Acid Pop Junkies

Chapter 5- Mayor Draco Reigns Supreme

I found me a reason

So check me tomorrow

We'll see if I'm leaking

Push and push and push till it hurts

My devil's on rollerskates

Down at the roller rink

Picking up chicks for me

Ones that push and push and push till it hurts

Push and push till it hurts

Dirty enough I got me a love

And it's so bad, it's so bad

Dirty enough I got me a love

And it's so bad, it's so bad

Life's for the living

So check me tomorrow

We'll see if I'm kidding

Push and push and push till it hurts

Did it on Ritalin

I got me some good grades

Now I work me the night shift

Where I pull and pull and pull till it hurts

Pull and pull till it hurts

Dirty enough I got me a love

And it's so bad, it's so bad

Dirty enough I got me a love

And it's so bad, it's so bad

Hello time bomb, I'm ready to go off

If life's for the livid

Check me tomorrow

We'll see if I'm emperor

My devil's on sugared smacks

Down at the radio shack

We're turning shit into solid gold, solid gold

Hello Time Bomb- Matthew Good Band

    Draco had stopped talking to Malia Catley about half an hour ago. Since he had mentioned Harry Potter's growing fascination with the bookish being named Hermione Granger, she did not try to make conversation. Malia had also started on a new annoying habit that Draco had failed to notice before. She began to twirl her hair between her fingers incessantly. Draco couldn't stand nervous habits. Humming was the grand sire of all irritating habits and Draco swore that the first person to hum would enjoy Draco's fine cuisine at dinner, and find a little surprise in their pudding.

    Suddenly he noticed Malia was standing over him and anxiously fiddling with her necklace.

    "I'm going to change..." she said, her voice teetering on the edge of panic. She left in a swirl of her leather coat. Draco simply picked up her discarded magazine and leafed through it absently.

    "One down and four to go," he said while mentally ticking her name off a list.

    After a few minutes Draco became bored. There was nothing for him in the common room so he sauntered out of the room and began to wander aimlessly around the castle. He didn't know what the hell he was doing, he just took this as an opportunity to explore the school without the fear of running into Filch. It wasn't terribly interesting. Somehow Draco seemed to be ending up in the same general areas he had seen before. Finally he found himself to be in the famed Moaning Myrtle hallway. A glance showed Draco a large lightly rippling puddle of what looked like clean water. He stared at it for what seemed like an eternity. The simple wonder of how it would feel to jump into the pool and break the almost dead calm was tempting him successfully. He took one long sprinting run and leaped into the puddle. One tremendous splash resounded throughout the hall, sprayed Draco with water and then it ended.

    "Well that rots," he mumbled bitterly. Somehow Draco had expected some fun in this, he had once seen a child in the street do it had squeal with laughter. It was probably some dim Muggle child. Draco stood there, his ankles slowly being chilled by the icy water. He looked down at his shoes to inspect the damage, but instead was greeted by the sharp tip of a dagger. Draco cried out in surprise. Brief realization flooded him and his heart slowed again.

    "Dante, you fuck! What the hell are you doing waving a bloody pig sticker around for!? Longbottom is dead, so your victims have obviously run out."

    Dante was looking quite morose. He didn't seem to see Draco, the knife had his full attention. Draco noticed it was thinly coated in blood. Dante raised the instrument directly to his eyes and stared, as though mesmerized at the glinting steel. He had somehow reclaimed the crown he wore on the first day, and it was set upon wild red hair that was also streaked with minimal amounts of blood. He set his unblinking glaze on Draco and wiped the blade on his pants, all the while keeping an insane smile on his face. It was the sort of smile you get when you are posing for a picture and you have to wait too long. It was disarming to say the least. Dante starting spouting comically fast words, cutting through Draco's panic.

    "Draco, I'm so glad I found you. Everything is so shitfaced right now. We can't panic though, look at the mudblood, she doesn't panic even though she should be, fuck! I mean, this is bad, we're in trouble."

    Dante's eyes darted wildly as he licked his lips feverishly. Draco noticed something wrong with this diatribe. They had known for several days now that they were the last of the human race, Dante was confronting this now. You didn't have to be a Hermione Granger to figure this one out. The red haired boy switched from anxious to angry.

    "Where's Malia!? You were supposed to be watching her!" Dante now had two violent fistfuls of Draco's robes. His anger was a white shock. One that slowly burned red and Draco caught it. Just as he was about to lash out Dante sprang away from Draco as if he were death itself.

    "Shhh! Did you hear that? No? Fuck it." Dante waved his hand as if to dismiss the thing. Draco didn't know what to think anymore. He had never seen anyone act this way and he was getting the distinct feeling that his brain was being wrung out and it made him angry to think he was losing his wits. Dante now stood motionless in a kind of stupor. He raised a white hand to his temple. His fingers were cocked in a symbol that was strangely familiar. Finally Draco realized Dante was unwittingly making the shape of that muggle accessory called a gun and pointing it at his head. His eyes were closed, his eyelids purple and waxy. His eye twitched as he tried to continue where he left off.

