Draco Malfoy and the Union of Souls (Ch. 2)
[Title] Draco Malfoy and the Union of Souls
[Author] ickle_huffie
[Beta] herbie_weasley
[Rating] R
[Pairing] Harry/Draco (Mentions of Ron/Hermione and Blaise/Pansy)
[Warnings] Slash, language, and sexual content
[Summary] Draco keeps thinking about Harry Potter, and can’t figure out why. When he finds out he’s a veela, suddenly it all comes clear. Set 6th year after OotP.
X-posted in a few places. Sorry about that.
After what seemed far too long, summer was over and it was time for school to begin again. I said goodbye to my mother, who looked just about ready to burst into tears, at the station, giving her a hug and a kiss for each cheek, just the way father had always bid her goodbye. Well…minus the kiss on the lips. Despite being a Death Eater and having had an arranged marriage, my father loved my mother quite a lot. They cared for one another, that much was certain, though eventually I came to decide the love they held for one another had been created by my birth.
I waved goodbye as I boarded the Hogwarts Express, my body feeling like it was absolutely on fire. I had to see Potter. I had to. I’d been thinking about him all summer, and now I finally had my chance to piss him off again. I’d been looking forward to this for a long time.
I found Crabbe and Goyle in a compartment, and I sat in with them for a while until the train finally left the station, at which point in time I made my excuses to go find Potter.
I had to search quite a bit of the train before I figured out where the Weasel, Mudblood, and Potty were hiding. I opened the compartment door and stepped inside, inspecting the motley collection before me: Potter, Weasley, Granger, Longbottom, Loony Lovegood, the junior Weasel, and her newest boy-toy. I sneered down at them. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Gryffindor groupies. Hello, Mudblood. Didn’t manage to tame that rats’ nest on your head, I see.” The Weasel’s eyes burned as he glared at me, his cheeks starting to turn red. “And Potty. How lovely. Still not a Prefect. Poor, poor Potty. Nobody loves him.” I smirked, folding my arms across my chest and leaning against the doorjamb.
The Weasel stood up and faced me. “Shut your gob, Malfoy. You can bloody well sod off,” he said, his fists clenched at his sides.
“Oh, the big bad Weasel, whatever am I going to do?” I replied, standing up straight again. I pointed at Potter, smirking still. “Watch yourself, Potty. You never know when you might get flushed.” With that I left them, the Weasel sputtering and beet red. I headed back to my compartment, grinning to myself with satisfaction.
When I came back inside, Crabbe and Goyle asked why I was so happy, so I told them. And then, of course, as soon as I finished saying it, I felt…angry. Like I wanted to kill someone. Like I wanted to hit myself. I clenched my fists in my lap until my fingernails bit into my palms, making them bleed, my eyes shut tightly.
Slowly, the anger dissolved, leaving me empty. I was nearly crying as I tilted my head back, resting it against the wall. “Fucking Potter,” I whispered harshly, my voice rough as I slowly unclenched my fists, showing the blood on my palms and under my nails. I slowly opened my eyes, wiping at them with my fingers, smearing blood onto my face that I thought was only tears. Pansy shook her head. “Draco, dear, come here,” she said, pulling a handkerchief out of seemingly nowhere and leaving Blaise’s lap to wipe at my face. That was when I realized I’d cut myself.
I blinked in a bit of surprise; I hadn’t even felt the pain.
I took her handkerchief with a nod of thanks, wiping my hands off. I offered it back to her, but she shook her head, resuming her position in Blaise’s lap. I sighed. “I’m turning into a bloody woman,” I said, rubbing my eyes with my fingertips. “An old woman,” I added. “It’s like I’m having ruddy hot flashes!”
Everyone exchanged looks and burst out into fits of laughter. I groaned and leaned my head back against the wall again. Why were my friends so immature?
We spent the train ride catching up. When I let the cat out of the bag about my being gay, everyone just shrugged it off. Pansy even said, “I’m not surprised. You always did seem like a bit of a pouf.” I blushed slightly, and talk turned elsewhere.
Finally the train arrived, and we disembarked, getting our trunks and taking the carriages back to the castle. I assumed my duties as Prefect, leading the way into the feast. Once everyone had taken a seat, I sat as well, ready to await the Sorting.
As usual, the Sorting Hat’s song was long and boring. My friends and I poked fun at it the whole time, and then proceeded to comment on the new first years. My favorite was a new Gryffindor named Richard Graber. When we heard that one, we all snickered and I pronounced what everyone was thinking: “Dick Grabber.” Which sent us all into fits of laughter that we tried extremely hard to contain.
After the Sorting was over, Dumbledore made his usual introductory speech, welcomed our newest DADA professor (saying that he hoped this one would last) and began the feast. We all ate like wolves, although I was careful of what I ate-didn’t need to gain any extra weight, now did I?
