Professor Snape kept his word and on Sunday morning Lianne, the Slytherin Prefect, told the first year student, with ill-concealed epicaricacy, that she would have the detention partly with Hagrid on Tuesday afternoon and partly with Madame Hooch on Saturday morning. Elena was rather pleased with both the timing and the choice of the school's staff who would be overseeing her punishment. "Hagrid is too nice for it to be bad and witch Hooch it's preparing the stadium, probably. Well, how bad could it be? And at least I'll be able to see the match." She was not mistaken, although during the Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw Quidditch match she almost started nodding off on Adalie's arm, having woken up at 5 a.m. She had to explain herself thoroughly for it, because her Raven and Huffle friends simply assumed she was bored out of her mind, but other than that, did not suffer that much. Not that cleaning the cages of Hogwarts' owls or painting the lines on the grass of the stadium without magic was fun, of course, but "It could have been worse." as she concluded and indeed, she was supposed to find out that she was right once again.
Despite really aching to make up with Hermione, Elena kept her promise to herself and refused to talk to any of the trio. Not that they were particularly driven to prompt her to break it, maybe she was the one desperately looking for friends after all. And it wasn't that hard after the first week. Actually, it came pretty naturally – the more time she was spending with Slytherins, the less approachable she seemed in other Houses members' eyes.
And lately, she was definitely playing her part, that being "an authentic Snake". Ever since her stunt regarding the troll, she was a little bit more respected by her peers and other housemates even, although Pansy still just couldn't stand her and mimicked the older girls in calling her names every time she was passing through the Common Room. Come to think of it, the fact that she finally got sort of accepted into Draco's little gang could have been what was irking that pug-faced girl. "Or maybe I'm imagining things and it's just the blood thing." she concluded.
The upcoming Quidditch match was something she hadn't expected to be looking forward to, but, as it turned out last time, the game wasn't as boring as muggle-sports such as football, and the fact that this Saturday it was her House as she reluctantly started calling Slytherin in her mind against those damned Gryffons, Harry being on the field even, added greatly to the thrill of it.
On the day of the match she woke up early, possibly because her body remembered the hour from last week, but didn't get up for now, laying in her bed and reading the Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. She was five chapters ahead of their lessons already, but intended to make it ten by the end of the semester. The presentations of professor McGonagall's skills that would take place every now and then during the classes, were enough to keep Elena motivated through the boring descriptions of correct wand movements. At exactly 7:30 her "bloody raucous raven" as he was called by some of the Slytherin girls, would make a bit of noise, it working as an alarm for her and a bell calling for food for him. She got out of the bed, took out the seeds she kept in her closet and fed Superstes. She wasn't sure whether that was a good idea, but she decided to take him to the match with her this time, just to try it out.
- If you find it too stressful, you can just fly back anytime – she told him, while putting a cosy black sweater over her robes. She had been switching between her muggle clothes and the couple of robes her aunt sent her over the last two months as an addition to the school uniform. Wearing those she attracted less attention to herself than in t-shirts, skirts and hoodies, but she wasn't going to risk getting cold just for the sake of avoiding some teasing.
An hour later, having finished their breakfast, the Slytherins took to the stadium, somehow coordinated enough to leave the castle as a huge group, with only a few marauders walking behind. In the stalls above the Quidditch Stadium, Elena was this time seated amongst her own housemates, with Draco on her left and Theodore on the right.
Her blond friend was a huge fan of the sport, which she had no way of avoiding to realise, considering how he had been constantly babbling about it throughout last week. Now, after Madame Hooch appeared and when the teams gathered before her, Hermione's brown-skinned friend amongst them, she heard him say:
- Look El, there's the oh-so-famous Potter. Wonder how long until he falls from his broom...
If she weren't at odds with that black-haired boy, she would have been worried upon seeing so many older players surrounding him, some of them almost two heads taller than him.
- Yeah, all of ours could throw him of his broom with one push. That can't be good for him – she noted, laughing along with him.
