October 5th, 1995
Draco Malfoy was uncomfortable. Even the hot flow of the Firewhiskey sliding down his throat didn't sooth him, though it was slowly dulling his nerves. This was his second mug-full. He didn't particularly enjoying drinking Firewhiskey from the bulky Butterbeer mug, but even if his money could buy him the alcohol it could not buy reassurance for the bartenders of the Three Broomsticks – so this was the precaution of breaking the law. Draco Malfoy was not nervous as he broke these rules, either...but that may have been because he couldn't be bothered being any more uncomfortable than he already felt about her.
"It really is sad that Audrey couldn't come," Greengrass said in that tone of hers. She'd been bringing her up ever since they'd sat down. Draco knew her tone well; it was the tone that was hinting at a game she was ready to play. To be honest, he couldn't believe that someone as observant as Potter had ever become friends with her...it was clear that she hated and saw right through all of the girl's games.
"I'm not really sure why you're concerned," he found himself drawling, looking across the table towards Blaise and rolling his eyes dramatically. "Doesn't it make you uncomfortable how much she vehemently hates you?"
"She doesn't hate me," the girl pouted, running her finger along the thick rim of her Butterbeer mug. "She just takes some time to win over. She'll come 'round eventually."
"She's already forgiven you, hasn't she, Nott?" Blaise smirked, turning to look at the boy sat on Draco's left. It was strange to see the interactions here, Draco found himself musing. He and Zabini were much closer this year than last, so Draco found himself commonly unaware of what the boy would do. It seemed that they tended to play the same games and push the same buttons – but Blaise managed to do it in a careless way that Draco could not always master.
"Not surprising," Draco found myself holding back a smirk, enjoying the idea of seeing how Daphne responded to this. "Everyone tends to forgive you, Theodore, don't they?"
Nott's face seemed to smoulder a vibrant red, so he took a deeper drink of his Butterbeer-clad Firewhiskey. Greengrass not-so-subtly tried to comfort him, which obviously only made matters worse for him – he hated attention. All that Daphne Greengrass embodiedwas attention. She may as well have been sitting on his lap and since she was near three-quarters done her first mug of Firewhiskey, she was feeling much more confident...who knew what would happen when she ordered another.
"I wouldn't talk too smugly, Draco," Tracey's low voice interjected, her eyebrow raising in challenge. "You seem to be forgiven by particular people quite easily these days..."
And the subject came back to Potter again.
Draco was still on the fence about whether he liked Tracey Davis – she was a Half Blood, but had been raised in proper society, so she tended to know her place when it was necessary. Still, she often rattled the cages and she was very good at doing it. Better than she should have been. And worse, being a Half Blood, the girl felt that she had something more to prove – which meant that she rattled his cage more than she ought to.
She was a better friend for Potter than Greengrass was, though. So was Lillian Moon. They may have been behind-the-scenes personas – such as Crabbe and Goyle, or Bulstrode and Rivers – but it was something that Potter needed: people who actually listened to her, even if it was only so she could boss them around.
He drank more deeply, enjoying the burn of his throat even if it did set his thoughts flying once more. He wasn't sure how to take the subject of Potter if she was brought up again – it was already hard enough to stop thinking about her without her being brought up organically. He also didn't particularly enjoy how obvious it was that the thought of her made him uncomfortable. Just today, when he had seen her here in the village, had been an awkward exchange and they had insulted each other...quite badly. To say that he hadn't been insulted by her calling him arrogant, greedy, treacherous and two-faced would be apposite, but it would have been a lie. The words had dug a little more deeply than they should have.
What was worse was that he had insulted her first. It was humiliating, that he was still commenting on her dead parents and thinking nothing of it – it was juvenile and redundant. He knew it wasn't appropriate, but by now it was just habit. The girl was so infuriating, but at the same time...the way her face had fallen...
He finished off his Firewhiskey.
"Drinking a little quickly, Malfoy," Theodore said with narrowed eyes. "Something bothering you?"
"Your questions," he answered immediately, slamming the glass back down from his lips and raising his hand to the bartender for more. He didn't like that Theodore was trying to pass the Knut onto him when he had gone through all this trouble to get them Firewhiskey for the day. "It's not me drinking quickly, it's lot drinking slowly that seems to be the problem. This is a gift – appreciate it, or I'll take it away."
Blaise and Theodore were the only ones that didn't begin to chug their drinks, but that was not surprising. They were some of the very few people Draco could not properly intimidate. Perhaps it was because they'd known him too well for too long and knew he wouldn't follow through...or maybe it was because they could tell that he was lying.
Still, his refill came quickly and the others were all topped up. It was a lot of Firewhiskey for anyone – thanks to the large Butterbeer mugs – but particularly for Greengrass and Moon's small frames. Still, he couldn't help but feel amused as they began moving in large, exaggerated movements and sway a bit in their seats.
He could hardly find himself engaging in the conversation around him as he continued drinking. He couldn't stop thinking about her – how many times had Potter been brought up since he had gotten to the Three Broomsticks? Twice, three times, seven? He was feeling a little sick to his stomach the more he thought and he was sure it wasn't thanks to the Firewhiskey. It was almost like some sense of dread. Maybe it wasdread...he did regret how he had left Potter to go to her detention after they had insulted each other so badly. Sure, he had tried to make it right by trying to get her to bunk it and come with him, but he couldn't help but fear how their next interaction would go now that they had taken yet another step backwards.
"Umbridge is quite a character, isn't she?" Moon asked, leaning forward a bit. "It's nice to be away from her – she's a bit overpowering."
"She's brilliant," he disagreed, remembering fondly how Potterhad thrown a moonstone at her brother on the very first day of Umbridge's class. "She'll bring a whole new order to the school."
"And as for what happened to Fawcett?" Theodore asked with dark eyes, looking around the place to make sure no one would overhear. "She used a blood quill on her."
