A/N: After this chapter, things are going fast paced (finally) and we will see how Voldemort and Draco will get the opportunity to have more contact. Please, enjoy. If you feel any part of the plot is odd or doesn't match your expectations, please let me know. We are humans and we are susceptible to err.
"Those that are the loudest in their threats are the weakest in their actions"
- Charles Caleb
Umbridge had summoned him. Draco sighed. On the same day he had started attending classes she already wanted to see him. "She told me to give you this."
It was a small piece of sealed parchment. He opened it and read «frilly frogs» before it incinerated. One thing Dumbledore and Umbridge had in common was their ridiculous choice of passwords. Couldn't they choose a sequence of numbers and letters...?
He felt ashamed to have to whisper the two words at the statue. He could swear he had seen its mouth smirk.
Walking up the spiral staircase, Draco thought about the most obvious reason for his summon – the Inquisitorial Squad. The old bat wanted an answer since the time was due. He knocked on the door and pulled a smile on his handsome features before he followed the screechy 'come in!'.
"Ah yes, Mr. Malfoy!" When she rose from her chair – actually, Dumbledore's chair – he captured the intention of that gesture. His family's name was important enough for her to pay him respect; of course, Draco thought as he was offered a seat and politely declined the offer of tea, she wants political backup. And she would need it if she wanted to keep her seat for a longer period. What better way to do so than having the support of a prestige Ministry worker like his father?
Unlucky for her, he didn't plan on passing any good words about her to anyone.
"So, Mr. Malfoy."
She talked as she poured red tea into a lavender cup. "I suppose you've heard about my proposition?"
He leaned back in his chair without ever losing elegance. "Indeed I have, Headmistress" his voice turned into syrup, knowing how much she enjoyed it. Almost as sweet as her tea with 4 – and still counting – sugars.
He tried to ignore the rhythmic sloshing of the cubes falling into the tea "… and I couldn't be more grateful for even considering me." Coat it here, deliver it there, flatter again and that was how politics were played. He was going to play a game he had about 4 years of experience with.
He wasn't new or naïve to this.
"Oh, Mr. Malfoy! As if it could ever exist a student more suited for this position. Now-" she sipped her tea in a dainty manner – which made Draco inwardly cringe – "I am aware of your abilities and how all your classmates respect and admire you, so I couldn't find anyone more sufficient for taking control of the Inquisitorial Squad."
Hm, full power? Sure, why not?
"Of course, your studies are your priority so this will be an after school activity that will certainly boost house points. After all, if some houses fall back and others steadily rise, the gap will increase rapidly. Do you see my point?"
So he was free to remove points from other houses as he pleased. This would work in his advantage of befriending Potter. If he showed leniency to Gryffindor, he would fall on his good graces. Perfect.
"I do, Headmistress. I am more than obliged for this opportunity and I shall carry my duties honourably." He smirked. Oh, the irony. Lately he had been thinking of how to befriend Potter, how to approach him without rejection and yet here it was – the perfect opportunity. He knew about the Gryffindor's nocturnal tendencies. It was inevitable to meet with him.
"Perfect! I will be asking you to report strictly to me about any suspicious activities or rule breaking. Now, I shall not be taking more time from you, Mr. Malfoy. You may start tonight after dinner until midnight."
He rose and bowed with a flourish. "It will be my pleasure."
And indeed it would.
Of course, for different reasons than Umbridge's.
Draco's mood after dinner had become foul; double Potions and History of Magic were partially responsible – History more so – yet the true perpetrator was Pansy's rumour which was giving him a headache. The whispers on the corridors were finding a way to infiltrate the wall of his patience and the sneaky glances which they thought he wasn't aware of burned the back of his neck during classes.
He was now in the common room as he had wanted to gather the group that had to patrol with him tonight. Although he was not easily affected by gossip, his pride couldn't leave these worms alone to snicker and bond at his cost when he was just three steps away from their tight niche.
"Do you think it's true?"
"All men are the same…"
Draco rolled his eyes at the cliché.
"Knowing Pansy, I am not sure really…"
"But it's Malfoy we're talking about!"
He stopped in his tracks, the abrupt movement drawing attention to his presence. Some of the Slytherins he recognized as belonging to lower years and others he had classes with. He sighed when he felt eyes on him - half were shocked at seeing the topic of their gossip in flesh and bone and quite a few were ashamed. One or two were indifferent.
He purposely made eye contact with the Slytherins near him. They were all sitting on the couches around the fireplace, the start of January offering only cold.
He straightened his back in a more authoritarian poise and raised one eyebrow.
"Please, do not stop on my account." A flash of shame lighted all their eyes.
