Disclaimer: Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I don't own Harry Potter,
And neither do you!
Author's Note: Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews! I'm so glad you enjoyed what I did with our Dark Lord in the last chapter. He definitely finds Snape an interesting enigma.
This chapter deals with Draco discovering something very important. I've been reading fanfic for years, and I've honestly never seen a fic with Draco finding this out. One has to exist, right? Once you read the chapter, you'll know what I'm talking about. If anyone can point me to a fic you know of that explores this, please let me know. I'd love to see someone's take on it.
Or, better yet, I have a challenge for all of you. I'd love for my readers to write a fic like that, if you want to. This is a scene I SO wanted to see in canon. So much potential.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
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Draco awoke on Sunday morning, irritated beyond belief that his body was still a little sore. The Bruise Balm was working wonders, but that vicious brute Moody had truly done a number on him. And he despised having to rely on any salve or potion to make him feel better.
He also hadn't been sleeping well lately, and that made him angry. Ever since that ... incident, he'd woken up each morning feeling groggy and not quite there, and this interfered with his routine. He, as a Malfoy, was supposed to have impeccable looks. His father had always told him that it was beneath a Malfoy to appear anything less than perfect.
Crabbe and Goyle grunted at him to show they were ready for the day when he asked, and he glowered at them. They had the unmitigated gall to look surprised at his behavior, which only made him glower more fiercely.
"What's the matter, Draco?" Theodore Nott sneered at him as the boys left their dormitory. "Worried that one of your luscious locks is out of place?"
"Keep your mouth shut, Nott, or I'll shut it for you," Draco threatened, already exhausted from having to deal with these stupid idiots.
"Oh, is that the best you can do?" Nott snapped. "Not up to your usual standards, are you?"
Draco decided not to say anything else, but he gave Nott a look that could freeze lava. Nott, however, was not at all afraid of Draco's glacial stare. He just smirked at him as they stepped into the common room.
They walked in upon a scene that was familiar, and one Draco was thoroughly tired of. Many other Slytherins were in the room, most of them looking bored by a turn of events that repeated over and over again.
"I'm telling you, your cat will leave mine alone, otherwise you're not going to like the results," Millicent Bulstrode snapped at her roommate, Daphne Greengrass. "I'm so sick of her attacking him all the time!"
"Well, YOUR cat feels the need to provoke mine constantly!" Daphne defended her feline fiercely. "What do you want her to do about it, huh?"
"Well, your cat is stupid!" Millicent snarled. "At least mine pays attention to me! Yours can't stand you!"
"Not true!" Daphne growled right back. "You don't get to say those things about an animal I care about!"
"Would you two give it a break?" Tracy Davis sighed exasperatedly. "I hear the same argument from you two more than once a day. It's really boring at this point. You both have cats. It's common for one cat to not like another. Daphne, try to keep yours away from Millicent."
"Of course you'd be on HER side," Daphne sneered, pointing an accusing finger at Millicent. "You always defend everything she does."
"Would all of you just SHUT UP?" Draco glared at all three girls. "You're giving me a migraine."
"And the pompous, pigheaded Draco Malfoy strikes again," Tracy said mockingly. "Can't go for five minutes without making a nasty comment."
"Yeah. We all know how you feel about cats. And we know how you feel about empathy too. You don't have a spot of it to spare," sneered Millicent, giving Draco a supremely frosty look.
Draco snorted. "You expect me to feel sorry for you because you have a cat problem? Damn right, I'm not wasting my time with that. I'm going down to breakfast," Draco smirked. "When you decide to concentrate on things that are actually worthwhile, come to the Great Hall." And with that, he flounced out of the common room, still smirking widely.
"You really are a nasty piece of work, you know that, Malfoy?" Nott said snidely as they walked down the corridor. "You don't care about anyone else but yourself. If something's not to your liking, you throw a tantrum."
"Then don't talk to me," Draco growled back at him. Since when did Theodore Nott feel the need to say anything to him? The other boy normally didn't say much, but today, he had the gall to open his mouth and utter things that boiled Draco's blood.
Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles at the insult to their leader, but Draco shook his head. "He's not worth it," he said as he gave Nott a very cold look. The other boy made a derisive sound and smirked back at him.
Once in the Great Hall, Draco sat down at the Slytherin table next to Pansy and piled his plate with food. "Morning, Draco," she said with a scowl. "I'm sure you'll be thrilled to hear that everyone's still speculating on what exactly happened to Potter the other day."
"Of course they are," sneered Draco. "What else is there to possibly talk about? Potter's the most interesting thing on the planet, don't you know?"
