Disclaimer: I don't own anything except Xan.
Author's Note: I am so sorry this chapter took me a month. I really worked hard on it! I had a chapter all ready to go a few weeks ago when a got a review that really changed my thinking about how I wanted to run the story. Many thanks to that reviewer, kitty cat. I hope this chapter brings some real emotion that the particular reviewer was looking for. Anyway, if you are wondering what the connection to the title is, there is a fabulous film called My Life as a Dog, it's Swedish and it just seemed to abstractly fit what this chapter covers. Now, on with the story!
Chapter Thirteen: My Life As a Dog
This week is so full of tension I swear someone is going to die. It is just so strange how everyone has become so bloody secretive. Bloody hell, that's ironic but I am being quite serious. Since I last saw Harry, about three days ago the entire house as gotten just . . . quieter.
Such a phenomena was brought to my attention by Pansy in our dorm room.
"Xan," Pansy said as she walked to my bed from the bathroom.
"What?" I groaned rolling onto my back.
"Do you have any information for me on Draco?"
"No," I rolled over onto my stomach. "Go away, I still have five more minutes."
She got up with a huff. "You and Zabini both. What the bloody hell is happening to this house!"
That had gotten me thinking. I indeed haven't been talking much and neither has Blaise. Well, at least we don't talk about anything important, I don't mean his vocal chords were dislodged. But now that I have started listening again, I notice Draco is doing most of the talking.
You know what is also odd? Malcolm Baddock. Yes, the smooth talking, connected playboy himself is now spending a lot of time just silent in the slytherin pack or walking with his sister in the corridors. I have to admit it was bugging me how I didn't notice this earlier, or that I couldn't remember when it started.
I was a bit disturbed and intrigued by what I saw going on with Baddock so I approached him Wednesday morning, before anyone was up. "Care for a cigarette?" I asked, sitting down next to him on the antique sofa.
Baddock's face was paler than I remembered. He accepted the cigarette and exhaled in a way that indicated the smoke was soothing. "So where are you and Potter at? No one has said anything."
I shrugged. "I am not losing the bet to say the least."
"Are you going to see him after this weekend?"
That question caught me off guard so I said what I thought he wanted to hear. "No. He's Harry Potter after all."
"I think you should," he tapped his ash.
"You may be the only one."
"That's bullshit," he said sharply. He didn't have to elaborate for me to know he was referring to social structure.
"Well of course Malcolm. Do it under the radar, that's the rule right? Didn't Pansy's parent crack down on her or—"
"It's all bullshit," he said much more firmly. "Every last bit of it."
This wasn't like the Baddock I knew or maybe it was. Maybe I never knew him at all. I pondered this as I finished my cigarette. I think I am going to see Harry today.
After my last class of the day was finished, transfiguration, I was planning on going to watch the gryffindor quidditch practice but McGonagall stopped me. "Miss Marlow, may I have a word with you?"
"Yes, professor," I said turning to her desk and walking over. "Something the matter with my work?"
"Actually your work is outstanding. I appreciate the effort in getting your work in on time." The tightness in her voice I think was a bit of sarcasm or comparison to how I sleep in her class.
"Then what is the problem?"
"You are good friends with Malcolm Baddock, are you not?"
"I suppose I am."
"Could you please tell him that if he does not step up his quality of work his NEWTS will be quite disappointing."
"I'll tell him," I replied without much thought.
"Then you are excused."
I made my way to the quidditch pitch and sat alone in the stands smoking a cigarette and looking over financial statements my uncles mailed me while Harry was practicing with his team. I used to be really into quidditch. In my first year, I became acquainted with Morgana Montague brother of Graham Montague, beater on the slytherin team. She was always with Marcus Flint, Terrence Higgs and that group. She illustrated for me, basically how not to become like Pansy. I wonder, what would have happened, if I had instead of challenging Blaise (Draco's best friend) to a duel, cheered him on, would I be like Pansy or Daphne?
