Pandora's Box

Chapter Two - The Hogwarts Expressive

It was what Draco called The Tingling - a prickling sensation starting from his pinking cheeks and down his arms, the sensations finally correlating in his stomach, churning like a whirlpool. The first time he had felt The Tingling, he was eight, and he had burst into tears and buried himself under the covers of his large bed, screaming to his parents that he was feeling sick and needed medicine or he would die.

Of course he was not actually sick. And it was terribly addictive, this feeling, the tingling sensation.

So after the first time, he went back again - into his parents' room, then into his mother's adjoining parlour, then to her make-up dresser. Upon it, next to the mirror was her perfumes, then in the top drawer was her foundation, and rouge, then in the second drawer was her eye-shadow and eyeliner, then the next drawer was lipstick and so on. Across the room the wardrobe took up the whole wall like a curtained stage, ready to show its rich costumes.

He dressed in her pretty dresses, way too large for him, and then he got into her brightly coloured high-heels. But his favourite part was the make-up: the eye-shadow was spread across his eyes, his movements sloppy with his inexperience. The lipstick went on last, always last. It was the finishing touch.

And then he got a cloth from the bathroom and wiped it all off. He was careful to put the dress and shoes back just the way they had been before they were removed. But the true damage had been done - The Tingling was there, all over his body, crawling under his skin and pooling in his groin.

His father, Lucius, had many parties. They were held downstairs in the Ball Room, far away from upstairs West Wing where Draco's parents' room was. The children of the partying adults always had fun exploring Malfoy Manor; their favourite game was hide-and-seek because there were so many rooms to hide in. Draco's best friend was Pansy on those nights, because they would break away from the other children and sneak into Narcissa's parlour and play dress-up. They would stare at themselves in the mirrors, thinking that they were beautiful, that this was the way they would look when they grew up.

"I want to be just like Mummy," Draco had told Pansy.

"But you're a boy," said Pansy, confused. She leaned forward and gave him a kiss.

The last time Draco had felt The Tingling, he was eleven.

Narcissa Malfoy had a sister that she only saw on the days Lucius was abroad in another country far, far away. She had made Draco promise over and over: Don't tell your father Auntie Eda was here. Promise me you won't tell Daddy your auntie was here. And that automatically meant Draco could not mention his cousin Dora, either.

It was one of those early spring nights. Nanny Elladora was there visiting, with Auntie Eda and Uncle Tonks and their daughter Dora. Nanny Elladora was a stuck up woman who looked down her pointed nose at Draco's youth. Everything about her was straight: her arms were like crispy sticks protruding from her straight shoulders that sat on a stick-thin body. Her hair was black and straight, her clothes were black and straight, and her eyes were black and piercing. Her nostrils flared in irritation, and that was about the only emotion she showed. While Narcissa seemed somewhat intimidated by her mother, Eda always seemed happy. She was a jolly woman with a large bosom and brown hair that sprung from her head in ringlets. All Draco could remember about Uncle Tonks was that he was bald and wore glasses. Uncle Tonks did not talk much.

Dora Tonks was older than Draco and was at the age when she was just getting interested in boys and disinterested in kids games. In one last goodbye to her childhood, Dora let Draco sneak them into the parlour, and Dora had fun dressing him up like one of her long-forgotten dolls. She was a lot neater than Draco at putting the lipstick on, and she too decided, after some hesitation, to dress herself up in "Auntie Cissa's" things. Draco saw his essence twice: in the mirror, and in himself. The Tingling was back full throttle, and he was a little embarrassed by it in front of his older, cooler cousin.

Dora screwed up her face, then, and suddenly Draco was seeing himself in women's clothing four times over: himself, the mirror, then reflected in Dora's morphed form, and then her mirror reflection again. It was repeated and repeated and it hit Draco over and over: this is me; this is who I am! Like from a distant land he looked to the reflections and took in his curse like a breath of air. The sound of violins were heard in his head, the beat of the drums was coming ever closer, faster and faster, and when he pressed fingers to his lips the red lipstick smudged, and there, just there, the soundtrack to his inner self came to a climax, beating into his groin… The Tingling ended, morphing into his very first stiffy.

