Disclaimed: I do not own Harry Potter. I just like to play in the sandbox.
So, what did I change in this chapter? Well, it's a lot longer. Like, it's over 7,500 words, when I think the original chapter clocked in under 5,000. This is something that's been happening as I'm editing because I really had these short segments with Bill. Which, I've said before, wasn't fair to his character. I think I really suffered from 'new writer' syndrome in that regard. I wanted to make Draco a cool and interesting character, so I basically used to Bill highlight Draco's coolness. Literally, all Bill did was think about Draco and wonder about him. Which is weird. And not good writing. I think that happens a lot in badly written romances actually, where one character doesn't have a personality except to obsess about the other character. So, let me hang a lantern on that.
To fix that, I added in some more teacher dynamics with Bill, both with his colleagues, but also with Hermione. Like, it must be hard for her to go to a school where a good portion of the student body thinks she's sub-human. Which is an interesting juxtaposition against Draco, who was raised believing that he is better than others. And that Muggles were a lesser species than those with magic. I tried showing his struggle with those inherited beliefs in this chapter a little bit more.
Another thing I did was de-power Draco a little bit. He is a genius and he is incredibly good at magic, but I think I made him a little too invincible in the beginning of this series. So in this chapter, he fixes things, but it has a cost.
I also – and I'm a little too pleased with myself about this – use this chapter to foreshadow a decision that Draco will make with Bill at the end of the book. So, spoilers, but at the end of the story, Draco nearly obliviates Bill, feeling he can't trust him. Having Draco obliviate Blaise in this chapter, not trusting that Blaise will keep his rescue a secret, shows where he is as a character. He can't depend on anyone. This makes his choice at the end with Bill really highlight his character development. This is something I can add in now because I know how the story will end. Which just goes to show that you really should plot your book before writing it, lol.
Chapter 6
Rule #4: Having friends is costly. Keep them only if you are unable to function without social support.
There was something strange about the homework Bill had assigned.
It was easy enough. Draco had finished the day it was assigned, in less than twenty minutes, but there was something off about it. He couldn't figure out what was so strange about it, but it itched at the back of his mind. He kept it out on his desk as he started on his Potions work, hoping that the answer might come to him if he focused on something else.
It was later in the evening than he typically did homework, but it was a Wednesday, meaning after dinner he had Debate Class. Draco, as a member of the Neutral Party, was able to attend either the Equality or Superiority groups. He was supposed to listen to their arguments, ask questions when he was confused, and point out any flaws in their theories. Draco had gone to the Superiority meeting and spent the past hour and a half listening to a group of vain Purebloods and desperate Halfbloods count all the ways they were better than Muggle-borns.
It wasn't that Draco didn't believe in Pureblood Superiority, because he did. Or at least, he thought he did, but all of the reasons that came out at the meeting were false reasons. Warrington had brought up magical strength. It was common belief that Purebloods had stronger magic than Mudbloods, but that had been disproven by several research papers. Nott had talked about the importance of continuing the culture of magic, which Draco did agree with. It was difficult to maintain traditions and rituals of a culture when new members were constantly being added. But that didn't mean Muggle-borns came empty handed. Many advancements in the fields of potions, healing, transport, and economics could be attributed to Muggle-born or Halfblood wizards and witches.
Goyle had said that witches and wizards were better than Muggles, and… well, Draco sort of believed that one. Not that Muggles couldn't be fascinating in their own right – they had rockets and space stations, computers and the internet, television and electricity and cars. They had science and mathematics and physics. But they didn't have magic. They didn't even believe in magic. Didn't that make them worth less than magical folk?
Draco felt a pang in his temples. He pushed the thoughts away and tried to refocus on the Potions homework. He didn't get far. The page of runes stared up at him, mocking him. He picked up the sheet again. The assignment was simple. Bill was teaching class about the limitations of translation spells, and had used such a charm to translate a page of text. The students were supposed to catch the errors that the spell made. But there was something weird about text. It was clunky. It didn't flow.
There was something very off about it.
An owl screeched into the room and landed on top of his homework. The yellow eyes stared at him imperiously. The post usually didn't come this late at night. It cost extra for overnight deliveries. Draco reached for the letter and unfurled it. He recognized the writing immediately, bold, even calligraphy. It was from his father.
Draco,
As I understand it, there is a new class this year, one where students have the opportunity to speak freely about issues that have been taboo until now. Imagine my surprise when I hear that you have discarded the opportunity to speak favorable about your lord and heritage and have instead signed your name to a group consisting of Purebloods who wallow in their cowardice and shrink away from the duty of joining their kin.
You have damaged our name and standing. I expect an immediate explanation and, if your reasons are not sufficient, there will be swift consequences. Do not forget you will pledging your loyalty to our lord this summer.
Your Father,
Lucius Malfoy
Draco sighed and closed his eyes. Yes, that would be Nott tattle-telling on him, and no doubt Nott's father had seemed fit to rub this in Lucius' face. It was clear Lucius was extremely displeased by him because he wouldn't have risked sending a letter otherwise. The Aurors were looking for him, and owls could be tracked.
