Disclaimer: HP still isn't mine
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Chapter Four: Bitter and Sick
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August arrived and left in haze. The weather grew colder, and the sun left the sky earlier than before. Fall was coming, and it was about damn time.
Trying desperately to avoid anymore Death Eater raids, Draco dove into the yellowing pages of Shakespeare's plays during the past month. For a Muggle author, he was shockingly talented. The eloquent words inked on the sheets of paper captivated Draco, and he could see why his mother had such a large collection of this author's works.
From the sorrowful story of the forbidden lovers to the story of a King filled with an unbelievable amount of hubris, the stories of the past served as a momentary pause from Draco's death-filled mess of a life.
The tales fascinated him. Except for perhaps the one with the fairies. The ending was all too impossible. The three couples ended up married, happily in love. It wasn't at all realistic. In Draco's world, there were no happy endings. Only sadness, despair, and death.
That's how all great stories end, after all… in death. It's the only certain thing in life.
Luckily for him, Shakespeare's works weren't all happy endings and fulfilling love stories. Romeo and Juliet ended with the lovers killing themselves. Julius Caesar ended with almost every character dying. Hamlet also ended in death.
Draco was quite honestly relieved. Muggle authors are typically obsessed with the notion that every story must have a happy ending. Shakespeare, however, recognized that not all stories end with a fucking perfect picture of sunshine and bliss. Most real stories, after all, do not that way.
Muggles are so blinded with this false idea. It gives hope, and hope is a dangerous thing.
Perhaps it was not Shakespeare's stunning language, but the brutal but necessary honesty that his mother was so drawn to.
He was disappointed he couldn't smuggle the entire leather-bound collection with him to Hogwarts. If he did attempt it, Draco's trunk would be filled completely, and there would be no room for his robes, possessions, and his actual school books.
Besides, Draco couldn't possibly bring an entire library of Muggle literature without the incessant nagging of the rest of the members of his house. Crabbe and Goyle would ask him with scandalized faces why there were books by a Muggle author in his trunk, and they would likely pronounce the titles wrong. It would be chaos, and Draco was eager and excited to have a quiet seventh year. As quiet as possible, anyways.
So instead, he unfortunately had to settle for bringing only one book to hide in his book bag. Narcissa had multiple copies of this selection, so Draco doubted she would notice it's absence from her wooden shelves.
The sound of a train screeching on the metal tracks pulled Draco from his thoughts. He shifted nervously under his feet as the Hogwarts Express pulled onto the platform.
This was his last first ride to Hogwarts. The unwanted feeling of nostalgia creeped in, but Draco quickly suppressed it. It was only school. A means to an end, nothing more, but he couldn't help feeling a bit empty. His final year. As a first year, Draco had looked forward for being the top of the pack. He could bully the younger years without consequence, he was supposed to be free.
Freedom was far from his grasp. His seventh year of Hogwarts was going to be immensely different than what his younger self thought, Draco already knew.
His eyes glossed over the heads of students and parents, their eyes following the train as it came to a slow stop.
The anticipation and excitement that previously filled the platform had disappeared completely. The smiles were replaced with sad frowns. The eyes filled with happy, proud tears instead filled with ones of sorrow and concern. It was almost like the parents wanted the students to stay. Excitement was lost from the students as well.
They didn't want to go back.
But they had to.
It was required by the Dark Lord. All students must attend Hogwarts. It was a way the Dark Lord could keep his eyes on the younger members of the wizarding community. He hoped he could recruit some of them to his side. DADA was replaced by Dark Arts in hopes to spur a newfound admiration towards the class and the skills amongst students. The Muggles Studies class that once grossly promoted affiliation with Muggles was now going to teach anti-Muggle propaganda.
Draco wouldn't have minded the changes to Muggle Studies if the class weren't required of all students. Was it really necessary for every student to attend the useless class? Even Slytherins? The Dark Lord apparently thought so.
The Hogwarts he knew died with Dumbledore. Draco recognized this, and the other witches and wizards on the platform did too.
