Chapter 30) New Friends

Selected Listening: Champagne for My Real Friends, Real Pain for My Sham Friends- Fall Out Boy

October

"Good to meet you," Viktor Krum shook Draco's hand as they sat down at the Slytherin table the evening Durmstrang and Beauxbatons arrived.

"Saw you at the World Cup, that was one hell of a game—" Draco remarked.

Krum nodded in agreement while Draco boasted fawningly.

"I play Seeker for Slytherin. My girlfriend is the seeker for Gryffindor…well one of them. The only one that counts." Draco gestured over his shoulder to Anastasia at the Gryffindor table. Her red curls bounced above her shoulders. He missed her braids, but he would never tell her.

"Ah…you're dating Dumbledore?" he asked.

"The obscurus?" asked one of the only taller, leaner Durmstrang boys. Although his furs filled him out to be almost as broad as the others.

Draco paused, flipping back around.

"She's not an obscurus…she's cured…"

"No one can cure an obscurus," one of the shorter Durmstrang boys said, "That Scamander bloke is off his rocker."

"She's cured! I helpe—I know," he clarified, feeling the blind rage build in his chest.

The Durmstrang students raised their eyebrows, half-impressed, half-daring.

"Must be fun," the leaner one remarked off-handedly.

"What?" Draco frowned.

"I'm sure with those kinds of powers she's a real thrill in the locker rooms," he remarked.

A surge of heat rushed to Draco's ears.

"Oh, come on, Malfoy, don't be so coy. You can't be dating the Dumbledore girl and pretend you're not past snogging," another fourth-year Slytherin, Pershore, teased. "Didn't you say you had her at your house for a whole three weeks?"

Draco laughed nervously. He wanted to look good in front of all the Durmstrang students. He really did. Especially Krum, who was eyeing him critically.

"Course," he bragged with a sly smile. "I mean, who wouldn't?"

Blaise frowned at him in disapproval.

The events of the pre-Halloween feast and Professor Dumbledore's introduction of the Goblet of Fire unfolded, and at the end, the Durmstrang Headmaster approached the table and said to his students.

"Ship's quarters are still being finished. You'll need to find some rooms for yourselves tonight."

"We can take them in, Headmaster," Montague, the new Slytherin prefect, said with a toothy smile.

"Good. I'll be in the headmaster's guest suite if I'm needed." He leered over them, darkly as if to say that they shouldn't.

Draco helped lead the Durmstrang students down to the Slytherin common room. They called upon the Hogwarts elves to bring pillows and blankets to pile on the floor of the large den area. They stayed up for hours talking and playing gobstones, until they grew tired of the pastime, sent the younger students to bed, and lounged lazily by the fireplace as the dark waters of the Black Lake churned with the storm outside.

"So, how do you plan to get across the age line?" the taller Durmstrang student, last name Lukov, asked the prefects.

"Not sure what you mean," Montague answered with a toothy grin, "None of us would ever think of going against Professor Dumbledore's orders."

"That's too bad…because if someone had the right place to practice the right kind of magic…they might be able to place their name in the cup before tomorrow's champions are selected."

Draco and Blaise looked curiously over to where the older boys were talking, and then strolled over themselves.

"We don't practice anything like that here…" Montague said carefully. A couple of elder Slytherins hid chortles behind their hands. "But we might know where you could practice something like that if one were interested."

"Oh really?" Lukov asked. "Why don't know show us then, prefect?"

"Alright then," Montague said astutely. "Anyone who's interested, follow me."

Draco and Blaise followed the group headed for the exit. When Draco looked back and saw Crabbe and Goyle trying to follow, he shook his head and said "do you dolts want to get us all caught? Stay here."

At the sound of Draco's comment, Montague turned.

"I'm not sure if you're really cut out for this, Malfoy," he mentioned sourly. "Considering your new beaux. Seems like a good way to get us all caught."

Draco folded his arms in irritation.

"Hmph, it's not like I'm going to tell her," he said, just to get them off his back. Blaise rolled his eyes again in disapproval. "In fact, Blaise and I have already been practicing some dark magic this summer. Quite powerful, actually."

