Draco Malfoy and His Unknown Fate

By: JitterBug (jitterbug@cfl.rr.com)

Rating: NC-17
Summary: Due to a difference of opinion, Draco is disinherited by his father. He now has to make his own way in life.
Category: Drama, Romance
Pairing: Harry/Draco

The silence was all pervading. It had a weight of it´s own and it settled heavily on the length of gleaming wood that had served many a Malfoy as a dining table for countless centuries. So heavy was it, that Draco expected the chandeliers (monstrosities of diamond, crystal, and gold that acted as fountains of light) to creak under it´s ponderous weight and perhaps even tumble onto the cold stone floor to shatter into a million sharp, deadly pieces. He could almost feel the slivers lodging into his skin as he waited for the silence to be broken.

Narcissa sat at one end of the table, studying the crystal goblet in front of her critically as she waited for her husband to arrive. Lucius´ place was at the head of the table, of course, and aptly enough there seemed to be miles of table between the two. Almost as much distance physically between husband and wife as there was emotionally with their son seated between them in the middle by himself on the left side. Draco had never questioned that their way wasn´t normal or that it could be anything else until his father had let him tag along with him to the Ministry at the tender age of seven.

During his lunch hour Lucius had taken him out to eat and on the way to the restaurant they had seen a family eating out of an old, battered picnic basket in a grassy park. Draco had spotted the family of laughing red heads surrounding two figures, one tall and plain and the other round and short kissing briefly amidst the chaos in greeting. The Weasleys had a warmth that was as foreign to Draco as the Malfoy´s cold distance was foreign to everyone else. In that instant Draco had come to hate the redheaded boy who was having his head knuckled lightly by an older brother. They were the same age but by some trick of fate the other boy had become so very lucky, never mind the worn, shoddy clothes he wore. Sometimes Draco thought Lucius hated Arthur Weasley for the same reason he hated Ron Weasley before he remembered that Lucius had been frozen inside out long ago. Even his hatred dripped icicles.

“Do your new robes meet with your approval?’ Came Narcissa´s lovely, detached voice. It brought Draco out of his reverie and he forced a polite smile.

“Of course Mother. The gray is especially flattering.’

Narcissa nodded her agreement. The sound of footsteps echoed through the halls, heralding Lucius Malfoy´s appearance. The man was tired, though it only showed because the lines around his mouth were more prominent and his eyes were harder than usual. He took his seat silently and the food appeared, a banquet fit to feed a king. Lucius Malfoy was not a king, but he had enough money and arrogance to pass as one.

The first words out of his mouth were bitter complaints. “That damn Fudge is ruining everything. You´d think he´d be happy with a few bribes, but he keeps running back to Dumbledore every time the Dark Lord so much as sneezes. I had to practically hold his hand to keep him from ruining things.’ The sneering tone was familiar as Draco had adopted it himself to use on those who annoyed him. His own jeering pitch was a mere shallow echo of the true malicious distaste that flavored his father´s voice.

Draco didn´t know how to reply and so didn´t, letting his mother steer the conversation towards less provoking topics. He was glad he hadn´t once he remembered his father´s ‘children are to be seen and not heard´ approach to formal meals. Hogwarts had spoiled him badly. It was only two weeks into summer and he was still busy adjusting to the Manor once more. Their voices flowed past his ears and he only let half his attention linger on their words while he contemplated the stuffed quail beneath his fork. Three courses passed that way and if it wasn´t quite pleasant it wasn´t much of a trial either. Suddenly, the conversation turned interesting and he looked up from his silver plate to study the elder Malfoy.

Lucius was gesturing with his fork, which still had a bit of sauce clinging to it´s gleaming tines as he spoke. “…of course. It was a disgrace. Weasley´s son should keep such things behind closed doors. Bad enough to have a male lover,’ at this a truly ugly sneer transformed his usually handsome features, “but to parade it around so crudely? I was absolutely disgusted. Men, kissing in public. What´s this world coming to, nowadays?’

“Which Weasel was it?’ Draco blurted out and looked down at his plate submissively when his father reprimanded him with a stern look. He did deign to answer though.

“I forgot his name. The wild one with the earring who breaks curses for Gringotts. He was prancing about with some Quidditch player. It was revolting. Put me right off my lunch. Faggots should be grouped with Mudbloods and Muggles in my opinion. Fit to be trod upon and not much else.’

Draco was appalled. He blinked for a moment, absorbing the fact his father was obviously oblivious to his son´s sexual preferences and that for once in his life his father´s prejudices were not his own. Somehow, the subject had never come up before, but considering how rarely his father discussed things with him it wasn´t all that surprising. That realization, that their opinions differed so wildly, made him question things that, for the sake of his family and own peace of mind, he knew he shouldn´t question. “That´s a little harsh, isn´t it?’ He finally ventured, poking at some bit of green on his plate as his appetite suddenly vanished. His father´s head snapped up and a tired glare was thrown his way.

“Of course not. It´s unnatural. If men were meant to be with men that way there wouldn´t be women. And it´s sick. The whole concept is just…’ The older man shuddered in revulsion. “Don´t tell me you can condone that sort of deviant behavior.’

Draco frowned at his kelp rolls. When he finally spoke it was slowly, in that way he had of talking when he was uncertain of his footing. “It´s just that - you sound remarkably Puritanical.’ Something that was not a compliment when one wielded a wand and your cultural history was sprinkled liberally with burning pyres and drownings. He finally fell back on arguing his point with precedent. He knew he was treading a dangerous line, but his father had to understand. If he could change his father´s mind, then he wouldn´t have to question the other opinions he had taken as his own from the older man. Once one flaw was discovered, the rest of his beliefs would be under suspicion and if Draco wanted to succeed as the man his father wanted him to be he couldn´t have those doubts lingering and festering in the back of his skull. “The ancient Greeks not only condoned such relations, but expected it of their young men. And Spartans encouraged their warriors to take their comrades as lovers so they´d fight with more ferocity when defending one another.’

Lucius leaned forward, propping one elbow up on the table which made Narcissa frown at the lack of etiquette. He smiled, the expression as sharp and pointed as a blade. “And yet, both cultures you speak of and those particular foibles have been all but eradicated and they are now relegated to dusty books. It´s unusual and freakish. Not something noble or common as those people mistakenly believed.’

Draco shifted in his seat irritably, feeling his ire swell as Lucius´ oily smile widened. He spoke without thinking in reply, his anger taking away his Slytherin caution. “It´s not necessarily freakish. No, it´s not all that common, but it´s not unheard of.’ His mother murmured his name in warning, but Draco ignored her.

“Oh? Do tell. Perhaps one of your little friends has inclinations that lie that way? Loyalty is admirable in a Hufflepuff, Draco. Need I remind you it does not become a Slytherin? You needn´t defend your allies´ flaws to me when they aren´t even present.’ Lucius Malfoy, secure in his son´s ‘perfect´ bloodline, didn´t even consider that Draco was defending himself. Draco set out to disabuse him of the notion immediately, not even pausing to consider his words.

“Defend my allies?’ He exhaled briefly in pique. “Why would I? It´s yours truly who fancies boys, though it hardly matters.’ Draco shrugged one shoulder dismissively. He took a bite of meat and glanced up casually. He froze when he saw the look on his father´s face. Draco realized too late that he had blundered enormously, letting his mouth run on despite the fact he knew it always got him into trouble.

After seeing that look, so cold as to rival absolute zero he wasn´t altogether surprised by the ensuing argument, blows, and subsequent falling out that occurred. Draco had been given fifteen minutes to pack during which the house elves rushed about frantically using their own brand of magic to pack his new clothes and favorite personal possessions before shrinking them down, lightening them, and shoving them in his robe pockets. His Eurasian eagle owl, hooting it´s objections loudly, had been shoved in it´s cage and tossed to Draco´s waiting hands.

There were many lines Draco could cross without consequence as his father´s heir, but sullying the Malfoy blood with homosexuality was apparently not one of them. Narcissa had watched expressionlessly, her lips tightened into a thin white line with disapproval of the entire situation. Then Lucius had grabbed him by the ear in a painful grip when he finally came down the main stairs and twisted viciously before flooing them both to a store on Knockturn Alley and dragging him out into the street. A vendor selling what looked to be poisons watched with a sort of morbid curiosity as the scene unfolded right there in the middle of everything. Lucius left his son with a parting back-hand, the best (or worst; depending on your point of view) blow in his arsenal before he stepped back. His last words, probably meant to be some sort of consolation, were the most bitter to swallow of all.

“You could have been a great Malfoy, if you´d been even a bit of a man.’ And then he was gone in a wink of an eye, like all of Draco´s prospects and expectations. Draco gazed at where his father had apparated away in despair. It seemed fitting when it started to drizzle, turning the dark pavestones an oil slick black and a yellowy butter color under the various circles of lantern light from the shops. He stared blankly in shock at nothing in particular while the bruise on his cheekbone slowly became visible.

The Leaky Cauldron, like most of the wizarding establishments in Diagon Alley, was very old. It was small and cramped though some people would say cozy. Draco was not one of these people. In normal circumstances he wouldn´t be caught dead in the run-down building, but these obviously weren´t normal circumstances or worse yet they were from now on and that thought was so depressing he didn´t even protest when the bartender refused to serve him brandy. His sneer was only half hearted when he turned away and he knew his face was still paper white from shock. The man with the room keys was bald and toothless and had the common name of Tom. He was looking at Draco like he was the spawn of Satan (obviously recognizing the Malfoy silver of his hair and eyes for what is was), though he accepted Draco´s money eagerly enough. But then again, they always did.

Draco didn´t know what to do with himself, but he knew he didn´t want to sit around downstairs like a bump on a log with all the other patrons. Their raucous laughter grated on his sensitive nerves and the smell of the greasy food was making him nauseous. The steps upwards were narrow and dark, but he ignored his distaste as he made his way towards room number five. The room itself wasn´t all that bad, though it wasn´t much in comparison to his bedroom in Malfoy Manor. Draco couldn´t even summon up the energy to snap at a house-elf to draw him up a bath before he tumbled into bed. He spent the next few hours letting his mood dip between despair and fury as well as everything in between as he tried to work out this new, awful change in his life. Finally, he buried his face in the pillow and ignored the hot tear tracks on his cheeks until he mercifully tumbled into unconsciousness.

When he woke up, his formal dinner robes were crumpled so he emptied out his pockets and ordered a house elf to put his belongings back to their proper size. The elf, a malnourished little thing with a crooked nose, did his bidding and left before he changed into his older green robes. He sat for a while in the chair near the fireplace with his head in his hands wondering what was going to happen now. Being the Malfoy heir wasn´t just what he was - it was who he was. His whole life had been mapped out from the moment of his birth until he would have had children of his own to continue the cycle. Despite the fact he wasn´t attracted to women Pansy was intelligent and funny and if a Malfoy was allowed to have friends she would his best one. He wouldn´t have minded being married to her. Marriage was, as far as he was concerned, simply a partnership and he and Pansy had always worked well together. Now… well now he had his father´s disappointment, a measly 32 galleons, and a future unencumbered by tradition.

Slowly, it hit him. He had choices. He could make his own decisions, for good or for ill, and reap the consequences without his father peering over his shoulder constantly. His life was his own now, though the price he had paid to get it had been far too high. Even taking that into consideration, freedom was heady thing. He could even start a fucking flobberworm farm if he wanted to, not that he really did, but still. It was mind boggling. It was like he´d been stuck in a gilded cage all his life and suddenly he was free. He just didn´t know if that was a good thing. Draco knew that any animal caged for too long rarely survived in the wild. Draco didn´t even know if he had enough money to stay at the Leaky Cauldron all summer. And he´d have to buy his school supplies. Money had never been a concern before unless he counted whining to his father for a handful of galleons or an increase in his allowance as managing his finances, which he didn´t.

With this in mind, he ordered himself some breakfast and was disappointed when all the Leaky Cauldron could provide was some mediocre food. He would have complained about how it was poor fare when compared to what the Manor provided, but he had a hunch that once he got over how things were before he´d be better able to improve how things were now. So he choked down the runny eggs and slightly too crispy toast and exited his room. The halls were silent save for a few heavy footsteps from the floor above him. Draco made his way downstairs and paused to check for Death Eaters, mainly his father´s associates, before slipping out the door and into the street.

Most of the shops were still closed so early in the morning since it was barely six. Draco had fallen asleep so early yesterday that he hadn´t been able to sleep in like usual. And despite his usual practices, he could be a morning person when events required it. He relished the quietness of the almost empty streets as he headed towards Gringotts. The money that remained from his birthday and that month´s allowance jingled softly in his robe pockets as he approached the large, white marble building.

