Chapter Fifteen: Thar She Blows!

..

I woke up the next morning feeling well-rested, well-shagged, and in complete control of myself again. I did not snark at Crabbe and Goyle while they were trying to get dressed in the dormitory. I did not make gay jokes at Blaise in the shower room. I refrained from mocking Daphne's stupid new jumper. I even greeted Pansy as I passed her in the hallway with a "hello" instead of the usual "get stuffed".

Of course, my fantastic mood lasted all of an hour, because as soon as I reached the Great Hall and saw Granger completely absorbed in another textbook I remembered what day it was: Saturday. It was the day of Slughorn's daft ball, the ball that I, a Malfoy, had not been invited to. The ball that Granger would be attending with my newest mortal enemy, Cormac McLaggen. Fortunately, today Cormac had decided to sit with a few seventh year Gryffindorks, while the female Weasley and Potter graced Granger with their inane presence. Still, I sent McLaggen death glares while eating my fried egg and toast. He only looked up once, and gave me a confused expression. What a complete dick.

"Draco, I think you might be in love with a bloke. If you need any help, you know who to come to," whispered Blaise in my ear as Millicent sat beside me and nudged me so hard I nearly fell out of my chair.

"Ha, ha, ha," I said dryly. "I'm thinking about just what I want to impale in his head."

"You poufs have some odd terminology," Millicent said deeply. "Sounds unpleasant. Har har har!"

"Millicent, you know I'm not queer! I just want his blood on my hands!" I burst out, waggling a forkful of egg at her.

"Sorry, lover, but you have no chance against McLaggen. He's like three of you, at least. You're going to have to gain some serious muscle mass if you really want to brawl with him," Blaise said, and poked me sharply in the stomach. "Of course, I'd love to see you try. Nothing like two sexually repressed hetero boys getting down and dirty..."

I winced and glared at him. "Who said anything about a fight? What are you now, a Muggle? I'd duel him in an instant, and he wouldn't stand a bloody chance. And I'm NOT sexually repressed!"

"Sexually repressed? Not me or Draco!" announced Pansy loudly. "Good morning, all." She made a great big show of sitting down really carefully on a folded up robe. "My, I don't think I'm going to be able to sit right for days, that was some simply mad shagging, Draco—"

Blaise groaned. He always got slightly upset when Pansy got laid and he didn't. Theo looked over in slightly jealous defeat, no doubt wondering if I'd put my snake between Pansy's toes—I'm sure I'd be questioned about that later. Crabbe stabbed a sausage and glared, his usual prick self.

Millicent, however, smiled toothily. "So, I think I speak for everyone when I say I want the dirty details." She shoved Pansy from across the table.

"Well! Of course," Pansy said, once she'd righted her bottom again on the robe. "Well, first I sucked him off, and then he wanted to watch me play with myself and then—"

"NO!" everyone else screamed in unison. Millicent shrugged, the smile falling off her face.

Pansy frowned and shoveled some waffles onto her plate. "Hmph. You prudes would be better suited over there with the Hufflepuffs. Especially you two," she spat at the Greengrass sisters, who had their heads bowed as though praying deeply to be transported someplace even farther away than simply another dining table. "If anybody needs a long, hard dick shoved inside them, it's you, Astoria—"

"Oh, leave her alone, Pansy. For Salazar's sake! No one wants to hear about it. Especially not me, and I was there." I moodily turned back to McLaggen, focusing deeply on trying to frighten him.

"Thank you, Malfoy!" said Astoria with a look of awe on her face.

"Don't get used to it." I glowered at her but it was too late—she was gazing at me with new found adoration. As though I needed another sniveling little bitch in the Draco Malfoy fan club.

"Oh, honestly… Draco, are you already staring at the Gryffindor table?" barked Pansy. "This is getting tiring. I'm bored. Hear me? BORED!"

"I thought you were finally beginning to realise last night that I do not give a fuck about your opinion, Parkinson," I said hotly before stuffing some egg in my mouth.

