Mudbloods, Murmurs, and Mockingbirds

-O-

Draco thought that the Christmas hols were going to be a dour affair at Hogwarts Castle. Many of the school's students had left, glad to escape the strange pall over the castle. The Chamber of Secrets scared everyone, muggle-borns, half bloods, even pure bloods alike. The idea of a monstrous beast living below them was no comfort to anyone.

Draco had planned to go home for Christmas. His parents usually had a New Year's gala. Pim and the other elves always made a fuss over Draco at Christmas, making his favourite crepes and biscuits, decorating his suite with charmed icicles that would not melt, building a snow fortress outside in which he and his friends could play.

It was a surprise, therefore, when on his weekly floo call with his mother in early December, Narcissa suggested that he stay at Hogwarts this Christmas. "I think you will be happier there, my dragon," she said with a fragile smile.

"But, I want to come to the gala! And Theo and Blaise were going to come, Theo is getting a new broom for Christmas and we wanted to try it out. And Pim's snow fortress..."

Narcissa looked to the side, as though checking that her door was firmly closed and warded.

"I know you want to come home, my dragon. And I would love to see you... We all would, of course." She cleared her throat here and took a moment to compose herself before starting again. "Your father is upset about you losing the Quidditch match. He had to take a lot of teasing from Jeremiah Flint and Wendell Crabbe. He is furious that he spent all of that money on those brooms, only for you to lose your Quidditch match against the Potter boy.

"And... He also heard about the duel with Potter. Severus told us that it was a draw, but you know how your father can be. He sees a draw as essentially a loss. I'm so sorry, Draco. I just feel that, with how he behaved this summer, with your grades..."

Draco did not need a reminder about the cruciatus curse and the glass. Yes, staying with the horrible conversationalists Vince and Greg, at a drafty castle with a monstrous beast locked away deep in the bowels of the grounds sounded infinitely better than spending Christmas with his father.

-O-

Because Draco had been told to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas, he figured he might as well spend his extra time doing a bit of research on the Chamber of Secrets.

When the cat had been attacked, Draco and many of the younger boys found it a little bit funny. No one liked Mrs. Norris or Argus Filch, and besides, Dumbledore assured the school that the cat was going to be fine once the mandrake restorative draught was brewed.

When the young Gryffindor who kept trying to take photos of everything was attacked, this seems to fit in with Draco's thought that this heir of Slytherin was attacking muggle-borns.

Then just before Christmas, the Hufflepuff and a ghost were attacked.

If anyone had asked, Draco would have called his library research simple curiosity. But he knew that there was an undercurrent of worry. After all, at the start of the year, Draco had done a partner assignment in Astronomy with the Hufflepuff, Justin Finch- Fletchley. And whilst the bloke talked far too much, he seemed like a nice enough fellow. And...

That was it. He was only worried for Justin, he told himself.

-O-

As it turned out, Christmas was not the awful time he had feared. He and the handful of other Slytherins who stayed were allowed the run of the common room. With no classes to disturb them, he and Greg and Vince were able to practice Quidditch, play gobstones or exploding snap, listen to music at full volume, sled down the stairs to the dungeon, and draw penises all over the blackboards in several classrooms. Plus, the Hogwarts elves also took food requests when it was only a small handful of students, so he was still able to get his favourite speculoos crepes and Christmas biscuits.

Christmas night found Draco lounging in the common room, reading a book that he had checked out of the library after seeing Hermione reading it. It was interesting, the story of a young girl and her brother and their friend in some place he had never heard of called Alabama. Their father was a barrister of sorts. There was a man who had been arrested for attacking a woman, and the father was representing him. The girl and her brother and their friend were determined to pester one of their neighbors who wanted to be left alone; Draco was reminded of Hermione and her two nitwit hangers on.

His fingers dug into the box of chocolates that his mother and father had sent, his favourite ones from Paris. Also in the package had been an envelope, sealed in wax and stamped with his father's signet ring. For a surprised moment, Draco had thought that it was a Christmas card from his father, but instead it had been a newspaper article from the Daily Prophet. It had been quite funny, and Draco decided that he wanted to show it to Vince and Greg.

He stretched and looked up, noticing how empty the common room was. Where had those two gotten off to? Probably still gorging themselves senseless in the Great Hall. True, the food had been nice. It was a small crowd of people, and Draco had spent more time than he would admit looking furtively at Hermione in the candlelight. They had never shared a meal before, though he had seen her eat many times. It was a nice change, he thought, being only across the table from her instead of across the entire Great Hall.