When it came to dessert, I made myself a rather large pile of chocolate chip cookies, plowing through them quickly. Everyone stared. Blaise raised an eyebrow. “What’s with the cookies, mate?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Taste good,” I replied.
“Draco…do you remember how much you dislike chocolate?” asked Pansy. I blanched and pushed the rest of the plate away from me.
Upset after this incident, I needed something to channel my anger. My chance came when I was walking along behind Potter out of the Great Hall. There were enough people around that I knew I could get away with a bit of mischief, just as long as nobody saw.
My face perfectly innocent, I reached forward and hooked my foot around Potter’s ankle, pulling up sharply and then releasing, watching with glee as, almost in slow motion, he flipped forward, seemed to fly for a moment, and then landed flat on his face, cracking one of the lenses in his glasses. I snickered and found my fellow Slytherins, winking at them. They all grinned back at me.
Satisfied now, I took care of my duties as Prefect and led the way to the dungeons before heading into the dormitory and changing out of my robes into more comfortable clothes. After a bit of a stretch, I went out, jogging through the hall and up out onto the castle grounds.
Under the moonlight, I ran towards the lake, making a few laps of it, watching as the giant squid lazed on the surface, seeming to bathe in the silvery evening light. The sight brought a rare smile to my face as I finished my last lap and headed back into the castle at a jog.
I traversed through the castle to the Prefects’ bathroom, not really caring to share the sixth year boys’ bathroom. In my experience, the boys in my year were slobs. In previous years I had hated having to bathe just because the bathroom was always such a pigsty. More often than not, after first year, I was careful to take whatever showers I could out in the changing rooms by the Quidditch pitch.
Once I reached the bathroom, I stripped and turned on the taps of one of the showers, waiting for the water to heat before stepping beneath the spray and letting it massage my muscles, relaxing them. I closed my eyes and let the hot water beat down upon me, images of Potter swimming through my head. I smirked as I relived my little trick upon him, and then set down to the business of getting clean.
Once I had washed thoroughly, I stepped out of the shower, dried off, and took a set of pajamas from a cupboard that had been empty last year. When I’d discovered how much more convenient it was to shower here, I’d begun to keep a small stock of clothes in the cabinet.
I took my dirty clothes with me as I padded through the halls in my bare feet, my hair curling slightly towards the ends as it dried. When I got back to the dorm, it was bustling with my yearmates getting their things in order. I smiled and put my dirty clothes in a bag I kept for such things before I crawled into bed, closed my curtains and my eyes, and fell asleep.
Much to my confusion, my ankle hurt when I woke in the morning.
[Other Chapters] One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven
[Author] ickle_huffie
[Beta] herbie_weasley
[Rating] R
[Pairing] Harry/Draco (Mentions of Ron/Hermione and Blaise/Pansy)
[Warnings] Slash, language, and sexual content
[Summary] Draco keeps thinking about Harry Potter, and can’t figure out why. When he finds out he’s a veela, suddenly it all comes clear. Set 6th year after OotP.
X-posted in a few places. Sorry about that.
After what seemed far too long, summer was over and it was time for school to begin again. I said goodbye to my mother, who looked just about ready to burst into tears, at the station, giving her a hug and a kiss for each cheek, just the way father had always bid her goodbye. Well…minus the kiss on the lips. Despite being a Death Eater and having had an arranged marriage, my father loved my mother quite a lot. They cared for one another, that much was certain, though eventually I came to decide the love they held for one another had been created by my birth.
I waved goodbye as I boarded the Hogwarts Express, my body feeling like it was absolutely on fire. I had to see Potter. I had to. I’d been thinking about him all summer, and now I finally had my chance to piss him off again. I’d been looking forward to this for a long time.
I found Crabbe and Goyle in a compartment, and I sat in with them for a while until the train finally left the station, at which point in time I made my excuses to go find Potter.
I had to search quite a bit of the train before I figured out where the Weasel, Mudblood, and Potty were hiding. I opened the compartment door and stepped inside, inspecting the motley collection before me: Potter, Weasley, Granger, Longbottom, Loony Lovegood, the junior Weasel, and her newest boy-toy. I sneered down at them. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Gryffindor groupies. Hello, Mudblood. Didn’t manage to tame that rats’ nest on your head, I see.” The Weasel’s eyes burned as he glared at me, his cheeks starting to turn red. “And Potty. How lovely. Still not a Prefect. Poor, poor Potty. Nobody loves him.” I smirked, folding my arms across my chest and leaning against the doorjamb.
The Weasel stood up and faced me. “Shut your gob, Malfoy. You can bloody well sod off,” he said, his fists clenched at his sides.
“Oh, the big bad Weasel, whatever am I going to do?” I replied, standing up straight again. I pointed at Potter, smirking still. “Watch yourself, Potty. You never know when you might get flushed.” With that I left them, the Weasel sputtering and beet red. I headed back to my compartment, grinning to myself with satisfaction.
