Draco Malfoy and the Disownment Project
Chapter Three
Disclaimer: See chapter one.
Blaise was really starting to get on Draco's nerves.
It obviously wasn't bad enough that she thoroughly ridiculed him at every possible chance. No, apparently her very pestering habit of naming his strategies was going to plague him as well. The worst thing was that Draco was beginning to call his strategies by Blaise's names! Homicide was looking better and better.
Draco's current stage of planning was dubbed Strategic Maneuverings. Blaise had christened it 'Stealing Seamus's Girlfriend.' With her nonexistent subtlety, Blaise could possibly become a liability.
The two of them had stopped tracking the Dream Team and had instead refocused their energies on Seamus and Lavender. They had followed the lovebirds everywhere, Draco becoming increasingly revolted by the couple; Blaise only found them amusing. Lavender was a ceaseless giggler and Seamus, as far as he could tell, was a useless lump—Draco had given him too much credit before; Longbottom was good for a derisive laugh, but Seamus was truly good for nothing. Unless you counted being a Slytherin Punching Bag. Draco really needed to go bribe Thomas Nott to put on another show.
And so they spied. They followed the two Gryffindors to meals and observed them on dates. They surveyed their studying in the library and they watched them in their leisure time. Blaise had even managed to uncover their class schedules, so they tracked them to their classes, as well. The latter really did no good to anybody—Draco and Blaise were unfortunate onlookers as Seamus presented Lavender with a terrible love ballad on the way to Herbology, and oftentimes following the Gryffindors resulted in their being frightfully late for class. After one such time, McGonagall scolded them severely, scheduled their detentions, and took twenty points from Slytherin. If there was a House Cup rewarded for least amount of points, the Slytherins were the sure winners.
"You know," said Blaise one day as they headed toward Potions, pushing a strand of hair out of her face, "what we're doing is technically stalking."
"So when the going gets illegal, you get craven?
"Hello, I'm a Slytherin. Saving one's own neck is a Slytherin's bound duty. And I'm only pointing out facts. But then, I suppose the Malfoys are used to being called criminals."
"Coming from the girl who recently used the Imperius Curse."
She shrugged. "Hey, Moody only ever said it was illegal to use on humans. He didn't say anything about insects."
"Don't mention that man around me."
Blaise smiled beatifically. "Aww, is poor little Draco's pride still aching?"
"I should own stock in the words 'Shut up, Blaise.' I use them often enough."
She continued grinning serenely as they walked to the dungeons. Her composure irritated him. How could that girl keep her infuriating equanimity at all times? Their bickering, which never ceased to fluster Draco, seemed to fuel Blaise. She apparently lived for altercation and she was unfairly proficient at it. It was enough to make you jealous, if not completely hostile.
"Are you still smarting about the ant thing?" asked Blaise.
"No, I am not," said Draco succinctly.
"Oh, my mistake, sorry," said Blaise airily, throwing her hair over her shoulder and rolling her eyes. She had made it her mission in life to roll her eyes as much as humanly possible.
They entered the Potions classroom in strained silence, Blaise making strange, huffy noises as she took her seat.
N.E.W.T. Potions classes were rather uninhabited, for lack of a better word. Even with students from all four Houses in attendance, it was not even close to being full. Many, perhaps, did not have the grades enough to be admitted into the class, though Draco had a shrewd suspicion that most people simply did not want to be in the vicinity of Snape anymore, now that it was not required. The class consisted of mostly Ravenclaws and the smarter Slytherins. A few Gryffindors, like the execrable Dream Team, had put their renowned bravery into use and signed up for N.E.W.T. level Potions. There was but a single Hufflepuff in the class.
