Chapter 6: Excuses and Notes
Draco grimaced as he entered the Great Hall buzzing as it did every day with chattering children and wornout teachers. He scanned the tables quickly, making a mental note of all those present—something that he had made a daily ritual. Such information made it easier to pull pranks, plan insults, and get others in trouble. Being prepared—another Malfoy trait. A particularly useful one in matters of creating mayhem. Draco noticed several female students blushing at him and whispering to their neighbors after he had entered. But this was a usual occurrence. His gaze then fell on the Gryffindor table, expecting to see Ginny in her recent pathetic looking state. But her place was empty. It was better then Draco had thought and he couldn't stop himself from grinning slightly at the thought of causing her emotional pain. Maybe then she would understand what it was he, Draco, had been going through all the time.
"Draco, sit over here," he heard Victoria call, oozing with sweetness. With an added spring in his step, Draco headed towards his house table and seated himself next to the waiting girl.
He hadn't felt this content in a long time. Ginny wasn't there to taunt him with what he didn't have, and the thought of her pain made his lips quiver sadisticly. She was so upset she couldn't drag herself to dinner, he mused, picturing Ginny curled up in her bed sobbing herself hoarse.
"Where have you been all day Draco," a gruff and clumsy voice asked from across the table after having been elbowed in the side by Crabbe.
"I had things to do, Goyle," Draco replied flatly, not willing to offer any further information. An uncomfortable silence filled the Slytherin table, but no one dared to press anymore.
Yes, Draco called the two guerillas seated in front of him his friends, but it was only a term. It meant nothing. The true meaning of the word "friend" implied the ability to trust that individual, and Draco trusted no one. How could he? Everyone around him was self-indulging and tratorous, including himself. If people were smart they'd become callous like he had become throughout the years. Don't expect anything from people. That way you don't get let down or surprised. It was functional, being the way Draco was; hard-hearted and distant to all he met.
That was another thing. Getting attached to people made you weak. The moment you make yourself vulnerable they leave you. Why go through it all? That is why Draco never allowed anyone to purge his exterior, not even his mother who at times attempted to show some type of emotion. But Draco rejected it, knowing it wouldn't last, she would get a call from one of the society matrons or an invitation to a ball and would leave without giving Draco another thought. And that's the way it always was.
Birthdays, now that was a different matter completely. This one day each year the Malfoys would indulge themselves in celebration. Well, at least his parents did. To Draco it just meant he was one year closer to sealing his destiny. Lucius and Narcissa supplied Draco with the most lavish parties and expensive presents, as if bribing him to grow older, to keep going. He only had to make it to his 18th birthday, a few more months, and then he would join his father as a Death Eater and continue in the older Malfoy's footsteps. This year's presents would be the most elaborate.
Goyle grunted and went back to ravenously eating his porc chop, slopping his goblet of pumpkin juice slightly as he shoveled his food in faster. Draco groaned inside looking at the pitiful excuses in front of him. Yes, their massive wall-like bodies were useful when confronting their enemies, but certainly he could do better then those two. Shaking his head, Draco made a mental note to scour the school for two less repulsive groupies.
Just then, a loud flapping noise with mingled screeches filled the Great Hall. Owls swooped and soared above, dropping pieces of mail into the students waiting hands. Draco continued to eat his food, not expecting anything as usual. His family rarely wrote, and he frankly didn't want them to. A large school barn owl suddenly landed infront of him knocking over a bowl of boiled carrots and stuck its leg out for the blond-haired boy. Draco raised an eyebrow and took it hesitantly. The owl flapped its wings and was off again leaving Draco with a skinny piece of parchment. He unrolled it and read:
Draco,
Meet me at 11:00 pm, tonight in the History of Magic classroom.
Draco's head shot up and he immediately began visually scouring the Great Hall for the author of the letter, thinking perhaps they would be glancing over to see if he had received it. It wasn't an oddity to be sent such a request, in fact, it was a rather mundane event. Countless girls had tried the same approach, thinking an added bit of mystery would perhaps give them a better chance with the young Malfoy. But it had happened so many times now that Draco docked the girls off for lack of originality.
Just then Draco caught two brown eyes staring at him from behind a pair of very thick pink-rimmed spectacles. Draco's face screwed up in disgust. It was Mildred Mortensen, a very heavy-set, pimple faced Hufflepuff 5th year that was several inches taller and wider then Draco. If it was possible, she was even more heinous to the eye with her troll like build than Pansy Parkinson with her pug nose.
Mildred's newest hobby was following a few paces behind Draco between classes and staring at him from across the hall. He thought he had been rather successful up until now at keeping her away, giving her particularly cutting remarks, but now he was not so sure it had worked. He glanced at the piece of parchment in his hands again. What if that hag had sent the note to him? There was no way he wanted to be shut up in an empty room with her, afterall, she was quite a bit bigger then he and she had a manly sort of physique. Whatsmore, if anyone saw him leaving the classroom with her following after him… Draco shuddered at the idea. It was gossip the girls of Hogwarts would pay to obtain. He couldn't tarnish the Malfoy name with the likes of her.
Draco reached for his goblet and took a long draught of the sweet pumpkin juice, wanting to get the sour taste the thoughts of Mildred Mortensen had left in his mouth. He looked at her again. She ressembled a very ugly looking doll who had tried to gussy herself up by placing a number of large pink bows and barrettes all over her head making her frizzy hair stick up like she'd been hit with lightening. 'She'd make an excellent girlfriend for Potter, he likes being around trash,' he smirked to himself, looking at the wretched girl. Mildred suddenly realized Draco was returning her stares and her eyelashes began fluttering rapidly.