He got up and walked out of the Slytherins common room, looking left and right. No sign of Vince or Greg. Then he started towards the stairs that led back up to the Entrance Hall. Seriously, the elves would just need to shut down the kitchen to make those two leave.

As he rounded the corner, he was surprised to see The two Slytherin boys in conversation with a Weasley. What was he doing down here? Draco drew closer.

"There you are. Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time? I've been looking for you; I want to show you something really funny." He looked at the Weasley wizard. "And what're you doing down here, Weasley?"

"You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect! I don't like your attitude!" the Weasley's face was turning redder than his hair.

Draco rolled his eyes and stalked off down the hall, back towards the Slytherin common room.

"That Peter Weasley —" he started to the others behind him.

"Percy," interrupted Vince.

"Whatever. I've noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he's up to. He thinks he's going to catch Slytherin's heir single handed." Draco laughed as they reached the hidden entrance to the common room. "What's the new password again? Oh, yeah — pure blood." Privately, Draco thought that as passwords go, this one wasn't very secure or terribly original, but nobody asked second years anything.

Draco showed them the article from the Daily Prophet, in which Arthur Weasley had been investigated and fined for bewitching a muggle car. The story of how Potter and the weasel had gotten to school had made the rounds that autumn; it was amusing to him to see how it had all ended.

Vince and Greg, never ones to really get the nuance of things, laughed half-heartedly. Merlin, it really sucked having stupid friends. He wished that Blaise and Theo had stayed behind for the Christmas hols instead.

"What's up with you, Crabbe?" Draco asked, as the boy had started to look as though he were going to throw up.

"Stomach ache," Vince said.

"Well, go up to the hospital wing and give all those Mudbloods a kick from me," he laughed. In his mind, he remembered his mother saying that Wendell Crabbe had told his father all about losing the Quidditch match. Clearly, Vince was willing to share details about Draco with his father; it would bolster his reputation if he made fun of the muggle-borns and Professor Dumbledore.

"You know, I'm surprised the Daily Prophet hasn't reported all these attacks yet. I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. He'll be sacked if it doesn't stop soon. Father's always said old Dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. He loves muggle-borns. A decent headmaster would never have let slime like that Creevey in. Potter, can I have your picture, Potter? Can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter?'"

Greg and Vince just stared at him stupidly. "What's the matter with you two?" They finally laughed. For Salazar's sake, what the hell was in their Christmas pudding? Was there a potion that made you stupider?

"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend," Draco continued. Once he had started talking, he found it difficult to find a stopping point. "He's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped up Granger Mudblood." He coughed slightly at his own words.

"And people think he's Slytherin's heir!" Draco scoffed to himself because he counted himself as one of those people. In his estimation, being a parselmouth was pretty damning. No one really knew much about Harry Potter, other than the stuff in legend. Who was to say he wasn't descended from Slytherin?

Both boys just sat there dumbly, mouths hanging open. It really was like talking to a wall, he thought. But clearly sometimes the wall had ears- if Vince was going to run to his father and report everything about Draco, then Draco would give him something to talk about.

"I wish I knew who it is. I could help them." Okay, perhaps now he was laying on too thick. Yet, Vince looked almost surprised, so Draco took that as a good sign. Seriously, did the dolt really think that a twelve year old would be able to help an ancient magical beast? Gods, these two really were stupid.

Greg cleared his throat and looked over weirdly at Vince. "You must have some idea who's behind it all."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You know I haven't, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you? And Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it."

In truth, his father had given him hardly any information. Lucius had only said that it had happened in recent history, so in his library research, Draco had cross referenced muggle-born deaths at Hogwarts reported in the Daily Prophet. The only one to have happened in the last hundred years was fifty years ago, and it had been a very mysterious death.

"But I know one thing — last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them's killed this time. . . . I hope it's Granger."

The thought turned his stomach, his Christmas dinner threatening to come back up for another visit when he'd said it. After he'd spoken, he quickly looked away, afraid that the boys might see the actual truth written on his face. But they were staring at each other, clearly trying to keep up with the conversation. Draco had a feeling that this was the most anyone had spoken to either of them in days.

The two of them blathered on awhile longer, and Draco lost the thread of the conversation. To be honest, he was ready to get back to his book, which was far more interesting to him than this conversation. He looked a bit longingly at the book, which was across the room at the chair in front of the fireplace.

When he finally turned back to face them again, they were rushing out at the room, sick from all of the extra pudding at Christmas dinner. No surprise there- those two would eat anything that stood still long enough.

