Chapter Two:
He found great pleasure in knowing things, especially things he wasn't supposed to, things that no one else thought he knew. Knowledge was a form of power, after all, and what Slytherin didn't want that, didn't relish possessing it? Certainly not him. He wanted it, had it, relished it, and when the time was right, he used it. When it came to the piece of information he was absolutely not supposed to have, the thing no one suspected him of knowing, the time to make use of his knowledge had come at the beginning of his sixth year at Hogwarts.
He'd very much enjoyed confronting them with what he had known, had relished their surprise, and their anger. Well, only one of them had been angry, but it had still been rather satisfying to watch the emotion fill their faces. They hadn't seen it coming, had thought that they had hid it so well, their true motives, their true allegiance, their true goal. But he had seen it, had known that they were planning something big, that they were going to do something important, something worthy of his involvement. So he'd cornered his Head of House one night, told the professor that he knew what was going on and that he wanted in on it. The elder wizard had taken him to his accomplice immediately, and after a dose of Veritaserum and several rounds of questions, Draco Malfoy had been given some of the most valuable information in the Wizarding world: the plans for Albus Dumbledore's apparent execution.
From there it had been relatively easy to ensure the plan's success, though keeping everyone else unaware of his intentions had been more tedious than he would have liked. All the time he had to spend in the Room of Requirement did do wonders for his grades, though, and with the added bonus of making it appear as though he were doing it without studying. All in all, the year had gone quite well for him, leaving everyone in his life with the impression that he was the perfectly intelligent and devoted son, Slytherin, and assassin-to-be. That is, until the end of the year, when it had all come to fruition and his life had gone to hell.
Sure, the plan had gone off with only a few hitches, its execution leaving them with the results they had needed, but the collateral damage had been significant. As necessary as it had been to ensure they had the appropriate audience, and the right escort, he'd still had to get the Death Eaters into the school without the warning that would have protected the students and ruined their plan.
While it had given the Potions master the perfect opportunity to step in and regain face before the Dark Lord, he'd still had to pretend to be a cowardly would-be-murderer. Though the man would have died anyway for breaking his Vow, he'd had to stand by and watch his Head of House be killed while in the guise of the Headmaster. And despite the fact that it was the only way he would get through it all in one piece, he'd had to let Albus Dumbledore, Polyjuiced to resemble Severus Snape, cast what appeared to be the Killing Curse on the Malfoy heir once they had returned to Voldemort's hideout in punishment for his failure on the tower.
Draco didn't like knowing that everyone thought him an incompetent coward; he didn't like knowing all but Dumbledore and Moody thought him dead. But he enjoyed knowing that their plan had worked, and that for the two weeks the aged wizard had kept up the charade, he'd been able gather much useful information from the Death Eaters and Dark Lord that thought him the triumphant and loyal murderer of Albus Dumbledore. He enjoyed knowing that he had provided invaluable aid in an important and secret endeavor that had left the half-blooded snake with a false, and dangerous, sense of security.
What he did not enjoy was where his involvement in the plan had left him. No matter how many times the Headmaster had told him it was the safest place for him to be, it did not change the fact the Draco Malfoy was, for all intents and purposes, stuck in the Muggle world.
He'd dealt with it at first by telling himself that it was only temporary, that he would only be there until Dumbledore revealed himself and could assure the Order that Draco was on their side and could therefore be hidden with them. But he knew that the old wizard wouldn't risk anyone finding out that he was alive until it could help the Order strategically. If Voldemort were to discover the truth, not only would it rob them of the element of surprise, it would put the Dark Lord on the defensive and make him twice as careful and suspicious. Even knowing that, however, it took the blond nearly a month to accept that he would be stuck where he was for an indefinite length of time.
