Disclaimer: Ooh what a little spitfire Corrinne Whitemayer is! So she's all mine, the rest of them all - will have to belong to J.K.R. (says glumly)
When Draco reached the third floor corridor, he saw Hermione Granger admonishing a couple of first-years for being out late at night at the other end. Once she was done, the two Slytherin students spun around quickly and walked in the direction of Draco hastily. They saw him, but immediately bent down their heads as they approached, whispering furtively. Draco's eyes narrowed into slits, feeling the familiar anger rise up in him, just like when he first stepped onto Platform 9 ¾ and the whole world looked at him like he was going to collapse and die right in front of their eyes. Just as they brushed past him, he heard one of them mutter, "One of these days I will hex that Mudblood into oblivion! Poking her nose into..."
Draco was not only surprised that they had not been whispering about him, he was also surprised that he felt a twinge of inexplicable -– annoyance, when they had mentioned the word Mudblood, which made him curl his lip rather disgustedly. Why am I even feeling annoyed at this? I've been calling Granger a Mudblood since the very day that bushy-haired know-it-all entered the school grounds. But something in him stirred - he realised that for every time he had called her that, he had faced a look of rage, horror, frustration, perhaps even attempted nonchalance. Never had he seen tears spring to her eyes and she was almost... Draco realised that it was the first time he had ever seen Hermione Granger, teacher's pet, one-third of the Golden Trio, insufferable know-it-all - with the look of defeat.
It bothered him quite a lot, even though he didn't really understand why he should even bother in the first place, as he strode towards Hermione, who was casting a stern gaze all around her. Her eyes landed upon the approaching figure of Draco Malfoy, and she turned abruptly.
"You're late, Mr Malfoy. I wonder if I should report this to Professor McGonagall."
"Go ahead, miss goody-two-shoes, I couldn't wait." Draco sneered, his lips remaining in a curled position. "You don't even have to be civil by addressing me so politely, because I'm perfectly used to Gryffindors calling me..." He leant close to Hermione's back. "A son of a bitch!"
Hermione jumped at his closeness, and spun around, causing Draco to retreat a little, the smirk still plastered on his face. "Don't push things, Malfoy." She glared at him, her eyes shining -– not with tears any more, but with something else equally intense and piercing. "And you should know only too well why Corrinne is so mad at you, so stop adding fuel to the fire!"
The wheels in Draco's mind spun, and it dawned upon him the reason for Corrinne Whitemayer's insane attempt to attack him earlier on. The image of Lucius Malfoy with a hard look on his face floated before him. "You can tell that ticking time bomb that it's just her parents' pathetic fate that landed them in front of my father." His eyes flashed. "And you don't blame my father for it!"
Hermione couldn't believe her ears. "So you say your father didn't have a choice? Oh, so now he can just cast the Cruciatus curse on anybody? And pray, tell me, what offence did Corrinne's parents do, huh? Did they offend that oh-so-mighty Dark Lord of yours, so he threw them to that mindless puppet that is your father..."
She realised that she had gone too far when she saw Draco's face contort into an expression of seething rage. His hand was dangerously near the wand partially concealed by his robes.
"I don't know what they did," he released his words very slowly, in between puffs of air that made him seem as if he was choking. "But my father –- is not –- a bloody mindless puppet!"
Hermione took a deep breath and swallowed hard.
"Look, Malfoy," she began, and she could see his eyes flash once more, the curled lip almost -– trembling. She took another deep breath.
"If we're going to be doing patrols together this summer, I think we need to get this clear. I don't mean to denigrate your father, and at the same time, I don't wish that you provoke Corrinne any further, or we'd have another repeat of..."
"Shut up, Granger," hissed Draco, in a dangerous, silky voice, his fingers still on his wand. "I don't need any, any of your bloody sympathy! Because as a Mudblood -" Hermione winced once again at the emphasis he placed on the derogatory term. "-you really are in no position to comment on my family matters!" The expression on his face was undecipherable. "And if that crazy Whitemayer wants to get her hands on me again, I don't think I can do much except to get that insane woman off me." The smirk returned to his face. "Or perhaps, Miss Granger could come along again to save me..."
Hermione felt the tears prick her eyes again in a surge of anger, but she swallowed hard again, remembering Harry's words over and over again. "You won't be so lucky next time, Malfoy, but -– but I can at least try to ensure that Corrinne's anger doesn't get overboard!"
Draco's look was now a mix of disbelief and anger. "Stop making concessions, you filthy...!" He had to restrain himself from saying the word another time, because he really hated the look on Hermione's face at this point in time when he said it.
"I'm not making concessions, Malfoy, I'm just trying to be civil!"
