Draco Malfoy and the Disownment Project
Chapter Eight
Disclaimer: See Chapter One
The assurance that Blaise was hot on Nott's trail and ready to find a juicy secret to blackmail him with took a palpable weight off Draco's shoulders. As much as he would like to say that he was completely self-sufficient and able to carry his plan off by himself, the truth remained that Blaise was really quite a valuable asset. In fact, and it almost humiliated him to admit it, without Blaise, his plan would probably have crashed and burned at a phenomenal speed.
While Blaise was hard at work with Nott, Draco, though he kept up the appearance of a stringently dedicated stalker, was really taking what he justified as a well-deserved break. It would do no good for Draco to go about his work half-heartedly, for the potential consequences of such tremendous oversight could result in unalterably disastrous consequences. No, it was in everyone's best interest for him to rest his weary intellects and focus only on himself. He did not think this a selfish action. On the contrary, you might even call it altruistic. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that his pause in his endeavors was actually supreme self-sacrifice in order to help Blaise.
His clever little minion was such a good worker and gathered so much priceless information that any blunders on his part would only work to harm her. Though he had a lot to lose from foolish mistakes, ultimately Blaise would suffer the most. After all, even if Draco's plan failed, he was so obscenely talented that he could easily bounce back. He simply did not know, however, if Blaise could recover from such a blow. If her hours of observation were all for naught... well, Draco had come to know Blaise Zabini quite well, and the wrath that would concur was the stuff nightmares were made of.
The one glaring problem with taking a break was keeping it from the very partner he was trying to help. He would still have to keep up the air of hard work. So Draco continued to follow Lavender from place to place, and on the off-chance that Blaise was quietly checking up on him, it would seem as if he were still pursuing information on Lavender's character and whereabouts.
He hadn't found out anything new in what seemed like ages, and he didn't expect to uncover anything additional. He had the basics, naturally, and they would suffice. He knew that Lavender's favorite lessons were Divination and that she practically worshipped Professor Trelawney. She liked to hang out with Parvati at the lake, and she loved reading magazines (in fact, as far as Draco knew, they were the only things she did read). As long as he had these essential things down, he could always improvise if something strange and new came up.
And so, under the pretense of still tracking his subject, Draco was secretly reading novels he had stolen from Pansy Parkinson's schoolbag. He never thought he would say it, but Pansy did have good taste in books. And he'd always thought that the only thing she had good taste in was him...
On a bright, clear morning, two days into his short, relaxing vacation, Draco could be found in the almost empty Great Hall, sitting, novel in hand, at the Slytherin table, occasionally looking up to check on Lavender. She was sitting with Parvati, giggling over what looked like her horoscope. He wasn't interested—Pansy's book was keeping him riveted.
"Draco!" someone hissed.
He looked up as Blaise slid into the seat next to him, almost knocking him over. She was breathing heavily (not surprising, as she seemed to have just run as fast as she could across the Hall), and her hair was all over the place. Draco looked at her pointedly, then returned to his reading.
"Misplace your brush, Blaise?" he asked lightly as he turned the page.
"Ha, ha," Blaise answered, "Draco, I've—wait, what are you reading?"
"Nothing," said Draco, trying to hide the book. Blaise was too quick for him. She snatched it out of his hands, looking at him as if he were insane, then glanced down at the cover of the novel.
Oh, how glad Draco was that he'd had the foresight to charm the book cover to look like a guide to broom models of the twentieth century. Blaise snorted, and Draco made to take the book back. Blaise, smiling slyly, held onto it tighter, then with a mischievous look, flipped the book open to a page somewhere in the middle. Draco cursed under his breath—the contents of the book had not been bewitched. He watched, his cheeks growing hot, as Blaise skimmed the page. She grew more amused as she read, until she finally laughed aloud.
"Romance novels, Draco?" she howled, throwing the book back at him. He hastily grabbed it, holding onto it for dear life.
"Mind keeping it down, Blaise?" he snarled.
Blaise only laughed harder.
"Oh my," she said, clutching her stomach. "That's just perfect. A dandy you may be, but a cheesy romance-reading dandy? Wow...just...wow."
Draco glared at her.
"Finished yet?"
Blaise looked at the table, forcing her features into an expression of seriousness, but as soon as her eyes met Draco's she collapsed into wild cackles once more. Draco surveyed her coldly, his lips curling downward, which only set Blaise off again.
"Now really, you're getting ridiculous," he snapped.
"Yes, yes, you're right," said Blaise, wiping her eyes. A smirk was still plastered on her face, though the giggling had, thankfully, stopped.
"Who'd you get the book from?" she asked with mock innocence.
