§§§.

Chapter 6: Draco’s New Room

§§§.

‘Where are you going, my child?’ The witch asked, grinning.

Ginny could see her teeth, yellow and spotted with black, under her crooked nose. She turned in Draco’s direction to see him staring around, without paying any attention to her. After a few seconds, two more witches and four wizards surrounded her, all of whom weren’t a pretty sight to behold.

‘Baby, wha’ d’yeh think ‘bout going fer a ride?’

‘Did yeh get lost?’

‘D’yeh wan’ us ter help yeh fin’ yer way back?’ they asked, smiling at her with false sweetness.

She fought not to start panicking; even if the effort of biting back the scream she wanted to let out was physically hurting her throat. She stammered some words of apology, feeling the sweat trickle down her neck.

‘Ginny, let’s go,’ said Draco, holding her arm and glaring at the people nearby with a look of disgust. When the group saw him, their eyes widened and they moved away, bowing and creating a path for the two to leave. Ginny didn’t understand why, until she shot Draco a glance—he wore his cloak the other way around, and now the crest of the Malfoys stood out, bold, on his chest.

‘This is one of the rare places where my name still commands some respect,’ he said, noticing the direction of her gaze.

‘Where are we?’ asked Ginny, looking around suspiciously. They were walking through a dirty alleyway and were just passing in front of a shop which showed, inside its windows, a large collection of tarantulas and other frightening arachnids. Ginny shuddered, glad that Ron wasn’t here to see it. She didn’t like spiders either, but her brother was second to no one in his fear of them.

‘Knockturn Alley,’ replied Draco, quickening his pace. Ginny tried her best to stay close to him—she didn’t have any intention to lose sight of him.

‘What are we doing in a place with such a bad reputation?’

‘You’ll see it shortly; we’re there. What d’you want to do, stay outside or come in?’ Draco drawled, an amused grin spreading all over his face. The shop in front of them was called Borgin & Burkes; inside it, Ginny could see various objects, none of which she was very pleased to see. But the crowd around her was much worse… so she followed Draco inside.

The place was exactly as Draco remembered. As always, there were poisons, dark and prohibited artefacts, and stuff that no other shopkeeper would’ve wanted even close to their shop. There were skulls, human bones, strange amphorae full of eyes and precious stones, and other stuff coming from many countries. A lot more was hidden in the shadows, but even what was under the light, Ginny was deeply aghast to see. Draco smirked at her disgusted frown and approached the counter, ringing a small brass bell. Ginny jerked at the sound.

‘Don’t touch anything,’ Draco hissed when somebody from the back of the shop muttered that he was coming. Ginny sent Draco a disgusted look, which meant that she would never touch any of this stuff, even if he'd forced her to.

‘Let’s see… who do we have here… oh! Young Master Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again. Of course, I never trusted the stories in the newspapers about you… disgraceful stories, indeed—’

From the back of the shop appeared an old man, with oily black hair, peppered with grey. He walked a little crooked, and rubbed his hands as he observed his new customers, a ghastly look spreading across his face. Ginny found the way he drawled his words quite annoying, as he pretended servile flattery which he appeared to not feel.

‘Which one d’you mean? The one about my death or the one about my soul being eaten by a Dementor?’ snapped Draco, dryly. Ginny watched him as he talked with Mr Borgin, and noticed that Draco was acting differently. Maybe he was, unconsciously or willingly, playing Lucius’ role, mimicking his father's ways.

‘Exactly, Master Malfoy. But I can see with pleasure that, as I’ve supposed, they were only stories. How may I be of assistance?’

The man emphasised the word "pleasure" in a way that disgusted Ginny. She wanted to leave this shop as soon as possible. Still, she couldn’t leave by herself—she needed Draco because she was much too frightened of the crowd. So, she forced herself to stay.

‘I’m not buying, but selling, Mr Borgin. These.’ Draco took, from the pocket of his robe, the three objects that Ginny had seen him withdraw from the vault at Gringotts. The man’s face lost all of his servile flattery at Draco’s words, but when he saw what the younger wizard put into his hands, his eyes glimmered in joy.

