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Our Lady\'s Ankle	By : sinophile Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 9040 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Our Lady's Ankle
- 1
Our Lady's Ankle

Warning: This work can be summed up in two words: Long and Rambling, so beware. I believe there will be a non-erotic sex scene in chapter three and I am debating whether or not to include a rampant display of masturbation. As I said beware, this chapter however is clean.

AN: I know that Draco will seem OOC to more than one of you, this is my intention, as strange as that sounds. I was growing sick of this Bitchmasta!Draco that so pervades the fandom. I really can't see him as Super-Sex-Man, Evil-Genius-Bastard! or Jaded-Innocent. To me, he appears as a normal boy, who is easily sacred with an overly large ego and a sometimes misplaced pride in his heritage. As such I have tried to portray my Draco thus. I hope you will enjoy the fic. Any comment, criticism or feed back on my portrayal would be much appreciated.

Chapter 1: Beware the Side Effects of a New Cures

A Malfoy always likes to keep his fights verbal, his scandals dark and his peculiarities unknown.

At least for as long as possible.

Draco had been feed this philosophy all his life, if not in those exact words. It contained a healthy dose of self-preservation and that was a thing Draco valued above all others. He liked the challenge of sparring on terms of wit alone, not actually because he was a particularly accomplished in the art of rhetoric but mostly because, if truth be known he couldn't have fought his way out of a paper bag. He much preferred a childish sneer and a causal insult to a bruise or a torn robe.

As for scandals, they were things for the future, but one thing he knew; the higher up you were the further you have to fall from grace, and in his mind Draco fancied himself pretty bloody high. Peculiarities were much the same as scandals and despite his love of ridicule when someone else was the target, he did not much fancy the reverse. Slytherins being what they were, any leakage of personal information had the potential to become very uncomfortable indeed. He was a bragger he knew, but Draco always looked after Number One.

He put up with Crabbe and Goyle for this reason, not only were they either too stupid or too loyal to let any of his incessant self-aggrandizement get out, they also could protect him form such dangers as physical conflict. The mere presencs of the two big lugs was enough to stop any student in their right mind from attacking him on anything other than an intellectual basis. But there were always the fool hardy that would not back down once trounced and sneered at till they could stand no more. These few are the ones of which this story is concerned. After all it takes all types to keep the world interesting�

***

In 6th year the Slytherins had Potions to be followed directly by Care of Magical Creatures. And as it turned out the Gryffindors came from recreation at the same as the Slytherins emerged. The two enemy houses would meet in an invariable clash of phrases and the occasional blow in the middle of the field. Anyone would think from the way the two sides secretly looked forward to these stand-offs that they were about to witness a medieval lancing tournament. Brave knights on either side touring out to sport their colours, and indeed on this particular occasion, it could almost be considered the case for it was the honour of one particular young lady, over which our two, somewhat brave knights fought.

It was a sunny day in early March when a snap of warm weather had brought down the rains making the fields muddy then freezing hard in the night. It had snowed much earlier in the year and patches still remained in brown splattered, unsightly heaps about the fields. Some of the sun's warmth had still managed to partially melt freezing sheets of ice into thin puddles that covered the ground. Through these puddles tramped the merciless boots of a dozen, berobed students of the Slytherin variety, as they began their short journey across from the school to the paddock which was holding this month's magical creature.

Halfway across as usual they met with another gaggle of none to dainty footed Gryffindors, and were about to stop to exchange their customary snarls when Draco slipped to the back of the group. Surreptitiously withdrawing his wand he pointed to a triangle of youths standing at the forefront of the Gryffindor group, mumbling a few choice words. Despite the fact that nothing happened he smiled, a decidedly devilish smile and slithered back through his own housemates to the front of the group.

"Hiding behind your goons again." Harry said glaring at him, green eyes and bad hair both displaying a kind of almost tangible anger if hair and eyes could be considered to do such a thing.

Crabbe and Goyle, along with several of the other Slytherin boys were stoutly blocking the passage of the aforementioned Gryffindors. Short of breaking down and walking around the offensive group, which of course was the most logical and therefore the least likely possibility, the two groups remained at a stand-off.

"I don't need to face you alone. I would never be that stupid." Draco replied, the words might have sounded cowardly to a Gryffindor but made perfect sense to a Slytherin who, would by nature avoid a hand to hand fight where there was no likelihood of winning.

