Better be Slytherin
LIX
The weeks seemed to fly by in a confused blur. They couldn't stay at Hogwarts because of how ruined it was, and so all students had been sent home. In the meantime they were revising to take their NEWTs by the end on June. Since they had no teachers to instruct them, they helped each other, and had to figure everything out from the textbooks. The girls had regular study group session at each of their houses, every day. Even Millicent often joined them. She had moved back in with her family now that they were all awaiting legal proceedings. All of their parents valued education so they made them stay in and study over doing anything else.
"School is your job!" her mother yelled at her when Queenie whinged that she'd rather get a job and make some money, like her parents had done. She knew she was different than her friends in this: Pansy and Daphne would rather drink Stinksap than get a job.
"I can't believe we have to sit an exam in this joke of a subject," said Tracey, greatly annoyed. "Everything from Dark Arts class this year was an absolute waste of time, like we all knew. And now we don't understand anything from the DADA books that we were supposed to have learnt by now!"
Pans only let out a long wail of frustration at this.
"Oi!" exclaimed Millicent, "I found it interestin'!"
"Oh, shut up, Millicent," said Pansy harshly. "Haven't you learnt your lesson by now?"
Millicent glared at her and hid behind her book.
"And we did Muggle Studies all for nothing too," grumbled Tracey.
"Is anyone getting this?" Daphne asked as a House-Elf brought a plate of turkey sandwiches which he placed onto the table, scattered with books and parchments. "Explain the Transformation formula. Bodyweight, viciousness, wand power, concentration and a fifth 'unknown variable'. What the hell does that mean?"
"The unknown variable is always unknown," said Tracey absent-mindedly as she crossed something off her own notes. "It's different with each Charm, depending on what it is you want to do."
"How do I even calculate 'viciousness'?"
"Not to mention wand power," snorted Pansy. She was on her stomach on the thick rug, her legs swishing back and forth.
"What's up with Blaise and Nott anyway?" asked Daphne, glancing up from her textbook. There was a pause when nobody knew when to speak. Pansy shrugged. Tracey glanced at Daphne and then away again.
"Nott's staying with Blaise," she said in a would-be casual voice. Nobody asked how she knew this. Daphne looked at her intently as if trying to analyse what was going on, and why Blaise chose to share this with Tracey and not her. "His father has been taken into custody in Azkaban, awaiting trial. It doesn't look good for him. But Nott's free as of now. Blaise and Theodore are just revising now too, I guess. We don't know what's going to happen, because like he said at the funeral, he hasn't actually committed any crimes. He just took the Mark. So I guess the Ministry has to work out whether that's illegal or not."
"Surely, it can't be," said Queenie.
"I dunno," Tracey admitted, "maybe there's something in the law about... intent... Anyway the Ministry's cracking down hard; they don't want to let anyone off easy this time."
"Heard anything about Bletchley and them?" asked Daphne then.
"Warrington's dad died in the battle," said Pansy. "So he inherited the estate. Now all of them are staying round there temporarily. I guess they're awaiting trial just like the Malfoys. Laying low."
"And how are they doing?"
"Well," said Pansy bitterly, "Not too good I think. They're preparing for the trial. They've got a fancy lawyer. He's making them write a list of all the Death Eaters to hand into the Ministry."
The girls all glanced at each other. "Is that such a good idea?" asked Daphne.
"Are they going to mention my dad?" said Queenie with narrowed eyes.
"I don't know, honestly," shrugged Pansy. Their eyes met.
"Fucking hell, Pansy!"
"Well, it's not my fault is it!" Pansy quickly defended herself. "And it's not Draco's either. It's not like we can do anything, Mr Malfoy decides everything for them!"
"That's still shit, if that's what they're doing!" said Queenie angrily. "My father's already been forced into house arrest! The Ministry's going to bloody sent him back to Azkaban!"
Pansy put on a hard exterior, in defence mode, and shouted back, "and what, I suppose that's Draco's fault is it?!"
"If they're turning in my dad, then yeah it is!"
"Your dad's been a Death Eater for ages, Queenie," said Pansy, "the Ministry's probably got enough on him already. And I'm sure your dad's solicitor's been telling him to do the same thing."
"I would never turn in Malfoy!" spat Queenie.