Despite the early hour, Gringotts was as busy as ever with bustling goblins. Draco´s steps were quiet, almost hesitant as he approached a teller. His mother, for reasons unknown at the time, had insisted that Draco start his own account when he was thirteen. Now, Draco suspected that Narcissa realized the extent of her son´s rebelliousness as well as his deviant sexual preferences and had considered it her duty to make sure Draco was able to provide for himself when the inevitable happened. After three years of maintaining his own account he no longer needed parental permission to withdraw or insert funds. Which was a damn good thing, considering how eagerly his father would refuse him any and all resources now that Lucius no longer had to provide for his wayward heir.

He captured the attention of a goblin and let it escort him to the tunnel entrances. Draco enjoyed the ride as usual, despite the events that had led him to being in the position to take it. It was his favorite thing to do as a child and had annoyed his father to no end. His mother, however, didn´t mind bringing him on trips so Draco had accompanied her to almost all her shopping expeditions. He knew a few goblins by name, but this one was new and rather sullen to boot so Draco ignored him in favor of trying to catch a glimpse of his namesake. He´d seen a dragon once while traveling in the cart when he was twelve and ever since had been on the lookout for another down in the vaults. It´s why he had actually enjoyed the Tri-Wizard Tournament despite Potter´s involvement, because he had gotten to see so many different breeds of dragons.

"Here you are sir.’ Draco nodded and watched as the little creature opened his vault for him. He peered inside and sighed with disappointment at the pathetic pile of coins. He counted them out and the amount came to about eleven galleons. The ten his mother had given him upon initially opening the account and the one he had added to over the years before forgetting it´s existence. He had completely forgotten about the vault until that morning, when he realized he really needed it or something like it. It was a truly sad amount, but it turned his 32 galleons into an almost respectable 43. Not that Draco was satisfied with that, not by a long shot.

He dumped all his money into the vault except for a paltry three galleons, wary of robbers and thieves. As a Slytherin he wasn´t so naïve as to think he could prance about Diagon Alley by himself with a pocketful of clinking coins without attracting the wrong sort of attention. No, as long as his money was safe he´d be free to roam with less caution, though he´d have to be careful of Mudbloods and angry Gryffindors. Without the Malfoy name to protect him he was a great deal more vulnerable. Draco considered a few get-rich schemes (from the plausible to the ridiculously fanciful) while he and his goblin companion rode back up to the surface.

Instead of returning to The Leaky Cauldron, Draco wandered about Diagon Alley checking out the newest merchandise. It made him irritable when he realized that many things he would have been able to purchase with out a second thought before were far beyond his finances now. He stopped at Florean Fortescue´s Ice Cream Parlor and ordered himself a triple raspberry chocolate fudge cone. From there he wandered to Flourish and Blotts to gaze at some of the newest releases. Not noting anything of interest he continued on towards the Quality Quidditch Supplies shop to stare longingly at the Firebolts and other brooms displayed in the front window.

A new model caught his eye, the Quicksilver. It was beautiful, made of high quality birch and polished to perfection. According to the advertisements the newest racing broom on the market made all the previous ones, including the Firebolt, practically obsolete. The list of features was a long one including a better cushioning charm for the seat, more maneuverability, new braking charms, and the ability to accelerate to impossibly high speeds in a handful of seconds. Apparently, it could turn on a dime and do dives at speeds previously unheard of. It was basically an upgraded version of a Firebolt, but unique enough to be another line entirely instead of the Firebolt Mark II or some such nonsense. Best of all, it was actually custom made for it´s rider and it even required several flying and fitting sessions with the local Quicksilver sales agent to properly order a broom and personalize it. Once made it would only respond to its owner and was set to buck off anyone else who tried to ride it. Depending on which Quidditch position you favored and how you flew, the performance of a Quicksilver could vary greatly from broom to broom. It was a marvel of broom technology and quite an improvement to his old Nimbus 2001.

He stood there for a moment, admiring the symmetry of it and the aerodynamic shape. The shining handle and perfect bristles. His dream broom. He had been hoping Lucius would get him a new one for Christmas, but obviously that was not to be. It galled him that Potter had a Firebolt and he only had a Nimbus 2001. Draco had wanted a new broom and as far as he could tell it would be a very long time until he could get one on his own. It made the upcoming Quidditch season look dreary. He still remembered being only an inch away from the snitch to have it snatched out of his hands because Potter´s broom was faster.

Draco sighed in regret and longing before moving on. He popped the remains of his cone into his mouth and licked away a few smears of chocolate. He meandered along, peering at the numerous owls and cauldrons before he spotted the Apothecary. A tiny sign was hung up in the corner of one window, displaying it´s message for all to see.

‘Help wanted for summer - some experience with potions required´

That was all it took to catch Draco´s attention before he was striding into Slug & Jiggers Apothecary with a bird-brained plan already forming in his mind. The place itself wasn´t too terrible, though it´s smell was a bit difficult to stomach. It was right next door to the Leaky Cauldron too, which reduced the chances of Draco running into his father during the summer on his way to work. He made his way through the winding shelves of potions ingredients and up to the front desk where an elderly man was peering over the rim of his glasses at what seemed to be accounts. The man´s hair was just a fringe of white around his shining, bald head and his eyes were bright and black and clever - much like a raven´s. “Mmmhmmm. Twenty seven, no twenty three. How´d that four get there?’ The old man murmured to himself, turning a page thoughtfully while Draco watched on.

“Um, Sir?’ He finally uttered. The man´s head jerked up quickly.

“Eh? What are you doing there young man? Need help with something?’ Draco stepped back a little under that sharp gaze. The man was intimidating, though not in a physical way. He just seemed to be so canny.

When he spoke his voice was barely audible. Draco, while not exactly a coward, didn´t have any Gryffindor bravery either. “It´s just that - you´ve an opening don´t you? A- a job that is and I´m in need of employment. I´ve got experience from Hogwarts you know and I´m even a bit of a teacher´s pet in Potions.’ He knew he sounded earnest and vulnerable and normally he would have hated it, but if it got him the job he so desperately needed… well what was the harm in not hiding his emotions under petty cruelty just this once? It was Slytherin enough to salve his pride at baring his insecurities to a stranger.

The man leant forward, his brow wrinkled in a thoughtful frown. “Hmm. You´ve got a name then lad or is it to be teacher´s pet? Me, I´m Arsenius Jigger and this is my Apothecary. What makes you think I want a boy still in school working for me? I´ve found your lot like to laze about and be generally irresponsible.’

Draco hadn´t been raised by Lucius Malfoy for sixteen years without being able to tell when someone was testing him. So he gathered up all his Slytherin ambition and answered as best he could. Which, he reflected, wasn´t very good at all. “Jigger you said? Are you the author of Magical Drafts and Potions? Professor Snape says it´s the most accurate book he´s ever read next to Most Potente Potions. And I really liked that chapter on Polyjuice.’ The flattery only made the man´s mouth twitch a bit, though Draco was encouraged by the fact it was twitching upwards and not down. The Apothecary raised his eyebrow in silent questioning and motioned for Draco to continue with one ink stained hand. “Oh, of course. I´m Draco Malfoy.’ The man´s look said it all. His name, for once, seemed to be more than a hindrance than a help. So Draco rushed on, letting the words fall from his lips. “And I won´t be lazy or irresponsible. I need this job. I have to pay for all my school supplies and my rent at the Leaky Cauldron. Father and I had a bit of a falling out and - well, I can´t very well live in the gutter can I? If you need references you could owl Snape. He´ll grumble a bit that you bothered him, but he won´t mind too much because I´m his favorite student. I´m the only one he´ll trust to help the more hopeless students like Longbottom.’

Mr. Jigger held up his hand to halt the nervous babbling. The fingers were stained with black ink and his robes were askew, but his eyes were kind. Two days ago he wouldn´t have given the old man the time of day, but now. Now he´d be actually working under him. Well, at least if things went his way. “Sounds fine, lad. No references required. Why don´t start refilling up the beetle eye jar? We´re running low. The bag´s in the back on top of that big box. No, the one to your left. There you go.’ And that was how Draco became the first Malfoy in over three centuries to have a job that wasn´t procured by nepotism.

Draco found that he enjoyed his job, but it wasn´t very surprising. His love of potions had started when Snape, who was friends with his parents, had gifted Draco with a miniature (and idiot proof) potions set when he was six. Draco, who loved anything capable of causing mayhem and destruction, had adored it and to his mother´s dismay had messed about with it, all the while managing to get soot and ingredients all over himself and any furniture unfortunate enough to be within a ten foot radius. The brand new cauldron he had received when he was ten had only encouraged him further. And the dramatic speech Snape had given his first year class on how to ‘bottle fame, brew glory and stopper death´ had cinched it. Draco was a sucker for good theater and Snape was a first class performer.

So, he found himself hiding small smiles while he puttered about the shop organizing the shelves and refilling the empty jars. The shop was usually quiet, but it did not lack for company. Mr. Jigger was, he had found, an intelligent man who was painstakingly fair and who let him take a good number of breaks but demanded that Draco not shirk his share of the work. His daughter Lydia, who had deep blue eyes and wheat blonde hair, dropped by the shop occasionally and had given Draco some biscuits she had baked herself. Stephen Slug, the son of the original Stanley Slug from the sign out front was a serious, handsome, dark haired youth who observed things quietly and spoke little. Apparently his father traveled around gathering supplies for the shop, especially the rarer ingredients, and returned every three months for a week or so to spend time with his son and order his affairs before going off to gallivant about the world again. Steven and Lydia were engaged to be married and occasionally Draco caught snippets of conversation, such as “No, no the invitations should be in gold ink. Silver? Silver went out in the nineteenth century. Now, the guest list on the other hand…’ whenever Lydia dropped by, which was often.

Draco´s main tasks were simple, but time consuming. He was to keep the store tidy by sweeping every morning and evening as well as cleaning up any accidental spills. He was also required to stock the shelves which, he found out, involved a lot of heavy lifting since he wasn´t allowed to use magic during the summer and a lot of the ingredients were far too sensitive and temperamental when it came to stray magic anyway. In fact, Draco had taken to organizing the shelves alphabetically and was still on the D´s. The Dodo brains (usually used in Dolt Droughts) were stored in small jars, but the containers had gotten hopelessly mixed up with the jars of Dusty Moth wings. Occasionally, when the shop was busy and Stephen and Mr. Jigger were attending customers, Draco got to stand behind the counter and work the cash register which was an old fashioned cranky thing that made a half hearted, wheezing ‘ding´ whenever the drawer was shut. When it opened in the first place that is. Only Stephen could work it without error - even Mr. Jigger couldn´t figure out how to open the drawer when it was at its most stubborn. And it had tried to slam Draco´s hand in the drawer on two separate occasions, possibly because he had called it a ‘heap of moldering junk´.

So a week passed without incident while Draco settled into his new schedule easily. His pay wasn´t exorbitant, but it was a tidy sum that added up daily. Draco felt like the dragon he was named for after he had received his first little bag of coins at the end of the week when he sat up in his bed counting them all one by one with a sort of miserly satisfaction that his great-great-two-hundred-something-greats-great Grandfather had probably felt upon first acquiring the Malfoy fortune. Draco had earned every single solitary one of those coins with his own two hands. For some reason, it felt surprisingly nice - doing something by himself without his father´s influence to overshadow his own accomplishments. Then he had promptly dropped it all off at Gringotts the next morning and had spent the next two minutes viewing his little growing pile of coins with fatherly pride. The goblin, who looked like he desperately needed a comb, had rolled his beady little eyes and shut the vault door firmly far before Draco was finished smugly congratulating himself.

This became a habit and after three weeks the pile was considerably larger than it had been when he´d started. After Draco spent the required amount of time viewing his vault, he had stopped to do a little drooling over the Quicksilver display and sulking about the fact he couldn´t afford one. That had taken up a good deal of his time and then he had been forced to jog over towards the Apothecary to prevent any tardiness. “Well, if it isn´t the best dressed stock boy on Diagon Alley. Nice morning, Draco?’ Lydia greeted him with a bright smile while Stephen´s lips just twitched a little in amusement.

Startled, Draco glanced down to see that he was wearing a pair of charcoal gray trousers that were tailored so they fit nicely, but were not too tight, a nice formal white collared shirt, along with a light gray vest of satin embroidered with darker gray thread, a red silk tie, the matching opal tie tack and cufflinks, and a heavy, gray, almost opalescent over robe that shimmered in the morning sun that poured in warmly from the front windows. Even the cloak pin situated near his shoulder was an elaborate affair - a dragon wrought in silver with winking eyes of diamond and a tail that moved occasionally. “Oh, yes it was quite a pleasant morning. Do I need to change?’ He asked out of concern for his clothes. He hadn´t realized he´d dressed so nicely until Lydia had pointed it out. The formal outfit felt like a second skin to the disowned Malfoy heir.

