Draco walked along the cobbled street, Pansy Parkinson on his arm. Her chatter was a grating buzz in his ears, and her continual remarks about everyone and everything was enough to make him want to toss her into the next puddle of mud.
Still, he needed her at the moment. He’d run into her and Millicent Bulstrode as they were all leaving the common room. He had a nasty feeling she’d been waiting for him, so he could accompany them. Pansy was clever when she needed to be, especially when it came to her goal of snagging Draco Malfoy as her husband. But it had helped to be seen with her. Several Slytherins had commenced to murmuring when he’d appeared in the common room. A few had even laughed openly. But this had quieted as he looked about coldly, giving off his air of icy composure and hidden, steely resolve. He was wearing his Slytherin scarf, so the bite marks were not visible. That hadn’t stopped questions from coming at him from several students they’d passed. And the questions had continued from housemates he’d run into. He’d answered coldly that yes, he’d been attacked, but no, he hadn’t been bitten. Crabbe and Goyle had simply nodded in agreement. And this had worked out fine: everyone knew they wouldn’t lie about it, but asking them to explain would be like asking a two year old to point out the constellations.
Being seen about with Pansy Parkinson was normal. It was expected. So he endured it, and felt relief when his housemates walked up to him to talk more and more frequently. He even got greetings from students in other houses, which he’d acknowledge with a nod of his silver-blond head. That was unusual, of them and of him. But he was too tired to be Malfoy the Bastard today. It was all he could do to maintain Malfoy the Magnificent.
“Oh Draco, let’s go to Gladrags! I need a new dress! And I could show you that wonderful black shirt, with the silver buttons I was telling you about!” Pansy squealed, once again knocking his thoughts off track.
“Don’t you have enough dresses?” he asked coldly. But Pansy didn’t notice, and began to tug him towards the shop. He was SO not in the mood to try anything on! He allowed himself to be dragged there anyway, as an argument with her would only ruin the day’s work and drain what little strength he had left.
The inside of the shop was crowded with other students, mostly girls from the various houses, though there were witches on holiday as well. A trip to Gladrags was always at the top of their to-do lists. Draco pulled away from Pansy as she and Millicent, who didn’t look any happier about being there than he was, began to flit around the shop.
Draco went to a small corner containing racks of leather cloaks and full length coats. One was a very nice full length trench coat, with a double breasted, four button front, nice deep pockets for hiding stuff, and a zip out fur lining. It looked rather macho, and Draco grinned. He suddenly remembered a picture he’d seen of a man on a motorcycle in a Muggle magazine. He’d actually been admiring it until his mother had snatched the magazine out of his hands and had had one of the butlers throw it away. She’d lectured him for an hour about “that unseemly Muggle garbage”, and her eyes had been darting around fearfully. Draco had later understood that his father might have found out and there would have been hell to pay. After all, there was always hell to pay when Draco did something wrong.
His eyes were strangely unfocused as he thought of this, several memories suddenly rising up at once. Draco had failed to fly his broomstick the way his father had shown him to the first time, and he’d been slapped across the face. Then there was the summer holiday after his second year at Hogwarts, when he’d failed to help Slytherin defeat Gryffindor. Draco had endured a whole summer of acidic remarks, and comparisons to Mudbloods and, worse, Muggles.
“Perhaps you should consider that Hermione Granger as a future wife. You’ve sunk beneath even her level, but you could raise her fortunes nicely, so I’m sure she could be prevailed upon to have you…We’re having some new business associates over for dinner, try not to call to much attention to our blood ties. I want to make a favorable impression…”
Lucius always had a snide insult, always comparing him to another student or an associate’s child. Never a kind word, unless it was to bribe him into doing something. But Draco had learned to get what he wanted with loud tantrums and stubborn demands. It increased his father’s willingness to shut him up by any means necessary. Once again, Draco felt his face tighten and his stomach clench. At least his father would look at him then…
What I felt, what I’ve known
Never shined through in what I’ve shown
Never be, never see
Won’t see what might have been
What I felt, all I’ve known
Never shined through in what I’ve shown
Never see, never me
So I dub thee Unforgiven….
Draco listened, wondering if the music was in his mind, or outside of him. He closed his eyes, seeing Lucius Malfoy before him in a rare moment of happiness. That is, until he remembered why…
“Well boy, you made it! I’ve got your letter for Hogwarts right here. The way you’ve been ruining your spells recently, I’d begun to wonder if I’d produced a defective heir…”
“May I help you sir?” A young sales wizard suddenly appeared at his elbow, smiling brightly.
Draco didn’t look at him, didn’t change expression, and didn’t even blink. “I’ll take this. Have it delivered to Hogwarts School, to Draco Malfoy of Slytherin House.”
The sales wizard was only too happy to help. Once they ascertained that it fit him, the transaction was quickly concluded, to the tune of two hundred and fifty galleons. Not very expensive, Draco thought absently. He turned to see Pansy sidling up to him.
“Draco! Did you buy me something?” She smiled eagerly.
“No,” he replied blandly. Her expression fell slightly, but she recovered almost immediately.
“I just bought a new dress, perhaps I can show it to you?”
Draco looked at her, his patience with her at an end. “I’m thirsty. Let’s get a drink.”
He didn’t stop to see Pansy’s expression, or to note if anyone else agreed. He simply walked out. Bastard mode was hitting, which meant everything was normal. The tapping of several feet hurrying to catch up with him confirmed this, and he smirked in a very satisfied way.
****************
“I’m serious Ginny, you’re beautiful!” Susan gushed as they walked in the cold autumn air towards the Three Broomsticks. “I think everyone’s going to faint!”
“All right Susan, I believe you!” Ginny laughed. Her hair had been done into lovely spiral curls and, as Hermione suggested, pulled up in a knot to spill down her back. They fluttered delicately, glossy and sleek. They had all had a make-over, and Ginny in particular was really feeling confident and pretty. She looked admiringly at Hermione who looked lovely, her eyes darkened slightly and her lips touched with a warm rose color. Susan positively glowed: the shades of blue upon her lids made her eyes seem very large and bright, and the subtle pink shades that dusted her cheeks and lips gave them a pleasing shape. They all were looking forward to showing off their new looks, however temporary they might be, and walked quickly to Madam Rosmerta’s place.
Walking inside, they received a lot of stares from other students. Parvati Patil and her sister were sitting nearest the door, with two Ravenclaw boys. All four jaws dropped. Hermione was irritated, and reminded of the unflattering stares the other girls had given her at the Yule Ball in their fourth year.
“Be careful,” she said acidly, “insects might fly right into your mouths!”
Susan sniggered and they walked on in, spotting Ron and Harry waving at them. As they approached the table, the boys’ jaws dropped as well. Ron, in particular, seemed stunned, and he stared exclusively at Hermione. Seamus hugged and kissed Susan, telling her she looked beautiful. Ginny smiled at that, and then turned to Harry. He was smiling at her in a dazed sort of way.
“Wow!” he said, “You look wonderful!”
Cho, who was sitting next to him, smiled warmly too. “I always knew you’d look great in curls! Susan’s always said so.”
“Thank you.” Ginny blushed, feeling more magnanimous towards Cho. She was still feeling that empty ache, but she was determined not to let it ruin what was left of the day.
“Ginny!” Ron exclaimed, “Why are you wearing make up?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, let’s see. Because she’s sixteen and it’s allowed?”
Ron frowned. “You didn’t wear make up at sixteen,” he pointed out.
“No, I was fifteen. When Viktor Krum asked me to the Ball, remember?” Hermione replied. Ron shut up.
“Well,” Harry said lightly, changing the subject, “you had fun then? Did you see anyone?”
Hermione replied that they hadn’t, and Susan asked if they had seen Rita Dorn, the Ravenclaw Prefect, as she knew she would love to see the array of supplies at the beauty store. Talk then turned to more general subjects, as a waitress came and took their orders. Butterbeer and a cup of soup for Ron, who was feeling a bit hungry. She listened to the chatter as she waited for her drink. Ron, of course, had also made a stop at Fred and George’s joke shop, Wacky Clandestine, which was doing extremely well. He’d loaded up on Dungbombs, which were still his favorite gag, and also bought Exploding Snaps. When her drink arrived, Ginny sipped it thoughtfully. Harry was joining in the general conversation but he seemed to look at her far more than usual. Instead of feeling happy, she felt confusion squeezing in the pit of her stomach. It was only a few looks, after all. His hand was still tightly laced through Cho’s and he seemed more surprised than anything. She knew that continuing to pine was ridiculous, but she saw him every day. And while she felt that her feelings were finally lessening, her attention was still caught by him very easily. What did it all mean? She wondered if she would ever be free of these emotions that continued to come out of nowhere and disturb her piece of mind.
An image of Draco flashed unbidden into her mind, making her freeze. She could see him clearly, hear his voice low and cool in her ears. She remembered him at his worst, his cold, gray eyes almost empty of life, his thin mouth curled in a sneer. Then she recalled his appearance the night before, his hair falling into his face as he looked at her with deep fascination, pale cheeks flushed, and his expression soft and almost warm. Then there was the terror that had invaded his being, visible on his face as they were propelled to the infirmary by Snape. So many different emotions had come over him, emotions she had never seen in him and had not imagined he could feel. The scene in the library came flooding back, when they had stared each other down. Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered how he’d seemed to reach out to her, almost as if he wanted to push past the barrier between them and….
