Surviving Malfoy _ Part II : Anger and Depression
Radiohead 'Talk Show Host' – I want to be someone else or I'll explode.
Chapter 10:
"Jolene!" Madam Vincent's voice pulls me out of my reverie. "Doxy eggs, do you want to kill us all?" She pulls the bowl I'm holding out of my hand, pushing another one into them instead. "You should know the difference between doxy eggs and beetle eyes by now," she tuts.
I blink at the bowl in my hand. It's filled with shiny, almost sparkling black beads, eerily similar to the ones I was holding, although much, much smaller. "I'm sorry," I mumble.
"What is going on with you today?" She puts the bowl of doxy eggs back into the storage cupboard I took it out of moments before.
I don't respond, instead measuring three ounces of beetle eyes for the pepperup potion we're brewing at my mother's request.
"She's been a scatterbrain all morning," Maddison butts in, a hint of mischief in her voice. "Might be about a boy."
The greenhouse we're in is shared by Madam Vincent and Madam Holbein, who respectively teach Potions or Alchemy and Herbology or Care of Magical Creatures. It's big enough to accommodate two subjects at once, but it's still inevitable to notice everything that is happening in the other class. I roll my eyes behind the teachers' back at the three eighth years — only Maddison and Zoe giggle, Aithne narrows her eyes at me.
It's Thanksgiving, the end of November, but she hasn't yet given up on trying to find out what I'm up to. She's started interrogating me before bed, wrapping me up in lengthy conversations and trying to catch me off-guard with her questions. But I'm not that stupid.
Maddison is right though, I have been a 'scatterbrain' all morning. I was woken up at 2am for the first time in weeks and was unable to fall back asleep afterwards. My conversation with Draco was short. I had almost given up hope and so, woke up with a start when I felt the coin glow under my pillow.
He was frantic, sending me the words "are you awake?" over and over, until the coin was almost unbearable to touch when I finally answered that I was. He and Blaise have been planning to flee the UK over Christmas. They've been doing their best not to raise suspicion, but somehow someone must have found out. His father showed up at Hogwarts, and Draco is to take the mark this weekend. He will be traceable with it, even if he leaves the country.
They haven't approached Blaise, but he's unlikely to be able to leave without difficulties; he's on their radar now, and I have yet to find a moment alone with Debbie to break the news to her. She too has noticed my absent mind, but with Aithne breathing down my neck, I haven't been able to do much more than shrugging it off.
Aithne spends the rest of the lesson sending me strange looks across the room, which I counter with furrowed brows. Our batch of pepperup potion is done long before the class is over, but Vincent won't let me leave early, making me go over the alchemic theory of the anti-paralysis potion she's working on for the Obole Clinic. It's a project she's been working on with Madam Holbein for over a year now, and she's decided to rope me in for a little extra credit. I've always been good at brewing potions, but understanding the math's behind them is an entirely new concept I have yet to fully grasp.
I let my book fall shut the second the clock strikes noon, hiding the chemical diagram of salamander blood I've been drawing within it, fully intending not to open it again until the following week. I try to escape the greenhouse without much fuss, but Aithne is hot on my heels as I make it into our dining room. I drop my books on the table, slumping down in a chair with a full view of the kitchen door. There's an array of sandwiches on the table, and I know there isn't much more we can hope for for lunch, as my mother and Martha are in full preparation for Thanksgiving dinner.
Aithne drops her bag on the chair opposite mine. We are the first in, the greenhouse being closer to the dining room than any of the upstairs classrooms. Aithne closes the door to the hallway behind her, casting a quick look left and right before doing so.
"You were up last night," she says.
I sigh, rolling my eyes at the selection of sandwiches in front of me. "How many more times do I have to tell you, what I do with my free time is none of your business."
"If you keep on waking me up in the middle of the night, you're making it my business though," she lets her bag slide to the floor, taking up its spot on the chair.
"I'm not allowed to go to the toilet at night anymore?" I say dryly.
"You were peeing on the balcony?" Aithne raises her eyebrow at me.