-O-

To keep his mind busy and not dwell on his guilt over what he had said about Hermione to Vince and Greg, Draco found himself in the library several nights a week that winter and spring, when the rest of Slytherin House was occupied with gobstones or chess or swapping gossip over butterbeer. His quidditch playing had improved significantly, but they only practiced a few nights a week, which left him plenty of time for research.

He worked on his school work of course, certain that this would be his year to come out on top of his class, but his curiosity was piqued by this chamber of secrets business. He read any books he could find that seemed to have any relevance to it. He reminded himself that it was simply curiosity, the need to solve the riddle. There was no other reason to be overly concerned about it, as a pure blood. No other reason at all.

-O-

The library was quiet. It was May and exams revision would be starting soon enough, but today was Saturday, and most students were getting ready to go to the Gryffindor against Hufflepuff Quidditch match. Draco planned to go down after awhile, hopefully to watch the Gryffindor team get flattened. But he had awoken thinking again about the Chamber of Secrets, so after breakfast, he found himself in the library once more.

Draco was alone, and he liked it this way. Reaching high for a book entitled "Creatures of the Dark," he nearly jumped as he heard a loud "chuh!" behind him. Turning quickly, he wasn't the least surprised to see her sentient hair swirling over her Gryffindor scarf.

"Can I help you, Granger, or are you just here to try and scare the living hell out of people?"

"I didn't think Slytherins got scared, Malfoy. Especially of plain old mudbloods."

"With that hair, you could scare anyone Granger," he said, but with an almost friendly smile.

"You would know all about frightful hair, Malfoy. Your hair is glowing so much it looks radioactive."

"Well,your hair- wait, radi, what? What does that mean?"

She sighed. "Nevermind. Just trust me, it was a really good joke. So, what has you so interested in creatures of the dark? Are you hung up on the chamber of secrets as well?"

Draco hesitated, then decided that honesty was the best policy, particularly with Hermione. Particularly when they were alone.. To a point.

"Yes, I think it's really fascinating, you know? What kind of creature could possibly be doing it all? I mean, it's one thing to attack a living being, but to take out a ghost..." he said, scanning the pages of the first chapter, entitled 'So You Believe That You Are Being Stalked By A Dark Creature.'

Yes, it is very curious," she agreed. "But I doubt that you have much reason for concern though, Malfoy. What with you being a pure blood and everything."

Here it was. They were going to talk about it. Draco could feel a clammy sweat breakout on his forehead.

"Granger, about... I'm- I don't know what I was thinking. That day last autumn on the Quidditch pitch. And the other times. I didn't mean-" here, he stopped, not sure what to say. He knew that he wanted to say he was sorry, but he was afraid that she would tell everyone in the school. He was fairly certain that he could not live that down, if all the Slytherin students found out.

"Malfoy, you look sick. Is an apology that difficult to stomach?" she asked, a slight sneer on her face.

"I shouldn't have said it. I'm sorry," the words rushed out, taking them both by surprise.

She stayed quiet. Traitor that it was, his mouth blustered on, unable to find a stopping point.

"My father... He uses that term a lot. I think when you implied that he bought my way on the Slytherin Quidditch team, it just... popped in my head. I didn't- I don't really feel that way. About you, I mean. And honestly, I'd worried that he bought those brooms for that reason as well , you know? But I also know I was the best to try out, and... Never mind." He exhaled a long sigh. "It's just difficult. Slytherins talk, you know? To each other, to their parents. And the parents talk to each other, too. Apparently, my losing that first Quidditch match to the Gryffindors... let's just say, my father wasn't pleased when he had to hear all about it from Marcus Flint and Vince Crabbe's fathers. My father expects a lot of me, expects- well, he expects me to be like him..."

"And are you?" She asked in a quiet voice.

"No! At least- I didn't mean to be. I-" her looked up at her, saw her eyes flashing copper, and had to look away. "I don't want to be like him." He took a deep breath. It was much more difficult and simultaneously, much easier to admit that than he thought it would be.

"That's good." The small curls that had escaped her barrette fluttered, and Draco's eyes were pulled there as though by a magnet.

Draco smiled, feeling that a massive burden had been lifted from him. "It's just been a crazy year, you know? This whole chamber business, I just wish I could figure out what it is all about. It's the not knowing, you know?"

Hermione smiled at him with mutual comprehension. He knew if there was anyone who understood that sentiment, it would be her. "So, what kind of creature do you think is in this chamber?" She asked.

