Chapter 9: Draco's Detour
Draco wandered the halls aimlessly after he had left Potions and the Hospital Wing that afternoon. The Headmaster had contacted him about his punishment before he was dismissed from Madam Pomfrey's care. He couldn't believe his luck (or, more appropriately, lack thereof).
Detention.
With pretty-boy Potter.
It was the last place he wanted to spend his Saturday night- alone in Professor Snape's office with the Gryffindor poster boy.
Sighing, he headed down a corridor that he had heard quite a bit about, but one he had never visited himself: the one to the kitchens. Draco had no desire to sit in the Great Hall for dinner today and be belittled and simpered about by Pansy Parkinson. Tickling the pear as instructed until it squirmed, he stepped into the brightly lit kitchens and was immediately knocked to the floor by an over-excited house elf.
"Harry Potter! Harry Potter sir has come to see Dobby! Oh, Dobby is so—"
Dobby immediately gasped when he had realized that the sixth year he had just tackled was indeed not his current Master, but his former.
"D-dobby?" choked Draco, rising to his feet and brushing himself off.
The elf squeaked and disappeared with a crack, leaving a one mystified Draco Malfoy in his smoke. The blonde Slytherin didn't have much time to ponder what had just happened because he was immediately hailed upon by scores of elves positively begging to let them serve him. He soon left the kitchens, pockets full, smiling to himself.
'Well, looks like the Gryffindors aren't all that impressive with their food nicking skills as I thought. Those elves can barely contain themselves when they have a chance to give it away!'
Munching his sandwich and patting his now food-filled pockets Draco took a few back routes to steer him away from the Great Hall, wanting to be alone. He wondered if it had, in fact, been his former house elf that had tackled him in the kitchens. Could he even be sure that his old house elf's name had been Dobby? Or maybe it was Darby? Or Bobby even? Shaking his head, he dismissed the thought.
'The house elf thought I was Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake! There's no way someone like Scarhead could have a house elf!'
Passing an old tapestry, Draco continued to wander when a sound met his ears. It was a sound he was quite unaccustomed to hearing, being a Malfoy and a Slytherin, but he would recognize it anywhere.
Someone was crying.
Doubling back to the tapestry (which seemed to be the source of the noise), Draco smirked to himself. What better way to make himself feel better than knocking off points from someone for skipping meals to wallow in self pity? Drawing his wand, he carefully moved the tapestry aside to reveal a hidden doorway.
'Interesting. I wonder why I've never noticed this before?'
"Silencio," he whispered, directing his wand at the door.
Noiselessly, he opened it to find nothing more than a small broom cupboard. Unremarkable, really, had it not been for the girl sitting on an overturned mop bucket unsuccessfully attempting to control her sobs. She was facing the back wall of the broom closet, and had neither seen nor heard him enter. Draco had entered the hidden cupboard with every intention of taking points off of the person if they were in his own house ('The disgrace! A Slytherin, crying!'), or dragging them into the Great Hall in front of everyone with a tear streaked face and forcing them to eat while everyone stared if they were from another. Unfortunately for Draco, all his desires to make someone else's life more miserable than his was at the current time were washed away with the sight of this small girl.
She was very petite, almost elfin, with long blonde hair tied back into a half ponytail with a bit of gray satin ribbon. Her face (from what he could see of it) would normally be a creamy white, had it not been so flushed from her crying. Something about the girl made him stop in his tracks. He had never seen someone so miserable in his entire life- and that was saying something, as he had Lucius Malfoy for a father. Draco had spent the majority of his childhood being belittled by his male role model, thinking he had never been good enough—but that was beside the point right now. This girl positively radiated despair through the entire cupboard.
But wait. There was something familiar about her. Draco felt as if he should know this girl's name, but he couldn't place it. Afraid, he started to back out of the closet. He didn't know why he had come in here in the first place, and if he (for some reason) was incapable of knocking points off of the girl for skipping the feast, he didn't feel like being caught in a closet with a crying female first year.
CRASH
Startled, the girl jumped up and turned, drawing her wand with a shaky hand. Draco had tripped over another mop bucket.
"Shit," he cursed, attempting to pick himself up.
'Great,' he muttered inwardly, 'now I've gone and embarrassed myself in front of some twit. That will go over well.'
The girl leaned forward and held out her hand to help him up. Cursing to himself, Draco waved it away and brushed the hair out of his eyes.
"D- d- dr- Draco? Are you all right?"
