Below The Surface

Chapter 1

I hadn't meant to be wandering the corridors late that night. Really, I hadn't. My intention had been to make my way back to the Gryffindor common room in a safe and orderly fashion, no detours.

Unfortunately, the firewhiskey coursing through my system had other plans.

"You guys!" I slurred, "I think we're almost there," I swung around to face my quidditch teammates, who were clustered in the hall behind me in varied states of inebriation.

We'd just won our first game of the season, against Slytherin, and the Ravenclaws had been grateful enough to see the snakes lose that they'd thrown us a party. We showed them our gratitude in return by getting absolutely shitfaced on free alcohol, as was the Gryffindor way. So shitfaced, apparently, that not a single one of us could figure out where our common room was.

"No," Fred offered from where he was leaning heavily against the stone wall, looking as if he thought he was holding it up single handedly, "Tower's that way," he shot his arm out to point in the opposite direction, moving with such enthusiasm that he almost took the rest of his body with him. He snickered as he fell back against the wall.

"Man, I'm pissed."

"Shhh!" George tried to swat Fred on the shoulder, but he missed slightly and ended up slapping him lightly on the face. Fred put a hand to his cheek and opened his mouth, undoubtedly to accuse his brother of familial abuse, but George shushed him again.

"If we're not careful, we'll wake Filch."

"Filch!" I exclaimed, as if the name belonged to my dearest and most treasured friend, instead of a grumpy caretaker who always seemed to have it out for me, "I miss that greasy old bugger! Hasn't busted me in ages. You know, I'm starting to think he's forgotten me."

"Who could forget you, Charlie?" Fred and George said in unison, elbowing each other as soon as they realized their accidental coordination. They did that a lot.

Ginny rolled her eyes from where she and Harry were levitating Ron's prostrate form. The boy had an unfortunate habit of blacking out at parties, especially ones that involve the excitement of victory.

"If you guys keep it up, her head's going to be the size of the House Cup," Ginny said. They turned a corner, and she let her brother's head bump against the wall. He let out a quiet mumble of protest, but stayed unconscious.

"Oops," she said innocently.

"If you keep it up, Ron's going to have a bump on his head the size of the House Cup," I retorted, grinning cheekily to show her I was only kidding. I appreciated her efforts to keep me humble, futile as they may be.

"Come to think of it, I haven't seen Filchy around lately," Fred looked thoughtful, or as thoughtful as one could look while barely being able to walk in a straight line, "It's high time we riled the bastard up, don't you think?"

"Fred, you read my mind," George slung his arm around his brother's shoulders, who swayed dangerously with the additional weight, "But what's our poison? What can we do to the man that we haven't done already?"

Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of an orange tail whipping around the corner and out of sight. I grinned slowly.

"How about we borrow his cat?"

Fred and George grinned back at me, and the game was on. We tore down the hall, ignoring exasperated protests from Ginny and Harry, who were still saddled with Ron. The three of us skidded to a halt in the new hallway, craning our necks and straining our eyes to try and catch a glimpse of Mrs. Norris. The corridor was full of empty classrooms, surplus space for exams and such.

"I'll take the left side, you take the right," I commanded, and the twins and I split off and began to search the rooms.

I burst through the first door, and deflated when I saw just a few dusty looking desks and chairs, and no sign of Mrs. Norris. The next few rooms turned out to be similarly disappointing, and I was starting to regret even suggesting the kidnapping in the first place by the time I pushed open the final door, and saw him.

He had his back to me, but the moonlight streaming through the open window illuminated a shock of white blonde hair that could only belong to one student. Draco Malfoy. From his position on the far side of the large room, he hadn't heard me come in. He continued to stare out the window, and I was debating whether I could sneak out without alerting him to my presence when he turned around.

My breath caught in my throat. His face, usually so full of malice, was streaked with tears. This was a look I'd never seen on the Slytherin bully in all the years I'd been his classmate and target. Rage? Sure. Contempt? Often. But now, he just looked... sad. And scared. He'd even been crying. Honestly, it kind of freaked me out.

His eyes widened fractionally as he registered my presence, and he quickly rearranged his expression to one of mild boredom. I tore my eyes from his face, which was when things got even weirder. Mrs. Norris was in his arms, and she was purring. I'd never heard that cat purr in my life.

"Find your own classroom, Williams, this one's taken," his face was missing its usual sneer, and even the hostility in his voice seemed halfhearted, mechanical.

For once in my life, I truly did not know what to say. We stood there staring at each other for what felt like a million years, but couldn't have been more than a few seconds.

Suddenly, Mrs. Norris jumped down from Malfoy's arms and streaked out the door, a blur of orange and brown fur. I could hear Fred and George cheering from out in the hallway.

"Charlie, we found her!" Fred yelled triumphantly.

"Yeah, come on out! What are you doing in there, anyway?" George called.

"Coming!" I managed to choke out, rooted to the spot by Malfoy's gaze.

I shook my head as if coming out of a trance, and practically sprinted from the room, eager to get away from this strange other-Malfoy, beloved by cats and devoid of insults, whose eyes contained a level of pain that I found difficult to fathom.

Quite a short first chapter, but I wanted to do just enough to be intriguing! Leave me a comment and I'll love you forever :)

PS. For the sake of this story, Fred and George are only a year older than the golden trio. Sue me.