Better Be Slytherin
XXI
Curiosity Kills the Cat

A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry and Important Modern Magical Discoveries lay in his lap – two books he had found in the library, as he awaited the parcel from Flourish & Blotts that he had ordered by owl. It was early morning, Crabbe was still snoring loudly in the next bed, and the rest of the boys were sleeping silently in their own. Draco could hardly sleep. He had a new habit of writhing in his bed for hours at night before he finally fell asleep, and waking up with knots of anxiety in the early morning. He was tired, and not just because of the lack of sleep. The stress was getting to him.

So he found these moments of privacy, when the other boys slept, perfect for reading, trying to find some sort of inspiration on how to mend the cabinet. He had to make sure he used every minute of his day to do something useful – whether it was paying attention in Transfiguration or hastily scribbling down mediocre homework, working with the cabinet, eating or sleeping. He had no time for any more than that. The basics.

The fact that Borgin had not yet answered his letter aggravated him, where he lay under the covers in his large four-poster bed with its dark green curtains. His mind was constantly working, thinking about his task. Borgin did not seem to understand the severity, and the pathetic truth was that Draco needed Borgin to be able to finish this. He really had no clue what to do on his own.

He could not write any letters to his aunt, either, asking for spells that might work, yet he deeply wished that he could. Why hadn't he asked her about it when he was at home?

He felt unsure of his ability with the Killing Curse too – perhaps he could practice more over Christmas. The previous couple of nights he had practiced at Hogwarts, on plants. He had managed it with plants and a mouse he found in a very dusty part of the library, making the leaves hastily crumble and turn brown, and the mouse squeal lightly before slowly closing its small eyes. He had felt some satisfaction – but Dumbledore was a large man, not a little mouse. And a very powerful wizard at that. Draco sighed, and began to feel the pressure of his assignment.

With a shudder he realised for the first time what it really meant, what he really had to do. Behind the glory of it all – he saw the raw, real experience. He had become a Death Eater, and having bragged about that for several years, he felt strangely unfamiliarised to the idea.

Draco Malfoy was to kill Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore was the greatest wizard to ever wave a wand (next to the Dark Lord, of course), and had even defeated a Dark Lord in his past. For some reason, this seemingly impossible task was delegated to Draco.

It made no sense.


Later that morning, at breakfast in the Great Hall, when the owls suddenly arrived with loads of flapping of wings, Draco jerkily looked up to see a large, corporate-looking owl soar down towards him. He hastily moved his mug of pumpkin juice and his Daily Prophet to make room for the large creature, with a giant parcel in its beak, wrapped in brown paper. The owl landed and Draco suddenly felt like a bit of his stress was taken away. He exhaled deeply as he took the parcel from the owl and watched it fly away. He hoped nobody had found it odd that he had received such a large parcel, and he finished his pumpkin juice in one big swig, planning to hurry down to the common room and leave the books in his dormitory, preferably under his bed, away from nosy eyes, before anyone could ask him about it.

When he looked up he saw Pansy's sceptical face. He sighed inwardly.

"What's that?" she frowned at him, blowing into the cup of tea in her hands.

"Nothing important," he said, quickly plastering a smile on his face, hoping she would not ask any more questions.

"If it's not important, why can't you tell me what it is?" she smirked at him.

"I can. It's things for school. Books," he said hastily.

"Didn't you get all of yours in Diagon Alley before school started?" she inquired.

"Yes, well, I forgot a few at home," he lied. "Mother sent them to me."

Pansy still frowned at him. She had a sip of her tea and then opened her mouth again. "Anyway, I ran into Snape and he told me to tell you to come to his office. Don't know why."

Draco sighed inwardly. He knew why. The content feeling of receiving the books that possibly could lead to him finding the answer on how to fix his problem was at once gone. Why in Merlin's name was Snape so bloody interested in his business?

"Right," he muttered, "I'm not going to that."

"Why?"

"He's just butting in, that's what he's doing."

"You've always liked Snape," Pansy looked confused. "He's our Head of House."

Draco fixed her with a look and lowered his voice so that nobody around would hear them. "He's trying to steal my glory."

