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For the Want of a Nail	By : thewickednix Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4934 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. This is made for fun, not profit.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Chapter 6. Things Happened That Way

"So..." Mr Weasley begins, rubbing his hands together anxiously. "I guess we have to decide on who are going to be Mr Malfoy's donors."
Snape sits down at the ruined table and taps his fingers on the wood. "The youths are the best option; they have the cleanest blood."
Hermione nods calmly while Ron looks as though he is about to explode. "What! Should I become a meal ticket to that slimy-"
"Ron!" Mrs Weasley exclaims, appalled of her son's bad behaviour. "How can you be so inconsiderate? The poor boy has enough to deal with as it is, without you throwing sticks in the wheels!"
I can't help but snicker to myself. It seems that I am no longer the only one to be called "that poor boy". I wonder what Malfoy would think if knowing that he is bunched up with the 'Golden Boy'?
"Actually, Mr Weasley," Snape mutters, staring at Ron as though he was a bug needed to be squashed. "I doubt Draco would ever even consider feeding off you, so I believe you are safe."
Ron seems relieved, until he notices that there might have been an insult in that sentence. Before he has time to recover however, Tonks pipes in.
"What about me?" she asks Snape. "Am I considered a youth or not?"
Snape considers the question for a minute before answering. "Considering that you are below thirty, I would say that you should be a donor. But because you are related to him, I doubt that it would be a good idea."
"Why does relation matter?" Hermione asks, and I stifle the urge to laugh. Even in this situation she acts as if she were in class, quill and parchment at the ready.
"Because," Snape begins, sneering at Hermione in a very Malfoyish way. "Tonks is of blood relation with Draco, which means that their blood is similar in context. That means that Draco could not get all of the energy he needs from it, because he already possesses some of the materia in the blood. If he were to feed from Tonks, he would have to do it two to three times a week instead of one."
"So what, that just leaves me and 'Mione?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at the Professor.
"But Harry!" Ron exclaims, gripping my arm. "You can't be a donor, what if he kills you? Then the war would be lost just because we have to feed that... -that freak!"
I consider the possibility for a moment, before twisting my arm out of Ron's grip. "Dumbledore would never let that happen," I say, fully aware of how naïve I sound. I then turn to Ron and mumble in a low voice; "Besides, do you really want to send Hermione to Malfoy weekly?"
Ron goes very pale for a second, then shakes his head violently before declaring me right. I feel the need to cheer, though I don't quite know why. Why would I be happy to play Malfoy's canteen every other week? Especially after my reaction to today's display.
I blush again as I think about what happened. I had never considered Malfoy anything but a slimy miniature Death Eater, but... God, the greed with he drank down the blood with, and the effect it obviously had on Hermione. How I had wished to be there in her place! And when Malfoy then stood up, a small drop of blood still on his lower lip, he looked transformed. The skinny, ragged boy who had walked into the room an hour earlier had suddenly turned into a very handsome youth. His skin was practically glowing, pearl white and luminous.
I couldn't look into his eyes, I knew if I did, he would know. He would know that I just got a hard-on watching him eat off of one of my best friends. How twisted is that?
I turn towards Hermione, and see her staring out the window, starry eyed and a small blush gracing her cheeks. Somehow I feel a green eyed monster evolving in the pit of my stomach. Why should Hermione look like that? She's supposed to get together with Ron, marry and have a dozen red-headed big toothed kids. She's not supposed to look like that when thinking about Malfoy!

I'm not supposed to be thinking like this about Malfoy.

"So, do we have a decision?" Mr Weasley asks, looking each of us in the eye. Everyone nods quietly, and Mrs Weasley turns to look at the Grandmother Clock on the head wall of the room.
"My, it's almost 2 am!" she exclaims. "You'd best be getting back to Hogwarts, children. Tomorrow's a school day."
Ron is about to protest, but I mumble a "Yes, Mrs Weasley," and drag Ron towards the door, Hermione in tow.
As we pull on our cloaks in the hall, Ron keeps muttering.
"I can't believe they still won't let us stay for the whole meeting! We're sixteen now, we're old enough!"
A loud snort echoes through the hall, followed by Malfoy's drawl: "Well, Weasley, maybe if you acted like an adult once in a while, they'd treat you like one."
Malfoy sweeps down the stairs towards us silently as a ghost, and Ron grits his teeth. "What did you say, Ferret?"
Malfoy sneers back at him, pushing past us and proceeding through the front door. "I am merely suggesting that if you were to control your temper, your adolescence wouldn't be all that tangible."
Hermione and I follow Ron as he shots down the yard after Malfoy's disappearing figure.
"Would you talk like a normal human being, you ponce?" Ron shouts after our common nemesis. "Besides, I didn't see you getting to stay either, oh Mr Grownup."
Malfoy turns, sneering at the red-head following him down the street. "That's obvious, isn't it. Dumbledore comes to the meeting and drops a bomb like he did today, and you don't think the others would like to discuss it without the bomb's presence?"
A valid point, as Ron also apparently realises, because he remains quiet.
Another sneer from Malfoy. "Exactly," he snorts, before turning to Hermione and myself who have just now caught up with Ron and Malfoy. "Now if you'll excuse me, I would like to return to Hogwarts. I have an essay that is due tomorrow."
"But you can't apparate, can you?" The words escape my mouth before I have time to stop myself.
Malfoy stares at me for a few seconds, surprise clouding his clear eyes. "Not legally, no..." he mumbles, still looking at me with a quizzical brow. "Aren't you going to apparate too? How else would you get to Hogwarts from here?"
I chuckle and pull out three shrunken brooms from my jeans pocket. "You didn't think Dumbledore would actually let us do anything illegal? It would not bode good for the war if any of us were to wind up arrested for illegal apparating."
Malfoy seems to consider my words for a moment before he narrows his eyes at me. "Are you trying to imply that I'm supposed to ride on one of those brooms all the way to Hogwarts, when I might just as well apparate right to the gates?"
A wicked smile. "Yes."

___________________________________________________________________

I am nothing but weather and wind. I am part of the snowstorm, flying forth over blue moors and through green forests lightly as the snowflakes I'm chasing. My limbs are like ice, and I am blinded by the snow. And I am gloriously happy.
"Malfoy, are you crazy?" Potter's laugh cuts through the storm as I do another loop around a couple of pines.
I circle a vine of jasmine, cutting my cheek on a frozen thorn. "Maybe I am."
Crossing the path right in front of Weasley's broom, I hear Granger squeal and the Weasel curse as he has to avoid me. He turns his broom around and almost hits a tree.
Chuckling I turn down the path, catching up to Potter and noticing a slight grin on his face. I sneer, not able to believe it; Potter is actually laughing at a prank I pulled on his friends. "Find something funny, Potter?"
He startles, smile hidden from his face once again. But I can still see it glimpse in his eyes, I can still see his chest vibrating irregularly from holding back his laughter. "Nothing, Malfoy. That was a mean thing to do." He tries to sound angry, or at least irritated, but fails miserably.
Gaining this little piece of my supposed nemesis, I feel as though I should repay the favour. So, I feel a small laugh escape my lips. "Nice try, Potter."
I fly past him down the road, out through the woods and into a golden field, wondering why he looks at me with those green eyes.
Wondering why he sees me.
- 5
- 6
- 7
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For the Want of a Nail