Sympathy for the Slytherin

Sympathy for the Slytherin

Chapter 3: Red Wonder

Their voices wavered.

“What do you think? Should we wake him?”

Krowle Ferris was conflicted.

“I don’t know!” he whispered. “I think he’ll get mad!”

His best friend, Nick Fubert was scared out of his wits.

“He might get mad if we don’t!”

“I say we don’t,” Krowle said firmly. “Let’s just get out of here, we’ll miss breakfast!”

“I say you get out of here too,” Draco suddenly snapped, sitting up in his bed.

Krowle and Nick stood frozen in fear at the gigantic sixth year.

“Oh! Er, sorry, Draco!” Krowle yipped. “I mean, that is er-”

“GET OUT!”

“Yes, sir!” Nick shrieked.

Draco licked his lips, tasting sugar in the back of his throat as the two second years fled for their lives. “

And don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me!”

The door closed and Draco heard a faint echo of, “Yes, sir!”

Draco sat on his bed, determinedly decided that he wouldn’t go to class today. He rubbed his eyes and pushed his hair, sweaty from the intensity of the dream out of his eyes. He waited and tried to stop his hands from shaking, clenching his fists and rubbing his scars. When the Gryffindor house seemed quiet he got up to change clothes. He took off the green sweater he’d worn to bed and left it on the floor. Catching himself in the mirror, Draco stared at his reflection. He was a well developed young man now, so it was a rather attractive reflection as reflections go, but he still looked a mess. His hair was damp and stringy and he couldn’t ignore the haunted stare of desperation in his face. He held up his palm in the mirror, gazing at the angry scars, reddened because he’d aggravated them.

“’Morning, handsome!” said the mirror cheerfully. “Nasty scratch there, aye?!”

In a fit of rage, Draco grabbed his bottle of pain killing potion off the dresser and threw it hard at the mirror which shattered on contact.

“That oughta shut you up,” he muttered under his breath.

He put on on a black tank top and changed into equally black jeans and his old quidditch boots. He stuffed some galleons into his pocket , shoved his wand in the back of his jeans, and threw the bedroom door open so hard it knocked against the wall and sprung back, slamming closed.

***********************************************************

Ron poked at his eggs, grumbling to himself.

“Still hearing voices, Ron?” Harry asked, half joking.

“Yes!” Ron shouted, shocking them all. “I hear them all the time except when I’m asleep! Hundreds of them! Voices talking about quidditch, girl voices talking about boys, boy voices talking about girls! I can recognize some of them! This morning I could hear Flitwick yabbering about his Hufflepuff third years while I was in the shower! I can’t take it anymore!”

Ron sighed in frustration and stabbed at his bacon.

“Maybe someone hexed you when you weren’t looking!” Ginny suggested.

“Or slipped you a prank potion!” Harry put in.

“Maybe you’re schizophrenic,” said Hermione.

She couldn’t help throwing it out, it had been in her mind since Ron’s first complaint.

“I’m what?!” Ron yelped, gaping at her. “And no we don’t know if Malfoy is coming to breakfast, so quit asking!”

Hermione’s mouth fell open.

“Ron, I never brought it up, “ she said and then paused thoughtfully. “But I was thinking it! Ron, you’re telepathic! I mean, it’s obvious! You’re telepathic!”

“No, I’m not!” Ron shouted, sounding a bit fearful.

Harry was excited.

“Can you tell what I’m thinking right now?”

“No, “ Ron said, “I can’t control it! It comes and goes and sometimes I hear one voice and sometimes three and sometimes a hundred. And sometimes it’s really faint and sometimes it’s louder. It’s all...echoey.” He was talking much too loudly as if he was going deaf, Hermione suspected he’d lost perspective of the volume of his voice as related to the ones in his head.

Must be like wearing headphones with loud music all the time, she thought. She didn’t mention it, knowing Ron would have no idea what a walkman was.

“What did it sound like when you heard Hermione asking about Malfoy?” Harry said with a tone of urgency.

