Trigger Warning: references to rape and sexist comments after the page break. More info at the end of chapter notes.
This chapter contains exerpts from "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire."
Hello everybody! Turns out I was able to read enough of the book to finish the flashback that I wanted so here you are! We don't celebrate April Fool's in my country so I thought eh, why not give them a scare. In all seriousness, though, flashbacks will be getting increasingly sad. Just a warning so you can be prepared: every two present chapters we get a flashback. I AM SO SORRY but this is needed for the story.
I hope you enjoy it and have a lovely Easter!
"Draco."
He'd got out of the room as soon as his mother had uttered the implication of spending two weeks in France with the Parkinsons. He'd fled down the hallway ignoring the portraits' peeved voices, unwilling to subject himself to that kind of torture.
Facing Pansy once a week during the Summer holidays — without taking into account the fact that he had to stomach her every bloody day for months — was enough torture. He'd go with that farce of a betrothal for as long as he could if it kept his father from breathing down his neck, but he simply refused to let it go any further than it had to. So, he gracefully stood up from his seat and beelined to the gardens, paying no heed to his mother's quick steps right behind him.
If they were going to argue, he'd rather not do it where his father could listen.
He let the doors slam open with a loud 'BANG!', ignoring the little voice in his head telling him he was being an immature brat. It could be so, but after biting his tongue and controlling himself every waking moment in that cursed house, he could allow himself some slight reprieve for an afternoon.
His shoes made the gravel underneath his feet crunch loudly with every angry step. The family of ducks passing nearby waddled quickly away at the sound, making rage drip out of his every pore. He couldn't blame Granger for leaving, not if even the animals longed to escape his clutches.
He barely registered as his body made its way automatically to the pond. It took only one second for his feelings to free themselves from the inside, manifesting in an outraged roar that reverberated in the peaceful gardens of the Manor. His outburst made the nearest surface of the water freeze, and he was angrier at the fact that he was slipping away so badly he couldn't get ahold of his own magic, like a fucking toddler.
The next moments passed by in a blur. When he came to, he was on the ground being cradled by his mother's arms, fat tears running unrestrained down his cheeks. His heart warmed at the thought that maybe, just maybe, not everybody hated him. That perhaps he could be important to someone other than the friends he could barely see in the prison that he called home.
"Mother…" he choked out, unable to speak as she hugged him harder. It felt like it had been years since she'd openly displayed affection in a physical way.
Minutes ticked by while Narcissa lovingly stroked his back, holding his broken pieces together. He cried and cried until his head hurt and his throat ached, all the pent-up anger and frustration finally enough to break his barriers.
After a while, his wails turned into quiet sobs. The sounds of birds, swans, peacocks and ducks were brought to him by the breeze, as well as the gentle humming of his mother. Feeling better — and very embarrassed for making his mother kneel on the floor with him — he slowly peeled himself from her and cleared his throat, offering his hand to help her up.
She smiled at him, silently leading their way to the gazebo. When he smiled back, he noticed that his mother and him were almost the same height.
For a long time, they dedicated themselves to admiring the lush gardens and the critters that passed by. It was quite a sight, one Draco hadn't particularly paid attention to before. Now, however, he could picture himself strolling around the garden with a certain curly-haired witch.
He sighed.
"Son… I know about the Granger girl."
Draco froze, dread clawing its way back to his throat, making him freeze and stare, horrified, at his mother. Cold sweat traveled down his back, until-
"Please, don't worry. I promise I wouldn't do anything to hurt her" Narcissa said, taking his son's hand in hers. The fear abated, albeit barely.
Narcissa pursed her lips and released a long sigh before speaking again in a soft voice. "I've always known. I saw you together the Summer you met before First Year."
She smiled at him encouragingly.
"Please believe me when I say I loathe to see you in this position, but things… you know how your father can be, and I don't want to see him hurt either of you. It's bad enough that she's Potter's friend, we don't need to give him further motives to act."
Draco swallowed, unable to look at his mother in the eye.
"Why are you telling me this?"
Narcissa's smile wavered. "I had the hope that she was just going to be a passing fancy. You are young, and one usually falls in and out of love a dozen times before becoming of age. But you, dear… you're taken by her, and I have no intention of forcing your heart to break."
"Too late. Whenever sodding Crabbe and Goyle are around I have to let them see me making her miserable. If not, father can suspect, and-" his voice cracked.
"I know, love, I know." Narcissa hugged Draco tightly once more. "I have noticed you have been developing a special skill. It runs in the Blacks" she smirked in a way Draco felt increasingly familiar. It wasn't often she let her mask of poise and calmness down. "I could help you hone it, if you'd let me. It can buy us some time before we figure something out."
Draco held onto his mother with renewed fondness. Tears were streaming down his face, but that time, he did not care.
Draco saw her at the Top Box in the Stadium, surrounded by Weasleys and, of course, with Potter. He'd spotted her hair first, her curls less frizzy and more formed as if aided by a potion or spell. As she came closer into view, he saw she was wearing baggy clothes, but his hormone-driven body had immediately noticed how she had somewhat filled out over the Summer.
He was thinking about her when he heard unsettling, raucous laughter coming from the tent's dining room, his tipsy father and overly drunk friends reminiscing about "the good old days" that made his skin crawl.
