Rule number one in the Malfoy Code of Conduct Handbook clearly stated that
all Malfoys that were coming of age had to read said handbook from cover to
cover so they would be able to handle themselves in the appropriate Malfoy
fashion. Draco Malfoy in particular had been handed this book a month
before he was to leave for Hogwarts for his first year. He had had
explicit instructions to read and memorize the book. Draco had opened the
book, but had thrown it in his closet after one page. The book had never
emerged again.
It wasn't his fault it was bloody boring.
Yet sitting where he was now, Draco Malfoy desperately wished he had at least given it a chance. After having the rules repeated by his father and mother to him so many times, he knew a majority of them by heart. A Malfoy will not marry below him or her. A Malfoy must always live up to his or her prestigious name. Yet there were some pretty obscure ones that he'd heard as well. A Malfoy will not eat salt on Sundays, for example. He himself had broken that one every Sunday he had been in Hogwarts; it was such a silly rule, he was quite confident that no one but the Malfoys would possibly know it.
Sighing, Draco cursed the Malfoy Code of Conduct Handbook. It was those silly, obscure rules that were bothering him now! Even dead, he was still a Malfoy, and wanted to maintain his aristocratic air. And though he'd never heard his father mention it, he supposed that there was every possibility that there was a rule forbidding hiding in a broom closet.
Which was what he was doing at that precise moment.
He'd found the broom closet in his return to Hogwarts. It had been his plan to go up to Dumbledore's office, announce his presence and explain to him why he had to fire Hagrid, post haste. Yet upon entering and floating down a random corridor, he'd nearly encountered Harry Potter. He'd been able to duck into it before Harry had noticed him, but still . . . it had been a close call. It was then that he realized that he wasn't really ready to face some of his peers in his new form. So he'd decided to hide for a little bit.
Well, to cut a long story short, that "little bit" had ended up being a week.
It wasn't that he was afraid. A Malfoy is never afraid, rule 436. He just didn't want to be seen yet, that was all. No fear whatsoever. Nope. None.
Well, maybe just a little. But not very much. He had just grown rather attached to the closet.
If he'd had the ability to drum his fingers, he would have been drumming them. Seven days cooped up in this small space was getting to him. He could tell from the lack of light shining through the crack under the door that it was nighttime. He would be safe if went out, even if it was only for a few minutes. He was going stir-crazy, and really, what would it hurt? Everyone would be asleep, most likely.
Taking a deep (though quite unnecessary) breath, Draco straightened and floated through the door. Looking from left to right, he saw no one. He smiled; he had no idea why he had put up such a fuss. There was no one around, and he was free, free-
He paused. Had someone just gasped?
His head swung to the left, eyes narrowed intently at the long corridor. There was no one there, yet he could have sworn he'd heard something. And there, had that not been a footstep? Either someone was playing a trick on him or . . .
Potter's Invisibility Cloak!
That was it! It had to have been one of the dream team. The gasp had sounded uniquely feminine, which meant it had to be that Mudblood, Granger. Or the Weasel, he sniggered to himself, smirking. Knowing that if it was The Wonder Boy or one of his two most loyal followers, they'd assuredly tell someone, he called out, "I know you're there. Take off that Invisibility Cloak."
There wasn't a sound. Draco rolled his eyes, and tried a different approach. "Ghosts can see through those things, you know. I can see you right now . . ." He left his voice trailing off persuasively, knowing for a fact that it wasn't true and that he hadn't the slightest idea where the person was. He could only hope that they didn't know it either.
"That's not true!" came a voice from behind him, in the right hand of the hallway. Draco turned to find Hermione Granger, only halfway visible, glaring at him. "A. Ghosts can't see through invisibility cloaks. B. You were looking in the wrong direction."
Nodding in agreement, Draco gave her credit. Most people would have completely freaked out and begged for mercy, yet she remained level headed. "That's true. But I got you to come out either way, didn't I?" He added sneakily, laughing as she blushed furiously and her glare became hard enough to pound nails into cement walls.
"You win, Malfoy." She muttered glumly. Then, as if the information had just hit her fully, she staggered. "Blimey, Malfoy! You're . . . you're dead!"
