Hi, hi! 😊 How are you? How was your week? 😊 I've finally managed to finish the translation and review of this chapter before the week finishes yaaay 😎 hahaha let's reveal once and for all... who were the two persons who saw our main characters in an embarrassing situation? If you want to know, keep reading! Hahaha *drum roll* 😉
As always, thank you so, so much for your kind words and your support! I hope you're all enjoying the story! Thanks in advance for reading! 😘
CHAPTER 20
Ambush
"See you tomorrow, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco let out a dry grunt as a farewell. He left Professor McGonagall's office and closed the door behind him. He stood still for a moment in the middle of the deserted corridor, recovering his strength, both mentally and physically. He let out a weary sigh and flicked his right wrist in circles. He heard some suspicious creaking that was not there before. The Head of Gryffindor House had kept him for almost three hours copying 'it won't cross my mind to attack a classmate again'. His hand felt stiff, like a continuous cramp, and his fingers felt numb. And he still had six more days to go. During the detention, his mind had wandered and he had remembered with frustration that, being grounded every afternoon, he would not be able to go to Quidditch practices. And they had a match against Ravenclaw that Saturday. He had to train. Dammit.
Steeling himself, exhausted by his thoughts, he walked slowly down the hall toward the Great Hall. Dinner would be almost over by now, but, with any luck, there would be a few latecomers left and the food wouldn't have been cleared away yet. And so he would fill his stomach. It hadn't stopped growling embarrassingly during the last hour of punishment. He was starving...
"Get him."
It all happened in the space of a heartbeat. The young Malfoy barely had time to register such words, much less to turn around, when a large hand slammed into his back with considerable force, knocking him flat on his face. He stopped the blow against the ground with his forearms, feeling a sharp pain in them, as well as in his knees. His neck jerked violently back and forth with inertia, leaving him stunned. Heart pounding, paralysed with shock, he tried to roll onto his side, but before he could see anything, his mysterious attacker kicked him in the centre of the stomach, knocking him aside without any gentleness, sending him rolling to the ground. When he stopped, Draco gasped for air, pained by the heavy blow, and coughed feebly. Before he could raise his eyes, flooded with tears of pain, he felt a strong, determined hand grab him by the back of the collar of his robes and drag him across the floor. He blinked, and once the surprise was over, he tried to kick quickly, seeking to stop the advance and free himself from the grip. He tried unsuccessfully to pull his attacker's hand away, only to find that the wrist was as thick as his neck. He couldn't get enough air to speak, protest, let alone shout. He fumbled desperately in his pockets for his wand, but couldn't find it. In the midst of the confusion, he thought he saw two shapes at his side. He appreciated that they were crossing the threshold of a door, the light dimming around them, and suddenly he found himself being lifted to his feet, and two hands holding his behind his back, like a prisoner of war. He was not able to see the person behind him.
He took a quick look around, his eyes adjusting to the dimness of the room, dimly lit by the night light from outside that streamed in through the windows, and the torches in the hallway. It was an abandoned classroom, which had not been used for years, judging by the layer of dust visible on the desks around them. The door closed, and the light from the torches in the hallway disappeared.
The person holding him forced Draco to turn, to face the newly closed door. The boy blinked, gasping and doubled over in pain, to focus his light eyes on the person in front of him who had closed the door.
Recognising him, for two seconds he was completely speechless.
"Hullo, Draco," Crabbe greeted without smiling, taking a few steps forward and standing in front of the blond.
"What — what the fuck — ?" Draco muttered, his voice hoarse from the pressure he still felt in his chest from the blows. His brain was not able to assimilate the situation yet. "What are you doing? Are you insane? What kind of joke is this?"
"Do you think this is a joke?" muttered a gruff voice behind him, which he identified, no longer surprised, as Goyle's.
"It has to be a joke, because — if not — I can't find an explanation for you doing such bullshit!" Draco yelled, gripped by an animal nervousness. With the initial shock over, he was beginning to feel the outrage creeping through him. "Release me immediately, you pair of retards!"
"We're not going to let you go until you listen to us," Vincent said dryly. "You'd better stay still..."
"My arse! Are you nuts? Who do you think you are, you fucking arsehole?" Draco roared wildly, struggling harder trying to reach his wand, which had to be in one of the inner pockets of his robes.
Crabbe took another step forward, his face suddenly contorted with anger, and slammed Draco's cheekbone down with a hard punch. He, feeling his head shake violently, stopped resisting almost instantly, dizzy. He felt blood's metallic taste in his mouth, and forced himself to tilt his face to spit it out onto the floor. His cheekbone and lip burned. Goyle's gorilla arm wrapped around his neck, still holding his wrists with his other hand, further limiting his movement.
The surprise at what he was living suddenly paralysed him, trying to find an explanation almost desperately. What the hell was going on? How dare those two inept do that to him?
"Better," Crabbe approved, panting, watching him go still. He rubbed his knuckles, the ones he'd hit him with. "I'm not going to let you insult me. Not anymore." His entire huge body tensed, straightening up to the maximum and looking at him with those tiny black eyes that sparkled. "You are nothing but a… traitor. A phony. A fucking liar... How could you, you piece of —?"
Draco stared at him for a few seconds, quickly sizing him up, frowning slightly. He didn't understand shit.
"What are you supposed to be talking about?" he managed to articulate, after letting out a gasp of sheer disbelief.
Crabbe stared back at him for several seconds, then let out a snort that was almost a laugh. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper.
"What happened this afternoon, outside old McGonagall's office, after you beat up Warrington?"
Draco felt a sudden dizziness wash over him, blurring his vision slightly. Suddenly he couldn't take a breath. It couldn't be true... He tried to breathe in but couldn't, his chest victim of a sudden oppression. The blood froze in his veins. He felt the room begin to spin around him, and he was almost grateful that Goyle was holding him so tightly or he would topple over.