“It wasn’t as loud as how you’re talking right now, “ Ron said. He chewed his bacon and stared at the ceiling for a moment. “I can hear Creevey and Seamus, they sound distant. And a few others who’s voices I don’t know. Somebody somewhere is rambling about spilling Bott’s Beans all over the floor. Filch is in there, and I can hardly hear over him!”

“It could still be a trick of some kind,” Ginny said helpfully.

“Merlin, I hope so!” Ron said. He shoved his plate away and got up from the table.
“I can’t take it anymore! I’m gonna go see Pomfrey, I’ll see you in class.”

They wished their friend good luck and poked at their food, winded by the situation.

“So where is Draco anyway?” Harry asked, assuming Hermione would know.

“Probably just sleeping in,” Hermione said with a shrug. “Since I finally got him to go to sleep. How’s your head?”

“Feels fine right now,” Harry said with a smile. “Kept waking me up in the night though.”

“If it comes back, I want you to go to Pomfrey,” Ginny said sternly.

“Yes, madam,” Harry said, chuckling.

Hermione grinned at the exchange. She suspected their relationship had taken a little turn. The night before they’d come back from the quidditch game, practically draped over each other and reluctant to part for their dorms. Her suspicions were confirmed again as Harry reached for Ginny’s hand on the table.

Hermione cleared her throat and said, “Are you sure it wasn’t Ginny who cured your little itch?”

“Hermione!” Ginny cried, blushing.

“Sorry, “ said Hermione, not sounding sorry at all, “couldn’t help myself.”

“What about you?” Harry asked. “Any more premonitory dreaming?”

“I did dream about the dragon again,” she answered. ”But this time it was breathing fire.”

Harry shuddered.

“Let’s hope Draco doesn’t learn that neat trick.”

***************************************************************

It had started raining, but Draco didn’t know that as he stalked down the halls, his hands shoved in his pockets. He heard footsteps coming from around the corner but didn’t have time to hide before a typically grouchy Filch appeared.

Damn!

“What are you doing out of class?” Filch demanded. “And in those clothes! Boy, I don’t care what you did over the summer! Macgonagall will hear about this right enough!”

Draco could taste that sugar again in his mouth, like dissolving cotton candy and eased back into his usual drawl.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather she not.”

Filch tugged on his jacket collar and said, “Fine. But consider this a warning.”

Filch walked on and Draco gawked, amazed at his luck. He continued down the hall as visions from his nightmares flashed through his mind. Lucius had said that following the dark lord was his destiny. Draco started to wonder if Dumbledore was wrong. Maybe men didn’t choose their futures. Maybe their futures chose them.

I already killed my father... How great a future can I have?

************************************************

Hermione sat down in Transfiguration next to Harry and looking anxiously around for Draco.

“I should’ve woken him up, “ she said worriedly. “Although he does have a lot on his mind. For all I know, he’s meeting with Dumbledore.”

“You certainly worry a lot about him,” Harry said, slightly bemused.

“Well, I am his-”

“Yes, I know,” Harry said, unpacking his notes and quill. “You’re his tutor and the Gryffindor prefect.”

“I’m also his friend,” Hermione said quietly.

Harry stared down at the girl he’d saved from a troll in his first year.

“Are you?” he asked. “Do you know what you’re getting into, Hermione?”

“No, “ she said smiling a little, “but that’s never stopped us before, has it? Besides Harry, Lucius is dead. Positively dead. They burned the body and everything. I think Draco’s past is behind him.”

“I hope you’re right,” he sighed. “For your sake and mine.”

As he ended his sentence, Ron came sweeping in and slipped into the empty seat next to Hermione.

“Any luck?” Hermione asked hopefully.

“No, “ Ron growled, “she said she couldn’t help me and that if it was a potion or a hex I should either try Snape or Gerkin or maybe go straight to Dumbledore if it continues.”

Gerkin was their latest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, a mild mannered goat-like geezer as old as time and none of the three of them thought he could help Ron.

“I’m not asking Snape,” Ron insisted. “Do you know I’m getting it from entirely different countries now? I’ve got angry German women and an American trying to figure out how to fix something called a carburetor.”

“You’ve got to go to Dumbledore, Ron,” Hermione said.