"Draco," his mother's gentle voice started. Narcissa placed a manicured hand on Draco's shoulder and squeezed. Draco repressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Are you ready?"
"Yes," he sputtered out, looking past his mother's shoulder to Theo, who was currently enduring what appeared to be a painful conversation with his father. It wasn't a very good conversation, though. Theo said nothing, and his blue eyes staring vacantly at the concrete ground. Draco saw his jaw clench as his father said something nauseating.
"Draco," Narcissa warned, noticing his line of sight. "It's not polite to stare."
His grey eyes snapped to his mother's at her warning. Draco had spent years listening to his parents ramble off the proprieties of Pureblood behavior. Don't stare, Draco. Don't point, Draco. Don't use that kind of language, Draco. Those slurs aren't appropriate in public conversation, Draco. Remember to be kind to all, Draco.
Except for the ones who are beneath him.
With Mudbloods, even Half-Bloods, he didn't have to be kind or proper. He could scream and throw violent hexes in their direction. His father allowed it. The Dark Lord encouraged it, called it a method of showing the inferior who is superior. It was necessary, according to them.
He ripped his eyes away from his mother's stern glare and began to stare at the sad sight of students saying their emotional farewells to their parents.
"Do you see Pansy anywhere?" his mother asked him.
"No," Draco said, not taking his eyes off the bustling crowd.
His mother huffed. "Well, shouldn't you go over Head Boy and Girl things with her? It seems that the two of you should have at least communicated with one another. I am very proud of you, Draco. Your father is too." She stumbled slightly on the last sentence.
"Of course he is."
"He is, Draco, even if you don't realize it. He's just… He is going through his own minor issues at the moment, but I suspect he'll be back to his old self in no time!" she said, an obvious and pathetic cheer to her voice.
Draco laughed humorlessly. "Minor issues? He drinks himself to sleep nearly every night. He practically crawls behind the Dark Lord's feet, waiting for a moment of redemption that will never come. He's pathetic, mother," he hissed at her, keeping his voice steady and quiet.
"He is still your father," Narcissa sneered with a noticeable lack of confidence. Her eyes darted around the platform checking to make sure no one was listening.
Draco finally locked gazes with his mother. "Just because he's my father does not mean he is an admirable man. You know, I suspect it will be another five fucking years until he pulls his shit together. And that's being generous."
"Language," Narcissa whispered.
Don't use that kind of language, Draco echoed in his head. He made a show of rolling his eyes at his mother's comment.
"You should get on the train," his mother said, eager to change the subject. "It looks like it's about to depart."
He looked around the platform. Hogwarts students were still scattered around. The train wasn't going to leave for another ten minutes. "I'm supposed to wait for Pansy."
"Well, it appears that she isn't coming."
"The Parkinsons aren't known punctuality, Mother," he drawled.
A bark of laughter came from the mouth of Theo's father. "They're not known for their loyalties either. Damn family… Parkinson was a proud, great Death Eater in the first war, but doesn't think he should serve in the second? Bullshit is what it is."
Narcissa gave a small, respectful laugh in response. Theo maintained his dead expression, and Draco didn't dare to say anything.
When it became clear no one else was going to speak, Nott spoke again. "See any Mudbloods around, Draco?" His eyes surveyed the busy platform.
"No," Draco said promptly. None from his year anyways. He didn't know much of the students from the younger years. He knew which ones were Pureblood, and that was all that mattered, Draco supposed.
"What about the Davis girl? What was her name… Tami? She's got dirty blood, doesn't she?" Nott asked.
"Half-Blood," he corrected the older wizard.
Nott waved his hand in dismissal and shrugged. "Same thing, isn't it?"
Draco kept his lips sealed shut and said nothing in response. He mimicked Theo's bored expression and waited for Pansy to arrive.