Pansy narrowed her eyes, and then a look of understanding came upon her features. "Really?"

"Yes. Mother came to him in the summer and," he hissed, rolling his eyes, "had him swear to look after me. As if I'm a child... And now he won't stop calling me to his office. He wants in on my plan, I just know it! I'm doing this on my own, and he can't stop me. I'm not telling him anything."

"Are you sure he doesn't just want to help you?" Pansy asked. "Suppose that he's not trying to 'steal your glory'?"

Draco shook his head at once. "I don't want his help. I want him to stay out of it."

"Right."

"It's my mission, it was given to me. It's my time to show everyone what I can do. To show Him that I won't mess it up like father did. I have to do this, I have to get my father out of Azkaban – I can't stand him being in there."

"Yeah, I get it."

"I've got to uproot our family's honour," he went on, still hissing. "Have you got any idea how humiliating it is to see your own father's face on wanted-posters all over the Wizarding community? Everywhere I look – Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, even in the newspapers – like he's some sort of common thief!"

"I can imagine that, but everyone that matters knows the truth," Pansy said firmly. "Everyone who's proper doesn't look down on him for it, because they agree—"

"I know but the majority of Wizarding England doesn't agree and they all do look down on him! And on me! My father is a good man who stands up for his values – and all of a sudden you can't express a single view because the matter of Blood is so 'sensitive' – and all of a sudden his face is all over Diagon Alley like a common thief, and every single non-Slytherin in this Godforsaken place looks at me as if I'm vermin under their shoes! They're... They're the ones...!"

He was so frustrated that he could not get any more words out. He had held onto this for several months and it had finally come out.

"I know, Draco... But I know you're not."

"So?" Draco snorted, and then instantly regretting it. She was one of the few people on his side, and she was trying to cheer him up.

Pansy only rolled her eyes. "Crabbe and Goyle treat you like royalty. And the majority of Slytherin house agrees with your dad. And to be honest, I reckon a lot of adults do as well. You know – Ministry people. They just can't be open about it."

He said nothing, but gave her a small smile, suddenly very grateful for her support and loyalty.

His trips to the Come-and-go-Room became more and longer the following week. He began pulling away from everyone. He had neither time nor energy to be social. Whenever he wanted to be alone, he sat in a window in the Come-and-go-Room and read Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts – a book not related to his mission or the cabinet, but one that he had found in the Restricted Section whilst searching for books about repairing things, and it had caught his interest.

He had begun reading through the repairing handbooks he had ordered from Flourish & Blotts but they did not seem to contain anything remotely close to what he was aiming for. And whenever he picked one of them up, he felt sleepy.

He knew he had started to disappear, more and more, but he could not help it. The cabinet was the most important thing in his life, and the only one who seemed to mind it was Pansy. Crabbe and Goyle were fine, albeit slightly confused about what to do in his absence. Nott and Zabini probably could not give two shits. Yet Pansy began to become an issue during the following couple of weeks, always asking where he was going and when he would be back, and whinging about how they never had any time together anymore, that he was always off by himself, and that he did not tend to her needs. It tired him even more.


Pansy had to practically thump Crabbe's arm to get his attention. He turned around slowly, still chewing on a pumpkin pastry.

"What?" Crabbe asked, his mouth full of crumbs. Pansy felt her face screw up in disgust.

"Where's Draco?"

Crabbe shrugged. "Dunno."

"You do know that you can tell me," Pansy said slowly, staring at Crabbe. "I am his girlfriend, you know."

Crabbe shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable. "I dunno where he is. Ask someone else."

Pansy sighed. Crabbe was the worst liar in the world. Making her way out of the common room to have a casual stroll looking for Draco, she wondered why Draco could not just tell her himself. She practically knew half of what he was up to. She knew all about his aunt, which she guessed Crabbe and Goyle did not even know about; she knew about the Unforgivable Curses he had been practising all summer long; she had seen his Dark Mark, and she knew he was off doing something all the time. Why could he not just tell her the last missing piece?

As soon as she stepped out from the common room, out there in the dark dungeon, he was coming towards her in dark green robes, his blonde hair almost lighting up the corridor.

