A/n- YES….er….still sick. Amazing, is it not? Thanks for all the support guys, really. 3 3 Oh, and I've realized how utterly random my title seems. Don't worry, I haven't gone nutters.
Disclaimer: If I owned it, I'd be rich- but I don't, so I'm not.
Summary: A friendship on the cusp of being born.
Jackknifed
"I've never liked Hogsmead."
Draco grunted a slight reply, hands shoved into his pockets, surrounded by a group of six Slytherin companions. He clutched his robe tighter about him. Only three in the afternoon and the chill was already seeping in through the stitching.
Winter was coming.
And God, what a joy. Draco was tired of all this frilly warm weather.
"Are you listening?"
Malfoy blinked for a moment, turning around. "What?" He looked at Zabini.
"I asked whether or not you had invited Pansy to join us."
Malfoy went ridged.
"Why would I do something like that?" Draco's lip curled. Blaise chuckled as they continued walking down the Hogsmead streets.
Malfoy took in a deep breath, the cold air scalding his lungs. He looked up at the looming houses towering over the street, their bulk held back by some gravity defying string of magic. He, never admitting it, would always love Hogsmead. It was so… away… from everything Hogwarts.
And sometimes that was a very good thing.
Putting a firm grip upon his shoulders, Blaise startled Malfoy out of his trance.
"Come on, let's get on with it."
Draco groaned. "Do we have to?" He looked to Goyle for assistance but the boy was just as eager as Blaise to have a drink. Malfoy sighed.
"Mate, you've been way too down these last few days. And here I'd thought your little win would have put some of your usual cheer back into ya."
"Cheer?"
Some of the Slytherins snorted but Zabini grinned defiantly, scratching the back of his head. "Well, I haven't heard you curse Potter nor torment the Weasel lately. Hell, even the mudblood's getting off easy!" The group roared with laughter.
Malfoy suppressed the urge to retch.
Retch, then curse Blaise.
He did neither.
"I've been-" Draco made some kind of gesture. "I've been distracted lately."
"See?" Zabini prodded his chest with a long finger. "This is just the thing to pick you back up! Nothing more about the matter!" He steered Malfoy along the street and over to the Three Broomsticks.
Draco steeled himself as the door was wrenched open by Crabb. The warm air hit him fully in the chest and he let out a frail sigh.
He had awoken this morning feeling a bit broken after- after what had happened the night before.
He hadn't meant to blow up at her like that, not after how kind-
After he had-
Why was everything so damn confusing?
"I need something. Something strong."
"Ahha!" Zabini clasped him on the back heartily. "That's it, mate!"
Malfoy stumbled in through the doorway as his cronies looked about for a booth. They chose a rounded table close to the window, able to peer out at those mulling about on the street. A few Slytherin boys Draco hardly knew pulled out their wands and cast simple tripping jinxes out at the Sunday shoppers. Draco pretended to be amused.
"Honestly, Ron, you didn't need that new Cannons poster. It's just a Quidditch team."
"What would you know about Quidditch?"
"I know the broom-to-flyer lift ratio calculat-"
"Just drop it you two, this was a chance to be rid of some Quidditch for a while."
"Blasphemous, Harry!"
"Shut UP, Ronald!"
Nearly all the Slytherins craned their heads over the crowd at the sounds of the trio. Malfoy groaned and buried his face in his hands upon the table.
He didn't need this. He didn't want this!
What had he done to deserve this?
But then, the answer to that question was now glaring at him halfway across the Three Broomsticks.
Granger.
She had spotted him, his shock of blond hair reflecting the tinny light from the tavern. She sat opposite Potter and Weasel, facing the Slytherin table, facing Draco. Blaise had to turn fully in his chair to get a look at them.
Narrowing her eyes she returned to her conversation, her voice lowered so they couldn't hear her. Draco saw both boys stiffen as she undoubtedly told them they had eavesdroppers.
Malfoy tried a scathing smirk but it didn't come. He felt slightly petrified.
This mood, however, did not improve with-
"Oiy, Potter. Out for a casual drink, eh mate?" Zabini called gaily over the chatter around them. He turned for a moment to order a round of drinks before resuming his taunting. "Trying to relive your Quidditch glory days, seeing as they're over?"
"Oh yeah." Ron turned around, going slightly pink. "We're really worried that your ferret caught one measly little snitch in one measly little game."
The Slytherin group hissed at him, audibly. Malfoy sunk lower in his chair and tried to hide behind his drink that had just been served. Granger was glaring at him.
Potter was trying desperately to ignore this whole exchange, almost as much as Draco was.
Almost.
"Come on mate, have a go at 'em."
"Like their sport?" Malfoy murmured
"What?"
"Nothing." He sighed.
"You know, Malfoy, you and your group should really get out of here." Oh, so now Potter was getting into the fray. "Lest they have to pull you out of that drink you seem to be attempting to drown yourself in."
Malfoy straightened up considerably.
How dare he.
The Slytherins looked at Potter then at Malfoy. Draco opened his mouth to speak, Zabini edging him on with quick, sharp, glances.
"Yea? Yea, Potter?" He was trying, trying so hard to rile himself up. He was failing, Granger's glare becoming more and more a concerned stare. " I think we should leave. The place is already foul enough with you and Weasel here. Not to mention your little tag-along mu-"
All his men were looking at him, expectantly.
Potter and the Weasel were staring at him.
Hermione's gaze was that of tolerated sadness. As if, she realized, that for all his 'kindness' he was still a Malfoy. Still a pureblood.
" -muggleborn." He finished, weakly.
It was deathly silent.
Now Malfoy had wished he had drowned himself in his drink.
After what seemed like eternity, he looked up from his goblet. They were staring at him. The Slytherins were stunned into comatose shock but the trio, well… Potter and the Weasel both looked slack jawed but Granger was beaming at him.
Her eyes were alight with a fervor that Draco had only seen her give when she got full marks on a particularly challenging paper. It was a gaze full of hope and warmth. She knew he wasn't so bad and that made him feel all the more awkward.
It was as if their little argument from the day before had never taken place. She had forgiven him the moment he let slip his little moment of compassion.
She knew she was no longer a mudblood to him.
And it made her happy.
Draco hung his head.
What was he doing? What was he doing with all of this?
"Draco, mate?"
"Shut up."
"Come on, Ron, we better go." He heard Hermione mutter to the boy.
"Naw, I think I want to watch this a little longer."
"Come on." Harry stood up and grabbed Ron. He and Hermione pulled him out the front door. Malfoy watched them disappear up the lane.
"What are you on about, mate?" His companions were looking at him, blank faces of horror clearly apparent.
"I don't know. I feel sick." Draco lied.
"We should go back, eh?" Blaise motioned to the barmaid. "Get this chap two butterbeer bottles, all right?" He looked at Draco again. "You can drink 'em back at the Common Room."
Malfoy nodded absently, thinking to himself.
What the hell was he going to do with two butterbeers? He could barely finish half of one himself.
Slowly a thought dawned on him.
Ah, that was it then.
And Draco smiled to himself.
A/n- Okay, so I cracked. I promised myself I would be diligent about the spelling mistakes but I just can't! I'm horrible at spelling!
So, I have enlisted the help of my literary better-half to beta me.
Plan on seeing better chapters from now on- thank god, right? (but don't thank me, it's all Mika)
Next chapter coming soooooonnnnn! And thanks for the 'get well' wishes!
Review, please, please review! I love all your nice little comments!
