Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. At this point in my life, I don't own much of anything new as I'm saving up for Spring Break and hopefully a shopping trip as well.
Thanks to:
Darkmb101:
Hey, thanks for the tip and also for reviewing.Wildlyobsessed:
I definitely thought that Draco had too many issues to work out to
have a real relationship, so I didn't include any romance for him
and I'm glad you agree
QuinkyDink:
I totally understand about the procrastination, so no worries. And
thanks for the review and good luck on your homework
Gremlin:
Thanks for the review, I'm glad you like the interaction with Bill
Nomen
Mihi est : Thanks for the review, I'm glad you like it so much
NMS:
lol, don't we all wish that, oh well. Thanks for reviewing!
Catharine:
thanks for the review, and I'll definitely try keeping the updating
quick
krumISmine:
No, this is not Bill/Draco, though I've gotten a lot of questions. Purely a plutonic, brotherly, mentor
relationship, no slash, but thanks for the review, I'm glad you
like it.
Dancergirl2011:
Thanks for the review!
Ada: thanks for editing another chapter. Where would I be without you?
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Next Wednesday came far too soon in Draco's opinion, and he knew that he would not be able to stand another meeting in the FPR group. He was going soft; there was no other word for it. Normally he was used to sitting through absolutely brainless classes with only a minimal amount of frustration, but now that he was actually enjoying school, with Thursdays trying to decode an ancient dialect and Saturdays with Hagrid training thestrals, he found that the FPR group meeting was, in essence, torture.
He thought back on last Saturday with a slight smile. It had been surprisingly easy to explain to Hagrid exactly why they were pretending that Draco had a detention as the half-giant had understood immediately and so the afternoon was spent trying to get Orion used to a bridle and saddle. After a fruitless hour spent trying to get the saddle on, Draco had decided that they would have to break him in without it for the time being, even though Hagrid looked a little skeptical.
Needless to say, by the time Wednesday came around again, Draco knew that there was no way he would be able to last the FPR meeting, not when he had ancient runes and flying thestrals to look forward to, so after dinner, Draco made his way up to the APR meeting with Blaise Zabini, who was still a little wary of Draco ever since the whole beating incident. The other Slytherins were wary of Zabini, who was now a decided friend of the Golden Trio, going even as far as to ask Hermione Granger on a date at Hogsmeade.
Draco smirked at the expressions on the Golden Trio's faces when he walked in. Potter looked confused, Weasley looked enraged, and Granger looked disgusted. Bill, on the other hand, who sat in on the meetings, looked surprised and amused.
"The hell are you doing here, Malfoy?" spat Ron.
McGonagall, who was in charge of the discussions for the APR group, came over to see what the commotion was all about. She frowned when she saw him.
"What is your purpose in being here, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked sternly.
Draco immediately went into his bored act; it was almost automatic whenever he saw the Professor. "Damned if I know," he drawled. "It said on some sheet I got that I was supposed to visit each group, though why I'm supposed to visit this one, I don't know. Hardly seems worth the effort."
McGonagall stared at him. "Are you saying that you are in the neutral party, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Is that the one?" asked Draco, more concerned with fiddling with his black shirt sleeve than he was with the teacher.
"Ms. Granger," said McGonagall to the bushy-haired girl who had come over as well. "Could you please get the list of party members on the desk and bring it to me?"
"Of course, Professor," said the girl, always excited to do something for the Professors. She practically ran off and Draco sneered, then went back to the oh-so-infuriating-staring-at-his-nails as McGonagall watched him coldly. Draco really did find her intimidating, and was glad that he didn't have to look up at her.
"Here you are Professor," said Hermione, slightly breathlessly as she had run back as well.
"Thank you, Hermione," said McGonagall. She flipped through the sheets, and looked up at Draco in surprise when she spotted his name on the Neutral List. "Very well, Mr. Malfoy," she said. "You may come in, but I will have no unnecessary interruptions, is that clear?"