"What is the matter with that ridiculous Hufflepuff?" Victoria snorted loudly, having traced Draco's stare to Mildred. "Is she having a seizure? Wait, I think she's got something in her eyes!" By now most of the Slytherins had turned around and were pointing and laughing at the large girl, who didn't seem to notice as she continued batting her eyeslashes.
Draco's mouth hung open, what exactly was she doing? It looked as though someone had put the Imperius Curse on Mildred, forcing her into this blinking frenzy to humiliate her. For a second, she stopped and looked expectantly at Draco, but he continued to gape. The ugly troll then began batting her eyelashes again, this time more quickly and forcefully. Her entire face scrunched up as if she was concentrating, and her body was twitching rhythmically. She was trying to impress him, Draco finally realized.
Victoria seemed to be thinking along the same lines and said between fits of giggles, "Drakey, I think I have some competition." Draco's eyebrows furrowed at Mildred who hadn't relented the slightest. Suddenly she toppled over backwords and landed with a dull thud on the stone floor. The Slytherin table erupted with laugher, and even students from other tables had a hard time hiding their snickers as Mildred resurfaced once again, blushing as she pushed her glasses back on her nose.
"Honestly, they shouldn't let people like that into this school, but then again, they let the Mudbloods in, so it's not a surprise," Draco muttered, turning back to his food and crumpling the piece of parchment in his hand and stuffing it into his pocket.
"I don't know why she thinks she has a chance with you!" Victoria said later that night as she and Draco entered the Slytherin common room with the usual group following behind."She's got to be the ugliest thing I've ever seen… don't you agree Drakey?"
Draco picked up his Potion's book he had left there earlier and fell back onto one of the green velvet couches, resuming his place without another glance at his entourage. Victoria had been poking fun at Mildred Mortensen ever since they left the Great Hall and Draco was beginning to tire of her voice. It wasn't that he disagreed with Victoria, Mildred truly was horrid, but he didn't particularly feel like company at the moment.
He knew why he felt this way. For one stunning instant, Draco thought Ginny Weasley wrote the note. Why he thought that, he had no idea. She was not the sort of girl to proposition him or any male for that matter; that required a certain amount of wickedness and Ginny was completely pure. Spotless as a matter of fact. Besides, she seemed to be perfectly contented yet again being strung along by Potter and his invisible dog leash.
Why did he wish for something that he knew he was not supposed to have? The thought was eating him up inside. Never before had he defied his father in this magnitude or brought shame to his family name that any relations with such a low-class witch would inevitably bring. In fact, he had conformed in every way, becoming the perfect little Malfoy he had been trained to be. Then why did he crave the redheaded girl so much, she was nothing extraordinary. There were a hundred more suitable girls that were more then willing to satisfy him.
And then there was the one thing he feared in the entire world: the wrath of his father. He had only had a small taste of what Lucius was capable of, and that was reason enough to obey his every command. Draco managed to contain the shudder the memories of the horrible punishing curse gave him, absentmindedly rubbing the back of his head.
"What'cha doin' Draco?" Victoria asked in her usual feigned sweetness, cozying up beside him and leaning over his shouldor curiously so that her black locks tumbled onto the pages of Draco's book. She was trying to make conversation and Draco hated it. What was so horribly wrong with silence once and a while? Why did she feel it necessary to keep her surroundings always buzzing with noise?
"What does it look like I'm doing?" He snapped back, gesturing emphatically to the book in his hands before flipping to the next page and shrugging her head off his shoulder.
He surveyed the retreating girl out of the corner of his eye. Her mouth was still moving up and down despite Draco's obvious annoyance. Victoria acted very much like Draco's mother, but that was understandable, she was after all first-class. She had been bread for superiority just as Draco had. But there was something else; neither of them could stand the silence. Whenever things got too calm in the Malfoy manner, Narcissa planned another party or a vacation to some foreign land as if keeping busy would cover the silence. Victoria likewise would talk incessantly and was always surrounded by a herd of girls. But why? What was hidden within the silence that frightened them so?
"I just remembered, I left a book in the Great Hall. I'll be right back," Draco interrupted, getting to his feet and hurrying out of the common room before Victoria had time to invite herself along.
He stopped once outside and leant against the cold wall, taking gulps of air greedily and tugging at his collar as if someone had been slowly strangling him all night long. Confused, Draco slid down to the floor and closed his eyes, wanting to shut out all around him. Mere months ago this would have been considered a normal evening for him, but now he was infuriated with the very pressence of his so-called friends. He blamed Ginny. It was she that had made him dream of a different life without the responsibilities and the promise of future duties haunting him every day of his life. Her with her poor family, perfectly contented to live in the caverns of poverty and not less happy because of it. It was absurd, bordering on unnatural.
Draco pulled the wad of parchment out of his robes and tried to smooth out the creases and wrinkles he had personally delt it across his knee. He stared at the unitdy loops of every letter, hoping that his fervent analysis would prove a different verdict. But he had no way of knowing, and all evidence was against him after Mildred Mortensen's display at dinner.
Sighing, Draco got to his feet, he did not want to go into the Slytherin common room looking as shook up as he supposed he did. He needed to clear his head once and for all, purge it of the thoughts unbecoming of his heritage. That was what he wanted. He just needed to take a walk and everything would be forgotten; life could go back to normal afterwards. With that hope, Draco set off with no particular place in mind to go.