Chapter XXVI: Cavalier
By Marie McKinnon
It took several days for the Weasleys to answer his owl, owing, he supposed, to shock. After all, how many days a week did they get letters from their worst enemies' sons asking for help? Not many, he guessed.
To while away the weary hours, he let his carefree mask drop away and began a full-scale investigation for the mole passing information to Voldemort. Before doing that, however, he had to let Ginny in on the goings on of his private meeting.
They met in the library and quickly cast a shield that would prevent anyone from hearing them. "Silencieus!" Draco murmured, waving his wand in a circle to indicate the area he wanted to silence. "All right, then. I need your help to find someone who's telling the Dark Lord about us," he continued somberly.
"How do you expect me to know who's betraying us?" She asked irritatedly. "I just know that someone did, and that to prevent your beheading we've got to hide everything from them before it's to late." Her crankiness, due to the late night studying commanded by exams, annoyed him to no end, but he waited patiently for a calmer, more sensible side to show its face. "It's probably someone whose parents are Death Eaters," she finally said.
"Not Crabbe or Goyle," he said instantaneously. "They're too stupid to be trusted with something that serious. Avery and Lestrange have no way in, McNair doesn't have any children, Karkaroff's dead, Snape's spy for Dumbledore, so that just leaves-" He stopped abruptly.
Ginny glared at him, obviously hoping for a bit of a clearer answer. "Would you care to inform me of your deduction?" She snapped.
"Nott," he managed. "I thought he was trustworthy enough, for a Slytherin. But he's the only possible spy. Brilliant plan, too; I trusted him more than Crabbe or Goyle just because he was so much smarter and better to discuss things with. I certainly don't trust him anymore," he added bitterly.
She shook her head at him. "I'm sorry, really, but you can't suddenly shut up when he comes into the room. Be very, very careful about what you say, and speak only on the most benign topics. Classes, teachers, boredom, homework,-"
"My lovely girlfriend," he interrupted, a tiny smile quirking the side of his mouth.
"How dare you be cheating!" Ginny asked in mock-outrage. "I know I've been busy lately, but that doesn't mean you can go find some girl who's actually pretty!"
His smile widened. "I'm really sorry, but this relationship can't go any farther. There's this gorgeous, almost supermodel girl who's in love with me, and I don't want to disappoint her."
"Why not?"
"Because I love her too," he whispered, looking her right in the eye. Ginny's face went blank with confusion as he scooted closer and closer, then abandoned his chair altogether and stood up. She rose cautiously, unsure of Draco's sanity, but was soon pulled into an embrace. "I love you, Ginny," he said, finally relieving himself of that information. Her look of shock became one of surprised excitement, soon undiscernable under his forceful kiss.
He felt lighter than he had before, almost ready to float off of the floor. There, he thought triumphantly, Malfoys *are* capable of love. Seconds later he was kissing her fervently, trying to vent his emotion into an expression of exactly how much he loved her. Being that close to her hadn't been so sweet before, and she seemed to feel the same way.
He loves me! He loves me! Her mind screamed, interspersed with several 'I love him!'s. She was crushed into him, rivulets of ice running down her back while he traced patterns on it with his long fingers. He kept the kiss relatively chaste, eager just to touch her soft skin and even softer mouth. His lips refused to separate from hers, as though they were glued together by some invisible, extra-strength paste.
Draco knew he needed to breathe, but he didn't want to. He was addicted, he knew, to a certain redheaded sprite--*his* redheaded sprite, he corrected happily. They broke apart reluctantly, still trying to get one last taste.
"You know something?" She asked once she'd calmed down sufficiently to speak. "I love you too."
The look on his face was worth everything she had. It positively shone with happiness, eyes sparkling, and a wide, perfect grin plastered onto it. He slowly managed to get his excitement under wraps, but his eyes danced exuberantly no matter what he was saying.
"I think I've got quite a few new things to talk about," he laughed, grabbing her hand.
*
Draco was still floating on air by the time he got to his room. To add to his euphoria, a letter lay on his bed, making a sharp contrast against the dark green coverlet. With trembling fingers he picked it up, hoping and praying that it would be an acceptance of his request. He slit the seal and read hungrily, seated on his bed. A backwards flop punctuated his relief at their response. He could stay with them--with Ginny--all summer, as long as he behaved himself and didn't say anything remotely superior.
There was a knock on his door, and he bolted upright. It was probably Nott, he thought, coming to try and get some more information out of him.
"Come in," he called politely, not wanting to seem suspicious of anyone.
Pansy Parkinson, scantily clad as always, sidled into the room. "I've missed you, Drakie," she simpered. "You never want to play with me anymore." She put special emphasis on "play," making her meaning evident. Seating herself on his bed, she leaned over him to coo "Please? I can make it worth your while." Every sentence was loaded with suggestion, and her tiny sleeveless shirt slid down dangerously far. She bent over him, revealing rather more than was appropriate, and began to undo the knot of Draco's school tie.