I feel my nostrils flare. "I needed air."
"You're talking to someone in the UK, aren't you?" She states.
I let out a puff of air. She's gotten to that conclusion before. Not that it's a difficult one to reach. "So?" I ask.
"They're in danger." Aithne hasn't made a move for the sandwiches. Her arms are crossed on the table in front of her, and she keeps her eyes on me, scrutinizing any reaction I might have to that statement. I freeze. "They are."
It isn't a far-fetched conclusion either, but it's one so drastically different to the ones she's thrown at me so far that it takes me off guard. "What's it to you?" I ask.
Aithne raises her eyebrows. So far, all she's asked me about is boys. Or male friends. Or possible love-interests, classmates, men. But she's never inquired about their well-being or asked about the on-going war in any way.
"Whoever it is, you clearly care about them," she says.
"And I'm supposed to tell you about every single person I care about on this planet?" I ask, dropping a sandwich on my plate.
"No," Aithne says. "But if they're in danger, maybe I can help."
"You," I say, a hint of sarcasm in my voice. But Aithne's response never comes. The hallway door opens again, allowing Zoe and Maddison to strut through it. I quickly finish my sandwiches and picked my books back up. I find Debbie a few minutes later in Olivia and Erin's bedroom, trying to explain the Knockback Jinx to Liv.
"Don't you need lunch?" I ask the latter, but Debbie doesn't give her a chance to answer.
"She's been working on this for weeks and can't even knock a quill off her desk. Fox is testing them on it this afternoon."
"Martha only made sandwiches for lunch, they're running out quick," I say.
Debbie sighs and nods towards the door. "Go grab something to eat. But be back quick, I need you to get this by the end of the day."
Olivia doesn't need to be asked twice. She bolts for the door, mouthing a silent 'thank you' at me on her way out. I close the door behind her and Debbie, who's gotten out of her own chair about to follow her, raising an eyebrow at me.
"Is something wrong?" She asks.
I hide my hands behind my back, leaning my back against the closed door. "Have you heard from Blaise?"
"Not recently." Debbie says slowly, with no sign of lowering her eyebrow. "I should get a letter by the weekend though. Why? What's wrong?" She frowns, a worried look spreads across her face, likely mirroring mine.
"I need to tell you something," I say, biting my lip. "And I need you to not yell at me."
Debbie's mouth tightens into a thin line. "Okay."
I take a deep breath. "I've been talking to Draco." I don't dare look her in the eyes as I say it, but I can't help hearing the groan she lets out or her hand rising to rub her temple. I push myself away from the door and make my way to her in two quick strides. "I know, I should've told you earlier-"
"Or maybe," she interrupts me loudly. "You should have listened to me and just not done that."
"Debbie," I put my hands on her shoulders, trying to push her back down onto the chair. "It's fine."
"Nothing is fine," she says, shaking off my hands. "What happened to Blaise?!" Her voice sounds panicked.
I pause. "He's fine," I say calmly, putting my hands back onto her shoulders. "Nothing's happened to him." Debbie sinks into her chair.
"Then why were you asking about him?" She asks suspiciously.
"Alright, listen," I take another deep breath and sits down opposite her. "I've been talking to Draco for a while now, since before the school year started. Austin asked me to," I add quickly as I see her jaw tighten.
"Austin?" Debbie asks, narrowing her eyes.
"Yes," I say. "I didn't want to carry on talking with Draco, but Austin asked me to try and get some information out of him."
"Malfoy."
"What?"
"Stick to calling him Malfoy, he's not your friend," Debbie says darkly.
I roll my eyes. "Malfoy, fine. Whatever. I've been writing down all our conversations for Austin, and he's passed them on to his superior. I don't know if there is anything of value in there, but I haven't told him any of what's been going on here or mentioned Harry in any way. I promise you, it's fine."
"And Blaise?" Debbie presses on.
I pause. "Malfoy's father wants him to take the mark, he's been pressuring him since summer. Malfoy doesn't want to, so him and Blaise had been planning to run away over Christmas. Someone must've found out, because Malfoy's father is at Hogwarts now, and he's making him take the mark."
