Chapter Five
As Draco plastered himself to the cold stone wall and carefully slithered along it like a weird version of a Flobberworm, a large part of him knew he looked beyond ridiculous; the other part was busy manoeuvring his feet into taking small even steps so that he didn't end up falling onto his face. It was right after dinner, and he was currently lurking in the corridor on the fourth floor, just off the library.
Draco's plan of shadowing Potter every step had not gone exactly to er, plan. He had apparently forgotten to taken into account of the fact that they had classes jam-packed into their schedules; and if Draco really wanted to catalogue Potter's every little (doubtlessly evil) move, he'd have to end up flunking that year – not that that'd be a big whoopie in view of the seriousness of the current situation, but Draco was pretty sure his Father would flay him to within an inch of his life if that were to happen or disown him or cancel his allowance and confiscate his broom (gasp!). And so, he found that the only time he'd be able to hound Potter's footsteps would be after the end the day's classes. He had, therefore, quickly wolfed down his dinner, waved Pansy's inquiries off, and slipped out of the Great Hall to slink after the Trio-That-Seemed-To-Be-Joined-At-The-Hip. He had followed them onto the fourth floor, and it seemed that they were heading to the library – more like, Granger was happily stomping up to her lair and was forcibly dragging Potty and Weasel along for the ride (Potty and Weasel did not look happy). That Granger seriously was such a stick in the mud.
Draco slithered along a few more feet and came to a stop behind a suit of armour just as it appeared that Granger had tripped over her robes and went sprawling down with her books slipping out of her satchel and raining down on her. Draco grinned at the sight of the annoying-as-hell Know-It-All plastering her bossy face to the floor –only it didn't happen, and Draco frowned at the two arms around her steadying her just a few inches
from the cold, hard, unforgiving floor. Weasley and Potter lifted her upright, with their arms tangled up around her waist. Granger took a shuddering, steadying breath and pushed back her frizzy hair from her face and even spitted some out from her mouth (eurgh!) as the other two bent down to collect all the books (honestly, how did that woman carry them around all day without her shoulder dislocating?). She bent down as well to help shove all the tomes into her satchel, when Weasley muttered something which caused Granger to hit him upside the head with the Spellman's Syllabarywhile Potter snorted; Draco raised his brows at the display. And then, all three of them were laughing and chuckling while playfully nudging each other with elbows (Draco's eyebrows disappeared into his blond locks), and suddenly Granger was engulfing them in a hug while the other two blushed and looked awkward.
Draco stared wide-eyed at the idiot trio frolicking in the middle of the corridor in a strange Gryffindor-ish mating ritual/orgy of sorts. And all of a sudden, as though someone had bloody Accioed it, the sodding buzzing returned to Draco's ears, nearly disconcerting him that he had to clasp on tighter to the armoured arm (when had he clutched onto the suit of armour, in the first place?). The buzzing grew and grew as he watched the Gryffindork-ese triplets unglue themselves from each other (thank Circe! He REALLY was not in the mood for scarring his mind today, thanks) and resumed hunting for the stray books on the floor; by the time everything was shoved inside the book-bag and Potter handed it to Granger and placed it on her shoulder with a smile, Draco thought his head would burst from all the buzzing. It was making his eyes water and he felt like a wound up spring as all his muscles clenched tightly.
Suddenly, there was a loud metallic sound and he looked down at his hands to see his fingers clutching a dislocated metal arm.
"Hoy, look! It's that nutter- Malfoy!" Weasley called in his shrill voice.
The suit of armour chose that moment to creak down rustily over Draco, and snatched its appendage from his hands; Draco rather thought that its visor growled down sinisterly at him.
Draco looked up at all three Gryffindors staring at him and cursed to himself at having been sighted in his sneaking around. Hoping to appear nonchalant and not like someone who had been caught slinking along walls in the dark, he straitened his robes and put his trademark smirk firmly in place, and sauntered his way over to them –only to trip on a metallic foot so that he had to do a weird windmill impression with his arms in order to regain his balance.
