The Family Name
By Elbereth in April
A/N: There are a few spoilers in this chapter for the Artemis Fowl books (although mostly in my 2nd author's note at the end)
Chapter 24
"That was the stupidest class I've ever been in," Chevalier complained. "I'm annoyed that I was forced to participate in it."
"IF Lockhart brags about his daring exploits--for more details see my published works--one more time. . ."
"I say that now, while Snape's all mellow, we persuade him to poison Lockie."
"And I've been winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award five times in a row," Malfoy imitated his voice and flounce of the head so successfully that the whole class dissolved into laughter. Even Artemis smiled.
"You're lucky he's gone to his office!" Pansy scolded. "You'd be in trouble if he heard you!"
"You remembered my favorite color is lilac, Miss Parkinson! Ten points to Slytherin!" Draco teased her.
Pansy blinked. "His favorite color *is* lilac. You remembered, too." Then she lowered her eyelashes and purred, "Draco, do *you* have a *thing* for our professor?"
"Does he remember Lockart's shoe size, as well? That's the true telling point." Bulstrode pulled on the sleeve of Draco's robes, grinning.
"*No*, I don't. I only remembered the color because of those purple robes he insists on wearing so frequently. Hideous. I never forget bad clothes."
This inspired more laughter. "No." Pansy shook her head. "You don't."
Draco resorted to sticking his tongue out at her.
The Slytherins gathered up their books and began to leave the classroom. Draco judged his time, then quickly stood up, crashing into Fowl in the process, and causing both their bags to spill open.
"So much for being graceful," Zabini threw over his shoulder at him. He grabbed Marie's hand and they disappeared out the door.
Bole started to help, but Artemis waved her on. "It's OK. Go ahead and I'll catch up."
Goyle and Crabbe hesitated by the door. "Go," Draco ordered.
Then the DADA classroom was empty except for the two of them. Artemis put the last of his things in his bag and looked at Draco. "Well? What did you want?"
Draco stood up. "Always so clever, aren't you?"
Artemis stood, as well. "The price of genius."
"You always act so superior about that, but it was just inherited. No big deal."
"The same can be said about you," Artemis replied calmly. "Your money, for example. Your place on the Quidditch team. . ."
"I resent that implication, Fowl."
"You resent a lot of things."
Draco took a deep breath. "Focus," said Fowl's voice in his head. "Don't get overly emotional."
Draco managed to regain his arrogant, sneering expression. "Am I right, though? Are your parents incredibly smart, too?"
Artemis blinked. Actually, they'd never shown any particular sign of genius. He knew for a fact that he was the smartest person he'd come in contact with.
"Or maybe they were imbeciles. You were a fluke."
Artemis narrowed his eyes and remained silent.
"You never have mentioned what your father does for a living. Why is that? Is he too stupid to be employable?" It was spoken in his most insulting drawl, while he exulted in the feeling of revenge. The result was everything he'd hoped for.
Artemis had gone quite, quite still. "He is not stupid. He is a smart man, a great man, and that's all you need to know."
"Then perhaps he's in prison, considering his involvement in the world of crime."
Artemis's face turned hard and cold. "No. He is not a criminal."
"Then why won't you say? Why do you *never* mention him. . ."
"Not everyone drags their father into every sentence the way you do, Malfoy. That's not healthy, you know." His voice was cold, too.
But we don't know *anything,*" Draco continued blithely. "Must be some sort of skeleton in the closet you're ashamed of. . ."
"He's a businessman. I've told people that. . ."
"Not a word about him, not who he is, what he is, where he is. . ."
Artemis's eyes darted away from him. Draco raised an eyebrow. Not much to go on, but. . .
"He's skipped out on you, hasn't he?" He smirked as Artemis's stare snapped back to him, as a flush crept up his cheeks. "Left you and your poor, grieving mother, crying her eyes out at home. Yes? Couldn't stand you anymore?" He laughed. Artemis's whole body was tense, his hands curled into fists, his expression trying to burn him where he stood. "Poor, bereft Artemis Fowl. Father run off without a word. . ."
Artemis swallowed hard, and his jaw clenched. Something flickered in his eyes.
Draco kept pushing. Why wouldn't the other boy just react? It was maddening. "Poor Mrs. Fowl, out of her mind with sorrow. . ."
