The Noble Emotions; Ch. 6
Title:The Noble Emotions (6/13)
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Draco/Harry, Draco/Blaise Zabini, and (briefly) Draco/Pansy
Timeline: Sixth year, HBP set
Summary: All his life, Draco has been taught to display only two emotions: distate, and scorn. Hatred, according to his father, is too close to love, and the line between them could easily be crossed. Draco is about to find out just how easy it is to cross it.
Style: Angst, but with a touch of sarcastic humor and irony that allows for relief from the constant pain of Draco's agony.
Warning: While the fic itself is slash, there is a scene of het sex between Pansy and Draco. This scene, however, is used to reinforce the slash that comes later, and will be justified tenfold in chapters to come.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or settings of this fic, in any chapters. Slash is secondary to the plot, but is the consistent theme pushing Draco towards a reinvention of everything he once wished to be.
Reviews are accepted and appreciated.
Transfiguration, Draco decided, was best studied in the library. Studying in the common room was almost impossible as the holidays drew near, and he couldn't stand to spend any more time holed up in the dormitory. Usually the library was next-to-empty, and whatever resources Draco might need were immediately available to him. And so, every night after McGonagall's promise of a tutor, Draco had gathered his things and gone done to the library. He found that he was, indeed, very behind, having to backtrack nearly to the beginning of term to see where he had last actually
learned anything. Still, he managed to make up several weeks worth of information in three long study sessions. Draco considered showing his progress to McGonagall and asking her to call off the tutor, but he wasn't sure if she knew how behind he really was and he didn't want to push his luck, which lately seemed to be nonexistent.
Whatever shred of aforementioned luck he had left slipped away as Blaise Zabini took a seat across from him. Zabini said nothing, but tapped his foot repeatedly against the marble floor. The sound quickly became an annoyance.
In the interests of his studies and his desire to be a better person, Draco refrained from snapping at him. After glancing up in acknowledgment that Zabini was there, Draco returned to his textbook and devoutly tried to get the words to seep in.
Inter-species Transfiguration begins with the selection of a beginning animal, Draco read, veritably gritting his teeth against the distraction. Once must choose carefully -
Tap, tap, tap, tap. The sound dug into Draco's skull and reverberated. He couldn't stand it anymore. "Would you stop doing that?" he finally requested, though his tone made it clear that this was not a request.
Zabini stopped tapping and sat silently. He seemed very faintly anxious about something, though Draco couldn't tell what it was. "Did you want something, Zabini?" Draco asked.
"Are you studying for Transfigurations?" Zabini asked. His voice was dry and bare of emotion.
Draco thought that would have been made rather obvious by the textbook in his hand. He therefore chose to ignore the question. "What is it, Zabini? I am a little busy, you know. No time for chit-chat."
"I don't want to chit-chat," Zabini spat contemptuously. "McGonagall wants me to tutor you." He resumed tapping his foot, much to Draco's dismay. "Is there anything you need help with?"
"No," Draco astutely replied, even though he was having trouble understanding the significance in the animal chosen. Pretending that Zabini wasn't there and didn't exist allowed him to get through the paragraph explaining species selection, after reading it three or four times. But a very special brand of haughty annoyance was seeping into his brain and filling his head with contemptuous and spiteful thoughts. They weren't abated when Zabini opened his mouth.
"Are you sure you don't need help?"
If looks could kill, then Draco's assignment from the Dark Lord would have been made significantly easier. At the moment, however, he was attempting ocular murder on the tall boy sitting across from him. "I'm fine," he icily insisted. "You really don't need to be here."
Draco had to give Zabini credit. He was matching his glare with equal intensity. "McGonagall insisted that I help you pass her class. Trust me, Malfoy, I tried to get out of it."
While Zabini's remark had pricked his pride, Draco ignored it and asked a rather shameless question. "Wasn't there anyone else who could've done it? What's so special about you?" He tried to make his peading a remark against Zabini's ability.
"Apparently, she chose me because we're in the same house and she thought we would get along better than, say, you and Potter. Or you and Granger. They're really the only other options."
The idea of being tutored by Granger was utterly repulsive, but Draco found himself vaguely disappointed that McGonagall hadn't chosen Potter. At this point, though, anyone would've been better than Zabini. Draco decided not to comment further, but did his best to return to his studies.
When beginning Inter-species Transfiguration, chose a creature that you are comfortable with. Your knowledge of the creature's systems and functions should be as extensive as possible to ensure the least harm will come to it, should something go wrong.
