Better Be Slytherin
VII
Wicked Children

Ugh. Pansy was sitting by the Slytherin table. It was morning, too early in the morning. The magical ceiling was filled with clouds, and she was sipping her tea, thinking if she'd eat anything it would just come back up. What the bloody hell had happened last night? She only remembered bits of it, but she was definite – she and Malfoy, her classmate and sort-of friend, had been snogging. It was certainly new. Sure, there had always been something between them, they had always been special to the other, she was the only girl he let hang around and he had always been hers in some way although she had never been able to decide what sort of feelings she had for him.

Pansy remembered when Malfoy was still a head shorter than her, which she almost pitied him for; being shorter than her was difficult. They had been friends since they'd first laid eyes on each other and they had always been the other's counterparts, laughing at the same things, taunting the same people, behaving just like the other. They'd attended the Yule Ball together the previous year - she remembered it vividly. They had a brilliant time and she'd loved her pink robes (still did) and Crabbe' had spiked the punch and they'd danced to Weird Sisters all night. A perfect example of how much fun they had together. They teased Gregory and Vincent together and entertained their friends together, and they'd just started hanging out more as friends during the autumn. Pansy couldn't say she was experienced with boys, sure she had always hung out with Malfoy, Gregory and Vincent and even Theodore and Blaise loads, but these teenage hormones came as a surprise. She had no idea what there was between her and Malfoy, if that had been a drunken moment of lust from both their parts – that was not unlikely – or if she felt something for him. It was weird to think about, Pansy reckoned. Of course she had always enjoyed spending time with him and definitely enjoyed being the only girl he associated with. She had just never thought about the two of them like that, although she had always been more affectionate than was characteristic for her when she was with him and she knew it was the same from his part.

Ugh. She remembered last night, he was slobbering all over her and practically passing out in her lap – she remembered feeling torn between disgust, worry and a sort of content that he was being affectionate like he had never been before. They had actually been snogging – the thought sent a sort of tingle through her body. It was exciting getting some action. Right, but then he had passed out and vomited while sleeping. That hadn't been as nice.

No, Pansy really did not know.


The uncomfortable feeling of knowing he had said and done too much after a couple of Butterbeers was hanging over him, as well as this new awkward situation he was put in. He had always just thought he liked her as a friend – although, of course, he knew he liked her in a different way than he liked Crabbe and Goyle. He reckoned girls were silly, always had, but she managed to pass the limit. He did not understand girls.

The weekend ended and Monday morning came along. It changed everything for Draco.

Out-stared by nervous eyes at breakfast, whispered about and avoided; Draco was completely clueless as to what he had possibly done, so he just went to sit down by his usual spot at the Slytherin table. Theodore Nott approached him immediately.

"Have you seen?" he said in his usual low voice through gritted teeth.

They discussed Harry Potter's interview so long they were nearly late to their first lecture, History of Magic, and had to run themselves breathless which resulted in all of them secreting a distinct smell of sweat during the rest of the day.

Draco's mind was racing through the entire double History lecture; he could not focus on anything Binns said even though he was usually interested in the subject. He just wanted to talk to his mum and dad – he was thinking of sending them an owl or even try to make his father make it able for him to come home for a few hours.

Double-potions followed, and Draco had no energy for it whatsoever. He, Crabbe and Goyle were always early for Potions. It was a routine they had. As they were waiting outside the classroom, down in the chilly dungeons, Draco noticed that while more and more of their classmates arrived, Pansy was nowhere to be seen. Not that he cared. He did not participate in Crabbe and Goyle's conversation, but just stood there waiting for professor Snape. He was tired of lectures and homework and teachers – he was simply not in the mood. Not even seeing Harry Potter produced more than a short look and a small sneer when he remember the part of Potter's date with Chang that he had witnessed on Saturday – it mostly just produced anger.

Snape arrived and let them into the classroom; Draco, Crabbe and Goyle sat down at the head of the classroom and Snape turned to the black board and began writing this lesson's instructions. All the Slytherins sat together and laughed together; Pansy sent him a slightly teasing look. They pretended like nothing had happened between them. We were only drunk, he thought. It's only Pansy.

The period consisted of brewing a Befuddlement Draught, a very tricky potion that required full concentration, which Draco lacked. Even though he was sitting quietly, working as diligently on his potion as he managed, he noticed Snape glancing at him unusually often. He had a hunch Snape wanted to talk to him, so he decided he'd hang back at the end of the lecture.

