How Many Times…?
Chapter Three Halloween at Hogwarts
Convenient. That was the only way Draco could convince himself that the holiday was for the better. He made sure to remove his things quickly from the hospital wing and discreetly dodged any sort of contact with any 'concerned' students. Not like any of them really cared that much, but Draco didn't want sympathy for his failure to complete his studies. Throwing his school bag to the floor beside his trunk with all his might, his breath escaped him in a whirl of fury.
He wanted to not care about his grades; he really did, but he knew he would lose too much from the action. If he didn't beat the Mudblood, his father would disown him, and in turn, he would disown himself. He had to face it; he was utterly doomed. But that couldn't be the only way out of this mess. There just had to be some other route.
Draco flung his form face first into the soft, Slytherin-sheeted bed. He rubbed his face furiously against the fabric, wishing it would tear the skin from his skull. Realizing this would do him no good, Draco ripped his head up and breathed in heavily. Life seemed so pointless right now.
Draco suddenly became aware of the incredible stomach pains that plagued him. He could hear the bubbly rumble and decided he did need to eat something. Walking with heavy feet down the stairs to the common room, Draco heard Crabbe's unmistakable laugh. He didn't like that laugh; it was never heard after anything genuinely funny was said, but he was hoping the belly it came from would be filled with hidden snacks from a stash.
Goyle saw Draco emerge from the stairwell first. He stood up as if he would bow, then crossed his arms across his chest. Crabbe rose as well, an awkward, dumb expression plastered on his face.
"Hey, guys." Draco said rubbing the back of his neck as if he had a crick. He didn't.
"And where the bloody hell have you been?" Goyle's face bulged. He always would be that much bigger than Malfoy.
"Anyone have any food?" Draco commented, completely avoiding Gregory's question. The other two boys' faces lit as if they were reminded of a hidden treasure they had forgotten. Crabbe nodded quickly and bolted up the staircase to their dorm room, Goyle at his heels. Draco followed calmly, hoping all of it wasn't candy; he didn't want to be sick or hyper at the current moment.
When Draco finally sauntered over the threshold of the boys' room, Crabbe and Goyle had already unloaded what looked to be five pounds of various munchies to the floor from various odd places. They had obviously made a resent trip to the kitchens. Draco's eyes fell to a neatly tied napkin packed with small, chicken drumsticks, and he immediately seated himself on the rug.
Vincent and Gregory plopped themselves across from Draco and groped aimlessly at the candies, almost starting to fight. Within a minute, each had a vivid rim of chocolate around their mouth, while Draco slowly savored his chicken and daintily wiped his mouth with the napkin. He felt better; he felt ready for sleep again, and maybe this time he would wake up as if he knew his time zone. He yawned.
Goyle looked up, his hand still shoved in the jelly bean box. "Go on to bed, man."
Sometimes Goyle was insightful in the simplest way; this was one of those times.
"Enjoy your belly-aches," Draco muttered on his way out.
As soon as Draco reached the end of his bed, he collapsed. He was already wearing light clothes from having to sleep in the hospital bed, so within seconds Draco was curled comfortably under the heavy sheets and blanket. The light from the fire dimmed slightly at his command and Draco soon fell asleep.
Draco woke slowly but not very, for he was not allowed to with a furious pounding at the door. He always locked his door for privacy; this person obviously had no respect for it. Draco threw himself angrily out of bed and flung the door wide open.
"What!" he screeched. It was Goyle; of all people Draco wanted to see this very morning, he was not even close to the top one hundred. Goyle stared dumbly, one foot back, hands up in defense. Draco was still pissed. "What is so bloody important?"
"Breakfast," Gregory replied softly, as if it were the most common sense around. "You coming?"
Draco slammed the door in his face. Pathetic, really, how needy those two goons were, couldn't even go to breakfast without their guide. Seven years is long enough to know how to get to the dinning hall, after going there over three times a day (in Crabbe and Goyle's case).
What was he going to do? He was tired enough to fall asleep standing right where he was, one word out of the dumb duo and he'd set them both on fire, and the amount of work he was going to have to do before he was able to get some sleep would surely place him in an early coma. Surprisingly, he found himself wanting to talk to Granger about this…
"Bloody hell, going insane you are!" he said out loud to himself.
Goyle banged on the door again. "What was that, Draco? You coming or what?"
"I'm coming, you mindless gits, just let me change my freaking clothes!" Draco threw on a sweater and some black pants, then changed his mind about the sweater and threw on a button down shirt, finishing the last few clasps as he walked out the door.
Crabbe and Goyle trailed behind him as usual. Students were already eating their morning meal. Breakfast was always the quietest meal, and Draco was thankful for that fact this morning.
Hermione was sitting in between Harry and Ron when she looked up to see Draco turning to walk to the Slytherin table. He hadn't looked for her and continued towards the table, choosing a seat on a bench where his back faced her.
Harry elbowed Hermione on the forearm. "You know we need you to do better than that if we're ever going to turn him. We need more than just you screaming 'is it your father' to him." The harshness in Harry's voice was uncalled-for, Hermione thought, but the message and disappointment was not.
"That was your one chance, Herm! How are you going to get another chance to talk to him without being suspicious? Face it, Harry, no amount of studying books is going to help her with this." Ron poked repeatedly at his porridge, sprinkling some salt and stirring it in. Seamus asked for the butter, sitting a few students down on the other side of the table. Ron passed it to him while Hermione counted to ten to collect her thoughts.
"Well, that's were I think you'll find that I really am quite the genius!" Hermione opened her school back and pulled out a book unlike any wizarding text. On the binding were the words 'Aspire to Nothing.'