The Slytherin Prefect
On the train, Draco was quick to put his things in the very last carriage, knowing Blaise, Theo, Vince, and Greg would be there soon to claim it fully while he and Pansy went to the prefects meeting.
One of the best kept secrets of slytherin was that they were all creatures of habit. Most of them lived in a rigid society, with clear rules.
To put it simply, most purebloods didn't have a Merlin-damned clue about what to do at Hogwarts. Most of the school openly shunned all of the traditions they had known from birth, and so, they made their own rules. No one was so gauche as to say any of them out loud, but they were there. Slytherins Walked the halls in groups, they sat in the last two train cars, and they did not show any weakness outside of the walls of the common room. There were other, war-specific rules now, like no blood politics in-house, but those were mostly just common sense. A slytherin was only a slytherin, nothing else mattered. Snakes protected their own, and only their own. As a prefect and de-facto house leader, it was his job to give the speech this year to the first years not from noble blood.
Joy.
Making his way to the prefect’s car, he spotted one of Pansy’s many younger cousins. Paxton, if his eyes were right, a new first year. The small boy was making quite the ruckus, shouting loudly and being generally a nuisance. Draco sighed, not even out of the station and he was already being tested.
“Oi! Parkinson!” Paxton whipped his head around at a speed that would make pixies jealous, face breaking out into a huge grin when he saw Draco.
“Cousin Draco! I forgot you were a prefect! What are you doing here? Isn't it the second car?”
Draco resisted the urge to rub his temples, Paxton, being one of the youngest Parkinsons, played fast and loose with propriety. He scowled at the boy, “You know the rules, child. My name is prefect Malfoy to you, don't make me listen to a howler the first week of class.”
Paxton had the audacity to pout, “Yes, prefect Malfoy.” He bobbed on his toes, obviously waiting for Draco to say something else.
He put his hand on his hip, waving the young boy off, “Go back to your compartment, and buy a few chocolate frogs for Paige, they run out fast. I’ll see you tonight in the common room.” Paxton one again grinned, nearly bowling over Draco in his haste to return to his seat and twin.
Fucking first years.
He was turning to continue on his way to the prefect’s car when he caught sight of bushy brown hair. He cursed at himself, rueing the whole of the Parkinson family for being caught giving leniency.
“Was that a relation of Pansy Parkinson? How do you know he'll be a slytherin?” Granger asked, frowning. She said the word 'slytherin' like some dark curse.
Draco would know, he'd spent the summer with almost nothing but.
He sighed, “No. It was another little boy from a wizarding family with the last name Parkinson.”
Granger’s head tilted, genuinely considering, before she remembered who she was talking to, “There's no need to be rude! There's a million of you!”
Draco snorted, “Don’t be daft Granger. It doesn't suit you, and we both know you're smarter than that.”
Granger seemed at a loss for words, “Was that a compliment?”
Rolling his eyes, Draco moved to continue walking, “It was an insult, and a fact. Never let it be said I cannot multitask.”
—-------
Granger spent the entire meeting staring at him. It was quite boring, as far as meetings went, just an updated list of the rules and a reminder of their duty as prefects. Chasing after idiots dumb enough to get caught sneaking out, keeping of the order, guiding the younger years blah blah blah. As if they didn't already know the prefects were purely there to scare anyone below fourth year into behaving.
He felt like a damn pincushion, the way everyone seemed to stare at him. Pansy was nearly clinging to him with how close she stood, shooting him subtly concerned looks. She would no doubt share anything she found less than perfect with Blaise later, as neither of them had seen him since his admittedly cryptic message over the summer.
He did feel bad about that, but it wasn't like he was wrong to worry.
So, he kept his face in the same bored sneer he always used, praying for the headache stabbing at his eyes to recede. Damn healing potion side effects.
As soon as Professor McGonagall let them leave, Pansy was dragging him to their compartment.
“We're supposed to be patrolling, you know.” He argued, knowing he would not convince her.
She shoved him into the door, careless of his fragile disposition, and he landed hard on the bench.
“Ow! Fuck!” Blaise turned from where he had been leaning against the window, raising his eyebrow at the less than graceful entrance. Draco couldn't even be bothered to defend himself, too tired to keep his front up. The potions weren't nearly as long lasting as they claimed.
“You should have thought about that before you decided to be an idiot!” Pansy shrieked, Blaise presumably already having the privacy enchantments up.
