Acid Pop Junkies

Chapter 07- Home Sweet Home.

You said I'm gonna buy this place and burn it down

I'm gonna put it six feet underground

I'm gonna buy this place and watch it fall

Stand here beside me baby in the crumbling walls

Oh I'm gonna buy this place and start a fire

Stand here until I fill all your hearts desire

Because I'm gonna buy this place and see it burn

And do back the things it did to you in return

You said I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war

If you can tell me something worth fighting for

Oh and I'm gonna buy this place is what I said

Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head

Honey, all the movements you're starting to make

See me crumble and fall on my face

And I know the mistakes that I've made

See it all disappear without a trace

And they call as they beckon you on

They say start as you need to go on

Start as you need to go on

A Rush Of Blood To The Head-- by-- Coldplay

    Draco woke to see a cold dusky ceiling, which was probably better than sunlight. He was working on a nerve banging headache. A real mindfucker. Draco tilted his head a little further back and sighed. He couldn't remember what happened before he fell asleep- or collapsed- his mouth felt like a swollen flobber worm and he felt as if the Ballycastle Bats had used him as a Bludger.

    "I remember that advertisement," Draco thought, his eyes closed in a groggy state. "The Ballycastle Bats were a famous Quidditch team and their mascot was Barney the fruit bat." Draco reminded himself dutifully. "They show it at matches and Barney says, he says..."

    Draco frowned deeply at his inability to recall the promotion of a corporate sponsor to an extinct Quidditch team. Suddenly he became very aware of his senses and right now he was cold. Not thinking to brace himself against what he might see, Draco looked down. He was confronted with his own puzzled reflection and for a moment he thought he might be on ice like someone's sprained ankle. Upon closer examination, Draco realized he was sitting in an almost full bathtub, clothes on and fingers prune- like. Slowly, information about last night flooded his vacuous mind, unfortunately leaving out essential details. He remembered the birthday party, the toxic cake, the Bacardi, the birthday surprise, the Bacardi and drawing a bath to get the alcohol out of his hair, but everything after that was lost. The door on the other side of the bathroom creaked open and Malia stuck her head in for a quick look.

    The sight of Draco in the bathtub gave her a oh-so-this-is-how-it-ended look. She used her wand to light the torches and sat down on the floor with her back against the door. Probably to prevent unexpected intruders. Draco narrowed his eyes at her grinning face and didn't speak for a few minutes.

    "Stop it," Draco ordered. Malia Ôs expression was unchanging.

    "Stop what?" she giggled.

    "Making me wonder what happened last night."

    A fresh bolt of pain hammered his already soft brain and numbed his fingertips. He winced with pain and massaged his head slowly.

    "Ah yes, pain. Like the late Pansy Parkinson and living with you people, it bites."

    Malia was about to retaliate when an interesting thought crossed her mind.

    "That expression, you picked it up from Rocket didn't you?" Draco smoothed his pale hair and avoided looking at the girl.

    "No."

    Malia rolled her eyes.

    "Right. So you just picked it up from watching all that American T.V." Draco's eyes narrowed once again.

    "What's tee vee?" Malia jumped up in surprise.

    "Oh. I almost forgot why I was here. You have to come downstairs right away. Today is research day and we're all going to the library to fix things." Malia recited. Draco sneered and sloshed about in the water uselessly.

    "Sounds like a committee. Tea... I'm hungry." Malia began to turn around.

    "Well, you did sleep in and it is eleven thirty, sooo..." Draco threw the bar of soap in anger.

    "Ohhh! My breakfast! It's bad enough I had to eat utter crap, but now I don't get three squares a day either?! " Draco stopped yelling abruptly and started to look very regal for someone in his position. "Of course, there will be some kind of brunch made up for me..." Draco's eyes roved towards Malia in expectation. Malia had a terrible urge to leave.

    "Don't count on it. The others are sort of... well, you'll see." With that, Malia finally started to leave.

    "Great," Draco fumed. "Maybe in the future I could not wake up to you in the morning. Black Angel of death..."

