Disclaimer: La. Lalalala. Not mine.
enter the troublemaker
issalee
Sunday, December 1st
Healer's Room in the Hospital Wing
2:45 PM
"Mr. Malfoy."
"My cordial greetings."
Draco Malfoy slid into the straight-backed chair he had been offered, sniffing a little disdainfully at it but otherwise looking wholly untouchable. Across from him and the well-polished mahogany desk was a blonde woman who looked to be in about her late twenties. She was sporting powder-blue skirt and suit attire, and her smile was one that seemed too sweet to be sweet. As Draco glanced her over, she smiled even more widely.
"Am I to understand you know why we're here, Mr. Malfoy, and why I am now your new Mindstreamer?"
Draco paused for a moment, before looking glum and replying. "Yes."
"We are here," she continued, as though he hadn't said anything, "Because as of late your teachers and peers have been complaining about your behavior. Since the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named—"
"Voldemort," Draco supplied helpfully.
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," The woman said, looking slightly irritated. "Anyhow, since his defeat and your father's imprisonment, you seem to be quite—er—upset?"
Draco scowled faintly. "Malfoys don't get upset."
"Exactly!" She crowed, startling him to no ends. "You have been raised in such a way that it shows you exactly the way a Malfoy must be raised. However, that is not true. You deserve to have your fun, Mr. Malfoy, and I do believe that all the things you have been doing now are ways to express this desire."
"Right…"
"I'm serious, Mr. Malfoy. Now, listen closely. Your teachers are going to fail you."
"What!"
"I'm sorry, but it's true." His Mindstreamer didn't bat an eyelash at Draco's obviously upset figure. "They believe your behavior is unacceptable, and although your grades are just fine, they do not think you comprehend what you're doing is wrong. I realize you wanted to be an (here she checked the papers on her desk) Auror, was it? You cannot pursue this career without the proper grades."
"I—I know what I'm doing wrong!" Draco said, standing up in shock. "I can change!" Being an Auror was his only way out of the dark world he'd been surviving in for most of his life. He could start over as one! He couldn't let this chance slip between his fingers—not now, not ever.
"However," the woman said, smiling sweetly again. "I have been given the rest of this month of December to help you get on the right track, but only if you do something for me."
"What is it?" Draco answered immediately. "I'll do anything." He hated the fact that he sounded weak, but if it was the only thing he could do…
"Another one of my patients has been rather depressed lately. I need him up and happy if I want to keep my job. You make him happy, but you have to get him into a relationship—it's the only thing I'm sure that will keep him happy. I don't care what methods you use, just do it."
Draco narrowed his eyes, searching her face for any signs of jokes, but she was completely serious. Unfortunately for her, Draco was not. "So I can use any method? Can I go crazy in the hopes that I'll make him smile and keep that memory so that he'll be happy enough to find a girlfriend or something?" He was kidding, of course, so her answer startled him.
"Whatever method." She stressed. "But if you're going to 'go crazy', then I suggest you make a list of the things you aren't allowed to do. After this month is up, it'll come in handy. Do we have a deal?"
She reached out her hand, and Draco made as if to take it, but suddenly stopped. "Wait. Who's the guy?" He watched as the woman's face twisted a little.
"Remember how important this is, Mr. Malfoy," she warned, and then took a breath. "His name is Harry Potter."
Draco snatched his hand back, looking murderous. "I won't do it, even it means I can't be an Auror. To do Potter a favor? Are you mad!" He hissed the last part as he was leaning close to her face, but then stooped to grab his satchel headed for the door.
"If you leave this office now, you're leaving behind your future, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco froze for a moment, mind working quickly. This whole thing could go well for him if it were any other person, but it just had to be Harry Potter, the damned Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn't-Give-Up-And-Die! He ground his teeth together, ignoring the fact that it could possibly go bad for him if he walked out.
"I need something more," he pressed, knowing he wouldn't do it anyway, not even if this evil little—URGH—of a Mindstreamer offered him the world.
"A full recommendation to the Ministry of Magic, stating that you are of perfectly sound mind and that nothing need be kept from you. You have indeed changed you so-called 'evil' ways, and there is no need not to trust you."
Her hazel eyes bored into the back of his skull; he could feel them. Wincing slightly as he cursed under his breath, Draco turned the doorknob and opened the door. He paused only for a moment, and then turned so that he was facing her.
"I'll do it," he growled, "But you had better keep your word!"
He slammed the door shut behind him. His Mindstreamer smiled knowingly, and moved aside the shiny little plaque that held her name and credentials. Underneath it was a light yellow quill.
"Sunday, December 1st," she recited. The quill picked itself up, and immediately began scribbling onto a piece of notepaper. "After having watched Draco for those two months I had before he came here, I am sure my suspicions and his teacher's are correct."
