CHAPTER 10: The poor idiot.
Astoria didn't say anything about Draco and Blaise to her friends. She would have killed to explain them everything that had happened, but she never, ever, no matter what, broke a promise. She started sitting by their side during meals, which both guys seemed keen on. Astoria somehow relieved them of their respective duties towards each other. She was breath of fresh air between them. And they both silently thanked her for it. Luna and Helena had of course, noticed her recent closeness with the guys and asked her about it, to which she just answered with boring excuses. That was the only time when she went along with them, the rest of the day was dedicated to her Ravenclaw friends. It was kind of awkward, though, because Helena kept asking her questions about Blaise. Questions that she didn't know the answer to. Astoria did not exactly know if it was correct from her to let her friend interest herself in someone like Blaise. Never mind the assortment of explanations he offered her to make clear he was not gay, he was, indeed, very distressed with everything that was going on in his head, and probably not the best company she would want her friend to seek.
-Do you think Blaise will ask me to the dance? –she asked her one afternoon.
-I thought you never dated –Luna replied, in a good-humoured tone.
-I wouldn't accept –Helena grinned-. But it would be flattering.
-I wouldn't count on it, Lena –Astoria said, seriously-. I don't think he even remembers there's a Ball coming up.
-It's alright, though. He'll regret it later on.
Astoria laughed and shook her head in disbelief at her friend's self-confidence. Helena was not exactly arrogant like Slytherin girls usually were. She certainly had the looks to behave like a queen bee, but she was more of an outcast than she seemed at first sight. Average matters like popularity, beauty, competition, etc. were out of her interest. Most people wondered what the hell she did sticking with weirdoes like Luna Lovegood and Astoria Greengrass; but once they got to know her a little bit, they found out she was equally freaky.
-What are you girls going to wear? –she tucked a chocolate-coloured wave behind her ear.
-My yellow dress! –Luna smiled. She only had one good dress, and everyone hated it. Being pale and blonde was not the best match for yellow, but she failed to notice any given attempt to tell her how bad she looked in it. Somehow, though, Helena and Astoria were sure Neville wouldn't mind it at all.
-I might wear my new Delacroix. That's only if I can find stilettos to match it.
-What colour is it? –Helena raised an eyebrow at Astoria.
-Why, pastel pink, Miss Bennett, of course! –Astoria placed her hand on her chest and pretended as if she was offended by Helena's scepticism.
The three girls laughed. Every year, at the Ball, Astoria wore the ugliest clothes she could find. Assistance was mandatory, and her personal way of expressing disagreement with the established rules involved the use of black lipstick and leather pants.
-You know I can always lend you something more appropriate –Helena said-. If you change your mind at the last minute.
-Why on Earth would I want to dress nice? –she made a face.
-Uh, I don't know… Maybe now that you're getting so close to Draco you want to impress him or something –Lena smirked evilly.
-Argh.
-That would surely finish your sister off. Can you imagine?
-Wait… That's actually a good idea. I might consider it –Astoria nodded.
-What, seducing Draco Malfoy?
-Fine, it sounds really weird. But I would have loved to see Daphne's face.
-If she still had any after scratching it off with her nails.
-You girls are definitely mean –Luna shook her head, eliciting chuckles form the other two girls.
It was Potions class, and Professor Slughorn kept writing on the blackboard and explaining his theories, keeping his back to the class. Obviously, not many people were following his discourse. Draco hissed the second time Daphne passed him a note. Without even bothering to read it, he tossed it aside with a very clear gesture, hoping she would get the point for once in her pathetic life. Blaise rolled his eyes but said nothing. From the other end of the class, Pansy Parkinson was glaring at her ex-best friend with hate. Draco had seen it, and he still could not figure out how the hell Pansy still gave a fuck about him, after everything he had done to her. She was definitely much more stupid than he ever thought. Drifting away from Slughorn's explanation, he started thinking of everything that was going on in his life. His main preoccupation was, of course, the state of his parents. Unfortunately, it did not seem something he could take care of. There was absolutely no way he could find a way to help, and the pain of knowing so was horribly excruciating for him. He thought of the last time he had gone to Azkaban to see them. Lucius had walked in first, and Draco could still see a shadow of what his father had been in the figure standing in front of him. Lucius Malfoy was not completely broken. A tiny twinkle of hope lit up inside of him, but it quickly faded away when his mother walked in. Narcissa was no longer the vivacious, beautiful woman he remembered. She was, instead, a random body with random eyes that couldn't even recognize her son.
