Surviving Malfoy _ Part II : Anger and Depression

Dope Lemon 'Home Soon' – Lost in that old world.

Chapter 11:

"I'm sorry I didn't get in touch, by the way." I can't see his face from my spot in the passenger seat, and I don't want to noticeably turn my head to look at him, but his voice sounds neutral, unaffected.

"It's fine," I say. "You were busy."

He doesn't respond. In all fairness, I could have tried getting in touch with him myself. My mind was preoccupied in the past three weeks, with Debbie refusing to even look at me and worry for Draco, as I haven't heard from him since he's been forced to take the mark.

I'm not upset with Casper. Either way, we have never talked about what is going on between us, if there was anything at all. Sure, we used to go to dinner once a week, and he would drive me to and from school every weekend rather than let me apparate back and forth. But nothing more has ever happened, and he's never shown any hint of interest in anything other than an amicable dinner-partner for Friday evenings, so I nip any ideas of more in the bud as soon as they pop into my head. Still the ensuing awkwardness weighs heavily in the silence between us.

"When did Blaise get here?" I ask after a while.

"To the house? This morning," Casper responds. "He'll explain it all to you, but he arrived in the country last night. He apparated here."

"Without a license?"

"They caught him right away. It took Deborah and Austin quite a bit of arguing to convince the MACUSA not to press charges," Casper say. "They've classified him as a refugee."

I turn my head to look at him. "What does that mean?"

"He's pretty restricted." Casper shoots me a quick, worried look before turning his gaze back to the road. "They've taken his wand for now, he's under surveillance and he's not allowed to leave our house until further notice."

"Why would they take his wand?" I ask, surprised.

"Apparently he was on some list," Casper pauses to wave a pedestrian across the road. "With the war in Britain, they've made a list of people possibly connected to You-Know-Who they'd rather not have in the country. And it seems Deborah's brother is on that list."

"He's not a Death Eater though…"

"Unless he's found a way to hide his mark, he's not," Casper sighs. "But he's got connections to several known children of Death Eaters, some of which are now Death Eaters themselves. Not to mention his mother, who's quite educated in the art of curses as we know, and the fact that he's just spent a term at Hogwarts, which is now pretty much just a school for the Dark Arts… He's got a hearing after the holidays, after which they'll decide if he's okay to stay here or not."

Casper's words send a shiver down my spine. I start biting my lip. I'm not sure if I should be glad Blaise and Draco haven't tried fleeing together, which would have made the situation much worse, or terrified at the prospect of Blaise being sent back, which would mean his certain death.

I decide to change the subject.

"The house is too small for all of us though."

"You're sleeping in Deborah's room as always, and Blaise will be taking the couch. We'll be fine."

"I'd rather not," I mumble.

"Rather not what?"

"Share a bed with Debbie. Just yet," I add as an afterthought.

"That bad, eh?"

I stare somberly at my lap. "She hasn't talked to me in weeks. Even if she's actually the one who asked you to come pick me up for the holidays and not Blaise, I'm gonna need a bit more time before I start sleeping next to her again."

"Fair enough," Casper says, before adding, "You can take my room then; I'll sleep on the couch, and Blaise can stay with his sister."

"You don't have to," I say quickly. "I can take the couch."

"I won't let a lady sleep on a couch," Casper says indignantly.

I let out a humorless snort, but the corner of his mouth is twitching when I turn to look at him. "Yeah, right."

His mouth twists into an amused smile. "We'll discuss it inside, but I'll warn you I will put up a fight if you try sleeping on the couch," Casper says, turning into the driveway and pulling the handbrake.

"Thanks." I reciprocate with a quick smile of my own, then pause. "How much of a fight was there?" I ask, hoping Casper recognizes I am referring to Debbie and Blaise.

Casper takes a moment to read my face. "A pretty big one," he finally says. "But I'll make sure to stop her before she jumps at your throat, I promise."

"I appreciate you taking my side in this," I smirk. "But don't forget you still have to live with her for another six months or so."

Casper lets out a small laugh. "She already resents me, won't hurt if I make that a little worse, don't worry. Now come on, Blaise has been whining all morning."

