Perfect Potter

Chapter 6

"I'd rather be dreaming

than living.

Living's just too hard to do.

It's chances, not choices

Noises, no voices

A day's just a thing to get through"

-- Loudon Wainwright III - "Dreaming"

Draco tried to get a couple good punches to Weasel's head, but Weasel, being the rat he was, squirmed and got a good hook into Draco's stomach. Infuriated, Draco concentrated, and his fist make a good connection with Weasel's mouth. Hollering in pain, Weasel, started moving his legs, and Draco realized he was aiming his knee right at Draco's crotch. Draco raised his own leg, and brought it down against Weasel's leg, stilling the movement and coming far to close to fracturing the bone. Weasel gasped with pain, grabbed Draco's arm, and wrenched it backwards.

Pain rocketed through Draco as he felt his arm straining against Weasel. The little bugger was stronger than he looked. It was only seconds before either Draco's arm broke, or his shoulder got disconnected.

They never found out which. Professor Clio and Professor McGonagall had heard Granger's scream, and many students had rushed to the door to watch. They pulled the two struggling boys away from each other, and Draco had never seen McGonagall look so livid.

"We haven't been into this term three days, and you all are already starting these childish games," McGonagall said, looking over the two groups. "Fifth years, you are not. You act like first years. Twenty-five points from Gryffindor, and twenty-five points from Slytherin and detention for both Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy."

Professor Clio, flustered, looked at all the onlookers. "All right, show's over," she called in a heavy Scottish accent. "Clear off, the lot of you."

Once the corridor was clear, except for the two furious professors, bruised and bleeding Draco and Weasel, and their entourage, McGonagall inspected both boys.

"Have Poppy put some ice on that cut, Mr. Weasley, then off you go to class. Mr. Malfoy, can you go without medical attention, or should I send you with Mr. Weasley?"

Rubbing his stomach, and grimacing a bit, Draco replied, "No, I'm fine."

"Good," Clio said, "then off to class you all go."

Draco shot Weasel one last glare and started rotating his arm, dragging his bag along the hall with him. Pansy ran to catch up with him, whimpering as she watched him test his arm. "I hate those Gryffindors," she said angrily as they walked the hallways. Draco had tuned her out. He was musing thoughtfully over the fact that both he and Potter had thought of the exact same stories.

Pansy was still talking about Weasel when they entered Charms, and Professor Flitwick smiled at them from his perch on his books.

"Welcome back to class, my dear students!" he squeaked. Draco smirked at him and took a seat against the back wall. There were feathers on each desk, reminiscent of their first day. As he waited for the rest of the class to come in, he began to make the feather float and twirl in the air. Pansy watched him with wide, adoration-soaked eyes.

"You have such beautiful wand-work," she said dreamily. Draco let the feather fall back down, and he settled his wand against the desk.

"Thanks," he muttered as Professor Flitwick clapped his hands for their attention.

"Welcome back to Charms class!" he repeated, now addressing everyone. "Today we will be doing the Deletrius spell. This spell is a simple one that either deletes something, or gets rid of the echoes of a Priori Incantatum. While the word is relatively simple, you must concentrate and aim careful, to avoid deleting something you don't want deleted. Therefore, I ask you all to spread out. No need to delete each other." Flitwick was delighted with this little joke, and laughed his high-pitched chuckle as everyone moved apart.

He spent the first ten minutes of class teaching them the proper way to hold their wands again, commenting that they seemed to have forgotten over vacation, then left them to their own devices.

Draco pointed the wand at the feather, muttered, "Deletrius," and grinned bemusedly as the feather flickered a little, but remained on the desk. No one else in Slytherin was having much luck, but since the other house with them were the Ravenclaws, their perfection was to be expected. Draco wondered for a moment why Granger hadn't been put in Ravenclaw, but the thought lost its appeal in moments and he turned to more important things; like feathers that wouldn't go away.

