Acid Pop Junkies

Chapter 4- Draco For The Female Soul

feed me when I'm hungry

drink me till I'm dry

the dream of yesterday becomes another lie

you feed me lies--distortion--the english disaster

no ones free from love for one master

we found a new place to live where we're taught to grow strong

and strongly sensitive, it always sets the scenery

colors leave only beauty, words and wine amongst the greenery

see how it is

see how it is

extract from crystal though nothing is clear

I despise you, damn you, dream you

I love you

but still nothings clear

I think of when I found you

keep on singing while I'm drowning

down into that two-tone vision

I've been raised [maze] in this place

and now concrete is my religion

                Feed Me- Tricky

    Draco lifted his tousled head drowsily and looked straight into the mirror across the room. He immediately began patting his white blond hair down and mulling over past events. Let's see, I killed the headmaster's Phoenix, resulting in the death of the entire population except for me and five other people. There are only two girls, one's a Mudblood, the other's a tart. Potter thinks he's running for mayor and I don't have a plan. Draco took these happenings very well, he didn't even move until...

    "Oh my God!" he exclaimed whilst almost falling off the bed. "I slept in my clothes? Ecchh, I've lowered myself to the level of... of... these people!" He gestured to the three Gryffindors. Slowly Harry and Pollocks were rising. Draco noticed everyone else was still in their old clothes.

    "I can't believe no one remembered to change clothes."

    "Why?" Harry muttered. "Are we having a party?" He was obviously still half-asleep, however, Draco thought, this does sound like his regular self.

    "Only your Death day party if you don't let me get some sleep," Malia said menacingly as she turned over to throw a pillow in Harry's direction.

    Draco quickly strode over to his trunk, picked out an out fit, took a shower in the bathroom and changed into his clean clothes. He stepped back into the dormitory and glanced around distastefully. No one was rousing. He went over to Malia's bed. Her hair was spread across her face untidily concealing her pale features. Draco poked her in the shoulder warily. After more careful prodding, Malia got up, sat on her ankles with her knees bent and the blanket draped over her shoulders. Draco bent down so that his eyes were level with hers. He spoke to her slowly and deliberately.

    "I'm hungry, fix me some breakfast."

    Malia laughed quietly and shook her head.

    "Fix it yourself pet. I don't cook."

    "Well neither do I," Draco retaliated. As he turned around he noticed several people had gotten up. This comforted him somewhat, so he went down to the common room to wait for them. He waited on a cold leather couch, feeling his stomach growl in protest.

    "Ohhh, so HUNGRY!" Draco groaned in the direction of the dormitory. Finally his fellow survivors came down the stairs. "I'm-"

    "Yes, we know you're hungry." Harry said testily. Draco got up from the couch.

    "Who knows how to conjure breakfast?" Silence was all that came from the group. "Not even the know-it-all mudblood!?" Draco said in disbelief. Harry disregarded the slur with just a deadly look.

    "She's having a lie-in. And since you, in all your pureblood glory can't conjure a simple meal Malfoy, I will make it myself. The Muggle way."

    "Get to work then," Draco sneered.

    Moments later, Draco found himself in the Great Hall. The head table to be exact. He was simmering in Professor Snape's usual spot because Harry Potter took Dumbledore's seat, the biggest and most comfortable chair in the entire hall. It was practically a throne! He contented himself with loosening the leg of Pollocks Rocket's chair. Everyone was freshly clothed and enjoying their breakfast in silence. Even Hermione had gotten downstairs. Draco made it his mission to show utter disgust for anything Potter served, but still manage to take bigger portions than anyone else. At the end of the meal, Potter was having a hushed conversation with Granger.

    "I'm going into Hogsmeade to pillage," Draco announced.

    "What ?" Hermione sputtered.

    "You know, new clothes, new broom, new everything. I suggest, now that everything is in your price range, you do the same." Draco spat. He motioned to Catley and Foxx to accompany him. He reflected idly on how much their names sounded as if they belonged in a Wizardporn magazine. But then, so did they.

    Draco and company crunched dead leaves underfoot as they window-shopped in the village. The sharp clicking sounds of Malia's boots echoed in the empty streets eerily. Many of the shops had torches still burning brightly inside them. Malia dragged them both into Honeydukes for her compulsory morning sugar fix. She took a large bag of Enchanted Raindrops which were small tear shaped sweets that made the eater see in whatever color Raindrop they were eating. As soon as they left the store Malia began picking out all the red ones and eating them.

