Author's Notes:
Thanks for the reviews and reading. Though in reguards to a review: I hadn't even thought of Blaise sleeping with Harry to be honest. I don't want to say too much because it will give the entire plot away but don't worry, as for now (unless I can think of a great reason why) Blaise won't sleep with Harry, at the very least. :winks:
Guilt by Association
Chapter One: The Best Thing About Denial is You Never Have to Admit Anything
From the POV of Draco Malfoy
I slumped back in the comfy chair, tilting my head back as far as it could go and holding the cloth to my cheek, grimacing at the pain before I shot the mudblood a cold glare. I hadn't called her that, verbally or mentally, in a long time since I was going out with that slut Potter– but considering things were going 'back to normal' with Potter and myself, I figured it might as well go back to normal with Granger as well.
She all but ignored me, her head held high as she kept her gaze on the headmaster sitting before us behind the desk, glancing from her to me with disapproval, a light frown on his face. McGongall stood beside Granger, a hand on her shoulder as she spoke to her softly while Severus stood by mine, not speaking a word but seeming just as irritated with the whole situation as I was.
For those who are in the dark about what exactly is going on I'll start a little ways back:
I broke up with that slut Potter the night before and retreated to the comforts of my common room soon after. I got bored with said situation: the guys had gone back to the dance, still prattling on about how great a joke I pulled on Potter so as alone lounging on the leather couch, utterly bored, until in comes Pansy, and her incessant rambling.
The girl was practically my best friend (We'd given up being in a romantic relation way back at the end of fourth year when I realized I didn't exactly 'fancy' girls.)and yet, hear I am, her voice coming a dull pain in my head as I tired my best to simply tune her as she went on and on about "Potter this" and "How could I do that", complete with hand gestures.
I eventually just got up and stormed out of the Common Room–and I might add, she was so busy fussing at me she failed to notice I was abandoning her– and somehow ended up outside.
I thought about going to the Quidditch Pitch–Potter's not the only one that finds comfort in flying–but instead, I ended up going by the lake after spotting Weasel storming past me, not even noticing my presence.
Idiot.
From my hiding spot, I saw him crouch behind a tree where he was watching a pair that sat under another one, larger than his, close to the lake. Wanting to know what was so damn interesting about the couple– to Weasel that is– I moved up a bit more, being careful not to be spotted by any of the parties involved.
By the time I was done, I was hiding behind a tree close to Weasel but out of sight and close enough to see the couple for myself. Upon recognition, I sneered.
Potter. And he was with Blaise.
Wait. Blaise? What the fuck was Potter doing with my best friend? Or better yet, what was my best friend doing with that slut.
"...a bastard. He's always been a bastard. You knew that from the start and for that alone, you should feel stupid Potter. I'm not saying you deserved what you got–but really, sleeping with someone else–"
"I didn't sleep with anyone else, damn it," I heard Harry snap so angrily that I saw a spark of hatred flare in those emerald eyes of his before pulling his face away from Blaise and I snorted. Did Potter just think Blaise would believe him after what he saw–after what we saw? He must have thought we were as dense as Weasel–though who the hell does Blaise think he's calling a bastard?
I watched as Blaise brought it back his face back into his hands and pulled it close to his own. "Okay whatever," he replied amused. "Either way–stop sitting here, acting like some love sick woman, get off your ass and get over it. Or do it soon because I'm already sick of seeing you mope–it's unnerving."
I watched Blaise tilt his head a bit and smirk at Potter and my sneer deepened. What the fuck did he think he was doing with my–with Potter anyway? Why the hell was he comforting that sniveling little bastard? He knew what I was going to do–he was sitting right there when Nott brought the whole scenario up. Hell, he was the one that put it in bet form–not to mention we both saw how much of a slut Potter is just last night.
I was seething but gained control of myself–after all, it wouldn't do to become so ruffled over something as insignificant as Potter's antics, or Zabini's for that matter. Not to mention I was missing out on what the little traitor was saying.
"I'm here to comfort you and you're worried about my time at a dance?" I heard Blaise mutter softly.
