Chapter Four

This chapter was written by keppiehed.

A shaft of sunlight pierced Draco's closed lids and burned into his very brain. He shifted in his sleep, moaning a little at the unwelcome intrusion, but it was too late. His dreams melted away from him like so much smoke and he was awake before he could grab onto the last vestiges of them. All he could remember was that they had been pleasant... very pleasant. Draco sat up irritably and scowled at the bright orb that had disrupted his repose. The sun kept shining, impervious to the dark mood Draco was in. This further served to unreasonably ruffle his feathers, as though his temperament ought to have some bearing on the weather. Proof that it didn't only heightened his annoyance.

The truth was, Draco hadn't been sleeping well at all. Ever since that man had shown up here and brandished Draco's own wand in his face, waving it under his very nose and acting so pompous about the whole thing... well, Draco hadn't been able to think about anything else since. The fact that Potter of all people had his wand...it was absolutely intolerable! He had it tucked away so handily in a holster, at his beck and call. Draco's blood boiled at the very thought of his wand snuggled close to Potter's person and being used by that smug bastard every time the whim took him to do so. It was infuriating! What gave him the right? Draco gritted his teeth so hard he thought they might crack. That arrogant jerk waltzed right into his home and flaunted it just to bait him. Draco clenched his fists in frustration. He had a headache and the morning hadn't even started yet.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. The pulsing behind his eyes abated slightly. First things first. He needed tea...strong tea, and a lot of it. A good, bracing cup of Darjeeling couldn't fail to help him feel better. At least it would wake him up and settle his jangled nerves.

Draco dressed and made his way to the dining room. There were several in the Manor; he chose the less formal of the three. It turned out he had made the right decision; Lucius was already seated and partaking of breakfast.

"Draco," he said, inclining his head. "There's tea, of course, and toast. Apologies. I can't say I ever mastered the art of baking."

"Tea's fine, thank you." Draco immersed himself in the morning ritual, and they sat in companionable silence for a moment.

"I trust you slept well?" Lucius asked from behind his paper.

"Just fine," Draco said shortly. "When did you start reading the Daily Prophet?"

Lucius folded down a corner and raised an eyebrow. "Since I decided to. You are in fine form this morning. If you want the business section, you need only ask."

Draco made a sour face. "You know very well I don't want to read that."

"Temper, temper, Son. One would suspect that you did not sleep as well as you indicated. Careful, that obsession of yours is showing."

"I don't have an obsession!" Draco snapped.

"If you say so," Lucius said mildly.

"I do," Draco said. He knew he sounded childish, but he couldn't seem to help himself.

The two men lapsed back into silence. Draco jiggled his leg. Lucius kept reading. Draco slurped his tea.

"Draco!" Lucius sighed and set his paper aside. "If it bothers you so much, why don't you just ask for him to return it?"

Draco's eyes blazed. "I wouldn't ask him for anything! Not a single thing! If I were drowning, I wouldn't ask him for a life raft! If I were dying of thirst, I wouldn't ask him for a cup of water! If I were the last person on earth, and fucking Harry Potter..." Draco stopped mid-rant. He realized he'd been shouting. A lot.

"Go on," Lucius said, amused. "You are being so dramatic, I'd hate for you to stifle all those theatrics. You might do yourself harm. You were saying? About not being obsessed, I believe."

Draco paused. "You know I can't stand Potter," he finished lamely.

"Yes. That much is apparent," Lucius said. The corner of his mouth twitched. "Listen, Draco, why don't you get out and go somewhere? You haven't been out of the Manor since our return. It might do you good to make some contacts again."

"You mean like you have been?" As soon as he said the words, Draco regretted them.

Lucius' gaze turned stony. "It was merely a suggestion. Do as you wish." The older man returned to the paper, snapping it crisply up in front of him like a shield.

Draco felt shame wash over him. How was it that he was a grown man and he still felt like a child when he talked to his father? Would that ever change? He bit his lip and looked down. "I'm sorry, Father. I didn't mean it. You're right; I haven't been sleeping well. I'm a little on edge, that's all. Please forgive my rudeness."

