Chapter 11
Things were finally falling back in place at Hogwarts.
Hermione had sorted out her issues with Harry and Ron, but she refused to tell where she had disappeared off to, passing it off as her "little den of comfort".
Ron was under the impression that Hermione had taken solace in the library, but Harry waved it off.
He had checked there enough to negate his nagging suspicions.
Ginny and Harry could hardly take their eyes off each other, and Harry had sought permission from Ron to ask out his sister. Ron had grudgingly agreed, coming to a realisation that Harry was a perfect match for his sister.
Ginny, however, had shrewdly kept herself away from Harry when Hermione was around.
Lavender, Ron's current girl whirl, had somehow come to know about Hermione's new interest in the Boy who lived.
"Ginny, don't you have any issues about Hermione liking your...your boyfriend?" Lavender asked, worriedly, as they sat across each other, in the sixth year girls' dormitory.
"For the record, Lav, Harry is not my...boyfriend."
"You haven't answered my question, Gin." Lavender pointed out.
After hanging out with Hermione since her third year, she had been introduced to many of her friends, including Lavender and Parvati Patil, and to her delight, Ginny found that she hit it off well with the two older girls.
"See, Lavender, I can't really say anything. Fred and George have always called me a "female Casanova" because of, you know, the number of guys I have dated and stuff. Hermione, on the other hand, only had Viktor Krum, and Ron gave her a tough time about it. Plus, he was a foreigner, so a relationship was virtually impossible. She likes Harry, who happens to be her best friend of five years and..." Here Ginny stopped, unable to continue.
She looked at Lavender beseechingly, pleading with her to understand.
Lavender hugged her, and whispered soothingly, "Shh, I completely understand. You don't want to butt in and make Hermione feel bad. It's perfectly fine, Gin, and it's what a good friend would do."
HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM
The climate was clement, and winter was in the offing. The sun set early, splashing gold across Hogwarts, and made Quidditch training something every team member looked forward to.
Ginny was unnerved by the very thought of giving her OWL's, and was studying and revising briskly. She was unable to spend much time with Harry, but he was completely understanding about it.
Superficially, a stranger would find things perfectly at peace at Hogwarts, but the students knew better.
For one, Draco Malfoy had taken a leave from the Slytherin Quidditch team, but no-one knew why. He hardly turned up for lessons anymore, but no-one missed his snide, sardonic presence, maybe except Pansy and Crabbe and Goyle, his faithful minions.
All was good in Gryffindor tower, though. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan had new-found loves. Dean was besotted with the pretty, willowy Parvati Patil, and Seamus with Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff.
Seamus could only meet Hannah during meals, and breaks, and of course, combined classes with Hufflepuff.
All was well in paradise.
But in purgatory?
That was a different story.
HGDM HGDM HGDM HGDM
He would be Draco Malfoy, the Death Eater, and not Draco Malfoy, Head of the Auror Office.
In a mere month, he would be reduced to a filthy, squalid, minion of Lord Voldemort.
Gone would be all his ambitions, crumbling to dust at his feet.
Becoming an Auror had been a lifetime aspiration of Draco.
He didn't remember exactly when his fascination with Aurors began, but he used to talk to Narcissa about it. She was the only one who could encourage him, support him. Narcissa had forbidden him to tell Bellatrix about it, for obvious reasons. Lucius was out of question, too.
Draco sighed, and picked up the letter again.
He wanted so badly to crush it, obliterate it beyond recognition. But somehow, he couldn't. He knew that by destroying it, Lucius' decision to have him the Dark forces wouldn't relinquish.
Not in a thousand years.
His tummy was rumbling, and he knew it was high time he ate something.
His last meal was more than 24 hours ago, when Blaise had forcefully pushed a plate of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding on Draco, refusing to talk to him till he finished the food.
As though he were reading Draco's thoughts, Blaise sauntered into the boys' dorm room, and threw a blue silk throw pillow on Draco's head.
"Make a move, dude. I'm hungry, and you're coming with me. No excuses today. If you continue to punish your digestive system like this, you'll pay one day, believe me."
He wasn't going to reveal it, but Blaise Zabini was like a pillar of support for him.
He was pragmatic, and had no-nonsense attitude, something which Draco treasured as qualities in a person. He was constantly by his side, reminding him to do things which Draco invariably forgot, like wearing warm clothing in the onset of the winter, and eating at the right times, but Draco was stubborn. He claimed he was never hungry, but Blaise was no fool. He dragged him along whenever he could.
He completed Draco's homework when he missed his classes, and never failed to remind him that this wouldn't go on forever. Draco had better start coming to classes. Snape could ignore the fact that Draco was no longer interested in studying, but not so McGonagall and Flitwick and the others.
Blaise listened as he poured out his father's intentions of him joining Lord Voldemort, his fears of losing his precious ambition of being an Auror, and the kind of traumatic dilemma his darling mother, Narcissa was going through.
He had a talk with her a few days ago, when he had Floo'd from Snape's office to the grate at Malfoy Manor.
Snape had willingly agreed, of course.
Narcissa's letter had arrived one morning, shortly after Lucius', requesting him to meet her before the Christmas break.
Narcissa had paced around the parlour, clearly fidgety, when Draco stepped from the hearth.
"Mother? What's wrong?" he asked, alarmed to see the tears streaming down her face. Narcissa never cried, not even when her favourite pet unicorn, Apollo had died after so many years.
"Draco, darling... I'm sure you've heard from your father."
"The letter? Yeah, I saw it. Mum, what happened?"
Narcissa had explained gasping painfully for breath, spilling out all that had kept her awake at night, making sleep an enemy. The anxiety that gnawed her, fearing the life that had been chosen for her son.
The awful, heavy feeling that Draco's life was ruined. Bella had wanted to throw a party for him to commemorate the day, but Narcissa dissuaded her, farcing the whole situation with pretend illnesses. Narcissa had talked to Lucius, but to no avail. He was steadfast. But at the same time, she had realised that Lucius only wanted to cement a feeling of security and stability in their son's life. Lucius wanted nothing but the best for him; this time, though, he was sadly deluded.
He was blinded with respect and adulation for the Dark Lord, preventing him to see where he was really going.
He blindly obeyed the Dark Lord, and his obsequious nature had earned him a place in Lord Voldemort's good books.
Lately, though, the Dark Lord was unhappy and capricious, causing Lucius to lose the prestige of being the Dark Lord's favourite. He was thus under the impression that if Draco joined, he would earn back what he had lost.
It was very disconcerting, but Narcissa, being the good wife, had perfectly understood his predicament.
It was going to be hard for her, but she promised Draco that she would do her best to deter Lucius.
And she told him to be strong. It was the only advice she could offer.
A/N- R/R, please!