    Suddenly Dante saw something in the window of a shop in the distance and ran to it yelling. Draco and Malia kept on. Draco was growing more aware of Malia's presence. He had never felt uncomfortable around her before, but now whenever he was in the company of either of the girls, he picked up a feeling in the atmosphere. A slightly annoying feeling of awkwardness. He tried talking to her without making eye contact.

    "Aren't you going to follow your boyfriend?" Draco's goal was to annoy the girl, but instead she simple giggled at his question.

    "He's not my boyfriend! You know how he is, he doesn't commit to anyone. I'm the same. I guess you could say we just have a little fun. We're like best friends with benefits." Malia turned to Draco, suddenly becoming serious. "Why did you want to come here Draco? You obviously don't need anything."

    Draco stared at the brooms in a Quidditch shop. The gleam of the handlebar on the Firebolt in the window was pulling him away from all reality.

    "If I were poor and miserable, like Weasley, and then suddenly this happened I would be grabbing every valuable item in sight. However, I have always been filthy rich and have all the material possessions I need, so you see in this situation it's not what I am allowed to have, it's what I am allowed to do." Draco said all of this while keeping his eyes glued onto the Firebolt. Malia caressed his arm with her fingertips.

    "I'm not sure I understand what you mean," she claimed.

    "You will," Draco replied icily. "It's the same for you."

    With that, he picked up a large rock and hurled it at the window. It shattered and Malia gasped. Draco simply stepped through over the gleaming shards of glass and plucked the Firebolt from its stand. Something seemed to catch his eye because he paused then jumped over the ledge and into the shop. Malia waited a few tense seconds wondering what was going on. He emerged with a canister of banner paint and a good-sized paintbrush. Malia was still in awe as Draco mounted the broom and left the ground. Realizing he might be just a little unbalanced, she snatched the second broom from it's perch, a Nimbus Five Thousand, mounted it and shot upwards.

    Apart from not being used to the speed of the broom, Malia quite enjoyed the feeling of the cold autumn air rushing past her . Draco was only a speck in the distance. Malia continued to follow him, but was beginning to lose hope. Thankfully Draco's broom took a nosedive and he landed near the entrance of Hogsmeade unhurt. Malia copied him shakily and landed next to his discarded broom. She dropped her Nimbus beside his and looked around. Draco was only a few steps away, standing in front of a big wooden sign that said Welcome To Hogsmeade in fancy print. He was brandishing the fat paintbrush which was dripping with black paint. Draco painted bold strokes on the sign until he stood back, obviously pleased with his hasty work. Malia came closer and read the new sign.

    Welcome to DRACOPOLIS. POPULATION: 0006

    Malia had no time to think anything of it except that it was a completely logical thing to do before Draco walked over to her and tapped her on the shoulder.

    "I think I need some clothes now," he declared, pointing at his front which was speckled with dots of black paint.

                *    *    *    *    *

    Hermione sighed inwardly as the three Slytherins left to go into Hogsmeade. No matter how hard she tried she could only think of them as members of a disgraced house. She couldn't even trust them to go out alone, so she put a locating charm on them in secret. This ensured that she would be alerted if they went any farther than Hogsmeade. She had to admit that this scenario she was in was becoming harder to deal with each minute. Her thoughts strayed. I wish Ron had been in Dumbledore's office instead of Malfoy. She realized with a start that this was an entirely awful thing to wish. Still...

    Thankfully Harry interrupted her thoughts.

    "Hermione, Pollocks and I are going to search the school and maybe have a look in the library. Want to come along?"

    For a moment this tempted Hermione, the library was her sanctuary, but unfortunately she wasn't up to confronting all those memories just yet.

    "No thanks Harry, I think I'm going to go into Hogsmeade after all. I think I need to get a few things." Harry looked sympathetic enough, but his mouth was bent into a frown.

    "Okay. See you, then."

    He got up and walked over to Pollocks. Hermione was at least grateful to have Harry here. Yet the circumstances were more than awkward. With people like Malfoy here, she needed all the gentle friendship of Harry to make her forget Malfoy's harsh words. She rose carefully from her chair and pushed a few locks of hair behind her ear.

    With a shuddering sigh she headed for Hogsmeade village.

