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 made him copy 'it won't cross my mind to attack a classmate again' over and over again for three hours. 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 his patience, exhausted by his thoughts, he walked slowly down the corridor toward the Great Hall. Dinner would be almost over by now, but, with any luck, there would be a few late students left and the food wouldn't have been taken away yet. And so he would fill his stomach. It hadn't stopped growling embarrassingly during the last hour of detention. 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 floor 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 floor. As Draco stopped, he 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 could see they were crossing a doorway, 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 gloom of the room, dimly lit by the night light from outside that streamed in through the windows, and the torches in the corridor. 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 corridor disappeared.
The person holding him forced Draco to turn, to face the newly closed door. The boy blinked, gasping and bent in pain, to focus his clear eyes on the person in front of him who had closed the door.
When he recognised 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 the — 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 out of your minds? What kind of joke is this?"
"Do you think this is a joke?" a hoarse voice behind him mumbled, 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, in a state of animalistic 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. The boy, 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.
Surprise at what he was experiencing suddenly paralysed him, trying almost desperately to find an explanation. What on earth was going on? How dare those two inept do that to him?
"Better," Crabbe approved, panting, watching him stay still. He rubbed his knuckles, the ones he'd hit him with. "I will not allow you to insult me. Not anymore." His entire huge body tensed, straightening as much as possible and glaring at him with those tiny black eyes that sparked. "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 catch his breath. It couldn't be true... He tried to breathe in but couldn't, his chest suddenly tightening. 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 have crumpled by now.
It couldn't be true. It couldn't be happening. It was a fucking nightmare. He would wake up at any moment in his dormitory, 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, when we arrived, told us that you had beaten Warrington up in the corridor on the first floor. And that McGonagall had caught you, and probably taken you to her office. It blew our minds," Crabbe revealed, still in a low voice. "So we skipped class and went to find you in her office so that you could explain what had 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, almost without thinking, in despair. He was on the verge of hyperventilating in 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 a matter of life and 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 do you say it as if I planned it, as if it was my own damn 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, I'll have you know 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 cretin. She went into 'Prefect-Perfect' mode. 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 dunno, 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 'wuss', 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 it bothers Warrington that you hang 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 clever of me to curse the apple of McGonagall's eye at her office door. Because her 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 of adrenaline. His face didn't change at all, even though inside he felt like 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 up.
"So, Draco, has Granger got your tongue?" Goyle sneered 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 unforgivable for someone like him. There was no excuse.
He would have to try another strategy to get out of there alive. The only one he could think of. Even if it was desperate, and also difficult. He was holding on to a very fragile card.
But he understood that there were some things that could not be fixed.
"Interesting. You've shown that you've got some fucking marvellous spy skills… You've seen us together, uh-huh. That's good. Watch me 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, glaring at him. He wasn't smiling. "You are a... scumbag. How long have you been with that Granger? Did you really go off and sneak around with her 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 and tell all this to anyone who cares."
"How about the whole Slytherin House? Do you think they won't care if you're hanging out with a Mudblood?" Crabbe sneered, with firm cruelty, regaining confidence. Draco, against all odds, smirked arrogantly.
"Go ahead, do it. Please," he snapped, with a feigned, carefree laugh. "You pair of fools… Don't you realise that you have nothing against me? All you're going to do is make yourselves look like bigger fools than people already think you are. No one is going to believe what you say unless you show 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 saw it, as soon as he managed to focus the tearful 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're pathetic. 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 spare time."
Crabbe's fist clenched tighter, trembling with rage, and he slammed into the blond's face again, which felt like an iron sledgehammer trying to separate his head from his shoulders.
"Don't make fun of us, Malfoy," he snapped, his jaws clenched, emphasising his surname with 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..."
Actually, while it might be a bit 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 particularly well versed in spells.
"Just like you did with Warrington today," Goyle snarled angrily in his ear as Crabbe delivered another stormy punch to his jaw. Draco felt it almost slip out of its joint, or so it seemed to him. He felt his neck so weak by now, almost incapable of supporting 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. 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 the game for the moment. For a noble reason. For having the balls 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 grinning 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 kept it from us, too. I wonder how many other things you've kept from us..."
Draco, for the first time, felt real fear. An icy fear that crept 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 trump card against Draco. Telling their classmates about it, though problematic, might even be solved with the right kind of cunning. He could also sort out the problem related to 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 condemned to death.
