A/N: Oh my! I know I promised to update soon, but my laptop got messed up. When finally got it back, I had go to Switzerland. I'm still in Switzerland, but I wasn't tired (and managed to write a chapter.) I hope you like it. xdarkangeltwinsx edited this chapter! I decided to give them a chapter to themselves. :) I've also been really busy. I'm sorry I didn't get back on ANY reviews. I'll try to be better for this chapter.
As Professor Dumbledore and I strolled through the school grounds, I kept my eyes focused to the grass. My bottom lip was currently bleeding after a good hour of nervously kneading it between my teeth. I didn't know what to make of the situation. Although I wanted nothing more than to ask Dumbledore whether he thought Harry was going to survive, I was afraid of the answer. What if he said no?
"He didn't deserve it," I finally muttered. The horrible guilty feeling was enough to deal with; I didn't need a heavy silence to accompany it.
"Of course he didn't. Life doesn't always hand you exactly what you want. Still, it isn't your fault. I know I won't convince you. Why should you listen to an old man?" He paused, then looked at me, his eyes surprisingly grave. "Others, however, won't be so quick to dismiss your role in this. Harry has lived through attacks by Voldemort. That Lucius could do this, in comparison, seems absurd. People need to have someone to blame. It isn't always easy to see the truth."
"What do you mean?" I asked, adding, "Sir," as more of an afterthought. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at this, but didn't comment. The same man I would have been referring to as an old crackpot several days ago, I was now addressing as Sir. It was bizarre.
"In general, not many were too… enthusiastic of your sudden get-together. Am I right?" I nodded. "It'll be simpler for them if they tell themselves that it was your fault. As I said, sometimes people would rather believe a convenient lie than embrace a difficult truth." My eyes widened, and I rooted to the ground. I hadn't even thought about how others would react. Of course, it had been in my mind that the Slytherins wouldn't welcome me with open arms. Gods, the Gryffindors must have been furious. I wouldn't be surprised if either Weasley or Granger were desperate to kill me.
"I don't blame them." My voice came out as a saddened whisper. Currently, I wanted to do nothing more than give up and curl up into a ball. Somehow, that seemed out of the question. "What class should I go to?" My question interrupted a remark from him that was sure to tell me that I shouldn't say this was my fault.
"Everyone is in the Great Hall eating lunch." I was hungry. At least I could get the worst over with at once. It would be torturous walking into each class and facing glaring eyes. When everyone was in one room, I could get it all over with at once. That wasn't to say that I expected everyone to stop staring after one time, but the initial reaction had to be the worst, right?
The doors to the Great Hall were closed, and I sighed, knowing I had to do it. Professor Dumbledore's hand lay lightly on my shoulder. "I'm not sure if the comment's appropriate, but, in any case, good luck."
"Thank you." I gave a stressed smile, and pushed the doors open. It was like something out of a nightmare. Heads turned, and for a moment, the room was impossibly silent. Every set of eyes seemed to narrow and glare furiously at me. As I passed, attempting to reach my seat at the Slytherin table, people would bunch together and whisper, their voices down low. Still, I caught snatches.
"Who the fuck does he think-"
"Dumbledore let him back-"
"Nothing but a murder-"
"It's absolutely sick-" It was difficult to tune it out, but that didn't keep me from trying. I wasn't used to being treated like this. It was indeed true to say that I had been knocked off of my pedestal. I wouldn't have minded as much if I at least had Harry by my side.
My eyes focused on nothing but my seat. The moment I approached, others edged away as if they were afraid I was infected with some horrible contagious disease. My jaw quivered, and with some difficulty, I managed to steady it. Tears threatened to fall, but I stubbornly shoved them back. I didn't want to even think about how the Slytherins would react if I started sobbing in front of them.
"Look who is back," Pansy spat, her eyes avoiding me. I was beneath her now; after what I did, I shouldn't have even qualified as a Slytherin. It wasn't as if I could sit with the Gryffindors, though.
"Gods, all we need is our common room infested with the likes of that traitorous bastard." That came from Nott. They were ignoring me, and I could deal with that. For once, I could truly say that I didn't give a damn about their insults. I couldn't give up loving Harry if the world depended on it. Let them call me a traitorous bastard.
"Guess he didn't die after all. Shame." Daphne twirled her hair, a look of disgust on her face.
"Well, at least one good thing can still come from this." Pansy leaned forward, as if she were about to share an intimate secret. Her smirk widened, and for less than a second, she met my gaze with a triumphant one. "We can still hope for Potter." That insult-deflecting bubble vanished. They could insult me all they wanted, but I wouldn't let them rejoice in Harry's death.
"Leave Harry the fuck out of this, Pansy." Her beady eyes gleamed, and she met me with that satisfied smirk.
