sorry this has taken so long to write. i've been really busy. i don't think the ending of this is very good, but i just wanted to get it uploaded so i rushed it a bit. i wanted to show Draco being evil because i don't think i made him mean enough in the past few chapters. i don't have enough time to reply to evryone's reviews (im really sorry) but thank you all so much! i really appreciate them, they are good for cheering me up in the crappy london weather and my crappy confusing life. :D
"Blaise."
A wordless moan escaped the lips of the boy in front of him and Draco felt Blaise pressing himself harder into his hand. His back was hurting from being pressed up against Professor Snape's desk and he was frankly bored by the whole situation. He stopped moving his hand.
"Blaise."
"Mmmmf, don't stop."
Draco withdrew his hand from Blaise's boxers and let the elastic snap cruelly back against the other boy's abdomen. Blaise hissed in pain and pressed Draco harder against the table. Draco was getting splinters in his hands and wondered idly why Snape didn't polish his desk or at least have a leather top like his own.
"Draco" whined Blaise, pressing his erection into Draco's hip. Draco's lip curled in disgust. He shifted underneath Blaise's weight and then pushed up causing the other boy to stumble backwards.
"Pansy will be waiting." He said, walking towards where the shaving things he had been using only moments before to shave Potter. He could feel the boy who lived's ghost haunting the room and he didn't feel comfortable.
"Bastard" Blaise said, trying awkwardly to walk with his erection. He had had too many incidents like these to know better than to think that Draco would return to him. He would have to have a quick wank to prevent himself getting blue balls. He made his way to the wall, stuffing his hand into his pants, resting his forehead against the cool stone. Draco made a disgusted sound and turned back to the shaving things, tidying them with a quick wave of his wand, muttering words under his breath. An unexplainable sense of irritation had come over him.
"Hurry up" he said noticing as he turned, the damp towel still lying on the floor where they had left it when things started getting heavier. He grinned cruelly and with a flick of his wand, the towel had lifted from the floor and had smacked Blaise so accurately on the arse that it might have been held by a hand.
"Wanker." Muttered Blaise through gritted teeth.
"It would appear you are the wanker in this situation." Draco laughed evilly. Blaise just moaned and pressed his forehead harder against the cold wall. Draco turned away again and headed towards the door as he heard Blaise finishing himself off. There was a pause and Draco could hear the ragged breaths of his fuck-buddy across the room. He felt disgusted. Draco had never wanked in his life. It was a dirty and disgusting habit, performed only by people who couldn't get any. He would rather remain celibate than resort to the degrading habit that his fellow students seemed to practise so happily and with such gusto. He turned with his hand on the door knob, raising a sneering eye brow.
"Ready?"
Blaise followed him silently from the room. It was not far from the potions class room to the Slytherin common room and as Draco and Blaise walked down the draughty corridor, Draco could hear distorted fragments of a strangely familiar voice floating on the cold breeze.
"…again…..would I…Voldemorte…tack at…somehow…very…me…actually…me…ly pointless…reason…"
They rounded a corner in the corridor and Draco could see a third year – he never bothered to learn their names, he supposed he really should since he was a prefect but there had never been the right impetus – standing outside the portrait hole, a chameleon cloak over one arm, his wand held out in front of him, playing something to his friend who was doubled over laughing next to him.
"Play that bit again, go on, oh Merlin, it's too funny"
Obligingly, the boy rewound the voice he had recorded on his wand.
"I led my friends into a battle with Voldemorte in which Ron nearly died – because of me – you nearly died - because of me – and Sirius actually died - because of me – but which was ultimately pointless? Do you think that maybe any of those things could have been the reason, do you Hermione?"
With a sickening feeling, Draco recognised the voice of Harry Potter, choked with emotion, issuing from the wand.
"Oh Merlin…" said the girl, "Do you Hermione!" she imitated before bursting into fresh giggles.
"Where did you get that?" Draco said accusingly to the boy. He clutched the wand to his chest as though Draco might try to snatch it from him, the voices continued but they were more muffled now.
"It's mine" he said
"Where did you get the soundbite from?" said Draco irritably. The girl had wisely disappeared through the portrait hole but the boy was still here and trying Draco's patience. He seemed oblivious and puffed himself up.