Such acceptance was not an easy thing for the Malfoy heir. For the first week, he spent all his time and energy hating the Headmaster for leaving him with a family of Muggles, even if the Tonks were technically related to his aunt's husband and so, through marriage, to his mother and himself. Then as he thought more of the cause for which he had given up so much, he began to hate his situation for keeping him from the figurative front lines where he could actually accomplish something worthy of his time. The money that Snape had funneled from his ancestral vault into an account for him before he'd died mollified him somewhat, however, and after several days, he shifted his resentment onto his parents.
The pressure and expectations the Malfoys had heaped upon him for most of his life weighed heavily on him even two and a half weeks after being freed from them and the life of servitude and hypocrisy that they would have trapped him into. Eventually that faded as the hours and days ticked by in the small room he had been allotted in the Tonks' home, and he was able to work past his familial animosity. Upon doing so, he refocused his frustration and anger on a much more deserving target that could undoubtedly sustain his hate: Voldemort.
Targeting the Dark Lord served as more than just an outlet for his negative emotions, it also provided him with the incentive he needed to leave the confines of his new room, and begin to consider venturing out into the Muggle world itself. It was hardly befitting a Malfoy, or a Slytherin to cower in his room, after all, and even if it meant adapting to Muggle life, snakes were survivors. He would survive this trial, for however long the Headmaster left him stranded there. It was not a matter of lowering himself to Muggle existence, but rather a matter of a Malfoy rising to the challenge of his own survival in trying circumstances.
And he would rise to that challenge, he would not be beaten by so small an obstacle as simple Muggle elec-trisy or whatever the hell it was. He wouldn't. No matter how many hours it took him to understand how the bloody hell to make himself a meal in that uh-van contraption. The more difficult it was to get a grasp on Muggle technology and culture, the more determined he became to master it, to carve out a suitably comfortable life for himself.
He devoted all his time to the task for over two weeks, attacking the problem as he would any particularly challenging spell or potion. He spent hours combing books on everything from cooking to car repair, reading sports and teen magazines, watching documentaries and sit-coms - once he figured out how to use the telly, that was - anything and everything he could find that would give him an advantage.
When he wasn't reading, watching TV, or listening to the music and news programs on the radio, he was grilling Garald and Coral Tonks on the strange customs and practices his research was describing. He spent hours watching his keepers use different appliances and bits of technology, often having them explain their actions in detail before replicating it himself. The computer was by far the most difficult thing for him to learn, but his prideful determination allowed him to become fairly competent after only two days and one sleepless night.
All the time and effort he put into his study of, and acclimation to, Muggle life felt nearly too much as his enthusiasm began to wane after a few weeks; but Garald's hearty affirmations and Coral's cheerful approval left him feeling strangely proud. Now a certain cold pride had always accompanied him as a Malfoy, but the pride he felt when the Tonks expressed their happiness with his progress was a simpler, warmer pride that he had been previously unfamiliar with. Now that he had made its acquaintance, however, he found himself more than a little eager to earn more of it.
That eagerness made the blond all the more frustrated by his own apparent inability to venture out into the world he had prepared himself so painstakingly to enter. The first day after he had proclaimed himself proficient enough in Muggle to leave the house, he simply wanted to rest up from his vigorous training and studying. The second he thought he should review things one more time. The third it was a little too windy to make an outing pleasant. The fourth he had a headache.
By the fifth day he was out of readily available excuses and was forced to admit that it was more than his unfamiliarity with Muggles that made him reluctant to go amongst them. He was, in all actuality, the slightest bit afraid of the world that lay outside the Tonks' door. He was used to being comfortable, sure of himself, sure of how he would be received as a Malfoy and confident of his ability to react should he not be welcomed. Here, however, he was not. For all his preparations, he was not comfortable utilizing his new knowledge, he knew no one, and he had no course available should he encounter any unforeseen circumstances. And being both a Malfoy and a Slytherin he was cautious and suspicious enough to come up with several scenarios that would require him to need options that would be beyond him without the use of his wand, which he could not do for fear of revealing his position.
