Disclaimer: I don't own HP or VM.
A/N With only a few episodes left of Veronica this season, and little chance of renewal (I hate to think it, we must face our fears), let us hearken back to a simpler time, when Ronnie and Wallace were BFF and Logan was a poor little rich boy. (Not that any of that has changed...)
"House elves, Draco?" Lucius Malfoy said. He arched his brow and looked at his only child. This was not how he wanted to start his week. Lucius had traveled to Hogwarts that morning to speak to his son; Dumbledore and Snape had generously allowed them the use of the potions room for their private council. Lucius was amazed that he was having to speak with Draco about what had to be the stupidest thing he had ever done, and for a hot-tempered boy like Draco, that was saying something. Did he have no honor? The Malfoy family was one of the wealthiest, oldest and most influential wizarding families. Lucius prided himself on his ties to the Ministry and his upstanding reputation, and he spread a lot of money around to ensure it stayed that way. Draco should be heralded as a prince; he should be primed to take his place at his father's side, and carry on the grand traditions of their pureblooded line. And he was caught staging house elf fights? Of all the ridiculous... This was not going to look good.
"Really, Father, the whole thing's been blown way out of proportion," Draco said. "It was just a bit of fun. You know how accommodating house elves are. They probably had a blast. Surely it'll blow over." He gave his father what he hoped was an innocent smile. In truth, he was worried. His father's temper was unpredictable, to put it mildly, and his mother's nerves were not much better. It had seemed like a bit of a lark at the time. The foolish things were happy to oblige anything he asked, and these days, he needed all the kicks he could get. It wasn't like he would really let them hurt one another, not too badly anyway. And they were only house elves. Well, it was a moot point, because the house elf fights he had staged with his Slytherin friends had somehow wound up on the cover of The Daily Prophet. He looked like an sadist, and it made his family look negligent. No, this was not good at all.
"Wipe that smirk off of your face," Lucius snapped. Obviously Draco's innocent look needed some practice. "I am not a Hufflepuff girl; your charms aren't going to work on me. Do you have any idea how ridiculous you've made us look? Even people who despise house elves are calling for your head. How am I supposed to spin this?"
"You'll figure a way; you always do," Draco said, trying to sound disinterested. In truth, his father scared him more than a little bit.
"Watch yourself, young man," Lucius said, his eyes flashing. "Remember who you are speaking to. Count your lucky stars I don't throw you to the wolves, and that I actually care about our good name. Your mother and I are coming in next weekend for Hogsmeade. You will meet us there, and we're going to speak with some nice reporters. We are going to fix this, and you will stop embarrassing this family. Is that clear? I've given you some leeway in the last year because of that Weasley girl. But no more, do you hear me?"
Draco bit back a nasty retort and nodded. That Weasley girl. His father, of course, had been less than thrilled by his relationship with Ginny, being such fierce rivals with her father. There was no love lost between the Malfoys and Weasleys - hadn't that been some of the thrill of dating Ginny? Draco knew that his father's influence in the Ministry had waned since Arthur Weasley became Minister of Magic, and it made his father more irritable and unpredictable. Arthur Weasley was not swayed by money and status. Lucius had been sympathetic when Ginny died, at least outwardly, but it hadn't been long before he was hinting what a nice catch the Parkinson girl was. As if there was any comparison. Ginny made Pansy look like Lockhart's hag.
"You'll do well to remember your place, Draco," his father continued. "Until you graduate from Hogwarts you are still under my rule. I know you like to play Lord of the Manor here, but you are in the presence of your father, and I am less than pleased."
"Yes, father," Draco mumbled.
"Very well," Lucius said, clapping his hands together. "I expect to see you bright and early Saturday morning. Put on some nice robes and comb your hair. Your mother has been very worried about your behavior. You've been distant to her. I expect you to aleve her fears on this matter."
"Yes, father," he repeated.