A couple failed attempts later, Draco bit back his frustration and tried to quell the anger in his stomach. He hated his temper that flared at the smallest things and made him unmanageable. So he set his wand aside for a moment and picked up his bag to look at his schedule again. Next he had History with the Hufflepuffs. The perfect chance to catch up on the sleep he'd missed the night before. Professor Binns was as blind as a bat.

"Having trouble, Draco?" asked Pansy from a couple feet away. Her feather was floating in the air, and she was trying to push it back onto the desk.

"No more than you, Pansy," he replied, watching her futile efforts to subdue the rebel feather.

"Well," she said, blushing furiously, "I've never been good at this. Not like you." Draco turned away, angry she continued to fawn over him, even though he had been remarkably cold to her this year. Rage coursing through his veins, he pointed his wand at the feather, muttered the spell, and with a faint 'pop' the feather was gone. Flitwick heard and said in an elated voice, "Congratulations, Mr. Malfoy!"

Smiling briefly, Draco set his wand back down and settled back in his chair. His breath had just been sucked away suddenly, and the old feeling of despair had returned to his stomach. It had always come and gone at the oddest moments, and now he sat, gasping for breath and some place to grab hold of to stay still. Tears, unbidden, lingered in his eyes. He felt afraid of something but he couldn't pinpoint it. There was a panic over something that was so dark his mind couldn't penetrate it.

Soon enough it passed, but it left Draco pale and shaky. Pansy noticed enough to keep quiet as they filed out of class. Halfway to History, Draco hung back, telling Pansy he had to go the bathroom, and left the building. The air around Hogwarts was scented with the fallen leaves of the beginning of fall, and the soft chill that came along with it.

Stowing his books away in a bush, he wandered to the far end of the lake, and sat on the edge. The grounds were blissfully void of students and teachers, and his small form was too far from any window for his face to be made out.

The giant squid surfaced for a moment, causing heavy ripples to vibrate through the pond, ending at the edge, where Draco was picking through rocks and sunken leaves. The sound of the water breaking against the edge was soothing, pushing away his angry thoughts.

At one point he reached out to pick up a rock, and noticed his hand was shaking rapidly. He hugged it to his chest, closing his eyes, his mouth frozen in a silent cry. He desperately needed his mother, or anyone to comfort him. To tell him he wasn't nothing, because that is all his body thought.

It never dawned on him his presence would be missed.

Because he sincerely doubted it.

He laid down, his face pressing into the cool grass, his heart aching. The position was so comfortable, and sleep was as welcome as death, he felt himself fall asleep.

And Draco Malfoy laid there on the side of the lake dreaming, because living was too hard.

~

Chapter 7

Close my eyes

and believe

wherever you are,

an angel for me.

--Jimmy Eat World "For Me, This Is Heaven"

Someone was shoving Draco's arm and calling his name, but he batted at the offending arm and turned away. His nostrils fill with the smell of grass, and he slowly opened his eyes.

And let out a yell.

Rubeus Hagrid, the groundskeeper and half-giant baby, was standing over him. "Are yeh all right, there, Malfoy?" Struggling to his feet and trying to get his breath to normal pace, Draco looked up at him.

"I'm fine...I think...how long have I been lying there?"

"Well, yeh missed yer History class. Professor Binns caught me and told me. What are yeh doin' down here? Yer about to miss my class."

"I...felt...I felt sick so I came here to calm down and...I lost track of time," Draco said, stumbling over his words. Fragments of a dream he had during his quick nap were returning, and frightening him. "Who else saw me?" he asked, looked up at Hagrid. Hagrid glanced down the lake, where a small crowd of students was waiting at his hut for the class to start.

"Harry saw yeh lyin' down here, and was worried, so sent me. I don't think anyone else saw."

"Harry saw me?" asked Draco, paling even more. Hagrid looked at him oddly.

"Yeah. And now its time for yeh to come to class." He turned and started walked, and after a beat, Draco followed, blushing a furious shade of red. He was infuriated with himself for falling asleep for so long; his stomach told him he had missed lunch as well.

He also wondered how Potter could have found him all the way at the end of the lake? He glanced down at himself and discovered the answer; his black robes and green and silver scarf stood out prominently against the bright green grass.