The desk next to them blew apart. Papers scattered to the ceiling, an empty tea mug shattered, a bottle of ink exploded, and jagged shards and splinters of wood streaked past them. Draco was shielded behind Artemis, who was struck by sharp, wicked pieces--embedding into his arm and side and grazing across his cheek, leaving a bloody track. His eyes never changed from that cold, burning stare.
Draco drew in a breath. He let it out in a rush, feeling suddenly and unaccustomedly ashamed. "Fowl. . ."
Artemis took the two steps separating them until he and Draco were face to face, then leaned in, so he spoke very softly near his ear. "Yes." His voice sounded dead. "He was on a business trip when his ship disappeared somewhere near Russia. He's been missing for a year and a half. My mother took to her bed and went out of her head and didn't even recognize me til this summer, when I finally found a way to cure her by magic. But my father's still missing. Satisfied?"
For some reason, Draco's chest and lungs hurt. "Fowl. . ."
But Artemis swept away, not even seeming to notice he'd been injured.
Draco stared after him, wanting to follow, stop him, and say he hadn't meant it to go that far, to hurt him that bad, he hadn't known it was really true or he never would have said it, he hadn't meant to. . . to make Artemis hate him. But he couldn't move, and then Artemis was gone and it was too late.
Abruptly, he whirled and smashed his fist through an 8 X 10 portrait of Gilderoy Lockhart, the only thing in that corner of the room left undamaged. The painted Lockhart screamed and ducked, but Draco shattered the frame and put a hole through the canvas.
The real Lockhart came stumbling out of his office. "What--what just happened? Are we being invaded?"
"Just--just an accident," Draco told him, rapidly heading for the exit.
"My desk! My picture! What do you mean, an accident?" he cried.
With a covert wave of his wand in passing and a whispered "Alohamora," Draco opened the door of the pixies' cage, and they immediately swarmed out, encircling the Professor, picking up desks, destroying books, and riding a dragon skeleton on the ceiling. In the chaos, Draco escaped out the door. Behind him he heard an enormous crash as the skeleton came loose from the ceiling and hit the floor. He broke into a jog and vanished into a milling crowd of fourth years.
____________ ____________
That had gone wrong, Draco reflected miserably as he headed for the dungeons. That had all gone dreadfully wrong. Abruptly he changed direction and headed for the infirmary. It wasn't like he needed to apologize or anything. After all, it was just another round of insults. Fowl didn't have to take it so personally, even if it was true. He tried to make himself believe that. He tried to pretend like he wasn't going to the hospital wing to check on Fowl, and then he tried to think what he would say to him when he saw him.
He stopped walking, causing a Sixth Year Hufflepuff to almost run into him. "Watch where you're going," he snarled at her, and she flinched and hurried away, but it didn't make him feel better.
Honestly, what was his problem, anyway? He had no reason to feel bad! Fowl was constantly insulting the Malfoy family, so he was only getting what he deserved. It wasn't his fault! It wasn't like he cared about Fowl's well-being, anyway.
He didn't! He didn't even like Fowl.
He turned around, causing another near collision, which he ignored. He was heading up to the roof. He had a secret spot he went to when troubled, through a door Snape had shown him once. He walked out and sat on the battlements of the highest tower of the castle, and tried to think.
____________ ____________
Artemis did eventually realize he was bleeding, and went to get patched up. Madam Pomfrey clucked over him and demanded, "What happened?" even as she began removing splinters.
"Furniture accident in Transfigurations," he lied blandly.
After that, he slowly walked to the courtyard, making sure all his emotions were fully stowed away and he was back in control. He felt quite shaken once he stopped to review what had happened, and quite disgusted with his reaction. It was just Malfoy being insulting again. He'd had no business getting so riled up. Of course, he was still deadly angry and intended to do something fairly permanent to Malfoy. The other Slytherin needed to learn to leave him alone. He didn't want to spend all the rest of his years at Hogwarts with Malfoy bothering him.
He took another deep breath and watched the last flying lesson of the day disperse. He stepped out and approached Madam Hooch. "If I c0nfide in you, will you give me detention?"
She raised her eyebrows and looked at him. "No. Confide away."
"I--I just got angrier at someone than I've ever been in my life. Ever. I'm usually calm and rational, you know that. . ."
"Completely unemotional."