Nott fidgeted amongst the awkward silence. Apparently the man found it impossible to stay still. The man was pathetic, almost as pathetic as Draco's own father. Theo's eyes flashed briefly to his father before returning to the floor again. His fellow Slytherin had the admirable ability of appearing to look preoccupied with his thoughts when in actuality, Theo Nott noticed everything. He was a master observer, and Draco was too. But Theo managed to observe the smaller, more intricate details of life.
"Draco," a familiar voice called from behind him.
He spun around and saw Pansy Parkinson standing patiently near her trunk. Her stance told Draco she was anxious to get away from the judgemental eyes of the crowd. Her black waves laid scattered across her shoulders, and her lips pulled into a wide, kind smile.
Draco nodded at her. "Pansy."
"Oh, Draco. How could I have ever forgotten how kind and warm you are. Please forgive me for my poor memory," she joked. "Congratulations on making Head Boy."
"And you for Head Girl. A big responsibility, isn't it?" Draco said.
"Nah, it'll be easy," Pansy easily dismissed. "It's just like being prefect but with a different badge, right?"
Draco only laughed in response.
Pansy turned to the other members of their group. "Hello Mrs. Malfoy, Mr. Nott." She nodded at them. Narcissa gave a short and polite greeting, while Nott muttered something about "blood traitors." Pansy ignored the comment with ease, and her green eyes met Theo's blue.
"Hi, Theo," she greeted.
"Pansy," he nodded at her the same way Draco did before.
The black-haired witch sighed and shook her head. "The same brooding Theo I remembered." Her stare darted between Draco and Theo, before pulling both into a hug, swaying them back and forth as she squeezed their three bodies together. "I missed you guys," she whispered in a voice so low that couldn't have possibly been heard by the two adults hovering near them.
Theo was the first to shimmy out of Pansy's tight hold. Draco soon followed Theo's lead.
"Is your pathetic fool of a father here?" Nott asked Pansy. The happy mood shattered in an instant.
Pansy smiled at the older wizard as if Theo's father had paid her the kindest of compliments. "No, Mr. Nott. Unfortunately, he decided to stay home today. If there's something you need to say to him, I would be delighted to pass the message?" Her teeth shone white and bright, a smile that could only come from a childhood of a respected Pureblood. Draco couldn't help but smirk at the witch. Pansy sure was Pureblood through and through.
Nott only scoffed in reply and muttered an impolite decline.
Pansy's father fought in the first war, this was true, but he had no intention of fighting in the current one. Of course, this angered Lord Voldemort to no end. He cast rounds of Crucios on Pansy's entire family. Parkinson ended up giving over the Parkinson wealth. In a turn of events that shocked his inner circle of Death Eaters, he let them go, all of their possessions and riches stolen. They had nothing, only an empty mansion. Draco suspects the Dark Lord did it on the grounds of preserving the Pureblood name. He couldn't go around killing Sacred Twenty-Eight families.
After all, the Parkinson's were not blood traitors. Not technically. They continue to practice the Pureblood beliefs, but they're just quieter about it. The Parkinsons, similar to the Zabinis and Greengrasses, were neutral in this war. Not for one side nor the other. They just sat and waited for the bloodshed to end.
"Where's Blaise?" Draco asked Pansy.
She glanced between the train and Draco. "Already aboard. Waiting for you lot, I'm guessing," she said. He didn't miss the quick and nervous look she gave Theo's father. Pansy was obviously eager to get away from the man's presence.
Draco understood right away. Like Pansy, Blaise wanted to avoid confrontation with the detrimental Death Eater. Whenever his fellow Slytherin was unfortunate enough to be in the presence of Death Eaters, they always tried to recruit him. Blaise was brilliant at defensive spells, and the Death Eaters suspected he would be just as good at Dark Arts.
Blaise, of course, denied them time after time.
Theo spoke. "Well, we shouldn't leave him waiting…" Theo's legs moved at a rapid pace towards the entrance to the train, his trunk levitating behind him. The large brown trunk bumped into each person it passed, but Theo didn't care and continued his relentless and long strides.
His father stared at the recently vacated spot, and his face was a mix of sorrow and indifference.