"Sounds like him," I mumble as I step out of the car. And Casper didn't exaggerate, it takes all but two seconds for me to be engulfed in black after walking through the front door. Blaise envelops me in a tight hug, wrapping both his arms around my neck and pressing my face into his shirt.

"I missed you," I hear him mumble into the top of my head.

"Are you okay?" I ask when I finally managed to step far enough back to look up into his face. He has a nasty looking cut just below his left eye. Someone clearly dabbed dittany on it, but so sloppily it still looks to be bleeding in places. Blaise pushes my hand away when I try touching it.

"I'm fine," he says with half a smirk. "That's courtesy of your dear law enforcement officers. They were very apologetic."

I frown past his arm at Austin, who's been standing in the kitchen all this time, clearly in the middle of preparing lunch. He innocently raises both his hands. "Wasn't me," Blaise shoots him a smile.

"Where's Debbie?" I ask.

"In her room," Blaise says, his features darkening a little. "I'll get her to come 'round though, don't worry."

I raise my eyebrows at him. "Good luck with that, you know how stubborn she is."

"You underestimate me. I'm the bigger bullhead in this family," he says. "Can we have a chat somewhere in private?"

"Take my room," Casper says before I can respond, pointing up the stairs. "Second door on the right. And take your bag."

I take my bag out of his hand. I want to argue, but the look on his face tells me there is no point. I lock the door behind Blaise and myself, and after a moment's consideration, put a silencing charm on it for good measure.

"How've you been?" Blaise's cheery tone stands in stark contrast with the state of his face, not to mention the situation he's in.

"Fine," I say simply. "So, what happened to you? Casper said you apparated here. Are you completely insane?" I cross my arms over my chest, choosing to stand over him rather than join him sitting on Casper's bed.

Blaise raises his hands defensively. "I had no choice. I was planning on taking a plane from London, go the Muggle way. I thought they wouldn't expect me to do that; they have no idea how that stuff works anyway. But Malfoy's father came to Hogwarts to pick him up — us, really. He wanted me to spend Christmas at Malfoy Manor. Merlin knows what he was going to make me do. I couldn't shake him off, he sat with us the entire way to London, made us all go to the loo together, he wouldn't let us out of his sight for even just a second. I disapparated from the platform when we arrived. Malfoy distracted him, so I just sort of…" He trails off.

"You're completely insane," I say. I let the tension leave my shoulders and look at him in silence. Blaise holds my gaze. His cheery tone slowly left his voice as he spoke, and his face has turned glum. A strange feeling spreads through the pits of my stomach — anguish, mainly, and dread. I take a deep breath and let myself sink into Casper's desk chair. "So, they know you're here," I say quietly.

Blaise's features harden for just a moment before he looks down. He leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. "I don't think I'm important enough for them to come after me. Not yet. They have bigger fish to fry."

I shoot a quick look out of the window, into the empty street outside. "How's Draco?" I ask timidly. Now it's my turn to hold his gaze.

"Alright," Blaise responds slowly. "Considering. When's the last time you've heard from him?"

"Just before they made him take the mark," I say.

Blaise nods slowly and clears his throat. "I haven't seen much of him since either, to be fair. And we couldn't really talk when I did see him. They've been taking him on Death Eater missions every second he's not in class."

"Missions?" I frown.

"Yeah." Blaise continues. "More than any of the other guys, actually. I caught Crabbe and Goyle talking about it a week ago, they're pretty jealous."

"What kind of missions?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. I don't really want to know, to be honest. Muggleborn interrogations, Muggle hunting, chasing people on the run; Death Eater stuff."

I huff. "Voldemort was using him last summer," I muse, glancing out of the window again. "To torture other Death Eaters he wasn't happy with."

Blaise jumps. "Don't say that name," he hisses.

"It's just a name, Blaise," I say dryly.

"Not anymore," he replies. "They put a taboo on it, at least back home. They use it to track people now."

I feel my face fall. "Since when?"

He shrugs again. "Last summer, pretty much right after the ministry fell."

Thinking back to last summer, to the piles and piles of Daily Prophets and Quibblers Debbie and I scrutinized meticulously… Not once was there a single mention of a taboo. "How do you know?" I glance at my bag, in which Hermione's coin resides in its side pocket.