Anyway, after I was caught talking about quidditch in a I-want-to-play way, my father laid down the law and that was that. I am not the rebellious type really. I am more of a go with the flow person. There just happen to be a lot of rivers.
God these reports are dull. Just when I finished figuring out how a loan to expand shipping offices through out the pacific would help us double revenue, the gryffindors left the field. I packed up all my stuff and walked down to the pitch where I waited for wonderboy. I concealed myself by the bleachers so as to not be noticed by the other players.
"How long have you been waiting?" Wonderboy asked, walking over and ruffling his sweaty hair.
"I enjoy watching you play. I also got some work done."
"What did you need?" Notice how he said need instead of want. Could he sense wasn't here for kicks? Bastard. This is what you get for listening, Marlow.
"Do you have some time?" I asked suddenly interested in my ground cigarette bud.
"Sure. What do you need?" he repeated himself.
"I need to . . . how do I phrase this," I thought out loud. "I need to not be here." What I meant by here I didn't exactly know. I hope he would figure something out. And he did. Maybe that is why he is wonderboy.
He tilted his head towards the lake and said, "Let's go for a walk." I put my hands firmly in my pockets and walked eyes downcast.
"No cigarette?" he said after a few minutes.
"Thought you hated it when I smoke?"
"I do. Doesn't mean you have to stop. Besides, I am just a gryffindor after all."
"I am not smoking because I don't feel like it," I said sharply.
"Alright," he said with a shrug.
"So," I began still looking at the grass. "How are things with you?"
"Ron and Hermione have been fighting which is a pain because Dumbledore also has us doing stuff for the Order which has been giving me a headache."
"Ah the fantabulous Order of the Phoenix, what have you been up to?"
He grinned half-coyly and half-embarrassed, "Sorry, sworn to secrecy."
I playfully smacked his butt. "Are you sure you can't even tell me? I have a reason to know."
"We are trying to figure out if Voldemort is dead or not."
"Liar," I said. "I am sure he isn't and you're planning raids, figuring out whose hiding him, etc."
He grinned. "If you knew that then whyy did you ask?"
We approached the water and I sat down. Harry did the same. I leaned my head on his shoulder and stared out at the calm lake. My mind was swirling around all these different things that just having someone next to me was comforting. I forgot in three weeks how hard listening was. Or maybe it changed. Though I don't know how, perhaps it did.
I looked up and him. His green eyes are so gorgeous. I was about to indulge myself (if you know what I mean) when a splash caused us to pull away from one another.
Across the lake but close to us, a group of boys were gathered. Well, not exactly gathered, grouped and looking to be a bit rowdy, in a bad way.
"Is that Malfoy?" Harry stiffened as he noticed the blond.
"Oh god," I said sitting up. Being one of the Slytherin Four (Malfoy, Zabini, Nott and I) where there is Draco, typically I am or should be involved. As I peered closer, I became more and more involved.
Malcolm Baddock appeared to be in a heated argument with Draco Malfoy. If I had my cards right, not only Draco was present, but Theo, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle and oh dear god . . . was that Eleanor Baddock? The hufflepuff?
"I'll be back," I said quickly as I got to my feet.
I towards the group and the first thing I saw was Eleanor crying. She was a couple yards away from where Blaise was standing, off the right of Crabbe and Goyle. Theo was on the other side, closer to Draco, who was facing off with Malcolm Baddock.
"What the bloody hell did you think you were doing? You went into the hufflepuff common room? The fact that you even associate with them is disgusting!"
"My sister is a hufflepuff and if you dare insult my sister –"
"Whatever gene put your sister in hufflepuff also got your father fired!"
That was when Malcolm punched him.
A tattered notebook flew out of Malcolm's robes and right to Theo's feet. "What the hell?" Theo picked it up and read a random page. "I don't know why I am doing this. It just feels so right. Logan is so . . . perfect. I wonder what would happen if anyone found out. Could we be happy together? Run away together? What the fuck? I think we have a fairy on our hands here!"
