"PUCKERMAN! What were you thinking? Do you want to go back to juvie?"
"Is he going to be alright?"
"Give him air, for cryin' out loud! Back up, everyone!"
Draco moaned as concerned voices assaulted his ears. His face was on fire, particularly his left eye. It seemed he was lying on the floor. What the hell-
Suddenly, the recent events leapt to the forefront of his mind and he bolted upright, ready for a fight, or at least the opportunity to run towards the exit.
"Calm down. You alright? Puck really messed you up." A placating hand found his shoulder and Draco turned to the girl who was kneeling beside him. It was Santana. Draco's heart, already beating furiously from his recent altercation, started beating just a little faster. Her hair, sleek and long, hung loosely over her shoulder and for a wild moment Draco wanted to run his fingers through the curtain of dark hair. A split second later he shuddered at the thought.
"Hey, man, glad you made it to my party. Sorry that Puck punched you, he has some-" Santana turned her head slightly as she raised her voice- "anger management issues. Let me take a look at that eye. Can somebody get some goddamn ice, please?"
Santana helped Draco into a chair as a girl wearing a ridiculous mint green Victorian-style dress pressed some ice into his hand. It was only then that Draco realized the front of his shirt was wet. He sniffed gingerly. Firewhisky. It had no doubt spilled when he was accosted by that Millicent Bulstrode clone. Well, there went five Galleons down the drain.
Holding the ice up to his eye, (why didn't muggles offer a bruising balm so he wouldn't develop a black eye? Very inconsiderate. ) Draco looked around, his head throbbing. The boy who punched him was standing a few feet away, arguing intensely with a taller, brown haired boy. Several other kids were talking amongst themselves, shooting him concerned glances. Draco scowled. Now that he had his bearings, rage was working its way into his system. Just then, the dark haired menace broke away from his heated conversation and made his way towards Draco. Draco leapt to his feet, hands curling into fists, jaw clenched.
"Hey, uh, Draco, right?" The boy eyed Draco warily. "Uh, I'm Puck. Listen, I'm really sorry I punched you. Uh, I'm a little drunk, and Lauren is sort of my girlfriend, and I got jealous, uh, I shouldn't have punched you."
Santana crossed her arms and leaned forward threateningly. "You know, Draco could tell your parole officer, and you'd be back in juvie in no time flat, you asshole!"
"I know, I know!" Puck looked at Draco pleadingly. "Please don't tell anyone, man. Please. I can't go back to juvie."
Draco had no idea who Juvy was, but he decided that if Puck hated her (or it) then that's exactly where he would send him. He opened his mouth furiously, ready to instill the fear of Merlin in the dim-witted youth:
"When my father hears about this-" He stopped, the heated words dying abruptly on his tongue. His father? His father would probably mock him for allowing a muggle to best him. And he couldn't imagine Sandy the Squib taking Draco's side. No, for the first time in his life, Draco had no one in high and important places to threaten others with. It was very disconcerting.
Puck shifted on his feet uncomfortably. The silence was broken when the music, which Draco had not realized had stopped, unexpectedly started up again. Several teenagers whooped and resumed dancing in the spacious basement, and someone yelled, "BEER PONG TOURNAMENT!" There was a flurry of activity and Draco watched as a crowd started to form on the other end of the basement.
Santana looked between Puck and Draco with narrowed eyes. "Are you two going to be okay if I leave you here without a babysitter? I need to go defend my title as beer pong champion," she explained to Draco, nodding towards the cluster of teens. Draco nodded mutely, and she sauntered off, practically baring her teeth angrily at Puck as she went.
Puck shoved his hands in his pockets uncomfortably. "So… are we good?" he asked.
Draco's temper flared up again. "You know, I don't know who Juvy is, but I have half a mind to send you there! What the bloody hell did you mean by it, punching me when that behemoth of a girl was already attacking me-?"
"Juvie is like, uh, kiddie jail!" Puck interrupted. "And I've already been there, and let me tell you, it sucks. I mean, I'm not a good person, but I don't deserve to be in jail, you know?"