"Seraphina Fawcett is a trouble maker," Blaise brushed off with a scoff. "Knowing her, she did something to deserve it."
"She wasn't doing her homework, for a week, while her little boyfriend was in the hospital wing," Daphne pointed out, crossing her arms across her chest. "That's hardly reason for that much force."
"I agree with Blaise," Tracey shrugged. "She needs some sense slapped into her."
"That doesn't mean she needs it cut into her," Nott pointed out with a frown.
"I don't much care either way," Draco found himself rolling his eyes, glad that everyone quieted their arguing to face him. "As long as she keeps using it on Potter."
"Has Audrey found out about that?" Daphne asked with large eyes, looking between them all nervously. "She'll be furious..."
"Can we stop talking about her?" Draco found himself hissing, making everyone raise their eyebrows suspiciously. He had said it too harshly, too fast. "You lot are so obsessed with her perhaps you should start plotting with Pansy."
"But Pansy hates her," Davis said.
"Still obsessed with her, though, only negatively," Blaise agreed, before turning to me and smirking at me tauntingly. "Draco on the other hand..."
"Did I not just say that I didn't want to talk about her?" He found himself hissing, taking a sharp drink of his Firewhiskey and enjoying the distraction that the burn caused.
"Methinks he doth protest too much," Blaise turned away to hide his smirk and Draco fought hard not to hit him. Then he had to fight harder not to hit any of them as the group started snickering with him. Luckily, Goyle seemed to read his mind and did it for him, making a fist and throwing it hard into Blaise's shoulder.
"Lighten up, Draco," Theodore chuckled, taking another drink to try and cover it.
"Seriously?" Blaise groaned, rotating the arm that Goyle had punched and wincing. "Let's not pretend that you two aren't completely infatuated with one another, everyone can see it."
"It's love," Lillian giggled drunkenly, sounding nearly deranged when she didn't stop. "It's not infatuation. You can tell!"
"Really?" Tracey asked skeptically. "Because half the time I think there will be domestic violence. The other half I'm sure they'll jump each other – it's infatuation."
"It's love!" Lillian argued stubbornly. "You can see it!"
"Apparently I have no say in this, then?" Draco asked darkly, glaring at the two girls who only answered him by giggling more. It was the first sign that Davis was being effected by her alcohol. She could drink a lot of it, it seemed. Draco, again, called the bartender over to refill their drinks. Daphne moaned, seeing there was more and Lillian just continued to giggle making the others roll their eyes. They waited until the bartender moved away, before some silent agreement was made that it was free to talk again.
"You can't say Audrey's not pretty," Daphne urged again, looking at Draco seriously. "She is...in her own way."
"She has beautiful eyes," Lillian sighed. "I wish I had eyes like hers."
"They look just like her brother's," Blaise grimaced, taking a long chug of his Firewhiskey. "I'm sorry, mates. I don't see the appeal of that girl."
"Me neither," both Crabbe and Goyle said lowly. "She's bad."
"She's not bad," Blaise rolled his eyes at them. "She's just not attractive."
"She can be," Nott frowned, scowling at his own admission and pulling away slightly from Daphne when she gave him a look that could murder. "I mean, she has the untamed air about her...some people like that."
"Draco does," Davis snorted into her mug, not daring to look up from the Firewhiskey to meet what was obviously a very fierce glare from the boy in question.
"I was raised around debutants, Davis," he barked. "I have no patience for taming someone who does not want to be tamed."
Not that any of that was not necessarily true. He found it fascinating just how much of a challenge this girl presented to someone like him, how much she didn't follow the rules or pay attention to what she was told. Sometimes, she did things just to spite people – it was considered terrible in his community. But he found it somewhat admirable. In fact, he almost found it brave.
"She can be made up like one," Lillian smiled, looking strangely nostalgic as she stared out a far window. "Remember her at the Yule Ball? I was so jealous."
Draco found himself smirking again, drinking his Firewhiskey just so he wouldn't look as lost in thoughts as Lillian did. He could certainly remember how she looked last year at the Yule Ball. He also remembered how, for the first time, she seemed almost fit to play the debutant girlfriend he'd always been around. She had danced horribly, something a girlfriend in the Pureblooded society would not do, but she had been charming. More charming than he'd later admit to.
"Looks aren't the only factor in being raised properly," he found himself saying despite his thoughts. "She has no personality to live in our world."
"And her looks were a fluke. I'm telling you, mates, she's unattractive: not ugly, I admit. I'd probably shag her if I had to. But she's not attractive," Blaise assured, completely oblivious to how his friend across from him was nearly shattering the mug in his grip. "The girl's a mess. Her hair is horrendous."
"It's a nice colour!" Lillian defended, giggling at the end even though she was not trying to be funny. "It can look nice if she pays attention."
"But she doesn't," Blaise pointed out. "And she's too thin. She has no curves at all."
"That's not her fault," Theodore said quietly, looking over to Daphne and sharing a long look that Draco couldn't really understand. It had a deep meaning, he could tell by the seriousness of the gaze, but his mind was a little too flustered from the alcohol to pick it apart. "She never really got to eat like we did."
"She can when she's here, but she doesn't."
"She's been a little preoccupied," Greengrass defended with a scowl. "Her boyfriend was just murdered, Blaise!"
The comment hit them all like a freight train. There were so many points to consider within that one sentence that it made Draco's head spin just trying to decipher one point from the next and they all cascaded and fell into each other, creating some tangle of bad news.
First, it started to dawn on him just why she might not have been eating. Sure, the group of them had all talked on the Express about keeping her in line, keeping people like Rivers away, and making her eat – but Draco had never really thought about just why it was so necessary. Theodore had called it correctly, that she would be stubborn about it. But still, it was strange to actually acknowledge why she had no appetite or worry over her appearance. If Diggory were still here, would she often get dressed up like she was that day at Quidditch try-outs? Would she try to untangle her hair or feel like she needed curves to impress him? And further, would Draco be more attracted to her if she did?