‘Oh… what a magnificent offer, Master Malfoy. Your father never brought to me items of this sort. He sold me quite impressive objects, though… and he also bought many.’

‘How much d’you reckon these would be worth?’ asked Draco casually. He didn’t really want to sell his mother’s earrings and favourite ring. He knew that they were very precious, and he’d never sell them to anybody. However, he did need something to divert Mr Borgin’s attention.

‘They are priceless; extremely ancient and made with gold. And… look at those enchanted stones…’ the man said, almost awed. Then he eyed Draco, held the jewels at arm's length and inspected them with his small mirrored glasses. After a moment's scrutiny, he continued, ‘I cannot buy them, I know that your father would never allow them to be sold. However, Master Malfoy… I have a few things you may be interested in buying, at a very reasonable price—’

The man took from under his counter a tray—it clearly contained poisons, it was obvious by the stamp across the top of it. Mr Borgin opened it in front of Draco, who gazed at the content feigning interest. He knew that the old wizard didn’t want to buy the objects because they were too dangerous to be kept. His reluctance was surely not from some sort of “respect” for his father. What a tosser, Draco thought.

‘I think I’ll buy this datura’s essence,’ he said while staring at the various bottles. Ginny gasped hearing Draco’s words. What use could he have for datura’s essence? ‘Uh...tell me, Mr Borgin …you are a man who knows a vast deal about magical artefacts, would you happen to know anything about the Green Torch?’ asked Draco, casually checking the content of another bottle. Mr Borgin’s eyes widened and he stared at the younger wizard, his face aghast.

‘The Green Torch… I’d love to put my hands on it, Master Malfoy. It’s yet another priceless object, like the jewels you showed me before. The only thing that can destroy the Dark Lord.’

‘Yes, Potter used it with that intention. But it didn’t work; he returned, after all. So… how can a useless object…be priceless?’ retorted Draco. The man stared at him in amazement; then, his face came closer to Draco’s as he hissed back,

‘Harry Potter didn’t use the true Green Torch, Master Malfoy. The true Torch is the priceless object, not its copies. Copies only have a—ah—temporary effect.’ His face turned ashen as he said that. Ginny tried to hear what he was muttering, but he talked in such a slow and low monotone that it was hard for her to understand. Draco was the only person who could hear what the man had said, but he didn’t react at all.

‘Precisely what I wanted to know. So, is there a way of finding it, or of buying it?’ Draco asked. He stretched his fingers and joined his fingertips tapping them together, and stared at Mr Borgin with interest. ‘You know, my father loved this kind of stuff, he had a large collection of objects that the Dark Lord had owned. I’d love to complete his collection with this Torch, so that it won’t be found by—ah—unworthy people, if you understand what I mean.’ He kept staring at the man as he spoke. Mr Borgin froze.

‘If I owned that object, or if I knew where to find it, I wouldn’t be here, Master Malfoy.’ He continued in hushed tones, careful not to let Ginny overhear, ‘I would’ve brought the Green Torch to the Dark Lord myself and be honoured as the one who gave him immortal life. Nobody can find the Green Torch, Master Malfoy, not even yourself.’

‘That’s exactly the reason why I want it. Thank you for the information, how much is the datura’s essence?’ Draco’s eyes looked down to observe the small bottle he was handling. He paid the two galleons and fifteen sickles Mr Borgin requested and then left the shop, beckoning Ginny to follow. As they moved out of Mr Borgin’s sight, Draco again took hold of Ginny’s arm and forced her to stay close to him while they left Knockturn Alley.

‘Thank you, Malfoy,’ she said, waiting for him to turn his cloak to the other side.

‘Thank you for what?’ he asked, feigning surprise.

‘You know what. Thank you for helping us; only you could’ve asked him that without raising his suspicions. What did he say?’

Draco sent her an inscrutable look as he put his hat back on his head.