"Girls!" said Daphne in a futile effort to control the situation. Tracey and Millicent looked extremely uncomfortable.
"And he wouldn't turn in you either, would he!" snapped Pansy, "but it's not about that, it's your dad and his dad! Nothing either of you can do about it!"
"If my dad goes to prison, Lucius Malfoy better be going to," said Queenie.
"Oh my god," said Pansy, "I don't care about Draco's father. He probably deserves it."
"Aren't we meant to stick together in this?" said Daphne. "I'm sure nobody's throwing anyone in prison for the fun of it."
"That's my dad you're talking about!" said Queenie and sprang up to her feet. "My dad! Going to Azkaban! Again! Can you lot even imagine what that's like?"
Millicent scratched her head awkwardly. Tracey and Daphne looked away, avoiding her blaming look.
"No, you can't!" she went on, gesturing frantically. "Because your dads are all safe at home, nothing's going to happen to them!"
"Oi," said Pansy indignantly, "My boyfriend could be going to Azkaban too! It's not like you're the only one in the world that—"
"And I could be," said Millicent, shrugging. "Technically."
"All right, we're all scared!" interrupted Tracey, shooting them all glares. "There's no need to start fighting amongst ourselves!"
Queenie shot her a dark look, and opened her mouth to retort, but finally seemed to decide not to. The atmosphere shifted and the tension could be cut by a knife. They all turned back to their books and didn't say anything for a very long time.
Tracey realised now that almost everyone had issues with each other. They were all annoyed with Millicent for joining Voldemort; Pansy and Queenie were annoyed with each other over the list; Daphne and Tracey were still upset over Blaise.
Tracey sighed out loud. Nobody looked up; they all pretended to be busy studying.
This stupid bloody war couldn't possibly be breaking them up, could it?
Draco stepped out of the shower in his large bathroom at the manor and threw a towel around his hips. He looked back disgustedly at his reflection in the mirror. One of his eyes was still purple and the other a sort of greyish-yellow hue. He'd never looked so bad in his whole life. The cut on his cheek from Finnegan's curse hadn't healed properly either, and he wondered if it would leave a scar. Absent-mindedly he touched it, feeling himself getting worked up. Anger pulsated through his veins, and he had to look away. He dragged a hand through his wet hair, which he realised was longer than usual as well. His left forearm still bore the ugly skull and snake, as well as the splinters from the battle.
He slammed the bathroom door after him as he entered his bedroom to get dressed. Walking towards his cupboard, his eyes caught a glimpse of something green and silver on the floor, almost hidden by the cupboard and the high backed armchair beside it. His tattered and bloody Slytherin robes still lay there on the floor in a pile. He'd forgotten them. More disgust coursed through him as he saw them, and unwillingly he picked them up. He held them in his hands for a moment, and instantly they brought back memories. He'd bought these when he was to start sixth year, after having freshly become a Death Eater. Usually he would get new robes every year but as he stopped growing that summer, he hadn't needed to buy larger ones. They smelt of blood. Hit by some instinct, maybe anger, he suddenly threw them in the fireplace.
His jaw clenched, he lit the fire with his wand and watched them burn. The Slytherin S crumbled before his very eyes.
Instinct once more told him to rip down the Tojours Pur banner from above his bed, and he chucked that in the fire too. He breathed deeply, he realised, as he stared into the fire.
Then he proceeded to get dressed as if nothing had happened.
Before he left his room to venture downstairs for his birthday dinner, Pansy suddenly appeared in his fire where his possessions had melted away mere minutes before. She stepped out graciously and gave him a small smile, albeit not her normal teasing one.
"Happy eighteenth birthday, darling," she said as they embraced. He held onto her hair and felt momentarily safe as she kissed his neck lovingly.
It had been over six weeks since the Battle of Hogwarts when Draco returned to school once more along with Goyle. The past month had been something he'd rather not remember. Between endless talks with Mr Felstead and revising for NEWTs, he had barely had time to spend with either Pansy or his family. Now time had come for them to sit their exams. He just wanted them over with.
Lucius had been working around the clock to give dirt on all his old mates, and to procure money. Mr Felstead was so expensive and they needed so many hours of work, that Lucius had been forced to sell various Dark artefacts and other treasures that had been handed down from generation to generation of Malfoys, as well as some he'd bought himself.