"That, too. But I--I sort of. . ."
"Lost it?"
Artemis grimaced. He had. If he wasn't as troubled about this as he was, he wouldn't even be having this conversation. "I accidentally blew up Lockhart's desk."
"Lockhart? You're safe then. Now if it had been McGonagall. . ."
"But I. . . why did that happen?" He needed information.
She graced him with a gentle smile. "You're 12. You're reaching adolescence. Sometimes, if you're powerful, or if you're new to magic-- which you still are, having had it blocked for so long--strong emotions can make things slip. You're new to emotions, as well, if you want my opinion, which makes it even harder. But I have complete confidence in your rationality, so I don't expect it to happen again."
"I didn't expect it to happen once."
"You're a special case, I think. You're still showing effects from having your magic returned to you. It *was* blocked for five years. Your emotions affect your magic. But in your case, your emotions also react to your magic. It's like shaking a soda bottle and finally taking the cap off. It pours out, making you feel new things. But you're always careful, so you'll be fine."
"So I--shouldn't be worried, then?"
"No, don't worry. . . who were you angry at? I doubt that it was Lockhart."
"Malfoy." The name was spoken with distaste.
"Ah. Another round in the infamous Fowl-Malfoy feud." At his look, she grinned. "I listen to the gossip. Keeps me up to date." Artemis smiled reluctantly. "Was Malfoy impressed?" she asked him.
"No. I imagine he's thrown a lot of tantrums."
Her laugh rang out. "I imagine he has."
____________ _____________
Draco stared down at the view of the Hogwarts grounds spread below him, seeing nothing. He was trying to analyze his feelings, not a usual task for him. He decided if his emotions were always so complex it was no wonder he hardly ever knew what they were.
Finally he had to admit that he felt guilty. He'd gone over the line with Fowl without even realizing what he was doing. The words had come almost on their own, when he scented weakness. It was what he'd been taught to do: find the vulnerable spots, and then go for the kill.
He sighed. The problem was, Fowl wasn't exactly an enemy anymore. Not like Potter. Fowl was Slytherin, he shared a dorm room with him, they'd experienced the Chamber together. It was different. He shouldn't have done what he'd done. But he didn't know how to correct it. To his shock, he realized he was hoping he could find a way to make Fowl forgive and forget. He wanted things to go back to the way they were--how they were when they were good. He wanted to ignore his father and go back to--whatever he and Fowl had had. He wouldn't allow himself to wonder why.
Yet he had to admit, as well, to have Fowl forgive him was unlikely, and to have his father stop watching him--well, it just wouldn't happen. He recognized the feeling of despair, then, spiking into his gut, along with resentment towards his father that burned along his nerves, throughout his whole body. A soft sound of disgust left his lips. This was why he normally shut off his emotions. It only hurt to feel. He had to face facts. There was no way around his father. There was no way around his family name.
But when he tried to cut off his emotions once again, he found that he couldn't. There was only way to stop the pounding in his head, the swirling of his thoughts, the pain in his gut. He used it ruthlessly.
'This is all Fowl's fault, anyway. He's gotten me confused with his endless mind games, made me think things I know aren't true. He's what tainted me. I should have known better than to listen to him. I am a Malfoy. I am a pureblood. I have my pride. Fowl only got what he deserved. He *is* the enemy. And I--I believe everything my father tells me without reservation, because I know it's all true. And it doesn't matter if he is watching me, because I already do what he tells me, because I know it's the only, the correct, the Malfoy way to be.' He took a deep breath. 'So. No reason to want to talk to that half-blood. Staying away from Fowl will be no problem.'
__________ __________
Only excepting, Fowl wasn't staying away from him. It started with the look he got when Fowl returned to the common room, the look that made him freeze in his seat. It seemed to be completely neutral, but there was a gleam behind it that spoke of impending, absolute danger.
They ignored one another the rest of that day, the kind of deliberate silence that made the rest of the group notice, and watch their every move with an uncomfortable tense wariness.
Then that night, when it was time for sleep, Draco pulled back the curtains of his four-poster and then flinched away from his bed. A four-foot snake was rearing up from it, staring at him and hissing menacingly. It was black with red and yellow patterns in rings. He was pretty sure it was poisonous. He stared at it, afraid to move.
