Chapter Eight

The Parts We Play

Drew felt like he was dragging himself through mud all day. His worries about being found out were relieved thanks to Tuck's brilliance, but giving the guy the hard news about his permanent relocation on top of revealing his past had drained him. Tuck was a good man, despite his lawbreaking ways and foul mouth, and it was tough to tell someone like him the truth. Tuck had believed him to be a boy from New England down on his luck when he was actually a spectre from Olde England at the end of his rope. Tuck had believed that helping Drew through a bout of depression and to stop drinking so much was repayment for the two times Drew had saved his skin at the club—once by Transfiguring a broken bottle into a throw pillow, and once by surreptitiously casting a Jelly-Legs Jinx on two of the three rowdies encircling him—when he was actually the only thing stable Drew could find to cling to. Tuck had believed Drew was just a guy like him and his friends looking to make a quick buck once in a while and back each other up, when Drew was just trying to find a life he could immerse himself into and didn't care who was in that life. Tuck had believed him to be a decent man, a man like him, when he was anything but. And now Tuck had helped him and continued to trust him even after finding out he had done nothing but lie to the man. Drew knew it was time to stop fooling himself.

He was Draco Malfoy. A boy who'd tormented others all his life simply because he knew he was nothing special and couldn't watch others flourish. A teenager who'd wanted nothing so much as he wanted to be as extraordinary as his father but couldn't even manage to kill a weakened old man. A young man who had allowed grief and anger and frustration to drive him so far over the edge that he'd done things even he considered unspeakable. A madman and a murderer. And finally broken. Broken by a pudgy, awkward young man he'd ridiculed half his life. He hadn't even merited the glory of being broken by a worthy adversary. And yet . . . in his heart he knew Neville Longbottom was more than worthy. He'd lost his parents to the war, too, and he'd risen above that. He had such a small handful of talents, but he'd never been afraid to use them to help his friends. Draco had only ever been selfish and interested in gaining his own ends. After knowing Tuck, and Pauley, and Lisa, and Bonnie, and Don, another group of people who all looked out for each other and looked out for him, he no longer had the ignorance to say friends made you weak. Or to say Muggles had nothing to contribute. Or to say that being broke and ugly was worse than death.

He didn't want to be Draco Malfoy. He wanted to be Drew Stevens. But what was Drew, other than a character he'd created to avoid the pain of being himself? What did it make him? It made him old and bitter before his time. And lonely. And ashamed. He worried about himself. He worried he'd forget everything he learned and start hurting people again. He'd thought to redeem himself that day, that day with Potter when they were nineteen and suddenly the fate of everything they knew was laying there between them. But he'd been so stupid. There was no redemption for people like him. There might have been, once. A man he'd thought was very foolish had tried to give it to him, and if he had come to his senses only seconds sooner, that foolish old man might be alive. Which would have meant Narcissa Malfoy would be alive, and Neville, and Matt Potter's biological parents. Draco wouldn't be here pretending to be Drew. He might have nothing more than nearly killing Katie Bell and Ron Weasley to regret, and such a light burden as that seemed so enviable. Snape had taken that all away from him, that long-ago night on the Astronomy Tower, but it was really Draco's fault. If he'd given in only a moment sooner, they might all be alive. Instead they were dead, and Draco was battered and scarred and pretending to be something he wasn't—worthy.

So he leaned on his cane and dragged himself forward another halting step and wondered why he bothered. He was heading for class, his second-year class, and he might be late if he moved any slower. Why was he going? These kids thought he was someone else. They'd never step foot in a room with him, no matter how much they were learning, if they knew who he really was. He should resign. After all he'd put Tuck and Pauley and Don through to keep this job, he thought he ought to resign. He wasn't good enough at this to merit staying. He wouldn't inflict his presence on this school any longer.

He passed a group of Slytherin students heading from their common room for classes, and one of them nearly knocked him over. He would have fallen, but Ran Edwards caught him and steadied him.

"All right, sir?" he asked casually.

Drew wanted to glare at him, but the boy wasn't even looking at him, just lightly holding his elbow in case he stumbled again. Ran Edwards was driving him crazy. The boy had been following him around this entire term to date, chattering about the letter Remus Lupin had sent him, his interest in Drew's subject versus his interest in Charms, how Drew thought the Gryffindor Quidditch team was looking and asking for pointers on his Keeping technique . . . and so on. Drew allowed it because he'd seen how lonely the boy was. Potter and Talbott talked to him willingly enough, but the students in Ran's own year seemed to ignore him and even fear him. Drew didn't find it entirely fair. Ran was a very nice and bright kid with a heart of gold; Drew had seen what it looked like to be a vicious werewolf, and Ran wasn't it.

