Chapter 7
"WHAT, IN MERLIN'S NAME, DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?" Snape yelled at Draco. Draco could see little flecks of saliva fly from Snape's mouth, like a very greasy bulldog. Snape had been shouting at Draco for the past half an hour. Draco really couldn't stand Snape. He knew that in some was he was probably related to him, being as how all the old families tended to interbreed, but try as he might he had never been able to summon up any family feelings towards Snape. Snape was slimy and Draco wasn't even sure which side of the war he was on. Lucius disliked him intensely but for the sake of the Dark Lord he kept his silence. Snape was...useful to the Dark Lord, even in ways which Snape did not know.
They were in Draco and Blaise's room 'for privacy' but Draco knew for certain that Blaise and the rest of them were hanging around outside in the hall listening to Snape shout. Even if they hadn't, they would have been able to hear perfectly well, every single word. When Snape had started yelling at the top of his lungs, Draco had heard a slate from the roof fall down and smash on the path outside.
Out of the window he could see neighbours peering through curtains, in the way neighbours do, trying to find the source of the noise. He could also see some angry faces grimacing at the house as they walked by, on their way to work.
It was now the morning after the night when Draco had been found and accused by all the girls of not only beating up a muggle boy of their aquaintance, but also injuring Hermione Granger, who was upstairs lying immobile in her bed having still not awakned from unconsiousness.
Whilst Draco had been being yelled at about the muggle, he had stayed silent, with his head bowed, taking it, but when Snape started berating him for attacking Granger as well, he snapped.
He had really let fly at Snape, pouring all his anger into this one outburst. Snape looked quite taken aback, and as he listened to Draco's string of words, many of them not fit to be heard in polite company, his face turned from white with shock, to red with anger, to purple with disgust, to white again in blind, terrible wrath.
---
Standing outside the door, listening, of course, Ron gave a long whistle as Malfoy let fly with every filthy word he knew, and quite a few Ron was certain he had just made up on the spot.
Harry too seemed shocked, but his eyes kept flicking up the stairs and Ron knew he was worrying about Hermione. Even though they were no longer an official couple, they were still friends and Harry was a caring person. Ginny, Gabrielle and Brie were up there now, looking after her.
According to them, Hermione was still icy cold and being next to a fire all night in lots of thick blankets had not made her any warmer whatsoever.
Snape had grudgingly agreed to fix her beautiful dress, but refused point blank to fix the shoes, insisting that they were a hazard that were more dangerous before they were broken, and that Hermione had been lucky not to get broken ankles.
Inside the room, Draco seemed to run out of steam and Ron heard Snape start shouting again with even more volume than he had before. He grinned as things like "DON'T YOU DARE TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!" and "A STUDENT OF MY OWN HOUSE!" came floating through.
"-AND I SHALL BE TELLING YOUR FATHER ALL ABOUT THIS WHEN HE GETS BACK FROM THE MEDITERRANEAN!" Snape yelled from behind the door, and then Malfoy was speaking again, though this time it was different, more high pitched, as if Malfoy was...scared? Ron could barely believe his ears. Malfoy? Scared of something? It seemed impossible, but there his voice was, almost squeaky, pleading? Begging? No, Malfoy didn't beg.
"Surely you needn't tell my father about this, Professor? It would be a shame to upset him. And even more so after his relaxing holiday, he won't want to be bothered with something like this."
Now Snape's voice was quieter, but still firm. "Nevertheless, we shall have to bother him, shan't we. This must be dealt with." Snape's footsteps were approaching the door, and Ron hastily took his ear away from it, and pretended to be looking at the note on the back of the front door.
Snape banged open the door of Malfoy's room, and strode over to where Ron was, ripping the note saying where everyone was sleeping off the wall.
"There are going to be some changes around here." He said, taking out a quill and crossing things on the paper out, re-writing them. "Mr Crabbe, Mr Goyle, you will be taking up residence in Mr Malfoy and Mr Zabini's room. Mr Malfoy, you will be in the Basement room opposite mine. However, I dont trust that Mr Zabini can constrain you if you take it into your head to attack another muggle, so I will also be putting Mr Potter down there with you. Mr Zabini, you will take Mr Potter's place in with Mr Weasley."
