Draco Malfoy and the Disownment Project
Chapter Fourteen
Disclaimer: See Chapter One
Draco had finally learned the real reason he wasn't sorted into Gryffindor. It wasn't because his family had been in Slytherin for ages. It wasn't because he was pure evil. It was simply because he was the world's biggest coward.
His stomach in knots, he tried for the seventh time to climb the steps that would lead him to Gryffindor Tower. He promised himself every reward he could think of. If he did it this time, he would go on a shopping spree. He'd buy new robes, new shoes, anything.
He slumped against the wall. It was no use. There was no way he could go to Hogsmeade with Lavender. He wasn't brave enough.
Good luck. You won't need it, though.
Blaise's parting words kept running through his brain, urging him forward. He took a deep breath, and for the eighth time, attempted to ascend the stairs. Slowly, he progressed. His foot paused on the top step, but the thought of Blaise's face when she found out that he'd been too scared to pick up Lavender kept him from retreating once more. He felt jumpy, and his forehead was starting to sheen with nervous sweat; he furiously swiped the offending perspiration away, and met his next challenge.
He had made it to Gryffindor Tower, land of the noble and courageous. His lip curled at the thought of the sheer amount of heroic snobs that lurked in the near vicinity. Right in front of him was a huge portrait. He presumed that the obese woman it depicted was the guardian of the tower. He looked her over and snorted.
"Can I help you?" the portly lady asked, looking down at him, her eyebrows so far up her head they seemed to disappear into her hairline.
"Um, I'm waiting for someone," Draco said as politely as he could. It wouldn't be prudent to make enemies with one of the Gryffindor kind.
"Aren't you a Slytherin?" she said condescendingly.
"Yes," said Draco, trying to smile.
"Hmph," she said with a toss of her hair. "I don't like the colors green and silver to mar my tower."
Draco was furious. Green and silver were his best colors! He was about to retort that a woman of her size and age should not wear that shade of pink when the portrait swung open to reveal Parvati Patil.
"Oh, it's you," she said, as the Fat Lady swung back into place.
"Hello, Parvati, how are you today?" Draco said.
"Fine," said Parvati tersely. "I suppose you're waiting for Lavender?" She spat out her friend's name with disdain.
Draco didn't worry about her tone of voice. He had come prepared.
"Well, yes, that's who I came to see, but I'm glad I ran into you."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a book with a glossy blue cover. Swirling, gold lettering across the front described the world of Divination that could be found within its pages. Parvati was practically salivating over it.
"I've wanted that book forever," she said longingly. "They're always sold out at Flourish and Blotts. Where did you find it?"
"Oh! This?" Draco said, feigning surprise. "I was hoping you could tell me if it's any good, but here, you take it. You obviously want it more than I do. You're the dedicated Divination student, after all."
Draco had received it as a Christmas gift from his mother, but he wasn't about to tell Parvati that. Malfoys were never supposed to re-gift, after all.
"Here," said Draco, holding the book out to her.
"No, I couldn't," said Parvati, her fingers grasping the spine lovingly. "It's yours."
Her hold wasn't loosening on the book.
"No, really Parvati," Draco insisted. "We're friends now, right? Just think of it as a gift between friends."
"Oh, I shouldn't," said Parvati, but Draco had already relinquished his grip on the book. Seeing this, Parvati clutched the book to her chest, stroking the cover lovingly.
"Wow, Draco," she breathed. "Thank you."
"No problem," said Draco, resisting the urge to smirk. Winning over Lavender's best friend seemed to have been easier than he thought it would be.
"Do you want me to get Lavender for you?" Parvati said hesitantly.
"Oh, no, I don't want to trouble you."
"It wouldn't be any trouble at all!" Parvati said, beaming at him. "It'll only take a minute."
"Well, if you're sure…" Draco began, but Parvati had already gone back into the tower. Draco caught a glimpse of a vibrantly red-and-gold room before the Fat Lady shifted back into her usual spot.
"So, you're seeing Miss Brown today, are you," said the painting, her hands on her copious hips.
"Yes. Lovely girl, isn't she?"
The Fat Lady eyed him suspiciously, but was thrown back once more as Lavender hopped into view. Her hair had been curled and hung around her face in tiny spirals. Her robes were a delicate shade of pink, much less lurid than those of the enormous portrait. She looked very pretty.
"You look nice," Draco said awkwardly, inwardly kicking himself. Nice? No woman wanted to hear she looked nice. What happened to his usual suave way with compliments? Lavender, however, didn't seem to mind.
"Thank you," she giggled. "You look nice, too."
