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The Rivalry	By : Pseudonymous_Entity Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 4959 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: If you recognize it from the Harry Potter books, I didn't come up with it. I'm not making any money off of this story nor do I intend to. It's purely for entertainment.

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All of the houses had their own sort of hierarchy, their own social structure and system that none of the others were privy to. They could only see the results. Of course, sometimes altercations in moves for power or dominance were, on occasion, witnessed outside of the house but they were rarely known for what they were.
Unless you were a Slytherin.
As the largest collection of children born to the group who called themselves Death Eaters, they took moves of power very seriously. House prejudice aside, one never knew when the information may come in handy, be it tomorrow or years after graduation. But if you really wanted to see power plays and politics...Slytherin was the place to be.
Subtle glances, tones of voice, eye contact, hand gestures. Anything and everything could and did mean something if you were educated in the rhymes and rhythms of such things. The pureblood society at large was an obscenely complex organism rich in customs and traditions centuries old. And the house of the snakes took it to a whole new level. It was code few outside of Slytherin House were ever able to read. Where whom sat and with whom, what they wore, who they walked with or stood beside or in front of or behind. It all mattered. They didn't just act the way they did for fun, all their little quirks, their posture and tilts of the heads and sneers...it was a hidden language in plain sight.
A game of politics, a game of intimidation, a game of kings, and it never ended. In the halls, at dinner, in class or the library, in the common room or in the dorm. It never ended. One's guard, one's mask must always be in place. Prepared for any and all possible attacks. Not the physical sort, but the mental and verbal sort. Slytherin's hardly needed to dirty their hands when cerated tongues laced with poison could cripple their opposition with a word. It was a strategy that annoyed the other houses to no end. The Ravenclaws were generally smart enough to use their pureblood knowledge to get them through any needed conversations with the House of Snakes, whereas the Puffs relied on smiles and politeness to alert the Slytherins of their wish to communicate peacefully. Gryffindors...that was another matter entirely. Perhaps the only house with a social structure equal in its complexity, they were opposites in every way. The two Houses had a struggle for dominance over the other born in the time of the founders, with no discernible victory in sight.
Draco, current head of the green team for the Slytherin versus Gryffindor eternal spat, sat straight-backed just to the right of the center of the Slytherin table. A member of the Slytherin court and indeed technically the second highest ranking snake, it was his place. When Rosier graduate at the end of the Year Draco would be king and delicious a title was that? If it came with a real crown and throne and loyal subject it'd be even better, but being a Malfoy he was pretty much as close to being a King as anyone could be. He knew this of course and he never let anyone forget it. Knowledge was power and in this case, everyone else's knowledge of his father's political power and wealth did him wonders the first year of school. That was the time the older, higher ranking Slytherins did their best to 'inform' the newest snakes that they weren't with mummy and daddy and the servants anymore and were now the bottom of the food chain. Draco couldn't have that, and his father would have killed him if he had allowed it. Noticing the right things about the right people had ensured he survived the first month, noticing other things about other people and trading the information for the favour granted him a peaceful year. That and his offhand comments about his father hearing about whatever might be happening, even if it was stupid. He wouldn't really notify his father about silly little things like detention or whom was teaching, but it served to remind the other Slytherins that, his father being on the Board of Directors for the school, had access to Draco's location at all times should the need arise. Brave as they acted, the older Slytherins had no desire to mess with Lucius Malfoy. As a bonus it pissed off the Gryffindors and annoyed the Hell out of the other houses. Never let it be said Draco didn't have a sense of humour.
He took a bite of his salad and sip of water from his goblet then he allowed his eyes to look directly across to the next table over. In that place, facing him, was Potter. Since the day of their arrival this had been their seating arrangement, regardless of their place at their individual table, they always faced one another. Whether it was out of curiosity, fate, accident or an instinct to keep ones back to the wall and eye on their enemy, Draco wasn't sure. It didn't matter anymore.
He went through the choreography of dinner, nodding in the right places, interjecting a comment when needed, eyes tracking events around his table and the hall, eating, drinking, nodding in an automatic military waltz. Each socialization, each observed interaction, each fact carefully taken and stored in the warehouse of his mind, alphabetically and according to subject with practiced precision for him to peruse and examine when he had more time. As for now he dabbed his face with a napkin, rose from his seat, bid farewell and began his journey to the library. Expensive boots, silenced of course, lead the way through the halls requiring little instruction from their master. Draco had long since memorized the course. Entering the library he took a left until he nearly met the west side wall, then turn right nearly to the back, another right and then a left at the pillar. Straight into a small area with a window seat, small table and Potter. Draco always knew where to find the small Gryffindor and the other boy had long since given up being surprised about it.
Potter knew he was there, Draco knew he did, but he said nothing. Draco didn't know if he was waiting for him to announce his presence or if the page he was staring at going on five minutes was truly that fascinating. The thought Potter might find anything in a book more interesting than talking to him didn't sit well with Draco. He cleared his throat gently, mindful of the devil librarian woman who had the ability to pop out of shadowed corners whenever a loud noise made it's self known.
Terrifying female.
"Potter you requested to meet up about our assignment not a staring at the Gryffindor session."
The boy didn't look up from his book. "I suppose you do enough of that in the great hall anyway."
Draco ignored the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he clenched his jaw before smoothing his features. "I do not know what you do with your spare time Potter, but some of us have other things to do."