"Whatever you call it, just let us pass we don't need to be late, unlike you we can't get Daddy to fix everything for us." Ron piped up, looking down on Draco with dislike as if he had just swallowed something none too pleasant, Draco merely glared, the weasel was below his contempt.

It was in this manner that the groups exchanged causal insults back and forth until Hermione who up till now had remained relatively quiet spoke up reminding all of them that class was about to start. She unceremoniously grabbed Ron and Harry's robes hauling them off around the Slytherins ending the stand-off.

The groups separated and each mumbling, in various states of disappointment meandered across the field towards their respective classes, the bell sounding, when all were only half way across. Draco waited looking back over his shoulder. Then there was a scream. Draco smirked to himself; he had gotten the spell right after all. With a pronounced swagger he headed off to care of magical creatures.

He was however not too get far. Oblivious to everything Draco failed to hear the steps that pounded up behind him like a stampeding bull form some Spanish arena. He was therefore totally unprepared for the tackle he received nor the raining of inexperienced yet multitudinous blows that rained down on him from God, a redheaded avenging angle.

"What did you do to her, you bastard!" Pinned in the mud the redhead's hands pressing his shoulders in to the softening earth, a knee digging into his stomach, Malfoy could still smirk, and so he did.

"Why, what in the world are you on about?" Ron blinked for a second unsure of what was going on himself. Draco took full advantage of his oppressor's momentary lapse. Kneeing him in the stomach and rolling him off onto into the mud ripping at the grass legs flailing to be free. His efforts were only a partial success and a tangle of limbs ensued only to be followed by more blows.

When both boys finally emerged them were both distinct shades of black and blue, all covered with a thick layer of dirt brown that dropped off their robes and made any further movement near impossible, in their exhausted and half frozen state. Nevertheless each could still growl.

"Damn you Weasley, this is my best robe, I would ask you for recompense, seeing as it is probably ruined, but your family would probably have to mortgage that shack you call home."

"Shut your face, it isn't as if you have a home to be proud of yourself." They both continued glaring at each other at a stand-off for several minuets before a great guest of wind, reminded them that it was still closer to winter tsummsummer and that each was soaked and freezing.

"Hermione better be all right." Ron mumbled, looking as threateningly as he could with mud freezing on the end of his nose.

Draco knew better than to respond, even if they both knew that he was the one to hex Ron's little Mudblood, he was not about to give the game away so readily by admitting his guin sin some crass ill-considered quip. It was an interesting hex, which he had been dying to use for some time now, a Backstabbing Spell. He had run into it in one of his old darker children's spell books, a gift from some now deceased aunt or other, when he was seven or eight, and he had discarded it in the atticone one of the towers.

Finding the tower was an ideal place from which to watch the comings and goings of the various shady visitors, whose meetings with his father he was not yet old enough to attend. He had ran into the book again, that Christmas. He had been progressively working his way through it ever since. This latest devilry was a simple charm to terrorize and punish those who were likely to talk nastily about you, and whoever it was cast on would react most violently when anyone, themselves included, spoke out against the one who had inflicted it.

Obviously the dream team had not been discreet in their opinions of him as they progressed to their next class and the Mudblood had paid the price. Pity it was not Potter upon which the curse had fell, but Draco reflected, the Mudblood was almost as good. Now however, being attacked by this lower class moron was not his idea of fun. With a snort of disgust at the smirk on Draco's face Ron turned towards the Gryffindor tower. His old boots squelched as he moved though the mud.

"And were do you think you're going?" Draco demanded irked that this kid could just walk away from him while he stood ankle deep in a sodden puddle per perfect hair caked in brown goo.

"To wash, I'm freezing and I'll be damned if I'm going to catch a cold only because you want to have a glaring match in the middle of a mud puddle."

"I thought you said Granger was sick, aren't you going to go and rush off to your little Mudblood?"

"Harry took her off to the medical wing which is where I'm heading as soon as I'm washed, Madame Pomfrey wouldn't let me in otherwise. Then" he added with some relish "we are all going straight to Dumbledore and telling him you cursed a fellow student, and see what he says about it. Maybe your daddy will be able to get you off with only a few years suspension." Ron grinned now as he tuned away and Draco was left cursing to himself.