Draco would never forget the sound to end all revelations. It was piercing scream like no other - and when a young boy in drag talks of pierced screaming, you know he knew exactly what it was like. It was like something he could not describe no matter how hard he tried. Like a warrior on his last war cry; like a cat's back legs had just been crushed by a passing car and it felt every pinch of pain; like the gods had finally come up from their heavenly slumber and looked upon the world and it was the exact opposite of what they had originally created; like… like…

Like an eleven-year-old's extremely strict grandmother had just come into the room and had seen not one, but two Draco Malfoys dressed in drag. Plus their reflections.

Nanny Elladora screamed and screamed, falling to her knees. Her arms and hands fluttered to her chest, convulsing like a dieing spider's. Finally her shriek broke into little pieces like sharp, shattered glass as she coughed, wheezed, mewled like a wounded animal.

She fell face first onto the carpet with a thud. Draco would never, ever forget it.

The three other adults burst into the room and in a split second there was chaos. "Mummy!" Narcissa was screaming, shaking Nanny Elladora. "Dora!" Auntie Eda was shouting at the children. "Which one are you?"

Dora's face screwed up then, as if to change back, but instead she burst into tears. "Mummy!" she screamed. But Draco at this point was getting very little attention. "Mummy!" he also screamed, and Narcissa lifted her head from her own mother to look at the children, her eyes flicking back and forth between them, looking but unseeing. Neither Narcissa nor Andromeda could tell their children apart. Uncle Tonks bent down to close Nanny's eyes and mouth, and cross her arms over her chest, but then Narcissa was back by her mother's side and was screaming at Uncle Tonks: "Don't touch her! Don't you dare touch her!"

Eventually Dora had gathered enough concentration to turn her eyes blue instead of grey, and that was enough for the adults to tell which child was whose. It turned out that Nanny Elladora had had a heart attack. She was the last of the Blacks of her generation; her sister was dead, her husband was dead, her brother-in-law was dead, and so were all the Blacks of the previous generation too. Narcissa cried and cried so much for her mother's death that she forgot to punish her son for wearing her clothes. Instead she held onto him, rocking them there on the floor, Draco's make-up making splotchy circles of colour on her gown.

It was just one of those childhood memories a boy never forgets. Sometimes Draco would play the scenes over and over in his head in quick succession, like now when he was entering Platform Nine And Three Quarters. The remembrance of The Tingling gave him a calm, meditative effect, because he was seventeen now, not a little boy, and he knew he would never feel its pleasurably evil effects ever again.

One hand held his wand, which was floating his trunk. With his other hand he waved to Crabbe and Goyle, who were down the platform. His mother gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek and said rapid goodbyes before she was off. The platform was crowded with reunited friends and parting families. Crabbe and Goyle, now muscly in their early adulthood, pushed them all aside to get to Draco.

"Crabbe, Goyle," Draco greeted mildly. They had seen each other often during the holidays, and needed no big hellos.

They flanked him, and together they walked towards the train. "I think you've got a few admirers, Draco," said Greg disinterestedly.

Draco's eyes widened as he looked around. Indeed, there were many girls eyeing him openly, sighing and swooning and other such carry-on as they laid eyes on him. "Oh bother," Draco whispered, "it must be that Veela attraction thingy." He grabbed onto Crabbe's bulky arm - which was about as thick as Draco's waist - in distress.

"You-hoooo!" Pansy waved over the crowd a few metres away. She pushed forward.

"Oh god, noooo!" Draco wailed, holding onto Crabbe even tighter.

When Pansy got to them, she rolled her eyes. "Nice to see you too, Lil' Drakey-poo," she teased, flicking him on the forehead. "I drank that potion your mother gave me, remember? I am completely warded from your 'magnetic attraction'."

Draco sighed in relief and clutched his chest dramatically, blinking rapidly as if to catch himself out of a swoon. "Oh thank Merlin! Now what are we going to do about all the girls?" They looked around; a few girls were coming forward. Draco gave Pansy a panicked look. "Run! Run for your life! Forget the dog, and the cat! Just grab your Calvin Klein perfume get the hell outta there, Apollo!"

Pansy laughed, pushing Draco onto the train. Crabbe and Goyle followed with the four friends' trunks. As they got themselves into a compartment, Pansy said, "Want to hear some gossip?"

"Gossiping already, Pansy? Tut tut." The two large boys pushed the trunks under the seats and joined Draco and Pansy. They all sat down.

"Two words," said Pansy. "Daphne, blue."

Draco groaned emphatically. Daphne Greengrass dyed her hair a different colour every term as some sort of statement only she knew.