And what? This was ridiculous. She shook herself and tried to attend to the conversation, just in time to hear Seamus growl:
“Speak of the devil!”
Ginny blinked, turning towards the door. Draco Malfoy was walking in, Pansy Parkinson on his arm. They were closely followed by Crabbe, Goyle, and Bulstrode.
“Well, here’s a group that ought to be penciled in for a visit from the Angel of Death!” Ron quipped, causing Seamus and Harry to snigger. Hermione dismissed them, and was turning back to the table when Ginny caught her attention. She was sitting straight in her chair, looking over at Draco with a very angry expression. Puzzled, Hermione looked again. Draco was settling at a large table, looking bored and a tad restless. Everyone sat down, and Pansy immediately began to hang on Draco with her eager smiles and, doubtless, annoying chatter. A look back at Ginny startled Hermione. Her expression had gone from angry to enraged.
She touched Ginny’s hand, startling her. Hermione silently inclined her head towards Malfoy’s group, her eyes enquiring. Ginny smiled with nervous embarrassment and took a hasty drink of her Butterbeer. Then she leaned towards Hermione to whisper, and noticed Susan leaning with her. She looked at her friend, realizing that she had noticed her odd behavior too. Oh, for the love of Merlin!
“Sorry,” she whispered to them both, “I just hate…that Pansy. She uses him, you know.” It was the only excuse she could think of.
“He uses her back, so what?” Susan whispered. “You said yourself he was a bastard to you, after you saved his life and all!”
“Susan, you know perfectly well that saving someone’s life makes you feel a tad obligated to them,” Hermione whispered soothingly. She smiled encouragingly at Ginny. “Ginny has a right to express her opinion, and I’m sure the obligation aspect is temporary.”
Ginny smiled back, feeling stupid and oddly guilty. Why should she feel guilty? She hadn’t lied exactly, she did hate Pansy Parkinson! Hated the way she dressed, hated the way she talked, hated the way she was hanging all over Draco. She was an obvious, gold digging, status hungry slut! Ginny could not believe Draco was unable to see right through her!
What in the world was she thinking! I don’t care, it’s his life! She shook herself and tried to steady her suddenly trembling hands. Draco Malfoy was a cold hearted, evil bastard. He deserved Pansy, as she deserved him. Ginny resolutely took a healthy swig from her bottle and ordered another, hoping that if Pansy married him he would suddenly discover that she was really a man in drag!
Draco was looking idly about the Pub, letting Pansy and Millicent fill the silence with their chatter and allowing Pansy to put her arms around him. It was necessary, for now. He just wanted to make sure they were seen everywhere, in case anyone still had any doubts. Nothing soothes doubt better than seeing exactly what you expect to see. He hadn’t allowed this privilege to Pansy for awhile, as it usually put her voice right in his ear and that annoyed him to no end. But this trip would soon be over. One drink and they were going back to Hogwarts. He’d made his point, he was perfectly fine. He couldn’t wait to leave and get back to his bed.
As his eyes roamed the Pub, he spotted Potter and his group. They all seemed really happy with each other, talking and laughing. He never had much of a chance to do that, certainly not with his brilliant friends Crabbe and Goyle. Then he saw Ginny, did a double take, and stared. Her hair… she’d done something with her hair. Now it streamed in loose ringlets down her back, catching the light of the fire and giving off its own glow. She turned to Hermione, and he saw her face was made up very nicely too. Her eyes, already big and lovely, seemed more beautiful than ever, the light blush on her cheeks adding a glow to her complexion which was enhanced by the soft shade of her lips. So red, a lovely cool red, like holly berries. Soft and pouty, tasting of honey and Butterbeer…
Draco felt his heart beat faster, and found himself wanting to walk over and kiss her. Kiss those soft, berry lips and taste the warmth of her mouth. He felt himself grow warm, his skin burned and his stomach began to flutter. What’s happening to me? He wondered distractedly. What am I feeling?
“Good afternoon, Draco!” A soft, cold voice suddenly sliced through his heady desires. Draco started, looking up to find Stone sneering down at him.
Draco felt anger coursing through him, but his expression cleared in an instant as he leaned lazily back in his chair to regard Stone. Pansy removed herself from Draco, suddenly looking tense. Crabbe and Goyle started to stand, but with a gesture Draco stopped them, and they resumed their seats.
“Hello Jared,” he drawled. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Though Stone was smiling, Draco could tell he wasn’t pleased. The rumors he’d started had fizzled out and now here Malfoy was, looking in excellent health and frightened of nothing. He was angry and wanted to get back at Malfoy somehow. Draco kept his eyes trained on Jared, but didn’t discount the little band of thugs behind him: three fifth years whose names Draco tended to forget. Crabbe and Goyle could flatten them -- they had before -- but it wasn’t as easy as it usually was. They were big and burly themselves. Just not as big as Draco’s friends.
“I guess the Potion Master lied then? You weren’t bitten by a werewolf?” Stone began nastily. Draco’s eyes narrowed.
“I truly doubt those were the Potion Master’s words.” He waved his hand airily. “I was attacked, not bitten. Perhaps your skull is too thick to tell the difference between the two.”
Stone’s face went white with fury.
“Tell me,” he hissed, “who had to save you? A werewolf is a formidable enemy, and we all know you don’t have the skill to take one on!”
Draco relaxed. He was used to jealousy, even from the children of other Death Eaters. Stone was no different than anyone else.
“Stone, I don’t have time for your pettiness,” he said, remembering Ginny’s words to him. “You aren’t worth a dog’s attention, much less my own. Please do the rest of us a favor and dig in someone else’s closet for bones!”
Crabbe and Goyle snickered, while Pansy let out a high pitched titter. Jared’s hand began to twitch.
“Careful Stone,” Draco said mildly, “there are teachers here today, and not a few Aurors. Attacking me would look very bad for you…and your family.”
Draco’s eyes locked with Stone’s, and once again Stone backed down. But he wasn’t finished.
“I hear they have the creature locked in a shed and that Dumbledore’s going to attempt to question it.” Stone’s eyes glittered with malice. “It will be interesting to discover why it didn’t kill you, Malfoy!”
And with that he swept off, leaving Draco to stare after his retreating back and wonder if the whole world was going to shit.
****************
Harry watched curiously as Jared Stone walked out of the pub, Malfoy sneering at his retreating figure. He wondered what had passed between them and if it had anything to do with the attack on the school. He knew they’d been talking about the werewolf, because Stone’s parting shot had been audible even from their table. What exactly did Stone, or Malfoy, know?
The ideal person to ask was Ginny, but she was wearing an almost dangerous expression on her face at the moment. Two years of living with the Weasleys had taught Harry that Ginny was a lot like her mother. Sweet, kind, gentle, loving, but with a temper that would frighten trolls! He’d been on the receiving end of her wrath a few times, crush or no. It wasn’t pleasant, and he tried to avoid it at all cost. He’d ask her later, once she got over whatever was bothering her.
He thought about the moment he’d seen Ginny come in The Three Broomsticks earlier that afternoon, allowing his surprise at her beauty to wash over him again. He supposed he shouldn’t be so astonished, seeing that she was sixteen now and growing into a woman. Still, she’d been like a sister to him for years. Her crush had sometimes discomfited him, and he knew he should have spoken to her about it before. But what in the world could he have said that wouldn’t have sounded mean and insulting?
I’m sorry Ginny, but I’m in love already…Oh yes, that would have gone over nicely! Ginny, you’re a wonderful person, but I just don’t love you.
No matter how he phrased it, he sounded insensitive and condescending. She didn’t need that. What else could he have done?
He sneaked a glance at her again. She and Susan had their heads together, and Susan was whispering something funny judging from the smile Ginny was trying to hold back. He was sorry that he’d ever pained her, but really, was he responsible? He thought of the words he’d overheard Ginny and Susan saying only a few days before. He’d gone to check the entrance to the Whomping Willow and set some supplies on the inside of it. On his way back, he’d seen Ginny and Susan sitting near the lake, right in the direction he’d been heading. He hadn’t wanted to be seen, lest they should ask him what he was up to. So he’d decided to sneak past them, and had unfortunately heard everything they’d said about him and Cho and Ginny’s feelings. He’d felt horrible, more so because he’d been eavesdropping on a private conversation and had heard things he really hadn’t wanted to. As soon as he could, he’d peeled off from behind the tree and headed for the castle to think. No matter how hard he’d thought it over, however, he hadn’t seen what else he could have done.
Maybe what was really bothering him was the fact that he was the bad guy in this little love scenario and he just couldn’t stand the idea. He felt a flash of irritation at the thought, but couldn’t deny its merit. He hadn’t asked to be her dream boy, but neither had he done anything to squelch her ideas about him. He looked over at Ron, wondering if he’d ever noticed or thought ill of him because of it. If he had, he’d never said anything about it, seeming to prefer to let the situation handle itself. For this, Harry was profoundly grateful.