‘Nothing interesting. He said that Potter didn’t use the true Green Torch. I wanted him to say more, ’ he admitted, walking straight to Ollivander’s.

‘I'd never thought that you’d really help us,’ she said.

Draco held her arm tightly, forcing her to turn in his direction and look at him. Ginny’s heart sank—she didn't think he'd react with such anger. ‘Potter—saved—my—bloody—life, Ginny.’ He stared at her for a long moment with the most serious look she'd ever seen on his face. Then he let go of her and walked away.

Ginny remained silent until they came to Ollivander’s, musing about what Draco had just said. I didn’t really trust him. When I saw him lying on the sofa I thought Harry made a big mistake. But… I’m starting to believe I was wrong, she thought as she opened the shop’s door. A small bell rang, and a pair of shining eyes stared at her, from behind the counter.

‘Ah! Miss Weasley, it's been a long time since I last saw you. Besides… if I’m not wrong, this is Mr Malfoy. Seems like the stories I’ve heard about you were false.’ The old wizard gave them both a nod, waiting for them to approach. ‘How may I help you?’

‘I need to clean my wand. I’ve waited too long, I know. But I didn’t have a chance to come here earlier, Mr Ollivander.’ The man nodded, and Ginny continued, ‘So I had to wait. But today I had other errands.’ She took her wand out of her robe pocket and handed it to the wizard.

Ollivander scanned the thin wood with critical eyes, checking all the details for a long moment. After what felt like an eternity of staring at it, he shot Ginny a disappointed look.

‘Miss Weasley,’ he muttered abruptly, ‘your wand is so dirty that it’s in danger of being mistaken for a burnt twig. You should've come here a long time ago.’ He sighed. ‘What a pity; such a beautiful wand. Yew, eleven inches, the core of a dragon heartstring. I remember having made it as if it were yesterday. A wonderful wand, with such a strong core, perfect for Charms. And you reduce it in such a state!’

The man kept staring at the wand, a sad expression on his face. His voice was hoarse with suffering and he shook his head as if he were speaking about a disgrace that happened to one of his children. Hearing what he said, Draco tried to hide and started staring in the opposite direction. If Ginny’s wand needed to be cleaned, Merlin, what would be said of his? No, he decided, he was never going to show his wand to Ollivander.

‘Please, forgive me, Mr Ollivander—’ Ginny said, her ears turning pink as she lowered her head in shame.

‘Don’t look at me like that, Miss Weasley. A person like yourself, who lives close to Harry Potter, should take better care of her magical objects. What if a Death Eater attacked you, and your wand was too clogged with dirt to function properly? And… as for you, Mr Malfoy…’ Draco gasped when the man said his name. When he looked back at the older wizard, Ollivander was glaring at him with his bright eyes, as if he looked into the deepest end of his soul and had only found something horrible and disgusting. Draco gulped. ‘Please don’t hide like that, I can see you. Give me your wand. Since you’re here, I’ll clean it up as well.’ The man held out his hand to Draco, imperiously beckoning for his wand.

‘There’s no need, really, Mr Ollivander—’ he tried to say, but the old wizard sent him such an icy glare that Draco cringed. His heart bled when his hand reached into his pocket, knowing exactly what the old wizard would say after having a look at his wand.

When Ollivander finally put his hands on the thin wood, the pain that his eyes showed would’ve made a criminal cry. He stared at the wand, his glasses pushed up on his nose, moving it in his hands and sighing many times, as he examined it. He continued studying it for various minutes and then he glared, once again, at Draco.

‘I’d never have expected this, Mr Malfoy. I understand that, in your situation, it’s not easy to come here. I understand that it may have cost you dearly, that you could've been captured. However… I never, ever saw, in my entire life, a wand made of hawthorn wood turning completely and utterly B-L-A-C-K!’ He spat out that “black” as if he were talking about a homicide, his face turning purple for the effort as his gaze locked with Draco's.

Draco closed his eyes and gasped, trying to hide his face behind his hands, as if Ollivander had hit him; he felt blood rush to his face, as he noticed the way Ginny was staring at him. He lowered his eyes.

