Acid Pop Junkies

Chapter 6- Party Like It's The End Of The World.

But I'm a creep

I'm a weirdo

What the hell am I doing here?

I don't belong here

I don't care if it hurts

I want to have control

I want a perfect body

I want a perfect soul

I want you to notice when I'm not around

-Creep, by Radiohead

    Draco regarded his work with pride. Sirius lay paralyzed on the floor of the Gryffindor common room. Draco was just about to turn around and say something witty and dashing to Malia when Hermione Granger hopped into the room with a shriek. Draco smirked.

    "Look what I did mud- hey? What are you doing?"

    Granger whipped out her wand and performed the reversal spell on the fugitive. Draco pointed his wand at her.

    "She's under the Imperius curse!" he warned no one in particular. Hermione sighed.

    "I'm not under the Imperius curse. Sirius Black is not a murderer and I have a lot of explaining to do."

    And of course Potter chose this precise moment to bound down the staircase yelling about Sirius. Sirius hugged Harry long and hard. It was these precious snugly moments that made Draco want to vomit. Draco cut their little reunion short by demanding an explanation. So Harry explained and explained and explained and explained... Draco believed the story, went past belief into disbelief and the back to belief again. He had to admit the story was too involved to be a lie and he had even heard a snatch of conversation in which his father spoke of Peter Pettigrew, the Death Eater. Still, he didn't like Sirius Black. He was strange, he stared too much and he looked at Draco as if he could see straight through him. But most of all there was that grin... it was as if he was sharing some indestructible joy with himself, but masked it in a casual half grin and some sympathetic gestures. Draco kept his distance. Finally the tale was over and everyone decided it was time to go to bed. Sirius chuckled.

    "Yeah, I'd better sleep off that curse." Harry swung around.

    "Curse?"

    Sirius ran a hand through his now short, black hair. Draco swore he could actually feel Malia swoon.

    "Your little blond friend hit me with the body bind curse." Harry immediately became infuriated.

    "You attacked my godfather?" Harry raged.

    "Better him than me," Draco spat back.

    "What's that supposed to mean?!"

    Harry was turning red with pure ferocity. Draco was pale but livid. Harry was being the shit kicking prat he had always been, but now Draco had to endure it more than ever. Sirius came between them.

    "Harry, calm down. It's all right, he just doesn't understand yet. Now let's go to bed and we can all sleep on this."

    Draco shot daggers at both of them. At Black for saying he didn't understand and at Potter because he deserved it. Hell, he needed it.

    "Sirius, Hermione, we can go up to the girl's dormitories." Harry motioned for them to follow.

    "I'll come too," Malia said cheerily. Harry and the others stopped in their tracks.

    "Don't you want to sleep in the same room as Dante?" Harry asked, puzzled.

    "Oh well, I suppose..." Malia said, crestfallen. To mock her further, Draco made a simpering face and batted his eyelashes at Potter's back. Malia "hmphed" and flounced over to the staircase leading to the boys dormitories.

    "Aren't you coming?" she asked.

    "I don't want to sleep in someone else's bed," Draco whined. Malia shrugged and continued up to the dormitory. Draco debated, lost to his better half and followed her. He changed into the pajamas he nicked from one of the drawers. They were immensely baggy and was adorned with a truly ugly, paisley pattern, but he didn't have much of a choice. Finally, he crawled into the bed in the farthest side of the room and tried not to think of murderers and everyone he was currently living with.             

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *

    The next morning Draco was greeted by blinding sunlight as some hateful person ripped open his bed hangings. He could feel his pupils contracting to tiny specs. Draco rolled over and pulled the covers over his head irritably.

    "Wake up!" Malia insisted as she started trying to take away Draco's blanket. When Draco refused to give them up, she put a hand on his shoulder to shake him. Draco recoiled at her touch.

    "You don't like to be touched?" Malia said indignantly. "Your mother probably didn't hold you enough when you were a baby."

    Draco snorted into his pillow.

    "I think your mother was the one who went wrong. Honestly, waking people up at this ungodly hour!"

    Malia didn't move.

    "Well, I had to. We're having an early breakfast this morning, so if you're hungry and don't want scraps, I suggest you come down."

    With that she left him to get dressed. On his way out Draco noticed Dante's bed was empty. He was surprised Dante was up so soon following his little episode. Draco was too hungry to think on this any further, so he made his way down to the great hall.