"There's nothing to forgive, Draco. Just... don't let this consume you."

Draco could hear the finality in his father's voice. The discussion was over.

*

Two days passage saw Draco in better spirits. He decided to ignore thoughts of Potter. It wasn't easy, because that git was so damned irritating that the very idea of him made Draco nearly lose it, but he had lived seven years without magic, without his wand and, most importantly...without Potter. So, with that thought in mind, he resolved to just put the whole idea of Potter right out of his head. He didn't know how he had lived so long without the thought of Potter bothering him when now it seemed intolerable. Draco didn't examine it; he just wanted to live his life in peace.

Resolved, he owled Pansy and made plans to meet. He wanted to ease back into society, so he tried for somewhere familiar. It seemed that the Three Broomsticks was still in business, so he opted for that. Pansy was happy to let him take the lead in making arrangements, so they had a date for that day at three o'clock.

If Draco were honest with himself, he would have to admit that he was a little nervous about going back out into wizarding society. He knew that he likely wouldn't be received too kindly, so he compensated with the best arsenal he had at his disposal...his looks. If looking good was the best revenge, he intended on throwing the first punch in this war. Draco knew it was a simple afternoon get-together with an old friend, but he also knew that every eye in the place would be on him, and that once word got out, the potential for exposure would be great. He had to look his best.

Draco spent more time making himself look carelessly casual than he ever had. He dressed himself to his best advantage, making sure to accentuate his greatest features. He deliberately dressed in Muggle attire, not only because the clothes looked damned good on him, but to show that he was at ease in either world, could choose to come and go as he pleased. He was not bound by convention, would bow to no wizard. That would show them that he wasn't broken, no matter what they might have presumed. No Malfoy would come crawling back with tail tucked between his legs, war or not.

When he could put off the inevitable no longer, Draco made his way to the Three Broomsticks. He kept his head held high as he scanned the room. Pansy was already there, waiting. A hush descended as everyone recognized him. He strode over to her, determined not to let any signs of distress show on his features. He used to thrive on attention, but what he wouldn't give to fade into the woodwork now.

He concentrated on keeping his steps even and measured, the appearance of unhurried. He was there before he knew it. He didn't even realize that Pansy had been staring. He let out a breath; he'd made it. Nothing bad had happened. He sat down and almost chanced a smile before he caught himself. Keep the mask on.

Pansy's eyes were huge in her rather pointed face. "Draco! You... you've hardly changed a bit! I mean... it's hard to believe that it's been seven years!" she stammered.

Draco finally studied the girl sitting across from him. He'd been so wrapped up in his own drama, he hadn't really considered her at all. Now he let himself see her. She had much of the same countenance and expression that he remembered from their earlier days, but she had aged a bit. She seemed older, more mature. He might have been able to pick her out of a crowd... had he thought to look for her. She had never been particularly pretty, but time had given her a little grace, he supposed. She appeared unremarkable, mostly. He leaned back, uninterested and unimpressed. He summarily dismissed her for looks and hoped that she was more interesting in conversation, at least.

"Yes, you look the same, too," he said a touch impatiently. "What have you done with yourself all this time?" Not that he cared.

Pansy rattled on about what had taken up her time in the intervening years, and Draco was glad that he was a good conversationalist. It allowed him to give cursory answers without really paying attention. He scanned the room in the meantime. He didn't recognize anyone. He had just enough time to catch the tail end of what Pansy was saying.

"...you know, I've been waiting for you all these years. I just knew you'd come back to me, Draco!" Pansy leaned across the table, her eyes suspiciously shiny.

Draco frowned. What was this? Was she still harbouring that schoolgirl crush on him? He felt absolutely nothing for her, but if he played his cards right, he might be able to use that. He just had to take care not to get tangled up with her. If memory served him, she was rather clingy. For some reason that thought was more than a little off-putting. "Yes, well, I, of course, have had a rough time of it. You know I had to live in America, which wasn't easy."