Pansy was nodding. "Turns out she's going out with Michael Corner and is showing a bit of Ravenclaw loyalty. I swear, Draco, that boy has worked himself through every girl he lays eyes on, myself included. Gosh, that was a bad four hours if I do say so myself."

Draco grinned. "Okay Pansy, as much as I love to hear about your sexcapades, I think you have yet to notice a little something special about me."

"Yeah yeah, you're a Veela, big whoop."

"No, Pan, look closer."

Just then, three more seventh year Slytherins came in to the compartment. First was Blaise Zabini, a tall, dark fellow who spent all his time caressing his guitar as if it held all the pleasure in the world; second was Millicent Bulstrode, a 'big-boned' girl who read lots of wizarding rock magazines; and then came Theodore Nott, a boy with long black hair that veiled his face, who liked to write angsty poetry and song-lyrics. The three of them were considered Goths; a word used to describe society-hating kids who wore black and thick silver jewellery. They were so non-conformist of society, they conformed to their own set of even tighter rules.

"Hey wow Malfoy," Millicent drawled, seeming to Draco overly-bored, "you're Head Boy."

Draco beamed at her and puffed out his chest. "Oh yeah," said Pansy, "congratulations!"

"Thank you Pansy," he sniffed.

Pansy pulled out a lolly-pop from per pocket. Pansy liked sucking things; it may have been from some sort of repressed oral fixation, Draco speculated. "So who's Head Girl?"

The train jolted and started to roll away. Draco crossed one leg over the other and sneered. "Granger the Mudblood, who gets an orgasm every time she sees a book."

Pansy giggled a little. She was polite enough to laugh at Draco's jokes, but she had known him so long that his humour ceased to be all that funny. Draco silently gave her House points for trying. "Well, that's a surprise," she said sarcastically.

"I should probably go," said Draco reluctantly, "and brief the little prefects."

Pansy waved him away. "Then go, I'll be alright." She gave Greg a sexy smile. "I might take a nap on Goyle's lap, if he'll let me."

"That's reminds me," said Draco happily as he got up. "I get my own room!"

She gaped at him. "You little bitch! Who's my bestest friend in the whole world and will let me borrow his bedroom for that special occasion when I have a man trailing after me like a good little puppy."

He gave her a pitying look. "I'll think about it." He pivoted and sauntered out the compartment.

Granger was waiting for him outside the Prefects' Compartment door, her arms crossed over her clipboard. She glared at him. "I can't even begin to believe you've been chosen for Head Boy!"

Draco sneered at her and put his hands in the pockets of his white trousers. "Well believe it, Granger, because I refuse to hear more of your whining than is strictly necessary."

"Well anyway," she sniffed, tossing her curly brown hair over her shoulders, "you're late."

"So sue me," Draco drawled slowly as he reached past her and pulled open the door.

She suddenly put a hand on his shoulder. He let out an annoyed breath and when he finally looked at her, what he saw made him take a step back.

Granger was looking at him very strangely, almost as if she… she was seeing him in a new light and wanted to kiss him.

Draco took another step back.

"Did you know I've been made Head Girl?" she said quickly.

"Um, yes?" said Draco incredulously.

"And," she plummeted on, "I'm actually pure-blooded, but I'm pretending to be Muggle-born because I am on a deadly mission from Dumbledore to find the legendary Philosopher's Stone, which will give me the power to save the world! But only I can use it because I'm the most pure of pure-bloods -"

Holy shit, thought Draco. What struck him as very odd then was that Granger was probably quite insecure about her dirty blood if she was making up such rubbish as whatever it was she was ranting about.

Draco pulled out his wand.

And hit her over the head with it.

"- save all the house-elves through my special powers - OW!"

"Try and control yourself during the meeting," Draco told her, irritably. He pushed past her into the Prefects' Compartment, arms crossed.

"Alright," he said loudly to the chatting prefects. They fell silent immediately. "Let's get this over and done with. Firstly, you can't take away House points; tragic, I know, but that's life. Secondly, you can't assign detentions. If you catch anyone doing anything against the rules, inform your Head of House - yes?"

The female Slytherin prefect had put up her hand. Next to him, Granger was still staring at him funny, but at least she was keeping her mouth shut. The prefect said, "Did you know I'm a model for Vogue Witchcraft?"

He noticed then that the four girls were staring at him in lust, while the boys were looking particularly disgruntled by having their female counter-parts acting like idiots. "That's nothing," the female Ravenclaw said loudly, "I've read every book in the whole world. Twice!"

