When Draco arrived back at the castle he was soaked. But he couldn’t care less. He clambered up a set of stairs, his fists balled at his sides. He’d had enough. Draco wasn’t sure exactly what it was he was fed up with, but for now, it appeared to be everything.
Why me? It seemed as though his world was crashing down, and he was only sixteen. He hadn’t spoken to his father in months. His mother didn’t want to speak to anybody, not even him. The Dark Lord was pressuring him to complete the task, something he was having a difficult time accomplishing.
Draco had to choke back a sob as he thought about what lay ahead of him. He couldn’t do it. It was too hard. He didn’t have the strength to do what the Dark Lord was asking him to do. He didn’t want to be branded like cattle, frantically answering each painful call he received. Draco wanted to call the whole thing off. He wanted to tell the Dark Lord that he was too weak, and that he’d have to find someone else to do this.
But he couldn’t do that either. Oh no, that was definitely not an option. He shuddered violently, envisioning the piercing red eyes. He could hear the high-pitched laugh. He already knew how the Dark Lord would respond. And it wouldn’t end very nicely for him or his parents.
Draco wasn’t sure where he was walking to, but he was sure he looked like a sight for sore eyes. He absently waved his wand around him, drying his robes.
He slumped against a wall, sandwiched in-between a painting of two unicorns and a knight’s suit of armor.
What am I going to do? His eyes began to sting and he shamefully realized that these were tears, threatening to make his despair all the more real.
He heard footsteps approaching down the hall. He couldn’t let anyone see him like this. No, they couldn’t see the great Draco Malfoy in such a pitiful state.
Next to the suit of armor was a doorway into what Draco believed to be a rarely used girls’ lavatory. As the footsteps grew louder, Draco swung the door open and slammed it shut behind him, leaning against it as his chest heaved rapidly.
“A boy in the girls’ bathroom!” a squeaky voice cried out.
Merlin, Draco thought, squeezing his eyes shut. There’s a girl in here!
He felt something cold move by him and he cracked an eye open to see what was in front of him. Draco nearly jumped out of his skin as he realized it was a ghost.
“Moaning Myrtle.” he sighed in relief. “I nearly forgot you live in here.”
The transparent girl pouted as she sat atop a bathroom stall door. “That’s not uncommon.”
Draco slid towards the ground, still shaking from his emotional turmoil.
“You know,” Myrtle said, a wicked grin playing on her lips. “You’re rather cute. Why haven’t you come by before?”
“Possibly because I’m a boy,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment. And then he could feel a lump rising in his throat. He could feel his face flushing as his breathing became quick and shallow.
“I’m a boy,” he said shakily.
Myrtle scoffed, “I can see that! You don’t have to be rude. I was only-”
“I’m just a boy,” he whispered to himself. He was gasping for air now. And Draco couldn’t keep the unshed tears in anymore. He covered his face with his hands and cried. “I’m just a boy. I can’t do this. I can’t.”
“There, there,” Myrtle said soothingly. She was hovering above him with deep interest. “Tell me what’s wrong. I won’t tell a soul. There isn’t anyone to tell anyway.”
“You wouldn’t underst-st-stand,” Draco hiccupped into his hands, his speech coming out slurred and nearly incoherent.
“I can try,” she cooed, leaning in closer towards him. He dried his eyes with his Quidditch robes and sniffled.
“I have to do something I’m not ready for,” he said, almost lifelessly. He wasn’t looking at Myrtle, but at the odd looking faucets in the center of the bathroom.
“Who says you have to do anything?” she asked.
Draco laughed humorlessly. “And that is the million Galleon question.”
Myrtle looked puzzled and began to float around the bathroom in thought.
“My life isn’t like others. I don’t have a whole lot of choices,” he said sadly, the words bringing him near to tears again.
Myrtle turned to give him a small smile. “I can relate to you there.”
They sat in silence for a few moments before Draco asked, “Say, what happened to you anyway?” And she told him.
Draco left the bathroom an hour later feeling better. By no means had his problems been solved, nor his inner demons tamed, but he was at ease…temporarily.
He contemplated over skiving off Potions, but decided against it. Draco was worried that people were suspicious about his behavior of late. Potty was constantly eyeing him, with that horrendous scar peering out from that untidy jungle he called hair.