"It's an open secret at this point," Blaise shrugs. "Just like the fact that You-Know-Who has taken over. No one's ever publicly admitted to it, but everyone knows. Only people who actively resist him have ever been brave enough to say his name out loud. I first heard Crabbe and Goyle making fun of them on the way to Hogwarts, they find it incredibly amusing when someone gets caught saying the name," he rolls his eyes. "Within a week the whole school knew, some kid's parents were arrested for it."

"Which kid?" I ask hastily.

"Some first year," he shrugs again.

"Do you have a name?"

Blaise shakes his head apologetically. "Nothing. The kid's still at Hogwarts, I don't know what they'll do with him once the year's over though. For all I know, they might have let his parents go already."

"I doubt that," I mumble. "How bad is it at Hogwarts? Draco told me a couple things, it didn't sound great."

"It's Draco now, is it?" He smirks.

I send him an exasperated look. "It's Malfoy to you for some reason. He's your best friend, for Tituba's sake, why the last name?" I argue.

"Because he's an asshole," Blaise says matter-of-factly. "And I wouldn't call him my best friend."

I roll my eyes. I have a distinct memory of having this exact same conversation with Blaise before, so I press on. "So how is Hogwarts?"

"A nightmare. It's changed a lot," Blaise admits regretfully. "Snape's headmaster now, you probably know that. We have two new teachers, both Death Eaters, and they're now Deputy Headmasters — they like to use that position to terrorize everyone, including the other teachers. They tried hanging Flitwick in a Christmas tree 'as a bauble' because he gave a second-year lines rather than send him to the Carrows," the corner of his mouth twitches upwards. "Oh, don't worry, they didn't manage. Flitwick is too smart for them. They're two idiots with a bit of a god-complex though, that just makes them more dangerous.

"None of the teachers send students to the Carrows by the way, they're all dead set on protecting us. They're a bit careful admitting that in front of Slytherins — can't fault them for that — but I did hear McGonagall outright lying to the Carrows about a second-year setting her eyebrows on fire during class. She actually managed to convince Amycus she'd always had only half a left eyebrow."

I reciprocate his weak smile. "Draco told me about detention…" I trail off.

"Well Draco would know all about that," the corner of his mouth twitches again, but his smile fades quickly. "He's Head Boy this year, along with Parkinson." I pull a face that makes Blaise huff. "Parkinson's enjoying it immensely," he continues. "Malfoy, not so much. He knows how to pretend when he has to, but I've never seen him so quiet before, worse than last year… Can't be fun torturing kids all day."

"It's not just the Head Boy and Girl, though, is it?" I say. "He told me that they're teaching people in Defense Against the Dark Arts the Cruciatus curse and making them use it on kids in detention."

Blaise nods. "DADA is now just DA really. They're teaching kids all the possible curses you could think of, short of the killing curse. But almost anything you do warrants detention these days. If a Carrow hears you giggle, you get sent to detention. All the prefects are being put on 'detention duty' as they call it."

"And they do it?" I ask skeptically. "Even the other houses?"

Blaise huffs. "What do you think would happen if they didn't? Half the Gryffindor prefects are gone this year anyway — they're either Muggleborn or too close to Potter to dare come back to school — and the other half's been demoted, so the brave ones who might rebel are out of the picture. They've done the same to most of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Slytherins now have a lot more liberties than any of the other houses, to be honest with you, any fifth year Slytherin and up can deduct points if they wanted to. It's ridiculous."

"As if there aren't any Death Eaters from other houses," I say, frowning.

"You-Know-Who's right hand man was a Gryffindor," Blaise says. "But that doesn't seem to count now. A vast majority of members of the resistance were Gryffindors, at least in the first war. Some of their kids are at Hogwarts now, and trust me, they're not having the best of times. They've started a resistance of their own though, they're calling it Dumbledore's Army," Blaise huffs.

"Who?" I inquire.

"The Weasley girl, Longbottom and Loony Lovegood. They're leading the whole thing. But sometimes it's like they want to be caught. They tried breaking into the headmaster's office, of course that wasn't gonna go unnoticed."

"Why though?" I frown.

Blaise shrugs. "Dunno," he mutters. "They've all been banned from going to Hogsmeade and were assigned detention with Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest."

I snort. "That's not a punishment."

