DRACO
"Tess?" he said, turning. She was lying on the ground, her cheek pressed into the dirt and her hand on her back. The part of her shirt around her hand was reddish brown. Suddenly he was on his knees beside her, removing her hand. Yup. The scar was open. He cursed, pulled out his wand, and said, "Mobilicorpus."
Her body rose into the air with his wand. "Father—you opened one of her scars—"
Lucius pulled himself to his feet smoothly, his gray eyes cold. "Isn't that what you want? She's a Mudblood."
"She's a pureblood," Draco shouted. "Ask Henry if you want. Unless he's disowned her in the last five minutes, she's still his daughter!" He cursed again. "Which way to St. Mungo's?"
"Why are you so caring about her all of a sudden?" Lucius asked. He strode towards his son.
"She's a pureblood," Draco said fiercely. "She can help us get rid of all the Mudbloods." He glanced around desperately.
Then it hit him.
Snape.
The teacher had chanted something when he was healing Draco. Something like Vulnera Samptemper.
"You wouldn't happen to know the countercurse for Sectumsempra, do you?" he said to Lucius.
His father hesitated before answering. "No."
Vulnera San . . . San . . .
"Vulnera Sanentur," Draco blurted. He lowered Tess to the grass and crouched. "Vulnera Sanentur . . ." Snape said it three times I think— "Vulnera Sanentur . . . Vulnera Sanentur." As he spoke, he traced his wands over her wound. It healed mostly, but he could tell that a slightest of touches would reopen it. He stuck his wand in his belt loop and frowned. It'd be best to let that heal, but she couldn't just stay out here, even in the middle of summer.
It started to rain.
"Of course," Draco muttered. He pointed his wand at Tess's recently reopened wound. "Impervius."
"Lucius, is Draco back yet?" a woman's voice called. It was Draco's mother.
"Indeed, Narcissa," Lucius called back. "He brought a . . . guest."
"Let me get this straight," Narcissa said, delicately stabbing a piece of chicken with her fork. "You thought this . . . Tess was a Mudblood? But she's actually the daughter of Henry and Kendra Wilford?"
Draco nodded. "I just never connected the dots. There are hundreds of people in the world whose surnames are Wilford." He laid his knife and fork across his plate and leaned back in his chair.
"And currently she's in one of our guest bedrooms, eating our food, which is being served by our house elf," Lucius said. "Narcissa, we must kick her out."
"No," Narcissa opposed. "Draco wants her here, so she stays here."
Silence fell over the dining room table, broken only by the clink of silver against porcelain. Narcissa took forever to eat. Lucius kept slamming down his silverware and staring at the large chandelier above the table.
"May I go?" Draco said snappishly after about five rounds of the slamming.
"Of course, dear," Narcissa murmured.
Draco shot out of his chair like a Muggle's rocket and took the stairs three at a time to his room. Family dinners were so painfully boring.
He snapped his fingers impatiently as he paced his room, trying to think. If he. . . .
He lost his train of thought as his mind flashed to the blood on Tess's back.
"Master Draco, sir?"
Draco whirled. The house elf Yupa was standing with her head bowed in his doorway.
"What is it?" Draco said, half grateful for the distraction.
"The Lady Tess would like to see you," Yupa said. "Master."
Draco huffed. "Honestly, Yupa, how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling her Lady? She's not part of the family."
Yupa twisted her ears. "Dreadfully sorry, Master Draco, sir—"
"Shut up," Draco said cruelly as he passed her. He heard a banging noise a few seconds later and faint cries of bad Yupa. "Cut that out," he called over his shoulder as he entered Tess's room.
She was sitting in the enormous four-poster bed with her back awkwardly arched so nothing touched the scar. A tarnished silver tray sat on her lap. In it were a white bowl, a small white plate, and a spoon and knife.
"Soup?" Draco guessed.
It took her a little to figure out what he said. "Oh—yeah. Chicken noodle and a biscuit. What about you?"
"Chicken and bread." Draco shrugged. "We have another course, but I wasn't hungry."
Tess nodded.
"So . . ." Draco fought for words. "Um—you're named Theresa."
