I tended to my plants that afternoon before resigning to the sleeping quarters for reading and to open the mysterious letter. I had figured it would be more private for me in the one part of the castle that Malfoy quite assuredly could not follow me into.
Before I headed up it was of course awkward when it came time to watering and pruning the larger plants I'd left down in the common room by the glass wall facing the lake. Draco seemingly felt absolutely no guilt whatsoever about assaulting Warrington. He had remained in the common room for hours afterwards, writing out assignments and keeping an eye on my behavior while ignoring the topic when other students confronted him about it. At one point our gazes accidentally met and he rolled his eyes, looking away with a scowl. Even when he scowled, he was handsome, I found myself thinking and then mentally kicked myself for letting the thought in.
I waited for nightfall to open the letter, despite Hilda's objections. I needed to know the information first and then I would decide how I felt about sharing it. She eventually gave in and closed her curtains for bed, leaving me feeling unnecessarily guilty. I closed my own silky green curtains and sat cross legged with the fancy envelope turning it over in my hands. It had an unbelievably heavy and malevolent energy oozing invisibly out of it, and my hands shook as I tore at the thick paper.
I slid out the letter, holding my breath with a pronounced grimace. The Malfoy Crest shimmered in the top corner.
With great honors, Mistress Madeleine Malfoy is requested for attendance on this coming day, Friday, January 15, 1999, for the annual Sacred Ball - a recently revived tradition.
The ball will take place at the Malfoy Manor, while the proposed dress code will be black tie.
Attendance is mandatory.
Sincerely,
Narcissa Malfoy
I blanked, squinting at the words repeatedly. This sounded like a very bad situation, and I had only just escaped the manor a matter of weeks ago with zero intention to return.
Attendance is mandatory.
The sentence didn't seem like typical invitational dialogue - perhaps Narcissa had scribbled in that last sentence signatory for me, knowing I would put up a fight. Was this some sort of elaborate trap set up by the Malfoy's? Had Draco been in contact with them about me being difficult? I pictured them luring me back to the property and locking me in the dungeons like a troll.
Since returning to the safety of Hogwarts I had sent at least five owls to my parents regarding the truth about my situation, the abuse, and the fear that I was experiencing. Since it seemed unlikely that any of the teachers could do anything to resolve the matter, I had point blank sent the last owl with a request for them to come and take me home. None of the owls had been returned - no response, no sudden visits from them. My family had seemingly abandoned me. My father was a stern man, albeit not nearly as reprimanding as Lucius, but he was still not so aristocratic and unreasonable as to force me into an arranged marriage. Especially one so terrifying. Or...was he?
My stomach felt sick. I knew they had similar base values regarding marriage to an acceptable pureblood, but it had always felt more like a religion than a law. A belief and an understanding that it would eventually work out in a respectful manner - that I always would have the choice about which pureblood boy that would be exactly. Neither my brother nor I had shown any objection towards the emphasized importance of it.
Draco Malfoy. That was the one I had "chosen", accidentally, by following my hormones and ignoring my rationale. That was probably what they believed. I felt a lighting strike of anxiety with the realization that they were probably told by the Malfoy's that I had known what I was doing. Perhaps all of the owls I had sent after the incident just looked like a childish and reckless girl, begging to be taken out of an irreversible mistake. That wouldn't be so far from my character. Perhaps the owls were simply embarrassing my father who in turn was ignoring me until I accepted my fate.
I crumpled up the invitation in my fist with hatred. I wouldn't go, unless Draco planned to drag me from the campus by my hair. I shuddered, realizing he would probably delight in such an instance. Maybe I could just drop out of my tower window with my broom, if I could ever wedge it open enough to squeeze my body through. Then I would start a new life as a hag in the woods.
۞۞۞۞۞
The next morning I was the first person at the Quidditch pitch. I perched myself on top of the highest goal hoop and watched the sunrise, furiously waiting for the captain to arrive and set up the field before the rest of the team. The snow was drifting down as large fluffy clusters, so slow it was almost standstill. It was such a peaceful scene that I had to keep reminding myself that I was supposed to be angry and ready for a battle.
I would confront him just like I used to. I was powerful, and I had to remember it. Whoever had come back defeated from that manor was a temporary blip in my existence.
He smartly walked into the middle of the field when he arrived minutes after me, dropping the trunk in the snow at his feet and looking up at me with judgement. His bright green robes were a blur from how high up I was, but his signature platinum hair confirmed his identity.
"Well come down, then." He shrugged with a straight face, "If you want any time to yell at me, I'd suggest you get moving." He bent his knees to open the trunk and started removing the violent sports equipment that defined the game.
