Draco marched forward, as fast as he could without breaking into a run, through carriage after carriage. He wasn't yet sure of his destination; he just had to get far away from Granger, and fast.
He still couldn't believe what had just happened, what he had just said. Why should he give a damn if someone calls Granger a mudblood? Had he not done so himself countless times? He couldn't actually have… feelings for her…. No, that was unthinkable… impossible. He was a pure blood, from a noble and respected family, set far above her. She wasn't worthy of his affection or his attention. And as a servant of the Dark Lord, he was bound to do his bidding. That bidding was to kill Granger. And that's what he was going to do.
Several students pressed their faces to the glass of their compartments as he passed, their curiosities aroused at his urgency. Twice, he met with a student blocking his path in the corridor. One was a first year, and just one look of pure venom from his piercing silver eyes was enough to make the poor child cower against the wall so that Draco was able to pass without breaking his stride. The other, close to front of the train, was Dean Thomas, another muggle-born, closing the sliding door of a compartment. The dark Gryffindor looked up sharply at Draco's abrupt entrance into the carriage then crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
"What're you doing Malfoy?" he asked bluntly.
"Out of the way, Thomas. I haven't got time to deal with the likes of you," Draco growled as he roughly checked Dean's shoulder with his own, forcing him to stagger backwards while Draco continued his progress.
"What the hell!" Dean protested angrily. "Fuck you, Slytherin prat!"
Draco stopped dead in his tracks, his outreached hand an inch away from the door to the next compartment. He could feel heat rising up the nape of his neck. He did not turn around but remained fixed in his position.
"What did you say to me… Mudblood?" He spoke clearly and evenly, though he could feel anger and hatred coursing through his veins. His voice rang throughout the carriage and echoed in the heavy silence that followed.
"You-" Dean spat. Draco spun around to see his face contorted in fury and his hand flying into his robes.
"Oh please!" Draco said sharply as he closed the distance between them in about one second. "Please give me an excuse to curse you into a smoldering heap right here. Let everyone see for themselves the stinking filth that runs through the veins of people like you. You aren't worthy to call yourself a wizard. It's an insult to my heritage that I should be made to endure your presence, year after fucking year, burning my eyes at your sight and choking on the air you pollute with your foul stench!"
With a howl of rage, Dean whipped his wand violently out of his robes, and a flash of bright red light erupted from its tip. But Draco was too quick for him. He had already drawn his wand and cast a shield charm by the time Dean's curse was completed. It crackled as it absorbed the spell and reflected the force back at Dean, who was knocked back off of his feet, his face twisted in pain.
Draco smirked as he stowed his wand back in his suit. "Ten points from Gryffindor. You lot really should learn to control your tempers," he sighed nonchalantly. "It will get you into trouble someday, when the proper order is restored," and without another word he turned on his heel and strode out of the carriage, leaving Dean fuming on the floor.
That felt good, but it hadn't driven away his concerns over the Granger matter. He needed to clear his head.
He needed a cigarette.
Draco finally reached the front carriage and stepped outside. He stood on a small platform between the long line of train cars and the deafening scarlet engine billowing clouds of white steam. The bulk of the engine sheltered this space from the wind, leaving the air relatively calm. He reached into his inner coat pocket and extracted a thin, black rectangular box. Packed inside were two rows of clove cigarettes, which his father had had imported from wizarding markets of East Asia. It was illegal to possess these in the United Kingdom… for most people.
Ah, the perks of being an aristocrat, Draco thought, smiling to himself as he leaned back against the carriage wall, pushed up the removable top of the box with his thumb, and extracted a long, thin, black cigarette with his teeth. He stowed the box away, back in his inner coat pocket, and ignited the tip of his cigarette with a practiced flick of his wand. He took a long draught of the burning clove, his ears full of the soothing crackle that it made. The taste was sweet as honey, yet it left a sharp tang on his tongue. Draco was beginning to feel relaxed and confident again, like all his cares and concerns were being burned away with his cigarette.
His pleasant reverie did not last long, for who else chose that very moment to stick their bushy head out of the compartment door than Hermione Granger. She took a furtive glance around and then stepped cautiously onto the platform where Draco was standing, still smoking. For a moment they just stood there, looking at each other. Finally, Draco was the one to break the silence.
"Well? What do you want, Granger?" he asked.
"I… I just…" Hermione blushed. She took a deep breath before continuing. "I wanted to thank you for what you said back there… in the carriage." She was very red in the face, Draco noticed, and she looked more than a little uncomfortable.
"Don't mention it," he replied. "To anyone," he added more sternly, fixing her with his cold, grey, Malfoy stare. Hermione cast her eyes downward, and shuffled her feet awkwardly, making as though she were about to leave. Before she could reach a hand to the sliding door, Draco called out to her. "So where's the weasel? I would have expected to see him nipping at your heels everywhere you went." Hermione shot a cold stare at him.
