Guilt was not something Draco Malfoy was used to feeling - and, he maintained, it was not something he was feeling now. Baxter had brought it on herself, trying to make a fool of him as she had. It was only right that he have the last laugh. That he show her exactly what happened to those who tried to pull one over on a Malfoy. Not doing so was inconceivable - it would be weak.
…But he hadn't expected her to cry. The screaming, the shock, the fear, that was all expected. The tears were not. Those around him - those from his inner circle - particularly delighted in that, Pansy's glee almost disturbing. It was something Draco didn't share. He wished he could. He was annoyed that he didn't. It had to be done, and if he could go back in time he'd only do it again, but none of that changed the weird discomfort brewing deep within his chest. He hadn't thought Baxter capable of crying like that. Shouting, yes, and swearing like a gnome, certainly, but not crying.
He didn't join in with the shouts of 'mudblood!' across the hall - in part because his point had already been made, but also because the people who did shout it were idiots. Pansy included. It was like they wanted to spend the rest of the term in detention. He stayed silent, and his lip curled in disgust as he watched that gormless, lanky Weasley oaf stand up and follow her from the hall. Once there was no more spectacle to witness, the eyes of those in the room began to slowly drift towards Slytherin table and he forced his expression into, well, one of no expression at all. Those who knew he did it would regard it as cool - business-like, even. And those who didn't would have no evidence that he did from his face.
"Of course Weasley is running after her. A blood traitor through and through, that one." Pansy sniffed.
Draco ignored her.
"It's an old blood purist trick - well, they'd call it a prank, but it's not, is it? Everybody from Wizarding families knows what it means," George explained grimly "Strictly against the rules here, obviously, and frowned upon pretty much everywhere else, but…"
"Now we know what he was doing walking past us like that. He had a point to make," she sniffled.
"Yeah," George replied "I s'pose he thought he did."
McGonagall had Scourgify'd the mud from her arm once they'd arrived in her office, but whatever this charming little hex was, it had been designed to cling to fabric. Her robes were fucked. It stood to reason that the contents of her bag would be, too. After doing what she could, the teacher had excused herself, bidding them to stay where they were while the teachers discussed the matter. Madame Maxime had to be no less than two full corridors away, but every so often they'd hear her voice carry through, booming and furious.
"You should go to your classes. This is my mess, I should be the one to clean it up."
"Are you joking? I have a reason to miss lessons without even getting in trouble for it. If I turn up anyway I'll be disgraced."
Marilyn wasn't up to, well, keeping up with him at that moment, so she settled for a nod and offered no response. The office felt far too big to be a mere office - a perk of being set up in a castle, she supposed, was that pokey little cubicles weren't really a thing. Still, the size of the room had her feeling exposed, like Draco and his goons were hiding in some corner waiting for their chance at a second go. It was a ridiculous fear, but it still had her glancing about every now and then, checking her blind spots like some sort of paranoid nutter.
"Are you alright?" George asked tentatively.
"I shouldn't have cried."
"You had a nasty shock."
"It gave them what they wanted."
"It was to be expected."
"It was stupid."
"It was human."
"Humans are stupid," she grumbled petulantly.
George snorted "Yeah. Well. Given the morning you've had, I won't disagree. So…what do we do?"
"We?" She echoed.
"Of course - we. We can't let this go unanswered. What do we do? Me n' Fred can come up with something, but given that it's your honour we'd be avenging, it's only right to give you an input."
And then the tears were threatening to cloud her vision again.
When the door to McGonagall's office swung open again, it revealed McGonagall, Dumbledore, her ballet mistress, and Madame Maxime. Marilyn's headmistress fired several questions at her, one after the other, asking her if she was okay, if she was hurt, and such. Marilyn answered all of them with quiet 'oui's. Somebody must have brought them her bag, too, for it hung in McGonagall's grip, still dripping mud every now and then.
"Miss Baxter, I must apologise to you for what just occurred," Dumbledore said gravely "It does not reflect the values we uphold here at Hogwarts, and it was unacceptable."
Marilyn didn't say anything - mostly because she had no idea what to say. To have a wizard like Albus Dumbledore offering her his apologies was overwhelming; if she said that she accepted his apology it sounded much higher and mightier than she had any right to feel standing before such a wizard, but if she said it was okay it would be a lie. In the end, she nodded awkwardly.
"At this venture, it's only right that we offer you the opportunity to return to Beauxbatons, should you wish to do so."
"What?! No," she snapped, and then remembered herself "Er - I mean, thank you for the opportunity, Professor Dumbledore, sir, but I-"
He held up a placating hand while Madam Garnier's lips twitched into a pleased smile - before she recalled that she was supposed to be furious and pursed them instead.
"Beauxbatons students do not flee, Dumbledore. Especially when they have done nothing wrong," Madame Maxime said.
"The implication is not that the girl did anything wrong, Olympe, we only wish for her to know that she is under no obligation to remain. There are men and women grown who wouldn't wish to spend another hour in this school had they just..."
Been humiliated in front of the entire student body?
"I want to stay," she reiterated quietly "I'm not running."
"I believe I speak for all here whose values are not misguided when I saw we are happy to hear that, Miss Baxter," Dumbledore said warmly "Now, I'm afraid I must ask - have you been having difficulties with any students here? Have you had any interactions that may have led to that display in the hall?"
George shifted slightly to her left.
"No," Marilyn lied.
George stilled. It was difficult to say whose gaze was more piercing - that of Dumbledore's, or Madam Garnier's. McGonagall's was on par, too, but hers was directed solely at George.
