The last thing Marilyn expected to add to her workload was bedazzling the ever-loving shit out of a broomstick, but apparently that was just what her life had turned into. Given that the whole vibe for the Yule Ball was ethereal, winter wonderland, Santa vomiting up tinsel, that sort of thing, she knew the ratty old brown broom would stand out painfully in the middle of her routine, and she needed this whole thing to be perfect. So, one weekend in Hogsmeade she ended up single-handedly keeping the little craft shop in business loading up on white glitter, silver paint, and one-spell stick-on crystals. It actually ended up being a fairly cathartic little project, even if it drew in plenty of looks like she'd damn well lost her mind when the other students spotted her working on it around the school - usually outdoors so that the smell of the paint wouldn't knock her sick.
What she hadn't expected was for her little Art Attack moment to land her a front row seat to the newest bit of gossip that finally drove her little scandal out of the minds of all students currently calling the castle home.
Marilyn missed the very beginning of the confrontation, too bloody focused on crystal placement so that it wouldn't run the risk of ruining her performance. The first thing she was really aware of was Draco's voice, but that was nothing new - he'd chosen to occupy the other end of the courtyard with a group of his cronies not long after she'd settled down to work. Absolutely unwilling to be driven away, she instead gritted her teeth and forced herself to remain, driving her attention into the task at hand rather than Draco's posh bastard voice as it drifted towards her every now and then. Even more annoying was the occasional obnoxious snickering of his lackeys, regardless of whether what he said was actually funny or not. Or maybe she just found that more annoying because it sent little streaks of paranoia through her that she was the one being laughed at.
They could laugh all they liked, though, because it was just about all they could do. She had a beautiful little mutually assured destruction pact with their king, after all, so he could gloat all he liked because it wasn't like he could take it any further. By the time she did look up, he was already practically nose-to-nose with Harry, sneering down at him and he spewed his usual venom. Lowering the broom and the little container of crystals to her lap, Marilyn couldn't help but watch - and grimace as she did.
Whatever Draco had said clearly struck a chord with Harry, for he glowered and retorted sharply in such a way that drew in undisguised nudges and nods from plenty of those nearby. She almost wanted to warn Harry not to give Draco a reaction, not to play into his hands, but it was a thought that had her annoyed at herself as soon as it formed in her mind. Why shouldn't he? Why should Draco get to swan about saying and doing as he liked while everybody else kept their heads down and said nothing for the sake of an easy life? But if he had succeeded in drawing a reaction from Harry, Harry had done much of the same to him fairly easily, for the moment he was done speaking and had turned his back, Draco was drawing his wand. Shit.
Before she could react - to get up and hurry off in a trail of paint and glitter, or to draw her own wand just in case an errant spell misfired in her direction - a lower, much older voice joined the fray.
"Oh no you don't, sonny!"
Moody stepped into the courtyard, and with a wave of his hand Draco yelped and then was gone…and a little white ferret stood in his place.
"I'll teach you to curse someone when their back is turned!" Moody growled, marching forth before Marilyn could even fully register what was happening "You stinking…cowardly…scummy…"
With every insult punctuated by a wave of his hand, the ferret - Draco - bobbed up and down in the air, squeaking in protest as laughter began to ripple all around them. Marilyn, still wide-eyed, did not join in. Nor did McGonagall, as she swept towards them.
"Professor Moody! What are you doing?"
"Teaching," he didn't pause in his teaching for a moment.
"Is that a- is that a student?!"
She didn't think she'd ever see the day when McGonagall was lost for words.
"Technically it's a ferret," he answered simply.
It was then that Moody grew bored of making Draco duck and dive in the air - and sent him hurtling into Crabbe's trousers instead. If she hadn't envied him before, she really didn't do so now. The laughter around them reached new heights, and still she didn't join in - couldn't join in. Why couldn't she join in? It should have been funny, it should have been fucking hysterical, not least because of the high pitched shrieks belting out of Crabbe that certainly didn't match his face nor his build.
"Stand still, stand still!" Goyle ordered, leaping forward and reaching into his trousers to try and grab the ferret.
The ferret reminded them all that it was indeed Draco by biting the hand, and Goyle ripped his hand back, swearing. A few of those gathered were damn well near tears at that point - and she couldn't even blame them, because the whole thing was like a sodding Mr Bean sketch brought to life. The fact that there were probably few gathered here who hadn't been on the receiving end of Draco's ire only helped matters. But the farce came to an end when the ferret slipped out of the end of Crabbe's trouser leg and McGonagall saw her chance, waving her wand and transfiguring him back into a real boy.
Draco staggering and then spun, his hair in disarray as he stumbled back from Moody…and then didn't help matters at all by declaring his go-to tagline.
"My father will hear about this!"
He visibly regretted it the second Moody reacted.
