Chapter 15: No Good

Draco considered telling Father what he had seen, but ended up deciding against it. Instead, because he needed to tell somebody, Draco told the boys in his dorm on Sunday night.

"Your mum slapped her?" Blaise's eyes went wide.

"Well, serves her right," Crabbe grunted. "I wondered who she was."

"I thought your mum only had the one sister," Nott said.

"Me too." Draco paused. "I can't believe they never told me about her."

"She doesn't sound very pleasant," Goyle said. "I guess that's a blood traitor for you."

It felt strange to Draco that he was so closely related to one. Maybe Andromeda was technically his aunt, but that certainly didn't make them family. While Draco laid in bed and tried to fall asleep, he thought about the sad look Andromeda had given him in the chapel study. She had told Mum that Draco was being raised to dislike her. That wasn't true, though. Draco didn't even know she existed until yesterday. If she wanted Draco to like her, maybe she should have tried to be nicer. Maybe she shouldn't have made his mum cry like she had.

The conversation Draco had overheard happened a little too quickly and was too complex for him to perfectly remember as the week wore on, but he couldn't forget how it had affected his mum. He made a point every afternoon to go up to the owlery and send her a note. Draco didn't have to use a school owl on Friday because a sweets package arrived with Juno. He sent Juno home after lunch, and then went to visit his father at the end of a governors' meeting.

"All right?" Draco said as he walked in.

"It's been a bit of a week, but I'm just fine. You?"

"Same. Is Mum okay?"

"Well, she's loved all the notes you sent. . ."

Draco didn't have a whole lot to tell about his week. It had mostly been a blur of lessons and homework. Flint had given one of Slytherin's Quidditch practice time slots to Hufflepuff, since they played Gryffindor tomorrow. Maybe because both teams were practicing more often, Draco never seemed able to catch Potter in the library. Weasley and Granger, neither. Either they'd become more sneaky about whatever they were up to, or they'd given up.

He kept that to himself, though. Draco had something more pressing he'd been thinking about.

"Can I ask you something about Andromeda?" Draco asked.

Father's cheek twitched before he relaxed again. "I don't know much about her recent life, but I'll answer if I can."

"Is she older or younger than Mum?"

"Older," Father answered. "She's the middle child."

Draco hummed. "When did Regulus go to school?"

"Regulus Black?" Father rose an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Were they both here at the same time?" Draco asked. "And do you know what year Professor Quirrell was in?"

"Why?"

Draco shrugged. "He said something to me about Grandfather, and I thought he meant it about Bellatrix. But maybe he was talking about Andromeda instead, if he knew her."

The furrow to Father's brow deepened, the longer he studied Draco. "What exactly did he say?"

"He said he heard good things about all of Grandfather's children." Draco idly swung his feet underneath his chair. "And Grandfather had said over Christmas that Regulus talked about Quirrell. Professor Quirrell was scared when I mentioned Regulus. He got really scared when I mentioned Bellatrix. His turban almost fell off."

Rather than clarify anything, this seemed only to confuse Father more.

"I was in my sixth year when Regulus started at Hogwarts," he eventually said. "Quirrell was in his year—a Ravenclaw. They were definitely not friends, unless jinxing each other in the corridors counted. Well, that only went one way. Quirrell never dared try and get Regulus back."

Draco hummed again.

"Andromeda was two years ahead of your mum and I," Father continued. "She'd finished the year before Regulus came here, and Bellatrix two years ahead of her. Unless Quirrell went out of his way or knew them later in life—well, he certainly never met Bellatrix, if his nervousness is only a recent thing. It's possible he knew Andromeda, I suppose. I don't know what sort of social circle she keeps these days."

"Quirrell said twice that he'd only heard about Grandfather's children, though," Draco pointed out. "That's why I asked if he heard it from Regulus, because they had gone to school together."

Father made a thoughtful sound. "I suppose that is still possible. If Regulus carried on as he had with Quirrell into their later years of study, he may have bandied Bellatrix about as some sort of threat. Regulus was Bellatrix's favourite cousin, after all."

Draco nodded slowly.

"What I don't understand is why Quirrell would bother saying anything about the family to you, if being threatened with Bellatrix by Regulus was his experience," Father said. "He pulled you aside, or how did that go?"

"He asked me for a quick word after lesson."

Father hummed. "I wonder what Dumbledore would think about his Defence Against the Dark Arts professor insinuating he's heard great things about the Dark Lord's favourite Death Eater."