    Once again, King Potter had taken his throne and made a mockery of it. Draco took a seat beside Malia and wolfed down his portion of breakfast. Once he was done he eyed the bacon on Malia's plate, waited until she wasn't looking, took it and made it gone. Harry stood up and tapped a spoon on his glass.

    "I have an announcement to make. It's Pollocks' birthday today and I we thought that we should have a uh... surprise party for him and everyone could bring presents just like a normal birthday."

    Draco doubted that it would be anything like a normal birthday and he would have pointed out the folly of Potter's statement had his mouth not been full of toast. Birthdays. Presents. He had had some good ones in the past. Every year on February sixth, he was bombarded with heaps of expensive trinkets, brought to school via a fleet of eagle owls. Draco may have been very experienced in this part of the gifting process, but not once in his life had he ever given a gift to anyone. His thoughts dissolved as he noticed someone taking away his plate. It was Granger, working like a pathetic little house elf. As soon as she left, Potter appeared in front of him with his grinning godfather at his side. I never realized how annoying that is. Draco thought idly.

    "Malf-, I mean Draco- Hermione, Sirius and I are going up to the library to research spells on how to help our er... situation. We put Pollocks up there so he doesn't know about the party. So while we're working you and Malia are going to decorate the great hall. Nicely."

    Draco looked at him with pure venom.

    "Decorate? As in cheery banners and frilly bows? Me? Why the hell doesn't Dante have to crap up the great hall?"

    Harry became stern.

    "He's still sick from yesterday."

    "Oh please! He has it as easy as Malia and making fun of Weasley." Draco sneered viciously. Harry's face darkened at the mention of Ron and he grabbed the front of Draco's robes violently.

    "I don't ever want to hear you talk about Ron that way. And if you do, I'll make sure you don't have a mouth to insult people with."

    A choking Draco tried to throw a punch, but contacted with nothing but air. Sirius had pulled Harry away just in time. Furious, Draco began to crawl over the table to get to Potter and hopefully kill him. Sirius pushed Draco back into his chair with surprising force and kept Harry at bay with the other arm.

    "Stop it!" he growled. Draco expected more chastising, but Sirius suddenly seemed deep in thought. "Lord! I hate being the parent. Harry, you should have known better." Harry bowed his head slightly in shame. "And you," Sirius said as he turned to Draco. "Your worse than me when I was in Hogwarts." Draco glared in return.

    "Thank you Mr Special Treatment. I absolutely love being compared to scary convicts with histories of bad hair." Sirius only frowned at him. Harry however was steadily regaining his rage.

    "You can't talk to my godfather like that."

    Draco laughed lustily.

    "Don't you mean ickle Unkie Blacky Black?"

    Sirius had to grab Harry by the scruff of his neck and drag him away. Before he left he turned to Draco and regarded him with an odd expression.

    "You'd better be careful boy, you'll turn out like your father."

    Draco turned cold and became mute with rage.

    "Good!" he screamed at Black's back as the man and Potter departed for the library.

    "Easy?" A voice hissed at him. He looked around. Malia had appeared at his side as suddenly as Satan. And her expression was properly satanic. Draco shrugged.

    "If you want you can hit me or something. That seems to be the activity of the day." Malia gave him a calculating look and resigned.

    "No you've had enough. Your shirt is ripped by the way." Draco suppressed a fit.

    "Damn Potter," he said through clenched teeth. Malia put her hands on her hips and took a good long look around the hall.

    "So, what do you suggest we do about the Great Hall?" she sighed.

    "Well, the only thing I know about this Rocket prat is that he's American. So that means we need..." Draco drew into his thoughts and Malia piped up.

    "Alcohol?"

    Draco furrowed his brow.

    "No. An American flag. And Alcohol." Malia laughed giddily at him,

    "Sounds good. Where do we get these things?"

    Draco paused a moment and took his wand out of his robes.

    "Easy," he pointed his wand in a random direction and said, "Accio American flag." Malia raised an eyebrow.

    "You really think that will work?" Draco rolled his eyes lazily.

    "There is an American flag somewhere. It'll come. And if it doesn't, we'll throw paint." He ascended comfortably into his throne and gripped the armrests with silent delight.

    "Your turn. Summon the drink."

