Sly Boys

Draco thought that, given the distance between their compartment and Slughorn's, Theo would have had enough time to sober up before the Slug Club meeting. He was, however, wrong. If anything, Theo was worse than he had been ten minutes earlier, giggling to himself about the fairies hiding up in their luggage rack.

"Should we just leave him outside?" Blaise asked seriously.

"I don't think leaving him unsupervised is a good idea," Draco said hesitantly, also thinking that bringing him along to a prestigious luncheon in his current state was categorically not a good idea.

"What have you taken?" Draco hissed, dragging his friend up by his elbow and jostling him so that they were eye-to-eye.

"The real question," Theo gurgled, "Is who have I taken?"

"On the sacred twenty-eight Theodore, I swear if you ruin this for us I'll make you regret it," But Theo had suddenly become very preoccupied with the fields rushing past the window and had pressed his cheek up against the glass. "Is there a spell we can use on him?"

"Imperius curse," Blaise suggested, not a crack in his stony facade.

Draco considered it for a moment, "I'm not going to Azkaban for that prick,"

Grabbing his friend by the arm as though he were a particularly menacing child on a school trip, Draco opened the door to the compartment and steeled himself for what was almost certainly going to be a most uncomfortable tea party.

Slughorn's compartment had clearly been decorated by the professor himself. The old man's signature taste of anything emerald green and velvet was almost offensively present, from the drapes he had added to the windows, to the tablecloth itself, it was all one great mossy assault on the senses. Slughorn himself was sat at the head of a ten-person long table set with cake tiers and teapots that were periodically puffing out wafts of cinnamon and mint. Only two other people had arrived first, and they were sat on either side of the host. One was Thrace Bones, and the other was the man that Draco had passed earlier.

"Sir," He nodded by way of greeting and forced Theo into the chair next to Thrace before he could attach his face to the nearest window again.

"Ah, boys!" Slughorn gushed, his arms spread wide, "So good of you to make it, we were just getting started!" He waved his wand and the teapots jumped to life and began pouring their contents into their teacups, which clinked happily on their saucers.

"Ooh!" Theo mused, enraptured by the display.

Draco stood hard on his foot, hoping that the pain would knock some sense into him. Fortunately, none of the other guests seemed to notice, as the door opened at that moment and they were joined by a pair of final-year Gryffindors whom Draco had seen around Hogwarts but did not care to know the names of.

"Ah come in! Come in," Slughorn called, as the door reopened and Regulus Black, a fifth-year Slytherin, slid into the room. "Take a seat, take a seat."

To his relief, Regulus took the seat on Draco's other side, who could not envy Blaise, stuck between two Gryffindors and a stony-faced professor. Although, he admitted to himself, he was curious to know who he was. Draco nodded at Regulus as he sat down, he supposed they were cousins of sorts, familiar with each other at family gatherings because neither of them could stomach much of Aunt Bellatrix's intense conversation alone.

"I heard you won that ministry prize in academics you were after," Draco said quietly, "Well done,"

"Thanks," said Regulus, "I take it that's why I'm here, only being a fifth year and all."

"Sure," Smirked Draco, "That and you're of the noble and most ancient House of Black."

Regulus smiled down at his plate, he had always been more modest than Draco, who saw it as more of a waste than a virtue. The power the two of them could command at Hogwarts as cousins from two of the most notorious wizarding families would be enviable, if only Regulus would step out of the shadows a bit more.

When the table was completed with two more Ravenclaws, Slughorn clinked his teacup and looked around at them all, "Welcome all, welcome, please do tuck in!" He smiled, then, turning to his end of the table, said, "Now, I wanted to introduce you all to your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for this year, Professor Riddle," He gestured to the cold, pale-faced man with high cheekbones on his left.

Whatever Draco had been expecting from his austere exterior, it had not been the charming smile that broke through the harsh features like daylight. Instantly, his face was animated, and Draco was reminded of the way that Mattheo had forcibly laughed earlier in the compartment, there was something unnatural about it, but alluring nevertheless.

