There was a string quartet in the parlor. The music was loud, but it was energetic, and best of all, Mummy was dancing and laughing and smiling. She never smiled anymore. She looked beautiful, even if her greasy-haired partner didn't, with her long blonde hair flowing down her back as the greasy-haired man swung her around. Daddy was in the corner chatting with someone who looked Very Important and was wearing a lime-green bowling hat.
Towards the buffet table, where Dobby was carefully setting out more food, a tiny, pretty woman with honey-colored hair was watching Daddy suspiciously, as she slowly drank a glass of wine. She squinted her eyes, then ducked into the hallway where Guests Were Not Supposed to Go, and started towards Daddy's office. This alarmed Draco. What if she's a thief? I have to do something!
Worried that Daddy would get angry at him for interrupting, Draco decided to investigate for himself. After all, he had just turned four. Surely he was old enough to defend his house from filthy pilferers! He quickly ducked into the Forbidden Hallway while no one was looking, and looked for the honey-haired woman who, as predicted, was in Daddy's office.
Draco stayed very quiet as he watched the woman rudely rifle through Daddy's things, peering behind old brass telescopes, or odd gadgets, looking more and more frustrated as she did so. Then, she spotted him out of the corner of her eyes and gave a tiny squeak.
"Oh, my!" said the honey-haired woman, "How long have you been there, little one?"
Draco said nothing, just glared and pouted. The honey-haired woman turned a little pink.
"You're Draco, right?" she said, "I'll bet you are. Pansy talks about you all the time."
Pansy? Hearing her name, Draco immediately perked up, something the woman seemed to sense. She smiled kindly.
"I'm Marigold, Pansy's aunt." Marigold nodded around the room. She crouched down, then put her hand by her mouth like she was telling a secret, "You caught me- terminal snooper, I suppose. I was looking for a bathroom and got a little lost, and then a little distracted. I'm very sorry. Your house is just so big."
Draco nodded. The house was big.
"I'll bet you get lonely, don't you? I know Pansy does. Maybe I should start bringing her over when Lucius calls for his meetings, and you can play more. Nott has a kid about your age, as well as Crabbe and Goyle. Hmm, and the Patils have twins. We could have little play dates, I suppose." Marigold drifted off slightly, her tone getting grimmer, then her head shot up as footsteps sounded in the hallway.
"Draco!" Daddy's voice boomed down the hallway.
"Lucius can't find me in here," said Marigold quickly, sounding scared, "Can I trust you to keep my secret?"
Draco nodded quickly. Pansy was his friend, and he loved her. So that must mean that Marigold was his friend, too, even if she was a little suspicious.
"Draco?" said Daddy, poking his head into the office just as Marigold silently ducked down behind the large mahogany desk. "There you are. You had your mother and I worried sick! You can't just disappear like that."
"I'm sorry," said Draco, feeling an urge to cry. It wasn't his fault. Marigold looked suspicious.
Daddy's face tightened, but he just gave a deep sigh. "It's okay," said Daddy, smoothing Draco's hair back. "But don't disappear like that again. You're too young to be running off on your own."
"I didn't want to interrupt you," said Draco, feeling proud at his words coming out without too much trouble.
"Ah," said Daddy, "Well, that was good of you, I suppose. It was a vital conversation with the minister. But next time, bring someone with you."
"Why?"
"Why was I speaking to him?" said Daddy, looking a little unsure. When Draco nodded, he continued, "Well… I did some things that weren't quite appropriate. Through no fault of my own, of course."
"Why?"
"Well, I was trying to do what was right for our family."
"Why?"
Daddy made a small, slightly anxious cough as Draco stared at him with big searching eyes, "Well," said Daddy, "You know how there was recently a war?" When Draco nodded, Daddy continued, "Well, I was on the losing side."
"Why?"
"Draco," said Daddy in the tired way he did whenever Draco asked too many questions, "Now is not the time to play the 'Why Game'."
"But why?" said Draco, wanting to understand the cryptic words.
Daddy thought for a long time, gazing around the room with all it's beautiful possessions, "Because he promised our people prosperity," said Daddy, picking up Draco to go back to the party, "Now... Now we have to hope for the best."
"Why?" said Draco, sensing that Daddy was getting distressed, but wanting to know more.
"Because there is a very, very Bad Place that we send criminals to, and there are people who want to send me there," said Daddy, plastering a grin that was far too wide over his face. He cleared his throat once again, then flung Draco over his shoulder before leading him out of the room in time for Draco to see Marigold poking her head out behind the desk. Daddy's back was turned and didn't see her. "But don't you worry. That's why Mummy and- and Daddy-" Daddy's tone faltered as if he were having trouble saying the word, "-Are having this party. So long as I can make Minister Fudge my friend, I can delay the trial long enough to ensure that Moody doesn't have a shred of evidence against me..."
"So you won't go to the Bad Place?" said Draco feeling a bit scared that Daddy might leave.
"I promise you, Draco," said Daddy, planting a kiss on Draco's cheek as they re-entered the parlor and cutting the tension, making Draco giggle, "I will never leave you, or your mother. I love you too much."
Chapter Thirteen: In Which Draco Drinks Some Tea
There was no fact more evident to Draco that mathematics and chemistry were the great uniters between the magical and wizarding worlds. The more he studied Alchemy, the more he discovered how many similarities there were between the two worlds. They were honest and real in a world that Draco was learning was full of lies and schemes. It was complicated but elegant and almost tamed a word that felt like it was spinning out of control.
