What's my name?

1. The Game.

"No way."

Classic dry, decisive answer from Malfoy. After the turbulent morning, what had occurred to one of the Gryffindors was some sort of game to bury the hatchet between the houses once again. Everyone was getting along with each other, everyone but Gryffindor and Slytherin. Malfoy's answer didn't please Blaise, who huffed back unnerved, completely beside himself. The proposal had come from Pansy, who, being the quietest of the three, had simply received an invitation a few hours earlier from the very Gryffindor organizer. The girl had waited a while to speak. The idea was to do so when the two friends' inflamed spirits had returned to normal, albeit aware that, Malfoy's response would be negative. Not for a second had he doubted Zabini's yes. Blaise had developed a major crush on Longbottom and against all odds, he would have paid gold to be with the boy after class: that game would have been the perfect opportunity. Unlike his friend, however, Draco's hatred for the gryphons seemed to have increased year after year, as if he had begun to hatch something within himself. Draco wasn't well, she knew that, but never had she dared to ask what was wrong with him. The blond seemed to be all too sensitive to the subject as well.

"Draco, maybe we should. I agree with Pansy for once."

The brunette's response was instantaneous while the blond almost felt like killing them both. He felt an indescribable rage mounting inside him. It was a little while before the dinner, and then the consequent evening game that Pansy had mentioned. He untied his tie with a snap, then threw it on the bed. Pansy spent so much time in the men's dorm that he was used to it, as was Blaise. He sighed in stress, then sat down on the bed overbearingly, undoing the buttons on his shirt. He felt himself choking.

"To do what? Why would I come with you? To have them telling me that I'm a deatheater? No, thank you. I already know."

The answer came loud and clear to both of their ears, but Zabini would never let him stand like that without discussing it first. After all, he had thrown a punch to defend him, the least the blond could do was to satisfy him. He approached the boy, clutching the collar of his shirt in one hand, to pull him forcefully against him. His gaze fixed on draco's eyes, cruel. That fiery gray matched and clashed perfectly with the brunette's hazel. Sparks flew from both of them.

"You will come, because you are superior, because you are not a Death Eater, because you are Draco Malfoy, the Serpent Prince. You will just come. You owe it to me."

That "you owe me" was the straw that broke the camel's back. Draco couldn't deny it, he really did owe it to him. He owed him so many things, and his presence was one of them. The blond seemed on the verge of slapping him in the face, but he knew full well that the brunette would take them without fail if it would help to have his company for the evening. Both of them had almost forgotten about the girl next door, until they felt her delicate hands on their shoulders. They looked away from each other and then at her who, like the good cricket she was to both of them, had tried to restore calm in that fragile balance. If they had argued with each other it would have been the end. They couldn't afford it. Malfoy was the first to sigh, lowering his gaze and then running a hand through his hair, reviving it with a certain haste. His friend, meanwhile, had finally let go of his shirt. He shrugged his shoulders, now resigned to the fact that his presence was required that evening and then, in front of both of them, finished unbuttoning his shirt. They were the only ones he would show the brand to once again, they were the only ones he would ever trust. One button after another and the white of his skin replaced that of his shirt, the two of them were respectful enough to spare him any looks, especially on his forearm.