Narcissa moved so she stood directly in front of her son. "Draco, please stay safe. Please."
"Of course, mother," he said. "It won't be like last year."
"Yes, but I'm afraid it will be worse," his mother muttered with such silence that Draco's ears had to strain to hear.
"Goodbye, mother," Draco drawled, eager to get away from the older witch before sad tears could spur from her eyes.
"Holy shit," Pansy muttered in a shocked voice. His eyes followed her line of sight, and he felt his the steady beat of his heart come to a speeding halt. Moments passed where he couldn't breath.
There, standing in the middle of the crowded platform, was Hermione Granger, big curls and Gryffindor confidence for the world to see. She laughed carelessly with the Weasley girl and Longbottom, but Draco saw right away that her happy smile didn't reach her eyes. To anyone who was paying attention, the smile was quite obviously forced, and her eyes seemed to have a thousand sad experiences swimming in them.
He scanned the other heads around the three Gryffindors. No sign of Potter or Weasley.
Draco mentally scolded her for the unusual display of stupidity. She, of all people, should know the dangerous repercussions of merely showing her face in public. The wrong person could show up at any moment and take her life with a simple Avada.
His body went still. The wrong person was here, and Draco was standing right next to him. Nott, to Draco's great relief, was distracted from the Gryffindor's presence, too busy scolding the family next to him.
Memories of the night of the raid at the Burrow flooded his mind. Granger, a wand pointed at her horrified face. Draco, the one stupid enough to save her. He still hadn't forgiven himself for that mistake. He thanked Merlin no one saw his embarrassing act of impulse. Things could have ended up horribly bad if someone saw had seen him.
"She shouldn't be here…" Pansy said under her breath. Her gaze moved from Draco, to where Nott was standing. Pansy, the clever witch, had the same thoughts Draco did. She looked back at Draco with a… a pleading look? Almost like she was asking for permission for something. What would she―
Draco froze as he watched the black-haired Slytherin leave his side, sprinting to where the Gryffindors stood. He tried to whisper to her, beg her to turn around, to not do anything stupid. It was no use. Pansy's green eyes intently focused on the happy band of Gryffindors.
Granger's face fell as Pansy approached, as did Weasley's and Longbottom's. Her expression was no longer a strange mix of half joy and half despair, but pure bewilderment. Pansy said something that Draco couldn't hear, and Granger's face turned into a scowl.
Seconds passed, and Draco's feet remained planted to the ground. He stared dumbfounded at the sight before him. What the hell was Pansy doing?
He jumped at a tap on his shoulder. He spun around to find his mother, her eyebrows creased with concern and a frown painted on her lips. "Go, Draco," she whispered. Narcissa turned towards Nott and said louder, "Come on, Theodore, let's do my son and Miss Parkinson a kind favor and load their belongings on the train." She smiled at the man, not casting a single glance back towards Draco.
Draco knew full well that his mother had no intention of loading any trunks herself, but to make Nott do the work. A smirk toyed on the corner of his lips, but Draco was grateful for the momentary distraction his mother gave him.
Careful to keep his pace at a brisk walk, Draco strode towards Pansy and the Gryffindors, fixing his expression into one of pure disinterest.
The Weasley witch attempted to shove Pansy away from them, but Pansy effortlessly pushed the arm off of her. Her long black hair swayed as she yelled at them, arms crossed in front of her chest.
Draco took his spot by Pansy's side, their shoulders brushing. Granger was the first to notice him, as Weasley and Longbottom were preoccupied with their loud screams at Pansy. Granger nudged her friends, and all went quiet as their eyes took him in.
Draco cleared his throat. "Pans," he drawled, "Are the brainless morons of Gryffindor house causing trouble already? Starting earlier than usual, I see…"
Weasley scoffed and shook her head. "Hermione's hardly brainless."
He continued as if no one spoke. "I am shocked, really. I would have expected you to be more cautious… You don't have that biased old fool for a Headmaster anymore. Must be devastating to know that even you lot can't run around the corridors breaking school rules without consequence anymore."