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *

    Draco stood at the top of the spiral staircase, suspended in thought and leaning against the railing. He had finally gotten into some dry robes, but his appearance was still a little haggard. Draco decided he didn't much like the day after and that he would research some good hang over remedies while the others toiled fruitlessly. The blond boy descended the staircase proudly, casting a superior gaze over the room and its irate contents. Harry was especially incensed. His stormy gaze never left Draco's swaggering figure even when Hermione put a calming hand on Harry's shoulder. Draco couldn't help but notice the daunting silence that descended upon the room, or the lovely black eye and split lip combo Potter was sporting. Draco smiled to himself as he flopped down in the closest armchair, having sustained no injuries himself and in his very first fight as well, he was feeling very lordly indeed. Pollocks simply sat on the floor in front of the crackling fire looking rueful as he held the multicolored rubix cube to his chest. He would occasionally play with the trinket and cast sideways glances at Malia who was busy making polite but awkward conversation with Sirius Black. Draco took in his full surroundings. The cheery yellow hangings and Cedric Diggory memorial shrine was enough to clue him in. They were in the Hufflepuff common room. Draco made a face.

    "Dear God. I hope none of the stupid residue came off on me."

    Dante, who had emerged from nowhere, was the only one laughing at his joke and very enthusiastically at that. Draco thoughts seemed to be the loudest thing in the room and for one wild moment he thought maybe the others could hear them.

    "So. Is anyone going to tell me how we got in here?"

    Harry didn't move except for a short uncontrollable eye twitch. Hermione took to the task of answering Draco.

    "Malia knew the location and password for some reason..." Hermione trailed off. Malia acknowledged her name and nothing else. She wasn't a modest girl. Draco smiled acidly at Harry.

    "Nice eye shadow Potter." Draco couldn't figure out why he had done that. Maybe it was the irritation of being addressed by a mudblood or maybe the alcohol hadn't completely worn off, but whatever the cause, it was getting him into trouble. Harry was able to hold himself back, but the fury seemed to break like a dam.

    "At least I didn't make a complete ass of myself!" Harry shouted. "And besides, you didn't come out of the fight too well yourself."

    As Harry said this his anger was slowly being replaced with glee and Draco knew that when Potter was happy it meant something bad happened to him. Draco lunged for the silver tray on the table beside him.

    At first he seemed to be unscathed, but then he turned his head and espied a large purple bruise that sloped down his jaw. He was about to turn around and say something smart to Harry when he noticed something else. Draco gulped, hoping against hope that what he saw was just a trick of the light. But as he looked closer he realized there was no mistake, a medium sized clump of his silvery hair was missing. Draco froze in horror and felt his head dazedly. Harry folded his arms.

    "Too bad. Now you can't grow a pony tail like your dad."

    Sirius snatched the tray from Draco's hands before he could let it fly. Draco gripped the armrests of his chair in rage.

    "At least I have a father," Draco hissed. Pollocks looked around for someone to speak up, and took the responsibility for himself.

    "Whe-eh-ell, technically, n-none of us have parents."

    Draco gave Pollocks a vicious warning glance which made the boy's electric blue eyes contract in fear.

    "It doesn't matter. Everyone knows James Potter was a coward who hid behind the ministry's little security barriers."

    The brutal sentiments hit Harry and for a moment his eyes went blank, the the fury came back full force.

    "I would rather be an orphan than the spawn of some groveling minion. Your father was nothing but a servant."

    Draco said nothing. The insult to his lineage seemed not to affect him at all. The only one who knew better was Hermione. She could tell by the way Draco stopped blinking and his eyes gleamed maliciously that he was livid and pure venom was to be distributed to anyone who spoke next. Pollocks' inability to grasp situations such as these made him the first victim. Hermione winced as he stood up to talk.

    "I think perhaps,"

    Hermione cursed under her breath- perhaps. Only Pollocks would say perhaps, Hermione thought in panic and yes, excitement.

    "You two s-should stop talking about each other's parents and help us study," Pollocks finished rather breathlessly. Draco smiled unpleasantly.

    "Your absolutely right Rocket," Draco agreed as he stood up. "Let's talk about your parents."

    Hermione may have been one step ahead of everyone else during the entire fight, but right now she was just as confused as the other wide eyed spectators. Sirius started getting up from his chair to prevent whatever was coming next. Hermione couldn't help but wonder what took him so long.

    "Stop it boy," Sirius growled threateningly. Draco could not even hear him.

    "Why, you might ask, would an American couple send their only son to a wizarding school in England? Hmm... That's a mystery!" Draco exclaimed with his eyes alight.

    "Shut up, Malfoy or I will hurt you," Harry warned.

    In fact, Harry looked in no shape to fight. Hermione scanned the room. Malia was still sitting on the couch, but now she was staring trancelike, at Draco and Pollocks. Dante was further back, sitting on a small chair that couldn't possibly be comfortable, playing with a shiny object. He hadn't looked up from it once since the fight. Draco laughed one high, cold taunt that cut through the silence like a blade. As soon as he finished his mirth vanished and he had a disgusted look on his face which was inches away from Pollocks, who was petrified with fear.

