A/N: long time, no…whateve..
And before you go the chapter – why doesn't anyone Luv meeeee?
Now that, that's out of the way…happy reading.
Chapter Four
Draco entered the Common Room in a daze, his mind whirring, barely aware of the journey from the North Tower to the Dungeons.
"So, has your sulk ended yet?"
Distracted from his musings he cast a cursory glance around the rather gloomy looking room lighted by a large, old-fashioned chandelier; and the fireplace with its charmed green flames casting everything in its unnatural tinge and making the shadows weave sinisterly on the dark stone walls with every undulation of the flames licking at the hearth; a few of the students milling about: some half concealed in shadowed corners (either clutching reading material which would definitely not be listed in the curriculum or even present on the dusty shelves of the Restricted Section of the library, or simply drawing up blue-prints of the next big, evil plan to take over the world like a true Slytherin), some in bottle-green armchairs or couches, or sprawled on the thick rug near the fireplace – like Pansy was currently placed, poring over a textbook with a quill poised over a half written parchment. Beside her, lounging in an armchair with the face almost hidden behind a large tome was undoubtedly Blaise with his long legs crossed gracefully at the knees.
"So, how did it go?" Pansy asked again, not looking up from her work.
Draco made a dismissive sound and moved to sit in the high-backed, leather armchair in front of the hearth; this was his favourite place to sit and to ponder on life's great mysteries or rather to chalk out his next brilliant scheme (mostly involving how to make Potter eat crow in the most painful and humiliating way) and brood darkly when the said scheme went kaput; and also sitting in it gave him a slightly evil-genius-extraordinaire, diabolical air (or so he liked to think) plus being nearest to the fire it made him feel warm and toasty in the otherwise dank and cool room. He tossed off a couple of Firsties curled up comfortably in the chair and sat down, placing his elbows on the armrests and steepling his fingers below his chin. He was quickly lost in thought again, staring unseeing into the emerald flames before him.
"Draco?"
He ignored her.
"Malfoy!" Pansy said irritably. Draco blocked her out, concentrating on the tendrils of fire; their captivating verdant hue was annoying him for some reason.
"Honestly, Malfoy! Stop being such a Hufflepuff Firstie: sulking over some silly detention!"
"Not that he didn't deserve it," Blaise drawled from behind his book; if there was anyone who could do the whole I'm-superior-to-you-in-every-way-bow-before-me drawl better than Draco it was him. It always managed to set Draco's teeth on edge and make him want to tear Zabini into little strips. "Doing something like that in front of witnesses and especially a Professor! Even First years aren't that stupid," Blaise continued in that insufferable drawl managing to infuse a bloody sneer into it, eventhough Draco couldn't see past the book covering Zabini's stupid face.
Draco was tempted to flip a bird in Zabini's general direction but desisted in favour of glaring into the fire (besides Blaise wouldn't be able to see it past his stupid book, which would make it rather useless), his thoughts once again on Potter's green—er, Potter's evil plan. He would have to remember to stick a note to the back of the armchair saying that the next person to annoy him would be subjected to an entire page from 1001 Nasty Hexes : How To Make Them Wish They Never Met You the next time he wanted some quiet time.
"Dracoooo…"
He suddenly found Pansy perching on the armrest, she blew icy-cold breath over the back of his neck making him jump up a foot and shudder violently.
"Merlin's bullocks, woman!" he exclaimed, rubbing a hand over his neck.
Pansy tittered and a few peculiar, halting sniggers sounded from a dark corner. Draco sat back down making a rude gesture at the skulking figure in the shadows.
"Here," Pansy said offering a bar of Honeyduke's Chocolate to him and popping another Ice Mice into her mouth; her teeth chattered a little as he bit into the chocolate.
"Thanks, Parkinson," Draco said: well, Pansy certainly had her uses when she was not being an annoying chit. He took another ravenous bite to pacify his stomach which had been lowly grumbling about the lack of dinner.
Pansy took advantage of his gratitude and preoccupation with stuffing himself with chocolate by immediately plunging her fingers into his hair and proceeded to drag them through it and smoothen it; Draco decided to allow this –for now, atleast—plus it felt really good to have his throbbing head massaged.
"So, Draco, what did they make you do?" Pansy pressed on again with a slight purr in her voice: Draco swore Pansy sometimes acted like such a Kneazle – a rabid Kneazle maybe, but one nonetheless.
"Did they make you write lines?" Pansy continued with a snicker, "or did they get that nasty Filch to order you around? Did the nasty man make poor Draco scrub toilets? Poor dear!" She gave him a little hug; the trouble with Pansy was that he never knew whether she was being truly sympathetic or mocking him. "Or did he tie you up with his nasty little shackles, strung you by your fingers and toes—like he always promises to do- and whip you around! That wretched, little deviant of a Squib!" Well, that answered that.
Sniggers issued from the corner again. Draco clenched his teeth.
"Oh, wait – you couldn't have had detention with Filch: I saw him scrubbing the corridor outside the library and cooing to his ugly cat just a while ago," Pansy paused with a finger poised dramatically over her lower lip; Draco rolled his eyes.
"You did mention something about Dumbledore…" she said slowly. "Speaking of Dumbledore, seeing that you missed dinner you wouldn't know, he made an announcement—something about a Ministry approved Mind Healer appointed at Hogwarts, now, what was his name again…anyway! Dumby said that his services were available to all" –she snickered—"and that we could go and have a heart-to-heart with him whenever we felt the need."
A blush made it itself known imperceptibly on Draco's pale cheeks, but he kept quiet.