"Oh, touchy, touchy." She fully met me with her gaze. Others smirked as well; it was obvious to see that she had by some spoken or unspoken agreement become the leader of the others. "Remember, we don't want to mention precious Pot-face. Draco gets a little cranky about it." Crabbe guffawed, and the rest let out noises of mild amusement.
"I guess you're just bitter because I didn't really like you back. 'Oh Dray!'" I mimicked, mocking her disgustingly puppy-like eyes.
"As if!" She forced out an incredibly fake laugh. "Why would I ever like a guy who wears eyeliner?"
"I seem to recall you telling me that I looked sexy in it," I challenged through gritted teeth. Several people around her cocked an eyebrow questioningly. Gods forbid Pansy like me in eyeliner like Potter did!
"Obviously, your father knocked all sense out of you. Well, I guess you didn't have sense to begin with, anyway. Anyone in their right mind would want Potter dead. I can't wait for that dream to come true."
My hand went to reach for my wand, but just as my fingers wrapped around the handle, I suddenly stopped. This was exactly what they wanted. They planned just to find out how much damage I could inflict on myself. Well, I wasn't planning to play their little game. Taking unsteady, deep breaths, I relaxed, and eased my hand out of my pocket.
"You haven't said much, Blaise." Daphne raised her eyebrows expectantly. "You're not planning on sticking up for the idiot, are you?" Was it foolish to hope that perhaps Blaise wouldn't insult me along with the rest?
"Gods no. I was busy trying not to vomit. This whole situation is ludicrous. We should have realized something was wrong when he actually enjoyed wearing those Muggle clothes." Of course it was foolish. I wasn't planning to give them the satisfaction of running away, though. It was one thing to be wearing Muggle clothing and steal away into the forest. I had done that as a dare. This was completely different. It was a matter of pride. It wouldn't only determine how the Slytherins treated me, but how the whole school saw me. Somehow I'd have to force food down my throat and endure the next while.
Just ignoring them made them change topic. If I looked down at my food and refused to react – although I was sure that they had seen my hands clench angrily – they had no reason to continue trying to provoke me. Other than a few moments where I glanced up to find several people glaring at me, the rest of lunch seemed eventless in comparison.
Transfiguration was first after lunch. Thankfully, I didn't have that class with any Gryffindors. I was fairly sure the moment Weasley was within a meter of me, I'd be sent to the Hospital Wing faster than I could mutter "Expelliarmus." Instead, I could content myself with the furious glares of Ravenclaws. I hoped that with all of their keen minds, they were more prone to verbal bashing than any other type. The last thing I needed was to be turned into a ferret. Again.
I entered the classroom, looking ahead and holding my back straight. At the moment, I would have quite preferred to shrink under an invisibility cloak, however. I hadn't realized how many fine nuances of disgust, horror, and anger there were until now. A voice in the back of my mind was telling me to stay calm and avoid a mental breakdown. It was a miracle that I wasn't mad yet. As I took a shaky breath, an image flashed before my eyes – Harry lying in a pool of his own blood, eyes vacant. My feet halted for the briefest moment. Still, I continued to my seat. Since when had the front of the classroom been so far away? With another blink, there was another image. He had scars criss-crossing his face, and his eyes were now closed. I was beginning to forget the exact hue of those captivating emeralds.
My feet halted again, and I wobbled unsteadily, my legs suddenly melting beneath me. I clutched the desk for support. The best thing to do now would be to simply calm down. But I couldn't do that. It wasn't until now that I even noticed that I had gone too far. I clutched Professor McGonagall's desk and barely kept a whimper from escaping my lips. Every jeer suddenly swelled in volume, several faces blurring together and others jutting out. They looked grotesque, and my stomach churned violently. I gagged a little into my mouth, and would have certainly heaved had it not been for the all too convenient appearance of Professor McGonagall.
"What are you doing? I do not want to walk into a classroom to find students behaving like savages. Now calm yourselves before I take points from both of your Houses. Are you alright, Mr. Malfoy?"
Before I could answer, Pansy's voice chirped in. "I'm sure he's just feeling a little lovesick, Professor." Her voice was full of malice, and she shot me a sneer.
Several Ravenclaws looked ready to comment angrily when McGonagall said sharply, "Ms. Parkinson, I suggest you keep your mouth shut before you get you and your classmates into trouble. I have no difficulty handing out detentions. Mr. Malfoy, do you need to go to the –"
"I'm fine," I tersely muttered. Somehow, I made it to my seat.
"Very well. Today we shall be working on Transfiguring your quills into roses…" She went on, explaining the precise pronunciation, exact movement, but I tuned out, incapable of concentrating. How could I focus properly?
"I don't want to have to work with him." Several snickers resounded around the classroom, and I looked up, wondering what exactly was going on. To my immediate displeasure, the complaint came from none other than Blaise.
