The Irony of Slytherin

The Irony of Slytherin

Draco didn't know what came over him that day. The sky was gray and you could smell the imminent rain. The wind was strong, billowing up robes and whistling through hallways. He saw her through the tumultuous melee of passing students, clutching a stack of books against her chest so that you could hardly see her face. He didn't recognize her, but he knew she was a Gryffindor. Then Pansy bobbed into his line of vision, bumping brusquely into the girl and barely glancing back when the top few books tumbled to the ground. Blaise had tapped Pansy, informing her of what she caused with that accidental bump and Pansy glared back, shrugging and Draco saw her mouth shaping a "So?" and Blaise giggled in agreement "Yeah. So?"

He saw, by now, the girl had placed the remaining erect tower of books off to the side as he approached her and he thought of leaving her there. She deserved it. She was a Gryffindor after all. Same as Potter and those damned Weasleys and the Mudblood. But he found himself crouching down and quickly gathering her books. He took several more books from the stack and stood.

Then he saw them. Her eyes, an incandescent aquamarine, widened just as he was turning to lead the way.

"What the hell are you doing in Gryffindor?" He demanded before he could stop himself. Those eyes, Slytherin's colors blended in a beautiful mixture shouldn't have belonged to someone who belonged in the house of scarlet and gold. He cursed to himself. Sometimes he hated his illogical logic.

"What?"

"Nothing," he snapped. "I'll help you to your class. What do you have?" Judging from the number of books she carried, he guessed where she was headed.

"You'll be late."

"I'm fine." He started towards McGonagall's classroom and motioned for her to follow him.

"Thank you." He didn't say anything. Not even when a Slytherin in the class demanded what he was doing publicly helping a Gryffindor as he left.

He learned her name soon after the encounter.

Olivia Troy who was an open book yet still a mystery to him. She sat with Hermione, who volunteered to be her tutor, during lunch periods, listening to her lectures about everything, studying the things she missed religiously. He couldn't believe she had the tolerance to listen to Granger's prattle nor be forced to borrow at least five books a day. He would think that he'd be disgusted by now that she would even associate with a Mudblood until he learned she was one too. He stopped using that word.

She had dark hair that she loosely pinned back and wore droopy robes with sleeves that covered halfway down her hands. She preferred pencils over quills and she twirled those yellow sticks a lot between her fingers. He learned all this by shamefully hiding in the aisle next to the one she and Granger were in, ears alert but eyes and hands concentrating on trying to perfect the way he twirled the pencil he stole from her.

He almost didn't come once. He hurried into the library a half an hour into lunch and skidded when Granger had appeared from their aisle and nearly caught him dashing into the next one. He listened to her scuffle off then he whipped into their aisle, slowing his steps as he approached Olivia. She was using a quill, practicing words on a sheet of parchment but suddenly dropped it. He didn't realize why until he felt her head move against his fingertips as he absently tucked back a stray strand.

"Troy...Olivia Troy...right?" He brought his hand back down to his side.

She nodded and stared at him warily. He wanted to be as close as he could just to look into those eyes. They fell to her work. "Why don't you call me something else? I hate my name."

"It's different, but it's got nothing to hate."

And after he said that, he thought that maybe everything that she may have thought of him changed. She stared at him more with those turquoise pools, but never smiled around him. She must have been reflecting his own expression.

As he attempted to spend more and more time with her, he could almost feel the fear emanating from her, the fear of him as bizarre as that sounded. So he sent her things that he hoped would be some kind of proof that he wasn't a scary person at all. He watched her come into the Great Hall once as she strode to the Gryffindor table and found the dead rose with its stem tucked into a textbook he stole from her as a decoy. The moment she touched it, the dry petals revived into silky convolutes and she almost dropped the book as the rose transformed back to life.

×

After Quidditch practice, only Draco meandered the halls, dragging behind his Nimbus Two Thousand and One. Goyle caught up with him in one of the corridors on his way towards the Slytherin tower. He looked vulnerable without Crabbe tagging along beside him.