He wondered what 'swift consequences' meant. It wouldn't be anything overly terrible, just moderately frustrating, like being pulled from the Quidditch team. Lucius' punishments were mild compared to what some of his classmates faced. Lucius was strict and demanded obedience, but he was never cruel or malicious, and he never used corporeal punishments. Draco counted himself lucky in that regard. He knew his father's failings. Lucius would always prioritize his own wellbeing, and he valued business and finances of his son, but Draco had no doubt that his father held affection for him. He'd seen the evidence when he was thirteen, when he was delirious and seizing from withdrawal from illegal pleasure potions.
Memories hit hard. The house party that Narcissa had thrown. Sneaking out of his rooms because she always locked him in when she didn't want him underfoot. Getting caught by a trio of drunk witches who'd cooed over, calling him 'cute' and 'adorable'. Getting dragged into the party. Having drinks pushed into his hands. Trying them all to the entertainment of the guests. Taking his first smoke of a pipe, and coughing so hard he'd gagged. The laughter around him. And then Narcissa, who'd spotted him. He'd thought she'd be angry, but she'd simply smiled and handed him a pleasure potion.
Draco had known what it was. He'd known it was illegal and potentially dangerous, but he'd been thirteen and incredibly tipsy. And a roomful of intoxicated, beautiful, important people had all urged him on.
He didn't remember much of what happened after that. His memories started again with Lucius holding him down as he screamed in pain from the withdrawal. His father had stayed with him the whole time.
Draco scrubbed a hand over his face. His skin prickled uncomfortably, the phantom burn of his memories. He forced it back and turned his attention to the letter. Lucius was demanding an answer now and it would have to be a good one.
He pulled out a blank piece of parchment, picked up his quill, and then the door opened. Draco looked over, expecting to see the other Slytherin boys, but instead it was Pansy.
"Well, aren't you distracted," she said, leaning against the doorway.
Draco frowned at her. She was hedging at something, but he didn't have the patience to play guessing games. "If you have something to say, it's more efficient just to say it."
His voice came out sharper than he intended, and he hid a wince. It wasn't smart to yell at Pansy. She could be unexpectedly vengeful.
Pansy tossed her hair with a huff. "I really shouldn't have to point this out, but I don't mind earning an easy favor telling you things you should already know. It's nine o'clock. Do you know where your roommates are?"
It only took a second for her meaning to sink in. Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle hadn't returned to the dorms after meeting for debate class. They were supposedly going to the kitchens to get something to eat, but Blaise wasn't back yet either.
"Merde."
Draco was up and moving in an instant. He grabbed his unregistered wand, preparing for the worst-case scenario, and darted from the room. He ignored the way the owl screeched at him, impatient for a reply, and the way Pansy smirked at him. She'd call on his favor, he just knew it. He strode out of the Slytherin dormitory, keeping his pace quick but not urgent. Once he was in the hall, he broke into a run.
The Equality group had been meeting on the third floor, in the old Charms classroom, and that was where Draco headed now, jumping over the trick step on the moving staircase and leaping onto the next flight before it had fully docked. His lungs were burning by the time he reached the third floor. He slowed to a walk to settle his breathing. Appearances were important; he couldn't appear worried.
He could hear sounds of a fight up ahead and to the right, in the hallway that branched out from the main corridor. A voice cried out in pain, and he knew it was Blaise. He heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh and another cry. He heard the woosh and crackle of a hex, a burn hex if he wasn't mistaken. It had a distinctive sizzle to the casting. Blaise screamed this time. Laughter followed.
Draco reached up to finger-comb his hair as he approached. The fine strands were easy to settle back into place. He checked his tie and that his shirt was still properly tucked. He pulled in one more deep breath and then turned the corner.
Blaise was on the floor, about mid-way down the hall. He was right by the doorway to the Charms classroom, meaning he was probably jumped when he left. Draco silently cursed the Golden Trio for not thinking to escort him back to the dorms. And then he cursed Blaise for not leaving with the group. He must have known he was in danger.
Nott stood over Blaise, wand drawn. Crabbe and Goyle were at his side. They immediately froze when Draco first appeared, but then relaxed when they saw it was just him.
"Come to join the fun?" Nott asked. "You're a little late to the party."
He wasn't just talking about the current assault; he was berating Draco for not joining the Superiority group. Draco ignored him. He stopped by Blaise and looked down at the other boy.
"When I said it was a secret, I didn't mean to take a beating. You could have told them before curses were thrown."
Blaise tipped his head up. One eye was puffy already; it'd be swollen shut by morning. His nose was dripping blood. His bottom lip was split. The burn hex had caught him across the ribs. His shirt was torn, revealing lines of red, raised flesh. Draco could see boils on his hands and a tremor in his legs. More evidence of curses.