"Mr. Zabini, I am fed up with your excuses. Everyone shall stop this nonsense right now. And fifteen points from Slytherin." He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. "And don't you say another word about it. Get to work."
"I can't believe she's forcing me to work with you," he grumbled under his breath.
"Don't worry, I'm sure I'll have just as much fun as you do."
"Do you know how to even do the spell?" It was different than the retort I expected, so I merely gave him a blank stare. "For Salazar's Sake, I'm working with an idiot!" He took out his wand and proceeded to cast a spell, the name of which I didn't hear, due to the unpleasant hum of Pansy's voice.
"Only an idiot would fall for Potter, Blaise." She spoke as if I wasn't there. "Then again, he's useful for something; Potter's on his deathbed." She was never planning to drop it.
At that point, several Ravenclaws angrily interrupted. The noise seemed to swell. Once more, and the images flashed before my eyes like a moving picture. Thoughts popped up, crowding my mind, screaming at me. Harry was going to die. It was my fault. I had fallen for Potter. They blended with the jeers that even McGonagall's shrill voice couldn't talk over. Steps brought the people – with their distorted faces – closer to me. They pressed in until their faces were all but slowly suffocating me. With a frantic shove forward, I pushed through, breaking into a run. McGonagall called me back. Others laughed, smirks evident in their voices, yelling me forward. Still, I stumbled and broke free, black patches flashing before my eyes. I knew I was out of the room, safe from that, but I ran anyway, shaking my head to get rid of the persistent, chasing voices. Suddenly, my legs crumpled, and something hit me hard against the temple.
XxXxXxXxXxX
Twice to the Hospital wing in a week – I deserved a medal of disgrace. It was absolutely shameful. And of all reasons: I had fainted. Upon opening my eyes, a face came into focus. It was a face I'd much rather not see. A furious-looking Gryffindor with bushy brown hair glared down at me. Did Granger not even have the decency to give me enough to recuperate before she yelled at me about Harry?
"How dare you? How could you?" She didn't sound as angry as annoyed. Was she wringing her hands? I was thoroughly confused. "You could have gotten yourself killed! You can't just storm out of a classroom like that." There was a moment of silence as I tried to gather my thoughts.
"Excuse me?"
"You fell down an entire flight of stairs, Malfoy." Was she not planning to interrogate me on what happened to Harry? I expected a hissy fit, but not about my wellbeing. "You aren't even going to try to defend yourself?"
"I must have hid my head fairly hard."
"What?"
"You're not yelling at me or sobbing about how I used Harry. It's what everyone else is doing." I could barely say it. "Maybe I've just gone mad."
"You haven't gone mad." For a moment, her voice hushed to a whisper, as if she were telling me a very important secret. There was a gleam in her eyes, and I didn't exactly trust her right now. "I, well, I didn't exactly trust you. So, with a little spellwork..."
"With a little spellwork...what?"
"Let's just say it'd be visible if you had betrayed Harry or harmed him purposefully."
I couldn't believe her!
"You preformed one of those trust jinxes, or whatever they're called?"
"So what if I did? At least you have someone who knows you didn't plot to do Harry in. That's something, isn't it?" She held her chin high, her were eyes sharp and aware, and lips tight and pursed together thoughtfully. She did have a point, but I wasn't about to admit that to her.
"I don't see Weasley or Weaslette here with you," I challenged.
"Ron doesn't want to hear it. He's being stubborn, as always." She muttered the last sentence under her breath, more to herself than me. "As for Ginny, she'll come around eventually. Ron will, too, don't get me wrong. I mean, you can't deny logic." She seemed so sure. I, for one, was sceptical. It was Weasley we were discussing, after all.
"Right. And I assume the entire Gryffindor house is just willing to accept me with open arms." I automatically scoffed and dramatically rolled my eyes. Her face momentarily gained a worried look.
"I'm sure people like Neville and Luna wouldn't hesitate to believe me."
"Great, a first class idiot, a Loony, and a Mudblood are the only others that believe that I'm innocent. That's comforting." At the moment, I could probably do to be grateful. There were a mere handful of people that currently didn't hate me, and I doubted I'd be able to survive long without a single human to talk to.
"Fine, then, if you want to be left alone..." It was obvious that she was offended. She got up and started to leave, but I reached out and grabbed her robe sleeve.
"Wait." Great, I was apologizing to Granger. Still, it'd be what Harry would want me to do. I could comfort myself with that thought. "I'm sorry. You didn't mean to-" I cut off, staring at her shocked expression. "It isn't meant to be such a big deal. I was simply saying sorry. You know, I have done it before."
"It isn't that. What's on your wrist?" She sounded horrified, and I belatedly shoved my robe sleeve back down so that it covered my wrist.