    Draco waved his hand as if to finalize the command. Malia's smile faltered as brief anxiety flooded her. She was only mediocre at magic. Not a complete Neville Longbottom, but almost. Malia prayed for success as she uttered

    "Accio um... Bacardi."

    She opened her eyes to see Draco looking puzzled.

    "What's Bacardi?" he asked.

    "I don't know, I saw it in a magazine."

    Then silence. It was so quiet, Malia could her her watch ticking.

    "And we get the supplies when?" Malia quested.

    "It might take awhile. You can just mentally undress me while we're waiting." Draco smirked for good measure.

    "Oh shut up. I thought Slytherins were supposed to at least be civil to their own. Any way, you're not as attractive as you think you are. Your face is... pointy." Draco eyes widened and he shouted,

    "POINTY! My face happens to be exquis- heads up!"

    Malia turned around just in time to see four bottles of clear liquid flying towards her. Malia was a chaser for Slytherin before Draco kicked her off the team, so she was able catch two bottles. She ducked and Draco caught the other two. Holding them by the necks he gave a sigh of relief.

    "What the hell is that?!" Malia screamed without warning. A giant red, white and blue mass was flying towards them at a blinding speed. It came through the same window the bottles had and blanketed them completely.

    "Aafff grrmfle mrffa," Draco muttered.

    "What?" Malia yelled as she struggled with the flag.

    "I said," Draco intoned as he pulled himself free of the fabric. "I hate America."

                *    *    *    *    *

    An hour later Draco and Malia had managed to spread out the immense flag between festive shouting matches. Draco collapsed into the nearest chair.

    "Gimme some of that stuff."

    Malia tossed him a bottle. Draco unscrewed the cap and was about to take a swig when the label caught his eye.

    "Malia do you know what this is called?" Malia didn't look up.

    "Is it Draco's New Substitute For Water?" Draco didn't laugh.

    "It's called RON Bacardi! Like Ron Weasley!"

    "So?" Malia sighed.

    "Potter's going to think I'm making another crack about Weasley."

    Malia laughed so hard she was rolling all over the stars and stripes. Draco stared hatefully, then took a sip of the rum, wincing a little as he did so. Draco stood up and surveyed the room. He really wanted that flag hung up. Not for Pollocks' happiness, but for the sheer delight of beating Potter down a notch. He planned to hang it behind the head table where the Hogwarts banner was. Getting down that banner was easy. All they did was rip it down. However, to raise the American flag, they had to use a complicated pulley to hoist it in place. Malia operated the pulley as Draco hovered in front of the flag on his new Firebolt. He was swaying slightly.

    "Okay. Start pulling."

    Malia grabbed hold of the rope and pulled. Rriip.

    "Whoa! Stop!" Draco commanded. "I think I know what's wrong. Pull."

    Rrrriiip.

    "Pull."

    Rrriip.

    "Pull."

    Rrriip.

    "...Pull."

    Rrriip. Malia's shoulders slumped.

    "This is stupid," she protested. "I'm just going to keep pulling and not stop every time it rips."

    She grabbed hold of the rope once again and pulled. Rrrrriiiiiiiiiippp.

    "There," she said and dropped her hands to her side. The flag was up. It was severely tattered and had many dirt marks from being on the floor, but it was up. As Draco admired the work he felt a burst of pain in his head that made his broom dip down a few feet. In doing so, he spilled half the contents of his bottle on the already damaged flag. He managed to land safely, but the flag now had a large dark streak that went all the way down to the base of the flag. Luckily Malia hadn't noticed. She was busy looking at the three other bare walls of the Hall.

    "We need something else." Malia declared. Draco swaggered to her side.

    "How about some pictures of Rocket?" Malia just stared at a shiny spot on her boot blandly.

    "Sure, that'll work." Draco brandished his wand once again and commanded

    "Accio picture of Pollocks Rocket." Malia turned to him.

    "Are you sure that's his name?" she asked.

    "Yeah. I don't know who would have a picture of him though."

    Just as he and Malia were reveling in the insult, a big color photo flew and hit Draco square in the face with a shiny "thhwap." He picked it up and studied it. Malia joined him. It was a wizards photo which showed Rocket in one of his outrageous muggle outfits. He started out with a pathetic sulk and his eyes began to droop and he sneezed monstrously.

    "Mmm. Bogielicious." Draco mused.