"I'll be alright," Potter insisted though he sounded less than convincing–I'm sure even Weasel could sense he was lying. He turned to face Blaise, putting on an even less convincing smile before continuing. "I just need some time alone, to think. I'm fine. Go enjoy yourself."
I watched Blaise frown at Harry, glaring at him seriously then. "You're not going to go and try drowning yourself, right Potter?"
A light smirk graced my lips at the thought I could cause Potter so much distress.
But the little bastard laughed while he shook his head. "It takes a lot more then some bloke breaking up with me to get me to try and kill myself. And call me Harry. We're practically friends now."
My eyes became slits as I glared at the unruly haired Gryffindor. He dare refer to me as 'some bloke'. I–Draco Malfoy–and not some bloke. And he was getting friendly with my best friend no less. I was busy contemplating in my thoughts I completely missed what Blaise said next before he got to his feet and started walking towards the castle.
I myself, straightened up, dusting off my pants before and making sure my appearance was presentable before I began to remove myself from my hiding spot, thinking I would follow Blaise and question his motives, whatever those may be.
But instead, I was dismayed to see him turn around, surprising Potter.
"My date will understand–we're not an item or anything," he started and I glared at him. What date? Blaise had made sure he didn't have a date...
"Besides...as you said, we are friends and you're in need, whether you want it or not. So I shall stubbornly stay by your side until I'm convinced you're actually feeling better–not all Slytherins are cold hearted, contrary to popular Gyrffindor lore.. And don't bother trying to talk me out of it," he added, holding up his hand when it looked like Potter would protest. "My mind is made up. And Slytherins can be very stubborn Harry." Blaise glared at him seriously then. "Very stubborn."
Potter looked as though he might try protesting again but instead, made himself comfortable against the tree while Blaise did the same, though neither said anything more.
My felt my eye twitch slightly as I continued to watch them before I saw a flash of red move out of the corner of my eye. I looked up to see the towering red head waltz past me again, still not noticing my presence as he grumbled "I shouldn't tell Harry. Won't make a difference–he's better off without ferret face anyway..." before he was too far away for me to hear anymore.
My eyes narrowed. Now I've known weasel enough to know the 'nickname' he's given him by now. (Weasel just can't come up with an original thought...) However, I would only be lying if I said I wasn't interested in what he had to say–scary isn't it? Being interested in anything that moron has to say.
But I would like to know what he isn't suppose to tell Har–Potter and why this has anything to do with me.
So naturally, I decided to simply ask.
The next day–or today and earlier this morning to be exact, I was far to annoyed to bother with Weasel and his lack of brain cells.
So I sat in the Great Hall, awaiting the arrival of the infamous trio, ignoring my seething anger that Zabini didn't return last night (we share the same dorm) until four in the morning. Now that I think about it, I was seething through most of this...
In any case, it wasn't that I cared he was gone so long–I knew that he was with my–with Potter.
And the sneaky little bastard wasn't sharing any information either. "Why should you care Drake?" he snapped sleepily before we left for breakfast or his recent "Don't you think Harry is no longer your concern?"
Harry. Harry! When the HELL is he allowed to call Potter 'Harry'! Oh wait. Last night. So help me, if he touched Har–Potter in anyway, I'll twist his balls off–without magic...
In any case, as Malfoy's are not suppose to ramble (or seething with anger but the latter would not subside so I decided that it would be ill-mannered to do both...), The Golden Trio made their appearance and half of the room got quiet once Potter strolled in.
He looked–sleepy. Sleepy but otherwise his same ole annoying Boy-Who-Couldn't-Fucking-Be-Bothered-with-Normal-Society self. I felt a spark of irritation course through my system as he looked over at my table, looked right through me and sent a friendly smile to Zabini who had the bloody nerve to return it.
Do you see how much these people upset me so early in the morning! Bloody! I never say bloody! Words such as those in this type of meaning are used by classless dirt like Weaselys.