It couldn't be true. It couldn't be happening. It was a fucking nightmare. He would wake up at any moment in his room, he would…
Realising that it didn't appear to be a dream, judging by the fact that he was still standing there, in front of his two bodyguards, he forced himself to focus. To take control of himself. He was very careful not to let the terror he felt inside show in his eyes. Not to let his face contort with panic. He forced himself to keep his face serene, barely letting a slight bewilderment alter it.
Seeing that Crabbe said nothing more, apparently waiting for an answer, he had to open his mouth and speak, against his will.
"Did you go looking for me?" he managed to articulate, and to his surprise, his voice sounded steadier than he would have thought. Almost serene.
"We were already in class. Zabini, upon arrival, told us that you had beaten Warrington up in the second-floor hallway. And that McGonagall had caught you, and taken you to her office. It blew our minds," Crabbe revealed, still quietly. "So we skipped class and went to look for you in her office so you could explain what happened... But we weren't the only ones there waiting for you, were we?"
"I don't know what you're getting at," Draco spat out, almost without thinking, in despair. He was about to hyperventilate with panic. This couldn't be happening to him. He wasn't prepared for something like this.
"Oh, you don't?" Crabbe muttered sarcastically. A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Do you have memory issues? Are you seriously denying us that you met with that Mudblood Granger when you left McGonagall's office?" he snapped, raising his voice slightly, taking another step closer to him.
Draco felt a flutter in his stomach. He couldn't breathe.
What was he supposed to do?
His brain worked in a hurry, allowing himself two seconds of silence to plan his strategy. He was a Slytherin, he was cunning and resourceful, and he prayed that those gifts would not fail him now. That, he realised with horror, was beginning to be life or death.
"How can I deny it, if you saw her there?" Malfoy managed to articulate, frowning, as if he found everything ridiculous. He realised that he could not lie on that point; that would only have undermined the credibility of everything he said next. They had been seen together. "But why are you saying it like I planned it, like it's my fucking fault? She was there waiting for me when I came out of the old McGonagall's office after hearing her fucking absurd rant. You saw it, apparently, or not?" He took a deep breath.
How much would they have seen?
"We didn't see when Granger arrived. We saw you when you were already together, on that bench in the corridor," Goyle revealed, in a snarl. Draco fought to control his body and not start shaking. It was a fucking nightmare.
They had seen… everything.
He decided to keep talking at full speed.
"Well, let me tell you that she was there waiting for me when I came out. That inept one intended to tell me off for fighting with Warrington. You know she's a bitter, bossy jerk. 'Prefect-Perfect' mode was put on. And she told me that I couldn't behave like that in front of the younger students and —"
"Uh-huh," Crabbe interrupted, unperturbed. "And you sat on the bench to discuss it with her?"
Draco gasped and shook his head, feigning disbelief.
"Man, I don't know, I was exhausted from hitting that arsehole Warrington. I wanted to sit. Am I also to blame that she stayed there to bother me? This is utterly stupid… Have to clarify this bullshit…" he let out carefully between his teeth, pretending to be exasperated by the situation.
"Why did you hit Warrington?" Goyle questioned, behind him. Draco swallowed, giving himself a few seconds to answer.
"I heard him making fun of me," he lied, suddenly inspired, pretending not to care. He knew they wouldn't check the information. "He picked on me for watching me go to class with Nott. I heard him call me 'sour', though he didn't realise I was hearing him. I don't give a shit if they mess with Nott, it's his business to defend himself, but Warrington is not going to mess with me. I will not allow anything to that idiot. Next time, he will be more careful."
Crabbe spent a few seconds looking at him, sizing him up. He cocked his head slightly.
"If Warrington resents you hanging out with Nott, imagine when he finds out you're seeing Mudbloods behind everyone's back… Stop pretending you didn't want to be in that Granger's company. Or is it that you couldn't give her what she deserved with some spell?" Crabbe quipped, almost scathingly. Draco seethed with rage at being treated so condescendingly by these two energumens, but he forced himself not to start insulting them again. Pretending to be incredulous was his best weapon. Only those who have something to hide lose their minds.
"Oh, sure, it would have been very smart of me to curse the apple of McGonagall's eye at her office door. Because his rants are music to my ears and I wanted another one," Draco returned the irony. "Do you think me so stupid? I'd rather put up with that know-it-all for ten minutes than five with that crazy old woman."
"Ten minutes?" Crabbe scoffed, arching a thick brow. "I think ten minutes was just the time you spent kissing her."
Draco's muscles jerked in painful spasms, victims of the adrenaline rush. His face didn't change at all, despite the fact that inside he felt that even his bones were breaking. How could that be happening to him? How could he have been so unlucky? How could he have been such an arsehole, such a fool? Sooner or later something like this had to happen, he should have guessed... He should have stopped when he had the chance. He had played too much with fire.
And now he was burning.
"So, Draco? Had Granger get your tongue?" Goyle sneered from behind him, and, from his voice, he didn't sound like he was smiling.
Malfoy stared at Crabbe without blinking, his mind working at full speed. They had no respect for him. Nor fear. Not the slightest. And that was a problem.
He had to invent something, an excuse, anything that would repair the irreparable. He could say that he was using her, that it was just a trap to humiliate and make fun of her... That he was making her fall in love with him to destroy her... But that was almost the same. He had kissed a Mudblood, and that had no justification of any kind. It was an abomination, something disgusting, a scandal. It was inexcusable for someone like him. No possible excuse.
He would have to try another strategy to get out of there alive. The only one that occurred to him. Although it was hopeless, and also difficult. He was playing a very fragile card.
But he understood that there were things that could not be fixed.
"Interesting. You have shown that you have some fucking wonderful skills as spies… You have seen us together, uh-huh. That's good. Look how I tremble with fear," Draco spat, maintaining his haughty tone even though he spat blood as he spoke.
Crabbe narrowed his small eyes at his arrogant change in tone. Confused. Believing that they were the ones in control of the situation.
"So it is true. This is bloody madness," Crabbe said at last, staring at him. He wasn't smiling. "You are rubbish. How long have you been with that Granger? Were you seriously going out there to hook up with her on the sly, behind everyone's back? With a Mudblood? How could you — ?"