"My pleasure," Riddle smiled, bearing his teeth.

Riddle. Said a voice in Draco's head, but that bloodline had ended... Two "Riddles" showing up on the same day, it couldn't be coincidence, could it? There was certainly a great resemblance between them, dark hair, dark eyes, sharp bones, as though they were carved from stone. Draco thought about asking after it, but didn't want to push what was potentially a very sensitive subject before he had measured Riddle's countenance.

"I told you something fishy was going on," Theo said in Draco's ear, except he was shouting instead of whispering.

Draco shrugged him off and prayed that Riddle had not noticed.

"What's wrong with him?" Hissed Thrace, craning over Theo's shoulders, "He's been talking to his sandwiches,"

"I don't know," Draco muttered, trying to weigh up how trustworthy they were, he had never had much interaction with Thrace, but being the minister's child he could never be too careful.

"He's on something isn't he," They said and with such conviction that Draco felt it would be fruitless to lie. "Here, give him this," They held out their hand and slipped a small, cool vial into Draco's fingers behind Theo's back.

"What is it?" Draco asked, but at that moment, Professor Riddle spoke up.

"Mr Malfoy, I've been hearing a lot of your name this summer,"

"Is that so, sir?" Draco asked, thoroughly perplexed.

"Of course, your father and I were working together in the ministry,"

"Ah, he - he didn't mention it, sir," Draco said, looking down at the vial in his hands and weighing up whether it would be better to give an unknown substance to his friend or to let him carry on trying to water his biscuits with his tea. He decided to go with the former.

Draco feigned reaching for more tea and slipped the contents of the vial into Theo's teacup while he held Riddle's gaze and asked, "What were you working with my father on exactly? It's just that I'm usually quite caught up with his work - nothing confidential though, of course,"

"I'm afraid, Mr Malfoy, that dear old Professor Slughorn won't allow any politics talk at the dinner table," He grinned sideways at the professor, who was looking on happily, "I found that out the hard way,"

"Yes you did, Tom," Slughorn chuckled warmly, "Forgive me, Professor Riddle, I meant to say, still getting used to it, but no, I always knew you had the aptitude to teach, aptitude for a great many things I daresay. But you're quite right," He added, wagging his finger at the two of them, "No politics, not when we have the minister's child with us,"

Thrace smiled shyly and looked down at their tea.

The thought struck Draco with some alarm. His father had been working against Thrace's mother to prevent Magical Decree 461. He had just taken something from his political rival and given it to his friend. Was he an idiot?

His eyes flashed to Theo's teacup, but the fool was already draining it in one gulp.

"Ahh," He sighed, smacking his lips together, "Excellent tea, Professor,"

"And how are your parents doing, Mr Nott?" Slughorn asked.

Draco opened his mouth, ready to swoop in, but Theo adjusted his posture and said, "Oh you know, same old, same old, mother never has enough parties to plan and father never has enough money."

The comment wasn't the most tasteful, but it also wasn't completely insane, and it did sound like Theo - sober Theo. Draco looked back at Thrace, newfound gratitude and approval unfurling in his chest.

"I had the pleasure of dining with the Notts this summer," Riddle interjected, "Although I didn't see you there, Mr Nott,"

"I'm not invited to important dinner parties," Theo said bitterly.

Draco wrinkled his nose at the less than complimentary image Theo was painting of his family, even if it were true, he didn't want Slughorn to think that the Notts were perhaps not the great wizards that they had once been, or worse, that that was the sort of company he chose to keep.

"Well, Theo, you did flirt with the French minister for magic's wife that one time," Draco said, raising his eyebrow knowingly at Slughorn, who instantly gasped with delight.

"Oh, sweet Émilie?" He gushed, "She is a darling, I don't blame you son,"

"I was thirteen," Theo said defensively.

"Fourteen," Draco corrected, plastering a smile on his face.

"And I should love to hear about it," Slughorn continued, "I suppose Monsieur Siriex was not best pleased? He's rather humourless that one, isn't he?"