Draco had been distracted. He should have seen this coming. As soon as Crabbe and Goyle had been pulled to follow Nott to the kitchens, he should have realized what was happening. Now he had a mess on his hands, and Blaise had paid the price. The only good bit of news was that Blaise was beaten so severely that no one realized he hadn't caught on to the lie Draco was feeding him. He mumbled a couple of words, gargling over the blood in his mouth, but they were indecipherable.
Draco looked back at the others. "You don't really think Zabini's gone Muggle-lover, do you? You know who his parents are."
"His parents are soft."
"His parents are older magic than your family."
"So are the Weasley's, but they still kneel before Dumbledore and Potter."
Draco rolled his eyes. "They've been Muggle-lovers since the beginning. The Zabini's are Pureblood supporters. And so is Blaise."
"Then why's he with the Equality group?"
"Because I asked him to," Draco lied. "He's spying on them."
"That's a load of bullshit," said a new voice.
Draco turned as Warrington stepped out from the Charms' classroom. Warrington was a large boy, tall and broad-chested. His forehead was pronounced, hanging over the rest of his face, giving him a menacing air.
Warrington crossed his arms. "Blaise is a traitor. And you signed Neutral, meaning you are too. Now you're trying to save face, by pretending that he's a spy. No one believes it."
"Both the Equality and Neutral groups oppose the Superiority Party," Draco said. "There are two groups, so two people are needed to spy. That's what Blaise and I are doing."
"You should come up with a better story, Malfoy. I'm already a Death Eater. I know what the Dark Lord has commanded. You weren't told to spy. Neither was Blaise."
"It's a secret operation, Warrington. You didn't need to know about it, so you weren't told."
He kept his tone dismissive and condescending and could tell he struck a nerve. Warrington's eyes narrowed; his jaw tensed. Warrington was afraid that Draco was telling the truth and that he hadn't been trusted with sensitive information.
Draco pushed that fear further by laughing at him. "Does that hurt? Knowing that you didn't make the cut?"
"I'm a part of this too!" Warrington railed. "I am a servant to the Dark Lord as much as you."
"I am no servant. I am a follower, and the son of the Dark Lord's most trusted Lieutenant. As much as it pains you to admit, you aren't privy to the actions of greater men. You're an errand boy, a foot soldier, a pawn professing to be a rook."
Warrington snapped, like Draco thought he would. He roared, his voice a cry of defiance and anger. He lashed out with a curse, but Draco was prepared. He deflected the spell, not bothering to raise a shield. Shields weren't that useful in dueling. They took too long to cast, but Warrington tried to cast one now. Draco's spell slipped through the magical forcefield before it had time to solidify. Warrington was tossed backwards, unconscious before he even hit the ground.
Nott threw out a hex, and Draco was forced to back-step as he parried. Nott was a better duelist than Warrington. If Draco was feeling generous, he might even call Nott competent. He sent out a barrage of curses now, easy to cast hexes that didn't require too much time to fire off. They would cause minimal damage, but dueling wasn't always about hitting hard; it was about landing the hit. Even minor charm damage could add up, could make a hole in the opponent's defense.
Draco was a competitive duelist. He'd gone to several juniors' dueling tournaments over the past three years, not including this summer. He'd taken first place in all his competitions. Dueling was an outlet, a way for Draco to show part of his genius without completing revealing his secret. It was a way to earn Lucius' pride.
Draco deflected every curse. They ricocheted into the stone walls, hitting with the sound of muted thunder. Lights refracted. A faint tremor shook the floor. Draco responded with twice the number of hexes.
He could have extended the fight, and a part of him wanted to. It was a release to fight. And it was gratifying to see Nott fight with everything he had had, and still Draco pressed the advantage. He could have toyed with Nott longer, savored the way he grew desperate against Draco's onslaught. But that wasn't the smart thing to do. Accidents happened, even to geniuses, and a mistake now could have severe consequences. It was better to end it quickly.
Draco began aiming his curses higher, towards Nott's face, drawing his defenses up. When Nott was sufficiently distracted, he sent out a simple stupefy spell, catching him low in the gut. Nott collapsed.
Draco rounded on Crabbe and Goyle next. They hadn't joined in the fight; they were simply watching, backed up out of the line of fire. They held up their hands and shuffled uncomfortably on their feet, clearly not wanting a part of any fight.
Draco sheathed his wand. "You two aren't going to give me any trouble, are you?"
"No trouble," Crabbe said, shaking his head.
Goyle nodded in agreement.
Draco glanced towards Blaise, still on the ground, staring up at him with wide eyes. He was confused. He knew Draco was lying to protect him, but he couldn't quite figure out why. Draco turned back towards Crabbe and Goyle.
"Pull them in," Draco said, gesturing to the bodies of Warrington and Nott and then the Charms classroom.