"Do you know anything, Mr Weasley?"
"What? Me? No, Professor, nothing at all. I'm just here as a shoulder to cry on," he said cheerfully.
"You're quite certain?" Dumbledore reiterated gravely, speaking to Marilyn "You can think of nothing at all?"
"Nothing," she said "Or at least, nothing that wouldn't get every Muggle-born in the school hit with the same treatment. Maybe it's because I stand out - I'm the only fourth year Beauxbatons student, I sit at the Gryffindor table rather than the Ravenclaw with all of my peers, I'm among the small number of Beauxbatons students who does ballet…I stand out. Maybe it's that, I don't know."
Her lying was pretty good, if she did say so herself. Driving how shaken she still felt into her words as she spoke, she did her utmost to sound every part the baffled little victim - like she was sitting before them trying to work out just what had brought this on just as much as they were.
"Those who felt the need to…voice their opinions have been given detention through now until the end of this term, and banned from attending the Yule Ball," Dumbledore said.
"The person who did this was probably one of them," Marilyn shrugged.
In actuality, she doubted Draco had been stupid enough to join in with the cries of 'mudblood', but she had a role to play here.
"It is certainly possible," Dumbledore said in a way that told her he knew, and that he knew she knew "You may take the day away from lessons to recover - Mr Weasley here may accompany you, should you think it helpful."
"That's it?" Madame Maxime demanded "Mild punishments for those who may not even be the culprits, and a day out of lessons for the victim of it all?"
"If Miss Baxter has no notion of who might've been behind it, and no other saw anything concerning who may have done it, there's little more that we can do," Dumbledore explained calmly "Save for stressing to Miss Baxter that should she encounter any further animosity, that she must report it to a member of staff immediately. But I am fairly confident that she will not."
"Encounter it or report it?" George muttered.
"Thank you, Mr Weasley, but I might remind you that you are here to support, not to participate," McGonagall said.
It spoke volumes regarding the woman's stern nature that George actually did fall silent then. Or maybe he just didn't want to push his luck as far as his lesson-free day went.
"Miss Baxter's school supplies will be replaced - at no cost to her - where they cannot be repaired, and she shall be excused from any homework that was ruined," Dumbledore added "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have several letters to write to parents."
"They'll be so proud," George couldn't help himself.
Marilyn suppressed a snort - because he wasn't wrong. If any parents took issue with what they were about to learn, it would be because their child was careless in their display of prejudice, not the prejudice itself. After all, where had they learned their hate?
"Mr Weasley," McGonagall warned again.
Given that the Head of Gryffindor didn't seem to be the type who was in the habit of giving multiple warnings, Marilyn suspected she rather agreed with him.
"Perhaps we might allow our guests a moment to speak privately," Dumbledore said.
McGonagall nodded in agreement, and the two of them looked to George expectantly. He grimaced and then followed, with a nod to the doorway that seemed to amount to 'I'll wait out there'. Marilyn nodded her thanks - knowing full well that he deserved a proper thank you as soon as possible, no matter his bluster concerning how thrilled he was to be able to skive off for the day.
What followed was a stern conversation in such quick and furious French that Marilyn would've had no hope of understanding a word of it had she been in her first year - Madame Maxime asking if she was well, if she was sure she had no idea who it could have been, if any of the other Beauxbatons students might know, before finally sternly impressing upon her just how vital it was that she tell her should something of the sort happen again.
And then her Headmistress left her with Madame Garnier, and Marilyn had to truly begin fighting her guilt over her playing dumb.
"That one might be good for you," she nodded in the direction of George, who peered curiously through the doorway as Madame Maxime made her exit.
Marilyn said nothing - it wasn't like her to comment on such things.
"Better, I think," she continued slowly "Than the Malfoy boy."
Ah. Well. Fuck.
"I don't pretend to know what happened between the two of you," she continued, hands folded in front of her "But his family's reputation spans much further than this wretched little island. I regret that I did not interfere now, but it's rare that I must tell a girl that she's focusing too much on ballet. I thought perhaps a little…teenage distraction may be good for you. Which makes it particularly regretful that it led to this."
Opening her mouth, although not sure what she was going to say - a lie, an excuse, something - any thought of doing just that left her when the woman raised one dark, thin eyebrow challengingly.
"You knew?" she asked weakly instead.
"If left too much to your own devices, you would dance yourself right into an injury," Madame Garnier replied "I came to check on you a few times, and very rarely found you alone."
Marilyn's gaze lowered, cheeks burning in shame, embarrassment, sheer frustration, and probably much more.
"I won't tell. Only because I fear it would make things worse," the ballet mistress admitted "You may take tonight away from practise, too. I must focus on the other girls and their routine, you'd be delegated to watching even if you were present."
"Thank you," Marilyn bowed her head "But…I've been thinking…after this morning…do you think I'd be able to do the broom trick in time for the ball?"
"After this morning?" the woman frowned "You've been working on it long before now. You'll be prepared for the performance well before."
"No," she said quickly "I don't mean on the length of the broom, I mean…I want to do it properly. On the tip of the broom, like Clarabella Vane. In front of them all."
Madame Garnier blinked slowly, and then she breathed a laugh. Marilyn liked to imagine that it was more proud than incredulous - for Draco wasn't the only one who had a point to prove.
A/N: There will be a little flashback scene showing Draco actually finding out the truth in the coming chapters! I'm not leaving that out. All in good time, though.
Tumblr - esta-elavaris
Insta - miotasach
