Sunday, 6 September 1998
Draco had skillfully managed to avoid Granger all weekend. He had spent a lot of time in the Slytherin dungeons now that it was weekend, and he was allowed to stay there in the evenings too. Being back in his old common room had done him well. The atmosphere in the dungeons was always rather pleasant in the evenings and there was always something exciting going on.
He had managed to intimidate the first- and second-years enough so that they would stop whispering about him, but he hadn't scared them too much so they would find a teacher and complain. As tempting as it was, he didn't want to get in trouble for abusing his position of authority. It was hard to keep reminding himself to behave in a civil manner and he just hoped it would all be worth it in the end.
Zabini had been pretty angry when he had discovered that he had to serve detention all by himself, and he hadn't shown his face in the common room all weekend. During meals he seated himself close to the doors of the Great Hall and he didn't even talk to Pansy, even though they normally were on quite friendly terms.
Draco had talked about Granger with Pansy—or rather, he had been going on about it while Pansy sat silently beside him, pretending to pay attention for a generous five minutes before jumping up and exclaiming that she wouldn't hear another word about the Gryffindor Mudblood or she would throw herself off the Astronomy Tower.
At the mention of the Astronomy Tower, they had smirked at each other and snuck out of the Slytherin common room together, climbing the tower to enjoy the sunset. They hadn't seen much of it, though, as they had been too occupied with each other. It had improved his evening immensely, which was surprising, considering what had happened there, but when his curfew had forced him to retreat to the Head's Tower, his good mood had gradually lessened with every step he took.
While walking through the castle by himself, Draco thought of his argument with Granger and how short-lived his victory on Friday had been. He had put her in her place, and for a moment he had truly been above her, informing her of facts that she had never known, deliberately hurting her with something he knew she cared about. But he had underestimated her. After all, this was Granger he was dealing with.
The Head Girl was both famous and notorious for her academic enthusiasm and achievements. It was commonly known that she wanted to learn all there was to learn, which was most certainly the reason why she had returned to Hogwarts this year. But the Gryffindor girl didn't seem to stop at school-related knowledge. Draco had noticed in their early years that Granger was observant, not unlike himself. She could read people, strip them of their pretences and see past their masks. Apparently knowing everything about every subject wasn't enough for her, she seemed to want to know everything about her fellow students as well. And now she was prying into his life, trying to dig up things that he had buried deep within himself. If there was one thing Draco hated, it was feeling exposed and vulnerable. He wasn't prepared to talk about his feelings or motives, or anything related to his person at all, least of all with her. The less people knew about him, the less they could use against him.
He had made the biggest mistake, letting her bait him like she had, just to trick a response out of him. Draco felt sick to his stomach when he thought of what he had almost said to her, but he knew cutting off hadn't helped—she was smart, she had already figured out what he had nearly blurted out. He suspected that Potter was already aware of how he felt by now, and he didn't trust her to be above telling everyone else, either. Draco had briefly seen Granger in the Great Hall during dinners, but the miserable look on her face had only slightly brightened his mood. During each meal she was seated a bit further from everyone else, with only the Weasley girl as her companion. She kept her eyes down at all times and Draco suspected that she was feeling ashamed of being so uninformed about something she seemed to care about a lot.
Subconsciously he had made his way through the castle, reaching his destination much sooner than anticipated. He mumbled the password and entered the common room. Granger sat snuggled up in one of the armchairs close to the fire with a big leather-bound book on her lap. She was wearing a knitted maroon-coloured jumper that was far too large for her. Her hair was damp and tied together in a messy bun, and Draco noticed that she was wearing orange socks. He tried not to snort as he quickly walked past her, trying to get to his dormitory unnoticed.
"Malfoy?"
He sighed in disappointment and halted.
"I just—um—thanks," Granger muttered.
"For what?" Draco asked, turning around to face her, not quite able to mask his surprise.
Her face was pink and she didn't look at him, instead staring at her orange socks. "Snapping me out of my ignorance, I suppose," she said softly, fidgeting with the leather binding of the book that had loosened. "Helping me realise that I was wrong."
"I never intended to help you with anything," he grumbled as an answer.
She seemed to ignore that, or maybe she really just didn't hear. "Can I ask you something?"
"You just did," deadpanned Draco as he turned back around again.
