Reminder: Underline = Strikethrough

PART 2: OUR LITTLE SECRET

Year 4.1

Journal,

Father surprised me today with tickets to the quidditch world cup. After weeks of asking and being denied, it turns out he's had them the entire time! He told me he wanted me to know what it was like to be denied something, since I hadn't lived up to the name he'd asked of me. That's what he said.

I had mastered every spell in our textbook for this year by halfway though the summer. I've studied advanced jinxes and hexes straight from the Malfoy library and even mastered memory charms. Mother has been training me in legillimency and occulmency and Professor Snape has come over to tutor me in advanced potions. But does Father notice that? No. He only knows that my scores have once again fallen behind hers. The muggle-born's. The inferior blood.

Granger.

I've looked in all the ledgers (including the ones in the corner of terror), and there is not a single branch off of magical blood that leads to a Granger. She's a true muggle-born. An unexplained anomaly of magic.

Not only that, after further searching, I found that the great Merlin never produced proof of parentage. Some historians believed it was because he was a muggle-born which is what bore his appearance in muggle legends as well as wizarding history.

It was around the same time the first of the sacred twenty-eight appeared as well.

Looking back into the Malfoy records, I found several half-bloods and even a few unknowns listed. In our OWN FAMILY TREE. I've spoken to Mother about it and she says not to worry, that all families have had to spread out to some of the less magical families in order to avoid marrying cousins. Then she told me not to bring it up with Father.

No worries of that. These days, Father and I really only talk about his job, my responsibilities as a Malfoy heir, and quidditch.

Journal,

We've arrived early for the world cup and Father gave me a couple extra hours to wander through the stalls for fan items. I found an Irish rosette for Mother, a Krum figure for Blaise, and two Bulgarian hats for Crabbe and Goyle. Nott doesn't care for quidditch and it would only be wasted on Parkinson.

The fans here are quite raucous, Father says Malfoy's have to be above all the frivolity. I don't know where he's been all day though, probably with the other heads of the sacred twenty-eight who are here. (I saw him with Mr. Nott and Mr. Avery.) Either they were being fans in their own way, speaking about the upcoming tournament, or something is being planned for the evening. Usually he tells me when something is about to happen, like with the Chamber of Secrets, but he's being unusually tight lipped this time. Only that I'm "sure to be impressed by the pureblood power being exuded" by the end of the week.

There are quite a few muggles here. Rather annoying creatures, really, nothing like the muggle-borns I know. The coordinators of the tournament keep having to obliviate them. Why even keep the fussy things around if all they're going to do is cause trouble?

{{Memo from the Ministry:

Caution: What you are about to experience may be slightly disorienting. Symptoms may include drowsiness, nausea, a temporarily bloated head, vomiting, unintentional apparition, seeing double, and death.

We believe the young Mr. Malfoy was taught how to retrieve memory strands from his own mind during the summer between his third and fourth years at Hogwarts (1994) and discovered that upon mixing the memory strand with ink and writing with it, the memory itself would be embedded onto the page. This allows the readers to be transported into the exact memory from Mr. Malfoy's perspective without the need of a pensieve.

A useful trick, Mr. Malfoy's practice has now been perfected and used within the Ministry for gathering multiple perspectives as evidence in bookkeeping. The strategy has saved the Ministry incalculable amounts of time and space.

However, in this rudimentary implementation, upon turning the page, transport is involuntary and can have ill-favored side effects on the reader as listed above.

You have been warned. Continue at your own risk.}}

(Disclaimer: Dialogue and context taken from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire)

Journal,

We were in the minister's box, the most esteemed seats with dignitaries, international diplomats...and the Weasleys. The entire golden trio were there: Potter, Weasel, and the Granger girl.

I must admit that I missed part of the game watching her. The only thing that made it worse was that Father noticed her. He pointed her out and started on his "you should be doing better" rant that lasted for an entire quarter of the game.

After that, Father rushed us back to the camp and finally explained what was planned for the evening.

[Draco's view reveals the tree line of a clearing on fire. Tents are scattered, people run from the chaos where pops of apparition can be heard.]

I tried to enjoy it, but I couldn't see the point in flipping the woman. I watched the muggles for the past few days: they're helpless, pitiful creatures. What's the purpose in torturing them? We're better than them, that's obvious, we shouldn't have to live in their shadow...but tormenting them feels like stinging a trapped creature. At least with Granger and Potter, I have a challenge.