"We all had a laugh at how Dumby and Potty were the ones in dire need of some Mind Healing –oh, maybe Weasley more than them! You should have seen the raving he did after McGonagall dragged you off by the ear; he nearly was frothing at the mouth before Granger, thankfully, convinced him to help haul Potty off to the Hospital wing. Ha! Draco, you should've seen Potter's face! You really served him some sweet desserts! Potter was clutching at his jaw in agony –dislocated from the looks of it," Draco grinned, the warmth of satisfaction at hearing this filling up his chest. Bless Pansy – she always knew how to cheer him up. "So, Draco, what did you talk to D J Prod about?"
"Pot—Parkinson!" Draco spluttered, that wretched bint, Parkinson! That evil rabid thing—tricking him in such a way!
"Oh, you poor baby, what did the big, bad Healer say was wrong with your ickle mind?"
Pansy chuckled mussing up his hair, he furiously slapped her hand away; Blaise guffawed from behind his book, which jiggled along with him; wheezing laughter broke out from the corner.
Almost completely pink by now with embarrassment and fury, Draco shot a glare into the corner: "Shut it, Nott!"
The laughter grew. Draco shot a hex at the source in the dark; immediately a bright purple light ray sailed over to him. Draco ducked hastily and Pansy just swayed out of the way still snickering. The laughter continued on.
"Tosser," Draco muttered turning resolutely away from the corner. That Nott was really a creepy nutter - even for a Slytherin.
Draco waited with gritted teeth until all sounds of amusement subsided; Pansy wiped a tear of mirth from the corner of her eye.
"So, how goes the state of your mind, Draco?" Pansy asked with a commendable smirk, stealing a bit of his chocolate.
"For your information, Parkinson," he retorted with a scowl, "that man is not a Mind Healer! He's just some muggle version of it, where all you do is talk." He hoped he sounded derisive enough.
"And so you talked about Potter," she said lightly. It was not a question; it made Draco narrow his eyes at her.
"And…" she supplied resuming her molesting of Draco's hair. When he didn't deign to answer her, she huffed and rolled her eyes. "So, did you come to some earth-shattering conclusions about yourself? And Potter?" she added the last part in a low whisper that Draco thought he misheard it.
Draco frowned to himself and pondered for a few minutes, until Pansy grew impatient and began to positively tug on his hair so that his eyes watered. That evil wench!
Pulling away from Pansy's evil claws, he ran a hand himself through his hair and paused to give a dramatic sigh.
"I need someone to tail Potter," he announced gravely. It was met with silence for a moment.
He then heard Pansy exhale a long sigh. There was a sound of a book snapping shut and Blaise's face atlast made an appearance to the open; he stood up and stretched a little: "Right, I'm going to bed," he called. "I can now infer that the Mind Healer is an absolutely incompetent quack." His haughty features arranged themselves into an ugly sneer.
"He's not a Mind Healer!" Draco hissed in frustration, but Blaise barely paid attention as he disappeared into the Boys' dorms.
Pansy sighed again; her expression was that of a long suffering one: "And, why do you want Potter to be tailed?" she asked slowly.
"It's not important why, Pansy – just do it!" he said irritated: why couldn't anyone else see the seriousness and urgency of the situation?
Seeing Pansy bare her teeth in a scowl he backtracked a bit.
"I need you to follow him and watch his every move; for any sign or clue…I need to know what he's planning."
Pansy gave him a blank stare (he seemed to be getting those a lot these days).
"I need to know," he insisted in a serious tone, "what he's planning to do –to me—and I need to thwart him."
Pansy blinked several times and then she sighed that stupid sigh again.
"Oh, Draco," she said getting up from the armrest, "I'd love to skulk around Potter with you and make notes of how many sausages he consumes" –she smirked for some reason –"for breakfast or what colour boxers he wears for Monday's Potion Class"—Draco spluttered—"but you know how far behind I am in Transfiguration, what with missing two weeks worth of classes in the Hospital wing waiting to re-grow…never mind—damn that Ravenclaw bint for hexing me! So, anyway, if I don't catch up soon McGonagall will have my hide –you know how that partial, old bat is?"
She bent to pick up her parchment and books from the rug and stacked them in her arms.
"Sorry, Love, you're on your own this time. Good night, Draco!" she called and blew a kiss to him, and sauntered off to her dorm. Draco scowled at her back: much use she was, he thought angrily. In the ensuing quiet, Draco became aware of the low sniggers issuing from that blasted corner.
"Nott, just go bugger yourself or something—you bloody wanker!"
Draco ducked the rather nasty looking spell and hastily made his way to his dorm; he honestly didn't know when Nott slept in their shared dorm, he seemed to spend most of his time skulking in the common room eavesdropping on others' conversations.
As he undressed for bed he glanced at the two large lumps occupying the beds on either side of him : Crabbe and Goyle; they might be willing to follow Potter, but unfortunately the finesse required for stealth and furtiveness was not amongst their better traits(if they indeed have any, that is). Those two tailing someone would be like elephants stampeding to announce their presence.
Draco sighed as he got under his green duvet and stared at the canopy of his four-poster: looked like he would have to do all the work himself this time. Tailing Potter, he thought as he turned on his side and pulled the sheets over his head, should be easy, what with Potter being a thick dolt as he was. But why was that little voice inside his head (that sometimes told him stupid things like, 'this is wrong', 'don't push them off the stairs!', 'the world is a sunny place with fluffy hopping bunnies—be nice!', 'Hippogriff—danger!', 'don't do that—you'll get in trouble!', '..all the world needs is #%ve! All what you need is #*ve! #*ve! #*ve! #*VE!', and 'unicorns are pretty –prettttyyy—pet them!') was screaming something like 'nooooo…! Disaster! Danger! XXX! Nooo…!'
Stupid little voice! He grumbled into the pillow and slipped into sleep. The little voice continued to howl in misery, but to no avail.
OoOoO
A/N: short and silly chap, I know…hope for the best next time, ne?
:)
R & R!