"When?" She asks.
"This weekend."
"And Blaise?"
I shrug. "They can't force him to do it. Not yet at least," I add glumly.
Debbie takes a moment to think. "They can still run away though, no?" she asks.
I shake my head. "The mark makes you traceable."
She pauses again. "So, Blaise would need to get out of the country before they make him take it."
"They can't make him," I say reassuringly. "He's of age, no one has the authority to make him do it. I asked Dra— Malfoy, sorry. He said they were only planning on making him a Death Eater, but they didn't say a word about Blaise. They'll likely be putting him under surveillance though. It might not be that easy for him to leave, if he's still planning on doing that by himself."
"Where were they going to go anyway...?" She trails off. She's looking at her hands, but her eyes have started to glaze over. Her thoughts are off in the distance.
"Your dad's probably?" I answer her musing.
"My dad would never take in a Malfoy," her features darken. "What was Blaise doing with him in the first place? Last time I saw him, he wanted nothing more to do with that kid."
I bite my lip again, pausing. "I asked him to give him a chance," I say quietly.
Debbie's eyes shoot up. "This was your doing?"
"It's— I…" I stammer. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"
"Think," Debbie ends my sentence. "Clearly."
"Look," I ignore her. "Malfoy really isn't as dangerous as you think. He wants nothing to—"
But she interrupts me again. "He might not be dangerous Jay, but his fucking family is. Even if he can't help his lineage, you should stay the hell away from him. You don't know what they're capable of—"
"I don't know what they're capable of?!" I butt in furiously.
"No, clearly you don't," Debbie shoots back. "Or you'd stop meddling with him. I don't know what he's done to you to get you this attached to him—"
"I'm not attached—"
"You were so worried about him that you roped my brother into this mess."
"How was I supposed to—"
"By thinking!" Debbie gets up forcefully. "By taking other people's well-being into consideration, for just one second."
My jaw drops. "Excuse me?"
"In all this, you didn't stop to think once about the consequences this might have for other people. My brother's stuck in a war-torn country, trying to keep a low profile so he might be able to save his own neck, and you send him off to talk to some scared little Death Eater kid—"
"Hold on." I interrupt her angrily, getting to my feet. "How was I supposed to predict this? And you think you're the only one with relatives, or friends in that same country?!"
"That just makes it worse," she says loudly. "Your brother's trying to fight in a resistance, and you're off canoodling with Death Eaters."
"Canoodling?!"
Debbie huffs and marches over to the door. "Go fuck Malfoy, and stay away from my brother."
"I didn't—" I start indignantly, but Debbie has already pulled the door open. Behind it stands Aithne, and we all stop dead in our tracks.
She has clearly been standing behind the door for a while, and I could kick myself for not using a silencing charm. Her eyes are wide in surprise, her hands still half raised to where the door was moments before, but Aithne is quick to hide her shock. She crosses her arms over her chest and raises an eyebrow at us.
"Brother?" She asks Debbie and pauses for a moment, before looking past her left ear, straight at me. "Malfoy?"
Debbie growls. She grabs Aithne's upper arm, forcefully pulling her into the room and pushing her onto Erin's bed. She shoots a quick look down the hall to make sure it's empty, before slamming the door shut and putting several protective charms over it. I sink back into my chair, propping both elbows up on Olivia's desk and burying my face in my hands.
"Ow." I hear Aithne say indignantly from behind me.
"Step too far, Putnam." Debbie rumbles in return.
"You were shouting the whole house down," Aithne says. "Wasn't that hard to miss."
"I know it's a strange concept to you, but maybe next time ignore the shouting and keep your nose out of other people's business," Debbie hisses.
"Bit difficult when you can hear every word all the way down the hall."
I feel my stomach sink. The last person I need to know about Malfoy is my mother. She'd shout me down worse than Debbie ever could.
"I just caught you red-handed with your ear against the door," Debbie ignores her. "Any idea how much detention I could give you for that?"