Lydia smiled gently. “It´s fine, but I suggest you stay behind the counter today. Don´t want to get dust on such a nice outfit. How´s the organizing project so far?’ She asked with genuine interest. He could tell Stephen was listening too because the dark haired man was still polishing the same spot on the counter. Usually he was much more efficient.

“I´ve gotten all the way to the S´s. I´m still working on the Snidget feathers, Sphinx fur, and Squid Ink. What about you? Have you chosen what kind of flowers you want for the wedding yet?’ Draco set about checking the cash register and glancing at the order forms that were scattered across the counter.

Lydia, obviously happy to find a welcome ear, sat herself down on a stool and began regaling Draco with the details of arranging her wedding. Stephen looked like he´d heard the same speech a million times and quickly escaped to the back of the shop with a heartfelt sigh of relief. “…and then there´s the meal! I know I want six courses, but I can´t for the life of me figure out what have for the soup course. Stephen´s allergic to clams and father can´t stand anything with onions and chicken soup is simply so…’

“Plebian?’ Draco interjected with a smirk.

Lydia nodded her agreement. “Exactly. It´s too bad Mother can´t stand this sort of thing or she could help me. Mrs. Slug´s offered her opinions on the matter - but then again she always does. The woman has a thought on every subject ever spoken and she´s always willing to share it.’ Draco heard a strangled cough that sounded like someone trying uselessly to stifle laughter drifting from the back of the shop.

“Well,’ he said slowly, “My mother, Narcissa, served Lobster Bisque for a few of her formal meals. How about that?’ Lydia beamed at him, clapping her hands together with delight.

“Oh how perfect. Stephen, what do you think?’

A shuffling sound reached Draco´s ears and then the dark haired man popped his head out from behind a shelf. “Whatever you like dear. No clams, right?’

“Right. But, I was thinking for our main course pheasant would be -’ Her words were interrupted when a dark figure swept into the shop in a billow of robes. Draco, recognizing the dramatic entrance for what it was, sat up and took attention.

“Professor, how can I help you?’ Draco drawled out the question as he assumed the arrogance that he had discarded the past week out of necessity. He ignored Stephen´s look of perplexity in favor of smirking at his Head of House. The fact he was doing an honest day´s work was enough to give Snape a heart attack - he didn´t want to finish the old boy off by being humble to boot. And well, he had a lot of respect for the Potions Master; he didn´t want to appear weak or ineffectual in front of his role model.

Snape´s head swiveled around and he stared, obviously shocked. When he spoke, it was with his usual severity. “Draco… whatever are you doing in this dingy Apothecary? Does your father realize where you are?’

“I expect my father,’ He practically snarled the last word, “has no interest in my whereabouts. I´ve been disowned, disinherited, thrown out - Whichever choice of wording you care for. I´m surprised you haven´t heard about it by now. This must come as quite a shock to you.’

Snape´s expression turned almost sympathetic before the former Death Eater composed his face into cool neutrality once more. “That is a pity. Your father´s loss then. Where are you staying?’

“The Leaky Cauldron, why?’ Draco asked suspiciously.

“Get your things, you´re coming with me. The Headmaster will want to have you settled in at Hogwarts.’

“What?’ Draco squawked, stunned. “Don´t be ridiculous. I´m not going anywhere.’

Severus Snape folded his hands into the sleeves of his robes and treated his favorite student to that superior look he was so good at. “I beg to differ Mr. Malfoy.’

“You don´t understand.’ He said with a more than a bit of frustration coloring his tones. “I need to pay for my school supplies.’

The Potions Master nodded. “That is understandable, but the Headmaster and I will deal with it.’

Draco was incensed. He knew he was turning an embarrassing shade of pink, but his coloring was of little concern in the face of Snape´s words. “You think I´d take your charity?!’ He shouted in indignation, careless of the two other people in the shop staring at him. “You´ve obviously been inhaling too many cauldron fumes. I may not be the Malfoy heir, but I´m still a Malfoy and I´d rather sleep in the streets than accept any handouts from you or that daft old coot.’ Snape raised one eyebrow, used to his favorite student´s dramatics. It was a source of common ground between them.

“Obviously your pride is intact, even if your bank account is not.’ He sounded resigned. Snape loved to interfere in other´s peoples business, but he knew a lost cause when he saw it. Draco may have been prone to being overdramatic, but the intent behind his words were heartfelt. If Snape stunned him and dragged him back to Hogwarts by force Draco would only run away and possibly end up getting himself hurt in the bargain. They both knew it and Snape simply had to accept it. “Very well then, but I´m afraid you´ll be seeing quite a lot of me. I´ll check up on you every Monday and don´t even try to argue this point. You´re just lucky I didn´t drag you off to Hogwarts, you ungrateful little brat. Now then, I don´t suppose you have an Ogre tooth on hand?’

And that, as they say, was that.

Nothing monumental occurred that week, at least not until Friday when Draco was walking towards the shop from the Leaky Cauldron. He had organized the shelves and was almost done - at present he was dealing with bits of unicorn and trying to remember if the location of a hair made a difference. He had hair from the underbelly and hair from the tail and hair from the mane. It was all very confusing.

So absorbed was he in thinking about the minutiae of his upcoming task that he was completely unprepared for the man who stepped in front of him smoothly. “Draco.’ Said the ice cold voice and even though it was familiar that didn´t stop the chill from running down his spine.

“Father?’ He stepped back warily, and glanced about to make sure there were witnesses present. He felt relief when he saw old Ms. Bottletup, a nosy busybody who ran the shop across the street, peering out the window at them over the glasses perched on the end of her nose. At least that ruled out any Unforgivables or other fatal spells and Draco was pretty sure he could heal from anything else.

Lucius didn´t notice or didn´t care about their audience and immediately grabbed Draco´s ear, twisting it. Draco couldn´t stop the yelp from escaping, but managed to keep the wince off his face. Well, after the initial one, because that had hurt. Lucius reeled him in until his low voice was right in Draco´s ears. Fear bubbled up inside Draco. He knew his father was a dangerous man, but he had never felt that Lucius was a danger to him. Now that he wasn´t the heir, it was obvious Lucius felt no need for restraint. And that was what scared Draco, because he had an inkling of what the Death Eater was really capable of. “Pay attention to me boy. I´ve managed to take you out of my will, but disgusting habits or not you still have the Malfoy blood. Your mother is with child at the moment and I´ll not have you trying to usurp my next heir. Sign these. It relinquishes all your rights to the Manor and the Malfoy fortune and in turn relinquishes my guardianship of you; when you sign you´ll be a legal adult in the eyes of the Ministry.’ He let go of Draco with a bit more force than necessary, which caused him to stumble, and retrieved a scroll and self inking quill from the pocket of his robes.

Draco took them gingerly, looking at the tiny, curled letters that were almost indecipherable in their complex format. It was all in the wordy, circular language of lawyers and bankers which meant Draco could sign away his soul and not even realize it until they came to collect. He wasn´t the brightest Slytherin around, but he wasn´t quite that stupid. “I think I´d prefer to have a goblin look over these for me first. I´ll owl it to you when I´m done.’ Lucius´s eyes narrowed dangerously and though he knew the warning sign Draco didn´t even get the chance to avoid the punch to his gut. He staggered and doubled over in pain, but managed to remain upright. A real accomplishment in his opinion. When he straightened Lucius awarded him with another blow, this time to the face. “Ow!!’ The whole lower right half of Draco´s face throbbed in pain and it took him a moment to focus on his father´s voice.

“Listen, you little brat. You don´t want to take up my valuable time. Just sign the damn papers.’

“I´d rather not.’ He said bravely, through his swollen lip. A backhand that appeared casual, but had all Lucius´ weight behind it sent Draco to his knees. The tears of pain came automatically to his eyes and he widened them and stared up ruthlessly, knowing that if he blinked they´d fall. And that was simply unacceptable. He would not cry in front of Lucius. Not even if it killed him.

The older man was smirking, and though he seemed a bit annoyed obviously the violence was doing wonders for his mood. “Don´t be difficult Draco. I don´t want to have to admonish you any more. You´re drawing attention to us.’ Any more ‘admonishment´ and Draco would be out like a light. He was never one to take his blows manfully. And they were indeed attracting attention, but Draco ignored the gawking bystanders so he could anticipate the next assault.

“I said I´d owl it to you and I meant it! I´m not signing anything before I have an expert go over you. You taught me at least that much.’ Lucius curled his lip in disgust and kicked his son a few times in the gut and then the side before growing bored. Draco could only curl up and try and use his limbs to protect his head. Why wasn´t anyone doing anything? Was it just because he was a Slytherin, a Malfoy, or a mere boy with no connections? A tiny little voice in the back of Draco´s mind piped up and it filled him with dismay. Was it because he just wasn´t worth the effort?

“Fine. But if it´s not back by Sunday I´ll be coming to get it. And I´ll take it out of your hide, boy.’ There was a promise inherent in the statement that made Draco´s blood run cold. Lucius sneered and then spit at his son, hitting Draco´s chin. The young man hurt all over, but it was nothing next to the humiliation he felt at being left bleeding in the street while strangers looked on and his father spit on him. Grimacing in disgust, he wiped it away. The man he had looked up to for so long humiliating him so thoroughly in public was enough to make real tears well up in his eyes, but he managed to blink those back too.

Draco sat up with difficulty and watched his father walk away, his face twisted by bitterness and pain. “Bastard,’ came the low broken, keening cry and Draco summoned up enough anger to add some real invective into the word. “Bastard,’ He spat, his voice still rough with suppressed emotion.

He took a minute to gather himself, raking elegant fingers through his hair in an attempt to calm down. Finally he stood with a bit of difficulty, taking all his feelings and pressing them into tiny ball and shoving it down where it couldn´t show. He might have been disowned in disgrace, but he was a Malfoy and he would show no more weakness in front of these gossip mongers. The Slytherin smoothed his face of all emotion and lifted his head, purposely tilting his chin to an angle that said things like ‘alpha´ and ‘arrogant´, and ‘king of all he surveys´ even though what he felt was as far as one could get from it. Squaring his shoulders, Draco took a deep breath and turned back to the Leaky Cauldron so he could change into clothes unmarred by the dust of the street and his father´s boot prints.

He faltered for only a second or two when he saw Harry Potter standing on the doorstep with Arthur Weasley standing behind him with one hand on the boy´s shoulder and a grim look on his face. Molly Weasley stood nearby with her hand pressed against her mouth in shock, sympathy written all over her kind, homely face. The two Weasley twins were standing off to the side a few feet away, shocked into silence for once. They had obviously seen everything. Draco was careful that his gaze came nowhere near Potter, though he got a glimpse of serious dark green eyes and an uncompromising set of the jaw before his own eyes slid away. He was careful not to look too closely because he wasn´t sure he could handle seeing that reaction. Not only had he been humiliated, but the last person he wanted to be there had witnessed it all.

Draco managed to produce a weak sneer before entering the building, walking so close to the still silent trio he could smell Molly Weasley´s perfume. It was floral and sweet and it made Draco want to gag. He managed to make it out of sight before breaking into a run, his boots pounding on the stairs. Draco knew they could hear his frantic footsteps, but couldn´t muster the strength to care. From below, he heard Ron Weasley´s jolly voice echo up to him. “What´s with all the gloomy faces? Someone die?’

He couldn´t hold back the choked laughter and his muttered, but heartfelt, “I wish.’

When he walked in the shop an hour later Lydia was poring over a magazine full of wedding robes, her elbows propped up on the desk as her betrothed worked the cash register next to her. The customer, a little old lady in bright periwinkle robes, blinked when she saw Draco´s battered face, but went on her way without comment.

“Sorry I´m late,’ Draco apologized as sincerely as he knew how (which wasn´t very) once the woman was gone. “It won´t happen again, I promise.’ Stephen looked up with a small frown, but it was wiped away almost immediately with wide eyed surprise.

“What happened to you? You look like you got into a fight with a Hippogriff. And lost.’

Draco couldn´t help the smirk. He knew it didn´t look half so impressive with a swollen lip, but it was one of his favorite expressions nonetheless. “Been there, done that.’ And had the scar to prove it. “No, I ran into my father.’ He shrugged. “No big deal. I suppose I´ll start on the shelves?’

Lydia was looking at him with angry astonishment. “What do you mean no big deal? You´re black and blue! Your own father did this to you?’ She was as angry as a mother manticore protecting her young and having so much genuine concern directed towards him was so unusual it made him uneasy.