    "It's in her blood. You know?" Dante mumbled. He was returning to the thought about Granger as if he had never left it. Draco had pasted himself to the wall in his tenseness, waiting for something, anything to happen.

    "Malfoy?" Dante said pitifully.

    "Yeah," Draco said in a strained voice.

    "Can I have a ciggie now? I promise that's it," Dante uttered before collapsing in the little puddle. His crown toppled off his head and rolled away. Draco stood frozen over the lump that was his former classmate's body. All he could think of was how this lump wasn't the suave, scholastic failure who thought up dirty limericks every five minutes. Draco didn't even want to have this easy thought, so he picked up the dagger Dante had been brandishing and ran, without questioning where the blood that had stained it came from.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *

    Draco Malfoy is no coward. At least that was what he believed. Dante could've been helped, but Draco wasn't the one to do it. He didn't have his wand and as everyone knows, a wizard without his wand might as well be a Muggle. The most Draco could have done was to take the dagger to make sure Dante didn't wake up and stick himself with it. Draco shifted in his place in the throne at the head table of the great hall. Draco liked the throne. It was fun. Right now it was not fun at all. Draco was worrying about what the others would say. He had seen Potter in the halls, he should be finding Dante right about now. Draco had thought about lying and saying he had never even seen Dante since they went shopping, but Dante was going to wake up and tell they a different story and that would make everything a whole lot worse. If there was anything Draco hated it was being blamed. Well, he hated a lot more things, but he normally voiced those hates. Draco tucked the dagger into the folds of his robes and got up. He headed to the Gryffindor common room.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Draco found his way to the Gryffindor portrait all by himself. Getting in was another matter. In fourth year he had bullied Longbottom in to telling him where it was, but he simply couldn't find out what the password was. He tried banging on the empty canvas, but nobody would have heard him anyway. He turned around, but halted as he thought of slashing the portrait, Sirius Black style, but at that moment the portrait swung open and hit him in the back of his head.

    "Bloody Bollocks!" he cursed as he climbed into the portrait hole. "No wonder all Gryffindors seem daft; they've lost half their brain cells to this crap-worthy excuse for a door."

    Pollocks Rocket was standing there in his awkward fashion, looking frightened.

    "Sorry, I couldn't calculate the angle in which the figure would swing...eh-" Pollocks withered under Draco's glacial stare.

    "Take off your specs," Draco commanded. Pollocks hesitated, but fearing Draco's wrath, he took them off. Not losing a second Draco swung and his fist connected cleanly with Pollocks' cheek. Pollocks made a sound like a duck and cowered from Draco, his electric blue eyes watering.

    "You're not supposed to punch a guy with glasses," Draco explained. "But I made my way around it. Good for me."

    Draco smirked. Nobody hurt a Malfoy and got away with it. His fist stung horribly, but he hid it well as he turned to slam the portrait closed. A hand shot between the portrait and the door.

    "Ouch!" Malia cried as she lifted herself through the portrait hole without another word. Apparently, she was waiting for Draco to apologize. No such luck. As Draco glanced her way, his eyes widened considerably. Malia was dressed quite provocatively. She had gotten rid of the full length coat and was instead wearing a very low cut black shirt that was a little bit see-through and a tight, dark red skirt. All this was topped off with the green leather boots she was always wearing.

    "Looks like you found your way into a sleazier outfit," Draco sneered. Malia regarded him with a haughty look and brushed past him towards Pollocks, whose jaw seemed to be permanently unhinged.

    "Where's Harry?" She demanded. Pollocks flushed with the thrill of being spoken to by his love.

    "Oh... eh, um. H-he's in the uh... the dormitories with D-Dante."

    Malia gave the slightest little flinch at the mention of Dante. Draco was certain he was the only one who noticed. Malia began to ascend the twisting staircase when Pollocks gave one last attempt to hold her attention for more than thirty seconds.

    "Harry found Dante unconscious outside a girls bathroom!" He blurted tactlessly. Malia gave a tiny cry of disbelief before racing up to the dormitories. Draco followed somewhat reluctantly.

    When he opened the door, he saw Potter sitting on the window seat, looking out the window, wringing his hands. Malia was sitting on a scarlet bed looking extremely worried. Finally, lying on the bed, propped up by a mountain of floppy pillows, was Dante himself. He was pallid, dark eyed and had a crafty look all over his face that Draco didn't like much. Malia was talking to him in a soft cooing voice. Dante turned to face her and talked to her in a conspiring tone.

    "Malia, name one thing you know about me."

    Malia smiled.

    "I know where you're ticklish," she said, beginning to catch on.

    "Well why don't you come back a little later and you can make me laugh," Dante finished with a grin. Malia, however, looked quite distressed.

    "But, I don't even know what happened to you!"

    Harry strode over to the bedside.

    "That's right, no one knows what happened," he said suspiciously. Draco had never in his life wanted so badly to skewer someone on a rusty pole and cook them over the fiery depths of hell. Or something. Dante's dodgy expression resurfaced as he told his short, boring tale.