Satisfied, at least for now, Lucius gave his son one more disgusted look and swept out of the room. Draco thought he heard him speaking to Snape, but by the time he left the room, his father was gone. Dumbledore and Snape had already read him the riot act; he had detention for two weeks, and he had to serve it by helping the house elves with their chores. Disgusting work, and humiliating, but at least his father was out of his hair for the time being. Draco feared Lucius Malfoy much more than Snape or Dumbledore.
O O O O O O
"Draco's an idiot," Hermione said. She, Harry and Professor Lupin were sitting in the otherwise empty Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, discussing recent events. "He's an enemy to S.P.E.W., too."
"Hermione, everyone's an enemy to spew," said Harry, laughing, and waving away her coming protest that 'it's S.P.E.W., not spew.' "I didn't think you even did that nonsense anymore. Didn't Hagrid convince you they like being slaves?"
"They don't like it," Hermione said stubbornly. "They're brainwashed, that's all. Anyway, yes, I've given up S.P.E.W., at least for now, but that doesn't mean it's okay for Voldemort, Jr., to stage gladiator fights with them. This is exactly the kind of behavior that led to house elves becoming downtrodden in the first place, and completely indicative of our pureblood or nothing society. I'm not surprised he got caught, though. Like I said, he's an idiot."
Lupin smiled at her. "While I don't exactly disagree with the sentiment, you shouldn't underestimate the Malfoys, Hermione. Draco's a boy, but he's a talented wizard. And no, he's not winning humanitarian awards, but he's not stupid. He just did a juvenile, stupid thing. And watch where you're throwing around 'Voldemort, Jr.,' too. Don't let people hear you say that. It's not funny and it would not be appreciated. I thought you three used to be friends."
"Have you been hiding under a rock the last year?" Hermione snapped. "We're not friends anymore."
"I know, but you used to be," said Lupin patiently. "Doesn't that count for anything?"
"About as much as it counts with you and Peter Pettigrew."
"Hermione!" Harry admonished. "That's enough."
"Sorry, Professor," she mumbled.
"It's fine," Lupin said, eyes dancing. He knew better than to take offense to Hermione's short fuse. "Just a little disagreement among friends, Harry. And a reminder to myself never to defend Draco Malfoy in Hermione's presence."
"Well, he is a bit of a ferret," Harry allowed. "I think the less said about him the better."
"Agreed," Lupin said. "Now don't you scholars have Charms? Away, onto your higher learning."
Harry and Hermione did have Charms coming up. They shared their class with the Ravenclaws, which was usually fine. They didn't talk to Hermione, but they didn't talk about her either, at least in her presence. Hermione had a harder time sharing the classroom with her fellow Gryffindors, especially Ron and Dean Thomas. Dean smirked at her and gave her a jaunty little salute, but Ron ignored her. Of course.
He did briefly corner Harry after class. Since she was rarely away from Harry's side, Ron was forced to include her in the conversation.
"Hi," Ron started lamely. He seemed unable to say much more.
"Hi," Harry returned. Whatever her own problems with Ron were, it pained Hermione anew to see these boys with nothing to say to one another.
"Brilliant conversation, gents," she tried gamely. "Are we going to ask about the weather next?"
Ron smiled briefly at her. "I think it's rather cold."
She nodded. It certainly was.
"Harry, I just wanted to tell you that my parents asked after you," Ron shouldered on. "My mother, especially. She asked me if it would be alright if she wrote to you. I wanted to check with you first, just so you wouldn't be surprised."
Harry fought down tears, his usual reaction at any mention of the Weasley family. They had been his surrogate family for five years. When Ginny died, their break from him had hurt more than anything else. He knew Hermione was probably bristling beside him - she had received no such entreaty - but it was impossible for him to refuse. However much their distance had hurt him, he knew their sorrow had been greater. They had, after all, lost a daughter and a sister. Perhaps it was time for them all to start fresh.
"I'd like that," Harry said.
"Good," Ron said. For a moment, he grinned at Harry the way he used to, then seemed to remember himself. "I'll let her know. She'll be thrilled, Harry. Thanks."