Draco was flagged down by Flint at breakfast when he went to sit at the Slytherin table. Flint pointed his chin over at the Gryffindor table. At the very end sat Potter, Weasley, and Granger with their heads together. Granger was whispering urgently at the other two, and they all looked very serious as Potter and Weasley nodded along.

"What's your read?" Flint asked.

Draco scoffed. "How would I know anything about that?"

"I'm not asking what you know. I'm asking what you think." Flint studied Potter and his company with narrowed eyes. "I'd noticed a few times while in the library that those three were sneaking around. Considering how much luck went into them winning the match against us, I'm curious if they're looking to somehow give Potter a boost."

"What do you mean?" Excited to maybe have an answer as to what Potter had been up to in the library, Draco squeezed himself into the gap between Flint and Higgs. "You think they're going to cheat?"

"Something happened to Potter's broomstick during our match," Flint replied under his breath. "I think they were trying something, and it just happened to go wrong. Maybe they've sorted it out this time."

"Is that why Snape's refereeing?" Draco asked.

"That's what he told me," Higgs said. "Concerns over cheating."

Flint took a bite of bacon. "Care to do something for us, Malfoy?"

"Like what?"

"Grab a seat at the match close to Potter's little friends, there." Flint pointed with his chin at Weasley and Granger. "See that they don't get around to helping Potter from the stands."

A smirk borne of delight gradually spread over Draco's face. "Happily."

Along with Crabbe and Goyle, Draco parted ways from Blaise and Nott when they reached the pitch. Draco didn't dare venture into the Gryffindor stands alone. Sure enough, the three of them received some sideways looks. The majority paid attention to the pitch, since the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams had just walked out.

Weasley and Granger stood out like sore, serious thumbs. They sat beside Longbottom, which raised one of Draco's eyebrows. Draco had spotted Longbottom that one time outside of the library. Maybe, if Draco had cared enough to peek at whatever book Longbottom ditched after making his escape, he might know what the lot of them were up to.

"Look, they're off," Weasley was saying, to which Draco poked him as hard as he could in the back of the head. "Ouch!"

"Oh, sorry, Weasley." Draco held his laughter back. "Didn't see you there."

Crabbe and Goyle snickered at the dark look of loathing on Weasley's freckled face. Draco's good mood further improved. He'd left Potter and his friends alone for the most part since before the Christmas holidays. He'd forgotten how easy it was to get them all riled up.

"Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on his broom this time," Draco loudly mused. "Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

None of them replied, too focused on Potter.

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" Draco raised his voice even further with a new grin. "It's people they feel sorry for. See? There's Potter, who's got no parents. Then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money. You should be on the team, Longbottom! You've got no brains."

Longbottom's shoulders had tensed up when Draco addressed him. Even from behind, Draco could see how red his ears had gone. He turned around, showcasing how that colour had spread from hairline to neckline.

He spoke so quietly that Draco could hardly hear him over the roaring cheers that surrounded them. "I'm w-worth twelve of you, M-Malfoy."

Draco snorted his way into a gale of laughter. To his left, Crabbe slapped his knee with the force of his. "Longbottom, if brains were gold, you'd be poorer than Weasley. And that's saying something."

Weasley finally whipped around, his face as red as his hair. He pointed a shaking finger at Draco. "I'm warning you, Malfoy. One more word—"

"Ron!" Granger shrieked. "Harry!"

"What?" Weasley turned back. "Where?"

Potter set into a dive.

"You're in luck, Weasley!" Draco wouldn't relent that easily. "Potter's obviously spotted some money on the ground!"

The fist came too quickly for Draco to move out of the way. Sharp pain in his chin stunned him. Pinned and suddenly horizontal, Draco struggled against iron grips on his wrists. Those turned to a hand sprawled over his face, pushing the back of his head into the stand floor, and then he grunted out of reflex when something blunt connected with his cheekbone.

Nobody was pulling Weasley off; Crabbe and Goyle were busy. Snarling, Draco grabbed for Weasley's wrists to try and stop him from punching him again. Weasley turned his head when Granger screeched something. Draco took his chance. A knock on the cheek put Weasley off balance and let Draco roll them.

He only managed to get one hit in before his back hit the stand floor again. It didn't matter. Thick arms wrapped around each of Weasley's, and he was lifted off Draco. Crabbe practically picked Weasley up to drop back into the row ahead. He landed on his face there with a grunt.