He put the note back up on the wall again. Now it read:
Floor 2 -
Miss Hermione Granger
Miss Gabrielle Delacour
Miss Ginny Weasley
Miss Brie Chevin
Miss Persia Renard
Miss Pansy Parkinson
Floor 1 -
Mr Vincent Crabbe
Mr Gregory Goyle
Mr Ranger Truman
Mr Ciel Belledevré
Ground Floor -
Mr Blaise Zabini
Mr Ronald Weasley
Basement -
Mr Draco Malfoy
Mr Harry Potter
Professor Severus Snape
Snape was still looking furious as he strode down the hallway. Ranger and Ciel hurriedly stepped out of the way so that Snape could reach the stairs. He stood at the bottom of it, tapping his foot in its black polished shoes.
Ron watched grumpily as Zabini clumped upstairs, followed by Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle headed down to what had been their room, and Harry, with a barely concealed sigh, pushed open the door of Ron's and, previously his, now Zabini's, room. After a while they all emerged again and went into their new rooms, carrying their sheets and pulling their trunks which were stuffed with clothes hastily chucked in. They all disappeared again into their new rooms. When they re-emerged, looking considerably less than pleased, Snape cleared his throat.
"Now. Much as I would love to stay here and look after you all tonight, I have a very important potion back at the castle which requires my attention every evening, so I will not be able to stay. Mr Malfoy, if anything happens, you will regret it. Most sincerely." Snape walked towards the door and opened it, before looking back at them. "Now I must go back to the castle. My morning lessons have already been cancelled, and If I do not get back before lunch then there will be consequences."
The door slammed behind him and several sighs of relief were heard. Ginny, Gabrielle and Brie appeared at the top of the stairs.
"Is Hermione awake yet?" Harry said, the relief that Snape was gone being replaced by worry about Hermione. Ginny shook her head.
"She's still unconscious. Its very strange, she should have been awake by now. Its nearly midday." All three of them glared pointedly at Malfoy, who sighed and turned around, going down the stairs to the basement, where he was now sleeping. "Honestly." Ginny said, eyes narrowed at Malfoy's retreating back, talking loud enough that she knew he could hear her. "Snape really is letting him off too lightly. I doubt his father will even do anything. Gareth was a muggle and Hermione is a mudblood, he'll probably be proud of Malfoy for beating them up!"
Malfoy stopped. Harry watched as the muscles in his back tensed, his hands went into fists and he lowered his head. He muttered something.
"What was that?" Ginny said, in a taunting voice. "I couldn't quite hear."
"Shut...up." Malfoy said.
"Why? It's true, isn't it?" Ron said. Harry waved at him to be quiet but Ron wasn't looking at him. He was looking at Malfoy.
"Weasley." Malfoy's voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper, but it contained such a fury that Ron actually flinched at the sound of it. "Much as I would love to discuss what my father does or thinks, I have in fact two things to say to you. The first is that the muggle deserved what he got."
There was a scoff of outrage from Ginny.
"Scoff all you like, it's true. And secondly..." He leaned towards them. "I am one hundred percent certain that Granger would agree."
"Hermione? Agree with anything you say?" Ron said, making his views very obvious. "What could that muggle possibly have done to deserve you tearing his face up, and what would possibly motivate Hermione to agree that it was the right thing?"
Malfoy came back up the stairs and stood a foot away from Ron. The tension was coming off of them in waves.
"Why don't you go and ask her?" Malfoy hissed, eerily snakelike. He pointed at the stairs. "Go on, Go up there right now and ask her! Oh wait, that's right, you can't! She's unconscious! Because of what that bastard did to her!" He spun around and ran down the stairs two at a time, disappearing from view.
Ron huffed and puffed, Ginny fumed, but Harry wondered what on earth Malfoy could have meant.
The muggle deserved what he got...
Granger would agree...
She's unconscious. Because of what...
The rest of the day the house was caught in a kind of stasis. Ginny, Gabrielle and Brie kept up a constant vigil by Hermione's bed, Ron and Harry looking in every now and then. Crabbe and Goyle sat in front of the TV with Malfoy, watching programmes to pass the time. Pansy and Persia spent the whole time in their room and no-one had any idea what they were doing.