Bowing sarcastically, Malfoy returned the glare. "So kind of you to notice."
"It's just . . . wow, everyone is going to be so relieved. Well, not that you're dead, you understand, but that at least we all know what happened to you for sure. What did happen to you, anyway? One day you were here and then poof! You were gone. Awfully strange, you know-" Hermione rambled on, causing Draco to look at her in bewilderment.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Granger! Slow down. You were acting insane. Let's keep our curiosity in check, shall we?" He gave her a cocky glance, "And why would I tell you anything, anyway?"
Turning her nose up toward the air, Hermione pivoted and began walking away. "Fine then. Be that way, Malfoy. Now come with me, we need to see Dumbledore. Your parents have been on his case incessantly."
Suddenly, Draco's pompous ways disappeared entirely. A look something akin to terror crossed his features. "D-Dumbledore?" he sputtered, looking horrified. "Why do we need to tell him?"
"Malfoy?"
"I mean, who cares if I'm missing, really? They'll forget about me sooner or later, right? Maybe we can do the whole telling Dumbledore thing in a couple of months, or years . . . decades . . . you know, whenever."
"Malfoy."
"And surely no one misses me that much. I mean, it's not like I was ever especially NICE to anyone, right? I mean-"
"MALFOY."
At her voice, he paused, giving her the chance to interrupt. "Look, the entire school has been turned upside down looking for you at least three times that I know of. Pansy cries twenty-four hours a day. You'd think she'd be dried up by now, crying so often, but her body must retain an ungodly amount of water or something. I think even the teachers miss you! Even McGonagall, or Hagrid!" Her tirade was stopped at this point, at which Draco felt the need to interject.
"Well the bloody oaf should miss me. It's all his fault, anyway. How could he-" Realizing too late that he was giving one of his most hated enemies way too much information, he closed his mouth with a firm snap. It was too late. Hermione's curiosity was piqued. She stared at him, one eyebrow raised.
"Finish your sentence, Malfoy."
"What sentence? I don't remember any sentence."
She glared. "I'm going to Dumbledore."
"Oh, that sentence." He paused, hoping against hope that Hermione had some shred of mercy within her that would allow her to let him slide by on that. Unfortunately for him, Hermione wasn't feeling particularly merciful that night. She looked at him expectantly, and he reluctantly continued. "Hedidntfeedthegiantsquidanditateme."
The corners of her mouth perked up in the slightest. "Excuse me?" she asked, partly to clarify and partly to watch him squirm.
He glared at her, cursing her with all his might in his head. "I said, he didn't feed the giant squid. I went for a swim, and it ate me."
"It what?"
"You heard me, Granger."
"I think Dumbledore ought to know this . . ."
"IT ATE ME!"
"Thank you."
Then she promptly burst into giggles.
He glared at her. "You may think that dying is all one big gag, but I don't find it quite so amusing. I think it's rather frightening that you do, in fact. Aren't you supposed to be a good, wholesome Gryffindor?"
Biting back another peel or laughter, she sighed and made as if to wipe tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry, Malfoy! It's not that I find the fact that you died humorous. I just find the whole situation ironic. Great and powerful Draco Malfoy, eaten by the giant squid!" With that, she broke out into chuckles again. "It's just so . . ."
" . . . stupid."
"That, too. But I was thinking of something else." She shook her head and then motioned to him, "C'mon. Let's go see Dumbledore now."
Mortified, Draco floated backwards, away from her. "No. I don't want to."
Rolling her eyes, she advanced towards him. "Really, what's the big deal? The details of your death don't have to be released if you don't want them to. Honestly. Are you scared of getting some stupid nickname or something, like Drowning Draco?"
"No, but thank you for adding to my already growing list of reasons why I definitely do not want to go see Dumbledore."
At that, Hermione huffed. "This is ridiculous! Why are you avoiding this?"
"Is that really any of your business, Granger? Why are you so adamant on helping me, anyway? It's not like we're friends." His tone was scathing, and he could see she was hurt.