He checked his watch. Four o’clock. Looking out one of the windows, he noticed thick, heavy clouds moving in. Snow perhaps? It was time to get back to the castle. He looked around the table and said as much, clasping Cho’s hand as he stood. He caught Ron’s eye as everyone shuffled around for their scarves and cloaks, and nodded slightly. Ron understood immediately and silently communicated the same message to Hermione, who caught his eye and inclined her head in Malfoy’s direction. Ron responded with a shrug. There would be time enough to discuss this once they returned to Hogwarts. As soon as they returned to the castle, they would have to set about getting to the shed. Lupin would be there; indeed, he was probably already there. They’d see him soon, and hopefully find out why everything had gone so horribly wrong with their plan.
“Hey Harry, we’ll see you at dinner. I want to take Susan to Mr. Bandine’s,” Seamus told him as he helped Susan into her cloak. Harry nodded and smiled, knowing that Susan was probably about to get the surprise of her life. Bandine’s was the finest maker of enchanted necklaces, rings, and various other jewelry in Hogsmeade. Ginny gasped and hugged Susan, who was beaming, as soon as Seamus let her go. Hmmm, maybe Susan wouldn’t be surprised after all!
Once outside, Seamus and Susan headed off to the jeweler’s and the rest of the party trooped back to Hogwarts. Ron fell back to walk next to Hermione, and she smiled almost shyly at him. Harry fervently hoped that Hermione’s new appearance would be Ron’s impetus to finally resolve his unspoken feelings for her. He didn’t think he could take much more of his friend’s angry, yet clueless, jealousy whenever another guy at school paid Hermione any attention. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Cho smiling at him.
“Where are you?” she laughed softly. “You seem miles away!”
He laughed too and kissed her gently. “I’m sorry, just thinking about stuff. I haven’t studied for that test on Monday; I’m going to have to get cracking once we get back.”
Cho nodded, saying nothing. He felt bad about the lie but he, Ron, and Hermione had to get to the shed and see that werewolf. They had agreed that the Wolfsbane would be in full effect by that evening, so entering would be relatively safe. Harry still couldn’t understand what had gone wrong. The three of them had made it down to the Whomping Willow to meet Lupin and a friend of his, also a werewolf. They had waited for an hour in the chilly air, and Harry vividly recalled his unease as the time for the meeting had passed, and neither Lupin nor anyone else had arrived. Then they’d heard that chilling howl from the forest, followed moments later by Lupin in wolf--tamer than he would usually have been because of the Wolfsbane Potion--form clambering over to them. He’d been alone, and had whined and whuffed desperately. Harry had taken this to mean that his friend’s absence was a bad thing, and they set about trying to track him down.
They had only searched for a short time, however, when that terrifying howl had come floating down the wind from the castle itself. Flinging aside caution , the four of them had dashed back to find Hagrid and Professor Dumbledore guiding a floating stretcher to a sturdy shed outside of Hagrid’s house. Dumbledore had sent Lupin directly to his office, telling him that McGonagall would be waiting there to let him in. Then they had heard the news about Ginny and Draco. Harry had almost been sick, and was hardly calmed by finding out that Ginny was “just fine”. Draco’s condition, however, had been a different story. Harry had been rather disappointed to learn that Ginny had actually saved him from the wolf. If it had been me, he thought, I’d have let the stupid git take his chances while I went for help. The thought almost made him chortle, even as he recognized its untruth. He might think of, and wish for, all sorts of horrible fates to await Malfoy, but in Ginny’s place he would have done exactly the same. He thought of Cedric, and of the echo he had heard of his parents whenever he had been near a Dementor. He was too well acquainted with death to truly wish it on anyone. Though, if ever there was a person who deserved such a fate, it was Malfoy. It still made Harry’s hackles rise when he remembered how callously he’d spoken of Cedric’s death, and how gleeful he’d been about the Dark Lord’s return.
Instead of wishing death on Malfoy, Harry thought, perhaps he should wish on him a chronic case of genital itching. Or, better yet, life with the not so lovely Pansy Parkinson. He was half way to that one already, and Harry almost felt sorry for the moron. Almost.
****************
“Draco, you really need a haircut,” Pansy was saying, fingering the growth of silver blond hair that was touching his collar as they entered the Slytherin common room.
That did it!
“Pansy, you really need to swallow super glue!”
Ha! That had felt extremely good! Draco swept away from Pansy and almost ran up the stairs to his dorm, leaving her standing open-mouthed and stiff with anger. An almost perfect end to an almost disastrous day! The only thing he needed now was sleep, glorious sleep. Every muscle in his body ached and his eyes felt like burning coals. He looked forward to sliding into bed with an appreciation he’d only ever felt after Quidditch practice. As he reached the top of the stairs, he approached a group of girls in deep conversation. One of them was Frieda Lawson, the Superior Slytherfemme. He smirked slightly at her back, wondering what diabolical conspiracies she was imagining now. Get a life, Lawson! He thought wryly.
As he moved closer, he began to hear snatches of their conversation.
“…the Headmaster is going to question it, and soon! He’ll probably try tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest,” Frieda was saying.
“Why does this concern you, Frieda?” Judy, another seventh year femme, asked.
“Because, idiot, it might know everything! It might even have been behind the attack!” Frieda snapped. “Who knows what it might reveal! And before you tell me that my theory is ridiculous, allow me to remind you of a potion called Wolfsbane.”
Draco had stopped walking. He was just close enough to hear the conversation but not be seen, as the girls stood with their backs to him.
“Frieda, this is all very interesting, but what’s it got to do with anything?” Judy asked irritably, obviously offended at being called an idiot. Frieda turned her head towards Judy and laughed softly.
“Don’t you see? The creature somehow gets inside the castle and makes straight for the son of Voldemort’s biggest supporter. And it happens on the heels of a mysterious explosion that could be construed as an attack on Harry Potter! Doesn’t that strike you as odd, an attack on Potter and Malfoy in the same day?”
“Wait, why would anyone think the explosion was aimed at Potter?” another girl asked. “He was outside, no where near the library or the Transfiguration classroom, or the corridor! And the explosion happened in a storage room!”
Frieda looked up. “No, he wasn’t there when the explosion went off. But he’d been in McGonagall’s classroom only ten minutes before, and the explosion was right next door!”
The girl who had asked the question nodded her head, but Judy frowned. “All of this is a bit of a stretch, Frieda. I’m not convinced you’re right. Draco wasn’t hurt, after all.”
Frieda sighed with exasperation and began moving down the hallway towards the door that led to the girls’ dorms. “That’s because you lack imagination, my dear. Someone else is trying to elbow their way in, I’m sure of it! I don’t know why Malfoy wasn’t hurt, but if I were him, or Potter, I’d watch my back!”
Judy made a face at Frieda’s turned head as the group disappeared through the door, leaving Draco to ponder what he’d just heard. Someone else was trying to elbow their way in? That made no sense! Frieda had always been rather melodramatic, but her statement gave Draco pause. He walked slowly to his dorm, recalling the explosion and the attack by the werewolf. On the issue of the explosion, Frieda was right. The room right next to McGonagall’s had been the one attacked. Draco pondered what this might mean as he reached his room and began to undress, picking up his discarded nightclothes from the floor as he did so. All right, he thought, the explosion came close on Potter’s heels, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was meant for him. The attack had been poorly timed, if Potter had been the target, and why set off the explosion in an empty room? Draco was no expert on explosives, but it hadn’t seemed to be a very big one. In fact, he had spoken briefly to a Slytherin who’d been in McGonagall’s class when it had gone off. Other than feeling the concussion and hearing a boom – not to mention being scared out of her wits -- no real harm had been done. It hadn’t even penetrated the wall. Not an effective attack at all, so that must not have been its purpose. What had been the purpose, then? To frighten? Yes, it had definitely frightened everyone, and caused the cancellation of classes and the Halloween party that night. But visits to Hogsmeade had still been permitted, which meant that Dumbledore was no longer worried for the students’ safety. Why? Just because he’d captured a werewolf didn’t mean he had a suspect, did it? The two events might not even be related.
Draco stared out his window, watching as the darkening sky began to release clouds of snowflakes. Perhaps they’d concluded that it had been an accident. This seemed more plausible than Dumbledore suspecting a werewolf of planting an explosive. But the headmaster was a sly one, and it was wise not to underestimate him. The fact that they’d been allowed out of the school might have hidden other motives, such as an extended investigation or the implementation of safeguards to make sure another attack wouldn’t hurt anyone. The first and second years had been restricted to their common rooms, after all, so they would have been relatively safe from harm. But if the attack had been meant as a weapon of fear, then had the actions of the headmaster been meant to thwart that fear? And what of the werewolf? How had it gotten into the castle? Frieda might have a point in thinking someone had deliberately let it in. It wouldn’t be the first time: Draco clearly remembered the troll that Professor Quirrell had let into the school during his first year at Hogwarts. But if that was the case, why send it after him? Or had it been allowed in to make random attacks and Draco had simply crossed its path by coincidence?