The class went by in a blur. Draco went through the motions of the class without paying much attention to their lesson over remedies for poisons. What did it matter anyway, he thought. Those bloody Gryffindors always left with a few dozen more house points than they’d entered the class with. All thanks to the Mudblood and Scarhead.
As much as he’d hate to admit it, Draco was intrigued by Potter’s sudden success in class. Perhaps he’d been caving under Snape’s daunting presence for the last five years. But Potter had always been disgustingly peculiar…
When Slughorn dismissed them, Draco was ready to skip lunch and close himself in his dormitory for a while. As he gathered his belongings, he overheard Granger and Weasley talking.
“Where are the prefects meeting?” Weasley asked.
“Professor Snape’s classroom,” Granger replied, shuddering slightly.
“That’s bloody fantastic.” Weasley rolled his eyes. The two of them filed out of the room with the rest of the students.
The prefects’ meeting. He’d nearly forgotten. With a sigh, he headed towards Snape’s DADA room. It was customary for a Head of House to be present at a prefect meeting. Draco knew Snape loathed presiding over these petty meetings, but the responsibility was rotated amongst all four of them.
As he turned a corner leading towards the classroom, he could hear Snape berating Weasley and Granger for coming in late.
“It appears as though our Gryffindor prefects believe they are above common courtesy,” Snape hissed.
Draco smirked as he quietly snuck in behind Weasley and took a seat next to the Ravenclaw prefect, Anthony Goldstein. Pansy, who was sitting on the other side of the room, didn’t even glance his way.
“I don’t have all day,” Snape sneered at the still standing Weasley and Granger. “Take a seat.”
Weasley’s mouth dropped open at Snape’s complete disregard to Draco’s tardiness.
Snape stood in front of the students, eyeing them all suspiciously. “Well, you all have several imperative matters to discuss. Carry on and leave me be.” He turned on his heel and took a seat behind his desk, ruffling through papers without another word.
The room was still for a moment before Ernie Macmillan rose to his feet. He opened his mouth, but was interrupted by Padma Patil.
“Have they um…appointed another…” She broke off her sentence, unsure how to finish.
The prefects stared around the room. Draco remembered that the Hufflepuff girl wasn’t with them anymore. She’d suddenly left earlier this week due to her mother’s mysterious death. Draco shuddered involuntarily.
Ernie’s face whitened, but he quickly regained composure. “We’re not entirely sure what the situation is like. But I’m sure the school will find a replacement in due time, if needed.”
There was an awkward pause for a moment. Ernie continued on, “Right, so we’re here to discuss the Christmas ball we’ve been advised to put together. Any suggestions?”
“What do we need suggestions for?” Pansy asked. “It’s a Christmas ball. We have a tree, some ornaments, and apple cider.”
Ernie was unfazed. “Right, but one would think we’d need a tad bit more than that. Is there a specific theme we’d like to go with?”
Draco wanted to slam his head against the tabletop in front of him repeatedly.
“Winter Wonderland?” Granger suggested. “We could have it snow indoors…”
“So we can freeze our arses off?” Pansy interrupted.
Padma stood up. “Just because you’d freeze dressed like a tart doesn’t mean-“
Pansy had turned bright red and Draco had to suppress a laugh. She opened her mouth for a retort, but Anthony suddenly stood up.
“Enough. Look, we’re here to plan a ball for the students at Hogwarts to alleviate any tensions going on out there. How is what we’re doing supposed to make a difference if we’re quarreling amongst ourselves?”
Draco looked up at Snape, who seemed to be deaf at the moment. As if reading his mind, Snape looked up from his papers to look at Draco. The two stared at each other for a moment before Snape gave him the slightest of nods and went back to his work.
Ernie brought the group back towards their discussion. “We could have artificial snow.”
There were some nods of approval. Pansy was sitting with her arms crossed in front of her chest, her mouth turned into a pout.
Granger smiled. “Why don’t we have a contest for the Beau and Belle of the Ball?”
Padma’s face lit up. “Oooh, I like that! It’ll liven things up.”
After a grueling hour of working out meticulous details, the meeting was adjourned. Once again, Draco thought about retreating to his dormitory, but was stopped by Snape.
“Draco, may I see you for a moment?”
Draco shrugged and hung back as the prefects disappeared from the room. Snape strode towards him and took a seat on a tabletop, his white palms bracing the edge of the table.
