I just finished Cursed Child! I really enjoyed the Albus/Harry plotline. And the scene between Harry and Dumbledore was heartbreaking - when Dumbledore tries to reach out of the portrait and starts crying...! I found it so funny James said "slythering Slytherin" - just like one of the chapters in this story, Slithering Slytherin. I thought that was cool. I thought that Draco felt more like movie-Draco than books-Draco, which was too bad. I suppose JKR didn't write most of it. Oh, When Alecto talks about the Sacred Twenty-Eight in this chapter, it's widely inspired by Pottermore. Please let me know what you think!
Better Be Slytherin
XXXVII
Cat and Mouse
Pansy felt as though she'd barely fallen asleep before she awoke by the sounds of the other girls moving about the dormitory preparing for the day's lessons. She cast a quick Perking-Up spell on herself and quickly got dressed into her Slytherin robes before she left the pink-clad dormitory along with her girlfriends. A fire was already burning in the gloomy common room even though it was only September and not very cold outside yet. She spotted Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle huddled together by the notice board. As she was about to pass with Daphne, Tracey, Queenie and Millicent, she tried to catch Draco's eye and opened her mouth to say good morning.
He looked up and sent her a cold, dark look that prevented her from speaking however. She walked on, frowning, and hoped her friends hadn't noticed their lack of communication. Was Draco angry with her? For possibly what?
She endured breakfast, Transfiguration and Charms without Malfoy so much as look at her. By dinner-time she was sure she wasn't just imagining things – he was indeed angry with her. He had acted as though she didn't exist all day, and sat twenty meters away from her in the Great Hall. It was almost embarrassing for her, as all the seventh year Slytherins usually sat together. Finally, she saw him get up after finishing his dinner and, motioning for Crabbe and Goyle to join him, began making his way between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables towards the exit. She gulped down the rest of her pie and mash and exclaimed, "Catch you laters!" to her surprised girlfriends, and followed the three boys. They had already made their way across the large Entrance Hall and were quickly on their way down the stone staircase leading to the dungeons when she came out of the Great Hall.
She ran across the Entrance Hall, accidentally bumping into a couple of younger Hufflepuff boys who started and continued to dinner looking frightened, as she jogged down the staircase into the dark corridor.
"No running in the dungeons!" a portrait of an armour-clad old wizard called after her sharply, which made Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle turn around ahead in the corridor. Draco's eyes narrowed at once.
"Malfoy," she said loudly, breathing slightly heavier than usual after her jog. Draco rolled his eyes, turned back around and kept walking towards the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Vincent and Gregory trod after him unsurely. Pansy furrowed her brows. He was behaving most curiously, she thought, but she continued after him and caught up with him as he was speaking the password to the empty stone wall.
"Mudblood," Draco muttered uninterestedly and the passage in the wall appeared at once. Pansy grabbed his arm just as he was about to follow Vincent and Gregory inside. He groaned irritably and turned to face her as his friends disappeared into the common room, leaving them alone in the corridor.
"What is it, Pansy?" he snarled.
"My goodness," she said with a laugh, "what's got your wand in a knot?"
"What's it to you?"
"Oh, nothing, just that last night you were all over me, and now—"
"Was not," he growled, interrupting her.
Surprised, but slightly amused, she said, "Yes, well, right then. What have I possibly done for you to be so bloody angry all of a sudden?"
A torch on the wall was reflected in his grey eyes, making him look even more furious, but he didn't speak.
"Why can't we just get on like before? Why does it have to be so difficult?" she sighed.
"You're asking me?" he said, raising his eyebrows angrily, "You're the one playing games!"
"Pardon?" she exclaimed, exasperated.
"I heard what you said last night," he spat. "When you went inside your dormitory."
Pansy suddenly froze and her heart started to beat quickly. She swallowed, but before she managed to come up with an excuse, Draco spoke again.
"Disgusting," he muttered, staring intently and coldly at her. She opened and closed her mouth, feeling her cheeks turn warm. "What, nothing to say?" he said scornfully. "You're unbelievable. Merlin knows why I kissed you. I clearly wasn't thinking properly."
She licked her lips. "Fair enough," she said quietly. "I'm sorry."
He spluttered. She'd never seen him as shocked. He probably hadn't expected an apology at once – not after her history of excuses and lies – which she supposed was the reason he looked like some of the anger wore off. She looked up at him without any hint of a smirk or taunt, and he looked back at her, surprised. Then he frowned. Tentatively, she stepped closer. He didn't move. She hesitantly reached up to place her arms around his neck, still looking at him, and he still didn't move. He neither pushed her away nor replied her affections. He just looked at her curiously. She stroked the back of his neck casually and ran a hand up through the hair on the back of his head, before she moved in to kiss him slowly. Finally, he placed his arms around her waist and replied the kiss.
"Do you want to go to the dormitory?" she asked when they broke away, without her usual teasing look.
He still grumbled a little, but said, "Yes, fine," which she hoped meant he had nearly forgiven her, despite himself. She trailed her hand into his and followed him through the passage in the wall, through the common room occupied with studying Slytherins, down the staircase and into the boys' dormitory. None of the others were there yet, they were probably back in the common room playing Wizards' chess or reading. Draco still hadn't let go of her hand, which Pansy thought must mean that he couldn't be very angry any longer.
She sat on his four-poster while he removed his cloak and hung it on a silver hook shaped like a serpent next to his bedside table.
"Did you have fun last night?" she asked then, hoping she could talk him out of his bad mood.
He shrugged. "Yes."
"What did you think of Muggle Studies, then?"