"Well, not that it's any of your business," she retorted hotly, "but he chose to stay in the compartment we had picked out…. I told him I wanted to make one more round… just to check on things," she finished, a bit flustered. Draco smirked, his black cigarette burning in the corner of his mouth.
"And by 'check on things, ' you meant you wanted to come and find me, is that it Granger?" Draco asked in a silky, venomous voice. He blew out a cloud of sweet-scented smoke, promptly sending Hermione into a small coughing fit.
"Do I need *cough* to remind you that *cough* cigarettes aren't allowed *cough* on school property?" she shot at him, her deep, brown eyes now shining with defiance.
"Ooo, now you've got me," Draco laughed mockingly. "What are you going to do, report me to Professor Snape? He'd deduct points from Gryffindor just for bothering him with something so trivial." Draco took one last drag before tossing his half-finished cigarette over the side railing. "There, happy?"
Hermione's eyes narrowed contemptuously. "You had better change into your school robes," she said in a shrill tone that Draco supposed was meant to be authoritative. "As a prefect, you are the supreme example for the younger students, or have you forgotten?"
"Run back to Weasel, Granger," Draco sneered softly and dangerously, barely audible over the roar of the scarlet engine. "We both know our place in the grand order of things." Hermione's face adopted an extra shade of crimson, and a flame of anger blazed in her eyes, but she turned and marched back through the sliding door into the first car without another word. Draco remained fixed on the platform for another minute, trying once more to compose himself before going back in to his compartment and facing his fellow Slytherins. True, he had worn the practiced Malfoy mask well during this most recent encounter with Granger, but she still had an uncannily bewitching effect on his senses. He had to shake her out of his head somehow, or it would be impossible for him to complete the task the Dark Lord had assigned for him. With one last calming breath, he threw open the sliding door and made his way swiftly back to his compartment.
When he arrived, his fellow Slytherins were waiting for him.
"Well, well, there he is," Blaize mused with a smirk. "Care to tell us what the bloody hell that little outburst was all about?" Draco nudged his way onto a spot between Crabbe and Goyle on the booth before answering, every eye in the cabin fixed unwavering on him.
"I told you," he began slowly, choosing his words very carefully, "I've been given an assignment directly from the Dark Lord himself, and I am working towards a very specific goal. You would all do well to stay out of my way… and provide assistance when needed." His words hung thickly in the silence that followed. Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other with dumbfounded expressions, and Pansy's eyes became so wide they seemed almost too big for her head. Blaize looked astonished.
"So it's true," he said. "You really have been visited by him haven't you? He's really given you a job." Draco nodded solemnly, then considered a moment. They're going to find out sooner or later, he reasoned. He then proceded to unfasten the button on his right cuff and roll his sleeve up to his elbow, revealing the Dark Mark emblazoned on his pale forearm. A collective shudder went around the compartment, punctuated by four sharp intakes of breath, then there was no sound at all except for the steady churing of the train wheels. From then on, everyone in that compartment looked to Draco with an intensified respect.
He looked around haughtily, his head held high, meeting every gaze in turn. For once Blaize was speechless, but not the others.
"What can I do to help you, Draco?" Crabbe asked slowly in his surprisingly soft voice, as if every word required a great deal of effort for him.
"And me?" joined in Goyle.
"Nothing for right now," Draco responded. He knew now that he had successfully regained his position of authority among his house-mates. "All I ask is that you be ready when I need you." Crabbe and Goyle both nodded fervently while Blaize and Pansy looked on in awe.
"It has something to do with the Granger girl, doesn't it? This assignment of yours," Pansy asked hopefully. "Ooh, she's going to get what's coming to her, and I hope I'm there when it happens." Pansy's heavily lidded eyes fixed on Draco in a look of sickening adoration. Draco resigned himself into thinking that now, at least the Slytherins would assume that no matter how he acted towards Granger, it was all part of the Dark Lord's plan.
He set about dressing himself in his school robes after he had let pass what he deemed an appropriate time for idolization from the others in the compartment. Pansy took a rather lewd interest in watching Draco strip down to his knickers. He feigned disregard, but, if truth be told, he rather enjoyed her attentions and made sure she got a good view of the bulge in his nether-regions before covering himself once again.
After what seemed no time at all, the train was pulling into Hogsmead Station. Draco excused himself from his friends and performed his prefect duties to the letter. He traversed the corridors quickly and opened all the compartment doors. He escorted the first years from his section of the train to the great oaf Hagrid to be ferried across the lake (an altogether stupid and pointless tradition in his opinion). He even ushered the older students into the thestral-pulled carriages making their way up to the castle. Before long, he was in his own carriage, making the trek up the sloping lawns himself. The great towers of Hogwarts loomed ever nearer, and within those walls, Draco knew that he must meet his destiny. Try as he might, he could not force the face of a certain bushy-haired girl from his mind as his carriage came to a stop in front of the great double doors of the entrance hall.