Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter and everything recognizable belongs to JK Rowling. I also do not own this fiction, since it is a translation from a Chinese fiction. Here I show my respect for the original author 陈夜枫, who has composed this beautiful story and given me the authority to translate it into English, allowing for more people to enjoy it.
Unwitting Hesitation
Dusk had fallen. The rays of evening sunlight filtered in through the panels of the long glass windows, making the boy in the end of the corridor glow with warmness. In the twilight he threw a long shadow pointing directly at the gargoyle in the wall, like the hands on a clock pointing sharp at 12.
In the distance the bell stroke seven times, and the September sun reluctantly dispersed the last vestiges of heat. The earth was immersed with night now. The boy's upright and rigid posture finally altered, his fair blond hair shimmering in the darkness. He bit his lip, turned around and made a few steps away, and then halted, moved back to his initial place, restoring to the guarding position. The annoyed expression on his face showed a sheer resentment towards his own uncontrollable behavior.
On the first day of the new semester in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Draco Malfoy, the six year Slytherin student, had already spent two hours standing still outside the Headmaster's office. Should anyone tell him that he would behave like such an idiot for more than ten minutes, Mr. Malfoy would hex him into bits. However, all his life, as he grudgingly admitted, never had he been more hesitated than this – with a full two-hour contemplation, he still couldn't make a decision between yes and no.
"Oh, damn it." By the time he made the seventh display of moving away and turning back, Draco couldn't help cursing himself. He sank down on the stone stairs adjacent to the corridor, wand swirling swiftly between the figures of his right hand. When occasionally his wand touched his left forearm, a gloomy glint flashed in his eyes, marring this sixteen-year-old boy's otherwise soft face.
"Superciliously pompous, self-asserting, spoiled brat, though pretty," a voice rang in the back of his mind, bringing a soft feeling to his heart. He quirked his lips, fingers stroking his sharper chin where stubble emerged in the recent month. He had a sudden impulse to ask her if he was still worthy of this description, then he shook his head, trying to throw off this kind of delusion. There was never a somewhat normal conversation between them in the past, and the possibility of one existing in the future was even slimmer.
The bugle of war had sounded, even if children in the shelter of school pretended not to hear it. Their life had turned a new leaf, a merciless leaf, where you could pretend no more. The line dividing light and dark drew clear, and there was no longer a so-called grey zone. He must hesitate no more.
"Draco, you are here. We've been looking for you."
"Why are you here? Parkinson said you missed the first Prefect meeting."
Two boys appeared at the foot of the staircase, staring at him in bewilderment. Draco strode toward them haughtily.
"I do not need to report to you, Crabbe, Goyle."
"Of, of course, we just …"
"Shut up. Let's head back. You'd better leave your brains to think over your midnight snack."
He took the lead, leaving the corridor, descended the stairs, and headed for the Slytherin dungeons.
The whole thing requires more careful consideration. If father knows I should have this idea, he must be mad. Maybe I should tell him first – He's still locked in Azkaban, so there's no way that you can discuss it with him! – You've been dwelling on this excuse for the whole summer! You are just scared! A small voice in his mind pointed out.
I'm not scared, nor am I escaping from reality! Argued him with his other self. The Malfoys have followed the Dark Lord all along the way, and it's unlikely that Dumbledore will accept a Death Eater family.
Then why are you struggling so anxiously to get away from him? Why not stay there and do as told?
No, he regards Malfoy family a worthless, disposable pawn, humiliates us and tortures my father. I cannot bear him ruining the family
What an illustrious cause it is! It cant be more clear that you just dont want to stand opposite her –
This has nothing to do with her! When I have enough bargaining chips I will go to Dumbledores and do all I can to guarantee the benefit of the family.
How long do you need to gather enough chips, Draco? With this little heart bumping irregularly from standing before an office, you are nothing better than a frightening gnome in face of the Dark Lord. How can you achieve anything?
Draco halted on the stairs, gripping tightening on the handrail. Moonlight poured in through the front arch, shining on him, making his face even paler.
"I can do it," he murmured. "I will show you."
He raised his head and looked into the small sky, grey eyes glistening.
"What's so important that you must summon me in the first evening of school?"
The moment Draco disappeared from the corridor, another guest arrived at Dumbledore's office. Green flames suddenly rose in the fireplace, and a man in black walked out of it. When he caught sight of the old man leaning back in his chair in fatigue, Snape's impatience became acerbic.
"I've told you not to overuse your magic, otherwise – ha, maybe you forgot your left hand had a tiny injury –"
"Of course I remember, Severus, and therefore I have to hasten some paces lest it's too late." With a wave of his charred hand, Dumbledore replied in a light tone. "Please sit. Would you like Sherbert lemons?"
"No, thanks," Snape answered lamely, folding his arms. "and I'm busy, no doubt owing to brewing your potion, so spit it out."