"Done?" Goyle calmly asked, hand outstretched. "Game's over, and Longbottom's unconscious."

A pair of feet poked out from underneath the seats.

"The game's over?" Draco grimaced and touched his smarting eye. "What happened?"

"Gryffindor won."

Draco cursed under his breath. He supposed that was why Weasley was too preoccupied to come back for another round. Annoyed, Draco jerked his head toward the pitch. "Let's get out of here."

By the time they found Flint and Higgs over by the Slytherin section, Draco's eye had almost swollen shut. Flint didn't look happy at all.

He sized Draco up. "What happened to you?"

"Potter's barbaric friends," Draco replied. "I'm lucky I still have all my teeth."

Flint hummed. "So they were preoccupied during the match?"

"Not Granger." Draco's face started to throb. "Just Weasley, and then Longbottom threw himself at Crabbe and Goyle like fresh meat to a Thestral."

"Does that hurt?" Flint asked. "Come on, let's find Ellie. She's a mage with a Healing Charm. How about you two?" he directed at Crabbe and Goyle. "No injuries?"

"Nah," Crabbe said. "That kid's like punching pudding."

The one good thing about Potter catching the Snitch so quickly was that Gryffindor hardly had much chance to sow points toward the Quidditch Cup.

A few weeks prior, when Slytherin had faced off against Ravenclaw, they'd taken in over three-hundred points once Higgs ended the game. They were still ahead of Gryffindor for the Quidditch season—only just, with a thirty-point lead. It would all come down to the final two matches.

"We can't take for granted that Potter won't catch the Snitch, is the thing," Higgs told Draco as they walked up to the castle from practice on Wednesday evening. "As much as I hate to say it, the kid might actually have some talent."

Draco scoffed. "I wouldn't get ahead of yourself just yet. A five-minute catch? Please. That's luck."

"Luck he spotted it so quickly, but skill to pull off the dive he made for it." Higgs glanced down at Draco. "Believe me, I don't want to say the idea has any merit either. It's better to overestimate than underestimate, though."

Grunting to himself, Draco shrugged dismissively.

"Best not be like that," Higgs said. "Only one more match for me, and then the Seeker position is yours. Given how Potter's done so far this season, I see no reason why he'll be replaced before next November. You need to be prepared."

A flurry of nerves flowered in Draco's stomach. He wished now that he'd been paying attention on Saturday. During neither of Gryffindor's matches so far this year, Draco realized, had he been able to get a good visual on Potter's playstyle. Flying lessons had ended far too quickly in autumn for them to amount to anything. Draco would have to pay close attention come the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match in June.

Come Potions class on Friday, Weasley pretended to punch himself in the eye whenever he and Draco made eye contact across the classroom. While Weasley mocked Draco rather than pay attention to his work, noxious fumes bad enough to catch Snape's ire poured out of his cauldron.

The wider Draco's smirk went from that, the more annoyed Potter looked. What could Potter say, though? Draco's Antidote to Common Poisons was a beautiful teal, while Weasley lost a point for Gryffindor for mishandling his mistletoe berries. Potter lost one too for failing to correct him. He looked at Draco after Snape said that, glaring while Draco's face hurt from grinning so hard.

"Sapphire blue," Draco said in an airy tone when he queued behind Potter to hand in his sample vial. "So close, Potter. At least you're getting it on the right side of the colour wheel now."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Potter shot at him over his shoulder. "Wouldn't want Ron to remember how punchable your face is."

"Wouldn't want him to lose all those points you won Gryffindor in the match."

"Yeah, you're right," Potter said. "You're not worth that."

Weasley snickered, and Draco frowned as Potter faced straight again. While Snape was busy scrutinizing Longbottom's vial with a disapproving sneer, Draco flicked Potter on the ear.

"Malfoy!" Potter snapped.

"OW!" Draco yelled and recoiled at nothing.

"Potter!" Snape said from the front of the queue. "That's another point! Leave Malfoy alone."

Ducked down behind Potter so that Snape couldn't see him but Potter could hear, Draco laughed along with Crabbe and Goyle. Trying to keep quiet took some effort. Draco trembled with it, and his face hurt by the time he had to school it straight for Snape. Honestly, Snape probably wouldn't even care, but it was funnier this way.

As Easter crept closer with each passing weekend, Draco turned his focus more to light exam revision and looking forward to going home for a few weeks.