Draco smiled, thankful that she was willing to make an effort to move past the discomfort of the past several minutes.

"Well, I don't think it's just an ordinary beast, after all, it is the heir of Slytherin. It would make sense that it is a snake, but where is it? Why has no one seen it or heard it?" he reasoned.

"Well..." Hermione bit her lip and looked to the side in a shifty sort of way

"What, you've seen a snake wandering the corridor and haven't said anything?" Draco asked drolly.

"No, I haven't seen anything. Or heard anything, at least not myself. But.. I've just had the thought that it could be a snake too. Harry... Well, do you remember that business at the dueling club? With the snake?"

He nodded his assent, afraid that opening his mouth might give away his feelings about that night. How could he forget? Professor Snape had tried to play a cruel trick on Potter, but it was nearly as big a fright to Draco, seeing a giant snake emerge from his wand that way.

Then to top it off, the snake seem to be rearing up and attacking. Only the fear of ridicule and of being eaten by a conjured snake kept Draco's feet on the ground and not running for the exit. Then when Potter seemed to be talking to it... that had been especially creepy.

Hermione continued. "So... Harry has been hearing things. Sinister sounding things, and no one else can hear them. He just heard it, in fact."

So Draco had been right. Potter was a parselmouth. "Are you sure he's not just mental?" Draco smiled.

Enough time had passed this winter and spring that Draco didn't really suspect Potter anymore of being the heir of Slytherin. If he were, he was sure that the smartest muggle-born in the school would have either been attacked or would have figured it out long ago.

Hermione huffed an exasperated sigh. "I'm sure he's not mental. So yes, a snake would make sense, but how? He said the first time he heard it, he was in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. And the second time was in the corridor where Mrs Norris was found. And just now, he was outside the Great Hall. All of those places are far apart, on different levels of the castle. How could a snake be moving around like that and no one see? Even if it were invisible, someone would bump into it! It's almost as though it was living in the walls of the castle."

"Hmm." Draco shuffled through his stack of books, finding a slim journal entitled Daily Prophet Excerpts, 1943. "What if it's not the walls? Look at this. I did a referencing charm for news articles about unusual muggle-born deaths over the years at Hogwarts. There were a few during tournaments and some others during Quidditch matches. Then there were a couple of duels gone awry, but this one stuck out to me. Turns out, there was a girl killed in the school in 1943. She was muggle-born, and it was the only death that year. There weren't many details. Probably the headmaster didn't want a lot of information out there, especially if it had something to do with this Chamber of Secrets.

"But look-" he found the page he was looking for, and passed it to her so that Hermione could see the grainy black and white photo of the young girl with pigtails and glasses. "It says she was found dead in a lavatory. What if -"

In his excitement, he had absent mindedly scratched the word "PIPES" on the corner of the page of the book in front of him, the book that discussed his most likely creature suspect. He tore the part of the page that described the creature out of the book and, with a knowing smirk, turned it so that she could see it, brandishing it like a trophy.

"Malfoy! You can't go around destroying school property!" Hermione was so focused on the scandalous act of desecration that she barely spared a glance at the book's page he held aloft.

"Never mind that- Reparo!" He showed her the ripped book. The page seemed to regrow, ink lines spreading out to reform the missing words.

"How did you -" she began to ask, but he interrupted her impatiently.

"Granger, I have a very extensive library back home. It has a vast collection of books, and I love speculoos crepes. It was one of the first spells I perfected," he finished with a wicked grin.

"You're awful." She admonished with her own smile. "So, it's possibly getting around in the pipes. This makes sense. Moaning Myrtle was found in a girl's lavatory-"

"Sorry, who?" Draco asked in confusion.

"Oh, this-" she turned the book of articles from 1943 back to him and pointed at the photo. "- is Moaning Myrtle! She's still there. In fact, I should go speak with her now! I'm certain that she saw this-" Hermione's eyes swiftly scanned the page torn from Draco's book. "Basilisk before she died. In fact, according to this segment about basilisks, that's almost got to be how she died, looking the snake in the eyes. But why did no one die this time?"

Draco had squeamish thoughts about Justin lying up in the hospital wing. But Hermione continued discussing it without noticing his slightly green expression.

"Of course! It's because they didn't look the snake in the eyes!" She exclaimed. Hermione slapped her hand on the stack of books, causing then to shift. Draco looked back at her.

"What are you on about now, Granger?"He raised one eyebrow at her.