The admission left him with more than enough reason to go, if only to prove that he could. So on day six, he left the Tonks' home and walked the ten minutes to the small clothing store Coral had told him about. Once there, Draco had relaxed somewhat as the employee waited on him respectfully, and cheered a bit when he was able to find a new set of trousers and a comfortable yet stylish jumper to augment his wardrobe. The fact that he was able to count out the required amount to pay for the purchase bolstered his confidence enough to convince him to continue his excursion at a nearby sandwich shop.
The sense of near normalcy that surrounded the small restaurant eased the blond's nerves to the point where he lingered over his sandwich and simply watched the Muggles around him go about their day. He listened with half an ear to the spirited debate that consumed two middle-aged men as to the merits of their favorite football teams, and the cheerful conversation of a group of young women, which seemed to center around the picture that had been released the day before at a local cinema.
The pitch of the women's voices began to grate on his ears after a while, but the topic gave him the urge to see exactly what they were prattling on about. Which is how, after once more handling the Muggle currency correctly, and even managing to determine the appropriate tip, Draco Malfoy found himself ensconced in a dark theater, waiting rather anxiously for the film to start. He was not disappointed. Although the two kids sitting several rows over made an annoying number of poorly hushed comments to one another, and his feet discovered a tendency to stick to the floor, he quite enjoyed himself. He liked the lack of commercials he had become accustomed to on the television, and the size of the screen and quality of the sound greatly enhanced the experience. As for the movie itself, it lived up to the appraisal he had overheard.
But of everything, it was one of the previews for another movie that had him thinking rather furiously that night after returning to the Tonks' residence. All nerves and discomfort that might have otherwise lingered from his first foray into the Muggle world were in the back of his mind as he played the scene over and over in his mind. He couldn't remember the name of the actor that had been announced, or the movie title that had been advertised, but he couldn't forget the proclamation that had accompanied that scene.
'One of the best martial arts films of the decade,' it had said. Martial arts. It wasn't dueling, but it may just be the Muggle equivalent, which would have to be enough, because while he may have been wandless, he'd be damned if he allowed himself to be defenseless.
Not that he was scared or anything.
End Chapter Two
He found great pleasure in knowing things, especially things he wasn't supposed to, things that no one else thought he knew. Knowledge was a form of power, after all, and what Slytherin didn't want that, didn't relish possessing it? Certainly not him. He wanted it, had it, relished it, and when the time was right, he used it. When it came to the piece of information he was absolutely not supposed to have, the thing no one suspected him of knowing, the time to make use of his knowledge had come at the beginning of his sixth year at Hogwarts.
He'd very much enjoyed confronting them with what he had known, had relished their surprise, and their anger. Well, only one of them had been angry, but it had still been rather satisfying to watch the emotion fill their faces. They hadn't seen it coming, had thought that they had hid it so well, their true motives, their true allegiance, their true goal. But he had seen it, had known that they were planning something big, that they were going to do something important, something worthy of his involvement. So he'd cornered his Head of House one night, told the professor that he knew what was going on and that he wanted in on it. The elder wizard had taken him to his accomplice immediately, and after a dose of Veritaserum and several rounds of questions, Draco Malfoy had been given some of the most valuable information in the Wizarding world: the plans for Albus Dumbledore's apparent execution.
From there it had been relatively easy to ensure the plan's success, though keeping everyone else unaware of his intentions had been more tedious than he would have liked. All the time he had to spend in the Room of Requirement did do wonders for his grades, though, and with the added bonus of making it appear as though he were doing it without studying. All in all, the year had gone quite well for him, leaving everyone in his life with the impression that he was the perfectly intelligent and devoted son, Slytherin, and assassin-to-be. That is, until the end of the year, when it had all come to fruition and his life had gone to hell.
Sure, the plan had gone off with only a few hitches, its execution leaving them with the results they had needed, but the collateral damage had been significant. As necessary as it had been to ensure they had the appropriate audience, and the right escort, he'd still had to get the Death Eaters into the school without the warning that would have protected the students and ruined their plan.