"Draco..." Goyle gulped. "I'm not one to say anything, but I don't think hanging out with that girl is safe."

"Why not?" Draco continued walking, not realizing Goyle had stopped a while back. He turned around to face Goyle, his eyebrows raising in impatient expectancy. "Well?"

"I'm sorry, Draco, but..." He stepped back. "that's a stupid question."

Then he felt the blow to his shoulders and collided against the stone wall. He turned around, rubbing his head and espied Pansy's figure before him. He chuckled wryly. "Feisty, aren't you, Parkinson."

"Thought it was over, didn't you?" Her eyes flashed to Goyle. "Can you leave?"

Draco nodded to him to do so and rushed past Pansy the other way, shaking his head to himself.

Pansy stalked after him, grasping his arm. "You and that Mudblood gallivanting aound like you two were the toast of the school. It's dangerous. Do you hear me, Malfoy? And what's not over is you and me. It's not over until I say so. So far you've made a mockery of our relationship. People are talking."

"It is over." He snapped his arm out of her hands. "And don't you dare call her a Mudblood."

His heart jolted when he discovered Olivia behind him, looking flustered. Pansy smirked, rounding Draco's still body and leveling Olivia with a glare. "Speak of the fucking devil."

Draco shoved her away forcefully. "Leave her alone!"

"No!"

Pansy raised her hand and Olivia waited for it to blow against her face. Then Pansy's eyes widened suddenly, her head jerked back, her legs losing balance and stumbling backwards, her arms flailing. "My hair! My hair!"

The sheaf of Pansy's hair in his hand scattered to the floor and he grabbed Olivia's hand, dragging her away. Pansy heaved angry breaths, her gaze following their retreating bodies as she stood there hopelessly, her screams haunting their ears.

×

"This is weird."

"What?" Draco was furiously polishing the Nimbus Two Thousand and One with his Broomstick Servicing Kit, trying to keep busy before his anger combusted even at Olivia.

"I don't understand why you care so much. Why you're getting out of your way for my well-being. It doesn't make any sense." She sat on his bed, watching him intently. Her robes lay draped over his desk chair and her tie hung wilted around her shirt collar, her skirt wrinkled and covering her bare feet tucked under her body.

"Because I like you." He was confident enough to say that, but decided against ever admitting that he loved her. He couldn't help but smile a little at the sight of the one creeping across her face.

He put down the broomstick and cloth, and shrugged off his robes. He loosened his tie, completely removing it from around his neck and stared at it in his hand. He looked at hers and looked at his own again then he took off her Gryffindor tie, tossing it behind her. He slipped his tie tentatively around her collar and knotted it with deft fingers, gazing into those irises that blazed against the green-and-silver striped silk.

"It matches you more."

She seemed to know what he meant already.

His hand found its way into her hair, raven strands over his knuckles, and he leant forward, kissing her lips gently, sighing into her mouth at the finality of it all. He felt her hand cover his on the bed, her fingers slowly stroking the inside of his wrist. He pulled back gradually, staring at her for a long time.

"Olivia...I'm just...I'm just going to--hold--you for a while, all right?"

She nodded so he held her and strangely he was the one who felt safe in her arms.

×

Then he lost her.

×

Pansy killed her in her sleep right beside him in his bed, his tie sliced in fraying pieces, he would never forgive himself for falling asleep before he even saw her eyes shut. Those luminous eyes that would burn in his memory forever. Those Slytherin eyes.

×

Crime of passion, they said, freeing Pansy Parkinson from being sent to Azkaban. She was too young anyhow, they said, but she would have severe consequences and punishment. He had nothing to lose. He cornered her in the girls' lavatory as she checked her face and she gasped at his reflection, wand in his hand pointing at her.

"Avada Kedavra!" And he could only see his shivering figure in the mirror as he dropped the wand with a hollow clatter and fled.

×

Then Draco followed Olivia.