"It was nice seeing her the other day," Harry said, not mentioning Ginny's memorial. "I'll look forward to her letters."
Ron nodded again, said goodbye to Hermione and walked off in the direction of the dungeons.
"Wow, that almost passed for pleasant," Hermione said. "Imperius curse, do you think?"
"He's not exactly been nasty the past year," said Harry. He had no idea why he was defending Ron, but sometimes Hermione's bitterness was too much for him.
"No, he hasn't been anything," she replied. "And that's worse, somehow. No matter; it was nice of Mrs. Weasley."
"Yeah, I miss her," Harry said, and closed the subject. Despite what Fred and George said at the memorial, there had been no olive branch extended to Hermione and Harry had no wish to add to her discomfort. "Well, Miss Granger, we're homework free for the evening. What are our plans?"
"Harry, we have a ton of work we could do. That Potions essay isn't going to write itself."
"Hermione, that's not due for three weeks," Harry said, shaking his head. "Please tell me we're not going to waste the night on Snape. Surely there's something else we could do. Anything else, I beg you."
"Well," she started, "maybe we could visit Dobby. See how he and the other elves are after the Draco fiasco."
"That's not a bad idea, but you know the other house elves don't like you to come into the kitchen, not after you hid those mittens in the cupcakes you baked for them."
"That was two years ago," Hermione protested. "I haven't been back since; surely they've forgiven me by now."
"Don't bet on it," said Harry. "They've got long memories. I'll check on Dobby later. There's little chance that he was involved anyway; there's no way he would obey Draco. He hates him too much. He's afraid of him, too, but he would have stayed out of his way."
"Would that we all could," said Hermione. "Okay, we'll visit Hagrid instead. But tomorrow we are working on that essay."
"Deal."
O O O O O
"Draco, what did your father say?" asked Blaise. "You weren't with him very long. Did he think it was funny? Are you off the hook?"
"Well, he probably did think it was funny, although he'd never admit it," said Draco. "He hates house elves with a passion; if it had been that good-for-nothing Dobby, he'd have probably given me a medal. Anyway, I'm not exactly off the hook, but I'm not really in trouble, either. He wants me to make a public apology at Hogsmeade this weekend. In front of reporters, so he can get plenty of good press out of it. You know how he is. Embarrassed the family, blah blah, disgrace to the name of Malfoy, blah blah, when are you marrying Miss Parkinson blah blah blah. The usual."
"Did he really say that?" asked Ron.
"Not the part about Pansy, thank God," said Draco. "Then I would be forced to tell him I dumped her sorry butt for good, and I'd get him angry again."
"Well, keep my name out of it," said Blaise. "Don't tell him I'm dating her or he'll hate me, too. He's gonzo about her, isn't he? Why doesn't your dad just marry her and get it over with?"
"He probably would," Draco said darkly. "Or at least sleep with her. He doesn't know she's a complete slag, and about as likely to be my future wife as Eloise Midgen."
"That is my girlfriend, Draco," Blaise reproached. "And it's not like you haven't dated her, and recently, too. You're a bit too harsh on her sometimes, I think. It's Pansy; she's okay."
"Whatever," said Draco. "She has her uses. She's your girlfriend this week, anyway. We'll see how long that lasts." Blaise glared at Draco, but said nothing.
"So you just have to publicly apologize?" said Ron. "You got off easy. I mean, seriously, what a stupid thing to do. Mean, too."
"Oh, don't go all Gryffindor on me," Draco said. "I know you would have thought it was funny, especially when that one stupid elf started hitting his head against the wall halfway through to punish himself. Good times."
"That was funny," said Blaise. "I'm just glad you were the only one captured on film."
"Yeah, and you're lucky he didn't turn your butt in," said Ron. "Theo, Crabbe and Goyle, too. Couldn't you have done something moderately more productive with your time, besides torturing house elves?"
"We didn't torture them; they barely got hurt," Draco defended himself. "Honestly, Weasley, I think your time with Granger has seeped into your skull. You sound like you're spouting her idiotic spew crap."