I snuck over to Blaise. He was silent as was I.
"It's called a journal. Is that illegal?" I have never seen Malcolm like this.
"A fairy!" Draco seemed to be eating this up. "I wonder how the world would respond to that? Malcolm Baddock a bloody faggity fairy."
"At least I am not a deatheater like you lot!" Malcolm spat. That was below the belt for every one of us. At least I know my father doesn't have a dark mark on his arm.
That was when Draco punched Malcolm so hard I thought I would see a tooth. "At least my family is worth something." Then he spat on him. Draco Malfoy spat on the only person in this school I would trust with my life or with my secrets.
And I did nothing.
"Let's go," Draco said, walking down the path. Crabbe and Goyle were at his heels while Theo at least looked at us uneasily before following. Blaise followed. But I was transfixed by the blood running from Malcolm's nose to his chin. Eleanor's crying seemed very loud. "You too, Marlow!"
"Experiamus!" wonderboy arrived and blasted Draco all the way into the lake. Crabbe, Goyle and Theo ran over to the ferret while Blaise ran over to me and Harry knelt down beside Malcolm.
"Hey, hey, wake up," wonderboy nudged Malcolm's cheek trying to refocus his vision.
Malcolm's head snapped and he stared at Harry. They stared at one another as if deciding whether to kiss or hit. Blaise interrupted it. "Come on, man," he offered his hand. Malcolm smacked it away.
"How do you sleep at night?" he snarled as he got to his feet. He walked past Eleanor and the two of them headed for the castle.
"You better go," I said to Harry and Blaise nodded in agreement.
I don't remember what happened then except I dropped to the ground, pulled out my cigarettes and didn't budge until I ran out—8 hours later.
I didn't see much of Malcolm Baddock the next few days. Not only was I preoccupied but he seemed to be spending as much time away from slytherin as possible. Again since no one was talking, the incident with Draco was kept hush hush house only. God, I still haven't figured out what all that was about. He is tense all the time. He is skipping class more than normal and spends far too much time at the pitch.
However when Friday morning rolled around, while I still hadn't officially been asked by wonderboy to the ball, I didn't have to be. Theo had lost. He was without so much as a scrap of evidence that Ginny Weasley was doing anything but hating his guts. After the name-calling and everyone who had placed bets collected their money, the post flew in.
Now when I get post, it is never anything good and one letter isn't something to have me smiling. But I noticed it wasn't from my uncles. No seal. I opened the envelope and found a slightly sloppy hand-written note.
Xandra- Would you like to go to the ball with me?
No name. I should have to give wonderboy credit next time. Quite smart knowing I would open it at the slytherin table. He must have had experience with this type of thing before.
I looked over to the gryffindor table and saw Harry starring at me, as though awaiting an answer. I checked from side to side, everyone was involved in some other conversation. I smiled. I didn't have to but for some reason, I wanted to go to the ball with him.
Then I remembered I had no dress.
Shortly after I realized that was the night of my father's trial.
"Are you going to the ball?" Pansy asked as we strolled to Transfiguration.
"No," I lied. "Are you?"
"What about Potter?" she asked. How sad it is when the two outlets of gossip close their mouths. No one knows anything.
"It was a bet, Pansy. He meant nothing," it felt good to talk this way. Felt like so long for some reason.
"Oh. Should have known you couldn't attract a guy to save your soul."
"Touche."
"I happen to be going to the ball with Jordan."
"Dolohov?" I looked at her, a bit surprised. "A seven year whose father is a DE, why am I know surprised."
"Sod off," she said after a gasp at my openness. Her reaction kind of brought me back to reality I guess. I hadn't noticed how the death eater stuff seemed like no big deal. It is apart of our house right? Sure we don't talk about it but . . . it was just a comment.
"Whatever happened to Draco?"
She snorted. "That wanker can stuff it. After he broke Malcolm's nose –"
"Why did he do that?"