[A few shadows break free from the crowd, the sound of crying and screaming reverberate across the lawn. Three figures become clearer than the others as Draco's view follows them. As Draco watches, the red-head falls to the ground and the other two stop.

"What happened? Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid - lumos!" A light appears on Hermione Granger's wand, further revealing the golden trio. Draco remains about ten feet away, closer to the clearing than his running classmates.

"Tripped over a tree root," Ron Weasley responds.

Draco calls out, "Well, with feet that size, hard not to."]

I don't know why I said it. It was seeing her looking frightened, I think. I've never seen her look frightened. I've spent years trying to find it, and it was frustrating that I wasn't the cause of her fear. Sure, she could face a snake and be called a mudblood, but a simple spell on some unsuspecting muggles and suddenly she's running for her life?

["Hadn't you better be hurrying along now?" Malfoy says, "You wouldn't like her spotted, would you?"

The view tilts up and down as if Draco is nodding. An explosion lights up the trees, but Malfoy's gaze remains locked on the three before him even as they become alarmed by a green flash.]

And there it was again. Fear. It looked wrong on her face.

["What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asks.

"Granger, they're after muggles," Draco says, "D'you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around...they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."]

Again, I'm not sure what possessed me to warn them, but I couldn't shake the feeling that my father getting a hold of HER was the last thing I wanted.

["If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."]

Father knows her, I can only imagine what they would do if SHE, especially, was caught. I had to distract myself by irritating Potter, but even that was ruined by the Granger girl. Disgust replaced the fear, and I welcomed it.

["Let's go find the others," Hermione says.

"Keep that big bushy head down, Granger."

Practically dragging the other two, the three disappear into the trees with the rest of the crowd. Draco's view follows them until Hermione Granger's hair is no longer recognizable within the rush. Turning back to the clearing, there is a final glimpse of the terrified crowd and another flash of green.]

Is this what pureblood power being exuded really is?

Journal,

The Durmstrang students have decided to join our table. I got to sit just a few people down from Viktor Krum, the greatest seeker in the world, but I think I can get closer tomorrow. I spoke with him after dinner about flying around the pitch later in the year and getting some tips from him. Apparently he's heard of the Malfoys.

The triwizard tournament sounds exciting, I'm a bit bummed I can't enter, but there are several Slytherins putting their name in so there's hope for a competent challenger from Hogwarts.

The ginger cat familiar came and found me again today. Don't ask me how he made it into the Slytherin common rooms because he obviously has a Gryffindor ribbon on his collar, but I didn't deny him when he curled up in my lap on the couches.

After all, the dungeon can get cold at times.

Journal,

The most horrible thing happened to me today.

First, I destroyed Weasley in front of his friends, but then the Boy-Who-Is-Favored-By-Everyone decided to step in and insult my mother.

Nobody speaks that way about Mother. I hexed him.

And then Professor Moody TURNED ME INTO A FERRET.

Thankfully Snape defended me and Moody got a rather harsh talking to from the headmaster, but I'll never forget...

I haven't written to father. He doesn't need to know...

Journal,

I've been spending a bit of time with Krum, I found he spends a lot of his evenings in the library. Unfortunately, so does the Granger girl. She had the audacity to come up to me today and asked if I was alright. She wanted to make sure I knew she disapproved of Moody's actions.

Apparently Granger has enough room in her heart for her friends, the entire school, house elves, and even her childhood bullies.

Who does she think she is? Checking in on ME? As if I needed her attention...as if she could do anything for me. I told her as much to her face.

She got quite red and her nose crinkled in that way it does when she's angry, then she stormed out. It would have been perfect except Krum didn't speak much for the rest of the evening.

Journal,

[The view opens on a full hall at Hogwarts, all students gathered to hear about each school's chosen champions.

The front table is visible including the headmasters of all three competing schools and the entire Hogwarts staff. Dumbledore is congratulating the chosen champions on their chance of a lifetime.

In the center of the hall, a blast of flame and sparks burst up from the goblet of fire, silencing the room and spitting out a small piece of parchment that Albus Dumbledore catches.

"Harry Potter," he says.

The view shifts to the Gryffindor table and settles on Potter for about three seconds before Hermione Granger is centered. Her eyes are wide, staring at Harry. He tries to say something before she shushes him and gently prods him towards the headmaster. Draco looks between the stumbling Potter and Granger staring after him.

