Chapter 2: The Curiosity of the Cat
Draco fumed for the rest of the day and continued throughout the week. He barely managed to hide thoughts of his goings about hidden from Aunt Bella. Luckily, he did have experience occluding his mind, and as a precaution, he forced all thoughts of his upcoming initiation to the forefront of his mind.
However, after his lesson, the topic of the muggle's composition plagued his mind. Something like this shouldn't have bothered him, but he was nothing if not curious. If someone posited a question whose answer was unknown to Draco, he would stop at nothing to discover the explanation. It's why he followed Potter to see what Hagrid was up to in first year - he hadn't thought of getting them caught until he had no option but to be caught himself. It's why he discovered his father was the reason for the breach of the Chamber of Secrets and that Pettigrew was responsible for the Potters' deaths, not Black (he was also a habitual eavesdropper). It's why he knew what gillyweed was and that Potter could only have gotten it through thievery. It's why he knew about the room of requirement even before Potter and his cronies discovered it - not that he would tell Umbridge; this was actually the one time he had hoped Potter would succeed, but he had to keep up appearances for his father and his reputation.
He may not have been able to beat Granger, but he was a close second - and that's why he'd forever be a shame to his father.
It would be an even greater shame if his father realized that Draco's curiosity urged him to go back to the bookstore. He wanted, first of all, to read more by Bradbury. He also needed to find out what the guy was writing. But most importantly, he needed to understand muggles. It seemed the more knowledge he uncovered, the more engrossed he became. For example, he was very fascinated by television. As he understood it, television was actually like a picture, but it told a story and you couldn't hold conversations with it. They were like most books that were fleshed out into paintings. Well, wizard paintings. Not exactly. It was more similar to taking events and capturing them in a box to keep and watch over and over - like a pensieve! That's it!
Draco, after a week, proceeded to give up all hope of restraining his inquisitive nature and made his way back to Pageturner at the same time as last week. He once again took the tube and was surprised by how pleasant the trip was.
When he arrived, he pushed the door open cautiously. The same woman was behind the front desk and she smiled and waved at him.
"He's just over there," she pointed to the same area between the bookshelves where the lamps and brown leather chairs and the coffee table were.
Draco frowned at the thought that she had predicted his arrival, and not the magical way.
Pushing that thought out of his mind, he stepped over to the man whose tawny head of hair was visible beyond the back of his chair.
The seated man turned when he heard the boy's footsteps and he greeted the approaching boy.
"Hello again," he said.
Draco grudgingly greeted him with a nod.
"Sit," ordered the supposed genius. Draco inwardly cringed at following the order of a muggle, but he sat down across from the man nonetheless.
"I've been expecting you."
Draco raised a brow. "You sound sure of yourself. How did you know I would come back?"
The other man chuckled. "You strike me as a curious person. I recognized that in your behavior last week. You came into the store, obviously not familiar with the sorting, and picked up an interesting book - Fahrenheit 451 - and unlike many people I know, you didn't skip over words you didn't know. You picked up a dictionary and researched over 50 words. I could tell that you genuinely wanted to know. You had to know what it is you were reading. You look around and you ooze curiosity. I can see it in your eyes. You hunger for knowledge. And so when I told you to wait, you were frustrated. You kept looking at my papers to try and figure it out, not that it would have helped you.
"So I figured you would come back if I told you to wait."
Draco felt a sinking in his stomach, some sort of premonition, but he ignored it in favor of more questions.
"Why would you want me back here? And why wouldn't it have done me any good?"
"To answer the latter, it would not help if you could not read kanji, hiragana, and katakana. I am writing my s━document in Japanese. As for the first, I am curious too. You see, I want to learn more about the person who has to research the tele━" he corrected, "Sorry, the television, and a number of other electronic devices that are common knowledge nowadays."
Draco felt heat rising furiously to his cheeks and snapped back, "Well that's why I'm here, isn't it? To learn! I wasn't exactly raised with this sort of mu━technology!"
"I am somewhat baffled that you are puzzled by modern machinery. The advancements have influenced and improved medicine, business, agriculture, transit and many other fields that are prominent in today's world. It is undeniably hard to miss."
"Ignorant? I haven't exactly had the time to study it, what with my research of━" Draco bit his tongue before he broke the Statute of Secrecy. "Anyway, my father━"
Once again, he cut himself off. He was about to say that his father had forced him away from the world of muggles and technology, but he had made it a goal to stop bragging about his father or using his father as an excuse for his own failures anymore. If he wanted respect, he would have to earn it himself, as Nott had snidely pointed out at the end of the spring semester.
"Research on..?" asked the other man.
"Nothing!" he said defensively.
Once again, he was laughed at. "Well you're obviously trying to learn now, so I'll give you credit for that. You may need aid with that. I can help you there."
He held out a hand to shake. Draco was bombarded with the irksome feeling of deja vu.
"I'm Malcolm Hammel. You can call me Mal."