But if they were the uniters that brought magic and the mundane together, then Alchemy was the unholy lovechild the two of them made. That thought alone had Draco rabbit trailing like a mad-man on Christmas morning as Draco ate his breakfast. Muggles eat porridge too. But we use magic to send it up from the kitchens, and they don't. But it's still porridge. It hasn't been changed or anything!
Or had it?
It's 'Apparated' ish… But does Apparition change the molecules? You must be the same person when you come back. You must be. After all, the porridge tastes like the usual porridge that I have back at home, and that doesn't go through some weird magical portal. Dobby just carried it in-
Dobby.
In the last four days since the Yule Ball, Draco had gone back to the kitchens five times. Each time, Dobby was gone. Draco expected it, and he couldn't blame the elf, but it still hurt. It was another relationship gone and ruined, in tatters that would likely never mend.
"Merry Christmas!"
With a thump and a soft giggle, Astoria sat next to Draco and held out a small green box wrapped in a red velvet ribbon.
"Thanks!" said Draco with perhaps more enthusiasm than necessary to hide his upset and took the present and fiddled with the bow as Astoria took a glittery stuffed unicorn out of a new book bag.
"Mummy and Daddy got me a new bag, and Daphne got me the cutest little unicorn stuffie, and it walks around and sings-"
"Oh cool, how does it do that?"
Wonder if I could apply the charm to a muggle contraption. Or would that be too, I dunno… Weasley of me? Those muggle contraptions use metal wiring to run the electricity through them. I wonder if I could use that to get more energy for my Alchemy spells. Draco mused once again, ignoring his present for the frankly horrific abomination of glitter and sparkles. That would piss Father off if he found out. He hasn't said anything about Blaise and me yet…
"Oh, mail post!" Astoria chirped.
Speak of the Devil, and he shall come. Thought Draco as he spied a team of three Eagle owls swoop down with a package and large vellum letter. Across the Great Hall, Weasley#6 eyed him jealously, while Potter and Granger looked mostly curious.
"You should look at mine first," said Astoria, grinning and giving the owls a few bites of her breakfast before it flew off.
"Pushy," said Draco, "But okay,"
Inside the box was a leatherbound journal and a lovely new quill.
"You've been reading all those journals in the muggle studies section, so I thought I'd get you a journal, and you could write your own to leave for other dissenting pureblooded teenagers," said Astoria before filling a bowl with fruit. "Also, is that plain porridge? Ugh, no wonder you used to bully people. You don't put any milk, or love in your porridge."
"'Stori…" said Draco, not sure what to say as he examined the blank journal. He held out a small box for her, which she grabbed. Inside was an old jeweled bracelet.
"I'm not good at giving presents," said Draco, observing as Astoria studied the bracelet. "Uhm, but it belonged to my paternal grandmother, and when she died she left her entire jewelry collection to me-"
"Why? Do you wear jewelry?"
"No..." Draco shook his head vehemently and continued, "No, but Mother had been eyeing it ever since the Healers told my Grandmother she was terminal. Anyways, Grandmother hated Mother. So, before she died, she enchanted her entire jewelry collection to leave ink stains on anyone who wore it without the proper owner's permission."
Astoria's eyes bugged out, and a wicked grin plastered itself over her face, "Nice! Cranky jewelry, I love it! Besides, now I won't have to worry about it getting stolen- or at least, not without retribution."
She started putting it on then paused, "It's going to recognize me as the proper owner, right? And did you never give the jewelry to your mother?"
"It's a Christmas present, so it should recognize you," said Draco, "And do I look like I want my grandmother's ghost to come back and haunt me? If you thought my father was mean, you should have seen her. At least Father is nice as long as you don't provoke him. Grandmother was just mean."
Astoria nodded, then held out her wrist for Draco to clasp the band, "Let's see what your parents got you!"
Draco nodded but opened the letter first while Astoria tore open the box, pulling out a box of Christmas chocolates. She dug through the box some more, then gasped, "Oh, my God!"
Draco,
I had hoped that over these last few weeks, you've put in serious thought to your behavior and your studies. I have been in correspondence with your teachers, and I believe you have, considering the improvement in your grades.
I have also learned that you have developed an interest in Alchemy. For this, both your mother and I could not be prouder. Alchemy is a noble and respected field. If you can keep your grades up, and with your name as a Malfoy, I know that you can go far. However, I must warn you; in recent years, Alchemy has become riddled with buffoons who apply their work to muggle contraptions and even use research from the muggle world.
Our way, the way of proper wizards, does not involve muggle malarky.
You are an intelligent boy, so I know that you are aware of this. As such, in case Hogwarts has lacking materials on proper Alchemical research, I have included some in your gift. Please let me know if you need anything further.
Love,
Father
Draco scowled, then tossed the letter aside. He knows the way he acted was unacceptable. But of course, he can't bring himself to apologize or admit fault. So he's giving me what I want instead of just saying sorry.
Underneath his father's neatly written letter was another piece of parchment. This one had handwriting that appeared scribbled, and barely legible. It was his mother's handwriting, and perhaps the only indelicate thing about her.
Draco,
I'm so proud of you! I can't begin to explain how excited I am! Lucius tells me you're studying Alchemy, so we got you a few things.