While it had given the Potions master the perfect opportunity to step in and regain face before the Dark Lord, he'd still had to pretend to be a cowardly would-be-murderer. Though the man would have died anyway for breaking his Vow, he'd had to stand by and watch his Head of House be killed while in the guise of the Headmaster. And despite the fact that it was the only way he would get through it all in one piece, he'd had to let Albus Dumbledore, Polyjuiced to resemble Severus Snape, cast what appeared to be the Killing Curse on the Malfoy heir once they had returned to Voldemort's hideout in punishment for his failure on the tower.
Draco didn't like knowing that everyone thought him an incompetent coward; he didn't like knowing all but Dumbledore and Moody thought him dead. But he enjoyed knowing that their plan had worked, and that for the two weeks the aged wizard had kept up the charade, he'd been able gather much useful information from the Death Eaters and Dark Lord that thought him the triumphant and loyal murderer of Albus Dumbledore. He enjoyed knowing that he had provided invaluable aid in an important and secret endeavor that had left the half-blooded snake with a false, and dangerous, sense of security.
What he did not enjoy was where his involvement in the plan had left him. No matter how many times the Headmaster had told him it was the safest place for him to be, it did not change the fact the Draco Malfoy was, for all intents and purposes, stuck in the Muggle world.
He'd dealt with it at first by telling himself that it was only temporary, that he would only be there until Dumbledore revealed himself and could assure the Order that Draco was on their side and could therefore be hidden with them. But he knew that the old wizard wouldn't risk anyone finding out that he was alive until it could help the Order strategically. If Voldemort were to discover the truth, not only would it rob them of the element of surprise, it would put the Dark Lord on the defensive and make him twice as careful and suspicious. Even knowing that, however, it took the blond nearly a month to accept that he would be stuck where he was for an indefinite length of time.
Such acceptance was not an easy thing for the Malfoy heir. For the first week, he spent all his time and energy hating the Headmaster for leaving him with a family of Muggles, even if the Tonks were technically related to his aunt's husband and so, through marriage, to his mother and himself. Then as he thought more of the cause for which he had given up so much, he began to hate his situation for keeping him from the figurative front lines where he could actually accomplish something worthy of his time. The money that Snape had funneled from his ancestral vault into an account for him before he'd died mollified him somewhat, however, and after several days, he shifted his resentment onto his parents.
The pressure and expectations the Malfoys had heaped upon him for most of his life weighed heavily on him even two and a half weeks after being freed from them and the life of servitude and hypocrisy that they would have trapped him into. Eventually that faded as the hours and days ticked by in the small room he had been allotted in the Tonks' home, and he was able to work past his familial animosity. Upon doing so, he refocused his frustration and anger on a much more deserving target that could undoubtedly sustain his hate: Voldemort.
Targeting the Dark Lord served as more than just an outlet for his negative emotions, it also provided him with the incentive he needed to leave the confines of his new room, and begin to consider venturing out into the Muggle world itself. It was hardly befitting a Malfoy, or a Slytherin to cower in his room, after all, and even if it meant adapting to Muggle life, snakes were survivors. He would survive this trial, for however long the Headmaster left him stranded there. It was not a matter of lowering himself to Muggle existence, but rather a matter of a Malfoy rising to the challenge of his own survival in trying circumstances.
And he would rise to that challenge, he would not be beaten by so small an obstacle as simple Muggle elec-trisy or whatever the hell it was. He wouldn't. No matter how many hours it took him to understand how the bloody hell to make himself a meal in that uh-van contraption. The more difficult it was to get a grasp on Muggle technology and culture, the more determined he became to master it, to carve out a suitably comfortable life for himself.
He devoted all his time to the task for over two weeks, attacking the problem as he would any particularly challenging spell or potion. He spent hours combing books on everything from cooking to car repair, reading sports and teen magazines, watching documentaries and sit-coms - once he figured out how to use the telly, that was - anything and everything he could find that would give him an advantage.