Tess sighed. "Sadly, yes."
"Uh, hello? Theresa is a pretty name."
"No."
"Yep."
"Uh-uh."
"Yeah."
"What's your full name?" Tess asked, swiftly changing the subject.
"Draco Lucius Malfoy," he was startled into saying. The only other people in the world who knew that were his parents, Aunt Bellatrix, and now Tess. All the hospital people who had taken care of him had mysteriously died in the week following his birth. "What about you?"
"Theresa Emily Mica Wilford," Tess said after a moment. "Tell no one." She lifted a glass of water to her mouth.
Draco glanced around the room. "I think you're going to be here for a while . . . you want some decora—"
"I'm going to be here for a while?" Tess spluttered, spraying water everywhere. "Oh, no, bub, you've got it wrong. I'm only staying here for the night."
"It's dangerous for you to go out with such a raw wound," Draco protested.
"It wouldn't have happened if you hadn't decided to bring me here!" Tess dropped the glass onto a bedside table.
"I saved your life!"
"You wouldn't have needed to save my life if you weren't idiot enough to bring me to your stupid 'Malfoy Manor'!"
Draco found himself bellowing. "YOUR FATHER SAID I COULD TAKE YOU, IN FACT HE WANTED ME TO, HE SAID IT WOULD BE A GOOD EXERCISE FOR YOU AND YOU NEEDED TO STEAM BEFORE YOU SAW HIM AGAIN, SO YOU'RE STAYING WITH ME!"
Tess scrambled out of the bed, snatched up her wand from her nightstand, and limped from the room. For someone with such a serious injury, she could move fast. She slammed the door behind her.
For a moment Draco stood stunned in the room, staring at the gray door. Then he blasted it apart with the Reductor curse and shot into the hall. Tess was at the bottom of the enormous staircase, crouching. She looked like she'd slid down the banister. Her shirt still had bloodstains on it.
As he watched, she stood and hurried into the foyer. One of the enormous doors leading to the outdoor path creaked open, then closed with a deep thud.
Draco slid down the banister and ran after Tess. "I'll be outside," he shouted behind him so that his parents didn't worry. He burst through the doors and careened down the path, his wand out. Tess was at the gate, petting a white peacock.
"Stupefy," he yelled.
Instantly Tess was on her feet. She threw the peacock at the moving spell and fled through the gates. The peacock hit the spell with unnerving accuracy and fell.
A rock came sailing over the wall, heading straight for Draco's face. He shot the Reductor curse at it. "Tess!"
"Good riddance," she called. There was a loud bang and something purple flashed into view. Draco threw himself at the gates, slamming into them and making them careen open. He skidded out onto the path, then jumped back as there was another loud BANG.
Tess was gone.
"If you ask me," Lucius said over dinner, "it's a good thing she's gone. Eating our food—"
"Which we're not exactly short of," Draco muttered.
"—sleeping in our beds—"
"Not short on those either."
"—being waited on by our house-elf—"
"Who probably likes the change of pace."
"—wasting our money—"
Draco rose, banging his fist on the table. "Would you please be quiet!"
"She's a Mudblood—" Lucius started.
"She's just as pureblooded as you," Draco snarled, his hand delving into his robes to pull out his wand.
"Don't you insult me," Lucius threatened, also going for his wand as he stood.
"I'm not insulting you," Draco hissed
"You called me a Mudblood," Lucius roared.
"You called her a Mudblood," Draco yelled.
"And then you said she was just as pureblooded as I am," Lucius barked.
"STOP!" Narcissa shrieked, whipping to her feet.
Draco and Lucius froze.
"Draco," Narcissa said slowly and clearly, "go get your things for school."
"But it's not close to September—"
"DO IT," his mother shouted.
Draco moved out of the dining room and up to his room. Silently he packed his trunk and grabbed his owl, Mortem. The cage was empty. He'll find me.
He dragged his trunk back downstairs and dumped it in the front hall. Narcissa was waiting for him.
"Yes, Mother?" Draco said, putting emphasis on mother.
"Go to the Leaky Cauldron," Narcissa commanded. "I don't want to see you until next year. Understand?"