‘Euh…I…but…’ he muttered. For once, he didn’t know what to say.

‘No buts! In your situation, you should’ve taken more care of your only weapon, Mr Malfoy! Your wand is so filthy that I wouldn’t be surprised if it just stopped working altogether! Tell me, what would you have done if you were in danger and your wand wouldn’t work? BE ASHAMED!’ He slammed a hand on his counter, to emphasise his last words, and again he glared at Draco with his deadly bright eyes.

Draco didn’t need him to point out anything, though—he never had been so humiliated in his whole life. Not even when Potter saved his skin a few days ago.

Ollivander sent him yet another curt look, and then he went to the back of the shop, to give the wands to his assistants. When he returned, a few minutes later, he hadn’t lost his rigorous frown, which he was still bestowing upon Draco. After glaring at him a little more, he turned to the young witch next to him and his face gained a more pleasant outlook.

‘Miss Weasley, please return in an hour and a half, your wand should be ready by then.’ He rubbed his hands, trying to make Ginny feel more comfortable. Then, he turned again to Draco, and his gaze changed instantly into a glare.

‘As for you, Mr Malfoy; your wand will be ready in two days,’ he hissed. Draco’s eyes widened at the amount of time it would take, his pale face turning even paler as the old man continued, ‘And I won’t accept any complaint! My assistants will need to work hard to bring it back to decency. It’s nothing you can fix in a few minutes!’

When Ollivander went back to the back of the shop, Draco was shaking in rage and mortification, clenching his fists and glaring with hatred at the door that the old wizard just disappeared through.

§§

Their trip back home was silent and tense. Draco still couldn’t talk, after the incident at Olivanders; Ginny didn’t know what to say—sometimes not saying anything is better than putting your foot in it. Therefore she kept quiet.

Then, a small girl had the bright idea of bumping into Draco, while mimicking a spell with a friend. Draco pushed her away harshly and she fell to the ground, starting to sniff as if she was about to cry. Ginny looked at Draco horrified; they didn’t need a crying child to draw people’s attention to them! Draco lost his temper; he approached the child and grabbed her jumper. He glared at her, frowning, his grey eyes filled with hatred. The child froze and stared back, scared to death.

‘Watch it,’ he hissed into the child’s ear. The small girl grew paler than before and some indistinguishable words, mixed with whimpers of pain. Draco stayed there, glaring at the child for a long moment until Ginny approached him and put a hand on his shoulder. But as Draco tossed her hand away and glared at her, Ginny stopped dead and the words she would’ve said died in her throat; his gaze was.…creepy.

Then, as suddenly as his fury had erupted, Draco calmed down. He let go of the child and, after giving her another icy glare, he turned to leave. The child stared at space for a while, her face still as pale as a sheet. Then she sat up, crawled momentarily, and then ran away. Ginny followed Draco, trying to not lose him.

‘What was all that? Why did you scare that child in the middle of Diagon Alley? We could’ve been recognised!’ she asked when she finally caught up. Draco kicked angrily at a cobblestone that happened to be in front of his right foot. Then he turned towards Ginny; his eyes sending daggers at her.

‘I didn’t do anything to that child. She bumped into me and brought that upon herself,’ he snapped.

Ginny rolled her eyes and sighed. ‘You’re not made of glass and the little girl didn’t bump into you on purpose! Did you have to scare her like that?’

Draco said nothing but quickened his pace until they arrived in front of the wall dividing Diagon Alley and the Leaky Cauldron. His hand went to his pocket, to take out his wand, but that pocket was empty. He clenched his fists and shook them with rage, his gaze continuing to harden. Ginny took out her wand and touched the stones with it, allowing them to leave.

It didn’t take a lot of time to get back to the fire, and even less to use the Floo powder and get back to the abandoned house which Remus had connected to the Floo Network for them this time—they always had to use a different house to avoid suspicions, and poor Remus had to change the fire connected to the Network every few days.