Longbottom opened his mouth to speak, but Draco cut him off.
"Now, Pansy. Tell me, what's going on here?"
Pansy frowned. "I―"
"You've got no right to tell us what to do, Malfoy!" Longbottom screamed, jabbing a finger at Draco's chest. "You are a pathetic waste of space! If you want to know who is brainless, take a look at yourself! You're a murderer and a coward! And that is all you'll ever amount to!"
"I have not murdered anyone, Longbottom." Draco kept his voice calm.
Weasley laughed, but there was no humor in her outburst. "Bullshit. That mark on your arm says otherwise. Sure, you didn't kill Dumbledore, but that doesn't mean you haven't killed people, Malfoy!" She narrowed her brown eyes at him.
"Yeah," Longbottom agreed. "And we all know you would have killed Dumbledore if Snape hadn't have saved your ass!"
Draco pressed his lips into a firm line and cocked his head towards the Gryffindor. "How can you be so sure about that, Longbottom?"
"Because―" he started, suddenly unsure of himself. "Because you're evil! Because you wear his mark. You almost killed Ron and Katie Bell! You aren't a good person, Malfoy! That's damn well why!"
Weasley took a step closer to him. "Leave, Malfoy. Take your Death Eater whore and leave us alone."
"Ginny!" Granger hissed at her friend, speaking for the first time. Her brown eyes darted between Pansy and Draco, suddenly scared of what violent acts that could spur from Weasley's insult.
Instead, Pansy laughed. She threw her head back and laughed. Pansy grinned, her smile filled with hatred and disgust. "I fucking tried to help you. And you treat me like shit." She laughed again. "How could I have ever expected any different?" Pansy turned around, and Draco thought she was going to leave. She only ran her fingers through her black hair in frustration. Her eyes met Draco's, and they looked horribly sad. "I am not a Death Eater," she whispered towards the Gryffindors.
The tension in the air was thick, and Draco found it difficult to think straight. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying something he'd later likely regret. His eyes flicked to Granger, whose body stood unmoving. Her small arms hugged a book against her chest. Hamlet. Of fucking course, he cursed under his breath.
Her warm brown eyes followed his line of sight, and she gave him a curious, hesitant look. Within seconds, Granger's expression hardened. "You need to go, Malfoy."
Draco sighed. "So do you."
"Why?"
He looked towards Weasley and Longbottom, waiting for their next outburst. It never came. "Theo's father won't hesitate to kill you," Draco said, working hard to keep his voice indifferent. "Death Eaters are everywhere, and they would tear each other a part for a turn at you."
"Who the hell is Theo?" Weasley interrupted.
"Theo Nott." Draco noticed the fear that appeared on their faces at the familiar surname.
Granger stilled, her gaze darted past Draco's shoulders to where Nott likely stood. Realization spread across her face, and she looked back at Draco. "Would you?" There was confidence and courage laced in her voice, as Granger tilted chin up and stared at him with defiance.
"What?"
"Would you kill me? Hurt me? Rape me?"
Draco was taken aback by her outright courage. He searched his mind for a feasible answer to her ridiculous questions, but nothing came to him. Draco shook his pale blonde head at her, and said, "You and your muddy blood aren't worth my time, Granger. I thought that was obvious. Now, if you value your life, Granger, get on the fucking train," he sneered through gritted teeth.
"No."
"I wasn't asking." Surely she was smart enough to recognize when her life was in danger. Draco suspected her refusal was more because of who was asking rather than the request itself.
Silence engulfed the Gryffindors and Slytherins once more as they locked gazes.
"Why the hell do you care?" Granger frowned. Her voice was quiet, her tone soft.
Because he was sick of seeing people die. Because he had spent all summer watching in horror as the Death Eater's took turns raping dozens of innocent women. Because his family was slowly becoming more and more dysfunctional. Because he didn't think violence was the answer to anything. Not anymore. Because he was sick of it. Of the death, the assaults, the abuse. Draco was sick of him. That's why he cared.
