For I Am A Wicked Child

Horseface

***CHAPTER EIGHT***

This Bad Begins And Worse Remains Behind

Draco stared at Elisabet skeptically.

"A half blood. At Durmstrang?"

Elisabet nodded as she began to gather the runes back into the bag.

"Sick, isn't it?"

"To say the least," replied Draco. Sneering, he said, "How did she get into this school anyway?"

Elisabet placed the last rune into the bag and tied it up again. Throwing the bag to one side, she turned towards Draco and said, "It's a long story and I'm really tired. I'll tell you later."

As she began to get up, Draco yanked her back down to the floor.

"No, tell me now," said Draco. He smirked and said, "Unless of course, you're really that eager to get back to your boyfriend. Then of course this can all wait."

Elisabet's jaw tightened. 

"Fine."

Standing up she went over and moved to the couch. Gesturing for Draco to do the same she said, "This takes a while. Get comfortable."

Draco took a seat beside her and propped his feet up on the table. "Go."

"Monika's father," began Elisabet, "As I said before, is a very wealthy man. But, about… 20 years ago, he was just middle class, but he was a pure blood. Around that time, he fell in love with some muggle woman. They get married and for a while they're very happy rah, rah, rah. Unfortunately,"

Elisabet put on a false sympathetic pout,

"She died giving childbirth. Guess who the brat she gave birth to was?"

Draco smirked.

"The half blood wonder," he said derisively. Elisabet nodded and continued with her story.

"So the years pass and the father remarries, to a pureblood this time. Little Moni grows up and soon it's time for her to go to a school of magic. But where to put her?" said Elisabet, with her head resting on her hand and her index finger tapping on the side of her jaw, in mock query.

"Hogwarts and Beauxbatons seem like a good idea. Yet they're just so far away from home."

Elisabet scoffed, "She probably can't speak English or French anyway. So… the only place to put her is, Durmstrang. But wait! Durmstrang doesn't look kindly on half bloods. So to get her into the school, the father claims the new mother is really her biological one and with his money to act as a persuading device, the half blood gets in. End of story."

Draco's face was contorted into a grimace as he absorbed Elisabet's information. Suddenly he began to laugh maliciously.

"I knew there was something I didn't like about her!"

Elisabet couldn't help grinning as well. Draco's sniggering eventually faded but he still had a smirk on his face.

"So how do you know all this?" asked Draco.

Elisabet brought her legs underneath her and began to examine her nails, "It got around a couple of years ago. I think Damek, strangely enough, was the first to know."

Draco stretched out his arms, before placing them behind his head.

"So she's a half blood and new money," he said disdainfully.

Elisabet smirked, "And don't forget her little infatuation with you."

Draco sneered in disgust. A thought suddenly occurred to him and he said, "So all things considering, why's Nikolas so sympathetic towards her?"

Elisabet scrunched up her nose, shaking her head, "No idea. That boy acts like he's going for saint of the year."

The first day of school when Nikolas had immediately accepted Draco flickered in Draco's mind for a second. He was about to agree with Elisabet's statement when Gunnar reappeared from the dorms. He wasn't wearing a shirt.

"Hey," he said to Elisabet, as he stood on the other side of the coffee table, "Planning on…"

He stopped in mid sentence as he caught sight of Draco. Gunnar smirked.

"…Going to sleep anytime soon?"

Elisabet nodded, her face stoic.

"Yeah. Soon."

"O-kay," said Gunnar. He looked over at Draco and waved.

"Night Malfoy."

"Right," replied Draco.

As soon as Gunnar left, Draco said, "Oh, I definitely felt the love in that little exchange. Wow, it's as if you two are soul mates."

"Shut up Malfoy," said Elisabet quietly.

"Well it's your own fault," retorted Draco smugly.

Elisabet stared at him and Draco saw that the unapproachable air she always carried was back in place.

"I do what I want to do. Or I do what I have to," said Elisabet. She paused before saying, "You of all people should understand that."

Draco knitted his brows together, slightly perplexed at what she thought. As Elisabet stood up and began to walk back to her dorm, her swinging blonde hair vaguely reminded him of Pansy. Elisabet's words suddenly had new meaning as he thought of the blonde back in England. Their relationship had started because Draco had been forced to start it. By his father. He looked back up to see Elisabet, but she had already disappeared. Draco stood up and grabbed his broom. Opening the window, he partially stepped outside and was soon flying back towards his dorm.