She smiled a bit and looked away from him, her copper eyes searching around until they landed back on the books upon the table. "No one made direct eye contact with the snake. Colin saw it through his camera. Harry said the film and camera were burned, so it probably took the brunt of the damage. And Mrs Norris.. well there was a lot of water on the ground that night, maybe she was thirsty and was drinking the water and saw the snake's reflection!"

"And Justin! He probably only saw the basilisk through that ghost!" Draco chimed in.

Their eyes met with a fierce current of understanding between them, excitement from a puzzle solved, like multiple tetris pieces fitting just so, a wall falling away. Liquid silver met molten copper as the two leaned slightly towards each other in excitement. It was Hermione who broke the gaze first, quickly packing up her things.

"Are you going to see this Mrytle?" He asked in excitement.

"Yes, but I wouldn't advise coming along. She cries a lot and she doesn't seem to like boys."

"All girls like me, Granger," he responded with a comical leer.

Hermione sped up her packing process, looking a little pink in the face, clearly excited at the idea of talking to this Myrtle girl.

"Well, this one doesn't seem to like anyone," she said with a small smile.

"But how are you going to go there? Didn't you say Potter heard the snake talking earlier? What if it is roaming around looking for-" The habit of speaking to his Slytherin friends caused him to nearly slipped into his new vernacular. "Muggle-borns to kill?"

"I'm sure you're not too worried about me, Malfoy. Didn't you say you hoped that I was next?"

"I never-" but Draco cut himself off. He had said that, but not anywhere near Hermione. He just looked her in the eyes, a silent apology passing between them.

She huffed loudly and continued. "I have a small mirror in my bag. I can use that to look around corners as I go. Her toilet isn't very far from here." She removed a tiny handheld mirror from a pocket of the bag.

"You call that a mirror? A mirror for a Cornish pixie maybe."

"Let's see your mirror then, Malfoy. I'm sure it has to be a pretty big to show you your entire head at one time."

"Don't hate me because I'm beautiful, Granger." Draco quirked a brow at her.

Her own brow furrowed. "That's from a television advert. Did you watch the telly growing up, Malfoy?" She asked in a surprised tone.

"What's a telly?" At her disbelieving expression, he laughed. "I'm only joking. I did watch one once. My mother attended an afternoon tea at the home of a woman who was a half blood. She had a teenage son, and he was in charge of watching me. I was about six or seven, and the boy made this little box come to life. It took me about an hour to realise that the people weren't trapped inside of it. I don't remember much about it except that it was fascinating. There was a blond man, and a black man with unusual hair who wore far too many necklaces. They had one of those muggle contraptions with wheels, like the Ministry cars, but bigger. it was black if I recall. I think they were looking for things? Maybe solving a crime, like a burglary?"

Hermione stood stock still.

"You're telling me that Draco Malfoy has watched The A Team?" She asked in complete disbelief.

"Yes! That's it! The A Team! Goodness, I've been trying to remember the name of that for years! So yes, Granger, to answer your inane question, I know all about the pelly."

"Telly. It's short for television."

"Yes, whatever, Granger!" He snapped, slightly embarrassed.

"And you realise of course that there are probably thousands of shows on the telly? That The A Team is only one of them?"

"I- y-yes, of course. Of course- course I did." He cleared his throat and looked away, even more embarrassed. He had had no idea that the little box did anything other than show those same people in that same scenario over and over again. In his mind, he thought of it as a music box, charmed to play only one tune endlessly. Now his mind went in a thousand different tangents. Did the same people do other things? Did the people sleep in the telly? Were there other people inside of it? Was it all about burglaries? Did more of them wear necklaces like the man with unusual hair? He shook his head and turned back to Hermione.

"Granger, I'm serious, that mirror is quite small. Perhaps I can-" Draco wasn't sure he could pull off an enlarging charm.

"It's all right, Malfoy. After all, if you give me your gigantic personal mirror, that will be two things I have of yours," she said, pinking a bit as she discreetly pulled out and then tucked in her monogrammed handkerchief into her skirt pocket. "People might start to talk."

"Yes, never mind. Scratch all that." It was Draco's turn to turn slightly pink.

"I'll let you know tonight after dinner what I find out," she said that she turned to go, holding the mirror in her hand.

"Yes- good. Be..." Draco began, but Hermione was gone. It was just as well. He had been about to say be careful, but Hermione knew to do that.

As Draco began to straighten the books to go down to the Quidditch pitch to hopefully catch the start of the match, part of him worried that he almost said, "be safe."

As though by speaking the words, he could will her safety into existence.

-O-