Chapter 8 - Justin: Show your new housemate around.

Justin watched in interest as the transfer came to the Hufflepuff table, and smiled brightly at him as he (Dave, was it?) sat in the empty seat beside him. He wondered briefly why his new housemate wore sunglasses, but shrugged. Ever since first discovering the world of magic when he was eleven, he'd certainly seen odder things than someone's odd taste in wardrobe. (He'd especially seen odder when it came to wardrobes- purple silk robes, seriously?)

"Welcome to Hufflepuff!" Justin said, smiling as he clapped Dave on the back a few times, only hesitating when he saw his slightly hunched shoulders. "Sorry, is there something wrong?"

"No, it's nothing," Dave said, relaxing his shoulders a bit as Justin withdrew his hand. "I just... don't like being touched, that's all."

Justin let out a small breath of relief. He'd been afraid he hurt the newbie or something. (His housemates had mentioned before that he was often a bit too overbearing when it came to pleasantries; the time he almost broke a first-year's wrist when shaking their hand came to mind.) "Alright then, I won't invade your boundaries. I'm Justin, Justin Finch-Fletchley. Nice to meet you!" He stuck out a hand, figuring that wasn't too intrusive.

Rather than take his hand and shake it, like Justin expected, Dave instead high fived it, leaving Justin to laugh a bit. "Oh, so I suppose you're muggleborn, then?"

Dave seemed to hesitate before responding. "I guess. All I really know is wizards have some damn stupid terminology." A few Hufflepuffs snickered at his statement, before Ernie Macmillan hushed them, his badge shining in the candlelight.

"The Headmaster is still talking," he admonished, turning his attention back to Dumbledore.

"And here we have a display of why Ernie's a prefect," Hannah muttered from behind where Dave was facing (away from Dumbledore, obviously). Finally deciding to tune back in to what the headmaster was saying, Justin turned around, hearing the last of Dumbledore's speech.

"There is a time for speechmaking," he was saying, "but this is not it. Tuck in!" The majority of the crowd laughed and clapped in approval at the 'speech' as food appeared on the tables, a pleasing amalgamate of scents wafting about.

After dumping what he deemed a decent amount of gravy and mashed potatoes onto his plate, Justin began shoveling them into his face, stomach growling like a rabid animal all the while. He allowed himself a moment to savor the taste before taking more, barely chewing.

"So, Dave," Justin said, though it came out distorted and barely understandable through all his food, "where're you from? What's America like?"

Dave seemed to consider it for a moment as he took a sip of pumpkin juice, before screwing up his face and swallowing it quickly out of disgust. He set down the glass none too gently, sliding it away from himself with little subtlety. "Ugh, that was gross." Dave took another moment to swallow nothing but his own spit, apparently trying to wash the pumpkin flavor out of his mouth. "So, America, huh? Well, everyone's less polite, but also less stuck-up, I guess. And we don't have dumb-ass accents. We also have much better taste in car colors. Like really, who likes having a neon green car? It's like puking all over a car and selling it. Is the population of England colorblind?" Justin noticed he avoided the "where are you from" question, but let it go. Specifics didn't matter all too much.

"Well, considering that the entire population of America has diabetes, I think being colorblind is just fine in comparison," Justin jibed, rolling his eyes at Dave's incredibly stereotype-based analysis and complementing it with his own.

"I won't argue with that." They ate in content silence, enjoying the food and air of comfort and hesitant comradery.

It was nice while it lasted, Dave figured. But, of course it couldn't last when his two other friends (plus the redhead idiot) came trotting over, looking generally appalled.

"Close your mouths," Dave told them, enjoying the situation immensely. "You'll catch flies." The three Gryffindors gave him expressions varying in annoyance, before finally heeding the Hufflepuff's will and doing so.

Hermione was first to speak. "So," she said, a single eyebrow raised as she surveyed the table draped in yellow and black, "how're you enjoying Hufflepuff?" There was no accusation there, just a simple question.

"It's fine, I guess. The food's awesome, though, so kudos to you guys for killing off at least one of my stereotypes about Brits." Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes, although he was smiling a bit.

"You're the worst."

"Thank you, I try," Dave said, mock-bowing for them.