"Rumors are quite entertaining… and also a waste of time which could be spent on something productive. You see," He ventured two steps forward and he relished when they scooted over on their seats. "rumours are by definition unfounded, distorted and improper in polite society. Yet, it seems you aren't aware of that since you attend these little… gatherings as old wives do."
He smirked at their discontent. "Bravo" he clapped mockingly "you are behaving exactly like the instigator of these lies wanted. Who, interestingly, has not graced us with her presence all day." He tapped his chin lightly in fake thought. "Such mysterious behaviour can only be noted as self incriminatory, don't you agree?" He spoke calmly for he was in control of the situation at hand. As a Malfoy, he didn't have to worry about being heard or interrupted… undivided attention was always a given from the other lower classes.
"Maybe she was too afraid of you bullying her!" Draco fixed his stare on the impertinent fourth year female. He quickly evaluated her as a feminist speaking in defence of another of her species; Pansy didn't have any friends from her side.
He maintained his stare on her until she had lost the indignant red on her face and her valiant legs buckled under, forcing her to sit back down in her place.
No one had come in her support.
"Shut up, Emmeline Pankhurst, how dare you talk back to your senior! We're Slytherins, not Griffyndors! Parkinson has been nothing but a spoiled girl. She could have slept with anyone and now she wants pity from all of us."
Draco watched the event unfold; it was like a play without the main actor present. He secretly remembered the muggle theatrical thankfully there's moonlight from Sttau Monteiro.
He was aware the older male had spoken in his defence so as to fall onto his good grace. Like all the others, he desired the Malfoy reputation and wealth to benefit him in the future. The seventh year waited for recognition and Draco gave it with a small nod in his direction.
"That's quite right. Malfoy was just chosen to be the head of the Inquisitorial Squad, surely you don't need more proof of his innocence if even the professors pay no heed to such biased rumours." He silently approved of this fifth year female. The majority was accepting the information well and some even voiced their apologies to him, others nodded as a more reserved gesture.
"It is a relief to see that intellect is still present in our dorms."
A blond girl who was sitting on the edge of the couch blushed and ducked her head. He recognized her from her unusual stares at the Great Hall he often pretended he wasn't aware of. Their chatter had resumed after he had left their suffocating gathering but this time the object of their conversation was Pansy.
Draco had taken the usual – Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini. He glanced at the tan boy beside him. He was subdued and he discovered a bit of reluctance in his steps. He sensed guilt.
"Hey, Malfoy… About today-"
He interrupted quickly. "Forget about today."
Zabini was caught off guard. "So…" after an uncomfortable interval "… no hard feelings?" Draco shrugged off the other Slytherin.
"Sure, Blaise." His released sigh annoyed Draco slightly.
Crabbe was commenting to Goyle on the unfairness of having two periods of Potions followed by History right afterwards. Draco silently agreed while Goyle impersonated Snape insulting one of their own housemates when he had been compared to Longbottom. They were walking on the halls outside their Common Room where few to none portraits could be seen, their Lumos lighting the way through the admittedly eerie dungeons. Draco would never be able to decrypt the reason of the sinister magic engulfing these walls.
He stopped near the Potions' classroom and turned to the three of them. "We're wasting time this way. Splitting will decrease it to a third of the time. Crabbe, Goyle" they perked up at his firm tone "you two will be scouting from the 4th floor up to the Towers. Blaise, you'll be taking 2nd and 3rd and I will take the rest below. Make sure no one goes unpunished and keep your eyes open for suspicious activities from the Gryffindors. Umbridge thinks she has a reason to make us patrol every night."
Draco reflected on Goyle's and Crabbe's expressions. "Stop thinking and be on your feet!" He understood their reluctance of leaving him by himself after they had found out about his hospitalization but he couldn't afford having anyone by his side if he was to try to fall on Potter's good graces.
Voldemort's command had not fallen onto deaf ears.
He waited until he couldn't see or hear their steps anymore before he took the path toward Snape's Office. He hadn't noticed it before when he was in the company of the other three but the air was strongly muffling him, the scarce torches on the walls engulfed him in oppressive darkness and lumos felt like a child's play at magic. The cold - strangely persistent – was finding a way past his uniform to settle on his skin.
He stared oddly at the office's door. His skin was prickling. As he neared it, the muffling sensation increased and he felt slightly suffocated. The very dim light under the door had attracted him, noticed thankfully to the poor illumination in the dungeons.
At this late hour, activity was an odd event. Even if he knew his godfather was a night owl since the most powerful potions were brewed under the moon, it was a week day and he knew of Severus' habits being limited to the weekends. Perhaps it did not reach the Gryffindors' biased opinions but Severus Snape regarded his Potions classes highly.