"Who are you kidding?" Blaise said from his other side. "Nothing beats discussing the bloody Prat-Who-Lived." His voice was full of sarcasm.
Draco took a bite of his crispy potatoes, vowing not to pay attention to any more rumors. Hadn't they caused him enough trouble yesterday? Couldn't even bloody fly without Potter's face crossing his mind - a face filled with fury when he saw what Moody was doing to Draco. Stop it stop it stop it, he commanded his mind disgustedly.
He made it a point not to look at the Gryffindor table. The last thing he needed this morning was to meet Potter's emerald eyes. He also didn't need to see Weasley glowering at him, or the filthy Mudblood giving him any looks either. Bloody know-it-all Granger. He would never forgive her for laying a hand on him. She had no right to go anywhere near his skin.
Several minutes later, a flurry of owls flew into the Great Hall with their usual morning deliveries. Draco was subscribed to the Daily Prophet; he always felt that it was important to know what was going on in the world. His father had always told him it was prudent to be prepared for anything that might come.
His mother, Narcissa, knew one of the Prophet reporters exceedingly well. She had even whispered her secret in Draco's ear, and made him promise not to tell anyone. Every time he thought about it, it made him feel smug and superior. He knew something about a newspaper reporter that barely anyone else did.
When the owl bearing the Prophet landed at his place at the table, Draco sneered when she took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "Quit that, you stupid animal," he growled.
"Shoo! Shoo!" Pansy agreed. Looking extremely indignant, the owl flew away after Draco retrieved the Prophet from her leg.
"Idiot," he snarled, accepting another cup of pumpkin juice that Crabbe poured for him. "I hate animals."
"We know, Draco." Blaise sounded bored. "Believe me, we know."
Draco ignored Blaise, and looked at the headline of the Prophet.
And he stopped in his tracks.
NOTORIOUS DEATH EATER CAUGHT AT HOGWARTS POSING AS THE FAMOUS AUROR ALASTOR MOODY
Draco Malfoy had always prided himself on not being shocked by anything, but as he read the article that was written by none other than Rita Skeeter herself, it took a supreme amount of effort for him not to display his emotions.
He had heard the rumors flying around yesterday that Moody hadn't been Moody, and that somehow, Potter was involved. When was Potter ever not involved in some drastic turn of events at Hogwarts? The git always had to poke his nose where it wasn't wanted.
And now, it was written in black and white what had occurred. Somehow, a Death Eater had taken the place of Alastor Moody, an Auror who was famous for putting many of the Dark Lord's supporters in Azkaban. His plan was to put Harry Potter's name in the Goblet of Fire, get him through the Triwizard Tournament, and bring him to the Dark Lord at the end of the year so that he could be reborn.
A hush fell over the Great Hall as many people read the article. Many of the students were sharing it with those who weren't subscribed to the Prophet. This was one of those articles that everyone wanted to know about.
"That's impossible," Draco heard one of the older Slytherins, Mark Simmons, mutter to his friend sitting beside him. "The Dark Lord is gone. He can't be reborn."
"Barty Crouch, Jr?" a young girl whispered. "That's astounding."
That was definitely a part of the article Draco found shocking. A nasty, twisted smirk contorted his face - Barty Crouch, Sr., someone who was known for punishing Death Eaters to the harshest extent, had made an exception for his son. Draco had heard about how Barty had thrown his son in Azkaban without a second thought. Well, apparently not. The plot to break him out of Azkaban, substituting him for his dying wife - well, there were hypocrites everywhere, weren't there? He almost let out a laugh at the words swimming before his eyes.
And he knew how Skeeter had gotten her information. Somehow, she had been there when it all happened. This posed a major security risk to Hogwarts, didn't it? He smirked - so much for the excellent warding at the school. Dumbledore didn't know what he was doing. Well, what else is new? he thought smugly.
The Great Hall grew louder and louder as the students started to realize what this all meant. The room went from a soft buzz, to a regular volume, to almost a roar. Everyone was talking over each other. Pansy said something to him, but Draco couldn't hear a word she was saying.
Eventually, she had to shout to make herself heard. "No wonder he was so quick to show us the Unforgivables. We were being taught by one of the Dark Lord's most fervent supporters."
Suddenly, without warning, Draco was hit full-blast with the implications of all of this. He tried his best to school his face into the usual Malfoy poise, despite the awful feeling that had just entered his stomach.
"What's wrong, Draco?" Blaise asked him, and Draco realized he was failing. His father would be so disappointed. That was the one thought that broke through the fuzzy haze that his mind had become.
Quickly, he got up from the table. "I'm sorry," he said to Blaise and Pansy. "I think something I ate isn't agreeing with me. Stupid house-elves are trying to give me food poisoning." And without giving anyone a chance to answer, he left the Great Hall, still attempting to maintain his usual gait and posture.
