Pardon My French
By Violet Beck
Arc I :: Quelle Chance!
Chapter Five :: My Lucky Streak Falters
Ushering in a vague feeling of déj` vu, Blaise woke me with a kiss.
"What time is it?" I whined, half-assedly kissing him back.
"Oh, midnight?" he said, sounding unsure. I opened up my eyes and looked out the high windows. Yeah, midnight. It was pitch black.
He kissed me again and tried to snake his hand inside my robes, but I pushed him away. My stomach grumbled unhappily. I was hungry, and besides that, I knew I needed to speak with Father.
"Not now," I instructed Blaise. In a swift movement, my ass was on the floor and the curtains had been drawn tightly shut around my bed. I growled under my breath, and was about to jump back in and beat the shit out of the insolent little brat when I realized he'd probably like it. Better not, then.
I straightened my robes, checked my pocket for my wand and smoothed my hair into submission before creeping out of the dormitory. Crabbe and Goyle were already comfortably entombed in their pillows; I didn't have to worry about them following me. I don't mind them tagging along, normally, but I wanted to speak to Lucius alone tonight. Crabbe and Goyle were blissfully unaware of my deal with the Weasley twins, and I'd decided it would be good to keep it that way. Business shouldn't be allowed to disrupt House rivalries.
Not that it mattered in this case. You want my honest opinion? Fred and George Weasley would make damn good Slytherins. Stupid Sorting Hat.
The common room held only a few people, all of them seventh years. They immediately stopped talking when I entered, but started again when they saw it was me.
"...the Dark Lord..." I caught a snatch of the conversation, and promptly left. Idiot wannabes. They'll never be as close to m'Lord as my family has grown.
Hogwarts changes at night. It's undoubtedly an evil place after the dark's median hour, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. If you're out too long, you start hearing things you're not supposed to. And I don't mean you're imagining them. Oh, hell no. Even my imagination isn't that scary.
I pulled my cloak tightly around my neck, even though it wasn't cold, and kept my head low as I headed for the Defense Against the Arts corridor. I rubbed the ring on my finger for reassurance. No, I wouldn't be caught tonight. Luck was on my side.
The paintings were asleep or at parties on the other side of the castle, so I had no one to witness my journey. A basket of kittens on the second floor was half-awake, but they just watched me through their slitty, amber-painted eyes until I passed.
There was a fireplace in the First-and-Second Years' Defense classroom that I could use to call Dad, and I was almost there. Confidently, I rounded the last corner--
And ran straight into something that wasn't there. I screamed out loud, and the invisible person's hand appeared to silence me just seconds to late. I kicked out blindly, and connected with something. We both fell to the floor, and scuffled violently. Somehow, I broke free and yanked out my wand.
"Stupefy!" I yelped, but missed my quarry; instead, the force of my spell exploded the bust of Wilhelmina the Warlike across the hall.
There was a thunder of footsteps from far too close, and I knew in an instant that Filch the Amazing Moronic Squib was on the prowl. I looked helplessly around, stuffing my wand back into my robe and desperately trying to decipher from whence the footsteps came. But in the echoing dark, this was impossible to make clear.
Suddenly, my invisible attacker was back. Firm hands grasped me around the waist and yanked me backwards, into an impossibly small broom cupboard. I tried to yell for help, but my captor got it right this time and stuffed their hand into my mouth before I got the sound out.
The door to the cupboard closed, and I struggled helplessly. I was pressed firmly up against my abductor's body in the confining space.
"Stop it!" the invisible person's voice hissed. "Filch'll hear!"
Seeing as I had absolutely no power in our current situation, I took my chances and decided to obey. Better this maniac than The Squibbly One.
Has my luck gone to hell? I mentally questioned, trying to keep my breathing even as my kidnapper and I listened to the loud footsteps outside as Filch angrily inspected the broken bust. He was muttering to himself as he paced about.
"Damn poltergeists, can't stay still or not screw something up for me even one night. And Dumbledore won't do a thing about it, will he, lovely?" Mrs. Norris meowed in commiseration. "I know, I know." The sounds of stone being swept into a metal pan filled my ears, and I winced. It wasn't a pleasant noise.
I was staring at the hand over my face, and suddenly realized it was visible.
So you've got an Invisibility Cloak, eh? I thought, slightly impressed. Well, there was a surprise. I didn't know you could procure one of those babies so easily that Mum and Dad would just let you whisk it off to school...
Filch had finished with the fallen bust, and the breath caught in my already somewhat-obstructed throat when I heard his footsteps coming towards us.
"Hm, that's funny," his voice said, mere inches from me. My captor's heart and my own beat as one terrified machine as we listened to his hand come to the handle, and slowly pull it open...
In a flurry of material, I found I couldn't see my own body. Filch apparently couldn't either, because he just stared in at us for a few seconds, shrugged, and closed the door. For the second time that night, this mysterious person behind me had saved me from a sure disembowelment.
My relief was only momentary, however: Filch locked the cupboard door.
"That wasn't supposed to be open, was it, lovely?" he said quietly to his cat as he walked away down the hallway. In a moment, the noise of his feet on the marble floor was all but entirely gone.
"Fuck!" the person behind me swore, and took his hand away from my mouth to pound viciously on the door. "Fuck!"
"Good job," I said to whoever it was. "Next time I try to kidnap someone, I'll remember to get both of us trapped in a broom cupboard, too."
