The Path of the Righteous

"Look Potter, could you please get out of the way? Really, you've been stalking me all week. I know I'm irresistible but you're not my type. Now move." Draco was impatient, he was going to be late for Arithmetics and he hated been late for that class. Not only because Professor Vector was a bit, what one would say anal-retentive when it came to the school rules, but the smugness on Granger's face made it extra unbearable.

"Malfoy, shut up. I want to..."

Oh great, now the bloody golden boy wants to have a deep and meaningful. How sweet. Fuck, two minutes late already! Doesn't Potter have a class to get to? "Potter, as tempting as chatting with Hogwarts' resident celebrity is, I'm afraid I really am not in the mood. I know your celebrity status excuses you from been late to classes, hell, it probably even exempts you from class. But unfortunately, some of us lower plebs do not have that luxury. So if you will excuse me, I would like to get to class."

Finally, Potter seemed to get the message, it was a relief really, Draco didn't want to have to get his wand out and hex him. After all, what a waste of energy that would be! In Draco's frustration at Potter's untimely delay, and his hastiness to not make it three minutes late, Draco plunged forwards as soon as Potter began to retreat. He didn't count on the possibility that Potter might change his mind in the middle of his retreat, and resume his original position in front of Draco. This unfortunately led to the two boys colliding their foreheads rather painfully together.

"Fuck Potter, fuck! What the fuck is your problem?!?" Draco was beyond anger, he was beyond reason, he was outraged and he was in pain. God how he hated Potter. Bloody perfect, goody-two-shoed, self-righteous Gryffindor! Now he'll have a bloody bump on his forehead all thanks to bloody Potter, and the Halloween Ball was in a week! Draco sincerely hoped that Pomfrey would know a spell to heal it, or at least hide it. He hoped at the very least Potter would have a lump on his forehead as well, preferably much more larger and distinct. Sneaking a glance at Potter's forehead Draco all but squealed with delight, but of course Malfoys do not squeal. There, on Potter's forehead was indeed a huge lump, just where his scar is. Now, Potter's lightening bolt scar, which no longer resembled a lightening bolt, was magnified at least three times its original size. Excellent.

"Malfoy, watch where you're bloody well going next time!"

"Watch where I'm going? Don't you mean where you're going? This was all your fault Potter, if you hadn't stalked me, then cornered me and made me...6 minutes late, 6 bloody minutes late for class, then none of this would have happened!"

"Stalked you? Me stalk you? Are you out of your mind? I didn't stalk you! Don't flatter yourself Malfoy, the only people who would ever contemplate the very idea of stalking you would be Crabbe, Goyle and the inmates at St. Mungo's."

"Well Potter congratulations. I see you finally admitted that you have a problem. As they say, the first step to recovery is admittance."

"What?!?!"

"Ta ta now."

Leaving Potter in the hallway spluttering, Draco hurried to the hospital wing, he'd be damned if he was going to appear in public with this...this... distortion on his face, besides he was already late for Professor Vector's class, what difference can a couple more minutes make?

Of course the term hurried is used loosely, in actual fact, Draco merely strolled nonchalantly down the hall, at least until he was sure that Potter could no longer see him, and then he had hurried. After all Malfoys were not supposed to hurry, it was simply not dignified, though Draco understood that his current situation was an emergency, so he had made an exception. Who knows? What if because he didn't get it cured straight away the bump would leave a blemish on his otherwise flawless forehead. How awful! Draco was definitely not going to risk that.

***

"Harry, where were you? Are you alright?" Ron was nudging his arm, concern evident in his eyes. Obviously he was referring to the Bludger sized lump on his forehead. But before Harry could reply, the dreamy, yet frosty voice belonging to Hogwarts' 'esteemed' Divination Professor, Sybill Trelawney, interrupted.

"Mr. Potter, kind of you to join us. May I ask what caused your delay?" Trelawney's voice was cold, she was obviously unimpressed by Harry's tardiness.

"Professor Trelawney, I uh... suddenly felt faint and um, it felt like my head was going to explode. And... uh then I was hit by a fallen rock when I was clearing my head outside. And er... it made my headache worse, as well as left a bruise on my forehead. It was uh very painful, and um still is."

