For I Am A Wicked Child
Horseface***CHAPTER NINE***
I am not who I amDraco watched Monika as she raised her hand to answer yet another question. They were in Dark Arts class and for once Draco was aware of the fact she was a fellow classmate. As she answered the question correctly, Professor Safford showered her with the appropriate platitudes before getting back to teaching the lesson. Draco smirked to himself as the girl beamed at the Professor's empty compliments. Monika actually was quite smart, just as Elisabet had said. Granted she'd said it while she was ridiculing her.
"Now everyone," said Professor Safford, diverting Draco's attention back to the class, "I want you to copy this down."
As the teacher began to write on the board, Monika smoothed down her piece of parchment, accidentally knocking her quill off the desk. As she bent down to pick it up, she unconsciously looked his way and met his gaze. Monika froze as her eyes connected with his. As the other students were jotting down the Professor's notes, the two of them continued to stare at each other silently until Draco abruptly turned away and dipped his quill in a pot of ink. Monika's cheeks turned bright red and she turned back to face the front. She avoided looking at him but out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Monika lean over again to grab her quill.
The rest of the lesson flew by, and soon enough Professor Safford dismissed his DA class. Like always, Draco left quickly and was walking to his next class when he ran into Gunnar.
"Hey Malfoy."
Draco was becoming less fond of people addressing him by his surname. Or maybe it was just Gunnar he wasn't so fond of…
"Eszes," he responded, almost spitefully. As if Eszes would notice.
A shrill shriek behind them caused the boys to turn and check out what was happening.
"Oh come on, give it back!!!" cried Monika. One of her friends was holding her book bag just out of reach, giggling as Monika tried to snatch it back.
"Uh uh. You have to promise to not study for once. Just hang out with us instead," said the other girl.
"Yeah! You work too hard!" added another girl.
Monika sighed and put her hands on her hips. The girl with the bag raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Well?"
Quick as a flash, Monika whipped out her wand and said, "Expelliarmus!"
The bag flew out of the girl's hands and as it sailed through the air, Monika reached out and grabbed it. Safely back in her possession, she slung it over her shoulders before looking at the other girls apologetically.
"I'm sorry, but I have to study," she said, "I've got a huge Transfig test in two days and I need to do well on this one.
"But you always do well!" cried one of her friends
"Yeah, because I study!" retorted Monika.
Her friends replied with a chorus of cynical fines and whatever's. Monika sighed, again.
"I'm sorry. But if my grades dropped, my father would have a fit."
"O-kaaay!!!" sighed the bag girl, "Geez, imagine what would happen if you ever skipped class."
Monika cringed at the thought and shook her head, trying to get rid of the mental image of her livid father. Bag girl couldn't help but laugh.
"Something bad's going to come out of all this studying you know," she said.
Monika rolled her eyes.
"What are you, a seer now?"
The girls turned to move and it was then that they finally noticed they had an audience. Both Draco and Gunnar were watching them, amused by their little display. At first they all stood frozen, before bag girl started giggling. Monika's face coloured and she quickly began to make her way down the corridor, in a desperate hurry to get out of there.
As they walked past, Draco was well aware that Monika was looking-but-not-looking at him, while her friends shared a few knowing glances between them. His face remained stoic while Gunnar gave the girls a sly grin. A couple of them giggled. They continued on their way, talking in hushed voices. They were most likely discussing the two boys and analysing what just happened, the way teenage girls do. Gunnar smirked and shook his head, then gestured with a nod to start walking. The two boys fell into step as they began to make their way to their next classes.
"So. Talked to Marconi?" asked Gunnar.
Draco stopped and glanced at him suspiciously. Had Marconi told Gunnar about their… discussion? Draco couldn't discern an answer from Gunnar's blank expression.
"All the time," replied Draco, being deliberately vague.
His evasiveness elicited a smile from Gunnar. A phony one, of course.
"Well, in any of your conversations, did he happen to mention that there's some big upcoming Quidditch event?"
"What, the finals?" sneered Draco.
For the last couple of practices, Marconi had been constantly grilling the team about the upcoming semi's and the finals. If Draco had to hear about it from Gunnar, he'd hex him and Marconi to the bottom of the damn lake.
Gunnar rolled his eyes, "Not that. There's something else."
Draco came to a halt and turned to face Gunnar. Something else? Marconi hadn't said a word. It must have slipped his mind during his self-righteous lecture to Draco. Gunnar dropped his voice to a low whisper.