Secondly, that sentence only brought on the thought about who had murdered Cedric Diggory in the first place. And it reminded all of them that the Dark Lord had, indeed, returned. Of course, the media was not sure of it – but Draco was. Draco's parents were already hard at work for the man, as were Crabbe's, Goyle's, and Nott's dad. Moon, Davis, Greengrass and Zabini were not in the inner circle – in fact, the Moon and Greengrass families were not followers of the Dark Lord at all – but that did not mean they were not affected by it. And that did not mean they did not know what lay ahead of them.
Third, and possibly worst of all, Draco couldn't believe the clawing sensation that filled his chest when Cedric Diggory was described as her boyfriend. He had mentioned it like that to her, of course, but had it upset him ruthlessly when she admitted to kissing the bloke and it only became worse when he was described as her boyfriend. Was she really so upset, so desiccated and weak, because she was mourning him?
He couldn't believe how dread and the jealousy reacted in his chest, as if they were chemicals that created some acidic mixture that churned his insides.
"Oh no," Lillian hiccoughed, quite loudly, and pressed her hand against her chest. The group laughed just to erase the tension the last conversation had made. It was nice to distract himself with her drunkenness and her sloppiness, but she shook her head. "No...look!"
The window behind him, where Lillian's shaking hand was pointing was filled by two people: a woman in horrendous feathered robes and a man who was holding a camera. The bulb of the camera flashed brightly when Draco looked their way and he had to blink the stars from his eyes before he could recognize who he was seeing.
It was Elaine Thatcher looking at him through the glass, one of her camera men trailing behind her. Draco found himself glaring at her and turning away to try and show her that he wasn't interested in giving any more interviews.
"That woman," he growled to himself, thinking back on the fame she had gathered this summer thanks to his interviews and her horribly written articles. Nearly the entire thing was taken out of context, other than when he was insulting the Boy-Who-Lied...and now the whole world, including his moronic friends, were obsessed with the idea that he and Audrey Potter should date.
"She's-" Lillian hiccoughed and lowered her head as if to be hidden from sight. "She's coming."
"Fantastic," Blaise sighed, leaning his head back and bringing the Firewhiskey to his lips.
"Draco!" The way the journalist nearly sang his name made him wince. "So good to see you, young one."
"Go away," he murmured, gripping hard onto his mug. "I'm not in the mood for sound bites."
"Oh, but Draco, we wanted to know how your first term was going after all the events of last year," her condescending baby-voice made him want to jinx her. "Your interviews proved very influential to the wizarding world this summer, as I'm sure you saw."
"You took half my quotes out of context," he reminded her. "I have nothing more to say to you."
"Hm," she hummed, looking around the group of Slytherins interestedly. "I see Audrey Potter isn't with you. Pity, I'd hoped she would be."
"Well, she's not," he growled, finishing off his final mug of Firewhiskey and slamming it hard on the table. He was surprised it didn't splinter by the force. "Now leave."
"Not until I get my quote – how is our hero doing this term? How is her brother fairing? How is the Ministry's representative – I've heard that Dolores Umbridge can be quite strict. Now that Diggory is out of the way, have you and Audrey become an item, Draco?"
"I'm leaving," he snarled, standing up and feeling glad when Elaine Thatcher had to back away from her place because Crabbe and Goyle followed his movements and took up all the space. He had wanted to order dinner here with his friends, but he would leave and head to Hogwarts before their time in Hogsmeade was over just to escape this woman. Surprisingly, he heard all the other chairs push out as well – it seemed everyone was supporting him.
"But Draco, just one little interview-"
"If I wanted to give you an interview, I would owl you again," Draco found himself hissing in the woman's face.
"You're drinking Firewhiskey? Aren't you a little young?" She raised an eyebrow. She must have smelt it on his breath, before she grabbed her acid green quill and began to write with it on oddly luminescent parchment. "All is not well in paradise, it seems that Draco Malfoy has gotten in an argument with his school-sweetheart, Audrey Po-"
Draco, feeling more uninhibited than normal thanks to the Firewhiskey, moved forward to grab her quill and revelled in the sound of it snapping between his fingers. Elaine Thatcher let out a shocked yelp, looking ready to cry at the loss of her quill.
"If you ever try to do that again, I will be sure my father has your job," Draco hissed. "Now leave us alone."
He began a charge out of the Three Broomsticks, watching as his friends followed him as if he had given some kind of marching order. They were wise and kept their distance from him – it was easy to see just how angry he was and they didn't want to feel the brunt of it just by getting in his way. At least, most of them did.
"Draco," Draco vaguely allowed himself to feel surprised that Daphne was able to rip herself away from Theodore, both because they were disgustingly inseparable and also because she was swaying so badly. She jogged forward, creating a weaving track up the path, before she finally made it up to him. "Are you alright?"
"No," he muttered, setting his jaw. There was no part of him that wanted to talk to Daphne Greengrass about his frustrations or his problems. The woman could not keep a secret to save her life. In fact, he almost found himself hoping to talk to Potter about all of this – as much as she frustrated him, she could be quite the listener. And she was never against answering his questions, if he made her angry enough.
"Is it about the reporter?" Daphne furthered, giving her own little hiccough and covering her mouth while they passed by the gates to Hogwarts. Draco found his eyes rolling before he shook his head.
"I can deal with Elaine Thatcher," he assured her. She nodded her head nervously.
"So...it has to do with Audrey, then."
Draco turned his head so that he could properly glare at her. From the corner of his eye, he could see that everyone else had fallen back in their steps – no one dared get any closer. Daphne had been brave to step forward at all, he admitted, but it didn't make him want to go any easier on her.
"What do you want, Greengrass?"