Focusing her eyes on the ground, she turned away from him. "If you really feel that way, Malfoy, then I'll gladly leave you alone. Excuse me for trying to do a nice thing for someone." Squaring her shoulders, she began to walk down the hall. He watched her leaving, shrinking, and suddenly realized that he was rather lonely. Even though he'd never had many true friends throughout his school years, he'd always had someone to keep him company. He hadn't realized how alone he truly was until he'd gotten in touch with someone. Even if it was someone he wasn't especially fond of.
"Granger!" he called out, watching her form stop growing smaller. In fact, it seemed she was moving toward him once again.
"What?" she growled impatiently, glaring at him once more.
"I don't want to see Dumbledore. Not just yet. Please?"
"What are you telling me this for?" she asked, tapping her foot.
"You weren't going to tell him?" he queried hopefully, smiling a little. His mood bettered as she shook her head. Suddenly, he liked Hermione a lot more than he had one minute prior.
"It's not my secret to tell," she replied wearily, "Though I still think you ought to."
"I will. Eventually," he promised, and she shrugged, mumbling a "whatever" disinterestedly.
"Hey, Granger?" he began again, looking quite ashamed as his eyes avoided hers.
"What, Malfoy?" The more he talked the more she seemed annoyed.
"Do you think that maybe you could come back tomorrow night? I'm kind of lonely." He admitted in a low voice, eyes staring directly at the ground. When he looked up, she was looking at him strangely, as if she were evaluating whether he was worth it. After a minute or two, she shrugged again.
"I guess I could," she stated slowly, before amending, "As long as you promise that you'll see Dumbledore soon."
He considered for a moment. Would it be so bad, being one of Hogwarts' ghosts? He would get to stay young forever, and that was a definite plus. And it was someplace familiar to him, which he liked better than his home. She'd said, also, that his cause of death wouldn't have to be released . . . he nodded.
"Sure."
Disclaimer: You know the drill, don't own, don't sue. Yadda yadda.
A/N: I was really disappointed at the lack of interest in this story, and I almost abandoned it, yet upon re-reading the first chapter the other day, I decided I didn't really care if no one wanted to read it, because I wanted to write it. So I am. I do have a review goal for this chapter, though. Not a review demand; I'm not asking for a set number of reviews to continue. I'll continue whether or not anyone reviews. But I do have a goal. My goal is. . .
More than one.
Mmkay? Let's see if we can manage that. Ha. :P
Happy holidays, everyone. :D
It wasn't his fault it was bloody boring.
Yet sitting where he was now, Draco Malfoy desperately wished he had at least given it a chance. After having the rules repeated by his father and mother to him so many times, he knew a majority of them by heart. A Malfoy will not marry below him or her. A Malfoy must always live up to his or her prestigious name. Yet there were some pretty obscure ones that he'd heard as well. A Malfoy will not eat salt on Sundays, for example. He himself had broken that one every Sunday he had been in Hogwarts; it was such a silly rule, he was quite confident that no one but the Malfoys would possibly know it.
Sighing, Draco cursed the Malfoy Code of Conduct Handbook. It was those silly, obscure rules that were bothering him now! Even dead, he was still a Malfoy, and wanted to maintain his aristocratic air. And though he'd never heard his father mention it, he supposed that there was every possibility that there was a rule forbidding hiding in a broom closet.
Which was what he was doing at that precise moment.
He'd found the broom closet in his return to Hogwarts. It had been his plan to go up to Dumbledore's office, announce his presence and explain to him why he had to fire Hagrid, post haste. Yet upon entering and floating down a random corridor, he'd nearly encountered Harry Potter. He'd been able to duck into it before Harry had noticed him, but still . . . it had been a close call. It was then that he realized that he wasn't really ready to face some of his peers in his new form. So he'd decided to hide for a little bit.
Well, to cut a long story short, that "little bit" had ended up being a week.
It wasn't that he was afraid. A Malfoy is never afraid, rule 436. He just didn't want to be seen yet, that was all. No fear whatsoever. Nope. None.
Well, maybe just a little. But not very much. He had just grown rather attached to the closet.
If he'd had the ability to drum his fingers, he would have been drumming them. Seven days cooped up in this small space was getting to him. He could tell from the lack of light shining through the crack under the door that it was nighttime. He would be safe if went out, even if it was only for a few minutes. He was going stir-crazy, and really, what would it hurt? Everyone would be asleep, most likely.