The suit of armour clanked as it laughed a tinny, wheezing laugh and drew back its stuck out leg; Weasley burst out laughing in that boorish, stupid way of his, clutching at his sides. Scowling, Draco regained what little composure he could and made his way over to the trio –careful to avoid looking at Potter (Draco had not yet forgotten the Evil Power of Potter's accursed eyes) – and glared at the red-headed numbskull.
"What, Malfoy – skulking and spying around as usual? Is following people around one of your new deviant pervasions or just your job description as a sneaky l'il Slytherin? Where are your two goons been hiding at then?"
Draco always felt an insuppressible desire to stamp Weasley's freckled face into the ground –and then stamp some more on the mushy, bloody remnants until all that remained of Weasley would be a giant red stain on the floor. He idly wondered why that was. Hmm…
Draco gnashed his teeth and said through gritted teeth, "Weasley," he ground out, his lip curling in a sneer, "the day I decide to willingly follow and constantly be near you would be the day I cast a Be-heading curse on my self!"
"Here's hoping to that then, eh?" the Weasel smirked.
"Sod off, Weasel!" Draco spat.
"You sod off to your snake-pit, Ferret!" Weasley shouted; his ears now a shade of scarlet.
"Very mature—is that the best you can do?" Draco sneered.
"C'mon, Ron," Potter said tugging on Weasley's sleeve; Draco kept his glare fixed at Weasley, even though the buzzing was making his head spin. "Let's go."
"Yes, Ron," Granger huffed in agreement. "Let's not waste our time on Malfoy."
She sounded derisive and Draco's fury ascended up another notch on the scale, which compounded with the throbbing and buzzing in his head.
"Oh, don't be such a fun-killer, Granger! Weasel King and I were just indulging in some playful banter–don't be getting your spinsterly white knickers in a twist!"
Apparently, Granger's knickers was a sore point of Weasley's, who on hearing their mention had turned six shades of red and charged forward with his fist raised to defend their honour or something. Potter unsuccessfully tried to stop Weasley's Knuckle Express by holding onto Weasley's arm.
In a heartbeat before Weasel's fist could connect with the side of his face, Draco had raised his own fist for a counter-punch and threw it with all his force, but his fist inexplicably spun towards Potter like a frigging bloody magnet. Draco saw Potter widen his eyes in shock and before his own shocked brain could register the alarm of exposing to the Dark Power of Potter's (green, green, so very green) orbs, Potter swayed to his side to avoid being hit and bumped into Weasley, which made Weasley's punch go awry (thankfully) and just grazed Draco's ear, but the forward momentum caused Draco to lose balance. The result was a fall by all three boys into a tumble of entangled limbs and robes.
Draco winced as he felt someone's elbow jutting into his stomach; he spit out a mouthful of robes.
"Gerrof! Gerrof –you git!"
Draco opened his eyes and found himself to be lying atop the body pyramid: Weasley was at the bottom flailing one free arm futilely, his cursing coming out muffled through all the layers of cloth and bodies, and Potter was…Potter was currently sandwiched between him and Weasel, and those almond shaped eyes that were blinking up slowly at him were Potter's; the buzzing attained previously unreached intensity, and Draco found that he couldn't work up a desperate scream even if he tried.
Draco tried to snap his eyes shut, but now that they were staring into those bewitched eyes, they refused to close their lids. He had managed to just work himself into a panic that was likely to give him an aneurysm, when someone yanked him up by the robes, consequently freeing him from his apparent body freeze. But his brain took its own sweet time to resume its functions and that left him standing and staring numbly in front of him for a few moments before he realised who had helped him up.
"Granger, I'd appreciate it if you desisted in touching my person in the future," he sneered , regaining some of his composure, as Granger helped the other two up and disentangled them. "I don't want your muddy paws anywhere near me, thanks."
Weasley and Potter looked furious; Weasley looked ready to rectify his earlier failure of pounding Draco into pulp and almost sprung on him; but Granger got there first: for the second time in his life, Draco felt Granger's palm imprint across his cheek with a resounding smack!