"Oh, really?" Montague asked incredulously, "And what exactly did you do?"

Draco swallowed. He had to phrase this right, but fixing a muggle electronic sounded so lame he couldn't say the words. Blaise sighed.

"We modified a nonmagic item to successfully work within Hogwarts. Its powers can overcome the anti-electronic wards."

Montague leered suspiciously.

"Impressive," the tall Durmstrang student remarked.

"Fine. Come if you want."

November

From that day on, the eldest Slytherin boys and the Durmstrang students gathered in the abandoned wing of the castle to swap strategies and stories for using dark magic to one's advantage. Draco and Blaise usually joined on the outskirts. Blaise wasn't wholly invested. He would watch and listen and yawn. But Draco saw the value in what they were doing—curses, hexes, and ritual sacrifice—it was all a different kind of magic after all.

On the day of the improvised quidditch match, Durmstrang had expected to win the with Viktor alone, but since he had holed up in the library to study for the first task, they had their arses handed to them by the Slytherin team, with Draco catching the snitch. The Durmstrangs, especially Lukov, were biting back with anything they could grab.

"My family would be outraged if I were courting an obscurus. Talk about poisoning the family tree," Lukov joked, laughing heartily with the other Durmstrang students. Draco slammed his locker shut angrily.

"How are you dating her?" Pershore joined in with a sneaky grin—he had come along to watch but stayed behind afterwards, lurking in the shadows. "Obscurus or no obscurus, the Dumbledores aren't a part of the Sacred 28. You can't marry her."

Draco turned to him, face red with embarrassment.

"Anastasia's a pureblood—"

"An unverified pureblood," Montague mocked. They picked up the last of their things and walked out of the locker rooms onto the grounds. "You know that pureblood lineages have to be verified. The Dumbledores are not. They're only pureblood as far as anyone can remember, but they're not eligible for the Sacred 28. You're wasting your time, Malfoy."

"Who said I'm wasting my time!" Draco asserted. "I'll have you know, Anastasia's got three pure bloodlines—Dumbledore, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor—"

"All unverified," Pershore laughed. "Check your family wards. I doubt your parents will let this go on much longer."

"You're all full of shit…" Draco threw his hand down dismissively.

"Jokes aside, don't you ever wonder what it would be like?" Lukov asked. Draco glared, knowing what he was about to say.

"You better not be talking about that ridiculous ritual you mentioned a few days ago," Draco warned.

"But to harness that kind of power? To awaken an obscurus and make it do whatever you want?"

"I've got no interest in that." Draco said, turning and trying to make himself as tall as possible. "And if any of you bring up the obscurus thing again, I will personally perform a ritual to curse you all into oblivion. Do you understand?"

"Malfoy," Lukov sniggered. "No need to be cross. It was only a suggestion. She's your girlfriend. It's your choice."

Draco stared intensely into the Durmstrang student's face, summoning all of the threats he could into his gaze.

"Don't. Come. Near. Us."

"I don't even think Dumblebrat likes you anyway," Pershore taunted.

"Excuse me?" Draco turned over his shoulder.

"She seemed pretty angry at you the other day in the hall," Pershore shrugged. "If she's not up for grabs, then prove it. Bring her to Hogsmeade this weekend, on a date."

"Fine," he said. "I will, as long as it will get you wankers to shut up. I bring Anastasia on a date to Hogsmeade, and I never hear anything about us dating or her obscurus from any of you again!" He shouted in his peers faces.

"Deal," Pershore shrugged with a sly smile.

"Deal," the others agreed.

December- the Yule Ball

Draco arrived back in the Great Hall beneath the starry snow-flaked ceiling. At the doorway, he searched for his counterpart, the girl he loved, his star-crossed match. He remembered dancing with her only a week before as practice, how she melted in his arms after he listened to her about the music player and how her eyes glittered up at him as the last tones of the music box played. All he wanted was to do that again…to hold her, to kiss her, to speak sweet nothings in her ear.

But the classical music had stopped playing in the Great Hall, and Anastasia was not present. Instead, Pansy appeared at his right side.

