Icicle Fingers (Drarry)

Chapter 7

•Draco•

Draco had no appetite. Instead he absorbed the light and warmth from the great hall as his very own form of breakfast. Bringing him back to life again.

Crabbe and Goyle on the other hand ate happily, and loudly to his dismay. They sounded like pigs scavenging for truffles in his opinion, faces only centimeters away from their plates so they could shovel food into their mouths more effectively.

Bored out of his mind, he stared at the giant wooden door, wishing he could exit through it. Sadly, it would be very unlike him to leave breakfast early.

He had to appear normal, whatever that was.

As Pansy talked about the timetables that had appeared in front of them, passed through hundreds of hands, a certain infuriating golden boy arrived.

Potter and "those two other annoying people" had showed up for breakfast at their usual late hour. The gryffindors, and especially the golden trio, seemed to experience time an hour later than everyone else. The red and gold clad idiots still looked half-asleep. Well, all except that Granger girl. She was probably the most competent of them all.

Draco was strangely glad to see them, finally a cure for his boredom.

He leaned backwards, one hand covering his face as if swooning. Plastering on the most pathetic expression possible, mouth hanging open stupidly. Letting out a feeble wail.

The slytherins  laughed. Many chiming in with things such as "good one Draco" between guffaws.

A short, skinny boy with messy hair looked at him. A terrible concoction of pain and fury swirling the eyes behind the broken frames of his glasses.

And it wasn't so fun after all.

"Hey, Potty!" Pansy screamed so loud he felt an impact on his ears. "The dementors are coming for you, wooooo!"

Her voice was made into a haunting one, laughter broke out once more.

As breakfast started to end, and the laughter was dead and buried, Draco did the gesture again. This time with more gusto, the laughs of his friends egging him on.

Those big, torturously green eyes looked at him, and his stomach twisted in pain.

Harry potter turned around, and left the great hall.

•Harry•

The first day of term had so far, been absolutely horrid. He had started the day by walking into a hall of people laughing at him. Excellent, wonderful. His favourite morning pick-me-up.

Then, after aimlessly wandering the castle in search of the divination classroom, and having to beg an annoying painted knight for directions, he finds out that he's going to die. Just perfect.

He had found professor Trelawney to be, well, slightly eccentric from the very beginning. But still didn't expect her to start ranting about some big dog in his tealeaves. He personally agreed with Ron, it looked more like a sheep. It was called a Grim apparently, and had made her scream with terror. When she explained what it meant, everyone looked horrified. Not Hermione however, who rolled her eyes so much he was worried they would get stuck.

It was a silent walk to Transfiguration, worried glances all around him burning into his skin. Even Ron looked at him with wide eyes, as if he would combust any moment. 

***

By the end of the class, Mcgonagall had subdued any inkling worry he had. But it was the fact that it obviously had to happen to him that made Harry so furious. Now even his classmates, who had treated him like a lit stick of dynamite last year, would take him seriously now. At this rate the first years would start babying him as well.