When the game started however, it wasn't long until she started secretly rooting for Gryffindor. The practices used by Slytherins really consisted of pushing other players down to fall and break a bone. And that, in her opinion, made for a less interesting game than the one she witness from half-shut eyes last week. Ravens and Huffles were able to play fair, thus making Quidditch a show of skill, not a ruthless fight interlaced with the red-dressed players hitting the ground every few minutes in the second part of the match, after the Snake captain noticed how bad they were doing at first.
Every now and then Draco would make a comment, clearly satisfied with her wordless smiling and nodding in lieu of responses. He was far more knowledgeable about the rules and history of Quidditch than she was and therefore she listened attentively, although clearly her views on how their team should achieve victory differed from his, because he cheered loudly whenever a Gryffon was brutally hit.
When Harry's broom started acting up she was horrified, barely able to feign sharing the joy of her companion, who grinned with satisfaction and whispered:
- That's what you get, for being such a star, Potter. Nimbus 2000... meters to the ground.
He was busy chuckling at his own joke with his goons, who, although likely unable to understand it, had already developed the habit of mimicking his actions, when she noticed Hermione had disappeared from the stall before them and then after a short while the boy was able to regain control of the broom.
Soon, El's attention was back at Potter when he and the Slytherin seeker threw themselves in pursue of the Golden Snitch. After the boy landed on the ground and spit out the ball, she heard a distressed sigh sweeping through the Slytherin stall. She joined in, as usual not wanting to stand out too much. Draco hid his face in shame at the defeat, but then said, angrily.
- Well, next year I'll be a seeker too, and then we will see! – he said before they all started getting up.
While departing the stadium she noticed Adalie and her friends, although her cousin was too focused on flirting to pay her any mind. However, her Hufflepuff bestie waved at Elena, beckoning her to join them, so she excused herself from the group of bummed out Slytherins and approached the fourth years. After the match she was planning to go to Hagrid's hut for the last batch of feather-growth ointment for Superstes' little leg and so she said upon being asked what she had in mind by Felicia, who decided to accompany her.
- I noticed you weren't with your Gryffindor friends in the stands... Despite how you seemed upset at Snakes' violent rule-breaking and, I'm pretty sure, weren't cheering for them wholeheartedly. I've noticed something was off last week, but I thought it would be over by now. So what happened? – she inquired, eyeing her with concern after they had left the crowded area around the arena.
Elena resisted the urge to become defensive or mean, knowing that the question was asked with the kindest of intentions.
- Me and Hermione fell out. And until she apologises, I'm not talking to any of them. And "friends" is a big word.
- Oh my! If you want to talk about it you can come to me anytime, you know that, right?
The younger girl nodded in response and she continued:
- And I know you don't need my advice, but I don't think you should write them off like that, give them a second chance – catching the iron glance of her obsidian eye she immediately backed off – Provided they come to apologise to you, of course.
Elena's tone was flat when she responded, just before she knocked on the door to the hut.
- You've got my word I'll forgive them. If they say they're sorry.
On their way back to the castle they talked about school-gossip that Felicia had heard, such as Dumbledore's idea to make Hagrid more than a Keeper in the following years, and El's raven's wellbeing, so she did not have to elaborate about any other terrifyingly personal issues. Upon reaching the building they parted ways, having their Common Rooms at exactly opposite corners of the basement and Elena sped up, trying to train herself to be a little more resistant to exhaustion.
When she reached the living quarters of the dungeon, surprisingly not dizzy, she went inside, this time knowing that the password was the simple and very inaccurate phrase: "Slythers winners". She entered the room unnoticed in the commotion of sad and enraged voices of her housemates discussing the defeat Slytherin suffered and headed to her room, but on her way encountered an enraging sight. On the dark-green leather couch, besides a boy with unmistakable whitish-blond hair sat Pansy Parkinson in her snotty flesh.