Quiet happiness was nesting in Draco's heart. Potter had, not only come looking for him, but had been kind enough to get someone to check on him. Glee battled with humiliation for dominance in his brain, and as he and Hagrid reached the group and Hagrid pushed his way to the front, Draco decided glee was the winner. Potter, Granger, and Weasel kept glancing back at him, Granger and Weasel with smirks on their faces, and Potter with ill disguised concern. Draco moved over to stand beside Crabbe and Goyle and ignored Potter, scared to death his face would give him away.

The class featured Ashwinders, small, thin gray snakes that come out of magical fires. Hagrid also produced eggs and set them all to trying to freeze them. If they waited too long, there was a sudden flash of light as the grass around it lit afire and more than once Granger had to rush over to a group and douse it with water from her wand. In the end, she earned Gryffindor house thirty points, and half the class was scorched. Hagrid thought this all was delightful, and as they left, called after them "Great class, all!"

Potter lingered behind to help Hagrid put the Ashwinders back in their box, telling Granger and Weasel to go ahead to their next class with out him. Draco, who had a free period, also lingered, though he didn't know why. Hagrid nudged Potter and pointed at Draco, then said loudly "I've got the rest, Harry. You head off ter class."

Potter brushed his hands and walked over to Draco, who had his hands in his pockets and was staring at the ground. When Potter cleared his throat, he looked up and felt his insides melt. Potter had smudges of ash and dirt on his cheeks, but he glimmered with something that was all his own, and Draco felt a pang of regret. He was born with wealth; Potter had grown up with nothing and apparently was treated horrible during his summer vacations and life before Hogwarts. Yet whenever he moved, he shone with charisma and charm.

"Thanks for...for getting Hagrid to wake me up," mumbled Draco. Potter rubbed his cheeks, and Draco came dangerously close to grabbing the hand and asking to do it himself.

"No problem," Potter said, pulling at the sleeve of his robes. He spit into it and rubbed his cheeks again. Catching Draco watching him, he blushed at let his arm fall.

"I know that looks disgusting," he said, "and it probably makes me look like a pauper."

"No, no, you look fine," Draco gushed, then colored and looked away. Potter chuckled nervously.

"Thanks, I think." He glanced up at the castle. "What class do you have next?"

"Free period," Draco muttered, silently cursing himself for his stupidity and ineloquence.

"Lucky," Potter said. They both started walking towards the castle in silence, until Potter broke the ice. "Malfoy, why do you hate me?"

Draco sighed and replied, "Because you're Harry Potter, the boy who lived, and I'm Draco Malfoy, the spawn of Satan." His voice was flat and emotionless. It was the thought that he had repeated to himself every day.

"Who said that?" Potter asked. They had reached the steps into the castle, but both paused.

"Oh come off it, Potter, don't tell me you don't say that to yourself every time you see me," snorted Draco. Potter laughed.

"Ron does. I just ignore you."

"Why aren't you ignoring me now?"

"Good question." They both mulled over this for a moment, before Potter looked at his watch. "I'm late." He turned to walk away then came back. He held out his hand. "Well, Mr. Spawn of Satan, how about a truce? I don't think we need anymore fights in the hallway."

Draco stared at Potter's hand, then reached up and took it. "Fine. But this still doesn't mean I want to hang out or be all...nice...to Granger or Weasel. Or you, for that matter."

The handshake was brief, and they parted quickly. "Right," said Potter before walking into the castle and disappearing. After retrieving the books he'd hidden away, Draco walked in after him and went down to the dungeons. He gave the password and went straight to his dormitory, ignoring Pansy's shrill shriek, laid in his bed, drew the curtains around him and closed his eyes.

And smiled for the entire world like a little boy who had just met the Queen of England. He clutched the hand that had shaken Potter's and grinned. They had a truce. For one moment they had been like friends.

Draco relished in the afterglow. He missed the feelings that had rushed through him while they had been, for however short a moment, connected. It had made him complete. It had made him content, something he hadn't felt in so long.

He missed feeling content.