"I'm not really sure," she said quietly. For a moment he wondered if that was the Firewhiskey talking, but taking one glance at her he could see that she was fidgeting and nervous. "Maybe to make you think a little."
"Make me think?" He repeated with a scoff. "About what?"
"I think that when you yelled at that woman, the reporter..." she trailed off, shaking her head before taking a deep breath as if to prepare herself. "I think you were telling her to leave you and Audrey alone."
He started, nearly faltering in his steps. "What are you blathering about?"
"Right before you left, you said 'leave us alone'...I don't think you were talking about us," she assured him, jerking her head slightly to the people behind them. "She had just been hinting at you and Audrey being in a tiff – I think it made you angry."
"You think too much about things you aren't smart enough to consider," he said, realizing sadly that he had stumbled over the sentence thanks to the alcohol. "I meant to leave the group of us alone."
"You didn't," she reassured with a smile. "It's alright – I think it's cute."
"Don't," he hissed warningly. "I am clearly not in the mood."
"I think you and Audrey are perfect together," she continued as if she hadn't heard him. "You balance each other out – understand each other in a way that we don't. If I understood her as well as you did, we would still be friends."
"But you're not," he said forcefully. "So stop trying to speak for her."
"Oh, I'm not speaking for her," she assured with wide eyes, shaking her head. "Audrey would kill me if she found out that I was telling you this...but she does fancy you, Draco."
"Don't be daft," he hissed, his thoughts swirling dangerously back to only hours before when he had insulted her dead parents, insulted her...when she had listed, quite specifically, everything she hated about him.
"She doesn't know what to do with her emotions, she's very confused," Daphne explained, stumbling a bit as they began walking up a steeper part of the path toward the castle. "She's always found you...endearing. No, that's not the right word. She's always found you...authentic. She likes it about you – even if she argues with you all the time."
"Potter and I will never have a relationship," he said sharply. "We are carved from very different wood."
"I disagree." She said certainly. "Sure, you may be from different wood, but your wand cores are the same."
"No they aren't," he rolled his eyes. She did the same.
"I meant metaphorically, Draco. And she does like you – she just doesn't know what to do with it. She won't admit it to herself. But Draco...she fancies you. A lot." She nodded pointedly. "I think you'd be dead otherwise."
"Yeah?" he asked darkly. "Well, why don't I march right up there and ask her?"
"She'll never say yes if you march up and ask her!" She gasped as if he was blaspheming. "Do you know nothing about women?"
"I know everything about women," he smirked, looking at her. She let out a dramatic gag.
"Fine. Do you know nothing about Audrey? She would panic, if not hex you."
"Proving she doesn't fancy me," he added, walking forward and refusing to look at her again. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but he couldn't help but let the situation play out in his mind and imagine just how she would react to the news...to the news that he fancied her. Hell, he didn't know how he would react to the news.
"If you were to admit you fancied her," Daphne continued very slowly, watching Draco's reaction as he immediately shook his head and took a deep breath to argue. "It would embed the idea in her mind. She'd finally admit to herself what was happening."
"So what," he asked, trying to sound angry to cover his own traitorous curiosity. "You're saying if I walk up to her and tell her I fancy her, right now, by Friday she would say she fancies me? You're mad. She doesn't like you, or me."
And that was a point he should really have taken into consideration much sooner before this idea was embedded into his head. Daphne did not know Audrey like he did, particularly since they had not been friends since the year before. And even when they had been friends, they had always been at odds – they were opposites, it's why they had gotten along. Sometimes. Draco knew that if she heard any of this, Audrey would laugh in his face.
"I'm not saying it would take that little time to convert," she admitted, blushing a bit when she thought about what he said. "It could take weeks or months. But I was friends with her much longer than you have been, and I know her – I know how she thinks. If you tell her that you fancy her, she'll finally admit to herself she's thought about how much she just might fancy you. And then it will grow."
"So you expect me to go up to her, right now, and admit some ridiculous feelings...feelings which I don't have," he added quickly upon seeing her smile. "And everything would magically be okay in the end?"
"No! I certainly wouldn't want you to do it now," Daphne said quickly.
"Then why have this conversation now?" he pointed out, walking through the large oak doors of the castle and stepping into the Entrance Hall. He took his time shrugging off his cloak, just so that he wouldn't have to look at Greengrass as he thought.
"Because this is the only time you've ever stuck around long enough to have it with me," she assured, rubbing her hands together to warm them.
"I don't know why I'm doing it," he muttered. "You're completely insane."
"And you're in denial, just like she is." Daphne said forcefully. "But...not right now. Don't tell her when you're drunk – she'll never accept it if you're drunk. She'll be terrified."
"The great Audrey Potter, afraid?" he asked sarcastically, ignoring the fact that he had said her first name – he hadn't done that in years. It felt unnatural – it was such a horrid name for her. She was not an Audrey at all – that was such a common name. A muggle name. She was also not a Drea – that ridiculous nickname her friends used for her – but what else was he supposed to call her then? Potter. That was it. That's what he was left with...
He hated using that name, too.
"I've already said it, Draco," Daphne said with a sigh. "Her boyfriend was just murdered by the Dark Lord. Suddenly she's put with you and has to confront the fact she fancies you...yes, anyone would be terrified. And if you tell her when you're piss drunk, she'll run."
The others had caught up to them by this point and neither Draco or Daphne said anything as they handed their cloaks over to Crabbe and Goyle, who planned to head to the kitchens, then back to the common room to eat, and back to the Great Hall for when dinner started. Blaise was very open about helping both Lillian and Tracey back to the kitchens for some food as Lillian was hardly able to walk and Theodore, of course, cut the conversation completely when he decided to stick close to Greengrass once more.
"Are we headed back to the common room?" Theodore asked.
Draco could only nod, not willing to speak now that Daphne's conversation had stopped and was left to whir inside of his mind.