    "Maybe it's because of your little mental problem."

    Hermione opened her mouth in shock, she had no idea what Draco was talking about, but Pollocks reacted to it with a whimper.

    "Or because you're a pathetic little maggot who's greatest achievement is saying one word to a girl who obviously hates you," Draco snarled. "Or maybe, they just don't want a son who by all means, ought to be a squib or dead."

    Sirius grabbed Draco's shoulder and yanked him away from the morose boy violently.

    "That's enough! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

    Draco eyes darkened immediately at the sight of Harry's Godfather.

    "Where you you then?" Draco drawled. "Off flirting with Mad Eye over there?" Sirius took great pains to stay calm.

    "Hermione!" he bellowed. Hermione jumped up from her seat beside Harry. "I want you to put a silencing spell on Lu-, Malfoy."

    Hermione took out her wand and performed the spell, hand shaking a little. Draco shrugged off Sirius' hand glaring at everyone who looked at him. No one moved until Dante broke the silence.

    "Done already? Well trot along comrades. To the nerdery!"

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *

    The group studied long and hard with the exception of Draco whose largest effort was grabbing a book from Dante's hands and throwing it across the room. Dante pouted, but obeyed Draco's wish for him to cease helping. Pollocks appeared to be working almost as hard as Hermione herself, but she could tell his heart was not in it. Harry worked diligently, looking to a troubled Sirius whenever a suggestion was made which was not very often. The thing the seemed to bother her the most was Malia.

    Hermione had never liked Malia. Before all this happened she could just ignore the girl, but now ... Hermione had the impatient nervous feeling all the time, as if she was in some sort of a contest with the only other female. Malia was less than subtle about the circumstances. She flaunted herself constantly and complimented Harry on practically everything he did then went chasing after Malfoy. She knew nothing would happen to Malfoy, he proved he could take care of himself, but she didn't want Harry to get hurt. She couldn't possibly imagine what it was like to lose everyone you love for the second time. Hermione tried not to think about such personal things and concentrate on her bleak studying.

    "We're not getting anywhere," Harry declared in frustration. Sirius gave him a sympathetic look, but could offer no real reassurance, no one could. Hermione opened her mouth to say something to Harry, but found she could not continue. A creeping feeling was invading her mind. She turned around to see Draco grinning jeeringly at them from across the table. Harry stared back.

    "I guess the myth is true then," Harry chuckled. "If you make a face enough times, it gets stuck that way."

    Draco's grin only widened as he made some kind of signal to Dante. Dante seemed to have expected this because he produced his wand instantly.

    "Finite Incantatem!" the red haired boy commanded. Draco opened his mouth with a smirk on his lips.

    "Did you get that one off a box of chocolate frogs Potter?" Draco's face relaxed with relief. Harry grabbed at his wand and pointed it at Draco.

    "I wouldn't do that if I were you Potter."

    Harry gritted his teeth. "Why not?"

    Draco looked directly at the three figures on the other side of the table.

    "Because I've solved your ever fucking riddle."

    No one spoke and Draco took this as a sign to continue.

    "All right, I'm surprised the little Dark Lord defeaters couldn't think of this one,-" Everyone started giving Draco sour looks.

    "Time turners." Draco stated as he grinned wolfishly.

    The first thing that happened was Hermione's face going slack. She just froze and tugged at Harry's arm slowly. Harry and Sirius had similar expressions of surprise, but tried to conceal them. Pollocks insisted he would have thought of that and Malia and Dante were busy asking each other what a time turner was and if they were available in black. Hermione suddenly broke out of her trance and started hugging Harry and shouting,

    "We're saved Harry, I can't believe we didn't think of it, but it doesn't matter because we're going to be able to leave these psych,-"

    Draco glared at her and she settle back into her seat, slightly pink.

    "Not quite," Draco stated, still trying to suppress a grin.

    "Not quite what?" Hermione asked, the smile still on her lips, but slightly faded. Draco managed to hide his own smile, but the laughter was still in his eyes.

    "Not quite saved. You see, it's a long story-"

    "So tell it!" Hermione ordered. Draco scowled at her.

    "It happened about a year ago. There was this wizard named Roger Jorkins, Bertha Jorkins' father. He worked for the Ministry, I forget which department, and he was extremely upset about the Dark Lord killing his little idiot of a daughter. So he worked for a year, trying to find a way to get revenge or bring her back, or both." Hermione motioned for him to stop.