"As clear as Trelawny's crystal ball," said Draco, letting the sarcastic comment floating in his head out of his mouth without thinking about it. Before he could get reprimanded, he squeezed by and entered the room, taking an empty desk in the back, one away from Bill. He raised his eyebrow at the red-haired Professor as he sat down, and Bill shot him a quick grin.
It took awhile for everyone to come in and stop talking so they could get started and even though the atmosphere was friendly and light, they still managed to stay on topic and have actual conversations about how to debate the issue of blood purity.
Draco pretended not to be impressed. He leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs and kept that infuriating smirk on his face. He occasionally scribbled on a piece of parchment as if he was taking notes to share with the other side, when in all actuality he was merely doodling.
He stopped doodling when the subject of war came up. It was brought up quite innocently. Harry and Ron were goofing off; Hermione reprimanded them, saying in a fair impression of McGonagall, "There is a war going on. Let's try to concentrate, shall we?"
"It's not a war," said Ron. "Not yet any way. There haven't been any real battles."
"War," said Granger primly, "is an armed conflict between groups that involves death and destruction. I think it's a war."
"I don't know," said Weasley. "Maybe not a real war yet. I mean, what are we fighting for?"
"Our lives?" asked Potter rather obviously.
"It's more than that," said Granger. "We are fighting to rid ourselves of a tyrannical man who wants to take over our country and rule our lives. This is about freedom, the freedom to be governed by who we want, the freedom to live in peace and not be discriminated against due to our heritage."
There were cheers and a few claps of agreement while Hermione flushed slightly.
"Doesn't war involve more death and destruction, though?" asked Ron, still on the war question.
"It will be soon enough," said Hermione grimly. "Once the battle begins, people who just want to stay out of the conflict will be forced to fight."
"But will they fight?" mused Harry.
"They'll have to," said Hermione. "It's their freedom too."
"You ever wonder how many people are going to die?" asked Ron.
"A lot," said Hermione. "But it's worth it."
Harry laughed. "Only freedom for you Hermione, huh?"
"Freedom or death," said Hermione.
Draco nearly snapped. He set his chair down on the floor with a sharp bang, not bothering to catch himself with his feet. He got glared at by the entire group, but he didn't notice. His fingers were flying in their 1-3-2-4 pattern and it was all he could do to keep from jumping up right then yelling at them all for being such idiots.
Luckily the topic was changed but Draco was still wound up at the utter stupidity of the group and he stayed where he was when the debate class finally let out. Bill stayed too.
"Something wrong, Draco?" Bill asked, once the room was empty.
Draco turned to him. "You're so bloody arrogant!" he exclaimed. "You're like a group of Purebloods at a convention it's so disgusting!"
Bill didn't get riled up or retort back. He remained calm, patience and reassurance in his eyes. "And how is that?" he asked.
"Saying that people have to fight, forcing them to fight," said Draco. "It's no better than the damned Death Eaters."
"The Death Eaters follow Voldemort," said Bill. "If Voldemort had his way-"
"I know what would happen if Voldemort had his way," said Draco, frustration tainting his voice. "Let's think about this, shall we?"
He got up and erased the board in the front of the room. Bill got up as well, taking a seat on the top of the table in the front row.
"Alright," said Draco. "This is a quick lesson in statistics. Seventeen percent of the wizarding population is Pureblood, roughly thirteen percent is Mudblood. That leaves a good seventy percent who are Half-blood or some fraction of half."
"Sounds about right," said Bill.
"Of course it's right," said Draco. "Now, let's say Voldemort takes over right now."
"Can't happen," said Bill.
"We're going to pretend," said Draco, writing down 'Lord V Takes Over' on one side of the board. "For easy math, let's say there are one hundred wizards in England. Now, Voldemort is in power and all of the Purebloods live in luxury, that means you too Bill."
"Sounds nice," said Bill.
Draco smirked at that and wrote down 17: alive on the board.
"Alright, so Voldemort kills all of the mudbloods," said Draco. "That's thirteen dead." 13: dead was put under 17: alive. "Now," said Draco. "That leaves us with seventy half-bloods who are forced to work the menial to middle-class jobs, depending on how pure their blood is. But they are still alive."
