Better be Slytherin
LXVII
The Good Slytherin
Finally election day had come. There was a huge commotion in the atrium all day as people streamed in and out. The queues of witches and wizards stretched for what seemed like miles, all through the long atrium with the fireplaces to the round room with the lifts and Fountain of Magical Brethren.
Small booths had been set up where they would go in one by one, do a spell with their wand to a parchment that was then sent off by magic to be counted. Countless parchments were flying off out of the booths and up into the air to be collected and counted. This went on all day.
Septimus Jones was the winner of the election, which was announced that evening. Tracey had spent the whole day there with her department. Ministy employees, reporters and other candidates including Kinglsey, all listened to the new Minister's speech at dusk in the large atrium of the Ministry.
He was authoritarian, serious and unceremonious. His eyes sweeped over the crowd, giving the feeling of inspecting each and every one of them.
"We will leave no stone unturned. We will search.. and search... until we find every single one of the Death Eaters on the run."
The cameras flashed excitedly.
"And when we do find them, they will face justice. I grew up in a society of Pureblood supremacy, and now we have seen the damage of that. The Pureblooded will no more have privileges over everyone else. Equal rights will now be introduced, as it has been missing from our society forever. The Dementors will stay away from Azkaban and it will be our first and greatest challenge, but I would like everyone to know we are up for it. "
After huge applause, cheers, handshakes and more flashing cameras, the press conference came to an end and people started moving about, many making their way towards the fireplaces to go home. Tracey yawned. It had been a long day at the office - she had arrived at nine o'clock this morning and she glanced at her watch now which was nearing ten o'clock.
When she stepped into the small bar in Diagon Alley it was twenty past ten and pitch black outside on the cobbled streets. Soft jazz music was playing, and she could hardly see anything though the thick cigar smoke emitting from most tables. A witch in a silver dress was singing on the small stage, and House-Elves dressed in suit vests and bow ties walked around serving champagne to every little table, lit up with small candles.
Blaise got up from his chair when he saw her, and he pulled out hers after cheek kissing her.
"So," he said as they both were seated and he poured her a glass of champagne from the bottle in the ice bucket next to their table. "How do you like the new Minister?"
Tracey paused, thoughtfully. "He's not the one I voted for. But he is very suited for the current political climate. He's perfect for sorting out this mess we find ourselves in."
They kept talking about current events, about Hogwarts days, and about them. After a few more bottles of champagne, they ended up in bed together in his London townhouse.
The next morning she resented herself for it.
Draco looked out over the misty fields surrounding the manor. Binky was pouring hot, steaming tea from a pot into his and his guest's cups. The drawing room was chilly and eerie, as it had been since the Dark Lord had inhabited it. He spotted one of the white peacooks on top of the hedge, feeling a slight comfort in knowing they were guarding the house.
"So, Draco," said Rita Skeeter, a glint in her eye, as she stirred her tea after adding three sugars. "Last time I got some valuable information from you. We left off where you were returning to Hogwarts after Christmas in your sixth year. You'd had a few failed attempts at assasinating Dumbledore, you had split up with your girlfriend and the pressure was getting to you. Would you please carry on?"
He thought of everything that had happened that following school term, he had skipped lessons and meals, he'd even skipped Apparition practice, Nott had kissed Pansy and Draco had punched him, he'd been attacked by Potter which nearly took his life. He still had the scars. He had failed to kill Dumbledore, and left school with Snape. His father had come home from Azkaban, and the Dark Lord had chosen their home as his headquarters.
He realised he was shaking, just from bringing these memories up to the surface which he had surpressed for so long with diversion tactics and alcohol.
His voice was uneven and his words came out awkwardly, and he didn't think anyone would understand. He tried to make a point that he was forced, manipulated, that he tried to protect his family. But Rita Skeeter seemed more interested in gossip than his feelings.
"How was it - being the presence of He Who Must Not be Named?" she asked, her Quick Quotes Quill ready to attack. "Did he eat, sleep and go to the loo like the rest of us?" She smirked.
Needless to say, once printed, everyone saw the interview as a joke - a manipulative scheme on his part to weasel his way back into the good side of the society. He locked himself in his room, humiliated and angry, he didn't want to speak to anyone. The hate post returned, and he even got a letter from Theodore Nott in Azkaban, mocking him for the interview.