Once again, Ginny cleaned the soot from Draco’s face, and then she spent a bit of time cleaning herself, as the young man tossed the soot from his clothes.

‘Malfoy, really; your wand was a mess,’ she commented, as they walked through the streets of Muggle London, surrounded by the shadows of the evening. It was already evening… Time goes by quickly when you go shopping, Ginny thought.

Draco stopped dead and turned to look at her. She also stopped and drew backwards, somehow frightened that he would act the same way he did in Diagon Alley. But Draco resumed his walk almost immediately, without saying a word.

‘I know,’ he muttered finally when they arrived in front of the abandoned building that they called home. They looked around wearily and then opened the gate to sneak in.

*

There was big confusion in the hall and nobody paid any notice that they were back. According to the sound of the steps coming from inside before they opened the inner gate, someone was very busy walking up and down the corridor.

‘Oh, you’re back, finally,’ said Hermione. She stopped in front of them, carrying a basin filled with water. She put it on a piece of furniture, opening and closing her hands quickly to restart the blood circulation.

‘I have no time to explain. Remus is hurt,’ she said and then grabbed the basin again, and proceeded to walk to the room beside the kitchen. Draco and Ginny stared at the door where she had just disappeared, their eyes wide in shock.

‘He didn’t look hurt when we saw him—’ Draco muttered under his breath.

Ginny was the first one to come out of her state of shock; she walked into the kitchen, curious to know what had happened. Draco followed suit.

Lupin was laid down on the couch Draco had been sleeping on. He was bleeding copiously from a wound on his back, maybe inflicted with something blunt. What could’ve happened to him to reduce him in such a state in just a few hours?

‘Oh, you’re back. Good, we need help,’ said Sirius. He was working with his wand on Lupin’s back, trying to stop the blood flow; Hermione was busy preparing a Potion.

‘Is there any way I can help you?’ asked Ginny.

Draco stayed still. He didn’t know what to do; besides, Lupin was lying on his bed… and staining it with blood. This was somehow irritating.

‘Yes, thank you, Ginny. Come here and toss me that lamb,’ said Hermione, throwing into the cauldron what Draco recognized as flobberworm juice. Ginny hurried up to help Hermione, and the latter sent her a thankful glance, as she cut the meat Ginny just tossed to her into very small pieces. Then, she started to throw it into the cauldron, at a slow pace. Sweat trickled from her furrowed brows down to her temples and her cheeks. Ginny decided to help her mix the potion, which left Hermione with more room to concentrate on the meat.

‘What are you doing?’ drawled Draco.

Hermione didn’t even look at him. ‘I’m preparing the Wolfsbane’s Potion. You know, like the one Professor Snape prepared for Remus when he was at Hogwarts. Tomorrow’s the full moon,’ she retorted dryly, causing Draco’s blood to turn into ice.

‘We’re going to have a werewolf here on a full moon?’ he snapped. Hermione’s meat was finished and she cleaned her hands, addressing Draco with a piercing glare.

‘Oh well, look at us! We also have a Malfoy—’ Ron’s voice resounded behind their backs. The redhead approached Hermione and gave her a strange package. He seemed to be a bit out of breath and upset.

Draco glared at him. ‘Weasley, maybe it’s too hard to understand for the lot of you, but a werewolf is a dangerous creature,’ he hissed.

Ron didn’t even consider him worthy of a glance and approached Hermione. ‘The wolfsbane was difficult to find. It’s not normal to pick it during the day.’

‘Unfortunately we needed it that way. Not only picked during the day but also picked during the day of a new moon. Did you check that detail, Ron?’ she asked, frowning.

Ron nodded, so she turned to Draco, as Ginny mixed the liquid into the cauldron.

‘This is why I’m preparing the Potion, Malfoy. If Lupin doesn't drink it often tomorrow night, he won't be able to stay here,’ she said. Then, she focused her attention on her Potion, to decide how much wolfsbane she should’ve used.

‘Harry’s coming with the unicorn’s hair. We split to go faster,’ said Ron.