"Is that a threat?" He demanded, limping forward as Draco fled "Is that a threat?!"
Draco rounded the tree and then began to quite literally run away, McGonagall stepping between Moody and his target.
"I could tell you stories about your father that curl even your greasy hair, boy!" Moody roared after Draco as he fled.
Marilyn didn't doubt that.
"Alastor," McGonagall said sternly.
"It doesn't end here!" Moody continued his tirade.
"Alastor!" McGonagall insisted.
Those who had witnessed the spectacle dove out of the way to clear a path for Draco's departure - however funny they'd found it, they still knew to stand between him and his exit would spark disaster for them later on down the line. Marilyn remained where she was, not even fully aware that she was still staring until Draco met her eye as he stormed past. At first he glared, opening his mouth to spit yet another pre-prepared insult at her, but then he seemed to actually register her expression - the fact that she wasn't even so much as smiling, never mind laughing or gloating. He blinked, and then he almost faltered…and finally he tore his eyes away from hers, snapping to his friends to hurry up, and then he was gone.
Grimacing, Marilyn took up her glitter again and turned her focus back to the broom.
Draco sat in the Great Hall at dinner that night with a scowl on his face. It wasn't particularly intentional, but nor did he care. Had he much choice in the matter he wouldn't be here at all, he wasn't even hungry and the last thing he wanted to do was sit around people and tolerate those people. But if he were not here, that would look too much like running, and being thought to run was the only thing that could possibly be worse than sitting here and enduring this. Malfoys did not run. So instead he endured it. He endured the food, and the inane ramblings of those around him, and the only thing that gave him any great sense of pleasure was the petty stab of smugness that arose when those sitting around him finally gave up trying to coax a conversation from him and instead resigned themselves to sit in uncomfortable silence.
Occupying himself with the enthralling process of cutting up his steak pie into pieces so small it was practically becoming a stew on his plate, he wasn't particularly aware of when his eyes trailed towards Baxter until he was watching her chat with Granger and the youngest Weasley idiot over at the Gryffindor table.
She hadn't laughed. He'd met her eye (entirely without meaning to, of course) as he left the courtyard, and it would have been the perfect opportunity for her to gloat - to see the disgrace that had taken place as some sort of great karmic revenge for her perceived slights, to snicker away with the rest of the idiots gathered, to smile, even to smirk. And she'd done none of it. Why? Was she trying to do that moral high ground thing that her favourite little Gryffindors made such a lofty point of trying to do? If so, it wouldn't work - he wouldn't fall for it.
Even as he made that resolution silently to himself, though, it didn't feel quite right. There hadn't been anything haughty on her face - nothing pointed. She'd blinked at him with those wide blue eyes of hers, an expression he couldn't for the life of him place flickering across her features for just a second, and then she'd slowly returned her attention back to that ridiculous broom she toted about during her free hours.
"Is your mother having her annual Christmas party this year, Draco?" Pansy tore him from his thoughts.
"I expect so."
"You expect so? You don't know?"
"I won't be there, anyway, so it's of no consequence to me. I'm staying here for the Yule Ball."
"What?"
"Plenty of others are doing the same," he shrugged lazily.
"I know that, but I can't go."
"And I know that," he countered "And I also know that it's your own fault. You were the one who couldn't keep her mouth shut in a hall full of witnesses."
"Because they lied," she spluttered "I would never-"
"You did. You know it. We all know it. And we're all lucky you didn't land the lot of us right in it because of it. What is it our parents are always saying about these things? We need to do it carefully. You're learning the price of not doing that. Best learn it this time."
"And doing what you did in front of the whole hall was careful, was it? You were lucky, Draco."
"What did I do?" He blinked, the picture of innocence "Walk past her?"
"Don't know if it was luck," Nott muttered a few places down "Overheard the teachers discussing it - ballet girl told 'em she had no idea who it could've been."
"Maybe she's in love," Goyle snorted.
"Probably. It's pathetic. Maybe she's hoping you'll invite her, since you're going to the ball after all, Draco," Pansy said "Assuming you don't already have a date."
"Of course I don't," he rolled his eyes "It's not sad for a man to go on his own - not like it is for a woman, anyway. I expect she lied because there was no evidence, as I made sure there would not be. And if she didn't grass me in, why should she do so to you?."
Those around him stilled slightly, and he realised he'd sounded a tad too much like he was defending her.
"Or maybe it was because she realises the hell she'd be in for if she snitched," he added.
They relaxed again, nodding and murmuring in agreement.
"Well, I'll tell you now, she's still in for it. I'm not going to sit at home while everybody else attends the ball and let that go unanswered," Pansy said lowly.
Draco sighed and said nothing.
A/N: I changed the timing of the ferret thing - it should've happened long before now, buuuut…no big deal.
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