“I don’t want to go to him,” Ron moaned, leaning back in his chair. “He’ll probably just chuckle and tell me to go eat a chocolate frog or something.”

Harry and Hermione laughed at the depiction of Dumbledore but Hermione had another suggestion.

“There’s only one place left for us then. The place with all the answers.”

“Looks like a trip to the library tonight,” Harry said, smirking.

Hermione rose an eyebrow.

“You read my mind.”

*******************************************************

Draco stepped up from the cellar at Honeyduke’s and onto it’s main floor, his mind moving a hundred miles an hour.

I should’ve died that day too, I’ll bet that was my destiny.

He spied the man at the counter who was mumbling, “I’ll never get all those Bott’s Beans off the floor!” He noticed Draco then and brightened up. “Oh! Didn’t see you come in! Can I help you?”

“Exceedingly doubtful,” Draco said, casting a glare in his direction.

He walked out into the rainy streets of Hogsmeade just in time to hear the store clerk shout, “Say, aren’t you Draco Malfoy?!”

Draco stomped down the street, ignoring the pouring rain on his bare skin and not even bothering to perform a simple bubble spell. He stopped at The Three Broomsticks, had a second thought and kept going, instead entering Hog’s Head. He walked into the darkened pub, mostly empty at this early hour though a few unsavory looking characters sat in corners, staring into mugs of suspicious liquids. Draco sat down at the counter and ran a hand through his hair. The barkeep, outfitted in dark grungy robes, recognized him instantly but decided against mentioning it.

“What’ll it be then?” he asked gruffly. “Butterbeer?”

Draco crossed his arms on the counter and decided to take a shot.

“Have you got something a little heavier?”

“Of course,” The bartender said, eyeing him. “But not for you.”

Draco tasted sugar and stared into the pub man’s eyes.

“I’ll take a Red Wonder.”

“Whatever you say, “ said the bartender, shrugging.

Draco smirked to himself and decided that whatever the connection was between the taste of sugar and the ease of convincing people to do his bidding, it was definitely working to his advantage. He thought to himself that it might be a left over side effect from the pepper-up potion which he’d mixed himself. The bartender made his drink and set a small glass of clear red liquid down in front of the soaking wet wizard dressed in black Muggle clothes. Draco had only heard about Red Wonder, but as far as he knew it was one of the strongest drinks existing in the wizard world, and that was saying a lot. He picked up the glass and watched as a tiny red dragon flew up out of the liquid, roared a breath of fire and then dissolved into sparkles that settled back into the glass. He’d always wanted to order one just to see the Dragon trick up close.

“Here’s to patricide,“ he mumbled.

Draco, who’d had nothing to eat all morning, threw the drink down his throat all at once and gripped the counter and rather comically fell to the floor. He jumped back up and gripped the counter, his knuckles whitening as fast as his face reddened. It felt as if a volcano had erupted in his throat, and the lava was pouring through his body and the steam was exploding in his head. He shut his eyes as the heat intensified and just as quickly the images of his nightmare started to fade.

The bartender cleaned a glass and regarded his customer.

“Gave you a bit of a kick, did it?”

“Yeah, “ Draco panted. “I’ll take another.”

********************************************************

Hermione ambled down the corridor next to Ron following her third class, by now fully worried about Draco’s whereabouts. She’d been sent to his room by Macgonagall to find him and instead found a broken mirror and potion bottle. She’d gone back to class to report her findings and Dumbledore was already there, saying a “little bird” had told him Draco’d gone missing again. Dumbledore had then looked to Ron expectantly, as if he should knew where Draco was and then asked Hermione if she’d slept well. After that he left the class, seemingly unconcerned and certain that Draco would be back soon enough.

“I swear, “ Ron had whispered to Hermione, “the man is omnipresent!”

She frowned to herself, wondering where he could be and hoping he wasn’t getting into too much trouble.

“I just hope he comes back by dinner, Ron, or-” She stopped talking when she noticed he wasn’t walking beside her anymore and looked back to see Ron standing stock still in the middle of the corridor, his face a mask of fury. “What is it now?”

“It’s Harry!” Ron hissed. “I can hear his thoughts!”

“So what’s he thinking about?”