Draco could feel his shoulders tense and he knew his voice was biting when he spoke, but couldn´t prevent it. The defensiveness was automatic. “Yes. Leave it. It´s none of your business.’

Lydia looked hurt, but she held her tongue and went off into the back where she presumably wouldn´t have to see Draco´s sorry state. Stephen only watched him quietly for a moment before turning his attention to polishing the counter with practiced swipes.

Draco felt bad, like the time he was five and had hugged his mother and gotten her favorite and most expensive dress robes wrinkled right before a dinner party, but this time he couldn´t win his way out of trouble by reciting several poems and generally acting like a performing monkey (if a very polite and cultured one) for his mother instead of his usual bratty petulant behavior when company arrived. He knew simple apologies never sufficed and he wouldn´t know how to give one even if they did, but he had no other way to fix things. So instead he went to question Mr. Jigger about the unicorn hairs and hoped that eventually he´d be able to understand normal people.

The goblin was looking over Lucius´ bundle of papers with something approaching approval. Apparently the documents were worded perfectly with no room for loopholes, but Draco was not surprised. Lucius was shrewd business man. Draco just wanted to make sure his father wasn´t trying to be shrewd at his son´s expense.

“Everything looks to be in order Mr. Malfoy. You´ll simply be officially signing away your rights to the land and money, which, as he´s already disinherited you, isn´t much of a loss. But you know how messy these things can get without additional insurance. For instance, if the next child was female it could complicate matters dreadfully.’

“Yes, yes. I know all that.’ He said impatiently. “So, I´m covered?’

The goblin adjusted the tiny spectacles that were perched on the end of it´s nose imperiously and looked at Draco with an expression that eerily reminded the Slytherin of the Weasel´s older brother who had been a Head boy before graduating from Hogwarts. “Absolutely. If that is all? I´m a very busy goblin.’ Apparently, pompousness was a trait not relegated solely to wizards. Draco let his mouth twist sourly.

“I´m sure you are. And as for your fee?’

The goblin smiled, it´s sharp little teeth gleaming in the light. “Three galleons.’

“What?! Three whole galleons for you to stare at that chicken scratch for two whole hours and then tell me it´s all ‘in order´? That´s ridiculous!’

“Nevertheless, that is the fee and if you want your papers back you´ll pay it. Perhaps in the future you might want to ask for the price before you buy someone´s wares or services.’ Draco snarled and stood up, chucking the coins onto the desk before snatching up the forms.

“Right. Well, a lesson well learned then, isn´t it?’ He´d have to work his fingers to the bone to get those coins back and it wasn´t a very pleasant prospect. “Though I won´t be brining my business back to you, you overgrown garden gnome. And your breath smells horrid too!’ Petty, but very true.

The goblin let it´s mouth fall open in indignation and huffed to itself angrily. Draco left before it could start a tirade and stormed out of the bank in a billow of robes that would have done Snape proud. His footsteps echoed on the polished marble in a way that was very satisfying. “Stupid goblins with their greedy little fingers! Three whole galleons! It´s robbery!’ He muttered to himself. So busy was he that it took him completely by surprise when he ran his shoulder into another wizard. “Watch it!’ He snapped and kept on walking, unaware of the fact that he had almost trampled The Boy Who Lived. Not that it would have meant much to him if he had noticed.

Harry Potter stood in the middle of Gringotts, gawking as Draco Malfoy stormed away muttering about cheating, low down dirty goblins and how was he ever going to earn back that money? He didn´t know what was more disturbing; the fact he found Draco´s little ranting temper tantrum and arm waving almost cute or that Malfoy was actually worrying about the loss of a mere three galleons.

Draco´s eagle owl was a nasty tempered thing with a curved, wickedly sharp beak and the wherewithal to use it. It was actually an Eurasian Eagle Owl and, in Draco´s opinion, was one of the more attractive breeds. His name was Grindylow because he was such an ill tempered beast and he enjoyed taking bites out of unwary house elves and stupid children much to his owner´s amusement. Despite this, the owl was always pleasant to Draco. But that might have been because Draco spoiled it horribly.

“Here you go boy. Nice, fresh, and juicy.’ The field mouse squeaked pitifully, but Draco hadn´t spent that sickle for nothing. Grindylow tore into it hungrily and Draco let him. It would help the owl keep it´s strength up for the upcoming journey. He had signed the papers despite his misgivings, but he really didn´t want Lucius to come and find him when his time was up. Draco´s elegant scrawl adorned the parchment, signing away any chance he ever had at his rightful fortune.

Rightful, that is, in that he´d been raised as the Malfoy heir and if having Lucius and Narcissa for parents didn´t entitle him to a fortune nothing did. He bundled up the papers with a sigh and tied them onto Grindylow´s leg before exiting the Leaky Cauldron with his proud owl perched on his arm. He let the bird take off from his forearm and watched as it winged away silently, quickly swallowed up in the shadows of the night. Draco gazed on as the owl dwindled into a tiny dot before turning back to the warmth and light of the building while all his ties to his former life disappeared into the horizon.

Draco was busy that day; organizing the ingredients when he could and sweeping the floor a few times after careless customers had tracked in dirt. He had been putting away a few vulture beaks and warthog ears when two customers caught his attention. They were arguing quietly amongst themselves which wasn´t exactly unusual. Of course, their brilliant red hair was enough to separate them from other run of the mill customers. Draco gathered his control and walked over, smiling politely.

“Is there anything I can do to help you gentlemen?’ One of the twins jumped, swiveling to look at him. He stared and poked his twin. The other turned around and they simply looked at Draco in a dumbfounded manner. “Do you need something?’ Draco asked again, slightly annoyed at the way they turned to exchange looks of identical amazement.

“Well, what do you know.’

“It´s Malfoy and he´s-’

“-actually working.’

In their usually puzzling fashion they managed to finish the other´s sentences. The Weasley twins were, at least, the best of the lot which admittedly wasn´t saying much. They were supposedly honorary Slytherins according to Pansy who had never yet been wrong about such things. It wasn´t actually that far fetched when one considered the sheer amount of cunning pranks they had pulled on the staff and student body of Hogwarts.

“I do work here.’ Draco acknowledged. “And it´s my job to help the customers. You two look as if you´re having trouble?’ It was phrased as a statement, but the questioning tone left no doubt of the fact he was offering them assistance.

“Well, we were wondering-’

“-If you have anything cheaper than wolfsbane.’

“It´s for a temporary shrinking solution.’

Draco mulled it over, pacing the shelves with the twins trailing behind him. “I´m guessing that the wolfsbane is to get the temporary effect, correct?’ They nodded and Draco wound his way towards another aisle, sifting through the jars. “Here we are. Mandrake leaves. You´ll want to soak them in vinegar for two hours first, mind you. That should work nicely; it´s both cheaper and safer.’

“Really? Where´d you-’

“Manage to come up with that?

“And how do we know that we can trust you?’

“As to the first,’ Draco answered calmly, forcibly keeping his sneer in check. “It´s because I´m brilliant at Potions. As to the second, I value my job far more than few minutes worth of laughter at your expense. If you´re not happy with the mandrake leaves tell Mr. Jigger and he´ll give you a refund. Satisfied?’ Of course, it would come out of his paycheck, but the mandrake leaves would be fine for what the twins intended so Draco wasn´t worried.

“Quite.’

“Yeah, thanks Malfoy.’

“You´re not half bad.’

Which was probably the highest praise he´d ever receive from a Weasley. He rang up their purchases and watched them leave with a smirk. All in all, not a bad day´s work.

The summer lumbered on, each day blurring into the next. Draco´s shelves became organized bit by bit and before he knew it he was tucking away the powder of Zebra hoof at the very back corner of the shop. With that most daunting task finished, he only had to keep the shop neat and help the customers when Stephen Slug or Arsenius Jigger were otherwise occupied. On Thursdays he had to help stock the shelves with ingredients which sometimes required heavy lifting and on Mondays Snape dropped by to check up on him and insult him in a way that was almost fond. Other than that the days were filled with relaxing uniformity. Things had slowed down considerably, but when Stephen´s father Stanley dropped that by that Tuesday they stopped all together.

Stanley Slug was a tall, broad shouldered man with a small paunch and a well trimmed beard. His coloring was dark, but not quite as dark or sallow as Snape´s. He was all brown from his weathered, tanned skin to his hair and eyes and he had a jovial smile for everyone. Draco was summarily given the day off while the family went to catch up. Draco frowned sullenly, but did as he was told all the same. He felt left out and alone. Still, he knew when he wasn´t wanted and he exited the shop after just a bit of loitering, because the warm atmosphere was so nice and he couldn´t quite help it. Eventually he dragged himself out of the shop and stopped by the Leaky Cauldron to grab a handful of change.

He needed to cheer up and some ice cream was just the thing to do it. Smiling to himself at the thought of a well deserved treat, he shucked his over robe and peered at his clothing for a moment. Ever since Lydia had pointed it out, he was more conscious of how he tended to wear formal clothes. Draco, deciding that his outfit was appropriate for work, but not play, changed. And considering the weather, he finally settled on a pair of black slacks and a white dress shirt, but rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and kept it un-tucked and the top two buttons undone. The white shirt was made of a very fine, thin fabric and it clung to his shoulders and upper arms. Not that Draco minded, because that heavy lifting had at least helped out his formerly scrawny physique. Draco didn´t believe he´d ever be brawny, but he could settle for lithely muscular.

Feeling a bit better, Draco made his way towards Florean Fortescue´s Ice Cream Parlor where a few witches were tittering to themselves at a nearby table. A few people had decided to get ice cream, which wasn´t surprising considering what a clear, sunny day it happened to be. A dwarf stomped by, licking at a cone of something with nuts that kept falling off and getting stuck into his beard. Draco smirked at the little man and sauntered towards the counter. “I´d like whatever he´s having.’ He drawled and tipped his head to the old wizard who had just ordered before him. Whatever it was it had about five different colors and it looked delicious.

“Right, then. Here you go.’ A bit terse, but at least he got a smile this time. Draco nodded his thanks to Florean, paid for his treat, and found a small table to perch at and lounged back to watch the witches and wizards go by. Ordinarily he´d be cooped up in the shop and it was nice to be out and about for once. There were a lot of people to watch and Draco took in the variety with a small, satisfied smile. It would help him pass the time.

Several minutes passed by while the Slytherin savored his treat in watchful silence. Draco grimaced as a witch in olive green robes with bright pink lining strode by. “Color blind?’ He absently guessed out loud and was startled when someone snorted in laughter. He turned and blinked in surprise at Potter. He considered insulting the boy as usual for a moment, before deciding against it and turning his face back to the crowd. Potter had seen him at his weakest and it really didn´t encourage anything other than uneasiness and self-loathing so Draco kept to himself.

A few minutes later Florean Fortescue himself exited the shop and approached the Boy Who Lived with a bright smile that made the one Draco had received earlier positively surly. “Here you go Harry, free of charge. With extra fudge, just the way you like it.’ The beaming and brown nosing made Draco feel nauseous and he pointedly turned his back on the two, concentrating fiercely on his ice cream while they conversed. He hated Potter, not because of Potter himself though the Gryffindor could be horribly irritating, but because of how he was treated. Draco, as a Malfoy, had always been whispered about in dark tones. “He´ll end up just like that father of his.’ “He´ll come to no good, I can tell you that.’ And, “He´ll be a Dark Wizard no doubt, and a Death Eater to boot.’ He´d heard them all.

But as a child he had also heard the reverent, awe filled voices praising the mysterious Harry Potter. “He was the boy who lived…’ Even before the words became a title that lost meaning through over use. He could still remember at the age of five, the proud voices of two witches discussing him. “He saved us all, that little blessed boy.’ And all Draco got was angry glances and wary looks, though they were eager enough to suck up to his father. Potter was practically worshipped and he had the things Draco most desperately wanted. Attention, influence, respect, power and love and he never did anything more than lie there as an infant while his mother sacrificed her life to get them.

Draco was working himself up into one of his dour moods, but it was all blown away by the familiar face in the crowd. “Pansy?’ The girl turned her attention away from the piles of shopping bags in her hands and squealed in delight at the sound of his familiar voice. Pansy swiftly made her way towards the outdoor tables of the Ice Cream Parlor and brightened visibly when she finally saw his pale figure.

“Draco! Whatever are you doing here? Oh, love the shirt! Give us a hug.’ Draco rolled his eyes and put on a grimace for show while his friend embraced him in a whirlwind of expensive robes and perfume. “Watch the ice cream or I´ll smack you silly.’ Draco, taking the warning for what it was, (A serious threat) immediately moved the sweet out of the range of her new robes.