"PARKINSON? WHAT IS THIS, FIRST YEAR WHEN YOU PRETENDED YOU DIDN'T KNOW ME BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT A FRESH START WOULD MAKE YOU POPULAR?" Pansy screamed." WE SHAGGED AGAIN AND YOU WON'T EVEN CALL ME BY MY FIRST NAME?"

Blaise sighed. "Not this shite again."

Millicent said a silent prayer.

"Pansy, we all know you're in love with me. But please keep your awful voice down," I said. I knew I was pushing my luck, but I was too disheartened to care.

"In LOVE with you? Pull yourself together before I castrate you, you slime ball!" Pansy shrieked in that tone of voice that made my father's hounds howl, and chucked a rather large cinnamon bun at my forehead.

I wiped a smear of sticky sugar off my brow. "I have half a mind to jinx your mouth shut, you dumb cow!" I shouted, pulling my wand out of my robes.

Millicent thrust herself across the table, her huge arms blocking us from each other. "ENOUGH! I WON'T LET YOU TWO TRY TO OFF EACH OTHER AGAIN!" she shouted deeply. "JUST CALM DOWN."

"Honestly, though, Draco," Blaise agreed, leaning over to face me. "It is getting a bit old. Go somewhere the Mudblood won't be. It shouldn't be difficult since she's constantly in the library or else solving stupid mysteries with her friends-"

"Come search for insects with me, Malfoy," Millicent suggested. "I'm going to catch a flask of beetles and squash them up and grind their bodies to powder, and use their guts to make a paste- it's very healing, you put it around your lips and it tingles-"

"I'd be very pleased if you stopped talking," I replied.

"You could help me recruit more Snake Pit members. I think you'd be very persuasive, particularly if you let me dress you up. I have some leather trousers that are just your size," winked Blaise.

"How 'bout if instead, I help you boil your head?" I offered.

"Don't baby him," Pansy barked. "He's a pathetic tool. We've all done enough. I even used my body to help him, and look what that got me, a sore you-know-what and shame because I once again shagged the moodiest little baby in the entire school. I probably need therapy-"

"This isn't about you! Can't you see I'm struggling here?" I shoved my plate of food away and charged off toward the Gryffindor table, a dangerous fire growing inside of me. "Hey! McLaggen!" I said in an assertive tone.

He looked up, the grin disappearing from his smarmy face as he and his friends ceased in talking. "Malfoy. What do you want?"

"I just want to let you know that I'm wise to you," I said, puffing out my chest to appear like I was a few feet taller and several stones heavier. From the terrified look in his eye, I could tell it was working.

McLaggen leaned back in his seat and folded his muscular arms. "Malfoy, you have ten seconds to get out of here before I kick your scrawny arse." Quite a few Gryffindors turned to stare, chuckling at me. If it's one thing they love, it's physical violence. Apparently they think it's brave to go around punching and fighting people. I'm not like that. I'm above fights, generally, unless I am provoked. Everyone would be really sorry if I wasn't, because I'd be kicking the arses of every single person in this ridiculous school, every day of the week, with my hands tied behind my back!

"Well, obviously my mother raised me better than yours because I'm not going to adhere to your boorish behavior, McLaggen. Just know, I'm onto you," I hissed.

"I don't know what in the hell you're bloody talking about, you blond bastard," McLaggen said. The truth was, I didn't exactly know what I was on about, either. It just sounded good and mysterious. "You think I'm scared because you're all daaark, and baaad? I think you're a neurotic little git! Go read some morbid poetry and wank off while crying as usual!"

"Blimey, that's hilarious, McLaggen, I never thought I'd be impressed with something that came out of your mouth," chimed in Weasley, who until now I had not noticed because he had an ugly Chudley Canon's hat covering his hair. The rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team laughed heartily. They're all so cruel!

Seamus Finnigan burst into manic chuckles and said something in Irish-language that I couldn't quite decipher. Potter and female Weasley were laughing, too, and Granger looked up from her breakfast to stare at the scene. I felt myself flush, and I hesitated, staring at McLaggen with wide eyes. I was pleading with Granger telepathically to have mercy on me and fuck me. But she just looked away. Blast!

"Let's just say I am privy to certain information about you, McLaggen," I said, trying desperately to keep my cool. I leaned a bit closer and said quietly," Or should I say McFaggen ?"