"Yeah, yeah, that's great and all," Ron said, a slightly questioning (but not judging; maybe he was coming around? ) look on his face. "But, what did the Hat say? I don't think I've seen a Hatstall last that long since Neville!"

Dave thought for a moment. "Mostly stuff I didn't really get. I think it mentioned a stock market? I might've conned some people out of their money or something. It sounds like it was awesome, though."

"For some reason, I'm not surprised in the slightest," Hermione muttered, defeat in her voice as she sat, the two boys following.

"'Mione, are we even allowed to sit here?" Ron questioned, sitting nonetheless.

Hermione shrugged. "There's no rules against it."

"Fair enough."

Harry leaned in a bit, whispering in Dave's ear. "Say, has anything come back?"

"A few things," he replied quietly. "Some names, some faces... One specific event, though, when that hat mentioned a stock market."

A relieved smile broke out on Harry's face. "That's great! What was it?"

"I think one time, a bunch of red crocodiles tried to make soup out of me or something. Not fun, trust me." Harry couldn't even bring himself to be surprised, even after knowing him for only a month or so. Instead, he just sighed, because seriously, how else did you respond to something that oddly specific and cryptic?

Inside, though, he was worried. What sort of life did Dave even lead? Will recovering his memories even be a good thing?

They left soon after, Harry wanting to catch up with his fellow Gryffindors, and Ron and Hermione citing prefect duties. The rest of the dinner was enjoyable, and the amiable chat with his friends was a welcome change of pace from the horrid Dursley household, or the quiet tension that never left Grimmauld. He'd always be grateful for Hogwarts.

Dinner passed quickly after that, with the Gryffindors saying their goodbyes and Dave waving them along. Ernie led them along through the winding hallways, occasionally stopping to give some quick trivia on various parts of the school - like how, for instance, the painting of the knight that was to his right actually was the 14th richest wizard in history, or how the armor over there was actually a gift from the Durmstrang Institute (otherwise known as a lot of things Dave might have been a bit fascinated by, but in his current circumstances, didn't care about in the slightest).

Despite his overflowing knowledge on the topics, Ernie seemed to be a bit of a ball of nerves, apologizing profusely whenever he so much as stuttered, and speaking so quickly barely anyone could understand him.

Justin had an explanation. "Poor guy's been studying himself to death. Wants to impress the teachers and all that, but at this rate he'll die of sleep deprivation. We used to be friends in third year, but..."

"What," Dave asked without tact.

"Well. Let's just say he's a bit too... extreme for my tastes." Justin's ever-present smile (really, you'd think his face would get tired) faded a bit, but bounced back in full force not a second later. "Besides, I didn't abandon him or anything! He has lots of friends."

Dave glanced over to Justin, then Ernie, who was bumbling about with the "tour" and had nobody helping him, then back to Justin. A single eyebrow raised in silent judgement.

"Hey!" Justin said, catching his drift and pouting. His face looked wrong when he wasn't smiling, Dave thought. "Hufflepuff might be known for patient people, but let it be known that patience is most certainly not my special skill set." Dave rolled his eyes, before realizing that was useless with his shades.

"Fair. So, what sort of kickass death trap awaits us at the lovely Hufflepuff dorms?" Justin's smile seemed to crinkle with mirth, as though he was laughing at a punchline that hadn't even arrived yet.

"You'll see in a moment," he told him, and Dave's spidey-senses for "you're about to get rekt, son" started blaring. He subconsciously checked his strife specibus; would he have to fight someone? Or maybe there would be a password. That would be bad - he forgot things pretty easily (that is, if they were actually relevant. Stupid stuff? Not a problem).

He let out a sigh of relief as he saw the hoard of yellow-accented students stop in front of... barrels?

"Is there, like, something inside?" he whispered to Justin, who shook his head.

"Nah, it's much more boring than that. Just some barrels you have to tap in a specific rhythm."

"So, like those shitty Hatsune Miku rhythm games where you have to hit the buttons on time?" Distinct memories of him playing those games (and hating it the whole while) surfaced, and he shuddered. He would never be able to listen to the song Negative-Positive*Continues the same way ever again after he nearly broke his thumbs playing it all night on extreme difficulty in a futile attempt to beat his bro's high score. Stupid fucking Project Diva F.