Please remember not to overeat on chocolate- it makes you hyper. And I sent a new sweater, just in case you've already outgrown all of yours. Your father and I also included a little gift for the Zabini boy, (Lucius was speaking with Mr. Bagman the other day at the Ministry, and heard about you two!) The Zabini family has some critical connections in the ministry. You two becoming so close is excellent news indeed. Your father seems pleased, too. He was singing the other day. Singing! I felt like I was on my honeymoon again!
I love you, and I miss you so much. Please write to me more- I hate to hear second hand about your first romance. But if you two are still together come Easter, we would be thrilled to have you come home, and perhaps meet him in person.
Love, Mother
Next to his mother's name was a small drawing of a Narcissus flower. Despite her handwriting, which barely passed for chicken scratch, art was something she had a talent for. Draco grinned, happy that his relationship with Blaise was something he didn't have to hide, at least.
"Draco! Look at this!" said Astoria digging out other items from the box. He stood up and peered inside. Nestled in lots of paper was a beautiful bronze microscope. Draco pulled it out, slightly awed. The dials turned, and tiny little runes inscribed in the metal glowed as the mechanics moved.
"Stunning!" said a voice from behind him. It was Dumbledore, dressed in green and red robes that Draco could only describe as 'festive,' "I see that Mr. Malfoy has decided to support your extracurricular activities,"
"Er…" Draco paused, unsure of what to say. His father was supporting his journey into Alchemy, but only because he didn't know how much muggle research Draco was conducting.
"Either that or Mr. Malfoy has not studied the history of Optics…" said Dumbledore a bit more seriously. He then clapped his hands together and said, "Ah, well! Merry Christmas, Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Greengrass. Oh, and I see that Mr. Zabini has come down to wish you a Merry Christmas as well!"
With that, Dumbledore walked away towards the high table, whistling under his breath, and with what Draco could only describe as a skip in his feet. Mad, he thought as Blaise sat down next to him, landing a peck on his cheek.
"Merry Christmas," said Blaise, "Sorry to say your gift is not up to boyfriends standards, but in my defense, we only started this… whatever it was four days ago." He gave Draco a small box that contained a broom servicing kit and some chocolate frogs, and Draco gave him a crystal chess set, as well as a chocolate reindeer that his parents sent.
"So… boyfriends?" said Draco nervously, as Blaise watched the chocolate reindeer trot around the table, and Astoria started chatting with another second-year girl, "Is that what we are?"
Blaise shrugged, "I guess. I mean, do you want to keep snogging?"
"Sure," said Draco, coughing and feeling himself turn pink as he opened his chocolate frog and found a picture of Dumbledore. Damn, why does it have to be pink? At least when Weasley blushes, it's manly and red. Even Father turns red. But no, I have to take after my Mother and turn pink.
"You're blushing," teased Blaise, leaning over and poking Draco's cheek.
"I am not blushing," said Draco, reading the Dumbledore entry. Found twelve uses for Dragon's Blood… Wonder how much magical energy I could get from Dragon's Blood. Supposedly, blood holds a ton of magic. "And you would do well not to poke me. I may be forced to bite-"
"NO!"
From down the Slytherin table, there was a loud crash as Crabbe, who was sitting next to Pansy, pushed Pansy from her seat, where her tiny frame practically flew backward. Her head collided with the Gryffindor bench behind her with a sickening crack, then Crabbe ran out the Great Hall, with Goyle following close behind him. Seeing the commotion, Snape started to descend from the high table and knelt next to Pansy, who was moving and sitting up with the Weasley twin's help, but she held the back of her head while wincing in pain. Draco resisted the urge to run up next to her as he told himself he didn't care. He still wanted nothing to do with either Crabbe, or Pansy, or Goyle.
"I'm fine," said Pansy, holding the back of her head, "It's not Vincent's fault. He's thick. He's just worked up because Draco's been ignoring him, and he thinks he's being replaced. I tried telling him-"
"I still want you to go to the Hospital Wing," said Snape, "Miss Bulstrode, make sure Miss Parkinson makes it to the Hospital Wing. Miss Parkinson, if I don't receive a report from Madame Pomfrey, I will be escorting you there myself. Do you know where Mr. Crabbe might have gone?"
"No…" said Pansy, "He's been worked up since the Yule Ball. As I said, he thinks Draco's replacing him. Greg and I have been trying to calm him down, but-"
"That's enough, Miss Parkinson. I promise you; we'll find Mr. Crabbe." Dumbledore came down from the high table as well his festive robes glittering in the pale morning light. He motioned to Snape, and the two of them left through the double doors, presumably to find Crabbe and Goyle.
Pansy caught Draco staring as Millie tried leading her away as well, and glared before pulling away from Millie and marching towards him.
"You need to talk to Vincent!" Pansy hissed in a low tone, taking Blaise's chocolate reindeer, and biting its head off before he could protest.
"That's mine-"
"Shut up," said Pansy, swallowing her chocolate, "It wasn't his fault, Draco. Be angry at me all you want, but at the very least, you need to forgive Vince."
"Yeah, well, why was he writing to my father?" snarled Draco, and guarding his presents. "He wrote to him-"
"Yeah, because I told him to. I convinced him it would be a good idea. He's thick! He didn't know better!"
"Well, I'm still angry at him, so go figure that out!"
