Less Thinking, More Kissing

Part 3: Petrified Potter

Malfoy and his dirty dogs do a terrible job of trying to hide where their supposedly 'secret' dungeon is. This coming from someone that's petrified, being carried by two mindless minions and too preoccupied with the back of Malfoy's head and soft-looking neck to really pay attention to where they're going. It's not like the location of the Slytherin Dungeons is really a surprise to me though; I've been here once before.

Malfoy mutters something to the wall, a word he and most Slytherins see as paramount to all, and the stone wall slides open, revealing the underground home of the Slytherins. A green glow tints the entire room and gives it an eerie feel. Since it's during meal time, the place is deserted, only adding to the empty, foreign feel of their common room. Thank goodness I got sorted into Gryffindor.

"Where do we put him?" asks one of the gargantuan gorillas. I can almost hear the conflicting thoughts in Malfoy's mind and the perpetually blank state of in the idiot ignoramuses'.

"Give me a second, I'm thinking. Maybe you could try it sometime?" He purses his lips, trying to go over his options. The barbarian bears decide that it's a good time to set me down on the couch while they wait for Malfoy to bark his next order. I'm forced to stare at the greenish ceiling of the common room and hear a little bit of whispering. I know for a fact that Malfoy would never confide in the dumdum dolts, and hear no grunts in response, so I think it's safe to say that Malfoy is talking to himself. Interesting.

"Well, we uh - we can't let the other Slytherins see him, now can we?" Malfoy says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, and for all these incredulous idiots know it very well could be. "Right, then it's settled. Follow me, boys." The oblivious oafs don't give a second thought, or perhaps even a first, as they grunt in agreement.

The demented dollops pick me off the couch and hoist me from the couch to follow Malfoy up a staircase to where I assume the dormitories will be. I could be wong, since when Ron and I were in here in our second year, we didn't manage to get any further than the common. At the top of the staircase, the dormitory door is ajar and I can see very tidy beds that resemble the Gryffindor ones, only with green and silver details. However, just as we approach the door, we take a sharp left and where there should be a wall, Malfoy continues up a second flight of stairs. Are they leaving me to die in the attic? Are there ever attics in the towers?

At the top of the stairs, Malfoy approaches a green door with a silver 'M' and snake embellishing it. He puts his hand on the door handle and I can hear it immediately unlock. He twists the handle and pushes open the large door into an even larger room. Although I'm relieved that it isn't an attic, I'm alarmed to find that we walk into the most grand bedroom I've ever seen on the grounds of Hogwarts.

The spell must be starting to wear off now, because I can just barely crane my neck around to get a quick glance at the private Malfoy bedroom: the dark-polished wooden furniture, a fireplace surrounded by a full size velvet couch, matching chairs and a coffee table, a chandelier dangling from the center of the high ceiling and silver plated decorations hanging from the deep green walls. At the center of it all was a large four poster bed with sheer black drapes hanging from three sides and a large headboard of black velvet. There must be an enchantment on the massive windows too, because there was an absence of mucky green light from the outside. Instead, a normal sky was shedding some light on the room as the sun began to sink.

"Just set him down here," Malfoy gestures to the couch with a wave of his hand. The narcotic nitwits do what he says and carry me to the couch. He shrugs off his robe a hangs it on a silver coat rack by the door. When he turns around sees the pesky pair still standing there, he sneers, "Well, go on, then. Get out." The catastrophic chumps are unsurprisingly confused at first, then shuffle out of the room. Malfoy closes the door after them and sighs. I hear his footsteps approach as he nears the fireplace and sits in the plush chair across from the couch I'm laying on. He crosses his legs and arms and sits back, staring at me.

By now, I've fully gained back control of my neck and upper torso, but continue to keep a blank expression and stare straight ahead at the ceiling. I'll wait for my feeling to come back fully... then what? Am I supposed to ask him if I may pretty-please leave? When I wished to be in Malfoy's bedroom, I didn't quite think it would go down like this.

"You can still hear me can't you? Blink twice if you can." Malfoy leans forward, elbows on his knees as he lamely attempts to communicate. I make a point to not blink until my eyes begin to water, which is quite a while later. Even then, it's only once.

"Even petrified, you're still a twat, Potter," Malfoy huffs. There's a mild sense of pride in being able to push Malfoy's buttons so easily. I momentarily forget that I'm 'petrified' and smile, but quickly try and wipe it away before he sees. His stare is so intense, it's no use.

"Why you little..."

"Little what? Last time I checked we were the same height." I say and prop myself up on my elbows. I have full feeling in my upper half now, so there's no point in lying down anymore.

"One of the many ways you compare yourself to me, I assume?" Malfoy fires back, acting almost nonchalant. He sits back, clicks his tongue and asks, "Would you like tea?"

"You trying to poison me?" I ask, completely serious. He pulls his lips into a tight, fake smile.

"Why would I ever do such a thing?" He snaps and two piping cups of tea appear on the table, accompanied by sugar, milk and all of the tea cakes you could imagine, on a silver platter. He leans forward and begins dressing up his tea, before sitting back and taking a cautious sip. "Come on, Potter. If I was going to kill you, I would have done it already. Why waste time with tea?"

His semi-logical explanation, but mostly the tea aroma filling the air is enough to make me give in. I sit up as best as I can without being able to move my legs, pick up the teacup and give it a taste. Any smart comeback I had before slips away and is replaced by the warm feeling of delicious tea.

"No cream? They say you're daring, Potter, but I never knew this is what they meant," Malfoy says sarcastically with a arrogant glint in his eyes.

"Usually, at the Dursley's I wouldn't get any tea but what was left over, so I'm used to it being strong," I sputter out before my brain catches up. Why did I just say that?

"Ah, what a sob little story," he tries to smirk, but I can see the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth.

"Er - I didn't want to say that."

"Of course you didn't. See, I said I wouldn't kill you, but I never said I wouldn't use a potion on you." He pulls a tiny bottle out from his shirt pocket and sets it on the table. It's labelled as Veritaserum.

"You put it in my cup?"

"No, you prat. I put it in the tea."

"Well, er, you're drinking the tea?" I say and I know I sound like a confused idiot, but at this moment that's accurate. Why would he be drinking the tea?

"I am. Very good, Potter," he says with a roll of his eyes. So, this is his way of being fair?