“So, out shopping are you? Go on and show it all off, I know you´re dying to.’ He suffered through fifteen minutes of her nattering on about her clothes and the newest styles while she waved about clothes of various colors and textures excitedly. He nodded and let his eyes wander while she chattered at him brightly. He managed to eat a good deal of his ice cream while she blathered on.

She finally wound down and sighed, sitting back with a smile. “Why haven´t you owled me? Letters are meant to be responded to you know. It´s been a week and even you aren´t usually that lax in writing back.’

Draco winced. This was the exact conversation he really didn´t want to have, but there was no use in avoiding it. Pansy would bludgeon him to death with her shopping bags if he didn´t tell her and she did deserve to know about it all. “Well, about that. It´s probably because I´m not living at the Manor anymore. Father threw me out on my tail.’

Pansy sat up in shock. “Oh, Merlin. What happened?!’ She looked so concerned for him, it made his face warm as well as a tiny bit of his heart.

He sat back, licking at his ice cream so he´d have a minute to think through his words. “Well,’ He said slowly. “He found out about my… preferences.’ There, enough to tell her why he´d been disinherited, but discreet enough that no one else eavesdropping would understand. Potter was looking entirely too interested in his summer homework, which meant he was obviously listening in despite his Gryffindor morals. Potter could mouth platitudes all he wanted, but when it really came down to it he broke the rules as well as basic etiquette just as often as Draco himself. Draco had a sneaking suspicion Potter would have made a damn good Slytherin, but kept it to himself lest he be lynched by Snape or his House mates. At any rate, Pansy was smart enough to read between the lines.

Pansy had known he was as bent as a nine bob note for as long as he could remember. She had probably known about it before he did. The first time she saw him at the age of seven he´d refused to play in the mud with Goyle because he hadn´t wanted to get his new robes dirty and instead had spent time clambering up into the laps of various nannies. Draco had never joined in on the various games of tag and chase, though he had occasionally lowered himself to tripping other boys while his counterparts preferred to pull pigtails. Draco suspected she might even have realized it then as she had been a very worldly seven year old due to the fact her thirteen year old sister Daisy often spoke to her like an equal. Unlike Draco´s bigoted father however, she wasn´t bothered by it at all. In fact, it had pleased her because she was head over heels for Snape, but the Potion´s Master wasn´t a proper match at all. Teaching was almost as bad as being a servant in the eyes of the elite, no matter how old the Snape family was. Of course, Snape had no clue that Pansy wanted to bag him, but Draco had no doubt she eventually would. When it came to men the Parkinson women were not to be denied.

At any rate, before he´d been disowned Draco had needed a wife who understood the fact he could never be attracted to her and Pansy needed a husband who would let her take a lover and not resent it deeply. It had been a perfect match, but now it would never work because once Draco was disinherited he was a worse match than Snape himself which sort of defeated the whole purpose. And the likelihood of her finding some other boy who´d let her screw around with the greasy former Death Eater was next to nothing. Draco personally didn´t see the appeal, but it took all types and Pansy put up with so much from him he really felt it better to keep his opinion to himself. Plus, she punched like a boy.

“Oh no. No. What happened? Did he hurt you?’ Draco could accept worry from Pansy much better than he had from Lydia, because it was Pansy and she always worried. About everything at all times. Anyone else and he´d probably snap their heads off. It felt nice though, to be the recipient of it even if it was a common occurrence.

Draco shrugged, not showing how much it touched him that she´d let herself get emotional in public over him. He knew, from his mother, how big a faux pas that was when it came to women of Pansy´s standing. Not that Pansy had ever really followed that particular rule. “Just smacked me around a bit more than usual, not that he does it that much to begin with. Just enough to give me ‘character´.’ He rolled his eyes to demonstrate his beliefs on that particular bit of hogwash most of the older pureblood families believed was the cornerstone of raising a child. “And before you start hyperventilating, I´m not living on the street. I´m staying at the Leaky Cauldron and working at the apothecary to pay for it all. I´ve got a bit saved up from my allowance and birthday money anyway. It´s not much, but I´ll survive.’

“Oh Draco, how awful.’ She cried, as if living in the street was actually preferable in her opinion. “The Leaky Cauldron?! Even the Weasleys have stayed there. You poor thing.’ Finally, she realized what Draco´s disinheritance meant for her and her plans to seduce Snape. “Oh, Morgana. What´s mother going to say when she hears about this? What am I going to do? I can´t marry someone else, they´d never understand!’ Pansy was wringing her hands, shopping bags forgotten.

“Hey, calm down. I´ve been thinking it over, and Boot will make a likely match. He´s a pureblood, fairly wealthy, can trace his lineage back farther than a dozen generations and he fancies his half-sister Silvia, which means even if he won´t like you taking a lover blackmail is always an option.’ He patted Pansy awkwardly on the back when she broke into tears of relief and tried to pretend he didn´t know her, gazing at the other customers so he couldn´t see her blotchy face.

Potter was staring at him in horrified fascination, obviously having overheard everything. Draco stared at him challengingly until the dark haired boy looked away with pink cheeks. Draco went over the previous conversation in his mind, smirking when he realized Potter would think he had told Pansy about Terry Boot so he could be her secret, disreputable lover. A notion so farfetched he almost laughed out loud.

Pansy looked up finally, gathering her composure. She settled one hand on his forearm, smiling gratefully. “Oh, but you´re so sweet sometimes.’ Draco scowled ferociously, insulted to his core.

“Sweet? Sweet?! I resent that! And if you tell anyone I´m sweet I´ll start telling everyone you think Snape´s the sexiest thing since Lockheart.’ Pansy gasped in outrage.

“You, you wouldn´t dare!’

Draco smirked and yanked on one of her perfectly styled curls, ducking the punch she threw at him. “Oh, wouldn´t I? Just try me. No one spreads it around that I´m sweet and walks away unscathed.’

She pursed her lips, looking like she was trying not to smile. “Well, then. I take it back. You´re a mean, nasty, evil, black hearted villain that has never comforted me when I was crying, tutored Crabbe and Goyle so they´d pass Potions, or had a stuffed owl named Hooty.’ Draco blushed, mortified beyond belief and glanced at Potter who was struggling not to snicker. He had only been play fighting with her, but she unknowingly had crossed a line.

Did she not realize they had an audience?! Potter could use that information to taunt him for the rest of his life! He let his voice become icy, the anger he felt poorly hidden beneath the coldness. “I comforted you because I didn´t want you sniveling in public in my company, and as for Crabbe and Goyle it wouldn´t do to have the two dunces fail, would it? And I was six when I had that stuffed owl, so keep your bloody sentimentality to yourself.’

Pansy raised one eyebrow and her voice was painstakingly neutral when she finally spoke. “Are you quite finished pretending that you are your father?’ Draco glanced away, a bit ashamed of himself and then angry at the shame, though the anger was directed at himself. Because that´s what he had done and though Pansy could be shallow at times she didn´t deserve to be treated as if she were worthless or stupid. He had discovered that his worst words, the moments at which he crossed the line from pettiness to true malicious cruelty, were usually when he did what he thought his father would do in the same situation. It had caused him to run off at the mouth to Potter and his friends after Diggory´s death and the last time he had done it he made Hannah Abbot lock herself away in the Hufflepuff dorms for three days straight.

“Yes. I´m quite finished.’

“Good, I saw a shirt you would look wonderful in. Not that the shirt you´re wearing now isn´t lovely, but another couldn´t hurt.’ An obvious peace offering and a silent acceptance of the apology he didn´t know how to offer.

“Alright then. But if it´s purple I´m never letting you buy me clothes again.’ They walked off, mood suddenly light as they bickered like siblings while Potter watched on with bemusement from his little café table. He was obviously straining his solitary little brain cell trying to figure out the dynamics of the two Slytherins. Draco glanced back at the other boy and then grinned to himself, wondering when Potter would realize he had chocolate smeared on the tip of his nose.

When Draco finally crossed that bricked border and walked onto Platform 9 ¾ it was with a sense of homecoming, anticipation, and relief. The trip to the station on the Knight Bus hadn´t been very pleasant, but it was worth it now that he was finally on his way to Hogwarts. He had managed to acquire all his school supplies with minimal fuss and had been delighted when his letter from Hogwarts had included a small, shining silver prefects badge. It was pinned to his robes proudly, gleaming in the afternoon light and between it and his arrogant saunter the first years scattered in his wake. It gave him a surge of satisfaction.

For the first time since his father had thrown him out on his ear he felt like his old self; confident, cock sure, and on top of everything. Even his saunter screamed aristocratic arrogance. They could take him out of the Malfoy family, but they couldn´t take the Malfoy out of him.

He smirked at his fellow Slytherins, sneered at the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs that crossed his path, and paused to wink at his adoring fan girls who cooed over him. A few even fluttered their eyelashes at him. He was gay, but that didn´t mean the attention he garnered from smitten third year girls was unwelcome. Pansy´s little sister Peony feigned a fainting spell and simpered ridiculously up at Draco to mock her less than intelligent contemporaries. Draco was the equivalent of her big brother and she obviously didn´t see the attraction of a boy who had spent most of his childhood changing her skin different colors and setting house elves on her. Her group of teeny-bopper Slytherin groupies sneered at the other fawning girls and then sneaked peeks at Draco from underneath coyly lowered eyelashes when Peony wasn´t looking.

Draco simply winked at her and turned away, grinning at the squeals he had caused. Obviously his Veela blood was good for something. “It isn´t nice to lead them on, Malfoy.’ Zabini said with a wry look. Blaise was handsome with the dark curls he had inherited from his Italian father and the black eyes and tan skin from his gypsy mother. Draco had fancied him for short period of time during fourth year, but he had outgrown the crush when he realized that while Zabini was good looking, there wasn´t any spark to their relationship.

Blaise was nice enough bloke, but he was too mild mannered for Draco´s tastes and he couldn´t steer a broom properly to save his life. Also, while his family was pureblooded, the Zabini family wasn´t really considered aristocratic. Even Potter had better bloodlines, mother not withstanding. After all, it was acceptable to marry a mudblood every tenth generation or so though the Malfoys had forgone the Muggle born for non-humans like Veela and Succubae to keep from inbreeding. At any rate, Zabini was just a good ally and nothing more and Draco liked it that way. What´s more - he didn´t mind that Draco preferred boys, though he did like to tease him about it.

“Oh, it´s harmless. Not like the way you pant after that Chang girl. Why, I don´t know. Merlin knows Potter´s hot enough for her. Don´t really see the attraction myself.’

“Big surprise there, isn´t it?’ Said Blaise with a chummy shove. Draco sneered playfully in response and surveyed the platform akin to the way a general surveys his battlefield. Pansy was no where to be found. And the hulking forms of Crabbe and Goyle, usually easy to spot, weren´t anywhere in sight either. Blaise, seeing his irritation, spoke up. “If you´re wondering where the others are they´ve gone and claimed a compartment for us. I was elected to stand about and wait for you, seeing as how you´re always fashionably late.’

“It´s all a part of my charm. Why don´t you help me with my luggage and then we can go find them, hmm?’

“What do I look like, a house elf?’ Zabini complained, but he helped out cheerfully enough.

“Well, there are those ears of yours.’ Draco murmured with a sideways glance towards the offending body parts. Zabini patted the parts in question self consciously and glared, knowing that they did stick out a bit from his head of unruly curls.

“This from the albino ferret.’ Draco sent a pained look Zabini´s way.

“Don´t remind me. Those Gryffindorks still won´t let that rest.’ Laughing, Zabini shouldered a bag or two and led him onto the train and towards their compartment. Yes, it was good to finally be going home.

“Right, this meeting of Ambitious Slytherins of Hogwarts is in session.’ Draco intoned, leaning back in his seat. Despite the fact he was supposed to be in the prefect´s compartment, holding the first meeting of ASH on the Hogwarts Express was a tradition he refused to break. It had been formerly known as the Ambitious Students of Slytherin, but eventually they had outgrown the vulgar acronym. Plus, Draco didn´t really fancy being the President of Ass. Though his bum was quite nice, if he did say so himself. “So, Pansy. Did you get a chance to update our student profiles?’

Pansy took out a huge portfolio filled with information on each of Hogwarts´ students. As Secretary it was her duty to deal with it as well as any correspondence for those rare times they needed outside help to achieve their goals. The extensive portfolio included a brief genealogy, health information, the latest gossip going around the school about each individual, blackmail material, and their school record. Pansy´s father was on the school board which gave the Slytherin girl access to quite a bit of information on their fellow peers. The rest was easily obtained with some research. Pansy grimaced. “It wasn´t easy, but yes I did. We´ve got quite a few exchange students. The majority are from Beaubaxtons, but there are several from Durmstrang. They´ll probably be sorted into Slytherin. You know what that means.’