"I know I put the thought in your head," she said, as if reading this thoughts. "It's a good thing. It'll show you how right I am – thoughts grow."
"What thought?" Theodore asked, stepping beside the both of them.
"Nothing," Malfoy scowled, looking at her with a sneer to ensure she stayed silent. "Your girlfriend is drunk."
"We're not together," they both blushed harshly, looking away from each other and Malfoy as the accusation was made. He was glad that he had managed to tinge the awkward atmosphere away from himself – he was getting sick of Audrey Potter hanging around in the air around him when she wasn't near him.
Still, the awkward silence raged on like cloud. The silence hovered over them as they walked to the common room in silence. The silence was comforting, even if it left him thinking. Draco didn't particularly like his thoughts, but it was better that they were his instead of Greengrass' traitorous ones.
But his thoughts weren't helped at all, because on their way down to the common room to wait for dinner, the three Slytherins ran into a rather disconcerting sight. Draco's first thought was how glad he was that the other's had headed to the kitchen to try and sober up. His second was rationalizing that he was glad because it meant they wouldn't have to see just how badly he was going to rip his housemate in two.
"Potter!"
His bellow was loud and echoed through the corridor, making Montague jump back from where he had been standing very close to the redhead in question. She looked over at him for a moment and noticeably breathed a sigh of relief...she looked like she was shaking. No, she was shaking. Audrey Potter was scared. And whatever Montague had just done to her was the reason.
Resentment tore at his insides, mixing in with the acidic properties that the dread and jealousy had made only minutes before. It was a toxic waste that spilled in him, mixing into some kind of rage that he had never felt before that moment.
He walked forward, his eyes sharp on Montague – the seventh year looked just as furious that they had been interrupted. But Draco felt more livid; livid enough to hex Montague until he could never walk that close to Potter again. Draco knew that he was drunk, his actions were a little more blunt than they should be, so Draco stopped a fair distance away. He would give Montague his chance to run.
"Are you okay?" Theodore had moved toward Potter, checking her over while Draco moved a little bit to try and flank her as Crabbe and Goyle often flanked him – it also put the blonde right in the face of Montague, who looked about as ready to kill as Draco, himself, felt.
"Malfoy," Montague spat his name, not even trying to keep his voice polite or subtle about what he had been doing just moments before. "Looks like you came just in the nick of time."
"Seems so," He responded darkly, restraining himself from tearing the prick in two. "Did you have business with Potter, here?"
"Not as much business as you seem to," his voice was filled with insinuations and the smirk did not help to quell Draco's fury. Seeing this and knowing what was about to happen, it seemed Montague wanted to drop all pretenses – so he looked toward both Theodore and Daphne with a sharp gaze. "Get out of here."
"Adam, come on, let's just go to dinner-" Theodore began, trying to keep everyone calm, while Draco was just as anxious to make him leave. These two should not be around when he tore this housemate limb from limb, something just seemed wrong about them having to witness it. Montague seemed to agree with the sentiment.
"Leave." Draco's voice was a command, which made it sound much more convincing and it was simply because Draco did not want to leave whatever duel would happen hanging any longer. It took a moment, a long moment, for Theodore to realize just how much was about to happen and even though he wanted to stay, Daphne was sure to pull him away in horror.
After everything she had just told Draco, it was quite clear that he was willing to fight for Audrey. She must have agreed that the moment should not be interrupted by them.
The corridor seemed to darken as soon as the two left. With only Potter, Montague and he in the area now, Draco didn't know what kind of curse he wanted to use first. In fact, he was so angry, he kind of wanted to see Montague's bloodshed by his own hands instead of by his wand. He wasn't sure which he was going to use first.
"If you two aren't dating, Malfoy, then I can have as much play with her as I'd like," Montague said, trying to sound menacing but not touching close to the fury that Draco felt. The effect was lost on him as he thought about just what play Montague would like with the redhead standing behind him. "Potter here is learning the consequences to her actions."
"That's not what it looks like," he snapped back, hardly realizing just how dark and intimidating it sounded in comparison. He didn't need to compare himself to Montague – he knew he was a better man and a much better opponent. "It looks as though you're punishing her for teaching you about consequences."
"Does it?" Montague repeated with a clenched jaw.
"You shouldn't have cornered Greengrass last year, Montague," Draco explained, nodding his head and lowering his voice to try and drive home his point. "Attack some other unfortunate bint, but not one of our own. You know the rules. So I think that Potter, here, had the right idea – you were in the wrong."
"The right idea?" Montague sounded hysterical as he tried to step forward. Draco felt, immediately, when Potter came up to stand beside him – trying to challenge Montague on her own – but he wanted none of it. She'd had her time to try and deal with the situation alone and clearly it was not working in her favour. Montague wouldn't get the opportunity to hurt her while he was here...it was time someone else dealt with the problem if she wasn't willing to put him in his place as he deserved. So instead of letting her fight him, he moved his arm in front of her to keep her back. If Potter wouldn't use force, Draco was more than happy to. It was his fight now. "Do you know how long I was in the hospital wing? Do you know how long I was using ointments? No person deserves that!"
"You're not a person, Montague," Potter's voice floated from behind him, still unable to sound quite as confident as she usually did. "You're a sad, pathetic excuse for a misplaced link in humanity."
When Adam's eyes finally looked toward the girl they were fighting about, Draco couldn't help but let his eyes fall over his shoulder so he could give her an annoyed look – he was trying to bring this fight onto himself, she didn't need to be drawing attention away from that.
"Yes, you're so clever, Potter."
"I know."
Draco almost wanted to snort at her confidence, but the emotion leaked away as soon as he saw the light that sparked behind Montague's eyes. He took a step forward to speak to her, but Draco held his ground, not letting him get any closer to the redhead behind him. Draco even moved his hand to toward his pocket, ready to draw his wand if need be.