You couldn't be surprised by the lack of their loyal and hard-working brethren. Most of them weren't the least bit loyal or hard-working when it came to Potions. Yet, it was the matter of the Gryffindors that puzzled him. Snape had always been the most vicious to them—why would they put themselves through such torture? Besides, Draco desperately wanted to find out why that inept Weasley found himself in an advanced class. It was conceivable that Granger and Potter had helped him, because he surely couldn't have made it on his own. If he'd ever made an acceptable potion, Draco would give up hair gel, renounce flirting, and live a life of poverty. He didn't have more time to dwell on the mystery of Weasley's presence, however, as the Potions Master himself had walked to the front of the classroom.
Draco didn't mind Snape. He was sadistic enough, and with a good washing he might have even been admirable. Sure, the Billowing Charms and the mirror made him a little bit of a laughingstock, but overall he wasn't a bad chap. Of course, his father had always spoken highly of Snape, which could lower anyone down a peg. His father's favorable opinion of Snape had definitely reduced Draco's own, until he and Blaise had gotten off track yesterday following the Gryffindors and overheard a most intriguing conversation.
"Where are you going?" Blaise had hissed at him, pulling and almost tearing his brand-new silk robes. Draco whipped around, his wand drawn.
"Don't manhandle my robes, Zabini! They were made by the finest clothiers in all of China!"
"Really, Draco, stop thinking that I care about your wardrobe," she said, and Draco turned away before he could watch the imminent eye roll. "That lunatic Lavender and the equally moronic waste of space she calls a boyfriend just went downstairs."
"Do you think I don't know that Blaise?" asked Draco, condescendingly. He had not, in fact, noticed. "This is a shortcut."
"Oh stop lying, you lost track of them."
"I did not."
"You are an appalling prevaricator."
"I am not."
"'Prevaricator' means 'liar.' "
"I knew that!" He hadn't.
"Shut up!" she said quietly, once again grabbing his robes unceremoniously and dragging him behind one of the grotesquely ugly statues that dotted the Hogwarts corridors. Honestly, they should let him become Headmaster. The things he could do with the décor, not to mention the uniforms...
Speaking of which...
"Blaise, I've told you before! You cannot roughhouse with these robes! It is crepe de Chine, just so you know you unfashionable girl, and it mars so easily!"
"Would you close your mouth for once and listen?"
"No, Ms. Zabini, I will not. I am adding a touch of refinement to these hideous uniforms by experimenting with classier textures. You must respect the silk, because if you break it, you buy it!"
She sneered. "You tiresome popinjay, quit yammering on about your stupid silk and listen!"
She pointed surreptitiously to a point somewhere beyond the sculpture. Draco peeked stealthily around to spot Snape talking intently with the Headmaster."
"It's Snape! He's talking with Dumbledore!"
"Yes, I know," said Blaise flatly. "I, unlike some people, believe in the power of auditory and optical awareness."
"And you make an excellent spy and sidekick, my dear."
She clapped her hand over his mouth quite roughly. He was about to complain about the indignity of this action—he didn't lovingly apply skin care potions just for idiot girls to stick their foul hands all over his face—but Blaise silenced him with a glare and nodded slightly toward the conversation taking place between the two professors.
"The Dark Lord has called for a secret meeting in two night's time, sir," said Snape in a soft voice. "I think he is unveiling his latest plans for slaying Potter."
"And you'll be in attendance?" asked Dumbledore, his ancient head bowed close to Snape's greasy one.
"Of course. Shall I get ready to make a report for the Order?"
"Yes, please. Are you sure that he still knows nothing of your deception?"
"Quite sure."
"Good. I'll look forward to your report, Severus."
Blaise seized Draco's wrist and drew him back down the corridor they'd come from.
"Now really," said Draco, removing her fingers from his robes and scowling at her, "enough is enough! I've asked you kindly to respect the delicate nature of my garments! Refrain from touching them again, madam!"
Even when he wasn't looking at her, he could sense her eyes rolling.
"Be careful, Blaise, love," he said. "Your eyes are fragile, treat them with care."
"Did you not hear what they just said?" she asked incredulously.
Draco had been quite preoccupied with checking his robes, but he didn't want her to know that. She sighed in an affected sort of way.