“Power shifts and political games. Oh joy.’ Blaise grumbled. Draco only smirked at his Vice-president.

“Like you don´t enjoy it as much as the rest of us. Okay, Pansy. I´ll have to go through it all later. After this we have to go to the Prefect´s compartment, but first we´ve something else to discuss. I´m sure all of you are aware of the fact I´ve been disowned, correct?’

A general murmur of agreement swept through the small area. “Right then. Without my father´s influence to protect me, and by default you, my companions, we´re going to have to stop harassing Potter and his cronies.’

Cries of outrage met this. “What?!’

“You can´t be serious, Draco!’

“If we don´t keep them in check they´ll rule the whole school!’

“How can you suggest we join in on the Potter-love fest? That´s selling out and you know it!’

Draco raised his hand imperiously to halt their chatter and was gratified when they settled down. Pansy looked positively steamed and Crabbe and Goyle were sulking. Blaise was looking thoughtful, though Draco couldn´t tell what was going on in that odd brain of his.

“We can´t afford to alienate ourselves now. My power base is gone and while I am rebuilding it, things are too delicate right now to continue on as if nothing has happened. If I keep up the blatant attacks on Potter no one will hire me after graduation. And I know none of us wants to lick Voldemort´s boots, but you might have to if no one else will accept you because you lacked self control. If we stop now while we´re only sixteen we can just shrug the pranks and arguments off as childish posturing and envy.’ He felt a bitter taste in his mouth. It tasted like defeat, but Draco wasn´t going to bugger up his chances at success in life because he couldn´t keep himself in check. “I´m not suggesting going so far as to suck up to the Wonder Boy, but we will have to tone things down.’

Draco sat back and let them debate it out among themselves. He spent the time reading up on the new students and keeping an ear trained on their discussion. He searched through the portfolio idly, only managing to tag a few students as Slytherins right off. The only one who looked capable of vying for power with Draco and his court was one Gernot Adder. Adder was the son of a Death Eater who had been killed by Aurors during Voldemort´s first rising and was raised by his uncle, who apparently, didn´t have quite all his marbles. He was also an exchange student from Durmstrang which meant he was probably skilled in the Dark Arts and vicious when it came to achieving his ambitions. Definitely someone to keep an eye on. He flipped through the rest of the index, finding nothing else of interest as the others continued their dispute.

Finally, he spoke. “That´s enough for now.’ They quieted, though Crabbe and Goyle were glaring fiercely at each other. “Crabbe.’ The large Slytherin snapped his eyes around. “You´re to find out the atmosphere of the Gryffindors. Goyle, you´ve got Ravenclaws. Blaise, you´re going to check out Hufflepuff House and Pansy you have the honor of keeping me on top of the Slytherin situation and which new students are making a bid for power. Also, do the usual first year records.’

He had assigned the larger Slytherins to Gryffindor and Ravenclaw because those Houses were often arrogant and tended to vastly underestimate the intelligence of Draco´s bookends. The two kept up the painstaking pretence of stupidity even in the Slytherin common room, but it was a handy one. It was surprising what people let slip around those they perceived to be morons. Blaise was a professional at handling Hufflepuffs and even had several contacts that he kept to himself. And Pansy was brilliant when it came to discovering the plots unfolding in the Snake Pit. Each nodded their acceptance, proud to be trusted with these vital tasks.

“I´ll be dealing with the school´s portraits and ghosts.’ Draco had spent a long time cultivating his acquaintances with these two groups, using his most charming demeanor to gain their trust and subsequently quite a lot of information. “Think on the Potter situation, but follow my lead until we have time to discuss it at length.’ Draco looked around, scanning the faces of his friends and fellow Slytherins. “Is there anything else that needs to be addressed?’

Pansy spoke up. “Millicent still wants in on ASH. She was over at the mansion this summer and kept making veiled hints.’

“We´ve gone through this before.’ Blaise said, looking bored. “She´s not one of us. Who knows where her loyalties lie or who she´ll be telling exactly what we´re up to?’ Their group was an odd one, but trust was absolute. It had been necessary for them to band together if they ever wanted to achieve their various ambitions. Several other Slytherin factions had imitated them, but their clubs had never lasted long - too often broken apart by petty bickering, backstabbing, and general selfishness. It was a delicate balance of give or take, but after five years they had a system. Adding another person to their tight knit group would throw everything out of balance.

“Okay, let´s vote then. All for adding Bulkstrode to our little group, say Yay.’ Pansy and Vincent´s voice chimed their affirmative.

“And all for keeping her out?’ Draco added his own voice to that mix. “Alright then. Three against two, Nay wins. It´s better this way. I´m a bit suspicious about her persistence anyway. Asking twice is fine, but three times? Not only does it make me wonder why she wants in badly enough to compromise her dignity, but desperation is not a trait ASH members have.’

Pansy nodded reluctantly and Crabbe sighed his agreement. Everyone knew he was engaged to her and felt obligated to stand up for her. Draco trusted his discretion though, because even Bulstrode hadn´t realized Crabbe´s talent for espionage or his truly gifted skills as an artist. “You guys better join the other prefects before they send out a search party.’ Zabini said, smirking and crossing his arms.

Draco flashed his friends a wicked grin. “Right, this meeting of ASH is dismissed. You two brutes go get yourself some candy, I can hear your stomachs growling from here.’ For all their acting, they really did have a horrible weakness for sweets. Pansy took the silencing charm of the door and the two large Slytherins stood, exchanging looks of long suffering before assuming dull, vacant expressions and lumbering out. “Zabini´s right. We´re running a few minutes behind.’ Pansy proceeded him out of the compartment and they made their way towards the front of the train where their things were located. Aware that their visit with the others was only temporary, they had left their change of clothes and other belongings in the Prefect compartment. Blaise had moved off towards another compartment, probably to chat up some birds.

“Nervous?’ Pansy asked, polishing her own prefects badge. Draco raised one eyebrow and gave her an incredulous look.

“Me, the Prince of Serpents? Never!’ And on that note, they entered the prefect´s car.

They had walked in right as the Head Girl had finished up a lecture and she turned to them, her thin lips pursed in annoyance. “Took you long enough. Here, read over these.’ Draco sneered at the Chang girl, accepting the packets she shoved at him.

“Nice to know our Head Girl is so polite and gracious.’ The sarcasm almost dripped from his words and Pansy smirked her silent agreement. The two Slytherins took their seats in the only empty space left across from Granger and Potter who were glaring as if they wished looks could kill. Roger Davies, the Head Boy and Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, merely shook his head and turned his attention back to where he was chatting with a gaggle of Hufflepuffs, both the sixth and the seventh year prefects.

Draco ignored them and turned his attention to Pansy, conversing with her about the pranks her little sister had attempted to pull on her over the summer. He had been so absorbed in the conversation he was shocked when something big and orange pounced on his lap. “Ack!’ It was the ugliest feline Draco had ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on.

“Crookshanks!’ Granger shouted, her face red with embarrassment. “Get down from there right now.’ The cat turned its back on her after glaring and settled itself more comfortably in Draco´s lap. He tried to push the thing off, but it wouldn´t budge and merely returned when he succeeded in scooting it towards the edge of his lap.

“Granger, get this horrid creature off me! It´s getting fur all over my robes.’

Potter laughed. “You´re such a ponce, Malfoy.’ Draco shot him a withering look.

“Says the boy who spends entirely too much quality time with his broomstick.’ Potter´s ears turned pink, but Draco didn´t have time to savor the victory. “Get this beast off me! Shoo!’ The kneazle-cat hybrid turned to give Draco an imperious look and dug its claws into the Slytherin´s thighs through his robe in warning. Draco winced. “Fine, you ghastly little beast. Just keep your claws to yourself.’ The cat like creature looked offended, but merely began to nudge against his hand as if in a demand to be petted. Feeling put out, Draco petted the cat and was not surprised when it began to purr loudly. He sighed, resigned to his fate as what pretty much amounted as a servant to a fleabag.

“Wow. I can´t believe Crookshanks likes you.’

Draco shot Potter a dark look. “Even if it is the ugliest creature I´ve ever seen it does seem to have exceptionally good taste.’ He sniffed and continued petting the cat, Pansy snickering at him all the while.

“Cats always love you. I don´t get it, you detest them, but they adore you anyway.’ Malfoy merely raised an eyebrow.

“It´s my natural charm.’ Everyone in the vicinity turned to give him incredulous looks. “What?’ Draco huffed indignantly. They didn´t have to look quite so disbelieving. Even when he was being rude he was charismatic and when he was polite, which was admittedly a rare occurrence, he was practically irresistible. “I,’ He said, with painstaking hauteur, “Am going to take a nap. Please keep the inane chatter to a minimum.’ The Slytherin closed his eyes and settled back in his seat, unaware that he was absent mindedly stroking the fur of Granger´s kneazle.

“Draco!’ Pansy´s screech brought him out of slumber and he turned to glare blearily at his fellow prefect. He felt muddled, but naps during the day always did that to him.

“What in Salazar´s name are you shrieking at me for?’ He rubbed his ringing ear and sat up, brushing stray cat hairs from his school robes. He scowled at the ginger hairs still clinging to his black robes and preformed a quick cleaning charm.

Pansy bit her lip and looked up guilty. “You were talking in your sleep again.’ Draco turned to look at the surrounding prefects and saw Granger studying him like he was a puzzle she wanted to solve. Even Potter was looking disappointed that the Slytherin had finally roused himself. Draco turned to his friend and let his voice drop several degrees.

“How many times have I told you that the fact I talk in my sleep is not entertaining!’ He glared daggers at her and she fidgeted. “It´s not some party favor!’

Potter interrupted, ever the hero, to save Pansy any more distress and to divert Draco´s wrath. “I was the one talking to you. Don´t yell at her Malfoy.’

And that was supposed to make him feel better? Merlin knew what Potter had asked him and Draco always spoke truthfully when he was asleep. It made Draco´s panic rise to a whole other level. “And here I thought Gryffindors were morally obligated not to invade the privacy of their fellow students. It´s lovely to know you don´t mind displaying your blatant hypocrisy for all and sundry by rummaging in my subconscious when I´m defenseless. You disgust me Potter.’ Draco hissed the last phrase and stood up in swirl of dark robes. “I´m going to get myself something to eat and Pansy.’ She looked up, her dark eyes defensive. “We will talk about this.’ He swooped out of the compartment with that last ominous phrase and hoped Pansy stewed nervously for the rest of the trip. Stupid bitch.

He did in fact speak with her in the carriages on the way to Hogwarts. She was adamant that nothing too incriminating had been said while Draco had been sleeping.

“Granger asked me to get her cat back for her and you told her to get it yourself. And well, you were still asleep so they asked me what was going on and I told them you did that sometimes.’

“And?’ Draco prompted, slouching down in his seat and grimacing when the carriage bounced over a bump.

“Well, they didn´t believe me. So I told them to go ahead and see for themselves.’ Draco gave her a look and she glared back. “It was harmless, you know that. Anyway, so Granger asked what you thought about the Head Girl and you called her a manipulative bitch who only moped about Diggory for so long to get attention because everyone knew she´d barely known him in the first place. And that she only kept stringing Potter along for the sake of her popularity.’ Pansy laughed. “You should have seen Potter´s face.’

Draco smirked and crossed his arms. He wished he could have. “What else did I blurt out?’

Pansy raised one eyebrow and continued. “Well, then I asked you what you thought about Granger and you called her a Know-it-all who spent entirely too much time with her nose buried in a book. Then you said that she was intelligent and gutsy. So, what´s that about? Fancy a bit of Mudblood love?’

“Shut up Pansy. You know I don´t swing that way.’ He said shortly. He´d secretly respected Granger for her considerable intelligence for some time and was embarrassed she knew it now. “So, anything else? What did I say about Potter?’ That was what he was truly worried about. Merlin knew what Potter would do if he learned that Draco did, in fact, have the tiniest bit of admiration for the pillock.

“I was just getting to that. You called him a speccy git who had horrible taste in clothes even if he did fly like he´d been born on a broom. And then Potter asked you if you were a Death Eater and of course you said no. And something about why would you want to lick the boots of a half-blood nutter anyway? It was rather funny, actually. I woke you up when Potty asked why you´d been disinherited.’

“Well, at least you had the sense to do that. You should have woken me up earlier. Who knows what I could have said? We both know I can´t lie when I´m asleep.’

“I was there the whole time to wake you up if it got out of hand.’ She said, obviously irritated with his paranoia.