Ron caught up on his duty and tidied the hallway and the living room, shooting evil glares at Malfoy, who was slumped in an armchair, pointedly ignoring Ron.
Harry sat in a corner of the living room, supposedly reading. What he was actually doing was alternating watching Malfoy and staring out of the window, watching the wind blow the trees around. A movement caught his eye. Two young men were walking up the road. Harry watched them approach the house, then with a jolt saw them push open the gate and come up the garden path.
---
Gareth rang the doorbell. He and Leon had come to see how Hermione was. He had nagged Leon into coming because if he ran into the guy who had beaten him up on the way, he wanted some help. That guy was strong. Now he was standing in relief on the doorstep of Hermione's flat.
He heard footsteps inside and the door opened. Standing there was a young man, taller than Gareth by about an inch. He had scruffy black hair and glasses.
"Hello." The young man said. "Who are you?" His voice was suspicious.
"I'm Gareth" Gareth said. "This is my mate Leon. We're...er...the guys who took Hermione and her mates clubbing last night." He knew he looked a bit sheepish. "We're sorry about what happened. Is she alright?"
The dark-haired man stepped aside. "Come in." He said. Gareth walked inside.
So this was where Hermione was staying. It was not much of a place, with peeling wallpaper and a faint cabbagey smell. There were stairs in the hallway going up and down, and he could hear someone in one of the rooms of the rather cramped hallway.
He noticed the dark-haired young man was looking at him strangely. There was a mirror on the wall and Gareth saw his reflection. He was not surprised he was getting a weird look.
His silver blonde hair was ruffled and messy from the wind outside. The gash down his cheek was red and swollen, and he had a grey ring around his eye.
"Some guy beat me up." He said, by way of explanation. "Yesterday, in fact, on the way home from the club." He shrugged. "I'm sorry im a bit of a mess."
The dark-haired young man's eyes suddenly cleared, as if understanding something. Then an expression of worry and anxiety flashed across his face, but was gone just as quickly.
"Wait here." He said, and disappeared into the room from which Gareth could hear the sounds of someone moving about. The sounds suddenly stopped. Gareth crept closer to the door and listened hard. He could just hear the sound of a whispered conversation.
"Ron." The dark-haired young man was speaking. "Ron, there's someone in the hallway. Well, two someones, to be exact." There was the noise of footsteps then a squeak of shoes on tiles as it the person walking had been held back.
"Ron, its the muggle! The one that Malfoy beat up!" The voice sounded urgent. Gareth wondered what a 'muggle' was. Then another voice spoke.
"But Harry, he can't come here! Malfoy's in the sitting room! What if he goes beserk and attacks the muggle again? You've got to get him out of here!"
"But Ron, I can't! He wants to see Hermione!" There was a pause. "Wait...what if we take him up to Hermione's room...hey, you'll have to go and shut the door of the living room...and I'll take him to see Hermione."
"Ok mate."
Another young man, this one with flaming red hair and lots of freckles, came out of the room. He towered over Gareth and was even taller than Leon. Gareth supposed this must be Ron. Ron, if that was who it was, took a quick look at Gareth and Leon then went down the hallway and entered one of the rooms, closing the door behind him. Then the dark-haired guy, apparently called Harry, came out of the other room.
He motioned for Gareth and Leon to follow him. He passed the room with the closed door. From inside Gareth could hear a TV. That meant it was the sitting room, which meant that a guy...Malfoy? was in there. Hadn't one of them said Malfoy was the one who had beaten the...Muggle? up? Did that mean him?
Still puzzling over this, Gareth was startled to find himself in front of a door, apparently a couple of flights up. He had walked up two flights of stairs without realising. The sign on the door said:
Miss Hermione Granger
Miss Gabrielle Delacour
Gareth nudged Leon. "Hey your girl's in here as well." Leon nodded warily as the dark-haired guy pushed open the door.
Gareth had been in lots of girls rooms. His older sister's room was usually messy, full of clothes and make up and fashion magazines. You could barely see the floor. His younger sister's room was equally messy, but with books and toys, as she was only seven. His girlfriends' rooms usually tended towards the first description, with all the normal items in a teenage girls bedroom. But Hermione's and Gabrielle's room was unlike any he'd ever been in.