They seemed to get on well, the short-haired girl now smiling slyly as if in reaction to some scheme Draco told her about, and her blood boiled. She wasn't jealous or something - although a tad bit possessive, she was a firm believer in people being allowed to have a vast circle of friends with differing characters, just as firm as in the saying that enemy of one's companion should be one's enemy. "It seems, however, that despite the Sorting Hat's high opinion of this house, some Snakes don't know what loyalty means." she thought, dismissing the reflection on how hypocritical that statement was, considering her own behaviour since the quarrel with Hermione was as far from allegiant to her Gryffindor friend as could be. On the other hand, she and Draco hadn't fallen out. "Not yet, at least."
Elena realised they hadn't spotted her, so she moved behind them to a bookcase beside which she would be able to listen in, figuring that she didn't have to be fair either. She pretended to be very consumed by a random book about research considering artefacts associated with Merlin, simultaneously trying to pick their voices out in the noise. To her shock, she wasn't delusional in expecting them to mention her somewhere in their conversation.
- Why do you hang out with that mudblood so much though? Wouldn't your father disapprove of that? – she heard Pansy's voice asking.
- Who? – he sounded as if he was on the verge of telling her off for using that slur, but then chickened out.
- Motley-eyes, of course. How many mudbloods are you friends with? – her words attacked him – She's been following you around since the begging of the semester, Potions and all. And today I saw you watching the match together – she explained, with a smirk Elena couldn't see.
- Well she's just nice, I guess. And not half bad at magic – "He probably thinks he is defending me right now" their subject noted bitterly as she heard him add – for a muggle-born.
- She should have never been sorted into our house if you ask me - Pansy expressed her dissatisfaction with a moan and then asked, expectantly - And what do you think of it?
It wasn't hard to figure out what the girl wanted him to say to assert her in the belief that he was indeed "one of them", despite his questionable choices of companions, and even if he had some kind of principle regarding not calling his friends racial slurs, Elena guessed he would break it and was soon proven right, although that small victory tasted incredibly sour. As sour as the insult did on Draco's tongue, even though he couldn't be conscious of the fact that its addressee was standing right behind them and heard it loud and clear.
- Well, she's not dumb, but she's still a mudblood. And my dad always says they should be kept as far away from Hogwarts as possible – he skipped the part of his thoughts where he started wondering whether his father was right about muggle-borns after he got to know one.
And he shouldn't have, because while it would definitely prove enraging to Pansy, it would have skipped all the three of them a whole lot of trouble with Snape, as in the very moment he was finished the doll-faced girl emerged from the shadows with her wand at the ready and now burst out in anger, fighting the tears gathering in her two-coloured eyes.
- You, you big freaking idiot! – she shouted at Draco.
Her anger focused on him, and she completely ignored the comment Pansy made about her "comically long wand" or how, upon hearing her high, girly voice yelling, almost the whole room went quiet and turned their heads towards the three of them to watch the scene unfold.
- Hadn't your father maybe told you in his wisdom, that you shouldn't call your friends "mudbloods"?!
- You're under the false impression... – Pansy started, but she didn't let her finish, in a flash pointing he wand to her and lifting the girl into the air with the levitating spell until she was able to hang her by the hood of her school uniform on the black-silver candelabra above them.
Her patience for that girl had run short pretty quickly, so she devised a way to get her out of her sight. Quite literally so, since especially she would have to perk her head up high to see how funny was her face looking, red from anger, with the now ruffled fringe covering her eyes.
- I wasn't asking you, pureblood – Elena said with the same contempt she heard her speaking about muggles before – So, Draco, you think I shouldn't be here, huh? – she addressed the boy again, impervious to the insults being thrown at her from under the ceiling.
- I... I didn't say that... – he tried to explain himself.
- No, you only quoted your dad, I don't care - she cut in harshly, although now in a very calm voice, threateningly calm – Muggles shouldn't be taught at Hogwarts. Oh, sorry... "mudbloods" – she looked around the room, waiting for anyone to agree with her, but they all remained silent, finding the sight of this little girl enraged absolutely amusing, yet not wanting to get in her way. – Therefore you sure won't mind that I'll take the notebook I used to help you with homework in and rip those few pages, right, Draco? It's enchanted to have countless if I remember correctly, so I'm sure you won't miss them.