One evening in early December, Narcissa came over to the flat and sat on his bed. She put her hand on his and calmly said, "Draco, you did a good thing. You mustn't let this ruin it. People will come around. You did a brave thing."
Draco snorted. He had never been brave.
When she was younger, during her first few years at Hogwarts, Tracey used to blame her mother for marrying a Mugglborn, making Tracey a Halfblood. She had wanted to be fully Pureblood like Pansy and Daphne and Queenie. Now she was happy she wasn't afiliated with all that. It also seemed to be something Blaise found attractive about her.
As much as she resented herself for sleeping with Blaise, it also momentarily made her giddy. In a way, she knew it was unhealthy. Her heart and her mind wanted different things, acted differently.
When Daphne found out about the two of them she was, unsurprisingly, upset. Cold.
"I'm sorry, Daph!" Tracey found herself saying. "You're like a sister to me. Please..."
"I already have a sister."
The words stung so bad, but not more than Daphne's uncaring stare.
Spluttering with newfound anger, Tracey shouted, "He never wanted you!"
"You're patethic," Daphne said, raising her voice. "You know we shagged and you went after him anyway!"
"He only shagged you because he wanted me but he got scared!"
Daphne gave a snort that was almost pitying. And she left.
Tracey pictured the two of them getting married. Whenever she mentioned it, she didn't notice how he didn't reply. He looked away. He kissed her every now and then, and she clung onto every one of those moments, even if it was weeks inbetween, as if she was starving for his attention. How did it end up like that? Suddenly they were so inequal.
"I love you," she said, just before Christmas, as they lay in bed together in his mother's Victorian terraced house in Chelsea.
He laughed and said, "Of course you do," and put an arm around her which made her believe he was joking and that he really did love her too. She didn't want to see his cold crocodile smile.
When he clung onto her at night, every night, in his sleep, she dared to hope he needed her just as much as she needed him suddenly. She dared to hope he clung onto her because it was her, because he was in love, maybe even obsessed with her, but there was an uncomfortable feeling in her gut because she wondered if he also clung onto other people like this. Other girls when she wasn't around. By accident or with intent.
She sank further into his embrace and let the warmth of his skin and the smell of his hair force the gut-wrenching thoughts out of her mind.
She stroked his foot with her own and wondered why she so desperately tried to make every moment, every second, last with him. Maybe because she knew it wasn't going to last. It would be over at some point. Because it was wrong.
She cried silent tears in his arms while he slept and he didn't know. He never knew. It was best that way - if he knew it might scare him off. She didn't know why she cried. Maybe because she loved him so much it felt as though her chest was about to explode, or maybe she was just terrified of losing him. Or maybe that was the same thing.
She was naked and he was dressed as they slept. A constant reminded of how she let him see all of her, but she got nothing back.
Walking up the garden path in the twilight, Tracey could hear music and voices coming from the grand manor house. The double doors were wide open and inside a House Elf waited to take her travelling cloak, and another to give her a glass of champagne off a tray.
Tracey remembered the first time she came to this house, if you could call it that. She'd never seen so many bathrooms in a single building before. Except Hogwarts. She had said this. Pansy had only smirked and said "I know, isn't it lush?"
Tracey had looked around wide eyed, and she did again now, years later. The marble floored entrance hall was filled with mingling guests, all standing under the huge crystal chandelier. Mr and Mrs Parkinson had returned to the country to host one of their notorious dinner parties.
"All throughout my childhood, my parents would host these parties," said Pansy, smirking, as she air kissed both of Tracey's cheeks. "I'm sorry this is your first one."
Tracey didn't think she was sorry at all, but smiled. Pansy probably loved her exclusive club. The Parkinsons, The Malfoys, The Notts and The Greengrasses had been friends for generations. Power families in Pureblood society. Pansy and Daphne were friends and their mothers were friends and their grandmother's had been friends before that. Weasling your way in there was a suicide mission.
Now that the Notts, Bletchley's and Runcorns couldn't be there as they were all in Azkaban, Mrs Parkinson had invited the Zabinis and their lawyer Mr Felstead, Gregory Goyle and an out of place looking Narcissa Malfoy. Tracey supposed she hadn't been to an event without her husband in decades.
Tracey's eyes darted around the huge room, which was vibrating with people and music and smoke. Giant candles in tall glass beakers trimmed with peacock feathers and fragrant white lilies flickered everywhere. She was apprehensive to see Daphne after their big row. She had almost been surprised Pansy still invited her.