Draco tried to think of an animal he knew anything about, but the only thing that came to mind was an owl, and he had no idea what he would turn an owl into. He was barely sure that he could even use an owl. Perhaps he did need some help. The problem was, he really didn't want the help to come from Zabini. "How useful do you think you can be to me?" Draco asked, trying to keep his voice aloof and cold. This was degrading enough as it was; he wasn't going to beg for Zabini's help on top of it.
Zabini gained eye contact with Draco and held it, challenging him and almost penetrating his defenses. Draco wondered where he'd learned to do that. He, of course, was a talented Occlumens. The skill afforded him some benefits, one of which was the depth and pierce of his gaze. He matched Zabini, and overpowered him. Zabini broke away and turned his eyes to the floor. "Malfoy, do you need my help or not? I could probably get McGonagall to assign you Potter if you'd rather have him." There was a sneer and a hardness in his voice that compensated for his downcast eyes.
While Draco had won the stare-down, he had really lost another, more important battle. He was going to have to ask Zabini to help him. He made a quick decision not to make an ass of himself and mutter it under his breath, or lose power over Zabini by using the word "please." Although, no matter how he tried to work it out in his head, there didn't seem to be a dignified way to beg. As he mentally wrestled with one discarded idea after another, it struck him to just tell a simple truth and see what came of it. "I'm going to need help," he admitted.
"Do you want me to go fetch Potter, then? Or would you rather have Granger?" Zabini was gloating. Draco hated him for it.
"Why would I want you to do that?" Draco snapped, using the power of his sneer and his tone to show who really had control over the situation. "I haven't once mentioned their names, you did. Do you find yourself unqualified to tutor me?"
Zabini's face hardened into a brutally neutral mask, but he couldn't keep the anger out of his eyes. "I'm qualified," he assured Draco.
"Good. Then let's get started." Draco was quite proud of himself. But then again, he'd always been good at turning the tables.
"Started on what? I still don't know what you need help with," Zabini reminded Draco as he scooted his chair closer to the table.
"Everything" was the word that popped into Draco's head and settled itself in his throat, but he didn't voice it. "Things," he stated vaguely. Justifying his answer, he clarified, "Things like Inter-species Transfiguration."
Zabini proved to be a good teacher. Draco was surprised. His confusion about species selection was cleared up quickly, and he even found that he had a firm grasp on it. Zabini seemed to have a zest for Tranfiguration that Draco had never experienced in any class. In fact, Draco had never been as zealous or knowledgeable about anything as Zabini was about Transfiguration. The obvious pleasure and enjoyment he got from it was so strong that it transferred a bit from teacher to student. Several hours passed as Draco caught up on his studies. He barely noticed the passing of time until he felt a yawn welling in his chest.
"It's getting late," Zabini noted, turning a page with his dark, strong hand. Sleepily, Draco noted that he had nice hands. The fingers were broad but not knobby, and Zabini kept his nails short and clean.
Shaking his head, Draco slammed the book shut. Why in the hell was he looking at Zabini's hands? Utterly bewildering, and a little disgusting.
Struggling to change his train of thought, Draco replied, "Yes, it is. We should go to bed." He stood and began clearing the table of his books and parchment. "How are you so good at Transfiguration?" he asked, trying to make conversation. He wasn't really paying him a compliment. Zabini obviously knew that he had skill in the subject.
"It's something I've always been interested in," Zabini explained. "I love the idea that what you see can be manipulated, and deceived." He looked Draco squarely in the eye. "Sometimes things aren't what they seem."
Zabini seemed to be trying to convey some sort of message. His gaze didn't hold any of its previous contempt, but instead seemed to contain a different sort of challenge. Draco couldn't identify it, but he was glad for the change. It made his attempt at friendship a lot easier.
There was, however, the matter of how to respond to his remark. Draco wasn't even sure what Zabini had meant by it, let alone what to say in regard to it. He refused to make an ass of himself, but he didn't want to further alienate Zabini by not saying anything at all. After careful deliberation of how to proceed, Draco ventured, "I suppose so." This seemed to be the road of least resistence to him; slight concession was the only avenue that wouldn't lead to Draco being made a fool of. He gathered the rest of his things and left the library, not waiting for Zabini. Draco was confused, on several levels. He had no idea why Zabini had suddenly decided to be sincere and drop his haughtiness, nor did he understand Zabini's remark. With his usual single-minded focus, he ran over the words in his mind, remembering the inflictions and vocal emphasis of syllables. He tried to recall which word had been the weight of the sentence. Things aren't what they seem. Things aren't what they seem. He couldn't get it to make sense in his head. Walking briskly and absorbed in his thoughts, he soon arrived at the Slytherin common room. The urge to curl up under a blanket was rather consuming.
Draco hadn't waited for Zabini, and Zabini hadn't tried to catch up.