Draco, without Lucius knowledge, had sold their stock shares in the famous broomstick making company Ellerby and Spudmore as well as The Prophet, all to collect some more money. The trial was the most important thing, and the preparation and help could cost whatever it needed.
He and Greg appeared in the fireplace in the common room. It was just as green and murky as ever, but it felt good to be back. After dropping their things off in the dormitory, which had now been cleaned and cleared of all of Crabbe's things, they made their way up to the Great Hall to sit for the exams. All the seventh years were queuing up outside, in the Entrance Hall, they noticed as the ascended the staircase from the dungeons. Nobody was in school robes, but their private clothes, so there was a mixture of Muggle clothing and Wizarding robes. It was odd seeing everyone like that, as they usually always wore Hogwarts robes. The castle felt eerily quiet, and being here on a day outside the term was odd to say the least. Where there were normally hundreds of pairs of feet walking about and sharing mealtimes, they were now not more than fifty and they all fit into the Entrance Hall.
Pansy was there, of course, with Daphne, Queenie, Tracey and Millicent. He spotted Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott murmuring to each other. But more surprisingly Potter, Weasley and Granger were also there, surrounded by a cluster of Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Longbottom, Finnegan and Thomas, the latter who had been on the run all year, were all wearing Muggle clothes and seemed happy to be reunited. They were still scarred, just like Draco was. An anger that made him shake uncontrollably filled him when he saw Finnegan.
Pansy ran up to him through the Entrance hall, as Greg trudged away to stand with Nott and Zabini, and she gave him a passionate kiss. They hadn't seen each other in almost two weeks after all, since his birthday. She grabbed his hand and led him back to the Slytherins, and he didn't pull his hand away, he didn't care anymore. After everything he'd been through with the Dark Lord, pretence of nonchalance was not important anymore. The Entrance Hall, he noticed, was almost repaired, but the hourglasses that had kept the house points had been removed completely. He glanced up the main staircase and saw that parts of it were still out of bounds. He knew parts of the school hadn't been rebuilt yet.
After a while, they were let in the Great Hall by Hagrid. The house tables were still missing, as were the house banners. Just like when they had taken their OWLs in fifth year, countless small desks had been scattered all around the hall. One for each of them. And so it began.
The written Charms test was easy and took him no longer than an hour. He did all right in the written Potions exam and the History of Magic test too. Then he had an hour left before lunch for the Defence against the Dark Arts exam, which went as horribly as he had expected. He managed to write down a couple paragraphs on Nonverbal spells which he had actually mastered, for all the wrong reasons, but still.
His mind seemed to wander nervously every time he was meant to write something about the Unforgivable Curses, or Werewolves, or Inferi. Bad memories... He didn't want to go there. He tapped his foot so much Parvati Patil actually scolded him.
Finally he threw down his quill and left the Hall. There were a couple other people who had finished too, and they lounged in groups on the grass outside. He strolled past them, heart beating fast, glaring around, and daring anyone to question him or indeed attack him.
Finally he found a solitary spot down by the lake. It was a hot day, summer was coming, and it should've been the happiest time of his life, he realised as he threw a rock hard into the glassy surface of the lake. It could've been. If not for the Dark Lord. He was eighteen, halfway through his NEWTs, with the entire world at his feet. Endless possibilities. Now, the thought only frightened him. He didn't know what to do after the Dark Lord. He didn't have a plan. He never thought he would live without the Dark Lord. If he closed his eyes he could pretend this was a normal summer's day like any other, and that he was a student like any other. Someone who could enjoy this day. Someone who could be excited for what was to come now. But he was Draco Malfoy.
He realised he sat in the exact same spot they had sat after Crabbe died.
He closed his eyes again and felt the sun on his skin for what felt like the first time in years. He vaguely heard the grounds being filled with more and more students as the written exams came to an end. For a minute he pretended the war had never happened and that he was just another eighteen year old fresh out of Hogwarts with dreams and goals. If the war had never happened, maybe he could've been an Auror. Or a professional Quidditch player. If Lucius had never gone to Azkaban, if Draco hadn't received his mission, if they hadn't picked the wrong side. If, if, if.