They obeyed without question. It was often a wonder to Draco why these two boys, without any ambition of their own, were sorted into Slytherin. Surely Gryffindor, with its un unquestioning loyalty, better suited them. But he knew that Crabbe and Goyle didn't want just any friends. They wanted powerful friends. They liked being bullies, taking what they wanted without any consequences. Slytherin was better suited to that.
He watched Crabbe and Goyle pull the two unconscious Slytherins into the empty classroom, not bothering with a spell. They had magic, but using it required effort and concentration. Physical tasks came more naturally to them.
Draco followed them inside and then flicked his wand twice. "Stupefy."
They dropped with grunt.
Draco let out a breath. He finally had a moment to plan his next move.
Obviously the spy story wasn't going to hold. And as such, Draco couldn't let them remember that he'd come to Blaise's defense. There was no excuse for protecting a genuine blood-traitor. He sighed again, this time in frustration. Merlin, when did life become so complicated?
He swung out with a curse. "Ventas!"
Wind swept from his wand; he could see a ripple of it form in the air. It smashed into the desks on the right-hand side of the room, sending them flying. They toppled into the walls and tumbled over each other. Legs snapped off. Desks cracked.
The door immediately slammed shut as the anti-destruction wards were activated. Draco didn't care. He waved his wand again. "Fractus!"
Jagged silver light burst forth and crackled across the left side of the room. The desks and chairs splintered with loud snaps, falling into several pieces.
Draco turned to the chalkboards at the front of the room. "Inscriptus!"
He wrote out the words in the air and they were seared into the walls and the chalkboards. "Filthy Mudbloods! Muggle Lovers! Blood Traitors!"
He paused, pulling in a couple of deep breaths to calm himself. It felt good to release his anger and create some destruction. He surveyed the room and nodded. It looked like the carnage a group of students would create. No one would think that a single student was capable of this much damage, much less with three spells. But there was more to be done.
Draco knelt by Nott first. Of all the students, Nott was the smartest. It would be the most difficult to modify his memory, so he'd start with him, while he was at his strongest.
He held his wand to Nott's temple. "Legilimens." Nott's memories filtered into his mind. Draco ignored the impulse to sort through his head, and started with the freshest memories. Attacking Blaise, fighting Draco. "Obliviate." He pulled those thoughts out of Nott's head.
It was a difficult task. Memories weren't distinct objects. They were threads, tangled together, frayed and split and converging into a dozen other memories. Draco took his time, making sure the extraction was clean.
He then thought of the wind charm, and the damage it did to the room. He thought of the inscription spell, and writing slurs on the walls. "Insero." He pushed that memory into Nott's head, along with the memory of the slamming door as the protection wards were activated, sealing the Slytherins inside.
The effort left him sweating. He moved over to Warrington and continued the process. For the sake of detail, he gave Warrington the memory of the splinter charm. This time, when he rose, he felt an ache beginning to form in his temples.
Memory charms were difficult. They demanded concentration and willpower. They cost an exorbitant amount of magical energy. Draco took a few minutes respite and then moved on to Crabbe and Goyle. He didn't bother implanting memories, just pulled out the incriminating ones.
When he got up this time, he swayed a little. He staggered to the door, pressed his hand against it, and performed an illegal phasing spell to step through the wards.
Blaise was still in the hall. He'd pushed himself over to the wall and was leaning against it. He was still only half-conscious.
"Draco," he slurred. "Wha's goin' on?"
Draco could ask Blaise not to tell about his assistance tonight. He could ask Blaise to swear to secrecy. He could even threaten Blaise to keep his silence.
But that would require trust.
That was something Draco didn't have.
Draco leveled his wand at Blaise. He saw the boy's eyes widen.
"Wait, ple-,"
"Obliviate."
There was no need to cast Legilimens on a conscious subject when using the memory charm. Their mind was already alert. Their memories were still at the forefront of their mind.
Draco found the memory of himself and began extracting it from Blaise's mind. It was hard to capture. Blaise had that memory tied to several others – times that Draco should have acted like a Death Eater, times that he should have been rude, demeaning, and cruel, but instead he'd been neutral, non-committal, even friendly. It was like gathering spider silk, pieces of the memory kept breaking off and floating back into the ethos of Blaise's mind. Draco cursed and struggled. He felt his strength begin to wane, felt the throbbing in his head rise to a crescendo. His muscles trembled. His heart pounded and stomach churned, like he was mid-game in a Quidditch championship.
He snagged the last piece away and fell backwards onto the stone floor. Blaise muttered something and slipped further down the wall. His eyes fluttered closed as his body slipped into unconsciousness, Draco's memory spell the last abuse it could take that night.
Draco lay for a moment on the cold stone floor, gathering his strength. He pushed himself to his feet. He cast a simple camouflage charm over himself and Blaise, and then a levitating spell on Blaise's body. He began the long walk to the infirmary.
It was nearing curfew, if not already past. The corridors were silent and empty. Draco floated Blaise's body into the infirmary and onto the nearest stretcher. Pomfrey was most likely already in bed so Draco hit the bell on the way out to alert her that she had a patient. He headed back to the Slytherin dormitory, dropping the camouflage charm because he didn't feel capable of maintaining it.
