Authour's Notes: Well, it had to be done, I suppose. Every other authour in the fandom does it, so I suppose this is my tribute to the 'establishment' *rolls eyes* In this chapter, and hopefully, only this chapter, you'll find references and lines that are flat out stolen from a television show and a film. The Mr Floppy line comes from the wildly funny Manchild. I love ASH and Nigel Havers to bits. They may be older, but they are dead sexy. And the snippet 'bring a friend' refers to a line spouted by yet another dead sexy man: Alan Rickman. *sighs like a schoolgirl and sings 'oh Alan, how I love thee so. Wouldst thou consent to be my sex toy and read poetry in bed . . .'* It's from Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. I thought it fit Draco's character and the scene brought to mind the (brilliant and naughty) arrogance of the Sheriff.
Since I generally take pride in writing my own (admittedly crappy) dialogue, this will hopefully never happen again. There are some lines that are so deeply ingrained in me from other fandoms that it usually snaps me out of a fic I'm reading if it's not that fandom. 'Hands in new places' instantly comes to mind as being overused in this fandom and borrowed from the Buffyverse.
And several of your referenced the mystery in your reviews. My dears, there are several mysteries yet to unfold. Some of them connected to others, some of them not.
Ron is really growing to be one of my favourite characters to write. In chapter twenty four, I hope to make you all get a bit misty, but in a good way, so look forward to that.
Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part,
Nay, I have done: you get no more of me,
And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,
That thus so cleanly, I myself can free.
~ Idea (Sonnet LXI) - Michael Drayton
He had finally done it.
Draco sauntered into the Great Hall that morning extremely pleased with himself. He had given the little cow plenty of time for grief after Hagrid's death, almost a week, before he sprang it on her a few hours before breakfast.
After all, it was the polite thing to do.
He glanced over at the Gryffindor table to see the littlest Weasley staring back at him wistfully. She seemed to be taking the news well. At least she wasn't crying anymore.
Granger was glaring daggers at him and he returned her gaze with a smirk and a wave. Potter didn't seem to be paying attention to anything, and Brother Weasley was sitting at the far end of the table, picking at his bacon and eggs.
Draco smiled to himself and started piling his plate with food. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and he was determined to enjoy it to the utmost.
He knew that none of the Slytherin girls were interested in him anymore, but that was all right. He was more than willing to open the channels for inter-house communications.
From the corner of his eye, he could see Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle shoving black pudding in their enormous gobs. It would only be a moment more before-
Crack!
Draco smiled broadly and began to eat in earnest as he watched three of his housemates, the same ones who had been stupid enough to pummel him last week, turn into little yellow canaries and hop about on the benches. Perhaps some good had come of shagging the Weasley girl after all. Juvenile, yes. Effective? Most definitely.
Pansy, at the end of the table, gave a shriek as her cat mysteriously appeared from out of nowhere and began to chase the birds across the table. Naturally they couldn't fly since they weren't really birds, although they could climb remarkably well, and the cat came very close to eating the three canaries until Snape swooped down from the staff table like a ginormous bat to stop the madness. Draco sighed and savagely impaled a sausage in a fit of pique. Foiled again.
"What is this?" Snape asked, holding up a small bit of innocuous looking chocolate by two fingers as if it were the dirtiest of Mudbloods.
Draco laughed along with the rest of his housemates until Snape silenced them with a sneer.
"I recognise this, and the effects. The Weasley twins fed Longbottom one once while they were still here." He glanced around the table and then came to Draco. "I wonder who could possibly have procured this from them," Snape drawled accusingly.
Draco gave him the most innocent look he could muster and shrugged his shoulders. "Everyone knows that the Gryffindors loathe us, Professor. Perhaps it was one of them."
Snape squinted at him, and then let his gaze sweep the rest of Slytherin house. "Very well," he growled. "I suppose I must take this matter up with Professor McGonagall. Ten points to Slytherin for Mr Malfoy's suggestion."
Draco's housemates clapped politely and went back to their meals while Professor Snape gathered Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle in his hands and shoved them into a pocket of his cloak. Draco thought it was too bad that he wouldn't be around to see them burst through the man's cloak in a moment.
Pansy's cat was still mewling plaintively, and Draco gave it a sausage for compensation. It would have to do without a feathered meal today.
Down the table, Pansy glared at him. She knew what he had tried to use her cat for. Draco returned her glare the same as he had for Granger: with a smirk and a wave. He wasn't done with her yet, but he'd let her sink into security before he blasted her right proper. It had to be something appropriate, something Slytherin. Something that could not be connected back to him.
