Slip of the Tongue

Part One

By Lizzie

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I am up to… wait, wrong paper. Sorry. I hereby swear that I am not intentionally infringing on copyright laws. I am, in fact, doing this without monetary remuneration and do not gain anything from this, except for practice at my literary skills. The characters and settings used herein are intellectual property of JK Rowling et al. and I make no secret of this. Suing me would be futile in that I will soon have no job, and my own writings have not yet produced pecuniary results. (In other words, nothing here is mine except for the plot… what little there is… and I promise to wash them off and put them back where I found them when I'm finished.)

Draco Malfoy was pissed off. Not just upset, not merely angry, but all-out seeing-red, not-going-to-let-anyone-get-in-my-way-don't-try-and-stop-me pissed off. The kind of anger that only happens once in a blue moon. And the funny thing was that the moon happened to be a curious shade of cerulean that day.

What, I hear you asking, was he mad about? He was mad about what any good Malfoy would be mad about, of course. He was mad about being ignored. No Malfoy was ignored, ever (at least, not since Draco's great-great-great grandfather was ignored by the fledgling Ministry of Magic in his petitions for using muggles as test subjects in the development of spells). Such trespass would be met with severe consequences. And Draco's mind was calmly churning out as many different consequences as it possibly could, while the rest of him silently seethed.

Ok, I lied. Draco's seething was not indeed silent. In fact, it was rather loud. Draco Malfoy was not one to be reckoned with, and woe to those who did. Not only would there be consequences, but said consequences would be delivered at the loudest decibel possible, making sure that all those in hearing range would know what was happening, to whom it was happening, and why it was happening. In this way the consequences would last longer, drawn out by the gossip afterwards. Rubbing salt and lemon juice into a raw wound. And garnishing it with a sprig of mint.

Yes, our fuming antihero had plans for punishment. No one ignored him and got away with it. No siree. Not a chance. Nuh-uh. Nope. And so he stomped his way down the corridors of castle Hogwarts on his way to see the trespasser, and make him pay for his crime against humanity.

…Ok, he's a grandiose and melodramatic wanker, but that's why he's loved.

…Right?

Anyway, moving along. People were getting out of the way in the face of the mass of angry destruction, and gathered in clumps of humanity at the wake of his passing. There was low but excited whispering, and a betting pool was starting, people guessing the identity of the intended target of Draco, and how long they would end up in the hospital wing when the dust cleared.

Not that there'd be dust. Draco didn't deal in dust. No, these consequences would be strictly dust-free.

Draco's influence and anger earned him a clear path all the way to the library, where someone had told him that he'd be. No matter that it was a place that Madame Pince ruled with an iron fist. No matter that there would be other students there to watch the spectacle. No matter that he was bound to be thrown out of the library. None of that mattered. Only his bruised pride mattered. And so he reached his destination with his eyes full of anger and his head full of ideas for retribution…

Actually, Draco was drawing a blank on the retribution plans. This had been a sort of spur-of-the-moment type confrontation. And, well, Draco had never actually been ignored by someone before. He didn't quite know how to react in the situation. He was playing it by ear, figuring on doing a little yelling and seeing where it went from there.

Draco pushed the door to the library open, hoping to hear a loud and resounding bang, but instead getting a feeble creak. It was disappointing, and not a very auspicious beginning to his tirade, but the blond boy didn't let that take any of the wind from his sails.

"Harry Potter!" Draco said loudly, nearly growling the name. At the intrusion, the normal murmur of the library ceased to sound, and all eyes turned to the figure standing regally in the doorway. All but one. Draco's eyes narrowed when he saw that Harry Potter had barely glanced up at his entrance. He had gone immediately back to whatever he was reading.

'How dare he?' Draco thought, grinding his teeth in an attempt to keep himself from screaming.

"Mr. Malfoy, what do you think you're…" Madame Pince started to reprimand Draco, but one look from the boy and she was silent. If those in the library weren't awed by Draco's presence before, they certainly were after that display.

Malfoys were taught the controlling presence at an early age, obviously. Ah, what breeding does for a person.