“He’s thinking about Ginny!” Ron shouted, his fists clenched.

Hermione squealed, “That’s so cute!”

But Ron was livid.

“Yeah well, YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT HE’S SAYING IN HERE!” he shouted, stomping his feet. “GET OUT OF MY HEAD!! FOR MERLIN’S SAKE, THAT’S MY SISTER YOU’RE THINKING ABOUT!”

“He can’t help it, Ron,” Hermione said, laughing.

“AAAAUUUGH!”

**************************************************************

Draco was half sitting, half falling off his seat at the bar of Hog’s Head. He’d convinced the barkeep to turn on a Wizard’s Wireless that played both the WWN and muggle radio. He particularly liked one song that played and he’d charmed it to play it repeatedly. He pounded his fist on the table as a fourth Red Wonder was set in front of him.

“Now, I don’t hardly knoooow heeeer...” Draco howled. “But I think I could loooove heeerr...” He picked up the drink and watch a dragon fly out only to have it turn into Hermione’s pretty little head. The hallucination smiled mischievously, and blew him a kiss. “Crimson and clover...” he whispered, and tossed down the drink.

He babbled to the barkeep, who was stubbornly ignoring him.

“Crimson’s a Gryffindor color, you know? And clover is Slytherin...Brilliant song. She’s brilliant too, isn’t she? Crimson and clover...over and over... Enough!”

He stood up suddenly and took the charm off the Wireless, a new song started playing like nothing he’d ever heard before.

I see a red door and I wanted it painted black,
No colors anymore, I want them to turn black...

The voice was rough and dangerous and sounded exactly the way he felt. The color red seemed to be following him today, he thought nonsensically. Soon Draco was singing along to this one too, having ordered another Red Wonder.

“I look inside myself and see my heart is black...” Draco sang, and snickered. “Huh. Solve that one, Granger.”

*************************************************************

Hermione and Ron sat together in the common room going over potion formulas as Ron smacked the side of his head in annoyance. They were waiting for Harry to return for their trip to the library.

“Concentrate on Draco for a while, “ Hermione suggested. “Maybe you can figure out where he is.”

“Oh, that sounds like a lot of fun. Here, let me sit still and think about Malfoy as hard as I can.”

“Just try it!” she insisted.

Ron put down his quill and closed his eyes, pretending to know what he was doing. He tried to ignore all the voices in his mind and pictured Draco’s face. He sat still like that for a minute and then sighed in frustration. Changing tactics, he instead tried to imagine Draco’s voice. He replayed Draco’s Greatest Hits of the Past including “Language, Weasley” and particularly “What the-” which was a favorite as Draco had spouted it in confusion when an invisible Harry pelted him with mud. He made those voice memories like a string in his mind and stuck it along side the other several strings of voices and attempted to “tune into Malfoy” as if he was working a Wireless with many channels. The voices mixed up as he tried to pick one out.

If Seamus doesn’t ask me out, I’ll die- language, Weasley- ridiculous students with their little- the embassy, sir! I’m seeking the French emb- what the- it’s practically a done deal, man just lemme get- language, Weasley- donde esta la zapateria- c’mon my babies, eat your supper now- crimson and clover - fahget about it, I ain’t no- but she doesn’t know me does she- la la la insha allah-- beautiful eyes when she’s- never again will I be so- Hermione and her beautiful eyes- no, i said two teaspoons of- forget it, Malfoy, you’re dreaming-

“I’ve got him!” Ron said jubilantly, his eyes remaining closed.

Hermione could hardly believe it.

“You have?! Where is he? What’s he thinking?”

“Ugh!” Ron said, making a face. “He’s thinking about you.”

“He is?!” said Hermione, and blushed just a little. “What about me?”

“It’s all bits and pieces,” Ron explained. “Something about beautiful eyes... I don’t know, he’s babbling like an idiot. Dark destiny... Could never like me anyway... Oh brother. Did you two ever make salad on a beach?” He asked, puzzled.

Hermione was glad his eyes were closed so he couldn’t see her deep blush.

“Long story,” she muttered. “What else?”

Ron shook his head and answered, “He has a red door and he wants it painted black. Does that make any sense to you?”

