Chapter Twenty-four Jealousy
This chapter is quite different from all the ones so far because it is from a totally different perspective: that of Draco's. I thought it was about time to show how he really was, and how HE felt about the whole situation. Anyway it's slightly different but hopefully still interesting and fun! Hope this keeps you hooked until the very end… there are only four chapters left but there are still lots in store for you.
Disclaimer: I, of course, don't own anything mentioned in this story other than the plot, which is not extremely original and therefore could relate to anyone else's fanfiction or work. I do not intend to have a similar fic but it's going to happen when there are thousands. All of this is made by myself. Nothing is stolen.
Another little note: You may have noticed I put two chapters up at the same time: this and chapter 23. This was because I felt I needed to catch up after the site was down for a couple of days. And besides, I thought I needed to put up a few extra chappies! Enjoy ~x~x
Draco was annoyed. All that week he hadn't had one chance to speak to Hermione, not one! It had been the end-of-year exams, and every lesson was spent either sitting a test or revising for one, and any spare time out of school hours, Hermione spent revising in her Common Room. They only time he might be able to speak to her was at breakfast, but how could he go over there and speak to her properly with all the Gryffindors listening in?
The exams had just finished and every student in the school was taking a well deserved break; whether it was lounging on the grass outside licking ice lollies, taking a dip in the lake (some of the crazier kids), chatting earnestly in their common rooms or playing Quidditch on the pitch, everyone was busy.
That Saturday morning Draco was sitting in his favourite leather armchair in the Slytherin common room, the window nearby wide open and letting in the very slight breeze that whistled through the June air.
I wonder how I did in the exams, Draco thought idly.
They had been much later than usual this year because there had been some delay preparing for them, but now they were well and truly over. He shuddered to think of what his father would say if he had done badly, but tried to push it out of his mind. After all, what help would worrying be?
"An owl for you, Malfoy," Crabbe said from across the room. He was peering at the window, where a dark owl with yellow eyes was pecking frantically, eager to pass on the letter that was clutched from its pale talons.
"Well let it in then," Draco ordered to his best friend, who obediently bumbled to the window and slowly pulled it open. Dumb- but loyal, Draco thought to himself.
The owl flew over to him and immediately dropped the letter at its feet, which bore the family crest. Draco sighed. Another letter from his father. Would it be another note of disappointment?
He ripped it open with slightly trembling hands and opened the parchment, which was, as usual, written in rich black ink.
"Draco,
Having just received your letter I just have to write back and express my disapproval. How could you ask such a thing? Sometimes I do not think you realise how truly lucky you are. You live in an upper crust family, a pureblood family that dates back generations. We are expected to express love for only those of a similar stature, and haven't I told you before that the Dark Lord frowns upon such fraternisations? I am therefore ordering you to finish this, and now. I do not admit any kind of approval towards your supposed feelings. Draco, if this is not finished then remember the consequences. No longer will you have money, or a mansion, or the respect reserved for only the highest of families. You'll be no higher than a Mudblood yourself. This is an absolute disgrace and I am extremely disappointed in you. The Dark Lord was asking to admit you into his services on your seventeenth birthday, which is coming up. You don't want to disappoint him now, do you? I cannot explain more in case this is intercepted. But you know what will face you if things do not go my way. You have known me as a father sixteen years- and not once have I never got my own way. I don't like disobedience. Remember that.
Mr Lucius Malfoy"
Draco bit his lip, frowning intensely. Never had he experienced fatherly affection and this letter was just as cold, formal and unloving as usual, not that he expected anymore of Mr Lucius, the "family man". His father had reacted just like he had expected to, but things would be a hell of a lot worse if he didn't finish things with Hermione. They weren't exactly going out yet anyway, but his father was trying to quash his feelings before they'd even properly begun. With a burst of rage Draco ripped the paper into little pieces and emptied them out of the window, his heart pounding. He was going to do something that would REALLY piss him off.
No, not just piss him off. Make him angry, furious, outraged, scandalised, so angry that he would break off ties with his only son forever. Because that was what Draco wanted. To no longer have a family; to no longer have to answer to the cold, calculating shadow that lingered around him and affected everything in his life.