"The Gryffindor common room" he said importantly, "I hid there under my chameleon cloak and recorded it. Potter had a complete fit while I was there, I thought he was going to start throwing the furniture—"
Draco cut him off "I could confiscate that off you. You aren't allowed to sneak into other houses' common rooms"
The boy didn't bat an eyelid, "Parkinson sent me," he said, "I'm just returning to play it to her."
If Draco felt surprised he knew he didn't show it. "Well then what are you doing dawdling out here for? Get in there now."
The boy whispered something sulkily to his wand which stopped issuing the muffled sounds and he turned into the Slytherin common room. The long, low underground room stretched out in front of them, the fire burning high in the grate in front of them, surrounded by the silhouettes of other Slytherins, studying, talking or just sitting staring into the flames. You got a few odd balls in Slytherin, it was the in-breeding. Draco turned to the left, following the third year under the glowing green orbs that hung suspended from chains from the low ceiling. A second fire glowed in the dark and Draco could see the familiar figures of his friends. Pansy looked up from the group and rolled her eyes. She had large, green catlike eyes and as she rolled them she tilted her head to the side so that her long sleek black hair fell in a waterfall to one side.
"What's made you two so late?" she asked, ignoring the third year who stood expectantly in front of her.
"We were a bit…busy" Blaise smirked. He seemed to have forgotten that he was angry at Draco and that it had been him getting busy alone in the end.
Draco pretended he hadn't seen Pansy's raised eye brows. He knew what she'd be thinking. Instead, he slid onto one of the leather sofas, next to Goyle. Suddenly, he found Goyle's big beefy fist in front of his face. For a second he felt a flicker of shock and fear, until he realised what it was Goyle wanted. Reluctantly, he brought up his own fist, ridiculously pale compared to Goyle's mottled pink one, and half-heartedly punched Goyle's knuckles. Goyle grinned.
"Spud" he said.
Draco rolled his eyes to the heaven. When he had taken up Muggle studies at the beginning of fifth year, without his father knowing, Goyle and Crabbe had immediately joined as well. At the moment they were doing muggle hand gestures. When Draco had first found out about the 'spudding' that occurred in muggle schools and social gatherings, he had done it in an ironic way in Hogwarts. Goyle however hadn't got it. At all. And he was still doing it now when the novelty had long worn off and Draco was utterly bored of it.
"Nice to see you too Goyle" he drawled, to Pansy "Why on earth did you send that kid to the Gryffindor common room to tape their conversation?"
Pansy stuck out her bottom lip petulantly, "I was bored. You were taking too long."
"Come now Pansy, how can you have been bored with such scintillating company?"
Pansy looked pointedly around their small gathering. Goyle, Crabbe, Millicent Bulstrode, Blaise and himself. Crabbe and Millicent were playing exploding snap and Draco now noticed the scorch marks on Goyle's fingers. He laughed.
"Excuse me…" the third year shifted from one foot to the other.
"Yes?" Pansy said scathingly, "what do you want?"
The third year swallowed. "You…um…sent me to the Gryffindor common room…" he trailed off under Pansy's glare. "and...um…I have it here…"
"Is it anything good?"
"Well, Potter had a row with Granger. And Granger cried…"
Pansy's face suddenly broke into a wide smile, her eyes sparkling. It was quite scary. "Why didn't you say? Play it."
Potter's voice came floating out of the wand. He sounded strained and tired. What else was new.
"What?"
Granger's voice was high and slightly whiney.
"Harry don't fuck with me."
Comic confusion from Potter, the boy wonder wizard.
"Sorry? What, I don't know what you're…"
"Harry what have you done to your face?"
Draco suddenly realised what Granger was talking about – the nick on Potter's face. It sounded like Potter knew it too. His voice faltered.
"Nothing, I mean, well it's nothing really."
Getting more high pitched Granger, thought Draco, not good, I value my ear drums.
"What do you mean nothing? Harry…"
Potter's voice got sharper, sounded like he was getting annoyed too.
"It's just a nick, Hermione. I'm fine." He said sharply.
"Let me see" There was the sound of something crashing to the floor and pieces rolling around. Chess, thought Draco.
"No." Potter's voice cut through the background noise.
"Harry," there was an edge to Granger's voice. She's going to hit him, thought Draco gleefully.
"Hermione," Or Potter's going to hit her. "I'm fine. It is a nick. I am going upstairs now."
"No you're not. Stop lying to me Harry."