The main room still held a few students, some working on homework, others simply socializing. Pansy had the best seat in front of the fireplace. She looked up from her book when he entered.
"Well?" she asked.
"I took care of Blaise," Draco told her, knowing that the other students were listening and when Blaise's assault was made known in the morning, they would assume he was behind it. There wouldn't be enough evidence for Draco to be convicted of the assault, but Draco wanted it to be rumored that he, Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin, had attacked the blood-traitor. It would stave off any rumors that he was getting soft. The other Slytherins would be found, locked in the old Charms classroom, the evidence of their own misdeeds surrounding them.
Pansy smiled. She wouldn't think Draco had anything to do with Blaise's injuries, but that was fine. She and Draco had enough information on each other to ensure that secrets were kept.
Draco continued to his dorm room and was met by the screech of the owl. The pain in his head spiked. Draco wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep it off, but his father had demanded his reply. Draco would have to give it.
He sat at his desk and picked up his quill.
Father,
You understand correctly, there is a debate class this year. No doubt the student who felt it necessary to inform you of my current affiliation was not blessed with advanced reasoning skills. If so, my position in the Neutral Party would have been obvious. As a neutral student, I am able to access the faction of students that are currently undecided in this issue, as well as accessing the party that opposes the Dark Lord. I have ample opportunity to listen to their strategies, beliefs, and any other information which can be useful in our fight. If you believe this is not important, then I shall take my place in the correct party. Until then, be assured that I have not renounced him.
Your son,
Draco L. Malfoy
Draco attached the letter to the owl's leg and set it free. It swooped from the dormitory, scattering his homework pages with the beat of its wings. Draco gathered the parchment into an unorganized pile and dropped it on his desk. He let it sit there and collapsed on his bed. There was a moment of unexpected relief in the realization that tonight's activities meant he'd have the room to himself tonight. Usually Draco needed a host of silencing spells and darkening charms to blot out the presence of his roommates. Crabbe and Goyle both snored and Blaise liked to stay up late with a light on reading. Draco was already cursed with insomnia, and the extra stimulation at night only worsened the symptoms. Tonight, Draco simply flicked his wand and the room went dark and quiet.
Draco let himself go limp on his bed, but there was residual tension in his neck. His muscles felt like he'd been hit by a jelly-legs jinx, weak and wobbly and quivering. The room felt like it was spinning around him.
He was going to have a killer migraine tomorrow.
Rule number four: Having friends is costly. Keep them only if you are unable to function without moral support.
He closed his eyes and tried to throw himself into sleep. It fought him every step.
OoOoO
Bill was stopped with the other professors in the teacher's lounge before breakfast on Thursday. A harried-looking McGonagall stood in front of the door, blocking their exit. She was accompanied by a resigned looking Snape.
"What's he done this time?" Flitwick asked.
By the sighs and groans of his colleagues, Flitwick was referring to Draco Malfoy. The boy really did a good job of making enemies.
"Draco was not a part of this," Severus said, even as Minerva stated, "It's unclear as of now."
They both stopped and turned to each other. McGonagall frowned at Severus; he scowled back. It was rather funny, because Bill had seen them interact in Order meetings, and they were quite friendly with each other. Now they played to role of bickering colleagues.
Minerva sniffed and looked back at the gathered teachers. "This morning, four Slytherin students were found in the meeting room of the Equality group. They had vandalized the room, writing obscenities on the walls and destroying the property within. They were caught by the wards and spent the night there, until Filch found them this morning."
"Which students?" Sprout asked.
"Warrington, Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle."
"That's Malfoy's usual crowd. You sure he wasn't involved?"
"Quite," said Snape coolly.
"Another Slytherin student, Blaise Zabini, was assaulted last night. He is currently recovering in the infirmary."
Bill let out a breath of frustration. It was a tragedy that students were being attacked for their beliefs in equality. It was a tragedy that other students felt they had the right to react in violence. He was the only one upset. He heard a few epitaphs being muttered.
"Blaise Zabini is a good kid," Sprout said, voicing the general opinion in the room. "I thought when he pledged to the Equality group that he might have some trouble with his housemates, but I did not think it would go this far."
"I thought he was very brave," Claire agreed. She immediately wilted under the attention when everyone looked her way. She ducked her head and cleared her throat. "It must be very hard for him to have differing opinions from his housemates."
"Yes, quite," Flitwick agreed. He turned to Severus with a challenging look in his eyes. "What is their head of house going to do about this rampant prejudice and violence against Muggle-born students and those who support them?"
"Mr. Zabini will be interviewed when he is feeling better," Severus said. "He will name his attacker and Headmaster Dumbledore will take over from there."
"The student responsible ought to be expelled!" Sprout exclaimed.
"We all know it's Malfoy," Hooch said. "He already attacked Zabini in the first debate class."
