Green

Green

By Slytherin Tattoo

Chapter 6

The next morning I got a package from home-- cookies. Apparently they were a reward for my success last night-- I had owled home before I went to bed, flushed with satisfaction and wanting to tell someone. The note from Mother read, "You will become accomplished at strategy yet."

I took it for praise, smiled much wider than normal, and offered my friends cookies, because they were eyeing them greedily and it seemed like the wisest move.

It was the weekend, so no classes, but plenty of homework. Zabini asked me if I wanted to go to the library and study with him, as he liked to get that out of the way first thing, and then have the rest of his time free to enjoy himself. As I did too, I readily agreed.

"Not me," Goyle said immediately. "I'm going to put it off as long as possible." Crabbe nodded emphatically, and Pansy and Millicent agreed.

"Can I come?" Broadmoor asked timidly.

Zabini and I looked at each other. He hesitated ever so briefly, then, "I guess so."

Which is how I found myself in the library after breakfast, at a little round table next to one occupied by a solitary Hermione Granger.

"This place is deserted," I protested. "Why are we sitting right next to her?"

"To annoy her," Zabini shrugged.

"In case we went to copy?" Broadmoor put in, smiling.

I sighed. "You're both silly."

Broadmoor stuck her tongue out at me, and Zabini grinned.

So we started our homework. Annoying the Gryffindor began soon after. First were the frequent superior glances over at her. Then came the loud, snide remarks about magic users with impure blood, who didn't know their place. Then more personal comments about prissy, boot-licking students who always raised their hand in class, just to attract attention to themselves, and who were nerdy enough to memorize all their textbooks, as if that could make them better liked.

She was sitting there fuming now, pressing her quill down so hard on her parchment it almost ripped through, but determined not to move since she had been there first, determined to ignore us so we couldn't win.

It was about that time that Toad-boy walked in.

Now I had, in all honesty, only voiced one insult since we'd been there--the one about memorizing her books--mostly it had been Zabini. But I detest Toad-boy.

"It's another one of Gryffindor's losers," I sneered. "I think our magic level could go down just by being in the same room with him."

"I'm going to sit as far away from him in Potions as possible," Broadmoor said seriously. "I bet his cauldron explodes every day. He just screams incompetence. It only takes one look at him to see that."

"And he lives with his grandmother. He's scared of her," Blaise laughed.

Toad-boy had stopped, frozen in place, as we started tearing into him. He looked over at us, wide-eyed.

"Look at him now. I bet he messes his trousers," Zabini pointed.

Granger abruptly stood up, chair sliding back with a sound of abused, scraping wood. "Leave him alone!" she declared, face flushed, hands on hips.

"I heard her parents are dentists," Broadmoor told us. "But look at her teeth."

She flushed deeper and stepped forward, but the librarian was finally heading over to tell us to shut up or else. Granger gathered up her books in a huff, at last giving into the urge to stalk away. "Come on, Neville," she said through gritted teeth. "We'll come back later."

"Yeah, take him with you. He's as unpopular as you are. Maybe you should stick together; no one else would want you," Nokanda called after them.

"Really, Miss Broadmoor, I won't tell you to be quiet again!"

"Sorry, Madam Pince, we'll behave now."

___________ ____________

I met Potter right after lunch. He looked a little uneasy. "What did you say to Hermione Granger?"

"That knowing all her books off by heart won't make her more liked. And I didn't say it to her. I said it to Zabini. She overheard."

He gave me a look. "Oh, all right. I meant for her to overhear, unlike with Weasley, where I really didn't know he was there. But come on, can you deny Granger is annoying?

He half-smiled, then sighed. "No, I can't. Ron doesn't like me hanging out with you at all, by the way."

"Of course not. Our families have hated each other for years."

"Oh? Why?"

I waved my hand. "Just politics between our fathers, passed down to us. They didn't like each other in school, either. They were in the same year, you know."

"I didn't know." He looked pensive. "Your mother is certainly nice."

"Yes," I said, face completely blank.