The first thing he noticed was how tidy it was. Sure, there were some things on the floor, but you could see the floor. By one bed was a pile of very heavy textbooks, all apparently, in french. On the duvet cover (which had pictures of owls flying) was another booklet, also in french, but with pictures of broomsticks. How strange.
Around the other bed were strewn even larger textbooks, but these were in english. They had titles like The Standard Book of Spells, Grade VII and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them. Even stranger. On the bed was...
"Hermione!" She was lying on the bed, pale as death, with her hair spread out on the pillow around her head. She had the duvet tucked round her neck and several hot water bottles were by the side of her. A heater was on near her head as well, and Gareth noticed how stifling hot it was. Hermione's hand was being held by the red-head, Ginny, and Gabrielle and Brie were sitting looking up at them.
Gareth knelt down and took Hermione's hand. He had to fight himself from dropping it. It was as cold as ice, a burning, fierce cold that felt like it would freeze his fingers off. "What happened?" He asked Gabrielle.
"She's been like this ever since we found her. She didn't wake up for breakfast or lunch, we've tried making noise, splashing her with water, everything, but she won't wake up." Gabrielle seemed near tears and Leon knelt beside her. She buried her face in his jacket. Ginny carried on
"She's been cold as ice all night. We've had it this hot in here all day and all night, she's got hot water bottles in there with her but she simply stays cold. Its eerie." She looked pale as well and her freckles were almost grey. The other girl, Brie, just sat there, hands wrapped around knees, rocking backwards and forwards and gazing at Hermione.
"What's up with her?" Gareth asked Ginny.
"We don't know. Ever since we brought Hermione back she's been utterly silent. Even all night while Gabby and I were sitting watch over Hermione, talking. She just sits there rocking. I dont know if she even hears us." Now Ginny seemed close to tears as well. "She told me before that she's very...aware of other people's emotions. Its true, yesterday when we were at the club she seemed to be tapping in to everyone's emotions and mimicing them. Its funny sometimes. But not now." She gave a funny little squeaky sob and the dark-haired guy bent down patted her head. Then he turned to Gareth and Leon.
"Look, guys. I know you want to stay and look after Hermione, but its really tough for us right now. I think we ought to leave the girls here. If you guys want to come back later, you can." He looked awkward, as most guys do when confronted with a crying girl.
Gareth stood up. Leon disentangled Gabrielle from his arms and followed Gareth down stairs. At the bottom of the stairs the other guy semmed to stop and think for a moment. Then he poked his head into the room with the closed door and said something to the occupants. It might have been Gareth's imagination, but he seemed to stress some words more than others.
"Ron," He said. "Have you got any of those sweets your brothers gave you? The red ones?" There was a shuffling inside the room and a moment later the guy had withdrawn his head and was holding a rather crumpled white paper bag in his hand, which he offered to Gareth and Leon while he closed the door behind him.
"Look, I want to thank you for coming over. We could really use some support right now. Here, take one of these as a thankyou. I promise, you won't regret it."
Gareth and Leon both took one of the small red boiled sweets out of the bag. Gareth popped his in his mouth as Leon did the same. The sweet tasted strange. It was almost rasberry flavour, but with something which could have been alcohol or could have been something else. It melted on his tongue and he swallowed, leaving a rather sharp sensation in his mouth.
Suddenly he heard the door of the sitting room open. A head poked out. A blonde head.
"You!" Gareth said, stunned.
"You!" The other guy said, equally stunned. But he wasn't stunned for long. With a gutteral roar he charged at Gareth, and was only held back by the dark-haired boy and the red-head, who had emerged from the sitting room and was bracing himself against the door frame to hold the blonde guy back.
Gareth and Leon backed towards the door. "What are you doing here?" Gareth managed to stutter.
"He lives here with us!" The red-head cried. "Malfoy, come back!" He wrenched the blonde's shirt back and the young man fell over backwards and hit his head on the wall with a crack.
The two young men who had been holding him back were left panting. As they breathed in and out Gareth could have sworn he saw their breath sparkle. They were going blurry and his head started to ache. "Did..was there alcohol in the red thing?" He mumbled. Leon was swaying beside him and had his mouth open.