Taking a deep (though quite unnecessary) breath, Draco straightened and floated through the door. Looking from left to right, he saw no one. He smiled; he had no idea why he had put up such a fuss. There was no one around, and he was free, free-
He paused. Had someone just gasped?
His head swung to the left, eyes narrowed intently at the long corridor. There was no one there, yet he could have sworn he'd heard something. And there, had that not been a footstep? Either someone was playing a trick on him or . . .
Potter's Invisibility Cloak!
That was it! It had to have been one of the dream team. The gasp had sounded uniquely feminine, which meant it had to be that Mudblood, Granger. Or the Weasel, he sniggered to himself, smirking. Knowing that if it was The Wonder Boy or one of his two most loyal followers, they'd assuredly tell someone, he called out, "I know you're there. Take off that Invisibility Cloak."
There wasn't a sound. Draco rolled his eyes, and tried a different approach. "Ghosts can see through those things, you know. I can see you right now . . ." He left his voice trailing off persuasively, knowing for a fact that it wasn't true and that he hadn't the slightest idea where the person was. He could only hope that they didn't know it either.
"That's not true!" came a voice from behind him, in the right hand of the hallway. Draco turned to find Hermione Granger, only halfway visible, glaring at him. "A. Ghosts can't see through invisibility cloaks. B. You were looking in the wrong direction."
Nodding in agreement, Draco gave her credit. Most people would have completely freaked out and begged for mercy, yet she remained level headed. "That's true. But I got you to come out either way, didn't I?" He added sneakily, laughing as she blushed furiously and her glare became hard enough to pound nails into cement walls.
"You win, Malfoy." She muttered glumly. Then, as if the information had just hit her fully, she staggered. "Blimey, Malfoy! You're . . . you're dead!"
Bowing sarcastically, Malfoy returned the glare. "So kind of you to notice."
"It's just . . . wow, everyone is going to be so relieved. Well, not that you're dead, you understand, but that at least we all know what happened to you for sure. What did happen to you, anyway? One day you were here and then poof! You were gone. Awfully strange, you know-" Hermione rambled on, causing Draco to look at her in bewilderment.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Granger! Slow down. You were acting insane. Let's keep our curiosity in check, shall we?" He gave her a cocky glance, "And why would I tell you anything, anyway?"
Turning her nose up toward the air, Hermione pivoted and began walking away. "Fine then. Be that way, Malfoy. Now come with me, we need to see Dumbledore. Your parents have been on his case incessantly."
Suddenly, Draco's pompous ways disappeared entirely. A look something akin to terror crossed his features. "D-Dumbledore?" he sputtered, looking horrified. "Why do we need to tell him?"
"Malfoy?"
"I mean, who cares if I'm missing, really? They'll forget about me sooner or later, right? Maybe we can do the whole telling Dumbledore thing in a couple of months, or years . . . decades . . . you know, whenever."
"Malfoy."
"And surely no one misses me that much. I mean, it's not like I was ever especially NICE to anyone, right? I mean-"
"MALFOY."
At her voice, he paused, giving her the chance to interrupt. "Look, the entire school has been turned upside down looking for you at least three times that I know of. Pansy cries twenty-four hours a day. You'd think she'd be dried up by now, crying so often, but her body must retain an ungodly amount of water or something. I think even the teachers miss you! Even McGonagall, or Hagrid!" Her tirade was stopped at this point, at which Draco felt the need to interject.
"Well the bloody oaf should miss me. It's all his fault, anyway. How could he-" Realizing too late that he was giving one of his most hated enemies way too much information, he closed his mouth with a firm snap. It was too late. Hermione's curiosity was piqued. She stared at him, one eyebrow raised.
"Finish your sentence, Malfoy."
"What sentence? I don't remember any sentence."
She glared. "I'm going to Dumbledore."
"Oh, that sentence." He paused, hoping against hope that Hermione had some shred of mercy within her that would allow her to let him slide by on that. Unfortunately for him, Hermione wasn't feeling particularly merciful that night. She looked at him expectantly, and he reluctantly continued. "Hedidntfeedthegiantsquidanditateme."
