Draco was livid. And so was Ron. The morning following, Harry and Hermione were both absent at breakfast, and figuring no one would really notice with everything that was going on, Draco slipped into a seat next to Ron at the Gryffindor Table.
"How do you suppose he did it?" he asked in a whisper. "Invisibility Cloak?"
Ron shook his head. "He keeps saying it wasn't him, that he didn't put his name in the cup, but I mean, who else then, right?"
Draco nodded, his eyes darting around the hall. "I get him not telling me, but I'm a bit surprised he didn't confide in you. You're his best friend, after all."
Ron gave Draco a look like he didn't want to be reminded. "Sorry," Draco muttered. A bunch of Durmstrang students filtered in, a few Slytherins among them. "I'd better get back to my table. See you later, Weasley."
"Have a nice chat there?" Pansy Parkinson asked when Draco returned to the Slytherin Table. She looked up lazily from the magazine she was reading with an innocent smile.
"Just wanted to see if he knew anything about Potter getting chosen," Draco explained.
"You seem to have… grown quite chummy with that bunch lately, haven't you, Draco?"
"Means to an end," he mumbled in reply, avoiding Pansy's stare.
With a light laugh, Pansy turned back to her magazine. "You're absolutely right," she agreed, though Draco wasn't exactly sure what she understood from his words. Asking her about it would create inquiry though, so he let it go.
It became very obvious that Ron was on non-speaking terms with Harry once classes started. He spent most of his Care of Magical Creatures and Potions lessons looking sullen, pairing up with anyone but Harry and Hermione. Having never had such a deep friendship, Draco couldn't say he understood the hurt Ron was experiencing; his own anger had somewhat diminished, though envy always stirred inside him whenever the Tournament came up as a topic of discussion. Not to mention how Hermione had stuck by Harry: Did she believe he didn't put his name in the Goblet, or was she impressed that he'd somehow managed it? Or was her concern for him just that great?
"Here," Pansy said to Draco one afternoon as the Slytherins were on their way to Potions. She pinned a badge to the front of his robes. It read: Support Cedric Diggory – the REAL Hogwarts Champion! "And watch this," she added, pressing the badge into his chest. The message changed: POTTER STINKS. She and the other Slytherins laughed, all of them pressing the badges Draco now realized they wore. "Brilliant, isn't it? We'll have the whole school wearing them by dinner time."
"Um yeah," Draco said slowly, staring at the badge on his chest. His hand clasped the S.P.E.W. badge he kept in his pocket. What would Hermione think if she saw him wearing a badge that wasn't hers? And what would the Slytherins think if he removed his 'POTTER STINKS' badge? Before he could think about it anymore, the Gryffindors joined them in the hallway outside the classroom.
"Oh, very funny," Hermione said sarcastically, noting the badges the Slytherins were wearing. Her gaze lingered on Draco, her expression cold as she turned away.
"Don't you glare at Draco like that, Mudblood," Pansy snapped, brandishing her wand.
In Hermione's defense, Harry pointed his wand back at Pansy.
"Densaugeo!" she screamed.
"Furnunculus!" Harry yelled.
The spells hit each other mid-air and ricocheted off at angles – Harry's hit Goyle in the face, and Pansy's hit Hermione. Both covered their faces with their hands, each making a whimpering sound from the affects. Goyle's face now resembled something that could be found in a book on poisonous fungi, while Hermione… Ron had run to her side, and was pulling her hands away from her face: her front teeth – already larger than average – were now growing at an alarming rate; she was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, towards her chin. The Slytherins broke out into laughter.
"And what is all this noise about?" Professor Snape had arrived. Everyone started speaking at once but Snape pointed to Draco for an explanation.
"Pansy and Potter were duelling, and their spells bounced off each other and… Well, Goyle and Granger got hit."
Snape took one look at Goyle and sent him off to the hospital wing. Then, looking coldly at Hermione, he said, "I see no difference." The Slytherins erupted into laughter again – all but Draco. With her eyes brimming with tears, Hermione turned and ran; Draco watched until he couldn't see her anymore. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions."