He glanced at her, paused, for a second before speaking. "Fine, I suppose," he said shortly. She wondered briefly if he was lying – he hadn't the same drawl he usually had when talking about his opinions.
"Have you got another task from the Dark Lord this year?" she then wondered. Finally, a small smile appeared on his pale face.
"No, this year my attention will be focused on you."
"I love that," Pansy giggled loudly and reached out both her arms for him, like a child reaching for a bag of sweets. He obeyed, joining her on the bed, and she put her arms around him. He grinned, satisfying her, and hugged her back. She placed kisses on his cheek, ear and neck gigglingly and knew that he couldn't be angry anymore.
He gave her an irritated smile, as if to say that she'd succeeded in cheering him up. She pulled him down onto her and kissed him all over. He waved his wand, closing the dark green curtains and kissed her back, stroking her body.
"Let me see it again!" she said excitedly between kisses and he reluctantly unbuttoned his shirt sleeve, knowing what she meant at once. They stopped kissing while he pulled his sleeve up to reveal the dark skull with its snake tongue branded into his left underarm. She traced it with her finger for a moment, and then she said, "I'm so happy last year's over. You've finished now, haven't you... You don't have to prove yourself anymore."
Draco looked as if he wasn't totally convinced, but then he smiled. "Yes, I'm in now. This year we haven't got anything to focus on but homework and keeping the Carrows happy."
"Don't forget our Head duties!" giggled Pansy blissfully. He smiled at her and moved in to kiss her.
She felt herself grow weak, her upper hand was slipping. She wasn't as cold-hearted as she'd been lately. She knew she needed answers. She didn't want to hurt him, not really, and she didn't want him to hurt her either. She needed to stop the games, and the only way that was possible was if they finally laid their cards on the table.
"I want you to tell me," she mumbled into his mouth when they finished the kiss. She didn't dare looking at him so she kept her eyes closed. She could feel him breathe into her mouth. She still had her arms around his neck.
"Tell you what?" he mumbled.
"Just tell me you punched Theodore because you were jealous," she said tentatively. "Because of how you feel about me."
He pulled away and looked at her, seemingly surprised at how serious she'd turned.
"Well, of course that's why I did it – if not then why the bloody hell would I've done it?" he said, rolling his eyes.
She looked at him but said nothing. A sort of comfort settled in her stomach, almost making her smile.
"I don't know what you want me to say!" he went on, exasperated now, "I've told you I fancy you, I told you that after that whole Nott rubbish. And you should know that by now, and if not, then you really are a stupid cow!"
Pansy closed her mouth indignantly and sent him a glare. How could he say that with his arms still around her?
"You've no clue how worried I was about you last year," she said in a chilly tone, "But you cut me out of your life without a word, and then you left!"
"You were worrying about me where you? Seemed like you were quite busy going around snogging Theodore Nott to me!"
Pansy pulled away from their embrace while exclaiming: "When are you going to stop bringing that up? God, Draco, you're so immature!"
He interrupted her angrily. "And I've told you I couldn't say anything to anyone!" Draco sat up in bed, apparently also wanting to distance himself from her, while she turned away from him. He waved his hands angrily as he went on: "I said I missed you all summer; I told you about my aunt and I showed you my Mark; I said I would've told you if I knew earlier; I even told you a bit the night I left – what more could you possibly expect?"
Pansy looked away, silent. She followed a small spider with her eyes – it was climbing the stone wall above Draco's nightstand.
"I don't think you fully realise how powerful he is," Malfoy went on. "I couldn't just have a break to go see my girlfriend, could I – the Dark Lord's wishes are—"
"More important," she snorted.
"Yes, actually, they are!"
She turned to look at him heatedly.
"You're so naive," he then muttered. Pansy heart started beating quickly.
"Oh, because I wanted you to speak one word to me all sodding year?"
"Because you act like I chose to do what I did!" he yelled suddenly, making her start. She fell silent.
"I had to do it," he went on, "why won't you grasp that ever? I had to do it or otherwise he would've killed my family!"
"So it was nothing about me what-so-ever. You prioritised and I wasn't important enough."
"Yes!" he said, surprising her greatly. She would've expected him to deny it. "And don't look so bloody shocked – that doesn't mean I didn't care about you. I did what I had to do and I'm finished saying sorry, because I only did it so he wouldn't kill me, and my family!"
Pansy finally looked at him, pondering this. She didn't feel as angry as she thought she would've. Draco was breathing heavily, staring at her accusingly.
"Fine," she then said through gritted teeth. She admitted herself defeated. "I understand, I suppose."
A bit of the previous warmth returned to his face and he opened his mouth to say something, but must've regretted it. "I did it because I always knew we could sort it out eventually," he said then, his voice quieter and not as angry. He needed her to understand why he'd chosen to be rid of her last year.
"Did you?" she forgot her own anger too and looked at him wonderingly. He looked her straight in the eyes and said earnestly: "Yes." He reached out for her hand. She parted her fingers at once, making room for his.
He watched her sipping her tea the next morning in a less than usually vivid Great Hall. After finally being honest with each other, Draco felt like he and Pansy had more respect for each other than ever before. He didn't ever want to argue again, and he felt like he valued her more than he ever had. He had to stop himself from leaning over to stroke her cheek. He'd never had that urge before. He cursed himself for placing the Quidditch try-outs on that morning – he would have loved to do nothing but stay in bed with Pansy all day. He even pondered telling her about how he felt regarding the Dark Lord... But he pushed the thoughts away.
"Well, I'm off," he said in a low voice so only she could hear. She turned to him mock-pouting.
"Already?"
He grinned. "We have try-outs in a bit. Captain's duties."