A few Quidditch players jostled him, questioning looks in their eyes. I sneered deeply.

The jock looked surprised and furrowed his brows, but instantly regained composure. "Got queers on the brain? Well. Go on, Malfoy. Go write a letter to Azkaban and ask your daddy for help. We all know that's what you're fixing to go do anyway."

I narrowed my eyes into slits. "That is absolutely NOT what I'm fixing to do! I've tried to send him letters but they all get sent back because he's in high security and can no longer receive mail!"

The entire Gryffindor table burst into grating, insensitive laughter. Potter was shaking his head, smiling widely as though it were the funniest thing in all the world! Potter, the one who didn't even have a father! What right did he have to laugh at mine!? Female Weasley was bright red, only matched by Won Won, who was an absolute lobster and banging the table so hard that his silverware was bouncing up and down. Even Longbottom looked slightly amused but as soon as I sent him a death glare, he put his head down on the table.

"It's the TRUTH!" I asserted wildly.

They all broke into fresh gales of laughter.

"Enough," said the Mudblood sharply, slamming her book onto the table.

Weasley, Potter, and the rest all whipped around to look at her. Weasley was still hooting with laughter, holding his side. "But Hermione, it's hysterical, did you just hear what he—"

"I said enough, Ron! The lot of you should be ashamed. Fourteen against one. That's rich," Granger said brusquely, and after gathering up her things, she took off out of the hall.

Won Won sputtered on whatever foolish words he was about to say, and looked after Granger with a worried expression.

I was sure it was the Mudblood's plan for me to follow her and boff her brains out right in the hallway but it would look too suspicious. Instead, I went the opposite direction. It was a great day for working out my anger on the Vanishing Cabinet. And for brooding. Lots of brooding.

..

It turned out I could only brood so much. Around seven in the evening, I kicked the cabinet in rage and, against my better judgment I headed in the direction of Slughorn's party. I punched each wall as I walked toward the dungeons. Blaise had let it slip that the party was being held in Slughorn's office, right before Pansy told him off for being my "enabler". All I wanted to do was see whether or not McFaggen had his tongue down Granger's throat… And if so, whether or not she liked it.

As soon as I reached old Sluggo's headquarters, I heard the revolting sound of Christmas-related merriment. I detest many things, but none so much as the general gaiety of the holiday season. Joy, unnecessary physical contact of a nonsexual nature and caroling are three of the most diabolical things known in this world. Ah, I am my Father's son after all.

I sidled near the far wall where I could easily view the doorway. There was loud music, and the sound of people having a good time without me which is simply unacceptable. I craned my neck but could not see anything beyond some wonky looking holly, wreaths and gaudy streamers.

"OY! OY!" shouted a voice from behind me and before I knew it, I was being seized.

"What in the blazes? Unhand me!" I commanded, trying to smack whoever it was, but they were holding me tightly in a death grip. All of a sudden, I was being twisted around and found myself face to face with the ugly, demented Argus Filch.

Filch was in the running for my least favorite person at Hogwarts, tied with about fifty other contenders. He was a snoopy, dirty old creep who'd been employed at the school since before Nicolas Flamel was born. He hated everything except his cat and lamented loudly and often to anyone who would listen that he could no longer chain people up to the walls and cane them. No doubt he got off at night by imagining the good old days when he was allowed to get his jollies by water boarding twelve year old children.

He grinned widely, his yellow teeth flashing. "You's a naughty little laddie, ain't ya? I've had me eye on you since you was a first year roaming the corridors at night and ya haven't improved your morale since then, have ya? For years I've been trying to catch you in the act… Yer always up to no good! Especially this year, hmm, laddie? I heard ya been skulking about the hallways from me sources but I hadn't been able to catch ya, no, I see ya leave but I never catch ya in the act—ya can't imagine how much I hate seein' yer white head o' hair float off down the hallway and I can never catch ya—UNTIL NOW! Aye, I've been waitin' fer so long, laddie—"

"Let me go! I'm not doing anything wrong! I'm just going to the ball!" I shouted.