I dropped like a rocket, landing adjacent to the trunk and tossing my broom away into the snow, "I will not attend ce ludicrous ball. I will never go back to dat repugnant place!" The volume of my voice compelled him to stand, sighing. He stared up at the snow coming down onto his forehead before exhaling heavily and sliding his eyes to me, bending his head at an angle to match my height. In the white environment his eyes presented as a dull, bright gray and I trained my sight to focus instead on the collar of his robe.
"What did I tell you about Lucius?" He pressed his mouth into a thin line, slightly frowning, "It's not some kind of elaborate trap. Believe me, if he wants you there personally, dead or alive, it won't be coming by means of a formal invitation. Don't make it come to that."
He waited, his face was serious, twisting the snitch in his gloved fingers as it let out barely audible squeaks of impatience; a thin metallic slicing through the air. I sensed somehow that he wasn't even trying to be threatening, wasn't lying. "Tell dem dat I am busy." I demanded.
"Can't, that's absurd. You are a Malfoy, and you're going without a fuss." His lip started curling into a familiar scowl as I could see his intolerance rising and he stepped towards me, filling in the space between us. I had to straighten my neck upwards to look into his face, looming over me. His hair was collecting snow and looking more spikey and damp, small droplets hitting his hood on his shoulders. My nostrils were bombarded by the smell of mint and pine.
"I don' have anyting to wear to dis, event. I cannot even go home." I stated in a huff, sliding my right boot back slightly.
He seemed to sense the movement and grabbed the center of my robes to hold me in place. A sinister half smile tugged at his lip and his eyes widened, "You can go naked for all I care. In fact, that sounds much more entertaining," his blue-grey eyes glinted at the concept, scanning down my body and I winced, "but you are going. Wouldn't want daddy dearest to have to come get you and drop you off at the Manor in pieces, would we?"
I felt my lip tremble from the vulgar insinuations. It had only been months before when I had had all of the power to manipulate him on that very field, seducing him into kissing me by playfully tackling him to the ground. Now as we stood there in the cold winter morning, him grabbing my robes and threatening me, a Malfoy crest tugging at my skin, I realized I had completely underestimated him.
He was probably right, though. If Lucius had to forcibly extract me from the castle the punishment could easily be torture or even death. I had no intention of testing his medieval forms of discipline, "Fine." The singular word was all I could bring myself to harshly mutter in the defeat. I could feel his warm, wet breath on my cheeks as his grip lessoned with his victory. Once again, I had been beaten down.
"Havin a morning snog?" Montague's pleased voice sliced into both of our focus. Malfoy released my robes and turned back to unpacking the trunk, but not before I noticed the faintest of a blush on his pale cheeks, or maybe it was just the cold temperatures getting to him.
"Don't start with me today, Montague," Malfoy curtly replied as he released the snitch and reached for the bludgers. He seemed to already be expecting the remark, a hint of dread seeping into his response. I took inventory of the arriving boys and noticed that Warrington was nowhere to be seen.
As if on cue, Montague retorted, "Oh right, you plan to split my skull in half as well then?" His face was flooded with entertainment as he ran his brown eyes up and down my robes.
Draco was standing now, placing himself partially in front of my stance, "If you so much as look at her, if any of you have anything to say about her, then I'll do a lot more than split your fucking thick heads." He was visibly breathing hard, his finger pointed directly at Montague's chest for extra measure.
I watched in horror as Montague completely missed the point, similar to Warrington the day before. The rest of the boys shuffled around in the awkward silence that followed, and I found myself immensely grateful that my position was so independent from the rest of the team and didn't require any communication to win the game.
He twirled his black chipped broom around in sarcastic circles, chuckling derisively, "Keeping her locked up like a house elf then? Not gonna share in all the French fun? That's a bit selfish of you don't you think, the only Veela at our school all for yourself," he snorted with a sickening look on his face. He wanted a fight with Malfoy, clearly, who was now holding the bludger so hard in his hand that the material in his glove was flexing inwards, "Never saw you as being such a jealous type. Some of us think it's high time it be brought up."
Montague was slowly circling Malfoy now, and the rest of the team stood agape at the bold standoff. It was far too early in the morning for such dramatics, the sun had only just come up. I gulped and took several steps back cognizant of the fact that all of the men there were huge compared to me, causing Malfoy's eyes to rapidly glance back at my position and then return to Montague.
"Is that a challenge?" Malfoy's voice was dangerously low, lower than I had ever heard it. The acid in his words sent shivers down my spine. I fully expected him to toss the bludger at Montague, "Let me get this straight, you second class scum. You think I should share my future wife with you, or anyone else? Not very sanitary if you ask me. And besides, my family can afford the best. Your family shouldn't even be caught staring at a Veela."
