Thank you all for the lovely reviews (I'll be sure to return the platters). Now, I must say, I adore this chapter. Love it. Not as much as the dream sequence at the manor, but still, this one's close to my heart. I tried to put in a little humor for you guys. So I hope you enjoy it.
Chapter Thirty-One: The Slimy Snake Lord of Slytherin
Malfoy stalked out of the Entrance Hall in a temper. Bloody Potter and his bloody dramatics. Of course, Malfoy'd lied—he had nothing he was to do. But maybe it was about time Potter realized he wouldn't sit around and wait for him to return to Earth all day.
The sky outside was dark, had been so for hours, but the handy thing about having access to an invisibility cloak was that not even that foul Mrs. Norris could spot him wandering about after curfew. Malfoy steered clear of the forest, choosing instead to plop down by the lake and throw rocks into the lake. As he thought more, he threw harder and harder, not even noticing the disturbances he made on the water's surface.
His friendship with Harry was supposed to be permanent, one of those happy little things that aren't meant to change. No matter how weird home life was or how hard school got, Harry always used to be there with a ready piece of fun in hand.
And now he was distant. Off somewhere in a place he wouldn't let Malfoy enter. And the self-professed narcissist didn't like it one bit.
Stupid loon, he thought now. 'Don't know the half of it,' my bum. If he wasn't snogging Ravenclaws or writing in that diary anymore, what could he be up to?
This is prying, a very Harry voice in his head told him. It's the wrong thing to do, especially to your best friend. It isn't right.
Malfoy snorted and got up, ceasing his siege against the lake. Bother what was right, he was Draco Malfoy and he was going to get to the bottom of this.
As he was walking back to the castle, having completely forgotten to put the Invisibility Cloak back on from where it rested in his robes, something hard and wet hit him in the shoulder blade. Turning around, he saw one of the stones he'd thrown at his feet, and a giant tentacle disappearing into the water.
"Well, sorry," he muttered. "Petty thing."
A moment later, following another thud: "Ack—goddamned squid!"
He was still wandering the halls when he heard voices coming from an empty classroom. Gleefully, he pressed his ear to the door, eager to eavesdrop.
"…still can't believe you agreed to come."
"Well, don't think it's like a regular thing or anything. This is only because you insisted, and because there hasn't been any time for chess lately."
A snort—"I thought you loathed chess. 'Oh, how barbaric! Watch me tremble and sputter about my poor little bishop'—ow! Cool off, I was only joking."
Malfoy peered through the door crack, venturing to make it a little wider so he could see better. He barely made out the redheaded Weasel sitting with Harry's Ravenclaw at a table, and a sliver of what appeared to be a chessboard on the table between them.
"So have you tried going back to that room?"
"Room of Needing or Wanting or whatever…" Weasel's voice was a little sardonic. "'Course I have, looked all over the seventh floor at dinner yesterday. But it isn't there…it's like it vanished into the walls."
There was a pause, and Malfoy wondered whether or not they were talking about the Room of Requirement before the girl said hesitantly, "What about what—what happened, you know, with Harry Potter? That same day, with the snakes?"
Malfoy nearly fell over.
"Wonder what the school would think," the Weasel said, partly curious and partly gloating, "if they knew Harry Potter was a Parselmouth."
Malfoy could not contain his outraged cry of "WHAT?"
The next thing he knew, the Weasel and Granger had dragged him into the room and a hand was clapped over his mouth. After a few minutes of waiting for Filch to come and sniff them out, the other two let Malfoy go. "What are you doing here?" Ron hissed.
"Harry's a Parselmouth?!" Malfoy yelled again. Granger shushed him furiously.
"Do you want Filch to find us or something?" The Weasel whispered. Granger merely stood back, paling at the thought of being caught after curfew by the filthy Squib. If Malfoy hadn't been so preoccupied, he'd be relishing the sight of her quivering in her sneakers.