He leaned his head at the door to sneak at his godfather's activities. There was no sound at all. No footsteps, no clinking of jars and tubes, no boiling water in cauldrons.
It was then that all clicked.
Severus had cast an Imperturbable on his office door. That certainly made him suspicious; what did he want to hide?
Draco jumped at the sound of the door's knob being twisted and he quickly ran down the corridor leading to the Slytherin dormitories. He promptly rounded the closest corner just in time to avoid detection by none other than-
Potter? What is a Gryffindor doing in the Slytherin's house head's office at this time? Potter and Severus calmly inhabiting the same room is as likely as butterbeer mixing with wolfsbane.
He was glad Potter didn't wave or bid goodnight to Snape; that behaviour would be too abnormal for him to continue believing the earth was round. He narrowed his eyes when his target slipped a cloak over himself – the invisibility cloak! – and disappeared just like... yea.
He mentally berated Potter for not understanding the most basic limitations of an invisibility cloak. Sound wasn't included in the disguise. He could hear his footsteps easily enough to follow him up to the Entrance Hall.
Draco firmly believed he would be lead to the Gryffindor's dormitories if he followed Potter long enough, but he couldn't discard the slightest of possibilities. He was led out of the dungeons to the Entrance Hall.
His eyes narrowed sharply. The footsteps had stopped abruptly. Why? Did Potter remember to cast a silencing charm? Yet, why now? He couldn't have heard him, he had used silencio on himself near Snape's office. He had been paying close attention to any slight sound coming from the invisible form and he hadn't heard any charms being muttered or-
There was a small rustle of something, as if a parchment had scraped a fabric. His ears strained to capture any other sounds. He doubted Potter would just stop in the middle of the stairs to write or read.
That was until he heard the Gryffindor whisper the oddest sentence followed by a sharp intake of breath. I swear I'm up to no good? Just how accurate are the Daily Prophet's accusations of your insanity, Potter?
Draco froze to the familiar sensation of his skin crawling, a certain indicator of eyes being on him.
That was when he heard an extremely quiet silencio being cast.
And after that he could hear no more Potter.
Somehow, in that small spawn of time his presence had been noticed even though he made no sound and he stayed out of sight by taking swift covers behind pillars and corners. How should he act? Should he run away and yell after the Gryffindor? No, he didn't want to give Potter away to Filch, it would be a stone in their already grainy relationship.
Yet he needed to make contact with Potter and somehow portray to him a likeable Draco. He cringed at the idea.
Deciding not to waste time, he quickly ran to the spot he knew Potter had stopped at and tried to feel the air for a body. "Potter..." He quickly said. It was not often he got opportunities like this where both of them would be alone; that Weasel seemed to follow him around all day. And they weren't exactly in better terms either.
He licked his dry lips. "I'm not going to deduct any points from your House if that's what you're concerned about." He gave a few more steps forward and his hands kept grabbing nothing more than air. "I'm not going to turn you in to any professor either. I just..." What did he want? What could he want from Potter that wouldn't arouse suspicion? His eyes widened a fraction "... want to know what you meant early in the morning today when you were in the Divination tower with Wease- Weasley." He quickly corrected himself.
He hoped that would have struck a chord but he wasn't expecting to be trusted straight out of nothing. He tensely waited for any sign that he had been heard, his hand gripping the banister of the staircase a bit too tightly and perspiration slowly forming on his forehead.
He released a heavy irritated sigh when he was sure he had waited more than enough. He probably had fallen on deaf ears. Or none at all. Alas, he decided to retur-
He swayed abruptly as the stairs started moving on their own accord. Really? Now's the time you pick? Seems luck wasn't on his side tonight and neither was the castle. He was being taken higher than he expected. The noise of the moving stone should have woken up Norris, Filch's cat.
Draco staggered at the dry stop and frowned at the staircase as if it had a conscience to understand his displeasure. He turned around to go back to the Ground Floor when he saw the lower part of it wasn't attached to the previous steps anymore. There was a significant gap between his return and the... 2nd floor he had been taken to. At least he thought it was the 2nd floor.
Continuously frowning, he followed the stairs' will and decided he might as well see if Zabini had seen any doors opening by themselves or torches flickering oddly.
As he passed unfamiliar corridors, the hair on the back of his head raised. His eyes were wide open, his brows furrowed and his heart suffered several back leaps. He was sure he had heard someone, or something.
He was tired. It was past the normal bedtime for a student and his frustration earlier with Potter hadn't helped.
A deep gargled rumble stopped his breathing.
His legs felt twice their usually weight and his ears could capture the sound of a needle dropping several floors up. He tried to quiet down his increasingly loud breathing as he was more aware of it.
