COUNTERFEIT

III

Sweat dripped off Draco's eyelashes and rolled down his chin. He grunted and closed his eyes. Sweet pleasure. Sweet, sweet pleasure. It's two-thirty, Sunday morning, and Draco is already hard at work…at…uh…pleasuring himself. Please, don't laugh. You really cannot blame him. After all, you remember what happened in Hermione's room that one afternoon…a week ago.

Yes, it has been a week, a very long week for our young hero and heroine, but especially for our hero. Every time he saw her curly locks, every time he smelt her faint scent of roses, every time his cloak brushed hers when they pass by each other in the hallways he starts sweating, his mouth becomes dry, his words come out as croaks and he has the most sinful urge to stop right there – in the middle of a busy hallway – drop his pants and wank himself crazy. Fortunately, the boy has some sense of restraint, and he refrained from doing such. Instead, he saved it till after classes and dinner, after midnight and all his roommates fell asleep.

Then Draco would quietly flip himself onto his stomach and quickly rid himself of that masturbation hazard we call pants, and the rest is…censored. This was his nightly routine every night since last Friday, and it has become more and more addictive. A quiet worry nagged Draco's conscience about his dirty little habit, warning Draco that if he didn't stop this disgusting practice, his only partners in bed for the rest of his unworthy, pornographic life would be his butter lubricated hands.

This threat stung. The quiet little worry won. Draco stopped the nightly exploits of his hands on Friday, and he had planned for the prohibition to continue for some time, but life tends to throw you curves.

Earlier tonight, Blaise Zabini had, again, fabricated tales of his imaginary conquests of enchanting (however fictional) women, and retold them loudly and lavishly to the pair of furless gorillas – Crabbe and Goyle, "…so I took her hand in mine and wrapped my other arm around her waist and swept her into the silver-lined limestone pool…" Draco rolled his eyes as Blaise recounted his 'wild ride with a lovely female genie from Arabia'. The guy is pathetic. You would think that someone that is as good looking as Blaise wouldn't have to make up tales of how he fucked his famous yet non-existent ex-girlfriends, but here he is, possibly the best looking guy in their year, virginal and dreaming.

Draco wasn't sure if the last owner of his body had…ahem…had a girl, as there were no records of such an event in any journals, diaries or in the Pensieve, but he was pretty sure that Draco the First had a little something going on with that slutty, short girl…Pansy, was it?

Well, the second Draco was not going to waste his virginity on some whore the previous occupier of his body had liked to screw around with, and he told the girl as much (leaving out the little detail concerning the fact that the girl's real boyfriend was dead) and the girl ran off telling everyone that Draco cared so much about her that he broke up with her to keep her safe, and after his 'important mission' is done, he's going to propose to her.

Draco wanted to puke at the very thought – some people can never take a hint.

But there was something about that Pansy girl that made Draco think about her as he went to sleep that night. He had a dream. He was kissing her, but he didn't want to. He couldn't pull away either, her lips were glued to his. Then he heard Blaise's voice, narrating, "…so I took her hand in mine and wrapped my other arm around her waist and swept her into the silver-lined limestone pool…" and then Draco was in an oasis. The water was the colour of aquamarine, and a tall waterfall thundered softly not so far away. Around him, the dense jungle flowered with colourful blossoms. The water was warm and soothing…Draco was in his happy place. Then he realized that he was naked…and scared. Pansy was in his arms, their lips still stuck together. She ran her hands down his chest, past his abdomen and to his groin. Draco twitched away disagreeably.

But in between all that he somehow knew he was dreaming. Draco desperately thought of a way to escape the unpleasantness. Suddenly, the faint scent of roses reached Draco's nostrils. Pansy turned into Hermione.

Hermione was dressed in her heavy Hogwarts robes, laughing at Draco's nakedness. Draco was immediately aroused. He reached out and ripped open Hermione's robes. He kissed her feverishly and desperately along her neck and down to her collarbone. She tasted so sweet. His hands fell down to her waist and released her from her skirt. Cupping her, he rested his head on her shoulder and was just about to enter her…when he awoke, sweating and provoked, eagle spread on his stomach, tangled in his thick blankets, moistened by his sweat.

Fuck this.

Draco reached to his nightstand, slathered that expensive skin butter on his hands and got to work.

