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Confessions Number 6: 'Be Fine' Is Not In the Deatheater Dictionary (Nor is it in Slytherins)

"Enlighten me, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape started to say as they all find themselves seated. Hermione shifted beside him, their skin making contact as she did so. He quickly drew back his arm. "What have you been doing out of class?" If he wasn't his godfather, Draco would've been shrinking into his seat as he continued to glare at him, but the Slytherin Prince merely looked back, not at all intimidated by his Head of House. This was obviously nothing more than what he had faced before.

Draco sneered, "Weasley decided that he's quite entitled to insult a woman and even tried to hit her no less. Blaise and I defended her only to find ourselves dueling with Potter and... Granger," he said her name as a bit of an afterthought. If looks could kill, Granger would've already been sweeping his ashes. Ha! It wasn't his fault she defended the son of a bitch!

"She insulted my family!"

"That," their Professor turned his eyes at the redhead, narrowing them. "is not reasonable enough to have done such barbaric actions. Fifty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley, and detention for all of you. I will inform, Ms. McGonagall of this and it would be her choice if she want to add any more punishments for you three." Severus ended with a scoff as he observed them all closely. "Detention would be held in the Potions Room starting tomorrow night, eight 'o clock. You may all go and are excused from Professor McGonagall's Class." Damn it, now he'd inform his mother of stuff he had gotten himself into. With the thought, Draco felt a small ounce of guilt before it quickly vanished when they stepped out of the room.

Pansy scowled, "Thanks a lot, Weasel," she spat, diminishing the silence the six had. Without another word, she turned to her heel and walked off, her head held up high as she strutted away.

"It's your fault!"

"Ronald," Granger warned and he backed off. She then turned to the remaining duo. "The dueling was completely unnecessary. You shouldn't have done that but..." she then hesitated. "I apologize for our actions too. It was also completely uncalled for." She hadn't waited for the apology to be accepted before she turned to Potter and Weasley and dragged them out of their way, as if she was scared that the scenario would repeat itself in time. Blaise stared at them, his eyebrows raised at the sudden sorry that was said by the curly haired Gryffindor. There wasn't really anything to be said.

"Interesting," Blaise mused, but he didn't say more as if the two had a silent agreement that they rather walk in silence back to the Slytherin Common Room.

Draco's mind, however, was elsewhere. The match was quite close already, just a few more days and he'd have his plan at work. Dumbledore would be dead in week's time. That still didn't settle his wild thoughts. What if the Imperius Curse wasn't enough to hold her in the next few days? What if it was weak? What if Dumbledore knew it was him and send him to Azkaban like his father? It continued to bombard his brain to the point when the blond man wanted to rip his hair from the back of his head. He needed to make this work. If not, he had to settle with the cabinet and kill the old man with everyone watching... and right now, he still couldn't find it in himself to actually kill him.

He took a deep breath.

Everything would be fine.

Everything needed to be fine.

They were two different things.

"Blaise, call Crabbe and Goyle. The goons need to be girls when I see them," When Draco spoke, his voice was cold and detached. It had an arrogant ring to it, as if he thought he still owned the place. He wore the famous Slytherin smirked, still struggling to not show the shakiness he felt. "I'm going you-know-where, and they better show up."

The said man nodded, plastering an emotionless mask on his own. "Essere bell," were his last words as he entered the common room.

To anyone, it wouldn't really mean anything but a bunch of foreign words–Italian to be exact. It wasn't the most popular language, usually, most Purebloods learn French and Spanish, but Draco knew the words too well as he heard it again and again from his best mate. Be fine, he thought to himself as he continued walking.

Ah.

But he wouldn't be fine.

Draco sighed and stared at the large door in front of him, "I need a place to hide," he whispered lowly and the door opened wide to reveal the one and only cabinet hidden in front of him. He wanted to know if it worked or not. He grabbed a green apple from his satchel, placing it inside the cabinet before closing it. Whispering a spell he had found from one of the books Blaise had given him, a small red light surrounded the cabinet before it faded to transparent.

Maybe it work.

A small smile appeared on his face, but when he swung the door open, it faded into a frown. The apple was half gone it seemed. Fuck. He didn't even know if it transferred safely back into the working cabinet back in Diagon Alley! He collapsed to the ground, punching the concrete floor as he did so. Why couldn't it have worked?

He stared up the ceiling, his grey eyes wide and sad.

Be fine?

When would it ever be fine?

After spending the rest of Transfigurations Class and the next Free Period struggling to fix the bloody broken cabinet, Draco went back to the common room. He wasn't really surprised when there was an envelope in Pansy's hand that was for him. A letter from his mother. He didn't need an answer to that as he grabbed a hold of the scented parchment that was in the envelope. He glanced at Pansy before turning back to the paper.

Draco Hyperion Malfoy,

To say that I'm disappointed was quite the understatement let me tell you that. Have I taught you nothing? This is completely uncalled for; I do not care who or who had started this, what I do care is the fact that you have gotten yourself into detention! You should have handled this thoroughly and properly, and not be as rash minded as those Gryffindors. Let me tell you this, if I wasn't afraid to embarrass the Malfoy name once more, I would've sent you a howler and give you a piece of something that you would never forget!

You are already on the line with everything, Draco! Your studies are average, yes, but there are some subjects that Professor Snape had noticed that were slipping. (Ancient Runes, perhaps, might ring some bells.) Please. As much as the Dark Lord need you to do such tasks isn't something that would keep you in school. Keep yourself from saying or doing anything that you'd know that would get you into trouble. You must get back into the shadows before anybody might notice you again. You have a job to do, and I know you can do this as properly as possible.

It would be nice if you enjoy the sun a bit more in Hogsmeade. I've always missed a good butterbeer myself these past few days. Do bring Pansy with you! I've always loved that girl.

Narcissa Malfoy

Draco paled.

No, it wasn't because of his mother's disappointment (though he hated it).

It was because of the last sentence.

There were going to be deatheaters in Hogsmeade, probably in disguise, but still... A chill went down his spine as he handed the letter to Pansy, pointing at the bottom. When the Slytherin scanned the parchment, her eyes widened and narrowed before she bit her lip, obviously worried about Hogsmeade already. "Merlin's soggy shit," Pansy swore and the hand that was holding the parchment started to tremble.

"Merlin's soggy shit, indeed."

Essere Belle?

Fuck that.