Then suddenly, the expressionless look came back like a curtain drawing across his face, covering up all the emotions that made him seem so vulnerable, that was making her pity, damn it, pity him, and he looked away so that Hermione could not see a spasm of pain cross his face. Then when he looked back at Hermione, the girl was staring back at him, so hard that it made him uncomfortable and angry once again. But he kept the expressionless look, the stony gaze in his eyes, as he turned his back on her and walked down the length of the corridor.
Hermione stared after him, not knowing what to do, say, or feel. She noticed his sides were still heaving, even after the emotions had seemed to suddenly disperse from his face, leaving a cold, hard, and impassioned countenance in its wake. The same look that he had plastered on his face ever since he was spotted at the Hogwarts platform, when everybody was furtively stealing glances at him and wondering what would become of Draco Malfoy. The way he said Mudblood was painful; she never felt so much pain - usually she felt indignation, hurt and anger; this time the pain was just coursing through her veins, setting every nerve in her on fire, there was just so much emotions concentrated in that one word, the way he had said it.
She turned her eyes to the staircases, but her mind was not on catching any sneaky students stealing out at night anymore. She could not tell whether Draco was angry, hurt, disgusted, arrogant, or everything rolled into one. She realised she still didn't know if he was going to join the ranks of Death-Eaters, or, maybe he already had. Hermione turned to cast a glance at the blond mop with his flowing black robes in the distance, but he was almost like a statue facing the wall, unmoving. Stone cold, she thought, in looks, in body, in heart.
Then she noticed, even from afar, his right fist.
Shaking.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"Corrinne Whitemayer tried to tackle you for disarming her?" Ron's eyes bulged out once again. "Merlin, I wish I had been there, this sounds just as exciting as Malfoy trying to wrestle that Snitch out of your hands last season, mate!"
The three friends were sitting on the steps leading out to the snowy-white courtyard, their robes wrapped firmly around them. It was far too early in the morning for any stray figures to be walking around, so Hermione had figured it would be the best time to report her findings.
Harry looked half-amused and half-worried as he kept his gaze on Hermione. "So how did Malfoy respond to that?"
Hermione was about to go on about Malfoy's rage at the third floor corridor, when Harry's question hit upon something that had surprised her, but had slipped her mind completely. "Oh," she mused, eyebrows raised. "Erm..."
Both boys didn't notice the flush that was spreading up the side of her neck as they looked at her face enquiringly.
"He –- he pulled Corrinne off me."
Hermione didn't even know why she was feeling a surge of heat rising up her neck as she said it. Harry and Ron didn't seem to find that very interesting, however, with Harry continuing, "And then?"
Hermione took a deep breath. She decided to leave out the part about Draco shouting at Corrinne. "And then Corrinne ran away and Malfoy called me a Mudblood." She tried to stop herself from rolling her eyes as the two boys in front of her cursed under their breaths. "Yeah, and then we had patrol duty where I quite stupidly insulted his father for being a mindless puppet of... Voldemort."
Harry cocked his eyebrow at Hermione, who returned his questioning gaze with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, I was just so mad! He was just being so infuriating, like he wasn't going to stop inciting Corrinne to flare up and do stupid things! And he got really worked up about it, and looked like he wanted to hex me..."
"That ferret...!" Ron was about to leap out of his seat when Harry gently pushed him back into it again. "Go on, Hermione."
"Apparently he thinks I'm trying to sympathise with him and all, but I did tell him I was just trying to be civil," said Hermione and she sighed. "But honestly, he really tests my patience, I really can't stand it when he's standing there calling me rude names and being so cocky... argh! I don't really care that his father is dead you know, it's probably a service to the wizarding world!"
Harry managed a smile. "I never knew you to be so vindictive, Hermione." Then his look faltered a little. "I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have..."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Mate, you've already landed her there. Stop apologising would you, it's just making her feel worse."
Hermione placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's not about feeling bad, Harry, I really want to help you. Besides, you're not the one who landed me in prefect duty with that..." She tried to refrain from name calling herself. "But I must say, he's merely just putting up a front most of the time. It's just that I can't really tell whether he's angry, or miserable, or just trying to annoy the hell out of everyone that crosses his path or something."
"How about a fourth option?" Ron suggested with an ill-concealed snort. "All of the above?"
"That's what I think, actually." Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Oh yes, Harry," she turned her attention to the bespectacled boy, "have you managed to see Professor Dumbledore?"
Harry sighed, and Hermione and Ron exchanged looks of surprise. "What's up, Harry?"
"He had to attend to something," muttered Harry, glumly, sinking further into his seat. "Why's he always like that -– when I want to see him about something, he's got to leave to do other things!"
Ron reached out to pat his best friend sympathetically.
"He did say something about talking to Professor McGonagall though," said Harry, looking at Ron, and then Hermione. "He said she'd probably give a clearer account of the events that happened to Lucius Malfoy."
"What are we waiting for?" asked Hermione, feeling the familiar bubble of excitement rise in her.
