disgusting don't you?" Harry nodded at the concoction Malfoy had created in the bowl.
The other boy gave a dry laugh. "Now Potter, I doubt you came hear to discuss my eating habits." Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "Now get on with it, I have homework to do and a game of wizards' chess to play."
"Err," Now that he was here he wasn't quite sure what to say, "Um."
The Slytherin set down his fork and turned his attention away from food. He stared at the other boy.
"If 'um' and 'err' is all you had to say. And the only reason I snuck out of the dormitory, I swear I may murder you in your sleep." Harry shot Malfoy a glare, before thinking about Malfoy sneaking into his dormitory while Harry was sleeping. A weird flutter shot through Harry's stomach. A sensation Harry thought may be nauseousness.
"Shut up Malfoy! I'm trying to figure out how to say something." Harry growled angrily, his cheek's flushed.
"'Trying' being the key word there. Here, have a beer, it'll loosen you up a bit." Draco snapped his fingers, and two house elves came scurrying to his side. (Here would be the opportune time to tell me about the house elves. What are they wearing? How can Harry tell their sexes apart? Later are their voices high and squeaky?)
"Yes Master?" Asked the male house elf, with eyes as wide as orbs.
"A Beer, now." Malfoy ordered.
"Yes sirs." exclaimed the female elf to the left of the male one. Harry tried not to think of what Hermione's expression would be, if she saw Malfoy ordering the house elves around. She bustled away to return with a dusty muggle beer. It must have been sitting in the kitchen for ages. The blond boy pointed his finger at Harry, and the elf handed to him. He set the glass on the table.
"Drink up, Potter."
"No!" Harry shouted his voice a little to angry for the situation.
"Oh Saintly Potter to good to have a beer? Or are you practicing your 'say no to drugs' skills?" Malfoy asked, his lips curled into a sneer.
"No... It's just - " Harry began but the other boy cut him off.
"Just what?" Malfoy interjected.
"I don't think it's a good idea!" Harry snarled, his voice thick with anger.
Malfoy sneered. Harry sensed this was the closest thing to a smile he would offer.
"Fine be incoherent sober, it's much more amusing drunk, though." Malfoy tilted his head.
Harry took the beer, and unscrewed the lid. Then downed a gulp, all to aware that Malfoy had manipulated him into drinking it. He gagged, it tasted like urine.
"Gross." Harry whimpered, through coughs.
"You get used to the flavor." Malfoy acknowledged, giving a smile to Crabbe and Goyle, who were sniggering into their cookies.
"I don't think I want to get used to it." Harry objected, wiping his mouth on his robes sleeve.
"Maybe you're more of a Fire Whiskey type." He clapped his hands, and the female elf from moments before returned next to them. "A bottle of Fire Whiskey."
Harry shook his head, "Malfoy I don't want one."
" Nonsense." when the elf returned, Malfoy handed the drink to Harry. The other boy eyed the amber liquid warily, before uncorking it, and taking a swig. It burned going down, like a million darts being shot down his throat, the target was his stomach. Harry found the pain actually felt good. He took another swallow. The light instantly started to glitter. He felt a rush go through him, he didn't care how uncomfortable he was, the liquid was making him braver.
"Your hair is shiny." Harry told Malfoy. The pale boy just smiled, Crabbe and Goyle's laughs no longer seemed sinister but friendlier. He waved at the two other boys. They doubled over with sniggers.
The room was shining with lights, sparkly dots hung in the air, which he hadn't noticed before. Harry felt good just watching them move like dust through the empty space.
"What did you want to talk about, Potter?" Malfoy asked.
Harry jumped; he had forgotten he wasn't alone. He turned his gaze from the glitter to the boy.
"Oh, I saw you in the mirror. I don't know why." Harry replied.
"Give me a drink of that." Malfoy demanded. Harry took another gulp, the pain easing as sensations were numbed. He handed the bottle over. The blond took a gulp, tilting his head back.
"Well, I can't help you with the mirror. I haven't seen it."
Harry was sipping from the bottle now. Tiny sips that stabbed at the side of his mouth.
"Well why did you end up in the birrow. No mirror . I said birrow . Birrow." He was shaking with laughter. It didn't matter what was funny, just that he laughed or else he might explode from the hilarity.
"You sod." Malfoy acknowledged, a smile playing on his lips.
"Git." Harry choked through laughs.
Before he knew it, the room was spinning. And darkness coming. It was covering him like a blanket as he hit the floor.
When he woke up, Dobby was easing a cold washcloth on his face. Tears in his green eyes.