"It must be him," Flitwick agreed.
The other professors nodded. Bill could see some of their faces take on a speculative expression, like they were imagining Hogwarts without Draco Malfoy.
"I'm afraid the future is not so clear," Sybil announced in a warbling voice. "My crystal ball was foggy this morning. I thought at first it meant I hadn't properly attuned to the mystic forces that surround us, but now I think it's an omen. We will receive no answers today."
"For Merlin's sake, Sybil," Sprout said. "can't you let us have even one happy thought?"
"It's probably best not to get our hopes up," Hooch said. "In my opinion, he should have been expelled years ago. But if that's all, Minerva, I'd like to get down to breakfast. I've a class of first years to get into the air today, and I can't do that on an empty stomach."
McGonagall nodded and stepped aside to let the professors out. Bill followed the throng down to the Great Hall. While the others seemed to be almost giddy at the aspect of expelling Draco, Bill wasn't quite convinced at his guilt. Draco had admitted to attacking Blaise in detention last week, but his reasoning was weak at best. Almost as if he didn't believe in the reasons himself. Draco could be questioning Pureblood superiority, and if he was, then he'd need the support of the professors here, not their animosity. While Bill understood the frustration his colleagues, surely they could tone down the hostility. All students were here to be taught and instructed. No child should be considered a lost cause while they were still in Hogwarts.
Bill entered the Great Hall and could immediately tell that the news of the attack and vandalism had already spread to the general student population. The Slytherins were looking smug, some glancing at Draco for a quick second, before averting their eyes and whispering to their friends. The Gryffindor table was more blatant in their staring. Glaring, really. Ron and Harry looked enraged. Hermione looked determined, like she was plotting a course of revenge. The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were more subdued. Some appeared satisfied, others angry. Bill could see the divisions beginning to take place within the student body, and suddenly, he didn't feel that hungry anymore.
He turned towards Draco to study the Slytherin himself. Draco appeared to be doing his homework over breakfast. It could be simple procrastination. But it could also mean he was too busy to do his work last night, either contributing to the attack on Blaise or the vandalism of the Equality group's meeting room. Draco didn't seem bothered by the attention he was getting. Bill wondered if he truly didn't care about public opinion, or if he was just that talented an actor.
As he watched, Draco finished the parchment he was working on and returned it to his bag. Draco poured himself a second cup of coffee, poked at his breakfast plate, and pushed it aside. He finally looked up, his eyes turning towards the Gryffindor table, like he was finally noticing the stares. He found Harry's gaze and held it, raising an eyebrow in a silent taunt. Bill glanced over to see Harry bolt up from his seat. Ron and Hermione yanked him back down and the Great Hall went quiet, holding its breath to see what would happen next.
Draco smirked, widely, almost a full smile. There was a viciousness to the grin that made the hair on the back of Bill's neck stand up. That was the expression of someone dangerous, someone who would have no qualms about assaulting a classmate, someone who might even enjoy it.
Everyone saw the exchange. Everyone watched as Draco stood up and walked towards the far exit, deliberately passing by the Gryffindor table.
"Five against one, Malfoy? Is that how you treat your friends?" Harry called out.
"I thought he was your friend, Potter," Draco returned, voice biting. "You should take better care of your friends. You can't afford to lose any more."
He was referring to Sirius, Bill was sure of it. His own anger flared, burning up his chest.
Harry's face went pale. His fists clenched. "Like your father can afford another trip to Azkaban?"
Draco laughed, coldly. He kept walking, calling over his shoulder, "But he's not there anymore, is he?"
The Slytherin passed out of sight and Bill let out a breath. He wasn't the only one. It sounded as if the entire Great Hall let out a collective sigh of relief.
"That boy has no place here," Sprout muttered, stabbing her eggs with a fork.
In that moment, Bill wasn't inclined to debate it.
As eventful as the morning had been, the rest of the day continued without surprise. Bill kept an ear out for any news of Blaise, wondering if the boy had named his attacker yet, but there were no further developments.
He stood outside the classroom as the last class of the day filtered in, Draco Malfoy among them. Hermione paused by him before entering, her voice pitched low for privacy.
"Bill, is it possible to have my seat moved? I don't know if I feel comfortable sitting next to Malfoy."
Bill mentally kicked himself. He should have thought of how Hermione would feel being paired with Draco after his one confirmed attack against an Equality supporter and now a second rumored assault.
"Absolutely," he said.
She nodded in thanks and stepped into the classroom. Bill stayed at his post until the end of passing time, wondering how to handle the request for change of seat. He didn't want to name Hermione as the complainant and draw any attention to her, nor did he want to seem that he was pre-emptively punishing Draco for a crime that hadn't been proven yet. He'd need an innocuous reason. If he skipped forward a couple of lessons, he'd have a good excuse.
Passing time ended, with only a few students rushing by, already late for class.