    "I was shopping with Draco and Malia and I saw this shit hole little antique store. There was a crown in the window just like the one I found on the first day. So I started running over to the shop. I was almost there when this big , ruddy black dog came bounding in front of me, so I ran as fast as I could until I got to the school. I was really pissed that I couldn't go to Hogsmeade so I went to the kitchen to get some comfort food-"

    "You mean ciggies," Malia interrupted.

    "Yeah. Anyway, I walked around the school for a while, got really dizzy and blacked out." Dante looked around the room for approval. Malia looked satisfied, Pollocks was looking at Malia and Harry simply made a Hmm sound. Draco began to feel a trifle uneasy. He hated not knowing what Dante was playing at. Dante cleared his throat.

    "Well, I do love these bedside interrogations, but I'm afraid I must have a word with Malfoy in private."

    Slowly, everyone in the room began to leave. Malia lingered the longest, but once she saw Potter exit she bit her lip and pursued him. As soon as the door closed Dante began chuckling steadily, his laughter building itself up to a cackling hyena sound. Draco's fury and confusion reached a peak as he pulled the dagger from his robes and with astounding force, stuck it into the post of the bed. Dante's laughter subsided, but the crafty look in his eyes was far from disappearing.

    "Enough with the bollocks, Foxx. I know you don't have temporary amnesia, so give me one of those cigarettes you're hiding and tell me why you're lying."

    Dante put his hand under the mattress and gingerly pulled out a pack of fags. Draco took one. He didn't really like smoking that much, but if Dante was going to fuck around with a Malfoy, he would do the same to him.

    "Well," Dante said as he lit his cigarette. "I could be really cunning and say I have a devilish scheme in which to manipulate you and every other pitiful being here, but that just wouldn't be true." Dante paused. He expected Draco to say something in return. "I realized, that were you in my position and you had your wits about you, you would have done the same." Draco laughed hollowly.

    "You're one to be talking about wits! You just went psycho on me not even half an hour ago." Dante' s face darkened at Draco's accusation.

    "Oh yes. That. That's what I meant to ask you about..."

    Draco could feel what was coming up. It wasn't good. Dante smiled a nice big parody of a smile that was extremely un-Dante.

    "I need you to uh, omit that from the story you tell the others, if any." The smile again. Damn, it was horrible. Draco was in a bind. There was no way he could disagree with what Dante was proposing. He was glad he didn't have to tell the others he left Dante for dead, but he despised being under his thumb.

    "Fine," Draco said with a grimace.

    "That's the way to go!" Dante cheered. The crazy bastard.

    "Having fun with Malia?" Dante slipped in.

    "She's bearable," Draco replied dully.

    "Oh come on! She's a riot. I love her name too, it reminds me of fucking."

    "Everything reminds you of fucking," Draco said, becoming irritated with the way the conversation was going. The blond boy began to leave.

    "No, Millicent Bulstrode never reminded me of fucking. Thankfully, the two things are completely unrelated..."

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *

    Demoralized and totally exhausted, Draco slumped into his favorite leather couch in front of the roaring orange common room fire. Malia was sitting on a footstool, staring intently into the fire, elbows propped up on her knees and her chin in her hands. Draco had had enough of her for one day, in fact, he'd had enough of everyone today. He could deal with people like Malia and Pollocks, they had their weaknesses which could be exploited, but it seemed that with Dante's madness came brilliance. Maybe brilliance was too strong a word. It was more like a stroke of brilliance and a little bit of luck. He also had his worst enemy here with him. Potter had been less of a rival lately and more of annoying prat who followed Granger where ever she went and treated her as if she were on the verge of dying.

    "If I had it my way, she would be far past that point," Draco mumbled.

    "What's that?" Malia asked. Draco rubbed his knuckles. They still ached a little.

    "Nothing," he said in an overly unpleasant voice. "How do you get some dinner around here?" Malia smiled sweetly at him.

    "Don't ask me pet, I'm just a girl."

    Malia had picked up this expression especially for Draco. It was sort of ironic because girls were now the most valuable asset. Every time he pissed her off she would use it. It really annoyed him. Hell, it even annoyed her. Draco simply shot her a sinister glare as he kicked his shoes off. Draco was bored stiff. He didn't want to think of his day, but he couldn't help it if he wasn't occupied. He picked up his wand. After fiddling with it for several seconds he shot silver and green sparks into the air, formed words, shapes and summoned tiny objects from the room to him. Right in the middle of his little game, the portrait swung open. Draco watched the opening without much interest until a dark figure emerged. All he could do was stare. It was Sirius Black, the fugitive and henchman of Voldemort. Malia turned and screamed when she saw him. That was all it took, Draco's reflexes kicked in and he shot the full body lock curse in the man's direction. It hit me and he let out a muffled grunt as he hit the ground. Malia walked over and stared at the immobilized criminal in awe.

    "You cursed Sirius Black. Cool."