Now, almost an hour later, Draco was almost done. His arms pumped furiously, and he groaned, his face buried in his pillow. On his knees, barely crouching and fully naked, sweat glistened on his skin, lit by the stray ray of pale moonlight. Tears now join the sweat gracing Draco's face. His body ached for her touch. He wanted to smell her scent again. Shaking from head to toe, Draco cried – tears poured freely, like an Amazon waterfall, from the corners of his eyes, down his flushed cheek, dripping off his chin.

God.

He wanted her. He wanted her enough to do anything to get her.

Moving faster and faster, making his bed creak, Draco was lost in pleasure and delirium. The indescribable sensation rose from his manhood up to the centre of his chest, then fanning out, down his arm and around to his back.

Finally, a stream of hot sentiment was released, and Draco collapsed back into bed.

"Never…again," Draco promised the shrill little worry voicing threats once again in his head, his voice just a breath of whisper. He fell asleep still bathed in leftover pleasure.

Little did he know that a few beds away lay a young man with soft cinnamon hair and fair features, listening to his every moan and every breath. The young man's electrifying blue eyes were wide open, frowning in wonder, disapproval and arousal.

---

Draco had skipped all his morning classes and lunch. He had only showed up to half of one of his afternoon classes, Advanced Potions, where he was excused to the restroom and never returned. His whereabouts throughout this day was a mystery to his friends and housemates alike. You, however, as avid followers of this tale get the privilege of discovering the truth behind this mind numbing mystery.

The answer, my friends, is very simple – Draco had basically slept in the whole morning, because he felt quite sick and worn out. He took a long bath and went down the hall to the kitchen to scavenge some food. By then he had felt a lot better, so he went to his next class – Advanced Potions. The real mystery, however, is where did Draco disappear off to during the middle of the class?

Well…Professor Snape took the liberty of redistributing the results of the Process Assessment he had assigned the class a week ago. He called it a 'check-up' on the students' current understanding of the ideas and facts discussed so far in the unit, but everyone knew that he was just being his mean, pissy, PMS-ing self – trying to catch the students when they're unaware so he can take drop their average a bit more.

So, anyways…the results of the Process Assessments were stamped onto small, rectangular pieces of parchments, with the marks for every component in the Assessment in red and their names scrawled on the top, right-hand corner. On Draco's page, however, more than just his name was scrawled in Snape's barely legible writing.

'Detention: starting from the end of class. Stay behind and follow me to my office.' The little note on the side of the Assessment result sent shivers of reluctance down Draco's spine. Thinking fast, Draco 'accidentally' walked into a jug of some kind of animal blood that was resting on a ledge nearby. It splattered on him and on several housemates nearby. He was excused to the bathroom to clean up, but Draco proceeded up the marble staircase, leading up from the dungeons, instead.

He shrugged off his drenched cloak, draped it on his left forearm and ascended the stairs two steps at a time. He decided to head to the library – the one place where Snape would never look. He wasn't going to go to the detention, obviously. He'd rather die…and knowing Draco, I mean he would literally – rather die.

But along the route to the library, Draco looked up, out of…impulse, I guess, and he saw the carved, stone entrance to the Headmaster's office. He paused, brought his fingers to his mouth as he thought, then turned right around and headed up a flight of the enchanted moving staircases.

Moments later, he was standing in front of the statue guarding the Headmaster's office. He took a deep breath, here it goes…Snape better be right…

"Sour peaches," he announced loudly, and the statue began to turn…

---

"What are you doing here?"

"Supposed to be in class right now, you are…"

"Defiant, bull-headed boy–"

"…He's a Malfoy – leave him alone."

"Being a Malfoy has nothing to do with it…"

Draco rolled his eyes, replaced the golden orb onto Dumbledore's desk and turned to face the portraits of the previous Hogwarts Headmasters – all currently busy scoffing him. He had no idea these…things were here. After all, this was really his first year in Hogwarts.

"Please, be quiet." He ordered, a little more polite than he intended to, "I have an appointment with Professor Dumbledore."

One Headmaster narrowed his dark eyes down at Draco. "Albus doesn't make appointments," he hissed.

"Yes he does," Draco answered, unfazed. He pulled out his Advanced Potions Process Assessment results and waved it quickly before shoving it back into his pockets, "See, the appointment."

"I don't remember you arranging the appointment," another Headmaster quipped.

"Well…I'd be surprised if you did," Draco answered him, smiling. "The appointment wasn't arranged in this office."