And how dare Harry not be devastated I broke up with him! I was suppose to break his heart–he wasn't suppose to live without me! He was suppose to drop to his knees, burst into tears and come crawling his scrawny ass toward me begging and pleading for me to take him back, damn it!
Instead he's yawning and taking a seat, already investing his time in full blown conversations with the rest of his pathetic house as if nothing happened–as if I never happened!
I glared at Blaise after this. "What did you do?" I snarled and he looked up, not at me, from his plate of pancakes and bacon with a look that said 'I could have sworn someone was just bitching at me' before looking over at me with his trademark annoyed, sleepy expression. (Or at least it was for the morning.)
"When?" he murmured and I glared so coldly at him that he raised an eyebrow. "You know what the hell I'm talking about Blaise," I snapped nastily and this got the attention to everyone sitting close to us–Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott–the usual.
"If I knew what you were talking about half the time Drake, my world would be a headache free place, don't you think?" he replied in causal sarcasm.
In a random act of violence–it's frowned upon but even a Malfoy can slip when spiraling into an all knew dimension of pissed off–I grabbed the collar of his shirt roughly with one hand and pulled him very close to my face so that only he could hear what I needed to say.
"What the hell did you do with Potter?" I whispered through clutched teeth.
Blaise smirked. "Sure you don't mean 'to'?"
If my eye had started twitching, I was going to hit him. I swear I was.
"Stay away from Potter," I snapped in a warning tone and he chuckled softly. "And we're back to where we started: why the hell should I do that? He doesn't mean anything to you, remember?"
I wasn't going to get any straight answers from Blaise. He's Blaise. So I released him, feeling the friction that seemed to have enveloped that part of the table degenerate as I abruptly stood to my feet and stormed around my table, heading toward the Gryffindor table right beside us, which as I failed to notice at the time, became deathly silent along with the rest of the hall as I came to stand right behind Har–damn it–Potter.
Okay, to my defense, I was only standing behind Potter because Weasley was right in front of him and I want to already be facing him–while being out of reach, as the idiot had a short temper of sorts. Or at least he did, when it came to me.
The entire golden trio looked up at me, Weasel scowling at me as usual, Mudblood, who was right beside Potter to my left, glaring at me with as much seething anger as I felt at me (I should have remembered that look from third year...)and finally, Potter was glancing up at me with a lazy bored expression like he couldn't possibly be bothered with me–which in turn, pissed me off all over again.
All I did was open my mouth–open my m-o-u-t-h–to say something to Weasley and before I could blink, Granger had gotten to her feet and without warning, sucker punched me for the second time in my life, casing me to land unceremoniously on my ass, grabbing my face in pain.
I could hear the Gryffindor table erupt in cheering applause as Professor Dumbledore called for silence and order, a pair of hands helping me to my feet.
We–being Granger and I–were escorted by Dumbledore out of the Great Hall shortly after and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Gryffindor table (after being screamed at by McGongall) finally settling down (apparently, a few of them thought me getting punched in the face deserved a standing ovation.)a few still hooping and hollering like a butch of idiots and shouting things like "Way to go Hermione!" or "Nice right hook!"
A little further of a back glance and I saw Weasel was positively beaming with pride while Potter was shaking his head, laughing softly at her antic.
I would have seethed again but my face hurt. I swear if this leaves a bruise, I'm killing the mudblood in her sleep. Slowly.
We were taken to Dumbledore's office and had to wait for breakfast to end in complete silence.
And this is were we are in my current situation.
"Now, Miss. Granger," the old fool began, turning his attention completely to her as she looked up from her lap and stared back. "Could you please explain to me Why you felt the need to punch Mr. Malfoy in the face this morning."
She at least had the sense to look guilty before she answered. "He was about to say something to Harry."
"Oh that's a great reason to punch anyone in the face," I snapped angrily, still holding my face. "Because someone wanted to speak to the precious Golden Boy of Gryffindor."
Dumbledore gave me a glare over his glasses and I felt my godfather squeeze my shoulders so I settled down. Granger looked over at me angrily and I unconsciously leaned back away from her. She did have a mean right hook and I wasn't looking forward to receiving it for a third time.
