All Life Is Yours To Miss

Chapter 4

There are few things more satisfying than being right, and barely two hours have passed before Draco is proved just so. As he steps out into a sunny courtyard for some fresh air between classes, he is greeted by a mob of furiously whispering students, and, when they part for him at his severe look, there is Potter, leaning against a wall, startled and blinking. The second he spots Draco, his puzzlement turns to rage and he beckons Draco over with a silent gesture. Amused but poker-faced, Draco crosses the cobbles towards him unhurriedly, heart racing with secret delight.

"Hello, Potter," he says pleasantly. Potter has started a game of 'what, me?' and he has no idea what his opponent is capable of.

Potter's mouth presses into a hard line as he brushes dirt from the back of his trousers, and, in doing so, displays grazed knuckles that almost draw a wince from Draco.

"I know this has something to do with you," he says quietly, darting a hunted glance around at the students who have, Draco suspects, witnessed the entire thing.

"I'm flattered."

"Malfoy," Potter hisses.

"Potter?"

"So this is your revenge? Because you think I did something to your eyebrows yesterday?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Draco shrugs. "Perhaps someone thought you looked better flat on your back," he adds, lowering his voice.

"You think you're funny?" Potter sighs. "You think you're funny. Right. Okay. This is not over, Malfoy."

Draco lifts an eyebrow. "I'm terrified." He turns to leave, unwilling to give Potter a second opportunity to walk away from him.

"Thanks, Professor Malfoy!" Potter calls after him. "It's always nice to talk to you!"

Draco scowls, then smiles. He can't quite decide. It would have been nice to have seen it happen, but one can't have everything. Unless Potter decides to risk taking points again, but he doubts even Potter is that stubborn.

Unfortunately, underestimating Potter has always been his downfall. Not that he would ever admit as much even to Stanley, just in case someone was listening. In this case, Potter (and he knows it's Potter—no one else has such an impatient knock) is at his classroom door by six o'clock that evening and Draco doesn't know whether to be exasperated or delighted.

"Come in," he calls without looking up from his marking. He doesn't need to look up, anyway; he can feel Potter's restless energy and smell the outdoors on him as he stomps into the room.

"How long are you intending to keep this up?" he demands.

Draco finally allows himself to look up. Potter looks a little more dishevelled than usual, if that's possible. He has heard whispers this afternoon, but he hardly dares to believe that Potter has pig-headedly continued to take points from Slytherin in his usual overzealous fashion.

"I really don't—"

"Right, you don't know what I'm talking about. I'd believe you, only..." Potter's shoes squeak on the polished stone as he comes to stand in front of Draco's desk with his arms folded across his chest. "Wait, no, I wouldn't, because pretty much everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie."

Draco leans back in his chair, stung. Something inside him tightens as amusement turns to resentment and he suddenly wishes he'd never thought to retaliate so that Potter would never have thought to come to his classroom and wouldn't be standing here now, looming over his desk and insulting him. What really bites is that he very rarely lies, not any more, and if Potter knew him at all, he'd know that.

"It's interesting that when you pull an idiotic stunt to humiliate me, it's all fun... but when you think it's the other way around, the claws come out," Draco says stiffly, picking up his quill just so that he has something to play with. He resists standing in order to avoid looking up at Potter because there's no way he's letting on that he's even the slightest bit rattled.

Potter blinks, startled, and then appears to shake off whatever emotion had attempted to take hold of him. "Malfoy... I don't know what you're trying to do here but this body-bind thing has happened to me three times since lunch. Enough is enough! Whatever happened to your eyebrows, I'm pretty sure it was only once!"

"I wouldn't know. I haven't taken any points since then," Draco says, forcing a shrug. "Maybe you should try that."

Potter gapes, arms falling to his sides. "You mean it wor—erm... the point is, Malfoy... the point is—are you insane?"

Draco grants Potter a half-smile, one borne of satisfaction and of finally feeling solid ground beneath his feet for the first time since Potter entered his classroom.

"It's interesting you should ask that, because I happen to have read that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results," he says calmly.

Potter flushes. "Never mind that. Just stop it. Stop it now."

"Like I said, I have no idea what you're talking about. And I have things to do," he adds, relishing the chance to throw Potter's dismissive words back at him, and oh, this whole thing is childish, but he can't help enjoying it. He flicks his wand at the door and it flies open, swinging back and forth on its hinges.

Potter storms towards the door, pausing just outside it. "Malfoy, if you don't sort this out—"

"You'll do what? Run to McGonagall?" Draco interrupts, making a show of turning back to his marking.

Potter snorts. "No, but I wonder who she'd believe—you or me?"

The comment stings, just as he supposes it was meant to, and Draco bites his tongue hard as he looks slowly around at the doorway. To his surprise, Potter's face is twisted into a cringe and his mouth is half-open as though there should be more words but they have been stolen away.

Catching himself feeling sorry for Potter, Draco stops and glares. "I can fight my own battles these days, Potter. Maybe you should try the same—it's been a while, hasn't it?"

As soon as the words are out, Draco wants them back, but it's too late, so he looks away from Potter's staggered face, lifts his wand and spells the door shut with such force that the frame rattles. Alone once more, he abandons his essays and rests his elbows on the desk, dropping his head into his hands with a heavy sigh. He's an idiot, and so is Potter. He'll undo the spell in the morning.