So guys, I've been on holiday for a while...I'M BACK! Happy new year everyone! My new year resolution is to update as much as I can! It's only going to speed up from here :( Oh, and it's midnight here, and I just finished this chapter...not edited yet, sorry for any mistakes. You all know by now I have a few per chapter
I do not own Harry Potter, I am not writing out of profit, nor fame, I simply wish to entertain others and cure my own boredom. :) J.K. Rowling owns Harry, not me.
So, this was supposed to be included into last chapter, but before I went away I didn't have time to finish it. So, instead of a very long chapter which I wanted to give you guys, you got a small incomplete one, and the part two longer one today. :( yeah, I suck. Here it is!
I would just like to add a massive thankyou for the fantastic, absolutely wonderful MELLYPIE! This wonderful person and a friend has been doing art for my story, which is absolutely fabulous, and was my favourite Christmas present for the past 20 years :) Thank you! :)
And thank you for all my reviewers and readers! I LOVE YOU ALL!
Chapter Twenty Five - Slytherin
Harry grimaced as he followed Malfoy into the hall, listening to the whispers flaring up. Yes, he was in his pyjama's. Was it really that much of a big deal? Surely someone had stumbled down to breakfast before half dressed, or with mismatching socks, or a shirt inside out. He couldn't remember any circumstances at the moment, but he was certain they existed.
"Always have to make a dramatic entrance." Malfoy was bloody amused at this; his smirk faded, however, as he glanced back at Harry. He didn't know why; it wasn't as if he wasn't trying. He had half-heartedly smiled back, tried to roll his eyes, pretended to seem amused at the surprisingly accurate statement. Why were Malfoys in-built with a bloody lie detector?
"Do you think it's particularly…wise to sit at Slytherin today?" There had been subtle hints of blood lust amongst some of the students, after all. "I think we're pushing it just a smidgeon over the-"
"Where else are you going to sit?" Well, case and point.
Harry glanced along the table, quickly finding the stocky little brute from hell. Goyle met his stare with a sneer; if he could have, Harry was certain the fork in his hand would have bent from the pressure he was applying to it. Harry didn't want to be anywhere near him, not with a ten foot pole. Out of spell range would be best, actually.
Harry's hands were still trembling, twitching uncontrollably. He was still incredulous that someone would use an unforgivable inside the school. On another student, no less. He couldn't quite wrap his mind around the fact that he had been convulsing on the dungeon floor no less than half an hour ago.
And Goyle was going to get away with it. No repercussions.
Because Harry sure as hell wasn't about to tell anyone; it was unlikely they would believe it, anyway. The great Harry Potter, vanquisher of the pure evil that was Voldemort, couldn't manage a simple defensive spell against grunting Goyle? They would question it, like Nott did. Why was everything so bloody difficult?
The only reason Malfoy didn't notice his hands was because Harry had pretended to be cold, and had borrowed one of his jumpers. His hands were safely tucked into the sleeves, out of sight, but definitely not out of mind. Harry could feel them spasming, unable to keep them still.
He probably looked ridiculous, but at least Malfoy hadn't questioned it yet.
He withheld a sigh as he followed to the Slytherin table, taking a glance around the room. His eyes immediately fell on a furious Hermione, on her feet and…gesturing towards him. Oh, great. Fantastic. Because he needed them to get involved, too. Ron, at least, looked as if he was keeping her at bay from storming around the hall; Harry could understand it must look weird, him turning up, not dressed, to lunch. With Malfoy prancing in front of him. It could easily look as if the blonde prat was forcing him to do this. Why couldn't they believe it was simply something amusing, like a dare? Did they seriously think him so incapable of defending himself?
His hands trembled.
Harry squeezed himself next to Draco on the bench, awkwardly not using his hands to sit down. If anyone noticed, they didn't say a word. Not that anyone was likely to notice; Zabini was too busy shoving his mouth full of food, as if that would prevent him from saying anything, and Nott was just glaring holes through his plate. Fun.
Goyle was, thankfully, sitting further down the table. The only indication that he was annoyed was the ring of bent cutlery scattered around him, and since none one else on the table seemed perturbed by that, Harry had to assume it was a common occurrence. The stare of death directed at him? Also not that different.