"I was just wondering... House-elves don't seem to appreciate payment, and I don't understand why, and I was hoping you could—"
"For Merlin's sake, Granger," he interrupted her sharply, turning on his heels to shoot her a glare. "Stop bothering me with this house-elf talk and this self-righteous attitude of yours!"
She turned a deeper shade of pink. "I don't want to bother you, but you're the only person I know to have had a house-elf in your employ. You know more about this than I do and since you were so keen to educate me yesterday, I just... I thought you wouldn't mind if I asked you..." her voice trailed off.
From the way she emphasised the mention of him educating her, Draco could tell that she knew it hadn't been about teaching her something. After all, that hadn't been the reason—he had just wanted to wound her, just to rub salt in it later. It had been a short-lived victory, indeed.
He sighed again and decided that, for the sake of his badge and, with that, his future, he would give in and be civil. Begrudgingly making his way towards the couch, he sat down and brushed a hand through his hair. Granger was looking at him with surprise evident on her face.
"Fine," he said, rubbing his forehead. He remained silent for a good minute, thinking about how he would answer this question. When he was young he had to go through quite a few books to learn how to treat their house-elves. There were specific ways of wording your orders to avoid giving the elves the opportunity to find loopholes, and there were certain rules regarding laundry, food, breaks and days off, all sorts of things really, that required consideration and special attention.
"I expect you to know what house-elves are about," he began.
"Immense devotion and loyalty to the person or family designated as their master," Granger droned immediately, a bitter edge to her voice that made Draco smirk slightly.
"A simple yes would have sufficed," he said in a way-worn tone, earning a glare from her. "They do their work out of loyalty. If you have never paid them before and suddenly start to do so, you give them the feeling they don't do their job sufficiently, that you're unhappy with the way they work. It's like you're trying to motivate them to work harder, better. It offends and hurts them. And when house-elves are hurt, offended or unhappy—or all three, for all I care—they start looking for loopholes."
Granger kept looking down at her socks, playing with the leather bonds of the book, a thoughtful frown on her brows. "So if you must avoid hurting or offending the elves, why did you treat Dobby so cruelly?" she asked softly.
"I never did."
Her head snapped up and from the expression on her face, Draco could tell that she was about to protest. "No, Granger, don't. You may think you know everything, but you don't," he said in a warning tone, glaring at her.
The girl snapped her mouth shut but she continued to scowl at him. "He was my personal elf and I was never actually cruel to him, not the way my father was. He probably never liked me much, but I'm pretty sure he didn't fear me like he feared my father. When I went to Hogwarts, he became my father's personal elf until he was freed."
"I've seen the way you bossed your friends around, so I can only imagine how you must have treated Dobby," Granger sniffed indignantly.
"I was just a child and I was taught that he was my personal slave, so fine, I wasn't kind to him, but I was never cruel to him, either. He has been in service of both my father and my grandfather before me, and compared to them I was probably even friendly," he bit back.
He didn't understand why he was explaining himself, or why it felt so important to him that she understood, that she believed him, but somehow it mattered that she did. Draco convinced himself that it was because this subject was important to her and that if she believed that he wasn't awful to his house-elves, her weekly report about him might not be predominantly negative.
"Did you think of Dobby as a friend when you were young?"
She caught him off guard again. Her question was soft and full of doubt and Draco was sure that she was trying to understand his reaction on Friday. He stared at her and he noticed with satisfaction how his cold glare affected her. Granger tried to stay composed; she tried to keep up a confident demeanour, but her eyes betrayed that she was feeling unnerved.
"Do you always feel the need to pry into other people's lives?" he asked her in the coldest tone he could muster.
"I didn't mean to— that's not what—"
"I get it, Granger, you want to get to know me, isn't that right?" he interjected mockingly.
Her face had become yet another shade of pink and she was staring up at him with a nervous look in her eyes. "It just... wouldn't it make everything so much easier if I could understand—"
"I'm not your homework, Granger. I'm not one of your course projects. I don't want you to understand me. My life is private and you're not invited and not welcome."