"Then tell him that, you utter moron!" A single spider crawled out of Pansy's shirt and hopped onto Draco, where he flung it on the table in a panicked flourish. "He. Is. Thick. He doesn't understand why you're upset, and he's going to keep acting out like this until you spell it out for him. So tell him. Let's go, Millie." Pansy swirled around, still holding Blaise's squirming, headless chocolate reindeer and left.
"Remind me why we're going to the Astronomy Tower," said Blaise as they climbed up the spiral staircase, bundled in their warmest cloaks. "It's freezing, and these steps are icy. Draco, we could play on that new chess set you got me. Or maybe I'll go challenge Weasley to a chess match."
"Because," said Draco, "I need to speak with Daphne." And I don't want to speak to Crabbe. "And if you want to go challenge Weaslebee then, by all means, go ahead. I do not feel threatened by him. Not when he's attached to Lavender Brown by the lips."
Blaise grumbled in response but continued up the icy steps until they arrived at the Astronomy tower, where they heard a loud crash from Sinistra's office. Astoria ran into the office, quickly followed by Blaise and Draco. Inside, they found an angry Daphne alone and surrounded by a dismantled telescope. Several magnets and copper wiring littered the space next to a fan-shaped object, made with the linen frames that Draco saw a few weeks before sticking out the window.
"Daphne," said Astoria, picking up a piece of the telescope whose parts littered the room. "What's wrong?"
"It's not working!" said Daphne angrily, "The telescope is supposed to create a three-dimensional image of the object you're looking at, but I don't have enough magical power to enchant it, and neither does Sinistra. So we were hoping to use electricity as a backup. But it's not converting! Ugh! Stupid-" Daphne made a strangled scream-like noise and continued to disassemble the telescope.
Draco picked up a bundle of copper wire, thinking it looked somewhat like a ball of yarn. Something to convert it. Wonder if it would work as a wand would. Dragon's blood has a lot of magical uses, but that'd be tricky. We'd have to get a tank of it and dip the copper in the tank, maybe, but what about Dragon's Heartstring? Hmmm… no, that'd be a bit gory. What about… Draco glanced over at Astoria, who was holding the stuffed unicorn to Daphne, who took it with a grim smile. Oh!
"What about Unicorn hair?" said Draco, "I mean, it works for wands. It channels the magical energy through your body and directs it into the air or an object. Maybe if we bundled it up like the copper wiring, we could do some sort of weird conversion."
Daphne nodded, hugging the unicorn, but frowned, "Maybe… But where would we even get unicorn hair?"
"Mr. Hagrid might have some," said Blaise, fiddling with a couple of magnets, and grinning when they smacked together. "Nice! But I thought muggle stuff didn't work at Hogwarts."
"That's utter claptrap," said Daphne, snorting, "If electricity didn't work properly, we'd all be dead the moment we entered Hogwarts."
"But-"
"Draco, back me up," said Daphne irritably, while Draco coughed.
"Er, she's right, Blaise," said Draco. Blaise still looked confused.
"Can you elaborate?"
"We run on electricity." said Draco to Blaise, "Our brains, our nervous system… Do you know how if you don't eat enough salt, you don't feel good? Well, salt is an electrolyte. If you don't eat enough of it, your nerves don't function correctly. And I know that I get shocked from wool sweaters and other things. So electricity has to work in Hogwarts. If it didn't… nothing living would function properly."
Blaise nodded, though Draco didn't think he completely understood. "Great, then let's go see if we can't negotiate Mr. Hagrid out of some unicorn hair."
"You two go," said Daphne, "I need to start putting Clara back together. Astoria, would you mind helping me?"
"Wait, but-" started Draco, before Daphne cut him off.
"Blaise is eloquent enough, and in my experience, Mr. Hagrid has always been rather forgiving." said Daphne, "If you grovel hard enough, I'm certain he'd be willing to help us out. Especially if you mention that your father wouldn't approve of this."
"Maybe…" said Draco, but he still felt uncertain. I was the main reason Buckbeak nearly got executed. Hell, I laughed about it. No wonder Granger decked me. No, I'm going to need something more than groveling. What does Hagrid like? He likes monsters… But I can't just dig up a beast for him, and I don't have any interesting information on monsters. He likes Potter, but Potter doesn't like me. But what if...
"Blaise," said Draco, "Do you know any good spells for copying notes?"
"Ha!" said Blaise, his dark skin crinkling at his eyes as he laughed, "You're talking to the person who snuck into McGonagall's office to steal and copy the answer sheets for her written Transfiguration final in our third year. Of course, I know how to copy notes."
"Perfect!" said Draco, "We need to go to the library. Astoria, do you care if I use the journal you gave me? I don't have any empty ones currently on hand. They're all filled with-"
"Draco, it's yours, and its purpose is to be written in." said Astoria gathering up pieces of the dismantled telescope and waving him off, "Why would I care? Oh, also, leave your microscope here. I'll take it to the clubhouse later."
"Clubhouse? Okay..."
Once he carefully placed the microscope on Sinistra's desk, figuring he would ask Astoria where she took it later, Blaise grabbed his hand and started pulling him away and down the spiral staircase. He was silent for a good portion of the journey to the library, only speaking to say Merry Christmas to various portraits.
"Always good to be polite to them," said Blaise as they rounded a corner near the library. "My Mum has a couple of paintings who have portraits here. They hop around, and now and then gossip with her. Figure if they like me, they won't snitch."