He shook his head. Wait, what the fuck? Competitive bootlegged Japanese rhythm games was really the most relevant thing his subconscious could throw at him?

Okay.

He tuned back in from the long tangent he'd had in his head. Ernie was explaining something - his arms were flailing about in an attempt to display whatever it was that he was trying to convey, but he instead kind of just looked like he was drowning on air.

"Anyways!" Ernie said, ceasing his flailing and gesturing to the barrels. "Um, you kind of just tap it, like this."

"Hel-ga Huf-fle-puff," he said in a rhythm as he tapped the lid of a barrel in the middle of the second row, two from the bottom. The barrel's lid swung open, revealing a small corridor Dave figured he could crawl into with a bit of difficulty.

Ernie wasn't done. "Remember to tap this barrel only, and in that exact rhythm! Or else, uh, you'llgetsprayedwithvinegarandyouwon'tbeallowedtotryforfivemoreminutes." The last part slurred together, so Dave could hardly hear what he was saying.

"It's a slide, heading to the common room. Don't worry!" he was quick to add, even though nobody protested or attempted to ask a question. "There's padding at the bottom, so it doesn't hurt." Dave snorted - that was the last concern on his mind.

One by one, the Hufflepuffs slid into the tube, some hesitant (usually first years) and others going in with a grin and a whoop.

Finally, all of the students but Ernie, Dave, and Justin had arrived in the Common Room. Dave hesitantly approached.

"Are you absolutely sure there is no spiky death trap awaiting me at the bottom."

A scoff. "Yes, Dave, I'm sure. Now go!"

There was a moment of hesitation.

"Now usually I'm all for diving head first into this kind of stupid shit, but right now I am smelling some fresh bullshit straight from the manure fields. And despite what I just said, I still want to retain a shred of dignity, thank you very much, so until I have proof that a bloody, shit-infested death doesn't await me down there, I ain't budging."

"I'll give you five seconds."

"Jesus, Justin, don't do this."

"Four, three..."

"I'm not moving!"

"Twoooooo..."

"Fucking hell," Dave muttered, pouting with his arms crossed. Through his annoyance, he didn't even register Ernie's protest at the profanity.

A manic smile broke out across Justin's face.

"One!"

Without any further warning, Dave was shoved ungracefully into the hole.

"Shiiit!" he yelled, desperately trying to find purchase in the smooth slide. There was none, and he flailed about mid-freefall before finally tumbling to the floor as the slide abruptly ended. He landed on his face, with his ass sticking up into the air like a tool. Fuck. At least the floor wasn't made of spikes or some stupid shit, he supposed.

Dave stood awkwardly, attempting to brush himself off. His shades were skewed, one end sticking up in his hair rather than perched on his ear. He adjusted it with his eyes closed, ignoring the scattered chuckles from around the room. He made a futile attempt to pat down his hair, hoping he didn't look too stupid.

He quickly jumped out of the mattresses that were meant to pad the fall (great job those things did, and by great job he meant awful job, because goddamn his nose hurt from the impact), watching as Justin and Ernie appeared soon afterwards.

"Welcome," Ernie announced, flamboyantly gesturing around the common room, "to Hufflepuff!"

Now, Dave took the time to look around.

The room he was currently standing in could only be described as cozy. It had a somewhat low ceiling, and the earthy tones of brown, black, and yellow gave off the vibe of a den, or something. There were a few armchairs scattered about and a chimney with a roaring fire sat off to one side, with a few tables and chairs around it. Windows were placed close to the roof, giving a view of the fields of Hogwarts, grass shivering in the night wind. There were a few potted plants scattered about here and there, and the air smelled like a soothing combo of butterscotch, fabric softener, and faint smoke. In any other place, it would've been strange and overbearing, but here it was weirdly comforting.

Looking around, Dave started to get what Hogwarts: A History had meant when it referred to a house being like a surrogate family. His heart ached a bit as he looked around at the strangely comforting room.

"Now, then," another prefect began, this one tall, dark-skinned, and pretty. Her voice effectively snapped Dave out of his wimpy-ass thoughts. "The girls' dorms are to the left, boys to the right. The first rooms are for first years, second for second, and so on." Here, she leaned in conspiratorially, a wild glint in her eye.