Breakfast went swimmingly after the canary incident, and Draco soon found himself strolling through Hogsmeade in a fine mood, feeling more like himself than he had in months. Things seemed to be even brighter when he spotted a luscious-looking Hufflepuff standing outside of the Three Broomsticks with her friends.
Hufflepuff girls were so easy, and so hard working.
Draco put on his most charming smile and straightened his clothes before swaggering over to meet her. If he had to sing for his supper, so be it.
"I'm Draco Malfoy," he stated smoothly. As if anyone didn't know who he was.
The girls clustered around him tittered and whispered amongst themselves. His prey stepped away from her friends and appraised him shyly. She was a pretty thing: brunette, tall, blue-eyed, and nothing like- Just what he needed.
Perfect.
"I've always wanted to talk to you," she whispered, boldly looking into his eyes.
"And so you are." He reminded her. Draco studied her form. It wasn't bad, a little too thin, but good enough for his purposes. "Say, why don't you meet me behind Honeyduke's in about five minutes and we can have a . . ." Draco smiled as the girl blushed. "Conversation."
Her round blue eyes widened considerably and she glanced over his shoulder. "I thought that you were with-"
Draco shook his head and forced himself to smile again. He was beginning to get annoyed, and his face hurt from all the smiling. "Of course not. I never was. I don't know how that rumour started in the first place."
The girl grinned knowingly and looked over at her friends, who were still cackling like mad magpies. "I suppose I could meet you behind Honeyduke's."
"Splendid," Draco said. He turned dramatically, allowing his cloak to flare out behind him before stopping to look back over his shoulder as an interesting thought occurred to him. "Bring a friend."
The girl raised her eyebrows and shrugged. Clearly she wasn't adverse to the idea. Draco made his way toward Honeyduke's and leaned up against the back of the old stone building, waiting for his playmates to arrive.
It didn't even take them five minutes.
"Ooh, Tilda, I thought you were joking," a new girl squealed as she walked up to Draco with the girl who was supposed to meet him.
"I told you, Mandy. It's Draco Malfoy."
The two whispered together for a moment before glancing at Draco and grinning widely. Tilda cleared her throat and addressed him.
"We've decided to give you a treat as a sort of 'welcome back to dating' present," she said very seriously as she walked up to him and unclasped his cloak.
Draco raised an eyebrow and Mandy flushed. Who said anything about dating? "Yes, welcome back to dating, Dray-co."
He repressed the urge to scream. He hated it when people drew his name out like that. It reminded him of Pansy's fumbling attempts to corner his affection and Gin- Weasley's teasing.
"Right," Tilda said. "Let's take you for a test drive."
What the hell was a test drive? Was she a Muggle-born? Then again, did it really matter right now? He wasn't marrying the girl.
Mandy knelt in front of him and unbuttoned his trousers, pulling them down roughly along with his pants. Draco winced. The girl looked disappointed when she realised he wasn't standing to attention yet.
"Well, hello, Mr Floppy. Why such a soggy face? What's say we perk you up a bit," Tilda said as she grasped his shaft in her cold fingers.
Draco barely muffled a protest. Mandy was making good use of her mouth while Tilda manhandled his bits and pieces so it wasn't all bad. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. Well, it was an interesting sensation, but it was really doing nothing for him. These girls didn't know what the hell they were doing.
Mandy took her mouth off of him and sat back. Tilda let go of him as well and they shared a glance.
"Is there something wrong with it?" Mandy asked him, her button-like eyes glinting blankly.
Draco sighed and pushed her out of the way so he could pull his pants and trousers up. "No, there isn't anything wrong with it."
Tilda's eyebrows drew together in a scowl. "This isn't one of those things where you'll say 'it isn't you, it's me,' is it?"
"No," Draco shook his head and buttoned his trousers angrily. He picked his cloak up from the ground and settled it over his shoulders as he walked away, still speaking.
"It is you."
*~*~*~*~*~*
Harry tapped his fingers nervously on his table inside of The Three Broomsticks. He had asked Hermione to meet him and she was late. Harry knew that Ginny was still upset over Malfoy, so he suspected that had something to do with it.
The nerve of that ferret!
Hagrid wasn't even cold in his grave, it had barely been a week, and the arsehole dumps Ginny. Couldn't he have waited? Harry frowned and drummed his fingers a little harder out of frustration. He supposed that it would have only made it worse, but really, did it have to be now!