By the next morning, the Druden had all been rounded up and Vertov was still out for blood. Other than Dimitar's suspicion of Draco, none of the teachers had any clue whom to pinpoint it on. Draco had to admit that Damek wasn't completely hopeless when it counted. Eventually, the teachers seemed to forget about what had happened as time continued to move forward, except Professor Vertov who was still incensed that he couldn't find the guilty party. The chances of that were unlikely anyway, since the Christmas holidays were coming up.

One morning, about five weeks away from school break Draco received two letters from England. One was sent by his father, briefly telling him that they were to be spending Christmas at the manor and the other was from Pansy. It was mainly her griping and whining about Hogwarts and asking why he hadn't replied to her last four letters, but she'd also written to tell him that she would be spending Christmas in England and she'd promised to come by his house, knowing he'd be there. Deciding the best way to get her off his back was to comply with her numerous requests for a reply, he penned a letter quickly up in his room.

Pansy,

       In answer to your question, I've been too busy to write to you. Being seeker for the best team at Durmstrang takes up a lot of my time, not to mention the subjects here are a lot more advanced than at Hogwarts. I'm sure can forgive me. I'll be going back to England for the Christmas holidays. I'm sure you can't wait to see me.

Draco

After sealing the envelope with wax, Draco began to make his way to Durmstrang's owlery. Using the link from the boys' dorms to the school, he began to make his way to the top floor. It only took him five minutes before his owl was flying off towards England. As he stepped out of the Owlery's entrance, he quickly ducked back in as he saw Professor Dimitar walking towards the dorm link. Draco didn't particularly feel like a confrontation with the Deatheater, so he decided to take the link on the floor below. As he walked down the staircase and began to make his way down the corridor, Monika suddenly appeared from a nearby classroom.

"Draco!" she said, apparently flustered.

Looking at her scornfully, Draco didn't say a word. She was bad enough without being a half blood as well. He began to walk towards the link again, before he heard Monika curse and start to follow him.

"Draco… wait. Please Draco,"

 Monika's pleas only served to make Draco walk faster. Just as he reached the door of the link, Monika stepped in front, blocking his path. Draco took a step back, while Monika stumbled with something to say.

"Draco…I…what I said on the stairs was… REALLY embarrassing. For both of us," she blushed.

Draco rolled his eyes and looked back down the hallway, wondering if it was worth the bother to go to another level and use that link, when he could just shove this girl out of the way. He looked back at her, where she was still talking.

"… And then you were in my dorm, which didn't go well either… but, that's not the point."

Monika took a deep breath, and with an expression of complete seriousness, she said, "What I said, was probably quite a surprise. I mean, my friends think I'm insane, but how I feel… inside… "

She looked up at him earnestly.

"It's real."

Draco still didn't say anything. Not knowing what to do, Monika tried to explain, "I know I don't know you very well. I haven't really had the chance to say anything to you either, since I don't see you alone very often. Plus sometimes… you seem kind of... unapproachable. But… I…it's just…"

Monika lowered her eyes as she struggled to find the right words. Draco looked down his nose at her, grudgingly curious about what she had to say.

"Just what."

Monika shook her head resignedly, unable to answer him. Draco rolled his eyes and huffed irately, annoyed that she had wasted his time. He was about to make one of his signature snide comments, when the two of them were interrupted.

"Mr Malfoy."

Professor Marconi was standing a few feet away.

"A word?"

Draco nodded and as he followed Professor Marconi, he could feel Monika watching him as he walked away.

       Draco and Professor Marconi made their way down the hall, before coming up to an old wooden door. Draco followed the teacher inside the room, which turned out to be another office. Papers were scattered all over the desk and there were a couple of paintings hanging on the wall. Draco surveyed the room incredulously.

"It's a bit plain for an Illusionary Magic teacher isn't it? I've heard that teacher's are undervalued but this is a bit much."

"It's not my office," said Marconi frankly.

"Really?" asked Draco, suddenly finding the environment a lot more interesting.

"Sit down," directed Marconi as he parked himself behind the desk, which didn't belong to him.

Draco took a seat, wondering what the Professor was up to. He recalled the last time he'd been in Professor Dimitar's office, where threats had been made and sanity had been lost. Draco was hoping that his second visit to a teacher's office would turn out slightly better. However Marconi's next question did nothing to calm those fears.

"How's your father Draco?"

"He's well," replied Draco suspiciously. He wondered what the Professor was really getting at.

