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Chapter Fourteen
Foiled
"So," McGonagall started, standing at the head of the table and looking towards Malfoy, "how did you get here?"
They all now looked at Malfoy with a "that's exactly what I was wondering" expression.
"Well… I talked to some friends of mine… who know some people in the Order…"
"So you were looking for us in specific?"
The members of the Order of the Phoenix were now looking very suspicious, albeit confused. "No…" he said. "I just knew Xanthe was in the Order… I meant to find her, not come into a meeting…"
"So he is your brother?" Fred, who'd just come in, said incredulously. Malfoy was relieved to know he was addressing Xanthe.
A mousy looking young lady in the back asked, "Well, that's why she was able to talk to him."
Then Fred's twin started in. "How do we know you're not here to kill someone? Don't think we don't know."
"George!" Mrs. Weasley muttered to him, so that Malfoy couldn't hear, but she didn't have the fierce, scolding tone she'd always had as mother of the troublesome twins. She sat back in her chair and didn't say anything after that.
Malfoy looked over at Xanthe, alarmed. "I swear I wasn't going to kill her."
"I know, Draco," she said, nodding.
"So it's true you are a Death Eater who's been told to kill Ginny Weasley?" McGonagall said, keeping her stern attitude amidst all the witches and wizards who now looked very dismayed.
Malfoy looked down at the table, going back and forth along the wood grain with his eyes, trying to keep his mind clear and fog it up so he didn't have to think about this anymore at the same time…
"Yes, but I didn't – I don't want to… I mean…"
"We know what you mean," Xanthe said. McGonagall just crossed her arms, sighed, and gazed upward at the ceiling. It was very silent. Malfoy didn't know what he was supposed to say. He'd already sounded cowardly. It would stupid if he started begging for forgiveness or something, but he wanted to let them know that he did not wish himself to be associated with the Dark Lord anymore… And he couldn't go back anyway, not now…
"He is telling the truth, Mrs. McGonagall," Xanthe added, turning to her.
McGonagall looked as if she were not entirely convinced. Great, now maybe they'd make him take Veritaserum, or worse, just kill him…
"I suppose so," McGonagall said, sighing again. "Yes, I believe you, Ms. Roberts."
She turned to Molly Weasley, who looked a bit paler. "Mrs. Weasley, might you have a room for Mr. Malfoy?"
Molly looked up slowly, and Ron started to speak in a whiny voice from the back. "Oh, come on! Can't he just stay with his sister?"
"I would take Draco, but I live in a small one-bedroom apartment with an even smaller sofa, remember?" Xanthe said. Ron looked at her with an expression of something like loathing. Xanthe just smiled brightly.
"He can stay," Molly said, looking tiredly at Xanthe. "We have a free bedroom since… you know…"
There was a moment's silence. Malfoy wondered what they could be thinking of that would make them so much more quiet and somber. Then Harry came into the room, trying to close the door quickly behind him.
"I swear, that bloody cat's got something wrong with it…" he said. "It was outside my room staring at me."
"Crookshanks?" Ron asked. "Yeah, I know, but –"
"No, not Crookshanks," Harry said. "The evil one."
Malfoy realized he was talking about Moggy and stared coldly. He was acting like they were both part of a deadly virus. Potter probably hadn't even noticed he was in the kitchen with the Order yet…
Harry turned around and stopped. "What's he doing in here? Did he curse you?"
About time...
"Mr. Potter, please," McGonagall said. "He's not dangerous to us now. Actually, why don't you show him up to the empty bedroom?"
Both Harry and Malfoy now froze with pure astonishment and irritation at the idea of something as awkward as that. McGonagall fixed Harry with a piercing glare that he knew meant "get a move on". He groaned, turned around, and walked out the door.
"I'll come with you, Harry!" Ron said, going after him. "I'll make sure he doesn't kill you or something."
As he ran out the door, Malfoy stood up from the chair, extremely reluctant. He gave one backwards glance at Xanthe, McGonagall, and the Order, and then continued to walk out the door.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Hermione was laying on the coffee table, a small book set out before her, with a quill and inkbottle beside it. She had managed to flip the pages to a blank paper, over the course of a ridiculously long amount of time, and was now trying to get her paws around the quill.
"I miss my thumbs!" she mewed in a frustrated tone.
It's not going to work. Even if you pick it up, how are you supposed to keep a hold on it?
Hermione, ever the intelligent witch, quickly thought up another way. She didn't prefer it, but it would work fine. She opened her mouth and clamped her carnivorous teeth around quill, near the tip. Ignoring the strange feeling of the feather on her tongue, she leaned her head to the side and tried to maneuver it into the inkbottle.
After what seemed like forever, she finally felt it sink into the ink, and then brought it back out. The end was a shining black color. Now she tried to get the tip of the quill down on the paper.
Finally, the lead touched down and made a mark. She moved forward and backward, not daring to raise her head, forming an "I" on the paper.
Then there were footsteps, and Harry, Ron, and – this was new – Malfoy came out into the living room.
"What in the hell is it doing?" Ron asked, amazed.
"Isn't that quill mine?" Harry said. "And the book."
Malfoy walked around the sofa to the coffee table. "No, Moggy, don't chew on that."
Oh please!! Do I look like I'm chewing on it? You act like I'm a bloody animal! she thought, distressed. Well, I am an animal, so that doesn't sound right…
He took the quill from Hermione, who tried to keep a good hold on it with her teeth, but did not succeed. He scooped her up and carried her towards the stairs, Harry gathering up the quill and the book, and Hermione fuming over her foiled plan.