Pansy smirked leisurely and reached out an arm for him. He moved in for a hug as she curled her fingers into the hair on the back of his neck.
"Don't be long?"
He couldn't help but to grin again. "I'll try my best. What will you do?"
Pansy waved her wand, making a piece of bacon fly up and land on her plate. "Don't know really," she yawned. "I'm having Runcorn do my homework as a punishment for trying to weasel her way out of patrols," he saw a hint of a smirk on her face, "so I suppose I'll spend my day with Daph and Trace and Queenie and Millicent."
"Keep away from Nott," mumbled Draco teasingly, nuzzling her neck. Pansy laughed loudly.
"Good luck," said Pansy and crooked her head sideways, letting him kiss her cheek.
He tore himself away from her and motioned for Crabbe and Goyle to join him. Crabbe looked reluctant, but did as he was ordered.
"It's only us three left from the team, isn't it?" said Goyle as the three of them made their way down the Great Hall, between the filled to the rim Slytherin table and the only half-full Hufflepuff table.
"Correct," drawled Draco. His mood was particularly good today. The clear blue sky shone above them through the enchanted ceiling as they moved through the end of the Hall. Out in the Entrance Hall, they came face to face with broad-shouldered, hard-faced Amycus Carrow. Draco had a sinking feeling in his stomach at once.
"Mornin', professor Carrow!" said Crabbe at once, shaking their new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher's hand enthusiastically.
"Good morning, boys," said Amycus with a curt smile. "Whereabouts you off to?"
"Quidditch try-outs!" said Goyle cheerfully.
"For Slytherin, of course," Crabbe filled in.
"Naturally, naturally," said Amycus, seemingly amused, "Say, Mr Malfoy, might I have a word? Now that we've so conveniently run into each other."
Draco hid his displeasure. "Of course, sir?"
"I was merely wondering if you could recommend any students for helping out with the punishments – as you know, I'm in charge of them... I heard you were very helpful to miss Umbridge...?"
Draco swallowed hard. He had an inclination cooperation with the Carrows wouldn't be the same thing as cooperating with Umbridge. Crabbe looked even more enthusiastic at the prospect of this – almost greedy.
"Why is that necessary?" asked Draco before he could stop himself. "We have Prefects for that, don't we, professor? And detentions, and the whole point-system?"
Amycus looked slightly annoyed, and Draco hastily remembered himself. "I need a few people who're really up for it," he grunted. It made him uncomfortable but he knew he couldn't show it.
"Well, in that case, naturally, Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle here," offered Draco, hoping not to sound bored. Crabbe looked more excited for the idea than Goyle. "And I'm sure there's plenty more in our House that would find it a good idea."
"Pansy would be up for it, I reckon," said Goyle.
"What about yourself, Mr Malfoy?" asked Amycus in an estimative manner. Draco thought quickly and knew what he had to say at once.
"Yes, of course."
Briefly, he realised he was glad his aunt Bellatrix had taught him Occlumency. If anyone knew what he really was thinking he'd be in more than grave trouble.
"I shall contact you if, or rather when I need you," said Amycus. Draco kept a stony face and hoped that would never happen. "My best of luck to you all – for try-outs. I wouldn't be too disappointed if the Quidditch Cup came to Slytherin on my first year as a teacher!"
He guffawed and continued into the Great Hall for breakfast.
"Brilliant, mate!" said Crabbe as soon as they were alone again and went on outside the castle out onto the grounds. "I wonder what we'll be able to do! I wouldn't mind cursing a few Mudbloods!"
"If that's what the Dark Lord wants, I suppose," said Goyle, looking slightly unsure. "Is it – Malfoy?"
"Yes," said Draco curtly, not knowing what else to say.
Crabbe talked about how excited he was at the thought of punishing Muggleborns and Blood traitors all the way down across the greens to the Quidditch pitch. Draco swallowed hard to keep himself from feeling nauseous and tried to focus on what he loved instead – Quidditch.
"All right!" said Draco loudly twenty minutes later when they had all changed into Quidditch robes and made their way out to the pitch. There was a cluster of people who had come to try-out for the team, who stood before him wearing green and silver robes and clutching broomsticks. A few people were scattered around the stands to watch on, or cheer for their friends. "We've got four posts to fill today! That is Keeper and three Chasers, seeing as Crabbe and Goyle here are our Beaters and I'm the Seeker."
A disappointed moan was heard from the middle of the crowd, and Draco saw Prefect Gordon Pummell muttering to his friend, "That's the position I wanted to try out for."
Scornfully amused, Draco went on, "So if you don't want to try out for Keeper or Chaser, if you please..." he motioned for them to leave. Only Pummell smiled ashamedly and hurried off with his broomstick.
"Now then, Harper, you'll start as Keeper, and you three can play Chasers for the first round." He pointed at a random three of the Chaser applicants.
Crabbe and Goyle kicked off onto the ground and soared up, knowing what to do.
"Harper, take your hoops," instructed Draco and the boy did as he was told. Crabbe and Goyle shot Bludgers at the Chasers who tried avoiding them, and who in their turn shot the Quaffle at Harper to see how many he would save. Then they repeated the process enough times to let everyone try out.
Finally, he had managed to scrape together a full Quidditch team. Timothy Morcott was his new Keeper, he had beat Harper by just the one Quaffle save; and the three new Chasers became Miles' younger brother Kevin Bletchley, along with Malcolm Baddock and Graham Pritchard - all four were relatively good friends to Draco, and from the year below. He genuinely thought he'd put together a good team and that they had a fair chance of winning the Cup this year.