"But tell me, Potter," Montague drawled, a horrid smile slicing through his features. "Is that how you really feel?"
"With ever fiber of my being," her voice sounded strong from behind Draco and he was glad that she was not crumbling or acting afraid as Daphne already had done and all the others would have. But not her. She hated crumbling, and it was strength that may have been the reason for him considering fancying her.
"Tell me, Potter, do you feel the same way about Malfoy?" Draco worked hard to keep the squeeze of his gut to himself. The dread, guilt and resentment – the concoction which fuelled his rage – was made into something even more horrible when nervousness was added into the mixture. He didn't want to hear whether or not Potter compared Malfoy and Montague on the same scale.
"No, I don't."
"Fascinating," Montague took his time and nodded, relaxing his pose as he looked away from both of them and began to walk away. "Well, I guess since Prince Charming here came to your rescue, there's nothing I can do now..."
There was a moment where Draco felt like it might be over, but Adam's walk was too confident and his movements were too energized for the fight to have been won – so Draco held his ground. He was glad, because Montague soon turned around with a smile.
"Oh, wait..."
"What?" Potter hissed from behind him.
"There is something I can do," Montague added with a smile, taking a few steps forward and locking eyes with Draco. It was impossible not to see the joy radiating from the seventh year and even more impossible not to be suspicious of it. "Malfoy, did you know that our dear Audrey is currently under the effects of truth serum?"
Draco didn't really know what to do with that information. He knew, were he sober, that his mind would have been reeling with ways to abuse that power, but right now all he felt was confusion over why Montague would bring that up during a fight like this.
"I will kill you," Potter spit at him.
"I guess you truly believe that," Montague sighed dramatically. With a shrug, he walked with the same confident gait, all the way down the corridor toward the Dungeons.
Draco turned around, watching Potter as she lost herself in her own thoughts – they were turbulent and going a mile a minute – he could tell simply by her expression. But he was more distracted by the hand cupping her cheek; on that cheek, he noticed that there was a very red bruise. He watched as the adrenaline tried to escape her body, causing her to quiver more violently. But he couldn't make himself care that she was shaking...that bastard had hit her.
"Are you really on Veritaserum?" he found himself asking, still trying to piece together exactly what that information had to do with the duel he and Montague nearly had. He watched her frown, probably thinking the same thing.
"Yes. Umbridge put it in my tea," she paused, looking away from him. "Are you alright?"
He wasn't alright at all. Between all the things that Daphne had just said to him, the frustration caused by that damned reporter, and now the testosterone coursing through his bloodstream that couldn't be dealt with thanks to Montague being too cowardly to duel him, he felt anything but alright.
"Were you on your way to Snape, then?"
She seemed to realize that he was avoiding the question, but he knew that since she was on Veritaserum she wouldn't be able to argue as much as normal. This was proven when she answered him with a quiet, "yes."
"Since I know you can't be lying," he tried to make it sound sarcastic and mocking, as he usually sounded, but he was still too furious for it to sound anything but what it was. Instead, he distracted himself by walking toward the Dungeons, following in Montague's footsteps to make sure that she made it safely to the Potion's Master.
"Are you really alright, though?" She asked again, her voice now higher and not at all intimidating. She had a higher voice today than normal – it was another sign of how she was frightened by what had just happened, even if she wouldn't admit it. "You look off."
"I'm drunk," there was no point denying it. She would soon notice that her other friends were drunk as well.
"You are?"
"I may be able to lie, but I don't really see the point to," he answered, rolling his eyes. "Why, how do I look 'off'?"
"Well, your cheeks are red and your hair is messed," she answered. He nearly went to go fix the problem that his hair must have been for her to admit that before she continued. "You never have your hair so imperfect – it's actually a nice change."
"Is it?" He took the time to look down the corridor they were passing just so he wouldn't have to look at her. He shouldn't have felt the urge to keep his hair as it was, simply because she said she liked it. In fact, it frustrated him how quickly he'd dropped the thought of fixing his hair just because of her words.
"Yes, it is," Potter groaned loudly. "Please stop asking questions – rhetorical or otherwise."
"Fine," he didn't really want to talk to her anyway. The liquid courage he had ingested earlier was trying to urge him to follow with Daphne's advice – but even if he did take it...which he really didn't want to...she had still said not to tell her when he was drunk. And did he really want to tell her anyway? Did he really want to throw away this camaraderie between them just so he could admit to some feelings that he was sure would pass with time?
When they had finally moved down to Snape's office, Draco found himself unable to stop himself from rounding on her. It was easier than he thought it would be, he simply had to stand in front of the door – she wouldn't run away. She needed the antidote or this Veritaserum would course through her system for who knew how long. She looked up at him, her mossy eyes looking scared a moment before she rolled them and sighed.
"This is the moment when I humiliate myself further, isn't it?"
Yes, it was, he wanted to say. But he didn't want to say anything that would make her argue with him right now. Draco had more important questions to ask her than any of the challenges Daphne had just presented. He was far more worried about the challenges that Adam had.
"What did Montague say to you?"
"He said that he plans to take advantage of me since I melted his trousers to his genitals last year by any means necessary. Including blackmailing me about Nott and yourself," it was the typical dither from someone who was under truth serum. It was nice, seeing her answer something without hiding it, as she always tried. Still, she winced at her own confession. "You can't tell anyone."
"Blackmailing us in Quidditch?" Draco asked, almost wanting to roll his eyes at Montague's nerve.
"Yes, but I told him that you had more power on the team anyway," she admitted. Draco couldn't help but feel a little proud that it was so obvious and that she, of all people, noticed it. She hated Quidditch, everyone knew that, but he wondered whether or not she enjoyed how much power he had concerning it. "And I threw in some insults for my own benefit."
He nodded to himself, trying to think of another question to ask, one that he knew she would never admit when she was off of this potion. "Why were you in Umbridge's office?"
