Draco Malfoy and the Disownment Project
Chapter Ten
Disclaimer: See Chapter One
Draco stared at his fellow Slytherins with something that felt like dread. He knew, though they weren't nearly as intelligent as he, that they were still entirely capable of coming up with creative ways to kill him. After watching one's parents perform Death Eater duties, one also learned that fine art.
He watched with apprehension as the Slytherins inched closer, scowls etched on their faces. Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles. For a moment he felt betrayed, before he remembered that, having about two brain cells a piece, Crabbe and Goyle never thought on their own and merely imitated those around them.
"Have you anything to tell us, Draco?" asked Pansy, faking innocence. "Have anything you'd like to say?"
"No," said Draco, rather squeakier than usual.
"Really?" said Pansy. "That's not the answer I was looking for. Now, tell us all what your little display of House disloyalty was all about this morning, or the robes get it!"
With that, she whipped a pair of his favorite velvet robes from behind her back.
"You wouldn't!" Draco gasped.
"Try me," said Pansy, deadly serious. She looked exactly like a rabid dog—her pug face was screwed up in a moue of disgust, and a low growl was escaping from her lips. He would not be surprised if she started foaming at the mouth.
"You have until the count of three," said Pansy, raising her wand. "If you haven't come up with an acceptable story by then, I will make these lovely robes look just as shabby as that werewolf Lupin's were!"
Draco winced, his mind reeling. His policy was always to save himself first, buy new robes later, but it was such a shame to sit back and watch such an essential part of his wardrobe become rags.
"One," said Pansy, pressing her wand against the rich, soft fabric. "Two."
Her wand hand was quivering. Draco closed his eyes, not wanting to watch the ensuing destruction.
"Oh, stop it, Pansy," said Blaise lazily. "There was a perfectly good reason why Draco stopped Nott today."
The crowds parted theatrically to reveal Blaise, sitting calmly at a table, writing her Potions essay. Draco and his robes were saved.
"Tell us, Blaise," said Pansy, shooting an evil glare at Draco, but her voice sounding less hostile. "Go on, we're all listening."
Blaise stood majestically and approached Draco, stopping to stand beside him.
"Draco Malfoy did not commit an act of treason this morning," she said grandly. "The events that transpired today were completely staged."
Whispers broke out among the Slytherins. Blaise cleared her throat to quiet them down, then continued.
"Our friend here is by no means a traitor!" she cried. "And I want to ask you, what do a few House points lost and a man in detention really matter when they have helped further Mr. Malfoy's noble cause?"
Malcolm Baddock could be heard muttering, "A few House points? We lost fifty! We're down to the triple digits in negative numbers!"
No one paid him any attention; they were all under Blaise's spell.
"You see, my comrades," she continued magnificently, "Mr. Malfoy here is the quintessential Slytherin. He embodies our wonderful traits—our cunning, our ambition, our ability can all be found tenfold in Draco.
"What I am about to tell you may be shocking. You may find yourself astonished and repugnant! 'Why,' you may ask, 'would anyone go so far for a purpose, no matter how admirable?' I tell you truthfully, it is because Draco Malfoy cares deeply about the defamation that has befallen each and every one of us! He is paving the way toward a better future for the Slytherins of tomorrow! He is invading the Gryffindors in order to learn their dirty little secrets, and by doing so, bring them down to the level at which we now find ourselves! It is time to reverse this unfair prejudice against Slytherins! With Draco Malfoy as our guide, we will once again find ourselves as the royalty of this school. We will return to our rightful thrones. The Gryffindors must suffer as we have suffered!"
She was whipping the crowd into a frenzy.
"All I ask—no, all I demand," said Blaise in a strong, clear voice, "is that you show your support for Draco by breathing a word of this to no one. If I find out that one of you has been running your mouth, and indeed, showing infidelity to your House, you will have me to deal with, which will not result in something pleasant. Now, who is with us?"
Cheers emanated from every person present. Draco was grinning widely; Blaise was alight with fervor.
"And you promise to keep quiet?" she shouted. "Slytherins' honor?"
"Slytherins' honor!" yelled the House as one.
"I thank you, fine members of Slytherin House," said Blaise, walking tranquilly back to her homework.
Draco found himself surrounded by his Housemates, all cheering and clapping him on the back. He waved to them as he made his way to his dormitory.
He hopped onto his bed, closed his curtains, and shut his eyes, trying to recover from the emotional upheaval of the day. He had gone from nervous to exhilarated to frightened in the space of several hours, and it had been draining. He felt a sense of relief and elation at the way the Slytherins had changed their minds and rallied around him, but it was deadened slightly by his sheer exhaustion.