With his eyes watering and the skin on his face hot and painfully tingling, Draco watched as Granger folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes at him:
"Grow up, Malfoy!" she said gravely, and then threw a prize-worthy sneer at him, turned on her heel, pulled and tugged Weasley and Potter away to the library.
Draco stood there in the middle of the corridor with the sound of the slap echoing endlessly in his ears, and wondered what growing up had to do with anything.
Back in the Common Room, he had to endure a full minute of Pansy laughing uproariously (and Nott's constant sniggers – but Draco decided to block out the twit) over the hand print over his face (Blaise had just ignored him and gone back to reading his infernal book; Crabbe and Goyle were knocked out from eating too many contraband Fire Whisky laced chocolate éclairs in a corner). Draco sat in his armchair and thought that maybe following Potter wasn't such a great idea after all (the little voice in his head piped up triumphantly, 'I told you so!') and considering tonight's events, it'd be dangerous to be in Potter's proximity making himself vulnerable to Potter's Dark Powers; to the pull of his diabolical eyes; to the infernal buzzing…
That's it! He needed to get away from Potter: be as far away as he get could from Potter's evil designs on him (whatever they might be, he was sure he didn't want to know). Maybe there was a way to save himself after all…
So, scratch out plan: Potter Sucks, I Rule (No. 141) – Shadow Potter Around Like A Sneaky Crup.
Draco reclined in the leather armchair and looked up at the centuries old chandelier which had hundreds of carved snakes twined around each other, their curled tails holding up candles (because it was a Slytherin artefact, it was imperative that it have snakes in one form or another—in case you were wondering), vaguely aware of Pansy badgering Blaise in her whiny, desperate tone about letting her copy his essay for Transfiguration that was due the next day, Draco sighed to himself and thought of the new plan, which was something like: Potter Sucks, I Rule (No. 142) – Stay The Bloody Hell Away From Potter Or Any Potter Shaped Objects.
It was a good plan: Draco hated the git, ergo it'd be easy to avoid him at all costs; it'd even be a relief, really—not seeing that ugly mug. And in classes he could just take a seat at the opposite end of the room from the four-eyed prat.
Steering clear of Harry Potter? –easy peasy, lemon squeezy! (Freckles made him queasy and Malfoys were not sleazy –in case you wanted to know.)
OoOoO
"You know? I've always called him an inbred nutter – but now, I'm seriously starting to believe it," Ron said slowly, watching a pale figure whiz past between the House tables.
Harry, whose eyes were also on the same object agreed whole-heartedly with this assessment: he watched the figure positively race out of the Great Hall, robes flapping behind noisily; many of the students had also paused in the process of wolfing down dinner and were craning their necks and twisting in their seats to catch a glimpse of the pale, but slightly pink-flushed, blur.
"I do believe," Harry said turning back to his steak-and-kidney pie after the blur had vanished beyond the Hall doors, "that Malfoy has finally lost his marbles."
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed and for some reason dissolved into giggles; Harry raised an eyebrow in confusion, which was also shared by Ron:
"Wha? Wassofunny?" he asked from around a large bite of potatoes.
"Nothing—nothing!" Hermione waved him off and ducked her blushing face behind the Transfiguration text book she had brought to dinner to read inbetween bites of her meal (because it was Hermione, and she considered chewing time a valuable time lost if not used to cram—pun unintended—it was just the way she was).
"Anyway," Ron said swallowing the mashed potatoes and rolling his eyes at Hermione as though to say, 'Girls! Blast-Ended-Skrewts are easier to understand than the mysterious female species', "as Harry summed it up: Malfoy has gone mental! Did you notice how every time he spots us he scurries away like there's a fire under his bu-"
"Ron!" Hermione said biting into a mouthful of her chicken casserole and turning a page in the text.
What? Malfoy was running away due to them? Harry hadn't noticed that at all: he had been far more engrossed in being highly amused at the way Malfoy always seemed to ridiculously scamper off at high speeds from a room – he rather looked like a scared, little albino ferret escaping from a fox or something. If Ron-The-Master-At-Being-Oblivious had noticed it, then it must be true.