"If ya was going to the ball, why wasn't ya on the way inside? You're a LIAR! Corporal punishment was invented for the likes of you!"

I made a face. "Like I'd ever want you to punish me, you nasty old sod. Just let me in the party for a second! That's all I need!"

He gripped me by the scruff of my neck. "Oh, I'm going to—I'm going to turn you in to Professor Slughorn and maybe then he can punish you if he so chooses—"

"You pervert! Aren't you even listening to me? I just want to look inside!"

"Why?" he pressed, and began to drag me to the door.

"None of your business!" I snarled, and he tightened the grip on my collar. "Salazar, you're choking me!"

"Your daddy's in prison, ain't that right? Ain't no one gonna save you now!" Filch shouted merrily, continuing to drag me toward the office. "Now, WHY WAS YOU STANDING WATCHING THE PARTY?"

I sputtered and coughed, shutting my eyes as he dragged me across the floor. "I'm not saying—"

Filch grabbed my collar harder. "How much more can you take, pretty boy?"

"THERE'S A GIRL HERE WHO I FANCY AND I JUST WANT TO GET MY DICK SUCKED, ALL RIGHT?" I hollered.

There was the sound of scattered laughter and gasping. I opened my eyes and my mouth fell open as I realized Filch had dragged me right into the party. I scanned the scene. Slughorn's face was twisted into a look of horror. Potter looked disturbed and the girl whose name I'd never bothered to memorize who wore junk in her ears and liked the Quibbler was smiling at me curiously (how in the fuckballs did SHE get invited and not ME, a MALFOY!?). Blaise was too busy staring at some Ravenclaw pouf's arse to care. Cormac McLaggen was wearing a sort-of odd expression and standing alone under the mistletoe and as I reached the edge of the room I spied Granger by the refreshment table. She raised her eyebrows at me and looked concerned for my health. I instantly turned pink.

"What's all this, Mr. Filch?" asked Slughorn, staring at me as though I carried some sort of anti-party disease.

"I finally tracked him down, the white-haired little arsehole! And he was loitering in the hallways! I hate loiterers! Not to mention using very foul language," Filch snarled, and pinched my ear.

I cringed. "Ouch! I'm ordering you to get your crooked old hand off me! I've seen what I needed to see and I'll be off now!"

"Not so fast, laddie—"

"Now, Mr. Filch, is that really in the holiday spirit?" boomed Slughorn, twisting his mustache. "I'm not partial to chastisement, and particularly not around the joyous season of Christmas. If Mr. Malfoy truly wishes to be included in the festivities, I see nothing wrong with letting him grace us with his…er—" he seemed to be struggling for the right word—"er—his slightly ominous presence."

Filch very slowly took his hand from my ear and I pulled away from him. "Right, thank you for your overwhelming kindness, Professor Slughorn, but Christmas parties are not my thing," I said rudely. I threw another glance at Granger, who was fixated upon ravaging the cheese tray.

"Not your thing?" repeated Slughorn, blinking. He looked just as offended as he looked saddened. "Perhaps some eggnog would put you in the mood? Some punch? Some figgy pudding? A tart?" A tear glistened in his left eye.

"I've got to be going," I declared. I was not at ease, but at least the only thing Granger was making love to currently was a sharp cheddar log.

"Mr. Malfoy, a word?"

"Oh bugger it all," I said, rolling my eyes, as Professor Snape snaked his way out of the crowd and came toward me.

Filch grinned evilly. "I'll leave this one with you, Snape. Maybe you can get away with more than I can." And so help me, he winked before running out of the room!

Fortunately, Snape looked even more revolted than I did. Then again, it was difficult to determine what was Snape's normal expression and what was him showcasing actual disgust. "Come now, Malfoy!" Snape snapped.

"No thank you, professor," I said rudely, but Snape grabbed me by my collar and forced me out of the office.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like some mulled cider to take with you?!" hollered Slughorn over the sound of caroling house elves.

"What do you want?" I snarled as soon as Snape had dragged me into the hallway.

"You know what I want," Snape hissed in a low voice and threw me against the wall.