The other boys had stopped dead around him, Zabini half-in and half-out of his own bed, Crabbe and Goyle in the middle of changing into pyjamas. Fowl had just come up to lean against his bedpost, arms crossed and smirking.
"What do you do now, Malfoy?" he asked, and Draco instinctively turned towards him as a greater threat than the snake.
"I don't know," he answered, perfectly honest for once.
Artemis smiled, seeming amused, then pulled his Parseltongue recorder from his robe pocket. He pushed a button and a hissing noise issued from it. The snake hesitated a moment, then slithered down off the bed and out of the room.
Draco looked at Fowl, wide-eyed.
Artemis continued to smile. "You shouldn't start things you don't know how to deal with, Malfoy." He went over to his own bed and sat down.
Draco followed him with his eyes.
"Artemis--did you put that snake in Malfoy's bed?" Blaise demanded, looking worried.
"Hmm. . . why would you say that?" Artemis fluffed up his pillows and laid back.
"It's sort of obvious, even to me," Goyle put in.
"Is this a serious fight or a mild one?" Crabbe asked.
"Oh, we're always serious. Good night." Artemis pulled his bed hangings closed.
Blaise bit his lip, then did the same.
Crabbe and Goyle looked at Draco, who was standing and staring at his bed.
"Shall we inspect it for you?" Crabbe offered.
Draco looked up, a strange expression on his face. "No. No, that won't be necessary, but thanks." He lay down impassively, but kept his curtains open all night.
____________ ____________
A/N: I figure I'll be called upon to defend Artemis's loss of emotional control, so I'll go ahead and do it now. Consider these factors: 1) his emotional progression and *capability* of emotional progression throughout his three books 2) his being surrounded by people his own age, who while not nearly as smart, are no pushovers due to their magical skill 3) he still never completely showed true emotion. The explosion was an involuntary outburst (which surprised him--he can be surprised, see Book #3) resulting from the disruption of his magic, as Hooch explained, and emotion 4) I think Artemis does have emotions (he did cry in Book #2, if briefly), he just keeps them extremely suppressed and controlled 5) if you've noticed, their relationship is still rather one-sided. . . Draco wants to be his friend, despite his Malfoy heritage, but Artemis is still in it for gold and glory.
By Elbereth in April
A/N: There are a few spoilers in this chapter for the Artemis Fowl books (although mostly in my 2nd author's note at the end)
Chapter 24
"That was the stupidest class I've ever been in," Chevalier complained. "I'm annoyed that I was forced to participate in it."
"IF Lockhart brags about his daring exploits--for more details see my published works--one more time. . ."
"I say that now, while Snape's all mellow, we persuade him to poison Lockie."
"And I've been winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award five times in a row," Malfoy imitated his voice and flounce of the head so successfully that the whole class dissolved into laughter. Even Artemis smiled.
"You're lucky he's gone to his office!" Pansy scolded. "You'd be in trouble if he heard you!"
"You remembered my favorite color is lilac, Miss Parkinson! Ten points to Slytherin!" Draco teased her.
Pansy blinked. "His favorite color *is* lilac. You remembered, too." Then she lowered her eyelashes and purred, "Draco, do *you* have a *thing* for our professor?"
"Does he remember Lockart's shoe size, as well? That's the true telling point." Bulstrode pulled on the sleeve of Draco's robes, grinning.
"*No*, I don't. I only remembered the color because of those purple robes he insists on wearing so frequently. Hideous. I never forget bad clothes."
This inspired more laughter. "No." Pansy shook her head. "You don't."
Draco resorted to sticking his tongue out at her.
The Slytherins gathered up their books and began to leave the classroom. Draco judged his time, then quickly stood up, crashing into Fowl in the process, and causing both their bags to spill open.
"So much for being graceful," Zabini threw over his shoulder at him. He grabbed Marie's hand and they disappeared out the door.
Bole started to help, but Artemis waved her on. "It's OK. Go ahead and I'll catch up."
Goyle and Crabbe hesitated by the door. "Go," Draco ordered.
Then the DADA classroom was empty except for the two of them. Artemis put the last of his things in his bag and looked at Draco. "Well? What did you want?"
Draco stood up. "Always so clever, aren't you?"
Artemis stood, as well. "The price of genius."
"You always act so superior about that, but it was just inherited. No big deal."