"That's none of your business, you retarded arseholes," Draco snapped mercilessly, trying to show a disdain and anger he didn't feel. "Just leave me alone and mind your own business. And better let me go before I have second thoughts and destroy you in ways you can't even imagine. Stop wasting my time. Go tell all this to whoever cares."
"How about the whole Slytherin House? Do you think they won't care if you're with a Mudblood?" Crabbe sneered, with firm cruelty, regaining confidence. Draco, against all odds, gave a cocky smile.
"Go ahead, do it. Please," he snapped, with a mock carefree laugh. "Pair of stupids… Don't you realise that you have nothing against me? Everything you're going to do is make yourself look like more jerks than people already think you are. No one is going to believe what you say without you showing them some proof. Do you think anyone will believe you when you say you have seen me, Draco Malfoy, with a Mudblood? Your word against mine? It is obvious that you are not clear about the place you occupy in our House, couple of morons..."
Blood rushed to Crabbe's round, swollen face. Draco earned another punch in the stomach for that impertinence. The blond bent over at the waist like a broken puppet, coughing desperately again. Goyle tugged on his hair to straighten him back up. But something had broken in the air. Draco caught sight of it, as soon as he managed to focus his teary gaze. He saw the uncomfortable look Crabbe gave Goyle, and guessed it would be reciprocated by the other. Malfoy was right. Nobody would believe them; they were just his brainless minions, all of Slytherin knew it. Their word was worth nothing.
Draco smiled cynically, gaining confidence in himself.
"Do you see it? You have nothing to attack me with. It's my word against yours. You are pitiful. So —" he struggled with impetus and a clear air of defiance, "stop wasting my time and mind your own business. Go learn to walk and breathe at the same time, or whatever you do in your free time."
Crabbe's fist clenched tighter, trembling with rage, and he slammed into the blond's face again, who felt it like an iron mallet trying to pry his head from his shoulders.
"Don't make fun of us, Malfoy," he snapped, jaw clenched, emphasising his last name in disgust. "Don't treat us like shit, because the only shit here is you. You have laughed at us, at our classmates, and at all the pure-bloods. You are a traitor. Everything you pretend to be isn't really true, is it?" He punched his face hard again, venting all his rage. Draco wouldn't have been surprised to hear a crack of bone breaking in his head. He was starting to feel very dizzy.
"You bloody cowards," Draco gasped, flinching with fury as a trickle of blood trickled down his nose and onto his robes. His cheekbone was burning, and he felt his left eyelid begin to swell, making it difficult to see. "Attacking me like common Muggles, without using the wand..."
Really, although it might be somewhat offensive between wizards to fight like that, it didn't surprise him either. Those two had always been more into using their fists than their heads. They weren't especially versed in spells.
"Just like you did this afternoon with Warrington," Goyle snarled into his ear, angrily, as Crabbe delivered another vicious blow to his jaw. Draco felt it almost slip out of his joint, or so it seemed to him. He felt his neck so weak by now, almost incapable to support the weight of his head.
Crabbe finally stopped hitting him, gasping with rage, allowing himself a triumphant smile that told Draco that this was definitely not over. And that the worst was yet to come.
"Wait until your parents find out about this. What their beloved son does when they don't see him."
Draco swallowed, tasting blood on it. Such a thing was unthinkable. It couldn't happen. Still, armed with false audacity as he was gaining control of the situation, he had the courage to let out an arrogant laugh, though his eyes glittered in the dim light.
"If you were any slower, you'd be going backwards. May I remind you that my father is in Azkaban, you brainless bastards? Do you plan to go there to tell him? I would love to see how you do it..."
"No, your father is out of play for the moment. For a noble reason. For having the balls that you don't have. But perhaps your mother will be interested in what we have to tell her. And let's not forget the Dark Lord," Crabbe said emboldened, still smiling cynically. Although he had to swallow hard after such a promise. Draco felt Goyle, behind him, tense, as if even he had been surprised by his friend's sentence. "I'm sure he'll be interested to know that one of his Death Eaters rubs shoulders with Mudbloods. Because you're going to become a Death Eater soon, aren't you? Our parents told us. Did you think we wouldn't find out? You have also hidden it from us. I wonder how many other things you have hidden from us..."
Draco, for the first time, felt real fear. An icy fear that seeped into his joints, making them stiff and painful. The mention of the Dark Lord managed to increase his dread to near panic. And his heartbeat to tachycardia. That was, by far, the most devastating thing those two could do. The last and most terrible asset against Draco. Telling their classmates about it, while troublesome, might even solve it with the right cunning. He could also fix about his mother, or so he forced himself to think, unprepared for such a thing.
But if the Dark Lord found out, he would undoubtedly be doomed.
Those two were condemning him to death.
"Do you —," Draco began softly, not looking fazed at all. The other two remained silent, expectant, almost mesmerised by his serenity, "— have the courage to stand before the Dark Lord, the greatest wizard of all time, and accuse one of his Death Eaters of having kissed a Mudblood… without a fucking proof? He will kill you for being useless and liars, he will not even doubt it. I knew you were stupid, but you just took the cake, Crabbe. And, please, I'd love to see you tell my parents. They consider you people worthy of the greatest trust." He gave a wide, cynical smile, narrowing his grey eyes until they were feline. "My father will send you to receive the Dementor's Kiss as soon as he leaves Azkaban. I will take care of it personally."
Crabbe swallowed visibly, and bit the inside of his cheek. Draco's words seemed to have caught him off guard. Goyle, behind Draco, was panting loudly, blowing hot breath against his ear. Draco, trying to contain the trembling of his body, knew that he had just escaped certain death.
Despite his swaggering threat, they didn't have the courage to tell anything, neither to the Dark Lord nor to his parents. As Draco had riskily assumed, they didn't know that the Dark Lord was an expert in Legilimency. And that, just by reviewing the memories of both, he would know the truth.
But they didn't know.
And, as for Lucius Malfoy, Draco knew the panic his powerful father inflicted on others. He knew the fear and respect he had always inspired in his two friends.