"It is true that Malfoy does seem to flee at the sight of us," Hermione was saying while perusing a spell in the book, "or to be more specific: at the sight of Harry."
What? Harry thought surprised (and why hadn't he observed any of this? Surely, he wasn't worse than Ron, now, was he….?).
"Hmm…yeah, that's right!" Ron said, absently looking at Harry. "Yesterday while coming to breakfast he bounded off in the opposite direction once he saw us near the Hall doors; and in the library as soon as he laid eyes on Harry he up and went off like a fire-cracker was between his legs! –he left most of his work behind and I saw Goyle come collect it later."
Ron started laughing.
"And," Hermione continued, turning another page, "in Potions' class today, Malfoy sat in the last bench (a first for him) and had Crabbe and Goyle sit in front of him like a wall, and hid behind them for the entirety of the class: Snape made Harry sit at the front near his desk for 'trying to sabotage Longbottom's already piss-poor work by distracting his notoriously feeble attention span by inane chin-wagging' as he put it."
"Stupid, greasy git," Harry muttered angrily. Ron patted him sympathetically on his back.
"Wait!" said Harry suddenly remembering, "the other day I bumped into Malfoy outside the loo in between classes, and he jumped up a mile when he saw me and then fled away – I'm pretty sure he squeaked a little too!"
Ron laughed harder, thumping his fist on the table sending bits of food everywhere; Hermione scowled at him and lifted her book up to save it from being splattered with bits of meat; Harry watched tears of mirth streaming down Ron's face and joined in the laughter.
"But, seriously, mate," Ron said finally recovering a bit to resume piling food onto his plate, "whatever you're doing that's making Malfoy to act this way –please do continue!"
"Definitely!" Harry said chuckling. "Though, I wish I knew what exactly I am doing."
Hermione hmphed and went back to reading her text.
"But, I have to admit that I had an inkling of Malfoy's insanity," Harry said thoughtfully, chewing on a bit of pie. "Remember that Transfiguration class—where he punched me without any reason?"
"Yeah, I wish McGonagall hadn't stopped me from throttling the life out of that wanker!" Ron said darkly.
"Yes, well –it was so weird! He just came flying at me from nowhere in the middle of lesson!" Harry said staring at his plate and frowning, "the look on his face…it freaked the hell out of me! For one second there I thought he was going to… –er, strangle me or something." He mumbled out the last part flushing for unknown reasons, and proceeded to stuff his mouth with more pie (he did much love the steak-and-kidney pie).
From the corner of his eye Harry noticed Hermione looking up interestedly from her book and peering at him in that decidedly Hermione-ish way. Ron –bless him, ever the oblivious simpleton—shoved a bit more food into his mouth and chewed noisily.
" 'Ell, 'usht gowshtu show, dunnit?" he said thoughtfully munching, and then swallowed. "Malfoy's mental! Did you see him groping at the wall in that corridor outside the library, that day? Well, I just hope Malfoy's insanity continues into next week's match – you just have to show up on the pitch and Malfoy'll just disappear from the pitch like someone performed an Evanesco on the poncy git! Easiest win ever! I'd love to see the expression on Snape's greasy face!"
Ron howled with laughter at the images forming in his mind.
"It is funny when he scurries off like a giant ferret, innit?" Harry chuckled.
"Right!" Ron agreed laughing harder." I've honestly never seen anyone run faster –and so terrified!"
"Hehe! Maybe like Snape being confronted with the prospect of washing his hair with shampoo!"
"Hah! Good one!"
"Or Ron faced with a baby spider!"
"Oye! OK – like Harry faced with a weepy girl!"
"Boys," Hermione intoned exasperatedly from behind her book.
"Or Hermione faced with a nine-on-ten on a homework!"
"No-No! A nine and a half-on-ten!"
Hermione huffed from behind the text.
OoOoO
Meanwhile, in the North tower, Prod sat behind his desk and resisted the urge to repeatedly bang his head onto the wood. No other student had come soliciting his help (i.e., sent forcibly for detention) since the Malfoy brat had visited and had managed to give Prod an exploding headache that had lasted for three solid days.