As soon as Potter is through the door, Granger leans towards Ron Weasley and starts murmuring as the rest of the hall is doing.]

She's worried about him, that's easy enough to see. Surprised she's not used to it by this point with Potter's incessant need to be the center of attention. Meanwhile, I've started working on badges that transfigure whenever certain people are around...Potter won't know what hit him.

I wonder how he got his name in the goblet. I figured if anyone was going to hoodwink it, the twins were a good bet. Despite their inferior heritage and upbringing, their inventions have been rather ingenious (Don't tell Father I said so).

I don't have the gumption to hope that Potter will die in this tournament, but he may not be above public humiliation. Everything I've heard about the triwizard tournament is that it's notoriously difficult and dangerous...we'll see how Potter fairs without his bushy-haired crutch walking him through every step.

Journal,

I've figured it out: she's bewitched me. It's the only explanation for the plague on my thoughts. Either that or a love potion...maybe she intends to attack my reputation. (I plan to only drink from my own stores for the foreseeable future.)

Or perhaps this is what they meant by tainting our magic? Her touch from last year has left me reeling, I think it may be the same reason Krum and Potter are affected by her. Is there some kind of muggle-born magnetism? If so, they're even more dangerous than Father ever cared to admit. I have avoided all contact and vow never to let our skin brush again. Who knows what more exposure might do to me.

I found out this week that not all wizards can sense magic ability or the general direction of thought. I wrote to mother about it and she explained that the Black family line is known for being natural legillimens. She said that she is often able to hear brief thoughts or catch images of projected reactions. She didn't tell Father, she said to keep it our little secret. We're not sure where the magical awareness comes from, but it has helped me to understand why people are not as wary of Luna Lovegood as they should be.

Journal,

The first task was marvelous! Dragons! I'd only ever seen them from afar at the magical creatures auction Father brought me to when I was seven. (That's where I got Sir Scales. He still hasn't been to Hogwarts and is safely stored in a magically sealed box in the back of my closet, but one of the dragons looked like him: the one Delacour fought, a Welsh green.)

I've written to father about procuring a live one, preferably a baby, so I can bond with it as a hatchling.

Journal,

I apologize for the intrusion, Pansy simply doesn't know when to quit. I'm glad the burning charm I put on you worked though. She won't be handling any quills for a while, but I hope those red palms will be fixed by the ball. I can't have a girl with mummified hands on my arm now, can I?

I'm actually rather glad she asked me, I don't have to worry about deciding whether anyone else. It's all rather cumbersome...the only thing anyone can talk about is 'who is going with who' and 'who got rejected' and 'who finally confessed their undying affection'...The girls are all over it.

Though some are devastated, obviously not every girl is going to be asked. I wonder if

Like I said, Pansy and I have been friends since childhood so there's no reason for any pomp or confusion. It's a relief to avoid all the drama everyone else seems to be going through.

Journal,

This is the first year I've stayed for Christmas. I must admit that the castle is quite beautiful in the snow at sunrise, though I could do without the wet shoes every time I need to send a post or fancy a fly. The majority of my friends have remained for the ball, so Blaise, Theo, Vince, Greg, and I have gotten a few pick-up quidditch games in. (I don't remember if I told you quidditch was cancelled this season due to the 'Potter Spotlight' event of the year.) Vince and Crabbe are only decent as beaters, Blaise is the most competitive idiot to strut the earth (so it's only fun if you're on the same team), and Theo cheats.

It's excellent.

The girls won't play with us, too busy fretting over the upcoming yule dance, but a few Puffs and even a couple Ravens have made their way out to play against us. That Cho girl isn't a bad flyer, but its rather easy to distract her. All you have to do is bring up the Diggory boy and it's as if she loses the ability to see five feet in front of her anymore.

The Weaselette has come out to play a couple of times. I don't mind her, she's a formidable opponent even if she is a blood traitor, but she's started hanging out with the Lovegood girl...

The majority of the school calls her "Looney" and makes fun of her for her strange demeanor, but I can't shake the trepidation of her presence. Her aura is pearlescent and can shift anywhere from three inches to three feet out from her body. When she looks at you...it's like she can see into your soul. I think it's why the rest of the wizarding community is cruel to her, they can feel it on a primal level even if they don't understand it. I, myself, wisely keep my distance.

Lovegood is dangerous and never to be trifled with.