"I don't." Draco spit out, face contorted in disgust. It was a lie. It was an obvious and clear lie.
Something in her face softened at the two words. Her eyes examined every feature of his face, like she was searching for some kind of answer to an impossible question. Granger was able to see right through his lie.
Shit.
Longbottom cleared his throat. "You need to leave, Malfoy."
"Draco…" Pansy's voice brought him back to reality. His wild grey eyes turned to her. She took hold of his hand and pulled him away from the scene, leaving the Gryffindors staring at him with distaste.
Except for Granger. Where the other two's lips formed identical sneers, Granger's mouth gaped open in awe.
Draco tore his eyes from them and wiggled out of Pansy's grip. He forced his legs to move faster towards the Hogwarts Express until he was practically sprinting down the narrow hallway of the train.
The distant sound of footsteps told Draco that Pansy was behind him, but she trailed far enough away to give Draco space to think.
That was the problem, though. Draco couldn't think straight. His thoughts ran in a thousand different directions in his mind. All revolving around the idiot Gryffindors, Pansy's blind and irritating urge to be heroic, and Hermione fucking Granger.
How dare she. Draco could silence her in an instant. He could make her life a living hell. He could have said generously pointed out her existence to Nott on the busy platform. Oh, the wizard would have gladly taken care of her. Draco has the power to destroy her.
But he didn't.
He stood there gaping at her questions like a bloody idiot. He acted like a coward. He was one.
Draco hated involving himself with the Death Eaters. In fact, he tried to put as much distance between himself and them as he could. Lord Voldemort served the opportunity of committing dozens of murders to Draco on silver platter, yet he denied it every time. Worst of all, he had slowly come up with more doubts over the whole anti-Mudblood propaganda that had been forced down his throat since before he could talk.
There was no doubt in Draco's mind that he held the title as World's Worst Death Eater.
And Hermione Granger saw straight through his facade. That damn witch. The hidden doubts that were layered in his mind had sat on display for her to see. Draco had allowed it to happen. He faltered at her questioning, and now he had to pay the consequences. He only hoped the Weasley girl and Longbottom were too dense to notice.
The only thing to do was ignore Granger. Pretend she doesn't exist, no taunting, no ridicule. That would be difficult, of course, her blood making her the biggest target for any Death Eater that crawled the corridors of Hogwarts.
But Draco had to try.
She was too smart for him. Like Theo, she noticed too much.
"Quite a scene that was, Draco," a familiar voice said.
His feet came speeding to a sudden halt. Draco turned to look at the dark-skinned Slytherin, who wore an especially annoying smirk. Blaise's lips spread into a friendly grin, and he stepped to the side to let Draco into the compartment.
Theo sat near the window, a book spread across his lap. He tried and failed to hide a guilty smile.
"Fuck you, Theo," Draco snarled. He heard Blaise laugh. "Fuck you too, Blaise."
Blaise laughed and sank into his seat, his eyes warm with amusement.
"Fuck Hermione Granger," Draco muttered, collapsing next to Theo.
"Ha! I wish." Blaise chuckled. Pansy walked in, and she flashed Blaise a cold grimace. Blaise predictably smiled at Pansy's suffering, and said, "Ah! The woman of the hour! Feeling especially Hufflepuff today, Pans?"
"Shut up, Blaise," Pansy said, taking a seat next to Blaise and across from Draco. "If it weren't for Theo's psycho of a father, I wouldn't have had to even step in. No offense, Theo."
Theo grinned. "None taken. He's an asshole."
"Hermione Granger," Pansy groaned. "Isn't she supposed to be the brightest witch of our age and all that bullshit? You know, I kindly told her that she needed to get into the train if she wanted to avoid getting her head blown up, and suddenly I was being screamed at! The nerve!"
Blaise tipped his head back. "Pans, what is your definition of 'kindly'?"