"About the task Mr. Malfoy Jr. undertakes, do you have any information?" asked Dumbledore smilingly.
"Nothing. I remember telling you that the Malfoys were locked up in the Malfoy Manor during the summer vacation. I didn't even have chance to encounter the boy. Everything needs to wait in the new semester."
"Remus said Bella and Narcissa paid a visit to you on the very last day of August."
"You spied on my house?" Snape raised his brow.
"Of course not. Remus was to fetch my potion from you. He happened to spot the two ladies, so he had to come back empty-handed – Is Narcissa doing well?"
"How can she be! Doting on her son as she has been, she must be under extreme torment – The Dard Lord no doubt has reached his purpose of punishing the Malfoy family, for he never intends Draco to succeed, and he knows Narcissa will come to me – a good test of my allegiance by the way."
"She trusts you?"
"Yes, I swore an unbreakable vow with her," Snape crooked his lips and snorted. "Promised her that I would help her son to murder you."
"It's exactly what I am hoping for. In fact, Mr. Malfoy just left the outside of my office moment ago." Dumbledore beamed heartily.
"What? Was he there laying a trap so you would drop dead the moment you stepped out?"
"Maybe not, as he did nothing but stood there in a trance for two hours."
A slight surprise flickered across Snape's face.
"And you think?"
"I am not sure. And it is up to you to make it clear. Draco looked a little perplexed, but not the kind of panic I had expected him to be. He seemed to be struggling – obviously an unpleasant summer made him pale and emaciated."
"It never occurred to me that you cared for him and note him being'emaciated'."
"I care for every student, always. Thus, Severus, I urge you to get to know his resolve and plan as soon as possible. I am afraid something unexpected is happening on our young Slytherin friend. We must grasp it before it changes everything else."
Though Snape regarded this suggestion a waste of time, he nodded nevertheless before he traveled back by the Floo. Dumbledore fed himself another Sherbert lemon and flashed a smile at Phineas's portrait on the opposite wall.
"Slytherin always breeds simultaneously great villains and heroes – You must be proud of Severus. He is the one of the bravest men I've ever seen."
"Sure," snorted the former Slytherin Headmaster."But he would be one-hundred times more famous had he not mingled with you old coot."
"Fame is alluring and power is the inherent sin. As one gets old, one gets to know that a life-long glory eclipses even a transient moment of peace of mind." Dumbledore fetched a small crystal flask from the tall shelves and poured the silver substance into a stone bowl on the table. "I discovered it too late. Severus is a much wiser man than I am."
"Peace of mind?" Phineas scoffed in an upward tone.
Dumbledore looked down, as memory spun and shimmered in the Pensieve.
"Yes, and till this end we are willing to put up a lifelong struggle."
The beginning of the sixth year in Hogwarts was unexpectedly quiet. Everyone had prepared themselves for an upcoming upheaval, only to find nothing happening. Draco stood by the doors of the Great Hall, watching the noisy crowd swarming to and fro in the hallway, feeling unsettled. First years inquired classroom locations in a panic; elder students lounged here and there, dragged their bags and chatting loudly; and six years like him busied themselves, comparing timetables and discussing their O.W.L.s results. The school life was too normal, making him feel out of place. Whatever dramatic changes happened in his world, other people's life would calmly go on.
"Harry, wake up! We have Potions in the afternoon. I hope you two will leave a good impression on the new teacher."
Following the voice Draco saw the Gryffindor trio walk out of the dining hall. They obviously were intimidated by the surging crowds, choosing to stand on the higher stairs along the wall like him. Hermione flipped through Advanced Potion-Making furiously and casted warning glances at the two boys. In contrast to her excitement at new semester and new textbook, Potter and Weasley looked miserably subdued.
"I thought I could get rid of those disgusting plant debris and animal offal! I thought I no longer needed to face the infernal cauldron! Why am I … Oh, Merlin!" Weasley groaned loudly.
While Potter patted him on the back in sympathy, it was clear that Hermione was deeply annoyed by their attitude. As she put way her book, preparing to give a lecture on their attitude toward Potions, Draco decided to cut in.
"It seems your nose healed well enough overnight, Potter?"
Not surprisingly Draco saw the expression of the three turn sour in a quite harmonious way. He sauntered confidently towards them.
From the perspective of an outsider, the boy in dark green robes could even be appraised as beautiful, being slender, exquisite, and elegant, like the prince walking down from an oil painting. However, in the view of Gryffindor trio, the fact that his pale blond hair and grey eyes bore a striking resemblance to those of Lucius Malfoy only made them feel a wave of nausea. Two months did not let them forget that it was this man in hood that led a team of Death Eaters to siege and attack them in the Department of Mysteries, causing the death of Sirius.