"What do you want, Parkinson?" he asked haughtily. She was always a bother. Although this year, she had seemed to back off only slightly. The Slytherin girl looked up at him with a sinister smile.

"Looking for Dumblebrat?" she asked blithely.

"Don't call her that," he responded immediately. She shrugged, a grin still perched on her face.

"She said she got bored of you. She was tired of waiting and left. Said not to bother going to look for her."

"What? No, she would never—" he must have lost track of time. He thought it had only been ten minutes since he left the Great Hall. Had she been waiting that long?

Pansy smiled devilishly.

"No!" Draco cried and then stepped back to run in the direction of Gryffindor tower. But Pansy grabbed his arm.

"Wait," she insisted. "Why are you trying to run after her? She didn't even want to spend time with you tonight. Why don't you spend it with me?"

Draco ripped his arm away and looked back at her.

"Because you aren't her. Stop trying to be."

Pansy glared away with tears in her eyes.

"Look, I'm sorry," he apologized. "I need to find her."

"She's a waste of time, Draco Malfoy, and you know it."

"You don't know anything."

Draco ran halfway up the stairs and stopped. He looked behind him and saw that Pansy was gone. Why would Anastasia leave him like this? Did she really get that impatient waiting on him? Maybe she didn't feel right.

As much as he wanted to go after her, he also wanted to respect her wishes.

Feeling scorned and unwanted, he waded his way back to the dormitories.

In the morning, he stood in the breakfast line, taking his usual green apple from the buffet line. Someone grabbed his hand from the back. Anastasia stood there, her eyes glittering back at him.

"Finally, there you are!" he exclaimed, and then softened his voice. "Where did you go last night?"

"Wait?" she asked, eyes alarmed. "Where did I go? You're the one who up and left me."

Draco felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle.

"I came back, and you'd vanished. Pansy told me you got bored of me and went to bed!"

Anastasia went quiet. He hadn't seen her quiet in the face of his words before. She would usually quip back. It scared him. Granger hovered behind her, but Anastasia held out her hand to stop her friend.

"We're done," she said.

"What?" the question barely reached his lips. She threw her arms up and back down again.

"We're done! You want to believe that twit, go ahead. It's not worth it anymore. Just leave me alone," she said. He could feel his heart breaking with each of her words. "Run off with your friends and spend your time how you'd like…with your bloody dark magic rituals." She said the last words very quietly.

"What—" he blushed. Everyone was watching. He lowered his voice to a whisper again. "Anastasia, you can't, we—I didn't."

"Course I can," she stated bravely. "It was this way before, and it can be again."

Draco looked her up and down, furious, ignoring the tears in his eyes.

"No! You're not breaking up with me. You can't do this. Anastasia!" he shouted. It felt wrong to shout at her. It felt awful the moment he did it. He wanted to apologize, wanted to stop the moment in time and rewind. She bit her lip, unyielding.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I can't do this anymore. It's too much."

Draco had gone into shock, his eyes slowly moving over the room at everyone staring. He couldn't do anything about it now without making himself look worse. If he could just have a moment alone with her, maybe he could get to the heart of the problem. What had happened? What did Pansy lie about?

But he couldn't do that in the moment.

"Fine. If that's what you want," Draco strained. His eyes shone glossily.

"It is," she responded, tears spilling over. "It is."

Draco fled the room before his tears could come on full force. If any Slytherins saw, he would surely get flack for it later. He ran down to the dungeons, all the way to the boys' dormitory, fell onto his comforter and pulled the curtains closed, sealing his cocoon as he stared into the watery depths of the lake.

He sobbed until he couldn't breathe. He wanted it to hurt. For a moment he thought if he waited long enough it would land them in the hospital wing again and he would have the chance to take things back.

But he wasn't going to do that to her.

Draco waited until the last possible second to pull his inhaler out and fill his lungs back up.

Hours later, after a tumultuous nap, he rose to his feet and looked around the dorm, disheveled with abandoned dress robe pieces and Christmas gifts. He wiped his eyes and used a spell to return his complexion to its usual state and slumped down the steps. In the common room, a group of the boys lounged around the couches, part of the group he was with the night previously, cackled at something held between them. The boys lifted their heads, took one look at him, and laughed mercilessly.