An awkward silence descended around them, no one quite meeting one another's eyes. Even Malfoy seemed pissed off, when this morning he had seemed human. He was sneering at his plate, digging into his toast before even greeting his housemates. His ability to morph emotions within a heartbeat would have been interesting if Harry wasn't so bloody confused.
Malfoy had seemed happy half an hour ago. He had been joking around, hell, apologizing of a sort. He had tried to lighten the mood when they entered the whispering hall for Merlin's sake! In the twenty seconds it took to sit down, he was glaring enough to rival Goyle's expression. The shower must have pinched any warmth from him; literal or metaphorical, take your pick.
How had the day turned from pleasant to the apocalypse?
And that was no exaggeration.
Harry sighed to himself, reaching for his drink. As no one was facing each other, none queried why he would lift the glass with his hand still firmly covered in wool. It was a shame that he ended up dropping the cup and spreading juice across the table, effectively catching every eye on the table.
If he hadn't already with the pyjama's.
"Shit, I…uh, sorry-"
Malfoy vanished it without looking at the mess, eyes narrowing dangerously. He cut Harry off with a single click of his tongue; he could give anger a corporeal form. You could almost see the waves radiating off of his body. "Okay, Potty, what the fuck is-"
"Fucking Salazar in a cup!" Nott swore loudly, his body jerking into the table. His fork went clattering to the floor as he spun around, glaring at the other tables. Hell, the entire Slytherin House could give anger a corporeal form today, and no one would bat an eye. As it was, most cringed under his stare. Odd, given he was usually one of the more reserved of the Slytherins. Maybe he had acquired fear because of that, though. The unknown was always dreaded, as Harry was so blatantly reminded.
Nott spun back around, shoving his barely touched plate away from him. "Whichever little fucker out there is practicing stinging jinxes on us is going to die. I'm not going to curse him; I'm going to, quite literally, disconnect his head from his throat." He growled, rubbing at his arm. "Draco, you see anyone with a wand out?"
Harry frowned, perplexed; either that was one hell of a coincidence, or…He smiled appreciatively as Nott glanced at him, nodding slightly. He was helping him cover up the shaking. Nott was being friendly, albeit by putting other students in danger. The gesture was respected nevertheless.
It was safe to assume his attempt to use cutlery would be as disastrous, so Harry's plate remained untouched. He tried to ignore the slight gnawing at his stomach; he had been perfectly fine not eating. Damn Malfoy for interfering, because all he needed to make this as uncomfortable as possible was for his stomach to growl.
Harry glanced up to meet Zabini's gaze, the tanned boy smirking slightly. Amusement flickered through his dark eyes as he stared, then glanced towards Nott with his eyebrows raised. He quite obviously hadn't believed the extravagant death threats. Instead, he looked curious. As if he had a puzzle to figure out. Damn Slytherins.
Why couldn't Harry have made friends in Hufflepuff?
A growing trepidation sunk through Harry's stomach as the smirk stretched, but thankfully as he opened his mouth to start the impending argument, Parkinson chose to arrive and hurl herself at the table, almost shoving Zabini off of the bench by forcing herself between the two boys. So there was a god. Albeit implacable.
This breakfast was going to be the death of Harry; he felt as if he had already run a marathon, the way his heart was hammering away in his chest. It didn't help, either, that he had two suspicious Slytherins, one knowing, and one grinning all too much like a predator with a selected prey.
Parkinson drummed on the table, practically jumping in her seat. Her eyes swivelled to from Harry and Malfoy, eventually landing of the brunette. Her grin stretched further, if possible. It was as if she was testing out the best approach of conversation in her head. Hopefully she would be subtle, or sly. Something resembling a Slytherin other than the anger and death currently presented throughout lunch.
"So, did you fuck?"
Not what anyone was expecting, in the least. Zabini had choked on his drink, spraying an unfortunate second year with juice, whilst Nott jumped as if 'hexed' again. Malfoy was the only one that looked disinterested; he continued chewing on his toast, eyes lazily drifting to the others in the conversation.