Another snort came. "They got into a fight over something stupid. Draco said something about being a liar, traitor or something."
That didn't sound very encouraging. Mostly because it didn't answer any of my questions. What on earth was happening with my house? Though I was able to find out that my dress should be pink, without revealing that I was planning on going to the ball.
Draco and I organized our departure for my father's trial Friday with Professor Snape after classes. The three of us would use the floo from Snape's office to my family's London office and from there to the courthouse along with the Malfoy's business network. Why is Snape coming you ask? Besides that he is a friend of my father's and my advisor here at school, Dumbledore wouldn't dare let me off the campus without someone to make sure I came back. You know, he doesn't want me running off controlling businesses just yet. Stupid old coot.
Anyway, the point is my Saturday was free to find my outfit, learn how to walk in the shoes, figure out how makeup works, do something un-goblinlike with my hair and not smell like cigarettes.
The dress robes were easy. All I had to do was tell the dress woman what I was looking for and she found it so quickly, I didn't have to waste time trying it on. So what if I was in a hurry? This whole thing feels somewhere between dirty and a naughty kind of exhilarating.
The shoes were a nightmare. I got so I could pace the dorm room but whenever I encountered stairs or unmarbled terrain, I lost myself.
The makeup . . . was quite hard. I had to borrow some items from third years who couldn't go to the dance. I didn't want my dormmates to see me so I was putting on makeup like a fugitive. Actually, by the times the girl's dorm liquidated to the ball, I used the mirror in dormitory hall to figure out what to do with my hair.
"I'd leave it down, if I were you." I spun so fast I nearly lost my ankle.
Malcolm Baddock was sitting on the boys dormitory stairs smoking a cigarette and looking like hell. The former popular self-confident charmer had transformed into sullen, sneering, bruised and bandaged boy. My comfort level around him changed the moment after he gave me that glare. He was. . . it's hard to explain.
"I was afraid it made me look to much like a goblin," I said, trying to remain as casual as possible.
"Add a curl."
I did. And it looked great.
"Who are you going with?" he asked, blowing smoke in a disgusting manner.
"Harry Potter," I replied.
"Who are you ditching, you father or your boytoy?"
"Neither I split it up evenly. Harry isn't what I would call a boytoy."
"Then what is he and does he know you will be leaving early?"
I turned to him, getting a bit annoyed. "Does it really matter, Malcolm?"
"If it didn't matter then why are you putting so much effort into it? You always hated putting effort into things. Especially boys."
"Coming from the boy notorious for sleeping with every girl he laid eyes on."
"You don't get it," Malcolm faced the wall, shaking his head and taking a drag of his cigarette.
"How could I get it when you don't explain anything."
"It always means something," he snapped. "Every girl . . . every boy . . . it all meant something. Not always sappy but something." He chuckled cynically and exhaled. "Let us be damned for feeling anything at all."
"I have to go," I said. He was talking nonsense now.
"Do you really want it all, Xan?" he asked as I began to carefully walk down the stairs.
"What?"
"All that your father created, left for you. Do you really want to be living in his shadow?"
"Not particularly but what else would I do with my life?"
When he didn't answer right away, I continued walking down the stairs. I heard him faintly reply, "Good point."
"Wow." I was waiting for wonderboy at staircase overlooking where everyone was entering the great hall. I didn't know he was there until he spoke. "You look . . ."
I turned around and his eyes kind of glazed over. I smiled. I felt like I had accomplished something spectacular. If this was wonderboy's reaction what would Draco, Blaise and Theo say?
After a few moment's Harry shook himself out of it and offered his arm. "Shall we? I think we missed the first dance."
"Who dances to that except the prefects?"
"Hermione must be out there then."
"With Blaise?" I laughed. "Now I am kind of wishing I had seen it. If not for the teacher's reactions."
"You can't tell me you wouldn't have enjoyed McGonagall's scowl as the bookworm danced with the slacker?"
"Hey, she's my friend."
"Blaise is mine but that doesn't mean he isn't a slacker."