After lunch, it was back to exams. Practical ones this time. It was all a blur. He had studied so badly these past few weeks, it was embarrassing. He couldn't focus. He messed up Potions by not adding the Sopophorous bean to his Draught of Living Death and stirring it the wrong way, causing it to be lethal. He'd Vanished it before his examiner could mark him. Herbology was even worse, not to mention Care of Magical Creatures. The Venomous Tentacula bit him from behind during the Herbology Exam, and in Care of Magical Creatures they were meant to feed and examine the Thestrals. Needless to say, it had been bad.
He was lucky to escape to the common room when Pansy had to take her Transfiguration exam. He snuck away to the dormitory at once, surprised to be the first one there. He knew Nott and Zabini would do well in the exams, but he would've expected Greg to already have finished. He had a shower in the connecting bathroom before the party tonight and then in lack of other things to do, he knew what he eventually would have to do. Pack up his dormitory fully after seven years.
Draco was tying his tie when Pansy walked in the boys' dormitory a couple of hours later. He looked handsome, she noticed, dressed up and with his hair slicked back. Not handsome like before the Dark Lord, but more of an adult. She crept up behind him and kissed his shoulder.
"How did you do?" she asked.
"All right," he said shortly, "you?"
"It was ok. Bloody Transfiguration was difficult. Gramps Law and all that." She studied him – he felt so distant. They hadn't spent a lot of time together lately, and seeing him in a suit and smelling like he was fresh out of the shower sent tingles to her insides. She noticed all of his things were packed. Her eyes swept over the dormitory, at Crabbe's empty bed, at Theodore's neat part of the room, Goyle's messy bed, and she spotted a dirty magazine sticking out from under Zabini's mattress. It reminded her of the fact that they hadn't had sex in a long time. It must've been before the battle – over a month, or more? She wondered why. They had never gone this long, except when they were broken up in sixth year. She studied him for a second, but said nothing about this. Maybe they would tonight when they'd been drinking.
"You look good," she said but seductiveness didn't come naturally like it usually did. There was something off about him.
"Thank you," he said almost politely. She looked away, disappointment spreading throughout her for some reason.
"Are you excited for tonight?" she asked instead of what she wanted to do.
"I suppose it'll be nice to have a drink. Then even nicer to go home tomorrow when all of this is done."
Pansy bit her lip. "I hope it'll be fun. Queenie's kind of upset with me."
He turned to her, looking surprised, probably because he knew she and her friends never usually fought. "Why?"
"I told her about the list," said Pansy casually, "and she was afraid her dad would be on it."
"You told her about the list?!" he exclaimed, turning to her at once. "What are you doing? That's private! Don't you get how serious this is?"
He looked at her with such anger it almost frightened her. "I didn't think it was a big deal. I didn't know it was a secret!"
Draco threw his hands in the air. "Of course it is! It's confidential! We're preparing for trial, Pansy, this isn't some sort of game! This is my life we're talking about – I could end up in prison!"
"You think I don't know that?!"
"Then what are you doing jeopardising our strategies but letting other people hear them!"
She stared at him, he was breathing heavily. "I... I didn't think of it like that."
"Yeah, you didn't think." He let out an annoyed sigh and drew a hand through his hair. He avoided looking at her when he said, "But you have to start to."
She swallowed thickly, feeling a mixture of shame and guilt and anger.
"Let's join the party," she said quickly, wanting to just change the subject.
Theodore slipped through the bustling common room unnoticed, and into the empty boys' dormitory. His NEWTs had gone swimmingly as expected, but the rest of his life was still in disarray. He practically didn't have a home, or a family.
His father was in custody in Azkaban awaiting trial, and Theodore himself wasn't allowed to leave the country. It made him so angry. Why didn't anyone get it? The Blood-traitors and the Ministry and the Aurors and the sodding Order. There was a reason men didn't mate with animals, because it was wrong and unnatural. So why should they mate with Muggles? They were two different species.
And for those views he was going to be tried in front of the Wizengamot? They were all so stupid, so bloody stupid. He was the clever one. He was the one who was going to get O's in every single NEWT exam. He was the one who had everything figured out.
They had just happened to win this war.
