Author's Note: 'Most People' is the first fic in an ongoing epic called 'M'. All parts are archived on my site.

Disclaimer: Is there any cross-dressing in Harry Potter? No? Then I still donít own it.

Notes: Hmmm, personally, I think Crabbe and Goyle are two of the most under-estimated and under-appreciated characters in the Harry Potter world. I guess it doesn't matter which one is POVing this, since I never give name. Hopefully it's pretty clear that it's one of them though.


M: Most People

Part One of the "M" Series

By Kick Flaw

       

Most people think Iím stupid.

Most people are right.

Yeah, I guess Iím stupid. Iím definitely not a candidate for Head Boy, or Prefect or anything like that. Nope, not even close. When the Professors read the names of the top ten marks in class, Iím never mentioned. Iím lucky if I can pull by with a high C average.

Him, on the other hand --heís * always * on it. Heíd throw a fit if he werenít. No wait; let me correct that. His * father * would throw a fit if he werenít. Snape too, probably. You donít get to be the star Slytherin without a few expectations and responsibilities loaded on. He does most of the loading on himself, actually. Gotta live up to that family name. Hell, it wouldnít kill him to get a B if you ask me.

But thatís the point. No one ever asks me.

Because Iím stupid.

At least when it comes to school and that sort of stuff. Everyoneís stupid at something, I just happen to be stupid at academics. Can you blame me? Itís not as if I choose to lower my IQ at birth. So I canít do advanced Arithmancy or fly through Potions without the slightest confusion or grasp the concepts of Divination, does that make me a lesser person? Does it make me less capable of feeling?

Most people think so.

He doesnít. He always treats me like an equal, taking careful time to coach me through the process of star charting, cutting into his own DADA essay to help me understand mine, reminding me which direction widdershins[1] is when itís my turn to stir our potion. Thatís why I always jump at the chance to do him a favour. If it werenít for him Iíd have been removed from Hogwarts a long time ago and I donít know what wouldíve happened to me then. Uncle would not be happy. Uh uh.

Most people think Iím his goon, his personal little henchman and bodyguard all rolled into one. Hey, if thatís what it takes to pay him back all I owe, Iíll gladly offer myself up to that service. But frankly, he doesnít need it. His father is a very thorough man, very strict. Since he was a toddler heís been taught by the best the wizard world has to offer. He knows three languages, is adept at the piano, waltzes circles around the Professors, and can haul off with his fancy martial arts on a guy three sizes larger than him and win. Trust me, Iíve seen it. Itís kind of scary.

Nope, he definitely doesnít need a bodyguard.

Most people think heís just a snobby, rich, pretty-boy too. Now, I can see where they get this opinion. Heís rich. Duh. And spoiled by it. But donít ever tell him that, he can hold a grudge longer than a gargoyle --if he doesnít find some other way to enact vengeance on your poor, poor soul.

But he doesnít like to get his hands dirty; He thinks physical violence is vulgar. With him, itís all about elegance and taste and control. Heís very clean, very precise, very clever and very graceful. I donít know anyone else who can walk with so much poise in these sodding school robes or look down their nose at someone three inches taller. Rarely have I seen him raise his voice more then the dictates of a gentleman allow, and only twice have I seen him raise a fist. See, when he fights, itís never with a fist, itís with his mind and his wit or if that fails, his status. I guess thatís why people think heís a snob. He is, but on him, itís not a bad thing.

And finally, yes, I fully agree that heís a pretty-boy. Really, who doesnít? Thereís a reason most people think he needs a bodyguard. When everyone else was shooting up into lanky height and loose, flapping masculinity, he was coping internally with his seemingly permanent 5í9Ē and feminine looks. He looks like his mother: High cheekbones, heart-shaped face, pointy chin, large, intense, heavily-lashed eyes and a well-formed mouth. Not to mention the small-boned frame. If I tried, I think I could wrap both my big paws around his waist. But then, Iím bigger than average. Most people couldnít do that.

But it doesnít matter what he is; all that matters is that he makes me feel like Iím worth something. Iím not his goon, Iím his friend, and heís mine.

Thatís why I can tell that he really isnít as perfect as he pretends to be.

You see --heís no good at feeling. He never had anyone to tutor him on how to express sympathy or compassion or love. All he knows about people is the proper way to greet them at a cocktail party. Me, Iím good at feeling. Iím * smart * at feeling. If they gave a class on understanding people, Iíd ace it without blinking. He canít even understand himself.

Which is why Iím going to embarrass him a little, upset his perfect poise, give him a chance for a good fight. With gravity that is, and Iím betting gravity will win.

Iím not really sorry that Iím going to have to do this. Itís the thing a friend would do. And hey, he brought it upon himself in more ways than one. Itís his fault the boy rejected him in the first place. Itís his fault his sodding grudges last forever. Itís his fault heís too stupid at people to see what heís feeling. So Iím going toÖÖÖhelp him. Because Iím smart this way.

Here he comes, walking up the aisle, all smoothness and grace. My large foot, his small ankles, and bam! Success.

Whoa, Iíve never seen two people turn so red. Or a tipped potion disintegrate half a table. Unanticipated side effect, of course.

ďDraco! My table! What happened?!Ē

He stutters, trying to disentangle himself from the boy he fell onto. ďSir, it was an accident. I tripped. Someone tripped me!Ē

Time to look away innocently.

ď5 points from Slytherin for your clumsiness and a detention for my table. Potter, 10 points from Gryffindor for my table and a detention for tripping Draco.Ē

Good old Snape.

ďBut sir! I didnít trip him! Ióď

Unfortunately, the boy canít finish whatever he was going to say, because Draco just lost his balance again (oops!) and slammed them together to the floor in a tangled mass of limbs and curses.

ďGet off me!Ē

ďI canít, someone keeps pushing me!Ē

ďOh please, Malfoy, like I really believe that. You did this on purpose!Ē

ďYou think I * want * a detention with Snape, Potter?Ē

ďI donít know, knowing you, youíll probably enjoy it!Ē

ďJust what are you implying, youóď

ďBoys! Dinner, with me, no excuses. Now get out of my class!Ē

They go. I smile.

Most people think being stupid means being stupid in everything.

Most people are wrong.

No, waitÖÖÖ

Most people are stupid.

ElíEndo

* * *

[1] Widdershins is the magical term for counterclockwise.


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