70: alive followed the 15 dead.
"Oh wait," said Draco. "He'd probably kill Potter too, so it's only 69 who live, but the point is that total, we get 86 people still alive."
He wrote down 86: total alive and circled it.
"Sounds plausible," said Bill.
"It's logical," agreed Draco, looking at the figures. "Of course, this is if everyone just laid down their arms and gave up. However, let's say there is war. Let's even say your side wins."
He wrote down 'War' on the other side of the board and then drew a smiley face next to it.
"Alright, so approximately half of the Purebloods are Death Eaters," said Draco. "So that's nine people dead or kissed by the dementors when this whole thing is over. Unfortunately, another four were falsely accused or killed trying to save their loved ones, so they're dead as well."
13: dead was the first count on that side.
"Now," said Draco. "There are quite a few half-bloods who are Death Eaters. I put the count around 20 percent."
"Seriously?" asked Bill.
"Quite," said Draco. "Twenty percent of the seventy half-bloods is fourteen, so that's another fourteen dead or kissed."
14: dead was put under the 13: dead.
"Now, the war was pretty fierce. Say that each of the twenty three Death Eaters managed to take out at least one non-Death Eater before they go, that's another twenty-three right there," said Draco.
23: dead was put up as well.
"Now we talk casualties," said Draco. "Did you know that there is no less than 7 percent of casualties in wizarding war? That's another seven dead."
7: dead was put up as well.
"Do the math," said Draco. He wrote down the total and circled it. 43: total alive. "Forty-three people live in that scenario. Compare that to eighty-six. We're talking twice the number of dead."
"So are you saying that you think that all of the Muggleborns should just give up?" asked Bill. "So that not as many people die?"
Draco put down the chalk and stepped back.
"I don't know," he said truthfully. "There are so many people out there who don't want to fight, who want it all just to stop. What right does thirteen percent of the population have to demand that they fight to protect them?"
"If they don't fight, everyone will suffer the same, even the purebloods. Life that is dictated by someone else is not life. Those people who recognize that, those people who are willing to fight, just want the others to join them in fighting for the thing they love most: Life and the right to live it."
"Maybe those people who don't want to fight love it more," said Draco quietly.
"How so?" asked Bill, just as softly.
"It's like this," said Draco. "Imagine that you and Fleur get married this winter. Congratulations. You have a baby, my sympathies. He's got her hair, thank Merlin, and your eyes. You name him Arthur after your dear old dad. So you don't get confused at family reunions, you call him Art. The poor boy isn't even artistic. Anyway, you come to visit next year. Unfortunately, Death Eaters attack and hold you, Fleur, Art, myself and Snape hostage. They say that if we give them baby Art, we will be set free. If you don't, we die."
"Rather unpleasant," said Bill.
"Who is going to care most if baby Art dies?" asked Draco.
"Myself and Fleur," said Bill.
"What if the Death Eaters ask me and Snape to give up Art? Is that fair?"
"No," said Bill. "You don't love him as much."
"Exactly," said Draco. "In fact, I don't even like the crying twerp. His death to me is a mere unfortunate event, to you and Fleur though, it's devastating. It's the same thing with this situation here, really."
"Not quite," said Bill.
"But it is," said Draco, his voice taking on a note of emotion. "Just like asking you to give up Art is worse for you than me, it's the same way with life. Maybe those people who are willing to die for freedom simply love freedom more than life. And maybe those people who are willing to give up that freedom to live, love life more than the others. What right does anyone have to ask them to lay down their life? People don't just get another life."
"It's an interesting argument," said Bill, "but it just doesn't hold."
"Why not?" asked Draco, sitting on the adjoining table. "How is it not truth?"
"Because we are not animals," said Bill simply. "Life, for human beings, is all about the ability to choose, to make choices. That is what sets us apart from other animals, besides our intellect. We have the freedom to make choices, the freedom to choose careers, the freedom to pick what color shirt we want to wear. We even have the freedom to choose if we want to become Dark Wizards and mass murderers, but we also have the freedom to create morals.