"That's good," said Marconi, "What were you talking to Monika about?"

"Nothing," said Draco, mentally adding, "Nothing that I wanted to know."

Professor Marconi nodded slowly, as if deep in thought.

"You don't like her, do you?"

Draco remained silent. Despite the fact he was right, it was not his business to ask. Noting Draco's unwillingness to answer Marconi continued.

"You had that look on your face.  Contempt, hatred and superiority rolled into one. It must be genetic, for I've seen it on your father's face."

'Another reference to father,' noted Draco. He sneered disdainfully at the Professor.

"A little too interested in the antics of students aren't you?"

Marconi ignored Draco's attempt to digress from the topic.

"If you dislike the girl Draco, at least do it for decent reasons."

Draco eyed the Professor suspiciously.

"What's your point Professor?"

Professor Marconi looked at him pointedly.

"Are you asking me to insult your intelligence by answering that question for you?"

Draco's eyebrows rose as he smirked at the man's audacity. Professor Marconi leaned towards Draco, his voice becoming quieter.

"I'm fully aware of who your friends are, and who their parents are. As well as yours."

Waving his hand in the air, Draco asked, "Specifically…you're referring to…"

"This prejudice against anyone who isn't pureblood," replied Marconi.

For a second the room was completely silent before Draco started to laugh.

"Oh you've got to be kidding."

Professor Marconi sat and it was only when Draco caught sight of Marconi's humorless expression that he regained his composure.

"So…this is why you called me into someone else's office? To discuss social issues and personal morality?"

Draco shook his head amusedly. Catching the Professor's stern expression Draco rolled his eyes.

"Oh come on," said Draco incredulously, "You teach at Durmstrang and you're trying to sell me the benefits of integration with them? Not to mention, how you kicked out a student out of your class on the first day of school. For no good reason. Forgive me for failing to take you seriously."

"That boy is an idiot. I taught him two years ago and he can't distinguish the top end of his wand from the bottom. I was doing him a favour."

Draco let out a disbelieving laugh, causing Marconi's eyebrows to knit together.

"There is no way he would have done well in Illusionary Magic. He's much better off in another class."

"Oh, I'm sure he is," drawled Draco, grinning snidely.

The Professor paused, knowing he wasn't anywhere near convincing Draco. His scowl began to dissolve into an expression of consideration. Slowly, he reclined into his chair and watched Draco, tapping the side of his jaw with one finger.

"Perhaps you're onto something Draco. Maybe I'm wrong about this."

Draco's expression told the Professor that he thought so too. Marconi nodded thoughtfully.

"Pure blood, Half blood, mud blood. It makes hate so much easier when everyone's categorized."

Marconi looked bluntly at Draco.

"For people who are too stupid to think for themselves."

Marconi shook his head in mock sympathy, "How you can't see through this is beyond me."

Draco stilled as he suddenly thought of Hogwarts. Slytherins were all purebloods, but none of them had struck Draco as anything particularly special. He remembered Weasley and Longbottom, who were also from a wizarding family but were completely useless at everything. The Professor had a point, and deep down Draco knew that. He just didn't care. Draco shook his head; disappointed that he was hearing this speech from the one Professor he actually liked.

"Goodbye Professor," he said, as he stood up to leave.

Professor Marconi reclined into the back of his chair as Draco turned to go.

"And I thought you were much better than all those Deatheaters," he said flippantly.

Draco paused. Rolling his head back toward the ceiling, he sighed and said, "I can't believe you're trying to feed me this sentimental unity crap."

Very unexpectedly, Marconi laughed at Draco's suggestion.

"Hardly. I'm not telling you to love the world, Draco. Believe me, I'm the last person to start telling you that."

Draco stared at the Professor skeptically, "That's the only thing you've been doing for the past half hour."

Marconi clucked his tongue, "You really have no concept of what I'm saying do you?"

"I don't think you do either," said Draco.

Marconi brought his hands together and rested his chin upon them as he began to talk.

"Draco, it's not about what's right and wrong, it's about what's smart. If you don't think for yourself, you'll become another mindless drone, acting on behalf of someone else's insanity."

He paused before adding, "Unless that's what you want, Malfoy."

Professor Marconi smirked.

"To really be your father's son."

Draco's scowl deepened as Marconi mentioned his father again. It seemed everyone at Durmstrang spoke of Lucius as though he was an insult.

"What would a school teacher like you know about my father?" spat Draco.

Professor Marconi chuckled.