    "But it's impossible to bring back the dead."

    Draco rolled his eyes.

    "Technically it isn't. Now let me talk, or I won't talk at all." Hermione sat back.

    "After a while he finally managed to get a time turner, illegally, but he accomplished his first task. So, he decides to go back a year or two and stop dear Bertha from traveling to Albania. But then he thinks why just stop Bertha from being killed, so he changes his mind and instead goes back fifty years to kill The Dark Lord while he's still in Hogwarts." Hermione put a hand over her mouth and mumbled,

    "Oh my..."

    Draco continued.

    "Anyway, the ministry got another time turner and managed to stop the crazy bastard before he even got to Hogwarts. Harry put his head in his hands and frowned deeply.

    "Why? Why did they stop him?"

    Draco laughed coldly.

    "Figures a Griffyndor wouldn't understand. Don't you see? If someone so much as stops for thirty seconds to tie their shoe, that can change the course of their life. Now just try to comprehend what could happen if someone killed The Dark Lord." As Draco said this an invisible shiver ran through his body. He continued as though nothing was felt. "People could be unborn. And besides, he probably wouldn't have been able to kill the heir of Slytherin." Harry frowned even deeper.

    "You're just saying that because you're one of his followers." Draco chose not to answer. Sirius interrupted hastily.

    "Yes, but what does this Jorkins business have to do with us?" Draco's face lit up.

    "Ah yes, now this is the fun part. Since the Ministry came so close to screwing up, they met with all the other wizarding countries and after a lot of yelling at each other, they decided to put a ban on all time turners. They hid them all somewhere no one could reach them, well except the ones people might have hid before the Ministry got to them, but that would be a very small percentage." Now it was Hermione's turn to quiz him.

    "If this is true, then why didn't we hear about it?"

    Draco sighed, the thrill of crushing their hopes was starting to wear off and the incessant questions were getting tiring.

    "Because the Ministry wanted to keep their mistakes secret. How do you think Jorkins got the Time Turner in the first place? They let their guard down like they always do. Also, common wizards would never come in contact with a time turner in the first place, so it really wasn't any of their business."

    "Ok," Hermione struggled, her eyes turning glassy. "Then how do you know about it?" Draco looked straight into her eyes.

    "My father was a very important person, not to mention a school trustee. He knew about everything. I can see you won't believe me, so just scurry over to the archives over there and look up November tenth, 1998. There will be a copy of the Daily Prophet. Wave your wand over it and say Stratum Morvicio. Now can I leave?"

    "Where will you go?" Sirius asked with a hint of suspicion.

    "Home," Draco said. "I want to visit the Mansion."

    Sirius looked to Hermione who was still trying to get her head around the disappointment.

    "You can put a locating spell on me so I can't leave," Draco offered. Hermione wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.

    "All right." She got out of her chair and brandished her wand at Draco. "Locatore!" she commanded.

    Malia crept over to Draco's side.

    "I'm going too, give me the spell."

    Draco grumbled in protest, but nothing else. After performing the spell on Malia, Hermione turned back to Draco.

    "Where do you live?"

    "Blackpool," Draco replied.

    "And I suppose you'll be using floo powder?" Hermione said flatly.

    "No I'll think I'll hop on the next dragon thank you very much," Draco snarled as he turned away. Malia gave Dante a flirtatious wave and exited.

    Sirius looked around at his demoralized companions desperately. He pointed to Pollocks with his wand.

    "You, kid with the specs, go get them and tell them we're having lunch." Pollocks raised his hands in the air.

    "Okay! Please don't kill me sir!"

    Before Sirius could explain, Pollocks ran off with his hands over his head.

    Draco was walking down the hall swiftly with Malia trailing behind when Rocket came shooting after them like a, well... Rocket.

    "WAIT!"

    Draco stopped in his tracks, but didn't bother to turn around.

    "We,- ahh, my asthma! W-we're having l-lunch," Pollocks wheezed and collapsed.

    "Not bloody likely," Draco declared bitterly. "I'll wait for you by the Hufflepuff common room Catley. Hurry up."

    As soon as Draco turned the next corner Malia tilted her head towards Pollocks' slumped frame.

    "How do you think he can go without eating?"

    Pollocks hiccuped in reply.

                *    *    *    *    *

     Malia made her way to the head table with her usual plate of lunch a la Potter. She took the only empty seat available beside Dante. He welcomed her enthusiastically.