"You are a filthy hypocritical coward, a weak Muggle's fanatic," Crabbe muttered, with open contempt. "A liar and a traitor. Traitor to your blood, to your family, and the shame of Slytherin House. It's sad that you've stooped so low as to relate to a Mudblood… I admit that I didn't think you were capable. You had me very well fooled... You disgust me."
Draco didn't say anything. He was glaring at Crabbe with such anger that he seemed capable of setting him on fire at any moment. But he had to bite his tongue to keep from insulting him again, no longer tempting his companion's fury. Although various insults related to the Flobberworms bubbled up in his throat.
"Don't come near us again. You're dead to us, we won't obey your stupid orders again," Goyle said, behind him, in a hoarse whisper.
"And be careful," Crabbe added, a terrible grin on his unprepossessing face, as if he had discovered something. "Because this does not end here. We're going to bring you down sooner or later, I guarantee it."
"I don't give a shit about your threats, you one-neuron piece of arsehole!" Draco yelled, no longer able to contain himself. Feeling that his patience was hanging by a thread. He struggled with renewed force, even though he knew it was useless. But he wasn't going to let those two brainless ones feel in a position to threaten him.
"We'll see about that." Crabbe's smile twisted slightly at his words, making his features even more rough. He looked at Goyle over Draco's shoulder. "Let him go. Although, before…" he muttered afterwards, almost thoughtful.
Reaching back for momentum, he punched him in the stomach one last time which echoed eerily in the silence of the room. After that, Goyle dropped him. Draco fell to the ground on his knees, coughing and spitting up blood, unable to move.
"Be careful on Saturday at the Quidditch match, you traitor," Goyle added in a whisper.
Gregory kicked him hard in the stomach and, after spitting in his face, walked out of the room followed by Crabbe, without looking back.
"'... Golpalott's Third Law states that the antidote for a blended poison will be equal to the sum of...' No... 'equal to more than the sum of the antidotes of... of...'"
Nott frowned and picked up the Advanced Potion-Making II book again to check the correct sentence. He was alone in the middle of the corridor in which Professor McGonagall's office was located.
He had dined in the Great Hall, alone, in the hope that Draco would join him when his detention was over. But his friend hadn't appeared anywhere, which surprised him. Glancing around in the hall, he found that he hadn't overlooked his presence. Draco wasn't with Zabini, or the Quidditch team, or the girls. Daphne was having dinner with her roommates, so Nott didn't want to bother her with his presence; she knew Pansy, Millicent, and Tracey didn't like him too much. He didn't see Crabbe and Goyle either, which made him vaguely assume he was with them. But even so, his absence made him uneasy, and, while his classmates returned to the Common Room, Nott grabbed some fruit and a turkey leg wrapped in a cloth napkin, and went to look for him at the end of his detention. He sensed that he would be starving.
But it was already after ten at night, and Draco hadn't come out. The office door was still closed, and Nott had been sitting on the cold hallway floor for a long time now, with his back against the wall, studying for the Potions oral exam that would take place the next day. He was beginning to feel a slight resentment towards the teacher. How long did she plan to keep him grounded?
"'… each of the separate components...' Ugh! Why would they make it so complicated?" He sighed and settled back on the ground. He groaned as he felt a sharp jab of pain in his tailbone. He tried to repeat the phrase with his eyes closed, "'It states that the antidote for a blended poison...'"
Then he heard a door open and close. The dark-haired boy opened one eye to see who it was, and found, with a slight start, that Crabbe and Goyle were just emerging from a classroom a few metres from McGonagall's office. They did not see the young man, sitting on the floor, and they headed quickly, with agile gait for their considerable bulk, in the opposite direction, moving away down the corridor. Speaking in serious whispers. They seemed angry.
Nott, watching them disappear around the corner, wondering what the hell they were doing there at that hour, heard a new sound behind him. A new door opening. He turned his head the other way, to discover Professor McGonagall standing in the doorway of her office, staring at him in surprise behind her square glasses.
"What is it, Mr. Nott? Do you need something from me?" she asked in her stern but gentle voice.
"No, Professor, I was looking for Draco," the dark-haired young man admitted, straightening up. McGonagall regarded him with a new expression of understanding, but she continued to look puzzled.
"Mr. Malfoy finished his detention a while ago," the witch informed, arching a thin brow. Nott looked at her in confusion, feeling slightly stupid.
"Really? He hasn't come to dinner," he muttered, to himself. He shook his head slightly and looked at the teacher serenely. "Thanks, Professor. I did not know it. I will look for him now."
"I would recommend going to your bedroom, possibly Mr. Malfoy is already there. It's getting late. The students can't be in the halls after eleven, you know that."
"Yes, Professor, thank you," the boy mumbled, getting to his feet with difficulty, and grimacing again as he felt a new prick in his behind. The woman softened her features.
"Good night, Mr. Nott."
"Good night, Professor."
The woman stalked away, her high-heeled boots clicking on the stone floor of the castle. Nott, however, did not move. He picked up his bag from the floor, with Draco's dinner in it, and sucked in a breath, looking around absently. Where had he gone? Would he have gone straight back to their room? It was likely, maybe he was tired. But Nott was surprised that he hadn't tried to get to dinner, if he had been out of detention for a while. He hadn't come across him on the way either...
He walked slowly, listlessly, in the direction of the stairs that led to the lower floor. However, he couldn't help but let his eyes stray to the classroom through which Crabbe and Goyle had left. Despite feeling somewhat foolish for giving importance to something like that, but ignoring that fact since he was alone in the corridor and no one would judge him, he stopped his steps. He kept looking at the door. It was a disused classroom. In their first year, the History of Magic subject was taught there, but, from their second year onwards, they had moved the classroom to the third floor of the castle, as it was larger to accommodate the students. Now, that classroom was not used, and therein lay the fact that Nott's brain had given importance to the trivial detail that his roommates had been there, at that time of night.
The chance of Draco being in there was one in ten thousand. But, lately, nothing his friend was doing made sense, and it was that depressing thought that gave him the momentum he needed to cross the corridor and into the cold classroom. He would just check that he wasn't there, and he would leave. It wouldn't take long.