He remembered seeing the creature enter the tower. It had been sniffing the ground intently, walking right to the spot where he had been sitting before hearing the creature’s approach. That didn’t necessarily mean it had been looking for him, but it didn’t erase Draco’s sudden unease either. Come to think of it, he had been near the explosion site. And if he hadn’t stopped to insult Ginny Weasley, he would have gone right by that room on his way to…
On his way to Ancient Runes, a class which was also down that wing of the castle!
Hold on, Draco told himself, get a grip! The timing would have been too perfect then, wouldn’t it? Catching him while he was walking by that particular room would require precise timing on the part of the bomb maker. And again, would he have been hurt? He would have, but not badly. The classroom was almost at the end of the corridor, with Filch’s broom closet in between it and the explosion. Again, the motive would have been to frighten. But why, and who would go to all that trouble? Potter? No, he was far too noble and self sacrificing to hurt anyone in that manner, even his most hated enemy. Weasley? That thought was too hilarious to contemplate, as the idiot was too wrapped up in Dungbombs and attempting to actually pass his classes to plot something so intricate. Granger? She was definitely clever enough, but Gryffindor honor would prevent her from being so artful. Draco knew he had plenty of enemies besides those three. But he couldn’t think of anyone, not even Stone, who would actually go so far.
He suddenly felt dizzy with exhaustion and pondering these questions. The headmaster could handle this without anyone’s help. Besides, if someone was really after him, an owl to his father would take care of the problem!
Draco threw his nightclothes into his trunk and climbed into bed wearing only his underwear. His chest was hurting again and he was tired. He hoped the blissful forgetfulness of sleep would help to erase the memory of the past two days. As he drifted off, he allowed a vision of Ginny Weasley to steal through his mind. She was beautiful in curls, just beautiful!
****************
Dumbledore stared down at the young woman who was shivering slightly as she adjusted her borrowed robes. Remus Lupin took her hand and whispered quietly to her. She nodded her head and squeezed his hand. “I’m all right, Remus.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” the headmaster said gravely, “but I’m sure you’ll understand my desire to question both of you.”
The woman raised her eyes to Dumbledore’s. They were a strange color, a cross between brown and green, like an overripe fruit going bad. Her hair was short and brown, framing a heart shaped face. There were shadows under her eyes, cuts and bruises around her mouth, and her complexion was very pale. She stared back at the Headmaster with a weary expression, but nodded her head.
“All right,” he smiled slightly. “First, what went wrong?”
“That’s my fault, Albus,” Remus said apologetically. “I didn’t pick up enough of the potion from my connection in Romania. I assumed we’d only be there for a short time, and then back here before the new term started. But the delays I mentioned --” Here he shot a dark look at Professor Snape, who was watching the proceedings from a far corner -- “prevented us from returning as soon as I’d hoped. We had precious little potion to split between us, and it wasn’t enough for us both.”
“And yet curiously,” Snape’s voice drifted coldly over to the pair, “you remained unaffected by the dementia, Lupin. I find that very interesting!”
“Perhaps I just had enough of the potion in me to keep control. It’s not like it wasn’t a close thing, you know. I was experiencing a lot of the urges that come with the transformation. And Elizabeth is still new to this. She doesn’t have a lot of control over herself yet.”
“Please!” the woman called Elizabeth protested quietly, putting a restraining hand on Lupin’s shoulder.
“Yes, I would prefer this not disintegrate into another of your schoolboy fights,” Dumbledore agreed, looking sagely at Remus, then Severus.
“I would like to address the delays that prevented you from making a timely return, Remus.” Snape’s mouth opened to protest, but the headmaster held up a hand to stop him. “But alas, that must wait. My immediate concern is for my students and faculty. Many are already on edge because of the explosion, and we know it was deliberately set. But we are no closer to explaining why, or who, the target was.”
“Draco Malfoy,” Remus answered immediately. “The information that we’ve been gathering-“
“Is inconclusive, Remus, and you know it!” Elizabeth interrupted, making all three men turn to her in surprise.
“Why would anyone want to kill Malfoy? His family is well connected in important circles, and I can say with absolute certainty that many people have every reason to keep the Malfoys safe!” Snape argued, obviously taken aback by the suggestion that his favorite student was a target.
“I was as surprised as you,” Remus said slowly. “And Elizabeth is right, we aren’t absolutely certain that Malfoy is the target. We only know that the intended victim is a student here, a well connected student from an influential family.”
“Do you know why?” Dumbledore asked.
Remus turned to Elizabeth, who nodded and spoke. “We have been gathering information for months, sir. We went straight to Romania after your last owl informed us of the Lestranges’ presence there. We found out that they were once again attempting to form a concrete alliance with the Vampire Nation.”
“They won’t succeed,” Snape drawled. “The ruling body is too concerned with maintaining its ties to the various Ministries. The majority of them hold their personal honor dearer than what Voldemort can offer them.”
“Yes, we had an informant tell us the same,” Lupin replied. “But our informant also warned us that some in the lower council are not against an alliance, and if Voldemort had control of the world, it would give them the freedom to kill when and where they pleased.”
“And if that was all that defined a vampire’s existence, I would be more concerned. Happily, it is not,” Dumbledore said. “They are wild and dangerous creatures, to be sure. But they are still part human, and not completely soulless. .”
“But to kill is still their primary instinct, professor,” Remus said quietly. “Many vampires are attracted to the idea of joining with Voldemort. Many rogues already have.”
“True, Remus. But it might also be said that to kill is a werewolf’s primary instinct, yet there are a few I trust,” Dumbledore replied, blue eyes twinkling. Remus smiled ruefully at this.
“Headmaster,” Snape cut in, “what of my student?”
Elizabeth straightened and continued. “Once we’d concluded that the danger had passed, Remus and I returned to our room and packed. We had plans to make a stop in Germany and follow up on a rumor of Voldemort’s presence there. Before we could leave, however, we were attacked by three wizards. We were able to fight them off, but we had to flee quickly because we could see more flying in on a magic carpet. We apparated to the home of our informant, and he was able to arrange Muggle transport to Germany.” She smiled here. “It was my first time on an arrow-plane.”
Snape snorted impatiently here, and Elizabeth hastily continued. “We arrived safely and set about contacting several of my informants. That’s when we started hearing a rumor that Voldemort was searching for a security breach in his own circle.”
This made Snape start. But Dumbledore calmly urged Elizabeth to continue.
Remus, instead, began to speak. “Apparently, we are doing our jobs too well since we’ve managed to foil several of the Dark Lord’s attempts at an outright take over, and are impeding many of the alliances he’s trying to forge. Sirius owled me once we reached Germany and told me that he’d heard the same rumors on his end. The difference is that the source of the leaks seemed to be known to Voldemort, or at least suspected. There was also a rumor about a young man, a pure-blood of influential family, who is said to be the spy’s weak spot. Word has it that this young man is a Hogwarts student.”
Snape scowled. “That’s hardly conclusive!”
“That is what I said,” Elizabeth replied gently. “We can’t simply make assumptions.”
“Then why did you go looking for him?” Remus asked her quietly.
“The dementia was clouding what little reason I had!” Elizabeth replied tensely. “I don’t really remember why I did it. And it’s a good thing he escaped me when he did!”
Remus took her hand again, while Snape began to pace the small room. Dumbledore remained silent, deep in thought, his expression almost unreadable.
“Severus,” he said after a moment, “please go to Professor McGonagall and inform her of what we’ve learned. I think we’ve finished for now. I’ll follow along in a moment.”
Snape opened his mouth to protest, but seemed to change his mind. With a curt nod to Dumbledore, he left.
Once he was gone, the headmaster turned to Lupin and smiled. “Now am I right, Remus, in guessing that Mr. Potter and his friends have been to see you?”
Lupin smiled ruefully and nodded. Elizabeth also smiled and said, “He’s a remarkably strong boy, and very determined. I understand now why he’s eluded Voldemort’s grasp!”
“He’s worried, of course,” Remus added. “He thinks he might be a danger to his fellow students again and he’s desperate to stay on top of things.”
“I hope you convinced him that he’s better off here than chasing after demons?” Dumbledore asked with a chuckle.
“Yes. I didn’t tell him everything, of course, but I managed to convince him that things are too disjointed at the moment to be sure about anything.”
“And I apologized to Mr. Weasley,” Elizabeth said quietly, “for putting his young sister in danger.”
“I’m certain he accepted it,” Dumbledore said. “I have never known Mr. Weasley to hold a grudge for very long against anyone who has apologized.”
The headmaster straightened. “And now I will leave you. I must go and look for some information before I speak to you again.”
“Albus,” Remus said suddenly, “I’m sure it’s Draco Malfoy they’re after! Who else could be considered a spy’s weak spot? They must know Severus is feeding you information, and they’ve decided to strike against him.”
“Remus, it isn’t that simple. Severus is not in direct contact with any of the Death Eaters any longer because Lord Voldemort suspected him from the beginning. He has a very good network of spies and informants, however, so I agree that I cannot discount your theory. But I would like to look at all sides of the problem first.”
“Do you know of anyone else who could be considered a traitor in need of punishment?” Elizabeth asked curiously.
