Chapter Thirteen: Cormac McLaggen's Fatal Mistake
Draco and Blaise fell out into the Zabini's main foyer. Draco had visited many times before, so the exotic and grand decor didn't surprise him. As Blaise's parents had met and gone to school in Persia, their mansion here had been built with a distinctive Middle-Eastern flair. Steep marble columns held up the second-floor balcony, with flowering vines winding about their bases. A charmed fountain on the upstairs landing spilled crystalline water into a raised pool below, landing languidly and without a splash.
Blaise, still gripping Draco's arm, ran up the stairs and veered toward the East Wing, which was solely his own. Draco trotted to keep up, his pulse pounding.
Soon they had come to the end of a long hallway into Blaise's private den, and Draco could already hear muffled sobs. The wide door into Blaise's bedroom was shut tight, but even the dense oak couldn't block out the sound entirely. Something akin to terror mounted in Draco's chest.
His friend slowed in his approach to the door, and rapped lightly on it with his knuckles.
"Pansy, we're back," Blaise called softly. "Is it alright for us to come in?"
The cries ceased at the sound of his voice. Draco heard Pansy sniff a few times before answering.
"Yes." The pain in her voice carried, though she'd spoken in almost a whisper. Draco and Blaise shared a look, Blaise's eyebrows drawn together worriedly, while Draco's eyes had only widened in fear.
They opened the door and revealed Blaise's bedroom. Floor-length windows spilled in silvery winter light from outside, with thick chintz curtains roped off to frame them nicely. His bed could easily fit four people, and was draped with similar dressings. Though it would be easy to get distracted by the top-class broom models hung on his wall or his closet stocked full with regal dress robes, Draco's eyes landed on the far corner of the room, where Pansy sat, huddled, looking entirely too small and distraught.
"Pansy, what's wrong?" Draco asked. He started toward her, then hesitated. He wasn't the best at dealing with crying girls. And dealing with a crying Pansy was even worse.
Blaise, in contrast, seemed to know exactly what to do. He swept a knitted blanket off of his bed and brought it to the shuddering witch. He knelt beside her and wrapped it around her shoulders.
"I - I -" she tried, but then screwed her face up in anguish, coughing out another long set of sobs. Blaise sat and pulled her over so that she was crying into his chest.
At a subtle motion from Blaise, Draco turned to look at the grand piano on the other side of the room (the Zabini's had schooled their son on not just that, but the cello as well, of which he had a rich model tucked away somewhere). He pulled the piano bench over, sat, and waited quietly for Pansy to collect herself.
She sniffed again, rubbing at her face. Tear tracks had marked up her cheeks and her eyes were rimmed in red. How long had she been crying like this?
"I'm sorry," she said finally. She buried her face into Blaise's shoulder.
"What? Why should you be sorry?" he asked, trying to crane his head away and get a better look at her.
"I - ruined - everything," Pansy said, pausing to keep herself together. Draco thought she might burst into sobs again at any moment, and it looked like it took a great deal of effort not to. "Cormac - he -"
"McLaggen?" Draco interrupted. Anger rose in his chest.
She just nodded. "I thought - I thought if I let him - then he might want to stay…"
Blaise shot Draco a very intense look.
"You let him what?" he asked, his fury restrained into that trademark coolness.
But in response, Pansy just grasped Blaise's shirt tighter. All the composure she'd regained was lost in that moment.
"No one will want me now!" she wailed, before dissolving into a fit of bawling cries. It seemed she couldn't even hold herself up anymore; she sank into Blaise before throwing her arms over her head protectively, sprawling across his lap in a shuddering, whimpering heap.
Blaise rubbed her back consolingly, but the look he shared with Draco was nothing short of dangerous. If Cormac McLaggen had been in the room at that moment, Draco would honestly fear for the bastard's life.
In all his fifteen years, Draco had never seen a person so utterly destroyed. Though he knew he should feel sadness right now, he couldn't - instead, it was only a deep, building rage. This was the girl he'd known since he was eleven. They'd shared all their classes, studied for exams together, owled each other every week during the holidays. Pansy Parkinson had never, ever, in all that time, let something affect her so terribly. Even when she'd fancied Draco in the past, his rejection had caused no more than some uncertainty and possibly a few tears.
Oh Merlin, he hoped it hadn't been more than that. If he'd ever made her break down like this, he didn't think he could forgive himself. It was different, though... Wasn't it? They hadn't gotten close, and only shared a few sloppy kisses in their third year, and danced a bit the year after that. He hadn't - well -
Didn't fucking touch her, he thought possessively. At least, not once with intentions that weren't entirely innocent.