Professor Snape's injustice seemed to bring Harry and Ron back together, and for once, Draco was on their side. It wasn't the first time Snape was openly rude to the Muggle-born witch, but this time, Draco's blood was boiling like the potion he stoked in front of him. Halfway through the lesson, Harry was called away – something about a photograph for the Daily Prophet – and just as quickly as Harry and Ron's friendship had been mended, it was shattered again. Ron refused to even look at Harry as he packed up his things and left.
The photograph and accompanying article appeared in the Daily Prophet not long after, though it was less of a report on the Triwizard Tournament and more the Life and Times of Harry Potter. In it, the author, Rita Skeeter, had claimed Harry found love at Hogwarts with one stunningly beautiful Muggle-born girl who, 'like Harry, is one of the top students in the school.'
Draco threw the paper down on the table. Harry Potter wasn't even one of the top students in his grade, never mind the school! And that bit about them being in love? Yes, they were frequently together – all the time, in fact, but a couple? Draco would have laughed at the thought if he weren't so angry. He stomped out of the Great Hall and all the way to the library. He walked up and down the aisles aimlessly before he spotted Hermione and Harry, huddled in a corner, surrounded by books. Harry looked bored as he flipped a few pages of his book; Hermione, on the other hand, pored over three, reading out the words in a hushed whisper.
"You are vanting to speak to Harry Potter?"
Draco nearly hexed Viktor Krum, who now stood behind him. He glanced at the couple and nodded. "You are vanting to speak to him?" he repeated.
"No," Draco answered quickly.
"Then… you are friends to Ermy… Her-meen-oh…"
It took a minute for Draco to realize what Viktor was trying to say. "Hermione?"
Viktor nodded. "Yes. You are friends to Hermy-ninny?"
Draco only hesitated a moment before answering. "Yes."
Maybe it didn't mean very much to admit to Viktor Krum that he was friends with Hermione, but it felt really good to finally say it to someone out loud. "Yeah," Draco repeated, a small smile growing on his face. "We're friends. Potter and Weasley too – but they're having a bit of a disagreement over… you know what? Never mind." It was clear by Viktor's expression that he had no idea what Draco was talking about; he probably didn't even know who Ron Weasley was.
"So… you know if Her-om-ninny and Harry are – vat you say – couple?"
"Hermione and Harry? No. They're just friends. Good friends, but just friends," Draco said firmly. "Why do you ask?"
"I hear from other students: they say newspaper report Harry dating Muggle-born vitch. I guess her." He gestured toward Hermione – who was now leaning across the table, glaring at Harry who seemed disinterested in what she was trying to share with him. Wondering what Viktor meant behind his words, he considered how Durmstrang shared similar values as Slytherin, which probably meant they weren't particularly fond of Muggle-borns.
"Despite her blood status, she's a good witch," he defended. "Best in our year, actually – and too good for Potter, if you ask me. Not that they're a couple."
Viktor nodded slowly at Draco's words. He smiled at the Slytherin boy, and was just about to say something when a gaggle of giggling girls barged into the library. Spotting their target, they hurried over, nearly knocking Draco over to get to Viktor. Over the noise of the fawning females, Draco heard the distinct sound of Hermione's exasperated sigh, and turned just in time to see her and Harry leaving.
In no time, the First Task was upon them, and the Four Champions had to face a dragon a piece. Hidden in their nest of eggs was a golden egg that each Champion was required to get. Harry was the last to go, and he summoned his Firebolt to get the job done. Even Draco had to admit (though he'd never say it out loud to anyone) that Harry's flying was impressive; he was the quickest to retrieve the golden egg, and he had only sustained a minor injury. Hermione – who had found a seat next to Ron with the other Gryffindors – looked especially pleased, and Draco guessed she'd worked with Harry to practice that particular charm.
That evening, at dinner, Viktor sat next to Draco.
"He's good," the older student commented with a half-smile. "Harry Potter can fly."
The irony that both Cedric Diggory and Viktor Krum were Quidditch Seekers was not lost on Draco – who was Slytherin's Seeker. He shrugged in response. "Anyone can fly – no doubt, you and Diggory might have been able to do just as well, but both of you had other options. I suspect Potter had none." Draco wasn't trying to be harsh, but it was more than likely the truth. Harry was good at flying, but it was just about all he was good at, and if he hadn't had Hermione's help with the Summoning Charm, his fellow Gryffindors would be visiting him in the hospital wing now, rather than cheering about him at the dinner table. "Any idea what your next task will be?" he asked, pressing the conversation forward.