I yelped, shielding my face. "No! No! Don't tell me Pansy's been right all these years! You can't take my body, Professor! If I ever experiment, I want someone less old and angry, I'm too young, too delicate, and I've never had anything up there bigger than a wand—everyone does it, and it gets boring being an only child, besides Blaise said it was the only way I'd know whether for sure I was a pouf and while I didn't exactly dislike it, it wasn't exactly my favo—"

"WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU BLATHERING ABOUT?" Professor Snape shouted.

"I—uhm… Nothing, nothing at all. What are YOU blathering about? What is it you want?" I snapped at him, feeling confused and exposed.

Professor Snape stooped closer to me and whispered, "My pants, Malfoy. Where are my pants?"

"OH!" I burst out, feeling relieved but then instantly fearful again because I had no answer. "Pansy didn't give them back to you?" (I could only imagine what Pansy was doing with the pants—likely they'd already been sold at auction to one of the few creepy girls at school who thought Snape could be sexy if he washed some of the grease out of his hair.)

"I'm not here to play games, Malfoy nor do I wish to act as your unpaid psychiatrist—I would like to know where my pants are!"

"I have no clue where your smelly old pants are! Perhaps you should ask the seventies. You might find them there—"

Snape turned around quickly and then wheeled around, lowering his voice to a whisper: "As much as I want to interrogate you, I must notify you that Potter is standing very noticeably on the other side of the wall and for that reason, I am going to change the subject to something a bit less uncomfortable." He instantly began talking in a mock-hushed tone about Lord Voldemort, something we'd realized was a great joke we could have on Potter without working very hard. I swear, that little freak's ears were constantly itching to hear about the Dark Lord. It was almost as though he had a crush on Riddle or something. As soon as Potter had gone, Snape warned me that I'd better see that his pants got back to him as soon as possible, or else we'd be having another "little chat".

I got away from Snape as quickly as possible and headed back to the dorms where I was looking forward to passing out after the emotionally exhausting day I'd had. After what seemed like only seconds, someone shook me hard.

"Mmm, but I love my pink pumpkin pajamas, Father, and I will not let you toss them out!" I muttered in a distressed tone.

"Draco, wake up! Wake up!" Blaise shouted in my ear. "I have news that will make you happy, for once!"

I sat up instantly. "Partymudblood?" I said in a garbled tone, rubbing my eyes.

"Yes, party, Mudblood, and McFaggen, as you've so cutely dubbed him. May I recline? Thank you," he said, and spread out next to me on my bed, apparently without noticing my frantic head-shaking. "By the way, I can never be see with you again in Potions class. I want to be included in all of Slughorn's gatherings—queer or not, the man has connections. He loves entertaining and therefore knows a lot of poufs. Your erratic behavior is humiliating and I'd rather not be associated with it. Of course, we can be friends in private." He patted my head.

"Are you going to get to the point soon?" I growled.

"Don't I always? After you caused that enormous scene, Granger fled the premises. Now I'm not saying that she left because she was moved by your very gaudy, crude display of feelings. But what I am saying is the girl seemed none too interested in Cormac, who was basically following her around with a sprig of mistletoe all evening. She took off as though she'd seen a bored Death Eater—no offense to your family, they all seem very passionate about what they do… Anyway! There was no McLaggen and Mudblood action, which I know for certain because I just spent the last two hours getting him drunk and letting him pour his soul to me. He's very hurt and perplexed. I guess Granger's the first girl to avoid him— poor Cormac and his poor, shattered masculinity," Blaise woobled, shaking his head. He perked up. "And then we snogged, and then we spooned awhile, which he said he'd allow because I have a body like a girl—"

"You were keeping an eye out?" I asked, perking up. "And then you distracted McLaggen for me?"

"Well, I wasn't exactly doing it for you, Draco. I had my own intentions—"

"Obviously! We all have our own intentions! But your intentions benefited me! Thank you, Blaise!" I exclaimed.

Blaise smiled coyly and put his hand on my arm. "Anything for my ivory serpent. Goodnight." With that, he slid off my bed and blew me a kiss before closing the canopy.

"Goodnight, onyx basilisk," I muttered sleepily and instantly passed out again.