"Frightfully so," Theo said, relieved in spite of himself that the mood had been lightened. He glanced at Draco appreciatively, and turned back to Slughorn, "But the thing is he's awfully demanding when it comes to wine so we had to send the elf to the Malfoy cellars ..."

The rest of the luncheon passed smoothly, and Draco found himself sitting taller in his chair with every conversation, every quip, every ministry reference that Riddle managed to drop in without catching Slughorn's ear. He massaged the silver signet ring on his finger, it seemed to glint in the green light of the compartment. This was it, this was his future, smooth conversations, good company and barely disguised business. Everything was business, that's what his father taught him. Everyone is business.

When they finally left Slughorn's compartment, a good two hours later, Draco had the feeling that something, finally, had gone right that day.

"Did you see that? Did you see him? No way is that -" Theo's voice trailed off, and Draco could not see anything notable amongst the random faces looking out at them from the compartments as they passed through the train.

"And he's talking to Daphne!" Theo cried, and Draco whipped around.

Some paces behind him, Theo was staring unashamedly through one of the compartment doors, his mouth open in shock.

"You've got to be kidding me," He whispered.

"Who?" Draco demanded, storming over.

But he did not recognise the boy in the compartment with Daphne, who was sitting with her back to them. He was in Slytherin robes and looked about their age and just as Draco was finding it hard to believe that so many new students were joining them in one go, it hit him.

"Lorenzo whatshisface Berk-man?" Theo said.

"Berkshire," Draco corrected, frowning through the glass. "Surely not,"

"It's him alright, I think he's got the same eyebrows,"

"You know glass works both ways, right?" Blaise asked from where he had paused at the end of the corridor, his arms folded impatiently.

"Uhuh," said Theo stupidly, only half listening as he continued to gape through the glass at the boy. "He's really... grown,"

"Well he didn't look like that last year," Draco sneered.

"I can't believe we share a dorm with this - Oh shit he's seen us," Theo said, shoving Draco towards the end of the corridor.

The two of them raced past Blaise, catching him by the elbow and dragging him into the next carriage before Lorenzo could open the door.

"Why are we running from Lorenzo Berkshire?" Blaise asked.

"We're not," said Draco, "We're running from Daphne,"

Blaise rolled his eyes, "The Malfoy heir everybody,"

"Shut up, Zabini, get in!" Draco hissed, pulling his friend back into their compartment.

They let the relative silence of the train comfort them for a moment, and when it was clear that Lorenzo Berkshire was not hunting them down with his wand drawn, it was Blaise that spoke up.

"My parents have asked a favour of me," He said, a slight crease in his brow.

"Oh?" Queried Theo. "A happy favour?"

"Not exactly," Grunted Blaise.

"Something you need help with?" Draco asked.

"Not unless you want to sleep with me," Blaise said dryly.

Theo spat out his liquorice wand.

"Clean up after yourself, will you?" Draco chided, "Your spit is still on the floor from earlier," He turned back to show Blaise that he had his full attention while Theo muttered a quick cleaning spell in the background.

"My parents are worried that some of my father's more unsavoury habits will leak to the press," Blaise continued, staring blankly out of the window, "And they want me to distract from that,"

"How?" Asked Theo.

"They think that as a young, good-looking wizard of famous parentage, the most interesting thing about me is my love life,"

Theo snorted, "They don't know your love life, then, dead as Merlin's mother, that thing,"

"The press doesn't care what's real and what's fake," Said Draco, "It's all the same to them, so what, you've just got to convince everyone that you're -" He paused as he thought of what to say.

" - slutting it up?" Finished Theo.

"I was going to say in a committed relationship with someone respectable," Draco said, brushing him off. "But I've been reading the Prophet back to front all summer, your family is hardly mentioned, and when they are, it's never anything bad."

"They're laying low at the minute," Blaise answered, "Because they know that the next gala, Quidditch match, dinner with the minister, whatever it is, will drag it all up."

"And they need you to break in the papers first so that any negative news doesn't stick," Draco finished, nodding. "It's not a bad plan on their part, so what are you thinking?"

"I'd tell them to go to hell," Theo offered.