A laugh erupted from Theo's mouth. "Yeah, Pansy, I don't think you're version of kind equates to that of a Gryffindor's. What did you say exactly?"
Pansy's face grew red, and she crossed her arms. "Uh, I believe I said 'Granger, get on the fucking train or you'll end up dead.' Roughly that." Her green eyes remained fixed on the floor.
"Oh, I see. It might have had something to do with your warning sounding kind of like a threat. Gee, Pansy. We need to work on this whole hero thing. You aren't very good at it," Blaise said, laughing.
Pansy let out a small laugh and rolled her eyes. "Hey, at least, I tried."
"I think Draco needs help being a hero, too. You got screamed at the most, I'd say."
Draco glared at Blaise. "If Pansy hadn't have went over to them, I wouldn't have had to get involved in the first placed."
Blaise's eyes looked giddy. "Ooh, the Blame Game, my favorite."
"Well technically, it's was my father's fault," Theo said, looking up from his book.
"Eh…" Blaise said. "Technically it's your fault, Theo. If you weren't going to Hogwarts, your demented excuse of a father wouldn't have ever been on the platform. So Pansy, Draco, if you're looking for someone to blame, blame our friend Theo here."
Theo closed his book and glanced at Draco. "What did happen, anyways? What did Granger say?"
Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing."
A scoff came from Pansy's direction as she leaned forward. "Well, Longbottom and Weasley lost their shit. Screamed at me, then screamed at Draco when he showed up. Things escalated and the Weaslette called me a… what was it? Oh yeah, a Death Eater whore. That was fun."
Blaise gasped, then laughed. "She didn't."
"She did," Pansy confirmed. "But no worries. Draco defended my honor. Thanks for that by the way. Um… What else? Things got tense, lots of questions towards Draco. We all made it out alive though. Barely."
Blaise hummed. "Draco, why do you think Granger is here without Potter and Weasley? Seems a bit odd, doesn't it?"
"Don't know. She was at the wedding alone too," Draco said.
A grim silence met the mention of the Weasley wedding. For the past month, Draco had tried to avoid letting his thoughts float to that night. Because when he thought of that night, he inevitably thought of saving Granger.
A knock on the compartment door tore through the silence. All four pairs of eyes stared at each other, each one of the Slytherins waiting for someone else to open the door.
"Fine, fine," Pansy muttered. "I'll get it. Don't all get up at once."
She slid open the door to a second year Ravenclaw who shook in fear as she took in the compartment full of snakes. The girl was dreadfully nervous, and Blaise smiled which only made her small body shake more.
"Excuse me, I―I have a―a letter for Miss Parkinson and Mr. Mal―Malfoy," she stammered, her voice trembling with each word she spoke.
Pansy took the piece of paper from the girl's hand. "Thank you so much." Once the compartment door was shut, she said, "How the hell are we supposed to be Head Girl and Head Boy if everyone in the school is scared we're going to kill them?"
"Oh yeah, congratulations on that. Rules don't apply to me, right?" Blaise wagged his eyebrows at Pansy.
Pansy shrugged. "As long as a teacher doesn't catch you, I don't care what you do, Blaise."
Blaise grinned, evidently satisfied.
"What's it say?" Draco asked her.
Pansy pursed her lips as she skimmed over the words. "Huh… Draco, did you know they're not having prefects this year?"
"What?" Draco's eyes narrowed, and he tore the paper out of Pansy's hands.
"Hey!" Pansy yelled.
"Shh…" Draco scanned the paper. "Why wouldn't they have prefects? Do they expect the Heads to do everything themselves? No more Defense, we knew that. Same with the Muggle Studies…" His eyes paused and widened at the last paragraph.
Pansy noticed and sat up straighter. "Draco… Draco, what is it?"
He couldn't find the words to speak. Pansy grabbed the paper and her gaze traced to the bottom of the page. She stilled, and her green eyes flicked up to the other boys in the compartment. Pansy licked her lips and read from the parchment. "Beginning this Fall, Professors at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry are now permitted to use the Cruciatus Curse to punish students for any bad behavior. Please spread the above information with other students."