"Snape is spying on the Dark Lord! He's making reports for Dumbledore!"
Draco said nothing.
"Aren't you surprised by this?!"
"Are you meaning to tell me that those idiots talked about Snape being a double agent in a very open school hallway? Those do-gooders really need a crash course on finesse."
Blaise stomped off, clearly rankled.
"What?" asked Draco, hurrying to catch up. "What did I do now?"
"Oh, nothing," she said sarcastically.
"Then why are you in a snit?"
"Because," she barked, twisting around to berate him, "we just found out something that could be useful! Snape's against the Dark Lord! You are renouncing the Dark Lord! Do you understand now, or must I spell it out for you?"
The final piece of the puzzle fell into place. "Ohh..." he said, "I get it. I can go to Snape if I get into trouble! Good work, Agent Zabini."
"Is it just me, or are you getting stupider?"
"I resent that," he said, slightly hurt by her tongue-lashing.
"All you ever do is go on and on about how much of a genius you are, and how Granger has nothing on you. Well prove it!"
"It's all this hanging around Lavender," Draco said, the odd need to redeem himself becoming pressing. "It can really lower one's intelligence quotient."
"Yours can be lowered?" she said, though the anger had left her voice.
"That Snape thing really is something, though, eh?" Draco asked, slinging an arm around her shoulder.
"Careful, Malfoy, I'm touching the 'crepe de Chine' again."
"Oh, right," he said, removing his arm. "Don't roll your eyes."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"But back to Snape—I bet my father doesn't know about that. He's always inviting him over for lunch at the Manor. Our house elves have to positively scour anything that came in contact with his hair."
Blaise laughed. "So all the Malfoys have an obsession with cleanliness?"
"Cleanliness is godliness, my dear Blaise."
Draco was interrupted from his reverie by a hard kick to the shins. He looked, startled, at Blaise, whose eyes were wide. She jerked her head slightly toward the front of the classroom, where Snape was looking at him expectantly.
"Er..." said Draco, bemused.
"Clearly," said Snape softly, "you were not paying attention, Mr. Malfoy. Ten points from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff."
The Slytherins sniggered as the other Houses gaped indignantly at Snape.
"But sir," said Anthony Goldstein, rising slightly from his seat, "that's not fair, we didn't—"
"Ah," said Snape, his thin mouth curling into a sneer, "it is exactly what you didn't do that lost you points. I didn't see any of you trying to make Mr. Malfoy concentrate."
"But the Slytherins weren't doing anything, either!" said Ron Weasley loudly.
"Are you questioning me, Weasley?"
"No, sir."
Draco leaned back in his chair and smirked at the expressions that now rested upon each non-Slytherin face. Snape had a wonderful sort of malice. It wasn't evil, necessarily, which was Draco's specialty. It was merely unjust and prejudiced and, consequently, very entertaining.
"Now as I was saying," said Snape, his robes swirling as he spun around to once again sit at his desk, "I will be splitting you up into pairs to brew your potion today. Weasley and Parkinson."
Draco smothered a snort at the sight of Weasley's face. Pansy's was quite enjoyable as well. They marched to the front of the class to collect the written instructions from Snape, then returned to their seats.
"Malfoy and Zabini."
Draco felt relieved that he would not be partnering a Gryffindor, or worse, the lone Hufflepuff, but immediately remembered that he was still working with Blaise. He sighed as they walked to receive their directions from Snape, then sat waiting as he divided the rest of the class. To his disappointment, Potter wasn't paired with anyone undesirable. He had actually made out quite well with Padma Patil, who was an excellent potion maker. Well, you couldn't have everything.
"You will have exactly a half an hour to properly brew your potion," said Snape, surveying them from his desk. "Begin."
Blaise and Draco got to work directly, laying out their ingredients mutely as they scanned the guidelines. Draco didn't think the potion would be that hard. It wasn't one of Snape's typically impossible ones. Perhaps he was cutting back and centralizing his efforts on his forthcoming spying mission against Voldemort.