They had their first practice at once – no point in wasting time, reckoned Draco. He thoroughly enjoyed souring through the air in search of the Golden Snitch, and directing his team-mates. It felt blissful being on a broom again – especially after having missed so much of the Quidditch season last year. He was happy to be back on the pitch and decided to devote as much as he could of himself to Quidditch this year – for the sense of freedom he got when he flied, and also because he would be busy and have a reason to keep away from the Carrows...
Afterwards, they showered in the changing rooms. Draco dried himself off with the green and silver bath towel and ran a hand through his wet hair. He already felt a certain muscle soreness coming on.
"Drake," a low voice to his left mumbled. He quickly turned to looked at Gregory who was looking at him with a serious look on his face. "There's summin' I've got to tell you."
Draco frowned at him, paused in his movements.
"Nott's been going around telling everyone you're not all that anymore."
Draco still just frowned at his friend, confused and surprised. "What?" He stopped ruffling his hair with his towel.
"Yeah," Goyle went on, "Over the summer. I just thought you should know... Me and Vince, we didn't have much to do without you, so we hung round with Bletchley and them... Sometimes Pansy and Nott and Zabini would come too..."
Draco had a sinking feeling in his stomach.
"Well, it all started when Marcus Flint told Pansy that you hadn't been able to kill Dumbledore," Goyle said quietly. Draco looked away at once. They were the only ones in the changing room, the others were in the showers still, but he made sure not to be overheard. "He said you were supposed to finish Dumbledore off, but that you couldn't, so Snape did it instead, and that's why he's become Headmaster... I think he said it to turn Pansy off you."
Draco's heart was beating quickly – he'd known people had been talking behind his back of course, but he'd hoped it wasn't close Slytherins. "Well," he said shortly, "what'd Pansy say?"
"She called Flint a liar," Goyle mumbled. Draco was silently pleased and grateful – reminded again of her loyalty.
"Pansy and I have discussed all of it," said Draco then.
"Well, the problem is, after that whole thing, Nott began saying things about you... Things like what Flint said... He's been trying to turn everyone against you, I reckon..."
"He's jealous," said Draco coldly, "Because the Dark Lord hasn't wanted him for anything. Why haven't you told me this earlier?" he then demanded.
"Haven't found the proper time," said Goyle looking apologetic.
"It's all right, Greg," said Draco quickly, changing his tone. He didn't need to be too hard on Goyle. He was after all honest and loyal, it seemed.
It was certainly their year, like Pansy had said on many occasions already. Slytherin had always been the oppressed house but now they were in charge. Draco didn't have a mission; Snape was headmaster; they were the oldest in school, meaning all younger students viewed them as authoritarian, moving away whenever they arrived anywhere; Potter, Weasley, Granger and a bunch of other Bloodtraitors and Mudbloods weren't there; and the Gryffindorks constantly had detention. It felt like a sweet revenge in a way.
Day in and day out the Great Hall wore Slytherin colours. The magical sky in the great hall was dark – filled with a heavy layer of thick rainclouds, and Snape sat at the teacher's table, looking like he always did: greasy, wearing black robes, sitting scowling and the students who learned to eat in silence. The security of the castle had never been so heavy – all passages out from the school was guarded by Death Eaters and Dementors, they as Head Boy and Girl had been told by Snape, not to mention the protective enchantments to prohibit anyone from Apparating in or out.
"As you can see, there are only Slytherin Prefects this year," Pansy said loudly, and the ruckus in the common room settled down. Everyone but the new Prefects had been banned to come into the Slytherin common room that evening. "Because the outtakes were based purely on loyalty and skill this year, and not affirmative House discrimination or quotas."
"Mr Malfoy and I are Head Boy and Girl," she went on, and saw faces looking up at her from every armchair and sofa nearby, that had been arranged to face her and Draco. She motioned to Draco next to her. "I'm sure you all already know who we are," she added with the ghost of a smirk, "and you're welcome to come to us for any questions."
"Your job is to patrol the castle each night," Malfoy went on, "to make sure no students are out of bed. The curfew for fifth years and below is eight o'clock. By then everyone has to be in their respective common rooms. For sixth and seventh years the curfew is nine. Nobody is allowed out after that unless they can present a valid pass from one of the professors, for instance if they've been at detention..."
"There are eight Prefects in Slytherin instead of two from each House," said Pansy, motioning to the younger Slytherins. "That's you lot. From sixth year it's Malcolm Baddock and Scarlett Lympsham, along with Agnes Runcorn and Sebastian Daley," she motioned towards the four Slytherins, who smirked.
"From fifth year," she went on, "Michaela Cook and Gordon Pummell, and then finally," she motioned towards the last two who held up their hands – "Spencer Argent and Abigail Watson, also from fifth."
"Everyone satisfied with their pairings?" asked Draco and received affirmative mumblings from the group.
"Sorry, sir, miss," said a blonde, hard-faced girl who Pansy supposed was Michaela Cook. "Are we allowed to dock points?"
"Certainly," said Draco at once, "if you find anyone breaking rules or being cheeky, then you should definitely take points. Just five will do with the minor stuff..."
"Yes, usually we don't take more than ten – that's only for major rule-breaking, and it's usually the teachers that do it. You'll see me and Mr Malfoy each Sunday for the coming week's schedule," said Pansy, "you'll all get different areas to patrol, and different evenings."
"So you'll be off Prefect duties some evenings," Draco filled in. "For homework!" he added as the younger students looked too pleased in his opinion. Suddenly the entrance opened and there was a collective movement as everyone jerked their heads to see who was interrupting.
"What are you doing here?" frowned Draco as Graham Pucey ran into the common room panting.
