An Issue of Consequence

Chapter 1

Draco's feet were unwilling to support his weight. He had to drag them to breakfast, mourning the fact that one didn't have the luxury of leaving their feet behind when they were being useless and uncooperative. As well as one's head, really, as it was clear his head was the main cause of his troubles. A pounding headache made it feel twice as large, and Draco had to go as far as thoroughly inspecting it in the mirror to make sure it was normal-sized.

It served him right. Who in their right mind studied late on a Saturday night? What was he thinking? He spent far too much time studying. The N.E.W.T.s were still far away, and even though last year had been a blur of fear and pain, he'd learnt more than he realised. If he'd had any say in this, he would have never come back to Hogwarts. But apparently in order to have a future, one must have a good reputation, a good education and loads of gold. He had certainly lost the good reputation, and his father was the one with all the gold, so a good education was all he could aspire to. Nonetheless, the amount of studying he had done in the past several months was simply unnatural. Even his father would think he was exaggerating.

Well, no. No, he wouldn't.

Draco scowled and shook off thoughts of his father. They made him uneasy. His father's usual pressuring ways increased tenfold this year. All because the two of them had failed to do what all the Malfoys had managed before them — pick the winning side. Well, fuck that, was all Draco had to say about it. He couldn't fix it by getting an O in Potions. Not that he planned to get anything less than an O in Potions. But fewer headaches and more obedient feet should definitely be a part of his plan.

It was settled. He was having fun today, and no one was stopping him. It was Sunday, after all, and he deserved a break. All he had to do was decide how best to entertain himself. Quidditch was the obvious choice, but he'd have to find someone to play with. Instead, he might pick a convenient spot for setting up an ambush to throw snowballs at unsuspecting students. He didn't need anyone's help with that.

Draco felt much better when he walked into the Great Hall, either because of his resolution or because of the sweet scent of food. The Hall was packed with light and colour and chatter and bacon. There was no room for headaches and heavy limbs or the anxious feeling he should be doing something relevant rather than have a moment of peace.

As he sat down next to Pansy at the Slytherin table, Draco glanced across the Hall out of sheer habit. Potter was in his usual spot, surrounded by his gang of Gryffindors, laughing with Weasley and Granger at something the Weasley girl was saying. Gaze fixed on Potter, Draco filled his plate with bacon and eggs. Potter would have to look his way today because today was a fun day, and winding Potter up was simply the best possible entertainment available. And it was so easy. For example, all Draco had to do was scowl at him, and Potter's eyes would promptly narrow, as though he couldn't believe someone would dare to give him the evil eye after he had saved them all so bravely. But Draco dared and was mighty proud of it.

Draco felt even more daring today. When Potter finally looked at him, Draco not only scowled, he made a rude gesture in Potter's general direction. Potter's look of confusion was golden. But it only lasted for about two seconds. In the next moment, Potter's lips twitched, as though he were about to smile, and then he winked.

"I slept very well, thank you for asking."