He jumped when someone sniffed loud enough for Draco to hear them and for the first time he wished Zabini was pulling a prank on him.
He slowly turned around, not wanting to disturb what type of creature could inhabit the floor he was on, and noticed, with reluctance, that the horrifying sound originated past the door to his left.
He jumped suddenly at the high pitched scream that tore through his stomach, making him feel as if a hand grabbed and clenched it. He ran toward the source, slammed open the ladies' bathroom without any hesitation, his wand ready.
"What is going on here?"
Draco didn't have to look twice to grasp the situation. A Hufflepuff was lying on the floor, sobbing with short pauses for ragged breathing, her clothes were tattered – robe found on the floor next to her. He had recognised the crest out of the corner of his vision.
He averted his gaze from the girl's underwear to stare at the three other female occupants in the middle of the stalls' row. A sneer appeared on his features at the vulgar display his housemates were responsible for.
"What is the meaning of this?" The question was pointless, but his tone was intimidating; his countenance already spoke volumes. This was the typical set of bullying.
He waited for an answer; the first to speak would be the leader.
"We're maintaining the proper order in Hogwarts, of course."
Draco stared at her uninterestedly, not giving her any type of acknowledgement. She was less significant than a static photograph in a wizard's house. He could see the small shift in her pose and the gradual loss of firmness in her gaze as he continuously stared at her.
He grabbed the moment of vulnerability and took confident steps forward.
The lackeys behind her scurried out of his way and the Hufflepuff girl brought one hand in defence.
"No, please..." Of course she would see him siding with the other Slytherins; housemates got each others' back usually.
Draco tossed his robe onto her body, giving the frightened girl an ounce of dignity back. He heard a gasp followed by a whispered comment he chose to ignore which had originated from behind him.
"Go. You can give the robe to a house elf or throw it in the fire, it doesn't matter." The Hufflepuff looked at him slightly confused for a moment and then scurried to his feet out of the bathroom.
He turned to face the three Slytherins who were still stupidly standing and gaping at him. "You clearly don't have bright minds, do you? What type of game do you think you're playing after curfew?" He calmly twirled his wand.
"Well?" He hated repeating himself and he made sure they understood that.
"That was a Hufflepuff you defended!" It had been the leader again. His eyebrow rose.
"Care to elaborate the problem?" He sighed. He wasn't patient.
"She was a half-blood! She doesn't deserve to attend Hogwarts! Not where Salazar Slytherin walked!"
Ah, a Salazar fanatic. How very «thought independent».
"I thought we were in the twentieth century. Over two thousand years of evolution and you're still stuck in the past. I can already imagine how progressive your future will be."
"They are called traditions, Malfoy. You know, those ideologies which held our society together for so long?"
A simple glare was all it took for the other Slytherin to be quiet. Her underlings spoke for her.
"She was the one who started it and called it upon herself! She said purebloods, like you, were an abomination to magical society! Imagine! This coming from a half-blood!"
She would have made a good point to an uncritical mind. But, Draco couldn't blame the Hufflepuff; purebloods had always discriminated against anyone different. The scene he had walked upon had hit him hard; it reminded him too much of what had happened to the muggle family at the Manor. He swallowed.
"So you fight insults with violence?" Fighting for peace was like screwing for virginity.*
"It wasn't only insults. She was making threats! And we defended you by defending the purebloods! That whore won't blink before she forgets about you helping since you are a pureblood. How dare a third year like her talk back to her seniors?!"
The other two vigorously nodded at the leader's heated speech.
He raised his chin and drew back his shoulders. "Anything related to me is my business. Anything related to improper misconduct will be solemnly reported to me. You do not take matters into your own hands when there's someone with higher authority than you."
They frowned and pouted. Oh, soon they would frown even more...
"Fifteen points from each of you." They gaped as if he wasn't aware he was removing points from his house too, consequently. "That's what happens when you think you are entitled to do as you see fit. Now you can go back to your dorms and feel proud about yourselves."
"You will regret helping that snotty half-blood, Malfoy, it will come to bite you back."
His stare was stoic. That vague threat was too amateur for him to ever consider it.
"Do you know what happened at the Quidditch match yesterday?" Blaise usually kept a proper posture whenever he was in public amongst strangers; he had impeccable table manners and he would rarely be caught speaking with a mouthful. Except when the topic excited him.
"The one between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw?" At his table partner's nod he continued. "Yeah, mate! It was mind-boggling just thinking about it! The Ravenclaw's captain had a bludger bat up his arse, couldn't take the loss so he lost it with his team."
Draco couldn't help but overhear their conversation occurring just two plates down from his spot.