"Is Queenie coming?" asked Tracey as Pansy handed her a champagne that she took off a passing House Elf's tray.
"No," said Pansy in a lowered voice as she grabbed Tracey's arm and led her off. "Her dad was sent to Azkaban, wasn't he, so she is distraught."
Tracey raised her eyebrows. She had not known this.
"Yep," said Pansy quickly and cringed a little, "she's struggling. Bad."
Tracey got the feeling Pansy found it awkward and hard to be sympatethic.
"How long is he away for?"
"Well, that's the thing." Pansy paused and looked up at her. "He got ten bloody years. Can you believe it?"
"Wow, no way..."
"Like, Queenie will have kids by the time he gets out. Can you believe how ruddy old we'll be in ten years?"
Tracey smirked slightly, as she wasn't sure 28 counted as that old. Pansy pushed open the door to a small sitting room located behind the large lounge, and instantly Tracey's eyes fell on the people in there. Over two sofas, her Slytherin friends were sprawled out. Gregory Goyle was taking up a whole settee by himself. Malfoy was there of course, as it was his girlfriend's house, but he didn't look too happy. Her heart gave a little jolt as she saw Blaise, and then her eyes fell on Daphne and Astoria. Her stomach sank. Daphne looked up just as she and Pansy entered, and her eyes narrowed instantly. Daphne repositioned herself and grabbed her glass to sip. She did not say hello. Of course, Theodore, Vincent and Millicent were all missing from this equation now, and would be for a very long time.
"You all right?" said Malfoy and nodded towards her. Tracey gave him a half hearted smile. She almost felt weak at the knees seeing Daphne and Blaise in the same room. Knowing they had slept together made her insides boil with jealousy.
Blaise stood up to give Tracey a kiss on the cheek, which was the least he could do. Her heart was beating noticably in her chest as she took a seat next to him and shakily placed her champagne on the mahogany table.
"Ooh, coaster please!" said Pansy quickly, and rushed to hand her a marble coaster with a gold rim. "Mummy will kill me if I stain the table."
"Why'd you change dress robes?" Daphne asked Pansy pointedly.
Pansy smirked. "Mother liked them. So naturally I had to change."
"What the bloody hell was Lucretia Fawley wearing anyway, did you see that?" said Daphne in a loud, cold voice, directed at Pansy.
"Oi she's my friend!" said Pansy quickly.
"I heard her family is broke," said Malfoy and swirled his Fire Whiskey around in a bored manner.
"I heard she's on drugs," sniggered Blaise.
"Who is Lucretia Fawley?" said Tracey, feeling like an idiot.
"My uni friend," said Pansy dismissively. "She is not on drugs," she shot an annoyed look at Blaise. "But," she then shrugged at Tracey. "She worries she'll shrivel up and die if she doesn't have the attention from at least three boys on her at all times."
Daphne studied her own nails, seemingly bored of their conversation, or jealous that Pansy had made a new friend?
A House Elf walked past with a tray of champagne. Tracey whisked a flute off his tray and downed it in a matter of seconds. It was her third so far.
"My father wants to expand Hogwarts," Lucretia Fawley was saying an hour later, as she had joined them and they were all a few drinks down at this point. "He thinks it's crap they don't teach literacy, maths, politics or at least social studies at Hogwarts. This is why they choose to homeschool me."
"Muggle subjects?" said Goyle, his face screwed up in confusion.
"I get the point," Blaise said. Tracey shot him a look. Was he just saying this because Lucretia was a pretty girl? Ugh, with her long ash blonde hair flowing around her and petite body sat perfectly poised. Blaise's tongue was practically hanging out of his mouth when he was looking at her.
"Yes, thank you!" said Lucretia and clinked her glass with his. "Like Divination and Herbology, hello? What's the point unless you want to literally become a plant person or a seer?"
Pansy, Blaise and Malfoy laughed.
"They never taught us anything of value, honestly!" Pansy complained loudly. "When will I ever need to turn a gerbil into a goblet again?"
"Yes, Lucretia, to your point," said Blaise. "Hogwarts doesn't prepare us for life or work. It's medieval."
Lucretia smiled at him. Tracey's insides were boiling. She couldn't stop looking at the two of them. Ugh, she was rich, loud and vain. Just like Pansy, but not at all, because Pansy wasn't a threat. Lucretia wanted to put her greedy hands on Blaise's fortune and his love. Tracey was sure of it. She needed to get out of there.
