Chapter Seven: Pillow Talk

..

"Well, you've certainly outdone yourself," I snapped as soon as I walked into the Slytherin common room.

Pansy looked up from the couch, where she lying with her feet in Theo's lap. He was, as went their nighttime ritual, massaging them furiously. As soon as she saw me, she simpered in amusement. "Hello, my dear. Have you collected the final clue?"

"Yes, and I'll have you know: as hilarious and ingenious as your gawkily-composed poetry is, this clue is completely off base! The only professor who sleeps here is Professor Snape and he is no longer my beloved prof as you so articulately put it! I don't have a beloved prof anymore! I detest every professor in this damned place. I just happen to detest Snape the least!"

"This sad sort of thing often happens in mentor-student relationships, particularly with teenage boys your age," said Pansy as though she was giving a lecture, "and it's a dire shame. You used to look up to Snape! You two used to have such a deep relationship wrought with learning moments and emotional conversations. But now that you think you're a man, you're suddenly in competition with him. But I know deep down you'll come to love Snape again, once you two get over this depressing hump in your romance—"

I made a face. "Pansy, you're completely insane. You don't know the first thing about what's happening between me and Snape so don't even try to analyze it from your naughty perspective. Professor Snape is straight, first and foremost. There's no question about it. Blaise agrees with me on this subject. You can ask him. And further, he is certainly not secretly bedding all his male students! You need to stop reading those revolting comic books from X Wizards X !"

Pansy indicated the black grandfather clock by the crackling fireplace. "Time's a ticking, Draco. Only ten minutes left and you'd rather stand here bickering with me. You'd better get a move on unless you've given up—"

"Never," I snarled. "I'm going to get Snape's pants and I'm going to stick them right under your nose—"

She shrieked, making Theo jump. "Do that and I'll kill you in your sleep!" she threatened.

I wriggled my eyebrows evilly at her before running down the stairs to the dormitories. Snape's living quarters were past the third hallway, right off the first years' bedrooms. This would be easy enough as Professor Snape was notorious for sleeping harder than a normal person usually does. You have no idea.

..

We Slytherins like to claim we are badass partiers by nature but to be honest it has to do a lot with our head of house being too hung-over or tired to give a shit about what we do. Snape's method of governing Slytherin house is making certain we are not dead before he heads to his chambers and making sure we are alive at breakfast. Often he will sleep walk into the common area amidst utter chaos (late night blow-jobs, shots of Cobra Velvet, dirty truth or dare games, lap dances) and will say a few groggly words we cannot understand before swooping back to his room in his odd gray nightshirt.

As easy as this task was going to be, I had absolutely no desire to handle or view Snape's pants, so I was dreading it all the same. Very quietly, I charmed the lock on his door and very gingerly pushed in the doorknob. I instantly covered my nose with my free arm. The place reeked of cigarettes, laundry and sorrow.

I pressed on, reminding myself that this was the last terrifying thing I'd have to do today and that I'd soon be finding Granger. And then I could get some release at last. I stepped quietly through the doorway and closed the door behind me. It closed with a quiet snap. I heard faint murmuring from the opposite side of the room and I stood still, rooted to the floor. I couldn't quite make out the professor, but his bed was covered in black blankets and I could see that he was sprawled over them, his long, pale arm drooping off the side of the four-poster. The mumbling died down and turned into loud snoring.

In interest, I looked around Snape's room. It was dim and dingy, lined with old candles and stacks of books. Black and grey clothing was strewn all over the floor and a record player sat on an old oak table with records of some band called The Smiths stacked beside it. His closet doors hung open, and among the debris was a very lifelike, human-sized doll. It was lying on the floor face-up and had very large tits and long, dark red hair. Horrifyingly, the doll was sort of attractive. Even more horrifyingly, it was clothed in a very tight-fitting Gryffindor uniform.

"Snape's sex doll is wearing Gryffindor colors. Disgusting,"I whispered, and there was a thump! from Snape's bed. Startled, I jumped into the air and covered my mouth as not to scream.

"Fifth period, skip it and meet me," Professor Snape muttered and pounded his fist into the mattress.