Hermione nodded, and a few moments later, Harry arrived carrying another package. Hermione waited a few minutes, staring at her watch pointedly. Then she added a few unicorn hairs to the Potion and sighed in relief. She wiped her forehead on her sleeve and kept mixing the Potion, now looking more relaxed.

‘What happened to him?’ asked Ginny now that the most important matter was over. Lupin’s wound had healed thanks to Sirius’ attempts and now the man was breathing normally.

Draco sat on a chair near the kitchen door.

‘I’ve fought with McNair; I followed him after leaving the two of you. But I didn’t expect him to come from behind and he got me.’ The man sat on the couch, his pale face steadily gaining colour. Hermione approached him, leaving the Potion boil for a while.

‘It will be ready in half an hour, Remus. Is this soon enough? Are we on time?’ A thin line knitted her brows, and she was wringing her hands almost frenetically. She looked nervous; perhaps Draco’s objection was something she was worried about as well.

‘Yes, I drank it already early this afternoon and I must drink it every six hours before the full moon. Don’t worry, if I ever thought that you were in danger, I’d leave immediately,’ he said, staring at Draco. Lupin didn’t look angry, just worried.

‘So, there’s just one small problem left. Malfoy, Remus must sleep here tonight and tomorrow,’ said Sirius, who was sitting next to Lupin, on the couch.

‘What’s the problem?’

‘We need this couch. After all, we were talking the other day, and we thought that, since you're staying, you should have your room.’

Draco felt a burst of happiness. His face brightened, but Sirius didn’t seem in the same mood.

‘A room? That’s ok. So, what is the problem?’

He would have his room, after all that time! His room, finally a bit of privacy. How did he miss it!

‘I must prepare the Potion for Remus, as he must drink it frequently tomorrow. It’s a new formula that he said is safer. The others must work in the library. So, since it’s your room, it’s you who will tidy it up,’ Hermione said.

Joy drained from Draco’s face. ‘But—’ he argued.

‘It’s just a simple charm. Malfoy, you were better than me at charms at Hogwarts, it should be easy for you. I was able to do it as well!’ snapped Ron, looking at him mockingly. Draco would’ve loved to punch him on that ugly face of his…or to hex him somehow. If only he'd had a wand.

‘Malfoy can’t perform charms today, nor tomorrow,’ said Ginny. Everybody stared at her in silence, the dull sound of the Potion boiling the only sound marking the slow passing of time.

‘Why?’ said Harry, asking for them all.

‘Ollivander took his wand to clean it,’ said Ginny. She noticed that Draco was glaring at her, and thought that he didn’t want her to tell the group about the way the old wizard had told him off. She grinned. ‘He has to go and pick it up in two days,’ she concluded.

Draco sighed in relief, and Ginny’s grin became brighter.

‘Wow… did you lose it in a swamp?’ joked Ron, evidently enjoying that for once he was the one using sarcasm while Malfoy was glaring at him.

‘Hold your tongue, Weasel,’ Draco retorted, dryly. Ron didn’t lose his sarcastic grin, though, and this pissed Draco off. After all, who would’ve been scared of him now? He didn’t have his wand, he was harmless! Damn that git Ollivander who wouldn’t give me a replacement wand! he thought.

‘If that's the case—’ said Lupin, trying to stand up, but failing miserably. Sirius stopped him and forced him to lie down again.

‘No, Remus. You won’t go. Even if I fixed your wound, you ought to stay still if you want to heal. You won’t move from this sofa.’ Sirius looked at him worriedly, then stood and said, as he left, ‘I’ve got to wash my hands.’

Lupin sighed, but followed Sirius’s suggestion; he turned his back to the others and tried to get some sleep.

‘Well, to be completely honest I don't see where the problem lies.’ Hermione walked straight to a corner of the room. She beckoned Draco to come closer, as she looked for something in a built-in closet. ‘Come here, Malfoy—’

Draco snorted and stood from his chair, still annoyed by the situation. As he drew near her, Hermione emerged from the closet, smiling triumphantly, and put into his hands a mutton chop and a cloth. Then she took a pail and rested it just in front of Draco’s feet.