"After that incident at the lake I don't know how you all keep friends." I know Harry meant nothing by it but I still crunched his toes with my heel.
"What was that for?" he hissed in pain.
"Watch it," I growled.
We entered the Great Hall and several heads turned to see who had entered late. Those same heads kept staring. My theory is that they either recognized me or they didn't, thus they stared. "Harry!" our first obstacle had arrived; Ronaldo.
"Hey Ron," wonderboy greeted with a smile. "Where is Luna?"
Ronaldo snorted, "She went to the loo. I swear though she has been there for fifteen minutes. She looked fine!"
"Oh Ron," wonderboy gestured to me despite my mental shaking of the head. "You know Xandra?"
Ronaldo turned to me and it took him a moment to recognize me. His lips formed a small 'o' and he gave Harry a what-the-bloody-hell-are-you-thinking look. "Yeah, Marlow. Uh, you look nice."
"Likewise," I said with equal distance in my voice. "Excuse us," I said tugging wonderboy past his friend and closer to the floor. But before we could get there, our next obstacle arrived.
"Xan!" Daphne and Morgan were suddenly in my face. "I thought you were coming?"
"I changed my mind," I said, pulling back from them and farther into wonderboy.
Daphne leaned closer, "You and Potter? Still?"
"Potter," Morgan acknowledged with a nod. Quidditch rivals, you know how that is.
"It is no big deal, Daphne," I hissed. "It is just a stupid ball."
But it was a big deal and I realized that when we finally got out onto the dancefloor. After I got over the fact that Harry couldn't dance and we flowed semi-harmoniously, I surveyed the room.
The teachers were the first people I saw looking at us. Dumbledore had this weird twinkle eye. Stupid old coot. Snape and McGonagall were talking to one another and looking at us in a way that was a step away from pointing. How awkward. I have never had this problem before.
Then there were the slytherins. Well, first slytherins were people I only know by acquaintance. They in turn, only know me by reputation. Their expressions were from shocked to impressed. While at any other time I would have been worried about gossip, for some reason, I felt there were other things to worry about.
Harry however, had different feelings when it came to his gryffindor friends. "Oh god," he groaned.
"What?"
"Just these girls," he said, suddenly focusing intensely on his dancing.
"Gossips?"
"Yeah. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. I mean they're nice but . . ."
"Afraid to be seen with me?" I teased.
"No, no," he said quickly. "It's just, well, you slytherins are off limits."
"Because you're the boy wonder?"
"I guess but just in general."
I laughed. "But aren't you the gryffindor king? Surely you of all people would be able to say 'fuck off I do what I want'."
"I've never thought of it that way. I don't want to be that different from everyone else."
I shook my head. "You are so strange."
"That's my charm."
We had a few more dances before I opted for punch. As we walked off the floor, he walked extremely close. "Is there something you want to say to me or do you just have your lips near my ear for no reason?" I asked nonchalantly. I glanced over my shoulder and a cute blush was over his cheeks.
Wonderboy got me some punch like a gentlemen and asked me a question I didn't think he cared much about. "What do you think about Zabini and Hermione?"
"What do you mean?"
He shrugged. "You and Zabini seem close and –"
"Ew," I cut him off. "Ew, ew, gross."
"I meant in a friendly way," he said. "Get your mind out of the gutter."
"Still, thinking of Blaise in a remotely sexual way makes me uncomfortable."
"Xandra Marlow, uncomfortable?"
"Don't get cute," my words betrayed me because I couldn't resist a smile.
"I'll leave that to you," he said with a unique grin.
"You can't mean that."
"But I do." He shirted and glanced back to the dancefloor. "Even though I am terrible, would you like to dance again?"
I smiled, "I'd love to."
Halfway through our second dance, we are interrupted by a unintentionally sharp-looking Justin Finch-Fletchley tapping on Harry's shoulder. "May I cut in?"