"The same can be said about you," Artemis replied calmly. "Your money, for example. Your place on the Quidditch team. . ."
"I resent that implication, Fowl."
"You resent a lot of things."
Draco took a deep breath. "Focus," said Fowl's voice in his head. "Don't get overly emotional."
Draco managed to regain his arrogant, sneering expression. "Am I right, though? Are your parents incredibly smart, too?"
Artemis blinked. Actually, they'd never shown any particular sign of genius. He knew for a fact that he was the smartest person he'd come in contact with.
"Or maybe they were imbeciles. You were a fluke."
Artemis narrowed his eyes and remained silent.
"You never have mentioned what your father does for a living. Why is that? Is he too stupid to be employable?" It was spoken in his most insulting drawl, while he exulted in the feeling of revenge. The result was everything he'd hoped for.
Artemis had gone quite, quite still. "He is not stupid. He is a smart man, a great man, and that's all you need to know."
"Then perhaps he's in prison, considering his involvement in the world of crime."
Artemis's face turned hard and cold. "No. He is not a criminal."
"Then why won't you say? Why do you *never* mention him. . ."
"Not everyone drags their father into every sentence the way you do, Malfoy. That's not healthy, you know." His voice was cold, too.
But we don't know *anything,*" Draco continued blithely. "Must be some sort of skeleton in the closet you're ashamed of. . ."
"He's a businessman. I've told people that. . ."
"Not a word about him, not who he is, what he is, where he is. . ."
Artemis's eyes darted away from him. Draco raised an eyebrow. Not much to go on, but. . .
"He's skipped out on you, hasn't he?" He smirked as Artemis's stare snapped back to him, as a flush crept up his cheeks. "Left you and your poor, grieving mother, crying her eyes out at home. Yes? Couldn't stand you anymore?" He laughed. Artemis's whole body was tense, his hands curled into fists, his expression trying to burn him where he stood. "Poor, bereft Artemis Fowl. Father run off without a word. . ."
Artemis swallowed hard, and his jaw clenched. Something flickered in his eyes.
Draco kept pushing. Why wouldn't the other boy just react? It was maddening. "Poor Mrs. Fowl, out of her mind with sorrow. . ."
The desk next to them blew apart. Papers scattered to the ceiling, an empty tea mug shattered, a bottle of ink exploded, and jagged shards and splinters of wood streaked past them. Draco was shielded behind Artemis, who was struck by sharp, wicked pieces--embedding into his arm and side and grazing across his cheek, leaving a bloody track. His eyes never changed from that cold, burning stare.
Draco drew in a breath. He let it out in a rush, feeling suddenly and unaccustomedly ashamed. "Fowl. . ."
Artemis took the two steps separating them until he and Draco were face to face, then leaned in, so he spoke very softly near his ear. "Yes." His voice sounded dead. "He was on a business trip when his ship disappeared somewhere near Russia. He's been missing for a year and a half. My mother took to her bed and went out of her head and didn't even recognize me til this summer, when I finally found a way to cure her by magic. But my father's still missing. Satisfied?"
For some reason, Draco's chest and lungs hurt. "Fowl. . ."
But Artemis swept away, not even seeming to notice he'd been injured.
Draco stared after him, wanting to follow, stop him, and say he hadn't meant it to go that far, to hurt him that bad, he hadn't known it was really true or he never would have said it, he hadn't meant to. . . to make Artemis hate him. But he couldn't move, and then Artemis was gone and it was too late.
Abruptly, he whirled and smashed his fist through an 8 X 10 portrait of Gilderoy Lockhart, the only thing in that corner of the room left undamaged. The painted Lockhart screamed and ducked, but Draco shattered the frame and put a hole through the canvas.
The real Lockhart came stumbling out of his office. "What--what just happened? Are we being invaded?"
"Just--just an accident," Draco told him, rapidly heading for the exit.
"My desk! My picture! What do you mean, an accident?" he cried.
With a covert wave of his wand in passing and a whispered "Alohamora," Draco opened the door of the pixies' cage, and they immediately swarmed out, encircling the Professor, picking up desks, destroying books, and riding a dragon skeleton on the ceiling. In the chaos, Draco escaped out the door. Behind him he heard an enormous crash as the skeleton came loose from the ceiling and hit the floor. He broke into a jog and vanished into a milling crowd of fourth years.