Then, of course, was the fact that he had become persona non-grata in 99 % of the magic world. His last name weighted down on him like a stone. And he was conscious he would pay for his family's actions during the rest of his insignificant life. For a moment, he wished Snape's plan had failed. He wished he could have killed Dumbledore. If so, then Potter would have probably annihilated him as vengeance. Or he would have suffered the dementors' kiss and would not be able to feel anything else anymore. That would have been nice. And he wouldn't be a burden for Blaise anymore. Draco felt extremely guilty. And extremely weak. But he couldn't help hanging onto Blaise, even if he guessed how painful that was for his friend. He had known for years that Blaise felt something for him. Something that could not be treated openly as normal friendship. It did not exactly bother him; but it was, indeed, problematic. Every time he saw how Blaise suppressed one of his impulses towards him, Draco felt like a complete manipulator. He had, of course, given him hints of his total heterosexuality, but somehow, he knew it was not enough. And to know he was hurting the only friend he had left was awful.
-Psst!
He rolled his eyes. Daphne was on a roll that day. Blaise gave him a sympathetic look before purposely ignoring Daphne. But they both knew she wouldn't give up so easily. At the end of the class, she pushed in front of Blaise to face Draco.
-Are you going to ignore me forever? –she crossed her arms on her chest.
-I wouldn't even dream of such felicity, Daphne –he smiled dangerously.
-Well… Fine –she frowned, confused-. Because I want to talk to you. I need to know what you're going to wear.
-What?!
-At the Ball –she rolled her eyes-. I have to get a dress that matches.
-The Ball? –it sounded like a profanity, coming out of his lips- What fucking Ball?
-The Ball we have every year at Hogwarts –she snorted-. You know, the one you said you'd take me to.
-I said that? –he gave a questioning look at Blaise, but his friend simply shrugged.
-Last year, remember? –she raised an eyebrow.
-Not really. Oh, wait. I think I do.
-Okay… -she smiled.
-You made me say it while I was fucking you, didn't you? –he said in a voice loud enough so the rest of the class could hear.
-Shh! –her eyes widened in anger.
-You should have known I wasn't being rational back then, Daphne –he laughed at her face as he picked up his books from the table and started walking towards the door.
-Rational? –she stuttered.
-Well, nobody rational could fuck you, sweetheart.
The class filled up with gasps, which were immediately followed by exploding fits of laughter. Daphne just stood there, feeling how everyone around her was laughing at her, with her fists closed tight.
-Boy, you're fucked… -she muttered to herself.
-Mister Malfoy –he recognized her cold voice instantly.
-Yes, Minerva? –he turned around.
-Please come to my office. There are some matters I'd like to discuss with you.
Blaise and Draco exchanged concerned looks. Minerva didn't wait for an answer, as she started heading towards her office. Once she was out of hearing range, Blaise elbowed him on the side.
-Sounds to me like she wants some action –he grinned.
-Mate, if she was fifty years younger and I was fifty years older…
They laughed at the same time. Draco shook his head and patted his friend on the back before following Minerva's steps. Blaise watched him walk away, until he turned right and left his vision field. His grin subsided then, and sadness, once again, spread over his features like a shadow.
He knocked only once and immediately heard her voice. He walked in, recognizing the old Headmaster's office. Severus Snape had left it exactly like Albus Dumbledore had had it, and Minerva had kept it this way; 'probably as a way of honouring that stupid old man', Draco thought. He did not wait for her offer, and sat down in front of her desk.
-You wanted to see me.
-That's right, Draco. Would you like some tea?
-You're offering me tea? –his left eyebrow rose.
Minerva sighed and rubbed her temples parsimoniously. It was too much. Everything that had befallen her was taking her down, and she had too much in her hands to simply let go. She leant back against her chair and observed the student in front of her, narrowing her eyes. Draco stood her stare impassibly.
-If you ever tell anyone I offered you alcohol I'm going to deny it, and given both our current social statuses, no one will believe you.
-Fair enough, Minerva –he gave her a crooked smile.
She opened the drawer at her right and took a bottle of firewhiskey and a couple glasses. She filled them up and handed one to Draco, who pretended to observe and analyze the colour of the beverage as if he was an expert on the subject. The poor idiot.
-How are you, Draco?
-I'm alright.
-Seriously?
-My hands are suffering the long-lasting effect of cauldron-scrubbing, but yes, I guess you could say I'm quite alright.