“There are many who have been feeding information to various sources behind the Dark Lord’s back. Not all are pleased with the way things are going!” Dumbledore said simply, walking out the door.
Still, he needed her at the moment. He’d run into her and Millicent Bulstrode as they were all leaving the common room. He had a nasty feeling she’d been waiting for him, so he could accompany them. Pansy was clever when she needed to be, especially when it came to her goal of snagging Draco Malfoy as her husband. But it had helped to be seen with her. Several Slytherins had commenced to murmuring when he’d appeared in the common room. A few had even laughed openly. But this had quieted as he looked about coldly, giving off his air of icy composure and hidden, steely resolve. He was wearing his Slytherin scarf, so the bite marks were not visible. That hadn’t stopped questions from coming at him from several students they’d passed. And the questions had continued from housemates he’d run into. He’d answered coldly that yes, he’d been attacked, but no, he hadn’t been bitten. Crabbe and Goyle had simply nodded in agreement. And this had worked out fine: everyone knew they wouldn’t lie about it, but asking them to explain would be like asking a two year old to point out the constellations.
Being seen about with Pansy Parkinson was normal. It was expected. So he endured it, and felt relief when his housemates walked up to him to talk more and more frequently. He even got greetings from students in other houses, which he’d acknowledge with a nod of his silver-blond head. That was unusual, of them and of him. But he was too tired to be Malfoy the Bastard today. It was all he could do to maintain Malfoy the Magnificent.
“Oh Draco, let’s go to Gladrags! I need a new dress! And I could show you that wonderful black shirt, with the silver buttons I was telling you about!” Pansy squealed, once again knocking his thoughts off track.
“Don’t you have enough dresses?” he asked coldly. But Pansy didn’t notice, and began to tug him towards the shop. He was SO not in the mood to try anything on! He allowed himself to be dragged there anyway, as an argument with her would only ruin the day’s work and drain what little strength he had left.
The inside of the shop was crowded with other students, mostly girls from the various houses, though there were witches on holiday as well. A trip to Gladrags was always at the top of their to-do lists. Draco pulled away from Pansy as she and Millicent, who didn’t look any happier about being there than he was, began to flit around the shop.
Draco went to a small corner containing racks of leather cloaks and full length coats. One was a very nice full length trench coat, with a double breasted, four button front, nice deep pockets for hiding stuff, and a zip out fur lining. It looked rather macho, and Draco grinned. He suddenly remembered a picture he’d seen of a man on a motorcycle in a Muggle magazine. He’d actually been admiring it until his mother had snatched the magazine out of his hands and had had one of the butlers throw it away. She’d lectured him for an hour about “that unseemly Muggle garbage”, and her eyes had been darting around fearfully. Draco had later understood that his father might have found out and there would have been hell to pay. After all, there was always hell to pay when Draco did something wrong.
His eyes were strangely unfocused as he thought of this, several memories suddenly rising up at once. Draco had failed to fly his broomstick the way his father had shown him to the first time, and he’d been slapped across the face. Then there was the summer holiday after his second year at Hogwarts, when he’d failed to help Slytherin defeat Gryffindor. Draco had endured a whole summer of acidic remarks, and comparisons to Mudbloods and, worse, Muggles.
“Perhaps you should consider that Hermione Granger as a future wife. You’ve sunk beneath even her level, but you could raise her fortunes nicely, so I’m sure she could be prevailed upon to have you…We’re having some new business associates over for dinner, try not to call to much attention to our blood ties. I want to make a favorable impression…”
Lucius always had a snide insult, always comparing him to another student or an associate’s child. Never a kind word, unless it was to bribe him into doing something. But Draco had learned to get what he wanted with loud tantrums and stubborn demands. It increased his father’s willingness to shut him up by any means necessary. Once again, Draco felt his face tighten and his stomach clench. At least his father would look at him then…
What I felt, what I’ve known
Never shined through in what I’ve shown
Never be, never see
Won’t see what might have been
What I felt, all I’ve known
Never shined through in what I’ve shown
Never see, never me
So I dub thee Unforgiven….
Draco listened, wondering if the music was in his mind, or outside of him. He closed his eyes, seeing Lucius Malfoy before him in a rare moment of happiness. That is, until he remembered why…
“Well boy, you made it! I’ve got your letter for Hogwarts right here. The way you’ve been ruining your spells recently, I’d begun to wonder if I’d produced a defective heir…”
“May I help you sir?” A young sales wizard suddenly appeared at his elbow, smiling brightly.
Draco didn’t look at him, didn’t change expression, and didn’t even blink. “I’ll take this. Have it delivered to Hogwarts School, to Draco Malfoy of Slytherin House.”
The sales wizard was only too happy to help. Once they ascertained that it fit him, the transaction was quickly concluded, to the tune of two hundred and fifty galleons. Not very expensive, Draco thought absently. He turned to see Pansy sidling up to him.
“Draco! Did you buy me something?” She smiled eagerly.
“No,” he replied blandly. Her expression fell slightly, but she recovered almost immediately.
“I just bought a new dress, perhaps I can show it to you?”
Draco looked at her, his patience with her at an end. “I’m thirsty. Let’s get a drink.”
He didn’t stop to see Pansy’s expression, or to note if anyone else agreed. He simply walked out. Bastard mode was hitting, which meant everything was normal. The tapping of several feet hurrying to catch up with him confirmed this, and he smirked in a very satisfied way.
****************
“I’m serious Ginny, you’re beautiful!” Susan gushed as they walked in the cold autumn air towards the Three Broomsticks. “I think everyone’s going to faint!”
“All right Susan, I believe you!” Ginny laughed. Her hair had been done into lovely spiral curls and, as Hermione suggested, pulled up in a knot to spill down her back. They fluttered delicately, glossy and sleek. They had all had a make-over, and Ginny in particular was really feeling confident and pretty. She looked admiringly at Hermione who looked lovely, her eyes darkened slightly and her lips touched with a warm rose color. Susan positively glowed: the shades of blue upon her lids made her eyes seem very large and bright, and the subtle pink shades that dusted her cheeks and lips gave them a pleasing shape. They all were looking forward to showing off their new looks, however temporary they might be, and walked quickly to Madam Rosmerta’s place.
Walking inside, they received a lot of stares from other students. Parvati Patil and her sister were sitting nearest the door, with two Ravenclaw boys. All four jaws dropped. Hermione was irritated, and reminded of the unflattering stares the other girls had given her at the Yule Ball in their fourth year.
“Be careful,” she said acidly, “insects might fly right into your mouths!”
Susan sniggered and they walked on in, spotting Ron and Harry waving at them. As they approached the table, the boys’ jaws dropped as well. Ron, in particular, seemed stunned, and he stared exclusively at Hermione. Seamus hugged and kissed Susan, telling her she looked beautiful. Ginny smiled at that, and then turned to Harry. He was smiling at her in a dazed sort of way.
“Wow!” he said, “You look wonderful!”
Cho, who was sitting next to him, smiled warmly too. “I always knew you’d look great in curls! Susan’s always said so.”
“Thank you.” Ginny blushed, feeling more magnanimous towards Cho. She was still feeling that empty ache, but she was determined not to let it ruin what was left of the day.
“Ginny!” Ron exclaimed, “Why are you wearing make up?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, let’s see. Because she’s sixteen and it’s allowed?”
Ron frowned. “You didn’t wear make up at sixteen,” he pointed out.
“No, I was fifteen. When Viktor Krum asked me to the Ball, remember?” Hermione replied. Ron shut up.
“Well,” Harry said lightly, changing the subject, “you had fun then? Did you see anyone?”
Hermione replied that they hadn’t, and Susan asked if they had seen Rita Dorn, the Ravenclaw Prefect, as she knew she would love to see the array of supplies at the beauty store. Talk then turned to more general subjects, as a waitress came and took their orders. Butterbeer and a cup of soup for Ron, who was feeling a bit hungry. She listened to the chatter as she waited for her drink. Ron, of course, had also made a stop at Fred and George’s joke shop, Wacky Clandestine, which was doing extremely well. He’d loaded up on Dungbombs, which were still his favorite gag, and also bought Exploding Snaps. When her drink arrived, Ginny sipped it thoughtfully. Harry was joining in the general conversation but he seemed to look at her far more than usual. Instead of feeling happy, she felt confusion squeezing in the pit of her stomach. It was only a few looks, after all. His hand was still tightly laced through Cho’s and he seemed more surprised than anything. She knew that continuing to pine was ridiculous, but she saw him every day. And while she felt that her feelings were finally lessening, her attention was still caught by him very easily. What did it all mean? She wondered if she would ever be free of these emotions that continued to come out of nowhere and disturb her piece of mind.
An image of Draco flashed unbidden into her mind, making her freeze. She could see him clearly, hear his voice low and cool in her ears. She remembered him at his worst, his cold, gray eyes almost empty of life, his thin mouth curled in a sneer. Then she recalled his appearance the night before, his hair falling into his face as he looked at her with deep fascination, pale cheeks flushed, and his expression soft and almost warm. Then there was the terror that had invaded his being, visible on his face as they were propelled to the infirmary by Snape. So many different emotions had come over him, emotions she had never seen in him and had not imagined he could feel. The scene in the library came flooding back, when they had stared each other down. Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered how he’d seemed to reach out to her, almost as if he wanted to push past the barrier between them and….