"Do you know what he did? I've heard different stories but I'm not going to believe female gossip." The opposing 'Hey!' didn't faze them to apologize in the least.
"Well..." Blaise leaned in when his classmate started whispering. Draco copied him unconsciously. "I heard that he started cursing them and threatening to disband the group and select new members.
"Pfft! He can't do that on his own!" Blaise replied.
"No, but the Ravenclaws are extremely proud of their abilities, so guess what? They made a plea to the teachers for the captain to resign!"
Draco sighed. Was this all wizards his age thought about? They were more interested in Quidditch than in their own future. There were O.W.L.S. to think about. Those would determine their success in their next two years at Hogwarts which would directly affect their careers, their family, their housing, their overall quality of living. Yet, it was more interesting to speak about what one did and didn't, how they did it and when they had done it.
Draco sighed for the second time. How come the world was so backwards? How come he had been like them?
The flapping of wings caught his attention. The mail had arrived. Between the eager birds there were two that stood out to his eyes – the pure white of Potter's and his majestic eagle owl carrying a small envelope – which meant his father had sent it. There were no boxes of pastries which his mother insisted on sending.
The high quality parchment was freed from the owl's leg and he read it.
Dear son,
I am anxious to hear of your progress on your recent goals. The wish for results is immediate. Your future is closing in faster than foreseen. Time is of the essence.
Farewell,
Your father.
"News from home? Goyle leaned in too late to peek at the letter contents which Draco had already hidden.
"Yes, and they're private." Goyle shrugged and continued his breakfast.
So, Lucius had sent him orders from Voldemort. He was to show progress immediately. He glanced discreetly at the Gryffindor table and when he saw Granger rise from the table, he grabbed his chance. He knew the muggle born would be in the library for the Gryffindor's free period. He rose up abruptly, ignored Crabbe and Goyle's "wait up!" and increased his pace toward the Library. He was aware of the trio's routine; Potter and Weasley would join her soon. What better way to win this game if not on their own grounds?
And he had a good excuse to skip History of Magic.
The Library was empty as it was usual at that time of the day. Madam Pince wasn't at her seat, opting instead to take care of the inventory of books. Draco walked down to the table where Hermione was handling several Arithmancy and Runes of Magic tomes.
She was so absorbed in her memorization that she didn't notice as Draco loitered around and searched for whatever book he could pretend to read. He opted for a Potion's textbook in favour of all others. Might as well pretend with credibility. He picked Advanced Brewing by Emil Lott and sat two tables away from the Gryffindor female.
He spent five minutes staring into dead space with his book opened until some words caught his genuine interest and he became immersed in Pepper-up potions and its alternatives. The author seemed to slightly criticize the over complicated method of brewing and he had explained the uselessness of some ingredients and steps which were traditionally used. Draco's eyebrows rose with interest at the information not even Snape had corrected in class. Well, being a teacher was not having full control of the materials taught to the Houses.
Emil Lott had gone through the extent of showing the «correct» way to brew the potion. Draco turned the page, curious to see what changes this wizard had deemed essential.
"-loody hell, does he have to be everywhere?"
"... Now, Ron, this is a public Library."
"Ron is right though. There's something different about Malfoy, lately. I don't know... he seems less..."
"Uptight? Asshole-ish?"
"Ron! Language!"
"What? It's true! He is an asshole!"
"Shh!"
Draco smirked behind his book at their conversation. He didn't remember ever having friend like they had each other. Everyone had just formed a group around him either due to interest in his family name or due to their parents being Death Eaters like his. He had slightly envied Potter in the past.
He must have been quite lost in his own mind for he was suddenly woken up from his musing by Potter's voice.
"Look, I know that you don't like me, believe me, the feeling is mutual, but we have some questions to ask."
At the we, he looked behind Potter to see Granger and Weasley listening intently on them. Perfect. Potter had approached him. The first step was out of the way. He remembered his father's letter – 'progress' had been made.
"What's in it for me?" He shouldn't appear too eager to befriend him else he'd risk looking suspicious. He raised an eyebrow at Potter's fidgeting.
"Well..." The Gryffindor had turned to his two friends with hope for their aid but he only received a shrug in return. Draco sighed. "I'll make it easy for you, Potter. Today I woke up on the right side of the bed." He rose from his table to join theirs.
The three of them sat whispering between each other while Draco had to pretend he couldn't hear them one chair away. After what seemed like a debate between three cobras, Potter turned to him.
"We know what happened to you, Malfoy." He raised an eyebrow at the vague statement. Was he referring to Pansy? Well, it wasn't new information and more than half of Hogwarts knew it too.