He drew back instantly, huddling a little so that the black leather cover of the notebook sticking out from his pocket wouldn't be visible. Too bad she had already noticed it.
- Oh come on now, you coward. I know you have it on you – she remarked, her eyes piercing into him viciously – I'll just rip them off and we'll be even, I'll give it back, I swear.
- No! – he had already collected himself from the shock bordering on panic that her sudden appearance and terrifying temper tantrum induced and protested fiercely, drawing his own wand.
She was faster than him, exclaiming "Accio" and making the object fly to her hand directly.
- Give it back! – he leaped towards her, trying to grab it, but she dodged him with ease and cast another charm before he had the time to react.
- Incendio! – the book was immediately engulfed in flames, but she waited for it to start turning into ash before she released it from her burned fingers, careful not to throw it on the emerald carpet – That's what you get for not listening to me. And for calling me a mudblood! – she told Draco, now himself seemingly on the verge of crying and stormed off to the girls' bedroom.
Before she could reach the door however, she heard a voice coming from behind.
- Castel. Well of course it would be you – professor Snape sounded exhausted.
She froze in place and then slowly turned around to face him, cursing the snitch, who must have run to the office to notify the adult, under her breath.
- What are you mumbling there, Castel? An explanation, perhaps? – his steady voice inquired with rancour while he gently got Pansy, still dangling above, down to the ground, without so much as a verbal spell, still not having even crossed the doorstep to the Common Room.
- Never mind – he added upon observing that she was about to speak, undoubtedly planning to respond with an excuse – Malfoy, Castel come with me. And someone escort that girl to the hospital wing to get her some draught of peace – he ordered, seeing as Pansy was now speechless and visibly in shock.
The two obeyed without protests and followed him silently to his office, which, despite sharing a wall with the Slytherin quarters, had its entrance in a different part of the dungeon, forcing them to wander through the dark corridors in the fast pace foisted by the tall professor.
When they arrived at the door, Snape's intuition forced him to turn around before he opened it, just in time to prevent Elena's skull being shattered against the cold stone floor.
- For Merlin's sake – he grumbled silently while catching her and then laying her down carefully.
Louder he told the stunned Malfoy's boy, standing right beside him, motionlessly:
- Quit pondering over there and get me a vial of a dark red potion from the cupboard. Second shelf counting from the bottom – he instructed him, opening both the door and the storage cabinet with the wand held in his left hand, while the right one was still under the girl's neck.
Draco, paler than usual, compliantly went inside the dark room and moved the curtains from over the windows to let some light in before he went to rummage through the potion storage kept in the small mahogany closet, hanging on the wall above the desk. He had no problem finding the potion and soon returned holding the vial
containing a crimson liquid, syrupy in consistency.
- Close your eyes - he cautioned the boy before waking the unconscious girl with a Reviving Spell, causing an explosion of blinding light to fill the corridor.
Her eyelids lifted and she blinked a few times before asking him, strangely, very much alert:
- Oh no, have I blacked out again, professor? – she tried to get up, but he stalled her from doing so and offered her the bottle.
- What is it? – she wanted to know, actual interest painted on her face.
- Blood replenishing potion. Are you an anaemic? – he answered with a question of his own, wanting to confirm his assumptions before he gave her the medication.
She nodded in lieu of a response and then took the vial from his hands to drink it whole in one gulp, reckoning it could indeed help her poor blood cells.
- Thank you, professor Snape – he heard her say, to his consternation noticing a rather happy grateful smile appearing on her face.
She really had the still bloody wound on his leg from that cursed Hagrid's beast to thank, as well as his reluctance to rely on Poppy's mixtures. He much preferred to be in control of what medicine he was ingesting and therefore filled his cabinet with necessities, in this case it being that particular potion. And sleeping draught, obviously. Besides, he was not used to people, especially students just about to be reprimanded, overlooking his harshness and intimidating disposition in such a way.