"But, as long as you all keep it a secret, you can sleep wherever you want. The walls aren't soundproof, in case any of you are getting ideas," she said, specifically winking over at two girls who were holding hands. They both blushed in sync.

She clapped her hands together. "Alright, go find somewhere to sleep! All the doors lock automatically to the people not occupying them at 11 o'clock except for the bathrooms, which are blatantly labelled so I don't really think I need to point them out for you." the girl finished, pointing up to a door not too far off on the left-side corridor. "I'll be in there if you need anything. Make sure to knock if you do, and please ask Ernie about whatever it is before you ask me. I'm super tired and severely needing some beauty sleep." With that, she spun on her heel, walking towards the left, her bushy mane of hair bouncing with the movement.

Ernie stuttered absently for a moment before realizing his job had just been done for him.

"Yeah, uh, what she said," he muttered, slinking off to his room on the right. Dave practically winced at how uncomfortable Ernie obviously was.

"Yikes."

"I know, right?" Justin replied.

There was an incredibly uncomfortable silence for a few minutes.

"So! Wanna go find an empty room to hole up in or something?"

Dave shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat, man." At this tentative consent, Justin grabbed Dave's hand, seemingly completely forgetting the 'don't touch me' rule.

(Although, after being brutally shoved down the slide, the 'don't touch me' rule had sort of been thrown in the trash. Dave also found he didn't mind the hand-holding too much.)

Lying down on his four-poster bed, Dave absently tossed an apple he'd smuggled from the Great Hall up into the air, catching it as it fell. He repeated the process a few times, his mind wandering as his body completed the monotonous action again and again. Finally, he stopped throwing it, instead sitting up and taking a bite out of it. Opening up the drapes that shielded his lit bed (via a small lantern hanging from the top of the bed) from the rest of the dim room, he squinted to make out the clock's hands.

Three hours, 14 minutes, and six point twelve seconds past midnight, it read.

That's off by point five twenty-two seconds. The thought rose to the front of his mind without provocation.

Dave sighed, his restlessness getting the best of him. Tapping the lantern with his wand, the light stopped shining, and he closed the curtains over his bed. He stood, stretching for a moment.

Justin lay sound asleep in the bed across from him, his light snores disrupting the still silence of night. It seemed like the entire castle was asleep, teeming with a relaxed, peaceful energy.

And yet, here he was.

Running his free hand through his disheveled blonde hair, he silently opened and closed the door. He had nothing to do anyways - he'd checked his sylladex over and over again, making sure everything was in its proper place. He'd attempted to connect his shades, his crab watch, and even his old iPhone to the Internet, but to no avail. Wifi seemed nonexistent anywhere. And the stupid things wouldn't even turn on in the first place.

That was goddamn stupid, but whatever. He was in a magic castle - surely there was a way to stop the apparent ban on technology.

Dave stopped walking as he realized he'd come upon the common room again. Slumping into an armchair, he let the warmth of the fire wash over him for a few seconds. He prepared to sigh once more, before deciding that no, he definitely didn't need to start moping around like some shitty shounen anime protagonist whose friend just died or something. That character arc always was the most boring, since the two or three episodes it consisted of would just entail said anime protagonist sighing a lot and the usual colorful backgrounds replaced by black and gray and raining and shit. It was cliche and annoying.

"What is up with me and making stupid connections to Japanese pop media today?" he wondered absentmindedly, his eyes studying the flames as they sparked and crackled in a display of brilliant shades of red.

He shook it off. Whatever - the point still stood. He was not going to let himself soften up any more to these freakshow wizards, he was not going to mope around all uselessly, and there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that he would give up the search for his past and his friends and whatever just because he was upset about things that had no meaning.

For now, though, he would nap.

The cozy red pajamas that Mrs. Weasley had provided him with were worn, but definitely comfortable. His eyes slowly slid shut… Yeah, a few minutes might be good for him…

Someone was hovering over him, but he couldn't see their face.

His whole body ached, and he felt heavy and tired.

"D...e? Are y... ight? Hey, ha... on! ...isten to me, dammi...! You'll... ine!" Their voice grew louder and more panicked.

Whoever they were, they wouldn't mind if he took a quick nap, right? After all, fighting and running around was tiring work. Yeah, he deserved some rest.

"...Dave?"