"Yeah, sure, Justin. I'll just be over here, Xandra," Harry said, exiting the floor. I nodded and began my dance with Justin, someone who I know could indeed dance.
"How long have you been with him?" Justin asked, nudging me out my silence.
"A while."
"Really with him?"
"I don't know what you mean." It wasn't in Justin's nature to pry when I shut him down so he switched topics.
"How is your father doing?"
"I haven't spoken to him directly in a while."
"Well how are you doing?"
"You interest in my life is flattering, Justin but quite pointless."
"I was just trying –"
"It's over, Justin," I said firmly. "You 'stood up for yourself' thus ending our string of encounters. We are not friends."
He was silent for a while until he said quietly, "You look really pretty tonight."
Justin . . . I suppose he truly is as masochistic as I thought he was when I first pursued him. I treated him terribly to be quite honest and he kept allowing me to use him as a vessel for sexual frustration. It wasn't completely one-sided either. While it isn't like we cuddled or anything, I am just saying he kissed back. But it's over, it ended, I have other things to worry about. Right?
After my dance with Justin I snuck up behind wonderboy and put my hands on his shoulders. "Hello there."
He turned around and a look of relief fled over his face. I looked up to see who he had been talking to. He was talking to the infamous Cho Chang. My expression changed quickly to a cynical expression. "Hello to you too. I hope I am not interrupting anything," I said, looking right at the ravenclaw.
"Harry and I were just talking," she said, stepping closer to him as though I was out of my territory. "Weren't we?"
"Uh," wonderboy looked extremely uncomfortable. "Xandra do you know Cho?"
"I am quite familiar with Chang," I said a grin spreading over my face in anticipation of my next comment. "Morgan Moon broke your arm earlier in the quidditch season isn't that right?"
"Marlow," she said coldly. "How like you to bring up something completely irrelevant."
"Oh ho?" I raised an eyebrow. "What were you discussing?"
"None of your business."
"Well in that case," I said lacing my fingers with Harry's for effect. "I shall have to ask you excuse my date and I." With that I led him away from the beast from the far east. My I certainly sound like a racist don't I?
"How do you know, Cho?" he asked, handing me a glass of punch.
"How do you know, Chang?" I spun the question back at him.
"We're friends," he lied unconvincingly. I only had to raise my eyebrow to get more of a story. "Okay so I liked her for a few years and when we went out on Valentine's Day last year all she had to say was how she and Cedric used to snog where we were and Roger Davies."
"I spent my valentine's day last year getting in a pub watching Draco and Blaise get pissed."
"How romantic." I barely looked at Harry when laughed at the comment.
"Seriously, how do you know, Cho?" he asked.
I smiled mischievously, "I know everybody. Whether or not we're on good terms is the question."
"Are we on good terms?"
I thought for a moment. "We're not on terms," I answered finally.
"Then what are we?"
I grinned again, "Does it really matter at this point in time?" I said that because I honestly didn't know.
Later that evening, I was standing out in the courtyard, looking off at the night. Harry had taken a moment to talk to Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan and go to the loo. "Having fun?" Draco approached me and leaned on the railing with a particularly cynical look on his face.
"What if I am?"
"Woopdeedoo."
"You aren't even a bit pissed that I am here with Potter?"
He shrugged. "Unless you told him about your father, which knowing you Marlow, you probably didn't, you will have to be ditching Perfect Potter in a half an hour."
I glared at him, "Prick."
"What do you see in him," Draco said turning around and leaning on his elbows.
Speak of the devil, coming towards us was wonderboy with a grin on his face despite Draco and a flower in his hands. I looked at Draco cheekily, "He brings me flowers, that's why."
I started to walk towards him when Draco hissed at me, "Thirty minutes, then we are out of here."
True to his word, thirty minutes later, Draco impatiently motioned for me to get off the dancefloor. "Oh shit," I said, stopping my dance with Harry.
"What is it?"
"Bloody hell I think Pansy and Moon passed out. I got to go."