"The egg is the clue, but for now, no ideas." Viktor looked around, then leaned in to Draco. "The egg, ven opened, makes noise – like broken violin." He made a face to show just how awful the sound was. "But there is time. Maybe I ask Hero-minny. I ask her some quvestions."
Draco raised an eyebrow and nearly let out a laugh. "I don't know if Hermione will help you, to be honest, Krum. She's one of Harry's best friends."
"But she is goot person. Nice person. No?"
"She's a very good person," Draco answered slowly, studying Viktor as he spoke. The Durmstrang student was difficult to read with his near constant surly expression; he wondered if Viktor might be approaching Hermione simply to tap into her intelligence; he wondered what his stand was when it came to issues of blood purity – and felt suddenly protective. "But she's also loyal – which might work against you, at least until she can trust you. And believe me, that doesn't come easy." Viktor didn't react and held Draco's gaze. "Look, I'll talk to her if I have the chance – but I'm not promising anything." With what Draco could only assume was a smile, Viktor nodded.
"So," Viktor then said, breaking a dinner roll apart with his hands. "I hear you too are Seeker. You play against Harry Potter?"
By the next morning, it was clear that Harry and Ron had made up, and the Golden Trio were back together. Draco was happy for them, but at the same time, a sense of envy returned as well. He did his best to ignore it though. The rest of term moved along quickly, and soon, it was cold, wintery, and Christmas was around the corner. The Yule Ball was announced: a traditional ball held Christmas evening as a part of the Triwizard Tournament. This was, of course, the reason for the dress robes. Draco was actually quite looking forward to the event: he had new robes (of course), and he was an excellent dancer (having taken lessons since he was a child). He also had in mind a particular witch he wanted to invite…
"Um, Draco…"
It was Astoria Greengrass, a Slytherin girl a couple years below Draco. Her face was terribly flush and Draco wondered if maybe she was sick. "Um, about the Yule Ball: You'll be attending, won't you?" she asked. But before Draco could reply, someone answered for him.
"Of course," said Pansy Parkinson, sneaking up from behind. She stood next to Draco, leaning into him slightly. "But not with you, you silly little second-year."
Astoria's face turned an even brighter red as she excused herself and left.
"What was that about?" Draco asked, stepping away from Pansy. He thought she should be kinder to her junior but knowing Pansy, there was a reason behind her words.
"Just girl stuff," she said with a shrug and a smile.
Draco was okay with that. "Alright, well I guess I'll see you later."
"Aren't you curious to know who I'm going to the Yule Ball with?" she asked before he turned. Truthfully, Draco didn't care, but it was obvious she wanted to tell someone – probably to gloat. He looked at her and waited. With a smirk, she leaned in and whispered, "You'll see."
"And then she turned around and walked away before I could even say anything!" Draco crossed his arms and leaned back against the large tree trunk. To his side, Harry and Ron also leaned against the tree; they looked as bewildered as he felt. "I mean, what was the point of that?"
"Girls," Ron exhaled, shaking his head. "They're mental."
"So who are you taking to the Ball then?" Harry asked.
The cold air was quickly turning the boys' noses and cheeks red; they had decided to meet outside since they were less likely to be seen by the other students. Hermione was in the library – and Draco would have preferred to be there as well, but he needed to speak with Harry and Ron – alone.
"No one, yet," Draco answered. "You?"
Both of them shook their heads. Harry looked momentarily distracted, so quietly, he asked, "What about Hermione?"
The two Gryffindor boys looked at each other, then shrugged. "Never thought about Hermione, to be honest," Ron remarked. "She got right mad when we were talking about it the other night though, didn't she, Harry?" Harry nodded.
"What about your sister, Weasley?" Draco suggested.
"Go with my sister?" Ron reiterated, looking disgusted.
"Not you, you idiot. Potter. She's got a thing for you, doesn't she?"
Harry – again – seemed distracted, and apparently hadn't heard Draco's suggestion. "Huh?" he asked, looking between the two.
"Got someone in mind, Potter?" Draco asked with a bit of a smirk.
"N-no," Harry denied though looking flustered. "Just thinking… about the golden egg is all."
