THE MISDEMEANOUR
Drusilla skipped dinner and spent the evening in the library. She wasn't studying – in fact, she wasn't even reading. Her potions text lay open in front of her, to give Madam Pince, the highly-strung librarian, the impression that Drusilla was hard at work, but she was actually staring out of the large windows directly in front of her.
Drusilla had the rather unnerving habit of staying in one spot for many hours at a time and not moving – barely even blinking. It gave her time to clear her mind out and sift through the many moments of her day. At this very moment, she was dwelling on the events of her Potions lesson, and would continue to do so until she looked up much later and found that she had missed curfew….. By almost two hours.
Drusilla smiled and wondered what it would take to get herself kicked out of Hogwarts. Being a Malfoy (or being CONSIDERED a Malfoy) was certain to afford her certain indiscretions. But how much would be forgiven before it was deemed that she had crossed the line? What would she have to do before she could return to Paris and live out her life as the rightful Lacroix heiress?
As she stood up and returned her potions text to her book bag, Drusilla heard an exclamation of indignation behind her and swiftly turned around. Madam Pince swooped in on her.
"You! I told you to leave the library two hours ago young lady! Staying out after curfew! Illegal studying! You'll be lucky if I don't tell your housemaster! Now GET OUT!" And Drusilla was chased from the library by a couple of charmed books, flapping their leather-bound covers around her ears.
As the large oak doors of the library slammed shut, Drusilla grinned wryly and vowed to be consistently uncooperative until she had figured out the key element that would result in her expulsion from both Hogwarts and the Malfoy family.
Ten minutes later, Drusilla entered the Slytherin common room and found the perfect opportunity to fulfil her vow.
"Where have you been?" Draco strode towards her angrily. "We've got a house meeting starting in two minutes! You are damn lucky you didn't miss it!"
Drusilla raised one eyebrow and looked behind him at the seven straight rows of Slytherins (first years at the front, seventh years at the back), facing the common room entrance. They all looked straight ahead with serious, sombre expressions on their faces.
"I highly doubt that," she said dryly, and turned towards the sixth year girls' dorm. A hand grasped the back of her robes and yanked her backwards, making her stumble over her own feet.
"Get in line," said Draco, and began walking her towards the second last row of Slytherins, his hand still holding her robes.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she demanded, whirling around and pushing him away. Her eyes were the eyes of a madwoman –angry and darkening. "I do not wish to take part in your ridiculous house meeting any more than I wish to be part of your ridiculous house! Kindly do not touch me again."
But Draco, never having known when to quit while he was ahead, did touch her again. In fact, in the next fleeting moments that passed between them, Draco both slapped her face and discovered why he should never have done so.
The air was thick and time itself seemed to have slowed down, for before Drusilla Lacroix had even felt the stinging of her cousin's hand against her cheek, the words had rolled off her tongue and Draco's offending hand had been turned inside out upon itself. A horrible smell of burning flesh filled the room and Draco's terrified screams mixed with the sound of his muscles tearing and bubbling as they ripped and burned themselves at the same time.
Several Slytherins screamed and sobbed, while others merely stared. Drusilla took a few steps back, all at once pleased with her work and wanting to distance herself from it. She turned towards the common room entrance and stepped directly into the chest of the Potions Master himself. Looking up at him, she saw that he was muttering a counter-curse under his breath. Of course, it wouldn't be difficult for him to reverse. He could stop the burning, ease the pain, still Draco's writhing flesh. He did so, and immediately ordered Crabbe and Goyle to take the sobbing boy to see Madam Pomfrey, who would be able to heal him completely without too much fuss. His arm would no doubt return to normal within a day or two. But Drusilla was certain Draco would think twice before touching her again.
"All Slytherins to their dorms. The house meeting is cancelled," Professor Snape said in a voice only slightly louder than a whisper. The Slytherins, some still shaking and sobbing (Pansy Parkinson included) immediately retired for the night. Drusilla stayed rooted to the spot – not because she wanted to, but because the House Master had stayed her with a hand grasped firmly around her upper arm. When the last dorm doors had been closed, Snape turned on his heel and exited the Slytherin common room, still holding the newest sixth year by the arm. He marched Drusilla down a couple of cold stairwells and into a dark, sinister-looking dungeon that could only be his office. He let go of her arm and pointed to a chair in front of his desk, which she sat in, and then sat down himself, in a high-backed chair behind his desk.
Drusilla noted, with some surprise, that he did not seem overcome with fury, as her House Master at Durmstrang had always been when she'd committed her little 'misdemeanours.' Instead, his hands were clasped on the desk in front of him and when he spoke, he did so in a low, even voice and his words were calculated and well paced.
Well, Miss Malfoy," he said silkily, and Drusilla was sharply reminded of her uncle – though this man, she could see, was far more dangerous. "Is there anything you'd like to say?"
Drusilla got the distinct impression she was really being asked, 'Any last words?'
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hope everyone likes this chapter. Sorry to leave it on a cliffie! I just don't know what comes next, to be honest. In fact, I'm not so sure I'm going to be continuing this fic. I really love the idea of it, but it's just not getting much of a response from readers. Plus, I'm a bit confused as to where it's headed. If anybody had ideas, feel free to let me know. And PLEASE read & review, it's just common courtesy! By the way, I've re-written A GAGGLE OF GRYFFINDORS (Chap. 4, I think) if you'd like to read it again.