She smiled, tapping her fingers thoughtfully against her chin.
"I am confident we can have him exactly where I want him by the time I am finished."
Northeastern Hallway
3:35 PM
Draco was in a foul mood as he stalked through the Hospital Wing and down the hallway. He couldn't believe the nerve of that woman, making him help—of all people—Potter! Scowling fiercely, he slumped against a wall and slid down.
Mercury eyes wandered the hallway restlessly, and when he saw no one was there, Draco sighed. With the quiet that came after it, so did another noise. Feeling curious, Draco peered around. There was a slightly ajar door next to him, and light was spilling out. Faint murmurs were coming from it, and he smirked to himself.
Due to his new deal, he was able to do whatever he wanted…so why not try it out? Draco moved a little closer to the door, and then looked around the doorframe.
Inside, he was surprised to see the object of his musings perched on the edge of a desk, swinging his legs as the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio spoke to him. Harry didn't look particularly happy, as with every soft comment he cringed a little. Draco leaned in a fragment closer.
"…Hogsmeade this weekend, Harry? You didn't come last week." Hermione was saying, looking earnest. "Fred and George have set up a division of their shop around there. It's supposed to be really good!"
Draco wrinkled his nose. Didn't the Mudblood get it? She was trying way too hard to please Potter if she was talking excitedly about jokes.
"Harry, mate, a new café's opened. Ginny told me about it, it's got loads and loads of great food that you can eat outside or inside, and they've got chess tournaments and they have a screen spelled to show you Quidditch games worldwide! You have to come around."
Harry shrugged. "I don't really feel like it. I'll just stay here, thanks."
"Doing what?" Hermione said, putting her hands on her hips. "For Merlin's sake, Harry, all you do is sit there and mope around all there."
Something sparked in the emerald green eyes, and Harry looked up. "I don't mope, Hermione! If you knew me, you'd know that!"
Draco didn't get to hear any more, as he was suddenly dragged backwards by someone. He sputtered indignantly as he was towed a good twenty feet down the hall before the grip loosened, and then he jumped up, brushing his clothes off and bringing his wand out to hex whoever it was. When he turned, however, he stopped in shock.
Professor Snape was glaring coldly at him, looking furious. "Draco, you may be a Slytherin in my own house, you may be a Prefect and Head Boy, you may be my godson for Merlin's sake, but just because you are sorted in the unusually short list of people in my favor does not mean I will let you off with such demeaning behavior."
"W—what?"
Snape rolled his eyes. "Eavesdropping, Malfoy, eavesdropping. Potter and his friends are allowed to use that room," the next part he said with carefully expressed disgust, "for their personal issues. I have no wish to know what they are, and yet no one is allowed to hear. This includes you, Draconis, so I suggest you find your way to your next class."
"I can do whatever I want," Draco muttered as he adjusted his knapsack.
"What was that?" Snape asked sharply. Draco noticed this, and a glimmer of mischief entered his eye. Time to put that woman's foolishness to work…
"Actually, Professor, I am allowed to eavesdrop."
"Do not correct your elders, Malfoy," Snape growled. "Me especially, as I have no qualms about hexing the students. And you have a detention with me on Saturday, just because of that."
"What?" Draco's jaw dropped. This was not the way he had envisioned using his newfound power. "It's not my fault! My Mindstreamer told me—"
"Malfoy, stop blaming other people for your idiotic mistakes and get to class! Or so help me—Malfoy! Don't walk away from me, you rude little snot!"
But Draco wasn't listening. Fuming, he stalked away and towards the open doors leading outside. He had Herbology, and he would be damned if he was going to be late and get in trouble because of his godfather's prattling. Cursing his Mindstreamer and Potter all in one go, he pulled out a quill and a piece of parchment as he walked along.
Scowling, Draco scratched out his first four offenses.
I am not allowed to eavesdrop.
I am not allowed to blame others for my actions.
I am not allowed to correct Professors, even if I know I'm right.
I am not allowed to walk away when someone is talking to me, because it's rude.
As he scanned the list, the charmed bells rang and students began pouring out of their classes. Blaise Zabini soon found his friend and matched their strides as they walked along to their next class.
"How went the first session?" he asked, shying away a little.
"I would like to wring her neck and watch her squirm under a thousand Crucios performed all at once."
Blaise moved away just a little bit more.
"Ah."
Greenhouse #2
4:15 PM
Draco grimaced as he eyed the odd plant they'd been given today. It looked vaguely like a sack filled with water; a water balloon, he'd heard some of the Muggleborns calling it. Professor Sprout was carefully holding one in her arms, rocking it back and forth as though it were a baby.