Mind clear, he knocked her fingers away from the neck of his shirt. "No, thank you."
"You can't possibly be-" she tilted her head and let out the word throatily "- satisfied with that Gryffindor. Your room is so quiet at night. She can't be all she's supposed to be, if she can't get noise out of you."
"I wouldn't know."
Her impatient fingers wove into his silvery hair as she purred "Poor Drakie has really been neglected lately. How about he lets his Pansy make it all better?"
"I really couldn't impose," he insisted, smoothing his hair and giving her a quelling look. "I'm sure your-- services-- are required by others in the castle. You'll excuse me if I allow you to show yourself out."
Pansy lingered sulkily by the doorway, pouting. "You've been dismissed, Parkinson," he said coldly, expression as icy as his voice.
Her loud, shrill retort came through the door a few moments later. "You'll regret it when you realize your mistake, Draco Malfoy!"
Draco put down the letter quickly and swung the door open, to see his former girlfriend still standing there. "I believe *you* are mistaken. I'm not Draco Malfoy any longer, nor are your petty pleasures required when I am sustained mentally, something your minuscule mind never quite managed. Goodbye, Parkinson." With that, he slammed the door in her face, a harsh smile contorting his features.
Being reminded of his shunning from the Malfoy clan, he put himself to work thinking of a new name. Something that really meant something to him, but something that sounded pleasant with his unusual first name. Lancelot would be too obvious, but perhaps a French word, like Malfoy had originally been. It had fit them so well, but now that he had his enchantress, Dragon of Bad Faith didn't seem to fit.
A wry smile brought his idea to light. He was a knight, and was not The Knight's Dragon a name ringing with the sarcasm and wit he wished to bring to his life?
"Draco du Cavalier it is, then," he whispered into the half-dark, proud to finally have a name that fit.
Disclaimer: I like that, don't you? Cavalier is "knight" in French, referring to the piece on a chess board. It fits better than "chevalier" because he's a piece in the game the Fates are playing with Voldemort and the rest of the wizards. I kill myself… No, no, I don't, I'm going to finish this. I own the somewhat unrecognizable plot, the library fluff, and the harlot Pansy, though she is rather commonly recognised to have a "night job." JKR, mighty sorceress of words that she is, owns the rest.
By Marie McKinnon
It took several days for the Weasleys to answer his owl, owing, he supposed, to shock. After all, how many days a week did they get letters from their worst enemies' sons asking for help? Not many, he guessed.
To while away the weary hours, he let his carefree mask drop away and began a full-scale investigation for the mole passing information to Voldemort. Before doing that, however, he had to let Ginny in on the goings on of his private meeting.
They met in the library and quickly cast a shield that would prevent anyone from hearing them. "Silencieus!" Draco murmured, waving his wand in a circle to indicate the area he wanted to silence. "All right, then. I need your help to find someone who's telling the Dark Lord about us," he continued somberly.
"How do you expect me to know who's betraying us?" She asked irritatedly. "I just know that someone did, and that to prevent your beheading we've got to hide everything from them before it's to late." Her crankiness, due to the late night studying commanded by exams, annoyed him to no end, but he waited patiently for a calmer, more sensible side to show its face. "It's probably someone whose parents are Death Eaters," she finally said.
"Not Crabbe or Goyle," he said instantaneously. "They're too stupid to be trusted with something that serious. Avery and Lestrange have no way in, McNair doesn't have any children, Karkaroff's dead, Snape's spy for Dumbledore, so that just leaves-" He stopped abruptly.
Ginny glared at him, obviously hoping for a bit of a clearer answer. "Would you care to inform me of your deduction?" She snapped.
"Nott," he managed. "I thought he was trustworthy enough, for a Slytherin. But he's the only possible spy. Brilliant plan, too; I trusted him more than Crabbe or Goyle just because he was so much smarter and better to discuss things with. I certainly don't trust him anymore," he added bitterly.
She shook her head at him. "I'm sorry, really, but you can't suddenly shut up when he comes into the room. Be very, very careful about what you say, and speak only on the most benign topics. Classes, teachers, boredom, homework,-"
"My lovely girlfriend," he interrupted, a tiny smile quirking the side of his mouth.
"How dare you be cheating!" Ginny asked in mock-outrage. "I know I've been busy lately, but that doesn't mean you can go find some girl who's actually pretty!"
His smile widened. "I'm really sorry, but this relationship can't go any farther. There's this gorgeous, almost supermodel girl who's in love with me, and I don't want to disappoint her."
"Why not?"