The tension in the library could be sliced through quite easily with a rusty butter knife, had one been handy at the time. But since all tablewear had remained in the kitchens, the tension remained at the current level. Some of the younger students squirmed with discomfort, but they refused to get up to leave. They refused to blink for fear of missing something. The older students had seen this sort of thing before on many an occasion, and so were less uncomfortable and more amused.

"Harry Potter," Draco repeated, this time at a dangerously low volume.

Harry's eyes rose lazily from the text he'd been buried in, slowly meeting Draco's infuriated stare. Draco noted that he was expressionless, and this set something off in him. He began ranting like the day he was born.

Yes, when Draco was born, he had the ability to speak, yes, and to even make his opinion known. I daresay rant.

I'm exaggerating, but had Draco the ability on the day of his birth to do so; it would have sounded very similar to what was going on.

"Harry Potter, what do you think you're playing at?"

"Nothing, Malfoy," Harry responded, returning to his book. Draco noticed it was a Transfiguration textbook.

"Don't give me that!" Draco shouted. "What is going on?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy. I'm just doing my homework. Or are you blind?" Harry lazily said, not bothering to look up. Draco's urge to throttle Harry was raised by several notches.

It showed a great show of restraint that Mr. Malfoy didn't reach out and snatch Harry up to start beating him then and there. Because Malfoys have willpower. Really.

"Look at me, Potter!" Draco's voice hadn't diminished in volume; it in fact had risen. The blonde, usually composed boy was now shrilly shrieking.

Except Malfoys aren't shrill. And they don't shriek. So it would be more accurate to say that he was rather loudly speaking. ...Not really.

"Why?" Harry was as calm as ever in the face of this storm. Draco was livid.

"Why you…"

"Mr. Malfoy! You do not now nor have you ever had control over this library!" Madame Pince had obviously found her voice and was using it. "So if you will not lower your voice and behave in the manner befitting a library, then I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

And by 'ask you to leave,' of course she meant 'throw you out.' With a hint of 'using force if necessary.'

With barely controlled rage in his voice, Draco sweetly replied, "I need to speak with Potter here."

"Well then you can take him with you. Now out!"

Heil Madame Pince.

Draco took the hint and decided not to press his luck. Grabbing Harry's hand, he dragged the resisting boy out of the library.

"Malfoy, what the bloody hell are you doing? Let go of me!" Harry tried to pry his hand out of Draco's death grip to no avail.

"We're going to settle this, Potter, now shut up."

Harry sighed and looked longingly at his books as he was torn away from them.

"This had better be good…" he muttered. Draco pretended not to hear him. Draco suffered from a case of selective deafness.

And so Draco dragged Harry. He dragged him behind him. To none of those clichéd places that one would usually go to, to find some privacy and a lack of adult supervision for the upcoming 'discussion.' They went nowhere near the lake. They steered clear of the astronomy tower. The dungeons were out of the question, and the Room of Requirement didn't even cross Draco's mind. You see, those were the first places that someone would expect them to go to. They instead went to the largest room in Hogwarts. That's right. The Great Hall.

There was a twofold reason for this choice. The first was, of course, that Draco had abruptly changed his mind about delivering the consequences in public and therefore wanted privacy. The second reason was that when empty, the Great Hall had a Great Echo. Draco wanted to hear as his voice reverberated off the walls while he yelled himself hoarse at the Boy-Who-Ignored-Him-But-Wouldn't-Live-Past-The-Consequences. He figured that it would be like multiple hims all yelling at Harry Potter at once. A thought that brought a smile to his face.

"The Great Hall?" Harry quirked an eyebrow. Draco now found himself facing not only someone who went out of their way to ignore him, but also someone who scoffed at his choice of confrontation grounds. If he hadn't been here for a reason, why, he would have yelled at Harry Potter.

Wait, he was here to yell at Harry Potter! Glee!

"Now see here Harry Potter. I don't know what you're playing at. But it's going to stop now." Draco was right, the reverb sounded lovely.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Harry ran an exasperated hand through his hair. "You said that already in the library, but I'm still confused as to what you're referring to!"

"You can't be that ignorant, Harry!" Draco shouted. Harry took a step back in surprise.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you deaf? I said, 'you can't be that ignorant, Potter!'"