“Only if you’re a Stone’s fan,” she said. “Can you tell where he is?”

“He seems to be thinking about a dark tunnel and a statue... He’s probably coming back from Hogsmeade... Now he’s thinking about his-”

Ron sat up as his eyes shot wide open.

“What is it?!” Hermione demanded.

Ron seemed shocked beyond all speech but he just shook his head.

“I...noth... nothing. I lost him,” he said softly. In truth, Ron had lost him after hearing Malfoy thinking something that shocked him more then anything he’d heard in the last six years. But he didn’t consider it right to spill it to Hermione himself, especially when Draco had been thinking soft and sappy things about her and Ron had invaded his mind. He would, however, tell Harry when he got the chance. A serious conference between the two of them was needed immediately.

“Ron, c’mon. What’s wrong?” she asked.

“It’s nothing,” he said, though he wouldn’t look her in the eye. “It’s just uh... startling to lose the voice all of a sudden.”

*************************************************************
Draco stumbled out into the corridor from behind the statue and bumbled his way down the halls, in his drunken stupor heading toward the Slytherin House for the fifth time that week, a half empty bottle of fire whiskey clutched in one hand.

“And time... goes by so sloooowly!” Draco sang at an unreasonable volume, forgetting most of the words and slurring the verses in a desperate croon. “And time can do...mo such...” Draco laughed at the slip. “Oh yeah... I need your loooove...”

He attempted to walk down the hall one foot in front of the other, immediately tripping.

“Lonely...something something... to the sea, to the sea... I’ll be coming home, Hermioneeeeeee...”

“Will you look at what we’ve got here.”

It was Blaise. Draco squinted at the statuesque Slytherin who stood like a self-appointed emperor before is empire.

“Zabini, old chum?” he said laughingly.

Draco stood up straight, or as straight as he could manage and sidled up to Blaise who was surrounded by none other then Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson.

He drew his wand dramatically.

“Have at thee!” he cried, and laughed at his own joke.

Zabini guffawed, “Draco Malfoy, what a state you’re in. You’re precious Gryffindors will be none too pleased.”

Draco ignored him and took a swig of fire whiskey. He ambled up to Pansy who was watching him with detached amusement. He put his palm against the wall near her and leaned against it in what he thought to be a cool pose, but which in his uncoordinated position looked rather ridiculous.

“Pansy, my love. You’re looking...” Draco slurred, shrugging a shoulder. “Very much like yourshelf.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and walked over to Blaise.

“What a joke you are,” Pansy sighed. “And you, the new Harry Potter.”

“Yeah, “ Blaise agreed, “got exactly what you wanted, didn’t you? Front-page headlines. Prerequisite aura of mystery. Don’t seem to fit the part quite as well as he does though, do you?”

“Questions! Schmestions!” Draco shouted, rolling his eyes. “I want to dance!” He leaned on Pansy. “C’mon Smansy, one little waltz?”

Zabini pushed him away as Crabbe and Goyle looked dumbly on.

“Stay away from her, Malfoy!” Blaise said, scowling. “You know, I heard a rumor that it wasn’t your mother that asked you change houses, I heard you wanted to get out Slytherin!”

Draco threw his arm around Zabini’s neck and laughed without mirth.

“Ah, Zucchini. If you knew what I shoe, you wouldn’t be worried about all that bloody nud.”

Zabini shoved him away and shouted, “You think you’re too good for Slytherin? That you’re some kind of hero?”

Goyle attempted to join in the indignance, “Yeah! Do you?!”

Draco snorted, “Oh shuff it, Goyle. Don’t go trying to have an obliminal thought... orblinial... oliginal. You know what I mean.”

Zabini shoved him again, this time gleeful.

“Look at him! The great Draco Malfoy! Majestic pureblood! Do you know you were supposed to be Slytherin prefect this year? PATHETIC! And you think you can just walk out on Slytherin and be what? One of Harry Potter’s new minions? They know what you are! You can’t just turn from all of it!”

Draco shuddered, hearing the echo of his father’s words.

It is your destiny! You cannot turn from it!