Draco raised an eyebrow at him.
“How are things going?” Snape asked.
Snape was clever at many things. He was an eloquent speaker, was distinguished at potion making, and what affected Draco greatly– Snape was one of the Dark Lord’s most trusted servants. Unfortunately for Draco, Snape’s trustworthiness meant that he was a shield in front of others. The man was always in control of his emotions and composure, only letting his guard down to express his contempt for Potter, which Draco was okay with.
“Fine,” Draco said simply.
Snape looked slightly impatient. “Do not lie to me.”
“What do you want me to say?” Draco almost laughed out loud. That I’m a big baby who cries his eyes out in a girls’ lavatory?
“I know it must be difficult for you, Draco,” Snape said. There was a slight twinge of concern in his voice. “I’m here to help you in any way.”
Draco’s eyes darkened and he clenched his fists. “I don’t need any help. I’m not a child. I’m perfectly capable of doing a simple task.” What am I saying? I’m a helpless kid!
Snape looked at him sadly. “You and I both know this is no simple task.”
Draco rose to his feet, collecting his things. “Well, when I decide I need your help, I’ll ask you for it. In the mean time, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t draw any attention to me.”
“Of course,” Snape said apologetically. He rose to his feet and watched Draco leave the room in a hurry.
Draco wasn’t sure why he was running. He ran down the hallway, ignoring the cries of the portraits as they called out after him to slow down. He continued to run blindly until his shoulder ached from lugging his schoolbag.
“I need to disappear,” Draco said to himself. He let his bag fall to the ground with a thud. He bent over, hands on knees as he tried to catch his breath. His hair was disheveled, his robes wrinkled. But he didn’t care.
Draco paced the vaguely familiar corridor, raking his hands through his hair. I need to hide. I need to get away from here. From everyone.
The small sound of a door clinking open stopped him in his tracks. He stared around him. There was nothing in sight, save for a hideous painting of trolls in tutus. And then he saw it. A door was materializing right before his eyes. Draco caught his breath. What in Merlin’s –
Cautiously, he threw his schoolbag over his shoulder and took a hold of the brass knob on the new door. His fingers were tingling in anticipation. Taking a deep breath, Draco opened the door and stepped inside.
Why me? It seemed as though his world was crashing down, and he was only sixteen. He hadn’t spoken to his father in months. His mother didn’t want to speak to anybody, not even him. The Dark Lord was pressuring him to complete the task, something he was having a difficult time accomplishing.
Draco had to choke back a sob as he thought about what lay ahead of him. He couldn’t do it. It was too hard. He didn’t have the strength to do what the Dark Lord was asking him to do. He didn’t want to be branded like cattle, frantically answering each painful call he received. Draco wanted to call the whole thing off. He wanted to tell the Dark Lord that he was too weak, and that he’d have to find someone else to do this.
But he couldn’t do that either. Oh no, that was definitely not an option. He shuddered violently, envisioning the piercing red eyes. He could hear the high-pitched laugh. He already knew how the Dark Lord would respond. And it wouldn’t end very nicely for him or his parents.
Draco wasn’t sure where he was walking to, but he was sure he looked like a sight for sore eyes. He absently waved his wand around him, drying his robes.
He slumped against a wall, sandwiched in-between a painting of two unicorns and a knight’s suit of armor.
What am I going to do? His eyes began to sting and he shamefully realized that these were tears, threatening to make his despair all the more real.
He heard footsteps approaching down the hall. He couldn’t let anyone see him like this. No, they couldn’t see the great Draco Malfoy in such a pitiful state.
Next to the suit of armor was a doorway into what Draco believed to be a rarely used girls’ lavatory. As the footsteps grew louder, Draco swung the door open and slammed it shut behind him, leaning against it as his chest heaved rapidly.
“A boy in the girls’ bathroom!” a squeaky voice cried out.
Merlin, Draco thought, squeezing his eyes shut. There’s a girl in here!
He felt something cold move by him and he cracked an eye open to see what was in front of him. Draco nearly jumped out of his skin as he realized it was a ghost.
“Moaning Myrtle.” he sighed in relief. “I nearly forgot you live in here.”
The transparent girl pouted as she sat atop a bathroom stall door. “That’s not uncommon.”