"Dobby thoughts you were dead!" The elf shrieked, his voice unusually high. "Dobby thinks Harry Potter has had enough!" The elf took the amber bottle out of Harry's hands. The lights were still dancing but the room didn't seem as friendly.
"Hey... give it back." Harry whined through lidded eyes.
"You passed out, Potter." Draco interjected; he was smiling a wide grin. That was a real smile, not a sneer. "Strong stuff that whiskey."
Harry shook his head.
"Look at the lights, Malfoy. They kind of glow don't they? It's like..." Harry began but he couldn't find the right word.
"Stars." Malfoy finished for him.
"Yeah..." The other boy agreed.
"Come on. We better get you up to your dormitory or that house elf might have a heart attack." He pointed at Dobby, who was emptying the bottle, and mumbling about Malfoy's being bad influences.
The Slytherin pulled Harry to his feet. Harry swayed on the spot, the room spinning. He found that once he put one foot in front of the other walking wasn't so hard; it was the staying up right that was difficult. Malfoy laced a hand under The Gryffindor's arm, balancing him.
Harry grabbed another bottle of liquid from beside the door. The Fire Whiskey was inside a marked box, which read For Teachers. There were tons of them.
"One for the road." Harry told a near by house elf. The elf nodded. Malfoy dropped his head back as though inspecting the ceiling, and laughed.
"For the road? Haven't you had enough?"
"Nope." Harry exclaimed. He tried to walk on his own. His head came in contact with something hard, and decided to let the other boy help him.
"Crabbe, Goyle, I want you both to go and make sure there are no prefect's outside, nor teacher's. I want both of you to go around corner's first." The blond said.
"I'm a prefect." Harry slurred.
"I doubt you will be if someone sees you this sloshed. Go you two." Both boy's lumbered out after Malfoy gave his orders. They waited a minute, head's pressed against the door, then followed.
The journey up to Gryffindor Tower was a long one. They waited for Crabbe and Goyle to round corners before going themselves. Harry was surprised neither boy got a detention; they didn't meet a single prefect.
When they were up six flights of stairs an alarming thought hit Harry.
"Malfoy, if the stair's moved would you catch me before I fell off?"
The other boy seemed to consider this, hefting Harry up the steps.
"Yes." He decided. "I wouldn't go to Azkaban for you. You're not worth it. Salazar Slytherin knows, that your Gryffindor friends would try to blame me."
That didn't ease Harry's nerves any.
When they reached the tower, Harry stumbled up to The Fat Lady.
"Are you going to be alright from here?"
"Funny, it almost sounds like you care, Malfoy" Harry slurred.
"Of course I don't! But I don't want to be framed for murder just for not walking you to bed and tucking you in!" Malfoy snarled, before turning his back on Harry. He walked briskly down the staircase, his robes billowing behind him.
Harry mumbled the password (Water Logged), and stumbled into the common room. It wouldn't be for days, until after his hang over subsided, that he would realize he almost had fun with Malfoy. Weird.
Draco awoke with a start; the sheet's tangled around him in a damp knot. He couldn't breathe. Shadows were moving around the dormitory room, the shadow's of images that were just moving behind his closed eyes. He blinked and the dark shapes were gone.
He sat up, holding his head in his hands. The windowpanes shook with the force of the storm outside. Draco put his feat over the edge of his four-poster, and swung himself off the bed. The stone floor felt cold on his warm bare feet. There was only one thing to do now. He tiptoed to the end of his bed, and opened his trunk. Draco's Journal was sitting beneath his robes, with a quill beside it.
He pulled it out, and returned to his bed. In his journal he wrote:
September 21, 2005
I had that dream again. The one where I am standing in the middle of an orchard and the sky turns black. The leaves wither and die. Everything hazes to black and the meadow melts away. I am now standing in the middle of a cold dudgeon room. There is clicking somewhere above me but I can't find the source of the noise. I hold my breath until my lungs want to burst; it comes out in smoke. There is someone in the room with me; I turn to look at the person. He has black hair
Then I wake up. A lump of sweaty Pajamas in my mound of sheets. The wind is roaring against the windows. My breath is short. I roll over. I know I won't get back to sleep. The dream comes every night lately. I tried not sleeping. Tried staying awake. I have tried everything short of going to St. Mungo's. It comes over and over in stunning clarity. When I wake up I can't remember who the man is. I can only remember that horrible black hair. It hurts my eyes.
Draco closed the pages, deciding to wipe them clean in the morning. As he lay back against his four-poster bed, thoughts clouded him. Who was that man? He had a feeling it was someone he knew, but he couldn't put two and two together. It was like only having half the puzzle; it just left him frustrated and sweaty.
