Downfall

Chapter Five: Oh, How the Mighty Have Fallen

Draco had just left the hospital wing and was making his way down the corridor, his things stuffed in an old satchel Madam Pomfrey had found floating behind him.

He paused a moment, gingerly touching the spot on his chest where the glass had been. The wound was gone, but a faint scar remained. Madam Pomfrey said the potion was able to fix the internal damage, but an injury like that needed the attention of a mediwizard specialising in non-magical accidents to be completely eradicated. He readjusted the sling around his arm, grimacing as he felt the flesh pull. It was still slightly sore, and he was feeling rather cranky because of it. Maybe I'll run across some Gryffindors I can take points from. Or a few Hufflepuffs to scare. That'll make me feel better.

Draco had just rounded the corner and was headed for the stairs when a familiar figure swung into sight. The tall, dark-haired boy sauntered towards him, whistling tunelessly.

"Alright, there, you poor excuse for a man? Heard you decided to paint old Snape's floors red last night."

Draco sneered at Blaise Zabini and waved his wand in the stockier boy's direction. The satchel smacked into him, knocking the air out of him with an audible "oof!".

"Heard you decided to bounce Tracey Davis' skull against your headboard the other night, Zabini."

Blaise put the satchel down next to him and began to studiously examine his fingernails. "Where'd you hear that load from? Wouldn't touch that slag with another wizard's wand."

Draco tilted his head back so he was looking down his nose at his housemate and drawled, "That's odd, because when I went to get my Transfiguration notes from Goyle the other night, I saw the two of you sprawled out under your duvet. I'd fix that hanging on the right side of your bed, Blaise. Don't want people seeing things they shouldn't, you know."

Blaise just laughed, a great booming sound that echoed in the empty corridor. "Glad you didn't kick it, Draco. Things would get boring without your, shall we say charming?, sidebar comments."

"Like those, do you?"

"Oh, yes. But not as much as some tasty gossip circulating through the Great Hall earlier." This was said with a toothy grin, transforming the darker boy's face from aristocratic to downright handsome. No mystery how he gets the women, that's for damn sure.

"Such as?" Draco prompted. Blaise was silent a moment, dragging out the anticipation with relish.

"Well, it seems one Miss Ginny Weasley had the nerve to corner Milli Bulstrode on her way out after lunch."

"That's your big news, Zabini? Bulstrode could squash that little girl with one fat fist. Pathetic."

"Actually, your red-haired saviour had some interesting news to deliver to our sweet Milli."

Draco glared at the smug-looking Blaise. "Am I going to have to torture you for you to let fall a little more information?"

"Ironic wording, my friend. You do realise Milli is still very cross with you for that stunt with her weight reducing potions, don't you? Forgot about that, hmm? Oh all right, Draco, put your wand away. You wouldn't want to hex me right now anyway, trust me. Weasley told her of your, er, disdain for certain articles of clothing. Milli, seeing her chance, magnified her voice and shared that bit of fun with everyone still in the Great Hall."

Draco gaped at his friend, horrified that something so personal was now common knowledge. How am I supposed to be intimidating and fear-inducing when everyone is snickering about me as soon as my back is turned?! Dead. Weasley is dead! By the time I'm done with her, she'll wish she had never crossed a Malfoy! I'll show Weasley what retribution really is.

"Wait, it gets better. Then Milli offered 50 galleons to the first person, male or female, to offer up physical proof of your, erm- clothing preferences. That girl, Loony Lovegood I think her name is, is apparently friends with Weasley. She yelled to Milli that she was sure her father would publish any photographic results in the 'Wizard Personality Profile of the Week' section of his magazine."

Blaise smiled beatifically. "So, mate. Not so bad, eh? A little publicity for our venerable Head Boy."

Draco stared at him, dumbstruck.

"Oh, yeah. Almost forgot. On my way out I overheard those Gryffindor tarts, Brown and Patil- you know the ones I'm talking about, right?- hatching a plan to 'get the goods'. Their words, not mine. Hope you like women half as much as you like those chocolates your Mum sends you, because the female population of Hogwarts is going to be after you like a hungry nundu in a Muggle village." Blaise paused, tapping a long slender finger against his temple. "Come to think of it, the ladies hounding you won't be so bad; it'll be fending off the benders trying to find out. There are a handful of them around here, don't you know."

Blaise snickered at the look of horror on Draco's face. Smirking so hard his face hurt, he threw a blithe little wave at the blond as he turned and strolled away. If he had to bet his entire family fortune on one thing, it would be that Ginny Weasley would be seeing Draco Malfoy have one of his infamous fits of temper. And soon, by the looks of things as Draco stormed by him.

"Oof!" The satchel hit Blaise in the back of the head.