Draco stared at her in bewilderment. He…couldn't even get angry because of how shocked he was. He blinked two or three times and kept staring into space, silently.

‘A bit of manual labour has never hurt anyone, Malfoy. Come on, it won't take you long to make your room presentable. You can always finish setting it up when you have your wand back.’

Ron barely suppressed a laugh; Harry had such an idiotic smile stamped on his face that Draco would’ve loved to kick him in the arse until he lost it. Hermione folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. Not counting Lupin, who was lying down on the couch with his back to Draco, Ginny was the only person who wasn't looking at him.

‘Wh-which room will be his?’ Ginny asked, trying to change the subject.

‘The empty one on the first floor, near the laundry room. We decided this today, while you were out. It’s the one in the best shape, after all. It’s easier to clean up,’ said Harry, finally dropping the idiotic expression on his face.

‘Wait a minute, I don’t think I quite understand. You're saying that I, Draco Malfoy, should lower myself to do servant chores? Are you insane, or were you all dropped on your heads as babies?’ he spat out, still not trusting his ears. He glared for a while at the dusting cloths Hermione had handed him.

‘Oh shut up, Malfoy. Follow me,’ retorted Hermione, her hands rubbing her temples in a gesture of pure exasperation. She nodded to Ginny, silently asking her to keep mixing the potion, and then left, walking straight to the steps to go upstairs. Draco didn't move; he kept staring at the space in front of him, holding in his right hand the mutton chop and on the left one the cloths.

‘MALFOY! Hurry up and come with me!’ Hermione shouted from upstairs.

He roared something that sounded like “I’m not your dog!” and stomped his foot, glaring at the door.

‘I’M COMING!’ he shouted, dragging his feet as he walked away. When he got to the door, though, he once again heard Hermione’s voice.

‘Don’t forget the pail, please!’ she called, causing yet another roar of exasperation. Draco turned around, furious, and grabbed the pail. Then he finally walked out of the room and strode quickly to the stairs.

*

Harry and Ron controlled themselves until they heard his footsteps going upstairs, then they burst into laughter. Malfoy taking orders from Hermione was probably the funniest thing they’d seen since the bouncing ferret scene in their fourth year.

‘It’s not nice to laugh at other people’s distress,’ scolded Lupin. This shut them up, but they kept looking at each other, their amusement evident in the way their lips pursed and in the number of times they had to choke a chuckle. They are still no more than children, mused Lupin, half-asleep.

*

Draco reached the first floor, still fuming, and approached Hermione who waited for him in front of a door. He glared at her and tossed the pail, abruptly, onto the floor, throwing the cloths into it with all his strength. He kept glaring at Hermione, but she paid little attention to it.

‘I know you’re not happy about this, Malfoy. It’s annoying, and you’re right. However, we cannot waste our time helping you. Come on, a few hours of labour never killed anyone,’ she said, trying somehow to console him.

Draco’s glare hardened, if possible. ‘What if I refuse to do it?’ he asked.

But Hermione didn’t move, her arms still folded over her chest, her gaze still locked with his, her right foot still tapping on the floor.

‘You can always sleep on the ground, it’s not our problem,’ she retorted, causing Draco’s face to grow paler than ever.

‘I’m a Malfoy. Malfoys don’t ever lower themselves to do manual labour!’ he spat, slamming the mutton chop to the floor. He stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at her.

‘Malfoys have two arms and two legs, like any other person in the world, I daresay,’ she replied, and eyed him from tip to toe as she spoke. ‘It's time you got off your high horse and faced the real world.’

She held her wand and said a charm to fill the pail with a mixture of water and soap. She then unlocked the door and let it fall open as she walked away. ‘Good luck,’ she added, knowing full well he would need it.

Draco’s eyes widened in shock and his stomach lurched as he had a first peek inside the place that would become his bedroom. Merlin! That wasn't a room—it was a minefield.

To be Continued…