He opened the door slightly, operating the knob with one hand, and poked his head through the gap, peering inside cautiously. His eyes, unprepared at the time for such a sight, snapped open at what they found inside. It took him almost three seconds to assimilate what he was seeing.
"But what ― ? Draco!" he mumbled, stunned and suddenly startled, opening the door wide and stepping into the classroom.
He pushed the door shut behind him and approached his friend in a few strides. Indeed, it was Draco who was inside, and the truth was that his appearance was alarming. He was sitting on the floor, in the centre of the room, with his back resting on the leg of one of the central desks. He had crawled from the position Crabbe and Goyle had left him into this, but had been unable to move any further, let alone stand up. His whole fucking body ached. The left side of his face, where Crabbe had hit the hardest, was swollen and sore. The angle of his left jaw throbbed, and he was afraid to even open his mouth to speak. His neck ached from the sudden movements that the punches had caused, and he felt a terrible tightness in the centre of his chest. Each inhalation of air was a painful sting. And the stomach area felt like it had been turned over.
In addition, as Nott found instantly, as soon as he got closer, he had a nosebleed and a split lower lip. He was holding his stomach with one hand, and flailing the other to silence Nott's screams.
"What happened to you?!" the dark-haired young man rebuked, dismayed. He fell to his knees next to his friend. "What the hell happened?! You're hopeless, dammit, you just got out of a detention…! But how — ?!"
"Stop screaming!" Malfoy exclaimed back, irritated.
Draco found, to his own relief, that his jaw didn't unhinge by talking. Despite his general appearance, his eyes expressed the same haughty as always. As well as a slight surprise at seeing Nott there, of course. Glaring at him, Draco raised an arm towards his friend, giving no further direction. But Nott understood and rushed to help him, throwing his friend's outstretched arm around his own shoulders and placing his own around his back, pulling him to his feet. Draco gritted his teeth to hold back a groan at the pain in his stomach, once again at the mercy of gravity. He leaned on a nearby table with both hands, letting his weight drop. It was better that way.
"It was just a stupid fight, nothing more…" Draco finally muttered through his teeth. Nott snorted in dismay.
"Stupid? Stupid is Millicent Bulstrode! There's nothing stupid about this!" Nott protested as he began to search hysterically in the pockets of his bag, looking for some handkerchiefs. "Tell me the truth, what happened? I just saw Crabbe and Goyle walk out of here. Did they also find you like this? Have they gone looking for someone? You hit Warrington this afternoon, damn it, can't you — ?"
"I told you, it's nothing," Draco repeated more firmly, taking the handkerchief from his friend and trying to stem the river of blood from his sore nose. It had been staining the front of his clothes for a long time. He'd started wiping himself with the sleeves of his robe, finally giving up when the bleeding wouldn't stop. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?" he finally asked, stunned. Nott snorted more softly.
"I came looking for you at McGonagall's office when you didn't come to dinner. I brought you some food. And I'm telling you, I just saw Crabbe and Goyle coming out of here," he waved his arm languidly toward the door. "So it occurred to me to see what they'd been up to. It was a fucking absurd coincidence."
"You're nuts," Draco snapped, but his tone didn't match his words. He sounded really soft, almost without the strength to sound dismissive. But Nott didn't soften his frustrated and nervous expression.
"Draco, don't fuck with me… What happened? Who — ?" but suddenly he fell silent, puzzled then by his own thoughts. A terrible idea seemed to shoot through his mind like an arrow. Connecting the little information he had. He looked at his friend, and the fact that he seemed determined not to look at him, caused that idea to gain strength. "They…?" he articulated in a much lower voice. He only got silence from his friend. "How did they...? Was it them? Crabbe and…? What? Why…?" he added without any common thread, disturbed.
Draco looked at him for a moment out of the corner of his eye, and then looked away, fixing it back on the table surface. Normally, Nott was a peaceful person, sometimes even too peaceful, and he didn't tend to lose his temper easily. Nor was he usually nosy; he preferred to mind his own business and avoid trouble. But Draco understood his reaction to finding him bloodied and battered in a disused classroom. A classroom from which he had seen Crabbe and Goyle emerge moments before. Draco confirmed, for the second time in less than an hour, that fate had turned against him. That Nott had drawn that unfortunate and correct conclusion was therefore quite predictable. Could he, despite everything, invent any excuse? Tell him that some Gryffindor had beaten him up and Crabbe and Goyle had found him there? That Warrington had wanted revenge? Yes, maybe he could do it…. But damn it, there wasn't much point in lying to him. Nott was not an idiot, he would discover the truth as soon as he saw that three of his roommates had not spoken to each other since that moment.
And, besides, he couldn't take it anymore. He was emotionally exhausted. Too upset and hallucinated by what happened. Still trying to come to terms with the fact that the conversation with Crabbe and Goyle had definitely been real and not a nightmare. He couldn't lie to him. He couldn't hide from Nott what had happened. At least not everything.
He slowly lowered the handkerchief away from his nose, which Nott considered a gesture of surrender. He was silent patiently, waiting for his friend to speak, his nervous breathing breaking the silence of the room.
"Yes, it was them," Draco confessed almost inaudibly, staring off somewhere in the room, but unable to hide a murderous glint in his eyes. Nott's only reaction was to widen his eyes. He did not interrupt his friend. "I got caught from behind coming out of McGonagall's detention. Those cowards..."
Nott twisted his face into a grimace of silent confusion. Of furious and nervous disbelief. He blinked, and tried to articulate something, opening and closing his mouth, but he didn't seem to know what to say. He didn't seem able to make sense of what had happened. Finally, he forced himself to swallow and try to come up with something coherent.
"How... how could they? What did they want? Why? Why have they done such a thing to you?" Nott asked in a jerk, stupefied. Then he took his bag off his shoulder, setting it on the ground, and crouched down to search through it. "I always carry some Murtlap Essence with me, ever since that Care of Magical Creatures class. The one with the Blast-Ended Skrewts…" he muttered, almost to himself. Draco's nose wouldn't stop bleeding.