"Well after last nights little performance Malfoy, I don't want you anywhere near Harry!" she snapped.
Both of our Head of Houses looked rather puzzled but Dumbledore simply nodded in a sad way before glancing at me again, letting me know instantly he already knew what I'd done last night whether he had been present for the event or not.
"Be that as it may Miss Granger, I must admit that I am deeply disappointed by your behavior," he frowned at her, and I couldn't help but notice the emphasis on the word 'your'. "Attacking other students–for any reason, whether it be a good one or bad one in your eyes–is still indeed wrong and I except better from you. You will be serving detention for the remainder of the year and I will take five points from Gyffindor House for you public display of violence."
Five points! I get punched in the face and he only gives her a nights worth of detention because we fuckin leave tomorrow morning–and five stupid points? He must think I deserved to get punched in the face for simply opening my mouth. You better believe my father will hear about this. The whole damn ministry will hear about this!
"With all due respect Headmaster, don't you think you're being a little lenient on Miss Granger," my godfather frowned and I sighed in relief. At least somebody understood he was being unfair.
Dumbledore turned his pleasant gaze to Professor Snape. " That depends Severus my boy. If I take into account what Mr. Malfoy has done, I would say that the punishment is just right. And due keep in mind I have not–yet–punished him for his actions."
That sneaky old bastard! He's practically bribing us to let Granger get off!
He looked back at Granger and continued, not waiting for my godfather to object again. "Now Miss Granger, I except no trouble from you whatsoever for the remainder of the year." She nodded. "You are dismissed."
"Thank you sir," she all but beamed as she got out of her seat and began to gather her books as McGonagall began to explain her detention in a low voice. And then she gets to serve it with her own Head of House. I snorted as I leaned back in my seat. She was going to get study hall instead of detention, I was sure of it.
"And as for you Mr. Malfoy," the coot began, glaring at me in disappointment and disapproval. "I believe it would be wise to go to the infirmary and see about that wound you've sustained. I'd also advise you to stay away from Mrs. Granger–and her friends–for the remainder of the year so such instances as the one that accorded this morning and last night, will not repeat themselves."
I glared at him. He was politely asking me to stay away from Potter. Fine. No problem. I won't go near his wonder boy again–I've gotten what I wanted from the little scrawny brat after all.
...Right? Of course I have.
"You're free to leave," he replied a light twinkle in his blue eyes before he turned his attention to my godfather and began to have a conversation.
I got out of me seat and stormed out of his stupid office, taking to the stairs two at a time and waltzed past the gargoyle statue but paused to lean against the wall waiting for Granger to appear.
I didn't have to wait long for the bushy haired know it all to step out into the hall, shifting her books in her hand as the gargoyle slid back into place.
"Granger," I snapped and she glared over at me in a defiant manner. "Couldn't wait to retaliate Malfoy?" she spat coldly, shifting her books again.
"What's Weasel know that he doesn't want Potter to know in reference to me?" I snapped. Asking her was probably better than asking the source: Weasley told her everything and she was far more reliable.
She frowned at me confused. "What Malfoy?"
"The Weasel," I said a bit slower, hoping she could comprehend what I'm asking her. "What information is he keeping from Harry that has something to do with me?"
She scuffed. "Ron doesn't talk about you. If you hadn't noticed Malfoy, he doesn't even like you."
"I"m aware of the fact Grange and trust me, the feeling is completely mutual," I sneered. "But I know Weasley is hiding something because I heard him talking about it." then I smirked. "To himself. Might want to tell your boyfriend that's not normal."
"Well neither is anyone seeing you fit to be in any type of an actual relationship," she retorted heatedly before storming away from me. I smirked and rolled my eyes. "Still sore about me breaking the heart of that slut Mudblood?"
That struck a nerve. Granger stopped dead in her tracks before she dropped all of her books, spinning around to glare at me as she stormed back toward me.