Harry frowned. He was being selfish and he knew it, but there was too much going on now to humour Ginny and Malfoy's dramatics any longer. He didn't even have time to sort things out with Ron. Harry rubbed his hands up his face and scratched his scalp.
Bugger.
Someone tapped Harry on the shoulder and he jumped. Looking behind him, he saw that it was Hermione. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and pushed a stool at her.
"Sit down," he said gruffly and without preamble. He'd been waiting to talk to her all week and they needed to work something out before the day was over. They didn't have much time for pleasantries.
"You seem awfully short today, Harry. Is something the matter?" Hermione asked as she opened the menu and browsed it absently. She had brought Crookshanks along and the cat scrambled up into her lap and began to purr, nuzzling her fingers and bumping her hand aggressively.
Harry scratched his nose. "Sorry, Hermione. I know I should be nicer, especially considering that I've hardly seen you all week, but- well, something important has come to my attention and I'm feeling a bit hedged."
Hermione paused from her perusal of the menu and flicked a startled glance at him before asking for a Butterbeer. The drink appeared and she took a dainty sip before clearing her throat and giving Harry her full attention.
"Now, what exactly did you discover?" she asked matter-of-factly, folding her fingers together.
Harry noticed that her hands were shaking on the table and she was trying desperately to keep them still, her knuckles white from the strain.
"Here, I want you to read these." Harry handed her the dirty scraps of parchment and tried to ignore how she instantly relaxed. "I found the first note on Fang's collar and the second behind Hagrid's cabin."
"What is it?"
"Just read them," Harry insisted, taking a tentative sip at his Butterbeer and pulling a face. He would have preferred something much stronger. Perhaps he could take Madame Rosmerta aside while Hermione wasn't looking and ask her to spike his-
"Oh, Harry!"
He flinched and looked at Hermione with wide eyes. Had she read his mind or something? Oh, no, it was just the note; it had upset her. Harry's breathing unhitched and slowed back to normal.
"I suspect that Hagrid didn't die fighting a troll in the forest, Hermione," Harry whispered to her in tones that wouldn't carry past their table. All the same, he glanced around the pub nervously.
Tears came to Hermione's eyes and she flicked them away angrily. "What does this mean, Harry? Why didn't Hagrid trust Dumbledore to help him? And what about Snape; what's in that box?"
Harry shrugged, took another sip of his Butterbeer, and winced. He called Madame Rosmerta over to the table.
"Yes?" she asked, draping a towel over her shoulder and swinging back her long, dark hair.
"Erm," Harry glanced at Hermione, but she was looking the note over again. No doubt for a shred of evidence she had missed. At times like these, Harry blessed her for her thoroughness. "This Butterbeer is flat. Could you bring me another?"
Madame Rosmerta lifted his mug and was about to take it off to get some fresh when Harry stopped her. He glanced at Hermione again but she was still distracted. Crookshanks sat on her shoulder now and, if Harry didn't know better, he would swear that the cat was reading Hagrid's notes.
"Could you possibly liven it up a little for me?" Harry whispered to the woman plaintively, trying to ignore how Crookshanks' ears automatically twisted in his direction. "I'm having a rotten day and it's awfully cold outside. I could use the heat."
She looked out the window at the budding trees and green grass of spring breaking through the slushy snow and winked. "I'll see what I can do, Harry."
Harry gave her his most winning smile before settling down to arrest Hermione's interest from the parchments. "Well, are you up for another adventure?"
Hermione gazed at him, her face plainly saying that she wasn't enjoying this. "I suppose that I could drop what I'm working on now to look for any spells or charms which could help us get into his office undetected. We just need to act like nothing is wrong; pretend that we are normal and treat Dumbledore and Snape the same as we always do."
She'd read his mind. Like always. Harry wondered why he even bothered with opening his mouth. Hermione already knew what he was going to say anyway.
"Brill," Harry said. His Butterbeer popped up out of the table and he smiled appreciatively when the heat of the spiked brew scalded his throat and brought a sweat to his brow.
It was nice to have a purpose again.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Clack-clack-clack.
Ron groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he walked down to the dungeons. Another detention today with Snape and he hadn't been allowed to go to Hogsmeade. Now he seemed to have another stalker on top of all that.
Bloody marvellous.