"Not helping," Draco said. "What about Pansy?"

"Oh, please," Groaned Theo, "No one will ever believe that she's in a committed relationship,"

"They only need to believe we slept together, surely," Blaise said.

"Hmm, I don't think sleeping with one person is going to be enough," Draco mused, "No, you're either going to have to get into a significant relationship, or be photographed at an orgy or something,"

"We should throw a sex party!" Theo piped up.

"No!" Draco and Blaise said in unison.

"Regulus Black? That would turn heads, but he is two years younger," Draco offered. "He's my cousin so I could definitely pull some strings,"

Blaise did not seem keen on the idea, but Blaise never seemed keen about dating anyone. "I'll think about it," he said finally, watching the distant mountains grow near.

"I hear a certain Greengrass is newly single," Theo said quietly.

"Do you want to make it to Hogwarts?" Draco asked him furiously.

"I meant Astoria!" Theo lied.

"She's fifteen!"

"That's literally like one year younger, grow up,"

"Tell her that,"

"Fine then, what about Millie Bulstrode?" Theo cried, throwing his hands up.

"She is a Bulstrode," Draco admitted, although he was not convinced that dating a quiet, shy girl was what Blaise needed.

"Let's just see what happens at the party tonight - Theo you can't smoke in here,"

"Says who?"

"Says me, Bix is in here, I'm not having him be hotboxed by your second-rate herbs,"

"I can't see him,"

"That's because he's invisible,"

"Bloody cat," Theo grumbled, stuffing his herbs back into his pocket.

As if on cue, a white, wrinkly sphynx cat materialised on Blaise's lap, the silver, Goblin-wrought collar around his neck read Bix in curly letters.

"I'm sorry to have to leave you alone with him, but I've got prefect duty," Draco said to Blaise.

"And you're actually going? How charitable of you," Theo smirked.

"Well I wasn't planning on it, but... things came up," Draco said stiffly, thinking about Dacia.

"Like what?" Theo grinned.

"Like how I can't stand to be locked in a box with you for the rest of the afternoon," Draco murmured, earning an appreciative snort from Blaise.

He bent down to scratch Bix on his ugly, pale head and strode out.

"Malfoy," Dacia was waiting for him at the end of the corridor, she was looking at her wrist, "You're late,"

"You're forgiving," He greeted her, still wishing that they'd gotten off to a better start.

As they started into the next carriage, Draco double-checked that his wand was safely stowed in his robes and decided to keep his fingers laced around the handle, just in case that deranged Riddle boy was still lurking somewhere in the train. Now that he'd seen his style, he wouldn't be so caught off guard, all he had to do was keep his wand in his hand. Suddenly, he heard his father's voice echoing inside his head, you foolish boy, you couldn't even keep your own wand in a fight with a muggle. You'd better hope nobody else finds out about this embarrassment.

"How was it?" Dacia spoke, dragging him out of his thoughts.

She wasn't looking at him, but rather peering into each compartment they passed, her long curly hair had been pulled off her shoulders into a low bun and Draco noticed that her neck was invitingly long and smooth.

"How was what?"

"The Slug Club?" She said, a note of disdain in her voice.

"I'm sure I could tell you that it was the best tea party in the history of wizardkind and you'd still berate it," Draco replied, still deciding whether their shared sarcasm was abrasive or friendly.

She gave one dry chuckle, "You're probably right, I was only being polite, we have an hour of this, you know,"

"An hour?" Draco demanded, "Isn't one quick sweep of the train enough?"

"That's not what Slughorn said to do,"

"Merlin's beard," Draco sighed, running his hand over his hair. Then, as the silence began to drag, "So, Slughorn said you're new here?"

She nodded, "My father is the new charms professor,"

"And where did you do the rest of your magical education?"

"Uagadou, you know, the -"

"Yes of course I know Uagadou," Draco said hastily, there were only ten other wizarding schools in the world and she didn't think he could remember them? "And how have you already been sorted into Ravenclaw?"