Theodore wondered if he was ambitious and cunning after all. Perhaps he was just determined and persistent enough. And he would get through this, stronger than any of the Blood-traitors.
He didn't join the party. He was probably not welcome anymore anyway. A line had been drawn and he and the others were now on separate sides of it.
Maybe it was for the best.
Miles Bletchley, Graham Montague, Adrian Pucey, Caecus Warrington and Astoria Greengrass had all snuck in through the ruckus of exams to have one last Slytherin party. It had started out innocently, the seventh years had sent for their closest friends outside the year, but as the hours progressed, so did the party and everything got more and more out of hand.
Blaise remembered sitting across from Tracey and watching her. She held her wine glass clumsily, like it was a mug or a glass of water, not around the stem. Nobody had taught her the right way. Daphne knew the right way. He glanced at her; she was dancing with her sister, Pansy and Queenie. Yet, somehow this drew him into Tracey. He had never known someone who was as unlike his mother as Tracey.
He downed another Fire Whiskey while he decided whether he would kiss her or not tonight. Tracey, not knowing he was thinking of her, left to go dance with her friends, and thus he had yet another drink.
He looked around. It was loud, warm and dark. He remembered seeing a mixture of things before the alcohol got the better of him. Someone was throwing up on the hearthrug, someone was applauding, and two girls he recognised as soon to be seventh year Prefects Agnes Runcorn and Scarlett Lympsham were kissing each other while their year-mates Kevin Bletchley, Graham Pucey, Timothy Morcott, Malcolm Baddock, Graham Pritchard, Sebastian Daley and Oliver Harper watched on. Where had they come from? Blaise had been sure the room was twice as crowded now.
Everyone was drinking and dancing like there hadn't been a war at all, and like many of them weren't facing sentences in Azkaban. He could spot Callum Yulley and best friend James Yardley now, as well as Philip Vaisey and Linus Urquhart, Slytherin's old Quidditch team captain.
As he was getting up and staggering around the table, he noticed Lucian Bole, Terrence Higgs and Marcus Flint, which Pansy purposefully avoided – turning her back quickly. She began dancing closely with Malfoy, presumably to block his view of the newly arrived.
Suddenly, Blaise saw in a blur, that Miles Bletchley was standing on a table. He yanked off his tie forcefully and threw it across the room as he yelled, "Now let's get this party started! One last time!" And began pouring the bottle down his throat.
Everyone cheered. Blaise hardly noticed it because something was drawing his steps towards the other end of the common room, and he knew what it was.
"To Slytherin!" Bletchley shouted once he'd finished his drink. They all held up their glasses.
He was there now, he had approached his goal, and he grabbed her by the waist, and she turned to him, shock apparent on her face. Before she could react or even put down her drink, he was kissing Tracey.
A lot of things happened at once. Pansy jumped, and she wasn't the only one, at the loud crack of the coffee table breaking, and Miles Bletchley came tumbling down over Adrian Pucey who screamed. Glass shattered everywhere and liquid burst from broken bottles and tumblers. The music abruptly stopped playing and people groaned and called out in disappointment, Blaise Zabini snogged Tracey, and Draco spilled his drink on Pansy's sleeve.
"Hey!" she exclaimed and stumbled back. And then she grabbed Draco's arm and yanked. "Look!" She swore loudly. Tracey and Blaise were breaking apart, and she was looking slightly dizzy, as if not sure what had just happened. Blaise kept his assured grip on her, and was looking very drunkand very pleased with himself. Gaping, Pansy turned to look at Daphne, who was staring at the two of them in utter disbelief. When Tracey seemingly had comprehended what Blaise had done, she pulled away distinctly and searched for her friend. When hers and Daphne's eyes met, there was nothing but utter betrayal.
"What the bloody hell did he just do?" she asked Draco pointedly. Then Daphne turned right on the spot, and walked out of the common room. Pansy, Queenie, Astoria and Tracey followed her at once, but Tracey was first.
Pansy was jogging, her drink in her hand, to keep up with them, and she could hear bits of their heated conversation.
"... would you do that in front of me?"
Tracey was apologising profusely. Suddenly, Queenie turned around and almost collided with Pansy. She held up a hand and said, "Stop. Let's leave them to it!"
"No, that's my sister!" exclaimed Astoria, indignant.