Prod felt that headache returning as he gazed at the young witch in front of him: the girl sat on the couch and swung her legs to and fro, humming to a tune of an unknown song. She said she had come voluntarily to see him because she wanted to ask him if he had ever seen a –what was it?- ah, yes – an Aquavirius Maggot? Conversation, sadly, had then continued to leave the realm of sanity.
The girl had long, messy blond hair and odd, protuberant pale and rather glassy eyes; she had stashed her wand behind a ear (which made Prod hastily retrieve his own from behind his ear and shove the wand into a robe pocket); she had also adorned herself with radish earrings and a Butterbeer-cork necklace.
Prod had commented on the last in order to distract her from her detailed and mildly disturbing description of the brain-like tentacles of the Aqua-thingy. The girl had said in her dreamy voice and her eyes (disturbingly) unblinking that the necklace warded off something called Nargles! Prod had gaped and decided to drop the subject.
The topic had then veered to something called Umgubular Slashkilter:
"Umbridge—what?" he had asked hoarsely.
The girl nodded eagerly, "Yes, Fudge has one." – which made absolutely no bloody sense to him at all, not that he had been able to follow a whit of the girl's chatter from the start.
And so, he sat behind his desk, wondering if he banged his head hard enough what would cease to exist first? –his life or the headache…and it seemed that he had no patience to figure out the answer—it was time for a practical test.
And just as he was about to commence his first head bang, the door er, banged open.
"Ah, you're here Prod –I've just been to your rooms to look for you!"
It was that batty bat of a woman –Trelawney; she had been coming regularly upto him to either pester him to join for a drink, a meal or something: she said that him being her nearest neighbour, both of them should participate in a spot of socializing (i.e., bring out the bottles and drink until merry-ho!), she even offered her services to read tea-leaves or something. Prod had respectfully declined (i.e., threatened to attack her with her own teacups if she didn't leave him the bloody alone) but the glitter-bug of a woman had persisted and persisted, and persisted…(Prod was in the midst of a plan of offering her a nice poison-laced Sherry bottle).
"Sybill!" he ground out with as much acid as he could infuse in the name. "I told you I had no bottles of liquor in my possession!"
"I already know that—I just looked into all your drawers! I also checked under the bed to be sure, of course!"
"You WHAT?" Prod screeched like he had never before screeched in his life.
"Hoh! You've got a visitor, eh?" Trelawney focussed her red rimmed eyes onto the figure on the couch while waving dismissively at Prod.
"Hello, Professor."
Trelawney blinked behind her thick glasses perched lopsided on her nose until the girl came into focus. And then, suddenly she almost seemed to draw back in alarm.
"Ah, Lovegood, it's you," she sounded wary and drew her sequined shawls closer around her. "What are you doing here, my child?"
"I felt a colony of Wrackspurts nesting around here," the girl said mildly. "Surely, Professor, you've felt one of them buzzing around you too?"
Trelawney paled and took a step back.
"Ah, no, my dear," she answered shakily. "Maybe I'll see them next time! Well, I've got to be going—I have a, er, important reading tea-leaves thing…" she said vaguely gesturing backwards and then positively fled from the room—her many trinkets jingling and clinking.
"Wrackspurts are invincible," the Lovegood girl informed to the hastily retreating back of her Professor.
Prod gulped as he silently turned from Trelawney's disappearing back to fearfully glance at the girl, who was now smiling vacantly at him.
OoOoO
A/N: It took me ages to write this in one sitting—I'm one of those who pick-and-peck at the keyboard with two fingers, unlike cool people who type like they're playing the piano. Woe me!
Ergo, reviews are like, like –the awesome-est things in the world, which I can't really recall at the mo.
And, MightyGryffindor - thnx for the concrit on maybes! I'll go n fix them now..may be! ;)
And remember—
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-UGH! Someone kill me rite now! (v v v sry! I slp deprivd! no scorn 4 abov mntl shit plz)