"She invited me for tea after she saved me from McGonagall's detention," she swallowed deeply, looking around the corridor for some sort of escape. "What is this, Malfoy?"
She moved to put her hand in her pocket, withdrawing a thin stack of parchment and shoving it into his hands. The paper had neater writing on it than he knew she had. In fact, it was perfect writing. It took a moment for his fogged mind to understand that he was looking at an article from the Prophet – one of the ones written by Elaine Thatcher, herself. He didn't care to know which one it was, which incriminating out-of-context quote she was particularly thinking of.
"That would be an article from the Daily Prophet," he answered, looking away.
"So I'd gathered," she responded with a lower voice. "Would you like to explain why you said what you said?"
"Because you really are a terrible dancer, Potter," he answered as quickly as he could, holding the articles back out to her so that he didn't have to look at them anymore. "I was shocked my feet weren't broken."
Her eyes closed as she sighed. "Not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?"
"Why were you so keen on convincing the world that we are – are...involved?" He couldn't help but scowl at her choice of words. "I just don't understand what you're playing at. Clearly, I get why you wanted to make Harry look bad – I mean, like myself you always want to make Harry look bad – but what made you want to make me look good?"
"Because you are good, Potter...well, you're not the worst, at least," he sneered, leaning a little bit closer as the words from the Three Broomsticks swam through the forefront of his thoughts again. Her boyfriend was just murdered. Audrey Potter was good – she was on the good side and were she not, she never would have been dating Diggory...
She would have been dating him.
"Is that what you meant here?" The redhead's small hands moved through the articles, stopping on the familiar 'School Sweethearts: Young Malfoy Spills All on Potter Twins'. "When you said 'we keep our interactions short so that no one gets the wrong idea and no one gets in trouble – but I can honestly say she's the best I've met'...what did you mean, 'the best you've met'?"
He wanted to hiss as if he had been set on fire; that was certainly what her saying those words felt like. He leaned his head against Snape's door, enjoying the feeling of it spinning before allowing himself to smirk. It made sense now: this is what Montague had planned, wasn't it? For him to take advantage of the Veritaserum, just as she was taking advantage of these Articles that damned him.
But he shouldn't. Greengrass had told him that he would scare her away if he said anything about – well, anything. He closed his eyes to help himself fight the urge. It was the best his drunken thoughts could come to a compromise with.
"If you aren't going to answer, you can at least let me get my antidote," Potter growled.
He opened his eyes with a sigh and dared to look down at her. He stayed as he was for a moment, watching the confusion in her own jaded eyes – they really were beautiful: just like Lillian had said earlier – and it was far too easy to get lost in them. And when he finally realized she was still waiting for a response about the article, he decided to answer her.
"I don't remember."
"I don't believe you."
"You don't have to," Draco found himself straightening up, trying hard not to think about the answer to her question. What had he meant? Even he couldn't remember the context it was taken from – that was the problem with these idiotic writers...but something told him that it could have been something from a much, much more incriminating conversation. And since it was incriminating, he wanted some sort of reassurance. "Do you know what I want to know?"
"Please don't ask," she said immediately. It almost looked like she was getting ready to run away from him...just like Daphne had warned.
But Daphne hadn't anticipated this scenario; this was the one time that Audrey Potter couldn't run away from the answers, even if she ran away from him. She was on Veritaserum, the little witch had to answer him...it was the only time he might ever really know. And for some reason, some reason he would forever blame on alcohol, it suddenly became really important that he knew.
"What do you think of me, Potter?" He asked, his voice low as he tried to pretend that this wasn't as imperative as it really was. "You read those articles, you heard what everyone else heard."
"But it didn't make sense," she repeated, her voice going higher again as she became desperate for some kind of escape. "What you said didn't make any sense at all. It didn't explain to me what the articles meant, why you've been protecting me, why you would think of lying to the wizarding world, or-"
"Did you ever wonder if it's because I may fancy you, Potter?"
Firewhiskey was just as bad as Veritaserum and it was only a matter of time before the question was asked. After thinking about this for weeks thanks to all the conversation on the train, in the Prophet, during patrols, in the common room, between his friends the Three Broomsticks just this afternoon, and finally escalating with during his conversation with Daphne...it was time to finally ask.
"What?" It was not the answer he had wanted to hear, but seeing the fear in her eyes propelled him further. She did not look disgusted by the thought of it, she did not look like she was going to hit him...she looked like she was afraid to answer. And that was better than what he had expected.
"Did you ever wonder if it's because I may fancy you?" He repeated slowly. "It'd be what most people would assume."
"Doesn't mean it's true," she responded a bit too quickly. "And no, I don't think it's because you fancy me."
"Hm," he moved away, giving her the chance to run away if she wanted to. He was pleased when she didn't – the first answer had been enough to keep him interested, but that she was staying for more nearly thrilled him. "Would you assault me again if I did? I'd like to think we're more mature now."
"You're drunk," she sneered.
"And you're wrong," he said, finally admitting it. Finally admitting after so long that he fancied her – it was a shock even to him. Sure, he had joked about it this term just to watch her squirm and he fed the stories to the Prophet just to damn her brother...but the fact was never so real as it was now.
Draco Malfoy fancied Audrey Potter.
"You are drunk." She repeated, backing away slightly.
"Did I say that's why you're wrong?" he asked, feeling nearly overjoyed by admitting it again. He wouldn't be surprised if she noticed how close he was to smiling – but she seemed to panicked to care. "And maybe I do fancy you. You can't deny how strange it is: one moment I absolutely hate you and want to wring your neck, but the next..."
"The next?"
"The next I don't," it was the only way to describe it. The only way to explain how much he wanted to smother her, but kiss her. How much he wanted to be the one to mess that hair of hers, or make her blush red like so few could, or better, to make him say the same things back to him. "And for some reason, that moment lasts longer that the other. So, perhaps I could fancy you."