"Definitely worth it," I can positively hear the smirk on Aithne's face. I can also hear the swoosh of a wand and jump out of my seat, pulling Debbie away from her. She has her wand raised, the tip only inches away from Aithne's nose. "That mess your brother's in sounds upsetting."
"Shut up," I hiss at her as Debbie struggles to get her arm out of my grip.
"What's he doing in the UK?" Aithne tries digging deeper.
"Seriously, Aithne?" I spit. Debbie is seething. She twists her arm and my wrist with it until I finally have to let her go.
"It's not that big of a deal," Aithne shoots back, contempt in her voice.
"And how would you know that?" I cross my arms over my chest, standing over her sitting on the bed. Debbie has turned away; she's rubbing the back of her hand against her forehead trying to calm herself down.
"Oh, fucking a Malfoy is a huge deal—"
"I didn't—" I start angrily, but Debbie pushes past me.
"Listen here, you little shit," she grabs Aithne by the shoulders to look her in the eyes, nose to nose. "If you tell a single soul about anything you just heard, I'll rip your tongue out and make you eat it. Am I making myself clear?" She shakes her.
"Debs—" I tentatively put a hand on her arm, but she swats it away.
"I won't!" Aithne says, her brows furrowed. "Now stop it, you're hurting me."
Debbie lets go with one last shake. "Good," she stands up abruptly and marches out of the room, slamming the door before I can say another word to her. I stand in the middle of the room, staring at the door she's just run out of, tears stinging in the corners of my eyes. The room is silent for a moment, and I take the time to breathe, until Aithne breaks it.
"So. Malfoy?" She asks, undeterred.
I whip my head around to look at her. "Fuck you," I spit and follow Debbie, slamming the door as hard as I can, leaving Aithne behind on her own.
I can't focus on clearing my mind that afternoon. Madam Zollner finally decides to give me a break on the Imperius Curse. I haven't yet managed to resist it fully, and only on days where I have nothing troubling me. Today is definitely not one of those days. Try as I might, my mind is never clear when she tries entering it. I'm able to keep Draco out of my thoughts, but only because I am terrified of the repercussion if Zollner is to find out anything about my relationship with him. Debbie's furious face doesn't escape her, though.
"Breathe," Zollner says after her fourth try. "You're not focusing."
We are standing opposite each other in her office. I have my hands on my hips and let out a low moan of desperation as I let my head fall back.
"Sit," Zollner says, lowering herself onto the floor, sitting down cross legged. I raise my eyebrows at her. "Sit," she repeats herself, pointing at my feet, and I follow her lead. "I trust you've been practicing this as I've asked you to," it isn't a question. "You wouldn't have shaken off the Imperius curse if you hadn't, so do as you normally do. Breathe, clear your mind."
I put my wand down on the floor next to me, resting my hands on my knees and try banning any thought of Debbie, Blaise or Draco from my head.
"Close your eyes," Zollner says, and I do as I am told. "Now breathe in, and count to five, hold it for two, breathe out for another five. Concentrate on that and nothing else."
She stops talking. I keep my eyes closed and take a slow breath in — One. Two. Three. Four. Five. — I hold it for two — One. Two. — I release my breath for another five — One. Two. Three. Four. Five. — And I repeat the exercise.
"Notice what it feels like. Picture your lungs expanding with every breath. Ignore anything else around you. There is nothing on your mind, but your breathing," she falls back to silence, letting me breathe another ten breaths, and again, I do as I am told. I concentrate on the air, how it fills my lungs, and how it leaves them again, through my oesophagus, through my nose and out into the open. "Legilimens." I knew it would coming, and I feel her probing at my thoughts. But I keep to my air, concentrating on my breath, seeing nothing but the reddish blackness of my closed eyes. "Good girl," Zollner says, and she leaves my head.
I open my eyes, my heartbeat a lot calmer, and my head a lot cooler. She has a small smile on her face, her wand still in her left hand. "Very good indeed," she says again. "Maybe work on your breathing as well if it helps you clear your mind. We're done for today," she adds as she gets back off the floor.