He held up one hand to stop the yelling, fishing the other into his pocket for the small vials he stashed there. He popped the cork on them with one hand, tossing them back like he would fire whiskey shots. Blaise pursed his mouth, and Pansy looked murderous.
He let his head thunk against the wall as they both looked above him. He briefly considered trying to stave off this conversation until the castle, but he and Pansy would need to direct the first years.
“I’m sorry.”
Blaise rolled his eyes, “That's not what we mean and you know it.”
Pansy sat next to him, pressing their knees together, “What happened Draco?”
Draco frowned, casting his own privacy charms. He trusted Blaise, but Draco was the best of them at charms, and anything he cast would be much harder to tamper with. Confirming the spells would hold, he moved his hand to his left arm.
His right hand hovered in the air, fingers shaking as he steeled himself to see the ugly thing. He peeled back his sleeve, flinching at the sharp intake of breath from Blasie.
His fiancé sunk into the bench across from him, dark skin ashen and gray, “Salazar, Draco. I-” he ran his hands across his face, “Tell us everything.”
Draco looked between his friends, "My father's failure at the ministry couldn't be forgiven, it's my duty as his heir to fix it."
Blaise's eyebrow twitched, "Draco. Please tell me you don't actually think you need to do this."
Draco gave him a flat look, "Oh no. It seems I've pledged my loyalty to a madman, betraying every ideal I've ever had, for no reason other than I felt like it! Oh silly me!" He threw his hands up,suddenly overcome with all the frustration of the past few months, "What do you want from me! He lives in my house! Him and Aunt Bella and Fenrir Greyback! He practically had my mother at wand-point!" He began to curl into himself, every ounce of rage he'd felt over the summer returning full force, spilling out of his mouth with wild abandon.
"I-" His hands twisted into his hair, ruining all the carefully applied smoothing and stasis charms. "You don't know what he's capable of. Don't you dare-"
Hands circled his wrists, tugging them out of his hair. He looked up, seeing Blaise had shifted forward. He pulled Draco's hands down gently, holding his wrists together, "I know, Draco. I know. I'm not accusing you, we're worried. You've been living in the same house as one of the most vile wizards anyone's seen in a few centuries." He tugged Draco's hands, pulling him closer. Draco settled his forehead onto Blaise's shoulder, practically melting into the familiar touch. "We don't care about any of it. You could do anything, and we wouldn't care, Draco, we just want you safe."
"Except cut your hair, I quite like it this length." Pansy cut in, reaching over to twirl a loose strand of hair around her finger. Draco snorted against Blaise's shoulder, only realizing how wildly out of control his breathing had been getting when it began to slow.
He took a deep breath, "He-" he broke off, curling further into Blaise's arms.
He felt Pansy lean into his side, shushing him gently, "You don't have to tell us. Blaise said it, we don't care."
They stayed like that for the rest of the ride, only pulling apart when the train began to slow. Draco slowly untangled himself from the knot that the three of them had become. He ran his hands through his hair, much longer than it had been years previous. He hadn't had time to cut it, too busy avoiding homicidal relatives and Dark Lord's to bother his mother about it. It came down to the nape of his neck now, and though it was the same platinum white as his father's, at this length it waved slightly like his mother's. It was easier to tame now, though it took more effort to wash. The house elf's had just noticed the new length and ordered the same products his mother used, but he should really either cut it or-
Pansy interrupted his thoughts viciously, "I can see those gears turning Draco. I meant it when I said you couldn't cut your hair. It's much too nice to be so slicked back, and none of the other girl's are even half as nice." She brazenly pushed both her hands through it, musing it further. "Wear it like this and I guarantee your number will triple."
Draco smiled, his 'number' was already the highest of any slytherin, as much as other houses pretended to hate him, get half of them drunk and they'd start begging for a kiss. "As if I need a higher number, Pans. People will start to think I'm a slag."
Pansy smirked back, "Then they'll have finally grown eyes." Draco snorted, pushing her away softly.
Blaise gives him an exaggerated once over, "You know, she's not wrong, maybe Drake the rake will make a comeback."
Draco scowled, hitting Blaise's shoulder, "Do NOT start that again. Last time I got so many letters I accidentally burned one from mother."
Blaise grimaced, having spent a significant amount of time bearing the weight of an angry Narcissa Malfoy-Black, "God, that howler was awful, I think my ears are still ringing."
Draco makes to reply, most likely something about Blaise's own mother's murderous rages, when he feels a tug in the privacy charms. He stiffens, looking at Blaise and Pansy, he raises his eyebrows.