Draco observed them: Potter and Weasley were glaring at him; Hermione looked away. It had become a habit to insult them at the first sight, and their hatred for him seemed also inherent.
"Say hello to your Death Eater father for me, Malfoy!" Potter growled angrily.
"It's a pity that five years in Hogwarts is not enough to teach you to be polite to the elders." Draco narrowed his eyes and retorted.
"Malfoy teaching us to be polite!"
"At least I don't eavesdrop or pry into other people's affairs –"
Harry and Ron pulled out their wands. Without his sidekicks a trace of panic flashed across Malfoy's face. Before they could act further, Hermione intervened.
"Go away, Malfoy!" She snapped and elbowed Harry. "Ignore him. I don't want to be late for the first class."
The boys shot daggers at their enemy before they turned away. Fortunately, Malfoy said no more.
When distinctive footsteps sounded steadily behind them, all three of them stopped and turned around, only to find Malfoy striding loftily toward them, a black bag hanging on the back, eyes glued on the floor several feet before him – like a lifeless doll.
Hermione frowned and Ron growled.
"Malfoy, why are you following us?"
As if woken from a dream, Malfoy paused and looked up, his eyes empty. Then he soon recovered his usually cold demeanour.
"Following you? Don't you see it's the only way to the Potions classroom?"
"It's a surprise that you made it into the advance course."
"It's a surprise that Weasley learned sarcasm. I should give you a round of applause, for the pitiful enlargement of your tiny brain capacity. However," Malfoy sneered, quickened his pace, and walked past them. "I've entered the advance course with an 'Outstanding' O.W.L., which makes all the difference from whoever is accepted because of the change of teacher."
Draco dashed into the classroom, realizing he had come early. There was only a Hufflepuff boy sitting in the corner, fiddling with something like an amulet, showing no recognition of knowing someone had come. Draco leaned against the door, listening to the vague voices of the trio talking about him.
"That bastard Malfoy, I bet he's more and more like his old bat head."
"Come on mate, no need to be angry," said Potter indifferently. "Snape is his favorite professor. Maybe one day Malfoy's blonde hair will be as greasy as Snape's."
The other two snickered.
"And we don't need to compare our Potions' grades with a Death Eater."
"Harry, I don't want to say another time –" Hermione interrupted him.
"I know you don't believe Voldemort will mark him –"
"Malfoy has not come of age and Voldemort does not need a useless minion!"
Draco felt as if a chunk of ice had slid down into his stomach. He was not surprised that Potter guessed right about him accepting the Mark; after all, in their eyes he was a Death Eater through and through, but he felt severely insulted at Hermione's retort.
Voldemort does not need a useless minion.
Draco bit his lower lip and suppressed his anger; gradually a wry smile settled on his face. Perhaps he really was a useless minion. The Dark Lord only marked him to see him frightened, to make his parents suffer.
Should he feel relieved that his identity has not been exposed, or become agitated by the 'trust' due to this kind of reason?
Whether I'm useful or not is not up to you to decide! He thought ferociously, reaching for his wand. For an instant, he wanted to yank open the door and throw a series of hexes, but he refrained himself – It's not a good choice to fight one against three, and he's not going to have Potter revenge for the bleeding nose.
Potter panted at the other side of the door, and as if thinking of something joyful, he lowered his voice.
"He's not in high spirits, is he? He must be suffering from his father's imprisonment, and the Malfoy name has pronouncedly deteriorated."
"Harry, don't be so smug. That makes you sound very Slytherin." Hermione sounded both annoyed and amused.
"You just say it. Aren't you happy to see the pompous git defeated? He broke Harry's nose last night, and Harry was nearly taken back to London." Weasley snorted.
Hermione pretended a humph, but failed to conceal her amusement in the voice.
"Okay, let's hope you can also defeat Malfoy in Potions."
Potter and Weasley groaned. The trio drew nigh. The time Draco sat down behind his desk, the trio had filed in the classroom.
The instant Hermione turned around to close the door, she felt eyes on her back. She looked at that direction in question, seeing Draco sit in the corner, engrossed in reading Advanced Potion-Making lying on the desk, his head buried in the book.
She suddenly had a peculiar feeling that Malfoy seemed to have heard their talk. Glancing at him once more, suddenly his perfect, cold features reminded her of the old Greek sculptures she had seen, pale and solitude – It's a shame that he's nothing but a fragile coward on the inside.
It seems this spoiled brat has had a hard time recently. Thinking of Harry's words, Hermione felt a slight of pleasure of vindictiveness. Although she stopped Harry's further derision of him, she herself did not feel any less disgusted by him. On the contrary, she could say that she had every reason to hate every Malfoy.
Wishing Lucius Malfoy to rot in Azkaban, Hermione put her bag under her desk, sat up straight, and listened carefully to the first Potions class of her sixth year.