"Let me tell you something about that 'slut', Malfoy," she snapped hatefully, pointing her finger in my chest hard enough for it to sting and cause me to back up into a wall. "Harry could do anything–anything in the world–and he's still be a better person than you could ever be! "
"Hate to tarnish your oh-so-worshiping thoughts about the boy who lived," I sneered. "But Potters the one that cheated on me, not the other way around. I had every right to break up with him."
"For you to even remotely think that Harry would cheat on you just goes to show how much of a low life you are!"
"I know what I saw," I snapped angrily–noting that she was too busy defending Potter to acknowledge me calling her a 'mudblood'. "The night before the dance, Potter was busy having himself fucked into–"
"The night before the dance, Harry wasn't even at Hogwarts," she snapped angrily, cutting me off. "The full moon was the night before...so he went to see about someone on Dumbledore's permission!"
I blinked at her. She must be talking about Remus Lupin. He was Har–Potter's second godfather and he used to be our DATDA professor in third year but Potter told me he resigned when Snape told everyone he was a werewolf.
I glared at her, feeling my anger finally begin to fade as I put a mild confused expression on face–though I still sneered.. "Wait–if Potter was with–"
"Oh, shut up Malfoy," she sighed, rolling her eyes and coming this close to my face. I couldn't help thinking she might try hitting me again...
"You only wanted to have an excuse to break up with Harry so you could excuse your own fowl motives. I hate to say it, but Ron was completely right about fixing Harry up with you! Harry deserves better, he always has and he always will deserve better than you and if he spent a single moment feeling sorry for himself over a fowl, uncaring, egoistical little ferret like you, I'd hit Harry myself!"
With that, she turned on her heel, her bushy hair smacking me in the face before storming back over to her books to gather them quickly. I stood there, looking a bit dumbfounded before her sudden movement to walk further away from me snapped me out of it and I followed her.
"Granger! Wait a–"
"Malfoy, I don't give a damn what Ron knows about you, if has anything to do with you in regards to Harry, then maybe he should keep it to himself," she retorted matter of factly, and I was taken aback–Granger rarely curses if ever– and I finally stopped in my pursuit, instead watching her storm off with a deep frown on my face.
I know what I saw. I know what we saw. Granger had to be making things up, to protect Har–Potter.
Or...she could be right and the Po– alright damn it Harry– I saw wasn't my Harry.
My Harry.
He was never my Harry–and he never would be. I had been planning to break up with him anyway–it had just been a joke from the start. There was no real emotion there, so what if it wasn't Harry I had seen? It's not things would have been different between the two of us. It would have ended the same way.
No I didn't care about the fact that I'd wanted to finally break things off with him when I'd seen him with someone else–I was going to do it anyway, really I was. It's the principle of the matter. That someone had the mere thought that they could cross me–a Malfoy–and get away with it.
And Weasley was my first suspect. He knew something that he obviously wasn't telling Granger or Harry–hell it wouldn't surprise me if the sneaky little muggle-lover had something to do with things in the first place–he never did like us together in the first place. And this entire thing with Zabini–I suspect he had some hand in this as well, perhaps teaming up with Weasley. It would explain why the dirty little sneak was hiding behind tries and spying on them–probably trying to make sure their plan went through.
I ran my hand absently through my hair as I strolled my way toward the dungeons. As of now, I didn't give a damn who had done it, but whomever had decided they would play with me would pay for it. Dearly.
Now all I had to do was figure out exactly who it was and what exactly they'd done, besides pretending to be Harry. And the best way to investigate anything just stormed off proclaiming she was proud I was no longer with Harry in the first place.
Which meant I'd have to go about a different method to earn Granger back in favor: Pansy.
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Author's Notes:
Okay, so the border line isn't working so I had to like, rig it up with 'o' instead. In any case, I hope you all enjoyed the new chapter! It won't stay in 1st person PoV for the entire thing, but a the first few might. Anyway, thanks for reading so far and please lead feedback. That enables me to feed the chibies. And everyone likes chibies. (And if not, I bribe with cookies. :winks: )