"What's so funny?" he asked, a threat behind his tone.

"Haven't you seen the article?" Lukov handed the magazine over to him. "Your little obscurus girl is all over Witch Weekly—" he waved the magazine teasingly like a fan. Blaise, who had been hanging in the corner, saw his best friend, and reached over to grab the magazine, but Draco leapt over the back of the sofa and snatched it from Lukov's grip.

Sure enough, Anastasia graced the pages in full color. He blushed to see her in the gorgeous green dress, before its alteration, as she lay across the pages, one arm draped over her head, emphasizing the curve of her figure.

Blaise began to sweat nervously as Draco skimmed the pages.

His eyes flashed up as he read the words. I'm sure I'll always love him.

"Too bad all that's over now…" the Durmstrang student taunted. Draco's face turned red with fury as he looked towards the door, ready to confront the girl he loved who had suddenly turned cold.

"You know, there's a fairly easy way to get revenge…"

"No," Draco snarled. "And if you mention it again, I will personally ensure you are cursed into oblivion."

The elder student shrugged.

"Touchy, eh? Well, you're more than welcome to first dibs, and we're happy to help."

Draco grabbed the older, larger student by the collar. Blaise tucked his hand into his pocket to grab his wand.

"Leave. Her. Alone." Draco dropped Lukov back onto the floor. Blaise eyed them both nervously, but neither drew their wands. The Durmstrang student stared at Draco mischievously. Draco sped off towards the door, and Blaise followed close in step.

"I'm sorry, mate. She told me about the interview. But I figured she'd have the chance to talk to you before now…and I never would have expected what that this morning. What happened?"

Draco glared burning holes through his friend.

"I don't know…but I'm going to find out…"

Draco stormed up the staircase to Gryffindor tower, magazine rolled up in his hand. He knocked at the common room door.

It opened to the Weasley girl in her ugly sweater and muggle jeans, staring at him with a proud grin.

"Go away, Malfoy."

"I'm here to see Anastasia," he tried. At the very least, she needed to know she was in trouble. Over Ginny's head, he could see his love. Anastasia peeked over, made the slightest eye contact, then turned her face away.

"Looks like you've already seen her," she gestured to the magazine. "And she certainly doesn't want to see you right now, so stay out of it."

"It's important," Draco tried to push his way through, but Ginny pulled out her wand and blasted him back onto his knees. Draco's lip curled as he looked up at the frustrating Weasley girl.

"Show some respect and crawl back into the hole you came from."

"Weasley, you don't know the half of it—Anastasia!" he tried to call. He reached out from his knees and grabbed hold of the porthole.

Ginny slammed the portrait door on his thumb.

"Ow! Bloody—" he snapped his thumb back, screamed a trail of curse words, and prayed his own injury hadn't hurt Anastasia enough to show.

Draco wandered out to a stony, snowy balcony and sat on the banister. Snowflakes landed in his hair as he read through the article. She told the blasted magazine their story. All the beautiful parts. And the night prior, all she wanted to do was spend it with him.

Back in the common room, Draco ran into Pansy on the way up the stairs.

"What did you do?" he threatened.

"Me?" she asked innocently. "I didn't do anything besides the obvious…show you that she really wasn't all that interested in you to begin with."

If Draco had been a real dragon, smoke would be curling from his nostrils. He drew his wand from his pocket.

"Watch yourself, Parkinson."

The next day, Draco tried again. He came to the common room door and knocked. This time, thankfully, Granger answered.

"Hello," she answered with pursed lips.

"Granger…could you get Anastasia for me?"

She shook her head.

"She's out right now. Not sure when she'll be back."

"Right, well, thanks anyway…I suppose."

Hermione shut the door with the slightest bit more sympathy than the Weasley girl had, and of course, made sure his thumb was out of the way first.

Draco wandered back up the same staircase to the balcony, the magazine still curled in his hand, but when he reached it, he saw something he wished he could scrub from his mind and never re-see.

Anastasia in Fred Weasley's arms, snogging.