Trigger Warning: Lucius sucks. Psychological abuse after the page break (more info in the chapter notes at the end of the chapter).
Good day, everyone! I do hope you're feeling better than I am. My pet has been at the vet for roughly two weeks now, and she's been an important part of my life these past thirteen years so I'm kinda devastated. Hence the depressing tone of this chapter, so please keep that in mind if you're not feeling well yourself. Have puppy videos or your favourite songs at hand for some soul-cleansing afterwards 3
Two important notices!
1, due to some personal reasons my beta-reader won't be able to continue with this project. This means I'm on the lookout for one or two betas! If you're interested (which I'd be SO thankful for) please contact me via Twitter. Also, please let me know if you find any mistakes. I'm not an English native speaker, so many of those just fly by.
2, I have reached 300 followers on Twitter! As a huge thank you to all of you, I'd like to post a commemorative one-shot (or two-shot). I have already done one for Boku no Hero, so the voting will be between Zutara (Avatar: The Last Airbender) and Dramione! Please head over to Twitter to vote! You've got until next Thursday 11th of February. Thank you so so much!
Three weeks. Three weeks and Granger was still petrified, her right hand still in the motion of holding a long-gone mirror to protect herself. Clever, but not clever enough.
The act of pretending how much he despised her was taking a physical toll on his body. The dark circles under his eyes were accentuated by his pale skin, turning them an ugly blueish-purple hue. Pansy Parkinson, of all people, discreetly taught him a glamour charm that made them almost invisible. His stomach turned into knots whenever he saw Saint Potter and the Weasel coming to their shared lessons on their own. He missed looking out for her hair in the crowds and the Great Hall for meals. He gave out most of the contents of his mother's weekly treat-bags from Honeydukes and barely wrote back to her.
He was getting sick and tired of being unable to control the unbearable need to roam the corridors at night so that nobody could see him sneaking out to the infirmary. That night, just like all others before that, her lifeless, unseeing eyes not meeting his own tore his heart apart. He'd kept holding it on, holding everything in for too long. As he danced around Mrs. Norris, Filch, Peeves and the ghosts, the stone walls in the halls closed around him and strained his breath.
He didn't notice when the first tears started falling, and he scarcely took into account the dark-haired bespectacled figure in front of him.
His watery eyes made him believe he was in front of Potter himself, but the unmistakable voice of one of his best friends sent a wave of both dread and relief through his core.
"We need to talk."
His body moved on its own, guided by Theo's hand on his arm. The tears flooded freely yet silently then, wetting his cheeks, falling down his neck and unto the collar of his silk pyjamas. His vision, blurred as it was, did nothing to alert him of their whereabouts, so in his haze, it came as a surprise that they ended up on their usual spot.
The heavy wooden door of the classroom closed behind him with the softest 'thud'.
Another pair of well-known hands gently grabbed him by the shoulders and led him to the back of the room, where he was greeted with a steaming cup of sugary tea.
At first, the minutes ticked by between tears, silent sips of Earl Gray and the odd hiccup. He didn't even try to fake it: if his mates had found him, it was because they knew something was wrong. He had been taught to never show weakness, to always maintain a cool and calm facade… but it was so hard to do so in front of the two people who were brothers from another mother.
It wasn't until the last teardrop fell that he decided to chance a look at them. Where he thought he would see mockery, there was concern. Where he thought he would see rage, he saw peace. Understanding. Things his father had never warned him about. So he looked down at his shoes once more in shame.
Blaise was the first to break the silence. His voice held his usual calmness, but also carried the tiniest speck of sadness. "What's wrong, Drake?"
Draco drew into himself like he always did. In his mind, he chastised himself in an effort to retake control. Inhale. Exhale.
"You already know, don't you?" He almost succeeded, only the slight tremor of his vocal folds betraying his utterly devastated state.
He missed the look between his fellow housemates, a guarded kind of exchange in which they decided how to best tackle the situation.
"You're not exactly subtle about it." Ironically, it was Theo's distinctive lack of subtlety that won in the end.
Draco's pressure spiked, blood drenching from his face in the blink of an eye. He was panicking. What would happen to him — or worse, what would happen to her — if word got out to his father?
He wasn't stupid. He just played the part to ease his mother's worries, but he definitely knew way more than what he led on. On more than one occasion he'd spied on his father's meetings, hidden in one of the multiple secret passages of his ancient home. He knew the kind of people he frequented, the kind of people he led . And he was expected to lead them too, in the future. What would they say? If his father asked them to hurt her-
Inhale. Exhale.
He pictured himself shoving his increasingly uncontrollable feelings into boxes and closing them tightly. Slowly yet surely, the panic decreased to a more manageable state, the one that always left him feeling a little bit numb. This time, however, it was accompanied by a particular type of coldness.
"Don't worry, nobody knows" Blaise reassured him with a kind half-smile. Sadly, it did little to quell Draco's despair.