"Don't run!" Bill called after them. He stepped into his room and shut the door. "Everyone, split up from your partners. We're going to have some individual work today and it will count as a quiz grade."
There were a couple of groans, but the students obeyed. Bill walked up to his desk as the students chose new seats. The desks were set in pairs, and in his introductory course, nearly every seat was filled. The NEWT classes were smaller, and every student got a set of desks to themselves. The extra desk space would be useful for the task Bill was about to assign. He noted that Draco had moved to the desks in the back corner, the farthest from his classmates. He didn't seem vicious now. He seemed subdued, almost tired.
"Who knows what the Rosetta stone is?" Bill asked.
As expected, the Muggle-born students raised their hands. Bill called on Anna Fletcher, a Ravenclaw.
"The Rosetta stone was a tablet inscribed in in several different Muggle languages. Because it had the same inscription but in different dialects, it was key to deciphering the unknown languages."
"Five points to Ravenclaw," Bill said. "Part of being a good translator is being able to decode a language based on another. I'm going to pass out an inscription written in three different runic languages. One you should be familiar with. The second one we are reviewing now, and the third is one we haven't covered yet. I want to see how far you can get in deciphering the runes of the second and third languages. I will be available for assistance if needed. You have the entire period to work on it."
He passed out the pages and watched the students get to work. Some immediately pulled out blank parchment, while others began marking the page itself. Some used parchment as a scribble page, jotting down thoughts and ideas, while others read through it, their lips moving silently. Translation graphs were the key for this type of work. Bill was heartened to see that over half of the students began creating their own graphs. The students raised their hands when they got stuck, and he made his rounds, offering hints and guidance, but not giving the answers outright. He couldn't help but notice that Draco never raised his hand to ask for help. In fact, halfway through the class period, Draco put his head down and appeared to fall asleep.
No one finished early, but Bill hadn't expected it. When the bell rang for the end of class, the students were still working frantically, trying to scribble more words onto the page.
"Alright, quills down!" Bill laughed. "Don't worry. I'm grading this one easy because I sprung it on you."
That appeared to assuage their fears. Quills were put away and the students came up to hand in their efforts. Draco was the last in line, squinting a little and scrubbing at his face, like he'd just woken up. Bill could see deep circles under his eyes. Another point in favor of Draco being up late last night to partake in the attack.
Because Draco was the last to bring up his paper, about half the class had already exited when McGonagall entered with Blaise Zabini in tow. As such, it wasn't quite as dramatic as it could have been. There were still gasps, and the remaining students nudged each other as they filed out, no doubt eager to spread more gossip.
Bill watched Draco pause. His face went blank.
"Well, Blaise?" McGonagall asked, turning to the other boy.
Bill could see fading bruises around Blaise's left eye, and he was standing stiffly, one arm pressed against his ribs.
Blaise turned to McGonagall and shook his head. "I told you, I can't remember what happened last night."
She nodded. "Well, that's quite alright. An obliviate charm can be quite powerful."
Bill raised his eyebrows. An obliviate charm? That was advanced magic, and it wasn't taught as part of the school curriculum.
"Mr. Malfoy," said McGonagall, "please present your wand for examination."
"You think that I attacked Zabini and then obliviated him?" Draco asked, a good amount of skepticism in his voice. "What purpose would that serve?"
"You got a detention for your previous attack. No doubt you would like to hide evidence of your crime this time around."
Draco narrowed his gaze. "The examination of a wand requires a court order. And it needs to be performed by a licensed expert or the information is considered invalid."
"This is a school, Mr. Malfoy. Not a court. You have two choices, present your wand for examination of an obliviate charm or take responsibility for your attack against Mr. Zabini."
"I told you I don't remember," Blaise protested.
Bill frowned, confused at Blaise's defense of Draco. Was he defending the other boy because he was afraid of reprisal of Draco was caught? Or was there some other reason he was protecting his suspected attacker?,
"This is a violation of my rights. It's an illegal search."
"We are given the power to search wands at this school if we feel a serious crime has taken place. Your wand, Mr. Malfoy."
Bill saw Draco's eyes flash in anger, but he handed over his wand without another word of protest. McGonagall performed a variation of the prior incantatem charm, searching for a specific spell cast in the past twenty-four hours. Bill saw her lips purse when the spell came up empty. She ran the charm again, like she couldn't believe the results.
Bill expected Draco to smirk at her, to rub her nose in her defeat. Instead the Slytherin crossed his arms. "Satisfied?" His voice was more irritable than victorious.
McGonagall handed his wand back. "You are still a person of interest in-,"
"Minerva," Bill said, almost without thinking. He winced at his audacity to interrupt the professor. But by her own account, she'd just cleared Draco of the assault. Any further lecture or accusation seemed cruel and unnecessary. "Do you mind if I step in?"
Minerva was incensed. Bill could read it in her straight back, taut shoulders, and sharp gaze, but she nodded. "I'll leave you to get to the bottom of this."