“Yeah,” Draco grunted, drawing his wand and shoving Blaise againsta wal. “Well, take this, Zabini! Jillio-”

But Blaise merely slapped the wand out of his hand as Crabbe and Goyle, who for the past day had received bouts of look-at-that-wanna-be-Draco-thinking-he’s-too-good-for-Slytherin rhetoric, yanked him from behind. Draco felt his head begin to pound and the scars on his hand begin to tingle as he looked up at Blaise who was pointing his wand in Draco’s face, Crabbe and Goyle clutching his arms. It was all too familiar.

“Nice try, Draco, “ Blaise said happily. “Foliciulus verden!”

While Blaise was busy casting hexes on him, Draco knelt not seeing Blaise at all but instead his father as his heart throbbed and his hands shook.

“Let me go,” Draco said through gritted teeth. Somewhere in his drunken mind he wished for that sugary taste again, wondering if that would make Blaise stop.

“Oh, I think not!” Blaise said cheerfully, stroking his chin. “And I can’t seem to give you green bumps but I can make you vomit a good gallon of nasty green stuff! It should match your hair quite nicely!”

Draco tried to shake off Crabbe and Goyle.

“Let me go!”

“Vomi Slimio! I think that’s right.”

Draco shut his eyes and screamed as loud as he could, “LET ME GO!”

He summoned his strength and threw Crabbe and Goyle aside, scrambling for his wand.

Blaise cackled, “Aw, let him go then, gents. He’s making more of a fool of himself on his own anyhow.”

Draco stomped down the hall away from Slytherin, Blaise calling after him, “Say hello to your boyfriend for me!”

Fortunately or unfortunately, Draco was much too drunk to let the exchange bother him for long. He rushed at a trot down the corridors, receiving odd looks and sometimes expressions of horror from younger students.

“Oooooh, my loooove...” Draco sang and then stopped, his stomach turning. “Ugh...”

He ran to the nearest window and pushed it open, spewing a frightening quantity of what appeared to be green slime into the autumnal foliage below. Draco got up just as quickly, wiped his mouth and washed away the sour taste with a chug of whiskey. He frowned down at his hand, clenched his fist and shook it.

“Feels money... er, bunny. Funny. ‘Ats right. Must memember my pain fotion. Ooooooh, myyyy looooove... My dahling...”

**********************************************************

Hermione didn’t believe Ron’s excuse for a second but decided to let it slide until later. They were interrupted by the Pink Lady opening and a disheveled Harry striding in, rubbing at his scar.

Hermione looked up hopefully and was quickly disappointed.

“Oh, it’s you, “ she grumbled.

Harry gave her a look.

“Yeah, just me.”

She shrugged and said, ”I was hoping Draco would return. Itchy again?”

“It just started up!” Harry complained. “It’s been fine all day.”

Ron cleared his throat, “Uh, Harry I have to talk to you about something later...”

Harry blushed.

“I told you I was sorry! I didn’t know you were in my head! It’s hardly my fault that-”

“No, no not about that,” Ron said as Hermione eyed him with suspicion. “It’s about uh... A new idea for quidditch. Er, top secret.”

“Right, “ Harry snorted. “Are we going to the library then?”

They had just exited the Pink Lady when Harry put up a hand.

“Wait. Do you hear that?”

It was an echoing yowl and it was getting closer.

“Is that...singing?” she said, half to herself. “What is that?”

Their question was answered when from around the corner in front of them came Draco at a run who skidded to a halt, stumbled and fell against the opposite wall. The three friends watched, openmouthed, as he picked himself up, laughing to himself. This Draco had bright green soaking wet hair falling over his eyes, and more then that, two ram like horns springing from his head. He was wearing black jeans and a tank top and he was drenched from the rain. Hermione also noticed that he was holding a mostly empty bottle of Ogden’s Fire Whiskey. Draco stumbled towards them and kept singing, loudly.

“Girl, you really got me now! You shot me so I can’t sleep at night!”

He backed up against a wall and shook his head wildly, singing into the bottle.

“Oh, dear, “ Hermione said, with a shake of her head.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle, “He’s drunk out of his mind.”

“You really got me! You really got me!”