Leaning back, waving his hands in a move that would look leisurely to anyone who didn't know him, but actually pointed at the door, he put on his most theatrical drawl.
"You lot go ahead. I've business to attend to."
Pansy picks up on his meaning right away, "Oh, Draco, are you sure we couldn't help? I'm sure it will be quicker work with the three of us." She raises her eyebrows, obviously meaning the words despite her vapid and simpering tone.
Blaise remains silent, staring at the door as if he could see whoever was attempting to interrupt them if he tried hard enough. He looked back to Draco, searching his face before placing a hand on Pansy's elbow, "Come on, Pansy, Draco can handle it." He guides her out of the compartment, purposely leaving the door cracked as he goes, throwing one last look over his shoulder at Draco, shaking his head in signal before disappearing through the carriage.
Invisible then.
Draco waits, turning his back to the door so the intruder would feel more comfortable entering. He's almost relieved to inhale the familiar smell of ozone and grass, it was just Potter, stalking the big bad slytherin.
He could work with this. Relaxing his shoulders, he released his wand from where he had been sliding it from his sleeve holster. He tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling, before turning around suddenly.
There was no one in the compartment, but Draco had known for years that Potter had some way of avoiding sight, his personal bets were on an invisibility cloak.
"If you wanted to get me alone, Potter, you could have just asked."
Nothing happened for a moment, but after a few seconds the air shimmered, revealing the disastrous hair of one Harry Potter.
Draco sneered, “Stalking, Potter? Really? To think of all of your gryffindor posturing was a lie.”
Potter stepped closer, completely unafraid in a way most people weren't anymore, face set into his famous determination “I know what you have to do, Malfoy.”
Draco felt the floor fall away from underneath him, “You-” he started, nearly snarling, “Don't know a goddamn thing about me or what I have to do.” He stepped forward, putting himself toe to toe with the savior of the wizarding world, “You can pretend to care all you want, but we both know you're just glad to have a reason to stalk me. Stay out of my way Potter. I mean it this time.”
Potter just stood there for a moment, and Draco's chest heaved with the rage he could feel coursing through him. Potter didn't know anything, he just wanted an excuse to follow Draco around like the closet creep he was, giving the rest of the school even more reason to hate the slytherins.
Potter spoke eventually, his tone quiet and awed, "You don't want to." It wasn't a question, just a statement of facts. His face was openly surprised, like he hadn't ever thought Draco capable of independent thought, like he was under the impression Draco enjoyed his life currently.
"Of course I don't want to!" He shrieked, glad his privacy charms were still in place, "Did you want to get tied to a gravestone and forced to revive the Dark Lord? I don't fucking think so." He jabbed a finger into Potter's chest, "We all have parts to play, and don't for a second think I will abandon mine for something so vulgar as morals."
He pushed past Potter out into the hallway, using his superior height to his advantage, "if you'll excuse me, I have first years to lecture."
—--------------------
The sorting ceremony went as expected, the other houses openly booing and hissing anytime a young first year got put into his house, unaware of the battle they were about to enter. Draco felt truly bad for these kids, deemed villains for their cunning, unaware of the social mind games they would be forced to learn.
Later, as he stood in front of his house, all gathered into the common room, he looked over the new arrivals. The twins, a new Crabb, and a Nott, good. They could help educate the few muggleborns that managed to find themselves in the snake pit.
He clapped his hands twice, causing everyone to fall silent. He'd been giving this speech since third year, and he suspected it would be given long after he left.
"Congratulations for being sorted into the superior house." He said, a sly smile on his face, "You've obviously got some tact if you've ended up here, but there are rules you must know." He sobered, his tone shifting to match the seriousness of his next words.
"You have been deemed cunning, resourceful, and ambitious. Those are traits that do not come easily, and you will be expected to work for them. They would mistake our ambition for deceit, our resourcefulness as playing dirty, our cunning as malice, and we will not dissuade them." He turned his face up, looking at every member, even the older ones who knew, "We are snakes, and to be a snake, is to be powerful."
He looked to all the muggle-born and half-blood first years, "In this house, you are a slytherin and nothing else. Not muggle-born. Not a half-blood. You. Are. A. Snake." He looked down on them with his sternist air, an exact replica of the look Severus gave misbehaving students, "And you will act like it. You will get good marks. You will have decorum. And you will rely on your housemates to have your back. It doesn't matter how you feel about someone, we're not bloody gryffindors, this is slytherin, and we protect our own."