Just a minute… just gimme one minute to nap…

"DAVE!"

...Jade.

Dave was thrown headfirst into a stone wall.

Groaning in protest, he stood, rubbing his head and sputtering a few half-hearted profanities. He quickly stood with his back to what he assumed was the corner of the wall. It was completely and totally black - he couldn't see a thing. He grimaced, attempting to draw his sword from his strife specibus.

It wasn't there.

A quick, slightly panicked mental check revealed that none of his stuff was there - no sylladex, no specibus, nothing. He could only just listen with his eyes closed for something to happen.

Or, wait. I could just take off my shades. Duh. He nearly facepalmed as he slipped the shades off. He didn't like going without them, but being trapped in a terribly lit dungeon was reason enough to go without them. Who the hell designed this place? This practically screams permanent eye damage.

A flash of red lit up the halls, and he hissed, raising his arm above his eyes and screwing them shut. Dave was sensitive to bright light, and being accustomed to the dark world through his shades sure didn't help. But as he reluctantly opened his eyes again, he noticed something off.

His hand was... transparent? Like one of those shitty ghosts from Ghostbusters, kind of. He waved it around a bit, peeked at it through his shades, making sure that it wasn't a trick of the light or anything.

It wasn't. He, doofy red Weasley pajamas and all, was transparent.

"Well, that's pleasant," he muttered, changing his glance from his own body to what was before him.

The room he stood in had a domed ceiling, with old-fashioned chandeliers (with actual candles in it instead of electric bulbs - who the hell even used candles?) swinging from it. The room itself was fairly bland and actually somewhat depressing, it being a dull shade of stone gray with some mold growing in the corners. In the center was a long table, made out of the same drab stone, and surrounded by seventeen or so chairs, one at the head and the other sixteen at the sides.

A quick glance up the sides told Dave exactly the kinds of people he was going to have to fight here - there were the scared ones who didn't want to be there (four), the cold, impassive ones (seven), and the straight-up batshit insane ones (five). Though they were all wearing outfits of varying stupidity, the one at the head really caught his eye.

The person (if it could even be considered as one) was wearing a black robe, which seemed unassuming but instead seemed to grant it a great authority over the others. Indeed, all members of the table were looking to it (him?) with varying degrees of fear and respect. Its skin was an unnatural, pale shade of gray, with a tinge of green. In the place of a nose there were instead two slits, and its eyes were small as well. It was kind of like if a normal human-form sprite was prototyped with a snake or something, then was locked in a basement for a few years or so before slinking out into the light of day.

It was kinda freaking him out.

(At the moment, Dave was wondering why nobody was even looking his way, because you'd think that some blonde douche in bright red pajamas and Ben Stiller shades breaking into your secret cult meeting would be some cause of alarm. But nobody even seemed to notice he was here. He attributed it to his current, weird-as-fuck ghost-y state and let it be for now.)

Snakeman abruptly began speaking, much to Dave's surprise. The guy had been sitting there for about two minutes and nine point forty-one seconds just staring around all evilly and whatnot, so he wasn't sure if he even could speak. (Wait, was the whole band of idiots sitting there in the dark for who-knows-how-long just for dramatic effect, for an audience they didn't even know they had? Truly, there was no limit to the raging stupidity of these people.)

Anyways. Back on topic.

"Lestrange," Snakeman hissed (like really, what the fuck), and the woman with the curly, frizzy black hair (who he had labeled as one of the crazy ones, incidentally) answered, an expression of sick glee on her face.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Check the... progress on our prisoners. They have been stubbornly useless so far, but I trust you will be able to make them talk." Lestrange's grin broke out full force into something creepy and sadistic and very murder-y. Dave shuddered at the way Snakeman said "progress." It sounded like whatever the prisoners were being interrogated for, it wasn't a pleasant experience. Weighing the pros and cons for a moment, Dave decided to follow the creepy woman as she exited through some hallway he hadn't noticed before. Sure, maybe nobody could see him or something, but surely he'd be able to help a little bit. It would be shitty of him just to stand by and be useless. He attempted to go after her, but was blocked by what seemed like an invisible wall.