Harry didn't know his mouth had dropped open until the blonde reached over to move his jaw back up, his touch sparking capable thought back into Harry. No, he couldn't have heard right. She wouldn't have asked such as personal…Zabini was still coughing, eyes watering, and Nott was trying very hard to restrain a smirk. Oh yes, yes she had.
"I am not answering that!" Harry spluttered, mortified as his face heated up. He turned to Malfoy for help, but the git just took another bite of his bread! The edges of his lips were twitching, though; the prick! Leaving Harry to defend for himself against the bloody fangirl over here!
"That's a yes." Zabini chuckled, immune to the indignant glare Harry threw his way. He was not having this conversation with the Slytherins!
Parkinson practically squealed, excitement wafting off of her in waves. Scary, that was. No, this entire situation was horrifying! "Details!"
"No!" Harry had to repeat it several times before realising she wasn't paying attention. "Nothing happened!"
"Bullshit nothing happened." Whose side was Zabini on? He had been the most normal, up til now! "Look at all the sexual tension in the air."
"There is definitely sexual tension." Nott agreed, his grin spreading at the incredulous stare Harry sent him.
"Traitor!" How could they be murderous one moment, and ready to laugh their balls off at Harry the next? Surely they were missing some vital emotions here! He desperately turned to Malfoy, who was smirking again. Probably at how red Harry was. "What the hell are you doing? Help me!"
"Why?" Why? Why?! The conceited little prick had the audacity to say- !"There definitely is sexual tension here." Oh, well done Draco. That ought to pacify them.
"Come on, come on! I want details!" Parkinson demanded, slamming a hand on the table. As if it wouldn't capture the entire hall's attention. "Who topped? Oh, well, silly question I suppose-"
"What do you mean by that?" Harry interrupted, frowning as they all chuckled. Even Draco didn't withhold his laugh; not a good indication of him liking the answer.
"Well," Oh god, why was she grinning like that. Her tone implied she was attempting gentleness; her eyes shined with malicious glee. Great. "It's just a little ridiculous, the thought of you top-"
"Why is it that ridiculous that I topped?" Harry cut her off again, ignoring how the smirks were growing along the table, much like a wave. Apparently everyone was eavesdropping now.
Pansy was imitating the sun. "Did you?"
"None of us did." Harry repeated for the fifth time. "But I could easily top!" It was a little insulting how they disregarded him immediately.
"You want to top, do you, Potter?" Zabini smirked, laughing at how Harry turned red. God, had he really been having a debate with Slytherins about his nonexistence sex life?
"What? No!"
"Then you're bottom?"
"…no."
"Then which are you?"
Harry decided this would be a perfect time to hide his head in his arms, only remembering after he had that his hands were still trembling. It wasn't the smartest idea, to have his hands in plain view at the moment, so he jerked them back under the table, sighing to himself as he did. How was he supposed to hide without hands? He didn't particularly want to have this conversation; the Slytherins were laughing again about how they had cornered him.
And despite his mortification, he found his lips twitching in amusement.
Something was definitely wrong with him.
"Oh," Parkinson had her moment of epiphany, eyes turning horrifically wide. "You're a vir-"
"Just because we're not all as experienced as you," Draco finally put his little bit into the conversation, thankfully. Harry could have hugged him at the moment; he always knew when to divert the attention. "doesn't, by default, make everyone a virgin. Nothing happened last night. Stop torturing Potter."
Harry sighed in relief as Parkinson pouted, leaning her head on an arm as she regarded them with boredom. How easily they changed emotions. "Oh, just 'job' level then."
Dare he even ask? "…Job?"
Okay, so he knew he shouldn't have encouraged her. But Draco's exaggerated sigh, Zabini's choke of laughter and Nott's kick to the shin and fervent shake of the head was a tad excessive.
"You know, blowjob, hand-job-"
"Pansy!" Zabini had his hands covering his eyes, shaking his head. "Not images I wanted! My eyes! They burn!"
Harry snorted with amusement, glancing once more at his trembling hands under the table. As such, he didn't notice everyone else had stopped their laughter in favour of a stoic silence.
"Can I talk to you?" It was an effort not to fall off of the chair as Ron spoke. It was equally as difficult not to immediately reach for his wand; okay, a slight overreaction. But not unwarranted, after this particular morning.