He clapped again, enjoying watching them straighten immediately, "So, the rules. One, you will not discuss slytherin matters with the other houses. What happens in the dorms, stays in the dorms. Two, blood politics are not to be discussed. I do not care about your family's standing, the second you walk through that door," He pointed to the ornate carved stone that represented where the door would be, should they have one, "You are nothing but a snake. Three, do not walk the halls alone. The other houses may preach righteousness, but they hold no love for us, and if you are caught alone, they will seize upon every weakness you show. Four, you are your house. Do not cause a scene in public. If you must scream, do so in your dorms or the common room. Lastly, anything left in the common room is now public property, so don't be sloppy."
He sighed, letting a raffish grin overtake his face, "Now for the fun ones." He pushed off the wall he was leaning on, uncrossing his arms, "Third years and under are not allowed to partake in any illicit substances stronger than absinthe. Know your limits, and know them well, if you become a nuisance, you will be kicked out for Filch to find, and if you don't believe me, ask Daphne." He waved at the older Greengrass sister, who grimaced at the reminder of their fourth year. "I will not tolerate drunken debauchery not expressly consented to. Professor Snape does not care about our party habits, so long as they don't reach him, and we are going to keep it this way. No appearing hungover. Slytherin's don't get hangovers, potions are to be passed out the morning after by myself and prefect Parkinson. The parties here are loud so there will be silence charms in place, but if you don't like it, lock yourself into your rooms."
He walked over to the trick cabinet charmed only to be opened by himself and Pansy, he took out two bottles of firewhiskey, popping both corks at once, "Now let's get started!"
The evening rapidly devolved from there, as the younger years marveled at their newfound freedom and older years lost themselves to aforementioned drunken debauchery. Slytherin parties could get wildly incestious, everyone and everyone within a select age range up for grabs. With most of them engaged already, schoolyard flings were frequent and inconsequential, Draco himself had kissed three people before midnight, and was currently lounging in Blaise's lap as his fiancé tried valiantly to keep him upright.
He laughed loudly at something Vince said, the great horklump could be quite funny when he put his mind to it, before turning to Theo with a sharp gaze. Pansy caught his look and nearly knocked herself off of where she was sitting on top of Millicent Bulstrode, "Oh Draco, no! You can't be serious!"
Blaise just sighed, he was never one for inebriation of any kind, restraining himself to a few butterbeers, "Already Draco? You know how you get."
Draco tried to pull a look of deep offense, but he was quite frankly smashed, and only succeeded in pouting, "Oh come off it, I've had a bloody hard summer. You do still have it, don't you Theo?"
The other blonde smirked, just as drunk as Draco, "Of course love, anything for you." He pulled out a small bag full of dark red leaves and small cigarettes. Draco leaned forward and kissed him square on the mouth in thanks, taking the baggy from him.
The rest of the slytherins simply rolled their eyes, unfazed by the casual intimacy. He snapped his fingers, causing a small flame to appear over his thumb, and put one of the cigarettes into his mouth, lighting it. He inhaled slowly, letting the bubbly happiness consume him. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, holding his breath for a few seconds before letting go. He passed it over to Pansy, who held her out with a put-upon air.
Draco giggled, letting his head fall back onto Blasie's shoulder, letting the final dregs of tension bleed out of him. He felt Blaise's hands rake through his hair, humming softly in pleasure.
He could feel the rumble of Blaise's voice when he spoke, low into Draco's ear, "Who was it?" He asked, having not had the chance to ask till now.
"Mmm, just Potter."
Blaise let out a startled laugh, "Just Potter? Since when have you not been completely obsessed with him?"
Draco giggled again, turning himself around in his fiancé's arms, "Since now." He wrapped his arms around Blaise's broad shoulders, always so safe feeling. He was well and truly wasted, and he let himself nestle his nose into the junction between Blaise's neck and shoulder, inhaling the scent of ice and citrus again. Blaise's magic was his favorite smell, slightly more woody and centered than his mother's, Draco had once spent an entire month trying to make a candle out of it, intent on having the scent available forever.
"You smell so nice Blaise. Mon nounours, tu viens souvent ici?"
Blaise suddenly stood up, taking Draco with him, ignoring his loud objections, "Alright, he's hit the french stage. We're going."
"Grossier." Draco responded, barely noticing the change in height. "I love you so much, and you renounce me." He let himself go limp, forcing Blaise to scramble to keep them both outright.