Thankfully, blessedly, he was able to retreat without incident, clearly due to the fact that everyone was still talking about the Daily Prophet article. Unfortunately, as soon as he made it out of there, he just had to run into the last four people he wanted to see today. Of course it had to be them - they could never leave well enough alone, could they?
A torrent of primal, vicious anger ripped through him at the sight of Potter, the Weasel, the Mudblood, and that absolute idiot Longbottom. The four of them were walking towards breakfast, unaware of what was happening inside the great double doors only steps away from them.
"Bet you're disappointed, aren't you, Potter?" Draco snarled, the temptation to raise his wand and cast a nasty hex almost impossible to resist. "The famous Harry Potter, Hogwarts champion. Bet you're crying into your pillow about the plan being foiled. You'd be the center of attention, and then you'd die a martyr. A funeral in your honor, with more people in attendance than if the Minister of Magic snuffed it. Poor little Potter, wanting to be the hero that rescued Longbottom, only to discover that your plan backfired."
"You shut your mouth, Malfoy!" The weasel raised his wand at him, but Granger pulled on his arm. "You have no idea what you're talking about!" His face was red with rage. "How dare you say Harry wanted to die to get attention! Hermione, let GO!"
"Shut up, Malfoy." Longbottom's tone was sharper than Draco had ever heard it before.
"What is your problem?" Granger shouted at him. "Can't you go for one day without insulting people? Don't forget, Harry protected YOU against that same Death Eater you're sneering at him for saving Neville from."
It was too much. Draco's temper snapped, and he raised his wand. "I'll hurt you for that one, Mudblood," he said viciously.
He was moments away from casting the tooth-growing hex at the stupid girl when a low, angry voice stopped him from going through with it. "Exactly what is going on here?"
It was Snape. Of course it was bloody Snape. Ever since Draco had gone off on Potter and his posse in the man's office and Snape had accused him of having no subtlety, no discretion, Draco's feelings towards his Head of House and trusted confidant had cooled considerably. This wasn't the first time this had happened, either. He despised when Snape told him off for calling Mudbloods exactly what they were, and stopping him before he could put Potter in the hospital wing for the rest of eternity. "Do you want to be expelled, Mr. Malfoy?" It was a common threat of the Potions Master's, and Draco was thoroughly sick of it.
"Ten points from Gryffindor for your behavior. Each," Snape said, and Draco couldn't help but smirk as Longbottom trembled, Granger looked shocked and angry, and Weasley and Potter looked enraged.
"But Malfoy said something really vile to Harry!" Longbottom protested despite the fear he was so prominently displaying.
"Do not test my patience, Longbottom. Five more points from Gryffindor," Snape snarled. "Come with me, Draco. Now."
Weasley opened his mouth, but Granger stepped on his foot, causing him to wince in pain and shut up. Potter glowered at Malfoy and Snape, and Longbottom looked sick as Granger purposefully marched towards the Great Hall, the others following reluctantly.
Snape said nothing on the way to his office, and Draco was glad. His mind was teeming with too many thoughts. His hand itched to raise his wand and blast the portraits in the corridors to smithereens. He was a ball of anger, shock, horror, and confusion.
He had always been told that Death Eaters took care of their own, that they did not hurt one another. His father had always boasted of the prestige he held among the Dark Lord's supporters, and that they wanted nothing more than to purify the wizarding world of the filth that was constantly infesting it. Lucius had told Draco that if they associated with the right people, they would be safe from harm. He had said there were rumors among some of the Dark Lord's supporters that someday, he would return, and the Malfoys would be more powerful than ever. Lucius would explain to his Master that returning to regular society and claiming Imperius, instead of going to Azkaban to prove his loyalty, would end up benefiting him. "It might take a lot of convincing, Draco. But in the end, the Dark Lord will understand our purpose," Lucius had said, his voice holding all the superiority he knew his name held.
But now, as Draco was frog-marched to Snape's office, a realization had struck him right in the gut. The man who had viciously attacked him, who had tortured him, who had thrown him to the floor amidst the laughter of many of his fellow students, had known exactly who he was. Lucius Malfoy had been very high in the ranks of the Death Eaters, and there was no doubt in Draco's mind that Barty Crouch, Jr. knew precisely whose son Draco was. The malevolence in the man's eyes as he snarled at him hit him full-force.
It was not an Auror, someone whom Draco had always despised, that had humiliated him in front of everyone, prompting Harry bloody Potter to come to his defense.
No. Draco Malfoy, the esteemed son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, had been mercilessly brutalized by someone he thought would protect him.