"It's amazing how incredibly stupid you are, Weaselby." Draco cut across, one of the few not smirking. No, not the Malfoy. He had to sneer, or scowl and create a fight where none possibly laid. "You already are speaking. It isn't to ask whether you can talk, because you've already made that quite apparent, its more so if Harry wants to listen to you."
"Yeah, its fine, Ron." Harry cut across quickly, throwing a glare at the Slytherin. "Uh…let's go to the hall. Less eavesdroppers." He pushed himself up and stumbled over the seat, quickly pulling the sleeves of the jumper back down to cover his hands; they had pulled up a bit, exposing his fingers. But the others wouldn't have noticed, right?
A subtle glance back at the table had Nott shaking his head at him, incredulous. It wasn't as if he had planned for the jumper to have a mind of its own! Zabini, however, was frowning. As was Draco.
That could be shrugged off; it was because of Ron standing by their table, nothing else.
"It's not eavesdropping if you're conspicuous." Pansy called towards their backs as they awkwardly walked to the hall; she probably believed it, too.
The walk to the hall was awkward, and tense. And that hurt. There had been a time when they could have talked about anything, even mundane things that had others in the corridors glancing at them in worry. Now, silence.
It was for Ron's own good, after all…
Sort of.
Harry frowned at that thought. It was for Ron's own good. He would understand that, at the end. Harry's wants didn't matter at this point.
They stood in the corridor for another five minutes, neither speaking.
Hell, Harry preferred the Slytherin conversation to this.
But it was Ron that had wanted to talk, so Ron could be the one to start talking.
"So…uh…" He looked like he had been sleeping more; the frown that usually marred his face was easing up a bit, making him seem more relaxed. Harry almost smiled; it was a good sign. It meant his friend was healing. Ron sighed, clenching his fists. Here came the Gryffindor approach of diving right in. "I've come to warn you. Nothing dangerous, I swear, but someone should man up and do it, and since they're being idiots at the moment…well, she's not really an idiot, don't tell her I said that, she's still the smartest person I know…wait, I'm going off of the point. Hermione and Neville have been spying on you."
Well, that was an unexpected point.
"What do you mean, 'spying'?" Hermione and Neville? God damn it. Why couldn't they just accept that everything was fine?
"I mean they've been eavesdropping on you, and writing down your conversations." Even Ron looked angry at this, though he was supposed to be furious with Harry. He shifted awkwardly, rubbing his nose. "I warned them to stop, they haven't, so…I just thought you would want to know. You know, cast some silencing spells or something."
Harry smiled at that, wishing he could. Ron was…still Ron. "Thanks mate."
And Ron blinked at that, smiling sheepishly. He shrugged, avoiding looking at Harry in the eye. "Just didn't sit right with me."
Well…
Now what did they say?
Even though his message had been given, Ron didn't seem to have the intention of leaving. Harry clenched his teeth, refusing to speak. He wanted to tell him about Parkinson and her fangirlish tendencies, and the laughter they had enjoyed that morning, albeit at his expense. He wanted to tell him he got butterflies every time Draco bloody glanced at him with that smirk in place, eyes twinkling with unsaid amusement. He wanted to tell him that Dudley was coming to Hogwarts next week. Dudley.
But he had to remain silent.
Never mind that he was starting to doubt why.
"I'm sorry they chucked your stuff out, that was over the line." Ron mumbled, scratching his head awkwardly. "Do you…well, where have you been sleeping?"
"Around." Harry shrugged, then frowned at how that sounded. "I mean, at the hospital wing, room of requirement. It's alright." But Ron sighed as if relieved, nodding.
"You know…uh…" Harry watched slightly bemused as Ron turned scarlet, blatantly avoiding eye contact. He always did this when embarrassed, so whatever he had to say had to be interesting- "Gryffindor isn't the same without you." He rushed out, grimacing even as he said it. He wasn't so in touch with his emotions, being a Gryffindor. None of them really were. It was more rush in, feel embarrassed, brush it off until you felt like you could show your head again without turning various shades of red.
Harry understood the message; Ron missed him. And even though he was having fun with the Slytherins, and he promised himself he wouldn't miss him, he did.