"We still have time, no?" I frown.
Zollner looks down at me, "Either we're done, and you can start enjoying your weekend or I can put the Imperius curse on you again. Whatever you'd rather do."
I stifle a grin. "Thank you."
The house is quiet when I leave Zollner's office. Only Martha is singing loudly, still busy in the kitchen giving Thanksgiving dinner the final touch. We have Friday off, and I am in no mood to do any homework, but I still hide away in the library the rest of the afternoon. I don't fancy running into Aithne. I don't know where Debbie is. She isn't assigned to any classes for the day, but I have a feeling she might have volunteered to assist Madam Bankole in teaching Muggle subjects to the younger girls. I can't imagine she feels like running into me much.
I try concentrating on Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science to ignore the nagging feeling of guilt that has started to settle at the back of my throat. Each time that doesn't work, I circle back to Zollner's breathing techniques. But it's getting increasingly more difficult to do; the longer I try, the lonelier I feel.
Debbie is right. I didn't think of Blaise when I wrote to him. But to be fair, Blaise is old enough to look after himself. He's the one on-site, he is best suited to judge the situation. He has known Draco far longer than I have, he has met his parents, he knows what position Draco is in and what position Blaise would be putting himself into by being his friend.
Still, I could have added a line of warning to my letter. What I definitely shouldn't have done is tell Debbie about Draco. I knew she would be upset, but I underestimated her anger — even if most of it stems from my endangering Blaise.
Dinner is an awkward occasion. Debbie seats herself as far away from me as she possibly can, opting to look after the kids table, while I sit between my mother and Martha, dead set on ignoring both her and Aithne — who takes a seat on Martha's other side, probably hoping to overhear some conversation, but too afraid of Debbie to sit anywhere near her.
The tension doesn't elude my mother. "Is everything alright?" she asks, half-way through the main course.
I only nod, stuffing a piece of turkey in my mouth, so I don't need to answer.
"Are you going to Debbie's tonight then?" She asks, basking her voice in innocence.
I take my time swallowing. "No," I shake my head.
"Tomorrow?" She presses on.
"No, I think I'm going to stay here this weekend," I say quietly, avoiding her gaze by poking the mashed potatoes on my plate.
My mother nods slowly but doesn't respond, picking at her own food instead and scolding Zoe on her table-manners. "Have you told Casper?" She finally says, and I almost choke on my butterbeer.
I cough and clear my throat. "He wasn't supposed to pick me up tonight anyway," I say.
"I know," my mother says innocently. "But you two seem to be spending quite a bit of time together lately. Debbie told me you two usually go to dinner on Friday nights."
"Mom," I warn her through gritted teeth, well aware of Zoe glancing at us from across the table.
"I was just asking," she says, raising her hands in defense.
I sigh, dropping my cutlery on my plate. "May I go to my room?" I ask her quietly enough so no one else can hear.
She gives me a puzzled look. "Dessert hasn't even been served, are you sure everything is alright?"
I feel my jaw tighten. "Yes, I'm just not feeling very well."
My mother looks at me closely, that same puzzled look still on her face, but finally she says, "Fine. I'll save you some dessert if you want it later."
"Thank you," I mumble and get up, trying to leave the room as quietly as I can. The sound of clattering cutlery and laughter follows me all the way upstairs, but I'm not in the mood for such things right now anyway. I close my bedroom door and change into my pajamas, leaving my clothes scattered on the floor and climb into bed with both Draco's and Hermione's coins. Neither of them has changed since I last checked them this morning.
I turn Draco's over in my hand, my last message to him still etched into its surface. Be safe. As safe as he possibly can be. I know how much he dreads taking the mark, how unwilling he is and how little he can do about it. Unless he has been faking it all along, but I can't think of anything he could gain from this. He knows I'm not going to talk to him about Harry, and he's never asked anyhow.