"Supposedly, it's happening after Christmas holidays. And there are other…"
Gunnar was interrupted by Dimitar's acerbic voice behind them.
"And what, exactly are you two doing, hmm?"
The Professor looked at the pair critically.
"Certainly you aren't loitering in the hallway. Not when there are classes to attend."
"Wouldn't dream of it Professor," smiled Gunnar.
"Careful where you're throwing those accusations Professor," drawled Draco. Unlike Gunnar, he was far less eager to put up a front just to keep Dimitar calm. There would be consequences to pay for sure, but Draco was beginning to find the Professor less intimidating and much more amusing. Something that wasn't at all deliberate on Dimitar's part.
"Wouldn't want to slip and send them in the wrong direction?"
Draco's smirk was just begging to be slapped off. Dimitar sneered.
"Keep your advice to yourself Mr. Malfoy," he snapped, before changing his tone of voice to one much more scathing and adding, "Or perhaps dispense it to someone more in need of it. Your teammates on Cronus seem like they could use some help."
He looked at Gunnar pointedly.
"Considering who's leading the team."
Even if it was Durmstrang, for a Professor he sure was bitchy. The best thing you could say about him was that he wasn't biased when it came to dishing out his abuse. Everyone got their fair share.
"The only people who need help will be Iapetus after we slaughter them," said Gunnar, under his breath.
The Professor whipped his head towards Gunnar and glared at him.
"What was that, Mr Eszes?" he demanded.
"We're running late. Don't want to miss our lessons now," answered Gunnar, with a gracious smile.
Dimitar scowled.
"Of course."
Just as they began to walk away, the Professor called out to them.
"Oh, one more thing boys."
The two of them looked over their shoulders to see Dimitar with the corner of his upper lip curled, a warped version of a smile.
You've both got detention."
The boys' faces remained stoic, except for their eyes, which had considerably darkened. Dimitar was grinning.
"You'll be informed of when and where."
Draco gripped his wand tightly, but he made no move to extract it from his robes.
"I'll be looking forward to it," said Draco.
Dimitar chuckled.
"I'm sure we all are."
With a malicious grin, he turned and walked away. As Dimitar disappeared around a corner, Gunnar scoffed.
"Homo."
He grinned at Draco, who just nodded.
"Yeah," he said, before heading off by himself to his next class.
The rest of the day dragged on for Draco, as he forced himself to sit through his classes, which he found more tedious than usual. By the end of the last period, he wanted nothing more than to go to his room and lock the door, so he could be all by himself. But unfortunately, Quidditch practice would not allow it.
Growling, Draco brought his broom to a sharp stop. Even the frosty winds blowing around him weren't helping to cool him down. He'd never been particularly fond of practice, and that feeling was growing stronger and stronger. He wanted to be alone, yet he wasn't. He was also obligated to attend and based on that fact Draco almost didn't show, since he hated being forced into anything. But he'd turned up. And now, he was surrounded by seven other people, outside on a bleak wintry day. Not to mention he was also eighty feet up in the air.
"A bit tense there, Malfoy?"
Draco eyed Gunnar, who was hovering beside him.
"What's that?" he asked, touchily.
Gunnar didn't seem to be affected at all by Draco's attitude.
"You're flying differently."
It was true. Usually Draco flew very smoothly and precisely, as though every turn of his broom had been calculated carefully. But at the moment, he was zooming all over the place carelessly and his movements were much more jarring. He didn't appreciate Gunnar pointing it out though.
"Oh, can't the keeper keep up?" said Draco with false sympathy.
Gunnar eyes narrowed slightly, and Draco felt slightly better that he'd managed to annoy him. Their stare down was interrupted by Marconi, who barked at them from below.
"AGAIN!!!!"
The two of them instantly urged their brooms into flight. Draco raced to the other side of the pitch, before stopping violently as he reached the other end. Gunnar arrived at the same time, but much more effortlessly. He smiled smugly, which didn't improve Draco's mood in the slightest.
"You were saying, Malfoy?"
Draco glared, before remembering he actually did want to ask him something.
"What did you want to tell me earlier?"
Unexpectedly, Gunnar's face lit up at the question.
"There's a Quidditch competition coming up. It's big."
Draco stared at him skeptically.
"How big?"
"Eight teams from eight different schools. Durmstrang's one."
Even though he was still a bit wound up, Draco found this very distracting. He was going to say something else, until he heard Marconi screaming at him.
"AGAIN!!!"
The two of them sped across to the other side, and the second he stopped moving Draco asked, "Where?"
"It's going to be held in Italy," replied Gunnar, "Rome specifically."