Draco slid towards the ground, still shaking from his emotional turmoil.
“You know,” Myrtle said, a wicked grin playing on her lips. “You’re rather cute. Why haven’t you come by before?”
“Possibly because I’m a boy,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment. And then he could feel a lump rising in his throat. He could feel his face flushing as his breathing became quick and shallow.
“I’m a boy,” he said shakily.
Myrtle scoffed, “I can see that! You don’t have to be rude. I was only-”
“I’m just a boy,” he whispered to himself. He was gasping for air now. And Draco couldn’t keep the unshed tears in anymore. He covered his face with his hands and cried. “I’m just a boy. I can’t do this. I can’t.”
“There, there,” Myrtle said soothingly. She was hovering above him with deep interest. “Tell me what’s wrong. I won’t tell a soul. There isn’t anyone to tell anyway.”
“You wouldn’t underst-st-stand,” Draco hiccupped into his hands, his speech coming out slurred and nearly incoherent.
“I can try,” she cooed, leaning in closer towards him. He dried his eyes with his Quidditch robes and sniffled.
“I have to do something I’m not ready for,” he said, almost lifelessly. He wasn’t looking at Myrtle, but at the odd looking faucets in the center of the bathroom.
“Who says you have to do anything?” she asked.
Draco laughed humorlessly. “And that is the million Galleon question.”
Myrtle looked puzzled and began to float around the bathroom in thought.
“My life isn’t like others. I don’t have a whole lot of choices,” he said sadly, the words bringing him near to tears again.
Myrtle turned to give him a small smile. “I can relate to you there.”
They sat in silence for a few moments before Draco asked, “Say, what happened to you anyway?” And she told him.
Draco left the bathroom an hour later feeling better. By no means had his problems been solved, nor his inner demons tamed, but he was at ease…temporarily.
He contemplated over skiving off Potions, but decided against it. Draco was worried that people were suspicious about his behavior of late. Potty was constantly eyeing him, with that horrendous scar peering out from that untidy jungle he called hair.
The class went by in a blur. Draco went through the motions of the class without paying much attention to their lesson over remedies for poisons. What did it matter anyway, he thought. Those bloody Gryffindors always left with a few dozen more house points than they’d entered the class with. All thanks to the Mudblood and Scarhead.
As much as he’d hate to admit it, Draco was intrigued by Potter’s sudden success in class. Perhaps he’d been caving under Snape’s daunting presence for the last five years. But Potter had always been disgustingly peculiar…
When Slughorn dismissed them, Draco was ready to skip lunch and close himself in his dormitory for a while. As he gathered his belongings, he overheard Granger and Weasley talking.
“Where are the prefects meeting?” Weasley asked.
“Professor Snape’s classroom,” Granger replied, shuddering slightly.
“That’s bloody fantastic.” Weasley rolled his eyes. The two of them filed out of the room with the rest of the students.
The prefects’ meeting. He’d nearly forgotten. With a sigh, he headed towards Snape’s DADA room. It was customary for a Head of House to be present at a prefect meeting. Draco knew Snape loathed presiding over these petty meetings, but the responsibility was rotated amongst all four of them.
As he turned a corner leading towards the classroom, he could hear Snape berating Weasley and Granger for coming in late.
“It appears as though our Gryffindor prefects believe they are above common courtesy,” Snape hissed.
Draco smirked as he quietly snuck in behind Weasley and took a seat next to the Ravenclaw prefect, Anthony Goldstein. Pansy, who was sitting on the other side of the room, didn’t even glance his way.
“I don’t have all day,” Snape sneered at the still standing Weasley and Granger. “Take a seat.”
Weasley’s mouth dropped open at Snape’s complete disregard to Draco’s tardiness.
Snape stood in front of the students, eyeing them all suspiciously. “Well, you all have several imperative matters to discuss. Carry on and leave me be.” He turned on his heel and took a seat behind his desk, ruffling through papers without another word.
The room was still for a moment before Ernie Macmillan rose to his feet. He opened his mouth, but was interrupted by Padma Patil.
“Have they um…appointed another…” She broke off her sentence, unsure how to finish.
The prefects stared around the room. Draco remembered that the Hufflepuff girl wasn’t with them anymore. She’d suddenly left earlier this week due to her mother’s mysterious death. Draco shuddered involuntarily.