What was he to do now, he asked himself feeling a nervous flutter in his belly and the rising choking feeling of muscles constricting in his throat. This could become messy and Draco was pretty sure his father would be none to please if he heard. Running off as fast as he could in mud caked robes he made his way as surreptitiously as possible, towards the Slytherin shower room. Swearing as he went

***

It had taken a whole hour to get cleaned up, even hurrying as he was, but Draco assumed that Ron would have to take the same. A thought had occurred to him while rinsing out the worst of the mud in his robe. Dumbledore had berated them last time a situation like this occurred, threatening to expel them all if anyone was to try anything again, regardless of 'who started it'. Draco found him any praying that the old geezer would keep his word.

The shower had been an uncomfortable one. He had been appalled upon looking himself over after the wash to discover how much damage the mud had hidden. He had a vicious red blotch on his cheek that looked as if it were already turning into what would be a very nasty bruise. His shoulder ached and he had cuts and scraped and minor bruises all along his shins and arms and on the back and fronts of his hands. Damn he could almost faint to just see himself, Merlin did he ever look like a wreck.

Next time, he vowed he would give the matter proper thought before testing out a new spell. You live you learn, he thought still mildly annoyed as to the state of his face. Thank God (cap) his beautiful nose was untouched. Better to learn such things now than when one was old and in a position like his father's. One mistake or miscalculation was the difference between life and immediate and none-to-pretty death when you played in the dark.

Dressing he looked over at the clock, it was much to late to return to class but he felt he had to get to the hospital wing before the rest of the school heard of the tussle. Now he had a plan, not a brilliant one, but with any luck it should work. If Dumbledore kept his word then he doubted whither the Mudblood would let Potter and the confounded Weasley tattle, not when they all ran the risk of suspension. It all rested on whither these two could swallow their pride enough to let the event pass off with out seeking retribution thought a higher power. Draco mentally reprimanded himself for trusting to such a futile concept, but luck was a lady and even in a bruised state he could be a charmer when he wanted to be. And he did.

***

Draco was walking as fast as he could though the endless winding corridors of Hogwarts towards the hospital wing. He tried his hardest not to wince at the pain that was spreading though his shoulder. It was aching like the devil himself, and Draco being Draco was not going to stand for it. Plus it gave him an excuse for showing up in the hospital wing while Potter and Company were in occupancy.

When he arrived he opened the heavy door, warily peeking in to see if there was anyone about. There wasn't, save for Weasley and Potter siting around a bed that must have contained the Mudblood. He snickered, they must have said some really unfavorable things about him to lay her up like a sow like that. Instantly he regretted the thought, for his snicker had drawn the attention of the two boys by the bed. Draco missed the comforting if inanely dimwitted presence of his friends. Alone he would not stand a chance against the two, magic or no magic, damn, another lapse in planning no wonder his father was ashamed of him.

The two by the bedely ely glared at him as he entered, and Draco noted with no small satisfaction that Weasley had a blackening bruise on his collarbone. He was also sitting a little too stiffly, Bastard. It would serve him right for attacking having attacked Draco as he had.

"What do you want?" Potter demanded his voice dangerous.

"Medical attention. Why else would I be here." Some times Draco was astounded by how menacing stupidity could really be. Then again with all his misjudgments and the lack of forethought he had displayed today he probably had no right to comment, so he said nothing further and waited for the subject of reparation to be brought up on its own.

No one spook. And as mush as Draco was loath to admit it he was getting nervous, would they have gone to Dumbledore already? Had Madam Pomfrey gone off to snitch for them? He was not sure how much help his father would be willing to offer him when he heard how reckless Draco had been. Wonderboy merely remained sitting by the bed, passively ignoring him while Weasley took it upon himself to glare at Draco enough for the both of them. At last Draco found himself, forced to speak

"Where is Dumbledore?" That was not what he had wanted to ask, but it was all he was going to bring himself to say. They were idiots if he didn't know they would go straight to the old geezer. Harry however didn't even look at him, he sat relaxed and unmoving, and nevertheless it was obvious he was still furious his next words made it unmistakable.

"He's not coming." Harry answered through clenched teeth.

"WHAT?" Draco demanded, utterly at a loss. Sure he had been planning to dissuade them form going to the Headmaster, clearly pointing out all the trouble it would cause; all the detentions, most likely with McGonagall or Snape, both of whom would likely have little mercy on anyone. Or even more serious a temporary expulsion.

"He said we didn't tell him, are you deaf just don't understand English!" Weasley spat from Potters's side. It was a childish insult and Draco ignored it thought it irked him to do so. Picking which fights to fight, was something he needed to practice and this seemed like a good time to practice. It was evident that Weasley had an even less friendly outlook on the lack of institutionalized retribution than Potter did.