"See?" An overweight Headmaster with a pale, wide face sneered at the others, "The boy's got an appointment. Very formal…the Malfoy way of doing things…"

"Hmm…I don't know…" said another, carefully regarding Draco, "You all remember the letter Albus received last week…unusual and obscure things are happening around here…better be cautious…"

"Toward a student? Don't be ridiculous." The previous Headmaster scoffed, then nodded at Draco. "Professor Dumbledore isn't here right now, come back a later time perhaps."

Draco nodded, turned on his heel and exited the office.

"He left quick…a little suspicious don't you think? Didn't even ask what time Albus would be back…"

"Oh, you're just being paranoid now…he's a Malfoy after all."

"Ugh, hush about the Malfoys…"

The youngest Malfoy quickly descended the tight spiral staircase leading back down to the empty hallways, his heart still thumping from that little encounter. "Damn portraits…" he muttered to himself as he re-entered the public hallways, heading towards the library once again. "I'll be needing an invisibility cloak…"

I am ecstatic to report that Draco got to the library without any other distracting implications. He stayed at the library for the next three hours, only leaving to sneak down to the kitchen to grab some dinner. When he returned to the library, with a stomach full of pumpkin juice, steak tartare, peach cream pie and almost a whole fruit bowl of salad, the library was filled with students, panicking as they rushed about, trying to finish the homework they have yet to do due to the widespread epidemic of procrastination.

Draco unhappily discovered that some Ravenclaw fifth years now occupy his original table. He stomped over, violently wretched his book bag from under a stick of a girl (who flew off her chair and fell into the bookcase to her right), and began pacing around, looking for a new place to sit. Unfortunately for him, all the tables are taken – he has to find someone to share with.

Draco spun around looking for a familiar face…he saw many, it's just that he would never sit with these people to whom these faces belong to, because…well, because they hate him to hell – thanks to Draco Malfoy the First (known to Draco Malfoy the Second as the Slytherin Prince of Pricks – which I find ironic). Then, Draco spotted Blaise Zabini, sitting with the hairless gorillas at a joined table. He walked over and threw down his books and bag with a loud thump.

"Malfoy! Where have you been all day?" Blaise looked up, startled at Draco's ferocity.

"Nowhere," Draco replied flatly, his warning tone suggested his housemate to drop the topic. Blaise (very much unlike Pansy in this particular area) took the hint and shut right up. Draco was just lowering himself into his seat when, over the mass of the students' heads, he saw a lone girl with curly chocolate tresses two bookcases down. Draco hovered just before he touched the seat. His decision was made the moment he saw her. He sprang up suddenly, making the other three boys jump, snatched his book bag off the table, leapt over his chair (overturning it in the process) and hurried towards her.

Blaise Zabini stared after him until he disappeared around the first bookcase down the row. "Where's he going in such a hurry?"

"Dunno," Vincent Crabbe shrugged, watching his buddy Goyle secretly separating two smashed up cupcakes under the table. "He's been acting really weird all day," Crabbe said absent-mindedly, eyes still glued to the cupcakes.

"How do you know he's been acting weird if you haven't even seen him today?" Goyle inquired curiously.

"It's because of the fact that I didn't see him all day that I know he's acting weird." Crabbe retorted.

"We barely saw him all last week, so why's today so different from the other days?" Goyle asked stupidly, looking up.

"Because–"

"Oh shut up, you morons," Blaise groaned, whacking them hard along the side of their heads. Goyle swatted Blaise's hand away, dropping the cupcakes in the process. Crabbe groaned as the chocolate icing splayed onto the carpeted floor. He had just dived down the table to rescue the cupcakes when suddenly a soft, velvet-like voice spoke from down the table.

"It's not just last week. Didn't you notice that Malfoy hasn't been acting like himself ever since September?"

The three Slytherin boys stopped what they were doing and looked over at where the source of the voice sat, cinnamon haired and bright eyed. The boy to whom the voice, hair and eyes belonged to turned his head to face them.

"Wh-what do you mean?" Blaise asked suspiciously.

The boy from down the table spoke quietly, "It's as if he's a different person…"

---

A/N:

This is indeed a semi-M chapter, but it's pretty much the only one. I won't categorize my entire story as M for only one chapter. Hope no one's offended by the content.

Please review!

Thank you very much.