"Fine. I'm fine, no thanks to you," he spat, picking himself up off the floor. "I think you're the one that has problems if you're hiding in a broom cupboard during dinner. You best be thankful you're not in my house or I'd have you in detention faster than you can say 'Sugar Quill'."
Much to his rage, the girl laughed.
"I'd like to see you try it, Draco."
Finally looking at her face to face, Draco's anger got the best of him.
"What gives you the right to talk to me like that? I am a PREFECT, I'll have you know. I ought to report you to your Mentor. They're a sixth year- they'll straighten you out and show you how to respect your elders."
"You ARE my mentor, you nit wit."
Draco stared at her, as if seeing her properly for the first time.
"What! I am? How'd I get stuck with a saucy little twit like you?"
She sighed, trying to wipe away the remains of her tears, and stood straight, facing him as defiantly as her small frame could muster. Draco could see she was clearly ashamed of her crying, not to mention being caught- especially by her Mentor, 'Slytherin Prince' that he was.
Damn well should be ashamed, Draco thought to himself, kicking the mop bucket that had given him away. Stupid first year twit!
"Yes, you're my mentor. And might I say you're doing a rather awful job. You haven't even talked to me since the welcoming feast."
Draco stared, jaw gaping. Good God, he thought. Even Granger doesn't have the audacity to talk to me like this! I like this girl- she's got spunk—oh Merlin, did I really just think that?
Draco shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts, which had just been interrupted by the young blonde girl.
"My name is Aurelia Formosus. I'm surprised you don't remember me. …I stuck my tongue out at you."
Draco was fuming. Not only had a first year seen him trip all over himself, now he was going to be forced to spend time with this same first year.
"Look," he spat, trying to control his temper, "that's nice and all, but me being your mentor or not I really don't think we should be spending so much time in a broom closet."
Aurelia shrugged, wiped her eyes and walked out. She turned right immediately, walking away from Draco. Draco seethed, and turned to the left, wishing that it would be the last time he would see the girl, but knowing it was hopeless. Angry about the way his day was going, he kicked the wall, and cursed aloud. Now, on top of everything he had a sore foot. Temper incensed, he turned around realizing that he was going the wrong way to get back to the Slytherin common room.
He ran smack into Aurelia, who fell over backwards and attempted to grab onto Draco's robes to steady herself. Surprised by her being right behind him, Draco was unsteady and toppled right onto her. They fell to the floor, Draco on top of the small blonde, and for the first time he looked her in the eyes as her hands grasped around his wrists. Suddenly, he was overcome with the strangest feeling- as if this Mudblood Muggle-born was reading his mind.
"What the hell is the matter with you?" he cried, pushing himself off of her and standing up.
Aurelia rose directly after him, and brushed herself off. Her eyes were shining with fresh tears, and they had nothing to do with Draco falling on top of her.
"You're my mentor. I'm supposed to learn from you. I can't talk to anyone else about this- they wouldn't understand. You have to spend time with me anyway, so you might as well get it over with now."
Draco cringed- she was right. The little twit was right. How was it that she could make him so miserable?
'After all, she's only a first year!' he reprimanded himself.
He sighed, "All right, Alli, what is it? Let's get this mushy bonding stuff over with, so from now on all I have to do is help you with homework or something."
"It's Aurelia. And I—" she looked worriedly around her. "Can we go somewhere? I don't need the whole school overhearing this. It's bad enough the 'Prince of Slytherin' had to find me in a broom closet, mentor or no."
Draco laughed in spite of himself. "Prince of Slytherin? What in Merlin's name is that all about?"
Aurelia shrugged as Draco led her up two more flights of stairs to the Room of Requirement. He had only learned about it when he and the other members of the Inquisitorial Squad had ambushed Potter and his friends in there last year, but he thought it might be useful for this. Pacing in front of the bit of wall three times, he concentrated on what he wanted to be in the room. Aurelia gasped as a door appeared out of thin air. Ever the gentleman, Draco held the door for her and then shut it behind them.
"What is this place?" she breathed.
"Don't know, really. But it's dead useful. Sit. Let's get this over with."
Draco plopped into one of the chintz armchairs that the room had provided and helped himself to the food on the table- his sandwich had not nearly been filling enough, and he assumed that the food in his pockets would not really be fit for eating after having fallen to the floor on top of someone. Aurelia followed suit and sat very ladylike in the chair across from him.