Blaise raises an eyebrow. "That's what we were wondering about, but we didn't say anything. The Carrows wanted them all hanged by their ankles and beaten, Filch-style. But Snape sent them out with Hagrid instead, saying they'd be lucky if they survived. They looked pretty jolly when they came back out," he pauses and looks back down at his hands. "They took the Lovegood girl off the train yesterday, though," he adds quietly.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Two Death Eaters came and pulled her off the train halfway to London," he explains. "I don't know where they took her. But her father edits the Quibbler, and she's been getting in trouble all year already, plastering Quibbler pages all over the school."

My stomach drops. Debbie and I have been reading the Quibbler since summer. It's the only reliable news source there seems to be in Britain, with highly controversial topics in it. I have no memory of who Loony Lovegood is, I've never met her before, but she's been helping Ginny and Neville fight for Hogwarts, and wherever she is, whatever they are doing to her, she doesn't deserve it.

"But why her?" I ask. "Why not her father if he's the one publishing pieces against You-Know-Who?"

Blaise seems to pause to consider this. "The Quibbler is incredibly popular at the moment. There is still a strong resistance against You-Know-Who, and many people distrust the Daily Prophet because they know it's being ruled by You-Know-Who. But no one knows who they can trust anymore, so they don't dare to band together and fight. If the editor of the only newspaper anyone knows that still speaks the truth suddenly disappears, it might cause an uprising the Death Eaters can't handle."

"But if they just take his daughter away…" I finish his train of thought.

Blaise nods. "They have something to hold against him, they can make him write practically anything they want. And they're not all stupid, they'll know how to use that to their advantage. They'll try and manipulate articles in their favor, maybe gain a few skeptical followers along the way."

"At least that means she's still alive," I say somberly.

His mouth twists into a bitter sneer. "I don't know if being aliveis necessarily a positive in this case."

I pull my legs up onto the chair, slinging my arms around my knees. My thoughts keep circling back to Hermione and Harry. What are the chances of them knowing about the taboo? Should I tell them about Lovegood's daughter? Or Ginny and Neville? Knowing Harry, he might get too tempted to play savior.

Blaise seems to read my mind. "When's the last time you've heard from Hermione, by the way?"

I frown at him, taking a moment to look at his face and scrutinize it for any sign of ill-will. He just stares up at me, unwavering innocence in his eyes. "How would I have heard anything from her?" I ask.

"I just thought she might have gotten in touch with you, at least," his voice sounds genuinely hurt, so much so that I can't keep my eyebrows from shooting up as I hear it. Sure, Blaise and Hermione were friendly over the last year, occasionally it even looked like they were developing a genuine friendship, but nothing that might justify the subtle hint of despair in Blaise's tone.

"She's in hiding, Blaise," I say slowly. "Can you imagine what might happen to her if the Death Eaters got their hands on her?"

His lips pull into a sad smile. "Trust me, I know."

I can't tell him. Not yet, not if he might still be sent back to the UK. It's too risky. "If they caught her, it would have made front-page news," I say. "I'm sure she's fine."

"I hope you're right."

"It's Hermione, she won't let herself get caught that easily," I add with a reassuring smile.

Blaise doesn't respond; he's wringing his hands absent-mindedly, staring down at them as if looking for an answer, until all he says is "I'm gonna try and get Debbie to come around."

I huff. "Good luck with that."

"Want to come with?" He asks nonchalantly.

"I'm not suicidal," I say. "You go, I'll be here."

Blaise narrows his eyes. "Are you staying in here?"

"Casper offered to sleep on the couch if that's what you're getting at," I say, mirroring his expression.

"Right," Blaise says slowly, a slight smirk so much like Debbie's spreading on his face that makes me long to throw a pillow at him.

I wait for him to leave the room before getting up. I tiptoe over to the door and lock it with a flick of my wrist, renewing the silencing charm on it, just in case. I pick my bag up off the floor, placing it on the bed that stands against the left wall. His room is much tidier than Debbie's: his single bed is made, not a single item of clothing is visible outside of his wardrobe, his desk is well-kept and organized. The only part of his room that seems slightly disorganized is the bookshelf on the right wall; it's stacked full of books from floor to ceiling, with excess books laying stacked on top of each other on the floor.