"So sorry I'm late, Draco, sir," he stopped and clutched his sides. Everyone looked at him confusedly. "I'm here for the meeting."
"You weren't made a prefect," snarled Pansy. "You should be in your dormitory!"
He looked positively shocked. "But- but I thought, seeing as I know you, you could get me a spot..."
Pansy rolled her eyes. "No! Not going to happen! Off to your dorm!"
"Just like his brother," Draco muttered to her with a grin, as Pucey left them, "like they've been hit with Confundus Charms..."
"Right then," said Pansy loudly, addressing the group. "Everything clear?"
"Yes, miss," they chorused before sauntering off to various dormitories. Pansy quite enjoyed the authority. Draco plonked himself down onto the sofa and picked up a copy of the magazine Quidditch of the Ages from the coffee table, and threw a Droobles in his mouth as Pansy took out her Herbology essay and a quill.
"Pansy," a hesitant voice was heard a moment later, and Pansy recognised it as Agnes Runcorn's. "I was just wondering if maybe I could skip patrols tonight…"
"No," said Pansy at once, not looking up from her parchment.
There was a nearly inaudible disappointed moan from the girl and then, "Because I've got loads of homework for professor Carrow and I just thought maybe Daley could just go alone…"
Pansy looked up, irritated, "Runcorn, if you don't want to be a perfect you need only tell professor Snape! If the responsibility is too much, then there's nothing stopping you giving up your role…"
"Oh no, no, Pansy, I don't want that, I just thought–"
"You thought wrong! What message do you think that would send the other Houses? A Slytherin that can't cope… If you don't want to do it, we've got a whole bunch lined up for the job…"
The younger girl looked away shamefully, nudging the sofa with her foot.
Malfoy laughed next to Pansy. "Don't be so dramatic, Pans."
Runcorn turned to Draco to try with him instead. "Mr Malfoy, sir, please do you think it would be all right if I–"
"Not happening, Runcorn," he said at once. She walked away, sulking.
Pansy crossed something out on her essay. "Snotty kids… We weren't like that were we?"
"No we certainly rose to the responsibility," smirked Draco.
"Indeed."
"At least they respect their superiors, as they should," said Draco casually.
A couple of weeks into the term Slytherin were already leading in the House-Cup competition and the Quidditch Cup – it was the first time in all the years Draco had been to Hogwarts.
The Slytherins had free restrictions this year, and they were known for being extra violent on the pitch – and meanwhile the other houses seemed to be taking out some sort of revenge on the Slytherins on the Quidditch field because it was the only chance to do so without receiving a severe amount of detentions.
He knew both professors Carrows, Snape and even Slughorn as their Head of House were being unfairly positive to them – but after having the school turned against them for the last six years, the Slytherins felt as though they quite deserved this. Finally somebody was on their side.
And even though Draco didn't particularly fancy the Carrows for teachers, he could enjoy not being part of a minority anymore.
It was one of the easiest years at Hogwarts for him, so far. As Head Boy with eight Slytherin Prefects below him and a pair of Death Eaters to back him up, he had more power than he had ever had before. He knew, however, that out in the real world, things were not as easy. He knew the Dark Lord was taking over larger parts of Wizarding England each week. He dreaded going home for Christmas and relished in the fact that there was several months until holidays.
The only thing, at present, he had to worry about was keeping in line with the Carrows.
In History of Magic they read about Wizarding history within the aspect of Muggle contact. The new course program had been set up by the Carrows, and Binns had to teach them whatever the Carrows had decided beforehand.
They read about Perseus Parkinson who was Minister for Magic in the eighteenth century. He attempted to pass a bill making it illegal to marry a Muggle. However, in doing so, he misread the public mood; the Wizarding public was tired of anti-Muggle sentiment and wanted peace. Parkinson was therefore voted out during the next election for Minister. This however, didn't bother Pansy, who was massively proud, and walked as if with a crown on her head for the rest of the day. Crabbe looked at her enviously, and even Draco thought that they'd be better off studying his family history as it certainly would have more to offer than Pansy's.
"The Statute of secrecy was established in 1692, forcing magical community to go into hiding," said Alecto later at Muggle Studies, "which I'm sure you read about during your OWL year."
There were a couple of reluctant nods of agreement through the class.
"A lot of wizards and witches were against it – and wanted war on Muggles instead of going into hiding. This built up resentment to Muggles. Why should witches and wizards have to hide – when they were obviously superior to Muggles? That's what people began to realise..." Alecto went on. "It caused fear and resentment – which in turn caused gaps in the magical community. One half kept mating with and marrying Muggles, and the other part advocated for the magical word to stay Pure. Studies began surfacing – that were supposed to describe the signs of how you could tell if a child was Pureblood or not. The attributes or traits on the list included resistance to common childhood illnesses, the unintended naturalness on a broomstick, outstanding physical attractiveness and an aversion to Muggles observable even in the Pure-Blood baby, which supposedly shows signs of fear and disgust in their presence."
"I'm sure we both exhibited an abundance of all of the above," whispered Pansy smirking to Daphne Greengrass who looked equally as pleased and giggled.
"And that leads us to the topic of today's lesson. In the early 1930s, a 'Pure-Blood Directory' was published anonymously in Britain, which listed the twenty-eight truly Pure-Blood families, which was probably written by one of Mr Nott here's ancestors," Alecto Carrow motioned for Theodore who, disliking being centre of attention, seemed to shrink backwards as people turned to look at him, "with the aim of helping such families maintain the purity of their bloodlines," Professor Carrow went on. "The so-called 'Sacred Twenty-Eight' comprised the families of: Abbott, Avery, Black, Bulstrode, Burke, Carrow, Crouch, Fawley, Flint, Gaunt, Greengrass, Lestrange, Longbottom, Macmillan, Malfoy, Nott, Ollivander, Parkinson, Prewett, Rosier, Rowle, Selwyn, Shacklebolt, Shafiq, Slughorn, Travers, Weasley and finally Yaxley."