Mum and Father met him on the train platform. Just as Draco had hoped, the holiday proved very relaxing. Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott all came over to hang out in the pool and go flying around the manor land (Draco wanted to invite Blaise, but he'd gone to Italy again). Vega had grown some more, and had attached himself to Father to such a degree that he practically turned into a whistling little shadow. Mum had grown to like him too, and Draco bonded with him a little by always carrying peacock pellets in his pockets.

Draco slept in until noon everyday. Easter dinner had a wonderful spread across the table, although the mood was pretty low to have two empty chairs. Grandfather Malfoy hadn't been able to sit it with them last year since he was in the hospital, but Draco hadn't expected to be missing Grandfather Black as well. His great-great-aunt Cassiopeia and her cousin Lucretia still attended.

He sighed the Sunday after that, to already find himself back in the Slytherin dorms. It had all gone by far too quickly.

One of the first things Draco noticed was how stressed Potter, Weasley, and Granger all looked at breakfast the next morning. Other than the fifth- and seventh-years, who'd started to seriously focus on their upcoming OWL and NEWT exams, those three were the only ones to look like they hadn't rested over Easter.

Considering this side of the holiday also brought the final Quidditch matches that much closer, Draco wondered if their latest mood had something to do with that. Were they back at it in the library again?

Everything piled on by the teachers gave Draco ample chance to check without having to go out of his way. Sure enough, the three of them were there. Draco couldn't tell if they were doing anything other than homework. Potter, Weasley, and Granger tended to pick tables far away from anyone else, so Draco couldn't exactly sneak by for a quick gander over their shoulders. That the three of them kept such a lookout rose one of Draco's eyebrows.

On Thursday morning, Crabbe and Goyle were taking longer than Draco had patience for to eat their breakfast. Draco told them he was going to head to class early, but ended up lingering in the Entrance Hall. He didn't really want to be stuck alone in a room with Professor Quirrell, if he could help it.

". . .we'll get into trouble," came Granger's trembling voice as she, Potter, and Weasley exited the Great Hall. "And that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing—"

"Shut up!" Potter replied.

Draco stiffened, not daring to look over at the lot of them as they headed for the grounds. Only when the doors closed did Draco dare.

Had they seen him there? Was that what this had been about, all year? Hagrid was up to something? Were they trying to help him with it?

Curiosity and a reignited sense of purpose made it difficult for Draco to focus through his Defence lesson. Quirrell had been even more nervous since Draco told his father about their conversation (he suspected Quirrell received a good dressing down from Dumbledore), so Draco's attention could afford to float.

After the bells rang, he walked with Crabbe and Goyle to the eastern tower so they could get to Charms. Halfway up, Draco looked out a window and came to a dead stop.

Potter, Weasley, and Granger were sprinting for Hagrid's hut.

"Crabbe," Draco said, holding his bag out. "Would you take this to class for me? And tell Flitwick I'll be along?"

Crabbe took his bag, but furrowed his brow. "Where are you going?"

Draco ditched his cloak too, tossing it to Goyle. "Toilet. I think breakfast didn't agree with me."

"Oh," Goyle said. "Well, good luck with that."

Draco ran as fast as he could back down the stairs. He came out in the eastern courtyard just as the bells rang for the start of lessons. Draco took the garden gate past the greenhouses. After a wide berth around the Whomping Willow, Draco skirted up on Hagrid's hut.

He could hear voices inside. Standing on the tips of his toes, Draco peered in through the lowest window to the ground.

His eyes widened, and his mouth fell open.

Standing between the remains of a large black eggshell was a freshly-hatched dragon.

A dragon. Hagrid had hatched a bloody dragon in his hut. And there were Potter, Weasley, and Granger, all gawping at the thing. Witnesses! Accomplices, the lot of them!

The thunder of large footsteps pried Draco's focus off the dragon. Meeting Hagrid's panicked gaze forced him to bolt. He ran as fast as he could back to the castle, nearly forgetting he had somewhere to be.

Today was a practical lesson, thankfully, so the Charms class in general didn't see Draco slip in. Crabbe took one look at him and burst into laughter. Goyle joined in.

"What?" Draco asked, just as he realized what he must look like right now: drenched in sweat and flushed from running, but with the broadest grin his face was capable of.

"Feeling better then, are you?" Crabbe managed.

"Oh, yes." Draco waved briefly at his face in attempt to cool off. "So much better."