This Is War

Dirty and Coward Blood

Draco sat at the end of his house-table, his eyes focused on nothing that pertained to him. The noise of the Great Hall pierced his ears, becoming the one prominent thing. It was a chaotic mess, as always. It made him turn up his nose, scoff darkly at home seemingly normal everyone was. He hated that they did because it was non constant, it could change at any given moment. Some days everyone was in a thick gloom, drowning in it, and in other days everyone acted like it was just another year at their previous school. It was like they all agreed to pretend they weren't all inching to death every second that passed. They just continued to eat, talk, laugh — like there wasn't any sort of tension or pressure on them.

At the furthest end of the Slytherin house-table, he noticed a First Year girl make her way with her dinner. Her eyes were a sort of innocent blue, the kind that one would associate with a cloudless day. As this little girl joined the other huddled group of First Years, he couldn't miss the glint of terror that was common among the younger students. Every step she'd taken, well, Draco imagined she was leaving her life behind her, along with all her chance of survival.

He wasn't a sentimental person at all, that was a given, but he couldn't fight off the pity he felt for the First Year girl. When the moment came, and it would come,  he knew the First Year wouldn't stand a chance. In fact, none of them will remain in tact...

Bang.

"Nott!" Pushing those doomed thoughts away, Draco saw Pansy Parkinson standing over Theodore Nott's body, a goblet firmly clutched in her hand as she waved it threateningly at him.

Laughing hysterically from the floor, his arms protecting his face as Pansy shook furiously in her stance over him, Nott said, "Oh, come on, Pans, it was just a joke."

"I don't find it funny, you idiot!" Pansy shouted once more, kicking him on the ribs with her left foot. "Keep your hands to yourself or I will rip them off and feed them to you!"

Nott moved his protection away from his face to reach his arms forward, holding on to each of Pansy's legs. "You looked a little tense, love. I just wanted to loosen you up." He ran his fingers up her legs, trying to lift his back off the ground to go higher up her legs.

Clearly still not finding the situation amusing, Pansy raised her foot off from the ground and smashed it down to Nott's chest. "I—am—not—your—toy," she kicked him with every word, not swayed when he tried to push her away from him, huffing painfully with every hit. "Touch—me—one—more—time—"

"All right, all right. That's enough,"

"—and—I'll—kill—you!"

Appearing at the Slytherin table, Blaise Zabini took a hold of Pansy's waist, lifting her away from a gasping Theodore Nott. She struggled with him, not knowing who had dared to touch her during her current seething phase. Once she heard Zabini whisper in her ear, she stopped fighting against him.

Blaise thrust Pansy onto her seat, ignoring the frown the witch was giving him. "Cool it, Parkinson," he warned like a parental figure. "You're going to get all of us in trouble again. And I am not going to go through another round of detention for you. Understood?"

From the floor, after finding himself able to breathe without his ribs hurting, Nott started laughing again. "I guess she's in a bad mood," he mocked as he extended his arm out to Blaise, who graciously decided to help him up. "I'll try again later."

Blaise rolled his eyes at Nott. He was clearly annoyed with his friend, as he often was due to Nott's careless attitude and need to always cause problems everywhere he went. "I'm guessing you two aren't getting back together, right? Murder is not something to base a relationship on — considering how it previously ended, that is."