“That doesn´t matter!’ Draco practically shouted. Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle merely began to stare off into space or inspect their cuticles while the two prefects hashed it out. Pansy and Draco had spats like these fairly often. It was nothing new. And they were aware trying to play referee just put them in the line of fire from both sides so they kept to themselves. “I could have told them about any number of humiliating things they could have thrown in my face for the rest of my life! Why don´t you drink veritaserum and have them question you, then you´d realize exactly what it´s like! You should never have let them ask so many questions.’ Draco sat back, sulking and kicked the seat across from him half heartedly.

“Sorry Draco. I guess I´d be angry too if I it had been me. I never really thought of it like that. But you have to admit, it is pretty funny what you come out with sometimes. I didn´t mean to upset you.’

He gave her a glare, but relented. “Fine,’ He said sourly. “Just don´t do it again.’ Yeah, because that always worked on Pansy. Right. And he was a Gryffindor.

But, in all honesty it was the best he could do.

Draco took his seat at the Slytherin table gracefully, adjusting his robes so they draped just so while Crabbe and Goyle flanked him on either side. Zabini slid into the seat across from him and Pansy wandered off to socialize with her clique of popular girls. She even deigned to exchange a few words with Brown and Patil from Gryffindor while making her rounds through the chattering crowd of students. Eventually, everyone took their seats and quieted for the Sorting. The Hat cleared it´s throat, the brim moving in it´s usual eerie way as it began to sing.

I may seem old and threadbare

But this hat still has its tricks

I´ve Sorted for some centuries

It´s how I get my kicks

You may be put in Gryffindor

Among the bravest of the brave

Some may live as Hufflepuffs

Who are loyal to the grave

Or in amongst the Ravenclaws

Who delight in finding facts

Then there are sly Slytherins

Those cunning to the max

Don´t worry now, I´ll sort you true

I´ll put you in your proper place

Sorting kids is what I do

With great panache and grace!

And one by one the tiny little first years scrambled up onto the stool and let the Sorting Hat perch on their heads. Draco clapped languidly when the Slytherins were sorted and nodded a polite greeting to the first years. They clustered at the end of the table and huddled together, a few third and fourth years swooping in to give advice and preen over their own knowledge of life at Hogwarts.

“And now for the school song!’ And so they sang, Draco plugging his ears against Crabbe and Goyle´s deep off key renditions and Zabini´s warbling. The horror ended and Draco took his seat with relief. It didn´t last long, though. The Headmaster said his usual bit, prattling on about the rules and then You Know Who which made Longbottom and the first years cower. Lupin was back at Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Draco far preferred the werewolf over that paranoid, prejudiced ex-Auror Mad Eye Moody who had spent all of fifth year breathing down Draco´s neck and calling him a mini-Death Eater.

The speech turned motivational and Draco rolled his eyes, wishing the old man would hurry it up a bit. Finally, after the declarations and comforting lies, Dumbledore scanned the crowd with his twinkling eyes. “I have a few more words before we eat. Fworp, Smeeedle, and Woooga! Now, dig in!’ He clapped his hands and the food arrived, wafting its delicious scent through the candlelit hall.

Draco´s mouth watered and he dug in as ordered, suddenly famished. His bulky bookends piled their plates up to the limits and began shoveling the whole mess into the black holes called their mouths. Draco had tucked away a good portion of food when Zabini finally spoke up. “Hey, guys! I got your orders. Saucy Sorceresses for Crabbe, Playwizard and Wild Witches for Goyle, and Playwitch, Wizards and their Wands, and Boys on Broomsticks for Draco.’ The Slytherins all grinned in anticipation.

Zabini had conned his older brother into buying pornography and Blaise sold it to the school with his Slytherin allies getting a considerable discount. The rest of the Houses bought Blaise´s merchandise eagerly, despite the inflated prices. After all, the law of supply and demand was on his side in a boarding school full of underage, horny teenagers. The elder Zabinini got a 25% cut of the profits, Blaise got 75% and a certain amount of prestige among his peers, and everyone else got porn. It was a win-win situation except for McGonagall who had been searching for the culprit for two years and was almost tearing her hair out in frustration at her inability to discover the porn peddler. Draco himself had been questioned by the Deputy Headmistress extensively, but she had a hard time pinning it on him considering the fact he was, for once, completely innocent.

“Heh. That´s great. Good thing I paid in advance.’ Draco said smugly. His annual payment for the next year´s orders was the best idea he´d had in ages. Now he had a whole year´s worth of wank mags already purchased. It was a especially convenient considering the fact he had limited funds now. “So, tell me Blaise. What´s the weirdest order you´ve gotten lately?’

The other boy laughed and took a sip of pumpkin juice. “There was this one Hufflepuff who asked for Fun with Flobberworms.’

“Eurgh.’ Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco said in unison, shuddering. Just exactly what you didn´t need to hear at the dinner table. But he had asked, damn his mouth anyway.

“Yeah, that´s what I said. And did you know Longbottom has a dominatrix kink?’

Draco felt his eyebrows shoot up and he sneered. “That is seriously disturbing. I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to hear about Longbottom´s sexual kinks. Don´t ever mention it again. Got that?’

“Heehee. Got it.’ Zabini made a sound suspiciously close to a giggle, but Draco ignored it. The other Slytherin always got giddy when school started and the usual steady stream of galleons started flowing into his coffers again.

Eventually, the meal came to an end and Draco stood to escort the first years to the dungeons. The flock of shuffling, nervous children followed him through the labyrinthine halls and Draco paused to show them Snape´s office and the Potions classroom. They ooohed and ahhed at the castle, craning their necks around to peer at the oddities Hogwarts held.

“Look, it´s the ickle firsties! With ickle Drucksy Wucksy herding them along!’ Before Peeves could start in on any rude rhymes, Draco interrupted him.

“Do you really want me to get the Baron? Go bother the Gryffindors.’ Draco said, curling his lip contemptuously, and the poltergeist left quickly, rattling the armor with a stick as he went by and cackling to himself like a hen. Draco, who had an unparalleled acquaintance with the Bloody Baron ever since he´d chatted with him his first night at Hogwarts, had quite a hold over Peeves. It wasn´t unusual for Draco´s things to be left severely alone while other students´ belongings were thrown about with glee.

“Right.’ Draco said, as they reached the innocuous stretch of stone that was the entrance into Slytherin House. “The password is Chimera. Don´t write it down and don´t tell it to anyone. If you forget it, you will be left to freeze outside.’ He cautioned sternly. The stones moved with only a minimum of grinding as soon as he spoke the password, leaving the entrance open. The first years tumbled inside and stumbled to a halt at the sight of Snape lounging in a chair near the fire. The Potions Master´s face was lit up on one side, the other half cast in shadow. The effect was at once both menacing and noble, the curve of his nose reminiscent of an eagle´s beak.

“Sit.’ Snape said shortly and the first years complied immediately, gathering around his feet. Draco was familiar with the speech about Slytherin honor and pride and left Snape to it. Later, the Slytherin Head of House would meet each first year individually and interview them. As usual, Snape´s flair for the dramatics held the children in thrall as he spoke on about the dignity of his House and how to live up to the legacy of Salazar Slytherin. It was a moving speech, but Draco had heard it five times before and quickly made his way towards his old dormitories to collect his magazines from Blaise. He lingered only for a moment with his friends before leaving for his own separate room. After all, being a prefect did have its advantages.

His room was situated between the Potions classroom and the Slytherin dorms. It was located in a passage way that appeared to be a small dead end flanked by two sets of armor. The bare stone wall was similar in appearance to the one that led to the Slytherin common room. “Parseltongue.’ Draco said clearly and the stones rearranged themselves quickly. He entered, the stone flowing back into place behind him and looked around with satisfaction.

His sitting room held a huge desk, a large fire place, several bookshelves, a couch and an armchair. The accommodations were quite luxurious, on par with his old room at Malfoy Manor even. Obviously, this was where he was expected to talk with his fellow Housemates when they had problems or needed advice. It was decorated in green and silver with accents of gold here and there. The bedroom was even nicer with a huge four poster bed and, the rarest of luxuries in the dungeons, a large window seat looking out onto the mountainous landscape nearby. Hogwarts castle was perched on the rugged rise of land and as such even the dungeons were fairly elevated in comparison to where the lake was. The view of the landscape was magnificent and more importantly it let in fresh air. On the downside, Draco would have to go half way across the school to get to the prefect´s bathroom, but he had heard rumors that it was worth walking the distance necessary to use it.

All in all, life was good.

Draco had been required to get up far too early to attend the first prefect meeting, though he had dozed through most of it. His head was muzzy and as usual, he was in a vicious mood before his first cup of coffee. Pansy was slumped in her chair snoozing away while Draco unsuccessfully attempted to get some shut eye as the Head Girl´s voice kept drawing him out of slumber. He wasn´t much of a morning person as Chang soon discovered when he had promptly given the girl a scathing diatribe on ruining her prefects´ sleep cycle when she had scolded him for drifting off.

Snape, who was presiding over this particular meeting, only snorted with amusement and watched him verbally cut her into shreds. He was the only teacher ever up this early (mostly for his delicate potions) so he had been required to attend and had no problem watching the Head girl who had disrupted his morning routine get flayed alive by Draco´s sharp tongue. Potter, usually the first to jump to her defense, was quietly snoring on the table, his cheek pressed flat against the wood and his hair even more wild than usual. Granger had attempted to wake him earlier, but had merely gotten a muttered “S´too early Aunt Petunia.’ for her troubles. She was the only person other than Chang who was more than half awake.

Finch-Fletchy was snoozing with his head on Hannah Abbot´s shoulder. The blonde Hufflepuff was trying to keep her eyes open with difficulty, the lids fluttering down every two minutes to pop back open again. The seventh year prefects were no better, dozing quietly around the room. Davies was blearily propping his head in his hands and letting the Head Girl deal with the meeting she had called despite the early hour. Chang lacked consideration for her fellow students and was far too eager, even for a Ravenclaw. Of course, none of the other prefects had murmured a cross word against the beaming girl. Draco, however, required more than a pretty smile to be appeased. Not that Chang gave a damn, because they disliked each other immensely. The Head Girl still resented the fact he hadn´t stood up in memory of Cedric. And Draco couldn´t stand her lack of personality. “Fine.’ She bit out, glaring at Draco like she wished he would spontaneously combust. “Here are the time tables. The next meeting is on Friday and we´re discussing the new detention schedules.’

“Oh. Do you need charts? I´m good with color coding and I´ve just recently-’

“I´ll do it.’ Chang said abruptly, interrupting Granger mid-sentence with a quick conciliatory smile. And ooh, that wasn´t a wise move. The Ravenclaw Seeker might have been intelligent and popular, but she lacked people skills. She knew how to look cute, but she didn´t understand her peers which was just asking for trouble in Draco´s not so humble opinion.

“Are you finished nattering on or can we go now? I´m sure you, at least, desperately need your beauty sleep.’ It was said with a bland, nonchalance that often cut deeper than his more overtly hostile tones, and it even got a grin out of Granger that she promptly hid with her hand.

Cho shot him a dark look. “Alright. But I expected that you would have more dedication to your position. If you keep this up I´ll have to speak with Dumbledore about your lack of professionalism.’

Snape stood smoothly, giving her a cool look. “Draco´s doing a fine job considering its such an ungodly hour in the morning for a prefects´ meeting. Perhaps you should take your peers into consideration before arranging the next seminar Miss Chang. Such thoughtlessness does not behoove a Head Girl.’ The Ravenclaw flushed, but managed to keep any comments she might have had to herself and they all filed out of the room yawning with the time tables for their Houses tucked under their arms.

The first classes of the year were always the same. The teachers reviewed a bit from the previous year and went on and on (in sometimes mind numbingly boring, exhausting detail) of exactly what they were planning for that term. Thankfully, Snape was the exception to this rule. He didn´t waste time with frivolous preliminaries, but dove right into his syllabus. It was refreshing.

Except of course, when it wasn´t. Draco sneered over at his lab partner, the ever clumsy Longbottom. The best potions student paired up with the worst meant less explosions which was a good thing considering the fact the potions were more advanced and dangerous. It also meant, however, that Draco had to divide half his attention between actually making the potion and keeping Longbottom from blowing them up. Even with this distraction his potions always came out beautifully. Draco seemed to have an instinctive grasp of how the ingredients should be portioned and just what to combine with another ingredient to get the desired effect. It wasn´t an unusual occurrence for Draco to have to improvise something to fix a potion after Longbottom bungled things up. The half wit twit had a memory like a sieve and tended to get flustered about the littlest things which meant even if he knew better he just might accidentally knock a volatile ingredient into the cauldron anyway.