"They need to sort it out between themselves!" said Queenie firmly. "This was always going to happen, and now it has. There's no point in us being there!"
Pansy watched on helplessly as Daphne, quickly followed by Tracey disappeared down the staircase and into their dormitory.
"What a bloody knob," said Pansy and shot Zabini a glare. He was in the sofa with Malfoy, Goyle and Bletchley now, sipping another Butterbeer and looking like nothing had happened. She let out an angry groan on behalf of her best friend and walked up to where they were sitting, deciding on slapping Zabini. When she approached, however, Draco seemed to have interpreted her intentions, as he rose from the sofa and grabbed onto her, stopping her.
"Leave it," he muttered in her ear. "It's not your business."
"Yes it is!" she snarled, "It's my best friend!"
"He hasn't technically done anything wrong. She fancies him, he doesn't, he fancies Davis. It happens."
"It doesn't have to happen right in bloody front of her!" They both struggled in their embrace.
"Fair enough, but it still doesn't concern you. People have died, there's been a war, I might be going to Azkaban. Forget this. It doesn't matter."
"Easy for you to say," she grumbled. But she had stopped struggling and looked at him now. She ripped her arms out of his grip. "Fine. But I'm not sitting with him unless you get me another drink."
Draco scoffed.
"If Salazar Slytherin could speak to snakes," said Miles Bletchley, another few Firewhiskeys deep, an hour or two later. "Does that mean Gryffindor could speak to lions?"
"And Hufflepuff speak to badgers!" Adrian Pucey filled in, in a fit of laughter.
"What, and Ravenclaw could speak to... whatever their thing is."
"How did we go to Hogwarts for seven years and not learn this?"
They collapsed in fits of laughter. The party had died out now, people had fallen asleep, gone home, or gone off to the numerous empty dormitories.
The Slytherin seventh years were passing a bottle of Fire Whiskey around with their two older friends. After Tracey and Daphne had returned to the common room very shortly after leaving, apparently not having resolved much, they had all gone back to partying and acting like nothing. Tracey had tried to apologise, but Daphne had acted as if it was nothing, like she always did, and wouldn't talk anymore of it. Eventually Tracey had given up. Now that they were so few left, they had begun mentioning old memories of school times.
"Remember back in third year?" said Blaise Zabini scornfully, "When Malfoy got his arm slashed open by that big bird in Magical Creatures class?"
Everyone laughed, even Daphne. "And pansy did his homework for two weeks, just because he kept his arm in that pathetic sling."
"He was badly injured!" Pansy defended him, and herself, indignantly. "He couldn't move his arm!"
Zabini wiggled his eyebrows. "Or so he told you."
Pansy sent Malfoy a hard glare, daring him to confess. He sniggered. "I might have exaggerated a bit..."
Pansy hit him repeatedly on the arm and swore at him while everyone laughed even harder. Malfoy shielded himself and chuckled, "Come off it, it's been four years!"
"What and everyone knew except me?"
Malfoy shrugged. Pansy pointed at them all angrily. "You're all a bunch of pricks." She turned to Malfoy. "And here I was thinking you only trusted me to do it, because I was cleverer than Crabbe and Goyle."
"That isn't difficult!" laughed Queenie. Malfoy, who had his arm around her lower back, stroked it casually with her thumb when nobody watched.
"To Vince," said Goyle, raising his glass solemnly. The others copied him, without joking this time.
"I can't believe you got Crabbe to dress up as a first year girl," sniggered Pansy with a look at Malfoy. "I can't imagine he enjoyed it very much."
Daphne, Queenie, Tracey and Millicent chuckled. Goyle was shaking his head in bitterness.
"He did not," sniggered Malfoy. This mention of their late classmate made Tracey think of another memory of him. Back in third year when they had read tea leaves in Divination. Goyle had read Crabbe's and he had thought he saw something like a House-Elf, which when they looked it up in the book meant enslavement – or indeed it could be a Galleon coin which symbolised money from gambling.
"I bet it's a troll," Pansy had meddled boldly, bending over their cup, her sneaky eyes smug, "I bet it means you'll mate with one." Needless to say, nothing in Crabbe's tealeaves had come to past. Nor would it ever.