"Ah but you see, I'm reading a book about gravity and it's just amazing. I can't seem to put it down. ironic that."
"Potter."
The Gryffindor lowered the book and caught his gaze, red glinting in the green. "Ah there it is. Right there. The glare of death." He gave an innocent smile.
Draco scoffed, pulled out the chair across from him and sat, intent on making a snide remark when they were interrupted.
"Harry look, I know I shouldn't have said that but-" The ginger stopped abruptly, studying Draco with what was most definitely mutual loathing. "What is he doing here?"
Draco tilted his head, face blank. "It's called socializing." Weasely stared.
"Was that too large a word? Should I point him in the direction of the dictionaries?" He mocked whispered.
Potter snorted then tried valiantly to cover it up by coughing. He did not succeed.
"That isn't funny Harry."
"Yes it was." Said Draco. Potter raised his book and hid his face behind it, though the slight shaking of shoulders told Draco he wasn't suddenly checking up the difference of gravity in space versus on the Earth.
"Honestly Harry you can't keep ignoring me." The taller boy said mournfully, giving his best large eyes of doom.
At this Potter straightened, apparently immune, green eyes narrowing. "Yes, actually, I can. Allow me to demonstrate." He turned to Draco. "How was your day?"
Draco raised a brow. Interesting development. "The same as every other day. I think I even used the same Hufflepuff first year as a writing desk as I did yesterday."
"Evil git." Muttered Weasely.
Draco turned to him. After all Potter was ignoring him, not Draco.
"You've caught me. I'm so deliriously full of wickedness I just can't keep it secret any longer. I confess, I enjoy terrorizing muggle villages and burning down their homes. And, sometimes, when I'm feeling really evil-" He paused dramatically, "I read. Or paint."
Potter, who was still pretending only Draco was present flipped through the pages in his book louder than necessary. "Do you know if we have books on Geometry?"
Draco turned to him. "Why, are you planning to use the rather large circumference of Weasley's head versus the small gray matter between his ears in a presentation somewhere on depressing abnormalities? Because I can help with that." He wondered what the world was coming to when a Pureblood and a Halfblood banded together using muggle terminology, correctly, to confuse and insult. It was even sadder if one remembered the ginger's father worked in some department at the Ministry that dealt with muggles.
"Actually I just found the word polygon and it made me think of pirates."
He repressed a smile. "And what do pirates have to do with Geometry, pray tell?"
"Well, I like that it makes me think of pirates, so if I like the shape as well I'm going to make it the symbol of my ship's flag."
"Do you have a ship?" asked Draco, pulling his chair closer to see what he was reading. It was neither a book on gravity nor a book of geometry. It appeared to be a collection of theoretical experiments in progressive magicks. What was more interesting was the purple ink scribbled in every available space in Potter's handwriting. Interesting. He flicked his eyes over the notes.
...using this we can assume all atoms are connected in a similar way and are subject to the same laws. One might wonder if there is a way to manipulate and control this phenomenon to suit ones needs. I believe there is a way and I think it is both easier and more complex than theorized. Standard translocation magicks are limited to pushing ourselves very quickly through a pulled vacuum toward a specific destination. The feeling is uncomfortable, accidents happen far too often and they're not nearly as safe as wizarding transportation had the potential to be...
Very interesting.
"Not yet." said Potter, wistfully.
Weasley, unfortunately, hadn't taken the hint. Though Draco would gladly skip the rest of his planned evening and continue mocking him. He supposed it didn't occur to him that his friend who was upset with him and verbally told him to go away might actually mean it. Idiot Leprechaun wannabe.
The ginger stumbled over the unfamiliar term. "What's a poly...polygon?"
He couldn't resist, it was perfect. "A dead parrot." Said Draco, with a completely straight face.
A half an hour later, after the read head stomped off, Draco and Potter were still whisper-arguing about the same thing.
"I won." Stated Potter.
"No."
"Yes. I totally won."
Draco waved him off. "My taunts were much better, they certainly got to him more than your ignoring."
"No it didn't, and your jokes were only funny because I was ignoring him."
"I resent that in its highest form sir. I do not need you in order to be funny." He was actually sort of offended. Draco could be witty when he had a mind to be!
"I still win. I'm his best friend, it makes more of an impact. He expects it from you."
Silver eyes rolled without shame. "Potter I beat you on the nasty scale no matter how you look at it."
Potter raised his chin in the typical Gryffindor defiance pose.
"You take that back."
"Never." As if.
"I can be just as nasty as you!"
He grinned. "Never going to happen." Draco said, in a sing-song voice.
He ducked a book thrown his way and continued to smile at the Gryffindor, who continued to sulk.
"Let's go find him then. I bet you a galleon I can get him red-faced and spluttering in five minutes or less."
Draco tapped his chin. "Fine. You're on."
They picked up their books, which they never actually opened, Potter swung his disgusting muggle bag around his shoulder while Draco shrunk his books and put them in his pockets. Together they turned and walked out of the library to go find the Weasel. They had to find out tonight who was best at getting the ginger to blow up or they'd never get to sleep. Never mind the project that was the soul reason they were even meeting in the library, never mind that Potter and Weasely were meant to be friends, never mind that it was a bit messed up on both of their parts. It was a matter of principle. One of them had to be the best. One of them had to be the winner and the other the loser.
This was just something else to add to the score card.
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The Rivalry