He did love his father underneath, but the pressure on him to be perfect was so unbelievably intense that Draco just couldn't stand it anymore. "What if I don't WANT to be a Death Eater? What if I don't want to serve the Dark Lord? What if I want- if I want HER!" Draco shouted out the words, his lungs bursting with the force.
Then, spinning round, he remembered Crabbe was in the room.
"What?" he asked slowly, his puny mind trying to process what his friend had just said.
"I'm leaving Crabbe," Malfoy snapped, "just shut up and be dumb. After all, that's what you're good at." Abruptly he marched out of the common room, pounding through the corridors until he was in the Entrance Hall, whereupon he stopped to catch his breath. But what was he going to do now?
"Excuse me," a timid first year asked. "Do you know where Professor Binns is?"
"Get out of my way," Draco said automatically, and looked the little boy up and down, smirking. "Where did you buy your robes, BadRags?" The little first year squeaked and ran away, which cheered up the Slytherin a little.
He always liked hurting others; it made him feel better… but now wasn't the time to tease. He'd better get back to thinking of an idea.
And then he had it. It was so simple! It would make his father furious… though Draco was feeling far too rebellious and resentful to care. And it would prove to Hermione how he really felt. But what would people say? For the first time he paused.
It would be strange to be unpopular after all these years, and he certainly wasn't going to go all soft and goodie goodie, like Potter. He shuddered at the thought; a "noble" boy with no brains and too many thoughts for others.
What's the good of others in this world? Look after number one. At least, that was he thought of it.
But did he care for nobody else? The only person he ever thought about was Hermione, though it had taken him long enough to realise it. The arrogance that hid his feelings was slowly falling away and before he knew it, he had fallen head over heels for her. He smiled at the thought of her touch…
Yes, this was worth it.
He headed outside for the sweltering sunshine and sat on the warm green grass, pulling out a piece of parchment and a quill from his bag, and slowly began to write. But what should he put?
His mind had gone strangely blank, and the heat didn't help; he pulled off his black t-shirt and squinted at the sun. He wouldn't be able to stay out too long; he'd burn in this heat.
I'd better hurry up and write this, he thought, and reluctantly put quill to parchment. But just as he was about to begin he was disturbed by-
"Pansy," he snapped. "Go away. I'm not in the mood right now."
"But Draco," she whined, sitting next to him on the grass and pawing him with her hands. "Draco honey, we need to talk."
"Get off me," he hissed, pushing her away. "I'm trying to write a letter and I don't need you distracting me!"
"Who are you writing to?" she demanded nosily. "Tell me!"
"My father," he answered lazily. "To ask for something."
"To ask for what?"
"Oh nothing… just for an approval of marriage."
Pansy's jaw dropped and her pug face transformed into a cheesy grin. "It's more than I ever dreamed of! Have you got me a ring yet? Oh it's going to be so wonderful Drakie… I love you!"
"Not for you, you silly bitch," he snapped angrily.
"So who is the lucky lady then?" she asked, her voice dripping with sickly sweet honey, but with a chill of resentment.
He looked across the grass and saw the love of his life sitting with her best friends, laughing and joking. He sighed at her sparkle, her smile, just her. Pansy watched him, her eyes alight with malice, and she knew exactly who he was looking at. She may have been simpering and a little ditzy, but even she wasn't that oblivious.
"Nobody you know," Draco said smoothly, and got to his feet. "Now I'm going to finish this letter in peace and send it to my father. It's lucky wizarding marriage laws are different to Muggle ones, because we're both under 18 and it looks like I'm not going to get parental permission." He sniggered bitterly. "So long being a Malfoy, it seems."
Pansy stared at Hermione, burning with rage and ill suppressed fury. When she had asked who it was, Malfoy had been looking straight at her. Her rival. Pansy had been hoping for some time now that she would be the next Malfoy bride, but now her chances had been badly damaged, and by a Mudblood no less! After all, she was the one that for six years had catered to his every whim and put up with some horrific abuse in return. If she wanted the money, honour and respect that would be inherited by becoming Malfoy's wife, then she would have to get rid of opponents. In this case: Hermione. Pansy wasn't going to give up without a fight...