"No." The dark-haired guy came forward. "Something else." He suddenly seemed to grow far taller, and Gareth realised he had sunk to his knees. A sour expression on the other boy's face turned into an expression of extreme dislike, possibly even hate.
"Hermione's too good for you." He growled and kicked Gareth in the chest. Gareth fell forward, his head a greyish haze which was numbing everything. The grey darkened and the world went black.
---
"Harry." Ron said as they hauled the unconscious forms of the two muggles into the street. "You know we're going to get into trouble for this don't you? I mean, those memory-removing sweets Fred and George gave me will get those muggles off our trail, but Snape's not going to be pleased."
"I had no choice Ron," Harry said, as they positioned Gareth and Leon on a bench. "They saw all Hermione and Gabrielle's wizard stuff, and now know Malfoy lives with us, and all about Hermione's predicament. Trust me, there will be far less trouble this way.
That evening, Harry wondered if he had jinxed himself by saying those words. He had hoped all Snape would do was tell them off, then maybe confiscate the sweets or something. Instead, he had spent another half an hour raging at Harry and Ron, Ron for possessing such dangerous articles, Harry for using those dangerous articles on unsuspecting muggles. He had then confiscated the sweets, made Ron clear the house again and sent Harry to his room, to stay there. When Malfoy had regained consiousness Snape had had another long shout at him and sent him to his room as well.
So now Harry was locked in a small room with his second most hated person (the first being Voldemort) in the world, until breakfast the next day. It was now about 6:00 in the evening and Snape had charmed the lock to un-lock itself at 8:00 the next morning. 14 hours of Draco Malfoy in a row. In an 8x10 foot room. Could it get any worse?
Harry was lying on his bed reading Flying with the Cannons and pointedly ignoring Malfoy, who was sitting cross legged on the floor searching through his trunk. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Malfoy get up and start wandering round the room, lifting up things off the floor, looking underneath them, then putting the back down.
In spite of himself, Harry's curiosity was piqued. "What are you doing?" He said, trying to sound un-interested.
"Why should I tell you?" Malfoy drawled, not turning round. He lifted a small table off the floor at the end of his bed, and then put it back down.
"It was only a question." Harry muttered, turning back to his book.
Malfoy sighed and sat down on his bed. "I'm looking for the secret compartment." He said.
Harry turned around. "The what?"
"Are you deaf, Potter? The secret compartment. Where Crabbe and Goyle keep their drink." Malfoy kicked his trunk. "They hide it under the floor, but I cant find the mark on the carpet to say where they've hidden it."
"Duh Malfoy." Harry said "It must be under my stuff."
Malfoy gave him a scathing look. "Nuh, you think? Lets see, I've looked under all of my stuff, all round the walls, everywhere except under your junk. Where could it possibly be?"
Harry put down his book and went to the end of his bed, where his trunk was. He pushed it aside and there, underneath it were four small black marks, like cigarette burns, in a square.
Malfoy came over, and with the egde of his fingernail found a crack in the carpet and lifter it up. Underneath was a loose floorboard, not unlike the one Harry had in the Dursley's house, and in it was...
A small green bag, made out of something like snakeskin. It was about the size of Harry's clenched fist.
"You're telling me there are drinks in that?" Harry was skeptical.
Malfoy picked up the small bag and put it in the middle of the floor. He extended one pale finger and tapped the top of the bag three times.
For a second, the bag glowed green. then something inside it moved, struggled pushed out the sides. The bag was stretched larger and larger, growing in size until it was at least as big as Harry's head. And it didn't stop. It grew and grew and grew, swelling and bulging as whatever was inside stretched the bag further and further until it was the size of a muggle bin bag. Slowly, it stopped. The creature inside settled down and they were left with a large sack.
Malfoy laughed at Harry's stunned expression. "Moke skin purse" he said. "It shrinks and grows of its own accord. Very handy for keeping large amounts of stuff hidden. He pulled open the top of the bag and showed Harry.
Inside the bag were bottles. Dozens of them, containing a variety of things from beer and shandy to vodka and firewhiskey. He took a bottle of firewhiskey and looked at it.
