The Slytherin Rivals, Ch 5

Chapter 5: Enter the Lamia

"Oi, Draco!" Blaise bellowed as he came into the Great Hall, having made some excuse that he needed to use the loo just after the Sorting Ceremony had ended.

However, when Draco had turned around to send his friend a scolding glare for hollering out like some common Gryffindor his brow twitched irritably, for trailing importantly behind the brunette was a tall, broad shouldered, handsome blond.

"Oh bugger." Draco put his head on the table seething.

"Draco! Look who I ran into in the corridor!" Blaise slapped Draco on the back grinning, having absolutely no idea that his blond friend wasn't the slightest bit tickled by his own cousin's arrival. "Hey." Without getting any response, Blaise poked at his fellow Slytherin's shoulder. "Hey, Drake. It's your cousin! From America!"

That wretched nickname again! Draco's head snapped up, his face plastered with annoyance. "I know where the bloody ponce is from, Izzy," Draco said using Blaise's own scorned nickname.

Blaise merely rolled his eyes. "Well if you're going to be rude—" the Zabini heir trailed off as he turned his attention to the other Malfoy. "Mr. American-Made-Malfoy, as you already know, I'm Blaise Zabini. This is Pansy Parkinson, Greg Goyle, Vince Crabbe, Millie Bulstrode, Keefe Richards, Xander Phelps and Poncey-Slytherin-Prince Extraordinare Draco Malfoy—which I'm sure you're already very well aquatinted with."

"It's a pleasure to meet you all. I'm Daimone Evane Malfoy Guthril d'Laour, but for short, you may call me Evane." The American shook hands and exchanged glances with the lot of the Slytherin's—even getting a good amount of attention from other tables himself.

"You've arrived safely," Draco said, eyeing his Slytherin House Band, which was upon his right ring finger, with much more interest than his kin, denying to move over in order to let his cousin sit. He looked up at his cousin briefly, then, just as quick, drew his gaze away from the other and taking on a rather bored expression added, "—Unfortunately."

"And as always you're a delight to see again, too, cousin," Evane responded, wickedly amused with how uncomfortable and out of sorts his British kin seemed with his presence.

"Well, naturally," was the other's only response.

"Oh, Draco, you never told us your cousin was so charming—"

"And handsome," Millicent commented, cutting Pansy off, smiling shyly beside her friend.

"Yes, that too. You two could almost be twins—" Pansy gestured back and fourth between the two cousins. "Well, just with the hair and eyes anyway," she finished lamely.

"Thanks a lot, Parkinson, I really needed to be insulted when this night was going so well," the blond snipped, glaring at his cousin who merely smirked in reply, taking a vacant seat that a younger year had just left.

"It was hardly an insult, dearest," Pansy said, ignoring Draco's obvious discomfort.

Evane just laughed it off. "So, Dray, tell me, are you and Ms. Parkinson here an item?"

Pansy giggled as Blaise and the other Slytherin boys burst out laughing, some even spitting their milk out nearly.

Draco scowled, disgusted—partially because Pansy was his friend, and that was it; and also because Evane had the nerve to embarrass him in front of his comrades.

"No 'ane." The Dragon attempted not to spit anymore fire or something else would happen—something that may eventually (meaning, right-about-fucking-now, in Draco's vocabulary) become physically violent.

"You mean to tell me that you haven't even tried to put the moves on her?" Evane smiled charmingly at Pansy, giving that knowing smirk to his elder (by only 5 months, mind you) kin.

"We're friends 'ane. That's all."

"Lucian Draconian Donavan Malfoy d'Laour, I am utterly astonished that you don't have your malicious little eye on someone. I mean, a Malfoy without a lovely counterpart, such as Ms. Parkinson here, [insert giggle from Pansy here] is a defective Malfoy. Are you saying you're defective, cousin?"

Draco nearly growled, gritting his teeth. Then- "There is... someone," the blond stumbled with his words. "Just no one I care to tell you about."

"Oh? So there is a girl..."

"Arggh, my love affaires are none of your sodding business. Just keep your poncey-American-noggin out of my life!"

"Oh come now, Draco, you don't have to be like that. He's your cousin after all," Pansy tried to calm Draco down, along with sympathy dripping from her voice for Evane, effectively making Draco's blood boil all the more.

Unfortunately Evane's attention was somewhere else so he wasn't able to catch onto Pansy Parkinson's obvious approval of him.

"Well, well, well," Evane began, cocking his head to the side a bit, iron eyes glinting menacingly as he looked behind Pansy and Millicent.

"What?" Blaise asked curiously, trying to look where he was.

"Mmm. Who, pray-tell, is that?" Evane's eyes drank up the unique creature he had his stare upon.

"Who?—Oh!" Bliase simply stuck out his tongue in distaste. "That's Granger. She's from Gryffindor—not bad looking, just annoying, really." Well if this Malfoy was into creepy, overachieving Gryffindors, more power to him, Blaise mused.

Draco looked up sharply. If Evane's attention was at the Gryffindor table—

"No, not the girl, the guy in front of her."

"The red-head? That's Weasley—he's absolutely intolerable."

"No, the raven haired one."

"Oh." A pause. "Him." Now that's just wrong, Blaise thought. "That's—"

"It doesn't matter who he is 'ane. Just get your impure, sodomite thoughts out of the gutter and stray away from the Gryffindor table—that lot's trouble."