"Oh uh, alright," he said, a little frazzled by the sudden change.
"Thanks, Harry," I said as I hustled out of the hall trying not to be noticed. Sure it was a very unfitting end to a quite lovely few hours but what other choice do I have?
Snape gave me just enough time to change into some stark business robes before we flooed to the London office. It was all kind of a blur after that. Lucius Malfoy was there waiting along with my three uncles. I shook hands with the blond leech who looked particularly smug about Draco present with me. The older Malfoy fell back to discuss something with Draco while my uncles briefed me on the name of the prosecutions attorneys and exact charges. I say briefing because it was done with so much distance that all the feelings involved in the event were stripped away.
"Will there be any chance for me to speak with my father?" I asked suddenly. I don't know exactly why but I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to talk to my father quite badly actually.
"Most likely after the first recess. This is mostly for show," Professor Snape interjected.
"Severus is right," one of my uncles said. "Lynch our name in the public square."
More like lynch my father in the public square, I thought. Later I would look back and wonder why I suddenly cared so much but the point was, I did.
"Again, Miss Marlow," Lucius said coming up beside me. "I would like to express that I, my company and my family," he discretely gestured towards Draco, "are fully supporting you."
"Why thank you, Mr. Malfoy," I said just before we exited the building into a sea of reporters. "I appreciate it."
Getting to the trial was purely hell, I had more lightbulbs in my face than Harry Potter did at his trial. Why am I talking in distance again?
Well speaking of distance, it was interesting because Draco stood really close to me while corporate/death eater bodyguards pushed back reporters allowing the Marlow entourage to pass through. Is it bad that I find Draco's smell comforting? Stupid psychological shit.
When we sat down in the courtroom, I refused to look up and see my father's back. I just stared at my fingers and picked at my cuticles. The list of charges were read and opening statements heard. I know I was supposed to be listening so I could approach the prosecution team later or have something to contribute while the Death Eater elite sat around smoking cigars (though that was typically for men- I suppose I am now genderless), but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I will be briefed on it all anyway. Or the papers will retell it to me.
"Xan, will you let go of my hand. You're grip is deadly," Draco whispered into my ear, his voice laced with pain. I suddenly snapped, as though I had just woken up and released his hand.
"When did I start to hold your hand?" I asked in a low low voice.
"About five minutes in."
"What time is it now?"
"Recess should be in ten."
Two and a half hours. I had unconsciously been holding Draco's hand for two and a half hours. Wait a second, why didn't he stop me? "Because it seemed appropriate," Draco answered the question when I asked. Though he left me wondering what exactly he had meant.
When recess was called I asked my uncles to take me to my father. Into a sea of reporters, all taking photos and shouting for my comments. I let someone else falsely answered the questions that weren't allowed to have meaning for me. When my mind finally caught up with my place in time, I was standing next to an extremely burly prison guard who looked like had never had a vacation in his life.
He lead me down the corridor to my father's cell, a high security holding cell that still managed to look like Napoleon's prison. When I laid eyes on my father, I didn't say anything, I couldn't say anything. He was bearded (my father never missed a day of shaving in his life). He was dirty (my father was meticulous about showering). He was dressed in rags (my father was always a dress-for-success man). He was avoiding my eyes (my father used to grab my chin so I would look at him).
I silently withdrew a bank note for fifty galleons and handed it to the guard. The guard nodded and left me alone with him.
"Hey dad," I said softly. I am only allowed to call him this when we are alone (which isn't often).
"Alexandra," he replied in voice hoarse from dehydration. "What are you doing here?"
"Professor Snape escorted me from school to come and watch your trial."
"This isn't a trial," he said, staring at his hands. "It is merely an elaborate sentencing."
"What do you want me to do?"
His head snapped up and our eyes locked. "The Dark Lord isn't dead," he said in the voice of a madman. "Harry Potter and the Order are far from succeeding."
"What?" I asked shaking my head. "What are you talking about, dad. That has nothing to do –"
"It has everything to do with it!" he bellowed.