Oggden's Old Firewhiskey it said. It had a picture of a very stylised dragon in on the front, which was breathing fire and had a bottle in its claw. WARNING:Flammable it said underneath.
Harry put the Firewhiskey back in the sack and took some beer instead. So did Malfoy. They sat on the floor drinking in silence for a while. After Harry had finished the beer bottle he put it down next to him and inspected another bottle.
Horklumpade the label read. Harry read the ingredients. Horklump juice, Essence of Horklump, Horklump spines, alcohol, sugar.
It was a greyish pink colour with swirls of green. It looked foul.
"This looks foul." Harry said to Malfoy. Malfoy looked round.
"Foul?" He said, incredulous. "Potter, what you hold there in your hands is the third greatest drink ever made! It's not foul, its delicious!" He took a bottle.
"Third greatest?" Harry said. "What are the other two? In fact, what are your top ten favorite drinks?"
"Ok Potter, random question alert. Though considering, I'd do anything to pass the time." Malfoy looked seriously bored.
"Number 10." Harry prompted.
"Probably an East Indies Cocktail. They're just so sublime."
"Number 9."
"Cherry Brandy or Cherry Rum. I cant decide."
"Ok then, Number 8."
"Bingles Best Brandy. Its a wizard brand."
"Number 7."
"A Zombie."
"You can't be serious."
"I am! I swear Potter, there's a drink called a Zombie! Its made with Rum and...other stuff. I've drunk one!
"Fine, fine, whatever. Number 6."
"A Bloody Maria. I think sometimes its called a Bloody Mary"
"Oh yeah. I know them. Number 5."
"A Kamikaze."
"What? Isnt that like some suicide mission or something?"
"I don't know Potter! Its just the name of the drink! I think its got Vodka and Lime juice in. Crabbe and Goyle might have one." Malfoy rummaged in the bag and pulled out a bottle which he handed to Harry, who opened it and took a sip.
"Oooh, thats really nice."
"Isnt it? Go on, next one.
"Number 4."
"A Soul Kiss."
"What on earth is in that? It sounds like something related to dementors."
"Yeah, and we all know how dementors affect you, dont we Potter. No, you probably wouldn't like it, its made with different wines. And orange juice I think."
"Right. I know number 3 is Horklumpade, what's number 2?
"A Mai Tai."
"Ok then. Number 1?"
"The greatest drink in the whole world is Oggden's Old Firewhiskey. It knocks anything else simply out of the air."
"Pass me one." Malfoy found a Firewhiskey and chucked it at Harry, who defly caught it. Harry grinned at the expression on Malfoy's face, knowing he had expected Harry to miss it.
"How'd you catch so well?" Malfoy said grumpily.
"Years of quidditch and catching snitches." Harry said with a smug grin.
"Huh, I bet I could catch just as well as you." Malfoy said, with a challenge in his eyes.
"Go on then, catch." Harry chucked a bottle of Firewhiskey at Malfoy's head, who ducked. The bottle smashed agaist Malfoy's bed.
"Thats not fair." Malfoy said, sounding like a grumpy child. "You threw it at my head."
"Look Malfoy, we'll have a competition. We each throw the bottle to one another, and if we drop it, we have to drink one in one go."
"Bring it on."
Malfoy got up and stepped away from Harry. Harry picked up a bottle and stood up. He tossed it at Malfoy's head again, but this time he managed to catch it.
Malfoy threw the bottle up into the air, spinning it. Harry jumped and caught it, then smirked at Malfoy, who scowled.
And so the game went on. Gradually the sky above the high window turned from blue to grey to black, and stars came out. Gradually the sounds of people moving upstairs became fainter and fainter, and after a while the whole house above them was silent.
And still the game went on. Harry could have sworn that the bag was replenishing itself, because however many Firewhiskeys they dropped, or drank, there always seemed to be more.
Or that could just be because he was getting drunk. Of course, he had caught the bottle all the time at first, but then, as most people are prone to do, he made a mistake. A particularly deceptive throw of Malfoy's had Harry leaping to the left, while the bottle flew through the air next to his ear. Harry had grudgingly downed a whole bottle of the Firewhisky, wincing a little at the harsh taste. But that had only made Malfoy laugh at him, and so the game had gone on.
