Cat and Mouse

His leg shook. 

Draco felt his fingers tremble and put his hands over his ears, trying to drown out the sounds. They crashed over him again and again, and he found himself collapsing to the ground and hugging his knees tight against him. Suddenly, he was 11 again. 

“Worthless boy.” his father snarled, jabbing his walking cane onto the back of Draco’s neck.  

The sharpened spike on the end dug in deeper, and scraped away at his skin. He hissed involuntarily, and in return seconds later felt the crack of his knuckles as Lucius stomped on his splayed out fingers.  

He heard his mother cry out, and heard as she circled around to stand between him and his father. Then he heard a sharp slap, and saw her legs wobble slightly in front of him before his father shoved her to the side. She landed in a crumple against the wall.  

Draco tried kept his face impassive, and forced himself to bite down sharp on his tongue to stop him from crying out.  

He heard his mother’s shaky voice. They were arguing in the drawing room, the room just below his. “Lucius, please – you can’t keep doing this to him. To me.. What has changed? What have I done wrong? I will do anyth-anything.. To save him. Just don’t.. Don't hurt him. Please. No – no!”    

He heard his father’s words, cutting deeper than any weapon ever could. “Already, and you have failed me. A simple task for a Malfoy, i would’ve thought – surely, Draco, you are not.. Incompetent?" He hissed.  

“Or are you just lazy? I told you to befriend the boy, and you have done the opposite.  

The opposite of me, Draco, is never a good place to be, is it?” He drawled lazily, an underlying threat clear in his tone.  

Draco swallowed painfully  

“Is it.” He repeated, more forceful now.  

“No.. Father...”  

And then, he heard himself. “ Mudblood ” 

His father had ruined him. He couldn’t befriend Potter even if he wanted to.  

The reputation of his family had tainted his name the minute he had entered the school, and sat on that stool.  

Draco took deep lungfuls of air, standing up shakily and dusting the snow off of him. 

He looked across the Black Lake, and up at the morning sky. It was clearing up, and the dark grey clouds of thunder were drifting away, leaving behind a pale blue sky and the early-midday sun.  

Shit. Later than he’d thought.  

Well, McGonagall was not going to be happy. He grimaced and began his trudge back to the castle.  

He had gone for his morning fly, when a storm erupted just over him and the lightning had made him panic.  

He’d never truly liked storms – he liked them because they were wild, and unruly, but being caught in one; that was a different story.  

The cracks of lightning made his knees tremble. Suddenly afraid, he had dived lower, skimming along the thick sheet of snow coating the grounds and not-so-gracefully rolling off of his broom. He landed with a thump just next to the edge of the Black Lake. 

Draco took a deep breath in, exhaled, and opened the door to his transfiguration classroom. 

“Ah, Mr Malfoy. How nice of you to decide to finally arrive. All this time, and I was beginning to think that your attendance was a choice – not a requirement. Hm?” McGonagall stood at the front of the classroom, a teapot in one hand and a niffler in the other. 

“Professor, I was- in the library. Lost track of time. My apologies” he said, hastily sitting down in the empty seat just in front of McGonagall’s desk.  

She peered at him over her spectacles, in a way reminiscent of Dumbledore.  

“I hope that this time in the library,” she paused momentarily “has been.. productive. Preferably, towards the essay on Gamp’s discovery of elemental transfiguration and vanishment which, I am sure you are aware, is due today.”  

Whoops  

 *** 

The next morning, he returned to the sports pitches. The storm had moved on, and he was glad of it.  

He took his own golden snitch with him this time, and practiced with it up until the night bled into dawn.  

Eventually, when his face had gone numb and his teeth were chattering, he glided back to the changing rooms. The cold he felt when peeling off his quidditch coat was near unbearable – he rushed to change into his robes, and only after casting several warming charms over himself did he dare to return outside and walk back into the school through the main doors.  

He wandered through the halls half-awake, and rubbed his eyes listlessly; knocking his shoulder straight into the Weasel. 

“Oi, watch it Malfoy!” Weasel-boy snarled 

“What’s got you in such a bad mood then, Weasley? Lovers’ tiff?” he sneered, glancing between him and Granger 

“Fuck off, Malfoy” Granger replied, controlled, but with a shake in her voice. 

He smirked. Seems he’d hit the nail on the head. 

“Trouble in paradise?”  

Ron scowled, pulling out his wand. “I mean it Malfoy. Watch it.” His face was slowly turning so red it was beginning to resemble a tomato.  

Sneering, he wandlessly disarmed Weasley, and turned away, calling behind him, “You first, Weaselbee”  

Walking away, he felt their glares burn into the back of his head. Honestly, if looks could kill.. he’d be dead several times over. 

 *** 

“Was it that obvious?”, she thought.  

Malfoy had guessed it straight away.  

She glared at his swaggering figure until he disappeared behind a corner, and her attention was brought back to Ron, who was still bright red. If he was a cartoon character you would’ve seen the steam spilling out his ears. 

“Well done.” she snapped, sarcasm clear. 

Ron turned round to face her, scowling 

“Real support you are, ‘Mione. Yeah, loads of help!” he huffed, walking ahead of her impatiently.  

“Oh, shut up Ronald. As if my help would’ve been any use.” she replied angrily, “Just admit it. Malfoy was right.”  

“We have to talk about it at some point Ron. Address the elephant in the room” 

“You mean the fucking bloodthirsty cat?” he bellowed, just as Crooks decided to make a poorly timed appearance. 

