Spero

Chapter 1: Observations of Vincent Crabbe

I've heard the things they say about us. That me and Greg are dense, thick, slow; the list goes on and on. I'm not smart, no not at all, but I'm not completely lacking. It's as if everyone thinks that we were especially made to follow Draco around. We're not like little puppy dogs on Draco's leash. No, not at all.

We've grown up with Draco Malfoy. I've known him and Greg since we were little children. Infamous parents dabbling in the Dark Arts and such. Draco certainly doesn't need us to protect him. He can do that on his own. Besides, we have our own lives, our own interests; girls, Quidditch, causing our own trouble.

But we do hang around, I think for two reasons, although I'm not sure about Greg though. He is as thick as they say. Greg sticks around for the company, and because we're friends. I stick around for that as well, but there's also the factor of Mr. Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy wants us to keep tabs. Report on Draco, how he's doing, what he's doing. Malfoys are like that, they trust no one. Not even their own kin.

The two Malfoy males have a rather odd relationship. Draco wants so much to be like his father, yet at the same time despises him and would like nothing more than to see him fall. The funny thing about that is Lucius would probably be proud of his son's ambition to destroy him.

So I have been keeping tabs. All these years and I'm quite sure Draco hasn't caught on. Sometimes I think I've gone crazy, reporting on my friend like this. But it has to be done. My observations of Draco. Some would call that disloyal, but I'm not a bloody Gryffindor, I'm a Slytherin. I do it out of love. Really, the stupid misconception of Slytherins is that we don't love. But we do love. We love for the same reasons as everyone else, it's just that different things motivate us. Everyone has a price, and observations are what I deal in.

For the same reason I use Greg to help keep tabs on Draco. He's quite good at observing the masses. He's brought several things to my attention. Like the way that youngest Weasley looking looks at Potter sometimes. Though whoever couldn't see that is a right idiot.

Observing Draco has led me to look at the rest of the world under a microscope. More obscure things are like when Greg mentioned back in second year that Millicent was quite fond of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, but only the sardine flavour. Or like in fourth year when I noticed if anyone ever mentioned the word saucer, Adrian Pucey, a sixth year, would tense up. I never did figure that one out.

As of late I've been very suspicious of Draco. Sure, he's got a lot on his mind. His father is pressing him harder than ever to be more active as a Death Eater. School, he always tells his father, is taking up his time. Somehow he twists it about and has his father agreeing that his education is important and so the Death Eaters can come after. I don't know whether it's Draco who's got Lucius playing his game or if it's the other way around.

Draco has even met Voldemort himself. He was there at Draco's initiation, though he didn't bother showing up to mine or Greg's. Not that I want the attention of the Dark Lord. As smart as Draco Malfoy is, as rich as he is, as much power as he holds, I would not want to be him. He has big shoes to fill, a name to keep intact. I'm not sure he cares much for it, though.

I'm sure he's up to something. Plotting most likely. If not how he can be better than his father, then how he can overthrow his father. The things he does now, the things he says. They confuse me and leave me questioning him. It's not obvious to all. It's the little things.

I noticed the other day, during the autumn of our sixth year, that his ring was missing. The ring that he had started wearing but three years prior. It was nothing special. For all his extravagance as a Malfoy, the flair he shared with both parents, this was quite dull, yet at the same time it was striking. A band of sliver mimicking a serpent with an emerald stone. Spero was engraved on the inside of the band; he had shown me. "It means hope," he had told me. He never took it off.

Hope for what, I'm still not sure. I could see the gears turning in his head as he gazed at the ring. What he hopes for scares me. What desire he does not have filled I do not know, I cannot tell. Draco Malfoy is not stupid; for him to hope, to believe something is possible even when there is some evidence to the contrary, is stupid. But the ring did represent his perseverance if nothing more.

Now where was it? It was something he played with as he thought about something. It was always a sign he was troubled by his thoughts. He even wore the ring through Quidditch matches. Not something smart to do. It was like wearing a pendant while swimming, you were bound to lose it. Something my cousin does often, which is followed by a lot of yelling from her mother.

It was nowhere to be seen. He was not one who lost things. He grew tired of things, he threw them away. If in a generous mood he gave things as gifts. But that ring was a gift given to him by his own mother. The only woman – no person – who could melt Draco's cold exterior and break his heart. Draco would not have grown tired of any ornament his mother gave him. Not even a little bauble. He would lose himself if he ever lost his mother's love.