Draco stood up and walked up to his dormitory. Once he was upstairs, he decided to get his school bag for the next day packed and go to bed. He grabbed his timetable from his desk and noticed that his Monday was going to be particularly unpleasant: during third period he would have his first ever Muggle Studies class. Groaning inwardly, he reluctantly selected his books. When his bag was ready for the next morning, he changed into his pyjamas and got into bed, trying very hard to empty his head and to stop thinking about the annoying girl downstairs who seemed to be able to read him like a book.
Monday, 7 September 1998
When Draco entered the Great Hall the next morning, he noticed immediately that Pansy looked rather miserable. She was poking around her porridge and didn't seem to have much appetite. Greengrass sat across from her next to Nott, with whom she seemed to be discussing an article in the Daily Prophet. Zabini wasn't with them — unsurprisingly — and instead, he was sitting on the other end of the table with Tracey Davis, seemingly having a rather heated argument. That was not very surprising to him either, as he knew Zabini couldn't stand the sight of the girl.
Not paying further attention to them, he made his way over to Pansy and sat down next to her, throwing down his extremely light book bag that only carried three books, and helped himself to some coffee and cornflakes. When she didn't even acknowledge his arrival, he raised an eyebrow at her. "What's got your knickers in a twist?"
Pansy gave him a sour look in return. "My knickers don't concern you, Draco Malfoy." Greengrass let out a snort and even Nott looked up from the newspaper to give them an amused look.
"My, Pansy, I'm hurt."
"You poor darling," she answered with mock concern. "But if you must know, I was informed by McGonagall this morning that she added a new class to my timetable. She dares to make me take the foulest class of all. I'm sure you've seen the state Zabini's in," she motioned to the far end of the table, where Zabini and Davis were still arguing, "so I think it's safe to assume it's the same for him."
Feeling slightly better that he wasn't alone, Draco let out some air. "Same for me, too, if you're talking about the class I think you are."
"You too?" Pansy exclaimed, staring at him in shock. She pointed at Greengrass and Nott. "But they don't have to!"
"Unlike the two of you, we haven't openly discriminated against those poor, unfortunate classmates of ours that don't belong to the elite," Nott said with a smirk.
Draco snorted at that. "Right, you came to their defence every chance you got, didn't you? Theodore Nott, the knight in shining armour; defender of those of lesser blood."
"How dare you turn on the beliefs of your family," Pansy laughed. "Somewhere, your late grandfather is turning over in his grave."
"It has never been proven that he was the author of that Pure-blood Directory," Nott snickered. "You've got it all wrong; he was a really nice guy."
Greengrass started laughing too, joining in with Draco and Pansy. "Yeah, of course, a guy named Cantankerus Nott is bound to be a nice guy," she howled. The Slytherins continued to laugh and tease each other, temporarily forgetting that some of them were being forced to attend Muggle Studies as a punishment.
"Morning, guys," Davis interrupted sullenly, seating herself next to Pansy. Zabini walked by, ignoring them, and strode out of the Great Hall.
Greengrass gazed after him, shaking her head in disgust. "Nice little ray of sunshine, isn't he?"
"You have no idea," groaned Davis. "But you were right," she said to Pansy, turning to face her friend with a sympathetic look on her face. "He had to go to McGonagall for the same reason and has to attend the same class."
Pansy groaned and got to her feet. "I'm going to get my books." She looked around and saw Perks sitting close to them. She opened her mouth but Greengrass was two steps ahead of her.
"Don't you even think about it."
Davis stood up as well and pulled Pansy to the doors of the Great Hall, followed by Greengrass. As the three girls disappeared out of view, Nott finished his coffee and swung his bag over his shoulder as he stood up. Draco did the same and together they made their way up to the Arithmancy classroom in silence.
The class went by quickly and they had a good laugh when the Gryffindor girl that always sat beside Granger was yelled at for handing in a ridiculously short essay, but it wasn't enough entertainment for Draco to keep his mind off the class that followed. When he found its classroom, Pansy was waiting outside in the corridor, looking both nervous and ill-tempered. They entered the classroom together and immediately all eyes were on them, much to Draco's annoyance.
The class was small, consisting of only one Hufflepuff and four Ravenclaws. The surprise was evident on all their faces, and one of the Ravenclaw girls, Morag MacDougal, frowned in disapproval when Zabini entered the classroom quite loudly.
Professor Wilberforce looked up from her notes and stood up. "I'm sure this comes as quite a surprise to you," she addressed the students that were already sitting down, "but the Headmistress is under the impression that these students need this class for their personal development."