"The hell...?" Though he hadn't noticed before with the creepily dim, atmospheric lighting of the place, it seemed like everywhere outside the room was a strange, reflective blur. Like the warped pages of a book after it had gotten wet, or the ends of a worn-down photograph, or maybe even the reflective ends of a bubble.

A bubble...

Dave could've smacked himself. It was a dream bubble!

The information came rushing back to him. Dream bubbles were just memories, right? Memories of a dead person who resided in them, or someone else who could access the bubbles. It certainly explained why he could barely recall any events leading up to this, as well as why the people couldn't see him. They weren't actually people - they were just props, just part of the memory.

For some reason, he didn't see how anyone else would be able to access the bubbles.

Then, Dave wondered absently, who's the dead person? He supposed it didn't really matter.

Turning his attention back to the conversation, he tuned back into what Snakeman had to say.

It was frowning in confusion, and Dave couldn't help but shiver because it was looking right at him.

"It appears that we have a guest," it said, stroking a snake (shit fuck why didn't I notice the goddamn snake) with one hand as he gestured dismissively over at him. The other members of the table rose, leveling their wands in Dave's general vicinity. It was obvious they had no clue at all what they were pointing at. At this, Snakeman frowned a bit.

"There's a great magical energy right there, but nothing visible. It seems that we have an intruder." It sighed, then smiled maliciously.

"Ah, well. As they say - better safe than sorry."

With a flick of its wrist, the snake lunged.

Dave rocketed up in the armchair he was slumped in, gasping for a few moments before adjusting his position and trying to let himself calm the fuck down. He struggled to push down the urge to vomit, because puking all over a chair would be the least cool shit, Jesus Strider, get it together, you look like a fucking IDIOT-

After a minute, he'd finally managed to calm down his breathing to a respectable pace. Putting his shades on properly (at this point he'd have to tape them onto his goddamn face, they fell off so easily), he stood, albeit shakily (no shut up it's fine you're fine you're cool be cool). A quick check of his internal clock - which was always perfectly accurate, for some weird reason that he didn't really question, since it was actually pretty useful at times - told him that it was seven twenty-two in the morning, which meant that he had a half an hour or so to screw around before breakfast.

Nice. He'd have time to not look like a horror show in front of all his classmates. (At times like this, shades were immensely useful for hiding the bags under his eyes.)

He took a moment to silently bemoan his total lack of sleep that wasn't filled with sneople (snake people) or cult meetings or whatever. He frowned, the details of the dream slowly slipping away. He was fairly sure that was that Moldyshorts guy, but was it a memory, a prophecy of future events, a dream bubble, or just a fabrication of his sleep-deprived imagination? No, Dave figured it was much too realistic and detailed and utterly foreign to be just a normal dream.

Finally, he decided to just leave. He could grab some food from the kitchens before breakfast started. And hey, it's not like he'd get yelled at for being up early or something, right? He was pretty sure that schools got off on making kids get up at ridiculously early times of the morning or something. Dave wasn't sure, though - it felt like he hadn't been to school in years.

Maybe he hadn't. Whatever, it didn't matter now.

He headed back to his room to grab some robes, quick-changing and tossing his pajamas on the ground. Cleanliness be damned, if this was gonna be his room he'd keep it as messy as he wanted.

Looking around one last time, he spotted a set of stairs up to the upper levels, located directly next to the terrible hazing hell slide. He elected to go up them, still a bit annoyed that he had to fall down a goddamn slide to get in when he could've just walked down. Then again, stairs weren't much better when it came to tumbling around like a dumbass.

Finished with his ascension, he glanced around for a second, trying to figure out where the kitchen was. Maybe he could steal some apple juice, or something. Then it hit him that he didn't have a map, and that he'd already forgotten the stupid goddamn rhythm to get into the dormitories. To add onto that, he was really not in the mood to get sprayed in the face by vinegar if he botched his attempt.

"God fucking damn it."

Strolling past the gaudy suits of armor, Dave absently knocked one, listening to the hollow sound which echoed out of it. He could've sworn he'd seen one move out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored it.

The corridors seemed so empty.

There had been a few close calls with some creepy old guy (his name was Flem, or something, and he had a pet cat, or something) trying to find him, but Dave was able to evade him whenever he got too close for comfort. He wasn't about to get a detention before his first day at school even started. No, he'd save the douchebaggery for later.