Lying? Um, why would Potter lie about going upstairs?
"Hermione, I'm not lying to you. Why would I lie to you? What would I gain from lying to you?"
Their voices were much louder now and the background noise had virtually stopped.
"Then why won't you tell me how you got that cut?"
"It's not a cut, it's a nick! And I got it by shaving, okay? That alright with you?"
Ooh, thought Draco, they are definitely going to hit each other.
"Yes. No. Argh!" Draco couldn't help but laugh out loud at the noise Granger had just made. This was cheering him up. "Why do you always force us into this Harry? Why do we always end up having rows and you running off like a wild animal? Why don't you trust us?"
"Why don't you trust me!"
Fight, fight, fight, fight, chanted Draco inside his head.
"Because you can't trust someone who tries to kill themselves!" Granger screamed.
"That's what you think I'm going to do Hermione? Kill myself again? Why would I want to do that? Maybe it's because my parents were killed by Voldemorte in an attack that I somehow survived? Or because, despite everyone saying the contrary, he rose from the dead and now wants to kill me? Or because I have to hear my mother's screams in my dreams every night? Or because I led my friends into a battle with Voldemorte in which Ron nearly died – because of me – you nearly died - because of me – and Sirius actually died - because of me – but which was ultimately pointless? Do you think that maybe any of those things could have been the reason, do you Hermione?"
The background noise had completely stopped and it was pretty silent in the Slytherin common room as well. Draco no longer felt like laughing.
"That wasn't your fault…no one said it was your fault" Granger whispered.
"Yeah, so what? What difference does that make? He's still fucking dead!" Potter's voice started soft but he screamed the last line.
Calm down Potter, you're getting hysterical.
"Harry…" it was another male voice, Weasely possibly?
"Shut up." Potter's voice was slightly wobbly "You sound like a stuck record. And for your information I cut myself while shaving, but next time I decide to kill myself, I'll send you a post-it note"
There was a silence from the wand and Draco thought that it might be the end but the third year was gesturing that there was more to come.
"What's a post-it note?" "
The whole room erupted in laughter, Pansy's shrieks audible above everyone's.
"Oh that's good, that's good, play that bit where he sounds like he's crying again."
The third year willingly complied.
For the rest of the evening Draco sat listening to the sound of Potter's voice, echoing and shrieking around the Slytherin common rooms. The Slytherins had ignored it after a while and continued, and Pansy had bored of it and sent the third year away, but Draco could still hear the voice from across the room where the third year amused himself and his friends. The hours passed, they handed round a bottle of vodka, played a few games of poker and Draco didn't move from his place on the sofa. Finally, after more than his fair share of the vodka, he could stand no more.
He stood up abruptly, but no one noticed being too busy playing exploding snap with cards soaked in some meths that someone had found. When the cards exploded they set themselves alight at the same time. He strode towards the third year.
"Yeah, so what? What difference does that make? He's still fucking dead!"
"Do you know," Draco asked calmly, "How annoying that is?"
"No," said the third year, looking at Draco brazenly.
"This much" Draco reached over, snatched the wand from the third year's hand and smartly snapped it in half. He threw it at the third year "Next time, quit while you're ahead"
He then strode through the portrait hole, leaving the third year staring stupidly at his broken wand. He felt an air of satisfaction. But he hadn't finished yet.
Harry leant on the window sill, leaning into the cool wet wind that blew around the tower. His feet were cold on the stone steps but this was the only place he could smoke with the relative safety that he wouldn't be found. He took a drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke into the dark sky. His eyes were sore and stung as he kept them open. He was so tired, but he needed this smoke. What time was it? He glanced at his watch, midnight. He shivered in his pyjamas. He had lain in his bed until everyone else had gone to sleep and then crept out to roll himself a cigarette on the tower steps. Suddenly, downstairs he heard the portrait swing open. Probably some lovers sneaking in from a night on the astronomy tower. Harry leant his head against the window frame, no one had tried to talk to him and Ron had been the last to go to bed. He had been comforting Hermione in the common room. Harry felt slightly guilty but his pride and anger didn't allow him to apologise. He heard someone's gasp from downstairs and low mutterings. After a quick inward debate, he stubbed out his cigarette and made his way downstairs. What he saw shocked him. Draco Malfoy was standing in the common room, talking to a terrified second year.