Walking with Draco and Greg down the corridor I mused about all these things as the two carried on a conversation about Quidditch. The same conversation ever year. It never really varied. The goal, beat the Gryffindors. How? With as much shame upon them as possible.

Variations of the same conversation took place between many Slytherins. The rivalry was a deep rooted thing in all Slytherins as well as Gryffindors brought out by public functions. Slytherins and Gryffindors were people, and people get along generally. However, in public I've often found people to be crueler than usual. What I mean to say is I could get along with someone if I wanted to, even a Gryffindor. But put me in a situation in which I could show others I'm better in some way or another, and I'll be as mean and cunning as I can just to prove it.

My thoughts dissolve as I heard the laughter in the courtyard as we round the corner and come upon it. Halloween is always a fun day, giving way to a fun-filled night. Anything and everything could happen. A big plus is always the Halloween feast in the Great Hall. My stomach growls at the prospect.

"Hungry already, Crabbe?" Draco jokes.

"Yeah, I suppose I am," I tell him, patting my stomach.

"The feast is in an hour," he drawls, "I'm sure you can wait until then, can't you?"

"I can try," I reply. "I won't promise anything though".

He laughs at this, he's always laughing at me and Greg. Greg's so stupid he joins in. It's in earnest though, almost like he's still an eight year old. Sometimes I pity him. The three of us head for a group of other Slytherins.

As I pass Granger and the little Weasley I notice a flash of green around her neck. I can't be sure, but I think she's wearing it.

I can't help but glance at her repeatedly while everyone chats. I'm left alone to my thoughts because everyone but Greg thinks I've got nothing to say. Which is true for the most part. I've never really felt much need to indulge in the politics of Slytherin House. Only if someone makes me an offer I can't refuse.

"Greg, shut up," I tell him as he starts telling me about a third year Slytherin he's interested in. He looks at me arms crossed and brows furrowed like a very large two year old. "Look, over there," I tell him, and point.

He follows my finger and asks "What, the Mudblood?"

"Yes, her," I confirm, "do you see, round her neck, what is that?" I allude to the necklace and its hanging friend. Greg looks across the courtyard intensely. He looks as if he's using all his brainpower. A frown plastered on his face, he looks back to me and shrugs.

I sigh the same sigh I always give when he's denser than usual. "Greg," I start to explain, "listen to me, I need you to keep an eye out for what she's got around her neck."

"Yeah, okay." He nods.

He may not understand why, but he'll do it anyway. He's a good friend like that. Loyal in one way, but I wouldn't be surprised to find him turn on me one day. And not out of calculation or cunning, no, he doesn't have the wit for that. Just out of pure idiocy.

I watch for a moment as he leaves. Walking off to only Merlin knows where. Throughout the rest of the day I keep my eye on her. The swinging ring on her necklace that she fingered every time she looked to be thinking. Mostly she tried to keep it tucked in her sweater, but the chain is too short and it slips out.

Partway through lunch in the Great Hall she's doing it again. I'm pretty sure now that it was Draco's ring. She watches across the hall and he takes no notice while he eats. I think she saw me looking because as quickly as she had looked at him, she looks away.

"What're you looking at?" Draco hisses at me. He eyes me suspiciously, giving me the once-over.

Maybe I'm dreaming. "Nothing," I tell him, going back to my notes. I contemplated whether I should tell him right then and there, but think better of it. The feast, maybe I'll mention it before the feast. I nod my head and turn my attention back to Professor McGonagall.

Later that evening Greg comes by with information. What he has to say verifies my suspicions. But why would she of all people have the ring? I still can't figure it out.

Before we enter the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, I stop Draco. I ask Draco what happened to his ring but without mentioning her. He claims to have lost it a few days earlier. I had played this scene in my head every way I could think, but it did not end like this.

I then tell him, "Granger's got it."

I expected anger. I thought he would storm off to demand it back. It was from his mother, surely it meant something to him. But instead Draco casually replies, "she can have it." I stood there, obviously confused. He gives me a pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it."

I walk with him, still completely befuddled at his actions. I almost completely missed the small smirk at Granger while we walked to the table. It still doesn't add up in my mind. There's no way even by magic that this is plausible. I have to figure out how she got that ring. Lucius would want to know. That familiar twang in my stomach appeared. It happens every time I had to speak with Lucius. For now, I brush it away. It's Halloween, time to enjoy myself. As soon as the food appears, my thoughts disappear and the feeling goes with it.

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