Draco offered her his arm.
"To Hogsmeade?" he said.
"Let's go," she said, looping her arm through his.
Blaise peeked once more through the pink-tinted windows of Madam Puddifoot's. Despite what she had told Draco, she was spying on him. He couldn't afford to not have her eye on him. If he messed things up…
Blaise didn't want to acknowledge that he seemed to be doing quite fine without her. He was speaking with his I'm-saying-something-clever smirk plastered across his face, and Lavender was lapping it up, tossing her curly head back and giggling like a lunatic. Blaise narrowed her eyes. Lavender was a shame to all girls everywhere. How ditzy could one person be?
"What are you doing?" came an accusatory voice from behind her.
Blaise jumped, whirling around to see Harry Potter staring at her mistrustfully.
"What's it to you, Potter?" she said, cursing her momentary lapse in circumspection.
"Are you spying on someone?" Harry said incredulously.
"Does it look like I'm spying on someone?"
"Well, yes, it does. I know you're friends with Malfoy, Zabini."
Blaise smiled coyly.
"Not really," she said with a flutter of her eyelashes. "You want to go have a coffee or something with me inside Madam Puddifoot's?"
Harry's eyes were as wide as saucers.
"No, thank you," he said, turning on his heel and walking briskly in the opposite direction.
"I thought that would do the trick," Blaise muttered, turning back to the window. Lavender was leaning across the table and resting a manicured hand on Draco's forearm. Blaise rolled her eyes.
Remember, it's for a good cause, she told herself. You have to put up with the nitwit if Draco's ever going to succeed in his project.
If there was one thing that annoyed Blaise, it was foolish girls. She brushed her bangs back from her face, and glared at her reflection in the window.
Draco was fine, she finally admitted. Blaise had bigger things to deal with.
She walked away from the shop and onto the path that lead back to Hogwarts. She winced as she passed the post office. What if Draco got into trouble? What if he needed her to get him out of a fix? She was supposed to wait for him there.
"He's a big boy," she said to herself firmly. "He's going to have to learn to cope without me eventually."
Blaise strode purposely through the crowd, only shoving one Hufflepuff as she made her way back toward the castle. She scowled straight ahead as she pulled open the heavy front doors and walked back into the school. As it was a Hogsmeade weekend, the only people around seemed to be first and second years. Blaise grinned wickedly at one of them, and the little redheaded girl quickly ran to join the throng of her fellow students. Most of the younger pupils were afraid of Slytherins, and Blaise in particular seemed to frighten them out of their wits. Blaise couldn't say she minded this.
She didn't know exactly where she was going, as she didn't know quite where the entity she was searching for would be hiding. There was only one logical place to look, however, and that was the dungeons.
Blaise quite liked the dungeons. They were a bit cold and dank, but they provided many excellent places for someone to go to be avoided. Blaise was notoriously cryptic and liked to spend time away from the hustle and bustle of the school. Therefore, she knew the majority of the dungeons like the back of her hand. She doubted that even Snape knew his way around as well as she did. The only one who could match her knowledge of the lower levels of the school was Filch, though the Weasley twins may have given her a run for her money when they were still in school.
Though Blaise, with her superior understanding of the dungeons, knew far more than the average student, she had still never run into the Bloody Baron on her own. When she had come across him, it seemed more as if he had meant to find her. Blaise shook her head, clearing her thoughts. Past experiences didn't matter. She may not know where the ghost resided, but she was the best equipped to make a guess. There was a room, not far from the Potions classroom, that was avoided by the rest of the school. It was down a long, dark corridor, the only light coming from a distant torch that seemed to burn infinitely. It was rumored that the passageway was filled with spiders, which at the very least kept Ron Weasley away. If Blaise's intuition was right, it was a favorite haunt of the Slytherin ghost.
She gripped her wand tightly in her hand. She wasn't afraid of spiders, or, in fact, any sort of nonmagical creature. She highly doubted that Dumbledore would allow something malignant to wander down a hallway that wasn't closed off to the school, but then again, there had been a Basilisk terrorizing the school only several short years ago…
She shook her head again. She wasn't going to let her imagination frighten her into believing there was any sort of dangerous creature down that corridor. She was going down there to find something out, and that was final. She swallowed, then, wand still in hand, took her first tentative step down the corridor. She kept her gaze unwaveringly on the distant light.