Chapter Five
Chapter Seven
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Draco/Harry, Draco/Blaise Zabini, and (briefly) Draco/Pansy
Timeline: Sixth year, HBP set
Summary: All his life, Draco has been taught to display only two emotions: distate, and scorn. Hatred, according to his father, is too close to love, and the line between them could easily be crossed. Draco is about to find out just how easy it is to cross it.
Style: Angst, but with a touch of sarcastic humor and irony that allows for relief from the constant pain of Draco's agony.
Warning: While the fic itself is slash, there is a scene of het sex between Pansy and Draco. This scene, however, is used to reinforce the slash that comes later, and will be justified tenfold in chapters to come.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or settings of this fic, in any chapters. Slash is secondary to the plot, but is the consistent theme pushing Draco towards a reinvention of everything he once wished to be.
Reviews are accepted and appreciated.
Transfiguration, Draco decided, was best studied in the library. Studying in the common room was almost impossible as the holidays drew near, and he couldn't stand to spend any more time holed up in the dormitory. Usually the library was next-to-empty, and whatever resources Draco might need were immediately available to him. And so, every night after McGonagall's promise of a tutor, Draco had gathered his things and gone done to the library. He found that he was, indeed, very behind, having to backtrack nearly to the beginning of term to see where he had last actually
learned anything. Still, he managed to make up several weeks worth of information in three long study sessions. Draco considered showing his progress to McGonagall and asking her to call off the tutor, but he wasn't sure if she knew how behind he really was and he didn't want to push his luck, which lately seemed to be nonexistent.
Whatever shred of aforementioned luck he had left slipped away as Blaise Zabini took a seat across from him. Zabini said nothing, but tapped his foot repeatedly against the marble floor. The sound quickly became an annoyance.
In the interests of his studies and his desire to be a better person, Draco refrained from snapping at him. After glancing up in acknowledgment that Zabini was there, Draco returned to his textbook and devoutly tried to get the words to seep in.
Inter-species Transfiguration begins with the selection of a beginning animal, Draco read, veritably gritting his teeth against the distraction. Once must choose carefully -
Tap, tap, tap, tap. The sound dug into Draco's skull and reverberated. He couldn't stand it anymore. "Would you stop doing that?" he finally requested, though his tone made it clear that this was not a request.
Zabini stopped tapping and sat silently. He seemed very faintly anxious about something, though Draco couldn't tell what it was. "Did you want something, Zabini?" Draco asked.
"Are you studying for Transfigurations?" Zabini asked. His voice was dry and bare of emotion.
Draco thought that would have been made rather obvious by the textbook in his hand. He therefore chose to ignore the question. "What is it, Zabini? I am a little busy, you know. No time for chit-chat."
"I don't want to chit-chat," Zabini spat contemptuously. "McGonagall wants me to tutor you." He resumed tapping his foot, much to Draco's dismay. "Is there anything you need help with?"
"No," Draco astutely replied, even though he was having trouble understanding the significance in the animal chosen. Pretending that Zabini wasn't there and didn't exist allowed him to get through the paragraph explaining species selection, after reading it three or four times. But a very special brand of haughty annoyance was seeping into his brain and filling his head with contemptuous and spiteful thoughts. They weren't abated when Zabini opened his mouth.
"Are you sure you don't need help?"
If looks could kill, then Draco's assignment from the Dark Lord would have been made significantly easier. At the moment, however, he was attempting ocular murder on the tall boy sitting across from him. "I'm fine," he icily insisted. "You really don't need to be here."
Draco had to give Zabini credit. He was matching his glare with equal intensity. "McGonagall insisted that I help you pass her class. Trust me, Malfoy, I tried to get out of it."
While Zabini's remark had pricked his pride, Draco ignored it and asked a rather shameless question. "Wasn't there anyone else who could've done it? What's so special about you?" He tried to make his peading a remark against Zabini's ability.
"Apparently, she chose me because we're in the same house and she thought we would get along better than, say, you and Potter. Or you and Granger. They're really the only other options."
The idea of being tutored by Granger was utterly repulsive, but Draco found himself vaguely disappointed that McGonagall hadn't chosen Potter. At this point, though, anyone would've been better than Zabini. Draco decided not to comment further, but did his best to return to his studies.
When beginning Inter-species Transfiguration, chose a creature that you are comfortable with. Your knowledge of the creature's systems and functions should be as extensive as possible to ensure the least harm will come to it, should something go wrong.