And what? This was ridiculous. She shook herself and tried to attend to the conversation, just in time to hear Seamus growl:
“Speak of the devil!”
Ginny blinked, turning towards the door. Draco Malfoy was walking in, Pansy Parkinson on his arm. They were closely followed by Crabbe, Goyle, and Bulstrode.
“Well, here’s a group that ought to be penciled in for a visit from the Angel of Death!” Ron quipped, causing Seamus and Harry to snigger. Hermione dismissed them, and was turning back to the table when Ginny caught her attention. She was sitting straight in her chair, looking over at Draco with a very angry expression. Puzzled, Hermione looked again. Draco was settling at a large table, looking bored and a tad restless. Everyone sat down, and Pansy immediately began to hang on Draco with her eager smiles and, doubtless, annoying chatter. A look back at Ginny startled Hermione. Her expression had gone from angry to enraged.
She touched Ginny’s hand, startling her. Hermione silently inclined her head towards Malfoy’s group, her eyes enquiring. Ginny smiled with nervous embarrassment and took a hasty drink of her Butterbeer. Then she leaned towards Hermione to whisper, and noticed Susan leaning with her. She looked at her friend, realizing that she had noticed her odd behavior too. Oh, for the love of Merlin!
“Sorry,” she whispered to them both, “I just hate…that Pansy. She uses him, you know.” It was the only excuse she could think of.
“He uses her back, so what?” Susan whispered. “You said yourself he was a bastard to you, after you saved his life and all!”
“Susan, you know perfectly well that saving someone’s life makes you feel a tad obligated to them,” Hermione whispered soothingly. She smiled encouragingly at Ginny. “Ginny has a right to express her opinion, and I’m sure the obligation aspect is temporary.”
Ginny smiled back, feeling stupid and oddly guilty. Why should she feel guilty? She hadn’t lied exactly, she did hate Pansy Parkinson! Hated the way she dressed, hated the way she talked, hated the way she was hanging all over Draco. She was an obvious, gold digging, status hungry slut! Ginny could not believe Draco was unable to see right through her!
What in the world was she thinking! I don’t care, it’s his life! She shook herself and tried to steady her suddenly trembling hands. Draco Malfoy was a cold hearted, evil bastard. He deserved Pansy, as she deserved him. Ginny resolutely took a healthy swig from her bottle and ordered another, hoping that if Pansy married him he would suddenly discover that she was really a man in drag!
Draco was looking idly about the Pub, letting Pansy and Millicent fill the silence with their chatter and allowing Pansy to put her arms around him. It was necessary, for now. He just wanted to make sure they were seen everywhere, in case anyone still had any doubts. Nothing soothes doubt better than seeing exactly what you expect to see. He hadn’t allowed this privilege to Pansy for awhile, as it usually put her voice right in his ear and that annoyed him to no end. But this trip would soon be over. One drink and they were going back to Hogwarts. He’d made his point, he was perfectly fine. He couldn’t wait to leave and get back to his bed.
As his eyes roamed the Pub, he spotted Potter and his group. They all seemed really happy with each other, talking and laughing. He never had much of a chance to do that, certainly not with his brilliant friends Crabbe and Goyle. Then he saw Ginny, did a double take, and stared. Her hair… she’d done something with her hair. Now it streamed in loose ringlets down her back, catching the light of the fire and giving off its own glow. She turned to Hermione, and he saw her face was made up very nicely too. Her eyes, already big and lovely, seemed more beautiful than ever, the light blush on her cheeks adding a glow to her complexion which was enhanced by the soft shade of her lips. So red, a lovely cool red, like holly berries. Soft and pouty, tasting of honey and Butterbeer…
Draco felt his heart beat faster, and found himself wanting to walk over and kiss her. Kiss those soft, berry lips and taste the warmth of her mouth. He felt himself grow warm, his skin burned and his stomach began to flutter. What’s happening to me? He wondered distractedly. What am I feeling?
“Good afternoon, Draco!” A soft, cold voice suddenly sliced through his heady desires. Draco started, looking up to find Stone sneering down at him.
Draco felt anger coursing through him, but his expression cleared in an instant as he leaned lazily back in his chair to regard Stone. Pansy removed herself from Draco, suddenly looking tense. Crabbe and Goyle started to stand, but with a gesture Draco stopped them, and they resumed their seats.
“Hello Jared,” he drawled. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Though Stone was smiling, Draco could tell he wasn’t pleased. The rumors he’d started had fizzled out and now here Malfoy was, looking in excellent health and frightened of nothing. He was angry and wanted to get back at Malfoy somehow. Draco kept his eyes trained on Jared, but didn’t discount the little band of thugs behind him: three fifth years whose names Draco tended to forget. Crabbe and Goyle could flatten them -- they had before -- but it wasn’t as easy as it usually was. They were big and burly themselves. Just not as big as Draco’s friends.
“I guess the Potion Master lied then? You weren’t bitten by a werewolf?” Stone began nastily. Draco’s eyes narrowed.
“I truly doubt those were the Potion Master’s words.” He waved his hand airily. “I was attacked, not bitten. Perhaps your skull is too thick to tell the difference between the two.”
Stone’s face went white with fury.
“Tell me,” he hissed, “who had to save you? A werewolf is a formidable enemy, and we all know you don’t have the skill to take one on!”
Draco relaxed. He was used to jealousy, even from the children of other Death Eaters. Stone was no different than anyone else.
“Stone, I don’t have time for your pettiness,” he said, remembering Ginny’s words to him. “You aren’t worth a dog’s attention, much less my own. Please do the rest of us a favor and dig in someone else’s closet for bones!”
Crabbe and Goyle snickered, while Pansy let out a high pitched titter. Jared’s hand began to twitch.
“Careful Stone,” Draco said mildly, “there are teachers here today, and not a few Aurors. Attacking me would look very bad for you…and your family.”
Draco’s eyes locked with Stone’s, and once again Stone backed down. But he wasn’t finished.
“I hear they have the creature locked in a shed and that Dumbledore’s going to attempt to question it.” Stone’s eyes glittered with malice. “It will be interesting to discover why it didn’t kill you, Malfoy!”
And with that he swept off, leaving Draco to stare after his retreating back and wonder if the whole world was going to shit.
****************
Harry watched curiously as Jared Stone walked out of the pub, Malfoy sneering at his retreating figure. He wondered what had passed between them and if it had anything to do with the attack on the school. He knew they’d been talking about the werewolf, because Stone’s parting shot had been audible even from their table. What exactly did Stone, or Malfoy, know?
The ideal person to ask was Ginny, but she was wearing an almost dangerous expression on her face at the moment. Two years of living with the Weasleys had taught Harry that Ginny was a lot like her mother. Sweet, kind, gentle, loving, but with a temper that would frighten trolls! He’d been on the receiving end of her wrath a few times, crush or no. It wasn’t pleasant, and he tried to avoid it at all cost. He’d ask her later, once she got over whatever was bothering her.
He thought about the moment he’d seen Ginny come in The Three Broomsticks earlier that afternoon, allowing his surprise at her beauty to wash over him again. He supposed he shouldn’t be so astonished, seeing that she was sixteen now and growing into a woman. Still, she’d been like a sister to him for years. Her crush had sometimes discomfited him, and he knew he should have spoken to her about it before. But what in the world could he have said that wouldn’t have sounded mean and insulting?
I’m sorry Ginny, but I’m in love already…Oh yes, that would have gone over nicely! Ginny, you’re a wonderful person, but I just don’t love you.
No matter how he phrased it, he sounded insensitive and condescending. She didn’t need that. What else could he have done?
He sneaked a glance at her again. She and Susan had their heads together, and Susan was whispering something funny judging from the smile Ginny was trying to hold back. He was sorry that he’d ever pained her, but really, was he responsible? He thought of the words he’d overheard Ginny and Susan saying only a few days before. He’d gone to check the entrance to the Whomping Willow and set some supplies on the inside of it. On his way back, he’d seen Ginny and Susan sitting near the lake, right in the direction he’d been heading. He hadn’t wanted to be seen, lest they should ask him what he was up to. So he’d decided to sneak past them, and had unfortunately heard everything they’d said about him and Cho and Ginny’s feelings. He’d felt horrible, more so because he’d been eavesdropping on a private conversation and had heard things he really hadn’t wanted to. As soon as he could, he’d peeled off from behind the tree and headed for the castle to think. No matter how hard he’d thought it over, however, he hadn’t seen what else he could have done.
Maybe what was really bothering him was the fact that he was the bad guy in this little love scenario and he just couldn’t stand the idea. He felt a flash of irritation at the thought, but couldn’t deny its merit. He hadn’t asked to be her dream boy, but neither had he done anything to squelch her ideas about him. He looked over at Ron, wondering if he’d ever noticed or thought ill of him because of it. If he had, he’d never said anything about it, seeming to prefer to let the situation handle itself. For this, Harry was profoundly grateful.