Soon after she was finished, her cheeks gained some colour, rarely seen in them.
- Now get up – his demeanour regained its austerity the moment any danger was averted – You are not wasting any more of my time – with that sentence he marched inside the office and took his seat behind the desk, waiting for the two kids to enter.
When they did, he started with wordlessly closing the doors and drawing the curtains with his wand. Next he lit the two small candles, positioned in the holders on both sides of the desk.
Their faint flames had hardly any chance at lightening up the room, but he preferred it that way.
- Congratulations, Ms. Castel. You managed to last less than two weeks without causing trouble – he stated in place of a welcome. – And now, that none of you is fainting, I would be delighted to hear a detailed account of the events in the Common Room, which both of you had been involved in.
They two kids stood silently in front of him, exchanging hostile looks and trying to wordlessly come to an agreement on which one should begin. The girl was trying to hide her eagerness to tell him the story, but her foot tapping betrayed her. He chose to break the stalemate for them, making Elena wait for her turn to speak.
- Draco, you go first – "For I am afraid that your frail-bodied companion will outtalk you in a single breath" he added internally.
- Well... I and Pansy, we were talking and then El appeared out of thin air – he noticed the girl's expression tightening on the abbreviation. – She was furious at me for something. And Pansy interfered, so she lifted her with Wingardium Leviosa – the boy was clearly impressed by her stunt, but it didn't escape Snape's notice that he purposefully omitted what was the reason of her anger. – Then she took my notebook, my leather-covered infinite pages notebook my dad gave me – only now did he remember to feel resentful, judging by his tone – and she burnt it.
- Once again with a spell? – Snape asked, now eying the girl with rapt attention.
It seemed that she Potions wasn't her only forte. She nodded, reciprocating his gaze. Draco provided an answer as well:
- Yes, with the incantation of Incendio, professor.
"That ridiculously long wand of hers has many specialties, I gather. And a fire spell... Well that explains the smell. And I had thought it was the sixth years smoking again." he analyzed.
Now it was Elena's turn to speak and he had figured a gesture was enough to encourage her to do so, seeing as she was on the verge of cutting in for the whole time of Malfoy telling his version probably intending to fill him in on the things the blond boy had omitted. Snape's presumption indeed was correct, as at the slight swing of his hand she began:
- So, I was coming back from the stadium with my friend and when I entered the Common, everyone was so engulfed in our failure at the match, that those two didn't even notice me at all. And Draco forgot to mention, but they weren't speaking about the weather or something, but about me. He used the slur, called me a "mudblood" that is, and a "muggle undeserving of magical education" so I thought I should teach him a lesson – she spoke unhurriedly, as if she was telling an anecdote, not a potentially incriminating account of her very much disallowed actions.
– At first I just wanted his notebook to rip out the pages I helped him with homework on, figuring he doesn't need a mudblood to do that – her eyes, previously fixed on the professor's, now drifted to the boy, hurt reflected in them - but he didn't give it willingly, so what were I to do? – she asked earnestly – Let myself be humiliated like that? So I burned it.
Upon mentioning that, her hand twitched weirdly, catching his attention.
"Burns, indubitably. Of course." he spotted, but for now decided not to mention it.
- I believe you might have omitted one crucial detail. That is – he pointed out, marking his words with a pause – the process that lead to Ms. Parkinson dangling from the candelabra.
The short girl before him chuckled at the picture that sentence must have brought up in her mind. "How comes the boy barely dares to breathe in my presence, despite me having been nothing but nice to him and she is grinning joyfully?" he asked himself. That contrast between the two was much less conspicuous in class than it seemed in that moment.
- This is not a laughing matter, Ms. Castel. You have assaulted a student and might face suspension for it. Especially since you are showing so little remorse for your actions – he threatened her aloud, causing a very contrite look to be sent his way.
"If only it were as sincere as it appears..." he thought. "Although in all honesty"- he admitted reluctantly - "that was absurdly humorous indeed."