"Be grateful, Malfoy, you little snot," he said angrily, and I suddenly recognized the voice.
"Potter!?" I exclaimed incredulously.
"None other," he said, sounding like he'd really rather it was someone else. "And would you please try to get off of me? I think you're standing on the hem of my robes."
I snorted. "It's not my fault! I can't barely even breathe, let alone move!" I squirmed, very unsuccessfully, towards the cupboard door.
"Stoppit!" Potter said peevishly, and he sort of shoved me. Well that was bleedin' it. I turned and socked the bugger right in his kisser.
I am such a genius. Good idea, start a violent fight with someone you're in a one-by-one-by-seven foot cabinet with. Not realizing what he was doing, Potter hurled himself into me with a war cry. I was desperately groping inside my robes for my wand, when the world decided to start...well, tilting.
We both stopped dead, staring one another eye to eye as the cabinet fell. Unbidden, my hands clutched helplessly into Potter's shoulders, and I screwed my eyes shut, wishing with all my might and main that our descent would slow enough that it wouldn't make a huge sound when we fell. Judging by the fact that he'd ceased to breathe, Potter was probably doing the same thing.
Either that, or he was praying.
Wandless magic isn't by any stretch of the imagination a certain thing, but it still has a miraculous way of getting you out of the odd tight spot. In this case, it at least got us out of waking up the entire world and having to explain to Dumbledore why we were locked inside of a very small cabinet together. Our little wooden cell fell slightly against the wall, and slid down, hitting the marble corridor with only a soft thud.
Potter was flipped on top of me, pinning my body to what was hopefully the floor. I twisted under him, pissed off and pinioned. "Get off!" I exclaimed.
"I can't!" he snapped. "In case you haven't noticed yet, it's kind of small in here. And we're not switching because I like it better on top!"
I didn't bother to suppress the snigger. A second later, he caught on to the innuendo as well, and cuffed me none too gently across the head for noticing.
"Don't be rude," he grumbled.
I smirked in spite of myself. The entire experience was rather hallucinogenic, now that I thought about it. Sideways, basically deprived of most of my movement, not able to see half of my own body thanks to the Invisibility Cloak...the list went on.
"We've got to get out of here," Potter said rather sensibly. He started scrounging around for something in his pockets, and then, he froze. "Shit!" he yelped, trying to keep his voice low and not doing too good of a job. "Where the hell is my bloody wand!? Oh gods, I must have dropped it!"
"Good idea," I drawled. "Next time I kidnap someone, I'll remember to get us locked in a cupboard and lose my--"
"Shut up, Malfoy," Potter said rather tersely, and I decided it was in my own best interest to obey lest he lose his last few marbles and strangle me.
"I've got mine, at least," I said after a moment. "But, um, you're kind of crushing me. I can't reach it. We'll have to switch places."
Potter groaned. "Fiiine. But so help me god, if this is just a ploy to get on top--"
"Shut it," I snapped, grabbing his left hand and pulling it. "Now, move this way, and I'll got the other way. Maybe then..."
I trailed off as we attempted to move. Using each others' shoulders as braces, we managed to shove ourselves onto our sides, so we were facing one another. It took an inordinate amount of strength, and in a few seconds, I was panting. It was getting hot in the stupid little cupboard, and a bead of sweat glistened slightly on Potter's brow.
"Keep at it," he whispered, his face millimeters from mine, and I got a shock as he grabbed me around the waist and forced me on top of him.
"Whew," he gasped from the exertion, and fell back against the wood, breathing heavily. "You're no feather weight," he added.
I pinched him, hard. "Same to you," I muttered, and hands on his chest, I pressed myself up away from him so I could access the front of my robes. I reached right inside, and sure enough, my wand was right where it always is. Ivory and phoenix feather, nine inches, stiff. Really well made--it's a family heirloom.
"Cover your head," I warned, pointing my wand at the top of the cupboard.
"I can't!" Potter warned, slightly frantic, and I stared down at him.
"Well why not?!"
"You're sitting on my hands, you bloody ponce."
"Oh," I said, trying not to sound like an idiot, and shifted myself so he could get free. Once he was, I didn't waste any time. "Fractus Quietus!" I exclaimed, and instantly, there was a soundless explosion which took the top off the cabinet and sent it skittering down the hall.
In a second, I'd dragged myself out and into the cool night air.
"That's a nifty spell," Potter said as he pulled himself and his Invisibility Cloak out after me to start rooting around the floor for his wand. "What, is that what they teach you kids at Death Eater Summer Camp?"
"Exactly," I sneered. Honestly, I just saved the jerk's ass and this is how he treats me? "Hey, Potter?" I beckoned, feeling my vindictive streak start to push through.
"Eh?" he said innocently, glancing up
I pointed my wand at him. "Felis," I murmured.
Oh, a better job this time. He had whiskers.
I took off at a run. Fuck talking to Lucius. Potter was about to kill me, I was afraid my luck was wearing out, and worst of all, I was really, really hungry.
Not to mention horny. Grinding with your extraordinarily hot worst enemy can do that to you, know what I mean? Yes! His footsteps were fading! It sounded like I'd lost him! He must have given up to go back and find his wand...
Dammit, I thought, coming to a stop to catch my breath. What a crazy night. First stop, the kitchens, and then I'm going home and fucking Blaise through the mattress.
Chapter Four | Chapter Six
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