"Yeah, no one has seen you staring at her horrid hai-" Theo's ill-timed buffoonery was interrupted by a loud 'thwack' from the disapproving slap of Blaise's hand at the base of his skull. In front of him, Draco sported a murderous, thin-lipped stare. He briefly considered jinxing the idiot, but his expression was apparently enough to make him stop.
"Okay, okay, sorry" Theo apologised, fixing his fallen glasses over his nose with one hand.
Blaise sighed threatically, already used to his friend's antics. "Mate, could you not?" he questioned rhetorically, scrunching his nose in distaste. Theo's usual attitude helped with some of the less grave situations, but Draco's infatuation with Granger was considered abysmal with a touch of potentially life-threatening by their standards.
With a heavy gulp, Draco decided to lower his defences. It went against everything he'd ever been taught, but more than a year had passed already and his stupid heart always got in the middle. He was terribly ashamed of his childish crush — it wasn't even proper for someone of his standing — but nothing had worked so far. He'd been at the end of her passionate insults more than once and gods was it infuriatingly attractive. He always came back for more in the guise of being offended by her mere existence. It was beginning to backfire, yet he found out he didn't give a rat's ass and that was the truly horrifying thought.
After inconspicuously clearing his throat, he dared to verbalize the question that had intruded on his brain since the first moment he realised she wasn't like him.
"What can I do?"
His friends shared another look and a silent conversation passed between them. Luckily, Theo decided against speaking that time, seeing as it was a more delicate situation.
"Look," Blaise began, pushing his now empty cup towards the centre of the desk before resting both hands on his lap. "The way I see it, you can do two things. You can either accept it-"
"No way" Draco opened his gray eyes in horror as he shook his head emphatically. " He'll hurt her."
Both friends nodded, completely understanding who Drake was talking about, having already assumed the outcome previously.
"Or you can move on."
Draco Malfoy stared at him with a raised eyebrow, not really comprehending the point. How did one simply move on from such a massive crush that had the likes of him crying around the castle like a toddler?
With a soft hum, Theo spoke of his plan out loud. "Have you noticed Pansy Parkinson giving you the look recently?
Draco felt like he'd been on his father's study with increasing frequency. Before Hogwarts, he'd only set foot in the luxurious room once. Now, however, it was the third time he'd been there for a very similar conversation, increasing the great total to four. If he followed the same train of thought, he'd realise that only one quarter of those meetings were pleasant, but he refused to let his mind wander down that path. Instead, he focused on the menacing pair of gray eyes in front of him — so similar, yet so different from his.
"Do you enjoy disgracing the family, boy?" Lucius asked with his usual sneer. Ah, it all came back to that for his father, regardless of the implications.
"No, sir" Draco answered from his chair, beginning the now familiar process of metaphorically shoving his feelings into boxes. Only now they'd evolved from boxes into silver chests, closed shut and warded by magical padlocks that only he could pry open.
"Frederick Flint sent an owl this morning. Do you know what it said?"
"No, sir." Oh, but he imagined what it was like based on the previous letters sent by Brayden Crabbe and Dover Goyle — his minions' respective fathers.
"Am I to assume you haven't understood how disgraceful your attitude towards your education and your social standing has been on these past two years?"
Silence.
"So not only do I have to deal with an icompetent heir, but also a stupid one" he spat out, rage clearly noticeable on his usually controlled voice. Those were new levels of fury for his father, the likes Draco had never seen before. Not even directed at the house-elf Potter had freed.
Silence.
"Speak!" the Malfoy patriarch yelled, threatening his very own son with his wand aimed at his throat. The chests in his mind faltered yet held on, effectively keeping his tears at bay.
"I will be better," Draco croaked, forcing his mental cages to stay shut. The familiarity of the situation did not go unnoticed by his father, who scoffed disdainfully at his rebuttal.
"No, son, you have already proven you are not good enough. That revolting Mudblood witch can keep her first place for this school year, but it shall be the last. It will be your job to make that trio of imbeciles' lives so miserable that they leave the school. Feel free to resort to… any necessary methods to keep the animal in its place"
Draco's lips quivered. He managed a sharp nod before his father dismissed him with a sharp hand movement, scrambling as gracefully as possible to leave that horrid room.
"Oh, and Draco?" Lucius beckoned just as he was about to leave, his back turned on his son. "Prometheus Parkinson has made known his intent on pursuing a union with the Malfoys. While we arrange the details of the betrothal contract, you are to begin courting his daughter."
TW details: Chapter set on Year 2. At the end of the school year, Draco gets chewed on and spat by Lucius for not besting Hermione. He proceeds to threaten him, call him names and ultimately forcing him to torment the (not yet) Golden Trio, preferably until they decide to leave the school. Lastly, as Draco's leaving, Lucius announces Mr. Parkinson's desire to marry Pansy to Draco, so Lucius lets his son know they are to begin the courting process.