"Oh dear, of course. I remember now, I foresaw your lateness during breakfast this morning; yes it is the Killer Migraine. My dear, I dread to tell you, though I must, that you should prepare for the... inevitable. I'm afraid that this headache will only get worse, if it doesn't kill you it will at the very least drive you mad! I am truly sorry Mr. Potter, such a hard life you do lead."

"Er... yes, um... thanks, I think. I will uh, prepare for the inevitable."

Seeming to be satisfied with the response, Professor Trelawney returned to her lecture on dream interpretation and its properties. Harry sighed in relief. God, at least something was going right today.

He could feel Ron look at him from the corner of his eye, Harry sighed, he really didn't feel like answering any questions right now, but he didn't want Ron concerned about him either. Because inevitably, if Ron was concerned, he would eventually confess his worries to Hermione, who will in turn confide in Ginny, who will probably write to Mrs. Weasley about it, and then the whole Weasley family will know. Afterwards Mrs. Weasley will of course write to Dumbledore, who will then tell Sirius. Knowing Sirius, he will probably drop everything immediately, and rush to Harry's side, which is of course a very dangerous place to be for an escaped convict such as Sirius Black. And Harry really, really, really didn't want Sirius to be in danger, especially if the risk was due to something as petty as a schoolboy crush, which of course is what it is, just a petty, inconsequential schoolboy crush. Of course nobody knows about that, not even Ron, no, especially not Ron.

Harry knew that he was acting distant, he knew that Ron, Hermione and probably the whole of Gryffindor was concerned about him, he didn't blame them, he was actually quite flattered that so many people cared, but God, he didn't want them to worry. That was why he had to act normal. He couldn't allow this, this crush to affect him. He wouldn't allow it to affect him. With that thought, Harry forced a smile onto his face, and as he did, he could see Ron visibly relaxing at his side.

***

"Pansy! Where the fuck did you learn this? I don't imagine this is what you and your parents get up to in the holidays is it?"

"Ha ha ha. I am laughing so hard I feel like spewing my intestines out, do you see the tears in my eyes?"

"Pansy dear, it really isn't very lady like to talk about your organs. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought that you had no manners."

"Draco darling, I was merely demonstrating to Blaise here, just how witty his comments were."

"Oh, in that case it is a wholly different matter."

It was Friday night and the Slytherin seventh years were bored. It had always been tradition in the past to go into town and party the night away; at least it was like that for the higher years. However, somehow McGonagall had found out about the Slytherins' late night endeavors and had complained to Dumbledore. Hence Snape, who had feigned unawareness, was forced to bar his house from such outings in the future.

The last few Fridays had been tolerable, with Pansy and Millicent conducting little gossip sessions. However there was only so much gossip in the school, and it was definitely not enough to entertain the Slytherins for the third week running. Thankfully, before Draco was forced to find entertainment in a hag such as Millicent, Pansy had come up with a very entertaining activity to pass time. Draco thought it sounded like a very devious game actually; strip poker was what Pansy had called it. The name itself had brought up many lurid images in Draco's mind; with it of course was his morbid curiosity. Pansy had refused to disclose where she had learnt the game, the only offer of explanation been: "I learnt it from some friends outside school". Which of course was not at all good enough, but it really wasn't that important so Draco had let it go.

So now, after playing for a good hour or so, Crabbe was left in his T-shirt and boxers. Goyle, who had remained incredibly lucky, had only lost his outer robe and shoes. Millicent who was *shudder* only in her undergarments, though neither Crabbe nor Goyle seemed to mind. Blaise was down to his T-shirt and trousers, similar to Draco, who though was without a shirt still had on his trousers. And of course, the devil who came up with the game, Pansy, was still perfectly dressed, bar her school robes.