Sometimes he thought Snape had paired them up just so Draco would be challenged in class. It did keep him from finishing up early which meant he couldn´t spend the rest of the class flinging disgusting ingredients at oblivious Gryffindors still concentrating on their cauldrons or sabotaging others´ potions. They´d been paired together ever since last year when Dumbledore had attempted to facilitate a truce between the feuding Houses. Almost all the classes were Slytherin-Gryffindor or Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw this year, just as they were the year before.

Pansy was stuck with Granger who was hogging their workspace while Zabini and Weasley were peering into their cauldron uneasily. The potion was a mild sedative and was supposed to be a dark blue at this stage. Theirs was an off white color with chunks of blue dispersed throughout the liquid. Potter and Goyle were paired up and the Boy Who Lived was almost pulling his hair out in frustration at Goyle´s monosyllabic conversation and unhelpful hints. Crabbe was paired with the pretty Patil girl and was using his superior height in an attempt to peek down her robes to no avail.

Patil didn´t even notice, being too busy shooting death glares at her ex-boyfriend. The Irish Gryffindor was giving her pleading looks while his lab partner, which was Bulstrode, rolled her eyes and measured a bit of bat guano into her cauldron. Snape looked up from the thick book he had been thumbing through and cast a quick glance around the class. “When all of you reach the stage where it is dark blue please take it if off the cauldron to cool and we´ll pick up where we left off next time. And I want a fifteen inch report on the uses and abuses of this potion.’ The groans rang throughout the class from Slytherins and Gryffindors alike. “Make that twenty.’ Snape snapped, with a caustic look at his sullen pupils and Draco took the time to wonder why Potions was his favorite class.

Masochistic tendencies perhaps?

“Er, should I have added in the Catnip Leaves?’ Oh bugger, the potion was turning green. Well, considering the amount of time he was forced to spend baby sitting Longbottom during class and he still hadn´t dropped Potions yet masochistic tendencies were a definite possibility.

Draco finally found the time to make his rounds that Wednesday and slipped out of the dungeons quietly. It was his free period and many students were either in class or outside enjoying the sunny day while he paced dusty corridors. It was a necessary evil though and it was always interesting to see what sort of information turned up.

His first stop was the portrait of Acantha Longbottom, a notoriously flighty girl from Lancashire who had died during childbirth after eloping with the Herbology teacher much to her mother´s adamant disapproval. She was, oddly enough, one of Neville Longbottom´s ancestors and probably his many times great aunt if not grandmother. According to Acantha herself, she had been the most popular girl of her year as well as the prettiest. She was a terrible gossip and many of the other portraits disliked her absent minded and constant chattering. Draco managed to garner quite a bit of information from her, though he hardly saw how Hagrid´s recent marriage to Madame Maxime could be of any interest to him. He might have talked to Violet, but that portrait was such a gossip anything she told him had probably been around the castle twice already so he decided to leave that one severely alone.

His next mark was the Bloody Baron who was always gloomy and morose, but tended to be fairly friendly to Draco on the whole. Apparently, he´d had a torrid affair with one of the Malfoy women back when he was alive (before her father had killed him for deflowering his baby girl) and tended to be fond of the silver haired brats who attended Hogwarts over the years. He particularly liked Draco who, after he´d gotten over the grisly appearance of the ghost, actually conversed with the Baron on a regular basis. The Bloody Baron had revealed a few tidbits including the fact he had overheard Lupin with a mysterious male lover. Intrigued, Draco filed that away before moving on into a more mundane discussion about the Slytherin´s chances at Quidditch. He left thirty minutes later after a heated and enjoyable debate about whether Swivenhodge was preferable to Quidditch. As if any other sport could compare!

Saffie Snape was a querulous old spinster who had taught Arithmancy a few hundred years ago and her portrait hung at an intersection of hallways where an enterprising person could see quite a few things. The professor had a soft spot for Draco who had asked her for help on a few of his more difficult assignments every so often. Saffie loved being useful and showing off her superior knowledge, which Draco had given her ample opportunity to do. It had grated on Draco´s nerves at the time, but it had been worth it considering he now had a contact in the Ravenclaw wing who was discrete, canny, and eerily observant. She had seen Cho Chang snogging Edward Moon just the other afternoon and quite passionately too.

Oh, this would be a lovely way to taunt Potter.

Draco´s spirits fell when he realized he´d have to be careful how he revealed the information now that he couldn´t antagonize Potter quite so much. Maybe he could ‘accidentally´ say something in front of that Brown girl. It would get around school soon enough then. He just couldn´t rub it in Potter´s face. Of course, mentioning it during a prefect meeting could take Chang down a notch or two, which certainly appealed. The Slytherin chatted with the portrait a bit longer before making his way up a few floors and towards a certain turret. Draco spent some time conversing with Gargun and his counterpart Gargunson. The two stone creatures were huge, perched on the edge of a sturdy battlement as they scanned the grounds. Their blunt, homey faces looked out over the parapet and their large ears perked forward attentively. They were a part of the extensive protection of Hogwarts, carved by Rowena Ravenclaw herself some said.

“Yeh, well. We don´t see much around here y´know Draco.’ Gargun had answered when Draco questioned him politely.

Gargunson laughed at the older gargoyle, his rough voice gravely and warm. “Oh, don´ be silly. Jus´ the other night I saw a cloaked figure slip into the Forbidden Forest. You were sleepin´ on the job o´ course. Gettin´ soft in your old age, I guess.’ The two gargoyle´s bickered good naturedly while Draco peered down at the forest line where the Forbidden Forest blended into the Hogwarts grounds. It looked darkly sinister even though it was the afternoon. Someone was going in there voluntarily?

Draco shuddered. He had hated and feared that place fervently ever since he and Potter had seen Voldemort crouched over a dead unicorn during detention their first year. His father had told Draco scary bedtime stories about that place during his childhood and that little scene with the Dark Lord hadn´t helped matters any. Lucius´ stories had caused Draco to end up in the kitchen to beg hot chocolate from the house elves on many a night at all sorts of godforsaken hours when he was little. They had only been tales and Draco knew that, but even though he was sixteen now it had still left an impression on him. He said his farewells and made his way slowly back down, thinking it over. He´d discuss it with the others and see what they thought. And he´d check back next week to see if Gargunson had seen anything else just in case.

The portrait of Hengist of Woodcroft who had founded the Three Broomsticks, or so it was rumored, didn´t have much information besides the fact that Sally-Ann Perks, Queenie Greengrass´ long time crush, was finally breaking up with her steady boyfriend Wayne Hopkins. Apparently he´d been caught snogging another witch in Diagon Alley over the summer and Sally-Ann had finally found out about it. Draco could win himself a nice favor from Greengrass for providing that information which improved his mood considerably. He visited a few other portraits, but it was still early in the year so he heard nothing else of interest which was fine since he´d discovered more than he´d expected anyway.

Deciding it had been quite a productive day, Draco headed back down towards his Arithmancy class with fifteen minutes to spare. His cheerful whistling echoed behind him the whole way there.

“Anyway, Greengrass managed to cough up something quite interesting in return. I´ve got the map somewhere… here it is. The kitchens are right here and all we have to do to get inside is tickle the pear on the portrait.’

“Oh, good. I was wondering how we´d get food now that you´re mother isn´t sending you sweets.’ Zabini commented and there was a moment of awkward silence.

The scratching sound of a quill on paper stopped for a moment as Peony piped up. “Draco, where exactly do I put this number? It´s all so confusing. I hate Arithmancy!’ The Slytherin prefect leaned over and peered at the girl´s paper.

“Try right there, Peony.’ The ASH meeting was going according to schedule, though Pansy had brought her little sister along for a tutoring session in an attempt to hit two bludgers with one bat. Apparently the youngest Parkinson daughter had a block and Pansy was sick and tired of beating her head against it in an effort to help her little sister. She had oh so thoughtfully volunteered Draco for the job. “Now then, Crabbe. What did you find out?’

“Well. Finnigan dumped Patil and told her he just wanted to be friends.’

Pansy snorted derisively. “Oh, is that all you´ve got? That´s old news.’

“It gets better though. He dumped her for Dean Thomas.’ Blaise laughed outright and Draco snickered despite himself.

“So, what do all the Gryffinbores think about it?’

“Eh. Not much at all. Except Weasley´s afraid to shower with him. Thinks he´s so wonderful that Finnigan couldn´t possibly resist.’

“Conceited git, isn´t he?’ Draco murmured. Pansy giggled.

“Who´d want the Weasel anyway? Let me scribble that down in the portfolio. Alright, anything else Crabbe?’

“Here´s the good part. Chang and Potter were snogging on the Quidditch pitch yesterday. Behind the broom shed with tongues and all.’

“Ha! Chang was snogging Moon last Tuesday in Ravenclaw territory. Our Head Girl does get around, doesn´t she?’ Crowed Draco.

“Oooh!’ Peony crooned excitedly, almost bouncing in her seat. “How awful! Are you gonna rub it in Harry Potter´s face?’

Pansy flicked one of her sister´s curls. “Yes, so keep your mouth shut. You should be honored to even witness an ASH meeting. If I hear that you´ve blabbed one little thing I´ll owl mother.’

“You´re no fun.’ The girl whined, but she turned her attention back to her scroll.

Blaise cleared his throat. “Right then. So, who has the honor of spreading this around?’

“I could drop a few hints to Lavender. It´ll be all around the school by lunchtime.’

Draco thought about it for a moment. On one hand, it meant he didn´t get to see Potter´s first reaction. On the other, it couldn´t be connected to him in any way, which was a good thing. “Alright. I suppose that will have to do.’ He glanced at Peony´s paper. “Carry the three.’ He advised before turning back to the meeting. “Right then. Is there anything else we need to discuss?’

Blaise coughed a bit before speaking up. “I´m shagging Tracey Davis. Just so you know.’

“I guess it´s a bloody good thing I´ve got my own room then, isn´t it?’ Draco said smugly.

“Not like you use it.’ Zabini shot back. “So, who do you have your eye on? I hear Finch-Fletchy´s gay. And I suppose he´s not too horribly disfigured. Maybe he´ll consider dating you.’

“Maybe? He´d be bloody lucky to have me, not that I´d touch him with a barge pole. A muggle born Hufflepuff? Eurgh.’ Draco grimaced, sticking out his tongue a bit which made Peony and Pansy giggle in almost exactly the same way.

Greg laughed outright at him. “What about that Ravenclaw you were snogging last year?’

“Stephen Cornfoot? He´s with Lisa Turpin. And he can barely ride a broomstick.’

“Draco!’ Pansy shrieked, covering her sister´s ears. “Do you mind?!’

“I meant literally, not like that! Merlin´s knickers woman, get your mind out of the gutter. I just prefer boys who can fly properly, that´s all.’ He shot Pansy a disgusted look.

“So, Quidditch players, eh? How about Potter? Pansy said you said that he flies like he was born on a broom.’

“Out! Out right now or I´ll transfigure you into owl kibble and feed you to Grindylow! OUT!’ He chased Peony out into the corridor. One of the suits of armor, sensing his anger, stuck out a foot and tried to trip the girl. She simply jumped over the foot and swung around with an evil grin on her face.

“You lurve him! You want to kiss him and snog him and shag him!’ The sing song voice echoed in the corridor, grating on Draco´s nerves. He ignored the hysterical laughter coming from his sitting room. Traitors, all of them!

“Go away you little brat! Shoo! And if I hear one word of this from anyone I´ll tie you to the Quidditch goal posts and leave you there, see if I don´t!’

“You´re no fun, Draco! You´d be perfect for each other! Even Trelawny would agree! Opposites attract you know!’ She called out after him as he turned around. He snarled and ignored her giggling as he stormed back into his room.

The stones moved to close behind him and he let himself sprawl in his armchair. “I am going to kill your sister.’ Draco declared theatrically. “I hope your parents won´t mind.’

“You will not. Besides, she thinks of you as her brother. Why else would she tease you like that?’ Draco sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Just what I need; a younger sister. Wonderful.’

“So, Potter, huh?’ Draco groaned and buried his head underneath a decorative throw pillow, wondering if he could just suffocate himself.

“You´re next Crabbe. You hear me?’ He said, his voice muffled.

Of course, Goyle had to put in his two knuts too. “Aw, it´s alright. It all sort of makes sense now. I mean, for you arguing is practically foreplay and you´ve been at it with Potter for about five years, yeah? No wonder you´re always so sexually frustrated.’

“This meeting of ASH is dismissed! Get your sorry arses out of my room before I hex you all into oblivion! Potter, indeed. I´d rather snog a dementor.’

“I think he doth protest too much.’ Zabini whispered to Pansy, causing more laughter.

Draco watched them troop out merrily and glared at their backs. “Potter? Hah! I´d have to be