When he wasn't reading, watching TV, or listening to the music and news programs on the radio, he was grilling Garald and Coral Tonks on the strange customs and practices his research was describing. He spent hours watching his keepers use different appliances and bits of technology, often having them explain their actions in detail before replicating it himself. The computer was by far the most difficult thing for him to learn, but his prideful determination allowed him to become fairly competent after only two days and one sleepless night.
All the time and effort he put into his study of, and acclimation to, Muggle life felt nearly too much as his enthusiasm began to wane after a few weeks; but Garald's hearty affirmations and Coral's cheerful approval left him feeling strangely proud. Now a certain cold pride had always accompanied him as a Malfoy, but the pride he felt when the Tonks expressed their happiness with his progress was a simpler, warmer pride that he had been previously unfamiliar with. Now that he had made its acquaintance, however, he found himself more than a little eager to earn more of it.
That eagerness made the blond all the more frustrated by his own apparent inability to venture out into the world he had prepared himself so painstakingly to enter. The first day after he had proclaimed himself proficient enough in Muggle to leave the house, he simply wanted to rest up from his vigorous training and studying. The second he thought he should review things one more time. The third it was a little too windy to make an outing pleasant. The fourth he had a headache.
By the fifth day he was out of readily available excuses and was forced to admit that it was more than his unfamiliarity with Muggles that made him reluctant to go amongst them. He was, in all actuality, the slightest bit afraid of the world that lay outside the Tonks' door. He was used to being comfortable, sure of himself, sure of how he would be received as a Malfoy and confident of his ability to react should he not be welcomed. Here, however, he was not. For all his preparations, he was not comfortable utilizing his new knowledge, he knew no one, and he had no course available should he encounter any unforeseen circumstances. And being both a Malfoy and a Slytherin he was cautious and suspicious enough to come up with several scenarios that would require him to need options that would be beyond him without the use of his wand, which he could not do for fear of revealing his position.
The admission left him with more than enough reason to go, if only to prove that he could. So on day six, he left the Tonks' home and walked the ten minutes to the small clothing store Coral had told him about. Once there, Draco had relaxed somewhat as the employee waited on him respectfully, and cheered a bit when he was able to find a new set of trousers and a comfortable yet stylish jumper to augment his wardrobe. The fact that he was able to count out the required amount to pay for the purchase bolstered his confidence enough to convince him to continue his excursion at a nearby sandwich shop.
The sense of near normalcy that surrounded the small restaurant eased the blond's nerves to the point where he lingered over his sandwich and simply watched the Muggles around him go about their day. He listened with half an ear to the spirited debate that consumed two middle-aged men as to the merits of their favorite football teams, and the cheerful conversation of a group of young women, which seemed to center around the picture that had been released the day before at a local cinema.
The pitch of the women's voices began to grate on his ears after a while, but the topic gave him the urge to see exactly what they were prattling on about. Which is how, after once more handling the Muggle currency correctly, and even managing to determine the appropriate tip, Draco Malfoy found himself ensconced in a dark theater, waiting rather anxiously for the film to start. He was not disappointed. Although the two kids sitting several rows over made an annoying number of poorly hushed comments to one another, and his feet discovered a tendency to stick to the floor, he quite enjoyed himself. He liked the lack of commercials he had become accustomed to on the television, and the size of the screen and quality of the sound greatly enhanced the experience. As for the movie itself, it lived up to the appraisal he had overheard.
But of everything, it was one of the previews for another movie that had him thinking rather furiously that night after returning to the Tonks' residence. All nerves and discomfort that might have otherwise lingered from his first foray into the Muggle world were in the back of his mind as he played the scene over and over in his mind. He couldn't remember the name of the actor that had been announced, or the movie title that had been advertised, but he couldn't forget the proclamation that had accompanied that scene.
'One of the best martial arts films of the decade,' it had said. Martial arts. It wasn't dueling, but it may just be the Muggle equivalent, which would have to be enough, because while he may have been wandless, he'd be damned if he allowed himself to be defenseless.
Not that he was scared or anything.
End Chapter Two
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