The corners of her mouth perked up in the slightest. "Excuse me?" she asked, partly to clarify and partly to watch him squirm.
He glared at her, cursing her with all his might in his head. "I said, he didn't feed the giant squid. I went for a swim, and it ate me."
"It what?"
"You heard me, Granger."
"I think Dumbledore ought to know this . . ."
"IT ATE ME!"
"Thank you."
Then she promptly burst into giggles.
He glared at her. "You may think that dying is all one big gag, but I don't find it quite so amusing. I think it's rather frightening that you do, in fact. Aren't you supposed to be a good, wholesome Gryffindor?"
Biting back another peel or laughter, she sighed and made as if to wipe tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry, Malfoy! It's not that I find the fact that you died humorous. I just find the whole situation ironic. Great and powerful Draco Malfoy, eaten by the giant squid!" With that, she broke out into chuckles again. "It's just so . . ."
" . . . stupid."
"That, too. But I was thinking of something else." She shook her head and then motioned to him, "C'mon. Let's go see Dumbledore now."
Mortified, Draco floated backwards, away from her. "No. I don't want to."
Rolling her eyes, she advanced towards him. "Really, what's the big deal? The details of your death don't have to be released if you don't want them to. Honestly. Are you scared of getting some stupid nickname or something, like Drowning Draco?"
"No, but thank you for adding to my already growing list of reasons why I definitely do not want to go see Dumbledore."
At that, Hermione huffed. "This is ridiculous! Why are you avoiding this?"
"Is that really any of your business, Granger? Why are you so adamant on helping me, anyway? It's not like we're friends." His tone was scathing, and he could see she was hurt.
Focusing her eyes on the ground, she turned away from him. "If you really feel that way, Malfoy, then I'll gladly leave you alone. Excuse me for trying to do a nice thing for someone." Squaring her shoulders, she began to walk down the hall. He watched her leaving, shrinking, and suddenly realized that he was rather lonely. Even though he'd never had many true friends throughout his school years, he'd always had someone to keep him company. He hadn't realized how alone he truly was until he'd gotten in touch with someone. Even if it was someone he wasn't especially fond of.
"Granger!" he called out, watching her form stop growing smaller. In fact, it seemed she was moving toward him once again.
"What?" she growled impatiently, glaring at him once more.
"I don't want to see Dumbledore. Not just yet. Please?"
"What are you telling me this for?" she asked, tapping her foot.
"You weren't going to tell him?" he queried hopefully, smiling a little. His mood bettered as she shook her head. Suddenly, he liked Hermione a lot more than he had one minute prior.
"It's not my secret to tell," she replied wearily, "Though I still think you ought to."
"I will. Eventually," he promised, and she shrugged, mumbling a "whatever" disinterestedly.
"Hey, Granger?" he began again, looking quite ashamed as his eyes avoided hers.
"What, Malfoy?" The more he talked the more she seemed annoyed.
"Do you think that maybe you could come back tomorrow night? I'm kind of lonely." He admitted in a low voice, eyes staring directly at the ground. When he looked up, she was looking at him strangely, as if she were evaluating whether he was worth it. After a minute or two, she shrugged again.
"I guess I could," she stated slowly, before amending, "As long as you promise that you'll see Dumbledore soon."
He considered for a moment. Would it be so bad, being one of Hogwarts' ghosts? He would get to stay young forever, and that was a definite plus. And it was someplace familiar to him, which he liked better than his home. She'd said, also, that his cause of death wouldn't have to be released . . . he nodded.
"Sure."
Disclaimer: You know the drill, don't own, don't sue. Yadda yadda.
A/N: I was really disappointed at the lack of interest in this story, and I almost abandoned it, yet upon re-reading the first chapter the other day, I decided I didn't really care if no one wanted to read it, because I wanted to write it. So I am. I do have a review goal for this chapter, though. Not a review demand; I'm not asking for a set number of reviews to continue. I'll continue whether or not anyone reviews. But I do have a goal. My goal is. . .
More than one.
Mmkay? Let's see if we can manage that. Ha. :P
Happy holidays, everyone. :D