We sat down in the middle of the Quidditch field. I had brought along a copy of The Everything Quidditch Encyclopaedia. I opened it up, turning to the pages that showed pictures of the different balls. I pointed out the Quaffle, the Bludgers, and the Snitch.

"How much do you remember of our talk from the train?"

"I remember the positions--and the basic rules..."

So I taught him about Quidditch. I showed him the goal hoops, and described how each position was usually played, and we went up to the top row of the stands and looked down on the pitch, and from there I told him to imagine being up higher yet and looking for a gold ball the size of a walnut with wings.

He laughed. "It sounds very complicated."

"Not really... if you're a Seeker, you ignore everything else but searching for the snitch. Well, and keeping half an eye on the bludgers. It wouldn't do to be struck off your broom! You know the game doesn't end until the snitch is caught. It could go o n for days, if necessary."

"I think I'd like playing Quidditch," he decided with a smile and a sigh.

"Me, too. Well, next year, mate. First years never get picked for teams."

We came back inside when it was time for dinner. Weasley was waiting for Potter outside the Great Hall, a nasty scowl on his face.

"Hey, Weasley," I greeted him. "Let it go, right? I'll be decent to you if you are to me."

"Are you capable of being decent?" Weasley spat at me.

"As I said, if you are. You do have a volatile temper." I gave him a calm, somewhat amused gaze.

"You're so bloody arrogant," he hissed.

"You're so bloody red all over," I contented myself with.

"Guys!" Potter stepped in between us. "Just leave it. I'll see you later, Malfoy."

"Later, Potter."

He and Weasley walked away. I stared after Ron with narrowed eyes, then went and ate.

____________ _____________

Time moved on. In Slytherin House, the students were still jockeying for position. A couple seventh years wanted to dethrone Flint, just because he was fifth year, and too young to be King. Then a beautiful sixth year with amazing dark hair and eyes tried to lure Flint to her bed, but his current girlfriend, Jacynth Mason, hit her with a nasty hex that made ugly boils break out all over her face, making Flint lose interest. She also gave Flint a nasty laxative potion in his pumpkin juice, but he never found out it was her. Rahab told me.

I went to class, I did my homework, I spent time with the first years, all of whom I'd effectively cowed, I cosied up to Flint as necessary, started the work of winning over the second years, watched everything, met up with Potter two different nights.

One evening, I came back to the common room when Rahab called me over to the table she shared with Rhiannon, Mason, and Menagerie. They were doing their nails and gossiping. "What's this I hear about you hanging around with some Gryffindor?" she demanded.

"Not any Gryffindor," I answered. "Harry-'The-Boy-Who-Lived'-Potter."

She frowned. "Why?"

"Orders. My father wants an eye kept on him." Close enough. I never mentioned orders from my mother. Ever. It was only my father I talked about. All of Slytherin knew he was to be feared and respected for many reasons, that he ruled their own fathers, and that they better stay on his--and therefore, my--good side.

"I see."

They did. Slytherin families all were very strictly run; no one in Slytherin wanted to directly disobey their parents. Although I eventually learned mine were worst--it took me 15 years to realize other parents didn't lock their kids in a dungeon cell with no food, light, or water, just to teach them about the enemy, or routinely put Forbidden Curses on them, just for spilling milk. Not even Slytherins.

But I'm digressing.

At the time, I was 11, and took their nodding in understanding as a given, and they did understand, and that was that.

"We're playing strip poker with the Quidditch team tonight in the astronomy tower," Rhiannon told me with a grin. "So we're practicing up now, to make sure we win."

I managed to hide my shock. "You're practicing your poker."

"No--practicing cheating without being detected." The girls all laughed.

I couldn't help smiling. "Good plan."

"Stick around and watch if you want," Mason invited, eyeing me curiously.

But I didn't. I went to my window.

__________ ____________

"Ah, I was hoping you'd turn up today, Draco. What's a rhyme for remain?" Ezekiel Black asked me from his portrait frame as soon as I emerged from the secret passage.

"Pain," I replied automatically.

"Hmm. And tiger?"