A small smirk appeared on Harry's face. "Oh really now?"

"Yes, Potter. Do I need to use smaller words for you to understand?" Draco's patented Malfoy Smirk (copyrighted since 1594) graced his features. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Just tell me what I did wrong, Malfoy, so that I can get back to my life," Harry said in a bored tone.

Oh ho ho, the boy was in for it.

"That's exactly it, Potter! Your blatant disregard for me. Nobody ignores a Malfoy and gets away with it! If you do not cease your impudent display of… of… of this," Draco gesticulated wildly in the air in Harry's general direction, "then I will be forced to take action!"

Harry blinked once, opened his mouth to speak, shut it, and then blinked again. Clearly he was at a loss for words.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself, Harry?"

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Harry asked with slight amusement. Draco glared, obviously thinking that he was being mocked.

"What, Potter? It's your name, dumbarse."

"No, I mean… Never mind." Harry let out a little laugh.

"Something funny, Potter?" Draco spat out, not enjoying being the apparent butt of a joke. Harry shook his head.

"Nothing, Malfoy. I just can't figure out what exactly you want with me."

"I want you to stop ignoring me, dunderhead."

"Yeah, but why are you doing this? Why me? The rest of the school doesn't ignore you."

"Why? Because you irritate me."

"And?" Harry prompted.

"And it's insulting to be ignored by an enemy."

"And?"

"And I don't want you to."

"Why?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"A valid one. Now answer before I leave."

"Because."

"Because?"

"Because I love you."

That last bit was shouted rather loudly, and the words of it were such to take Harry completely and utterly by surprise. Several times, actually, due to the Great Echo.

"Whoa, wait. Run that by me again?"

"Are you an idiot? I said 'I hate you.' I for one know that it's not a huge secret." Draco smirked cruelly.

"You sure that's what you said?" Colour was creeping into Harry's cheeks, and that fact didn't go unnoticed by his companion.

"I'm quite sure I know what I said." Draco's malicious smirk grew. "Why are you turning red, Harry?"

"Ah… ahem. No reason. But if you're quite finished, then I think I'll go. I still have homework." Harry quickly ducked his head and tried to walk quickly away. He, however, was caught by the sleeve before his getaway was complete.

"What did I say to make you turn red?" Draco's voice was deceptively soft and his eyes were narrowed in irritation and confusion.

"I don't think you realized that you said it, but if you think about it long enough, I'm sure it'll come to you."

With that, Harry quietly freed himself from Draco's grasp and nearly ran out of the Great Hall. Draco was left in confused contemplation. He stood there for a few minutes, trying to figure out what was said, or what could possibly have caused the reaction that was received.

The replayed scenario got a little fuzzy around the explanation he gave Harry for his stupid questions. He remembered some 'and's, a couple of lame excuses, and a bit of shouting. Ah, the reverberation.

…Wait. The reverberation. Draco thought back to the beautiful echo that his cultured voice had created.

Yes, he's full of himself. Surprise, surprise.

One word echoing sprang to mind immediately. He distinctly remembered saying 'I hate you,' but for some reason he recalled the sound of the world 'love' bouncing off of the acoustically sound walls.

'Love… love… love… LOVE.'

Draco's eyes widened.

"FUCK!"

The sound of the word repeating itself followed Draco's dash down the hall.

A/N: Yes, I do realize that this isn't "Only the Ring Finger Knows." And yes, I do realize that I'm more than a week late with a chapter. It's turning out to be longer than I intended. So you guys get to read the first part of my excuse to write Draco and Harry shagging. Welcome to my lunchtime activity.

In reality, I also just wanted to use the lines, "It was just a Freudian Slip." -Harry "A whodian what?" –Draco

So now you review, and tell me to get off my lazy butt and finish OTRFK chapter four.

This is a hobby, and as such will probably not get updated regularly. In fact, I'm thinking that there will only be one more part. Two if I get wordy. And the best part won't even be allowed here. I'll have to post it at adultfanfiction dot net.

So anyway, hope you enjoyed reading. I know I enjoyed writing. I so rarely get to use my wit (if you can call it that…) in writing.

Until later!