    For the next half hour Malia and Draco set to work making duplicates of the picture, enlarging them and hanging them haphazardly all over the walls. Once they were done there were about fifty Pollocks Rockets sneezing at different intervals. Malia went into Hogsmeade to get a gift and would be back very soon. Draco set his almost empty bottle of Bacardi beside the massive triangular cake Potter had made earlier. Draco thought it was the saddest cake he had ever seen. Of course this was coming from the boy who received six tiered masterpieces for his birthday. In Potter's haste he had tried to make a nice bright orange icing and had ended up with a dark, gritty brown sludge. Draco shone in Potter's failure. Malia entered the Hall. Maybe to shine with him, Draco thought.

    "What did you get?" Malia was laden with bags.

    "I got three beautiful cashmere sweaters, some polish for my boots, some silvery earrings..." Malia carried on as she sifted through the various objects.

    "I meant for Rocket." Draco interrupted. Malia looked a little dazed.

    "Oh of course, " she reached into the smallest bag daintily and produced a rubix cube. Draco immediately became complexed with the tiny squares of color on the sides. He picked it up and examined it.

    "What is it?" He murmured. Malia returned to her bags.

    "I'm not sure. I think it's some kind of test. On Muggle television shows, the smart character makes all the colors on each side the same."

    "How enticingly pointless," Draco said as he dropped the cube back onto the table.

    "Well did you get him then?" Malia sniffed. Draco smiled nastily.

    "A dead rat and a string to swing it by." Malia began to shriek with laughter. Draco took another sip of rum. He was having one of those magical nights. Even his thoughts were funny. As he lowered the bottle, he was greeted with the sight of Dante trotting up to the head table, cigarette behind his ear, grinning like there was no tomorrow. He stopped right in front of the flag.

    "Nice job." Draco joined in the grin fest.

    "Salutations Foxx. Join us won't you?"

    He threw Dante a bottle of Ron Bacardi. He gulped it appreciatively.

    "My mouth is watering just looking at that sumptuous cake." Dante joked.

    "Yeah right," Malia retorted. Dante took a step closer.

    "Don't worry, love, my mouth still waters when I look at you."

    Draco made a disgusted face. Again people came into the Great Hall. This time it was Potter and Granger, descending the marble staircase rapidly. As the Great Hall came into their view, their jaws dropped.

    "Don't you like it? Don't you have to like it?" Draco drawled as he spread his arms wide. Potter shook his head and turned to Hermione.

    "Sirius is going to bring him down any second we don't even have time to change it." Hermione was infuriated.

    "You bastard!" she yelled, fists shaking in Draco's direction. "You had one job!"

    Malfoy was rather dizzy. The angry words coming from the girl were being slurred together. Draco smiled.

    "Have some Ron Bacardi, you'll feel better."

    Harry rose up in a pillar of fury.

    "Malfoy, I'm going strangle you with that butt-ugly flag and drown you in the lake." Harry's threat went through one ear and out the other.

    "Yeah and you want to slide down Hagrid's chimney!" Draco blurted out helplessly. Harry clenched his fists.

    "You're sick Malfoy."

    "No, just artistically inclined."

    Harry was ready to explode. He began yelling curses at Draco that would make an Irishman blush. What stemmed the abuse was a sound from behind the group. It was Sirius Black clearing his throat urgently. He was standing with his hands on the shoulders of a very miserable looking Pollocks.

    "Surprise... prise. Yeah, er... surprise."

    Sirius tried desperately to save the situation.

    "Come on, er... son,-"

    "My name is Pollocks," the brown haired boy whined.

    "Yeah. Come on up and you can blow out the candles."

    As Malia slid off the table she accidentally plunged her hand into the cake.

    "Eww, I touched it!"

    Pollocks dropped into the chair and stared at the large hand print in the middle of the cake.

    "My cake has no candles," Pollocks observed sullenly.

    "Oi!" Dante called. "Send it over here."

    Dante motioned for them to bring it to the opposite end of the table. Draco grabbed it eagerly and slid it across the table. Dante took over from there, putting a cigarette in the middle of the cake, filter down, and lit the tip. Draco collected the cake and started to bring it to Pollocks, when he lost his balance. He stumbled and the cake fell to the floor, brushing the flag as it did so. The lit cigarette caught the patch of liquor on the flag and a bright blue flame snaked up the flag and engulfed it. Draco marveled at the quality of the glow. The others just stared in horror and Pollocks' eyes became watery and he moaned,

    "Ouch, my country."