It wasn't so bad, she thought. There were distinct scuttling sounds coming from the baseboards, but that wasn't any different from the Slytherin common room. She had almost turned back when she had heard what sounded uncannily like a low, rasping cackle, but instead, she determinedly pressed onward. She was almost there—only a dozen more paces before she reached the torch. She could see a web-covered door now. It was painted dark green, and tiny, emerald-encrusted serpents circled the doorknob. For a split second she thought that they were real, but realized that it was only the light from the torch making them waver like that.
She kept her eyes now on the doorknob. Horrendous scenarios were racing each other through her mind. Her hands shook as she imagined a motley assortment of monsters jumping out at her. She released a great gasp of breath as she reached out to grab the cold doorknob. She only just remembered that she could have used her wand to light up the hall. She gave a shuddering laugh, then, her heart beating wildly, she turned the knob and walked into the room beyond.
The door creaked shut behind her, sending chills down her spine. The room was dimly lit by an odd, pale green glow. She could make out the dark shapes of what seemed like furniture around her, but there was not enough light to see her surroundings clearly.
"Lumos," she murmured, and the tip of her wand blazed suddenly with a brilliant light.
Blaise's eyes widened as she looked around her. There were dusty old bookshelves lining the walls, and ancient looking chairs, covered with dust and mildew, were arranged into a circle in the middle of the room. Everything was green-hued, with silver embellishments here and there. There was a solid silver statue of Salazar Slytherin, even larger than the one in the Slytherin common room, in a far corner. But most impressive of all was the desk a few yards to her right. It, like everything else in the room, was emerald in color. The legs of the desk were swirled with silver, and more than anything it looked heavy, though she was sure 'expensive' was another word to describe it. Behind the desk sat the Bloody Baron.
The green light seemed to be coming from directly behind him. Blaise could see the light through him, at least, which, mixed with the silver of his bloodstains, made him a perfect fit in the room.
"Hello, Miss Zabini," the ghost said, almost cheerfully.
"Are you writing a letter?" Blaise asked.
The Baron looked down at his hand, which was closed around a tall, dark green quill.
"It certainly looks that way, doesn't it?" said the Baron, smiling at her.
"Ghosts can't hold things," she said, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, I know that," said the ghost. "I like to pretend, though. It writes on its own," he explained in response to her puzzled look. "Nifty little thing, isn't it? Just writes what I'm thinking… but after one's been dead for so many years, one begins to miss the simple things, like holding a quill."
Blaise nodded, willing to take his word for it.
"I suppose you're here for a reason?" said the Bloody Baron, focusing on the parchment in front of him. "I must commend you, of course, on finding me. I'm not even sure Dumbledore knows. No one has ever visited me before." He looked up at her. "In fact, you're the first to ever locate me here. Was there something in particular you needed?"
"Oh—oh, yes," said Blaise, remembering what she came for. "I wanted to talk to you about Draco Malfoy."
The Baron stopped pretending to hold his quill. He folded his ghostly arms on the top of his desk, looking interested.
"Really? Whatever about our dear Mr. Malfoy?"
"I'd appreciate it if you'd not say anything more to him," she said, her anger flaring. "You don't know what you almost destroyed."
"I'm afraid you're wrong there, Miss Zabini," said the Bloody Baron. He sounded sympathetic but forceful, and his words were only the slightest bit patronizing. "I know exactly what I almost destroyed, and I'll also have you know that it would probably be best if that which would have been broken would be put to an end completely."
Blaise felt the familiar spark of infuriated passion explode in her chest.
"You have no idea what you're talking about."
"If you say so," said the Bloody Baron, examining the still-scratching quill.
"I do say so. Now, please, just don't say anything more to him. Just forget whatever rubbish you came up with and stay out of his business," she pleaded.
That was wrong—Zabinis did not plead.
"Leave Draco alone," she demanded. "I don't care what you have to say to him. You're ruining his concentration with your silly stories. Just stop it."
"Well, if you feel that strongly about it…"
"I do."
"Fine then, Miss Zabini." The ghost paused. "I admire your courage in coming here. I will leave Mr. Malfoy alone from now on. I'll remind you, though, that I did try warning him."
Blaise didn't know how to answer this. Her fingers had just closed around the doorknob when the Bloody Baron called, "Miss Zabini?"
Blaise turned to look once more at the ghost, the odd green light illuminating him eerily.
"Yes?"
"You're welcome to visit me again sometime."
Blaise blinked, then nodded. She walked back out into the corridor, the door snapping shut behind her. The light of her wand had still not gone out, and she kept it on during the walk down the long, spooky corridor. As she turned back into the familiar parts of the dungeons and whispered "Nox," causing the light of her wand to go out at last, she was still not quite sure what had just happened.