Theo was the first to speak. "They can't do that. They can't do that to students, to the first years. They're still only kids!" He shook his head in disbelief.
"They can do that. They did," Draco said. "Because he allowed it."
Pansy's jaw went slack. "Well, we have to do something. We can't just sit by and let children lose their minds because they're getting thrown a Crucio every other day!"
"There's nothing we can do about it, Pansy."
"Draco, there has to be something…" her voice trailed off, realization settling in.
Blaise sighed. "Shit."
Draco met eyes with Theo, a silent message passing between them. Draco knew something to help, and Theo did too. But there was no way they would risk their own asses for that. If they're found out… Draco didn't even want to begin to imagine what would happen.
"There is something―" Theo blurted out.
"Theo," Draco shot him a warning glare.
"Dammit, Draco. It's not like we're telling the whole damn school. As long as Pansy and Blaise keep it to themselves, we'll be fine."
A heavy sigh escaped Draco's lips. He nodded for Theo to continue.
"Draco and I… We came up with a sort of countercurse for the Cruciatus Curse. It's by no means perfect, but―"
Blaise cut Theo off. "Fuck! You guys created a spell? Damn, that's like Merlin level shit. How'd you do it?"
Theo shrugged. "We just researched. Lots of trips to the Restricted Section. Anyways, the spell, like I said, it's not perfect. It only takes away the initial pain of the Cruciatus Curse, which is the worst part of it. Side effects are still there. The vomiting, passing out, seizing in some cases… That's all still there."
"That's fucking impressive! How long did it take to figure this out?" Blaise asked.
Theo and Draco exchanged glances. "During fifth year. We started in the fall, had it figured out before Easter holidays," Draco explained.
"Damn." Blaise sat back in his seat in awe.
"Well, what is it? What's the spell?" Pansy said.
Theo ran a hand through his brown hair before he spoke. "Fero. As long as you're able to say it before the curse hits you, or even during, you should be fine."
Blaise exhaled. "Wow… Fero. What does it mean?"
"I endure," Draco said. "It's Latin."
Blaise looked ecstatic, but Pansy didn't share his enthusiasm. Pansy's expression was serious as she spoke. "Draco, Theo… How did you learn this spell?"
Draco and Theo's silence was enough of an answer for her.
"You practiced it on each other," Pansy said. "You used Crucio on each other."
"We didn't really have any other options, Pans. We needed it to be perfect," Theo said.
Pansy sighed. "Is it a difficult spell to learn?"
Theo tilted his head back in thought. "It's… advanced."
She bit her lip and nodded. Pansy hoisted herself up from her seat. "Come on, Draco. Let's go."
"What? You want to practice now?" Draco sputtered out.
Pansy scoffed. "No. This thing," Pansy waved the piece of paper in the air, "says we have to spread the word to other students. No better time than right now, right? Everyone is in the same place."
Draco moaned. "Yeah, okay."
He followed Pansy out of their compartment, and he heard Blaise call from behind them in an all too cheerful voice. "Have fun, you two!"
Draco rolled his eyes.
Fun was the furthest thing from his mind. This year was going to be worse than any of them had originally thought. Fuck.
.
.
A/N: I promised I would have this up by the end of this week, right? Haha, I did want to post this earlier, but it's Finals week so I'm swamped with studying and essays and projects. I've also been reading this book series Red Queen (so so so good) and I started watching this show Shameless. Yep, I've been busy.
I intended for this chapter and the next chapter to be one single chapter, but it turned out to be too long, so I split it in half. So yeah, that's why this is all Draco's POV. Next chapter will be all Hermione's POV.
Shakespeare plays I mentioned: Romeo and Juliet, A Midsummer's Night Dream, Hamlet, Julius Caesar.
Song title: Bitter and Sick by One Two (bc Draco is bitter...and he's sick)
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please let me know what you think!
-Amanda