He lowered his face into his hands. He wanted to ring McLaggen by the neck, and give him a thorough pummeling. Who needed a wand when you had two perfectly good fists, anyway?
After a while, Pansy's cries slowed, until eventually she was just hiccoughing occasionally. Blaise had to pry her arms away from that shield they'd made over her face, still trying to hide. He looked her in the eye and explained that she wasn't worthless, and that this didn't mean she was spoiled for someone else. Pansy took in his words with big, scared eyes - too afraid to be hopeful, Draco supposed.
Draco called in a house-elf to make them up some tea and biscuits, and within minutes they had all moved to sit on the bed, steaming mugs in their hands. Pansy nibbled at a cookie while explaining that, while she'd sent McLaggen a very well-thought-out gift of dragonhide keeper gloves (he was hoping to take over the position once Oliver Wood graduated) she'd only received from him a plain card. In it he'd said that he thought they would be better off as friends. He hadn't mentioned the fact that the last time he'd seen her, it was the morning after they'd slept together. He'd ended the note with a simple "Happy Christmas."
"He's dead," Draco said, snapping the head off of a gingerbread man.
"Maybe he'll have an unfortunate fall," Blaise said, "Down seven or eight flights of stairs..."
"He might get very clumsy," Draco agreed. "Probably will set himself on fire a few times."
"Or have a run-in with a dragon."
"Speaking of, just where might one find a dragon around here?"
Pansy said not to bother with him, but after a few rounds of Draco and Blaise going back and forth on various ways to torture her ex, her pleas got less and less convincing. Soon she was stirring her tea idly and smirking while she said "oh no, don't..." rather tonelessly. Blaise had suggested dragging McLaggen out to the Forbidden Forest and letting him get lost in it for an evening. To Draco, that sounded like great fun.
She still wasn't herself, not quite, but the boys did get her spirits up after a while. When Draco thanked her for the sweets, she beamed back at him, and started gushing about what she'd buy at Madam Malkin's with the gift card he'd given her. Of course, the gift card wasn't the important part; in his letter, Draco had offered to shop with her. He knew he'd regret it later, but at the time it had seemed like a good idea.
The three spent most of the afternoon together before Pansy admitted that her parents were probably worried sick - they'd just seen their daughter open a card, burst into tears, and flee into their parlor to use the floo - and that she should probably get back to them. Draco thought it was best that he get home, as well. Pansy gave each of her boys a long hug and a peck on the cheek before leaving.
As soon as she was out, Blaise turned to Draco.
"Seriously. Where can we get a dragon?"
…
The rest of the break went by relatively uneventfully, and soon Draco and his friends were bound for Hogwarts once again. When he saw Pansy on the train, the first time he'd seen her since Christmas, she turned red in the face and started spouting apologies. Draco wouldn't hear any of it, and told her firmly that she had nothing to be sorry about. Someone else on the train had already reserved that responsibility.
As much as they wanted to curse McLaggen upon first sight, Draco and Blaise managed to make it through the long ride without acting on that impulse. Partially it was because Pansy was visibly nervous the entire way. Every time someone knocked on the door to their compartment, she flinched, completely unprepared to face her ex again.
"Quibbler?" came the airy voice of Luna Lovegood. She'd knocked lightly and pulled the door open just a touch to peek inside.
Draco was about to decline when Blaise, sitting by the window, held out his hand impassively. He didn't look away from the sights outside.
Luna placed a copy in Blaise's hand with a polite smile, closing the door to continue on her way.
Blaise tossed the zany magazine onto the seat next to him, still looking bored out of his mind. When he realized that Draco and Pansy had fixed him with rather scandalized looks, he rolled his eyes.
"What, you're not curious? She's always towing those about, and besides, I doubt anyone else takes them." Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Don't look at me like that. It's not like I suddenly believe in nar-gulfs, or any of that rubbish."
Pansy shrugged, and she and Draco continued their chat. They would be getting new patrolling schedules from Humphries and Clearwater, and had been wondering at what kind of surprises they could expect this term. Not to mention their Inquisitorial Squad duties, which seemed more daunting than ever. Umbridge would be disappointed to hear that no progress had been made in figuring out Dumbledore's Army, especially since, knowing that Potter didn't have much of a home to go to over the holiday, he'd probably continued with their meetings.