"But he said -– to do it at eleven o'clock..." Harry's eyebrows suddenly knotted together. "Hey, this is silly of me, I kept thinking eleven in the morning, but I just remembered Professor McGonagall has class with the sixth-year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs during that time, he can't possibly want us to charge in, right?"
"Then eleven o'clock at night?" asked Ron, in disbelief. "But that's after bedtime hours!"
"I suppose if Professor Dumbledore said so, we're probably exempt from the school rules," said Hermione, with such firmness that the two boys shot her surprised looks. "Anyway, this really concerns a grave matter -– if we don't find things out soon enough, we're plunging the school into danger with us, because whether Draco Malfoy wants it or not, Voldemort's going to approach him somehow - whether to recruit, or even –-" She shuddered at the thought. "Kill him. And... and surely before Malfoy is out of sight, Voldemort will find some way into Hogwarts through him, and to get at..." She cast a glance at Harry, remembering Ginny's white face. "You."
Harry remained silent. Ron mumbled something incomprehensible under his breath.
"So, are we going to do it?"
Her exasperated voice caused Harry and Ron to exchange looks, then Harry looked back at Hermione with a look mixed with amusement, weariness and pain.
"Aye, aye, captain."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
The buzz at the breakfast table failed to distract Draco Malfoy from his thoughts. As he reached for the jam and toast, he could see the images of a smirking Corrinne Whitemayer as she uttered the words like father, like son, the anger that was engulfing his whole body, and then suddenly the wands were out of their hands, and Whitemayer was charging towards Hermione Granger like a raging matador, and the tears in Granger's eyes...
"Draco!"
The sharpness of the voice made him turn to his left, and saw him staring into the icy blue eyes of Pansy Parkinson, who snatched the spreading knife from his hands. "What in the world are you doing to your toast!"
Draco stared back at his jam-covered fingers, and the white surface of the toast. Then he stuffed the toast into his mouth, complete with fingers, not saying a word to Pansy, who put down his knife quietly. He could feel the cold of her eyes penetrate into his back, but he chose not to return her gaze. He knew that because of their families' close relations, she knew more than any other student what really happened, and she wasn't telling anybody about it. Yet, he didn't feel any hint of gratitude towards her, and in fact, felt uncomfortable with her around.
Pansy was staring at Draco's back. She knew Draco wouldn't bother to be grateful to her for keeping the mystery of his father's death a secret, nor would he be grateful if she tried to make things better. She knew better than to interfere with Draco's emotions, yet at the same time, she felt worried. If what her father wrote in his most recent letter to her was accurate, then...
Her eyes travelled to his left forearm.
Draco pushed away from the table abruptly, got up and left the hall, leaving Pansy to continue staring after him.
He walked down the empty corridor. Images and sounds were exploding all around him, engulfing him!
He walked and walked, increasing his pace with every step.
He wanted to get away from all that noise. All that shouting. All that running about! All that wand-wielding! All that...!
He turned sharply at a bend in a dim-lit corner and sank down by the wall. He was panting. He hadn't realised he had been running. He felt dishevelled. He could feel the beads of perspiration trickle down the sides of his face, making him shudder with the cold wind blowing by.
I am Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy!
The words were reverberating in his head; he was panting even harder, trying to catch his breath.
Please! His father's imaginary voice rang out once again, the pathetic whimper.
He heard his voice ring out again, fierce and defiant. I am Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy!
I am Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, and I pledge myself to the service of the Dark Lord with the undertaking of my late father's responsibility as your humble servant. I will fulfil my duties to the best of my abilities, and I will serve the Dark Lord with unwavering loyalty, and -– a stone cold heart.
A stone cold heart.
He could still feel his heart thumping like mad.
Draco, still breathing heavily, rolled his head to the left, and reached out to scrunch his left robe sleeve up. Slowly, slowly, his eyes darted around to look for any wandering ghost, picture figure, student or staff, slowly, slowly. Then his fingers hit something that seemed to have a strong magnetic force drawing them towards it. He winced a little, then his eyes connected with the huge swirling black mass on his forearm, which gradually rearranged itself to form a black skull with a snake coiling itself menacingly around it. It glowed for an instant, then it dispersed into the black mass again, as Draco's fingers pulled down the robe sleeve.
He leant his head against the wall, trying to steady his breath.
He's come for you? He's come? His mother's hysterical voice rang through his head. Draco, please, no!
He closed his eyes.
Please!
His eyes flew open.
Draco Malfoy stood up, roughly wiped the back of his hand against the sides of his face, brushed down his robes, smoothed out his tie and the tufts of his silver-blond hair, then turned sharply into the main corridor, walking in the direction of the Slytherin common room, with the same swagger that everyone had come to associate him with ever since his first year at Hogwarts, and the same smirk that he wore on the edge of his lips.