Draco fell silent, giving himself a few seconds to think. Trying to take in everything Crabbe and Goyle had told him. Sorting it out in his head. The threat to tell the Dark Lord floated to the surface of his mind, giving everything that had happened with Granger a new vision, a more alarming one that he had not seriously considered until now. That he hadn't allowed himself to consider. Also the threat of telling his Slytherin classmates, with all that that implied... And also the fact that his parents found out. Something that, although he had deluded himself into believing it would never happen, suddenly seemed more possible than ever. It was a reality that was right there, that it could happen.
He was horrified. Definitely horrified. He realised he didn't know what the hell to do now. He desperately needed someone to help him understand what was going on, to help him sort out the mess he'd got himself into. Someone to help him understand why all this had happened with Hermione Granger, which had thrown his whole existence completely out of whack. Why he was risking his life for four stupid kisses with a Mudblood. But, for obvious reasons... he couldn't.
He couldn't open up like that, couldn't ask for help. No with such a problem. Besides, he had always refused to do such a thing if he could help it. He had always been solitary, he had always preferred to solve his problems by himself, without anyone's help. Without feeling judged. He couldn't admit having screw it up. He didn't want to admit his mistake. He did not commit mistakes. Ever.
Furthermore, this was possibly the most complicated and delicate problem he had ever faced.
He couldn't tell Nott the truth. He couldn't tell him that his friend's suspicions about his attraction to Granger, after what he told him in the Changing Rooms on the Quidditch pitch, were closer than ever to the truth. He couldn't look him in the eye and be completely honest, despite trusting him more than anyone.
He couldn't tell him what, against all odds, and against his will, he was beginning to feel for Hermione Granger.
Because he was terrified.
But he did need to tell him about Crabbe and Goyle. In his own way.
"Because they're just two brainless arseholes. Can you believe that they have seen me with Granger and have thought — ?"
There was a noise of breaking glass that made him fall silent. Draco turned his head to see that Nott was looking in his direction, motionless, his eyes fixed on his friend, a stunned look on his face. The small vial of Murtlap Essence that he had finally found in his bag lay at his feet, its yellowish contents spilling onto the floor and the container broken into several fragments.
"What?" Nott managed to say in a small voice, still without moving. "What did you say?"
"That they are two arseholes…"
"No, not that."
"And that they've seen me with Granger," Draco repeated quietly, pretending not to understand his alarm. "With Hermione Granger. That was all."
"That was all? And it doesn't matter?"
Draco faked a disbelieving laugh.
"Uh-huh, no. Of course it doesn't. Why should it? I don't know what the hell happened to them, their brains have completely melted, I swear. I don't understand anything. They have gone completely insane —"
"Draco, what do you mean they've seen you? What have they seen?" Nott interrupted him in a louder voice. Draco averted his eyes, avoiding his gaze.
"Well, what they thought they saw, you mean. Don't fuck me you too." Draco straightened up slightly and took a couple of hesitant steps across the room, toward the chair corresponding to the desk he was leaning against. He dropped down, relieved, groaning in pain. He was starting to get dizzy standing up. Besides, he took advantage of that gesture so he wouldn't have to look at Nott. "Listen, you won't believe it... After hitting Warrington, McGonagall took me to her office, and, when I came out, Granger was waiting for me to tell me off for what I had done. Nothing new, considering she's a sour idiot… Crabbe and Goyle came looking for me too, apparently they saw us talking and… I don't know, they got their wires crossed or something, and they thought they saw things they didn't —"
"Draco, stop fucking with me. They may be stupid, but they're not that stupid. They will not misinterpret anything," Nott replied, leaning with both hands on the table that corresponded to his friend's chair, without taking his eyes off him. He didn't care or try to pick up the spilt potion. "How could they think, out of the blue, that between Granger and you — ?" He fell silent suddenly, his face suddenly changing. Draco stared at him, almost defensive; encouraging him, almost forcing him with his firm gaze, to finish the sentence. "Unless..."
"What?" Draco spat out roughly, his heart pounding in his throat. "What the hell do you think — ?"
But Nott didn't let him finish. He had swallowed and lowered his tone as he corrected himself, mouthing cautiously:
"What the hell happened between you and Granger?" he interrupted him, not paying too much attention to him.
Draco snorted loudly and turned his face away, shaking it as he stared at the other end of the classroom, as if his friend exasperated him. He bit his lip in mock indignation, though he instantly regretted it, as it only served to hurt himself by biting his split lip. And to remember her kisses.
"All because of a kiss. My life is being ruined because of a bloody kiss with a person who means nothing to me. Nothing has happened with her that Crabbe and Goyle have accused me of, just the stupid kiss. But we're not together. Of course we're not. And yet, I haven't been able to justify what's going on, because I don't even understand it myself," his stomach felt heavy at such thoughts. How to explain to anyone that he felt something for Granger, but that he didn't feel that, and that, under no circumstances were they together, but yet he couldn't help but devour her lips when he was near her? Without looking like he'd just escaped from St Mungo's, of course.
Perhaps he should consider entering St Mungo's.
"I can't believe this... What are you implying?" Draco finally replied, his tone abrupt and defensive, glancing back at Nott with anger. "You too? Bloody hell, have you all gone mad all of a sudden? Just like Crabbe and Goyle! What's wrong with your heads that you think I've got something with her? It's Granger, Merlin's beard! Have you all forgotten who she is?"
"Draco, you just told me yourself that you were seen with Granger and that's why you got beaten up. And, forgive me, but you beat up Warrington this afternoon because he was making fun of her, don't take me for an idiot," Nott snapped. He was glaring at him, undaunted, and without a hint of empathy in his eyes. Draco stared at him in disbelief, but Nott didn't give him cause to intervene. "So let me begin to doubt your word. I'll repeat the question, what's going on with Granger?"
Draco couldn't help but grit his teeth. Very hard. Damn him. Nott was fucking smart. Smarter than he should. But he wasn't about to give in. Nott couldn't find out the truth, no way. Too many things he'd told him already. Too many people already knew.
