Two weeks later, Draco Malfoy came down to the Great Hall, his mind turning over thoughts about the seventh years, which would be useful, who could potentially be useful, and who was merely an awful liability. He was so preoccupied that he failed to notice the intense whispering as he entered the hall.

"There he is!"

"Do you suppose?"

"The Fat Lady!"

Draco Malfoy sat at the Slytherin table, as usual. Not as usual, he was not surrounded by his friends. Even proximately not usual, Goyle and Crabbe were staring at him.

Zambini, his lips not moving at all, stage-whispered, "They think you had something to do with it." directly into Draco's ear.

Draco fought from hopping up, or from glaring at Zambini. It was disconcerting when you weren't expecting it! "What?" Draco whispered, quiet as a mouse.

"Something happened today." Goyle said pointedly, his leaden tones somehow taking the frivolity out of the gossip. "Black tried to enter the Gryffindor Tower, I think." And if Goyle thought that, it was undoubtedly true. He wasn't always the sharpest knife in the shed, but he knew the difference between truth and a pack of lies.

"They what? They think that I've convinced Black to - what? Go after Weasleys?" Draco Malfoy sputtered. "That's mad! Bonkers! Three hairs short of a whisker!"

"I know." Crabbe said. "But they don't seem likely to listen to me, do they now?" Crabbe's slow drawl helped to center Draco. He was right, of course. Now that the mad gossips had hold of it, soon it would be seen as Draco having a compact with the murderer. Which was completely and totally absurd. It was Potter without a scrap of survival instinct, not Draco. Had Draco seen a frothing murderer (or even a smartly dressed evildoer), he'd simply have run. That was common sense - upon seeing murderer (and without prior arrangement), run your bowlegs off getting away.

Was the entirety of the Gryffindor table that stupid? Well, all the Weasleys were glaring at him (Save Ron, who seemed to be comforting Hermione). Still, that hardly meant anything. Glares between the tables were a happy pastime.

It got worse as the day went on, tripping jinxes and the like. Draco Malfoy could put up with those (although one sent Goyle nearly to breaking his neck, and Draco solemnly promised that he'd get revenge on the pale brunet who had sent the jinx. Killing people accidentally was not fair quiddich).

As Draco slid with a sigh into his seat in Potions class, he desperately hoped that the teachers wouldn't listen to the lies.

Draco had thought it was obvious - if Black was trying to get into Gryffindor, he was after someone who wasn't Draco Malfoy. Still, Draco had canvassed everyone there, and he didn't see who might have attracted the attention of a murder in Azkaban.

[a/n: well, it had to happen. And no, people aren't being reasonable. Leave me a review.]