"It's...nothing."
"Oh, come on, Malfoy, I'm not an idiot. It's clearly not 'nothing'."
"It doesn't matter," I muttered through gritted teeth. The last thing I needed was to explain what had happened. Obviously, I wasn't exactly mentally stable at the moment. For Salazar's sake, I would probably burst into tears if I even tried. It was ridiculous.
"You got that when you and Harry..." She trailed off, uncertain what to say. It was rather like my reaction with Dumbledore. "I had an idea on how you might sway a few people to believe the truth." The random change of topic was unexpected, but most certainly welcome.
"Hmm?"
"The only time you dressed in Muggle clothes was for a dare, but I think people kind of saw it as a you-and-Harry thing. If you were really the horrible Death Eater everyone says you are, you'd never think of wearing that. It'll give everyone a run for their money." Great, people were calling me a "horrible Death Eater". Still, her thought was – as much as I hated admitting it – fairly good. Perhaps I could learn to grudgingly accept Granger.
"Alright, I'll give it a go."
At that precise moment, Madame Pomfrey came in. "Now, now, Mr. Malfoy, are you up?" She shook her head, and made a small tsk-ing sound. "If you'd only just sat in your seat like McGonagall had told you, we wouldn't be going through this right now." Great, first Granger lectures me, and now a Medi-Witch. "You can go to dinner." She looked at me for a moment as if she expected me to protest, complain that I was still sore – a spark of that old Draco within me – but when none came, lifted her nose up and walked away.
"Wonderful. I guess that I'll just head up to the Common Room, change, and then come down in time." It felt awkward being civilized toward her. Still, I could yet again reassure myself that it was what Harry would have wanted. Still wanted. I swallowed and blinked several times in quick succession as my eyes burned.
"Right." Brushing past her, I left the room. The hallways were filled with people, but I kept my focus to the floor, attempting to let my thoughts blare in my mind and drown out everything else. It wasn't completely successful, but somehow it worked. Soon enough, I was climbing up the staircase and into the boys' dormitory.
There was only a slight problem. I didn't have any Muggle clothes. Looking over, I saw Blaise's luggage open, and without caring if it wasn't respectful, dug into it. The pants and shirt were crinkled, but with a spell or two, I managed to make them look decent. There was only one thing left to get: eyeliner. Somehow, I felt my outfit wasn't complete without it. Perhaps it had something to do with how much Harry loved it. Gods, I was truly a sap.
I felt the tube at the very bottom, and yanked upward, pulling with me a tie. But the striped colours weren't Slytherin. The red and scarlet indicated a rather un-Slytherin House, in fact. What the hell was Blaise doing with a Gryffindor tie? Whatever his motives, I this couldn't mean anything good. Sighing, I shoved it back to the bottom, and applied a thin layer of eyeliner, deciding to worry about that later.
For a moment, I looked at myself in the mirror and made sure my tie was crooked. With a deep breath, I made my way downstairs. I would be filing in with the rest of the crowd, for once, which was nice. I was tired of having everyone staring at me at once. This way, at least, only some people would be conscious of my choice.
The moment I people came into sight, though, I caught my breath. Some people had looks of disgust – which by now, I had even gotten used to – and others merely shook their heads. Most were shocked though. Their eyebrows tilted up, and they cocked their heads questioningly, unsure what to make of the whole situation. I really didn't know myself.
"Malfoy." I turned around to see Granger beaming. My sigh turned to an irritated scowl as she practically sauntered over here, looking cheerier than fit the situation. "You're going to sit with us."
"What? No way." This hadn't been part of the plan. "There's no way I'm sitting with Weasley."
"Come on, you're worse off sitting with the Slytherins. They practically all want to hex you. And I'm sure they'll give you no rest about your little episode in Transfiguration." I couldn't deny that.
"Still, I'm in enough trouble as it is. I don't need help from a Mud-" I managed to stop myself, biting my tongue. She was the only person who even trusted me at the moment. It wasn't difficult for her to guess what I was about to say, and she shot me a nasty glance.
"Fine, then. Forget it. Don't know what I was expecting from a Malfoy anyway," she shot back.
"Alright, I'll sit with you," I snapped back before she could walk away. "I'm just not going to enjoy it." That irritating grin spread across her face, and I followed her, arms crossed over my chest. Gods, what had I gotten myself into?
A/N: So, what did you think? Pwease review! I have some fresh milk and cookies... :)
IMPORTANT QUESTION: So, umm, I realized that I messed up the plot. This would have to be fifth year, and with the given circmstances, Umbridge is not an apprpriate DADA teacher. Therefore, I want your feedback. In your review, you can tell me who you want to be the teacher. Or you can PM me. ALSO, I'm putting up a poll on my profile. The most mentioned person wins. :) x