-How many days of detention do you have left? –she asked.
-Only three –he grinned, as if it was a personal triumph.
-I never asked you how the visit to Azkaban went.
-I attributed it to your formal courtesy. Obviously, I was wrong.
-How are your parents, Draco? –she formed a triangle with the tips of her fingers.
-Like the rest of the Azkaban prisoners, Minerva.
She knew he was going to refuse to talk about this matter any longer. All hopes of finally breaking him and picking up the pieces were gone now, as she watched him gently swing the half-full glass, making the liquor inside dance rhythmically. Another sigh escaped her thin lips before she attacked the matter she had called him in for.
-As you know, Severus Snape had no family.
-No big surprise there –he frowned.
-It took some time but his will has finally been read and legally processed.
-Oh? –his voice dripped disinterest.
-Everything he owned belongs to you now, Draco.
She drank slowly from her glass as she watched the boy's expression change gradually. Maybe she had been wrong and he could still be saved, somehow. Probably to someone else, he would have still looked cold, but she was too old to fool.
-All his possessions (excuse me, your possessions), are in his room and office. Here's the key –she handed him a tiny gold key-. And seeing as nobody needs to use those rooms, you can dispose of them until next year. You know where they are, don't you?
-Yes –he answered before swallowing hard.
-Very well, then. You may go now.
Draco stood up calmly and put the key in his pocket. He nodded at Minerva and left the office walking straight as a pin. As he walked through the halls, Blaise spotted him and followed him.
-Draco, mate, what did she want? –he asked once he caught up with him.
-Not now, Blaise –he kept walking forward, not even bothering to look at his friend.
Blaise stopped walking and let him go away, wondering why the hell his friend looked so distant. Once Draco found Snape's office, he had serious difficulties to put the key in the keyhole, for his hands were shaking so much he had to try a couple times before he actually made it. The door closed behind him with a soft clicking noise.
-Lumos.
Snape's spell was still efficient. The second Draco's wand lit up, the several rows of candles all over the place did as well. He had seen his teacher's office many times before, but had never paid much attention to the details. The sober, dark wood table presided the place, a piece of parchment still resting on it. At the right, many shelves containing hundreds of books. At his left, cabinets with potion ingredients, some of them so rare he had never seen them in his life. The whole place smelled like dust; it had been closed since Severus' death. He opened the door which he knew led to Severus' room, where he had never set foot before. He had imagined the place to be a gothic sanctuary, with black velvet drapes to protect the Slytherin head teacher from the rays of sunlight. On the contrary, a very moderately furnished room appeared before his eyes. Feeling his throat tighten at the sight of Severus' personal place, he took a circular look at the room. The walls could not be seen, for they were completely covered with more shelves, which contained more books. That was no surprise. No one could have expected Severus Snape to have a secret fondness for Quidditch. Next to the single bed, there was small glass table, where some more candles shone, illuminating the two photographs in black and white, placed side by side. The first one, he recognized immediately. He had asked Snape to join him in the picture during his sixteenth birthday, where all of his parents' acquaintances had congregated. Snape's face was as unruffled as usual, but a sparkle of pride shone in his dark eyes.
That was, probably, the most expected moment in Draco's post-war life. The moment when the knot in his throat would loosen up and finally allow him to confess himself. It was almost a happy moment, when he felt his nasal conducts tighten and tears bloom in his eyes. He was already crying profusely when he spotted the second photograph. The woman in it, he had never seen. But, even though the picture was in black and white, he was certain those eyes had been emerald green. Just like the eyes of the baby she was holding in her arms.
Draco started to get dizzy. He had to sit down and inhale heavily to avoid fainting right there. Both pictures seemed to stare at him from the bedside table. He looked at himself in the first picture. What a fucking idiot. Standing proudly, there, as if he had ever done anything of value. All those people were worth something: that Lily Evans, she had died to protect her son; that stupid Potter had risked everything to save their world, to save them all. And then of course, there was Severus. The Severus he had dined with so many times in Malfoy Manor, convinced he was his closest friend, and also his father's. Just a traitor. But what a traitor. Now that no other Voldemort followers were there to retaliate on him, he could finally say it: the greatest man he had ever known had lived, slept, written and loved those same pictures in that exact room. And, however unworthy he was of the affection Severus had professed him, Draco felt, for the first time in his life, he actually had someone of value to look up to. And he wasn't going to disappoint him. Wherever the fuck he was.