Shut Down and Perform
Draco needed to get it together, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t stop crying. He couldn’t even think. His head screamed “Go! Go! GO!” but his legs weren’t responding. He just sat there, curling in on himself in the corridor.
Is it possible to drown on dry land? He wondered if drowning would be faster and less painful than this agony.
Draco refused to be a scared little boy. He simply refused. He knew he was stronger than that. He learned to tune out the cruciatus curse at the age of seven. He was better than crying. Tears are for the weak. He was not weak. He is a Malfoy. He is a Pure Blood. Everything about this pathetic display in the corridor is below him. Draco’s head roared with this flood of thoughts. He heard his father’s sneer of disapproval. His mother’s pity. Snape’s jeer. Bellatrix’s maniacal laughter.
He stood shakily. He willed himself to stand stronger. He rolled his shoulders back and fixed his gaze on the train car’s door. He tried to tune out the voices screaming in his head. He needed to tune them out. He focused on the car door and let his energy drain. He quieted the voices, but at what cost?
He turned to look at his reflection in the cloudy window. He smoothed his blonde hair down. It was ruffled and messy from running his fingers through it. He liked it like that, he looked like a real person. Not now, not today. When it was sufficiently neat, he wiped away the tear streaks on his face. Pulling his wand from his back pocket he cast a charm to hide his red, puffy eyes. His eyes. His blank, lifeless eyes.
That was the cost. The cost of being perfect, being put together. The cost of being a good Pure Blood wizard. A cold, plastic exterior and an empty void beneath the surface.
On autopilot he began walking toward the car door. A hesitant few steps followed by a more confident stride. It was nothing like his usual cocky saunter, but he was doing what he could. This was the only way he knew how to cope. His mother and father taught him that. Shut down and perform. A Malfoy would never show they were cracking, let alone crack in the first place. When anything goes wrong, shut down and perform.
So, he did. He stepped between the cars and followed down the corridor. He heard chatter in the compartments as he passed, like nothing happened. They sounded so happy and relaxed. One girl had bought chocolate frogs and was chasing them around the cabin. He heard another boy talking about the dog he adopted over the summer. He felt empty. Life was bustling along, and he was, well, he was just there.
Up ahead he heard a girl’s voice ring out. “-instead of using the remaining observation skills in your two flimsy, ailing brain cells to realize that Potter is a fainting wallflower-.” That was definitely Pansy. She could rip someone to pieces for the fun of it, but this time she seemed genuinely irritated.
When he reached the far up compartment Draco heard a loud crash and Granger said something heatedly. He couldn’t make out what she was saying through the door. Only Pansy had the courtesy to speak loudly enough for onlookers to hear. He slid the door open, and everyone’s heads flicked toward the intrusion.
“Pansy.”
“Draco.”
He just stared at her. He hadn’t thought about what he would say once he got here. They both looked at each other blankly.
“What a weird fucking train ride, man,” Ron said exasperatedly. He threw his hands up and went back to his snacks. “Hermione, if someone says something important let me know. I’m not in the mood to listen to bigoted Slytherin banter. Fred and George argued enough on the way here, I simply cannot take another bloody second of it.”
“Ronald! How your language became so vile over the summer I don’t know, but I’m embarrassed to be near you right now,” Hermione gasped.
“Okay so pivot, did you see Blaise?” Pansy asked Draco. “He was in the hallway a few compartments back.”
Draco hadn’t seen anything. He just walked. “Umm I don’t believe so, sorry Pansy.”
“Malfoy, do you have a reason to be here, or are you here to beat up the old guy too?” Harry asked, clearly still spaced out from his fainting spell.
“I heard screaming.”
“That was incredibly informative,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. “To catch you up, old guy almost decapitated me with his wand, gave Potter chocolate, and then spewed blatantly wrong information about Dementors.”
Draco flinched just slightly at the word “dementors.” Hermione noticed and squinted at him just slightly. Hoping no one noticed his slip up, he straightened the shirt cuff on his left hand. “And this means we are beating up the old guy?”
“Granger has- wait no, the one minute is up!” Pansy said calmly. In a drastic shift in demeanor, she launched herself at the man in tweed. Her nails ripped at his skin as she landed a hard blow to his left temple.
“Pansy!” almost everyone shouted in unison. Draco jumped forward to restrain her and pulled her arms behind her back. She struggled against him and kicked the man in the stomach as Draco dragged her away.
“Pansy, stop it!”
Draco was only slightly stronger than Pansy, but it wasn’t too difficult to drag her away. Her heart wasn’t in it. There was no anger, just mild irritation. She really needed to find calmer sources of entertainment.
Now removed from the old guy’s side of the car, Pansy cooled off and blew a hair out of her face. “Okay, I feel better now,” she said peppily.
Hermione cocked her head in disbelief. She sat back down, having jumped up to stop Pansy’s rampage.
“You said you were going to drag him! Like with insults! Words! What the bloody hell was that!”
“Hermione, language,” Ron said sarcastically.
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. Harry, meanwhile, was sitting in a stupor.
“What’s the matter, Potter? Never seen a fight before?” Draco taunted.
“I went to a public school, I’ve seen plenty of fights. Pansy just looked like an animal, that’s all. I felt like I was seeing Slytherin’s true nature in action,” Harry smirked.
The old man in tweed made a face like he was reliving a dark memory. He shook his head out of it.
“I’ve had quite enough of being called ‘old guy’ and assaulted, so I think I will be taking my leave now.” The man in tweed grabbed his briefcase and exited the compartment briskly.
“Real,” Ron nodded.
Everyone sat in silence for a moment, not sure what to do. The group was a rather strange pairing. Hermione, Ron, and Harry sat next to the windows and Pansy and Draco sat near the door. The two groups were not friends by any means. Draco wished they were, but they weren’t. At least not yet.
Draco stood up awkwardly and gestured to Pansy with his head that it was time to go. She stood up and blew the trio a kiss.
“Bye losers!” she giggled as she left the compartment.
Draco was already halfway down the corridor when Pansy looked up.
“Draco, wait up. What’s wrong? You’re doing that whole spacey outey thing,” she said concerned.
Don’t tell her. She’ll think you’re weak. No, it’s just Pansy. Pansy would never see him as weak. She doesn’t see him as anything, just Draco.
“You know Dementors aren’t my thing,” he said, gulping down the fear that rose in his chest with that word.
She shook her head in understanding. She knew about the threats from his dad and his night terrors. She knew everything. That was one of the best things about Pansy. Draco trusted her with everything. He didn’t even need to speak, and he just got her. She always understood.
“Oh, hi Blaise!” she said abruptly.
“‘Bout time you come back,” Blaise said dryly.
“I had to beat someone up,” she explained.
He nodded and squinted as if he was imagining Pansy beating someone up.
“Did you win?”
“Have you ever seen me lose?”
“Silly question,” he chuckled and flung his arm around her shoulders. He clearly forgave her in those few seconds.
The three of them strolled back to their compartment. Inside, Crabbe and Goyle’s eyes were still glazed over. Blaise’s snack pile laid untouched since their departure. Draco grabbed a handful of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans and threw himself onto a seat. He laid down with one leg dragging on the floor and one set up on the seat. He threw one of the sweets into the air and caught it with his mouth. Everything felt a little bit calmer. Inside their cabin, isolated from the rest of the students, he could relax and release the facade. Pansy sat next to his leg and pulled her legs up to sit criss-cross on the seat. Blaise took his seat next to his pile of sweets. They all looked at one another and sighed. What a start to the year.