"Well, yours isn't necessarily better," Malfoy had quipped with a crooked smile as he put Pansy's cup back in front of her. "There's a full moon in here, which basically means you'll be haunted by a werewolf, according to the book."
"Shut up Draco!"
Presently, Pansy gave a huge yawn and got to her feet, holding out an expectant hand for Malfoy. "I'm going to bed."
Millicent, Bletchley and Pucey followed as well, and so now it was only herself, Queenie, Daphne and Blaise left. Tracey ignored the looks Blaise sent her. Lost in her thoughts of their early years at school, Tracey remembered when they all had to face the Boggart. Malfoy's had been a cloaked and hooded dark figure, something he'd encountered in the Forbidden Forest back in first year, something which evidently was his future master. How ironic. Nott's was his mothers corpse, something he actually had witnessed in real life. Blaise's had been a woman mysteriously alike his mother, dripping in gold with venomous, greedy eyes. Tracey had never understood back then what it was he feared but now, being older and knowing him better, she guessed he was afraid of being used by a woman the same way his mother used men. A black widow. Tracey's own was Azkaban, her freedom taken from her, and her happiness sucked out. Daphne's was herself as older and without beauty, telling herself she'd amounted to nothing. Queenie's was herself, the lone survivor in a room full of bloody corpses, her brother included.
Pansy's was shallower than all of theirs – a giant snake. Which was also ironic because she had been one of the biggest snakes of them all.
"This place is a mess," said Queenie, looking out over the deserted but messy common room. It was scattered with empty bottles and broken glass. Kevin Bletchley from the year below was sprawled over the sofa in deep sleep. It had been a messy night, in all manners.
"If we hadn't just finished Hogwarts, I'd be shitting myself for tomorrow morning," yawned Blaise. Tracey remembered that there was no Snape to take points from them anymore. How strange it was to be back, even though it had only been a month and a half. Everything had changed.
Daphne sighed loudly and got to her feet too. "I'm going to check on Astoria," she said. "Goodnight."
They murmured their goodnights and watched her leave.
"That was a stupid thing you did," said Queenie, fixing Blaise with a stern look the moment the dormitory door had shut behind Daphne. Tracey felt her cheeks go warm.
Not a trace of shame could be found on Blaise's haughty features. He studied her casually, and then said, "I suppose."
Tracey's heart was beating quickly. She hadn't yet had time to process what it meant that he had kissed her; she had been too focused on Daphne. She avoided looking at him now.
"Well, night then girls," he said in his familiar drawl, and rose ever so nonchalantly. Tracey watched him saunter off to the boys' dormitory, feeling mingled with disappointment and frustration.
It was only the two of them left now. "What did she say when you two left?" asked Queenie.
Tracey shrugged. "I don't know. She wouldn't really talk to me about it."
"You didn't do anything wrong, it was all Blaise—"
"He didn't really do anything wrong either, though," Tracey couldn't help but to say. Maybe it was the alcohol talking for her, or making her braver, she wasn't sure. "He doesn't belong to her just because she's always fancied him."
"Do you fancy him?" Queenie asked her, looking intensely at her. Tracey paused for a second, pondering this. Then, "I don't know."
"Remember when Daphne got drunk and confessed her love to him?" sniggered Queenie.
"Trust me, I wish I didn't," smirked Tracey.
"I feel like everyone's falling out," said Queenie then, taking a swig of the Fire Whiskey before passing the bottle back to Tracey.
"It doesn't have to be like that." Tracey grimaced as the drink burned her throat. "We're finishing school. Growing up. We can't be fighting over stupid shit. We're best friends."
"You're the ones fighting over stupid shit. Boys," said Queenie and received the bottle. "I'm angry with Pansy for a real reason."
"It doesn't have anything to do with her, though," said Tracey. "What Malfoys dad is doing is not her fault."
Queenie pursed her lips but said nothing. She had another swig of the bottle. Suddenly Tracey realised the water outside the windows was getting lighter. Morning must be approaching.
"You're best friends," Tracey said.
"I know," said Queenie impatiently. "It's just always Malfoy first."
"Honestly, don't you think all the other Death Eaters will be doing the same thing?" said Tracey. "Bletchley's dad, Crabbe's dad, Goyle's dad, Nott's dad. What's to say they're not doing the exact same thing?"