"No way," said Ron. "You know better than that. I just happen to think that as stupid as they are, house elves are pretty nice and helpful, and what you did was kind of messed up. That's all I'm saying."
"Well excuse me, Saint Weasel. I'm telling you, Blaise, he's been hanging out with that mudblood again."
"Don't call her that," Ron said sharply. "What's your problem? You know I hate that mudblood stuff."
"Well, I'm your best friend, so you'd think you'd be used to it by now," Draco said, just as harshly. "Don't worry, Saint Weasel, I won't besmirch the name of the fair Granger. She does that well enough on her own. I think it's time you returned to your tower."
"It's way past," said Ron. "I'll see you guys tomorrow." He stood up and marched out of the Slytherin common room, slamming the door behind him. Draco watched him with narrowed eyes. What the hell was up his ass? He wasn't getting chewed out for nothing more than typical teenage nonsense. And while Ron never joined in the Granger-bashing, at the very least he tolerated it. His time of the month, obviously.
"Must be his time of the month," said Blaise, putting voice to Draco's thoughts. That's disturbing, Draco thought. As if I need to be thinking the same as that idiot. Blaise continued: "Either that, or he can't get Patil to put out. Tell him he can borrow Pansy, if he wants."
"That's disgusting," said Draco.
"I'm just kidding! Seriously, I think it's going to work with her this time."
"You keep thinking that."
O O O O O O
"Harry, please can we go to Hogsmeade?" Hermione begged. "Pretty please with treacle tart on top? I want to see Draco grovel. I need to see Draco grovel."
"It's not a Hogsmeade weekend, Hermione, we can't go and you know that," Harry answered. He and Hermione were sitting next the Gryffindor fireplace early Saturday morning. Hermione had been pleading with Harry for at least a half an hour, but so far Harry was unmoved. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Draco embarrassed - that was always good for a laugh. But it wasn't worth getting in trouble for, and he really hated to see Hermione so vindictive.
"That's what invisibility cloaks are for," she tried again.
"No, Hermione, and that is final," said Harry. "We do not need to sneak out of Hogwarts to see Malfoy get his comeuppance. We can watch that on the Quidditch field."
"Not without you on the team," Hermione said. "He wins all the time now."
"No he doesn't, and I've heard enough about him today. It's not even eight, Hermione, can we please just drop it?"
"Fine," she said. "But I'm going to finish Snape's essay today, then, Saturday or no Saturday."
"Knock yourself out," said Harry, tiring of her pettiness. "You have yourself a fabulous day. I'm going back to bed."
Hermione watched him leave, feeling a little bit ashamed of herself. It wasn't a good idea to drive her only friend away. Oh well, she would make it up to him later. Hopefully after they had read about Draco's humiliation in the Daily Prophet.
Who are you kidding? she asked herself. You know he'll spin this like he spins everything. As if Draco would take your place as school pariah.
She sometimes asked herself if it was wise to hold onto so much bitterness where he was concerned. Once or twice she thought about releasing her anger toward Draco, and then she thought about that cold Slytherin common room. He was as much a suspect as anyone else, and she would not let that go.
The boy in question was standing between his mother and father outside the Three Broomsticks. His mother had given him a little comfort - she was always forgiving of his transgressions - but his father had surveyed him with calculating eyes and hissed to him that he better make this good.
"I want to thank you for being with us today," Lucius said to the twenty-odd reporters gathered before them. He had his arm slung around Draco's shoulders, a foreign concept. "My son is a high-spirited, mischievous boy, but he has a good heart. He knows he made a mistake and would like to make amends. The last year has been difficult for him, as I'm sure you'll all remember, but he is ready to move on and grow up. Draco?"
Draco felt a surge of anger toward his father. He didn't value Draco's "good heart" anymore than he valued honor and fidelity. His mother looked haughty and proud as ever, but there was deep sadness beneath. Draco thought she was embarrassed by his father's show that day. As hard as it was being Lucius's son, it was that much more difficult to be his wife. Draco loved and feared his father, but at the moment he hated him, too. How dare he imply Ginny's death was responsible for his misbehavior? This sudden spite made him feel very reckless.