When I came back inside, Crabbe and Goyle asked why I was so happy, so I told them. And then, of course, as soon as I finished saying it, I felt…angry. Like I wanted to kill someone. Like I wanted to hit myself. I clenched my fists in my lap until my fingernails bit into my palms, making them bleed, my eyes shut tightly.
Slowly, the anger dissolved, leaving me empty. I was nearly crying as I tilted my head back, resting it against the wall. “Fucking Potter,” I whispered harshly, my voice rough as I slowly unclenched my fists, showing the blood on my palms and under my nails. I slowly opened my eyes, wiping at them with my fingers, smearing blood onto my face that I thought was only tears. Pansy shook her head. “Draco, dear, come here,” she said, pulling a handkerchief out of seemingly nowhere and leaving Blaise’s lap to wipe at my face. That was when I realized I’d cut myself.
I blinked in a bit of surprise; I hadn’t even felt the pain.
I took her handkerchief with a nod of thanks, wiping my hands off. I offered it back to her, but she shook her head, resuming her position in Blaise’s lap. I sighed. “I’m turning into a bloody woman,” I said, rubbing my eyes with my fingertips. “An old woman,” I added. “It’s like I’m having ruddy hot flashes!”
Everyone exchanged looks and burst out into fits of laughter. I groaned and leaned my head back against the wall again. Why were my friends so immature?
We spent the train ride catching up. When I let the cat out of the bag about my being gay, everyone just shrugged it off. Pansy even said, “I’m not surprised. You always did seem like a bit of a pouf.” I blushed slightly, and talk turned elsewhere.
Finally the train arrived, and we disembarked, getting our trunks and taking the carriages back to the castle. I assumed my duties as Prefect, leading the way into the feast. Once everyone had taken a seat, I sat as well, ready to await the Sorting.
As usual, the Sorting Hat’s song was long and boring. My friends and I poked fun at it the whole time, and then proceeded to comment on the new first years. My favorite was a new Gryffindor named Richard Graber. When we heard that one, we all snickered and I pronounced what everyone was thinking: “Dick Grabber.” Which sent us all into fits of laughter that we tried extremely hard to contain.
After the Sorting was over, Dumbledore made his usual introductory speech, welcomed our newest DADA professor (saying that he hoped this one would last) and began the feast. We all ate like wolves, although I was careful of what I ate-didn’t need to gain any extra weight, now did I?
When it came to dessert, I made myself a rather large pile of chocolate chip cookies, plowing through them quickly. Everyone stared. Blaise raised an eyebrow. “What’s with the cookies, mate?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Taste good,” I replied.
“Draco…do you remember how much you dislike chocolate?” asked Pansy. I blanched and pushed the rest of the plate away from me.
Upset after this incident, I needed something to channel my anger. My chance came when I was walking along behind Potter out of the Great Hall. There were enough people around that I knew I could get away with a bit of mischief, just as long as nobody saw.
My face perfectly innocent, I reached forward and hooked my foot around Potter’s ankle, pulling up sharply and then releasing, watching with glee as, almost in slow motion, he flipped forward, seemed to fly for a moment, and then landed flat on his face, cracking one of the lenses in his glasses. I snickered and found my fellow Slytherins, winking at them. They all grinned back at me.
Satisfied now, I took care of my duties as Prefect and led the way to the dungeons before heading into the dormitory and changing out of my robes into more comfortable clothes. After a bit of a stretch, I went out, jogging through the hall and up out onto the castle grounds.
Under the moonlight, I ran towards the lake, making a few laps of it, watching as the giant squid lazed on the surface, seeming to bathe in the silvery evening light. The sight brought a rare smile to my face as I finished my last lap and headed back into the castle at a jog.
I traversed through the castle to the Prefects’ bathroom, not really caring to share the sixth year boys’ bathroom. In my experience, the boys in my year were slobs. In previous years I had hated having to bathe just because the bathroom was always such a pigsty. More often than not, after first year, I was careful to take whatever showers I could out in the changing rooms by the Quidditch pitch.
Once I reached the bathroom, I stripped and turned on the taps of one of the showers, waiting for the water to heat before stepping beneath the spray and letting it massage my muscles, relaxing them. I closed my eyes and let the hot water beat down upon me, images of Potter swimming through my head. I smirked as I relived my little trick upon him, and then set down to the business of getting clean.
Once I had washed thoroughly, I stepped out of the shower, dried off, and took a set of pajamas from a cupboard that had been empty last year. When I’d discovered how much more convenient it was to shower here, I’d begun to keep a small stock of clothes in the cabinet.
I took my dirty clothes with me as I padded through the halls in my bare feet, my hair curling slightly towards the ends as it dried. When I got back to the dorm, it was bustling with my yearmates getting their things in order. I smiled and put my dirty clothes in a bag I kept for such things before I crawled into bed, closed my curtains and my eyes, and fell asleep.
Much to my confusion, my ankle hurt when I woke in the morning.
[Other Chapters] One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven