Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's. Part of Draco's speech about dangerous books was inspired by Slytherin Rising, but not quoted directly from it.
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.
I have been asked, by several people so far, to write out the entire copy of Draco's DADA quiz, questions and answers. I would be glad to. Could you help me? Any suggestions for questions would be only too welcome. Thank you.
Chapter 5 - I Admit, I'm Bad
At about five-to-nine in the morning, on the first weekend of term, Flint could be seen stalking around the Great Hall, waiting impatiently for the rest of the team, who had been told to be there by nine or they'd regret it ... when Flint tells you you'll regret it, it usually means something very painful. I already was there and had finished my breakfast. So had the other two Chasers. I had noticed that Potter hadn't deigned to make an appearance at the Gryffindor table, while Weasley and Hermione had only stopped in long enough to collect a small breakfast-snack ... but that was totally irrelevant (and I think I am obsessed with those three ... in the way that involves hating them ... except Hermione - I like her).
With ten seconds to go (by Flint's watch) the Keeper and Beaters made it in time. Then Flint stood up and snapped, "Right, let's go."
I followed the rest of the team down to the pitch. There, we entered the changing rooms to find seven Nimbus 2001 brooms waiting for us. "Wow." Pucey said, stunned.
"Where'd you get these?" Derrick asked, picking up one of them.
"A gift." Flint said, grinning. "Why'd you think I let Malfoy on the team, after all the times I swore I never would?"
They all turned to stare at me, "You bribed Flint?" Bole asked, "You really are corrupt."
"I didn't bribe him." I said defensively, "And I should have made the team without my father needing to bribe him, anyway." I added, glaring at Flint.
"O.K." Flint said, holding up his hands, "I get it. Don't keep rubbing it in. Now, let's get out there and practice."
So we walked out onto the pitch, to see seven red-and-gold-clad people already in the air. The Gryffindor team. The other Slytherins stood in front of me, concealing me from view, while still allowing me to see past them. The Gryffindor team captain flew down and all-but-crashed in front of us, yelling, "Flint! This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off, now!"
Flint just smirked, trying to look innocent ... and not doing too good a job of it, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood." he responded.
"But I booked the pitch! I booked it!" Wood whined, while his team began to land around him.
Flint took smugness to new levels, as he said, "Ah, but I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch pitch, owing to the need to train their new Seeker'." I hadn't been aware of any note. Nor, for that matter, had I known that Gryffindor had booked the pitch. And while we're talking about things I was unaware of - I was under the impression that I was already a damned good Seeker and didn't need special attention as far as training goes.
"You've got a new Seeker? Where?" Wood asked, seeming not to believe a word from Flint ... then again, I would tend to take everything Flint says with a pinch - no, a handful - of salt, too.
I stepped out, past Montague, so that the Gryffindors could all see me clearly. I was smirking anyway, but if I hadn't been, the looks on their faces would have fixed that. They were stunned ... mostly, "Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" one of the Weasley twins asked (I couldn't tell them apart if I'd wanted to).
I really hate when people ask me that. Hate it. Flint, on the other hand, "Funny you should mention Draco's father. Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team." he said. On that cue, we all held out the Nimbus 2001s, for the Loser-Lions to see. "Very latest model. Only came out last month." Flint said, neglecting to note that they only came out last month in America and wouldn't be available to buy here for another month or two. "I believe it outstrips the old 2000 series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps, sweeps the board with them." the Weasley twins (who had Cleansweep fives) both looked jealous as Hell, and not one of the Gryffindors could come up with a suitable comeback. After a full minute of receiving death-glares (if looks could kill ...), Flint spoke, "Oh, look. A pitch invasion."
I looked up to see Weasley and Hermione running towards us. They stopped next to the other Gryffindors, "What's happening? Why aren't you playing?" Weasley asked Potter, "And what's he doing here?" he added, glaring at me.
"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley. Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team." I said, watching with amusement as Weasley stared. "Good, aren't they? But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too." I suggested, with a smirk, "You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives, I expect a museum would bid for them."
That comment prompted fits of laughter from the rest of the Slytherin team and angry glares from the Gryffindors. Hermione was the one to talk back to me, "At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent."
I was surprised that she would be so harsh - I had thought I'd made it clear that I wasn't her enemy. And that was exactly the wrong thing to say to me, at the best of times, "No one asked your opinion." I snarled angrily, "You filthy little Mudblood."
Maybe that was overkill, but the Gryffindors' reactions were worth it. The Weasley twins both tried to jump me and only failed because Flint stepped in their way. One of the Gryffindor Chasers yelled at me, while Weasley produced the still-broken wand and pointed it at me, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy."
A flash of green light backfired from the broken wand, sending Weasley to the ground. That's gotta hurt. Hermione was at the Weasel's side in seconds, fussing over him. He sat up and promptly vomited slugs all over the place.
I literally fell over with laughter. I wasn't the only one, either - the whole Slytherin team were in hysterics. By the time I managed to stop laughing, Potter, Weasley and Hermione had gone. I picked myself up, still sniggering, and turned to look at the twins, "Is your brother a masochist, or just stupid?" I asked. They just glared at me.
"Can't practice without your whole team, Wood." Flint said, smirking, "And unless you want to suffer the wrath of Professor Snape, I suggest you leave now."
Wood told Flint to do something obscene with a gerbil, before leaving the pitch, followed by a very upset group of Gryffindors.
We spent the rest of the morning practicing. Flint really pushes the team hard - on average you'd be lucky to survive a practice session without getting hit by a Bludger at least twice and being knocked off your broom at least once ... I was lucky during that practice and only got hit with a Bludger once, staying on my broom the whole time. Speaking of brooms, I was amazed at how easy the Nimbus 2001 was to fly. It had an almost non-existent turning circle and speed that I'd never seen before - when I watched the rest of the team, they looked like a blur of green. And the reaction time was better, by far, than my old broom - almost instantaneous ... almost. I could pull off stunts I'd never managed (tried, but not succeeded) before, on the Comet 260. I also caught the Snitch five times in three hours - not bad at all, I thought.
"You need to work on that dive, Malfoy." Flint told me, as we returned to the Great Hall for lunch, "If you can get that perfected, you'll be able to run the enemy into the ground - Wronski Feint - you've heard of that, right?"
"No, duh. Of course I have." I snapped, "You think I'd try for the position, without knowing all there was to know about it first? What kind of Slytherin do you think I am?"
"One who acts like a spoilt brat," Flint replied, "And you could have fooled me, the way you were messing around out there. Show off. You need to concentrate more - if you miss the Snitch in favour of one of those stupid stunts, I'll have your head."
"I was just testing the new broom. Haven't been allowed to touch it till today." I said bitterly.
"Yeah, I believe that." Flint said sarcastically.
* * *
I had unearthed a specific book, bound in dark green leather, from my trunk - I wasn't sure if I'd remembered to bring it with me, but I obviously had - and taken it up to the Library, where I could get away from most of the other students.
I was just beginning to read it, when someone entered the otherwise deserted Library. I looked up to see Hermione stalk across the room and sit as far away from me as possible. I watched her for a moment and came to the conclusion that she was deliberately ignoring me. I didn't blame her, but she started it ... I know that sounds childish, but she did.
"I think we're the only people who ever use this place on a Saturday." I said, loud enough for her to hear me but not loud enough for Madam Pince to hear from her office.
Hermione continued to ignore me. I stood up and, taking my book with me, wandered over to her table.
"You do realise that I have a reputation to maintain?" I asked her, sitting opposite her, "And I was really only defending myself - you insulted me first."
"Go to Hell, Malfoy." she snapped, refusing to look at me.
"I'd rather not go back where I came from, thanks." I said, smirking. She looked up at me, just to check that I was joking.
"You have a strange idea of humour," she said coldly, before returning her attention to her homework.
"Yeah - I admit that." I said, still smirking, "But I deny the accusation that I don't have the talent to get on the Slytherin Quidditch team."
She looked up at me again, glaring, "Then where did those brooms come from?"
"Flint has a personal grudge against me." I said, watching her, "I went to the try-outs and beat the other Seeker-wannabies, but Flint didn't let me on. I admit that my position on the team was bought, but I had earned it and been unfairly denied it, before I resorted to bribery. It's in the Slytherin Code of Conduct - 'If fair means have failed you, it's time to resort to foul'. I was highly offended by what you said, and I couldn't think of anything worse to say to you without being guilty of slander."
She glared at me. "You, Draco Malfoy, are a self-centred, stuck-up prat who doesn't know when to shut up." she said, "You always find the worst way to behave in any situation. You can't accept when you're in the wrong, and you don't care about anyone's feelings but your own."
I took a few seconds to go over what she'd just said, before answering, "Yes. Yes. Probably yes. You really think so? Not always. And yes."
"Huh?"
"I responded to each accusation in the order you made them." I said, grinning at the confusion on her face, "I am self-centred. I am a stuck-up prat. I probably don't know when to shut up. You really think I always find the worst way to behave? … and by the way, I take that as a compliment. I can occasionally accept when I'm wrong. And I really do not care about anyone else's feelings, at all."
"You really are not a normal person," she said, staring at me in confusion, "No normal person can admit things like that."
"I don't just admit it. I take pride in it." I answered, "And I do admit that I was in the wrong earlier, but you DID start it - I just overreacted." I took a deep breath, before saying, "I'm ... sorry ... for calling you that. To be honest, I still use the word 'Mudblood' fairly often - it's shorter and takes less time to say than 'Muggle-born'."
"You use an insulting and degrading name to refer to people, just because it's shorter?"
"Yes." I said, smirking at her disapproval, "Will it help my case at all, if I remind you that I need to maintain my reputation? If I don't act like I hate Mudbloods, I'll get in a lot of trouble. And to be honest, you're the only one I like at all, anyway."
"I don't understand why you're so intent on staying friends with people who think differently from you."
"That's not who I'm afraid of." I said, "It's my father. If he ever heard that I so much as spoke to you without insulting you, I'd regret it, big time."
She gave me an odd look, before saying, "I forgive you. To the extent that I won't plot revenge on you, yet."
I grinned, "I thought you were supposed to be a Gryffindor?"
"Just because I'm brave and have a few morals, doesn't mean I can't come up with a cunning plan or two," she snapped.
"I was joking. You really need to learn how to tell when I'm being serious and when I'm not." I said, dropping my facade, and really smiling, "You will hear the word Mudblood from me a lot, in the future. Get used to it and don't take offence. If I want to insult you I can come up with something much more cutting than that."
"I'm sure you can." she said, looking at me in a way that said she still didn't trust me as far as she could throw me, "I just wonder why you have to be so ... confusing."
"I make an art of it." I said, still really smiling, "And besides, I'm a bit confused about what I want, too. I like the bad-boy image, but I'm not particularly interesting in genocide and bringing on the apocalypse. You can count on me when it's in my own best interest, but I'm not your ally. I'm like the anti-hero, but not the villain."
She shook her head in confusion, and changed the subject, "What's that book, there?"
"This?" I asked, holding it up for her to see, "Nothing you'd want to read. It's a Dark Arts book."
"You're admitting to reading a book about the Dark Arts?" she asked.
"What's wrong with learning Dark Arts?" I asked, "I don't intend to use it to harm anyone and there's no law against knowing things."
"What is it?" she persisted, looking intently at the book. I carefully covered the title, just to be safe.
"It's just something I thought I might find useful." I said evasively.
"Like?"
"Like none of your business." I snapped.
"Let me see."
"You are persistent, aren't you?" I asked irritably, "I'm not telling you what it's about."
"Please." she said plaintively.
"No." I snapped, "If I tell you, it'll put ideas in your head that you really don't want to have to worry about." She gave me a strange look, but I continued, "Some books can be dangerous, in the wrong hands - you ought to remember that. I've heard of books that burn your eyes out if you read them - I once met a book with a demon in it - and I know a witch who wrote what, at first glance, looks like a series of harmless children's books, but they turn their readers into crazed fanatics, unable to do anything except contemplate various alternate plotlines within a totally fictitious world, made all the worse for the fact that it was deliberately left unfinished. You need to be very careful with that sort of thing. This book is a one-of-a-kind, and it's pretty dangerous, if you don't know what you're doing with it."
She stared at me, "You brought a dangerous book to school, where anyone could get their hands on it?"
"I doubt I'm the only one." I said coldly, "Just leave me alone about it." and with that, I stood up and left, holding the book very tightly.
* * *
"Hey, Draco." Theo said, as he entered the dorm. I had chosen this as a place to read, because Hermione was in the Library, all three of the other boys had been out when I'd gotten back here and I wanted to be alone. "What'ya reading?"
"None of your business." I said, trying to concentrate on the text - it was very hard to follow and the last thing I needed was to be distracted now.
"Now I really want to know what it is." Theo said impertinently.
I gave up reading and looked up at him, "You know the Quickspell courses for Squibs?" a nod, "This works on the same magical principle, teaching the reader to use a gift they don't have."
"What gift?" Theo asked.
"I'm teaching myself something that counts very much as part of the Dark Arts." I said, trying to be cryptic.
"And that would be?"
"If I tell you what I'm learning, you'll think I'm up to no good."
"Tell." he said, "It's not like I don't know how deep into the Dark Arts your whole family are."
I smirked, "I'm trying to learn Parseltongue."
"How's that work?"
"This book is a one-of-a-kind - the only copy in existence. It has been in my family for generations. Father never bothered with it, but I think it could come in handy. I found it in Father's library when I was seven and I still haven't gotten around to reading it, yet. Problem is that it's bloody difficult to work and I need to be alone, otherwise I'll not get it right. It's a complicated spell, at the best - the book itself has to let me have the gift it's teaching and even then I'll have to consciously translate it, where a real Parselmouth would know it like their first language."
"So have you learned anything yet?" Theo asked, smirking.
I frowned, "Not really ... but when I finish the book, I'll be able to at least understand the language, even if I can't speak it properly."
"Cool. And totally evil. Isn't it illegal to learn Dark Arts, like that?"
"Yes." I answered, honestly.
* * *
End of chapter 5
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spelling and grammar.
I have been asked, by several people so far, to write out the entire copy of Draco's DADA quiz, questions and answers. I would be glad to. Could you help me? Any suggestions for questions would be only too welcome. Thank you.
Chapter 5 - I Admit, I'm Bad
At about five-to-nine in the morning, on the first weekend of term, Flint could be seen stalking around the Great Hall, waiting impatiently for the rest of the team, who had been told to be there by nine or they'd regret it ... when Flint tells you you'll regret it, it usually means something very painful. I already was there and had finished my breakfast. So had the other two Chasers. I had noticed that Potter hadn't deigned to make an appearance at the Gryffindor table, while Weasley and Hermione had only stopped in long enough to collect a small breakfast-snack ... but that was totally irrelevant (and I think I am obsessed with those three ... in the way that involves hating them ... except Hermione - I like her).
With ten seconds to go (by Flint's watch) the Keeper and Beaters made it in time. Then Flint stood up and snapped, "Right, let's go."
I followed the rest of the team down to the pitch. There, we entered the changing rooms to find seven Nimbus 2001 brooms waiting for us. "Wow." Pucey said, stunned.
"Where'd you get these?" Derrick asked, picking up one of them.
"A gift." Flint said, grinning. "Why'd you think I let Malfoy on the team, after all the times I swore I never would?"
They all turned to stare at me, "You bribed Flint?" Bole asked, "You really are corrupt."
"I didn't bribe him." I said defensively, "And I should have made the team without my father needing to bribe him, anyway." I added, glaring at Flint.
"O.K." Flint said, holding up his hands, "I get it. Don't keep rubbing it in. Now, let's get out there and practice."
So we walked out onto the pitch, to see seven red-and-gold-clad people already in the air. The Gryffindor team. The other Slytherins stood in front of me, concealing me from view, while still allowing me to see past them. The Gryffindor team captain flew down and all-but-crashed in front of us, yelling, "Flint! This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off, now!"
Flint just smirked, trying to look innocent ... and not doing too good a job of it, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood." he responded.
"But I booked the pitch! I booked it!" Wood whined, while his team began to land around him.
Flint took smugness to new levels, as he said, "Ah, but I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch pitch, owing to the need to train their new Seeker'." I hadn't been aware of any note. Nor, for that matter, had I known that Gryffindor had booked the pitch. And while we're talking about things I was unaware of - I was under the impression that I was already a damned good Seeker and didn't need special attention as far as training goes.
"You've got a new Seeker? Where?" Wood asked, seeming not to believe a word from Flint ... then again, I would tend to take everything Flint says with a pinch - no, a handful - of salt, too.
I stepped out, past Montague, so that the Gryffindors could all see me clearly. I was smirking anyway, but if I hadn't been, the looks on their faces would have fixed that. They were stunned ... mostly, "Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" one of the Weasley twins asked (I couldn't tell them apart if I'd wanted to).
I really hate when people ask me that. Hate it. Flint, on the other hand, "Funny you should mention Draco's father. Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team." he said. On that cue, we all held out the Nimbus 2001s, for the Loser-Lions to see. "Very latest model. Only came out last month." Flint said, neglecting to note that they only came out last month in America and wouldn't be available to buy here for another month or two. "I believe it outstrips the old 2000 series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps, sweeps the board with them." the Weasley twins (who had Cleansweep fives) both looked jealous as Hell, and not one of the Gryffindors could come up with a suitable comeback. After a full minute of receiving death-glares (if looks could kill ...), Flint spoke, "Oh, look. A pitch invasion."
I looked up to see Weasley and Hermione running towards us. They stopped next to the other Gryffindors, "What's happening? Why aren't you playing?" Weasley asked Potter, "And what's he doing here?" he added, glaring at me.
"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley. Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team." I said, watching with amusement as Weasley stared. "Good, aren't they? But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too." I suggested, with a smirk, "You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives, I expect a museum would bid for them."
That comment prompted fits of laughter from the rest of the Slytherin team and angry glares from the Gryffindors. Hermione was the one to talk back to me, "At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent."
I was surprised that she would be so harsh - I had thought I'd made it clear that I wasn't her enemy. And that was exactly the wrong thing to say to me, at the best of times, "No one asked your opinion." I snarled angrily, "You filthy little Mudblood."
Maybe that was overkill, but the Gryffindors' reactions were worth it. The Weasley twins both tried to jump me and only failed because Flint stepped in their way. One of the Gryffindor Chasers yelled at me, while Weasley produced the still-broken wand and pointed it at me, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy."
A flash of green light backfired from the broken wand, sending Weasley to the ground. That's gotta hurt. Hermione was at the Weasel's side in seconds, fussing over him. He sat up and promptly vomited slugs all over the place.
I literally fell over with laughter. I wasn't the only one, either - the whole Slytherin team were in hysterics. By the time I managed to stop laughing, Potter, Weasley and Hermione had gone. I picked myself up, still sniggering, and turned to look at the twins, "Is your brother a masochist, or just stupid?" I asked. They just glared at me.
"Can't practice without your whole team, Wood." Flint said, smirking, "And unless you want to suffer the wrath of Professor Snape, I suggest you leave now."
Wood told Flint to do something obscene with a gerbil, before leaving the pitch, followed by a very upset group of Gryffindors.
We spent the rest of the morning practicing. Flint really pushes the team hard - on average you'd be lucky to survive a practice session without getting hit by a Bludger at least twice and being knocked off your broom at least once ... I was lucky during that practice and only got hit with a Bludger once, staying on my broom the whole time. Speaking of brooms, I was amazed at how easy the Nimbus 2001 was to fly. It had an almost non-existent turning circle and speed that I'd never seen before - when I watched the rest of the team, they looked like a blur of green. And the reaction time was better, by far, than my old broom - almost instantaneous ... almost. I could pull off stunts I'd never managed (tried, but not succeeded) before, on the Comet 260. I also caught the Snitch five times in three hours - not bad at all, I thought.