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 shred of evidence? 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 to be the most trustworthy of people." He gave a wide, cynical smile, narrowing his grey eyes to feline ones. "My father will send you to receive the Dementor's Kiss as soon as he is released from 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 in his body, realised that he had just escaped certain death.
Despite their boastful threat, they had no courage to tell anything, not to the Dark Lord and not 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 going through both of their memories, 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 pitiful that you've stooped so low as to be involved with a Mudblood… I admit I didn't think you capable of it. You had me very well fooled... You disgust me."
Draco said nothing. He was staring at Crabbe with so much anger that he looked as if he could set 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 unattractive 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 his patience hanging by a thread. He struggled with renewed vigour, even though he knew it was futile. But he didn't intend to let these two brainless men feel they were 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. First, though —" he muttered afterwards, almost thoughtful.
He drew his arm back to gather momentum and gave him one last punch in the stomach that echoed chillingly amidst the silence of the classroom. After that, Goyle released him. Draco fell to the floor 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 classroom 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 what the correct sentence was. He was alone in the middle of the corridor in which Professor McGonagall's office was located.
He had eaten dinner in the Great Hall, alone, hoping that Draco would join him when his detention was over. But his friend was nowhere to be seen, which puzzled him. Glancing around in the Great Hall, he made sure 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; he knew Pansy, Millicent, and Tracey didn't like him too much. He didn't see Crabbe and Goyle either, which made him vaguely assume that Draco was with them. But still, his absence managed to unsettle him, 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 after ten o'clock at night, and Draco hadn't come out. The office door was still closed, and Nott had been sitting on the cold corridor floor for a long time now, his back against the wall, studying for the Potions oral exam that was to take place the next day. He was beginning to feel a slight resentment towards the teacher. How long did she intend to keep him grounded?
"'… each of the separate components...' Ugh! Why would they make it so complicated?" He sighed and settled back on the floor. 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 discovered, with a slight start, that Crabbe and Goyle were just coming out of a classroom a few metres away from McGonagall's office. They did not see the young man, seated on the floor, and walked quickly, with nimble gait for their considerable bulk, in the opposite direction, away down the corridor. They were talking in serious whispers. They looked angry.
Nott, watching them disappear around the corner, wondering what on earth they were doing there at that hour, heard a new sound behind him. A new door opening. He turned his head to the other side, to find 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, sitting up straight. McGonagall looked at him with a new expression of understanding, but still looked quizzical.
"Mr Malfoy finished his detention a while ago," the witch informed, arching a thin eyebrow. Nott looked at her in confusion, feeling slightly stupid.
"Really? He didn't come to dinner," he muttered, to himself. He shook his head slightly and looked at the teacher serenely, "Thank you, Professor. I didn't know that. I'll look for him now."
"I'd advise you to go to your dormitory, Mr Malfoy is probably already there. It's getting late. Students aren't allowed in the corridors after eleven, you know that."
"Yes, Professor, thank you," the boy muttered, struggled to his feet, and winced again as he felt another sting on his bottom. The woman softened her features.
"Good night, Mr Nott."
"Good night, Professor."
The woman walked away with firm steps, her high-heeled boots echoing on the stone floor of the castle. Nott, however, did not move. He picked up his bag from the floor, with Draco's dinner inside, and held back a sigh, looking around distractedly. Where had he gone? Had he gone straight back to their dormitory? It was likely, maybe he was tired. But it was strange that he hadn't tried to make it to dinner, if he'd left detention a while ago. He hadn't passed him on the way either...
He walked slowly, listlessly, in the direction of the stairs leading downstairs. However, he couldn't stop his eyes from wandering over to the classroom door Crabbe and Goyle had come out of. Despite feeling somewhat foolish for making a big deal out of such a thing, but ignoring that fact given that he was alone in the corridor and no one would judge him, he halted his steps. He continued to stare at the door. It was a disused classroom. In his first year, History of Magic had been taught there, but from his second year onwards, the subject had been moved to the third floor of the castle, as it was larger to accommodate the students. Now that classroom was not in use, and that was why Nott's brain had given importance to the banal detail of his roommates being there at that time of night.
The chances of Draco being in there were one in ten thousand. But lately nothing his friend did made any sense, and it was that depressing thought that gave him the impetus to cross the corridor and enter 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.
"What the — 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. It was indeed Draco 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 where Crabbe and Goyle had left him to that position, 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, felt 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 caused by the punches, and there was a terrible tightness in the centre of his chest. Every inhalation of air was a painful prick. And his stomach area felt as if it had been turned inside out.