Journal,

Is it me? Am I the drama? I didn't ask to be the most sought after, wealthiest, best looking pureblood heir. Blaise is the one who likes all this kind of attention. I can't turn around a corner without being accosted by a new Slytherin girl, and they're not even that good looking! At this point, I blame Pansy. Hasn't she been bragging for weeks about how we're going together? Now she's not speaking with me...but I know she'll still go with me. She doesn't have time to find anyone else...

But where are people getting this impression that I'm available?

Journal,

I have found the problem.

Blaise has been telling people I've got a secret crush on a girl and I'm having trouble admitting my feelings. (Obviously getting back at me for the fact that I'm still beating him in every subject.) Pansy was livid because, like an idiot, she thought it was true. I told her that she would know if I had a crush since she follows me around all the time. (She didn't like that answer...not that I'm a fan of her constant presence either.) I don't see what all her fuss is about. I made it very clear we were going as friends, and it's not like she's going alone, I'm still going with her! What does she expect? Does she want me to drop to one knee and offer her the Malfoy estate? We're fourteen for Merlin's sake! And she hasn't exactly been pulling her weight if she thinks she deserves even a peek into my vaults.

Journal,

Something...strange happened today. Getting ready wasn't a big deal, I've worn dress robes before to all of our charity galas and Father's ministry events. I took a little bit longer on my hair than usual, but still arrived in the common room AGES before the girls did. I honestly forget what Pansy was wearing though I remember thinking she was pretty when I saw her.

Even arriving at the ball was pretty standard. While for Hogwarts the Great Hall may have looked magnificent, compared to Mother's dinner parties, it was rather sub-par. (I made sure to write telling her so.) No, it wasn't until the champion's entrance that it happened.

[A commotion to the right.

The perspective shifts to the front where Potter and Weasley are fussing.

A new figure enters at the top of the stairs, difficult to make out due to the backlight. Stepping forward, Hermione Granger comes into full view dressed for the ball.

Granger smiles.

The rest of the room blurs. Only Hermione is visible, her head tilted down to watch her heeled feet carefully descend the stairs. The chiffon skirt of her periwinkle dress shimmers in the light, her silky hair sliding forward across her bare shoulders to gently frame her face.

Sound blurs, voices are indistinguishable from each other like static, but the prominent sound of a heartbeat can be heard thundering in a rapid rhythm.

There is a sudden return of all noise and Draco's view shifts to his left where Pansy is glaring at him.

"Sorry, what?"]

But I wasn't sorry.

I couldn't keep my eyes off her.

What? I can think she's pretty and still inferior. (Case and point: Daphne Greengrass.) Unfortunately, Pansy noticed and wasn't happy about it. So did Blaise and Theo, though they were making the same observation as I was. (Only with cruder additions than Mother would say was appropriate for a pureblood.)

As Mother had asked, I danced with each pureblood princess who was there. I'm going to be honest though...I remember very little of them. Pansy purposefully stepped on my toes. Not very lady-like. (Thank Merlin for dragonhide shoes.) Millicent talked about the free buffet the entire time. Daphne decided to use our dance time to point out everything wrong in the room. Like I didn't already see the mediocre décor, lack of crystal goblets, and presence of refined company. I don't think any of them lasted more than thirty seconds before I tuned them out.

Meanwhile, Granger only danced with Krum. Her hair bounced each time he twirled her. The time he dipped her she came up with the most gorgeous blush dusting her freckled cheeks. I swear, journal, when she laughed, she absolutely sparkled. Her magic shimmered off her with each step, a warming light like fireworks. In a room bursting with enchantments, I could sense her from across the room. So imagine my surprise when I found her a couple hours later sobbing on the stairs.

It wasn't difficult to discern the reason.

["Granger?" Draco looks around, making sure there's nobody else nearby, before coming to sit on the stairs near her. "Step on your own toes?"

Without taking her face from her hands, Granger responds, "Can we not today, Malfoy? Please? I just...I don't think I can handle any more tonight."

Draco watches her sob for a couple more seconds before turning to the opposite wall so that they're facing the same way, Hermione a couple steps higher than him. All he can see is the decorated wall of the entrance hall.

"Weasley's an idiot."

In his peripheral, Hermione is seen sniffing. She wipes her face and glares at him. "I know you hate Ron, but-"

"That's not why he's an idiot." The vision tilts slightly. "Okay, that's not the only reason why he's an idiot. He's an idiot because he has your attention and he's squandering it. He doesn't deserve your attention, Granger, let alone your tears. You shouldn't listen to him."