"When?"
Gunnar shrugged, "Soon I guess."
"Soon?" asked Draco, expecting more of an answer.
"Soon," repeated Gunnar.
Draco nodded, as he began to digest the information. This sort of explained why Marconi had become so rabid all of a sudden, and why Dimitar was acting so vicious. A thought suddenly occurred to Draco. Considering Durmstrang had four Quidditch teams, exactly, who was going to Italy? It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Gunnar, before Gunnar countered with a question of his own.
"So… Monika hmm?"
Draco never saw that one coming.
"What?" he asked, taken aback.
"AGAIN!! BUT FASTER!!!!" roared Marconi.
Draco raced to the other side, before bringing his broom to a standstill.
"What about Monika?" he asked Gunnar suspiciously. Gunnar clucked his tongue.
"I've just heard talk."
Talk. Draco's mood worsened again.
"What kind of talk?"
"Just…Talk talk," answered Gunnar.
"Talk talk," mocked Draco, using a falsetto voice. He rolled his eyes. Marconi hollered up at them for the fifteenth time and the two of them rushed to the opposite end of the pitch. As Draco hovered on his broom, he tried to steady his rising blood pressure. Unfortunately, that idea was thrown at the window due to Gunnar's next remark.
"Never would've guessed you liked that type, Malfoy."
Draco cursed himself for forgetting to bring his wand to practise.
"Still," said Gunnar lazily, as he stretched his arms over his head, "She's not a complete dog. I would've had a go if she wasn't a mudblood."
Draco stared at Gunnar, disgust etched on his features.
"Halfblood," he corrected.
"Eh," said Gunnar, shrugging it off.
Draco stared at him disapprovingly. Suddenly his expression softened as a wave of curiosity washed over him. Interested in what Gunnar's reaction would be, Draco asked, "But since she's a… mudblood… you wouldn't…"
Gunnar looked appalled.
"That's a sick suggestion Malfoy."
It would be universally impossible for Draco to be any less surprised. Suddenly what Marconi told him yesterday didn't seem so nonsensical.
"AGAIN!!!" screamed the Professor.
Gunnar instantaneously shot off on his broom. Draco, however remained where he was, deep in thought.
"MALFOY!!!" barked Marconi, "MOVE IT!!!"
"Yeah yeah," sneered Draco, before urging his broom into flight.
When Quidditch practice finally ended, Draco finally managed to get to his room where he could relax and be by himself, which was a very good thing considering he was feeling rather hostile. It had been a long day and he was exhausted from having to deal with everything. As he lay down on his bed, he slowly began to nod off and by the time he awoke, night had long since fallen.
He arrived at the hall for dinner almost an hour late, but no one questioned him about it as he took his place at the table. He was fairly quiet as he ate, only joining in with everyone when they all laughed at Ivan for spilling his drink on himself and then falling out of his chair. Despite the fact he'd turned up so late, Draco managed to finish dinner before everyone else and left the group early. As he was leaving the hall, he spotted Dimitar sneering at him across from the hall. Draco was too busy shooting his own glare back at the Professor that he didn't notice someone else was heading towards the doorway.
"Oof!" said Monika, as she collided into Draco.
Her eyes widened as she realised who she'd bumped into.
"Oh! Um…sorry," she said, looking everywhere except at him.
Neither of them moved for a second, until Monika sighed. Keeping her blushing head down, she spun on her heel and began to walk away. Draco glanced down at his arm, where they'd accidentally come into contact with each other. As he continued to look down at his robes, he called out to her.
"I got your letter."
Monika froze in her tracks. For a second she remained completely still, before slowly turning around and looking at his face. She stared at him for a while, studying his expression. But his face was stoic and unreadable. Resigned, she broke her gaze.
"And?"
"And… you don't know me at all," replied Draco.
Monika didn't know what to say. She expected an answer like that, but the way he said it threw her off guard. It didn't seem mocking; he was simply stating the truth. Flustered, she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind, regretting it even as the words were still halfway out of her mouth.
"Well… do you?"
"…Only too well," replied Draco.
Monika's face furrowed in confusion. Had his voice sounded… softer or was that her imagination? She couldn't tell, so she didn't question him about it. Then again, that might've only been due to the fact Nikolas suddenly appeared.
"Hello Draco…" he said, his voice fading as he caught sight of Monika. She offered a smile, but Nikolas only stared at her. Quickly casting a sideways glance at Draco, who was watching him carefully, he looked towards the staircase. Although he was avoiding looking at her, his face showed the smallest hint of guilt. Monika shut her eyes and took a deep breath. She turned to go and as he watched her walk away, Draco asked Nikolas, "Something on your mind?"