I sat petrified. The one person in the world who can petrify me is my own father. Not so surprising.
"Alexandra," he said, his voice quickly transforming into a silky, constricting flow of words. "There is . . ." his hand extended towards me, "but no . . ." his fingers crept past the bars, "way out of this. . ." he latched onto my wand, "for me." He jerked my wand back into his cell. I was too numb to do anything worthwhile. "This whole . . . thing—my father never referred to something with a name as thing—is coming down on me," his eyes were fixated down. "It's crushing me."
He murmured a spell and the only thing I saw was a puddle of red. No subject, no focus but words rang in my ears. "It hurts, Alexandra. It's very, very painful."
I was forced to fish my wand out from a puddle, no, a lake of blood that dark night. I wondered, if I was so fucking numb then why did I care enough to cry? That is, before the prison guards came back.
It was such a mess getting back to the headquarters, reporters everywhere and even my own people asking me what had happened. I told them all a less meaningful version of the truth because that other truth was mine. I still had to figure it out.
The only comment Draco had for me (supposedly soothing) was, "You're probably better off anyway, Xan."
By the time we got back to Snape's office, it had been about three and a half hours since we had left. While Snape assured me Dumbledore would like to see me, I left his office as fast as I could. I pulled some cigarettes off of Theo but refused to talk to him. My plan was to go out onto the pitch and smoke a pack but someone got in my way. Wonderboy got in my way.
"Xandra!" he shouted when he saw me. I ignored him and kept walking. He kept shouting my name and I walked faster until we were both running. I got out off the castle and onto the grass before I tripped. Fucking heels. At least I was wearing pants right? But I was too far gone to think about all that.
"Xandra . . . we have to talk," Wonderboy said, breathing hard.
He extended his hand to help me up but I smacked it away. I took off my high heels and carried them as I walked closer to the pitch. "Don't touch me."
"Oh I get it," his voice turned sour faster than a grape. "So Nott was right. I was just your little bet wasn't I?"
"What are you talking about?" I muttered, quickly lighting up.
He yanked the cigarette from me so I would pay attention. "You never indeed liked me, did you? It was all for a bet. You're so fucking cold hearted."
"Shut up," I growled. I tried to walk away but he grabbed my arm.
"Did you do it because I am Harry Potter or because I am the boy who lived? Are you a bloody deatheater too? At a meeting is that why you changed your clothes?"
"Shut up!" I ripped my arm away and screamed. "Just shut up! You know nothing!" He seemed amazed by my incredible outburst. "Fuck you!" I shouted, throwing my shoes at him. He deflected them and stared at me as I fell apart.
I father died today," I said darkly, still on a roll. "My father slit his wrists withmy own wand in front of me because of you. The only person that every showed and ounce of affection for me or loved me, died because of the Order of the fucking Pheonix and you know the worst part, Harry? You know the worst bloody part?"
"What?" he asked quietly.
"I can't figure out why!" I screamed. I really couldn't. I didn't know whether it was the trial, the thought of all he had worked for being destroyed and he could never emerge again. Was something to do with the "last" Voldemort raid? Was it something to do with the Order? I had so many questions and no one to answer them. I just collapsed to my knees and sobbed.
Harry walked over and kneeled down in front of me. He carefully put his arms around me, as though I would break if he held to tightly. I grabbed his shirt however and pulled him closer. I don't know how long it was that he just held me there while I soaked his shirt. But it was necessary. It was oh so necessary.
That night wasn't just the night my father died. It was also the night I discovered Malcolm Baddock's body in our bathroom, wrists slit, lying in a pool of blood. On the wall, smeared with his fingertip were the words familiar to all of us in a neglected sort of way.
"Or perhaps in Slytherin,
You'll make your real friends.
Those cunning folk use anything
To achieve their ends."
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed yourself, I am rather proud of this chapter. I will definitely try and get the next one up as soon as I possibly can. Thanks to all and cheers.