Puck noticed Draco's undiminished glower and pulled out a small white box. "Listen, I said I'm sorry. Let's go outside and smoke a peace offering. Like the Indians, you know?"
No, Draco didn't know. But going outside didn't seem like such a bad idea; the stuffy basement was starting to feel oppressive. He moodily followed Puck past the crowd of chanting teenagers and up the stairs. The pair passed through the kitchen and Puck yanked open a glass door that led to a respectably sized patio and hot tub. Puck plopped down on the stairs and, after a moment's pause, Draco followed suit, making sure there was plenty of space between himself and the violent muggle boy.
"You don't fight much, do you?" Puck asked conversationally, pulling a thin, white stick from the box and putting it in between his lips. He pulled out a black plastic object and Draco watched interestedly (despite himself) as a flame flickered to life. Puck lit the end of the stick and inhaled deeply.
Draco sighed dejectedly. No, he didn't fight much. Having Crabbe and Goyle by his side at all times ensured that no one had ever picked a fight with Draco.
"Where I'm from, we view mug- I mean, fist fighting as common and beneath any respectable purebloo- er, person," Draco finished lamely, flushing at how many times he had nearly slipped up and mentioned his wizarding heritage.
Puck arched an eyebrow. "Whatever you say."
Draco shrugged and accepted the thin, white stick Puck was offering him, recognizing it for the peace offering it was. He put the cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply, just as he'd seen Puck do. His throat seared with pain and the acrid smoke stung his eyes. It felt as though his sinuses were being branded with the Dark Mark! Much to Draco's embarrassment, he started to hack in his struggle to catch his breath.
"I take it you don't smoke, either," Puck chuckled as he pounded Draco on the back.
Honestly, Draco thought as he hastily gave Puck back the cigarette, eyes still watering. You'd think these muggles were trying to kill me.
000
Kurt, who was inebriated "past the point of no return", as he put it, was talking an awful lot about that new Draco kid. Mercedes, who thought Draco looked stuck up and bored pretty much all the time, was not particularly interested in Kurt's ramblings and left for more punch the minute Blaine arrived, taking Kurt into his arms and leading him towards the living room.
A small part of her actually enjoyed seeing Puck deck the new kid in the face, if just for the entertainment factor. Once the action had abated, she rushed back to Kurt and Blaine with the latest scoop. Kurt dramatically threw his punch cup to the floor and started towards the basement door, threatening to give Puck a piece of his mind (and maybe his fist). Blaine sensed trouble and managed, with the help of Mercedes, to hold his boyfriend back. It seemed that a disaster was averted. But when Draco emerged from the basement a few moments later, Kurt zeroed in on the blond boy and Blaine followed Kurt's distracted gaze.
"Is that him?" Blaine asked Kurt, sipping from his bottled water in a dignified manner. One of them had to be sober enough to drive home, and that someone clearly wasn't going to be Kurt.
Kurt nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, doesn't that green shirt really compliment his skin tone? I must ask him where he bought it. He really is impeccably dressed."
Blaine furrowed his eyebrows and tried to redirect the conversation. "Yes, well, anyway, I've been put in charge of finding Pavarotti's replacement-"
Kurt interrupted, still talking about Draco. "And that hair! That's a tricky color to work with, but you can tell he realizes that some colors, orange, for instance, would really wash him out. Maybe I should let him know, offer to take him shopping, just in case he doesn't realize-"
Blaine cleared his throat. "Yes, well, anyway…"
Kurt laughed, oblivious to the pointed stare Mercedes was giving him. "I mean, can you imagine orange clothing with that hair style? It's natural, by the way," he informed Blaine. "His hair, I mean. You can just tell. He's not the type to bleach his hair."
Blaine abruptly stood up. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize there was another guy you'd rather hang out with tonight. I guess I'll just be going, then."
Kurt's mouth dropped open. Mercedes' eyes got wide.
"Oh, no, I'm sorry!" Kurt shot back, face turning red. "I didn't realize being friends with another guy wasn't allowed when I'm dating you!"
