Hateful Love

Chapter Twenty-Six

NOTE: I do not own any of the ideas or characters expressed in this story (except Cassie Jackson). All of these belong to J.K. Rowling.

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Draco P.O.V.

          My back aches as I lug my trunk down the stairs toward the Slytherin common room. Since I didn’t grab it yesterday along with everyone else, it’s just been sitting in the hallway since the train arrived.

          This is ridiculous, I think with frustration as I turn into another stairwell and start all over again. We shouldn’t have to bring our own things all the way to our common rooms when the professors can easily send them up with magic. And why hadn’t one of the teachers noticed my things still out in the hallway, anyway? I wipe sweat off my forehead grimly as I realize that a bit of stray luggage is probably the least of their problems.

         After what seems like ages, I finally arrive at the entrance to the Slytherin common room. I prop my trunk up against the wall and lean against it tiredly, trying desperately to catch my breath.

          I turn to the portrait and say, panting slightly, “Pureblood.”

          Getting my trunk through the portrait entrance is another matter entirely. When I’ve just pulled it through, one of the clasps comes undone. As I hurriedly stuff some of my shirts back inside, I hear someone come up behind me. I freeze, closing my eyes to pray that it’s not who I think it is.

          “Trying to hide your panties, Malfoy?”

          Damn it.

          “No, but you should try to hide yours better, Blaise,” I reply easily, standing finally and dragging my trunk up with me. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve spotted them lying around your closet back home.”

          “Cute,” Blaise says, with no trace of humor in his voice. I glance away for a moment to see Goyle take Blaise’s side with a smirk on his face. My fingers brush over the handle of my wand deep in my pocket.

          I clear my throat and pick my trunk up again, snapping, “If you don’t mind, I’ve got to put my stuff away.”

          “Hold up, Malfoy,” Blaise smirks, shifting to the side to block my path. “Why in such a rush? Stay a minute and tell us why you didn’t put your trunk away last night.”

          “Yeah,” Goyle says nastily. “Got something you want to tell us, Malfoy?”

          I tighten my grip on the handle of my trunk subconsciously. “No.”

          Blaise leans closer and hisses, “Really? Sounds like you’re hiding something, mate.”

          “Get out of the way,” I say threateningly. A few other Slytherins turn curiously to look over at us standing in the front of the entrance to the common room. I don’t take my eyes off Blaise or Goyle for an instant.

          “If I recall correctly,” Blaise says darkly, crossing his arms, “you left the Entrance Hall right after Snape’s speech with some Ravenclaw.”

          I force my lips into a tight line and don’t respond.

          “That’s right,” Goyle says. “It was a chick, wasn’t it?”

          “Shut up,” I snap, forming my hands into tight fists. It’s all I can do not to leap forward and punch both of them.

          “And isn’t it interesting that you never came back to our dorm last night?” Blaise continues. He raises an eyebrow as more people focus their attention on us. Blaise grins widely and smirks, “Did you knock her up?”

          I move so fast, I’m not sure it’s humanly possible. In an instant, my hand is gripping my wand in a white rage, and I shout furiously, “Stupefy!”

          Blaise flies into the air and slams into the wall behind him with a pained cry. Two second years scream and barely jump out of the way in time, but I scarcely notice.

          Turning for Goyle in the same moment, I see that he’s pulling his wand out and is sending a spell straight at me. Blocking it off just in time, I yell, “Expelliarmus!”, sending Goyle’s wand spinning out of his hand. Before it can even hit the ground, I send a blast of red directly at Goyle’s large stomach. His body lifts off the floor and he flips over an armchair, sliding across the coffee table and sending books flying everywhere.

          I’m breathing heavily, and my eyes are far too wide open. Blaise lets out a loud moan, and throws a book aside as he attempts to get back up. Seething with rage, I throw my wand aside violently and kick the coffee table out of the way as I stalk towards his crumpled form.

          Blaise looks up at me, terrified, and starts to reach for his own wand. I quickly close the distance between us and grab his wrist, bending down beside him.

          “What—what’s your problem?” Blaise stammers in fear, trying to back away from me but finding he can’t. “Why are you getting so worked up over some bitch who isn’t even—“

          My vision goes white, and before I can stop myself, I’ve punched him directly in the nose. I hear the bone pop sickeningly. Grabbing his shirt collar roughly, I pull him close and hiss in his face, “Shut the fuck up, Zabini. Don’t ever talk about her like that again, got it?”

          Blaise clutches his bleeding nose and his voice is muffled as he cries, “Malfoy, get the hell off me—“

          “Got it?” I repeat through clenched teeth, shaking Blaise slightly by his collar.

          He rips his shirt collar out of my grip, staining the white material red with his blood. Blaise glares up at me, backing away as much as he can. “Yeah. I got it.”

          Simmering, I hold his gaze a moment longer before standing. Goyle is lifting himself back up off the floor, sporting a red cut below his right eye. I feel a small glow of satisfaction.

          Blaise stands as well, holding his nose to try and stem the flow of blood. My fingernails dig into the palms of my hands as I hiss to the both of them, “Get the hell out of here before I kill you.”

          The deadly silent room is suddenly filled by their footsteps as they frantically run to the portrait hole. I wait until the door slides shut again before looking up, still breathing heavily.

          Everyone in the common room is staring at me in fear. Even the other seventh years. I meet their gazes defiantly, although on the inside, I’m burning with shame. No one dares speak against me, however, because they all know I work for the Dark Lord. My lip curls at the thought, and I almost laugh out loud. They have no idea.

          After a moment that is filled with a sticky sort of silence, people begin talking again in hushed whispers. I turn away to look for my wand, my legs shaking.

          I snatch it up off the floor and reach for my trunk, feeling tears beginning to prick at the backs of my eyes. I head for my dormitory as quickly as the heavy luggage will allow, my shoulders starting to shake from the effort of holding myself together.

          As soon as I make it to my dormitory, I throw my trunk down on the floor and take a handful of my hair, wanting to rip it out. My eyes well up with tears, and a sob escapes me, despite my best efforts to keep myself under control.

          My mind refuses to stop replaying my last words to Blaise and Goyle, no matter how hard I’m trying to forget them. They repeat over and over in my head; Get the hell out of here before I kill you. How could I say that? I would never kill anyone, I couldn’t…

          My legs give out on me and I collapse to the floor as a tiny voice whispers in the back of my mind, I guess you are just like your father.