"Because I love her too," he whispered, looking her right in the eye. Ginny's face went blank with confusion as he scooted closer and closer, then abandoned his chair altogether and stood up. She rose cautiously, unsure of Draco's sanity, but was soon pulled into an embrace. "I love you, Ginny," he said, finally relieving himself of that information. Her look of shock became one of surprised excitement, soon undiscernable under his forceful kiss.
He felt lighter than he had before, almost ready to float off of the floor. There, he thought triumphantly, Malfoys *are* capable of love. Seconds later he was kissing her fervently, trying to vent his emotion into an expression of exactly how much he loved her. Being that close to her hadn't been so sweet before, and she seemed to feel the same way.
He loves me! He loves me! Her mind screamed, interspersed with several 'I love him!'s. She was crushed into him, rivulets of ice running down her back while he traced patterns on it with his long fingers. He kept the kiss relatively chaste, eager just to touch her soft skin and even softer mouth. His lips refused to separate from hers, as though they were glued together by some invisible, extra-strength paste.
Draco knew he needed to breathe, but he didn't want to. He was addicted, he knew, to a certain redheaded sprite--*his* redheaded sprite, he corrected happily. They broke apart reluctantly, still trying to get one last taste.
"You know something?" She asked once she'd calmed down sufficiently to speak. "I love you too."
The look on his face was worth everything she had. It positively shone with happiness, eyes sparkling, and a wide, perfect grin plastered onto it. He slowly managed to get his excitement under wraps, but his eyes danced exuberantly no matter what he was saying.
"I think I've got quite a few new things to talk about," he laughed, grabbing her hand.
*
Draco was still floating on air by the time he got to his room. To add to his euphoria, a letter lay on his bed, making a sharp contrast against the dark green coverlet. With trembling fingers he picked it up, hoping and praying that it would be an acceptance of his request. He slit the seal and read hungrily, seated on his bed. A backwards flop punctuated his relief at their response. He could stay with them--with Ginny--all summer, as long as he behaved himself and didn't say anything remotely superior.
There was a knock on his door, and he bolted upright. It was probably Nott, he thought, coming to try and get some more information out of him.
"Come in," he called politely, not wanting to seem suspicious of anyone.
Pansy Parkinson, scantily clad as always, sidled into the room. "I've missed you, Drakie," she simpered. "You never want to play with me anymore." She put special emphasis on "play," making her meaning evident. Seating herself on his bed, she leaned over him to coo "Please? I can make it worth your while." Every sentence was loaded with suggestion, and her tiny sleeveless shirt slid down dangerously far. She bent over him, revealing rather more than was appropriate, and began to undo the knot of Draco's school tie.
Mind clear, he knocked her fingers away from the neck of his shirt. "No, thank you."
"You can't possibly be-" she tilted her head and let out the word throatily "- satisfied with that Gryffindor. Your room is so quiet at night. She can't be all she's supposed to be, if she can't get noise out of you."
"I wouldn't know."
Her impatient fingers wove into his silvery hair as she purred "Poor Drakie has really been neglected lately. How about he lets his Pansy make it all better?"
"I really couldn't impose," he insisted, smoothing his hair and giving her a quelling look. "I'm sure your-- services-- are required by others in the castle. You'll excuse me if I allow you to show yourself out."
Pansy lingered sulkily by the doorway, pouting. "You've been dismissed, Parkinson," he said coldly, expression as icy as his voice.
Her loud, shrill retort came through the door a few moments later. "You'll regret it when you realize your mistake, Draco Malfoy!"
Draco put down the letter quickly and swung the door open, to see his former girlfriend still standing there. "I believe *you* are mistaken. I'm not Draco Malfoy any longer, nor are your petty pleasures required when I am sustained mentally, something your minuscule mind never quite managed. Goodbye, Parkinson." With that, he slammed the door in her face, a harsh smile contorting his features.
Being reminded of his shunning from the Malfoy clan, he put himself to work thinking of a new name. Something that really meant something to him, but something that sounded pleasant with his unusual first name. Lancelot would be too obvious, but perhaps a French word, like Malfoy had originally been. It had fit them so well, but now that he had his enchantress, Dragon of Bad Faith didn't seem to fit.
A wry smile brought his idea to light. He was a knight, and was not The Knight's Dragon a name ringing with the sarcasm and wit he wished to bring to his life?
"Draco du Cavalier it is, then," he whispered into the half-dark, proud to finally have a name that fit.
Disclaimer: I like that, don't you? Cavalier is "knight" in French, referring to the piece on a chess board. It fits better than "chevalier" because he's a piece in the game the Fates are playing with Voldemort and the rest of the wizards. I kill myself… No, no, I don't, I'm going to finish this. I own the somewhat unrecognizable plot, the library fluff, and the harlot Pansy, though she is rather commonly recognised to have a "night job." JKR, mighty sorceress of words that she is, owns the rest.