Dave's stomach growled, reminding him of why he'd went out in the first time. The Hufflepuff dorms were near the kitchens, right? Surely, he'd find it eventually...

Ugh. It had been almost twenty minutes and he still hadn't bumped into anything of note.

He just hoped he'd find some food soon... he was really, really hungry.

Dave looked up - he'd been circling the same corridor for five minutes, on the dot. It was just a typical corridor, free of any alive portraits or suits of armor, except for two which stood about a yard apart. It was weird. Maybe there was something there?

Internally debating it, he walked towards the armor. He had time to waste, he figured, so fuck it.

The Hufflepuff slowly crept up to one of the suits, knocking it a few times. Again, it was hollow. He tested the other one - hollow as well. He rolled his eyes. That was disappointing. With a sigh of defeat and a lack of things to do, he sat and entertained himself with an idle scroll through his sylladex.

Stalking through the hallways, Draco Malfoy looked this way and that. His prefect badge gleamed brightly on his chest, but that wasn't his reason for concern. After glancing around and making sure nobody was coming, he slumped against the wall, groaning.

Why, why, why was this happening to him?

That annoying new Hufflepuff was the reason for all this, he just knew it. His father had told - ordered - him to keep an eye on the blonde brat, although the reason why was withheld.

He tried to convince himself that maybe he was better off knowing, but he didn't believe it for a second.

One part of him felt bad for the kid. Once the Dark Lord had his eyes on you, there wasn't much more you could do beyond beg for mercy. The other part of him - the apathetic, uncaring part which he had cultivated into being in control over the years - said that it didn't really matter anyways.

Draco groaned again. Really, it was just ridiculous. What could possibly be so important about some weird transfer student Hufflepuff? Still, he had to admit that the transfer - Strider, whatever - had a weird aura about him that practically commanded attention, ridiculous sunglasses definitely aiding in this.

Oh hell, he thought, am I going to have to kill him? He really, really had been hoping that he'd get through all this Dark Lord stuff without having to get blood on his hands. He respected Voldemort, sure, but only in the same way a captive might respect their kidnapper - because if they didn't, they might get killed earlier than necessary. He knew those filthy blood traitors and mudbloods were below him, but why?

Draco's fists clenched. "I've just got to tell Father anything interesting, that's it. No bloodshed." He repeated it to himself - with an emphasis on "no bloodshed" - like a mantra.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't even notice footsteps approaching.

"Tell your dad what?"

Even though Draco knew his luck was awful, he hadn't expected it to be this awful as he looked up into the dark surfaces of Strider's shades.

"None of your beeswax!" he spat, scooching away from the other blonde. Unexpectedly, Strider began chuckling.

"Pfft - beeswax."

"Oh, shut up!"

Then, to Draco's shock, the kid had the gall to sit next to him, peering at him through his stupid sunglasses.

"Man, I've got time to burn. Hit me with your devastating life story, or whatever. I can handle it." Draco could barely form coherent sentences at this point; was this kid truly so stupid? What, was he expecting that by sitting down and practically breathing on the heir's neck and generally being a nuisance, they would be friends and frolick about the sunflower-filled metaphorical field of friendship like a bunch of goddamn pansies? The answer was no. No, that wouldn't be a thing that would happen.

Draco took a deep breath, counting to ten in his head like his mother had taught him. He was okay, he was fine, he was going to get up and walk away from this weird blonde guy who was sending out extremely mixed messages. (Honestly, was Strider flirting or something?) He was going to just get up, and walk away, and everything would be fine. No concern needed here, thank you very much.

He was just going to get up...

...

...

And walk away.

Strider's shitty, gold-framed aviators bored into Draco, and fuck, why didn't he want to move?

It wasn't that he felt any attraction towards the guy (romantic pursuits were definitely not high on Draco's list of priorities at the moment) - quite the contrary, actually. Strider repulsed him to a certain extent, with his ridiculous humor and outlandish appearance matched with a deadpan and the most rapid-fire tongue he'd ever seen on a Hufflepuff - although this wasn't saying much, honestly. In his experience, all of the Hufflepuffs were blathering idiots.

No, it wasn't that he wanted to stay with Strider in particular. But for once, Draco was being offered the chance to just talk about himself and his life, without judgement or rumors or strings attached. His temporary companion seemed to not even care what choice Draco made, which was oddly comforting.