She left the classroom with a quick step and shut the door behind her. Bill didn't miss the way that Blaise looked at Draco, trying to catch his eye. Blaise didn't seem scared of Draco, not if he was actively trying to get his attention.
"How about you two take a seat," Bill said.
Draco dropped sullenly into a chair. Blaise sat more gingerly, still holding his ribs.
"I just want to talk this through," Bill said, keeping his tone light and even.
"Go talk then," Draco commanded, gesturing to the teacher's desk.
Bill knew what Draco was doing. He was trying to take control of the situation. If Bill went to the desk, which was a position of power, he'd actually be ceding his authority to Draco, who was the one who'd ordered him there in the first place. It was a cunning move, and Bill was reminded of Lucius Malfoy, and the way he'd taken control of the elder Nott in a similar way.
Bill grabbed a chair instead and pulled it over. Draco's mouth tightened, clearly displeased that his trap had been avoided.
"Do either of you feel like talking about what happened last night?"
There was silence. Draco kept his eyes fixed on the far wall, his gaze icy. Blaise shifted in his seat, his gaze flicking from Bill to Draco and back again.
"Draco, you're dismissed," Bill said.
"What?"
"You're dismissed," Bill said, ignoring the incredulity in Draco's voice. "McGonagall found no evidence on your wand, so you are exonerated. Unless you'd like to make an incriminating statement, you are free to go."
Draco's face wasn't blank now. Bill had surprised him; the disbelief was easy to read.
Draco got to his feet, slowly, like he was warring between staying and leaving. He gathered his things, still watching Bill, and then cautiously left the room. Bill watched him leave, wondering if he'd just let Draco get away with the perfect crime, or if he was giving an innocent student the benefit of doubt. He was pretty sure, based on Blaise's behavior, that it was latter. Now he just needed to figure out what had actually happened.
"I know you don't have a clear memory of last night, but what do you remember?" Bill asked.
Blaise shook his head. "Not much. I was leaving the Equality group and the next thing I know, I was hit with a curse. I think I was jumped from behind. But that's the last thing I remember until I woke up in the infirmary."
"Did you see Draco there?"
"I don't know."
"But you don't think he attacked you."
Blaise paused.
"You're not scared of him," Bill said. "Which I think is surprising, seeing as he did attack you at the first debate class."
Blaise looked away and licked his lips, almost like he was afraid of saying anything more. Almost like he was protecting Draco. But from what?
Bill leaned forward. "I just want to make sure that you're going to be safe. So I'll ask you two questions, alright? And as long as you answer me honestly, I'll let you be on your way. How does that sound?"
"Okay."
"First question. Are you going to be safe around Draco?"
"I think so."
Bill nodded and then asked the follow-up. "Is Draco safe?"
He could tell, by Blaise's reaction, that he'd hit on something. Blaise's eyes went wide and he stuttered over his response. "Wh- What? Why would you-? Yes, of course he's safe. He– he's a Malfoy. He has nothing to worry about. Nothing at all."
Bill kept his eyes on Blaise and let the silence drag out. Blaise squirmed in his seat but said nothing more.
"Here's what I'm confused about," Bill said. "I saw you join the Equality group. It seems you're genuine about that, I know I am. And so are the professors here. But most of those people don't like Draco, much less go out of their way to protect him. But that's what you're doing now, isn't it?"
"I genuinely don't remember who attacked me."
"And I believe that. But I also believe that you know it wasn't him." Bill leaned forward, willing the boy to believe him. "I can keep a secret Blaise. This will stay between us."
Blaise let out a breath. "No, I don't think Draco attacked me."
"Why aren't you clearing his name?"
"It's better that people think it was Draco."
"So you're protecting his reputation."
Blaise nodded.
"But he attacked you at the debate class."
"People saw Draco start to curse me and assumed he meant it."
"Didn't he?"
Blaise rolled his eyes. "Draco's a junior league dueling champion, three years in a row. If he meant to hex me, he would have landed it. Not even Dumbledore could have stopped him."
"He was putting on a show."
"We all have roles we're expected to play," Blaise said, and gestured to his current state. "You can see what happens when you refuse."
Bill sat back, his mind turning over this new information.
"But you can't tell anyone," Blaise said. "You understand that, right?"
"I do. I won't say a word."
"Thank you." Blaise stood up and headed for the door. He stopped and turned back halfway there. "I'm not saying that Draco is nice, by the way. He's a prat most of the time, and I think he likes playing the bad guy. It's just…," he trailed off.
"There's a difference between a schoolyard bully and a killer," Bill supplied.
Blaise nodded. "Yeah, that about sums it up."
He left the room and Bill sat back in his chair, considering what he'd learned. So Draco wasn't a true Death Eater, not yet. But Bill also remembered Draco's taunts at breakfast, and the vicious look on his face. The question he was left with was Draco already too far gone to reach?
OoOoO
And that is the revised chapter. Goodness – I am writing more stuff than I intended too, lol. But, if you like it, please leave a review!
