The Vampire Malfoy

Chapter Two: Complicated

Why'd you have to go and make things so complicated?

See the way you're acting like you're somebody else makes me frustrated

Life's like this

You fall and you crawl and you break and you take what you get...

The crowd in the entrance hall had dispersed slightly, so no one noticed an invisible person slipping down to the dungeons.

Harry paused outside the entrance to the Slytherin Common room, waiting impatiently.

After a few minutes a group of Slytherin girls, led by Pansy Parkinson, stopped outside the entrance, giggling and gossiping. Harry bit his tongue to stop himself from shouting at them to hurry up.

After what seemed like an eternity of girlish chatter, Pansy turned to the wall.

"Mudblood."

The wall slid open, and Harry followed them in, scowling at the password.

He paused in the common room, scanning the gathered students for platinum blond hair. Harry spotted Crabbe and Goyle in a corner, but their leader was conspicuously obvious. Harry turned and headed down a random corridor. Silently reading the signs on the door, he paused by the door that read "Sixth-years".

Harry noiselessly pushed the door open, inch by inch, until there was a gap big enough to peer through. He stuck his head round the door, then hastily pulled it back again. He shut the door slowly, and then turned, leaning his back against the door.

Eyes wide, he fought the desire to gag. He shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the image of Millicent Bulstrode getting dressed after a shower.

Shuddering, he continued to make his way along the twisting corridors, vaguely wondering how he'd find his way back out again.

Arriving at yet another door that read "Sixth-years", he took a deep breath and reached out, grasping the door handle. It was locked. Annoyed, he rattled the knob, frowning as it refused to turn.

Harry stepped back, preparing to open it with Alohomora when the door flew open. Draco Malfoy appeared, looking extremely annoyed.

"Who's there?" he asked moodily.

He looked straight through Harry, who held his breath as the blond boy stepped forward, looking up and down the corridor, scowling. Draco muttered softly to himself, and Harry took the opportunity to slip into the room.

Draco was still muttering something about 'stupid first-years.'

Harry walked over to a chair and took off the invisibility cloak.

Draco's back was to him, and Harry watched as the Slytherin pulled the door shut with a bang, and performed a locking spell. Then he turned around.

"Aaagghhhhhh!" Draco screamed

Harry jumped and gave a small yelp himself. Then, composing himself, he glared at the pale Slytherin.

Draco sunk onto his bed, looking embarrassed.

Harry smirked. "You scream like a girl, Malfoy."

Draco had regained some of his composure, and gave him the Malfoy Glare.

"Where the fuck did you come from, Potter?" he asked, with a sneer.

Harry leaned forward in his chair.

"I heard you quit the Quidditch team."

Draco nodded. "Well, you heard right."

"Why?"

There was a moment of silence. Then, "It's none of your fucking business Potter!" Malfoy exploded.

Harry looked up in surprise. He knew that Malfoy hated him as much as he hated Malfoy, but this reaction was so unlike the Slytherin. Malfoy wouldn't yell at him. He'd say something hurtful, yet strangely witty and Harry would lose his temper and say something back or attack him. And then Snape would come along and give him detention. That was the way it had been for the past five years. In fact, thinking about it, Harry realised that it was one of the comforting constants in his life. Get up, have breakfast, banter with Malfoy, fight the forces of evil, banter with Malfoy, have lunch, banter with Malfoy, have dinner, banter with Malfoy, do homework, bed. Simple. It made him feel...complete. It gave him a release. All the rage that he had bottled up, all the rage that Voldemort had caused by killing his parents, his friends, and almost him. He needed to release the anger. And to release it at Hermione or Ron could hurt them. So to be able to hurt someone who didn't care about hurting him was a wonderful relief.

Realisation struck Harry like a bolt of lightning. He hadn't been sure why he needed to talk to Malfoy after hearing the news, but now he knew.

He needed Malfoy. Not just to fight with, but to challenge him. He needed a worthy foe, someone to compete against. And if Draco stopped playing Quidditch then there was no point in Harry playing. The game was only worth playing if there was a challenge, a test involved.

Malfoy was giving Harry a strange look.

"Hello? Earth to Potter!"

Harry looked up at him.

"What?"

" I said get out of my room, and stay out of my business," Draco repeated, pulling Harry roughly from the chair and ushering him towards the door.

On the wall opposite hung a large ornate mirror, intricately moulded out of silver. Harry glanced at it as Draco dragged him along. Then he stopped. Draco ground to a halt, glaring at Harry.

"Get out!" he snarled.

Harry shook his head, looking past Draco's head and into his own reflection in the mirror.

He paused, biting his lip, then looked Draco in the eye.

"Malfoy," he asked, giving the Slytherin boy a quizzical look, "Why don't you have a reflection?"