    "Malia, love! I haven't been seeing much of you since the apocalypse. How goes life?" Malia tried her hardest to avoid his darting eyes. He had always had a way of lifting someone's gaze to his with his frisking peepers, forcing you to make eye contact.

    "Not too great."

    Dante smiled graciously as he fiddled with something small and metallic.

    "And why would my dov-,"

    "Foxx!" Hermione yelled. Dante didn't move, but the smile did a disappearing act for a few moments, then he sighed and as he turned to Hermione it was on again.

    "Yes, Commandante?" Hermione remained perfectly serious.

    "What are you doing with that lighter?" Dante mocked confusion.

    "What this? I use it for... uh heat! Damn these thirteenth century castles and their inferior heating!" Dante's smile widened.

    "I think you have cigarettes," Hermione speculated. Dante opened his mouth, but Hermione interrupted him.

    "How do you expect to stay healthy if you keep smoking?"

    "I don't, I plan to die young and avoid the wrinkliness of old age."

    Hermione crossed her arms.

    "Spread Ôem," she ordered. Dante got up and spread his arms and legs lazily as the others looked on in amusement. Hermione patted down his chest reluctantly.

    "Hold on, I feel little cylinder things."

    Dante's eyes flicked around wildly.

    "That's my... estrogen. Don't take it away or I'll be such a bitch!"

    Hermione's eyes widened as she grabbed hold of his coat.

    "Oh my, you sewed cigarettes in the lining of your jacket?! I wonder where else you hid them..." Hermione began checking his lower body. Dante didn't object.

    "Now I can really feel the hot flashes."

    Hermione jerked away. Dante slumped into his seat, jacket less and distracted. Malia took the knife beside her plate and began to twirl it between her fingers rhythmically. Dante caught sight of the flashing utensil and stared at it fixedly.

    "You know Dante, I've been thinking about you... and me. Things aren't the same. I don't want to point fingers or anything, but you've been sort of strange lately, detached even." Dante followed the knife with deadly accuracy. "I might understand under these circumstances, but we were never serious in the... first..." Malia looked up to see Dante in his trance. "Dante are you listening to me!" The boy didn't shift his gaze.

    "Can you teach me how to do that?" he mumbled. Malia dropped the knife with a clatter.

    "What? Yell at you? I wish I could, that way you could do it yourself!"

    Dante's eyes steadied eerily on Malia's mismatched ones and she started to get up. Dante grabbed her wrist fiercely.

    "No way you're leaving me with these fuckers!"

    "Let go of me!" Malia screamed as she twisted out of his grasp and bolted. The others were staring at him with blank faces.

    "Eat, eat!" Dante waved his hands sociably.

                *    *    *    *    *    *

    Draco waited by the place where Malia said the Hufflepuff quarters were situated just as he promised. Malia strode down the hallway, looking a little red in the face. Draco watched her come over nod to him and then pace back and forth thoughtfully. Draco endured this for a few seconds.

    "Pacing hmm? That's productive." Malia ignored him. "I suppose I'll just guess the password then? I'll start with words that start with f. Fuh-" Malia stopped.

    "The password, of course," she murmured. "Puff'n stuff," she said and the rug on the floor in front of them slid out of place to reveal a staircase.

    "Oh I see the relation. The password represents the contents of their brains!" Draco exclaimed while they descended.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *

    Draco was very eager to leave the castle and threw the Floo powder into the fireplace recklessly. He stepped into the the flames and yelled,

    "Malfoy residence."

    The green flames engulfed him and he breathed a sigh of relief. It was good to be alone, even if it was only for a minute or two. He felt a jerk and finally hit the ground of his own fireplace. He stepped out of the way to avoid being crushed by the red haired girl coming after him. Her boots hit the ground with a click and she came onto the hearth dusting soot off her robes. She looked around the parlor with awe.

    "Wow, your house is- "

    "Immense, rambling, extravagant?" Draco said, supplying her with adjectives.

    "Yes," she replied. Malia walked out of the room and came to the base of a large, marble staircase.

    "Is your room up here?" she asked him.

    "No, I sleep in the dungeons," Draco replied sarcastically. Malia shrugged.

    "Well it's not that absurd, there were rumors about your father..." Draco snorted at her, as if to denounce all rumors not started by himself. Malia continued up the stairs. Draco followed. As he looked up he was surprised to see Malia's skirt was dangerously short.