Yes, they had fights; they always got over it eventually. Guys couldn't really hold grudges, after all.
"You'll get used to it." Harry replied quietly, smiling sadly as Ron frowned, snatching his eyes up to meet Harry's. He opened his mouth, but before he could the door slammed open behind them.
Both boys spun around, frowning as Nott scrambled through the door, barely throwing a glance towards Harry as he sprinted past.
"He knows!" He hissed, bolting for the stairs.
What?
Harry frowned in confusion, exchanging a bewildered glance with Ron before Zabini sprinted through the door too, for once smirk-less.
"Shit, sorry Potter, truly." He snatched up his arm, quite literally dragging him away from Ron. "I'm borrowing your boy-toy, Ronny." Even in apparent peril, he managed to purr Ron's name suggestively. Zabini had a talent. A true talent. "Come on, Potter, I know you can run! Run!"
"From what?!" Harry asked, glancing at the door again, utterly bewildered. What the hell was wrong with these…oh.
Oh fuck!
Harry spun back around, intending to hide in the dungeons but Zabini snatched at his arm again, yanking him towards the stairs. "Nope, bad idea; he knows the dungeons like the back of his bloody hand. He would corner us in a heartbeat."
The three clambered up the stairs, throwing glances at the door to see how much time they had.
"HARRY FUCKING POTTER!"
Not much.
They had a dragon on their heels.
They all bounded up the stairs two at a time, barrelling through the corridor to the revolving staircases. His chest was already pounding, but not with fear. Merlin no, he wasn't afraid of Draco. This was fun.
He hadn't run like this in weeks.
He quickly pulled ahead of Zabini, and alongside Nott, who, might they add, had an advantageous head start. Neither boy looked amused at the fact they were sprinting through the corridors, and both were already panting. However, they spared a scowl for anyone they passed that looked mildly interested.
"Fuck off!" Nott managed to snarl at a first year, smirking as she burst into tears. Poor Hufflepuff.
Harry scrambled up the staircases, glancing around for one he wanted. "There!" He pointed, leading the way. They could hear Draco sprinting behind them, furious footsteps echoing around the room. They didn't dare glance behind, lest he be right there. Everyone knew he was fast, if not faster, than Harry. They didn't have a chance to outrun him.
Harry leapt onto the revolving staircase as it started to shift, turning to ensure the other two made it as well. It was a near thing, with Zabini desperately holding onto the railings as it moved, looking quite pale as he realised if he let go he would fall to his doom. Seriously, even he wouldn't have leapt for it as Zabini did.
Slytherins had more courage than Gryffindors, sometimes.
"More stupidity than a Hufflepuff." Nott remarked, helping his friend clamber over the railing.
Harry wasn't paying attention. He was staring at the furious Malfoy that had been, literally, a few meters away.
Draco didn't stop and stare, however. He narrowed his eyes, then took off into an adjoining corridor.
Did he know a shortcut?
"Why is he chasing us?" Harry asked as they bolted downstairs, not nearly as fast as they had been a few minutes ago. The Slytherins were most definitely not sporting types. "Goyle was sitting right there!"
"It was Goyle?" Zabini snarled, almost tripping as he spun around to glare at Harry. Nott just…facepalmed? Something incredibly…un-Slytherin.
Oh. Guess that was why he was chasing them.
"Well…why's he chasing you two then?" Harry asked, spinning into a corridor and almost trampling two startled Ravenclaws as he did. "It's me he's pissed at."
"Because this utter moron over here…!" Nott huffed, throwing a glare at Zabini again.
"It's not my fault you're too Hufflepuff to keep your face calm!" The tanned boy snapped back. He was grinning though; he was obviously enjoying this way too much. "You couldn't have looked any guiltier if you had been caught with a cookie in your bloody hand!"
"This wouldn't have happened, if you had just kept your hands hidden!" Nott growled at Harry, grabbing his arm to drag him into a different corridor. They were running around in a maze; Harry had no bloody idea where they hell they were. "Bloody dropping your drink and clanging your cutlery…did you want him to find out?"
"No!"
"I think you're just attracted to attention."
