I ask you to grant me a bit of laxitude,

to cut me some slack, if you will.

I am not skilled at this telling of truth...

But then again, who is?

The Gryffindor talks of bravery -

as he nearly pisses his boots with fear.

The Hufflepuff talks of cameraderie-

there's power in numbers, if not good cheer.

The Slytherin wields lies like a scalpel -

truth hits too close to home.

The Ravenclaw grasps for ways and wiles -

truth escapes from him like foam.

Let truth be my witness, in these pages at least,

I'll give you what few dare to speak.

A kind lie can be as cruel as a spiteful one.

"You sing well," said the Hufflepuff, kindly.

"Your singing would wake the dead." said the Slytherin,

forbearing to finish with, "if only to slay you to silence."

Truth's the ugly sister, the snapping wit,

the sharp knife turning brittle.

I could weave you a web of lies,

pretty sparkling things - not a truth in sight.

Something tells me that's not the way to your heart.

That if you are a pilgrim, you journey towards Truth.

Let me clear your way - it's been so long,

it's quite grown over with thorns.

You haven't the placidness of a babbling brook,

Nor the grit of the sirocco sweeping the plain.

You've the zephyr's simple playful delight -

And the fire's all-consuming curiosity.

What I see, I'll tell.

And I see more than you'd imagine.

Another day, another poem. Draco gave this one to a slender Slytherin - reminded, rather inexplicably, of Harry Potter at that age - he didn't need to say a word (though that was perhaps because of the rearranged letters - the lad would figure it out soon enough, if Draco didn't miss his guess). Ah, it was how short he was, and the slender build. Potter had always been tougher than he looked - the almost porcelain fragility belied by his hearty coloration. Almost the opposite of Severus Snape, for that matter - Snape had an air of deadly danger, even if he was as pallid as if he never left the dungeon. Malfoy had smiled as people had whispered about his godfather being a vampire. It was ridiculous on the face - he refereed Quiddich Matches, for Merlin's Sake!

Draco pulled another letter from his pocket, and sauntered up behind the slender Slytherin. A simple eavesdropping spell would do, he thought. Perfect for getting the Troubled Two in trouble. Not that Draco was a prefect, not quite yet. But, it would be two on two, and Snape loved to catch Potter being less than perfect.

Two turns away from the Owlery, Draco winced, pulling himself into a windowseat, and drawing the curtains. Bloody Hell, but they were loud! What was the point of using eavesdropping spells if they were going to shout so? All the spell was doing was giving him hearing damage! **

"Was it you, then, who's been writing to our Hermione?" Weasley said, trying for an intimidating growl.

"Lemme go!" Rick (that was the Slytherin's name, Draco had finally remembered) squealed - Draco could picture him turning, trying to squirm (or was that slither?) away.

"Not before you tell us why!" Ah, there was Potter, arms crossed and full of indignation.

"Can't tell ya what I don't know, now can i?" Rick said, dropping his air of "let me out of here" and starting a dry laugh. "You lot really are as stupid as they say! My bollocks haven't even dropped yet, and you think I'm writing love poems! To a Gryffindor!" His laugh was half-snort in disbelief.

Draco could nearly hear the glance of uncertainty. Weasley put his hands on his hips, before he said crossly, "Well, who is it?"

"What's it to ya?"

"She's our friend." Potter said slowly, "And we don't take kindly to folks pestering her." Pestering! Is that what they were calling it? They weren't willing to admit that they didn't like the idea of someone competing for her attention, true enough. Draco smirked, knowing that it would be something he'd have trouble admitting as well.

"Thick! Thicker'n Goyle, and I didn't know that was possible!" Rick said with a snap in his voice. Draco nearly stiffened - people knew enough not to make fun of his friends - but then again, he wasn't supposed to be listening. Thinking thus, Draco subsided.

"How much will ya giv me if'n I tell ya who sent it?" Rick's face probably had that edge of greed, that grasping avarice that Slytherin used to be known for, before people decided it was the Home of Dark Wizards.

"Five galleons." Potter said, without blinking or thinking, which was typical of the bloke, true enough.

"She's your friend, and all she's worth to you is five galleons? Some friends you are!" Rick then did a double-take, just shy of comical. "Wait, you're a Weasley, ain't you?"

The two older boys exchanged a glance (still holding the firstie up in the air no doubt - concerned about him fleeing). "Yeah, what of it?"

"That'd make you Harry Potter, wouldn't it?" Rick said, and Draco knew that this was taking a turn to the absurd. Nobody in the Wizarding World forgot what Potter looked like. It wasn't done.

"Yeah, It would."

"Then I won't be telling you a damn thing! It'd be worth my hide if word got back to Slytherin - and don't say you can keep your traps shut."

There was a brief pause, as if Harry was about to say something, when Rick jumped in, petulantly, "Gryffindors can't! Mum said!"

"Is the writer someone from Slytherin?" Harry asked questioningly.

"The writer had gold, and that's all I cared to know." Rick said tartly. "May I go now, or do you intend to hold me, off the ground, until lunchtime?"

"Sorry about that." Said Weasley - and perhaps he was. Potter certainly wasn't.

"If you've got a galleon to spare, I'll tell you what a knut of common sense would have told you..." Draco stood, cancelling the eavesdropping spell, and walking toward the Owlery.

Sounds of an abortive scuffle came out of the room, and finally Ron said, "What?" to the sound of a chiming coin (hopefully a sickle. it didn't do to give in to Slytherin scheming, or they'd think you were an easy mark. Which those two were, but it wouldn't do if all Slytherin thought so. Too many schemes tended to wind folks up in the sanitarium).

"Ask a Gryffindor!" Rick said, laughing as he ran off. It was alright to scam a Gryffindor - especially if he was Harry Potter, and sidekick too!

**Draco can not actually see the scene. He's merely extrapolating. But, I remind you, he is a Slytherin, and pretty good at understanding people.

[a/n: Draco missed his cue, and doesn't get to punish the boys. Oh, well, always time for that tommorrow.]