"I bet you could get something out of Granger," Pansy said off-handedly. "Merlin knows you get under her skin. I bet she fancies you."
She'd been busily examining her manicure, and so she missed the look that passed between her two friends. Blaise had been suspicious of Draco and Hermione from the beginning, but Pansy hadn't thought into it very much. While it was an innocent enough comment to make, the way Blaise smirked at him made Draco's face color. He quickly changed the subject.
…
"Quick, there he goes," Draco hissed.
Blaise, who was stalking silently through the shadows, tiptoed around a corner and put up a hand to halt. He and Draco were slinking through the corridors past curfew, following Cormac McLaggen as he headed toward the Gryffindor common room. They'd tailed him since earlier that evening when he'd led a bashful Ravenclaw into a broom cupboard, and they were now finally ready to strike.
Draco inched up to Blaise's side. McLaggen was dead-center in the corridor, paying no attention whatsoever, and that made him an easy target. Draco raised his wand, as did Blaise, planning to hex him with a combination of bat-bogey hex and the jellylegs jinx.
The sound of footsteps even farther down made all three boys freeze. McLaggen whirled about, trying to find a good place to hide. When he saw the two Slytherins, a look of terror crossed his face.
"C'mon," Blaise said, pulling on Draco's elbow. "It won't do us any good to land me in detention with him."
Draco, however, had an idea. Abandoning the hex he'd planned on using, he instead swirled his wand in a pattern they'd learned from McGonagall last year - while she certainly hadn't intended it to be used like this, if one only got a bit creative...
Cormac McLaggen stiffened immediately, looking down at his robes. His clothing quickly shrank away, all pulling into itself until he was nearly stark-naked, aside from a pair of bright pink, very lacy knickers.
Draco gave him a wink before running in the opposite direction with Blaise. They had just made it around the corner when they heard a loud gasp.
"Mr. McLaggen!" It was none other than Minerva McGonagall herself. And she sounded highly offended. "What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?"
Blaise grinned broadly at Draco, and they shared a quiet high-five. McGonagall was shouting about public indecency and promising enough detentions to last through the end of the year. Feeling accomplished, they set out for the common room.
This wasn't the first time that Cormac McLaggen had suffered at the hand of either Draco or Blaise or both. In the weeks following Christmas break, McLaggen had found himself hexed, tripped, sworn at, threatened, and even punched in the face - only once, when Draco hadn't been fast enough to stop his friend from lashing out. The pair didn't plan to do any major damage, but to settle in for a long and drawn-out process that would ensure constant paranoia and misery throughout the rest of McLaggen's time at Hogwarts. And so far, they had been quite successful at it.
"Still going to try Granger tonight?" Blaise asked quietly.
Draco sighed. "I have to sometime."
After Pansy's suggestion had opened up the possibility, Draco didn't feel like he needed to be so secretive about seeking Hermione out. He'd been itching to try, and every time she passed him in the corridor only to pretend he didn't exist, that itch had intensified. Even if she wouldn't give up anything on Dumbledore's Army, he still needed to see her. He hoped it would be worth it.
"Well, good luck," Blaise said, aiming a genuine smile Draco's way. "And watch your back, with that one. She's a bit touchy."
Draco smiled back, but when he turned to head off in another direction, his face fell into a nervous frown. He tugged on his collar, then pulled off his tie entirely and stuffed it into his pocket.
He figured his best bet would be to wait near the Gryffindor common room, so he made his way up the moving staircases - narrowly avoiding the missing step - and was soon leaning against the wall beside the Fat Lady. She glared at him, muttering something about loitering.
Minutes ticked by, and Draco only got more and more nervous. After a while, he slid to sit on the floor, tapping his foot impatiently. At some point he began to wonder if he'd been too late, but then he saw light coming around a bend in the corridor.
Hermione rounded the wall and jumped with a yelp at the sight of another person in her path.
Draco stood, straightening his shirt as he did so.
"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, annoyed.
"I need to talk to you." He combed a hand through his hair. She looked nice - no robes, and no school uniform, but just simple blue jeans and a dark sweater.
"I don't have time for this," she replied, turning to the Fat Lady. She opened her mouth haughtily, then paused, and shut it with a snap. She glared at Draco. "Do you mind?"
"Think I'll be invading the Gryffin-den, do you?" he said, smirking. He crossed his arms leisurely, making it clear that he wasn't going to move. "Better be careful, or else you'll find me in your common room, fraternizing with your idiot friends."