Nikolas drew his mouth into a thin line and tilted his head towards Draco. His eyes were harder than usual.
"Nothing I want to share."
Suddenly, he stalked past Draco, heading in the opposite direction that Monika had gone. Draco called out to Nikolas' retreating figure, not bothering to disguise his sarcasm.
"Oh no. Was it something I said?"
Nikolas still carried his reservations the next morning at Breakfast. He avoided Draco's gaze as Monika walked past the table, staring intently at his plate instead. Then all of a sudden, Nikolas sat straight up looking bewildered.
"What's going on?" he asked looking at his suddenly empty plate.
Suddenly the food vanished off everyone's plates, even if they weren't done eating yet. All at once, the hall was filled with startled cries.
"Hey! What's going on here?!" yelled Ivan. Pulling out his wand, he tapped the tip of it against his plate.
"Accio food!"
Nearly everyone at the table cringed at Ivan's feeble spell. But to their surprise, the plate started trembling and was surrounded by a faint light. Ivan grinned, eagerly anticipating the rest of his breakfast. His smile was wiped clear off when his plate flew off the table and hit him square in the face. The whole table simultaneously cracked up.
"SHUTUP!!!" yelled Ivan, rubbing his red face with the side of his arm. He huffed angrily.
"Wait 'till my family find out about this!!"
"Oh, I'm sure they can hardly wait," said Elisabet dryly, causing even more sniggering. However, the sudden sound of Vertov's stern voice caused everyone to momentarily forget about Ivan and their absent breakfasts.
"SILENCE."
The room was so quiet that if a pin had dropped, the sound would've echoed.
"I have just received notice that early next term, the Ministry of Magic will be paying a visit to the school. As you are all aware, the Christmas holidays are coming up so I suggest that instead of idly wasting your days as per normal, you all use that time wisely to get your act together. Otherwise your return to school will NOT be welcomed."
Nearly half of the student body swallowed nervously.
"Secondly… those who play Quidditch will be interested to know that Durmstrang will be participating in the first ever Interschool Quidditch Challenge."
Draco glanced at Gunnar, who couldn't look more pleased with himself.
"It takes place in the fourth week of the next term and it is being held in Rome. Unfortunately, only one team from this school can attend."
Vertov paused for a moment, before saying, "So to be fair, it's been decided that whoever wins the Quidditch final will be the team to go."
Draco and the rest of Cronus turned to glare at the members of Iapetus, who were shooting their own scowls back at them. Jordan and Gunnar were directing hostile glares at each other. The two teams had yet to meet, due to the fact that their match had been cancelled. The weather had been unbelievably fierce that day; the winds were almost blowing the stands over and the sleet had been so bad that it had managed to create dents in the metal. The rules unfortunately prevented them from using any magic to alter the weather, but when they had attempted to play the game, the Quaffle had been immediately swept away on a strong gust of wind and one of the beater's accidentally let go of his club, which then went on to almost behead the referee.
In the end, the match had been called off and declared a tie. Neither team was particularly pleased about it, but then again neither were Hyperion and Crius. Despite their anger, not a single complaint was declared, due to the fact they didn't want to have to play a vengeful Iapetus or Cronus. The showdown between Durmstrang's top two Quidditch teams, however, was becoming more and more inevitable. And by a strange twist of fate, it seemed that they were set to meet in the finals.
And now, the news of the tournament just took it to another level.
Across the hall, Jordan drew his finger across his neck, as though he were slitting it, with his eyes never leaving Gunnar's.
Gunnar smirked, and imitated Jordan's actions before adding one of his own. Draco had to admit that the expression on Jordan's face at seeing Gunnar's middle finger directed right at him, was priceless. Jordan huffed before turning back to the front. The rest of Iapetus sent one final glare at Draco's snickering table before facing the front on the hall, where Vertov was still speaking.
"There will be more details next term, when the team has been decided. All in all," said the Headmaster grinning toothily, "It should make for one spectacular final."
He clapped his hands once and the food reappeared as though nothing had happened. As everyone began to finish off the rest of their breakfast, Draco couldn't help but think just how right Vertov was.
After that particularly eventful meal, Draco headed up the staircase to his next class. Waiting at the top of the stairs was Elisabet, leaning against the banister. She motioned for Draco to come over and as he approached her, he gave her the once over.
"How did you get up here so suddenly?"