For once in his life, he wasn't given a standard of perfection, or an internalized fear of judgement, or anything. He could just talk.

It was freeing in the oddest sort of way.

But, still. He couldn't. He had a mission, he had his mother to protect, and no matter how tempting, he was not going to take this opportunity and give everything he'd worked towards up just for such a selfish reason.

"As I said, nothing you need to concern yourself with, mudblood."

"Oh, how you wound me," Dave sighed dramatically, placing the back of one hand on his forehead and his other behind him as he fake-swooned. "There are two swords in my chest, and their names are 'Draco' and 'Half-Assed Insults'." Still, he didn't move to stop Draco, thank god.

Draco Malfoy got to his feet and walked away silently, his footsteps resonating through the empty halls.

Dave watched him go for an instant before shrugging. No biggie - he was just looking to waste time. He wasn't about to let himself trust these people. He had shit to get done, after all.

But first, food was calling his name. It was 6:52, meaning he should probably find his way to the Great Hall soon if he wanted food. He picked himself up, gingerly stretching out his arms and legs. He was really sore, probably a result of sleeping sideways in an armchair. That definitely wasn't the best napping location.

Rolling his shoulders once more, he continued to aimlessly walk down the halls, hoping maybe some time he'd find his destination. Damn, I should've asked Malfoy for directions. He continued circling around the halls. At this point, he'd be grateful if he came across stairs, but alas, the halls were barren.

After eight more minutes of circling around, he finally sat down against the wall once more with a thump and a sigh. It was near those two out of place armor sets, and out of the corner of his eye he noticed something which definitely hadn't been there before.

In the small gap between the armors, there was a small, inconspicuous door.

Hesitantly, Dave opened the door, and saw first a flight of stairs. He sighed in relief, and proceeded to casually take a step forward, thankful that things were finally looking up.
He tripped and brutally fell down the rest of the steps.

"SHIT!" Scrambling in an attempt to stop himself, he reached out and grabbed a handrail, managing to cease his motion. He was almost at the bottom of the stairs, and a sliver of light peeked out from what he assumed was a door into the dark stairs. Brushing himself off, he wiped the blood off the small cut on his hand and adjusted his shades. Seriously, the things must've been made of titanium to last this long without a scratch. He opened the door.

A crowd of students, conversing with each other and sharing "good morning"s, awaited him. They paid the disheveled Hufflepuff no mind as he slipped out from the door hidden behind yet another suit of armor.

In disbelief, he glanced back at the door. It was gone.

The pushing tides of students made it impossible to stay in one place. So he joined with the crowd, and was at the Great Hall in minutes.

AN: boring chapter is boring, but AYY AT LEAST IT EXISTS?! i honestly have no idea if i'll continue this story, i fell out of homestuck 1000%, but i had the urge to upload just one more chap and this draft was sitting in my docs forever, so. *shruggie kaomoji* things have changed for me a lot in a few years... picked up lots of new hobbies, went thru some good times + bad times, made some good friends, wrote some fic that'll never see the light of day. i know it's been two years, and honestly it just might be another two years until i update again, if i ever do.

this fic is v juvenile and just filled with embarrassing cringey garbage on the second read thru (WHY SO MUCH ANGST?!) but it really helped shape me as a writer and i'm just,,, forever grateful to you all. so if this ends up being my last update, i just wanna thank you all, old and new, for sticking with me and sticking with this mess of a crossover. i felt motivated to drag this fic out of its grave by rereading all of ur kind reviews, and it's been real my friends. :D

now, onto chapter commentary! i'm just saying, dave has to have his bisexual awakening somehow, and if it's through his cute enthusiastic housemate justin then i guess that's just how it's gonna be. :) also, i've been getting into rhythm games recently, and they're so fun but you gotta go into them willing to sprain ur thumb. IT'S WORTH IT FOR THE SATISFACTION OF GETTING A PERFECT. :3c

it's currently 12:38 am as i write this so,,, yeah. so that's it for now folks! keep an eye on my profile, my tumblr is naegi - - kun, and my ao3 under the same user as my ffdotnet if ur interested. thx for reading, pls review, have a great day!