Malfoy and Pansy smirked contently at this, leaned back in their chairs. Bulstrode and Daphne looked satisfied too. Professor Carrow herself looked utterly pleased, as her surname was on the list as well.
"Longbottom's on there and not me!" hissed Crabbe indignantly to his surroundings of Slytherins. Queenie Wilkes had a mixture of displeasure, exasperation and shame on her features, for not being mentioned on the list. "I should be on there!" he went on furiously, seemingly trying to convince everyone of his blood-status. "We're Pureblood, my family! Always have been!"
"You'll do well to remember that these are only the oldest Wizarding families, and that there have been a great deal more names added to the list of Pure-Blood families since then. Mr Zabini, Mr Goyle, Mr Crabbe, Miss Wilkes... I do not doubt that your families are Pure as well..."
"How is this relevant?" interrupted Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff.
"Silencio!" Alecto's jinx came at once, as if she'd been ready with her wand-hand. Macmillan gasped soundlessly and looked for a moment like a fish on land.
"Some families are already extinct," Alecto went on as if there had been no interruption, "like the Potters, the Fawleys, the Princes, the, er—Dumbledores," she paused for effect, "or else they will be extinct with this generation – like the Crouchs, the Slughorns, the Umbridges, the Maxs, the Blishwicks, the Ollivanders... even our previous Minister, Fudge... I'm sure you're familiar with some of these names... They're becoming extinct due to unhealthy mixing – a Pureblood marrying a Muggle – or because they simply die as unmarried males..."
"The Black family is however the largest and oldest one. Most of today's Pureblood families descend from the Blacks. For instance, you mother's a Black, isn't she, Mr Malfoy?"
"She was yes," nodded Draco in a bored manner, "before she married."
Macmillan made a cough that sounded suspiciously much like 'incest'.
Alecto, who hadn't heard, concluded her speech. "Naturally, there are Pureblood families left in other countries, so my conclusion after studying this type of biology thoroughly is that we'll have to start mating with these to keep the Pureblood legacy. That is my expert opinion. Your opinions on this next lesson. I'd like two parchments at least."
Everyone but Crabbe and Goyle hurriedly scraped their things together when the bell rung. The two of them seemed to finally have found one only subject that they didn't dislike.
"I mean," said Blaise Zabini in an unconvinced, sceptic tone as soon as they were all out in the corridor, "Hogwarts was funded centuries ago... Of course Salazar Slytherin had reasons to want to be rid of Muggles – they were persecuting witches at the time. But that is hardly the case any longer, is it..."
"That doesn't matter!" said Crabbe, who was completely sold. "They're still below us!"
"I would agree that we excel over them when it comes to intelligence, since we're able to do magic and all... But they have their science and mathematics and I've even heard of space travel... perhaps we excel in different areas?"
"What the bloody hell are you on about?" laughed Daphne Greengrass, "Obviously they're inferior or we wouldn't have to hide from them! They wish they had our powers! That's why they're dangerous to us!"
"Those lessons are nothing more than sheer propaganda for the Cause!" said Tracey Davis indignantly.
"Are you saying it's not true, then?" Pansy hurried to retort dangerously. "Everything the professor said is old Wizarding science, taken forth by the Department of Mystery itself!"
Pansy's classmates looked hesitant at this, but nobody said anything.
When Draco fell asleep that night he found Pansy in the dark Slytherin common room, decorated with pictures of the Dark Lord's face all over it – and she was snogging Theodore Nott in an armchair. The pair of them were so tightly wrapped that he could hardly make out where Pansy ended and Nott began. When they saw him, Nott cast him looks of derisive smugness – at last triumphing over Draco in the battle of Pansy, while Pansy herself gave him her most disgusted look. "I don't associate with Bloodtraitors," shouted Pansy. "You're nothing, Malfoy, nothing! You disgust me... You coward... Coward..."'
Ashamed, he turned to his mirror and found Harry Potter's face where his own face should be... Instead of a lightning shaped scar, his forehead was lined with the words 'traitor'... Blood was suddenly dripping down his face from the words carved into his skin...
He woke up soaked in sweat in the cold and pitch-black dormitory, gasping out loud, expecting to see blood on his hands but finding them clean. There was a long moment until he realised it had been a nightmare and that Nott was snoring two beds away, and thus he was nowhere near Pansy. Convinced his dream would come true if he told anyone how he felt about the Dark Lord, he practiced Occlumency for hours until he fell asleep again, restless and twitching. Nobody would ever find out. He'd make sure of it.
Mr Graham Parkinson,Head of Magical Law Enforcement Patrol was in a bit of a pickle at work. He sighed deeply and had a sip of his tea, forcing his eyes open to keep reading the parchment below him. Night had fallen and the Ministry of Magic was more silent than usual. He was one of the absolute last employees still at work, and the enchanted windows showed a starry evening sky. He enjoyed his place of work this way. There were still a large pile of parchments on his dark mahogany desk that needed to be read by tomorrow morning's meeting, however, which was why he lingered in his office.
Returning after summer holidays had been a right bother to say the least. He had been met by large posters of Harry Potter's face all over the atrium when he had arrived. They all read 'Undesirable no 1'. Suddenly a whole bunch of Heads had been switched, and a new department had been set up to interrogate Muggleborns, and Mr Parkinson was sure Voldemort had something to do with it.