Draco didn't really know what he was supposed to do, but he was bound by the school to show 'the twit' support, so he decided to just nod a lot and tell her 'everything would be fine'. Aurelia looked tense as she stirred her tea and nibbled on a cucumber sandwich.
"I don't really know how to tell it. It's bad, and so I'm not supposed to say it I don't think."
Draco began to get irritated. "Look, Amalie—"
"Aurelia—"
"Whatever. I'm sure whatever it is; I've heard it before, all right? I don't really do this 'heart to heart' stuff, so can we please just get on with it? I can't believe I'm even in here in the first place."
Aurelia nodded, but Draco saw her eyes fill with tears again.
He cringed, 'Good Lord, what happened to the proud little twit that stuck her tongue out at me at the Welcoming Feast? I almost miss her with the way this An… whatever her name is twit is acting.'
"It… well, I was in class today—Herbology—and one of the girls got really mad at me when I dropped a pot on her foot. It wasn't my fault even! I mean- there was this really big plant and it had been trying to trip people all class period and—"
"Get to the point, munchkin," Draco hissed, through clenched teeth.
"I—um, she—I… She yelled at me, and…" Aurelia paused, as if inwardly asking herself if she had the courage to go on.
"A-a-and, she said that a 'filthy little Mudblood' like me shouldn't be allowed here at Hogwarts if I couldn't even carry a flower pot right, and how could they ever expect someone like me to learn magic?"
Draco grinned. He would have to applaud the first year that had been so quick witted to come up with such an insult—no doubt she had been from Slytherin house. Aurelia stared at him, unable to understand what had just caused her mentor to smile like that. She noted that he had a really nice smile, when he was actually smiling, and not smirking.
"Why are you smiling?" she asked confusedly. "Margaret wasn't smiling when Professor Sprout took 100 points from her for saying it."
Draco's grin immediately faded. Zabini's little sister had just lost their house the lead for the House Cup.
"And I don't even know what it means!" cried the girl exasperatedly. "I just know that after class she threatened to beat me up, and then somehow she was on the green house roof!"
Draco grinned once again- he had to admire Aurelia for doing such powerful magic, even if it did mean that one of his best friends' sister ended up on a roof somewhere.
"Look, don't worry about it, ok? Margaret just doesn't know any better than to say such things. It's not really used nromally, any way.
"Besides, I'm sure that since you already bested her by landing her on the green house roof she won't be calling you it again any time soo—"
Draco stopped, and rethought what he had just said. He couldn't believe that he was sticking up for (and comforting!) the little Mudblood! How was it that he, Draco Lucius Malfoy had all of a sudden found himself in a room, alone with a first year Mudblood, eating a sandwich and begun CONSOLING her?
Aurelia interrupted his thoughts-
"What does it mean, Draco?"
"What?"
"The M word?"
"The M word? Oh, honestly Andrea—"
"Aurelia—"
"WHATEVER! Look, don't be afraid of calling something by its proper name! Well, I guess 'Mudblood' can hardly be considered proper, but still."
Aurelia eyed him curiously, waiting for him to get to the point. Draco sighed. He couldn't believe he was having this conversation.
'Why does Merlin hate me today?' he cursed inwardly.
"It means 'dirty blood' and all Pure Blood wizards- like Margaret Zabini- think that anyone that's less than Pure Blooded is a Mudblood, and therefore inferior. Pure Bloods marry Pure Bloods and that's that. Anything less would be improper, impure, and inferior. Most Pure Bloods think that magic schooling should be kept only in all wizarding families, and so that's why Zabini Junior said what she did."
"But then why doesn't she say things like that to the other students? There's got to be tons of wizards and witches that aren't pure!"
"Pure Bloods hate Muggle-borns most of all," Draco explained, with only the slightest bit of impatience. "It's really the meanest thing that you could call someone in the Wizarding World."
Aurelia blanched, staring at the boy in front of her, eyes wide.
"Wow. No wonder Professor Sprout was so upset. Ok, Draco. I won't be afraid anymore."
Draco raised his eyebrows, as if debating whether or not to believe her. Deciding that at this point he didn't really care, he nodded in hopes that she would be done and he could leave. After a brief period of silence, he decided to break the tension.
"Good. Are you done now?"
Aurelia nodded, and smiled thoughtfully. "I guess that Hermyne Gr-Grange? Is that her name? Hermyne Grange? …Well, that girl is right then- just like you said."
"What! Granger? As in 'I'm-too-perfect-for-everyone-other-than-Scarhead-and-Weasel' Hermione Granger?"