But one thing, out of everything Nott had just said to him, prevailed over all the rest, and made him look his friend in the eye, alarmed and furious in equal measure.
"So it was you who said that to Granger?" he snapped aggressively, leaning towards him, still seated. Nott was silent, but, for the first time, Draco saw him swallow with hidden embarrassment. "Did you tell her that I fought with Warrington to defend her? Was it you?"
"I told her the truth," his friend replied calmly. And he added with a discreet sneer: "You ought to try it sometime."
"Me? And what the hell am I not being truthful about?" Draco spat, raising his voice, beside himself. "Bloody hell, what makes you think I hit Warrington for messing with her? I heard him insult me. That was it. Or didn't you hear him?"
Nott stared at him in silence for a few seconds. A fine wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows.
"Warrington didn't insult you," he said dryly.
"Of course he did, I heard him perfectly well," Draco defended himself haughtily, lying outright. Taking back the lie he'd told Crabbe and Goyle. "And, honestly, I didn't even want to ask him to explain. I just gave him what he deserved. You know me."
"Why would Warrington insult you?" Nott snapped, unimpressed by his bravado. "What did he say about you? I didn't even hear your name."
"Well, it's not my fucking problem that you're deaf. I heard him perfectly as we walked past them. He said I was so sourpuss, or something like that, for going to class with you…" He let out a mock frustrated snort. "What you said to Granger is a bloody lie, and I don't understand why you got yourself into this in the first place."
"Because I'm freaking out!" Nott yelled suddenly, his eyes widening. "Because I'm scared for you! Because if even a fraction of what I'm thinking is true, you're in deep, deep trouble and you can't admit it. And I don't know how you're going to get out of this. Draco, I want to help you, but for that I need to know the truth. What's going on between you and Granger?"
Draco sighed heavily, and ruffled his hair in frustration with his free hand. With the other, he was still holding his aching ribs. He was shaking with sheer nervousness. Nott was right about everything. About everything. And that was precisely why he couldn't be honest with him. He couldn't agree with him, and admit that he was screwing up. His stupid pride prevented him from doing so. It prevented him from admitting that he was wrong.
"Nothing, Nott. Nothing. I've told you, damn it. Stop it." Draco rubbed his eyes with the index finger and thumb of his free hand. "Granger came to berate me for hitting Warrington, and to throw in my face the rubbish you told her about that it was to defend her, and I was too exhausted to fight her. Merlin, I wasn't in the mood to be tormenting her, but that doesn't mean anything has changed. Although those idiots seem to think so, and, since they didn't see me attack her, they thought that, I don't know… I've gone soft or something. A Muggle-sympathiser." Nott said nothing. He just stared at him. Draco, frustrated, rubbed his jaw with his hand and continued speaking, almost to himself, "Those two brainless... I don't want to hear from them again for the rest of my life. I won't forgive them for what they've done. But what worries me now is that they keep their big, stupid mouths shut. Because if they start talking the nonsense they thought they saw, I don't answer for myself. I'm not going to let those two get me in trouble. It seems that they are not going to tell anyone, because they have no proof and because they know that no one will believe them. They're just a couple of morons suffering from hallucinations," he commented, seeking to clear his thoughts and, at the same time, convince Nott.
"Well, I hope so," Nott agreed, his voice suddenly despondent. "Draco, your relationship with the other Slytherins is not like mine. Do you know what our mates would do to you if they found out that you were supposedly —," he emphasised, in a wry tone that annoyed Draco, "sneaking around with a Mudblood? Do you know what they're capable of? It is a terrible, unforgivable betrayal. Especially considering what you have in your house, that's a separate issue," he added emphatically, and Draco felt a slight prick in his chest that forced him to close his eyes. "What Crabbe and Goyle have done to you is nothing compared to —"
"I already know that, damn it, I don't need you to tell me," Draco growled, breathing hard. He felt the panic hold of him again; he was breaking out in a cold sweat. "Crabbe and Goyle have threatened to tell the Dark Lord," he admitted quietly.
He heard Nott gasp, and looked up to watch him. His friend was staring at him in sudden shock, open terror shining in his worried eyes.
"But did they — ? How — ?" he stammered, awkwardly.
"Their parents are Death Eaters, it's pretty obvious they would end up following in their footsteps. They're also on the Dark Lord's side, though I don't think they have the Dark Mark yet," Draco revealed thoughtfully, staring at the table again. "But I sense that they will soon join their ranks. And apparently their parents have told them that I too will be a Death Eater soon. That is why they have threatened to tell him... But they have no proof. Obviously, because everything is a lie," he emphasised, unable to contain himself. "They won't dare accuse me before the Dark Lord without proof." He looked his friend in the eye again, with renewed seriousness. Almost with the intention of reassuring him. And calm down. "I have seen it in their eyes. They won't tell anything. They don't have enough courage."
Nott clenched his jaw and nodded once. His eyes were slightly brighter than before. Draco looked away, uncomfortable at the concern in his friend's normally impassive eyes. Making him realise how dangerous the situation really was, which he didn't need at the moment. He stopped pressing on his stomach, finding that it no longer hurt. Although his nose was still bleeding, and it was almost completely soaking his friend's handkerchief. His head was starting to ache too.
"And what about Granger?"
Draco felt an immediate hollowness in his chest, almost as if he had been punched again.
"What about her?" he questioned aggressively, looking at his friend. Nott was unfazed.
"If Crabbe and Goyle tell the other Slytherins what they thought they saw, what they think is going on between you two, and they believe them, I highly doubt it would be kept a secret. The Gryffindors might find out. And you will agree with me that Granger would be in serious trouble too. I don't think her friends will take kindly to her being remotely involved with you. I don't know how much veracity they'd give to a rumour like that."
Draco drew in a shuddering breath for a few seconds. He hadn't thought of anything like that, not for a moment. He had thought only of his own difficulties, not the girl's. He hadn't considered that the rumour would actually spread throughout the castle, that even the Gryffindors would find out. He hadn't realised the extent to which what had happened might also ruin Granger's life.