- Well, how long are you planning to keep it to yourself for, Ms. Castel? We don't have all day – Snape rushed her.
"And besides, little Malfoy over there seems like he wants to return to the Quidditch-themed chitchat undoubtedly still taking place in the Common Room as fast as possible, so I see no reason not to let him do that."
- Hm... – the girl cleared her throat and began speaking again – She's been teasing me before a lot and she too called me a mudblood. But mostly she spoke unasked and that annoyed me, because I hate her guts – she explained with disarming sincerity, shrugging at the end.
He had a remark about her own outspokenness on the tip of his tongue, but first decided to dismiss the boy, who seemed not only rather uncomfortable but also very restless, looking around every once in a while as if for a clock.
- Would you confirm this version, Mr. Malfoy? Including the part reporting the insults thrown and the bullying Ms. Parkinson was taking part in? – he inquired, having found the girl's explanation more an account of the struggle, that was obvious she would have come up against in Slytherin, than she wanted it to be, considering her cool and self-assured tone.
- Yes, professor Snape – he heard the somewhat constrained confirmation.
- Then all three of you will face detention this Friday. With myself – he nipped the boy's attempt at protesting with one stern glance. – And for you, Ms. Castel, that's every Friday and Monday until the end of the semester, either in the Potion's lab or wherever else Filch will find you work to do.
She received it without complaints, possibly overjoyed at how she once again avoided losing house-points, judging by the corners of her lips once again raised, although this time in a more subdued manner, not as aggravating for the professor. Luckily for her, since he was really on the verge on taking those, remembering how he had earlier promised the punishment to be more severe upon her second offence, the girl definitely was a fast-learner.
- I will also expect all of you to reconcile within a week's time, taking into account that there should be no bickering within the House. And keep in mind that no changes in lab partnerships are allowed – now both students looked as if they were very much eager to object, but on seeing his face expression neither of them dared to speak. – Any questions, Mr. Malfoy? – Severus asked at the end, causing the boy's cheeks to explode with pink as he shook his head.
- Then you can leave now – the man allowed him, making Draco smile, although rather faintly, while he thanked him and took his leave. – Just him, for now – he added towards Elena, seeing as she was keen to use up the occasion to make her exit as well.
After they were left alone, he addressed her softly, though with the signature bitterness:
- Are you that fond of the comforts of the hospital wing, Ms. Castel, or is that just pure foolishness on your side?
She blinked, questioningly.
- The hand. Have it treated before you come to the laboratory or you'll contaminate the ingredients – Snape ordered. - And you should also possibly be taking the blood potion regularly, in your condition. I don't want to be the one explaining to your parents how you've lost half a skull and were found six hours later in the dungeon, at best severely handicapped. Magic is not able to fix everything, for your information. I finds more application at preventing disasters than at dealing with their aftermath.
When he was done schooling her, he decided to warn her about one more thing, himself not too ecstatic about the reaction the event itself and his decisions from today would inevitably provoke from the parents of the other two, pureblood, kids.
- D'ailleurs, unless your plan is to collect all the Sacred 28 families as your enemies and consequently be expelled from Hogwarts by the time you're twelve, I would suggest you tried attracting less attention to yourself next time, Ms. Castel, seeing that keeping yourself out of trouble proves impossible to you – he gave her the useful advice.
- Thank you, professor Snape – eyes stuck in his again, innocent beam beneath them – Can I go now?
- Yes, you are dismissed – he saw her to the door.
"Hopefully this time you'll manage to listen to what you have been told."
Prominent cheekbones, jaw cleanly shaven, tan skin shining in the light of the electrical lamps hanging on both sides of the mirror. Thin lips, pearly white teeth revealed in a haughty smirk, contrasting with the quite sincere impression that face gave. The eyes a warm shade of blue resembling river water and so different from his own, surrounded by a thick veil of dark lashes. Long, dark brown wavy hair let loose, resting on his arms and nape. He admired the stolen appearance in the mirror for the last time before he left the room, hastily went through the white corridor and the staircase and finally got into the black jaguar waiting in front of the entrance to the hotel.