He scuffled out of his office in the need of a cup of tea to make it through the last Hit Wizard reports. He was tired, but not just physically.
'Lumos' he muttered and held out his wand in front of him, as the magical light outside had gone off when nobody had passed through the corridor in such long time. He disliked all the new changes within the Ministry, but was clever enough not to say anything about it. He hardly wanted to land himself on the Snatchers' list of wanted witches and wizards... He wasn't the only one who chose not to speak – the Ministry was divided in Death Eaters and their sympathisers, and suppressed opponents. Mr Parkinson found himself somewhere in between, he supposed.
His own daughter however, seemed to be leaning more towards Voldemort's group. He darkly remembered an evening just a few weeks earlier before Pansy had left for her last year of Hogwarts, when she had found him in the front garden updating the security around their property. He hadn't heard her when she approached – he had been standing with his back to their large old manor house, facing the high dark hedges. Beyond them was the road leading to the centre of the town. They rarely visited it. Even Pansy had grown tired of sneaking out to go shopping in the Muggle town. He and his wife hadn't wanted their daughter mingling with Muggles. That didn't seem to be a problem anymore.
A crunching sound behind him had testified that someone was walking up the gravel path slowly towards him. He had been standing with both arms raised, waving his wand and muttering protection spells. Articles about how to protect yourself from the Dark Arts had flooded the Daily Prophet the first month Pansy had been home for summer holidays. Then, abruptly they had stopped.
"What are you doing out here, father?"
"Protego Maxima," he had muttered, still with his back to his daughter. "What does it look like?"
"I just got home," Pansy had said. She was right behind him by then. "Saw you through the window when I came out of the Floo."
"Where've you been?" he couldn't help but to ask sternly. These weren't safe times to be out so late in the evenings, yet Pansy never seemed to understand that.
"At Daphne and Astoria's," said Pansy in a bored tone. Mr Parkinson supposed she missed the Malfoy boy.
"Salvio Hexia," he had mumbled and gave another wave of his wand. He then turned to look at his daughter. "You shouldn't be out after dark."
"What am I – twelve?"
"These are dangerous times."
Pansy had rolled her eyes.
"I'm even thinking of putting a Fidelius Charm on this house. And make your mother Secret Keeper."
"Oh, come off it," Pansy had sneered, which surprised him mildly. He showed nothing however. "Don't you think you're taking this a bit too far? Never thought you for the paranoid type..."
"Protection against the Dark forces isn't a silly thing, Pansy."
His daughter had snorted, and for a second she had looked just as she had when she was a small child. "We don't need protection against the Dark forces, father!"
"Naive girl," he had said in a tone colder than he'd ever used with her before."You haven't a clue what you're talking about."
Pansy had looked indignant at once. "I do! I know the Dark Lord or his supporters would never hurt us father, we're Purebloods! It's the Mudbloods that got to worry. You're even a sympathiser, aren't you?"
"That doesn't mean I support He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named."
Pansy had looked as if she had a difficult time putting these two facts together.
"Is there any dinner left?" she had then said grudgingly, ending the conversation.
Mr Parkinson was brought back from his memory by a movement in the room he had just entered, holding his empty teacup. The head of the Administrative Registration Department, Yaxley was by the kitchen area making tea. Mr Parkinson's eyes narrowed at once.
"Evening, Parkinson," Yaxley leered as soon as the spotted each other. Mr Parkinson cleared his throat but said nothing, as he moved into the room to put on a pot. Yaxley yawned.
"Department keeping you here all night?"
"Indeed," said Mr Parkinson shortly.
"But we do what we can for the Greater Good, don't we," Yaxley said, smiling callously. Mr Parkinson waited for the water to start boiling.
"I'd say delegation is what makes a good boss," said Yaxley conversationally, but the scorn in his tone was unmistaken.
"Forgive me if I do not wish to take career tips from you," said Mr Parkinson shortly. What did he know after all – Yaxley hadn't exactly received his post by hard-work and diligence.
Yaxley's eyes seemed colder at once. "And why is that?"
Mr Parkinson hesitated. "You're a Death Eater, aren't you." It was certainly not a question.
Yaxley sneered. "We're all Pureblood supremacists, are we not?"
"I share some of your views, yes, if that is what you ask," said Mr Parkinson coldly.
"Oh, like the elite intelligence of Purebloods?" drawled Yaxley. "And I bet you don't mind being rid of a few Mudbloods?"
"I see no reason as to why they shouldn't be allowed to work in and contribute to our world. That doesn't mean I view them as equals."
"Be careful – you're starting to sound like a Blood traitor."
Mr Parkinson snorted. "According to you."
Yaxley then took another approach. He shrugged and said, "Your daughter isn't as much of a Blood traitor, obviously. Little Malfoy's girlfriend, ain't she? Yes, the Carrows are looking out for them this year. You do know the Carrows are at Hogwarts, don't you? Apparently, your little one is rather gifted when it comes to Unforgivables…" He trailed off, his eyes glinting malevolently.
The subject hit home, as intended. "Don't talk about my daughter, Yaxley!" he boomed. Yaxley flinched slightly. "And be careful who you're calling a Blood traitor! One might wonder who the real Blood traitors are! You're all following a Half-Blood around, aren't you?!"
Yaxley gaped at him. Mr Parkinson looked directly into his eyes, not flinching one bit. He wondered if the part about Pansy using Unforgivables was true and decided to write an owl to her as soon as he came home. Yaxley clenched his jaw, looking defiantly into Mr Parkinson's face. "Don't you dare…" he began, hissing.