"I cannot believe Albus Dumbledore is still Headmaster of that ruddy school. He's always away with the fairies!"
"You can say that again. That Mudblood-lover has been nothing but a disgrace for our children. I wanted Gregory to go to Durmstrang. A far more sensible school, if you ask me, but Mary wanted nothing to do with that. Too far away, she said."
"Yes, I am all too aware. I had the same predicament with Draco."
Draco scoffed from his hiding place behind the wall. If it were for his father, he'd already been taught the Unforgivables.
"Oi, speaking of Mudblood, did you see Potter's little whore today?"
"Bah, with such horrifying hair? Impossible not to. It was bad enough to see the pauper and his spawn, but we ended up sharing the Top Box with that filth."
A chorus of disgusted noises accompanied by laughter followed. Draco's blood boiled.
"A good whipping is what she's missing, I tell you. Vincent goes on and on about how much of an insufferable swot she is. What I'd give to make her squirm."
Soft chuckles could be heard.
"Still the same hopeless degenerate, I see."
"No, no, I'm with him. Muggles are only worth as much as their cunts. All the better if they're untouched."
"You think she hasn't been getting any from Potter?"
"Ah, Nott, she's a child still."
"I agree, but I can't see the problem there. My best shags have always been with young, little sluts. Especially when they need a little convincing."
The contents from Draco's stomach were dangerously close to spilling. He held his abdomen with one hand, the other tightly covering his mouth. What were these fucking monsters talking about?
"Tell you what. We should go wreck some havoc! Yesterday I saw the manager of the place nearby with all his family. He lives in one of the cabins in the front. Bet we could have some fun, eh? Like before! Send a message."
"What an excellent suggestion. We could take the Mudbloods we find for a spin as well, couldn't we?"
"If you find Granger, save her for me!"
Draco blanched, his mouth now completely dry. A horrible sense of foreboding invaded his whole being. He needed to find her.
Luckily for him, he spotted her swiftly as she was entering the woods nearby. He sighed in relief, deciding to follow closely, getting increasingly nervous when they stopped moving.
"Oh, this is stupid — lumos!" The tip of Granger's wand illuminated a very angry Ronald Weasley sprawled on the ground. Draco looked over his shoulder — His father and his friends were getting closer. They had to fucking move!
"Tripped over a tree root," Weasley spat angrily. At this, Draco decided to seize the opportunity and put into practise what his mother had been teaching to him. When he visualised the padlocked silver chests, they were now each placed in the middle of a huge maze. The uncomfortable coldness swept over him, and then — nothing. Showtime.
"Well, with feet that size, hard not to," he drawled, seeing them turn at the sound of his voice.
Ron scrunched his nose in disgust. "Why don't you shove your wand up your arse, you spoiled git?"
"Language, Weasley," he answered with a sneer, his eyes focusing on Hermione. "Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like her spotted, would you?"
He could hear another blast, nearer this time, and then a flash of green light passing by illuminated her defiant expression.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Draco wanted to scream. Not the time for questions, silly witch! She had to go. He needed to make her go!
"Granger, they're after Muggles. D'you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around… they're moving this way and it would give us all a laugh."
Potter's face contorted. "Hermione's a witch." Ah, insufferable wanker!
"Have it your own way, Potter. If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are." Bile crept up his larynx, his own words disgusting him. However, the three idiots were very much not dimensioning how in danger they were.
"You watch your mouth!" Weasley snarled again, barely held back by Hermione's hand on his arm.
"Nevermind, Ron," she whispered, not even annoyed at the insult. She looked him in the eyes with disdain and pulled Weasley back.
Their conversation was interrupted yet again by another bang, which had been so close to them that everybody in the nearby trees screamed.
Ah, fucking useless —
"Scare easily, don't they? I suppose your daddy told you all to hide? What's he up to — trying to rescue the Muggles?" he bluffed. What did he have to say to make them fucking GO!?
"Where's your parents?" Ah, Potter to the rescue. "Out there wearing masks, are they?"
A mixture of anxiety, annoyance and worry was beginning to rattle the chests in his mind. He felt the tingling sensation on the tips of his fingers that always came when the spell finished, but he pressed on.
"Well… if they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?" he muttered with as much derision as he could muster, forcing the chests to close.
Finally, thank Morgana, Granger snapped. "Oh, come on, let's go and find the others," she exclaimed before eyeing him again, this time with disgust.
Draco felt their retreating footsteps. As soon as they were gone the spell ended, and his eyes watered again.
TW explanation: after 1994's Quidditch World Cup, Lucius and his friends are drinking in his tent. There, Draco overhears them talking about their past revels, in which they tortured and raped Muggles. They also start saying disgusting, overly-sexualised comments about Hermione. After this, they decide to "have fun" by torturing the campsite manager's family and burning down some tents. When Draco hears this, he runs outside to warn Hermione.
All too often adult males (as well as the media) sexualise not only women, but also teenage girls. Research shows that, on average, women as young as 12 begin to receive unwanted comments or being sexually assaulted. This must be stopped and we can all do our part as soon as today. We know that not all men, but enough so that we all know someone (or have been someone) who has been sexually assaulted.