____________ ____________
That had gone wrong, Draco reflected miserably as he headed for the dungeons. That had all gone dreadfully wrong. Abruptly he changed direction and headed for the infirmary. It wasn't like he needed to apologize or anything. After all, it was just another round of insults. Fowl didn't have to take it so personally, even if it was true. He tried to make himself believe that. He tried to pretend like he wasn't going to the hospital wing to check on Fowl, and then he tried to think what he would say to him when he saw him.
He stopped walking, causing a Sixth Year Hufflepuff to almost run into him. "Watch where you're going," he snarled at her, and she flinched and hurried away, but it didn't make him feel better.
Honestly, what was his problem, anyway? He had no reason to feel bad! Fowl was constantly insulting the Malfoy family, so he was only getting what he deserved. It wasn't his fault! It wasn't like he cared about Fowl's well-being, anyway.
He didn't! He didn't even like Fowl.
He turned around, causing another near collision, which he ignored. He was heading up to the roof. He had a secret spot he went to when troubled, through a door Snape had shown him once. He walked out and sat on the battlements of the highest tower of the castle, and tried to think.
____________ ____________
Artemis did eventually realize he was bleeding, and went to get patched up. Madam Pomfrey clucked over him and demanded, "What happened?" even as she began removing splinters.
"Furniture accident in Transfigurations," he lied blandly.
After that, he slowly walked to the courtyard, making sure all his emotions were fully stowed away and he was back in control. He felt quite shaken once he stopped to review what had happened, and quite disgusted with his reaction. It was just Malfoy being insulting again. He'd had no business getting so riled up. Of course, he was still deadly angry and intended to do something fairly permanent to Malfoy. The other Slytherin needed to learn to leave him alone. He didn't want to spend all the rest of his years at Hogwarts with Malfoy bothering him.
He took another deep breath and watched the last flying lesson of the day disperse. He stepped out and approached Madam Hooch. "If I c0nfide in you, will you give me detention?"
She raised her eyebrows and looked at him. "No. Confide away."
"I--I just got angrier at someone than I've ever been in my life. Ever. I'm usually calm and rational, you know that. . ."
"Completely unemotional."
"That, too. But I--I sort of. . ."
"Lost it?"
Artemis grimaced. He had. If he wasn't as troubled about this as he was, he wouldn't even be having this conversation. "I accidentally blew up Lockhart's desk."
"Lockhart? You're safe then. Now if it had been McGonagall. . ."
"But I. . . why did that happen?" He needed information.
She graced him with a gentle smile. "You're 12. You're reaching adolescence. Sometimes, if you're powerful, or if you're new to magic-- which you still are, having had it blocked for so long--strong emotions can make things slip. You're new to emotions, as well, if you want my opinion, which makes it even harder. But I have complete confidence in your rationality, so I don't expect it to happen again."
"I didn't expect it to happen once."
"You're a special case, I think. You're still showing effects from having your magic returned to you. It *was* blocked for five years. Your emotions affect your magic. But in your case, your emotions also react to your magic. It's like shaking a soda bottle and finally taking the cap off. It pours out, making you feel new things. But you're always careful, so you'll be fine."
"So I--shouldn't be worried, then?"
"No, don't worry. . . who were you angry at? I doubt that it was Lockhart."
"Malfoy." The name was spoken with distaste.
"Ah. Another round in the infamous Fowl-Malfoy feud." At his look, she grinned. "I listen to the gossip. Keeps me up to date." Artemis smiled reluctantly. "Was Malfoy impressed?" she asked him.
"No. I imagine he's thrown a lot of tantrums."
Her laugh rang out. "I imagine he has."
____________ _____________
Draco stared down at the view of the Hogwarts grounds spread below him, seeing nothing. He was trying to analyze his feelings, not a usual task for him. He decided if his emotions were always so complex it was no wonder he hardly ever knew what they were.
Finally he had to admit that he felt guilty. He'd gone over the line with Fowl without even realizing what he was doing. The words had come almost on their own, when he scented weakness. It was what he'd been taught to do: find the vulnerable spots, and then go for the kill.