What he wanted to do now was relax, and possibly take a nap. As was becoming usual these days, however, he got exactly the opposite. He groaned inwardly as he heard the dormitory door open. He cursed whatever fool was disturbing his peace. Couldn't they see he wanted to be by himself?
"Draco?" Blaise called softly.
"What?" he said.
She opened his curtains just enough to poke her head in.
"Hey," she said, "are you all right?"
He didn't answer.
Sighing, she opened the curtains the whole way, then sat down beside him.
"I'm really sorry," she said.
He made a vague noise, not knowing what she was talking about.
"Draco," she said firmly, "we're going to have to talk about it at some point."
He looked up at her. He never had someone actually care like this before.
"I know you, Draco. I know you better than what is probably needed. Or natural." She gave a short little laugh. "I know something is wrong. Why else would you leave during such a perfect ego-boosting opportunity? I know you might be upset with me—"
"No I'm not," said Draco, bemused.
Blaise blinked. "You aren't upset with me?"
"No!" said Draco. "Why would you think that?"
"I don't know, I thought you were angry that I hadn't remembered to tell the Slytherins about what was happening with Nott and Seamus. I was angry at myself for being such an idiot, I thought you must have been, too."
"No, really Blaise, it's fine. I'm not upset with you."
"What's wrong, then?"
Draco sighed deeply.
"I'm a bit tired," he admitted. "Overwhelmed. Emotionally drained."
"Oh," said Blaise. "Well, I knew it had to be something. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Well..." said Draco, "if you really wanted to..."
"Come on, Draco, I'm feeling charitable at the moment, but let's not push it."
"You could go get me another novel."
Blaise laughed. "Okay, why not. How was this one? I'll have to chat about it with Pansy and Millicent at some point."
Draco sighed dramatically. "It was lovely. Turlough died of a bad case of dragon pox, and we were left with one final scene with Siobhan, as she cried hysterically over his grave, screaming 'Why? Why couldn't he have just gone to St. Mungo's like I asked?' See, it even has good life lessons: always get to a Healer if there is even the slightest chance you'll develop a particularly malignant case and die."
"Nice," snorted Blaise.
"It is!" insisted Draco. "True love never dies, Blaise!"
Blaise looked at him, then burst into insane giggles.
"I never thought I'd hear that come from your mouth," she gasped. "Draco Malfoy believes in true love."
Draco looked at her pityingly. "If you haven't got true love, what do you have?"
Blaise smiled, then waved the book. "I'll go get you another one, Miss Malfoy."
He threw a pillow at her on her way out. Five minutes later she returned, a new book in hand.
"Pansy guaranteed that this will be a fantastic read," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Enjoy."
Draco quickly turned it over to read the back.
"Eurgh, Blaise, wait," he said, handing it back. "The hero's name is Harry."
"That'll be why Pansy likes it so much, then."
"I can't read anything where the hero's name is Harry."
"Draco, she's not going to want it back! She just gave it to me! Charm it so it says 'Draco' or something."
Draco looked at her, his mouth open slightly. He remembered that this was not dignified and quickly snapped it shut.
"Blaise," he said at last, "you are brilliant."
"So I'm told," she said with a shrug. "Glad I could be of service."
He tucked the book carefully into his drawer, smiling, then looked back at his friend.
"Blaise, I have a question."
"Ask away, Oh Glorious Leader, who will lead us out of the hate that is focused against us."
"Was that passive-aggressive?"
"It might have been."
He looked anxiously at her—was she angry at him or something? She smiled a bit.
"I'm joking, Draco. We really need to improve our communication. I thought you were upset with me when you weren't, now you think I'm mad at you when I'm not..."
"Sometimes it's hard to tell, you know," he said. "You're kind of excessively sarcastic."
"It's a gift," said Blaise lightly, leaning back against the pillows on his bed. "Go ahead, ask your questions."
"Where did you learn to give speeches like that?" said Draco. It was a skill he was hoping he'd pick up on.
"I don't know," she said, closing her eyes. "Today was the first time I tried it. The results were satisfactory."
"Do you mean to tell me," he said slowly, "that you had never done that before today?"
Blaise nodded.
"Without practice, even?"
"It was completely unrehearsed.
"Wow, Blaise, you're good! Why did you wait so long to help me out?"
She shrugged. "I would have thought that was evident. Dramatic timing, and all of that. And I like to watch you squirm."