"These," she said fondly, "Are called Praepinguis Conglobo." She waved her wand carefully with her free hand. "Glomus." A ball of string appeared, and it was roughly the size of the Praepinguis Conglobo.
"As you can see," she said, letting the ball hover a moment before making the string vanish, "They are rather small. These are commonly used as Pinguis. Can anyone tell me what that is?"
Hermione, of course, raised her hand, but to everyone's shock, so did Neville Longbottom. Sprout called on him.
"Er…er…Pinguis means oil, and Praepinguis means fat or richly oiled, while Conglobo means ball in Latin. So the balls have oil in them?"
"Excellent, Longbottom, ten points to Gryffindor." Sprout beamed at Neville, and then carefully placed the Praepinguis onto a seat. Swiftly, she pinched what looked like a hump at the top, and several disgusted groans broke out as a shiny, mucus-like liquid oozed out of it and landed into a pan. Sprout eyed her class with amusement.
"Oh, get over it. This is the oil all your food is cooked in!"
At that, most of the students suddenly let their breakfast and lunch visit the floor. Draco clutched at his stomach and leaned against Blaise, who had turned green. "I am never eating again," the blonde stressed.
Sprout was frowning and looking slightly confused. "It's not that big a deal! Here, here, clean up the messes! You and your partners must each fill up a pan with the stuff, or else none of you will be able to eat dinner!"
Draco allowed a faint smile to cross over his face as he saw Ronald Weasley retching violently into a flowerpot. Figures, that the one person who ate the most in the school should feel the effects the most.
He glanced around and saw that Harry was still blank-faced, picking at the goo inside Sprout's pan with some mild disgust, and Hermione was trying to subtly push their Praepinguis away. Ashe was looking there, Harry looked up. Their eyes met for a moment and only a moment—because Ron, who had been staggering back to his seat, turned sharply to retch again. Unfortunately, he hit a small; suspiciously fuzzy looking white tree and it gave out a mewling noise.
Ron yelped and jumped backwards, in the process knocking over the pan of gooey liquid. Sprout yelled in panic and the class all watched in morbid fascination as the oil fell to the ground, and then sizzled on it.
Sprout looked nervous as she tried to reassure them. "Now, now, class, it's only doing that because none of the magical properties that would make it dangerous have been taken out of it yet. Don't touch it, Mr. Finnegan!"
She didn't have to yell the last part. Seamus drew back as the oil blew itself into a bubble, expanding more and more. Sprout grabbed her hat from where it had fallen in the chaos and shoved it onto her head as she removed her wand, smiling happily.
"Nearly forgotten about that! It'll grow into a bigger Praepinguis, so we'll have a lot of oil for the house-elves!" As the bubble continued to swell, she looked over her shoulder. "I would get out of here if I were you!"
Draco shoved away whoever it was that was in front of him and followed Blaise out of the greenhouse. He was paler than usual but didn't look ruffled on the outside; on the inside, he was planning how best to order catered meals from outside of Hogwarts.
As the last student (Parvati Patil) trickled out of the greenhouse and shut the door, there was a loud popping noise. A second later, the greenhouse glass was covered in the noxious goo.
This time, even Draco had to run for a bush.
Great Hall
7:00
Later that night, at dinner, Draco sat stiffly at seat, eyes riveted to the plate he had in front of him. Not one seventh-year had touched their plate, and neither had most of the other grades. It seemed the word had spread quickly.
"What is it?" Pansy, on his left, questioned him. She had heard about the whole thing of course, and was poking at a carrot.
"I think," Draco replied, looking suddenly ashen, "It's the cause of my early departure." Without another word, he stood and stumbled out of the room. Blaise shook his head as he watched Draco leave, and turned to Pansy, smiling slightly.
"His revenge against the Hufflepuffs will so be something I want to be a part of." His keen eyes searched out the Gryffindor table, and he watched with a queer smile on his face as Hermione Granger rapped her knuckles against Harry Potter's hands. The boy wonder leapt up from where he had been watching the door, and then merely nodded when Hermione said something to him.
Pansy brought Blaise back from his thoughts. "Why are you looking at the Gryffs if it's the Hufflepuff we're talking about?" She looked over at the table, and then looked back, grinning wickedly. "Does our little Blaise of Glory have someone on his mind?"
Blaise frowned.
"Shut up and eat your Pinguis."
Hey, so once again, thanks much to Barbarella, for letting me borrow her plot. Reviews shall be appreciated, considered, and eventually fed to my muses with caviar and much, much wine. Also, you may notice some things (such as the Mindstreamer (THAT NAME BELONGS TO ME!)) seem familiar. That is because they are also used in Mournings Of An Evil Little Cockroach, my other fic currently on a mini-hiatus. And I will update Lifeblood soon. I promise.