"Er. When? Tomorrow's the weekend," I said lamely, a million excuses running through my head. "I didn't see you in here, Professor. You see, I'm just here because I'm borrowing-"

But Snape did not respond to me. There was a beat of silence before he let out a gurgling moan and thrust himself into the mattress, scooping a large, worn pillow into his arms. "Don't worry, you're good enough in Potions, even though Slughorn's an old schmoozer," he drawled sleepily, humming in a pleasant tone.

"I was hoping you'd agree!" I replied, relieved he wasn't conscious enough to fully understand I'd snuck into his chambers. "Last time I tried to explain to you about Slughorn, you told me to put a sock in it because there were more important matters to attend to. I'm happy you've finally taken my side again, Professor- I'm tired of Slughorn's teaching methods and I miss seeing you try to poison Longbottom's toad every other day. And remember what you said to Weasley about his tonic in fourth year? That was the most hilarious thing I've ever heard in my-"

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Snape moaned loudly, clutching the dirty old pillow harder still.

"Professor?" I questioned, walking a tiny bit closer.

"Oh, so you'll snog Potter and not me?" Snape asked suddenly in a very angry, bitter voice.

"How dare you! I'm not a pouf!" I snarled. "And you aren't either! Even Blaise agrees with me and you ought to believe his word because he's perfected the best Gaydar charm in the school! What the hell are you muttering about? Just wait til I tell my Mother her Secret Keeper is a pervy, loony-"

Snape burst out laughing and cradled the old pillow, kissing the top of it deeply as though he was going to bite right through it. "Oh, Evans- you mean you haven't snogged him yet?"

"Who the hell is Evan?" I snapped, growing impatient. Sleep-talking or not, this was bloody peculiar and I did not like it one bit.

"Let's shag- I want to make it with you before Potter takes your Comet for a ride-"

Seething, I decided I'd had enough of the queer insults and that I should just get down to business. Removing my wand from my pocket, I pointed it directly at Snape's arse, which was up quite high in the air. Scary. To top it off, he started grinding into the dirty old pillow as though his life depended upon it. "Accio! ACCIO!" I commanded, and with a whoosh, a pair of grey, tattered pants shot out from under Snape's nightshirt and flew over to me, landing neatly on the floor. I rolled down my sleeve so that I did not have to make contact with the dreadful things and very carefully picked them up off the floor. This time, the writing was Pansy's unmistakable loopy scrawl. My first thought was that I wanted to know exactly how she'd gotten the pants to write the clue in the first place but I decided that I'd learned enough today to shatter me for life.

'You've done it, Draco

You've found the last pants

So go ahead, do a victory dance!

Now you know you must find Granger, and you know the stakes

But first meet back with me, the Queen Bee of Snakes!'

I groaned, being that I'd definitely surpassed my Pansy limit for the day. But if this is what it took to shag Granger, this was what I had to do. Aside from a few awful moments, these tasks had been an absolute piece of cake. If Pansy thought any of the clues would trip me up, she was more of a stupid cow than I thought. I strode toward the door but in my jubilation, I tripped over a large pile of Filthy Muggleborn! magazines and fell to the floor.

At once, Professor Snape jumped out of bed, holding his wand out in the air. "Who's there? WHO THE HELL IS THERE?" He did a few very quick spells, and his closet door snapped shut. The stack of records evaporated into thin air.

I cowered, trying to retain my composure. "Professor—it's Draco—your favorite student—"

"You are not my favorite student anymore," Snape snarled. "I told you that last week."

"Well, you're not my favorite teacher anymore," I responded. I'd like to say I wasn't hurt, but his remark cut me very deep.

"Good," Snape said, folding his spidery arms over his thin chest, that dreadful threadbare nightie swooshing around his knees. "I do not want anyone to like me. It will make everything easier in the end."

"I think that's a solid goal for you," I said. "Easily attainable—"

Professor Snape descended upon me, staring me down over his hooked nose. "Exactly why are you snooping around my chambers, Malfoy? Do you need something? Perhaps a hanky to dry your angsty tears?"

"I ONLY CRIED ONCE IN FRONT OF YOU! YOU PROMISED YOU'D NEVER MENTION IT AGAIN!" I screamed, waving my hands around.