"Freedom and life go hand in hand, you take away one and you essentially take away the other as well. Once our freedom is taken, we lose our humanity, we lose what makes us people. We're not just fighting for freedom, or for our lives, but for who we are, what all people deserve: the ability to choose, the freedom to choose. Every person, every human, even if they are Muggle, deserves that, Draco."
It took a moment for Bill's words to sink in. Draco turned from Bill's intense gaze and settled for staring at the board, feeling all of his questions and doubts be answered and put to rest by Bill's speech. He could categorize the war now, he could put the players where they belonged.
All people were on the same level, wizards, Muggles, Purebloods and Mudbloods. While he always knew that the Order was on the moral side, he could now put the Death Eaters on the wrong side, and feel justified for doing so. They were wrong; people deserved to make choices. Perhaps it was a little late for a teenager of his intelligence to be making such a blatantly obvious epiphany, but Draco didn't really mind. Things finally made sense.
He sat on the table, feeling it all slip into place in his mind. It wasn't until he heard his name being called that he realized he was still staring at the board.
"You alright?" asked Bill, once Draco finally turned to him.
"I'm fine," said Draco, looking back at the wall.
"Good," said Bill. "I half-way thought that I had bored you into a coma because you weren't moving at all, not even your fingers were moving in you little…twitch."
"I was thinking," said Draco. "And it's not a twitch. Piano exercise, for dexterity."
"You seem to do it an awful lot," said Bill.
"Hyperactive," said Draco, staring off again, not realizing that he had just let another secret slip.
"Alright," said Bill. "Go to bed, you're spacing out. Shoo!"
Draco blinked, snapping out of his revere. "Sure," he said, and slid off the table. He gave Bill a parting glance, noting the concern in his Professor's eyes, before he left the room.
He honestly tired to keep his mind relatively clear until he could think things over in the privacy of his bed curtains, but his mind never listened when it was full of thoughts and questions. He had never truly believed that Purebloods were better than Mudbloods. Look at Granger, she was practically smarter than he was, and look and Crabbe and Goyle, pureblood to the core, and stupid as rocks. But he had never tried to figure it out as the thoughts caused migraines and insomnia, but Bill had explained it so easily.
He could now say with absolute certainty that Voldemort was wrong. And since he was wrong, Draco did not want to be a Death Eater, not because it was dangerous, or because he was sure that they would fail, but because he didn't agree with it.
He opened the door to his room, finding that all of his dorm mates were in bed, and that there was a large, black owl sitting on his desk. He felt cold dread slip down his back. He didn't want to be a Death Eater, but he doubted he would have a choice.
He opened the letter; it was from his father. His father wished him happy holidays, belatedly of course, noted the broom that Draco bought and informed Draco that money he had spent on his Christmas gift had been reimbursed into Draco's personal vaults. He also reminded Draco of the event to occur right after school let out and hinted that the Malfoy family might have a cause for celebration in a few weeks time.
Lucius didn't say anything else after that, and Draco burnt the letter and sent the owl off without a reply. Suddenly the room felt much too confining and restricting. It was like his fate, going one way and dragging him along with it and he didn't get a say in the matter. He grabbed his cloak and slipped out of the room.
He left the castle through the hidden entrance in the back and made his way to the dead tree by the lake. It was a cold night, but clear. A million little stars sparkled in the black silk sky, a few silver, misty clouds drifted in front of the pale gold moon, and the snow shone the light, making the grounds quite bright. Draco hardly felt the chill from the frigid air. He stared out at the still lake that reflected the moon like a classical photo on the cover of a Christmas card and felt all of the anger and frustration inside of him turn into rage at the perfect scene.
He scooped up a fistful of rocks at the waters edge and sent the hurling, one after the other, into the lake, bring up the black ripples to drown the moon, but the water calmed down after the rocks were extinguished and as the moon was in the sky and not the water, it was mirrored again on the glassy surface.