"Thank you, Father," Draco said, fixing his father with a very fake smile. "I'm very sorry for what I've done, and I've enjoyed working with the elves to make up for my mistake. It is very humbling that so many are willing to forgive my transgression. I'm very thankful to have been given a second chance. And I have some even greater news concerning my father, who I'm sure you'll all agree has been patient with my teen-aged foolery." Lucius looked at Draco strangely. There had been no discussion past his apology; what was he trying to pull? "My father is a very generous man. In order to make some small good come out of my bad, he has agree to donate 10,000 galleons to S.P.E.W., a Hogwarts-based foundation that stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare. This worthy cause will be greatly aided by my father's gift, and I'm so proud I couldn't keep it a secret any longer." Draco started clapping enthusiastically; the reporters quickly joined in. He smirked at the furious, astonished look on his father's face. There was no way he was going to be able to avoid giving Hermione Granger 10,000 galleons for Granger's stupid spew. Draco felt like laughing out loud. This day was turning out very nice indeed. Would he have to pay for this later? Of course, but it was suddenly worth it.
Twenty minutes later, Lucius was still accepting the reporters' accolades for his "generosity." Several suggested another press conference when he gave the check to S.P.E.W. Lucius demurred, but Draco proclaimed it a great idea. He couldn't wait to see everyone's face when they realized it was run by Hermione Granger, scourge of the wizarding world. His good mood faltered a little when he saw the cold fury in his father's eyes. His punishment might turn out even worse then he first thought.
O O O O O O
"Oh my God," Hermione laughed. "I still hate him, but that is the funniest thing I've ever heard." Harry had just filled Hermione in on the events of Hogsmeade; he had sent Hagrid there to spy for them. "I mean, I don't like S.P.E.W. being belittled, cause I know how Draco feels about it, but seriously, this is top notch."
"I thought you'd like it," Harry said, grinning. "I guess it looks like spew is going to be back in business."
"I'm not going to count those galleons yet," Hermione said, "but if he actually comes through, I guess you're right. You're going to have to help me with it, though. And it's S.P.E.W."
"Oh man, I almost wish I had let you sneak us out," Harry said. "I didn't think Draco had this in him. Priceless."
"I wonder what his father did," Hermione said. "It can't have been good. I'm kind of surprised he acted against his father, though. He'll probably take away his broomstick for a week."
O O O O O O
"Crucio!"
Draco writhed on the floor, helpless under his father's spell. As soon as the reporters had cleared, Lucius had whisked Draco and his mother into a room at the Three Broomsticks, cast an imperturable charm the walls, and struck his son across the face.
"You underestimate my wrath, Draco," his father had said. "You know what happens when you disrespect me; when will you learn?"
"It was worth it," Draco said, wiping blood from this lip. He looked at his mother; she sat motionless in a chair, her eyes sad but resolved. He knew she would not help him.
"Wrong answer," said Lucius. He took a deep breath, and then hit his son, his only heir, with the unforgivable curse, something he had never done before. Draco had made him look like a fool, and had cost him 10,000 galleons in the process. This was worth crucio. Draco would not make the same mistake again.
After a moment, he lifted the curse from his screaming son. Draco looked up at him with shattered eyes. Lucius thought he still saw a spark of rebellion in them, but found he couldn't quite cast the curse again. He waved his wand, clearing the bruise and blood from Draco's face. It wouldn't look good to send him back in such a state. "Get yourself together. Say goodbye to your mother. We'll see you at the S.P.E.W. ceremony." With that, Lucius swept out of the room.
Draco was struck dumb by his father's casual tone and exit. Bastard. He was unable to rise from the floor, so his mother leaned down and kissed his cheek. Her eyes begged his forgiveness, and he gave her a small, crooked smile, one he reserved just for her. She left behind his father. When they were both gone, Draco laid down, buried his head in his arms, and cried.