“Save it, Ron! I don’t appreciate you blaming my cat for trying to chase away a rat. A fat, balding rat, Ronald! He’s not got much more life in him anyway! Grow up!” she near screamed, stalking away from him furiously. 

He glowered at her retreating figure, and she felt his glare burn into the back of her head. Merlin, if looks could kill. 

***

Hermione had very few friends.  

This was something she realised after her falling-out with Ron – sometimes, (she felt bad admitting it, but it was true), she wanted some female company.  

Someone who would understand, and who could actually respond to emotion, unlike Harry or Ron, who just stood about awkwardly whenever she even tried to have a vaguely emotional conversation. “ Honestly”, she huffed. 

It was shortly after this uncomfortable revelation that Hermione began to grow closer to Ginny Weasley.  

Really, they were very different people – Ginny enjoyed slacking off, while Hermione found it hard to relax, Ginny loved parties and socialising, while Hermione preferred the company of her own thoughts.  

And part of this was what made them so drawn to each other. Each quietly admired the other, and over the course of the next few days, they became steadfast friends.  

They annoyed Ron together, they mocked Malfoy, they studied, they socialised, they laughed, they cried. And it was wonderful. 

 “Hermione!” Ginny squealed, swinging herself onto the empty space on the sofa. “Guess what Mum says! I can stay for Christmas!” 

Hermione beamed back at her, laughing, “Oh, this is great! I would’ve been so bored all alone here, can you imagine? All alone in Hogwarts with the teachers for company – gods, it would have been so awkward!” she shuddered, exaggerating her horror 

“Come off it you swot, you know you would’ve liked it” Ginny said, eyes gleaming 

Hermione protested weakly 

“No, I can almost see it; ‘Please Sir, can I have some more homework?’ You would have read your eyes off by the end of the holidays, we’d all come back, and you’d be sat there quoting the theorem of apparation like a parrot.”  

“Come off it! I’m sure I'd quote something more interesting than the ‘ theorem of apparation’”  

Ginny snorted 

Hermione elbowed her, hard, and Ginny winced 

Rubbing her side, she straightened up in her seat and leant closer to Hermione. “Anyway , we won’t be completely alone. Fred and George are being held back for Christmas to clean up the mess in the prefect’s bathroom.” 

“Wha-” she began, alarmed 

“And then there’s Pansy Parkinson – her and Theodore Nott are here too. Plus, I’ve heard that Malfoy” she sneered, “will be as well.” 

Hermione sighed, displeased. Oh well. Could be worse. Could it? 

“Oh, and the prefect bathroom incident – they charmed the taps to only run sparkling water. And may have exploded a toilet. Best not knowing” Ginny said, smirking 

-Gave Myrtle a right shock” 

 ***

 Draco was a shitty person. He knew it, and sometimes this made it worse – the fact that he never did anything to change it. He just sucked, accepted it, and moved on. 

He had friends, sure, but sometimes he felt like they were all trapped in the same boat; headed for death eater shores.  

None of them wanted it. But none of them could escape it either.. how could you? They were snakes, and everyone knew it. Hell, even they knew it! Snake emblem, for Merlin’s sake!  

Not that he disliked it though - green was his favourite colour. 

“ donum suam ” The common room door swung open, grating slightly against the cobbled floor.  

The Slytherin common room, although rather cold, was distinctly larger than the other three. Although the stone flooring provided very little insulation, the fluffy rugs lining the walkways created a cosy environment - the lights were warm, but the glow of the Black Lake cast a greeny tinge across the expanse of the room.  

The fire was large and grand, and the mantlepiece was made from white polished limestone. 

Clustered around the fireplace was several plush sofas, and as his eyes roved across the room he saw his friends huddled in the far corner. Pansy and Daph were curled up on the large armchairs. 

He sat down next to Blaise, who was talking to Theo morosely. “Mother’s not happy. Think she was hoping I'd stay here with you and Draco and now my Father’s asking for my presence at home over Christmas. Twat.” 

“Daddy issues again, Blaise?” Draco asked, lips curling 

“Not taking any of that from you, Draco-‘Just wait till my father hears about this’-Malfoy” Zabini replied, snickering.  

“Any news, Drake?” Pansy called, and Daphne raised her head 

“Don’t imagine it counts, but the Weasel Twins half exploded the prefect’s bathroom” 

Theo laughed, glancing over at Pansy who seemed distraught “No more sneaking in to shower then Pans – gonna have to rough it like the rest of us” 

“I do not sneak” she hissed  

They all turned to look at her, and she glared back, before rolling her eyes and huffing. 

“Okay, fine. I sneak. Happy? Anyway, Draco, what about – you know.” her face fell. “What does Lucius say?”  

“Nothing good. He believes that the Dark Lord is returning – the..mark...has become darker. Father says that it’ll be next year.” 

Daphne’s knee shook. Theo turned pale.  

“We have to tell someone, Draco – what if..it all goes wrong? Like, more ‘wrong’ than it already is? What do we do then?” Theo said, hoarse. 

“I don’t know, Theo. I don’t know.” he sighed, then continued, “Snape has asked me to meet him tomorrow, before Ancient Runes. Babbling won’t be pleased, but Snape said he’d write me a note. I’ll try and talk to him about it then. Mother said to go to him if anything..related...comes up.” 

They fell into worried silence. The stress of it was getting to them – they all knew it, but never talked to each other. They just let it eat away at them. 

When they were stick thin and rotting, maybe that would change.