He checked his watch. Four o’clock. Looking out one of the windows, he noticed thick, heavy clouds moving in. Snow perhaps? It was time to get back to the castle. He looked around the table and said as much, clasping Cho’s hand as he stood. He caught Ron’s eye as everyone shuffled around for their scarves and cloaks, and nodded slightly. Ron understood immediately and silently communicated the same message to Hermione, who caught his eye and inclined her head in Malfoy’s direction. Ron responded with a shrug. There would be time enough to discuss this once they returned to Hogwarts. As soon as they returned to the castle, they would have to set about getting to the shed. Lupin would be there; indeed, he was probably already there. They’d see him soon, and hopefully find out why everything had gone so horribly wrong with their plan.
“Hey Harry, we’ll see you at dinner. I want to take Susan to Mr. Bandine’s,” Seamus told him as he helped Susan into her cloak. Harry nodded and smiled, knowing that Susan was probably about to get the surprise of her life. Bandine’s was the finest maker of enchanted necklaces, rings, and various other jewelry in Hogsmeade. Ginny gasped and hugged Susan, who was beaming, as soon as Seamus let her go. Hmmm, maybe Susan wouldn’t be surprised after all!
Once outside, Seamus and Susan headed off to the jeweler’s and the rest of the party trooped back to Hogwarts. Ron fell back to walk next to Hermione, and she smiled almost shyly at him. Harry fervently hoped that Hermione’s new appearance would be Ron’s impetus to finally resolve his unspoken feelings for her. He didn’t think he could take much more of his friend’s angry, yet clueless, jealousy whenever another guy at school paid Hermione any attention. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Cho smiling at him.
“Where are you?” she laughed softly. “You seem miles away!”
He laughed too and kissed her gently. “I’m sorry, just thinking about stuff. I haven’t studied for that test on Monday; I’m going to have to get cracking once we get back.”
Cho nodded, saying nothing. He felt bad about the lie but he, Ron, and Hermione had to get to the shed and see that werewolf. They had agreed that the Wolfsbane would be in full effect by that evening, so entering would be relatively safe. Harry still couldn’t understand what had gone wrong. The three of them had made it down to the Whomping Willow to meet Lupin and a friend of his, also a werewolf. They had waited for an hour in the chilly air, and Harry vividly recalled his unease as the time for the meeting had passed, and neither Lupin nor anyone else had arrived. Then they’d heard that chilling howl from the forest, followed moments later by Lupin in wolf--tamer than he would usually have been because of the Wolfsbane Potion--form clambering over to them. He’d been alone, and had whined and whuffed desperately. Harry had taken this to mean that his friend’s absence was a bad thing, and they set about trying to track him down.
They had only searched for a short time, however, when that terrifying howl had come floating down the wind from the castle itself. Flinging aside caution , the four of them had dashed back to find Hagrid and Professor Dumbledore guiding a floating stretcher to a sturdy shed outside of Hagrid’s house. Dumbledore had sent Lupin directly to his office, telling him that McGonagall would be waiting there to let him in. Then they had heard the news about Ginny and Draco. Harry had almost been sick, and was hardly calmed by finding out that Ginny was “just fine”. Draco’s condition, however, had been a different story. Harry had been rather disappointed to learn that Ginny had actually saved him from the wolf. If it had been me, he thought, I’d have let the stupid git take his chances while I went for help. The thought almost made him chortle, even as he recognized its untruth. He might think of, and wish for, all sorts of horrible fates to await Malfoy, but in Ginny’s place he would have done exactly the same. He thought of Cedric, and of the echo he had heard of his parents whenever he had been near a Dementor. He was too well acquainted with death to truly wish it on anyone. Though, if ever there was a person who deserved such a fate, it was Malfoy. It still made Harry’s hackles rise when he remembered how callously he’d spoken of Cedric’s death, and how gleeful he’d been about the Dark Lord’s return.
Instead of wishing death on Malfoy, Harry thought, perhaps he should wish on him a chronic case of genital itching. Or, better yet, life with the not so lovely Pansy Parkinson. He was half way to that one already, and Harry almost felt sorry for the moron. Almost.
****************
“Draco, you really need a haircut,” Pansy was saying, fingering the growth of silver blond hair that was touching his collar as they entered the Slytherin common room.
That did it!
“Pansy, you really need to swallow super glue!”
Ha! That had felt extremely good! Draco swept away from Pansy and almost ran up the stairs to his dorm, leaving her standing open-mouthed and stiff with anger. An almost perfect end to an almost disastrous day! The only thing he needed now was sleep, glorious sleep. Every muscle in his body ached and his eyes felt like burning coals. He looked forward to sliding into bed with an appreciation he’d only ever felt after Quidditch practice. As he reached the top of the stairs, he approached a group of girls in deep conversation. One of them was Frieda Lawson, the Superior Slytherfemme. He smirked slightly at her back, wondering what diabolical conspiracies she was imagining now. Get a life, Lawson! He thought wryly.
As he moved closer, he began to hear snatches of their conversation.
“…the Headmaster is going to question it, and soon! He’ll probably try tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest,” Frieda was saying.
“Why does this concern you, Frieda?” Judy, another seventh year femme, asked.
“Because, idiot, it might know everything! It might even have been behind the attack!” Frieda snapped. “Who knows what it might reveal! And before you tell me that my theory is ridiculous, allow me to remind you of a potion called Wolfsbane.”
Draco had stopped walking. He was just close enough to hear the conversation but not be seen, as the girls stood with their backs to him.
“Frieda, this is all very interesting, but what’s it got to do with anything?” Judy asked irritably, obviously offended at being called an idiot. Frieda turned her head towards Judy and laughed softly.
“Don’t you see? The creature somehow gets inside the castle and makes straight for the son of Voldemort’s biggest supporter. And it happens on the heels of a mysterious explosion that could be construed as an attack on Harry Potter! Doesn’t that strike you as odd, an attack on Potter and Malfoy in the same day?”
“Wait, why would anyone think the explosion was aimed at Potter?” another girl asked. “He was outside, no where near the library or the Transfiguration classroom, or the corridor! And the explosion happened in a storage room!”
Frieda looked up. “No, he wasn’t there when the explosion went off. But he’d been in McGonagall’s classroom only ten minutes before, and the explosion was right next door!”
The girl who had asked the question nodded her head, but Judy frowned. “All of this is a bit of a stretch, Frieda. I’m not convinced you’re right. Draco wasn’t hurt, after all.”
Frieda sighed with exasperation and began moving down the hallway towards the door that led to the girls’ dorms. “That’s because you lack imagination, my dear. Someone else is trying to elbow their way in, I’m sure of it! I don’t know why Malfoy wasn’t hurt, but if I were him, or Potter, I’d watch my back!”
Judy made a face at Frieda’s turned head as the group disappeared through the door, leaving Draco to ponder what he’d just heard. Someone else was trying to elbow their way in? That made no sense! Frieda had always been rather melodramatic, but her statement gave Draco pause. He walked slowly to his dorm, recalling the explosion and the attack by the werewolf. On the issue of the explosion, Frieda was right. The room right next to McGonagall’s had been the one attacked. Draco pondered what this might mean as he reached his room and began to undress, picking up his discarded nightclothes from the floor as he did so. All right, he thought, the explosion came close on Potter’s heels, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was meant for him. The attack had been poorly timed, if Potter had been the target, and why set off the explosion in an empty room? Draco was no expert on explosives, but it hadn’t seemed to be a very big one. In fact, he had spoken briefly to a Slytherin who’d been in McGonagall’s class when it had gone off. Other than feeling the concussion and hearing a boom – not to mention being scared out of her wits -- no real harm had been done. It hadn’t even penetrated the wall. Not an effective attack at all, so that must not have been its purpose. What had been the purpose, then? To frighten? Yes, it had definitely frightened everyone, and caused the cancellation of classes and the Halloween party that night. But visits to Hogsmeade had still been permitted, which meant that Dumbledore was no longer worried for the students’ safety. Why? Just because he’d captured a werewolf didn’t mean he had a suspect, did it? The two events might not even be related.
Draco stared out his window, watching as the darkening sky began to release clouds of snowflakes. Perhaps they’d concluded that it had been an accident. This seemed more plausible than Dumbledore suspecting a werewolf of planting an explosive. But the headmaster was a sly one, and it was wise not to underestimate him. The fact that they’d been allowed out of the school might have hidden other motives, such as an extended investigation or the implementation of safeguards to make sure another attack wouldn’t hurt anyone. The first and second years had been restricted to their common rooms, after all, so they would have been relatively safe from harm. But if the attack had been meant as a weapon of fear, then had the actions of the headmaster been meant to thwart that fear? And what of the werewolf? How had it gotten into the castle? Frieda might have a point in thinking someone had deliberately let it in. It wouldn’t be the first time: Draco clearly remembered the troll that Professor Quirrell had let into the school during his first year at Hogwarts. But if that was the case, why send it after him? Or had it been allowed in to make random attacks and Draco had simply crossed its path by coincidence?