Montague had now reached a position in his rotation around Malfoy that placed him in my direct pathway and Draco moved swiftly, putting his arm out straight protectively across my chest. His robes blew into my face blocking most of my vision, his heel mere inches from stepping down onto my own foot. I battled with the instinct to grab onto him like a helpless child, my heart beating from the mere look on Montague's savage face. Malfoy was consistently rude and verbally aggressive with me, but nothing like the other boys who seemed to have rapist and sadistic agendas, growing apparently worse by the day.
"You think she would've even talked to you if you hadn't drugged her like an animal? Maybe I should've tried the same thing myself before you had your chance to fill her up and mark her with that pathetic crest," Montague jabbed, swirling his broom like a sword now. He took a step forward, now perhaps four feet from Draco, who stepped into me pushing me backwards with him. This time I did grab his robes but he didn't acknowledge it; I could see how lethal and concentrated his expression was from the half of his face in my sight.
He snorted maliciously, "You couldn't drug a dugbog to have sex with you, Montague. The girl is claimed, go fuck your pillow if you can't control your needs." He raised the bludger, tossing it up and down in precision control, darning a poisonous glare. The warning lingered in the air for a few moments as Montague's eyes flicked back and forth between the bludger, Draco, and my half hidden form behind him, seeming to calculate how to further advance.
He brazenly took another step forward and I felt Draco freeze this time instead of stepping back.
"Why don't we just, flip a coin on it. Or even better," he licked his lips and took another step, grabbing his crotch suggestively as I dug my fingers into the back of Draco for protection, "rent her out every once in a while like the cheap whore she is," he leaned slightly to put my face in his view and winked at me with a murderous look, before the bludger collided with the side of his face and blood sprayed everywhere like a fire hydrant. The bludger growled loudly and came down again on Montague's collapsed form, directly into his rib cage, and then again and again.
"Stop et!" I shrieked in horror finally finding my voice in the chaos, and Draco reached out and snapped it out of the air before it could assault Montague a fourth time.
Montague was on the ground screaming in agony, his face unrecognizable from the multiple openings oozing with blood. The white snow in at least a 10 foot radius was stained a horrific collage of reds and pinks, scattering freckles of evidence of the encounter. Malfoy spun on the spot and my hands were ripped free from his robes with the movement, "Leave!" He roared at the rest of the team, who started running up the hill or mounted their brooms to escape. "And Flint, you come back with Pomfrey!" Marcus Flint nodded with a pale expression as he turned to follow the other boys.
I stood in shock, shaking and now beginning to sob, looking at the blood spray across myself and Malfoy. His eyes followed mine and he sighed, pulling me into his chest. Against my better judgement I gripped him tightly, turning my head away from his robes to avoid adding more blood to my face than already was.
Montague's yelping and crying in the background tore through the Sunday morning like we were in the middle of an active warzone.
Malfoy pushed me back from him by both of my shoulders and looked into my frantic eyes, "Madeleine, let's go back to the dorms. You need to calm down." There was blood running down his temples, his platinum hair stained bright red from being at the forefront of the incident.
"How long...he wanted to..." I pointed a shaky finger at Montague rolling on the ground and gasping for air, "rape..." The last word came out hardly a whisper and I couldn't finish the thought. I no longer even felt safe in the Slytherin dormitory.
Malfoy was studying my face with a grim expression, seemingly sensing this realization, as he chose his words carefully, "He deserved it, trust me. And I promise, no one is going to lay a finger on you. I won't stop at what happened today if I have to make my point." He looked serious and physically ill from the odd provision of affection he was giving me, but I could tell he was being sincere.
I observed him lift his wand from his robes and scourgify the blood from both of us, showing more patience for my crying than I had ever experienced before. I wiped at my now cleaned face, nothing save for salty tears against my skin.
"We have to go now," he said as he rubbed my shoulders to calm me, "I don't want to be here when they get here, but I can't leave you with this maniac." I buried my face in his chest instead of moving and wrapped my arms tightly around him, hearing him sigh but place his glove on my hair and pet it softly. He let it go on for several more minutes, eventually resting his sharp jaw on the crown of my head in defeat. I could feel him fighting his impatience in the way he stiffly accepted the hug.
I held him with immense divide in my instincts, probably having just reached a mental breaking point and needing a hug from anyone at all. On one hand he was the boy who had just been taking his own jabs at me that very morning not an hour before. He was the boy who had trapped me in a marriage and was stalking me around. No, I shouldn't have been hugging him at all.
On the other hand, I thought back to when he and I had been intimate, the gentle and respectful way he'd allowed me to choose how far we went. The passion in his kisses, the way he'd let me sleep in his bed at the manor instead of my scary one. Without thinking I pulled back and pressed my lips into his cheek, wrapping my arms around his neck, "Thank you," I muttered in a high pitched, weak whisper, instantly regretting it, knowing I was reacting emotionally and not logically to the trauma that had just occurred.