She scanned the three Slytherins that were still standing by the door. "I don't think it'll be a good idea for you three to sit together, so I'll rearrange the entire class. Let's see... Ms Parkinson, please come sit here, next to Mr Macmillan. Mr Malfoy, please sit over there with Ms MacDougal. And Mr Zabini, you may sit over here with Mr Cornfoot." The students reluctantly sat down in their assigned seats, with the exceptions of the two remaining Ravenclaws, Sue Li and Anthony Goldstein, who seemed very relieved to be paired up with each other rather than with a Slytherin.
Draco didn't really mind sitting next to MacDougal that much. She was a proper pureblood witch as well as an adequate Seeker. She was a lot better than Ravenclaw's previous Seeker, which had been proven when MacDougal was appointed Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, an honour the other girl had never received. Slytherin and Ravenclaw generally tolerated each other better than Slytherin and either one of the other two Houses, so he was happy that he wasn't sitting next to that pompous Hufflepuff. Pansy was sitting as far from Macmillan as their desk would allow, and she had a pained expression on her face. At the desk next to her, Zabini was mindlessly doodling on a piece of parchment, looking quite angry, and the boy sitting next to him was shooting nervous glances at him every now and then.
The class was horrible. The previous year, when Alecto Carrow had been in charge of Muggle Studies, she had just vented about Muggles for hours; how they were stupid and filthy and unworthy of living free lives. It had been quite amusing at times. But now they actually had to listen to how Muggles lived and how they had invented all sorts of things to survive without magic. When the bell chimed, Draco nearly ran for the door, but Wilberforce called the Slytherins back.
"You three are years behind on the curriculum, so I want you to read this book," she announced, showing them the book Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles. "I want you to read it write an essay about it, due before the end of this month. Also, during their sixth year, your fellow students visited a Muggle family for a day to observe their life and I want you to do that as well later this year. Please start looking for a Muggle family soon so you can make the necessary arrangements." With that she dismissed them. Once outside the classroom, the three Slytherins momentarily forgot about Zabini's hostility.
"Can you believe this woman?!"
"Visit a Muggle family?!"
"For an entire day?!"
"Is McGonagall insane?!"
"What will our families say when they hear this?!"
"It's disgusting!"
They stared at each other for a moment and then Zabini abruptly turned and left. For a brief moment, Pansy looked as though she was going after him, but she didn't. Instead, she stared after him until he disappeared around a corner, obviously torn between several different emotions. Then she turned to face Draco, her eyes wide and accusing.
"What's with you two?! You always got along fine and now... Why?!" she shrieked in frustration.
Draco looked down at her, quite taken aback by her outburst. It was true that he never had a problem with Zabini before. They had never truly been friends, and Zabini had taken every chance he got to express his contempt for the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, who, in his opinion, were pathetic for following around some elderly half-blood. But they usually got along just fine, like Pansy said. And the lack of contact with Zabini was clearly bothering her.
"I honestly don't know, Pansy, nor do I care. If he wants to be a childish ass because he's stuck here, that's his problem."
"I can't stand it, you know. He's just as much my friend as you are, and now we don't talk because he's angry with you because of that stupid detention incident." They walked in silence for a while, turning corners and descending stairs, making their way down to the Slytherin dungeons to spend their free period together.
"So we're friends, huh," Draco commented with a weak smirk, trying to change the subject. He tolerated much, much more from Pansy than from anyone else here at school. As much as he cared about her though, he didn't like the direction this conversation was taking, and he sure as hell wasn't going to go talk with Zabini just because Pansy was about to push him into that direction.
She raised an eyebrow at him and didn't try to mask her annoyance, but she couldn't help but smirk back.
"Oh, shut up, you self-centered prat."
Thursday, 10 September 1998
The days passed slowly and were uneventful. Draco had played around with the idea of talking to Zabini, but he had yet to actually go through with it. After their conversation on Sunday evening, he and Granger had avoided each other as though it was pre-arranged. They only spoke when they absolutely had to and Draco made sure they were never in the common room together for too long, not giving her opportunities to pry and dig.
By Thursday afternoon, he had almost forgotten his anger, which probably partly resulted from the fact that Thursday was an awful day, class-wise. Five periods had passed and there was only one more hour of Potions left. The dungeons were muggy with potion fume and every student in the Potions classroom seemed to be quite ill-tempered. It had been a long and exhausting day.