She scowled, and pointed her wand at him. The warm light made her face glow.
"Move, Malfoy."
He dropped his arms. "Look, I just need to talk -"
"I'm not interested!" Hermione hissed angrily. "Funny, remember when I wanted to talk, and you decided to ignore me for a few months instead?"
Draco wanted to argue, but cringed. She had a point. But he had to find a way to convince her. He had to.
"Look, I'm sorry," he said honestly. "I was being a prat, okay? A right tosser. Now will you please stop aiming that thing at me?"
Hermione's frown deepened, and she worried her lip. Thinking carefully, she dropped her arm.
Draco let out a breath of relief. "Thanks."
She made a noncommittal sound in return, folding her arms over her breasts. That angry glint in her stare remained.
"I - er, can we go somewhere more… private?" Draco asked.
Hermione surveyed him for a long moment, her eyes narrowed. Whatever her answer, it was clear that she wouldn't be letting her guard down. She didn't say anything in return, but merely stepped slowly to the side and began walking down the corridor, leaving Draco behind. He hurried to follow.
"I don't know why I'm doing this," Hermione said under her breath. She gave Draco a sidelong, appraising glance, and then looked back to the floor.
They reached a classroom a few corridors down, and Hermione locked the door after them, glancing quickly up and down the hall first in case they'd been seen.
"So," she said, whirling around to face Draco, "What's it this time? More about Dumbledore's Army?"
He nodded, hands in his pockets.
"When will you learn," Hermione sighed. "I am not selling them out. I couldn't even if I wanted to, anyway."
"What do you mean?" Draco asked, his attention piqued.
"Oh - er -" she looked a bit frustrated with herself. "I shouldn't have said that."
"What do you mean, Hermione?" Draco asked again. Her gaze shot up to meet his.
He felt the urge to walk toward her, and to pick up where they'd left off the last time they'd escaped to an empty classroom, but he didn't let himself. It was amazing that he'd managed to get her here at all. There was no need to push his luck. But still… The urge remained.
"Well, I don't suppose it changes much if you know…" She was clearly conflicted, but finally gave in. "This isn't some slipshod club that we slapped together. It's highly organized. And we have a system of… Well, keeping people in check, I guess you could say."
"Explain."
Hermione raised an eyebrow at the command, but the corner of her mouth quirked upward.
"We signed a contract. There were certain parameters in place, so that anyone who signed is sworn to secrecy." Here, she blushed and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Anyone who gives us away will find themselves very uncomfortable, and we'll know immediately who it is."
"And that was your doing," Draco stated. "You're the only one smart enough to pull that off."
Hermione looked sheepish at the compliment. Slowly, her stance and body language was loosening, getting more comfortable. Draco noticed as much, very satisfied with that progress.
"Does she know anything?" Hermione asked.
"Just that it's all Potter's idea," Draco answered. He probably wasn't supposed to give anything away, but he didn't care much. "She suspects Dumbledore put him up to it. And, of course, she suspects you and Weasley are in it as well."
"Why hasn't she called us out, then?"
"She wants everyone," Draco said simply. "She hates that students are undermining her stupid rules, and she doesn't want anyone getting away with it."
Hermione shook her head, sighing. "Here's where you lose me, Draco. I get that you need info, but it's you giving me a heads-up that makes me nervous. I just don't understand."
"Maybe you don't need to understand everything," he said.
The fell into silence after that. Draco wasn't looking in her direction, not sure how to respond properly to Hermione's curiosity. He wasn't sure how much he wanted her to know. Hermione, on the other hand, inspected him carefully.
"Is that all you needed?" she asked. "I mean, it's not like I'm going to tell you anything else. You know I can't."
Draco looked up at her, his silvery-blue eyes disappointed. He'd been fidgeting with his shirt, and realized how bashful and immature that might look; he rolled up his sleeves, taking his time so his hands would remain occupied for a while. He was getting anxious again.
"All I needed, yeah," he said, finally. "But I still wish you'd let it go. I meant it when I said that things would get bad when Umbridge catches you."
Why is she looking at me like that? Draco wondered. Am I crazy, or does she look happy?
"I'm not dropping the D.A., Draco," Hermione said softly, "But it's sweet of you to try."
He shuffled his feet, not wanting her to leave just yet, and blurted out, "What do muggles do for Christmas?"
Hermione seemed quite surprised. She smiled. "Probably about the same as any wizarding family. It's the same tradition, you know. We do gifts and stockings."