Draco hit her on the back of the head with it.
"Nick it from Lavender?" she asked.
"No," said Draco.
"Ah," Blaise said, nodding. "Then it must have come from Pansy."
Draco said nothing.
"Really though, Malfoy, romance novels? They just don't seem like your thing."
"Can we just drop it?" Draco grumbled.
Blaise, for once, acquiesced.
"Now I can relay what I really wanted to tell you," she said with relish. "It was terrible drudgery finding this out, so I hope you appreciate it."
"Yes," said Draco quickly. "I do appreciate it. I am no stranger to toil, so I know exactly how you are feeling."
Blaise stared at him appraisingly.
"You do know," she said casually, "that I know you haven't been working for a couple of days, right?"
Draco recovered quickly.
"I haven't the faintest idea what you mean, Blaise."
"I mean," she said, "that you've been taking a short respite."
"I know nothing of this respite of which you speak."
"I'm sure you don't," she said impatiently. "Now back to what I was saying. I was tracking Theodore Nott, as we had agreed, and let me tell you, the boy is dull. He writes letters like there is no tomorrow, and after watching that for five hours, you really start to question your will to live. I was just about to leave when he finally got up from where he was sitting. It was a chance to move my legs, at least, so I kept following him."
"And?" Draco urged, eagerly.
"It was a false alarm, he was going to use the bathroom, and I certainly couldn't follow him there."
"So you've found nothing?" Draco asked dejectedly.
"Did I say that?" said Blaise. "No, I was just illustrating how monotonous Nott is, and how wearisome it was to track him. Too bad he didn't just cheat on that Potions test. Would've saved me loads of trouble... anyway, I was seriously considering turning in for the night when I was saved by a most miraculous set of circumstances."
"What?" said Draco, practically jumping out of his seat. Blaise was definitely enjoying this.
"Well, it was Voldemort Youth night."
Draco smiled. "Excellent."
"Not in the way you might think," said Blaise. "Well, he was heading toward the room where the meetings are held, and I thought I'd go with him, see what the old 'Slytherin Pride Club' was up to, maybe stick around to see if Pansy would try conjuring up the Dark Lord's spirit like she attempted to do in third year. But to my surprise, Theodore did not go to that meeting."
"Come on Blaise, the suspense is killing me. Where did he go?"
Blaise was in her element. She seemed to glow with the rapture of retelling her tale, and her enthusiasm was infectious.
"He met the answer to your prayers, Draco."
"Who did he go see, woman?!"
"Dahlia Hutchins," Blaise answered, her triumph seeping from every syllable.
Draco looked at her blankly. "Who?"
Blaise rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Malfoy, you are hopeless. Dahlia Hutchins! Of Hufflepuff!"
"Oh!" said Draco. "Wait? Nott went to see a Hufflepuff? To kill her or something, correct? Because who in their right mind would go see a Hufflepuff for any other reason than to abuse them?"
Blaise looked disappointed. "You really don't see where I'm going with this, do you?"
"So Nott went to torment a Hufflepuff! We all do that! How is this going to help?"
"He did not go to torment this Hufflepuff you silly, thick-headed boy! He went to osculate with this Hufflepuff!"
She let her words sink in as she leaned back, satisfied.
"Ewwww!" cried Draco. "Gross! Why would he do that?!"
"But get this," said Blaise, bending her head closer to Draco's. "Not only is Dahlia a Hufflepuff, she is a Muggleborn Hufflepuff."
"The worst kind," said Draco, nodding. "Superlative work, my dedicated chum. I knew I could count on you."
Blaise looked exceptionally pleased with herself.
"So," said Draco. "What does this girl look like? I don't even know her."
"Not surprising. I don't make it a point to socialize with Hufflepuffs, do you? I don't know, she's kind of short, she has curly hair. She's in sixth year... her twin sister, Emonie, is a Ravenclaw. Actually, there's Emonie over there."
Blaise pointed to a spot some twenty feet in front of them, at a girl in blue. Draco gasped as she turned, her profile recognizable even from here. She noticed Draco and glared at him. He gulped; since when were diminutive, bookish little Ravenclaws intimidating? Draco kept a nervous eye on Emonie.
"What is it?" asked Blaise.
"Well," said Draco, trying to sound nonchalant, "I think that girl wants to hurt me."
"What did you do this time?" Blaise said, a laugh in her voice.
"I—uh—stole her Arithmancy book from her."
"Ah," said Blaise. "That would definitely make a Ravenclaw hate you. Say no more."