In addition, as Nott instantly noticed as soon as he approached, he was bleeding from his nose and his lower lip was split. With one hand he was holding his stomach, and with the other he was making wild gesticulations to silence Nott's screams.
"What happened to you?!" the dark-haired young man gasped in dismay. He fell to his knees beside his friend. "What the hell happened?! You're hopeless, dammit, you just got out of detention...! But how — ?!"
"Stop shrieking!" Malfoy exclaimed in return, irritated.
He found, to his own relief, that his jaw didn't dislocate from talking. Despite his general appearance, his eyes expressed the same haughtiness as ever. 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 indication. But Nott understood and rushed to his aid, draping his outstretched arm over his own shoulders and putting his arm around Draco's back to pull him to his feet.
Draco gritted his teeth to stifle a groan at the pain he felt in his stomach, once again at the mercy of gravity. He leaned on a nearby table with both hands, dropping his weight. That was better.
"It was just a stupid fight, that's all…" Draco finally mumbled through his teeth. Nott snorted in dismay.
"Stupid? Stupid is Millicent Bulstrode! There's nothing stupid about this!" Nott protested as he began to rummage hysterically through the pockets of his bag in search of some tissues. "Tell me the truth, what happened? I just saw Crabbe and Goyle walk out of here. Did they also find you like this? Did they go looking for someone? You hit Warrington today, damn it, can't you — ?"
"I told you, it's nothing," Draco repeated more firmly as he took the handkerchief his friend held out to him and tried to contain the river of blood that was gushing from his sore nose. It had been staining the front of his clothes for a long time. He had started by wiping it off with the sleeves of his robes, finally giving up when he saw that the bleeding wouldn't stop. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?" he finally asked, dumbfounded. Nott snorted more softly.
"I came looking for you at McGonagall's office when I saw you weren't coming to dinner. I was bringing you some food. And I tell you, I just saw Crabbe and Goyle coming out of here," he gestured to the door with a languid wave of his arm, "so I was wondering what they'd been up to. It was an absurd fucking coincidence."
"You're nuts," Draco hissed, but his tone of voice didn't match his words. It sounded really soft, almost too soft to sound dismissive. But Nott didn't soften his frustrated, exasperated expression.
"Draco, don't fuck with me… What happened? Who — ?" But he fell silent with a start, bewildered then by his own thoughts. A terrible thought seemed to shoot through his mind like an arrow. Connecting what little information he had. He looked at his friend, and, the fact that his friend seemed determined not to look at him, caused the idea to gain momentum. "They…?" he asked in a much quieter voice. All he got was silence from his friend. "How did they — ? Was it them? Crabbe and — ? What? Why — ?" he added without any common thread, disturbed.
Draco glanced at him for a moment out of the corner of his eye and then looked away, fixing his gaze back on the surface of the table. Nott was usually 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 accurate conclusion was, therefore, quite foreseeable. Could he still make up any excuse? Tell him that any 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'd find out 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. He was too upset and too freaked out by what had happened. Still trying to assimilate 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 lowered his handkerchief slowly, pulling it away from his nose, and Nott took that as a gesture of surrender. He stood patiently silent, waiting for his friend to speak, his nervous breathing breaking the silence of the classroom.
"Yes, it was them," Draco confessed in an almost inaudible voice, his gaze wandering somewhere in the room, but unable to hide a murderous glint in his eye. Nott's only reaction was to open his eyes wide. He did not interrupt his friend. "They got me from behind on my way out of McGonagall's detention. Those cowards..."
Nott's face contracted into a grimace of silent confusion. Angry, nervous disbelief. He blinked, and tried to articulate something, his mouth opening and closing, 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 would they do such a thing to you?" Nott asked in one breath, dumbfounded. Then he slung his bag off his shoulder, setting it on the floor, and squatted down to rummage 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 was 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 of telling the Dark Lord hovered on the surface of his mind, giving everything that had happened with Granger a new insight, a more alarming one that he hadn't seriously considered until now. That he had not allowed himself to consider. Also the threat of telling his Slytherin classmates, with all that that implied... And also his parents finding out. Something that, although he had deluded himself into believing would never happen, suddenly seemed more likely than ever. It was a reality that was right there, that 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. He couldn't admit that he had screwed 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 that he was attracted 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 else.
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 what happened with Crabbe and Goyle. In his own way.
"Because they're just two brainless prats. Can you believe they saw me with Granger and thought — ?"
There was a sound of shattering glass that silenced him. Draco turned his head and saw that Nott was staring in his direction, unmoving, his eyes fixed on his friend and a look of stupefaction 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 shattered into several fragments.