Aurelia nodded.
"Right about what? There is NO WAY that I agree with Granger on anything! Much less would I ever say that she's RIGHT!"
Aurelia grabbed another sandwich, and leaned back once more in her chair. Clearly she had gotten what she wanted- a true, genuine reaction out of the normally cold and stiff 'always-lies-to-protect-himself' Prince of Slytherin.
"But you just said 'don't be afraid of calling something by its proper name'," she pointed out, gleefully, "and Hermione Granger says that we shouldn't be afraid to call Lord Voldemort by his real name either."
Draco choked on his sandwich at the mention of the Dark Lord.
"What?" asked Aurelia, for once not feigning innocence.
"Look, Amelia—"
"Aurelia—"
"ARGH! All right, whatever! Look, that is entirely different. The D-d-dark Lord is something that… Look, I don't want to talk about that now, though, ok- or EVER really. Especially with you."
"It's because of your Father, isn't it?" interpolated Aurelia, knowledgably. "Lord Voldemort wants you to join him, but you can't because you're not of age. And you're scared. You're not sure if it's a good idea. You're afraid of who he might hurt to get you to side with him."
Draco stared. He liked this girl less and less by the minute. She knew far too much about how to push his buttons, and she didn't even realize it. Comparing him with the likes of Hermione Granger ('Disgusting! That filth?'), and calling the Dark Lord by name in his presence- she was driving him crazy! And then her talking about how the Dark Lord wanted him to join his father and become a Death Ea—
Woah. Back up here, thought Draco.
"How did you—"
She shrugged. "I Saw it. When you fell on me in the hall. And who is the tall blonde lady? She's really pretty, and you have her nose… and her eyes, too. She loves you, you know."
Draco jumped out of his seat, and reached across the table to grab Aurelia by the collar, who squeaked and dropped her sandwich.
"Do not EVER repeat that!" he yelled vehemently through clenched teeth, attempting to remain calm, but unsuccessfully. "None of it, do you understand? It's more than your life is worth to repeat anything you just said. Especially the part about my-- don't talk about things you don't understand!"
Aurelia looked terrified. She had never seen anyone so angry, and it frightened her.
"N-n-no! Of c-c-course not! That's not what I'm like. I won't tell a soul- n-n-n-not even a ghost of a soul!"
Draco sat back down, wiping his brow with his handkerchief. Shaking, he filled his goblet with water and drank deeply. After his heart rate slowed to normal, he spoke.
"She was my mother."
'Merlin, WHY am I telling her this?'
"Was?" Aurelia asked, timidly, rubbing her throat, clearly afraid of provoking another reaction like his previous one.
"Yes. …She was killed last summer by the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord thought she betrayed him, and so he killed her. My father helped. And that does not leave this room.
"I—I had—I had to watch the whole thing. I don't even know why I'm telling you in the first place, but I guess that you'd probably just 'see' that anyway, wouldn't you?"
Aurelia nodded, but chose not to comment. A long silence ensued. After what seemed like an eternity, she spoke, her voice soft and timid.
"Draco? You're not like them."
He looked at her quizzically, "What do you mean? Not like who?"
"You're not… well, you're not mean. You're a Pure Blood, but you wouldn't think that Muggle-borns are inferior. Your other Pure Blood relatives might think that, and your friends… but you don't, do you?"
She didn't give him time to answer, much less protest, before barreling forward.
"You're good, Draco. You're smart, and funny and nice and people like you. You would never hurt someone's feelings by calling them a Mudblood."
Draco stared at her. This girl—this TWIT, he corrected himself, —was hitting every nail of his life directly on the head, even without Seeing into his mind. But, despite the fact that she had amazing "Seeing" potential- Draco knew she was very naïve. She thought the boy who had taken time to talk with her today was 'funny' and 'nice' and 'good'—but that boy was not the REAL Draco Malfoy. She had no clue what he was really like. What he had been like… before last summer.
"Don't talk about things you don't understand," he replied, coldly, although even he could hear that it was a half-hearted attempt.
Rising, he strode purposefully towards the door, but turned to take one last look at his mentee before he walked out. He saw more compassion in her eyes than he ever thought possible—even from his mother, and she (like Aurelia had unknowingly pointed out) had been the only one to ever love him for what he truly was- not who his father wanted him to be. Shaking his head, Draco shut the door behind him and slowly walked to the Slytherin common room alone.
Somehow… I'm more confused than ever. And yet… and yet, I feel better.