"There you are," she said at once. He came closer, hastily, and moved in for a kiss and a hug.

"Thought I'd get some sleep, finally," he told her. She sighed and looked up at him, pouting slightly.

"I hardly ever see you."

"I'm very busy, you know that."

"Where have you been?" she asked uncharacteristically softly, still hugging him and breathing in his scent. He stroked her hair.

"Just about... The library," he said, clearing his throat.

She looked up at him, hurt. "Why are you lying to me?"

Exasperated, he sighed. "I'm not lying!"

"Yes you are, Draco, I know you are, because you've told Crabbe and Goyle not to tell me anything. They're not the best liars, if you know what I mean. Why can't you just tell me?"

"I've already told you enough!" he had unwillingly raised his voice. Pansy pulled back, frowning at him, hurt. "And I'm not lying to you," he composed himself and said, vaguely convincing. "I haven't told them to not tell you anything."

"Right... yeah," Pansy said, rolling her eyes.

"I've already told you plenty, Pansy. Why can't that be enough for you? Let's go to bed. I'm here now, isn't that enough?"

Pansy sighed, but let him take her hand and lead her to his dormitory.

There had been no improvement for the next day, however. It began as soon as they were walking to Herbology after breakfast. Pansy walked slightly ahead of Draco, Crabbe and Goyle, who were behind her, whispering about something. It irritated her to no end, and she rolled her eyes.

Finally, she turned around. "Just once can you get your heads out of the clouds and actually talk about something else? I'm so fucking bored here."

Goyle looked frightened and Draco sneered slightly. "Come on, mate..."

"I'm not your mate, Draco! Is that how you see me? Big news here, but I'm your girlfriend!" Pansy rolled her eyes angrily and went into the greenhouse before them, leaving the three boys looking clueless.

Draco groaned inwardly, of course he did not want Pansy to be angry, but he did not have time for this! He gave out a forced laugh and said: "Come on then!" to Crabbe and Goyle who followed him inside.

The three of them sat down by Pansy, and Draco hastily took the seat right next to her. She refused to acknowledge him, and just looked at Sprout more focused than he had ever seen her do before.

"Pans," he mumbled, as he along with the rest of the students began taking out their parchments and quills, and Sprout began speaking. Pansy did not react. He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "What was that about? Bloody hell..."

Pansy only rolled her eyes as a response. This was something new – he had never made her angry before, or he did not think so. Well, expect for that drunken row they had earlier that year when she tossed a drink on his head. But that hardly counted. They had never had a proper couples' fight before. When she still did not say anything or even move, he leaned close again and whispered, so that Sprout would not hear, as she went on with the introduction of today's lesson at the head of the greenhouse. "All right, I get it. We spoke about this last night, give it a rest will you?"

"Well, nothing's changing," Pansy muttered.

"You've just got to wait a little while longer and then I'll have time for you..."

"I'm sick of waiting."

Draco found nothing to say, and to be frank, her anger slightly frightened him. For a short moment there was an awkward silence between them. Then he tried a different approach.

"You do realise I have to do this for my father, don't you?"

"I'm sick of hearing about your father."

Taken aback, Draco said nothing more to her for the rest of the lesson.

The next evening, Pansy did something she had never thought she would do. She followed him. Perhaps it was only about his father being in Azkaban, perhaps he needed time alone because of that – but his time alone was vast, he was never around. And she had all those pieces which together formed a perfect puzzle – he did do something for the Dark Lord, and the fact that he had told her everything but that made her irritated. So after dinner, she mumbled something to her girlfriends about taking a bath, and hurried out of the busy Great Hall when she saw Draco's white-blonde head bobbing out of there.

She followed him out of the Great Hall, through the entrance hall, but she lingered a bit back. He threw a glance over his shoulder but luckily she was hidden by a gang of Ravenclaw boys who walked past. He began jogging up the large staircase and she hesitantly followed. All the way up to the seventh floor he walked, and she was slightly out of breath when she reached the last staircase. There was nobody else up there, so she had to tread lightly for him not to hear. He turned a corner and she went after him.