Ron turned to confront the person who was making such a racket and they nearly bumped into him. What did he do to the Slytherins to make them hate him so much? Oh right, he'd killed Voldemort.
"Piss off, Parkinson," Ron muttered and continued shuffling toward the Potions classroom for his lovely evening with Snape, completely ignoring the girl.
"I've come to kill you, Weasley," she stated simply.
Ron glanced at her over his shoulder when he heard the hiss of a knife being pulled from its sheath. Bloody hell, he didn't need this.
"And what did I do today? Breathe?"
She narrowed her eyes and came closer. Clack-clack. "I've a job to do and you're it. You killed the Dark Lord, and my father-"
"Yeah, yeah, your father's in Azkaban. I heard this already, Parkinson." Ron rolled his eyes. It wasn't like she could do anything but threaten him unless she wanted to go to Azkaban herself. He started walking again.
"I'm not done with you yet, Weasley!" she screeched. "I want to see your face when I twist this in your guts."
"Why don't you take that knife and sho-"
"Aw, what's the matter, Pansy?" a new voice broke in. "Is Blaise ignoring you, too? You could always call on Crabbe or Goyle to satisfy those animalistic urges, you know. You don't have to stoop to crawling after Lord Weasley . . ."
Ron recognised the voice. It belonged to the slimy toadstool that hurt his sister earlier that morning. And he still hadn't gotten his licks for touching Ginny in the first place.
"Malfoy," Ron ground out and turned to face the Slytherin who was lounging casually against the wall, waiting for one of them to make a move. Draco looked ill and exhausted, with dark smudges under his eyes. He also didn't seem as tall or menacing as Ron remembered Malfoy to be. Honestly, he looked rather pathetic, but Ron had no sympathy for him.
"Weasley," Draco returned, coolly glancing between Pansy and Ron. "So, have you decided to expand your conquests to Slytherin house?" he asked in a falsely cheerful tone. "You'll find the pickings slim, I'm afraid."
Ron tensed and glanced at Pansy. She was glaring at her housemate so hard that if looks could kill, Malfoy would be six feet under. Maybe things weren't going so well for Malfoy with Pansy and it could be used to his benefit. Ron managed to catch her eye and indicated the blonde boy with a slight inclination of his head. Pansy narrowed her eyes and looked between the two for a moment before nodding hesitantly.
It was probably one of the first real truces between Gryffindor and Slytherin in over one hundred years, however temporary.
Pansy drew her wand the same time Ron did and they shouted curses at Draco together.
"Poxis!"
"Incendio!"
Large spots suddenly covered Draco's skin and flames burst on his robes. He jumped around, trying to put out the fire. Draco didn't even notice the nasty disease he had been cursed with.
Ron turned away from Malfoy batting at his chest with a smirk and glanced at Pansy. Her mouth curled up smugly at the ends, and she seemed to enjoy watching Draco squirm and shout. Pansy's eyes reflected the fire like chips of glass, which was quite disturbing to Ron.
"What was that you did to him?" Ron asked curiously, scratching his head. He remembered that she had attempted to cast the same hex on him once but, thankfully, it had been a rubber wand she'd used.
"It's some Muggle illness." Pansy giggled. The laugh seemed genuine and rich, bubbling out of her. "From what I understand, the spots itch like mad and-" She stopped short and stared at him from across the corridor. Something close to fear crossed Pansy's face and she started to tremble.
Ron furrowed his brow. "Don't get all flustered. You can always kill me tomorrow, Parkinson," he assured in a condescending tone. "Just not right now. Snape has that pleasure this evening, and I'm afraid he's a rather greedy sort."
"Professor Snape," she murmured, looking down at her knife and then at Draco, who was slumped on the ground and digging at the spots on his arms furiously. "Of course, but he isn't expecting you-" Pansy bit her lip. "I'm supposed to- He'll be so angry-"
Ron narrowed his eyes and stepped toward her. Something odd was going on, other than the obvious lunacy of actually being civil to a Slytherin. "What are you supposed to do?"
Pansy looked up, her wide blue eyes startled. "Nothing," she managed to sneer, but it was weak. "Get out of my sight, Weasley."
"Gladly."
Ron stopped to stare at Draco, who was scratching at his neck now. "Don't touch my sister again, Malfoy. You'll get worse next time."
Then he walked away, feeling slightly better than before and humming a tune he'd heard on the Wireless that afternoon. Ron didn't notice the calculated, menacing look Draco was aiming at him and Pansy.