"Draco, tu es l'amour de ma vie, mais tu es imbibé." He pushed the hair from Draco's forehead, looking him dead in the eyes, "You are royally drunk. We're going to bed."
Draco simply smiled at him dopily, Blaise was so smart. They should make him minister of magic, the other guy is so dumb. Blaise isn't dumb, he would fail astronomy if Blaise didn't like him. He was so glad Blaise liked him.
"I'm glad you like me too, Draco. Stand up for a minute." He unceremoniously dumped Draco from his arms, turning to unlock their dorm. He cut open his palm quickly with his wand, pressing it to the door to re-awaken the wards. Draco pitched to the side just as Blaise finished, and he stuck an arm out just in time to catch the drunken idiot. Draco let Blaise drag him to the bed, once again dumping him, uncaring or Draco's fragile bones. He proceeded to complain loudly and with passion about how absolutely horribly mean Blaise was being, but was rudely interrupted by Blaise removing his robes, shoving them over his head.
"Well, dear, if you wanted me naked, all you had to do was ask." He flopped back against the bed, stretching his arms high above his head, uncaring of the flat look Blaise gave him.
He pulled back, crossing his arms, "I doubt I'd even have to do that. We both know I'm not into that sort of thing, and you are drunk." He said, giving Draco a stern look.
Draco grinned helplessly up at him, "Oh don't get so upset, I know you wouldn't."
Blaise just kept staring down at him, eventually raising an eyebrow, "You're a very worrying sort of person, you know that?" He moved to Draco's trunk, getting his pajamas out. He rooted around, eventually pulling out his favorite green silk pair.
"Luckily I have someone to keep me in line huh?" Draco waggled his eyebrows, the insinuation obvious.
Blaise threw the clothes in his face, "If you're going to be vulgar, you can dress yourself."
Draco let out an offended squawk, unable to catch the shirt in his drunken state. He stared up at Blaise, putting on his best impression of a kicked kneazle. Blaise only crossed his arms, staring back evenly.
Draco upped the ante, tilting his eyebrows up and letting his chin wobble.
Blaise narrowed his eyes.
Draco let tears gather in his eyes.
"Don't you fucking dare Draco. I know what you're doing."
"Is it working?" He asks, allowing his voice to crack.
Blaise scowled at him, yanking the pajamas out of Draco's hands, "Arms up."
"You are the greatest person to ever exist, I love you so much." Draco obligingly put his arms up.
"Yeah, yeah. You are such a hufflepuff drunk. I cannot believe you."
Blaise finished dressing Draco, moving to pull away when Draco's hand shot out to grip his arm, "Stay?"
Blaise looked down at his fiancé. All the sharp edges of his face softened by his loose hair and the low light. His pale skin and hair managing to catch the meager light of the candles, making him look like he was glowing. All of the whispers about the Malfoy beauty entered his mind at once, giving him pause.
Draco rarely let go so thoroughly as tonight, usually too scared to indulge more than a few drinks. Given, Draco could hold his liquor better than most, but for him to get this sloshed? He hadn't done that since he was 13, and never again after Carrow had found him. Nothing had happened, but it had managed to shake him badly enough he hadn't so much as looked at alcohol for months after.
He laid down on his side next to Draco, crawling close, "What's wrong Draco?"
The blonde avoided his eyes for a moment, before huffing a breath, "I haven't the slightest idea what you mean."
Blaise only stared at him, until he began to squirm, "I-" he broke off, licking his lips before beginning again, "I don't know what to do Blaise, it's all so . . ." He moved closer to Blaise, tucking himself under his chin, "Heavy. When does it stop? I can't-" Blaise could feel a shudder wrack through Draco's frame. He was always so thin, not helped by his tendency to lose track of time reading, skipping meals and instead snacking throughout the day.
"I don't know if I can do it." He finally said, broken, like it had to be ripped from his chest.
"Oh dragon." Blaise pulled Draco even closer. He had no clue what Draco was talking about, "It's alright, I'll help, you know I will, Pansy too."
Draco scoffed, "No. You won't." He sniffled softly, already half asleep. "Not with this Blaise, never with this."
Blaise charged on, "Then I won't. I'll do your astronomy homework, and Pansy will do your history of magic essays."
Draco pulled back, appalled, "Absolutely not! I'll never pass my NEWT's if i'm not doing homework, and father will kill me if Granger has more than I do."
He glared until Blaise relented, "Alright, complete academic honesty. promise."