She hurried to the toilet without asking Pansy to join her which she knew was a faux pas in her friend's eyes. Pansy loved to gossip in the loo.
When she got back the room was empty. What the hell? She had a look in the entrance hall where people were still mingling, and the lounge where she saw Pansy's mother loudly entertain her middle aged friends, but she couldn't spot her former classmates anywhere. She felt like an idiot again.
Finally, she found them, out the back. She could hear laughter and splashing of water and as she walked around the side of the magnificent building, she saw it.
They were all there, in the hot tub, drinking from a magnum of champagne. Daphne, Lucretia, and Blaise. Smiling, chatting, drinking, cliniking their glasses, playfully splashing each other.
"What the hell is going on?!"
The three of them, as well as Pansy, Draco and Goyle who were lounging on some deck chairs which she hadn't noticed before, all turned to look at her. Her insides were on fire, she couldn't control herself.
"Get the hell away from him!" she yelled and ran towards them. "Blaise get out of there, what are you doing!" she snarled.
"Hey, we're just having fun," said Lucretia. "You should try it sometime."
"You shut up!"
"Don't tell me to shut up, you don't even know me," said Lucretia. All three of them were getting out of the hot tub.
"I know you're a slut!" Tracey yelled. Pansy gasped, and the boys started to protest.
"She's not a slut just because she's talking to Blaise," snapped Daphne, her eyes finally grazing Tracey for the first time.
"Don't you start as well!" yelled Tracey.
"I'll do whatever I want, Tracey," said Daphne.
"Yeah, clearly, flirting with my boyfriend doesn't seem morally wrong to you?"
"He was mine first!" Daphne exploaded at her, breathing heavily. Everyone was staring at the two of them now.
Tracey gasped, "Do you hear yourself? You're a petulant child!"
Pansy smiled in the background. She wasn't the only one. Blaise was struggling to hide his grin too.
"You're mine!" she whined and spilled some of her champagne. They were back inside the party, dressed again and Tracey was trying to get Blaise to understand. He rolled his eyes at her which made her even more upset.
She grabbed his robe to keep him from walking away from her.
"I don't want anyone else to think of you or touch your face. You're mine!"
"I'm not though," said Blaise quietly which just made her insides burn even more.
"How can you say that?"
"We've never agreed to be in a relationship as far as I'm concerned."
Why was he so cold? She stared at him, at a loss for words, feeling like she struggled to breathe. She had told him she loved him for goodness sake.
"Is that why you've been using a Contraceptive Charm?" she breathed.
"What?" he snapped to look at her after having avoided eye contact. There was betrayal there. "You've looked at my wand?"
"Yes I looked. I only looked because I knew something was wrong. And you used a Contraceptive Spell, I checked with Priori Incatatem. You've had sex with someone."
She was breathing hard.
"Why were you even looking?" said Blaise, narrowing his eyes. He looked at her like she had betrayed him, and his trust. It was the other way around.
"Because I can't trust you obviously!" she snapped.
"Well, I didn't sleep with anyone else, for your information," Blaise said coldly. "We used a Contraceptive Spell the other week." He sipped his Fire Whiskey and looked away, thus ending the conversation.
Tracey stared at him, unsure of what to believe. If she tried hard enough she could try and pretend like she believed him. She downed the rest of her glass and sighed.
Draco woke up with a jolt, once more. He had lost count of how many times he'd done that since the war ended.
The nightmares never stopped. They always had the same theme. He was back at Hogwarts and had to fit 10 lessons in every day, then he had to feed the Blast Ended Skrewts, then he had to fix various Dark Art objects on Snape's orders, train the new prefects, do his homework, cook with his old House Elf Dobby down in the kitchen, and be the referee of a Quidditch game which consisted of Nott shooting Quaffles at the unprotected hoops while Crabbe shot Bludgers against Draco.
Realising he was sweating, he drew a hand through his hair and reached out over a sleepy Pansy in the dark to locate a glass of water from the nightstand. Even though his flat was chilly, Christmas was coming up after all, he felt the urge to go have a cold shower.
He downed a glass of water and looked at Pansy sleeping soundly next to him. The moonlight shone onto her shiny brown hair. He couldn't help but be jealous of how peaceful she was, and he wondered if he would ever sleep fine again.