"Are you sure you want to be dating me? Because it sounds like you'd rather be with Draco, and I wouldn't want to get in your way." Blaine's voice was even but his eyes flashed as he clenched his jaw.
Kurt opened his mouth for another retort but Blaine had already swept up his coat and was walking away. Kurt stumbled to his feet and grabbed his scarf, the expensive one that had been a gift from Blaine, and wadded it into a ball.
"FINE! Be that way! Don't even stick around to- to- talk this out!" he shouted, chucking the scarf after his boyfriend. It bounced off of Blaine's shoulder. Turning, Blaine pinned Kurt with a steely look and snatched the red scarf off the ground. Kurt watched Blaine retreat and, with a strangled sort of sob, staggered in the direction of the bathroom. Mercedes remained on the couch, stunned.
Really, it was all her fault, she reflected as she watched Blaine stalk off. She shouldn't have mentioned Draco, especially considering Kurt's… fascination… with the blond boy. Ah well, nothing else to do but keep drinking. And so, throwing back the contents of her plastic cup, she did just that.
000
After Puck had retreated indoors, Draco realized that what he wanted, more than anything, was to sleep. Even if it meant returning to that flee-ridden bedroom at the Squib's house. He fished Sandy Reyerson's phone number from his pocket and reentered the kitchen, intent on finding a "telly-tone". The problem was, he hadn't the faintest idea what one was. He approached a brown-haired boy he vaguely recognized, wondering how on earth he was supposed to word this question without coming across as a total idiot.
"Excuse me," he said bluntly. "Where is the tella-tone, er, rather, the telle-"
"YOU!" the boy shouted, cheeks flushing with fury. Draco took a hasty step back. "You messed up my relationship with Blaine! I hate you!" The boy grabbed a nearby cup of punch and, whirling around, dramatically splashed its contents in Draco's face.
It was the proverbial straw that broke the broomstick's handle.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS?" Draco exploded, upending a platter of vegetables all over the brown-haired boy, who ducked.
"I'VE BEEN COVERED IN UNWANTED LIQUID TWICE- no- THREE TIMES TODAY-"
There was a patter of feet and several more teens rushed into the kitchen to watch Draco's meltdown.
"I NEVER asked to be here- NEVER wanted to live amongst such deplorable FILTH-"
He viscously smashed a smattering of cups underfoot as he raved, building up a true head of steam. His hair, always so perfectly style, fell loose around his face as he jumped up and down, screaming like a toddler.
"AND I CERTAINLY NEVER ASKED TO BE TREATED WITH LESS DIGNATY THAN A HOUSE ELF!" Draco bellowed, wrapping both arms around the enormous punch bowl and, swinging around-
-upended its contents into the face of a stunned Santana Lopez, who had just entered the room.
Time froze, in which the only sound was the splash of jungle juice as it gushed over Santana and cascaded to the floor. Santana stared at Draco in numb shock. Slowly, shock turned to fury. Tremoring, jaw-clenching fury.
"Er," Draco said weakly, Santana's blood pressure rise. "I don't suppose you could tell me where your telly-tone is?"
000
William Schuester stared blearily into his steaming cup of coffee at his usual seat in the William McKinley teacher's lounge. He had never been much of a morning person, and this morning had started off on a particularly bad note. He had received an email from an irate Rachel Berry (and Rachel was difficult to deal with in the best of times, much less than when she was angry) informing Will that, due to the "irresponsible, inexcusable actions of an inebriated Mike Chang", Mike would no longer be fit to perform in the upcoming national Glee competition. Will had gathered from Rachel's long-winded email that Mike had somehow thrown himself off of a hand railing and had broken his ankle. What a mess. And, to top it all off, the Glee club still couldn't agree on what songs they wanted to perform at the approaching competition, which was now only two and a half weeks away. He placed both hands on either side of the mug and continued staring into the depths of the drink, as though it held answers.
"Contemplating drowning yourself, Schuester? With hair like that, can't say that I blame you. I could help you find a body of water a little bigger to really get the job done though, just say the word." Sue Sylvester quipped as she passed by, tossing a CD case into the trash basket as she did so.