Hermione's scoff can be heard from out of view. "You're one to talk. I can't even count how many times you've made me cry."

The vision curls around back to Hermione. "Yeah well, who said you should listen to me, either?"

Her lip twitches a bit at that. With a deep breath, she looks up in an attempt to quell her tears.

"Oh bother..." she grumbles.

Draco rolls his eyes. "What now?"

Instead of answering, she points to the ceiling. Looking up, Draco also sees the cause for her resigned bitterness. Hanging from the eaves directly above them has sprouted one of the magical mistletoes Professor Flitwick was talking about.

"Ah, I see," he says, shaking his head. "Well, I guess we should kiss, eh, Granger?"

Her eyes shoot down to him, her cheeks blooming with the fierce blush he was hoping for. Grinning, he removes his handkerchief with a dramatic flourish and wraps it gently around her hand.

"For old time's sake." He winks at her, then takes her covered hand and places a gentle kiss against the back always ensuring that their skin never touches.

"Malfoy-"

He cuts her off with a finger to his own lips, standing and brushing off his dress robes. "It'll be our little secret." Then he points to the handkerchief she was holding. "You keep that. Use it to wipe your tears. Forget about him. Make today the day you move on."]

I expect when I wake up tomorrow I'll have to do the same: forget her. Forget how beautiful she looked. Forget how her warm, small hand felt in mine.

But for tonight...just for tonight...it will be our little secret.

Journal,

As if this holiday hasn't been crazy enough, I was visited by none other than Dobby in the middle of the night.

[The vision starts black before opening on emerald green curtains and two tennis-ball eyes staring down at Draco. A very shrill (not at all manly) scream can be heard and the vision jostles before coming to rest on a house-elf perched on the end of his bed.

"Dobby?" Draco pants. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Dobby has brought a gift, sir!" And he holds out two poorly knitted socks. One is silver with green dragons and the other is blue with black cauldrons. Pale hands reach out to take them.

"You..." Draco swallows. "You made these for me?"

"Dobby remembers how young mas-...mister Draco loved his little dragon. Dobby was told mister Draco is also very good at potion making, sir. Dobby debated putting sweets on them but thought cauldrons would be easier. Miss Hermione helped Dobby pick the colors."

Draco's vision shoots back up to the elf. "Granger?"

Dobby nods so hard his hat almost falls off. "Oh yes, sir. Miss Hermione spends much time in the kitchen."

"In the kitchen?" Draco bristles, then catches himself. "Pigging out, is she?"

"Oh no, mister Draco, she speaks with the elves. Wants to-" the elf cuts off, suddenly looking sheepish.

"Wants what?" Draco asks.

The elf shakes his head. "Dobby should be going, sir. A happy Christmas to you."

"Wait!" Draco almost grabs the little elf by his new sweater but stops himself just in time. "Er...Dobby. I'm just curious. What is Granger doing in the kitchen?"

"Dobby shouldn't..."

"Please."]

I've only ever said "please" three times in my life before: once to sleep in my parents room after a nightmare when I was six, next to get a pet acromantula to scare Pansy when I was eight, and finally to ask my father if I could come with him to his work at the ministry.

Every request had been answered with a no.

[The elf's eyes widen before he beams.

"Miss Hermione speaks to the elves about their work," Dobby says, "she asks them about gettings paid and if theys like their duties. They are not very fond of Miss Hermione...not like Dobby is. They likes mister Ron though, he is always askings and sayings thank yous. Mister Draco should come visit too, if he is being friends with miss Hermione."

Draco's gaze shoots off to the left where he stares into the fireplace. "Friends?" he scoffs. "With Granger? As if I'd ever stoop so low."]

So...Granger's been spending time in the kitchens? An elf rebellion? Typical bleeding heart. Next thing she'll be advocating for giants and werewolves and acromantulas.

In other news...I've decided to find the kitchens. (It's not BECAUSE of Granger, don't be ridiculous. I simply can't stand the idea that there's a piece of this castle I haven't explore yet.) I was just mentioning to Goyle the other day about how I'd been craving a decent snack at midnight...Though I may not bring Crabbe and Goyle with me...they might consume the entire castle's stock. Maybe Theo, he's a skinny bloke. Blaise is deceptively thin. He eats like an elephant, it's rather revolting actually.

The plan is to find it over the holidays before more students get back.