"Screw you." Harry snapped, rolling his eyes. He was the cursed one here. Harry glanced around the corridor, sighing in relief as his eyes found a tapesty; if he was remembering correctly, it had a hidden room behind it. "Behind there."
They slowed to a walk, panting and heaving as they tried to catch their breaths. They could still hear Draco running around; his footsteps ominously getting louder, and louder. They're fight may have been a little too loud. Harry pulled the tapestry up, noticing Zabini's smirk of appreciation.
"Didn't know this one was here." He said, slipping into the small room.
Harry followed, frowning. "Wait, why the hell were you running too?"
"Because he's a moron."
"Oi!" Zabini tried to look hurt, but his smirk ruined it. "That stung."
"Tch, 'looked like a cruciatus!'. What sort of derange retard raised you?"
"You told him?" Harry asked, sighing. He sank against the wall, trying to catch his breath. The adrenalin was still running through his body; it was great. "Thought Slytherins were supposed to be sly."
Nott smirked at that, resting against the other wall. It was only a small room, a few meters across. Empty. A small window in the corner let light in, but other than that, it was void of furniture. It didn't seem to have a use, really.
…
Harry could easily move his stuff in here. Maybe transform a bed? Or, he thought sullenly, get someone else to transform him a bed. He would have his own room, at least.
"Really, Potter, Goyle?" Zabini asked, shaking his head as if disappointed. "You're defensive skills are going to shit."
"Maybe they would improve if he used his wand." Nott threw into the conversation, ignoring the pointed glare from Harry.
"Yeah, what's with that?" Zabini looked like a curious kid, asking his science teacher questions that didn't have answers. "Now that I've concluded you're not as big as a prat as I've always thought, I can admit you're not too shabby with spells. Not as original as my Ronny, of course," He smirked at that, his cocky smile drawing exasperated smiles from them both, "but alright."
"I'm going to interpret that as a compliment." Harry replied, grinning as he chuckled back. They really were fun, when you got to know them. Most of them.
"And now we have a bond." Harry didn't know he could smile that large. "We're bonding. A compliment here, a little information there. We can forge a symbiotic relationship."
"And what do I get out of that?"
"Both parties don't necessarily benefit." He dismissed it off the bat. "I flattered you; you can tell me why you like being a squib."
"Not using magic doesn't qualify me as a squib." Harry pretended he didn't see their quite apparent eye rolls. "I have been attending a magical school for a reason. Nice of you guys to notice."
"Not using magic when attending said magical school does sort of put you in the same category as Filch." Oh, fantastic. Harry just loved Nott's little inputs; always something interesting to think about. Self-confidence slowly sinking to Filch level.
"I have a wand. I just don't use it." Harry couldn't believe he had just admitted that. He was trying to make everyone believe he was normal, fine, not divulging segments of the truth. But…
He was tired of that. Tired of the secrets and the hiding…and despite them being Slytherins, they seemed fairly honest. Nott had covered for him twice today already, and Zabini was…Zabini. There just weren't enough words for him.
Harry couldn't believe it, but he wanted to trust them.
He wanted to tell them, if to just get them off of his back.
"Why?" Zabini persisted, heaving an exaggerated sigh as Harry just shook his head. He wasn't about to tell them on a whim. "Fine, I guess we have to play the Slytherin card. Tell us why you don't use your wand, or else we'll leave the safety of this magnificent cupboard and tell Draco that it's Goyle you're protecting."
"Protecting?" Harry spluttered, "How the hell do you reckon that? Is it really so bad to want to keep being cursed to yourself?"
"I'm going to count to three."
Harry studied the Slytherin, unable to believe his lips were twitching. He didn't want to be amused; they would, in all probability, take it as positive reinforcement. "You had to be Slytherin somehow." He sighed, thinking it through. There had to be a way…oh.
"Fine. I tell you why I don't use my wand, and you won't tell Draco." He clarified, trying to keep his own face blank. Come on, he was around Draco every day; he had to be learning somehow. Zabini nodded, smirk back in place.
They thought they had outwitted him.
"Fine. I don't use magic anymore, because I don't have my wand." He shrugged as if it was insignificant, continuing as they both tried to speak. "Draco took it."