But the more Harry drank, the more mistakes he made, and the more he had to drink. He suspected he'd had about 20 or so. However, he also suspected Malfoy had had far more. Having a slight edge over Malfoy in quidditch meant that Harry did in fact catch the bottles more times than Malfoy did. And so, every time Malfoy dropped another one, he cheerfully took a gulp of another bottle.
They were both far beyond drunkeness now. Harry had always been of the opinion that all drinking alcohol did was remove you inhibitions, your masks, those sneaky subtle layers most people wrapped themselves in. That was why some people could simply drink and drink and drink, and seemingly not change in attitude at all. These were the people that wore a very few layers of disguise,. that were almost totally real and true to everyone they met. For the same reason, those who, when drinking, went crazy, or moody, or sleepy, or however else they changed, those were the people who put up so many barriers around themselves that almost no-one ever saw the real them.
Harry had, on previous occasions, stated this theory to both Hermione and Ron. Ron had heartily agreed, adding that when he had last seen Harry out of his mind with drink (and it had happened, Ron had the photos to prove it, taken to blackmail Harry with when there was something he needed Harry to do.) Harry had seemed more of the second kind of person, but more prone to mood swings. According to Ron, one moment Harry would be energetic and laughing with everyone around him, the next he would be skulking in a corner, beyond reason or rescueing.
Hermione had agreed with Ron, adding that on these occasions, even she couldnt get a single coherent phrase or sometimes even word out of him, that he would push her away and glower at anyone who came close. She had also added to Harry's theory, that those people who built up strong barriers around themselves had a person, that she believed people called a soul mate, that could break down all those barriers just like that. Harry was dubious about this theory, as neither he, nor Ron, nor, he believed, Hermione, had ever encountered their soul mate.
A bottle of Firewhisky smashed on Harry's head, jolting him out of his thought train. The knock had seriously unbalanced him, but due to the alcohol coursing through him he couldnt seem to steady himself, he fell back against his bed, falling down slumped until his head rested on the edge of the mattress.
Slowly, raising his head, he picked up a bottle of Firewhisky and threw it at Malfoy. Malfoy made a grab for it but clutched at it so hard that it shattered, spraying him with the reddish, goldy liquid. Shocked, dripping Firewhiskey from his clothes and hair, his face was a sight to behold. Harry burst into giggles at the sight of Malfoy covered in Firewhiskey. He suddenly sat up and crawled over to his trunk, from which he pulled out a muggle camera. Still laughing, he took a photo of Malfoy, who yelled, realising what the camera was, and lept at Harry, who put the camera behind him.
Not quickly enough. Malfoy's pale, cold fingers brushed Harry's as he grabbed at the camera and he pulled, hard. There followed a furious tug of war, Malfoy gouging deep grooves in the soft plastic of the camera. Harry caught the strap of the camera and tugged, Malfoy was jolted forwards, then he wrenched the camera so hard that the strap snapped, and Malfoy was left, holding the scratched and battered camera in his hands, panting, Harry wheezing, clutching the strap in his hand.
Malfoy stared in disgust at the camera, and brought it above his head, as if to throw it to the ground and smash it. Suddenly, a small shred of sobriety flared in the back of Harry's mind. What was on that film, those pictures that had been taken just before the term started. His mind wandered back, he remembered Ron taking the camera out of his bag on the Hogwarts express, playing with it, Hermione and himself talking, holding hands, kissing, smiling at each other. Their last fully trusting and happy moment before the break up, him carrying Hermione to bed. He remembered Ron, faithfully, annoyingly taking photos of Hermione and his tender moments, saying that one day, Harry might thank him.
"No!" He cried, but it was too late. Down came Malfoy's arms hurling the small silver box to the floor, smashing it into bits. "No!" Harry cried again, falling to his knees and pulling the mess of bits towards him. He found the little roll of film, saw how all the photos had been scratched or torn. His favorite one, of Hermione's kiss as she headed of towards the prefects meeting at the start of term was ripped, right down the middle. He held it up to the light. There, her lips and his cruelly torn in two, were Hermione and himself. Their perfect kiss had been sundered, broken, and it was all Malfoy's fault.