"Now," said Draco, wanting to change the subject, "when are we going to corner Theodore? Because this is simply superb, Blaise, I assure you. If the other Slytherins found out about Nott's rendezvous with a Hufflepuff, and a Mudblood Hufflepuff at that, he would be ruined! I don't believe that I could have come up with anything better myself."
"Yes, and you are forever in my debt, you should be kissing my feet, blah, blah, blah. Really, it was tedium of the first order, but it truly was not exceptionally hard."
"My dear girl, you are being modest. Your ability should be recognized! You have swelled the ranks of geniuses everywhere!" He threw an arm around her shoulders. "How does it feel to be one of us?"
"I'm honored, to be sure," said Blaise dully.
"Really, Blaise, I'm asking you to revel in your moment of brilliance. I do it all the time!"
"Which I know only too well," Blaise muttered.
Draco frowned. "You are most definitely acting choleric. What is the matter?"
"Nothing, I think you're just making a bigger deal out of this than it needs to be."
He was confused. Only moments ago, she'd been basking in the glow of her success. Now she seemed, well, almost embarrassed by it.
"What's wrong, Blaise? Really."
"It's—well, yeah, it was a very helpful thing to find out, and I'm proud that I found it... I suppose I'm not as fond as attention as you are. It helped the team, and that's all I care about."
"You don't want to be acknowledged for your glorious discovery?"
"That's not it," said Blaise. "I'm glad you think it's a good bit of information. But I don't think I deserve such fanfare."
Draco shrugged. "If you say so. I was just doing what I would've liked done for me, if I had come up with something like that."
Blaise smiled. "Yeah, I know."
"So, back on the subject of Nott," said Draco, still rather bemused by what had just happened. "Do you think we should wait awhile to approach him?"
Blaise shook her head. "No, let's do it tonight."
A sudden, horrible thought came to him. "You got evidence, didn't you?"
Blaise looked at him pityingly. "What do you take me for? An amateur?"
She pulled a photograph carefully from her pocket and set it on the table in front of Draco. It showed, in nauseating detail, the nature of Nott's meeting with this girl. Moving photographs really did have their downsides.
"I don't know whether to tell you good work or to proclaim disgust that you actually obtained this thing."
Blaise was, again, looking gratified.
"Come, Draco," she said, snatching the picture and putting it back into her pocket. "We have work of a sensitive nature to complete."
Draco and Blaise sat in two armchairs in the common room, observing Nott.
"We should do it now, I think," said Blaise, sprawled out on her leather chair. "He's by himself, the common room is mostly empty. Ideal conditions, I'd say."
"Yes, let's go."
They stood up and sauntered across the room toward Theodore, who, by the looks of it, was writing another letter. They took seats on either side of him. Nott glanced up curiously, then nodding, returned to his writing.
"Well hello, Theodore," said Blaise. He looked up at her again, irritated by the interruption. Draco smiled—she really was a professional.
Blaise fluttered her eyelashes at Nott.
"Oh, how we keep meeting under such similar circumstances!" she said dramatically. "Nott, I have yet another task for you. And if you refuse to do it, you will not like the consequences."
Nott's eyes grew wide as he looked at the two of them.
"What do you want?" he growled.
"Actually, Theo—do you mind if I call you that?" asked Blaise. "We're becoming such good friends, and all."
"No, you cannot," he said laconically.
"Sure thing, Theo," said Blaise. "Anyway, as I was saying, this task is not such a hard thing to do. In fact, it's the same task we agreed on before."
Nott narrowed his eyes.
"You want me to kick Finnigan around some more?"
"Very good, Theo! You remembered. That's precisely what we want from you."
"And what's in it for me?"
"Yes, I thought we'd come to that," said Blaise, reaching into her pocket. "You'll recall, won't you, the situation in which you aided me last time?"
"I remember," said Theodore through gritted teeth.
"Good boy," said Blaise. "Unfortunately for you, history is repeating itself. You do this for us, or we'll see to it that you cannot show your face in this common room ever again."
"And how will you accomplish that?"
"With this," said Blaise, whipping out her picture. "Rather condemnatory, wouldn't you say? Hard to talk your way out of this one. The evidence speaks for itself, and I happen to know that this girl, a certain Miss Dahlia Hutchins, is a Hufflepuff. A Muggleborn Hufflepuff. I don't think our fellow Slytherins will take kindly to your associating with a Mudblood."
Nott grabbed the photo and ripped it into shreds. Draco was horrified, but Blaise only smiled soberly.
"Rash action, Theo," she said. "You may have ripped up that picture, but I have a hundred more like it upstairs."
Draco chuckled at his colleague's prescience. Nott was now looking decidedly panicked. He looked between Draco and Blaise, biting his lip.
"All right," he conceded, "I'll do it."