Ernie’s face whitened, but he quickly regained composure. “We’re not entirely sure what the situation is like. But I’m sure the school will find a replacement in due time, if needed.”
There was an awkward pause for a moment. Ernie continued on, “Right, so we’re here to discuss the Christmas ball we’ve been advised to put together. Any suggestions?”
“What do we need suggestions for?” Pansy asked. “It’s a Christmas ball. We have a tree, some ornaments, and apple cider.”
Ernie was unfazed. “Right, but one would think we’d need a tad bit more than that. Is there a specific theme we’d like to go with?”
Draco wanted to slam his head against the tabletop in front of him repeatedly.
“Winter Wonderland?” Granger suggested. “We could have it snow indoors…”
“So we can freeze our arses off?” Pansy interrupted.
Padma stood up. “Just because you’d freeze dressed like a tart doesn’t mean-“
Pansy had turned bright red and Draco had to suppress a laugh. She opened her mouth for a retort, but Anthony suddenly stood up.
“Enough. Look, we’re here to plan a ball for the students at Hogwarts to alleviate any tensions going on out there. How is what we’re doing supposed to make a difference if we’re quarreling amongst ourselves?”
Draco looked up at Snape, who seemed to be deaf at the moment. As if reading his mind, Snape looked up from his papers to look at Draco. The two stared at each other for a moment before Snape gave him the slightest of nods and went back to his work.
Ernie brought the group back towards their discussion. “We could have artificial snow.”
There were some nods of approval. Pansy was sitting with her arms crossed in front of her chest, her mouth turned into a pout.
Granger smiled. “Why don’t we have a contest for the Beau and Belle of the Ball?”
Padma’s face lit up. “Oooh, I like that! It’ll liven things up.”
After a grueling hour of working out meticulous details, the meeting was adjourned. Once again, Draco thought about retreating to his dormitory, but was stopped by Snape.
“Draco, may I see you for a moment?”
Draco shrugged and hung back as the prefects disappeared from the room. Snape strode towards him and took a seat on a tabletop, his white palms bracing the edge of the table.
Draco raised an eyebrow at him.
“How are things going?” Snape asked.
Snape was clever at many things. He was an eloquent speaker, was distinguished at potion making, and what affected Draco greatly– Snape was one of the Dark Lord’s most trusted servants. Unfortunately for Draco, Snape’s trustworthiness meant that he was a shield in front of others. The man was always in control of his emotions and composure, only letting his guard down to express his contempt for Potter, which Draco was okay with.
“Fine,” Draco said simply.
Snape looked slightly impatient. “Do not lie to me.”
“What do you want me to say?” Draco almost laughed out loud. That I’m a big baby who cries his eyes out in a girls’ lavatory?
“I know it must be difficult for you, Draco,” Snape said. There was a slight twinge of concern in his voice. “I’m here to help you in any way.”
Draco’s eyes darkened and he clenched his fists. “I don’t need any help. I’m not a child. I’m perfectly capable of doing a simple task.” What am I saying? I’m a helpless kid!
Snape looked at him sadly. “You and I both know this is no simple task.”
Draco rose to his feet, collecting his things. “Well, when I decide I need your help, I’ll ask you for it. In the mean time, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t draw any attention to me.”
“Of course,” Snape said apologetically. He rose to his feet and watched Draco leave the room in a hurry.
Draco wasn’t sure why he was running. He ran down the hallway, ignoring the cries of the portraits as they called out after him to slow down. He continued to run blindly until his shoulder ached from lugging his schoolbag.
“I need to disappear,” Draco said to himself. He let his bag fall to the ground with a thud. He bent over, hands on knees as he tried to catch his breath. His hair was disheveled, his robes wrinkled. But he didn’t care.
Draco paced the vaguely familiar corridor, raking his hands through his hair. I need to hide. I need to get away from here. From everyone.
The small sound of a door clinking open stopped him in his tracks. He stared around him. There was nothing in sight, save for a hideous painting of trolls in tutus. And then he saw it. A door was materializing right before his eyes. Draco caught his breath. What in Merlin’s –
Cautiously, he threw his schoolbag over his shoulder and took a hold of the brass knob on the new door. His fingers were tingling in anticipation. Taking a deep breath, Draco opened the door and stepped inside.
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