He felt a surge of anger at the unpleasant feeling of guilt that washed over him.
"And what do I care about any of that?" he questioned as best he could. Forcing himself desperately to think that way. He added more forcefully, "Granger is the least of it. I don't care what happens to her, it's her business to sort it out. The point is that now my whole reputation is floundering because of that Mudblood..."
"Don't call her that…" Nott muttered, closing his eyes for a moment.
"But it is what she is!" Draco yelled, going into a rage. Too upset by all the changes that were happening to accept just one more change. He slammed his fist on the table, shaking his friend in surprise. "She's a Mudblood, Nott! Always has been and always will be! I can't have anything to do with her! Stop pushing your fucking theory that there's something going on between us, because you're going to drive me crazy! You've already seen how the world reacts to the idea that we are together! Do you think me so stupid, so irresponsible, as to allow something similar to happen? Look what Crabbe and Goyle have done to me! Crabbe and Goyle, Nott! We used to be friends... We had been together all our lives..."
Draco stopped yelling and leaned forward slightly to rest his elbows on his knees, covering his face with both hands. He felt so miserable that he wanted to cry. He pressed his palms to his eyes, rubbing them. They itched with exhaustion. He was exhausted. It had been a terrible day. He wiped the blood from his face again, which was running down his nose more profusely after he had been screaming. Nott stared at him silently, not knowing what to say, with an expression of utter dejection. He moved slowly all of a sudden, and pulled his wand from the inside pocket of his robes. He waved it to repair the vial of Murtlap Essence, refilling it with the spilled solution, and went to pick it up. He retraced his steps to the table where his friend was sitting and poured some onto another handkerchief, a clean one, handing it to Draco. He took it with a trembling hand and silently placed it over the bruises on his face. He felt an almost immediate relief.
"Maybe you're right, and this will be a minor thing," Nott murmured, somewhat hesitantly, breaking the silence cautiously. He no longer sounded accusatory. "As long as this is just Crabbe and Goyle's doing, and they have no proof of anything, there's no danger. Even if they do tell, no one may believe them. With a little luck, the matter will not go further. I really hope so. For your sake, and for Granger's too."
"I don't give a shit what happens to Granger, I've told you that," Draco replied, irritated, without thinking.
"Even if it was me who was to blame for this happening," he thought bitterly, with a sharp pain in his chest. He gritted his teeth. No. That was not so. Granger had started it all, she had gone looking for him in McGonagall's office. He wasn't to blame for that... She was the one responsible for the whole mess.
"Even if I kissed her."
And again he felt miserable. Completely ashamed and in disbelief of himself. He could no longer cope with the back-and-forth in his mind. Struggling to stop thinking, at least for a while, he lowered his gaze and unbuttoned his robes, opening his bloodstained shirt as well, to examine his chest for marks of any kind. He wasn't sure he'd convinced Nott of anything, but he couldn't argue any further. He was exhausted. And his friend didn't seem inclined to press the issue any further either. Although, if Draco had looked into his eyes, he would have clearly seen the fear that still glowed in them. The open concern with which he was looking at him, unbeknownst to Draco.
"I imagine this question will seem like a joke to you, but don't you want to go to the Hospital? They could have broken something… You're knackered," Nott said, breaking the silence cautiously again.
"I'd laugh if my whole body didn't ache," Draco muttered with listless disdain.
"Yeah, I figured you'd find it funny," Nott resigned himself, raising his eyes to the sky.
"I'm not going to show up to the Hospital like this," Draco added, his tone a little more serious. "They'd call the Headmaster."
"Yeah," Nott mumbled, sighing. He pulled his wand out of his pocket again and waved it, muttering a faint Scourgify, leaving Draco's clothes clean of blood. "I don't have enough potion here to cure all the marks on your face, but hopefully no one will notice too much. There are more potions in the room, in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, so you should be able to get a decent cure there. If your nose stops bleeding now, that should be enough to keep you from attracting attention." He examined Draco's face more closely. "Give yourself a little more potion on your cheekbone, that mark there is more noticeable. You're very pale," he snorted, and looked at his wristwatch. "It's after eleven, we shouldn't even be in the corridors by now. There won't be any students around. If we go to the room now, no one will see us on the way, and hopefully they won't notice us in the Common Room either. But you have to try to walk as naturally as possible, without limping," he hesitated for a moment and looked at his friend cautiously. "Are you going to our bedroom, even though Crabbe and Goyle are there?"
An exhausted Draco, grateful that Nott was now making decisions for him, looked at him with an offended look on his face. He swallowed and clenched his jaw in indignation.
"Those two greasy gorillas aren't going to get me out of my room. Let them dare say anything to me. They'd better not even look at me or I swear —"
"What if they tell Zabini?" Nott surmised hesitantly. Draco's face didn't alter.
"If they tell him, I'll know. And I'll sort it out. It won't be a problem."
Nott took in and blew out a slow breath as his friend gingerly got to his feet, making sure he was able to walk.
"Can I make a suggestion without you casting a Cruciatus at me?" Nott questioned, looking at him carefully.
"You can try," Draco muttered, holding back a wince as he felt a twinge in his stomach. He took a couple of steps, limping, getting used to the pain.
"I think Granger should know what happened. Just so she knows, in case things get complicated. So she'll be on her guard."
"Have you gone mad? Don't you dare!" Draco exclaimed, turning around and facing his friend, his eyes wide with fury. He felt a new sting in his chest as he raised his voice, and his hand gripped his ribs again, grimacing, but he continued to speak aloud. "Granger can't know about this! Don't you dare tell her anything!"
"I won't tell her anything, I promise. I'm serious," he assured more emphatically, seeing that his friend was looking at him with open distrust. "But, if Granger gets in trouble because of you, and finds out that you haven't told her despite knowing it, she'll throw you headfirst into the lake. You know that, right?" he pleaded desperately.
"She won't find out. Because Crabbe and Goyle won't tell. Nobody trusts the judgment of those two, they won't make fools of themselves like that," Draco sentenced, clenching his fists. "And even if they do, I'll personally make sure no one believes them."