Draco didn't buy it, but he didn't press the matter further either. Ron rubbed his hands together from the cold, then clapped. "We've just got to grit our teeth and do it," he said. "When we get to dinner tonight, we'll all have partners – agreed?"
But that night, Draco never saw the other two at dinner. He had failed to ask anyone to the Ball – especially the person he'd wanted to ask – but he did have a partner. Sometime during the day, Imperia had found him and delivered a letter from his mother, informing him that she had made arrangements with Pansy Parkinson's mother for them to attend the Yule Ball together. Of course, Pansy was thrilled – this is what she had meant when they spoke earlier – but she was the only one. For the first time ever, he contemplated challenging his mother's decision, but his quill just wouldn't pen the words. And what would she think, learning her son wanted to take a Muggle-born to the Yule Ball instead of pure-blooded Pansy Parkinson?
There was a sudden crack in the air and, before Draco, appeared his former house-elf, Dobby. He looked half terrified, half angry as he handed Draco a letter.
"Dobby?"
"Harry Potter's friend is asking Dobby to deliver this to Young Master Draco," he said, his voice quivering slightly.
Draco reached out and took the letter; he opened it; it was two pages; on the first page, written in the familiar hand-writing Draco had grown very fond of, was one word: 'APOLOGIZE'.
He'd read this in her voice, pictured her in his mind, and was still furious at the instruction. Him, apologize to the house-elf? He looked up from the letter at Dobby, who stood very still and looked very uncomfortable. Draco flipped to the second page: 'I've asked Dobby not to leave until you've apologized for his mistreatment when he served your family. It is the least you can do. This is a necessary step for your involvement in S.P.E.W. and would be a great example for others. And it would mean a great deal to me as it will prove to me that you are serious.' With a sigh, Draco sat down heavily on his bed. He stared from the letter to Dobby, then back to the letter. He was so mad, so indignant, and yet…
"Dobby," he said slowly. "Do you hate me? And our family?"
The house-elf looked at Draco with big, frightened eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, then opened it again, then started tugging on his ears. "It's fine," Draco encouraged. "You don't serve us anymore. You can say what you like."
"Your – your father is a bad, Dark wizard," he stammered. He started beating his head with his fists; Draco waited until he stopped. "And your – Mistress Malfoy is always comparing Dobby to Dobby's mother – who Dobby is never to live up to!" His large eyes glossed over, and Draco worried he might start to cry, but the elf grew angry. "Dobby is not making tea as good as his mother! Dobby is not making the silver shine like his mother! Dobby is not folding the linens the same as his mother!" His fists were in balls as he thrashed them up and down through the air. "And you," he said next, narrowing his eyes at Draco. "You, Young Master Draco, is spoiled. You is mean and nasty to Harry Potter and Harry Potter's friends. But," he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Miss is telling Dobby that Young Master is now friends with Harry Potter and Harry Potter's friends."
"So… You're working here at Hogwarts now then?" Dobby nodded, tugging at the tea-cosy he wore on his head. "Do you like it?" He nodded again, a small smile on his face. "Good," Draco said, finding a smile on his own face as well. "Look, Dobby, for what it's worth, I'm sorry for the way my family treated you, and for the way I treated you. You were a good house-elf. Tell you the truth, I think Mum really misses you. She's gone through more than a dozen housekeepers since – just fired the last one the other day, sadly. And she complained about your tea, but she always drank it, didn't she?"
"Mistress is throwing three out of four cups of tea on Dobby."
"Oh, well… I didn't think it was bad tea."
The house-elf smiled again. "If Dobby may speak, Dobby thinks Young Master Draco is becoming a good person – much better than Master and Mistress." He raised a fist to beat his head again, but stopped mid-way. "Dobby would be happy to serve Malfoy Manor again if Young Master grows up good like Harry Potter – and is paying Dobby as well."
Draco didn't like the bit about being like Harry, but the little house-elf's words brought a sense of pride to him. He tried to imagine what Hermione would think, having a paid house-elf take care of the… His face turned red. Thankfully, no one else was around.
"Yeah, well. Sorry again, Dobby," he said quickly. "You can go now – I mean, whenever you want. But, you can go."
"Dobby will make sure Young Master's tea is the way Young Master likes it," the elf said with a bow. "And," he added, looking very hard at his former master. "Dobby is always watching."