    Hermione walked briskly along the cobbled streets looking for a shop that sold decent clothes. There weren't many in Hogsmeade and the ones there were tailoring shops that now held no tailors. Finally a medium- sized blue and gray shop caught her eye. In the picture window she saw a very fashionable Muggle outfit. She was surprised to say the least. She didn't expect to see Muggle clothing in a magical village. Still, she supposed there must be many half-Muggles and some wizards who wore Muggle fashions.

    She opened the metal framed glass door and relished the warm spicy smell in the shop. The store had a long black line that divided the store into two sections, one half for girls and the other for boys. Hermione made a mental note to tell Harry and Pollocks about this place. When Harry wasn't wearing his robes he wore whatever Muggle clothes the Dursleys gave him. And Pollocks, he wore semi-outrageous fashions such as brightly colored bowling shirts, striped pants and t-shirts with weird logos. She was sure if he went to a Muggle school he would immediately be labeled a nerd.

    She sifted through many attractive items until she found a plain blue sweater and gray pleated skirt. She looked around for a place to change. Suddenly she remembered, she was alone, she could change right where she was if she wanted to. But what if Malfoy and the others were to pass by... Hermione shuddered and headed for the two changing stalls at the far end of the room. She was careful to keep the red curtain carefully drawn. Just in case. She changed into her outfit as quickly as she could. She was a bit claustrophobic and the tiny stall was making her quite nervous. She looked curiously at her reflection. Hermione felt silly, she didn't need to inspect what she was wearing, it's not like she had to pay for it.

    "Blue really is your color,"

    Hermione screamed desperately as she fell against the flimsy wall of the compartment. She was to scared to think or breathe. She thrust her bushy head into her arms and waited for the inevitable. Noticing that nothing was happening, she braced her scattered nerves and looked up.

    There, over the wall separating the two stalls was a calm smiling face. Recognition and warm relief flooded Hermione's entire body.

    "Sirius!" she cried out, her eyes full of tears.

    "Hermione! Glad you're alive."

                *    *    *    *    *

    In the heart of Hogsmeade village Draco and Malia heard what sounded like the cry of a bird, or person. Malia looked into the delightfully melancholy gray sky.

    "The others are going to see your little masterpiece," Malia stated dully. "What are you going to tell them?"

    Draco looked pensive. His face then took on a state of beautiful vacancy.

    "Blame it on a rush of blood to the head," he murmured. In a flash, the look he had disappeared and was replaced by a normal look of irritation. "Why do ask so many fucking questions?"

    Malia opened her mouth to match his profanity, but instead froze.

    "I want to go back to the school," she blurted.

    "You didn't answer my question," Draco said, giving her a calculating gaze.

    "You got your clothes, now take me back," she commanded.

    "Take yourself," Draco snarled. Malia gave it one last shot.

    "Please..." she begged. Draco hesitated and then nodded,

    "Only because I'm freezing my arse off."

    Malia and Draco reached Hogwarts at approximately two in the afternoon. They went straight to the Slytherin common room which already had a fire blazing in the grate. Draco was lying on the long leather couch he liked to think of as his own. Malia was sitting in a rather ratty looking armchair scowling at him.

    "You know, the proper thing to do would have been to let me have the couch, or at least sit on it with you..."

    Draco felt the beginnings of butterflies in his stomach, which he quickly quashed.

    "Just because you're a girl doesn't mean I can't tell you to sod off," he retorted.

    "So much for the Malfoy courtesy," Malia said bitterly.

    "We had courtesy?" Draco smirked. Malia searched for a nerve on which to touch.

    "You should be nicer, it's practically a contest now."

    Draco's grin faltered.

    "What do you mean?" Malia smiled,

    "It's sort of a most eligible bachelor contest. And I must say, so far Potter's in the lead." Draco could feel his feathers ruffling.

    "Is not! I'm ten times more handsome than Potter!"

    Malia simply shrugged and picked up a magazine.

    "I don't go around looking for attention, or hang around mudbloods and paupers."

    Realizing he was only making Malia happier by giving in to her manipulation, Draco put on his best sly grin.

    "Pity, perfect Potter prefers having mudblood Granger as a girlfriend. Maybe he isn't so eligible after all." Draco hissed. Malia lifted her face to his. Her features were sharp, but attractive, no wonder she was able to manipulate half the boys in Hogwarts. A frown crossed her lips as she pondered Draco's clever statement. Draco whispered something under his breath that Malia couldn't hear.

    "Let the contest begin."