He heard sniggering laughter and realized that Bradley Laddon had started up again. The first-year was cocky and arrogant as all hell, and it annoyed Drew no end to hear the mouth on the boy. Laddon was worse than he'd been at that age, if it were even possible. He'd come upon Laddon ridiculing Milton Little for being a Muggleborn with such a small amount of magical strength, and Matt Potter had stepped in to defend the boy. Laddon turned his attention on the skinny orphan and started making very cutting remarks about his nightmares and sneering at his adoptive parents. Salazar only knew how Laddon had found out about Potter's nightmares, but seeing Matt mocked into speechlessness for something that had been Drew's fault had brought rage up in him in an instant. Berengaria, "Bear" now, had pushed the small Laddon boy up against a wall and threatened to separate him from his teeth. Laddon had only sneered that the adults would never allow it. Drew had been tempted to prove him wrong, but he was supposed to be responsible for these kids, so he'd stepped in and broken it up, sending them on their way.

Now Laddon was at it again, mocking him, it seemed. Well, Drew did give him plenty of fuel, what with the cane, the eyepatch, the foreignness, and—was that little snipe actually calling him a Mudblood just because he was walking with a Muggleborn boy? He'd start in on Ran next, Drew realized, and that would send Ran spiralling into a depressed stupor for days. He couldn't allow that, Ran was the best student in second year and he counted on him to help the other students.

Laddon never got the chance to move on to Ran. Ran slipped away from Drew, approached Laddon calmly until they were almost touching noses, and stared at him. Then he bared his teeth.

"Keep talking about him like that, Laddon. Go ahead."

"And you'll do what, werewolf?"

"What do you think werewolves do when they're angry?" Ran asked quietly. He ran his tongue over the top row of his teeth. "I'll bite you."

"It wouldn't do anything, you're not transformed right now," Laddon said smoothly, stepping back with a smirk.

Ran just smiled. "I didn't say today."

Drew stepped forward at last. "Enough. Edwards, we both know you're not going to bite anyone. And Laddon, we both know you don't mean what you say and you're going to end it, now."

Laddon sneered at him. Drew gripped his arm and pulled him away to speak very, very softly. "I have had enough of you tormenting the other students." Wondering what he thought he was doing, he carefully lifted the eyepatch to give Laddon a peek at the ugly wrinkled socket. "You know what I did to the person who gave me this? I killed him, Laddon. I don't take assaults lightly. And I definitely don't take assaults on my students lightly. So this stops now."

"Or you'll kill me?" Laddon asked, smirking.

God, were all Slytherins this unsufferable? Was this why the rest of the school had hated them so much? Where had this kid gotten his mouth? And why did he feel such a strong need to defend Ran?

"No, but I'll tell your mother."

He had him. Laddon's eyes widened and his jaw twitched. Just like he'd thought. A tightly reined-in boy who had been chafing to get to school and away from rules. Give them a little freedom and they thought the world was theirs. It wasn't, not by a long shot.

"You want to be pulled out of this school because you can't manage to act respectfully? Make no mistake, Laddon, the problem is you. What will you tell your mother when you're not allowed back at Hogwarts? Hmm?"

"Don't," the boy whispered.

"That's up to you, isn't it? You show me you deserve the chance. Got it?"

The boy nodded. White-faced and slightly damp with sweat, the boy ran in the direction of his fellow Slytherins and disappeared.

Drew turned back toward his own classroom.

"That was very cool, sir," Ran said, sounding impressed. "What did you say?"

"Secret professor trick, very confidential," Drew answered with a wink.

Ran laughed.

"Ran, you know you can't threaten people like that."

"I know, but he was already having a go at me, so I thought I could use his expectations against him."

"Yes, well, a twelve-year-old showing his teeth to a kid isn't quite as scary as a teddy bear, but you still have to be careful not to make the poor tyke wet himself."

Ran laughed again, but sobered quickly. "Sir? I need to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"The . . . the full moon is coming up this weekend. I need—"

"The headmistress already spoke to me. I've made sure I have all the ingredients for Wolfsbane potion ready."

"Really?" Ran replied with a grin.

"Yes, well, I'm just as eager as you are not to have you running about the castle out of your mind and trying to hurt people."

Ran nodded. "Matt said he'd stay with me for a little while, but I told him he couldn't. He's not experienced enough to deal with it if anything goes wrong. But if you're brewing it, nothing will go wrong."

Drew let out a surprised bark of amusement. "Well, the implication is nice, but I'm not perfect, Ran. It's certainly not a good idea to have other kids there with you."

"No, but you're good at Potions. I trust you."

They entered the classroom, and it was difficult for Drew to catch his breath. Trust him? The boy was completely confident. He knew Drew could handle this problem just as effortlessly as he'd handled Bradley Laddon. A lot of these kids had the trust in him that a child showed an adult, the trust that the adult was smarter or at least more experienced than they and should be obeyed. But Ran's trust was a different thing entirely, and a heady thing to experience. He trusted Drew not only to mind him, but to take care of him. It was almost as frightening as the idea of leaving. But infinitely better, somehow.

He didn't have to make his final decision about leaving yet. Ran was counting on him.