Draco swallowed. His mother used to be timid and meek. Now she was ordering him around like nobody's business. It was a large change. "How am I to get there?"
"I don't care how you get there," Narcissa whispered harshly. "Just get out of the house!"
Blinking, Draco levitated his trunk and the empty owl cage in front of him and steered them through the front doors. After he got through the gates, he Apparated to Diagon Alley. He could have stayed at Crabbe or Goyle's house, but this only occurred to him after he secured a room in the Leaky Cauldron until September first. He went into Diagon Alley and made a withdrawal from Gringotts Wizarding Bank, filling a large sack full of his father's gold. He was glad he'd made a copy of the vault key in his third year.
He received his Hogwarts letter a few days after arriving at the Leaky Cauldron and went out to purchase all his books. As he was passing by the wand shop, Ollivander's, on his way back to the Leaky Cauldron, he saw a street vendor advertising pet rocks.
"Pet rocks," he sneered (albeit halfheartedly) as he approached the vendor. "That's a little overdone, isn't it?"
The vendor, a plump gray-haired woman, picked up one of the rocks on the table and whispered a word at it. Suddenly it was a small, fat dragon-like creature, with large eyes that looked a bit like Muggle googly-eyes and stubby little legs. Its nose was flat with slitted nostrils, and the tail was short with little spikes on it.
Draco was stunned.
"How did you do that?"
The lady smiled a mostly toothless smile. "Magic, dear boy. Would you like one?"
"How long do they live?" Draco demanded.
"As long as you do," the lady said. "Once you say their activation word, your life is linked with theirs. They show the same wounds—"
"Do they all look the same?" Draco interrupted.
The witch shrugged. "It depends on what you look like. If you're a little on the chubby side, like me, then yours will look like mine." She gestured at the pet rock. "Tall, and it'll have a longer tail. Things like that."
"Are they all gray?" Draco grilled.
"You can easily charm them to be a different color," the witch slowly said, "and if you have a strong mental and emotional link with them, their color will change with your mood."
"If yours was to die," Draco interrogated, "would you die also?"
"No," the witch said slowly. "But if I die, Mr. Calx here will die also."
"So say I'm getting someone else one of these," Draco said. "Would they have to purchase the rock for it to be theirs?"
"No," said the vendor. "Each rock has a secret word that it activates and deactivates to. You get this rock, and say its secret word, then it's yours."
Draco waited, but she wasn't getting clearer. "The first person to say its secret word is its owner?"
"Yup."
"How do I know its secret word?"
"When I box it up, I put a slip of paper in that has its word in it."
Draco eyed the rocks. "How much?"
"One galleon each, no more, no less," the witch said, "and that's the final price."
He spoke the secret word to his pet rock. Nothing happened.
He felt a bit stupid, watching the plain gray stone on his moth-eaten bedspread.
Its eyes were the first to emerge, the same light gray as his. The rock slowly darkened to match the black suit he was wearing. It grew legs and a tail, and its ears were pointed. It even produced a small, hairy mop of white-blond hair like his.
"My," Draco said, too stunned to say anything more intelligent.
The rock yawned, showing a slit tongue like a snakes, and no teeth. Draco reached out with a finger and tickled it under its chin. He felt incredibly immature, but the little animal was so cute he couldn't help it. Yes. Cute.
If my father could see me now, he thought dryly.
The rock made a little noise, like a baby cooing, but more clearly. Draco felt himself grinning. He picked up the rock and set it on his shoulder, deciding to call it Perch (with a "ck" sound). It made the same noise and nuzzled his chin by his ear.
He spent the next half hour playing with Perch, and by the time it was dark, he was lying on his back on the floor with the little rock animal on his stomach. Both were laughing.
Someone knocked on his door and called something, but he was too busy laughing to hear. The knock sounded again, loud enough for him to hear. He shut up instantly, carefully deposited Perch in the pocket of his suit, and assumed a cold demeanor as he opened the door. "Yes?"
A bedraggled-looking witch with a mop over her shoulder was standing very close to the doorway. "Room service," she said in a nasal voice.