Draco sighed, the sound of his breath echoing across the still water and air. He picked up a few more rocks, but this time sent them skipping across the surface, or at least tried to. He never had been again good at it and the most he got was three skips. He chucked the rest of the stones and walked back to the dead tree he liked so much and sat at the trunk, feeling the snow seep into his pants.
A few moments ago this had all seemed so simple. He knew what was right and wrong but he was finding out that it was a lot different between knowing right and wrong and doing it. He shifted slightly and stared up at the stars, knowing he could name fifty different constellations up there, but for once, not having the desire to do so.
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Bill watched Draco leave with a strange desire to reach out, give the kid a hug like he used to give to Ron when he had nightmares, and tell him that it was going to be alright. However, he knew that if he did so, Draco would merely shrug him off and he would ruin all of the fragile trust that had built between them. So he merely watched Draco leave while his stomach twisted with the urge to comfort him.
After the footsteps faded, Bill looked back towards the board with the sickening statistics written out on it and grabbed the eraser and began smearing out the marks. Draco had been confused when he had looked at the statistics he had written, that much he had been able to ascertain from the cloudy look in the grey eyes, but it had been more that that. It was as if he truly didn't know what to think. So Bill had explained, and he must have explained it well because the kid had gone absolutely still, not even blinking, though the grey eyes flickered and Bill could practically see his brain racing with thoughts and questions.
Bill put the eraser down once the board was number-free again and wondered if maybe Draco did have a point, but no, he firmly believed what he had told Draco. This was a fight for humanity.
He left the room wondering what Draco was going to do now. He knew that he had given the teenager a lot to think about it, and while being a genius meant that Draco could think a lot faster, it was unfortunately one of those situations where being a genius didn't mean he would come to an answer any easier. Sill, even if Draco didn't come to a conclusion that night, Bill would be there. Draco was too smart and, consequentially, too dangerous to just leave in limbo like that. Not only that, but he had come to genuinely care for the kid.
He entered his bedchamber, and, as he had done since Christmas break upon entering, picked up the little, black velvet box and opened it. Inside was the ring he was going to give to Fleur, a white-gold band (because she didn't like yellow-gold), and two tiny diamonds on either side of a larger one. It was more elegant than showy, and more beautiful as opposed to the latest trend. It was perfect, like she was.
He ran a finger over the band and then closed the box, setting it back on the nightstand with a little prayer that she would say 'Yes'. Too in thought to sleep, he made his way to the window seat and sat on the red cushion, staring out at the night sky. Movement down by the lake caught his attention, and he made out a tiny figure. He recognized the pale hair
He watched as Draco sent rocks hurtling into the lake almost violently. He wondered how much his words had really affected the boy, or if something else had set the kid off. Draco stopped after awhile and attempted to skip a few, but Bill could tell even from his window that he had terrible form, and wondered if Draco had ever been taught to skip rocks.
He drifted off to sleep on that thought and the image of Lucius teaching Draco how to skip rocks floated through his head, but then it was replaced by Lucius in his Death Eater's mask teaching a little Draco how to perform the Cruciatous and the older, teenaged Draco was there as well, writing down terrible statistics on the walls, laughing all the while. And then the baby Draco turned straight towards him, pointed a wand at his chest, and said 'Crucio' in a cold, deadly voice.
Bill jerked awake with a gasp, nearly jumping straight off of the window seat, but managing to catch himself. After slowing his breathing and feeling his heart rate turn to normal he looked outside the window, and saw that Draco was now sitting by the dead tree by the lake. A glance at the clock showed that Bill had been asleep for forty minutes, and he looked back towards Draco, wondering if he should get the boy back inside.
He gave him five more minutes, and was just about to get up to go send the teenager in when Draco got up and slowly walked back towards the castle. With a start, Bill realized that Draco was going to use the very door Bill used to go to meetings. He wondered how the boy had found it.
He waited until he was sure Draco was in the building, and then pulled his pajamas on and crawled into bed after extinguishing the light. He fell into a dreamless sleep.
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Sorry, no poem this time, but feel free to leave a review anyways. Let me know what you thought about Draco's changing ideas