Draco tried to think of an animal he knew anything about, but the only thing that came to mind was an owl, and he had no idea what he would turn an owl into. He was barely sure that he could even use an owl. Perhaps he did need some help. The problem was, he really didn't want the help to come from Zabini. "How useful do you think you can be to me?" Draco asked, trying to keep his voice aloof and cold. This was degrading enough as it was; he wasn't going to beg for Zabini's help on top of it.
Zabini gained eye contact with Draco and held it, challenging him and almost penetrating his defenses. Draco wondered where he'd learned to do that. He, of course, was a talented Occlumens. The skill afforded him some benefits, one of which was the depth and pierce of his gaze. He matched Zabini, and overpowered him. Zabini broke away and turned his eyes to the floor. "Malfoy, do you need my help or not? I could probably get McGonagall to assign you Potter if you'd rather have him." There was a sneer and a hardness in his voice that compensated for his downcast eyes.
While Draco had won the stare-down, he had really lost another, more important battle. He was going to have to ask Zabini to help him. He made a quick decision not to make an ass of himself and mutter it under his breath, or lose power over Zabini by using the word "please." Although, no matter how he tried to work it out in his head, there didn't seem to be a dignified way to beg. As he mentally wrestled with one discarded idea after another, it struck him to just tell a simple truth and see what came of it. "I'm going to need help," he admitted.
"Do you want me to go fetch Potter, then? Or would you rather have Granger?" Zabini was gloating. Draco hated him for it.
"Why would I want you to do that?" Draco snapped, using the power of his sneer and his tone to show who really had control over the situation. "I haven't once mentioned their names, you did. Do you find yourself unqualified to tutor me?"
Zabini's face hardened into a brutally neutral mask, but he couldn't keep the anger out of his eyes. "I'm qualified," he assured Draco.
"Good. Then let's get started." Draco was quite proud of himself. But then again, he'd always been good at turning the tables.
"Started on what? I still don't know what you need help with," Zabini reminded Draco as he scooted his chair closer to the table.
"Everything" was the word that popped into Draco's head and settled itself in his throat, but he didn't voice it. "Things," he stated vaguely. Justifying his answer, he clarified, "Things like Inter-species Transfiguration."
Zabini proved to be a good teacher. Draco was surprised. His confusion about species selection was cleared up quickly, and he even found that he had a firm grasp on it. Zabini seemed to have a zest for Tranfiguration that Draco had never experienced in any class. In fact, Draco had never been as zealous or knowledgeable about anything as Zabini was about Transfiguration. The obvious pleasure and enjoyment he got from it was so strong that it transferred a bit from teacher to student. Several hours passed as Draco caught up on his studies. He barely noticed the passing of time until he felt a yawn welling in his chest.
"It's getting late," Zabini noted, turning a page with his dark, strong hand. Sleepily, Draco noted that he had nice hands. The fingers were broad but not knobby, and Zabini kept his nails short and clean.
Shaking his head, Draco slammed the book shut. Why in the hell was he looking at Zabini's hands? Utterly bewildering, and a little disgusting.
Struggling to change his train of thought, Draco replied, "Yes, it is. We should go to bed." He stood and began clearing the table of his books and parchment. "How are you so good at Transfiguration?" he asked, trying to make conversation. He wasn't really paying him a compliment. Zabini obviously knew that he had skill in the subject.
"It's something I've always been interested in," Zabini explained. "I love the idea that what you see can be manipulated, and deceived." He looked Draco squarely in the eye. "Sometimes things aren't what they seem."
Zabini seemed to be trying to convey some sort of message. His gaze didn't hold any of its previous contempt, but instead seemed to contain a different sort of challenge. Draco couldn't identify it, but he was glad for the change. It made his attempt at friendship a lot easier.
There was, however, the matter of how to respond to his remark. Draco wasn't even sure what Zabini had meant by it, let alone what to say in regard to it. He refused to make an ass of himself, but he didn't want to further alienate Zabini by not saying anything at all. After careful deliberation of how to proceed, Draco ventured, "I suppose so." This seemed to be the road of least resistence to him; slight concession was the only avenue that wouldn't lead to Draco being made a fool of. He gathered the rest of his things and left the library, not waiting for Zabini. Draco was confused, on several levels. He had no idea why Zabini had suddenly decided to be sincere and drop his haughtiness, nor did he understand Zabini's remark. With his usual single-minded focus, he ran over the words in his mind, remembering the inflictions and vocal emphasis of syllables. He tried to recall which word had been the weight of the sentence. Things aren't what they seem. Things aren't what they seem. He couldn't get it to make sense in his head. Walking briskly and absorbed in his thoughts, he soon arrived at the Slytherin common room. The urge to curl up under a blanket was rather consuming.
Draco hadn't waited for Zabini, and Zabini hadn't tried to catch up.
Chapter Five
Chapter Seven