Draco shivered and wondered if his father had any paintings who cohabitated portraits. The walls don't just have ears- they have mouths and eyes too. Shit, what have I gotten myself into? Maybe Father doesn't care about Blaise, and he wants to encourage me with Alchemy, but what if he has a painting that spends time at Hogwarts? Or what if he starts talking to Blaise's mum, and she tells him something she heard from a painting here? I need to start being more careful. I can't bring my muggle books out of that hidden room. Or, if I do, I need to enchant the covers so that they look like wizard books.
Something on the stone floor hit Draco's foot, and he looked down. It was one of the toys he'd seen in Crabbe's chest a few weeks ago. Only now it was broken and lying in pieces on the floor. Wonder what happened to it, thought Draco, bending over to pick it up. He put it in his bag and decided not to worry about it. There were other things to do.
Soon, the two of them arrived at the library, and Draco hunted down the journals that 'James Potter' wrote, leafing through them until he found the notes that were best put together. With Blaise's help, he had soon filled the leather-bound journal with pages of the notebooks which were useful or just plain funny; an exact copy of the notebook page appearing in Draco's journal where he jotted down the location of the book in the corner.
"So, I hate to open the proverbial can of worms…" said Blaise after about fifteen minutes of searching through pages and copying them, "But, earlier at breakfast, Pansy brought up that Crabbe thinks he's being replaced and…"
"You're wondering if I am using you like a replacement?"
"Well, no... " said Blaise slowly, "Maybe a little bit…"
"I'm not," said Draco, but mulling it over as he did indeed feel a little doubt. "It's more of… Never mind, it's stupid."
"I don't think it's stupid."
"You will," said Draco, chewing on his quill, "But fine… I just- Every time I go back to hanging out with Pansy, or with Crabbe and Goyle, I get sucked back into this cycle of hate, and anger, and I- I'm finally happy, and don't feel the need to belittle others just to make myself feel better. I'm just worried that I'll get sucked back into that cycle."
"Why would I think that's stupid?" said Blaise, peering at him curiously, "Draco, the entire reason I've only recently started hanging out with you is that you've finally gotten out of that mindset."
"Really?"
"Yeah, you were a giant prick. You scared both Theo and me off."
Draco groaned, leaning back in his chair, "And what if I get sucked back into that again? I've finally dug myself out,"
"Then I'll poke you until you start digging again," said Blaise, reaching over and poking Draco's cheek, "Or don't talk to Crabbe and don't risk anything."
Silence filled their table at the library for a few moments before Draco continued, "Does that mean you wouldn't judge me if I continued to avoid him?"
"Of course not. Did you see him fling Pansy earlier?" said Blaise, "However, I will point out that we share a dorm. You will eventually have to talk to him. You may as well get it over with. I'll even stick around to protect you."
"Thanks…"
"Hey," blurted Blaise, "For a change of subject, some of these broom diagrams look pretty cool. Do you think we could apply them? Maybe it'll finally give us an edge against Gryffindor- at least next year when Quidditch starts up again."
"Maybe," said Draco, grinning in excitement at the idea of using Potter's father's notes against him in Quidditch. Somehow I doubt Potter would be able to understand any of this. Or if he does, the look on his face when we have the same thing, out of the blue, would be priceless!
"Oh shit," said Blaise, suddenly flipping through journal pages, "Harry Potter's dad knew Sirius Black?"
Half an hour and several bouts of maniacal giggling later, the two finished filling in the journal. Braving the wind and snow, they bundled up in the cloaks once again and ventured out of the castle to Hagrids hut to deliver the journal, with the hopes of obtaining a source of unicorn hair in return.
But is that a sincere apology? Draco mused as he trudged through the snow, watching Blaise climb through it almost gracefully. I can't just apologize, then expect the unicorn hair. It wouldn't be right, would it? Ugh, this is so confusing. With Astoria it's one thing- I never tried to get her pet killed. But Buckbeak did attack me! He was dangerous. But I was also being an ass. And I need the damn unicorn hair. I don't want to ask Father for it because then he'd want to know why I want it, and lying bodes the risk of Father investigating on his own and…
This is exhausting… thought Draco, as they arrived at the hut, I should just do it and get it over with. Then, a thought occurred to Draco just as he was about to knock on Hagrid's door. Oh no, Father is in correspondence with my teachers! Hagrid is my teacher! What if he tells Father something- not even on purpose, but by accident, and Father starts to dig and finds something out? This is not good, this is not good at all…
SWOOSH
The doors of the hut opened as Draco's fist froze inches away from knocking while he had his momentary panic.
"Malfoy? Zabini?" said Hagrid, his massive frame standing over him like a great shadow, and his beady eyes squinting suspiciously. "Wha' do you wan'?"
"Er…"
Suddenly, Blaise elbowed him, "Draco, just ask him. The worst he can say is no."
Draco glanced at Blaise, then back at Hagrid, feeling the panic rising, "Well," managed Draco, "Mr. Hagrid, sir… Er- I've been doing some thinking…"
"Uh-huh," said Hagrid, then stepped back, "Why don' you two come in out of the cold. 'spect Lucius Malfoy would have my head if his son froze t' death on my fron' steps."