"You need to work on that dive, Malfoy." Flint told me, as we returned to the Great Hall for lunch, "If you can get that perfected, you'll be able to run the enemy into the ground - Wronski Feint - you've heard of that, right?"
"No, duh. Of course I have." I snapped, "You think I'd try for the position, without knowing all there was to know about it first? What kind of Slytherin do you think I am?"
"One who acts like a spoilt brat," Flint replied, "And you could have fooled me, the way you were messing around out there. Show off. You need to concentrate more - if you miss the Snitch in favour of one of those stupid stunts, I'll have your head."
"I was just testing the new broom. Haven't been allowed to touch it till today." I said bitterly.
"Yeah, I believe that." Flint said sarcastically.
* * *
I had unearthed a specific book, bound in dark green leather, from my trunk - I wasn't sure if I'd remembered to bring it with me, but I obviously had - and taken it up to the Library, where I could get away from most of the other students.
I was just beginning to read it, when someone entered the otherwise deserted Library. I looked up to see Hermione stalk across the room and sit as far away from me as possible. I watched her for a moment and came to the conclusion that she was deliberately ignoring me. I didn't blame her, but she started it ... I know that sounds childish, but she did.
"I think we're the only people who ever use this place on a Saturday." I said, loud enough for her to hear me but not loud enough for Madam Pince to hear from her office.
Hermione continued to ignore me. I stood up and, taking my book with me, wandered over to her table.
"You do realise that I have a reputation to maintain?" I asked her, sitting opposite her, "And I was really only defending myself - you insulted me first."
"Go to Hell, Malfoy." she snapped, refusing to look at me.
"I'd rather not go back where I came from, thanks." I said, smirking. She looked up at me, just to check that I was joking.
"You have a strange idea of humour," she said coldly, before returning her attention to her homework.
"Yeah - I admit that." I said, still smirking, "But I deny the accusation that I don't have the talent to get on the Slytherin Quidditch team."
She looked up at me again, glaring, "Then where did those brooms come from?"
"Flint has a personal grudge against me." I said, watching her, "I went to the try-outs and beat the other Seeker-wannabies, but Flint didn't let me on. I admit that my position on the team was bought, but I had earned it and been unfairly denied it, before I resorted to bribery. It's in the Slytherin Code of Conduct - 'If fair means have failed you, it's time to resort to foul'. I was highly offended by what you said, and I couldn't think of anything worse to say to you without being guilty of slander."
She glared at me. "You, Draco Malfoy, are a self-centred, stuck-up prat who doesn't know when to shut up." she said, "You always find the worst way to behave in any situation. You can't accept when you're in the wrong, and you don't care about anyone's feelings but your own."
I took a few seconds to go over what she'd just said, before answering, "Yes. Yes. Probably yes. You really think so? Not always. And yes."
"Huh?"
"I responded to each accusation in the order you made them." I said, grinning at the confusion on her face, "I am self-centred. I am a stuck-up prat. I probably don't know when to shut up. You really think I always find the worst way to behave? … and by the way, I take that as a compliment. I can occasionally accept when I'm wrong. And I really do not care about anyone else's feelings, at all."
"You really are not a normal person," she said, staring at me in confusion, "No normal person can admit things like that."
"I don't just admit it. I take pride in it." I answered, "And I do admit that I was in the wrong earlier, but you DID start it - I just overreacted." I took a deep breath, before saying, "I'm ... sorry ... for calling you that. To be honest, I still use the word 'Mudblood' fairly often - it's shorter and takes less time to say than 'Muggle-born'."
"You use an insulting and degrading name to refer to people, just because it's shorter?"
"Yes." I said, smirking at her disapproval, "Will it help my case at all, if I remind you that I need to maintain my reputation? If I don't act like I hate Mudbloods, I'll get in a lot of trouble. And to be honest, you're the only one I like at all, anyway."
"I don't understand why you're so intent on staying friends with people who think differently from you."
"That's not who I'm afraid of." I said, "It's my father. If he ever heard that I so much as spoke to you without insulting you, I'd regret it, big time."
She gave me an odd look, before saying, "I forgive you. To the extent that I won't plot revenge on you, yet."