This gesture was a mistake, because Snape' steely black eyes caught sight of the pants. A bit sleepily, he patted his bony hip through the nightgown and then his lips curled into a terrifying glare I had never in my life been on the receiving end of.

"Mister Malfoy," he said through gritted yellow teeth, "are those my pants?"

I nodded. "Yes sir," I squeaked, immediately trying to think of a fantastic excuse.

"Goddamnit," he muttered. "Not again."

"What?"

"Nothing." He stretched out a pale, gnarled hand. "Give them to me now."

I swallowed and shook my head. "I need them. I have to take them but I can return them later—"

"Now, Malfoy. Do not make me ask again."

"I can't!" I shouted. "I have to present them over to Pansy! Then they'll be yours again—"

"You will do no such thing, Malfoy!"

"I'm sorry, Professor, but this is bigger than you," I told him, and with that, I took off running out of his chambers.

"MALFOYYYY!" he hollered, and I heard him running behind me.

We ducked under tapestries, sped around corners, and made a brief run through the first year girls' dorms. Yelps and screams rang out as we looped around the girls' beds and then back out again.

"GIVE ME THOSE PANTS!" Snape shouted, and picked up speed with a burst of athleticism I'd never seen him display. He grabbed me around the shoulders and then suddenly, he stopped in his tracks.

Still gripping the old pants hard in my hands, I very slowly turned around.

Professor Snape's eyes were shut, and he was backing up into the wall behind him. He leaned back and slid down it until he reached the floor. He then promptly keeled over and started snoring.

I blinked. "Pro—professor?" The man was dead asleep. Not wanting to push my luck, I ran down the corridor as fast as possible. I flung open the door that led to the staircase to the commons and slammed it behind me. As quick as my legs could go, I pounded up the stairs, flew around the corner, and bumped into Astoria Greengrass which sent her toppling to the floor with a shriek.

"Draco—" Pansy managed to get out before I tripped over Astoria's feet and fell face-first onto the rug by the fire. Weakly, I waved Snape's pants in the air as if having won a great battle. And I suppose I had.

"What on earth, Malfoy! Watch out!" Astoria squealed, struggling to get out from under me. "And, are those underpants?" She wrinkled her nose. "Gross!"

"Don't get me started on you, little girl," I retorted, quickly getting up. "You're lucky I even touched you. You can tell your little toddler friends you had a close encounter with Draco Malfoy—"

"I'm not a little girl! I'm fourteen !" she protested, looking hurt. She sniffled and fled from the common room.

"That was the first and last time you'll ever have the privilege of my company, Astoria!" I called after her. Salazar save any bloke that gets saddled with that annoying little bint!

Pansy smirked and patted the spot next to her on the couch. "Welcome, Draco. Come and sit. I need to assess your accuracy during today's tasks."

"Accuracy?" I snapped. "Accuracy? My accuracy was fantastic! I was spot-on in every respect—"

"Actually, you're five minutes late to start and I've got a bone to pick with you regarding your third challenge—"

"Five minutes? Five minutes?" I sputtered. "I was able to get the pants within the time frame! I got them RIGHT on time! It just took me longer to get back!"

Pansy smiled primly and crossed her legs, patting the couch again. "I know. I just love seeing you thrown out of whack, Draco, dear. It's quite hysterical."

"And what the hell was wrong with the third task?" I asked angrily, sinking down beside her on the couch and trying to catch my breath.

She held up her hand to silence me. "We are going to discuss this in order, darling."

"But Pansy, I'm dying. I need to shag someone or something as soon as possible," I growled, gritting my teeth.

"Not my problem anymore," she trilled.

I groaned softly and folded my arms, waiting for Pansy to begin her evaluation.

She picked up a black journal and placed it in her lap, flipping around for the right page. "Ah ha," she said, opening it to a section filled with her loopy cursive. The page was titled DRACO MALFOY AND THE MUDBLOOD'S PANTS. "Let us begin, my sweet."

To be continued.

DUN...DUN...DUNNN.

A/N: From the next update on, this story will permanently be changed to a Mature rating. Which means, ahead there are things of a ridiculously MATURE nature. So you should be REALLY excited. You can easily find it again by using the search engine or bookmarking it in your favorites and alerts. And as usual, please review!