I shove both coins under my pillow and turn over, pull my duvet up to my chin and try emptying my mind. I'm not very successful. As it turns out, it's even more difficult to do with no distractions whatsoever, not even a book. I can't even keep my brain quiet for an entire inhale.
I can't stand it when Debbie is angry with me. She rarely is angry with anyone, but her fury is relentless when she is. Christmas is only a few more weeks away. With a little luck, she would hear from Blaise by then, and he'd be able to calm her down. I have no doubt she has already written him a letter, berating him for listening to me.
I can't have been lying in bed for very long when I hear the door creak open again. "Jay?" Aithne whispers. I ignore her, keeping my breathing steady enough, so she hopefully believes I'm asleep. Or at least get the memo that I don't want to talk to her. And indeed, she doesn't call my name again. I hear her tinker around in the bathroom, showering, brushing her teeth, washing her face, until she comes back into the room. I hear her bed creak. She's left our room dark, but the light from the bathroom still shines through my eyelids.
"Jay," I pull my duvet higher over my face, trying to make a point. "I'm sorry," I hear her whisper.
It doesn't help.
I ignore her throughout the weekend. I barely share a word with anyone, in fact, but I make sure to leave the room each time she enters it. Debbie doesn't show her face once. She's technically been assigned Saturday to help entertain the youngest girls, but she's told Martha she isn't feeling well. I also ignore the look on my mother's face when she explains this to me.
Debbie is due back on Tuesday, but even then, she doesn't show up until after breakfast and ignores me throughout the day just as I did with Aithne all weekend. I try catching her more than once, I want to ask if she's heard from Blaise, but she shuts me down with a dark look each time. I try less and less over the coming weeks leading up to Christmas, until eventually we just walk past each other in the halls of Salem without acknowledging one another.
Draco doesn't get in touch again either. I try to send him a message one sleepless Thursday morning, but I never receive an answer back. Hermione also barely gets in touch. Since Ron has left them, it seems they have been aimlessly meandering through Britain, with not much of a plan. She lets me know they are alright every other day or so, but there never seems much more to report.
More often than not, I feel alone. Without Debbie and without my weekends at hers, in the company of Casper and Austin, I don't have much company at all. Sure, I have the other girls around, and I chat to them over meals, but with Debbie always around, I never bothered building a deeper connection to any of them.
None of them are due to stay for Christmas this year either. My mother and I have decided to stay at Salem over the holidays, as she's left her house to Mrs. Avery for the time being and sharing a room with Poppy and Violet isn't my idea of an ideal Christmas. Only Moira and Eden, Madam Bankole's two daughters, are staying with us.
I'm not sad to see any of them leave for two weeks. It's the usual commotion of parents and children and forgotten luggage, which then makes the house seem all the more quiet once it's all over.
But that peace barely holds for twenty-four hours. I'm in the middle of helping my mother prepare lunch the Saturday before Christmas when there's a knock on the front door.
"It's for you," Martha says, bustling into the kitchen a moment later.
"What?" I ask, taken aback.
"It's Casper," she nods at the door she just came through. "Came to pick you up. Give me that, I'll finish the bread dough."
I shoot my mother a quizzical look, but one quick glance at her own puzzled face lets me know that she doesn't have anything to do with this. I quickly wash my hands. It can only be Casper, I know that much; no one else would be able to enter the premises without permission or in disguise. My mother shrugs as I shoot her one last confused look before leaving the kitchen.
"What are you doing here?" I ask when I make it to the entrance hall. Casper is standing patiently in the middle of it, hands linked behind his back. He looks up when I come in.
"Debbie sent me to come get you," he says matter-of-factly.
"Debbie sent you?" I ask skeptically.
He furrows his brows. "She didn't send you an owl?"
I raise an eyebrow at him. "She hasn't talked to me in a month."
Casper sighs. "I know," he says, a hint of regret in his voice that almost makes me frown at him. "But she'd like you to come spend the holidays with us. There's been a development."
"A development?"
"Yes, parrot," the corner of his mouth twitches. "A development. Her brother's here."
I feel my heart leap into my throat. "Blaise?"
Casper nods.