"Oh, I am so sorry for not reacting rationally, but I seem to have found out that my best friend is on his way to becoming The Slimy Snake Lord of Slytherin, and I am just the tiniest bit startled," the fair-haired boy said, sarcasm not fleeing in the face of bewilderment.
The Weasel snorted. "Right, and you're not just saying that 'cause you wish you'd done it first."
Malfoy spluttered, then regained his composure. "Listen, Weaselly," he hissed, leaning close to the redhead. "Just because you have jealousy complexes reaching as far as the moon doesn't mean the same goes for all of us. Get me, Hufflepuff?"
The Weasel got very red in the face and drew his arm back. Malfoy watched coolly as Granger predictably held the hot-tempered boy back. "Good job, Granger. My father keeps this leash at home—if you ever need to borrow it, don't hesitate to ask."
She glared at him. "Oh, I've no doubt your father's got lots of…interesting things at home."
He smirked at her, not falling prey to the insult. "And don't you forget it, Prefect." Both of them were glaring hatred at him now—a job well done, Malfoy thought proudly. "Well, I suppose I'd better go before one of you murders me and throws my body into the lake. I've pissed the squid off enough for one night."
He turned and walked away, satisfied that he was so good at pushing buttons. There was nothing like a little sarcasm to return him to a calm state of mind, but now that he left Weaselly and the girl, surprise and indecision flooded back to him.
Overwhelmed with questions for Harry, he didn't even notice the twin sets of eyes watching him as he consulted the map.
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Fred and George had had a rather good day. The sweets they'd been developing that would enable one to grow eyes in the back of the head had barely malfunctioned at all. Luckily, the first years they'd been tested on only complained a little when they'd begun sprouting eye-topped stalks like those little green aliens Muggles were always on about.
The point was, they'd sprouted some sort of eyes, and the sweets were now that much closer to completion. All they needed now was some billywig antennae from the school's Charms stores, which is why that evening found them wandering the school after hours. But this was really nothing new.
"You get it, George. I think I'm developing a very bad hangnail."
"Travesty. I accept."
As George opened the door to the Charms storeroom, Fred froze. "Oy! You hear those—"
"—footsteps, yeah, I hear them." George turned away from the door and hid with his twin behind a statue of Fyrgil the Foppish. The intruder walked along the other side of the corridor, and the twins were shocked when they saw him carefully studying—
"—it can't be!" George whispered in awe.
"It is! Look, there's that little rip on the left side, and what else would you be consulting late at night other than—"
"—the Map. He's got our map!" Fred and George looked at each other half-shocked, half-angered. They watched the thief step into a patch of moonlight.
"It's that Slytherin scum, Lucius Malfoy's brat," Fred said, his voice becoming gleeful.
George glanced at him merrily. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Fred only grinned back and pointed his wand at the lone figure, whispering, "Petrificus totalus!"
The figure froze mid-step and fell forwards stiffly, hitting the ground with a thud. The twins sauntered up to their victim and turned him over quickly. The Slytherin's eyes were darting around at them quickly, and if he could have moved his face it would be twisted in rage.
"You've got something of ours, boy," Fred chided.
"Ah, ah, ah," George said, wagging a finger. "Naughty of you to not return this to the proprietors. Now hand it over, kid—"
"Oh, George," Fred chided quietly. "He can't do it himself—lemme lend you a hand, young Master Malfoy."
He slipped the Marauder's Map from Malfoy's immobile fingers and muttered, "Mischief managed." As the Map went blank, he pocketed it and winked at Malfoy. "Thanks for keeping it safe for us, lad. See you around. Oh, and say hi to Filch for us, will you?"
And, laughing quietly about how much Ron would love to have seen this, the twins left Malfoy lying on the floor in the Charms wing, eyes roaming frantically in hope of friendly passerby.
But Filch would get there first, of course.
I've really got to learn to keep that bloody Invisibility Cloak on, Malfoy concluded the next morning.
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