“Looks like he ran into some trouble as well,” she sighed and pointed her wand at the dancing, singing Draco. “Finite incantatum.” The hair turned back to blonde and the horns disappeared.

Draco seemed to notice the three of them for the first time.

“Look here! Potter and his...riff raff, “ Draco said, doing an impression of himself. “And there’s poor Weasley, “ he drawled. “Pooooor Weasley.”

“Looks like that Malfoy drawl is back, “ Harry said sardonically.

“What did you drink, Malfoy?” Ron asked, crossing his arms. “Just the whiskey?”

“Red Wonder!” Draco answered happily. “Switch I must say is s’wooooonderful!”

Ron groaned, “Oh nooo...”

“What’s Red Wonder?” Hermione asked.

Draco whipped out his wand and swirled it around.

“Avis!”

A small flock of colorful birds appeared.

“My father had one once, “ Ron said. “He came home with a three eyed dwarf, convinced it was Percy.”

“Well, anyone could make that mistake, “ Harry said with a shrug.

“Malfoy!” Ron barked. “How many did you have?”

Draco rolled his eyes to the top of his head.

“Lessee...”

Draco looked at his hands and tried to calculate dumbly with his fingers.

“What’s three plus four?” he asked mulishly.

“Oi,” said Ron. “Where’s Creevey’s camera when you need it?”

Draco pointed his wand at the window.

“Aviswasi!”

The birds flew right at the window, bonked their beaks against it and fell to the floor. Draco looked depressed.

“Bloody... I sought sey’d go outside,” he said, and shook his right hand, stopping to scratch his scars.

Draco scampered over to Hermione, nabbed her wand, and pretended to play the drums.

“Ya know this one, Granger? I can’t get no... satisfact ion!”

The wands threw sparks and shattered a vase standing on a hallway endtable.

“Draco, cut it out!” Hermione demanded. “Accio wand!”

Draco reluctantly let go of her wand and it flew to Hermione’s hand. He chased after the wand but grabbed Hermione instead.

“C’mon, Granger! Dance wis smee!”

He took her hands and whirled her around the corridor as a distraught Ron and Harry tried to seperate them.

“Cut it out, Malfoy!” Ron shouted.

Draco leered down at Hermione.

“Give us a kiss, aye Granger?”

“Malfoy!” Harry hollered in anger.

“Draco, for Merlin’s sake...” she sighed.

Draco only laughed.

“C’mon, you sexy little mudblood...”

She shoved him away, an expression of genuine hurt in her eyes.

“Draco!”

Harry shoved Draco against the wall.

“Don’t you call her that, you hear me, Malfoy?!”

Draco pointed his wand at Hermione and commanded, “Accio bloodmud!” When it didn’t work, he laughed and scratched his head.

Ron looked to Hermione and asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” shes said. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“Oh, I don’t show what I’m snaying, do I?” Draco shouted, turning suddenly. “Sure, you like me when I’m pathetic and biserable. Wrapped up in my own...whatever!” He cried, throwing up his arms. He spun around and threw the bottle of whiskey against the wall, where it broke all over the floor. “Can’t take the real Malfoy, can ya? Noble Gryffindors and their noble...” Draco scratched at his hand. “You wouldn’t want to know what I know...”

Ron and Harry walked carefully toward Draco.

“C’mon, Malfoy-” Ron said slowly, his mind on the thoughts he’d seen in Draco’s head.

“NO!” Draco shouted spinning wildly. When Harry tried to grab him, Draco threw punches and the two fell to floor, Harry trying to gain control and Draco fighting him off.

Ron yelled to Hermione, “Stupefy him! I don’t have my wand!”

Hermione’s brow furrowed as she tried to aim her wand at Draco.

“Stupefy!”

Instead, Harry went suddenly limp and Draco leapt to his feet.

“Damn!” she cursed, aiming her wand up at Draco, who shook his head.

“No need, Granger.”

And with that he abruptly passed out.

“WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?!”

Ron and Hermione’s heads snapped up to see Macgonagall standing at the end of the hall like a goddess of holy fury.

“I can hear her mind right now, “ Ron whispered, “and she’s not too happy.”