Queenie looked quizzingly at her, and then looked out the window, pondering this. She sighed deeply. "I just don't want my dad to go to Azkaban again."
"I know."
For a long while they stayed like that, drinking and watching the room turn slightly lighter.
"I wonder what's going to happen now," said Tracey then. "With everything."
Queenie sighed. "I don't want to think about it."
Tracey had another sip of Firewhiskey and closed her eyes. Everything was spinning slightly and she was longing for her dormitory bed now. One last night they would all sleep in the same room. Then they would inevitably go their separate ways.
Then Queenie chuckled suddenly. "I bet Dumbledore would've given Potter five hundred thousand points for this."
"For what?" laughed Tracey, surprised.
"For winning the war."
They both laughed loudly and uncontrollably until their stomachs hurt and they had to gasp for breath.
Draco woke slowly and then all at once, suddenly realising how dry his mouth was and for a second wondering where he was. He opened his eyes and was instantly hit by an excruciating headache. He forced himself to sit up. He looked around, surprised to find himself in the boys' dormitory without Pansy. Hadn't they gone to bed together late last night? He realised he was still in his shirt and trousers but his tie was missing for some reason. The watch he got as a Christmas present lay on his nightstand and he glanced at it and swore.
He unwillingly got up and made sure he hadn't forgotten to pack anything the day before. Then he levitated his trunk after him and took a last look around the room he'd slept in for the last seven years, before he left.
"No boys allowed!" said an indignant voice when he stepped into the girls dormitory, but he was used to this reprimand by an old portrait. Pansy looked up when he arrived, but she didn't smile at him. His stomach sank – had he said something to offend her last night?
"I do not intend on ever doing that again," he yawned as he lay down on her bed. "I feel like shit."
Pansy was staring at her trunk, looking like she was focusing on not throwing up.
"I just need to finish packing and then we'll leave," she said shortly. He glanced at her mess of magic hair products, her favourite snacks, posters of her crushes (mostly the Weird Sisters) and various makeup items.
"I hate these small beds," groaned Draco and closed his eyes.
"I know," she said, looking at him, "I don't even know when you outgrew them. You just got taller out of nowhere."
She studied him for a moment, realising how much he'd grown from a boy to a man. She found the situation between them frustrating and slightly awkward, as they hadn't slept together last night. He had gotten so drunk he fell asleep straight away. Surely, something must be wrong, she thought. They had gone weeks without sex now.
"I can't wait to be done with this place," she muttered. "I hate sharing a bedroom."
She turned back to her wardrobe, which she was emptying fully for the first time since she'd moved in seven years ago. Her Yule Ball robes hung there. Pink, frilly, dusty... They'd hung there since forth year, as she hadn't seen a point in bringing them home, knowing she had plenty more sets of dress robes at home for the summer parties.
She threw them down into the open trunk on the floor, along with numerous sets of school robes she'd grown out of and Slytherin ties.
She could find the pink lacy knickers she'd worn the first time Draco had seen her in her bed. She found her rare few sets of Muggle clothes, short skirts and small tops she'd worn to the common room parties back in fifth year. If she looked far enough into the back of her wardrobe she could probably find her school robes from first year. She threw everything inside the trunk, and decided her House-Elf would throw out the old things when she returned home.
She found old history notes. In one, she'd scribbled DM and drawn a heart around it. She smiled to herself. She didn't need that now, so she threw it away before Draco could see it. She had the real him.
When she was done, they both made their way up to the Entrance Hall. Along with the rest of the seventh years, all of whom they had started first year with except Vincent Crabbe, they made their way outside, dropped their trunks off by the carriages and continued down to the lake where the boats awaited them.
It was tradition to ride back on the boats, just like how they had arrived in first year. As they floated across the lake towards the train station, the water calm and the air pleasantly mild, she looked up at the castle one last time and thought of how she'd always remember everything. She'd grown up here, met the love of her life here, met her best friends here.
Yet somehow, she was fine with this chapter of her life being over. Especially now, after what had happened recently. Still, the packing, the leaving school, waiting for the Hogwarts express to take them to London one last time – it felt like the end of her childhood. The step into somewhat adulthood
Was this how it was supposed to feel - growing up?