"Hermione didn't like the idea of getting the teachers involved, said this sort of thing has happened too often for there not to be consequences. And I'll be hanged before I let you jeopardize her year." Harry's voice was faltering but he continued as best he could, evidently trying to remain calm. "Dumbledore told us all that last time was the final straw. She didn't want anyone getting expelled."

Draco stood for a minute flabbergasted. He was not going to have to do anything, with any luck his father wouldn't even hear of it.

"She didn't do it for you Malfoy." Ron snapped, "So don't go getting any strange ideas."

Draco wanted to shoot back some witty rejoinder about not ever wanting to sully his pure mind with thoughts of the Mudblood strange or otherwise, but figured that such a thing would be in bad taste seeing as she had just saved him a pile of work. Some degree of civility must always be maintained, he remembered his father telling that once and as much as he would never admit it he was grateful. That didn't mean that he was going to be nice about it. He was a Malfoy and would therefore take it for granted. Remember be cool, be calm, this is what he had expected, Draco told himself.

"What about Madam Pomfrey?" he asked, still somewhat suspicious. There must, he thought be a catch, no one would be righteous enough to let their worst enemy get away with such a humiliating hex. Even if they didn't forgive him, retribution was in short order and he knew it more than anyone. This thought made him exceedingly uncomfortable.

"She fixed Hermione up of course, but we told her that one of Neville's spells that went awry." Potter said looking back at the girl, and Draco realized that he had yet to hear her say a word. Usually she was the last to shut up. He felt a sudden and intense curiosity to find out what the spell had actually done to her. He stepped closer making both the other boys shift uneasily.

From were he stood he could see that she was sleeping, but otherwise looked perfectly normal, Pomfrey could be credited with efficiency of nothing else. He searched her face for some slight remnants of his spell but there was none. He did notice, much to his discomfort that she looked a good deal more peaceful than he had ever seen when awake. The other two boys were giving her funny looks that made him feel decidedly out of place.

He was not one for outwardly expressing emotions. Though he had no trouble at all interpreting people's more negative of feelings to manipulate; he somehow ended up feeling squeamish when anyone gave that look, the one where the eyes soften and the mouth half smiles, an all-round loving look. Enough to make a person sick. Weasley could have been oozing if he tried much harder. He was stroking the Mudblood's hand and it made Draco feel even more ill at ease.

"Well." He said at last, trying to draw attention away form the sleeping girl and back to himself. He did so hate being ignored. "Then I'll just tell madam Pomfrey to fix me up and I'll be on my way. Till next time Potter." He was about to move to the door in search of the Mediwitch, but the boy spook before he had gotten more than a few steps.

"You can't do that, what would it look like if you showed up all bashed about with bruises like that and Ron looking the way he does, just after she," he indicated the Mudblood with a wave of the hand. "Came in spitting up blood with worms crawling out of her skin." Draejoiejoiced with inward glee. The results were better than expected he would have to remember that cures for future reference. Just then the implication of Potter's words dawned on him.

"Are you saying that I should continue unhealed by any form of magical aide while my shoulder feels as if it were about to fall out of its socket!" He was exaggerating and they all knew it, but it didn't stop him from shooting a vengeful glare at the redhead from whom it had been received.

"Unless you want to expose our little set too, I suggest you comply." Potter said coldly before pointedly turning his back to Granger. Weasley remained glaring at him for a time, daring him to brake eye contact. He didn't stand a chance, and his eyes dropped. Malfoy had been playing unofficial staring games with a vast range of opponents since before he could walk. Weak, Draco thought as he savored his petty victory.

It seemed however that no further interaction was necessary and so they ignored him. Draco stood indecisively, hating it. Short of making some more ill favored remarks, there was nothing he could do to regain attention. This struck him as too obvious, leaving him with no other option than to retreat to his dorm. So turning with overly pronounced dramatics, he flounced out of the room.

***

Special thanks to my most disloyal beta selendrile who's vast array of works can be found by searching by the author's name, be srue to check out her poetry!

He screams at the thought of doing any more editing for me and as a result I am forced to turn to you the people of this wired world. Any poor soul willing to beta the next chapter would be much held high in my good graces. (Not that that is much of an incentive)
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Our Lady\'s Ankle