"Ah," Draco said lamely, face turning red. "Nice..."
"Do you remember the night at the Astronomy Tower?" she asked suddenly, now really catching Draco's attention.
"Well yeah," he said. "How could I forget?"
"You - well…" Hermione thought hard at how to go about this. Whatever it was, Draco was very curious. "You weren't… Unhappy… About it, were you?"
"Why would I be unhappy?" Draco asked earnestly. He'd stepped toward her without realizing it.
"Because I'm a muggle-born."
Hermione leaned back against the wall and fixed her bright eyes on Draco, analyzing his reaction. He recognized something in her expression and tried to place where he'd seen that look before -
Pansy, he realized. It was that same confused mix of uncertainty and hope, while bracing oneself for disappointment.
That connection tugged at him with a fresh wave of concern. It made him wonder how he'd react if he ever knew Hermione was hurt like that - and instead of that tumultuous ire that he'd felt when comforting Pansy on Christmas, a kind of fury toward the guy who hurt her, something entirely different swept through him. Fear.
He shook his head, slowly at first.
"That doesn't matter," he said firmly. "And no, I wasn't unhappy. Maybe next time we can wake up somewhere more comfortable, though." He nearly clapped a hand over his mouth once the words were out, but it was too late. To his surprise, she didn't seem affronted.
"I think that's a good idea," Hermione replied, voice soft.
If he wasn't mistaken, there was more than just hope in her gaze now; there was a kind of invitation, a softness that welcomed Draco's presence. He stepped toward her cautiously. Hermione didn't say anything, and didn't turn away. Draco's heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else, and he placed a hand on the wall beside her head to steady himself. She tilted her face up toward him, breathing a little more shallowly than just before.
Draco reached up his other hand to touch her face. He trembled, but she didn't see, because she closed her eyes when she felt his thumb gliding lightly over her cheekbone. He gently, as carefully as if she were made of glass, kissed her.
It wasn't a passionate, needy kiss like they'd shared in the library; while Draco wanted nothing more than to bury his face in her neck and let his hands roam over her body, it wasn't the time. Now was the time to prove something, to give her something worthy of her attention. So he kissed her slowly, very faintly pressing her back against the wall. When he broke away a moment later, it was to the sight of wide eyes and a thoroughly breathless Hermione Granger.
He leaned forward, brushing his cheek barely against the side of her face. She shivered.
"I need you to be careful, Hermione," he said softly. "I need you to promise me."
Draco could feel her nodding. He shut his eyes and clenched his jaw, really wishing that he could do more in this moment.
But it wasn't the time.
Not speaking, he pulled away. He led her back to Gryffindor Tower without another word, aware that she stared at him openly the entire way. When she turned to say good night, Draco merely pressed a light kiss to her forehead, gave her a knowing look, and walked away.
He wouldn't be the only one having interesting dreams that night.
A/N: You guys requested more Dramione, so I tried to deliver. Hope you enjoyed it!
So regardless of how well or poorly it reads, when I write, I really dive into the characters... So writing the bit about Pansy nearly had me crying last night. I'm also hormonal, so there's that too. Looking back, my worry is that Blaise and Draco reacted really furiously at first, but when it jumps forward to how they're actually harassing Cormac, it might come across as kind of just pestering him. I like to think that while Pansy calmed down and they discussed various "torture" methods, they got sillier and less serious as they went. Of course they still hated him, but they wouldn't be casting an Unforgivable at the sight of him. How did I do?
Also, to address a bit of worry from one of your reviews on this chapter: the "such is the duty of wifehood" comment wasn't Draco's opinion (or mine) on the subject, it was Narcissa's. That woman has devoted herself entirely to being the model wife and mother. I know it seems archaic, but that's what we're going with.
I also thought that the next big Dramione moment needed to be something heavier than just mindless snogging - though let's face it, everybody enjoys some of that - and that's how the chapter end came about. What are your thoughts on it? Did that seem like it made sense, and wasn't OOC for anybody? I don't want them to be so starkly hot/cold that they seem two-dimensional.
So I have big plans for the next chapter - and yes, it will have to do with the Department of Mysteries incident. Not only will that be paramount for our pair, but Blaise as well, and then next year we'll get to watch as Draco fumes about Cormac setting his sights on Hermione. I'm looking forward to it. :)
Wonderful reviews, all of you! And I've received some PM's with predictions on how a few key things will play out, which I love! don't be afraid to take guesses.
Thanks all,
PennyDreddful