"You've had a wand in class." Nott stated, eyes narrowed; he didn't believe him for a second.
Harry pulled out the fake wand, chucking to the Slytherin so he could see for himself. "It's a fake. I've been waving it around uselessly, pretending to fail. Appeased? Good, don't tell Draco."
Zabini was already shaking his head, smirking. "You haven't-"
"You asked why I don't use my wand," Harry quickly corrected him, smirking himself. "And I told you. Draco has it. I don't have any obligation to tell you why he had it, how he got it, or why I'm not in the slightest worried that he has. So, don't tell him about Goyle."
Harry expected them to be angry. Instead, they laughed. Laughed.
"So, you weren't lying about the Sorting Hat yesterday." Zabini chuckled; if anything, he looked placated. "You do have some Slytherin in you."
"Trying to escape the smothering Gryffindorkness piled above it." Nott added, shifting against the wall. That could almost be considered a joke. "I suppose I'll have to recant my previous opinion of you."
Harry noted that he didn't recant, just supposed he had to. Eventually. Bloody Slytherins, all were incapable of an apology.
Except Zabini, it seemed.
And he was…Zabini.
Harry wished he had been smart enough to bring his map with him, so he could at least see where Draco was. It was almost as unnerving sitting in here as it was out there. With his luck, he would poke his head out to check just as the blonde ran into the corridor.
"So, why does Draco have your wand?"
"Good try." Harry replied easily, shaking his head as Zabini slumped against the wall. He didn't think Harry was that gullible, right?
"So, why did Goyle decide to bring forth the inner Death Eater?"
Harry blinked at that one, more so at the dangerous tone of Zabini. He didn't think he had had that in him. "I...he didn't know I stayed the night. Got angry, I guess. He thought I had slept in Crabbe's bed."
"You guess he got angry." Nott muttered to his side. "Moron."
"Wait, hold it!" Zabini suddenly looked positively stricken. "Why does Theo know? I'm the one actively trying to connect, damn it! We're supposed to be bonding!" He patted the floor next to him, gesturing Harry over with a nod of his head. "Come away from that…parasite, Potter."
"…You can't be serious."
But Zabini just kept patting the floor, and repeating the irritating clucking noises as Harry refused to move. He understood the Slytherin was a bit different from the others, a tad friendlier but…
Harry shifted over easily. They were talking about the unforgivables; he was just trying to lighten the situation. Like he did by proclaiming love for Ron. He would have gotten along well in Gryffindor.
"Now that we can bond without interference," He declared, smirking all the while. "Why does Theo know?"
Hmm, how to answer without seeming like a complete inept fool?
"I forgot the potion we were going to spike into Potter's drink," Nott replied, face blank even at Harry's indignant glare. "Walked into it."
"Ha!" Zabini cried triumphantly, grinning again. Harry didn't understand what was so fantastic about walking into a torture scene- "You owe Theo a debt. We're here to collect. Why does Draco have your wand?"
"He took it from me." Harry answered immediately, grinning as Nott kicked Zabini in the shin. What a waste of a debt. Apparently, Nott agreed.
"You fucking imbecile! That was my debt, you bloody Hufflepuff reject!" That was a new one. "Don't let him answer in riddles! What type of deranged Slytherin are you?"
"A fan-fucking-tastic one."
Harry turned to the door as he heard a noise…footsteps? But…no one entered the room. They were still safe. Well, he was, for now.
"Draco is going to murder you for not telling him." Zabini told Nott, grinning all the while. He didn't seem too upset over his friend's demise. "He's going to murder Goyle went he finds out, too. He's going to murder me when he discovers I knew. Potter might make it, because he's the boy-toy. Pansy'll castrate Goyle for you." He nodded in Harry's direction. He didn't seem to be lying, either.
"It'll be one big bloodbath. Fun."
"I think you're overreacting."
"Potter, why are we hiding in the cupboard?"
Ah, good point.
"So, Potter, back to the riveting conversation of Top versus Bottom…"
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Blaise glanced at Theo, communicating with their eyes. He didn't want to resort to this, but since Pottrer was currently without a wand, he didn't feel as conflicted. He knew his ravishing good looks wouldn't be obscured by Potter's hexes and therefore was going to take the risk, merely because Potter couldn't cast a hex to save his own skin at the moment.