It was at this point in the game, just when, to Millicent's relief as will as everyone else's except Crabbe and Goyle's, Blaise was penalized to remove his shirt, that there came a knock on the dungeon doors. The seventh years had claimed the common room for the night, hence there were no lower years to bully into opening the portrait. Draco, of course, a Malfoy was not expected to do such a task, not when there are other, more suitable Slytherins around. Millicent blatantly refused to open the portrait in her state, "What if it's a Professor?" she had said. Crabbe and Goyle were too busy drooling to even here the knock, or the fact that they had stopped playing. And Blaise, who was in the process of removing his shirt, had been so startled by the knock that he had crashed into Draco. So it was with a heavy sigh and a roll of the eyes that Pansy stood up, playing the role of a martyr, albeit reluctantly, to open the portrait door. Before Pansy did anything however, she yelled at everyone to look at least half way decent. This was said with a pointed look at Draco and Blaise, who were both still on the floor, in a very compromising position indeed. Though neither Draco nor Blaise were usually known for listening to Pansy, they were themselves quiet embarrassed with their predicament. So it was with a blush and a scowl that the boys untangled themselves from each other.

Satisfied, Pansy pushed open the portrait door, fully intended to either bite the head off the person who interrupted their game, especially at such a crucial moment, if said person was a younger Slytherin. Or if it was a Professor, she was fully prepared to put her renowned acting abilities to use and come up with a brilliant story explaining why some of the seventh year Slytherins were in such a state.

However, when she did open the portrait door, she was not met with either one of her predictions. Pansy was for the first time in her life unable to respond. All she could do, all she did, was stare and gape at the intruder on the other side, and of course in her condition, she let the intruder in. And to be fair, Pansy's reaction was to be expected. After all it was the first time in history that a Gryffindor had ventured in to Slytherin's lair. And it was not just any ordinary Gryffindor. It was Harry Potter, the Boy-who-Lived, the sworn enemy of Slytherins everywhere.

***

"Um, hi Pansy. Could I please talk to ... um, what are you guys doing?" Harry in his haste to get out the speech that he had prepared beforehand had just noticed the strange surroundings that he had just walked into. Harry blinked, once, twice. He couldn't be seeing what he thought he was seeing could he? His eyes traveled from Crabbe to Goyle to Millicent to ...

Oh God, Harry was aghast, his throat had suddenly gone dry, he could feel the blush creeping slowly up his face, what's more, his - aahhh, he had to get out, fast, before he risked been seen! Trying to calm himself, he repeated the mantra: think of Millicent, think of Millicent. He was going leave in a dignified way. He was not going to be affected by this, by the well-defined muscles, the creamy flawless skin. Stop! 'Think of Millicent, think of Millicent!'

"What's wrong Potter? Can't take the heat?"

Harry couldn't help but turn towards the voice.

"Malfoy I can take whatever you... "

Oh God. Fuck this, fuck dignity, he had to get out. Now! With that, Harry ran out the portrait door, face aflame, lips dry and his whole being fully, inescapably excited.

As he ran, he could hear the Slytherins' laughter, echoing in the empty corridors. Oh God, Harry felt like he was about to die, no, he wanted to die. It would be the kindest and simplest solution! God, he was so embarrassed.

But beneath all the embarrassment, he was hurt. The other boy had laughed at him, he had laughed with the other Slytherins. True, Harry had expected it, he had prepared himself for it, but it still hurt. Damn the pain of unrequited love. Love, was it really love? Did Harry really love him? The more he thought about it, the more upset he became. Harry could feel an odd lump in his throat. Well at least it's settled that it was not just a petty crush, who ever heard of crying over a crush?

***

Ah, that had been entertaining. Draco smirked, he loved the effect that he had on Potter, it was something purely between the Boy-who-Lived and Draco. Only Draco was ever able to get a rise out of Potter now, and in a bizarre way Draco felt special. It was ironic actually, that Draco Malfoy was the only one who can get a reaction from Harry Potter. Not Weasley or Granger, not even the crackpot fool Dumbledore, not Snape either, though God knows he tries. Not even the Dark Lord or Draco's father can get the same reaction out of Potter as Draco can. Like just then, Potter had looked at him and blushed, went tomato red and bounded straight out of the common room. Ha, he wished he had a photo, where was Creevey when you needed him?

With entertainment enough for the night, Draco turned to the boy right next to him.

"Blaise you want to call it a night?"

It wasn't really a question as much as it was a command. Even though Blaise Zabini had replaced Crabbe and Goyle as Draco's best friend and confident, house politics and ensured Draco to be the leader of the house. Hence no matter how close Draco and Blaise were, Draco would always remain one step on top of Blaise.