Draco turned and waved his wand. All his things flew into his trunk. "Thanks," he said shortly, and pushed past the witch.
"You a Malfoy?" she called after him.
He gave a short nod.
"You laughing?" the witch demanded.
Draco bit his lip to keep from snapping and headed down the stairs, surveying the pub as he went. There was a cloaked figure in the corner, a group of witches under the stairs, and a few people sitting at the bar. Other than that, the building was abnormally empty.
He found a table in a quiet corner and ordered a pumpkin juice and steak. A small squeak from his jacket pocket reminded him of Perch's presence. He put Perch on the table.
The rock started climbing over his hand. Draco looked around absentmindedly. Someone was coming down the stairs. It was too far away for him to tell who.
"Malfoy?"
He was scooping Perch back into his pocket before he knew what he was doing. Much to his surprise, Ginny Weasley was standing in front of his table.
"Another Weasley," he scoffed. "How many of you are their?"
"Enough to kick your butt if we felt the need," Ginny snarled.
Draco pulled his wand out of his coat and twiddled it in his fingers. "Careful what you say, Weasley, or you'll have a face of boils before you can say hex." He peered at her. "Ah—never mind. You already do."
"You're not allowed to do magic outside school," Ginny said confidently.
Draco Transfigured a nearby chair into a magic glass, Summoned it to him, and set it on the table. Then he whispered, "Lacarnum Inflamarae". A jet of fire shot into the jar, turning it into a self-made lantern. He set his wand on the table, steepled his fingers. "You were saying?"
Ginny didn't look shocked. She glowered at him.
"Malfoy, is it?"
Draco nearly jumped—Ginny's older brothers, the two twins Fred and George, had just popped up out of nowhere behind her. Both wore veiled looks of disgust.
"Yeah," Malfoy said. "You're Carrots and Neon, right?"
"Monotonous," Fred (or was it George) said to George (or was it Fred)?
"Same old, same old," George/Fred said to Fred/George.
"What's wrong?" Ginny said to Malfoy.
"Yeah, Mummy kick you out of the house?" Fred asked with fake sympathy.
"Being too sulky," George guessed.
"I tried to give your mother money," Draco said, "although now I wonder why I wanted to."
There was a moment of shocked silence.
Then:
"Don't insult our mother," Fred hissed, whipping out his wand. George nodded in agreement, murder in his eyes.
"BOYS!"
Mrs. Weasley rushed over, grabbed both twins by the backs of their collars, and spun them around. She propelled them with a firm push towards the center of the pub. A stern look at Ginny sent her daughter dashing after her brothers.
"Sorry about that, dear," Mrs. Weasley said kindly to Draco, glancing at him. She smiled, then froze and turned back to him. "You're Lucius Malfoy's son."
"Named him after a dragon, Mum," Ginny called.
Mrs. Weasley shot a frosty look at Draco and bustled off, her back rigid.
Suddenly Draco was very tired of being the bad guy. He always got mean or disgusted looks. What was the point of being mean if nothing good was going to come out of it? Sure, his father's approval had meant something to him . . . once. Now, since he hated every inch of that slimeball's guts, he wasn't so sure.
Somehow Perch had made it up to his shoulder. Draco reached up and settled his pet on the table. "I've got to be nicer to people," he confided.
Draco's pet nodded.
There was a clatter and his food was set on the table. "That'll be twenty sickles and four Knuts," snapped the bartender.
Draco paid and started slicing his steak with the too-dull knife. Finally he stabbed his knife into the table, took out his wand, muttered "Diffindo" several times, and within two minutes, had plenty of bite-sized pieces. He Transfigured his self-made lantern into a little saucer, put some mashed-up steak in it, and offered it to Perch. The rock gave him a sort of grin and munched it all up. Then it jumped to the base of his goblet of pumpkin juice.
Draco peered into the goblet. Was that thick, muddy-brown liquid supposed to be pumpkin juice?
He pointed his wand at the saucer he'd made and said, "Aguamenti." The dish filled to the brim with water. Perch stumped over and started lapping it up like a little dog.
Draco smiled.