Hearing the words made Draco wince as he walked into the hut and sat down at a table in front of the fireplace where Hagrid brought out some tea and something that was probably supposed to be a form of cake. He chewed on it, glancing at balls of unicorn hair hanging from the ceiling, trying to buy himself some time as his heart pounded against his chest. Get a grip, Draco. It's just an apology, not a life sentence… But that's what Father nearly got Hagrid in our second year, remember? He blamed him for all those petrifications when he was innocent. Hagrid is probably going to hate me regardless of what I say, considering he got framed. But who did-
Something started tapping against the wooden table. It was Draco's finger. According to Pansy, he covered up a murder. He tried to get Hagrid fired last year. He's almost certainly a Death Eater. What if… What if it was him that was responsible for the petrifications? But he wasn't here, that's silly. But that diary… It was evil. I'm certain of it. I was six, and I still remember that feeling in the basement. Like some sort of demon. And Father slipped it into Ginny Weasley's cauldron... If he did do it, that means he let Hagrid take the fall. He let him almost rot in Azkaban.
"Draco!" hissed Blaise, poking his ankle from under the table. "Darling, you're being rude. Thank you for the tea, Mr. Hagrid. It's delicious. What kind is it?"
"My special blend," said Hagrid, looking quite proud, "Got all sorts o' herbs. Some chamomile, bit o' dried blueberries, some white tea…"
"Well, I love it," said Blaise, letting Draco collect his thoughts.
"Er, Mr. Hagrid, I was wanting to…" Draco paused, "I'm sorry about what happened last year with Buckbeak. It was… It was wrong, and I know that now. And well, I wanted to make up for it. I didn't know what you liked, but I knew that you liked Potter, so I made this and I know it's not something that you might be able to use. Still, I figured you'd be able to say it's from you, and he'd believe it and-" The words started ramping up in speed as his anxiety grew, beginning to falter and fall over themselves. Blaise placed a hand on his shoulder and Draco stopped talking long enough to take a breath.
Draco was expecting Hagrid to get mad and kick him out. Instead, Hagrid grasped the journal, opened it, then gasped and covered his mouth.
"How…"
"I've been doing some independent research into Alchemy," said Draco, feeling a bit more confident, "And, it's forced me to delve into the muggle studies section more than once. I found a bunch of journals that someone named James Potter wrote with a Lily Evens; some of them had a couple of others as well… Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, and even our old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Mr. Lupin, and- Oh, no… Uh… Mr. Hagrid?"
The half-giant was currently weeping as he flipped through the pages. Fat, heavy teardrops rolled down his face and onto the pages where they splattered against the parchment. Then, as he was crying, he started laughing as well, "Oh, I had forgotten how much of a riot those boys were…"
"They were friends?"
Hagrid nodded sadly, "All o' them. Well, Lily and James weren't quite friendly with each other until their Seventh Year. Between you an' me," said Hagrid laughter in his black beady eyes, "James was a bit o' a prat."
A prat? A prat like me, or a prat like Potter?
Hagrid pulled a blanket sized handkerchief out from his pocket and blew into it loudly. "Now, it sounds like you boys wanted to ask me something?"
"Right," said Draco, "Ahem, well, as I've been studying Alchemy, I've run into a problem where I don't have enough magical energy. Daphne Greengrass is having the same problem with a telescope she's building. We're trying to figure out a conversion method, and we think unicorn hair might be applicable."
"Conversion?"
"Daphne is building a muggle generator to gather electricity. We think we could use unicorn hair to convert it into magic," said Draco.
"Playing with muggle things…" said Hagrid, "Ol' Lucius Malfoy's not gonna like that. You gonna be okay?"
Will I be okay? Draco bit the inside of his cheek. It was oddly comforting, knowing that the massive half-giant seemed to want to look out for him. "I…" Draco glanced at Blaise, who smiled and grasped his hand, "I think so, yes. So long as Father doesn't find out."
"O' course," Hagrid winked, then stood up. He pulled a ball of silvery unicorn hair from the ceiling and handed it to Draco. "Here," said Hagrid, "The poor unicorns get their tails caught on branches and whatnot. I find the hairs hanging off o' bushes and trees while out in the Forbidden Forest."
Draco nodded, and pulled out some coins, "How much would you want for it?" Seven Galleons for an ounce of unicorn hair was typically the norm (*), but considering their history, he was expecting to pay more. Three and a half years of allowance and birthdays and Christmases saved up, minus all those muggle books I bought... I still have at least a thousand Galleons stowed away. I'm not too worried. But I can't be wasting it all on something I don't even know will work. Sooner, rather than later, I need to build a budget.
"Er…" Hagrid paused and looked confused, "Well…"
Draco fingered the coins nervously, while Hagrid smiled kindly and placed the ball of hair in his hands, then took a few sickles. "Well, it's pro'ly not the best quality, so let's just call this good," said Hagrid, "Bu' I expect to see these inventions when you're done."
"Of course," said Draco, "Actually, if you go into Professor Sinistra's office you can see Daphne's right now," Blaise cleared his throat, "Though it's… sort of in pieces at the moment. She had a bit of a tit when it wouldn't work."
"Ah, well tha's too bad," said Hagrid, nodding and leaning back while he sipped his tea. The three continued to drink their tea, with Draco soon finding why Potter seemed to like the half-giant so much. He was warm and inviting. Where Draco's mansion was large, it was also cold, and somewhat empty; Hagrid's hut was cramped, but it gave off an attractive charm. He got lost in conversation, and before he knew it, it was getting dark.