Hermione's voice was quiet and gentle. "The muggle family you tried to help... Thank you."
His chest froze.
What were they speaking about? He clenched his hands together. How could Potter truly know what had happened that night? He knew that he and Voldemort had a connection, but how deep and what type?
He hid his fists under the table when he noticed Granger frowning at them. She quickly added. "We're not here to judge or condemn you, Malfoy."
"Then what for?" He snapped, guilt of his helplessness evident in his abrupt retort.
"How much do you know?" He added less accusingly.
"Not much, just saw a part where the family was tortured and you intervened and in return your father..." Potter became quiet. From Hermione's face he gathered they had been informed too. Draco looked away and sighed.
"So, you know something about me which you shouldn't..." He noticed their guilty faces and grasped at something; whatever Potter had seen, he really hadn't seen the wholeness of it else their reaction would have been different. They weren't aware he was part of the Death Eaters.
"Isn't it only fair I should know something about you too? The world of Magic is based on equivalent trade, that's what allows us to perform a spell after all. Even you, Weasley, are aware of that." There was a solemn nod.
"I'm not even asking from all of you; just one of you three. Quite fair, no? You, Potter" he turned to the bespectacled Gryffindor "you mentioned you saw that happen. You gave me this information. What do you mean by that? Are you some kind of a Seer?"
Draco truly hoped not; else he could predict his intentions of getting close to him and his mission would be over.
Hermione snorted. "Divinations isn't scientific or coherent in any way. It's easily explained by logical reasons. For example, Harry had a dream but it wasn't a vision, it was a connection to he-who-must-not-be-named like Dumbledore beli-" Hermione gasped and brought a hand to her mouth when she realised she had spoken too much. Draco smirked knowingly.
" 'Mione! What's the matter with you?!"
"It was supposed to be kept a secret, Hermione!"
She looked at them slightly confused. "I'm sorry, I don't know what took over me, I-" She immediately became quiet and turned quickly to Draco and neck breaking speed.
"You! You used something on me! I'm sure of it!"
Draco knew exactly what had happened. Dark spells took advantage of the target's emotions – like the anger and contempt Granger felt for Divination – and could be manipulated easily into the spell's will. Draco slowly pocketed his wand under the table, discreetly hiding his hands.
"An eye for an eye is not unjust."
"And honestly, Granger, did you hear me profess any incantation?" Draco moved an eyebrow in fake offense.
"No, but-"
"Surely, you're aware every spell needs one?" He manipulated his features into astonishment. "You're not implying a fifth year old student would be able to perform such advanced magic, are you?" His expression turned quickly into false hurt. "I don't understand why you would call me to taunt me about something no one would want to revive from their memories and then to be accused..." He pulled the most pitiful look he could while still maintaining some shred of dignity. He saw out of the corner of his eyes the trio shift guiltily in their seats. 'Almost'.
"Do you... do you want a bribe? If it's money I have to talk to my-"
"no!"
"NO!"
Granger and Potter both yelled in unison. Madam Pince shushed them from somewhere between the selves, out of sight.
"Bloody hell, I never imagined a day would come when I feel like I'm bullying Malfoy!" Ron was stabbed on his side by Hermione's elbow.
"Ron!"
Draco smirked behind his hand which he immediately dropped after noticing Potter's stare.
"Look, Malfoy, we didn't mean anything like that. It's just that..." She exchanged telepathic glances with her two friends "... we've never thought about you in the way Harry saw you." Draco's eyebrow rose.
"So, Potter actually saw this happen? Did you dream it?" He abruptly turned to Harry.
"Y-yea... I did."
"Wow..." Draco was genuinely impressed. So he had been spot on about his suspicions. "Does this happen often? Can you control it?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron frown.
"Mate, you don't have to tell him."
Potter stared at Draco without breaking eye contact. "You're right. But, oddly, I feel like I should." Harry took a breath. Draco understood it must have been difficult to gain this small amount of trust. "No, it doesn't happen often because I can't control it."
There was something he wasn't grasping at. "You dream of it, but it's not complete, you cannot control it and you cannot initiate it... Why does it happen?"
He took notice of Ron's paling complexion, Hermione's lip biting and Harry's downcast expression. He almost risked another truth binding spell but he stopped himself, else their alertness would be his downfall.
"We cannot tell you, Malfoy. Even if we see you in a slightly different light now, you're still the same Malfoy you've always been."
He almost winced at the drawback of their slight improvement but he took advantage to steal the reins. "I understand some prejudice will remain, yet I hope we will come to see past our Houses and differences. I feel like a stranger to myself also." He dramatically sighed and propped his chin on his hand, appearing contemplative.