Elisabet shrugged.
"I move fast."
Then, as though she were proving her point, her hand whipped out and she grabbed him by the wrist. Draco was suddenly yanked forward as Elisabet dragged him away from the main staircase and down the corridor into the nearest classroom. Once inside, she shut the door behind them and let go of his wrist. Elisabet's behaviour had been completely unexpected by Draco, but now that he had control of all of his limbs again he took the opportunity to regain his composure. Glancing around the empty classroom, he smirked and said teasingly, "I hardly think the faculty would be pleased to find out if we were using this room for anything other than class activities."
"Even though you're very talented at it, I'd prefer if you didn't flatter yourself Malfoy," retorted Elisabet.
Taking a seat on a nearby desk, she leaned back on her arms, using them to support her weight. Draco wondered what exactly the girl was up to.
"So is Gunnar aware that you drag unsuspecting boys into empty classrooms?" he asked, folding his arms as he continued to taunt her, "Or is it another thing you keep from him?"
Elisabet stared at him carefully, her head tilted to one side.
"Well, we do have to be careful who we associate ourselves with. Don't you think?"
He didn't have to ask whom she was referring to. Draco was almost impressed that Monika had managed to survive at Durmstrang for so long, with so many people against her. Elisabet had a haughty look on her face and her eyes showed an amused disappointment, almost as though they were saying, "I can't believe you Draco. Honestly."
Draco raised his eyebrows, shrugging off Elisabet's comment. In turn, she let out a short cynical laugh at Draco's lack of reaction.
"Oh Malfoy… Do you know what you're doing?"
"Do you know that you're boring me?" mocked Draco. Elisabet just smiled sarcastically. With his patience running thin, Draco straightened up.
"I'm late for class," he announced.
With a disgruntled sigh, Elisabet rolled her eyes before taking her wand out. Flippantly, she recited a summoning spell and shortly afterwards, a small note pad and quill appeared. Sitting at the top of the paper was the school's insignia.
"What's that?" asked Draco.
"A little something Damek gave me," replied Elisabet, the corner of her mouth slyly upturned, "That boy is just wonderfully resourceful."
Placing the pad beside her on the desk, Elisabet lightly took hold of the quill and pressed the nib against the parchment.
"Nota Bene,"
She let go of the quill, and it magically remained perfectly upright. Rolling her neck to relax, Elisabet began to dictate and the quill copied it down.
"To Whom It May Concern,
Please excuse Draco for his lateness. He was unavoidably detained after Breakfast, through no fault of his own, resulting in his delay.
Regards,
Professor LeCher."
"Professor who?" asked Draco, just as the quill stopped scratching against the paper.
"Divination teacher," said Elisabet.
Draco scoffed, "No-one's going to believe I would ever take THAT subject."
Elisabet glared at him, "Then… just say that she stopped you in the hall because she had a premonition. Make something up. Lie if you have to."
She tore the note from the pad, before walking over to him and slapping it against his chest. Reflexively, Draco placed his hand over hers. The two of them stood there, watching each other fixedly. Elisabet was the first to break away, briefly closing her eyes. When she opened them again, they glinted scathingly at him.
"I'm sure you know how to do that."
She moved away, sliding her hand out from under his. Draco didn't move, until he heard the sound of the door close behind him as Elisabet left. His features began to form the beginnings of a scowl, irritated at Elisabet for questioning him like that. And even more irritating was the way she was getting to him. Again.
It was pathetic. And Draco wasn't having it.
He straightened his expression out and took a deep breath.
He glanced down and noticed he was still holding Elisabet's forged note against his chest. Taking a better look at it, he had to admit it was very good work, even by magical standards. Remembering what it was actually for, Draco smirked wondering how late he was for his next class, Apparition. Suddenly, he recalled Damek was in the same class.
"That boy is just wonderfully resourceful."
Draco looked at the note with newfound interest, and for the first time in a while, the beginnings of a scheme began to form in Draco's head. Folding the note in half, Draco grinned maliciously. Turning on his heel, he exited the room quickly. He had a class to get to.
AN- Oh man. It's finally up. It's kinda crap, considering how long it took. And it's subject to change depending on how the next chapter turns out.
But it's up!
Thank you so much for your support. It's made me feel extremely… guilty. Quite honestly, I lost interest in the story and I forgot about the readers!!! O_o
But all the reviews really helped out a lot and I'm going to keep slogging on until it's finished.
Special thank you to Caprrigrrl Lannoire who actually drew fan art for this little story. What a legend!