William frowned at her retreating back, but found he couldn't summon the energy required for a verbal battle with Sue. His day had started off bad enough as it was. He dragged himself to his feet and made his way towards the door, stopping by the trashcan to see what CD Sue had disposed of.
The Lion King Soundtrack? Will thought, confused. He bent down and plucked up the CD case. If there's anyone who would hate the happiness and good cheer Disney music inspires, it's Sue. Will opened the case and inspected the CD inside. Suddenly, he was struck with a brilliant idea. An idea that had nothing to do with Sue Sylvester, but everything to do with his beloved Glee club.
000
Santana Lopez's party was going down in the books as one of the most epic, hilarious, destructive events that the teenage population of William McKinley had ever experienced. Mike Chang's unfortunate fall off the foyer banister aside, Puck and Draco's fight (though rather one-sided and short lived) was the talk of the halls, and Brittany (who had actually witnessed the punch) was overheard telling some fellow cheerleaders that Puck had pulled an Uzi on Draco before being tackled to the ground by a genuine SWAT unit.
Santana had met her match in the form of Noah Puckerman in her battle to retain her title as reigning beer pong champion, and the winner of their match was still disputed, much to Santana's annoyance. Add to that the unfortunate punch bowl incident, and Santana was very unhappy indeed; storming around the school, she was prone to snap at random students and even reduced one freshman boy to tears.
But the real fodder for gossip lay in the simple fact that Santana's party was a co-ed sleepover party, and nearly everyone in attendance had spent the night. Rumors abounded: who had spent the night in the same sleeping bag, who had not spent the night in the same sleeping bag.
Santana and Puck had, of course, hooked up- that was nothing new. Rachel Berry and Finn Hudson, on other hand, had not hooked up, and if the rumors were to be believed, Finn had actually spent the evening in the arms of Quinn Fabray. Kurt and Blaine weren't talking, Artie and Brittany were officially an item, and Tina had reportedly spent the entire evening in the hospital at Mike Chang's side.
Draco, however, did not care about any of this. After escaping a furious Santana, he had managed to borrow a cell phone from Artie and, after a few minutes of working out the buttons, had called Sandy to secure an immediate ride home. He'd spent the rest of the weekend lounging about in front of the Squib's TV, resolutely ignoring Sandy's pointed hints to leave the house and "make some friends".
Friends. Right. Draco practically snorted as he wove his way between students, ignoring the whispers and stares that seemed to accompany him everywhere he went. Of course, he was accustomed to students whispering as he passed by, but in the past it was always with a tone of fear or reverence; in the wizarding world, the Malfoy name carried a lot of weight. Here, however, the whispering had a more conspiratorial tone. People wondering who he was, why he was there, what his fight with Puck had been about. Let them gossip, he thought vindictively. They are completely beneath my concern.
000
"Well, you propose a compelling business offer, Mr. Malfoy," a small, mustachioed man in a tweed suit said, his tones nearly as oily Lucius'. He took a sip of coffee- Lucius shuddered; how could American's stand that substance?- and leaned back in his chair. "I'm intrigued as to what you plan to do with one hundred thousand pounds of dragon dung, but cash talks, so- yes, I will have it delivered to the location of your choice."
"Excellent, Mr. Drainsworth," Lucius purred. "I would like you to place the entire amount of manure in the football field of William McKinley High School. I will provide you with the exact address."
"As you wish, though I must say, one hundred thousand pounds seems a bit extreme," the stout man said, his eyebrows raised. "Surely your money could be put to better use."
Lucius raised a fist and brought it crashing to the table, making the other man jump. "Malfoys NEVER do anything half-way. Besides," he said, dabbing his lips delicately with his napkin, "it's not about the money. It's about sending a message." A message to a particular loathsome, female muggle, he added with a mental sneer.
000
Author's Notes:
1. Let me know what you think.
2. When I planned most of this story, the Glee characters were paired as I have written; I realize the pairings have changed, but that's because the Glee pairings change on practically a weekly basis. I just can't keep up.
3. That last line of Lucius' is not mine. Kudos to you if you know which movie it's from. (Although I suppose you could just google it, you lazy bum.)