Kitchens

When Hermione can't meet up and Theo isn't around, Draco knows there must be a D.A. meeting in progress. On one such night, as he's sprawled on top of his bed, catching up on assignments, his dormitory door opens with a bang and Crabbe and Goyle swagger in.

"Get your shoes on. Umbridge wants help with something," says Crabbe.

"No thanks," Draco replies lazily, not looking up from his work.

Crabbe and Goyle scoff. "If you want to tell her that, you'll have to do it yourself," says Goyle. He tosses Draco's shoes onto the bed.

"What's she want help with?"

"Catching Potter and his friends breaking rules. Says they've got some secret club that's meeting, and she needs help rounding them all up."

Okay, think, Draco! How can he warn them? The silver-sickles won't work, they don't send unique messages like that. But there must be something he can do!

"Uh, yeah, alright. I'll help," he says, grabbing his shoes. "Is she, uh - Where's Umbridge right now? In the common room?"

"Just outside it in the corridor. Told us to get Pansy and some of the Quidditch team too."

"Right. Okay."

C'mon, think! Think, think, think!

In the corridor a few minutes later, Umbridge fills the Slytherins in on her plan and details how she would like them to contribute. But Draco's not listening. He's still racking his brain. It's not until they're halfway to the staircase, passing the corridor that leads to the kitchens, that an idea strikes him.

Of course! As many times as Hermione's gone on about house-elf magic, how they can do things witches and wizards can't, like Apparating within Hogwarts -

They round the corner and the corridor to the kitchens is out of sight. That's when Draco pats his hands on his robes, checking if he's got his wand in an inside pocket. It's there, but no one else needs to know that.

"Oh my goodness!" he cries out. "What was I thinking? I'm sorry, Professor, but I've forgotten my wand in my room. I was in a rush to help, you know. I'll be right back."

He takes off, ignoring housemates who are snickering and shaking their heads in annoyance. In another twenty seconds he's standing in front of a series of food-themed paintings. What was it Hermione said about entering the kitchens? Something ridiculous. Something about ticking the peach? No, the pear! Draco reaches out his forefinger, tickles the huge green pear, and it begins to squirm. It chuckles and then turns into a green door.

Once inside, Draco's surrounded by one hundred or more elves all wearing the same tea towel uniform stamped with the Hogwarts crest.

"Dobby?" he calls.

The other elves echo him. "Dobby! Dobby!" they call.

Dobby approaches, looking almost exactly as Draco remembers him. Enormous eyes, a pencil-shaped nose, and batlike ears. But instead of wearing a filthy old pillow case, as he did when he worked for the Malfoys, or even the uniform the other elves wear, Dobby dorns the strangest assortment of garments. A tea cozy for a hat, mismatched socks, a tie knotted sloppily, and - Fucking hell. Draco hates to see it. Dobby's wearing one of those homemade Weasley sweaters, one with the letter R on it.

How nice of Ron.

When he sees Draco, Dobby puffs out his tiny chest. "The Malfoys is not Dobby's master anymore," he says. "Dobby does not have to take orders from you!"

"This won't be an order," says Draco. "Just a firm suggestion I think you'll be happy to go along with because you like Harry Potter so much. Isn't that right?"

"Harry Potter, sir?"

Draco rushes to explain about Umbridge, finishing with, "I don't know where Potter's meetings take place, but I'm told I shouldn't underestimate elf magic. So do you think you can find them? Right now?"

Dobby squints his enormous eyes quizzically. "Why should Dobby trust you?" he asks.

Draco nearly laughs. This is absurd. Is he really explaining himself to a house-elf? Has his life really come to this, changed so much because -

"Because I think I'm in love with Hermione Granger."

At first, Dobby doesn't seem to believe him. But then his mouth twists into a smile. He's realized that a Malfoy, if trying to conceal his motives, would choose a very different sort of lie than this. One that wouldn't damage his reputation among elite purebloods. Draco, then, must be telling the truth.

"Oh, yes," says Dobby, "Missus is very pretty."

"She's stunning."

"But Missus would never -"

"On your way now, elf. We haven't got much time."

"- ever choose you over Harry Potter's Wheezy."

"Time! Crunch!" shouts Draco, accentuating his words with claps.

At that, Dobby disappears with a crack.

The one hundred or more remaining house-elves look at Draco with interest. Internally, he squirms under their gazes. Externally, he gives a confident shrug.

"Never say never," he tells them.

