Faery Heroes

Chapter 8: Comparing Notes

Okay, folks and friends, I have good news and bad news. The bad news (for you) is that I started the first year of medical school on Monday, so my free time, a.k.a. my writing time, is shortly going to shrink down to a few hours on weekends and maybe – maybe – getting a single chapter out every week or two. The good news is that over my vacation last week, I managed to get a lot written for each of my stories, and all that's left is putting everything together and polishing it. This means you'll have a few weeks of our regular schedule before the several-week-long delays hit.

Disclaimer: Did we see Harry and co. use their entirely too long train ride to get some of their summer assignments out of the way so they could actually enjoy their time off? If not, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and anyone else she sold the rights to.
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The two lovebirds ignored the boy. "She's good enough to avoid that, Mione. I'm sure she'll come by in a few minutes, perfectly fine." The door opened, and Harry turned with a smile on his face, which died immediately when he saw it was not his favorite blonde. In fact, it was his least favorite.

"What do you want this time, Malfoy?"
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"I came to see how Dumbledore's favorite boy was handling what happened," Draco sneered. All those days spent in front of his bathroom mirror at home were certainly worth it. "Trying not to think about it, Scarhead? Pretending it hasn't happened?"

"Think about what, how small you look next to Crabbe and Goyle? That is certainly hard to ignore." The bodyguards looked stupidly at Potter when they heard their names, and he continued, "Poor children, still using all the muscles except the one that really matters. Then again, your boss doesn't use his, either, so I guess you can be excused."

The blond prince of Slytherin didn't understand the different track this confrontation was taking compared to normal. He was supposed to say something witty; Potty, the Weasel, and the Mudblood would shout and weakly try to threaten him; and he would leave as the winner. The stupid half-blood shouldn't be talking his way out; he was a Gryffindor, after all!

"You've picked the wrong side!" he yelled, trying to catch Harry's attention with volume since his words weren't having the right effect. "I warned you, you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember?" What kind of fool would want to be in the company of Muggle-lovers and Mudbloods, anyway? "When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this!"

"You know, I don't think you said that," Potter said quietly, tapping his chin.

Ha, the dumb half-blood was a scaredy-cat in front of his pure greatness! Of course, I wouldn't be like him; I'd turn anyone who tried to threaten me into a toad. Or maybe they could be ferrets, and I'd sic snakes on them! He watched his glorious dream a moment longer, ignoring that he didn't know how to do either of those spells. Purebloods didn't have to learn magic, they ordered and magic obeyed.

"In fact," the Boy-Who-Couldn't-Even-Die continued; it was like he wasn't even paying attention to him! "I think what you actually told me was that you could help me find the 'right sort', or something to that effect. I didn't care then, and I don't now."

"Why not!" he whined. No, Purebloods didn't whine; he must have bellowed, like Father did when one of his little workers was stupid again. Yeah, he bellowed like a real man.

"Draco, Draco, Draco. Drake – you don't mind me calling you Drake, right? – I killed you once already, and you weren't even worth my time. It was an afterthought, really, while I was working your dad over. I mean, you tried to transfigure me into a ferret and hit Parkinson instead. So, no, I don't care, because you weren't a threat then, and you're definitely not one now."