The Fire Whiskey coursed through him. If he thought it enough, he could almost believe it was just a drunk dream.
Crabbe's and Goyle's snores kept him awake, until the sun flickered minty green rays of morning light, through the blades of grass obscuring the dudgeon window. Whenever he closed his eye's he could see the field mutating into a dudgeon room. This dudgeon room?
Before sleep fogged his senses once more, he had one last coherent thought: Whoever the man is, he was a threat.
The morning dawned Murky gray, the wind howling. The trees outside the dormitory window were shaken and rattled, as though by invisible hands. The first thing Harry saw that morning when he opened his eyes, was the ever familiar crack in the ceiling. When Harry was in first year he though the crack looked a bit like eyes if he squinted. The crack was shaped like a lopsided V. One side of the V hanging over Harry's bed the other over Ron's. A droplet of liquid fell from the depths of the crack and landed on Harry's chest. His PJ shirt was covered in many dots, marking where water had leaked through the crack throughout the night.
"Lovely" Harry growled.
His head pounded, as he rolled over. His stomach lifted as though awaking to, he thought he might be sick. He closed his eyes, to keep the light out. I must be ill... Then he remember, he had gotten very drunk with Malfoy, just hours ago.
What little light the sky outside held, filtered in through the curtains, casting a red hue on Harry's face. If he looked closely enough he could see dust particles floating in the air. His dorm mates were still sleeping. Good , this way the way Harry preferred Gryffindor Tower.
He rolled over onto his side, and pulled the velvet duvet over his head. The morning light vanished. Harry's head gave a happy sigh, as the pain receded. Sleep was just about to cover him once more when he was shaken, by firm hands.
"Harry wake up." It was Ron. He could tell by the voice, and the sparks of red hair, that Harry glimpsed every time the covers were dislodged from above his head.
"Shh. Not so loud." Harry groaned, as an angry throb exploded above his head from Ron's voice.
"What the bloody hell are you still doing in bed?" Ron exclaimed, not bothering to keep his voice down. "And why is there a fire whiskey bottle by the window? Did you get sloshed, and not give me a bit? Or was it Dean and Seamus?"
"I said be quiet ." Harry groaned. His head was going to burst, he was sure of it.
Ron pulled the covers off, and sniffed Harry.
"You smell like alcohol. Do you have a hangover?" Ron asked.
Oh, that's what this is... Harry thought.
Harry nodded, but stopped just as quickly, movement hurt.
"I'm going to get Hermione." Ron decided out loud. Harry didn't even argue. The silence that followed his friend's departure was reward enough. He pulled the blankets over his head and let the dark soothe him.
The sound of footsteps and the door bursting open announced Ron's return. Harry groaned inwardly. The footstep's shuffled to the head of his four-poster. Harry's blankets were pulled off by Hermione. Ron was going out of the dormitory, his ears slightly red.
"Harry are you alright?" She asked. Her eyes were filled with worry. Harry closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see them.
"I'm fine. Just give me back my blankets." Harry grumbled, his stomach filling with guilt.
"No. You'll be late for classes. If you really are fine you're going to them." She noted.
Harry pulled at the blankets but Hermione wouldn't budge.
"Harry what is wrong?" She asked. Harry could hear the worry in his voice, and was afraid if he opened his eye's he'd be overwhelmed by it.
"Nothing." He snarled.
"Is it true what Ron said? He said you were smashed." She exclaimed.
Harry's head gave a horrible throb. He meant a mental note to kill Ron later.
"Yes." He whimpered. Moving his jaw was just as bad as opening his eyes.
Hermione surprised him: She didn't lecture him on the dangers of drinking, nor did she tell him how irresponsible it was for him to get sloshed on a school night. She sat down beside him on the bed, and conjured up a cold washcloth. She put it on his head.
"I wish I knew a spell to cure hangovers, but since I didn't expect you to get drunk last night, I didn't do any research." Harry could almost hear a smile in her voice.
"Thanks 'Mione." He replied. The cloth really made a difference. The hot angry throbbing subsided with the cool cloth. Harry was falling between consciousness and sleep, when Hermione spoke.
"I'm not going to be angry with you now. Or make you answer questions. We need to talk when you are feeling better, though." She replied softly.
Harry sighed, then nodded. The mattress shifted beneath him as Hermione stood up and left the room, silently.
Harry, who was sliding into a dream, didn't know that floor's below him Draco Malfoy was getting over a hangover as well.
To Be Continued...