He sighed. The problem was, Fowl wasn't exactly an enemy anymore. Not like Potter. Fowl was Slytherin, he shared a dorm room with him, they'd experienced the Chamber together. It was different. He shouldn't have done what he'd done. But he didn't know how to correct it. To his shock, he realized he was hoping he could find a way to make Fowl forgive and forget. He wanted things to go back to the way they were--how they were when they were good. He wanted to ignore his father and go back to--whatever he and Fowl had had. He wouldn't allow himself to wonder why.
Yet he had to admit, as well, to have Fowl forgive him was unlikely, and to have his father stop watching him--well, it just wouldn't happen. He recognized the feeling of despair, then, spiking into his gut, along with resentment towards his father that burned along his nerves, throughout his whole body. A soft sound of disgust left his lips. This was why he normally shut off his emotions. It only hurt to feel. He had to face facts. There was no way around his father. There was no way around his family name.
But when he tried to cut off his emotions once again, he found that he couldn't. There was only way to stop the pounding in his head, the swirling of his thoughts, the pain in his gut. He used it ruthlessly.
'This is all Fowl's fault, anyway. He's gotten me confused with his endless mind games, made me think things I know aren't true. He's what tainted me. I should have known better than to listen to him. I am a Malfoy. I am a pureblood. I have my pride. Fowl only got what he deserved. He *is* the enemy. And I--I believe everything my father tells me without reservation, because I know it's all true. And it doesn't matter if he is watching me, because I already do what he tells me, because I know it's the only, the correct, the Malfoy way to be.' He took a deep breath. 'So. No reason to want to talk to that half-blood. Staying away from Fowl will be no problem.'
__________ __________
Only excepting, Fowl wasn't staying away from him. It started with the look he got when Fowl returned to the common room, the look that made him freeze in his seat. It seemed to be completely neutral, but there was a gleam behind it that spoke of impending, absolute danger.
They ignored one another the rest of that day, the kind of deliberate silence that made the rest of the group notice, and watch their every move with an uncomfortable tense wariness.
Then that night, when it was time for sleep, Draco pulled back the curtains of his four-poster and then flinched away from his bed. A four-foot snake was rearing up from it, staring at him and hissing menacingly. It was black with red and yellow patterns in rings. He was pretty sure it was poisonous. He stared at it, afraid to move.
The other boys had stopped dead around him, Zabini half-in and half-out of his own bed, Crabbe and Goyle in the middle of changing into pyjamas. Fowl had just come up to lean against his bedpost, arms crossed and smirking.
"What do you do now, Malfoy?" he asked, and Draco instinctively turned towards him as a greater threat than the snake.
"I don't know," he answered, perfectly honest for once.
Artemis smiled, seeming amused, then pulled his Parseltongue recorder from his robe pocket. He pushed a button and a hissing noise issued from it. The snake hesitated a moment, then slithered down off the bed and out of the room.
Draco looked at Fowl, wide-eyed.
Artemis continued to smile. "You shouldn't start things you don't know how to deal with, Malfoy." He went over to his own bed and sat down.
Draco followed him with his eyes.
"Artemis--did you put that snake in Malfoy's bed?" Blaise demanded, looking worried.
"Hmm. . . why would you say that?" Artemis fluffed up his pillows and laid back.
"It's sort of obvious, even to me," Goyle put in.
"Is this a serious fight or a mild one?" Crabbe asked.
"Oh, we're always serious. Good night." Artemis pulled his bed hangings closed.
Blaise bit his lip, then did the same.
Crabbe and Goyle looked at Draco, who was standing and staring at his bed.
"Shall we inspect it for you?" Crabbe offered.
Draco looked up, a strange expression on his face. "No. No, that won't be necessary, but thanks." He lay down impassively, but kept his curtains open all night.
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A/N: I figure I'll be called upon to defend Artemis's loss of emotional control, so I'll go ahead and do it now. Consider these factors: 1) his emotional progression and *capability* of emotional progression throughout his three books 2) his being surrounded by people his own age, who while not nearly as smart, are no pushovers due to their magical skill 3) he still never completely showed true emotion. The explosion was an involuntary outburst (which surprised him--he can be surprised, see Book #3) resulting from the disruption of his magic, as Hooch explained, and emotion 4) I think Artemis does have emotions (he did cry in Book #2, if briefly), he just keeps them extremely suppressed and controlled 5) if you've noticed, their relationship is still rather one-sided. . . Draco wants to be his friend, despite his Malfoy heritage, but Artemis is still in it for gold and glory.