"What?" Nott managed to say in a whisper, still not moving. "What did you say?"
"That they are two arseholes —"
"No, not that."
"And that they saw 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 d'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 with 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 on. He dropped down, relieved, groaning in pain. He was beginning to feel dizzy from standing. Besides, he took advantage of the gesture to avoid having to look at Nott. "Listen, you won't believe it... After I hit 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 bitter idiot… Crabbe and Goyle came looking for me too, apparently they saw us talking and — I dunno, they got their wires crossed, or something, and 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 you and Granger — ?" He fell silent suddenly, and his face changed abruptly. 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 thudding in his throat. "What the hell do you think — ?"
But Nott wouldn't let him finish. He had swallowed and lowered his tone as he corrected himself, articulating cautiously, "What the hell happened between you and Granger?"
Draco snorted loudly and turned his face away, shaking it as he stared at the other end of the classroom, as if his friend was exasperating him. He bit his lip in feigned indignation, though he instantly regretted it, as it only served to hurt him 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 could he explain to anyone that he felt something for Granger, but that he didn't feel that, and that they weren't together under any circumstances, but yet he couldn't help but devour her lips whenever 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 insinuating?" Draco finally replied, his tone curt and defensive, glaring angrily at Nott again. "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 going on 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 were beaten up. And, excuse me, but you beat up Warrington today 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 clever. More clever than he should be. 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 his saliva with disguised 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 discreet derision, "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 well as we walked past them. He said I was a wuss, or something like that, for attending 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 terrified!" 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 dunno — 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 telling the nonsense they thought they saw, I won't be held responsible for my actions. 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 classmates 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 Draco 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, clumsily.
"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 have a feeling they'll be joining his ranks soon. And, apparently, their parents have told them that I'm going to be a Death Eater soon too. That is why they have threatened to tell him... But they don't have any proof. Evidently, because it's all a lie," he emphasised, unable to contain himself. "They won't dare accuse me to the Dark Lord without proof." He looked his friend in the eye again, with renewed seriousness. Almost with the intention of reassuring him. And himself. "I saw it in their eyes. They won't tell him anything. They don't have the 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, something he didn't need at the moment. He stopped pressing on his stomach, discovering that it no longer hurt. His nose was still bleeding, though, and it was almost completely soaking his friend's handkerchief. His head was starting to ache as well.
"And what about Granger?"
Draco felt an immediate hollowness in his chest, almost as if he was being punched again.
"What about her?" he questioned aggressively, glaring 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 doubt very much that it will be kept secret. The Gryffindors could 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 breathed heavily for a few seconds. He hadn't considered anything of the sort, 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 swept 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 right now. 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 on the line because of that Mudblood..."
"Don't call her that," Nott muttered, closing his eyes for a moment.
"But it is what she is!" Draco shouted, suddenly becoming furious. Too upset by all the changes that were happening to accept just one more. 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 insane! You've seen how the world reacts to the idea that we're together! You think I'm stupid enough, irresponsible enough, to let anything like that happen? Look what Crabbe and Goyle did to me! Crabbe and Goyle, Nott! We used to be friends... We had been together our whole lives..."
Draco stopped shouting and dropped 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 despondency. 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 spilt solution, and went to pick it up. He retraced his steps to the table where his friend was sitting, poured some onto another handkerchief, a clean one, and held it out 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, a little 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 tell, no one might believe them. With a bit of luck, it won't go any further. I really hope so. For your sake, and 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 I am to blame for this happening," he thought bitterly, 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 in the mood to press the issue any further either. Although, if Draco had looked into his eyes, he would have clearly seen the fear that still shone in them. The open concern with which he was looking at him, without Draco noticing.
"I imagine this question will seem like a joke to you, but don't you want to go to the Hospital? They might have broken you 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 grumbled, raising his eyes to the sky.
"I'm not going to show up at 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 Scouring Charm, 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. There are more potions in the dormitory, 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 have very fair skin," 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 dormitory now, no one will see us on the way, and with any luck, 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 dormitory, 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 dormitory. Dare them to 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 gulped and let the air out slowly as his friend rose gingerly to his feet, making sure he could 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 can keep an eye out."
"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 pang in his chest as he raised his voice, and he clutched his ribs with his hand again, grimacing, but he continued speaking loudly, "Granger can't know about this! Don't you dare tell her anything!"
"I won't tell her anything, I promise. I mean it," 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.