Mr Parkinson wrinkled his nose to show his disgust. "And as far as my daughter goes, she'll see reason when it comes down to it – and ditch that Malfoy boy right in the gutters," he then went on. "The Malfoys might've fallen for all that nonsense – but the Parkinsons won't – and look where that led them. Prisoners in their own home, at the bottom of rank, isn't that how it is?
Yaxley shook his head slightly, by millimetres. "Lucius messed up last spring, much for Lestrange's sake. Could've happened to anyone. And Draco's just a bit of a coward. But it's beside the point and completely irrelevant."
Mr Parkinson snorted. It was no secret he and Lucius Malfoy had never liked each other. The water was boiling fiercely by now but suddenly he had no desire to escape anymore.
Yaxley went on, "So, now that we're speaking clearly, enlighten me with the reason for your opposition."
Mr Parkinson sized him up with his eyes. "I don't particularly fancy your methods, Yaxley."
"And how would you suggest we handle it all? What methods would you use?"
"War, murder, blood-spill, and following a Half-Blood around is not the answer, that's for certain."
Yaxley then took a new approach by hastily taking a deep breath and saying in a low voice: "We've got all the same principles. Muggleborns aren't proper wizards, only us Purebloods are. I can't see any reason for you to oppose us. Or have you possibly started licking Mud yourself at old age...?"
"You know perfectly well I'd never touch even a Half-Blood," Mr Parkinson said coldly. "And I'd advise you not to question me ever again – it might not be of your future advantages. Let me remind you that I'm above you in the Department and that I'm not afraid to use any power I have."
Yaxley crooked his head and hissed softly, "Is that supposed to be some sort of threat, Parkinson?"
"Take it as whatever you want – it matters not to me," he said and finally poured himself a cup of tea. "But let me make one thing quite clear – if you ever approach me again, I'll have your job – for all future in all of Wizarding Britain. Let's see then how the Dark Lord fancies that for a slave."
He didn't know what stung more – being referred to as a slave, or the threat of being sacked – but it seemed to have desired effect on Yaxley. The latter's eyes twitched, and so did his lips before gritted teeth. He seemed to be struggling for a retort, but eventually finding the cause lost, and swallowed hard.
As Yaxley turned away to walk off without another word, Mr Parkinson muttered with as much disdain as he could muster, "You call yourself a Slytherin."
Yaxley halted for only a second, unwillingly letting Mr Parkinson know he had acknowledged the comment, before sweeping off with firm steps, exiting the room and rounding the corner, disappearing out of sight.
One evening when Pansy and the Greengrass sisters had gone to the library to find books on an issue they were having in Transfiguration, Pansy overheard a conversation that haunted her for days. She left the sisters quarrelling over a pack of Sugar Quills to move towards the restricted section, when suddenly she heard angry hissing from behind a book shelf.
Narrowing her eyes, she moved closer – it was somewhat of a duty of hers to stay updated on the school's gossip – and peered between two books. She was shocked to say the least when she saw that the pair having a heated discussion was in fact Malfoy and Theodore Nott. Her face screwed up in confusion, she leaned in and moved one of the books slightly sideways to see them better. Draco was standing with his back to her, blocking Theodore from her view.
"Who do you think you're trying to fool, Malfoy?" said Theodore in a low menacing tone. "You can't bully me off, you have no power over me anymore... My father's loads closer with the Dark Lord than yours, what with the whole prophecy piss-up and landing himself in prison." He snorted loudly.
Pansy went ice cold. What in Merlin's name were they talking about? In bright daylight in the library, at that!
"You keep your mouth shut about my father," came the snarling voice of Draco. "You haven't even got a Mark! You're nothing to Him! Your father's old... he won't matter much longer either, and when he's finished, so are you..."
She couldn't see their faces but she could imagine just how they looked. Detesting each other.
"If this really is between the two of us, then you really don't stand a chance," said Theodore, laughing quietly. "You're nothing, when it comes down to it. You had one job to do and you couldn't do it. I've only been telling the truth."
"You needn't talk about me whatsoever! Why don't you try minding your own business? Didn't seem to be a problem for you until recently – no, you've never had any relevance to anything really, have you? Until you started talking behind my back to further your own ambitions!"
"You think you're all that, don't you?" said Theodore quietly. "You think you've got control over all of us... Don't you, Malfoy?"
"Are you suggesting that you do?" she heard Draco retort disdainfully.
"Certainly not. Displaying or rather bragging about my loyalty's never been an ambition of mine..." quipped Theodore.
"Who do you think you are, Nott?" Draco was getting worked up, she could hear it clearly.
"You're not above any of us, Malfoy," emphasised Nott back, "and you're certainly not in control over us."
Draco snorted. "'Us' – or Pansy?"
Pansy's heart started beating faster at the mentioning of her name. Theodore sounded irritated when he replied: "What are you on about?"
Draco gave a low laugh. "You know perfectly well what I mean."
"This has nothing to do with a girl, and if you think it does, then you really are more simple-minded than I thought."
Pansy frowned. The nerve of him.
Draco interrupted: "Stay clear of me. And her, for that matter. Let's see who the Dark Lord turns to, shall we."
"What sort of threat is that? Am I supposed to be scared now, then?"
"You're starting to annoy me, and I can have you sorted out if you get my drift."
"Yeah, because you can't do it yourself," Theodore spat. Draco made a movement as if he wanted to jump on the other boy, but stopped himself.
"Stop talking about me, Nott," he growled as he turned to leave. "And stop talking about things you don't understand!" he threw over his shoulder.