"Fascinating," drawled Draco. "Now let's move on to Emergencies. The main emergency exits - yes, what?"

"My left nipple is pierced," said the girl-Hufflepuff prefect.

Draco closed his eyes and shuddered. "Okay, that's enough, I'm done. Granger, you have all the info, you finish up." He turned and stormed out the compartment.

In the corridor, Pansy was arguing with the trolley lady. "Yes, dear, but perhaps I should keep a few for the other children."

"But you don't understand," said Pansy. "I need to buy all the lolly-pops because my current stash is diminishing, and I need lolly-pops. It's a life and death situation, you don't know how serious this is!"

"She's right you know," Draco cut in. "You better just give them all to her, or she'll go crazy. And you do not want to see Pansy go crazy."

"Oh my," said the trolley lady, "you are a very handsome boy…"

Pansy made the exchange and shoved her sweets into her jeans pockets. They did not all fit, but she tried anyway. "Come Pansy, let's annoy some Gryffindors."

She turned to him and the lady trundled off. "Oh dear. What happened?"

Draco shook his head sadly, deliberately wobbling his chin as if about to cry. "Granger hit on me, Pansy. I've been scarred for life." He rested his head on her shoulder and she patted his back in sympathy.

"Alright, I think they're in this compartment, here." She slid the door open with a flourish. "Ooo-er," she whined, "if it isn't Potty and his little friends!" Pansy, obviously, learnt from the best.

Draco stepped up next to her leaned against the doorjamb. Inside was Weasley - who had already stood up to growl insanely at Pansy - and his sister, with Loony Lovegood, Longbottom and Potter.

Draco looked him over lazily. Somehow, Potter had grown into something incredibly beautiful since they had seen each other only a month ago. His big green eyes were trained on Draco with growing lust, his reddening lips slightly parted. His chest was strong and defined under his T-shirt, his jeans spread tight over his thighs.

The whole observation took only Draco a second but - then he felt it.

The Tingling.

He had not felt this way since he was eleven and had thought never to feel it again. It was like a million fingers were caressing his skin softly all over. He swallowed thickly and tried not to shiver at the feel of that tingling swirl itself to his groin.

Potter was still gaping at him, as if he thought Draco was the most gorgeous creature he had ever seen, and was absolutely terrified by the idea.

"Well at least it's good to see Malfoy isn't still dressed like a girl," Weasley was saying to Pansy smugly.

Draco snapped his attention from Potter to Weasley and instantly felt sick. The last time he had felt The Tingling he had been dressed like a girl and his grandmother had died right in front of him. A part of him knew Weasley was talking about the day of his Debutante a month ago, when he wore flowers in his hair, but he was reminded of that dreadful day and now that it was stuck in his head it would not leave. He took a deep breath.

"You're just jealous," said Pansy, "because your bookworm girlfriend wants to bed Draco instead of you."

Weasley spluttered while the others looked on. "She's not my girlfriend! And she wouldn't go anywhere near that ferret!"

"Shut up, Ron!"

There was a pause. It had been Ginevra Weasley who had shouted at her brother. Everyone stared at her.

"Don't worry, Draco, I'll protect you. I'm a black belt in karate and can do wandless magic!"

Draco groaned in both pain and annoyance. "I think I've had enough," he drawled to Pansy; "Gryffindors are insane."

They left and went back to their initial compartment. Crabbe and Goyle were snacking on sweets, while the other three occupants were doing their usual angsty things they do.

Draco sat down next to the window, clutched his stomach and doubled over. "I don't feel so good."

Pansy sat down next to him and absently rubbed his back. "Did you see Weasley?" she said excitedly. "He was looking really fit. Give him a couple of years and I reckon he'll look as good his older brother, you know, the one who got married?"

There was a moment of silence before Draco mumbled from the vicinity of his knees, "Huh?"

"Ronald, he looked fit. Did you hear what he said? He said that Granger wasn't his girlfriend!"

"...So?"

"So he's available!"

"Pansy... argh. Please be quiet. I beg you."

"Did you even see him, Draco? That boy has some nice biceps, and you know how I love good arms on a man."

"Pansy, this is Ron Weasley you're talking about. He's penniless and lives with farm animals. He is a farm animal."

"Oh don't be so melodramatic!" That was asking a bit much, but Draco let it go this time. "Yum yum chocolate chip, honey dip, let me take a scoop - I need a lolly-pop!"

Ron Weasley was the furthest person from Draco's mind.

To Be Continued.