"Didn't know you were so protective, cousin."

"Oh. Bugger. Off."

Evane gave his kin a look that held more than what anyone could fathom. No one spoke down to a Malfoy, especially one that believed themselves to be superior to the other.

"Did your mother or father ever think it wise to teach you how to behave in the presence of someone from the main family? Or were you simply given whatever you wanted just so they could shut you up from complaining all the time," Evane said, a scowl on his face as he recognized the other fighting for dominance.

Draco's eyes blazed at that, all the while growling. "At least my mum and father didn't have an inbred child."

"No. They had you instead."

Touché.

"So Pansy, what's your New Year Resolution?" Draco asked trying to get away from another banter of who was better, stronger—more up to the job of taking Head Malfoy later in life.

"I'm not sure. Besides getting good marks in my classes, my main goal is to get shagged by one, or both, of the two most shaggable guys at Hogwarts." She wiggled her eyebrows at Draco, giving him an open invitation. Then suddenly, as if a light bulb had turned itself on in her head, she added, "Mmm, or perhaps both at the same time."

"Ugh." Blaise rolled his eyes into the back of his head. "You know one is not an option; that would just be wrong—scruffing it up with a Gryffindor—Bleh. And we all know the other one is a slut anyway, so you've got a chance there, Panse," Blaise said, teasing Draco.

"Shut your mouth, you," Draco said; Blaise may be an idiot, but he's a friend, and he wouldn't willingly betray me. That and he knows if he does I'd cut off his balls. All three of them.

"Two most shaggable guys huh? Who're they?" Evane wondered allowed, intrigued.

"Well there's Draco of course—everyone, male and female, wants in his pants—"

"What can I say—it's a talent, really." Draco smiled arrogantly, his figurative peacock feathers flourishing behind his bravado. Of course he wasn't as shallow as anyone believed him to be (though sometimes he really was)—he just didn't want to be an open book, predictable or become close to anyone—every one he had become close to always ended up dead or left him for something better. That or they used him to their advantage.

"—and almost everyone has succeeded in doing that!" Blaise cut in, but was quickly quieted by Draco's harsh glare.

"—And the other one was the guy you were asking about; Potter."

"Potter?"

"Don't you just find it so suitable and delicious that the two most shaggable guys at Hogwarts are also the two most likely to kill each other at Hogwarts?"

"Kill each other eh? Why's that, Dray?" Evane asked, nudging Draco in the elbow. The latter recoiled from the slight touch but answered none the less.

"It's just Potter; him being alive is enough to drive anyone mad."

"What's wrong with him? Seems... pretty fine to me."

"He's the fucking Boy-Who-Lived-and-Defeated-the-Dark-Lord. Shines at every—" Draco started ranting.

"Here we go again," Pansy said, looking around, almost saying it to herself.

"—single thing, gets whatever the hell he wants, thinks he's so special because he's got that stupid scar on his head. He's just bloody annoying."

"How long have you disliked him?"

"Hated is the proper word; it's a mutual feeling, really."

"Potter turned down Draco's offer of friendship in our first year here at Hogwarts," Blaise stated, informing the oblivious American Malfoy.

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Holding a grudge from first year? Are you insane? Last time I checked that didn't run in the Malfoy-Lineage, then again, you and your family were always considered outsiders–"

"First off, that's not the only reason I hate him, you moronic imbecile. Second, if you dare to talk about my family in or out of my presence again with such disrespect, I'll scald and feed you your own testicles."

"Uhh," Blaise started out, easing away from another one of Draco's tantrums. Anything remotely close to where his family was concerned was a touchy subject with the blond, and rightfully so. "Anyway, yeah, Draco's right, Evane. Potter has done hideous things to Slytherins in general—and you can't expect him, let alone any of us, to just sit back and take it."

"Of course not. Instead, my insolent and hapless cousin has to act irrational and childish, holding a goddamn grudge for seven years of his life—seven years better spent on your studies, cousin, and Quidditch for that matter, considering you haven't caught the snitch–"

"Evane—Kin or not, I advise you to shut your mouth—unless you have some chronic problem breathing through it. There are spells for that you know. In fact I'll be glad to help you out with that minor imperfection. Give me 10 minutes and you'll be breathing through your ass in no time. Besides, I've always caught the snitch, just not against Potter and I plan on doing that soon. I'll ram that bastard into the ground!"

"Alright, alright, calm down," Evane laughed at Draco—he never considered Draco to be his equal. It didn't matter if the other was his kin, his blood. He acted inferior, therefore he would be treated as such. Besides as son to the current Head Malfoy, Evane would most likely inherit that title when his parents passed away. Draco was in no way skilled, intelligent or even mature enough to take on that status. The strong will survive—even if the weaklings have to be killed along the way in order to prevail.

Everyone edged away from topics such as Potter, Draco's family or anything else that would send the two Malfoy's into a heated tirade, and instead focused on chatting idly about the upcoming year and gobbling down the feast before them.

And all the while Evane kept flickering his eyes over toward the Gryffindor table, never once taking not that his cousin did the same. Only when they turned their attentions back to the conversations at hand did their eyes meet, one smirking as the other's mouth curled into a snarl as their pride was placed out on the table, openly acknowledging, if only to the other, of the oncoming battle there was sure to be with two Malfoys inhabiting one dinky castle.



Chapter end.