"Blaise, how—how—how me of you!"
"I knew you'd be proud."
"So, how did you detain the teachers?" Draco asked with interest.
Blaise, still leaning against the pillows with her eyes shut, smirked.
"Wrote a few letters, pulled a few strings, used my deep and varied system of connections..."
"Spit it out, woman!"
"I got Graham Pritchard to pick a generic Slytherin fight to distract the teachers. He started to heckle Rose Zeller, a Hufflepuff, as we were leaving the Hall to follow Nott. Pritchard tossed a few insults around about her family, called her some names. Typical Slytherin antics, but effective. I heard Zeller started crying and had to be taken to the hospital wing for a Calming Draught of some sort."
Draco looked at her, impressed.
"Really starting to pick the Hufflepuffs off one by one, aren't you?" he commented.
"Well, you know, they annoy me." She languidly opened an eyelid. "You should keep that in mind."
"Oh, you know you love me."
"Whatever. 'Love' is not the word I would use. 'Tolerate,' maybe, but not 'love.' "
"Keep telling yourself that, Blaise."
He plucked up his courage—he'd need it to say what was coming next.
"All right," he said. "I've been meaning to ask you, but I was too afraid of the potential answer to do it before now.... How exactly did you obtain those pictures of Nott and his girlfriend? What was her name? Delilah?"
"Dahlia," Blaise corrected with a small snort. "And it wasn't as disgusting as you might have thought. You know Colin Creevey, right?"
"Colin who?"
Blaise's eyes were still shut, but she had probably rolled them anyway.
"Draco, I worry about you. Honestly, not knowing who Creevey is. Don't you remember? He's the twerp who used to follow Potter around in our second year. He's a year behind us. He was Petrified during the Chamber of Secrets fiasco. He's a Gryffindor."
"Yeah," said Draco with a grin. "I remember him. I just couldn't connect the name with a face."
"Anyway, as I was saying, I got the trick off of him. He used to put a Disillusionment Charm on his camera so he could get pictures of Potter without being found out."
"What kind of pictures?" Draco asked, horrified.
"Oh, well, apparently Creevey got in trouble for taking pictures of Gryffindor Quidditch practices, so he had to do it in secret. There was quite a black market trade for those pictures. Oliver Wood, the old Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, was quite popular. Millicent Bulstrode paid ten Galleons for one. She has it hanging on her wall. I think Pansy is trying to get her hands on a Potter."
Draco looked at her, aghast. "That is wrong on so many levels."
"It's helpful, though."
"It's helpful to have Gryffindor pictures on your wall? Blaise, you're disgusting."
"No! I meant it was helpful to use Creevey's trick. Anyway, all I had to do was Disillusion my own camera, put a Silencing Charm on it, then slip it into the room where Nott was. Easy."
Draco sat back, numb with awe and approval.
"You amaze me, Blaise," he said with reverence.
"I'm the best thing that ever happened to you."
"Well, I wouldn't go that far," argued Draco. "Gilderoy Lockhart's hair potions are up at the top of the list."
Blaise laughed. "What is the story there, anyway?"
"With Gilderoy? Well, he was holed up in the loony bin area of St. Mungo's for several years, and even though his memory never came back properly, and he couldn't go back to his old crime-fighting self, he could follow a new, greater ambition. Hair potions are a much nobler cause, I think. He's marketed a simply terrific line, Blaise, you really must try them."
"He turned out to be a fraud though, didn't he?" Blaise asked. "All that stuff in his books was all things other people did, right?"
"Does that really matter though?" Draco said. "When you think of what he's doing now... I just don't know where I'd be without his products..." He trailed off, feeling slightly teary. Blaise looked like she was trying to keep from giggling.
"Okay, I have a question for you, now," said Blaise, changing the subject. "What happened after I left you this morning? How did our plan go?"
"Went off without a hitch," said Draco. "I have a hidden talent, Blaise. I am a fantastic actor. I'm so wonderful, I could think about trying it for a career. I—"
Blaise cut him off.
"What happened with Lavender, you dolt?"
"Oh. She approached me, said thank you for helping halt the killing of her Irish boyfriend, said I'd really changed..."
"So that's good, right?" said Blaise. "We're getting closer."
"Yeah, I think so," said Draco. "And now with the Slytherins where we need them, we're in a perfect position. We can go in for the kill."
They sat in silence for a moment, each absorbed in individual thoughts.
"We make a good team, don't you think, Blaise?"
She paused, then smiled. "We really do, don't we?"
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