Draco didn't think getting advice from a muggle was the best idea, but he kept his mother's words in mind and decided to build a bridge rather than burn it. He would definitely begin to understand the muggles if he spent time with one.
Making up his mind, he shook the other man's hand.
"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy," he said.
Mal smirked at the woman behind the desk as if sharing a private joke before gesturing to her. "That is Audrey Grey."
Draco nodded at her. "Pleasure."
"What, I don't get a handshake? How rude!" she said, feigning offense.
"You can come over here if you want it that badly."
Silence.
"If you want to shake hands, I mean."
Mal informed Draco that if he wanted to learn about modern technology, science fiction was not the way to go. He collected a few textbooks - these were heavy and somewhat
similar to what Draco was used to. He told Draco which sections would be more helpful. When Draco asked questions, he would be there to answer. Audrey added her own snark every now and then.
Draco completely forgot about the manuscript Mal had been working on until he was about to leave. He had packed the books he purchased (more reference books – one on muggle psychology, one on physics, one on chemistry, one on electricity, and several on the history of multiple countries and continents.) away and had stood, about to bid farewell to Mal, when he remembered.
He tentatively asked about the topic of the book, but he felt the same drop in his stomach. He knew what Mal was going to say.
Mal smirked. "Come back next week. Maybe I'll tell you."
And so began a trend. Draco would leave his home at around 3 o'clock and take the tube from The Leaky Cauldron to Pageturner, where he would continue his studies with Mal. He became more and more curious. It seemed that he couldn't stop himself from learning. He felt - with no small amount of disgust - like Granger. Maybe this was how muggles felt when they were introduced to the magical world. It was like a dream, completely different from everything they were used to, and they couldn't let go of this strange, mystical world they now grasped. At least, that was how Draco felt.
Draco learned about things from the invention of the train (a muggle!) to the lightbulb to the car to computers and he began to see that muggles had made a world for themselves. What ever they couldn't do with magic, they compensated with technology.
Then there was Mal. Draco thought he had never met anyone as condescending or sarcastic as the man - besides himself, that is. He and Mal began to talk about things other than just books. They spanned a broad range of topics including family and prejudice.
"My father would be enraged if he found out I was here. He's a technophobe - that's why I know next to nothing about it. He always had this idea that I would follow in his footsteps, that I would become a carbon copy of him, and I used to be. But I think technology is incredible. The things mu━humankind has innovated are incredible!" He gestured to the lamps and the lights above them. "We don't even use those! We use torches and ma - lanterns to light up our rooms. But this seems so much easier!"
"I would never treat my daughter like that. I imagine that if I ever forced my own beliefs down her throat and didn't give her the choice to make her decision herself, my ex-wife would kill me. I can't imagine being restricted to one branch of thought. On the other hand, I am biased because I was raised in an open minded family."
"You have a daughter?" Mal's entire aura seemed to brighten at the mention of his daughter.
"Yes, I do! She is probably the most beautiful little girl I have ever seen. I'm sure I have a picture of her somewhere…"
As Mal rummaged through his pockets, Draco thought to himself. His father had never treated him as something precious. He was cold and distant, and Draco lived for the moments when he would squeeze his shoulder or nod in approval. His father wasn't a terrible parent, but he had never been happy or proud of his son for simply being a part of his life.
"Ah! Here it is!" he pulled out a picture of a little girl with short black hair and a heart shaped face. She looked a lot like Mal, as he could tell so far. He had the same hair, the same blue eyes and the same heart shaped face. He was right, the girl was beautiful. She would be a heartbreaker when she grew up.
"She is only six years old. She wants to be an artist; she draws pictures for me all the time and she's actually not that bad."
Draco laughed. "Well you'll have to show me sometime."
Mal's eyes darkened. "I would, Draco, if I could. But I barely see my daughter as it is. She's only ever drawn one picture for me because she barely knows me."
Draco's curiosity once more clawed its way to the front of his mind, but he quelled it and simply gave his condolences. He wasn't good at comforting people because he'd never been in a situation where he had to console a person. He had never been that close to anyone. Sure, he had heard his mother's regrets when she told his father, and he knew about his father's regrets when it came to him, but he only knew the little things when it came to his "friends". He knew Crabbe and Goyle regretted missing lunch, Nott regretted his family's social stance, which prevented him from becoming a Death Eater – for now, and Pansy regretted not bringing her hair straightening potion to school.
But this muggle, he had regrets too. He was a person. He regretted things, and he was proud, and he was strong, and he was a genius, and he had a personality, and he was a person… just like him. So he didn't have magic.
What? But that wasn't true! Muggles weren't special, they had no magic!
So do you hate people who are different? It's not like they could control what family they were born into! These were people too! They had children and many were innocent. Not all, but many. Sure, they had their fair share of criminals, but what is it to judge an entire people by the actions of but a few?
Were muggles really so bad after all?
