Draco Malfoy and the Heart of Slytherin

Chapter Twenty-Two: At the Heart of Every Slytherin

The Great Hall was starting to fill with students seeking breakfast before the Saturday morning Hufflepuff/Gryffindor Quidditch match. The day was cloudy and cold, and warming spells would be cast on the spectator stands in order for everyone to enjoy the mid-February game.

Draco had been in the Hall for hours already. He had been unable to sleep, despite the dreamless sleeping potion. It wasn't surprising, considering the drastic turn his life had taken yesterday.

Elbow propped on the Slytherin table, his head resting on his hand, Draco watched the enchanted ceiling clouds as he continued to Not Think About It. He had cast a spell earlier and, currently, a cloud-shaped Draco was playing Quidditch with a cloud-shaped Harry. Cloud-Harry had just captured the cloud-snitch. Cloud-Draco took offense, turned into a cloud-dragon, and ate cloud-Harry, broom, snitch, and all.

A riot of noise drew Draco's attention. The Gryffindor Trio and their entourage had arrived, a boisterous gaggle of laughter and limbs that moved like a land squid and probably had less brains than one. Draco sneered in their general direction and looked back up at the ceiling.

The cloud-dragon was lit up from the inside, revealing a silhouette of cloud-Harry. The silhouette began to whack the cloud-dragon's ribs with his broom. With every hit, a music note-shaped puff of smoke would come out of the cloud-dragon's nose.

More students arrived. Draco cast a quick look around and saw that some had noticed the ensorcellment. He refused to look at Harry, who was staring intently across the tables at him.

The cloud-dragon got sick of his internal visitor and coughed him up like a Harryball. Cloud-Harry brushed off his robes and straightened his glasses, as the cloud-dragon spun in a whirlwind, turning back into cloud-Draco.

Almost all the students' attention was on the ceiling. They pointed and laughed and nudged their friends, as cloud-Harry pulled a cloud-flower from behind his back and offered it to cloud-Draco. Cloud-Draco looked surprised and started to accept it, only to have the cloud-flower suddenly eat him whole. More laughter as the cloud-flower turned on cloud-Harry and ate him, too.

Draco glanced across the Hall, to see Harry's reaction to the little cloud theater and not because he was Thinking About It, but Harry's seat was empty. Draco searched around nervously. He wanted to know exactly where Harry was when they were in the same room, especially after yesterday.

Suddenly, large arms draped around Draco's neck, startling him. He tensed when a familiar voice spoke near his ear. "Are you coming to the game?"

"No," Draco said shortly. On the ceiling, the cloud-flower had sprouted two more cloud-flowers, one with a Harry face and one with a Draco face. The cloud-flowers were currently being chased by a cloud-Professor Sprout with pruning sheers.

"You should." Harry released Draco and straddled the bench seat beside him. "And maybe afterwards we could play. I've missed our games."

Draco bit his tongue, not pointing out whose fault that was. "I'll think about it."

"Good," Harry said, scooting closer. "In the meantime..."

Draco's protest of what Harry wanted to do in the meantime was cut off rather quickly, as Harry kissed Draco. It didn't take long for Draco to change his mind about Harry's meantime activity, either, and kiss back. And to think, yesterday morning they weren't talking to one another. Not that they were talking right now...

An insistent tap on the shoulder brought Draco back to realtime, and he looked up to see Snape standing there with a slightly pained expression on his face. "Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, for your little public display. There are people trying to eat, you know," Snape said, before walking away.

Harry groaned and dropped his head on Draco's shoulder. "I think our House has zero points in total, thanks to me."

Draco didn't really care. He was too busy being mortified by the stares and whispers of the entire student body in the Great Hall. Even the cloud-people were staring at him.

"Potter."

"Yeah?"

"I hate you."

Harry lifted his head, looked at Draco, glanced around, and looked at Draco again. A corner of his mouth curled up. "Red's not really your color."

"Hate, hate, hate you."

Harry smiled a million-watt smile. "Liar." He stood and had the audacity to ruffle Draco's hair. "See you at the game."

Martin materialized beside Draco before he could commit homicide with a grapefruit spoon. The idea was still appealing, when the smirking third year said, "I gather you and Potter aren't fighting any longer."

"This is all your fault," Draco scowled at Martin, fighting not to hide his blushing face.

"My fault?"

"Yes. I was perfectly content with not speaking to Potter before you butted your nose in," Draco said.

Martin's smirk grew. "Apparently, you don't mind speaking in French--"

"Don't finish that sentence if you value your life."

"You really are a piece of work, Draco," Martin laughed. "I don't even want to know how you went from fisticuffs to lips-a-lust."

Draco buried his heated face in his hands and might have whimpered plaintively, if Malfoys did that sort of thing.

Martin clapped him on the shoulder. "Cheer up, mate. It's not the end of the world."

"Yes, it is. My father's probably trying to find a way back to life so he can shake some sense into me."

"You're being awfully melodramatic."

"It's Harry Potter."

Martin rolled his eyes. "I don't see what's so special about him, other than he's capable of turning you into a gibbering monkey."

Draco dropped his hands and lifted his head. Across the Great Hall, Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, cheek propped on his fist, listening to an animated Ron Weasley discussing Quidditch using silverware as players. Harry's hair was, as usual, sticking up every-which-way, and he had a smear of jam at the corner of his mouth.

A ghost of a smile crossed Draco's lips. "He makes the quiet more comfortable." He looked at Martin and added, "When we're not fighting, that is."

"Well, just be careful," Martin said. "You learned the warning back in first year, too: when a Slytherin falls, he falls once and he falls hard."

"'At the heart of every Slytherin is a love that's deep and pure,'" Draco quoted softly. His gaze drifted to Harry again. Harry glanced in his direction, smiled a stupid smile, and went back to his conversation with Ron.

Draco turned to Martin. "Would you mind terribly, killing me now?"

"Nah." Martin smirked evilly. "It'll be fun to watch you suffer."