"You bes' be off," said Hagrid, "Don' want ya t' freeze t' death out there."
Blaise bundled up in his cloak and started to walk off. Draco lingered at the door.
"Mr. Hagrid…" said Draco, unsure of where to start, "I need to ask… My second year, when there were all those petrifications…"
Hagrid's face darkened, but he didn't stop Draco.
"Is there… Did my father have anything to do with it?"
Hagrid's silence was all the answer Draco needed. He did... That diary let something loose in the school, and it nearly killed five students- one of which wasn't even muggle-born. Back then, I thought it was funny. Now, I don't know. What if it had killed me? Did he ever think about that? Or was he just too consumed by hate to care?
Fifty yards down, Blaise stopped walking and turned around to wait.
"Right… I should get going," said Draco, managing to give a shuddering nervous sort of laugh to break the overbearing silence. He coughed awkwardly, "Seriously, please don't tell Potter that I made that. He'd probably lord it over me about how much better his father is than mine."
"Oh, I don' think he'd do tha'..." said Hagrid, but nodded. Draco then adjusted his cloak and set off with Blaise for the castle.
There were still a few hours till dinner, so the two of them decided to head towards the common room. The dungeons were dark and no longer lit by strings of tiny crystals. Instead, torches once again lit the low sloping ceilings. Once they reached the Common Room, Draco found Pansy sitting with Crabbe and Goyle by the fire, with her feet up over Crabbe's lap. Draco pulled the broken toy out of his satchel, then tapped it with his wand while muttering Reparo.
Crabbe's family never spends money on him. The only place this toy would have come from is my father. Maybe he thought he could get love from him. Yet another damn person he's hurt. And now, I'm avoiding Crabbe and adding to this vicious cycle. He can't keep getting away with this. Draco settled down next to Crabbe, then handed him the toy as anger boiled away inside him. "Here,"
Crabbe took it, avoiding Draco's gaze, while Goyle watched closely. Blaise went to sit by Astoria, who was coloring some parchment at one of the tables.
"I was angry at you," said Draco, "I found the letter Father sent you, and I was upset because you went behind my back and tattled on me."
"I'm sorry," said Crabbe, "I didn't think he'd come to Hogwarts. I thought he'd just send you an angry letter, or ignore you, like my parents."
"Me too," said Pansy softly, "I got scared. I was helping Lavender and Parvati, and risking my relationship I'd built with Mr. Malfoy. I thought if you went full muggle lover, than that connection would be lost and I'd never find proof that Mr. Malfoy-"
Draco silenced Pansy with a glare, glancing around the common room. A few students were watching them. "Not here," whispered Draco, Who knows who is listening, "I'm sorry too, Crabbe. I should have come to you directly. Listen, I want to stay friends, but at the same time, I don't want to be a bully. So if we're going to stay friends, we can't be bullies."
"Does that mean we can't pick on Longbottom anymore?" said Crabbe, fiddling with the toy.
"Yes," said Draco, "And no one else." He paused, then continued, "Why did we always pick on him anyways?"
Crabbe shrugged, "I don't like him,"
"Why not?"
"Because!" said Crabbe angrily, rocking a bit and holding rolling his large fingers into a tight fist. "He's stupid too, but everyone likes him. Why should the teachers like him and not me? I'm bad at magic, too, but they hate me!"
Pansy sniffed, "You're not stupid, Crabbe,"
"I'm not?"
"No!" Pansy sat up, "Remember when we were learning heating charms? You made the best ones. Even better than me, and you know, that's hard to do."
"I do like fire…" Crabbe smiled, "But how do we not bully?"
Goyle grunted in agreement, while Draco pondered the question. For him, Astoria and Daphne had helped. Being with them made him happy. Maybe Crabbe and Goyle aren't happy, and that's why they bullied. They wanted everyone to be as equally miserable.
"Maybe you could try doing something nice for Longbottom, instead of being mean to him?" said Draco, realizing how obvious it seemed once spoken aloud. Making something might help make them happy. At the very least, it'll distract them.
"Like what?" said Crabbe. He fiddled with the toy some more, still not looking directly at Draco.
"We could make something for those dumb plants of his," said Goyle.
"Yeah… But what?" Crabbe nodded, squinting hard in thought. Draco grinned, then motioned to Pansy to follow him.
"Right, well, Crabbe, Goyle, I need to discuss some things with Pansy, Blaise, and Astoria." said Draco, "Why not you two drum up some plans, and I'll help you with it once you know what you're doing?"
"Really?" said Goyle a bit suspiciously.
"Of course," said Draco, "As an offer of peace between us."
The two of them grunted in acknowledgment, then put their heads together as they started working on their plans. Draco stood up off the couch and gathered up Pansy and Blaise, then Astoria, who bundled up her colored pieces of parchment before leading them out of the common room. I don't know if I can trust Pansy, but she wants my father in Azkaban just as much as I do, if not more. I may not be able to trust her as a friend anymore, but I can at least trust her to be my ally. Once they arrived at the hidden room he found with Astoria, he opened the secret entrance and let them in, finding the new microscope he had gotten for Christmas. Ah, so that's what she meant by 'clubhouse'. But the Microscope wasn't the only new addition to the room.