I pull Hermione's coin out of my bag, checking Draco's in passing, on the off-chance he has finally sent me something, but his coin is still unchanged. I wave my wand over Hermione's galleon, erasing her last words.

There's a taboo.

I place her coin on Casper's desk and sit back down in front of it, waiting for her reply in hopes that she would see this quickly. There's a heap of scrolls on the desk, neatly stacked in a pyramid, a quill, an inkwell and an old desk lamp. His desk stands under the window, overlooking the driveway and the still empty street beyond that.

Hermione's coin glows red.

On what?

You-Know-Who's name. I answer quickly. I can't even risk just writing his name, in case Hermione is reading any of my messages out loud.

Are you sure? Her answer comes within seconds.

They use it to track people. I reply.

How do you know?

Blaise escaped. I let the message linger on the coin for a few seconds. He told me.

Thank you. Which is quickly replaced by: Is he okay?

Yes. And you?

We're alright. Hermione replies, and again after a few seconds: We're going to Godric's Hollow.

I freeze. Harry mentioned that plan months ago, but I have never heard a word from Hermione on the subject. In fact, Harry has been insinuating he might need to work on convincing Hermione to go, as she seems convinced it might turn into a trap.

Now? I ask.

In the next few days. Her reply comes.

Why? I'm curious to know what Harry has said to get her to agree to his plan.

We have no other leads. Her answer coils itself around the coin.

I pause. There isn't much I could say to this. Be safe. I write, to which she quickly replies:

You too.

I swivel around in Casper's desk chair and stare up at the ceiling. I still have that uneasy feeling lodged inside me again. It's worry. But just as I have done each time, I felt agitated in the past few weeks, I push it out of my mind. I breathe slowly, memorizing every last detail of the ceiling light as I do so. It's an orb, made of tinted white glass hanging freely in the middle of the room, adorned with small, intricate golden leaves. It looks almost ostentatious compared to the rest of the room.

I flip my head back up and pick up my wand and the coin. I make sure to stuff it as far down the side pocket of my bag as I can. My fingers brush against Draco's coin in the process, and I pull it out after a moment's hesitation. Its surface hasn't changed since Thanksgiving. I wave my wand over it:

Are you alright?

I immediately drop it back into the pocket. It's unlikely he replies any time soon, if at all. I shove my wand into the back pocket of my jeans and go downstairs, ignoring the slightly agitated voices coming from Debbie's room. Casper is sitting on the living room couch, nose in a book, as he usually does, and Austin is still busying himself making food.

"Room to your liking?" Casper looks up as I come in.

"You really don't have to do this," I answer. "I'm fine on the couch. It's not even long enough for you."

"Don't worry about me, I can make it work," he dismisses me by looking back down at his book. "But you're definitely not sleeping on the couch."

"She can always stay in my room; I have a double bed," Austin calls to him from the kitchen, a taunting note in his voice.

"I'll sleep on a Snargaluff stump before I let her sleep anywhere near you," Casper shoots back dryly without bothering to look up.

Austin winks at me as I walk over to him. I can feel heat rising in my cheeks and pull a face at him to overplay my awkwardness. He snorts, which makes Casper glance up from his book to shoot him a look, daring him to say another word. I grab a sponge and start working on the dishes that are piling up in the sink, so I can pretend that I haven't noticed their silent exchange.

"So, how've you been?" Austin asks.

"Alright," I say, unsure of what more to add.

"Heard anything from Hermione lately?"

I pause and turn around to look at him. "Not much. Why?"

He shrugs. "We don't get much news from the UK at the moment. Things seem pretty quiet. I was just wondering if they're planning something or if they're still hiding."

"They still have no leads to work from," I say. "They're thinking of going to Godric's Hollow, it's the only place they think might give them some clues on what to do."

"Why Godric's Hollow?" He presses on.

It's my turn to shrug, but before I can answer, Casper chimes in from the living room. "It's the place where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named killed the Potter boy's parents. It's a notorious place in wizarding Britain, Austin, you'd know that if you'd bother opening a book once in a while," he says matter-of-factly, his eyes still glued to the pages in front of him.

"That," I say, pointing in Casper's direction.

"What do they think they'll find there?" Austin asks, ignoring Casper's snide comment.

"Hopefully nothing bad..."