When the lecture was over, there was a sudden noise as everyone gathered their things and chattering made their way out of the classroom.

A mild buzzing of talking spread and Draco took extra long collecting his things and scribbling something in his book, while everybody else grabbed their bags and made their way out of the classroom.

"You go on," he told Crabbe and Goyle who were standing ready to leave, looking at him. "I'll meet you later."

They both shrugged and left, mixing up into the crowd that was leaving the dungeon, although they were extremely easy to see because of their enormous builds.

Snape was erasing today's lecture's instructions from the blackboard, his back to Draco. Nott, who had been the only one caring enough to write down the homework and was therefore also hanging back, slung his bag up on his shoulder and said, "Coming, Malfoy?"

Draco looked up, still sitting. Snape cast a glance behind his shoulder, realising what was going on. Draco looked at Snape's back, who turned back to the blackboard, and said: "Later, Nott."

Nott looked at him, then at Snape, then shrugged and left. Snape continued erasing. Draco heard Nott's footsteps trail off.

"Was there something you wanted, Draco?" said Snape, his back to Draco.

Draco did not answer, not immediately. So Snape went on: "It's about your father and that article, isn't it?" while beginning to write directions for his next lecture on the board.

"You know about it?" Draco asked. Snape did not answer, but kept sweeping the board.

"He's not going to Azkaban, is he?" Draco did not mean for it to sound so pathetic; he really was not as scared as he sounded. Snape slowly turned around to look at him. Draco swallowed.

Snape looked away, looked out into space and thought. "Getting pointed out by Potter," his voice had its usual derisive tone by the mention of the boy's name, "in the Quibbler," he sounded, if possibly, more derisive, "as a Death Eater is nothing you can get convicted in court for. They would need some sort of evidence, and for a serious sentence – a fat load at that."

Draco exhaled – naturally he knew all of this, yet it felt relieving to hear it from a grown, wise man who he knew he could trust.

"What if they find evidence, then? Evidence that he has... Well, I dunno – I suppose you should know..."

They looked at each other, Draco's eyebrows slightly raised in a questioning manner. They had never really spoken openly of Snape's loyalty to the Dark Lord.

Snape's lip curled slightly. "Yes, I suppose I should."

Draco's heart was beating faster than usual. "You know, I really want to smash him up right now. Potter."

Snape looked scornfully amused, but as if he tried to conceal it. "Point is," said Snape after a moment of silence. "Your father will be fine. You have got a lot on your mind already, you've got your schoolwork as well as your Prefect duties; you should not worry about these things yet, you're too young, Draco, really..."

Draco rolled his eyes, irritated, and interrupted his teacher. "I'm not stupid, Snape. School is not nearly as important as, well, Him, and-"

Snape's eyes were at once chillier. "Leave that to us adults, that's what I'm saying. I know that is what Lucius wants as well right now. And your studies are important – but I won't give you that speech, I believe your mother takes care of that more than often."

Draco did not answer, but kept looking at the table, slightly irritated with Snape who could not comfort anyone without condescend them at the same time. Yet he felt calmer.

"If something does happen to your father," Snape went on after a moment of silence, "you know he has contacts within the Ministry. He managed everything just fine last time around, didn't he? Have you not noticed how Lucius escaped Azkaban in the aftermath of the first war when the Ministry was rounding everyone up, whereas a lot of other Death Eaters were thrown in prison? Chances of Lucius going to Azkaban is really quite small, Draco."

Draco looked up. "'Quite small'?"

"Non-existing," replied Snape calmly. He sounded definite, which made Draco not feel as unsure any longer. Draco looked away. Snape turned back to the board again and continued to prepare for his next lecture, and after a while he once more broke the silence.

"Haven't you got any lectures to get to?"

Draco put his copy of Magical Draughts and Potions into his school bag, got up and left.

When he arrived at the Great Hall for lunch, it seemed as if everyone had found out. Draco did not look at anyone, feeling scattered with stares as he placed himself between Crabbe and Goyle. While he ladled up a portion of beef casserole on his plate, Crabbe asked him, mouth stuffed, what he had been doing.

"Talking to professor Snape," replied Draco shortly.

"It's bloody messed up, what Potter did, isn't it," Crabbe went on. Draco only mumbled as a response. Goyle nodded.