"A little more, a little more..." Nott muttered, staring into the cauldron, frowning with concentration as Draco poured in the dragon blood. "Okay, that's enough," he said as he nodded in approval and moved away from the cauldron, picking up his silver knife. "If you follow the next instructions, I'll chop up the Flitterbloom."
Draco nodded and started reading the next couple of instructions. He stirred the potion clockwise, and after a few minutes he lowered the temperature of the fire and added three drops of Re'em blood. It had to simmer for ten minutes now before the chopped Flitterbloom had to be added. He looked around the classroom and noticed that Zabini and Greengrass were still arguing, which they had been doing for the better part of the past hour. It was amusing to him but really taking its toll on their potion at the same time. It was supposed to have a navy blue colour by now, but theirs was a nasty brown.
"Can't you read?! It clearly says to add the blood after the knotgrass!"
Zabini carelessly proceeded to pour the dragon blood into the cauldron, and Greengrass' face was turning a deep shade of red. "What the hell are you doing?!" she shrieked as she pushed Zabini away from the cauldron and feverishly started throwing in large amounts of knotgrass.
"Children, children, whatever's the matter?" Slughorn soothed, hurrying toward them.
"What's the matter?! Zabini is purposely ruining our potion, that's what's the matter!" Greengrass snapped.
She poked her wand in the fire below the cauldron to lower the temperature, throwing a handful of leeches into the potion that—miraculously enough—slowly started turning blue. The entire class was staring at the two Slytherin students, some looking amused, some looking rather annoyed, and then there was Granger, who simply wasn't looking at all and steadfastly working on her potion.
"Now, now, let's not start with the accusations. Mr Zabini, m'boy, speak up, what happened that displeases this young lady so much?"
Zabini stared at the Potions Master with a bored expression on his face. "She's right, I did it on purpose." He shrugged. "You've got to keep it fun, right?"
Professor Slughorn seemed momentarily at a loss for words. "Mr Zabini! These potions are no joking matter!" he exclaimed, sounding surprised. "We are recovering from a war and these potions are needed! I expect you to take your work here seriously!"
Zabini was utterly unimpressed with this outburst, shrugging once more. "It's not quite managing to hold my interest," he said softly, and to prove his point he tossed a horned slug into the cauldron, instantly turning the potion into a bubbling purple mass.
Greengrass let out an angry screech and launched herself in Zabini's direction. The two Ravenclaw guys behind them, Cornfoot and Goldstein, had already anticipated this and they hurried to her side to each hold her back as she screeched an elaborate string of profanities at the dark-skinned boy.
Slughorn started turning a rather impressive shade of blue. He glared at Zabini and he pointed one trembling finger at the door. "Out! You hear me?! Out!" He reached into his pocket and thrusted a piece of parchment in Zabini's direction. "You will go straight up to Professor McGonagall and hand her this! Fail to do so and the consequences will be most severe. Out, I said!"
After Zabini pulled the parchment from Slughorn's balled fist and carelessly strode out of the classroom, the Potions Master's face slowly returned to its natural colour as he tried to calm Greengrass down. The Ravenclaws had returned to their table, eyeing the furious girl with wary eyes. Draco smirked at Greengrass as she desperately tried to save what was left of her Blood-Replenishing Potion. She shot him a foul glare and he heard Nott quietly snicker.
"Ms Granger, I see that you and Mr Macmillan are quite ahead, would you please be so kind to assist Ms Greengrass with restoring her potion?"
"Of course, Professor," Granger answered eagerly.
Behind him, Draco heard Greengrass moan something that sounded suspiciously like oh god no and he couldn't help but smirk again as Granger moved towards Greengrass' cauldron.
Nott walked past her to shelve the bottle of dragon blood they had used, but in his efforts to pass her without touching her, he tripped over his own book bag, dropping the bottle of dragon blood on the floor. The bottle smashed and the thick syrupy substance spread rapidly across the floor, and Granger slipped. As though in slow-motion, Draco saw how she fell over and how her big bushy mess of hair inched closer and closer to the flames underneath Greengrass' cauldron.
Without so much as thinking about what the hell he was doing, he dived forward.