"All I'm asking is that you go up and get him. What do you think I'm going to do? Kill him? Go on, stop looking like a rabbit and hurry up."
"All right Hetty?" Harry stepped in and asked quietly. The second year gazed at him adoringly and relief flooded over her face. She nodded. "You should go to bed, it's late." She nodded again, and, still nodding, she made her way quickly to the girls' stairs and ran up them.
"Well, well, speak of the devil."
"What do you want Malfoy?"
"To talk to you" he smiled dazzlingly in the darkness.
"How did you get in?"
"Your portrait is really quite easy to charm Potter, you should really get a new one, I expect that was how Black got into the dormitories. Wasn't he trying to rape Weasley or something? He died over the summer, didn't he. You seemed upset in your little tirade this evening, considering he did try to kill you."
A feeling of intense hatred washed over Harry and his feeling of tiredness fell away.
"Don't you say his name, don't you dare say his name," he ground, "Sirius loved me," Malfoy raised his eyebrows and Harry carried on viciously "like I was his son and he never tried to kill me. He was trying to kill one of yours."
"Really?" Malfoy brushed off the accusation and his eyes glittered evilly, "I never knew you were up to incest Potter. I didn't even know you had any relatives"
"I'm not but I know your family are into it. Isn't that why you're all so backward Malfoy?"
Malfoy turned his mouth into a sneer "Give it up Potter. Taunts don't suit you."
Harry glared at the ice blond boy in front of him. Then he recalled something. "How do you know what I said earlier?"
"Like I said, you should really do something about the security on your common room. Anyone could just walk in."
"You mean, you were here?" horror gripped Harry's heart. The thought of Malfoy being there while he shouted at Hermione was just too mortifying to think about.
"Me? No. I heard it from a little bird." He grinned evilly.
"Fuck off Malfoy," the hot anger had gone and Harry was left with the old, dull aching anger at everything.
"You think you are the only person who has lost parents to Voldemorte?" Malfoy said suddenly.
"What?"
"Your parents were stupid enough to go openly against Voldemorte, and then to keep their child in the same house as them, and then you bleat on and on about how they were killed! As if they didn't expect it! As if it was some big surprise, a shock to everybody!"
Harry felt anger boil up inside him, he would always be inferior to Malfoy in words. He couldn't even express what he wanted to say. He pulled his arm back and punched Malfoy in the face. The shocked look on Malfoy's face was priceless. Then he had whipped out his wand and suddenly Harry was lying on the floor, his arms and legs pinned to his sides. He glared up at Malfoy and felt a trickle of blood on his chin, he must have bitten his lip when he fell.
"I shouldn't have expected any better of you Potter." The blond boy was flushed and angry. "Your parents died over a decade ago. You barely even knew them and yet you're still not over their death. It's pathetic."
"Well, I know that whatever they were like, they were worth more than a hundred of you."
"Really? That puts them on a par with Longbottom then. Not so good if you ask me."
"Better than being on a par with your parents Malfoy. And where's your father?" the spell was wearing off and Harry could wiggle his toes and fingers. The look of viscous hatred Malfoy shot him was shocking.
"Shut up Potter" he hissed, before turning on his heel and marching out of the common room.
Harry was left, his limbs slowly loosening, on the floor of the empty common room. He felt deflated and exhausted. He waited until he could move properly and climbed the stairs and fell into bed.
Draco walked through the corridors of the school, keeping to the walls. He was disturbed. Not by Potter's words, he had spoken them to himself so many times they didn't have quite the same impact from other people. But by Potter's reaction to his words. And his reaction to Potter's reaction. He had always known he had a power with words. He didn't have the physique to torment other people and it was much more interesting watching people squirm after something you had said. But he could never evoke anything as satisfying as the reactions he could draw from the boy who lived. The punch had surprised him and he supposed he would have a bruise there the next morning but right now…he needed to scrub the image of the raven haired boy, lying helpless on the floor, shrouded in shadows and moonlight, that single trickle of blood on his chin.
He stormed into the Slytherin common room to find it half empty. There was a passed out Pansy in front of the fire and a few second years buzzing about on the sofas, a massive pile of Bertie Bott's every flavour beans between them. Blaise was just standing up to leave when he spotted Draco and gave him a sweet smile. Before he had blinked, Draco had him up against the wall.
"What are you doing?"
"Finishing what I started," he grinned, and kissed him.
As always, please review!