He remembered seeing the creature enter the tower. It had been sniffing the ground intently, walking right to the spot where he had been sitting before hearing the creature’s approach. That didn’t necessarily mean it had been looking for him, but it didn’t erase Draco’s sudden unease either. Come to think of it, he had been near the explosion site. And if he hadn’t stopped to insult Ginny Weasley, he would have gone right by that room on his way to…
On his way to Ancient Runes, a class which was also down that wing of the castle!
Hold on, Draco told himself, get a grip! The timing would have been too perfect then, wouldn’t it? Catching him while he was walking by that particular room would require precise timing on the part of the bomb maker. And again, would he have been hurt? He would have, but not badly. The classroom was almost at the end of the corridor, with Filch’s broom closet in between it and the explosion. Again, the motive would have been to frighten. But why, and who would go to all that trouble? Potter? No, he was far too noble and self sacrificing to hurt anyone in that manner, even his most hated enemy. Weasley? That thought was too hilarious to contemplate, as the idiot was too wrapped up in Dungbombs and attempting to actually pass his classes to plot something so intricate. Granger? She was definitely clever enough, but Gryffindor honor would prevent her from being so artful. Draco knew he had plenty of enemies besides those three. But he couldn’t think of anyone, not even Stone, who would actually go so far.
He suddenly felt dizzy with exhaustion and pondering these questions. The headmaster could handle this without anyone’s help. Besides, if someone was really after him, an owl to his father would take care of the problem!
Draco threw his nightclothes into his trunk and climbed into bed wearing only his underwear. His chest was hurting again and he was tired. He hoped the blissful forgetfulness of sleep would help to erase the memory of the past two days. As he drifted off, he allowed a vision of Ginny Weasley to steal through his mind. She was beautiful in curls, just beautiful!
****************
Dumbledore stared down at the young woman who was shivering slightly as she adjusted her borrowed robes. Remus Lupin took her hand and whispered quietly to her. She nodded her head and squeezed his hand. “I’m all right, Remus.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” the headmaster said gravely, “but I’m sure you’ll understand my desire to question both of you.”
The woman raised her eyes to Dumbledore’s. They were a strange color, a cross between brown and green, like an overripe fruit going bad. Her hair was short and brown, framing a heart shaped face. There were shadows under her eyes, cuts and bruises around her mouth, and her complexion was very pale. She stared back at the Headmaster with a weary expression, but nodded her head.
“All right,” he smiled slightly. “First, what went wrong?”
“That’s my fault, Albus,” Remus said apologetically. “I didn’t pick up enough of the potion from my connection in Romania. I assumed we’d only be there for a short time, and then back here before the new term started. But the delays I mentioned --” Here he shot a dark look at Professor Snape, who was watching the proceedings from a far corner -- “prevented us from returning as soon as I’d hoped. We had precious little potion to split between us, and it wasn’t enough for us both.”
“And yet curiously,” Snape’s voice drifted coldly over to the pair, “you remained unaffected by the dementia, Lupin. I find that very interesting!”
“Perhaps I just had enough of the potion in me to keep control. It’s not like it wasn’t a close thing, you know. I was experiencing a lot of the urges that come with the transformation. And Elizabeth is still new to this. She doesn’t have a lot of control over herself yet.”
“Please!” the woman called Elizabeth protested quietly, putting a restraining hand on Lupin’s shoulder.
“Yes, I would prefer this not disintegrate into another of your schoolboy fights,” Dumbledore agreed, looking sagely at Remus, then Severus.
“I would like to address the delays that prevented you from making a timely return, Remus.” Snape’s mouth opened to protest, but the headmaster held up a hand to stop him. “But alas, that must wait. My immediate concern is for my students and faculty. Many are already on edge because of the explosion, and we know it was deliberately set. But we are no closer to explaining why, or who, the target was.”
“Draco Malfoy,” Remus answered immediately. “The information that we’ve been gathering-“
“Is inconclusive, Remus, and you know it!” Elizabeth interrupted, making all three men turn to her in surprise.
“Why would anyone want to kill Malfoy? His family is well connected in important circles, and I can say with absolute certainty that many people have every reason to keep the Malfoys safe!” Snape argued, obviously taken aback by the suggestion that his favorite student was a target.
“I was as surprised as you,” Remus said slowly. “And Elizabeth is right, we aren’t absolutely certain that Malfoy is the target. We only know that the intended victim is a student here, a well connected student from an influential family.”
“Do you know why?” Dumbledore asked.
Remus turned to Elizabeth, who nodded and spoke. “We have been gathering information for months, sir. We went straight to Romania after your last owl informed us of the Lestranges’ presence there. We found out that they were once again attempting to form a concrete alliance with the Vampire Nation.”
“They won’t succeed,” Snape drawled. “The ruling body is too concerned with maintaining its ties to the various Ministries. The majority of them hold their personal honor dearer than what Voldemort can offer them.”
“Yes, we had an informant tell us the same,” Lupin replied. “But our informant also warned us that some in the lower council are not against an alliance, and if Voldemort had control of the world, it would give them the freedom to kill when and where they pleased.”
“And if that was all that defined a vampire’s existence, I would be more concerned. Happily, it is not,” Dumbledore said. “They are wild and dangerous creatures, to be sure. But they are still part human, and not completely soulless. .”
“But to kill is still their primary instinct, professor,” Remus said quietly. “Many vampires are attracted to the idea of joining with Voldemort. Many rogues already have.”
“True, Remus. But it might also be said that to kill is a werewolf’s primary instinct, yet there are a few I trust,” Dumbledore replied, blue eyes twinkling. Remus smiled ruefully at this.
“Headmaster,” Snape cut in, “what of my student?”
Elizabeth straightened and continued. “Once we’d concluded that the danger had passed, Remus and I returned to our room and packed. We had plans to make a stop in Germany and follow up on a rumor of Voldemort’s presence there. Before we could leave, however, we were attacked by three wizards. We were able to fight them off, but we had to flee quickly because we could see more flying in on a magic carpet. We apparated to the home of our informant, and he was able to arrange Muggle transport to Germany.” She smiled here. “It was my first time on an arrow-plane.”
Snape snorted impatiently here, and Elizabeth hastily continued. “We arrived safely and set about contacting several of my informants. That’s when we started hearing a rumor that Voldemort was searching for a security breach in his own circle.”
This made Snape start. But Dumbledore calmly urged Elizabeth to continue.
Remus, instead, began to speak. “Apparently, we are doing our jobs too well since we’ve managed to foil several of the Dark Lord’s attempts at an outright take over, and are impeding many of the alliances he’s trying to forge. Sirius owled me once we reached Germany and told me that he’d heard the same rumors on his end. The difference is that the source of the leaks seemed to be known to Voldemort, or at least suspected. There was also a rumor about a young man, a pure-blood of influential family, who is said to be the spy’s weak spot. Word has it that this young man is a Hogwarts student.”
Snape scowled. “That’s hardly conclusive!”
“That is what I said,” Elizabeth replied gently. “We can’t simply make assumptions.”
“Then why did you go looking for him?” Remus asked her quietly.
“The dementia was clouding what little reason I had!” Elizabeth replied tensely. “I don’t really remember why I did it. And it’s a good thing he escaped me when he did!”
Remus took her hand again, while Snape began to pace the small room. Dumbledore remained silent, deep in thought, his expression almost unreadable.
“Severus,” he said after a moment, “please go to Professor McGonagall and inform her of what we’ve learned. I think we’ve finished for now. I’ll follow along in a moment.”
Snape opened his mouth to protest, but seemed to change his mind. With a curt nod to Dumbledore, he left.
Once he was gone, the headmaster turned to Lupin and smiled. “Now am I right, Remus, in guessing that Mr. Potter and his friends have been to see you?”
Lupin smiled ruefully and nodded. Elizabeth also smiled and said, “He’s a remarkably strong boy, and very determined. I understand now why he’s eluded Voldemort’s grasp!”
“He’s worried, of course,” Remus added. “He thinks he might be a danger to his fellow students again and he’s desperate to stay on top of things.”
“I hope you convinced him that he’s better off here than chasing after demons?” Dumbledore asked with a chuckle.
“Yes. I didn’t tell him everything, of course, but I managed to convince him that things are too disjointed at the moment to be sure about anything.”
“And I apologized to Mr. Weasley,” Elizabeth said quietly, “for putting his young sister in danger.”
“I’m certain he accepted it,” Dumbledore said. “I have never known Mr. Weasley to hold a grudge for very long against anyone who has apologized.”
The headmaster straightened. “And now I will leave you. I must go and look for some information before I speak to you again.”
“Albus,” Remus said suddenly, “I’m sure it’s Draco Malfoy they’re after! Who else could be considered a spy’s weak spot? They must know Severus is feeding you information, and they’ve decided to strike against him.”
“Remus, it isn’t that simple. Severus is not in direct contact with any of the Death Eaters any longer because Lord Voldemort suspected him from the beginning. He has a very good network of spies and informants, however, so I agree that I cannot discount your theory. But I would like to look at all sides of the problem first.”
“Do you know of anyone else who could be considered a traitor in need of punishment?” Elizabeth asked curiously.
“There are many who have been feeding information to various sources behind the Dark Lord’s back. Not all are pleased with the way things are going!” Dumbledore said simply, walking out the door.
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