Which is exactly what got him into this mess.
Blaise couldn't help but grin at Potter; he was currently tomato red, and trying to bluster his way out of a conversation he knew Blaise was going to pursue. He had to save this one of a rainy day…another rainy day. Potter was just…damn him for thinking this…likeable. He had humour, and didn't scheme. It was a fresh concept for Slytherin, and he would curse anyone that deemed him soft for thinking it. Put them in a room with Potter for an hour, and they would come out as fangirls.
The thought didn't cheer him up. He was too…
That was another problem. He couldn't finish that sentence.
He was too what?
Angry? No, he was livid. He could mutilate babies at the moment and not bat an eye. He wouldn't, but the resentment was there. How dare Goyle try this shit?
What if there had been charms set up to sensor dark magic?
What if Potter decided to go to the Headmistress about this mess?
What if, Salazar forbid, Theo hadn't walked into that room?
And even through the anger, a strange numbness.
It was as if he could process words and respond, but he was…waiting.
Yes, waiting was the perfect word.
Theo's spell hit Potter square in the chest, causing his eyes to roll up and slide to the back of his head. He wouldn't be waking up for a little while. Good. He needed sleep.
Blaise immediately let his grin slide from his face, shifting Potter so he was lying across the floor instead of leaning on the wall; a small effort, but the Gryffindor's back would be thanking him in the morning.
His eyes drifted towards Potter's hands, still trembling.
That little fucker…
Without a word, both stood and left the room. They had left Potter his fake wand.
Merlin, a fake wand? What the hell was going on? More than they had suspected, for certain. Draco taking a wand captive, and worse, Potter letting him? What could possibly be worse than becoming a squib? For fuck's sake…just look at Filch! Take the bloody wand back, Potter!
"We're not ignoring it." Blaise spoke quietly, the barest nod answering him. He knew his friend would be more than happy to turn a blind eye to this brutality; it had evidently been what he had been attempting that morning, to tell Potter to avoid Draco. He was actually surprised Theo had stepped in for Potter; his friend was pure Slytherin, frequently forgotten on the sidelines.
If it could benefit him, he would allow it. If not, it wasn't deemed worthy of his time.
So why would he possibly step in to defend Potter, when he had been livid with him the night previous?
They weren't ignoring it this time. Not an attack on a fellow Slytherin.
Blaise didn't speak again until they had reached the dungeon, and then to merely mutter the password. He entered the room, eyes hardening at the amount of students present.
"Goyle?" He asked a first year…Braxton, he thought the kid's name was. The boy nodded, pointing to their dormitories.
How ideal.
"Everyone leave. If you don't, be prepared to keep your mouths shut."
That was all it took for the majority of the room to abscond, quickly filing for the doors. He could easily bet no other house could empty a common room as fast; in Slytherin, they respected each other. Respect would still tongues.
And, naturally, the rapidly filling dungeon alerted Draco.
He was there within moments.
"Who?" He snarled as the wall boomed shut behind him. Blaise turned to answer, when Theo caught his eye again. Odd, that. Sure, they had told Potter they wouldn't tell Draco, but surely he didn't expect them to keep the promise?
Well, not a promise as such, but the Gryffindork part of Potter would see it as such.
Damn. He didn't want to break Potter's trust. Neither did Theo, apparently.
What the hell was wrong with thme?
"Who?!" Draco snarled again, wand out and ready. Blaise had been his best friend for years, and he had never seen him this upset for another's sake. Never this ready to defend someone like he was for Potter.
Why did he take the wand? Was it to protect the Gryffindor?
"He called you 'Draco' the entire time we spoke." Theo deemed this the appropriate thing to say? It would only rile up…oh. If Draco was livid, he would do most of the damage.
Damn it, Blaise wanted some of the flesh too.
He would see another 'Who' forming on Draco's lips, possibly bellowed, in all probably accompanied by a crucio of his own. So, Blaise went to his dormitory.
The others followed.
And threw murder at the ape that grunted from his filthy, unmade bed. "What?"
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