She was lost in her thoughts again, he could tell. She looked terrified of what she was thinking and even though he had not liked seeing her terrified near Montague, it was fantastic to see her so scared about this...because she was not scared of him, she was scared of herself. And that meant she felt exactly what he was feeling. It meant that she was worrying about the same things that he had feared for months.
"Potter," he began lowly, watching as she averted her eyes and took a step away.
"Don't..."
"What do you feel about me?" he couldn't believe how important this all suddenly seemed. When he had been arguing with Daphne, none of this had seemed possible and now the answer was right there in front of him: it was at the tip of her tongue, the edge of his fingertips; close enough to touch, to kiss...
"Please don't," she looked as if she were ready to run, or scream, or cry. It was not a look that comforted him as the other one did. That look told him that she was trying to deny everything...which was not what Daphne had promised him. She had promised that the thought would be implanted in her head and then it would grow into an admission. That was not happening.
"What do you feel for me, Potter?" he repeated, hoping for some different reaction to grow in this one's place. Hoping that she would suddenly be unable to resist the facts, even if it was by his lead. "Do you fancy me?"
She looked up at him, her eyes wide and large, nearly glimmering with tears. They looked more green like that – when she cried. He had never seen them so green, so vulnerable. She was afraid. Afraid of him? He couldn't tell. Maybe it was setting him back a few steps by making her tell him via the Veritaserum...but the chance would never come again. He knew that. She knew that, it was the very reason she was stalling.
"I don't know what I feel," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I don't know."
There was a long moment where Draco couldn't say anything. It felt like something hot had stabbed him in the gut and his energy...no, all those emotions that had boiled together – the dread, the jealousy, the fury, the nervousness – felt like it was draining from him. Daphne had been wrong. Potter hadn't admitted anything to herself. There was nothing to admit. She had said she didn't feel the same way.
No. No she didn't, he realized slowly. Daphne was not wrong...but he was. Potter hadn't admitted anything. She hadn't admitted that she hated him, she hadn't screamed that he was wrong – she didn't know how she felt. She didn't know how to feel...
"Good," he finally breathed, after he had thought everything through and composed himself enough to speak again and straighten up. He looked down at her, noticing the look she gave him about being worried for his sanity.
"Good?" She repeated.
"You being unsure is not a 'no', Potter," he smirked proudly. And it wasn't a no. It may not have been a yes, yet, but being unsure was certainly not a no. Daphne still had time to be right. Time – time for that thought to spread and consume her as it had him...
"But-"
"Am I wrong?" He asked, trying to keep his smile away, just in case it frightened her more. "Are you sure you don't fancy me?"
"No," her voice sounded confused, as if she didn't understand the words that were coming out of her own mouth. Perhaps she didn't, thanks to the Veritaserum. "I'm not sure."
For now, that was all he needed to hear. Confusion was much more satisfying than answers at this point – having just been able to admit this himself, it would probably be a little too much to say that he fancied anyone. He wasn't used to fancying someone organically. Usually they were picked out for him, like clothes or textbooks – but this was real. This was natural.
He did wish that he could rush the process though – he didn't know how long Daphne's theory would take to work and he was already thinking about everything that it could entail. She had said it could take days, or weeks, or months...and he didn't really want to take that time. Particularly when his heart was already thrumming with excitement and she was right in front of him.
Then again, there was one thing that could speed the process.
"Good," he said again when he realized what he would do. He watched her expressions in fascination as he moved forward, feeling his heart pound against his ribs while he leaned closer and closer to her.
Audrey's eyes were as wide as dinner plates, her breath so shallow that he could barely hear anything besides the slight flutter to it. She was anxious, she was nervous – and he was more amazed, more ecstatic, when he watched her close her eyes and realized she was accepting it.
She was accepting the idea that he was going to kiss her. And he wanted to...he wanted to kiss her and make her fall against him and for him all at once – he'd managed it with others. He knew it was possible. All he had to do was show her what he could offer her, explain to her without words just what she really needed...
But if he did that, maybe things would go back to how they were. Audrey hadn't been kissed. Audrey was still a virgin. Audrey was still unsure. He didn't need to ruin things by overwhelming her and making her run away as he had been told that she would.
He waited there a moment longer, watching her expression: her red cheeks, her parted lips and somehow he managed to pull his eyes away from them. Instead, he closed his own and tried to pull himself away from her...but he couldn't. He had wanted this moment for months, for years...he couldn't just deny himself this after all his hard work.
For the second time that day, Draco Malfoy found himself compromising.
Instead of kissing her as he wanted to, he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her temple. He didn't dare to do any more – no longer in worry for her, but over worry for himself. He wouldn't be able to analyze what was happening if he really kissed her, he wouldn't be able to gage her reactions because he would be too distracted. But with this, this he could still examine: he could hear her shaky release of breath, feel her body sag with disappointment.
The disappointment made him smile, realizing just how much he had won over her affections with the compromise – this did not overwhelm her. But it did not satisfy – it was the perfect mix of savory and sweet.
"Try to make up your mind quickly, won't you?"
The disappointment flashed over her features immediately as he pulled away and that in itself was almost as euphoric for him as a kiss at that moment would have been. But he refused to try more, he refused to push harder: the thought had been planted...now all he needed to do was wait.
And something told him that by the fact she kept her eyes closed, hoping he would change his mind...he wouldn't have to wait very long.
Based off of my story Green Eyed Monster.
I do not own the Harry Potter universe or its characters. I do own Audrey Potter, her ridiculously vivid potion-making skills, and her wicked nicknames.
Thanks go out to Invincible Shadow, Mischief and Magic, xXMizz Alec VolturiXx, Nicky-Maree, Angel of the Night Watchers, and SwiftAlice for their reviews.
Enjoy the flashbacks and please review :)