Slytherin Common Room

Recruiting Dobby for help doesn't work as well as Draco would have liked. Instead of finding no sign of Potter and his friends at their meeting spot, Umbridge and the Slytherins enter the seventh-floor corridor just as a heap of students emerge from a room that's normally not there, a magically hidden room across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

Umbridge shouts for the Slytherins to round up as many as possible, and then both groups of students scatter in every different direction.

"Check the library and bathrooms too!" she calls out. "Anyone out of breath!"

Draco has no desire to help Umbridge, of course, but he also doesn't want to be obvious about not helping. So he trots at half-speed to the library, where he discovers Marcus Flint has cornered two Gryffindors already. That boy who's -

No way! Draco nearly gasps as he puts two and two together.

Flint's caught that boy who's always wielding a camera and another who, judging by his looks, must be his younger brother. Colin and Dennis Creevey, Draco learns. And they're Mugglborns, according to Flint's taunts.

This is too good. Well, assuming Draco's drawing correct conclusions, that is. He supposes a great number of students at Hogwarts might own cameras. But if it's Colin Creevey that Astoria's involved with, that's bloody brilliant.

Since these brothers are screwed either way, Draco helps Flint wrangle them in. They escort them down to Umbridge's office, where Filch is waiting to take over. After that, he wanders the corridors for an hour, trying to get a sense of who else had been caught and what has happened to them as a result. He even paces outside Gryffindor Tower for a while, hoping to see Hermione. But no such luck. Eventually, he gives up and heads back to Slytherin's common room.

The scene Draco walks in on makes him stomach churn. Pansy and the Quidditch team hold court near the fireplace, covering the sofas and chairs, while another two dozen housemates sit on the rugs and soak in every juicy detail of that night's events. Those who helped Umbridge share which of Potter's friends they tackled, what insults were exchanged, where they've been injured or caused injury, and how impressed they expect Umbridge will be once she's heard it all.

Draco sits on one of the end tables and does his best to look like he cares, but none of the details that come up are of particular interest to him. Until -

"You know, I was the one who found their member list," Pansy proudly announces to the room. "I was the one to hand it over to Professor Umbridge. She and I had a lovely chat about it, in fact."

Tracey Davis practically salivates, knowing Pansy's surely got more to say. She prompts her with just one word. "And?"

"And I'm of the opinion the last name on their list was the most surprising of all."

"Really? Who was it?"

Oh, no. Merlin, please, no.

"One of our own. Theodore Nott."

The gasps and cries of outrage barely register in Draco's ears. His own thoughts are much louder.

Fuck you, Pansy, you fucking bitch. Voldemort killed Theo's mum! How could you or anyone -

"Did you know?"

There's more salivating from Tracey as she, Pansy, and the others whirl around to look at Draco.

"Of course not," he quickly lies. "I - I'm really surprised by this. I can't believe Theo would - Wow, that's awful."

It's not the snarky response Draco's housemates have come to expect from him. For a moment, they stare with silent dissatisfaction. And then Tracey snorts and Pansy cackles like a madwoman.

It's one of the most unsettling noises Draco's ever heard. Does Pansy know more than she's letting on?

"Has anyone seen him?" asks Graham Montague, leading Draco to notice him for the first time. Poor Graham. The concern he's emitting is palpable.

No one has seen Theo. As far as they know, he wasn't among those who were caught and he hasn't yet returned to the dungeons.

Hours pass and still no sign of him. It's well after curfew now, and only a few Slytherins remain awake.
Draco, Graham, and Lucian, who exchange frequent sympathetic glances but say very little. And Pansy and Tracey, who find Theo's status as a missing person and the subsequent glances they're witnessing highly amusing.

Lucian, now a seventh-year Prefect, finally has the sense to seek out Snape around midnight. "He said he knew already," he reports upon returning to the common room. "He said he spoke with the other Heads of House and they're dealing with it. And then he said we should all get to bed."

Pansy and Tracy howl with laughter.

"That's it?" asks Draco. "That's all Snape had to say?"

"Why do you care so much?" Pansy demands. "Theo dishonored his family. He shouldn't be allowed to make friends with Potter and a bunch of blood traitors and get away with it."

Draco's been expecting something like this. He's been waiting for it. Which is how he's able to calmly reply, "I guess I'm still hoping it's not true. I mean, no one seems to have actually seen him leaving Potter's meeting, right? All you're going on is a name on a piece of parchment, which anyone could have written. Maybe we ought to wait to hear Theo's side of things before reacting harshly."

Pansy doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't say anything else. And as there seems to be nothing left to do, Draco finally excuses himself for bed.

He falls asleep with his mind full of questions. Did it help any to get Dobby involved? Is Hermione in trouble? And where in the fuck has Theo gone?