"Well, what do you think?" Blaise whispered, turning to face Draco. He raised an eyebrow at her.
"About what?" he asked.
"Snape!"
"What about him?"
Blaise slowly and deliberately rolled her eyes. Avada Kedavra was really too good for her. He was going to snap one of these days and use the Cruciatus Curse.
"He's opposing the Dark Lord! Should we approach him? Tell him that you, too, are repudiating? Get him on your side?"
"No!" Draco said, upset. "Not yet!
"And why not? What is there to lose?"
Draco gawked at her. "Timing, Blaise! Timing is essential! I must first establish a connection with the Gryffindors!"
She gave him a long, appraising look. "Whatever you say, Oh Wise One."
"Don't start being sarcastic again," groaned Draco. "I can't stand you when you go into Insufferable Prat Mode."
"Zabini, Malfoy," came Snape's voice. "Since your flirtatious banter is so fascinating, why not share it with the class?"
Draco muttered incomprehensibly as he feigned being absorbed in his notes, but Blaise seemed only to find it comical.
"Now really, sir," she said loudly, "you insult me. My standards are not that low. I happen to like a different sort of person." She glanced at Potter, working at the table over, and fluttered her eyelashes coquettishly at him. Draco wondered vaguely if Potter's eyes could go wider. He blushed a deep scarlet that would make Weasley proud, and turned back to Padma Patil, clearly attempting to lead them all to believe that he was deeply engrossed in his work.
"As entertaining as it is to put Potter on the spot, Ms. Zabini," drawled Snape, "I do believe you should be helping Mr. Malfoy with your work."
"Of course, sir," she said. "Draco does need all the help he can get, and I certainly don't want my grade to plummet. No more taunting Potter."
She gave Potter a sly, roguish wink before turning again to their cauldron.
Draco remained silent for the rest of the class, relieved that Blaise didn't try to start a conversation. They mixed ingredients until their potion had turned a clear, bright blue, then began to wash up. Snape made his way around the class, clipboard in hand, grading them on their efficiency.
"Tut, tut," he said, standing over the cauldron Granger was sharing with Justin Finch-Fletchley. "Even the distinguished Hermione Granger has her off days. Poor."
The Slytherins sniggered loudly. Granger buried her head in her arms, as Weasley glared murderously at Snape. Snape, on the other hand, did not seem to notice this as he walked closer to check Weasley and Pansy's potion.
"Ms. Parkinson, I know working with Weasley cannot be considered desirable conditions, but I expected better from you. Poor."
Draco felt an abrupt thrill of anticipation as Snape approached.
"Well, at least Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Zabini have retained their elementary Potions abilities. Outstanding."
Draco smirked as Snape stalked toward Potter and Patil. He was annoyed to see that the two of them had managed to brew a potion that was just as good as, if not better than his own.
Snape stared down at their cauldron for a very long time before muttering "Acceptable."
Padma Patil closed her textbook with a loud slam, and began packing away her things while whispering what Draco imagined were horrible insults to Snape. Potter remained silent, his teeth clenched and his face reddening with suppressed rage. Draco's smirk widened into a full evil grin. You could always count on Snape.
The class walked single-file out of the class, the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs breaking into incensed exclamations as soon as Snape was out of hearing range.
"Harry and I had the best potion in the class!" Padma said angrily. "Snape is a asinine, biased, bigoted, imbecilic, erroneous, ugly, greasy slimeball—"
She trailed off, still grumbling furiously. There were several comments of "Know-it-all Ravenclaw" from the Slytherins. Draco thought that they said it only because they didn't know some of the words Padma used.
"Hey, look Draco," said Blaise, whispering in his ear. "There's your sweetheart."
She grabbed his hand and led him away from the pack of students still snarling about Snape. Draco had just opened his mouth to protest when he found himself face-to-face with Lavender Brown.