Luck of Nines

27

"Can you believe it? What good are those blasted elves if they can't even pack the right things!" Malfoy shouted tossing aside yet another pair of silk pajamas with a look of disgust, these were also green, the third set of a similar variation, the only difference from one of the previous ones being a bit of silver trimming. He went back to digging around one of his trunks, "I haven't even worn these in years now!"

Another set was thrown carelessly to the side with those words, this one brightly colored with moving shapes covering them, making something around eight sets now skewed carelessly about the floor. Even his two brick wall shadows had distanced themselves, sitting unhappily upon Goyle's bed as they watched, a still unplayed game of some sort set between them.

Phineas had left scowling the moment Malfoy opened his mouth to complain, just barely holding back from storming out.

The tantrum was beginning to hurt his sensitive ears even without magic enhancing them. But it was good news, Malfoy was falling back onto his old pattern of expressing his displeasure when he felt it. Which was fine as an unchallenged leader, the others had no choice but to go along. Except he was no longer unchallenged and this excessive display of unrestrained temper drove away those who were clueless and loyal the same as it drove away those with the awareness that their leader was no longer the best pick.

They had returned to the dorms for the night after the afternoon classes had ended, lingering in the common room for awhile before heading up to the dorms when too many of the older years had begun to trickle in.

       There would only be three witnesses which in a way made this an appealing trial run to test his limits with Malfoy.

       "That's enough, Malfoy," he spoke clearly and calmly, his disapproval clear, making sure his gaze locked inescapably on the other in challenge, "If your nightwear really meant so much to you than you should have double checked it before you left. Then we all could be saved this unseemly display."

       Calm, cool, collected. That was what people expected from a leader, but what they instinctively needed, was a sort of quiet power within the leader. Some people were born with it, some people created it, some used incentives to replace it, some failed to do any of that and watched their empire crumble.    The power some referred to as charisma, the unspoken, you will do as I say because it is me who said it.

     The 'or else' behind commands.

      It didn't always inspire loyalty, but loyalty was not what he needed right now, he needed to establish where he stood on the hierarchy; at the top. 

      Malfoy was still inexperienced, but underestimating the desperation of a failed leader was a fatal mistake. They had gotten there somehow and they would fight until near the end if presented the opportunity to remain in that position. He would leave no opening for that.

      Malfoy was still silent though. He looked as if he had been slapped straight in the face. A part wondered what effect actually slapping Malfoy would bring.

     'Harry' didn't repeat himself though, he didn't add more, he didn't fill the uncomfortable silence. He simply remained, head tilted, eyes locked on his target, posture comfortably at the ready and powerful disapproval and disdain visible in his every fiber.

      Seconds drew past, and Malfoy still hadn't moved, his face had slowly become beet red, the first movement was a slow blink. Then a quicker one. He jerked backwards. His mouth shut for a moment only to fall open again, his jaw working to try and figure out a response. Finally it clicked shut. He snatched up a pair of pajamas and started to storm off to change.

He casually moved to block the escape route, "You've caused quite a mess, your items are all over the floor, not to mention Phineas and Crabbe's beds. You might not be used to sharing a room, but that's not considerate to the rest of us."

"They don't mind." Malfoy snorted.

He hummed lightly and did not move, the sound making Malfoy twitch, his head tilted slightly to the side in response, "Did you ask them if they were okay with that? If not you should before you leave your stuff all over their beds. Maybe you should clean it up for now until you get the chance."

Now Malfoy drew himself up outraged, "You can't seriously expect me to clean this up like a house elf!?"

"You can't seriously expect for Phineas or Crabbe to sleep in their beds when it's covered with all over your stuff?" He returned, "Or do you wish for them to sleep on the floor."

"If it bothers you so much, why don't you just give them yours," Malfoy scoffed clearly thinking he was about to get a major barb in here, "sleeping on the ground here would even be an upgrade for you. My father said that's where they found you after all; all alone in a back alley tossed aside like trash. Not that I can blame them."

       "It is not my stuff all over their beds." Harry returned, completely unfazed by the verbal attack, "if you are too incompetent to pick a few items up, than perhaps you should not throw them around so carelessly."

       "If they have an issue about it they can bring it up with me themselves without you being their mouthpiece."  Malfoy made another attempt to brush by but Harry easily remained blocking him.

     "Pick up your stuff Malfoy."

     "Or what?" His head tilted up in defiance.

      "Pick up your stuff."

      Malfoy made to shove him, but 'Harry' was already prepared for that, it was the goal of this confrontation after all, his feet were already planted so he didn't have to shift at all, and didn't budge. Malfoy jerked back a bit, his face scrunched up and angry, tears pricking at his eyes, "Move!"

     "Pick up your stuff." His mouth tilted up in an almost amused smile, but in reality he was not quite flashing his teeth.

      In a flash, Malfoy had his wand in his hand, drawn and pointed, but the words never had a chance to leave his mouth as 'Harry' knocked the overextended arm to the side, snatching the wand and tossing it to the other side of the room.

       The wand skittered away into the bathroom.

      Once again Malfoy was gaping as he tried to pull himself together, maintaining eye contact Harry repeated himself one last time, this time he made the threat more clear, "Pick up your stuff Malfoy."

       Malfoy obediently turned on his heel, if he had a tail it would have been between his legs, yet he was still visibly seething with anger, and began grabbing up the stuff he had thrown around the room, tossing it haphazardly into a pile on top of his trunk. Clothes thrown into a pile he spun about and glared, "There, will you move now!"

      "Of course," Harry agreed, calmly and dangerously, "Thank you for cleaning up your mess."  He turned and smoothly walked back to his bed where he sat and continued reading through the textbooks for tomorrow's classes.

        Angry and embarrassed, but cowed, Malfoy stormed past and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Harry's lips twitched briefly into a smirk; distracted, they hadn't brought anything with them, the pajamas he had grasped before jumbled in the tangled mess of all the others.