Soon after taking his seat behind the chauffer he noticed his features starting to change back into their original shapes. The driver took that with complete stoicism, having his memory completely wiped so many times it was almost surprising he still remembered how to start a car. Lucius still had the rest of the blue, frothing potion in his pocket, but he wasn't planning on using it up anytime soon. It cost too much time and effort to make to be squandered carelessly, especially if the looks were as to his liking as in this case. Now that he was forced to resign from the services of the reliable old Borgin those four weeks ago, he had to be even more frugal, not entirely sure his house elves would be able to provide what he needed and he would rather avoid having to ask for it and consequently brainwash another person on his muggle-business staff, not out of guilt or compassion, but because it was simply too demanding in terms of magic. Accurately cast memory-charm, even if it were the obliviating one, was supposed to be undetectable even to people closest to the victim and he was taught that trick at the Ministry years ago, but it required maximum focus and usually also familiarising oneself with the memories surrounding those that were about to be erased. And he found little pleasure in looking inside the limited minds of muggles, hence why his driver was a lonely man with no family to ask for him, whom Lucius "rescued" good few years ago and ever since then was relying on his skills whenever he needed or wanted to, showing little to no regard for the man's well-being.
Luxury and convenience often won over efficiency with Lucius. He could, theoretically be apparating from one place to another through the whole journey, arriving at the manor before nightfall, exhausted by the excess magic, or as he was planning to do, spend his three hours journey on reading the newspapers, letters and business magazines and only use magical means of transport after having reached the Channel. Both planes and limousines weren't the most horrible muggle inventions, he thought so.
The journey went smoothly, the silence all of his servants were always afraid to disturb, enabling him to focus. His peace was disturbed, however, about 10 miles from the destination, when he opened a black envelope, addressed to "Dear Mr. Malfoy" in silver ink. Above there was the writer's name, he read with surprise: Fabrice Parkinson. "What could possibly have caused this?" he wondered. He had neither affinity nor business with the Parkinson family, magical or of any other sort, not one he knew of, at least. Although due to being in the Sacred Twenty Eight they had relations, of course, those weren't particularly close, considering how he had to be careful not to openly associate himself with pureblood supremacists, ever since he averted landing in Azkaban for a somewhat similar offence. He took out the letter and scanned it with curiosity.
"My son? That cannot be, not under Severus' rule in the Slytherin, I am sure." he raised his eyebrows, startled upon reading about the events Fabrice was so outraged about. Ever since the war his relationship with that Hogwarts' professor turned into a slightly childish antagonism ranging from friendly through polite to outwardly hostile, like the last time they run into each other, but he knew that their respect was mutual and that it persisted nevertheless.. As such, Lucius really was convinced his son would be under the care of the professor himself, just like he stated that day at the station and now that belief was swayed by something as trivial as a letter. "A muggle-born hussy in Slytherin, daring to raise her wand against real wizards and somehow earning them a punishment as well...". It seemed ridiculous to him. He got the information off the record, as he judged by the lack of references to his position on the Board of Governors, but he very much intended to present that issue during the next meeting.
Another thing that left him absolutely puzzled was how he had not received any report about the matter from his son, whose weekly accounts of his time at Hogwarts were usually quite comprehensive, bordering on exhaustive, in his own opinion. Narcissa, however, seemed overjoyed at that written blabber, so he refrained from reprimanding him for it. Yet somehow Draco didn't mention last week's occurrence nor the detention itself, which left Lucius wondering whether it had happened at all. "No, it mustn't be" he concluded, making the decision to personally talk this over with professor Snape first and putting the parchment back into the envelope.
Then, having realised that they reached Calais, he told the driver to park on the side of the street. It was already dark outside, the lights of the city overshadowed by the ones of the numerous cars waiting to be let through. Contemptuously pitying the muggles waiting in the queue, he put on his gloves, took the letters and clutched his hand on the silver head of his cane before he apparated, having dismissed his chauffer with an order to get to London as a goodbye.