"I mean," continued Crabbe, "i's not as if I would tell everyone his secrets, innit? Some things you jus' keep t' yourself, even Potter should have that decency…"

"He really doesn't," Goyle threw in.

"Well, stating the obvious, are we?" muttered Draco, who was getting tired of talking about that particular subject as they only said the same things over and over.

Later that day, when lectures had ended, he, Crabbe, Goyle and Nott went to the library to study, but really mostly to talk. And speaking of the devil... Of course Potter had to waltz into the room, searching for some book amongst the shelves. Just the mere sight of the pompous twat made Draco's head heat up. When he thought about it, they were only boys judged by their fathers' actions – it was selfish and childish of Potter to point fingers.

"Jus' look at him, the posh, self-righteous prat," muttered Crabbe, who as usual could not control his impulses. Draco and Nott were more rational; Goyle was illegible and passive, just as always.

They watched Potter leaving, and Draco had to admit he had a hard time stopping his own impulses, he could feel his jaw clenching and he must've sent Potter a murderous stare because of how surprised Potter looked when he saw them. What aggravated Draco, though, was that he had looked slightly amused as he turned away. Tosser.

"Do you think it could actually do anything to our dads?" said Gregory, surprisingly enough. He did not sound as cocky and angry as the rest of them.

"No, I honestly do not," piped Theodore in, chilly and calm as ever. Although Draco would not admit it, not even to himself, it felt nice to have Nott around to make him see things more rational and to just look beyond it – don't let it get to you. Even though it would hit Nott the hardest if their fathers went to Azkaban, as he would be completely parentless, Nott did not flinch.

Nott was weird, but Draco respected him.

"He deserves a proper punch, he does," commented Crabbe through gritted teeth.

"People will probably believe him, though," said Draco in a husky tone, ignoring Vincent. "About the Dark Lord being back."

"We don't have to worry about that yet, anyway, do we," said Theodore dismissively. "That's for our parents and the rest to sort out."

After about an hour or so, the four of them got back to the Great Hall for dinner. Nott suddenly being a part of their trio felt unaccustomed – they were clearly marked as Death Eaters spawns, all of them being together, but Draco tried to act as if nothing was going on.

After dinner they went back to the common room. Crabbe and Goyle easily scared off a couple of third-years from the sofas by the fireplace, and they placed themselves in their usual spots – Crabbe and Goyle in the sofa, Draco straight-backed in his armchair, with the addition of Nott who uncomfortably squeezed in on the sofa as well. They started working on their homework, even Crabbe and Goyle tried for once, yet Draco gave up after not five minutes and threw his book together, placed his feet on the table, crossed his arms and spaced out. His jaw was clenching, his mouth twitching, and he could not seem to stop being angry.

Crabbe and Goyle managed to aggravate Nott to the point of nearly bursting, within ten minutes time, by asking for his help repeatedly and not understanding when he did explain to them. It made Draco smirk now and then.

The week went on similarly to that day, Draco spent most of his time eating, sleeping, sleeping in class, being angry at Potter or dim Quidditch-team captains, or studying while muttering to Crabbe and Goyle about how incompetent they both were.

On Saturday, Gryffindor played Hufflepuff which was something that would usually make Draco happy, but this time he, Crabbe and Goyle only half-heartedly shouted some lyrics from "Weasley is Our King". His bad mood had affected his two friends as well. Pansy made it her business to place herself on his lap, while directing the rest of the Slytherins to sing the lyrics enthusiastically, and he reckoned she was probably trying to cheer him up.

He sat silent, sulking, while she sang loudly, laughing smugly. Then she turned to him, her crooked smile plastered on her face. "Do you hear that, Draco?" she said enthusiastically, nodding her head towards their house-mates. "We are brilliant," she told him, smiling with her eyebrows raised as if wanting him to confirm. He rolled his eyes.

"I'm not in the mood, Pans."

It was her turn to roll her eyes. "Cheer up, mate," she commented.

He sneered. All right, then they were only mates. Glad that's confirmed, he thought.

She turned to him again, eyebrows raised in that cocky manner that was typical for Pansy. "So, Potter said the Dark Lord's back and that your dad's a Death Eater, so bloody what?"

He looked up at her, superiorly questioning.

"Yeah," she went on loudly. "Who cares! Potter's a nutter, Draco. Nobody'll believe it."

She turned, looking at the match again. She was still in his lap.

He did not know if it was that, or if it was seeing Gryffindor lose, but something actually did improve his subsistence slightly.