    "I see Paris, I see France..." Draco began.

    The two trudged through most of the upstairs, admiring portraits and magical objects, some of which Draco had to tell Malia not to touch. The last stop was Draco's room. It was exactly the same as when he had left it. The sight of all his possessions did not evoke any feelings of nostalgia or desire. The knowledge that he could regain all of them if he wished overpowered any unwanted emotions. Malia however, flitted around the room, regarding his things with great pleasure. She was by no means poor, but Draco was by far the richest boy in Hogwarts, at least while it still existed. Malia sat on his four poster bed.

    "Aren't you going to take some things back?"

    Draco thought for a moment and picked up a small, black book from the bureau beside him.

    "Just this," he said quietly. Malia looked puzzled.

    "That crummy old book? But you have so much..." Draco didn't answer.

    "We should go now," Draco said as he beckoned her to the door. "Go wait outside. I'll show you the grounds."

    Malia hesitated, but left him. The blond boy was feeling better than he expected. His head was down to a dull throb and he didn't have to shade his eyes from the sun. With that thought, Draco looked out his window. The sun was setting rapidly, so he would have to hurry. He pulled out his wand and set to work.

                *    *    *    *    *    

    Malia was sitting outside, on a big rock that just happened to be sitting on the Malfoy's front lawn. Draco was taking his time in the house. Once he came out she would have to tell him she didn't want to go walking around the grounds in the dark. And then there was the cold. It had started snowing just a few days ago. It was early snow, but that didn't change the unpleasantness of it. Malia was just about to go back inside and find Draco when she noticed movement in one of the windows. At first she thought it might have been a woman in a red dress, but upon closer inspection she realized it was actually bright red flames clawing their way up the curtains. She gasped and searched for a sign of Draco. She spotted flames in all the other windows and began to panic. Suddenly, he double doors burst open. Nothing happened for a few minutes, but then Draco came flying out like a bat from hell. His broomstick's tail was on fire, but he quickly put it out in the snow. Malia felt relief coming in happy waves. She collapsed against the rock.

    "Draco you scared the hell out of me." Draco turned to look at the blazing house.

    "Did I?"

    He didn't move.

    "Draco, are you all right?" Malia asked. All she heard was "...fine."

    A curious phenomenon was underway. Malia had never seen Draco so enraptured. He always took life in the same lazy, sarcastic manner, but now he looked as if he would not tear his eyes away from the inferno if all the angels in heaven were singing chorus behind him. He stood, watching the immense mansion he once called home crumble as it glowed. Whole rooms caved in, but Draco didn't blink once. Even as the smoke stung his wide eyes he didn't close them, he didn't miss a moment. His arms hung limply, temptingly. Malia came closer, hesitated, and held his cold hand in hers, relishing the feeling of his palm for only a moment before he pulled it away. The unpleasant feeling of rejection shocked her and she found herself blushing profusely. If Draco shared any of this embarrassment, he didn't show it. Without regarding her he gave the house one last lingering look, flipped up his collar, walked a few steps away and stopped.

    "Are you coming, or do you enjoy bonfires that much?" he said without turning around.

    "Why did you do it Draco?" she quested.

    "I just wanted to burn something... big. And when you have complete freedom, you do whatever the hell you feel like."

    Malia waited a second before venturing further into unsafe territory.

    "That's it?" Was all she could think of. Draco sneered.

    "Do I need a special reason? There's no symbolism in this Catley, so don't go looking for any. I mean God! It's like you people expect me to take a razor blade to my throat! Do you want me to be melodramatic?" Draco was getting worked up and Malia already knew there was no way to diffuse him.

    "I'm not a screwed up psychopath! My parents were... decent. Look at yourselves, people! Dante can't get through a day without groping someone, Granger has no life outside of a dingy library, Potter and his saintly Godfather look at me like I crawled out of the depths of hell, Rocket has no end of personal issues, which no one gives a damn about anyway, and I've got you following me around like a FUCKING BALL AND CHAIN!" Draco emphasized this with a tremendous kick at a snowdrift. Malia watched him breathe violently and sit down in the snow. She came over to him, picked up handfuls of twinkling snow and dropped it on his head. She then ruffled his hair for good measure. Draco made no move to stop her. She wiped her hands on his coat and started to walk away.

    "Too bad. It was a nice house." He heard her say, deadpanned. "Great place to raise a kid."

    Draco could feel the snow soaking his clothes. He looked around.

    "YOU SCUFFED THE BIG ROCK!" he shouted after her.