Hermione looked a bit guilty.
"Err... I suppose I'll see you around?" Ron turned awkwardly toward Harry. "Bloody hell, how weird is it saying that?"
"I know." Potter agreed. "You done, Hermione?"
"Yes, I suppose I am." She caught the drift of her two friends. And so did Draco.
"Later." He acknowledged them with a slight tilt of his chin and pretended to go back to where his book was and started reading again. Behind the tome, his eyes had followed the trio until they were out of sight. This was a good way to get close to Potter; get close to Hermione by frequenting the same places she did; even if she had the best scores of her year, vast knowledge and was a rational witch, she was still a female. Women would always feel attracted to some mystery, danger and good appearance – three attributes which he had. Attraction to him shouldn't even be considered a challenge; it was his second nature.
"Why does it always have to be us?" Crabbe moaned.
"Fine, you don't want to abide to your duties then don't do it. But, I will not stand here and hear you whine about it." Draco sighed. "I'll go on patrol without you two."
Goyle's tone was incredulous. "But, I didn't say anything!"
"You don't have to for me to know you're agreeing with your boyfriend." They both made a face. "As I said, someone has to be the adult here, so I will go for the two of you."
Draco shook his head at his housemates' childish behaviour and went out of his bedroom only to come face-to-face with the least expected – yet not least hated – person at that hour: Pansy.
She looked normal, but Draco could pinpoint some nervousness behind her eyes. So she had known that her plan hadn't worked. Her gossip could never measure to his influence on their house.
"Parkinson." He nodded as a greeting. He had grown to be able to set problems aside and be courteous to people he disliked... in public. A half filled common room held their breath, not knowing what to expect.
"Malfoy." Her half smile could be spotted by a blind man on the other side of the room.
Some people weren't as capable as him.
"I hope you are feeling well, Parkinson. You've taken a long leave from the beginning of the semester, so I could not fathom any other reason than sickness, could I be wrong?" He almost smirked at her expression.
"Yes... I was ill. And it seems I have caused quite the misunderstanding. I mentioned to one of my friends who came to visit me and apparently she communicated it in a way which was incorrectly interpreted by others."
It didn't pass Draco that she was speaking in a volume rather loud for a dialogue; she wanted to make sure everyone would hear her. "So you can imagine my embarrassment when I arrived today and heard about it."
The wench's audacity! Her creativity was to be admired, Draco had to admit. It had been one of the reasons he had accepted her in his bed.
Since her initial plan to force him into a socially pressured marriage hadn't worked, Parkinson was going for the "unaware" card and "misunderstanding" excuse. Sure, he could play her game; he had more creativity in store than she could think about.
"I see. How terrible for this to happen, and unusual too. I suppose communication problems are ranger inconvenient. The people we are surrounded by should be able to communicate on the same level as we do, do you not agree?" A lion did not lay with a lamb. A king didn't debate with a peasant. Whom we are surrounded by defined us.
"Yes, but it was just a misunderstanding..."
"Which could have brought serious injuries to both of us, no?" His eyebrow rose at her. He could see on her expression she felt the heavy pressure he was putting on her.
"Yes, so I apologise immensely for the problems it might have caused..." Her tone was strained, as if she was holding back anger and the apology had been hard to force out.
The common room had gradually grown quiet until it became completely silent.
Draco wasn't intimidated. He knew how to play his cards in order to avoid falling on her trap of appearing cold hearted and antagonized if he didn't accept her 'apology' and exaggerate a «small misunderstanding».
"We carry heavy responsibilities towards our names. That's what distinguishes our noble House from the rest. Even a first year is aware of this basic notion." He saw some Slytherins nod and others exchanging hushed approvals. "When we break someone else's precious china vase, even if by accident, it doesn't matter if we tripped or someone pushed us. The vase is broken and it cannot be glued back or replaced by words. What can be done, however, is to play in another area, else we will risk doing the same mistake." Draco felt a sense of superiority he wasn't ashamed to admit.
"What are you implying, exactly?"
He took satisfaction in her shifting stance. "If you're truly apologetic, you would take any necessary measures to ensure it cannot happen again, does it sound unfair?" He wasn't patient for long periods of time; he started to full slight annoyance at Pansy's slow interpretation abilities. Even some of the audience had grasped his point.
"No, it doesn't."
"Good!" He quickly interrupted. "So we agree that you should avoid your friend's company in order to prevent more misunderstandings from her; since she is not... fit to socialize with you, it can be seen as an opening for new acquaintances with whom you are able to enjoy conversation without the fear that you won't be understood. It is a rather positive change, do you not agree?"