Around the corner he turned around quickly and they came face to face. Pansy's heart sank. He had seen her.

"What are you doing here, Pansy?" He was really irritated, it was obvious. His eyes were cold. Ashamed for being caught doing something so pathetic, she rolled her eyes.

"Well, I got worried when you left dinner, and..."

"You got worried," he repeated tiredly, "when I left dinner."

"Yes! And none of the boys knew where you were g—"

Draco groaned. "And that gives you some sort of right to follow me?" he spat.

She rolled her eyes again, "Bloody hell, it wasn't like that!"

"Yes it was! You decided to stalk me, did you?" His voice cracked like a boy going through puberty having a tantrum.

"You're being silly!" she accused. "I just wondered where you were going! You're not telling me anything, yet you seem to be telling Crabbe and Goyle plenty, which in my opinion is quite—"

"I don't remember asking for your opinion," Draco snarled.

"I don't remember having to wait for your permission!" she snapped back at him. He grumbled. "God, you're an insufferable pig!"

"You're a nosy bitch," he retorted. "Why are you bothering about me if I'm so insufferable?"

"Because..." she spluttered angrily. "What are you up to anyway?"

"What's it to you? Really?" he snapped.

She sent him a glare. Draco looked stressed.

"I could report you to Dumbledore, you know," Pansy warned. "You haven't been doing your Prefect duties, just dumping it all on me—"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, go on then, Pansy, report me." He suddenly turned and started walking again.

Aggravated, she called out: "I will!"

She let out a groan as he disappeared. "Idiot," she mumbled. Watching him disappear farther and farther away in the corridor, she decided what she would do next. And she hurried out to the staircase again, and made her way down as quickly as she could. All the way down, to the dungeons, through the corridor, passing the Slytherin common room, passing the Potions classroom, until she finally reached Snape's office, where she, breathlessly, knocked firmly on the door.

When it opened, she said: "Professor Snape, sir, sorry to bother you so late, but I need to have a word with you in private. It's about Malfoy."

Pansy was frustrated with herself all through the next day. She was actually jealous of Crabbe and Goyle, the big oafs. And she had gone to their Head of House for help concerning her own boyfriend. How low could you sink? She was used to getting almost all of Draco's attention at Hogwarts, and now that he suddenly was away, it was strangely uncomfortable. And to think, she had hardly been in love with him until now that he was drifting away.

Sadly, Snape had not told her anything she had not already known – that Draco was very busy and was not to be disturbed, that Pansy could get in serious danger for even being close to Draco, that she should realise the severity of Draco's situation. Pansy had refused to listen to him.

She had only one more thing she felt she had in her power to do. Well, he was still her boyfriend, he could not deny her this. With this in mind, she approached him that afternoon in the common room.

"I want to speak to you."

He scribbled something in his book, hidden by a mountain of books and homework. She almost pitied him. He did not bother to look up at her from his books.

"I'm here. Speak to me," he said in a short, chilly tone.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "I want to speak to you in private."

"I'm doing my homework, Pansy!" he said, finally looking up at her. She did not move and did not say anything. She guessed her hurt face expression made him rethink, because when he spoke next he had softened.

"What do you want to speak of?" He put his books down and held out an arm for her to come and sit next to him. She did. He gave her a kiss which she half responded. He rubbed his eyes, and come to think of it, he did look very tired.

"I thought, with all our rowing lately, we could use some time just us two," she began. Draco immediately looked away and she knew he would protest, saying that he had no time for that.

"One evening, Draco, that's all I want. Then you can go back to whatever you're doing on the seventh floor. Need I remind you that you were the one hanging after me all summer? I was not the one who wanted this. Now that you have me, at least do not take me for granted."

She knew he was defeated by this. He was silent for a while, stroking her hair slightly, and she looked firmly at him, not responding any of his affection.

"All right, have it your way."

The more he slipped away, the more unattainable he became – the more she wanted to know where he was, wanted to be included, the more she missed him, the more she thought of him. And the more she did that – the more he slipped away, the more space he needed, the more he resented her. It was a vicious circle, and her gut feeling told her how it would end, but she did not want to believe it. She couldn't stop herself.