"And your poor mother!" Pansy wailed. "You have been through so much, I can't even imagine it!" Just then, her eyebrows drew together and a look of malice crossed her features. "Don't look now. I think I've lost my appetite for this place, with the riff-raff. Come on, let's go for a walk."

Draco turned around to see what bothered her so much, and he froze. His eyes locked unerringly with the very person he tried so hard to avoid. Time seemed to stand still, and he heard a rush in his ears. Either every voice in the place fell silent, or he had lost his hearing. And instead of politely going about his business, like a magnet that man drew closer, until he and his groupies were standing right in front of Draco. It all had a surreal quality of a dream...Or a nightmare.

"Draco." Harry's voice broke the dream.

Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Potter," he spat. He could hear a pin drop as every ear in the place tuned to listen to the exchange. "Come to wave some more stolen goods in front of me? Being a bully seems to suit you. Power's gone to your head these days, hasn't it?"

Harry's eyes looked pained, but he said nothing. Instead, Neville jumped in to his defence. "Listen, you ungrateful..."

Harry shook his head. "No, stop, Neville. Listen, I have to have a few words with Draco. Can I join you guys in a bit? I'll be right over. It'll just be a minute."

Neville looked doubtful.

"Please. It's personal," Harry said quietly.

"Fine," Neville said, deflated. He wandered off and took a seat at the bar.

"Well, isn't that cosy?" Draco said snidely. "I guess you really do give the orders these days, even to your 'friends'."

Harry turned back to Draco. "I have something to say to you. Can we talk? Alone?" He gazed pointedly at Pansy.

She snorted. "Where Draco goes, I go. Right, Draco?"

Draco didn't much like Pansy, but now he was caught. He didn't want her in his business, but he didn't want Potter to see him send her packing, either. "Just state your business and be off, Potter."

Harry sighed. "Fine. Can I at least sit down?"

Draco smirked. "I don't know. Can you?"

Pansy sniggered.

Harry looked annoyed. He pulled up a chair. "Okay, here's the deal. I am here to give you your wand back." He opened his robe, pulled it out of the holster and set it on the table.

Pansy's eyes got wide as she realized what was happening and that Draco didn't have his wand.

Draco heard the soft click that his wand made as it hit the table. He tried not to look at it as it sat there, emanating power, practically begging for him. He curled his hands into fists under the table to keep from reaching out for it, and with studied nonchalance that cost him more than he would ever care to admit, said, "Who ever asked you for it?"

Now two heads swivelled to look at him. "But... Draco..." Pansy gaped.

"Oh, come off it, Malfoy!" Harry said. "Just take your damn wand back already! I didn't mean to keep it for so long. Here it is, take it back. In fact, it's a pain in my arse, so just take it already."

"Well, guess you should have thought about that before you stole it. It's too late. I don't want it anymore." The breezy lie tasted metallic on his tongue and Draco nearly got sick saying it.

Harry scowled. "You're just trying to spite me, don't think I don't know it! You are being such a ... baby! I mean, what? You're going to live for the rest of your life like a Muggle? Where are you going to work? How are you going to get by? Have you even ever thought of that, you great idiot?"

Draco felt a vein in his temple throb. All he had now, all he had ever had, was his pride, and he clung to that like a dying man to salvation. His eyes glittered and he stood up to his full height. He watched as Harry's eyes travelled up his denim clad thighs, up the stark black turtleneck and finally, to his face, which, he knew, was the picture of ice-cold enmity. It was what he had, this shield of contempt, and he would use it well.

"You want people to think you care, but I know the truth about you, Potter. You care less about life, about people, than anyone else. You care about yourself. This is all about you, not about me. So go sell your bleeding heart routine to the next fool you come across, because I'm not buying. You can keep that wand, and your own, and any others you steal. I don't care if you use it to pick your teeth or your toes... You can ram it right up your arse, for all I care. What I know is that you aren't going to use me to assuage your guilt. Fuck you, Potter, and the hippogriff you rode in on."

And with that, Draco whirled around and made the most dramatic exit the Three Broomsticks had ever seen. He heard Pansy stumble after him, but it took all his effort to keep his teeth from chattering. He was a lot of things, and now he could add liar to the list.