"I've met your father on occasion," said Marconi, "And I know him well enough to see the reasoning behind Professor Dimitar's madness."

"Yet I still have yet to figure out the logic behind yours," retorted Draco, directing a glare at the Professor as he got up and left.

       Students parted as Draco stormed down the hallway on his way back to the dormitory. To say he was upset was a joke. Marconi had really pissed him off, trying to feed Draco his pretensions about how hating mudbloods was pointless. The way he'd had spoken, knowing that what he was saying was actually getting to Draco. And what was with that stuff about his father? Marconi was just another nobody compared to Lucius. Draco's father was one of the richest, powerful and revered wizards he knew. And with his father's connections Draco had met a lot of them. Lucius Malfoy was one of the most important people in Draco's life. One of few that Draco respected. So how come… when it came down to it… Draco didn't want to be like him?

Shoving that feeling of ringing truth aside as he climbed the stairs to the 6th year level, Draco shoved the door to the dorm wide open, only to find it empty. Taking a seat in one of the common room chairs, Draco shut his eyes and brought a hand to his forehead. Draco sat quietly, wishing for a few minutes of solitude, when Nikolas appeared, dashing his hopes.

"Hey, where is everybody?" asked Nikolas.

"Don't know, don't care," snapped Draco.
As Nikolas held up his hands to show he was backing off, Elisabet entered the room. Her long robes trailed gently behind her as she walked purposely towards Draco. Placing both her hands on the armrests to either side of him Elisabet leaned down, looking directly into Draco's eyes.

"She's been moping all afternoon and now she's gone and locked herself up in her room, terribly upset over something. And no one knows what," said Elisabet. She grinned.

"So naturally, I figure that you're involved."

Nikolas eyed both of them questioningly. "Are you talking about Monika?" he asked, a thread of concern discernible in his voice. Neither of them replied. Nikolas sighed in disgust.

"Would you two just leave her alone?" he cried, shaking his hands in the air.

The two of them continued to act as if he didn't exist. Elisabet shook her head at Draco, smiling at the same time.

"You're terrible."

Draco smirked. Nikolas kept on ranting, and Draco and Elisabet continued to ignore him, when one of the windows suddenly flew open and a beautiful Masked owl flew in. Circling once around the room, it came to rest on the chair next to Draco while a letter gently floated down to settle on Draco's lap.

Elisabet regarded the bird suspiciously.

"I know this owl," she said, as she tried to recall who the owner was.

Draco had already broken the letter's light purple seal and was skimming over the first few lines of the letter. Nikolas scoffed at Elisabet's comment, before giving the bird a gentle pat, "Of course you do. It's…"

"Monika's," finished Draco.

Draco,

If you're reading this, don't throw it away. At least wait until you've finished.

Everyone I know is telling me it's pointless to like you. That I have no chance whatsoever with you. That you can't be touched. But I can't shake this feeling that maybe there's more to you than people say. Somewhere beneath the aloof image you project, there's something more tangible. And I think if someone looked hard enough, they might find it. Or maybe I'm just blind.

I know you don't like me. I'd have to be dead not to notice. But I can't change how I feel. It's not a choice for me. I mean honestly, who would like someone that didn't even want to know them?

I don't know why I'm telling you. Why I bother setting myself up to fall again and again and again. I don't want to. But it's something I have to do. Because it hurts to stay silent.

Monika

Draco placed the letter down on the armchair rest beside him. The only sound was the ruffle of feathers as Nikolas stroked Monika's owl, while watching Draco anxiously. Elisabet, who had been reading over Draco's shoulder, took a seat on the other armchair. Staring straight ahead, she asked, "What are you going to do now, lover boy?"

Draco's head was swimming. There were a million things running through his head at the moment; the conversation with Marconi, flashes of his childhood with his father rearing him to be a perfect pureblood, memories of Hogwarts and Slytherin house, the prospect of becoming a Deatheater and the fact he was caught in the middle of it. Everyone was controlling his life except him.

And Draco was tired of it.

Glancing up at Elisabet, he replied, "What I have to."

N.B For once I have a decent reason as to why I delayed the posting of this chapter. I've actually been working on this consistently but it was extremely difficult to write as I kept having second thoughts and then third thoughts as to where to go with the story. Without giving away anything, the upcoming chapters are bound to disappoint, perhaps… dare I say… piss the hell out of some people, but there's more Draco insight as well as development for other characters.

And ArTeMiS… I wasn't serious about the slash comment. :)