"Um..." I had to think about that one. "Spider? Why her?"

"Possibly, possibly..." he began scratching notes on one of the many pieces of parchment on his desk. "Do you write, young Malfoy?"

I was taken aback. "No."

"Why not?" He looked back up at me. "I think you'd be good at it."

"Malfoys don't write poetry."

"So then. Be a novelist. Write a book about spells. Whatever."

"No profit in it." I could just imagine my father if I told him I had a burning desire to be a novelist. "I was punished enough for finger-painting."

He gave me another long, searching look that made me want to fidget. "What do you want from life, boy?"

"You're way too serious today, Zeke. I don't want to think that deep."

"A career then."

"I'll be managing the Malfoy estates, naturally." I didn't really want to think about all this.

"Well, you are young yet," Ezekiel conceded at last.

"I am." I waved and moved off to my window. "Lager almost rhymes with tiger," I yelled over my shoulder to him.

I heard him laugh.

___________ ___________

I watched the sun set over the lake. The colours that day were amazing.

My thoughts circled around in my head. Before I'd left the girls, they made me shuffle the cards for them, because their nails weren't dry yet. "You seem a likeable sort of boy," Mason had said as I was shuffling. "Flint regards you highly. So do R & R here." She pointed at her two friends, and then went back to waving her hands to speed up the drying process.

"Thanks," I murmured, thinking, since she was only four years older than me, she didn't have to call me boy.

Avril Menagerie regarded me. "Do you share your father's political views?"

I almost dropped the cards, but recovered. "Malfoys have had the same opinions for generations. It would be rude of me to change them now."

She smiled. "Always have an answer, don't you?"

"Looks that way."

"I wouldn't mind playing strip poker with you."

"Avril!" Rahab and Rhiannon both cried, protective of me, I guess.

"What? He's a Malfoy. He's quite a prize. You're used to girls flirting with you for your money, aren't you?"

I suddenly didn't have an answer, but it was OK because she continued speaking. "I'm only fourth year and my blood's as pure as they come. I stand a legitimate chance. I'm getting my bid in early. Remember me." She winked.

"I--definitely will," I said, hiding my nervousness. The other three girls stared at her, aghast. What could I do but ignore it? I offered her the cards. "Cut the deck?"

She did so, then I gave them to Rahab to deal. "Good luck with your practicing, ladies," I said before rising.

I rubbed my hand against the window pane. So I was a--a good catch. Well, I knew that. I'd never really thought about it before, though. I was still so young. Besides, Mother would arrange my marriage, so it didn't matter what I thought. And right now, I didn't want to think of anything.

I leaned my head back and rested it on the wall. Why was life so hard? So complicated?

I had to go back to the dorm soon, or miss curfew. Although Filch never seemed to come around here, I didn't want to take any chances. But before I returned, I needed to clear my mind of--everything.

So I sat, and drown myself in the colours of the sunset, until it faded, and was gone.

_____________ ____________

Breakfast Thursday, Toad-boy got a Remberall by owl. I was walking by and saw it turn red. The boy was clueless. I came to a stop and grabbed it from his hand. "Where'd you get this?"

He looked frightened, like he wanted to take it back but didn't dare. Potter and Weasley were looking at me.

"My gran sent it," he stammered. "Cause--cause I forget things..."

"Yes, I know." I tossed it from hand to hand, contemplating him. To my right, Weasley was starting to turn red again. "Here!" I threw it at him. He fumbled, but finally caught it inches from the floor.

"Oops," I lied, "I didn't think you'd have problems catching it."

"Leave him alone, Malfoy," Ron ordered.

I looked over at him. "What? I'm having a perfectly nice conversation with Longbottom here. I don't see that it's any of your business. Weasley."

I leant one hand on their table, just to see all the Gryffindors flinch--probably afraid of Slytherin germs. "Flying lesson today, Potter," I said then.

He went from looking concerned to looking excited. "Yeah."

"Shall we impress the masses?"

He half-grinned. "Let's just fly."

I nodded. McGonagall was heading this way, time to leave.

_____________ ______________