Parkinson's expression had gradually become sour through his speech. She was biting her lower lip which he knew was a sign of distress. He had her trapped – and she should have expected it – in a way that she could only agree with him or become selfish and discourteous in the eyes of half of their House.
He almost smirked. If she thought this was his worst, she was mistaken. Terribly so.
"I see your point. I will take the necessary precautions, then." She seemed eager to leave the focus of attention.
"Perfect. Then we should start with knowing the name responsible for this whole unnecessary embarrassment?" She couldn't refuse. She wouldn't risk looking bad in front of others for the sake of one girl. That was how females from his house were. She hesitated, though.
"Margaret Langer."
"Truly not a family name compatible with yours. I am glad we have sorted this gossip. Langer should have an ounce of dignity not to bother you anymore by association, if she had any respect for you."
He tilted his head as a farewell. Upper class socializing exhausted him; the mind games and metaphorical dialogues were his fortè but he had to use much effort to analyse what his opponent meant, to predict their intentions and to beat them to their moves. This was another part of his life Lucius had insisted upon for him to master. He was to follow into his footsteps, everything already planned for him – working at the Ministry, serving under Voldemort at the same time, marry someone who would be pre-selected by his parents – like Pansy – and produce an heir to whom he should teach and mould into the same model.
Draco was currently patrolling the seventh floor by himself. Tonight it had been him, Zabini and two more upperclassmen. He had to serve Voldemort, like his father did. Bending the neck to someone he was... terrified of? No, not exactly. He wasn't afraid; well, perhaps slightly, but that wasn't what he felt most strongly. It was... disgust. He abhorred the man's deformed appearance – it truly increased the fear tenfold – and terrifying personality. He didn't hate him as much as he hated his followers – if the man didn't have anyone behind him, he wouldn't be in the position he afforded at the present. After all, he would be just one wizard, although a powerful one. A king needed peasants to rule over.
"Avery, what the hell do you think you're doing?" The harshly whispered question made the accused man jump.
"Take it down a notch, will ya?" He glared at Nott. Avery turned back to what he was doing. "Ain't no harm for the Malfoy. He most likely has thousands more of these."
Nott sniffed in frustration. Stealing antique trinkets from their host was immoral. He shrugged and joined Avery in the search of a counter spell to the locking charms.
Good thing he was a death Eater then.
"Back away from the case. Both of you."
Avery and Nott almost dropped their wands.
"Geesh, Lestrange, you almost made me jump out of my robes. I thought Malfoy had caught us!" Nott nudged Avery in sheepish manner and they smirked at each other.
"Unfortunately, no, I'm not Lucius. I'm his in-law which makes it only slightly better for you." Lestrange kept a serious tone and then gestured with his wand. "Go now. I don't want to catch you being the rats you are again. I doubt your snitch-sized brains could even decode the locking on anything here. Lucius is three steps ahead of any of us."
"Yea, 'course.We know who you're with when you wake up in the morning, no need to go public about that." Avery and Nott burst out laughing while Lestrange kept a stoic expression.
"Indeed. It's called a wife, you know, something you'll never have? Someone needs to be able to stand the sight of you first."
The Death Eaters grew silent immediately. There was a tense moment between the three. Their wands were drawn but not aimed.
Lestrange was being glared by Nott and Avery at the same time. His stern face started to betray a slight lift of the corner of his mouth. Avery sported a small smirk while Nott maintained his posture. The silence was deafening.
They could hear the snow falling outside.
And then they laughed. The three of them exploded in long kept laughter, tears already forming at the corner of their eyes, Lestrange grabbing his sides in pain.
A smooth baritone voice cut through their amusement.
"What's the meaning of this?"
Lestrange stopped laughing in a split of a second and regained his usual serious posture in even less time.
"Nothing important, Lucius, we were just-"
"Just?" A dark aristocratic eyebrow rose in inquisition. "Why is it that three fully fledged Death Eaters are sitting and rotting on a spot when there is work to be done?"
"It was just a small-" Lestrange was silenced by the cane tapping on his shoulder.
"I recall our Lord ordered you to gather intelligence on the Dursleys, no? Then what are you still standing here for?" Lucius tapped his cane twice on Lestrange's arm and watched the man go while grumbling about orders and vacation.
He then turned to Avery and Nott who had wisely remained quiet so far. "So? What are you waiting about? The Dark Lord can always use more followers. Go recruit someone more competent and make yourselves useful." Lucius' hair and cloak swished after him as he turned abruptly his back to them and walked away.
As if he had suddenly recalled something, he paused in mid step and without turning he said "if I ever catch you with your hands on something that you're not supposed to touch, I will see to it personally that you won't be able to use them anymore." At their continued silence, Lucius resumed walking away.