Posters had been hung along the wall, as well as several pieces of colored parchment with what looked like element symbols written on them. Strung along the walls were the crystal lights that had been hung around the dungeons just a few days ago. Astoria grinned, "There were going to be taken down in a few days, so Daphne and I decided to nick them and string them up here. Less dangerous than the jars of fire, don't you think? Prettier too."
"This place is cool!" said Blaise, lounging on an armchair while Pansy perched herself on the armrest. "Don't you think it's cool, Pansy?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes," said Pansy disinterestedly, "Now, Draco, I'm assuming that you've finally decided to help me put your father away in Azkaban where he belongs, yes?" She looked at Blaise, "I'm assuming that Draco is going to tell you anything not discussed here anyways since you two are snogging, right?"
"Yes," said Draco, slamming his hand down on the table, "Also, you don't seem all that surprised to be here,"
"What?" said Pansy, fluttering her eyes, "Pfft.." When the rest of the room started staring, she shrugged, "Granger likes to gossip, surprisingly. Once you get her talking, she never stops."
"Why would-"
"Something about a map? I guess your name disappeared, and it was suspicious? Anyways, Potter, Weasley, and Granger investigated, and they found this place." Pansy shrugged and chewed on her thumbnail.
"Is nothing sacred?" said Draco, scowling before lying on the couch.
"I mean, it's not like they were trespassing." said Pansy, "There aren't any school rules that say this place is off-limits."
"It's hidden!"
"Yeah, and it was also hidden from you, and you found it,"
"Whatever," said Draco, rolling his eyes and making a mental note to try and set wards that would keep unwanted visitors out. Those tend to be fairly high level, though. "As for my father, yes. I want to put him in Azkaban, but not for what he did to your aunt,"
"What?" snarled Pansy, standing up and striding towards Draco as Astoria tried to get between them, "I have been working on this for the last NINE YEARS-"
"I'm not opposed to putting him in Azkaban, but I don't think we'll find anything proving what he did to your aunt. If you had found anything incriminating, you would have found it by now! What do you even have?"
Pansy stopped, then turned away with a hard glare set in her eyes. "Just the memory of that night. Daddy... Daddy pulled it from my head, and now and then I sneak into his office to watch it." Her eyes darkened, "I was in Theo's room on the second floor of their family manor, and we were playing with a train set of his, and then...
"'Where's the memory? Where is it?' Mr. Nott started screaming at Mrs. Nott. It was… I can't even begin to tell you how cold my blood ran when I heard him yelling. I'd never heard anyone yell like that- I didn't think it was possible. The air itself almost stilled, and I was so scared I felt sick.
"Mrs. Nott started pleading with Mr. Nott, 'Please, Tobias, I didn't take anything!'
"'It was either you or Marigold!' Something pounded and crashed, and then Theo ran out of the room. I don't know if Mr. Nott knew he was watching or not, but then he started yelling again while Mrs. Nott was crying, 'Where is it? Do you have any idea what will happen to me, to our family, if the Aurors get a hold of that memory? They've been looking for anything that dismantles our defense for the last THREE YEARS! It doesn't just incriminate Lucius Malfoy, it exposes all of us! Marigold included!'"
Pansy sat down next to Blaise on his armchairs armrest. She was glaring at the wall behind Draco, and he wondered just what could be in that memory.
"The last bit I heard was Mrs. Nott shrieking, and then there were several loud thumps. Then, there was silence until Theo started wailing from down the hallway. I couldn't move, I was too scared, but Theo kept crying, and I could hear Mr. Nott talking to him, so I decided to come out. Theo was at the top of the staircase, Mr. Nott was holding his shoulders and kept shaking him, and I looked over and... Mrs. Nott was at the bottom of the staircase, dead, with a puddle of blood pooling around her head. Next thing I knew, Mr. Nott had locked Theo in his room and took me to your house."
A heavy silence filled the room until Draco broke it several moments later, "Do you… do you have any idea what's in the memory, or where it is?"
"None," said Pansy, shaking her head, "But the Aurors didn't get it. From what I can guess, Aunt Marigold was going to serve as a witness against your father, and use the memory to help them tie their case together. I think Malfoy was holding onto it as some sort of… I dunno, 'you betray me, and you'll go down with me' type deal. Azkaban is terrifying enough to deter any sort of dissent in that sort of situation, I suppose."
"But what could be bad enough that she would voluntarily go to Azkaban if she was exposed along with him?" Blaise interjected.
"It doesn't matter." said Draco, "Obviously, Father found the memory, and did something to her to keep her from ever speaking again. And then he either hid it well enough so that no one would ever find it again, or he destroyed it. Either way, it's been almost nine years. We're never going to find it, so we should focus our sights on something that'll still get him sent to Azkaban."
"What do you mean?" said Pansy, looking a bit miffed, but intrigued at the same time.
"I think, no, I'm certain," said Draco forcefully, "That Father had something to do with the petrifications that happened in our Second Year. If we can prove that, we can get him sent to Azkaban."
(*) So Slughorn says that it's seven galleons per hair in the half-blood prince, but I refuse to believe it's that outrageous. Plus, he was also drunk. So I'm saying it's seven galleons an ounce, which is still ridiculous, but a little more reasonable considering it's still a rare ingredient. (A galleon is roughly five us dollars, so seven gallons would be roughly 35$ an ounce. Less than weed, though.)