I grinned, "I thought you were supposed to be a Gryffindor?"
"Just because I'm brave and have a few morals, doesn't mean I can't come up with a cunning plan or two," she snapped.
"I was joking. You really need to learn how to tell when I'm being serious and when I'm not." I said, dropping my facade, and really smiling, "You will hear the word Mudblood from me a lot, in the future. Get used to it and don't take offence. If I want to insult you I can come up with something much more cutting than that."
"I'm sure you can." she said, looking at me in a way that said she still didn't trust me as far as she could throw me, "I just wonder why you have to be so ... confusing."
"I make an art of it." I said, still really smiling, "And besides, I'm a bit confused about what I want, too. I like the bad-boy image, but I'm not particularly interesting in genocide and bringing on the apocalypse. You can count on me when it's in my own best interest, but I'm not your ally. I'm like the anti-hero, but not the villain."
She shook her head in confusion, and changed the subject, "What's that book, there?"
"This?" I asked, holding it up for her to see, "Nothing you'd want to read. It's a Dark Arts book."
"You're admitting to reading a book about the Dark Arts?" she asked.
"What's wrong with learning Dark Arts?" I asked, "I don't intend to use it to harm anyone and there's no law against knowing things."
"What is it?" she persisted, looking intently at the book. I carefully covered the title, just to be safe.
"It's just something I thought I might find useful." I said evasively.
"Like?"
"Like none of your business." I snapped.
"Let me see."
"You are persistent, aren't you?" I asked irritably, "I'm not telling you what it's about."
"Please." she said plaintively.
"No." I snapped, "If I tell you, it'll put ideas in your head that you really don't want to have to worry about." She gave me a strange look, but I continued, "Some books can be dangerous, in the wrong hands - you ought to remember that. I've heard of books that burn your eyes out if you read them - I once met a book with a demon in it - and I know a witch who wrote what, at first glance, looks like a series of harmless children's books, but they turn their readers into crazed fanatics, unable to do anything except contemplate various alternate plotlines within a totally fictitious world, made all the worse for the fact that it was deliberately left unfinished. You need to be very careful with that sort of thing. This book is a one-of-a-kind, and it's pretty dangerous, if you don't know what you're doing with it."
She stared at me, "You brought a dangerous book to school, where anyone could get their hands on it?"
"I doubt I'm the only one." I said coldly, "Just leave me alone about it." and with that, I stood up and left, holding the book very tightly.
* * *
"Hey, Draco." Theo said, as he entered the dorm. I had chosen this as a place to read, because Hermione was in the Library, all three of the other boys had been out when I'd gotten back here and I wanted to be alone. "What'ya reading?"
"None of your business." I said, trying to concentrate on the text - it was very hard to follow and the last thing I needed was to be distracted now.
"Now I really want to know what it is." Theo said impertinently.
I gave up reading and looked up at him, "You know the Quickspell courses for Squibs?" a nod, "This works on the same magical principle, teaching the reader to use a gift they don't have."
"What gift?" Theo asked.
"I'm teaching myself something that counts very much as part of the Dark Arts." I said, trying to be cryptic.
"And that would be?"
"If I tell you what I'm learning, you'll think I'm up to no good."
"Tell." he said, "It's not like I don't know how deep into the Dark Arts your whole family are."
I smirked, "I'm trying to learn Parseltongue."
"How's that work?"
"This book is a one-of-a-kind - the only copy in existence. It has been in my family for generations. Father never bothered with it, but I think it could come in handy. I found it in Father's library when I was seven and I still haven't gotten around to reading it, yet. Problem is that it's bloody difficult to work and I need to be alone, otherwise I'll not get it right. It's a complicated spell, at the best - the book itself has to let me have the gift it's teaching and even then I'll have to consciously translate it, where a real Parselmouth would know it like their first language."
"So have you learned anything yet?" Theo asked, smirking.
I frowned, "Not really ... but when I finish the book, I'll be able to at least understand the language, even if I can't speak it properly."
"Cool. And totally evil. Isn't it illegal to learn Dark Arts, like that?"
"Yes." I answered, honestly.
* * *
End of chapter 5