"Damn, Malfoy, are you interviewing me for something?" She laughed, slowing her pace to peer into a particularly noisy compartment.

"What? No, sorry, just curious,"

"Okay," She said slowly, deciding that nothing untoward was happening in the compartment, "Well, my father thought it would be easier to be sorted before everything started you know, I don't think anyone would buy that I'm a first year, I think I almost stepped on one of them on the platform."

Draco smiled slightly, he wanted to ask her exactly how tall she was but deemed it a crude question. "And you haven't had your robes tailored to your house yet? I know someone for that,"

"Oh," She looked down self-consciously, "I didn't realise I was supposed to, it doesn't really make any sense, does it? We all go to the same school,"

"Well -" Draco began, but he couldn't think of anything to say to that which wasn't argumentative, so he doubled back. "Does your father often tell you what to do?"

She shot him a strange look, "No?"

Change the subject, he thought hastily, change the subject. "So about the balding bomb earlier -" Not that, you fool, anything but that. "I -" Draco grasped around for something to say about the humiliating affair that could possibly help his case with the girl, and then it came to him, "How come I couldn't see that I was ... you know?"

"Cedric told me that the victim is unable to see their own, ah, baldness," Dacia giggled, and Draco found his face creasing at the sudden mistiness that had taken over her dark eyes at the mention of Diggory. Every girl at Hogwarts, scratch that, every man, woman and child seemed to fall prey to his charms, he was such a peacock, there was no substance to him, it was all hollow good looks wasted on some wannabe.

"And are you and Dig- I mean Cedric, friends?" Draco asked calmly, trying to keep his voice neutral.

"We just met," Dacia said, "I don't really know anyone to be honest," A faint blush had coloured in the apples of her cheeks, causing them to glow a warm, deep chestnut.

"Then I take it you're not busy tonight?"

"Excuse me?"

"For the first night party?" Draco finished, feeling his own cheeks tinge at her reaction.

"Oh," She said softly, "I didn't know there was one,"

"We, I mean Slytherin, traditionally host it, then Ravenclaw do the Christmas break, Hufflepuff have Easter and Gryffindor get the leaver's party," He explained. "But if you only go to one, go to ours," he grinned at her, "Obviously I'm biased, but it is the best,"

"I - " She faltered, thinking something over, "Sure. I'll be there,"

"The password's merman," Draco said, pretending to look in on a compartment to avoid her scrutinising gaze, he was becoming increasingly unsure that she wouldn't find a flaw in him.

Draco and Dacia's shift ran until the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade station. The night was inky and black right up against the windows of the train, lending Draco a mirror-like reflection of his appearance. The unexpected stress of the day seemed to have taken its toll: his hair was slightly ruffled where he had raked his rand through it every time there was an awkward pause between him and Dacia, and his wand was dusted with fingerprints where he had been twisting it in his palm, still expecting Mattheo Riddle to jump out at him from one of the compartments. He had not seen the boy in his sweeping of the train, and reasoned that, given his sort, he must have been dragged up to the teacher's carriage for some discipline. Draco hoped that it was Professor Riddle dealing his punishment, being related, he was sure that the man would not hold back, and besides, he had the aura of a fearfully powerful wizard. Draco would have to stay on his good side.

To his slight annoyance, Draco had not managed to exit the train with Blaise and Theo, and in the dark sea of bustling students all in identical black cloaks, it was impossible to spot them. Thankfully, Draco noted, he still towered over most other Hogwarts students, and between his glowering and Dacia's height, it was satisfyingly easy to carve a path through to the carriages.

"Come on," Draco urged her as the chill Scottish wind tugged at them, "Let's get to the carriages," and he placed a hand on the small of her back to make sure that they did not lose each other, and lead her across the platform to the row of undrawn carriages lined up along the road to Hogwarts. 

It did not surprise him, but he was pleasantly aware of how people's heads turned to them as they passed. The Malfoy heir and the pretty new girl, it had a nice ring to it, he admitted to himself, it's a shame she's not a pureblood. A voice added somewhere from deep inside his brain. It's also a shame mother and father think you're marrying another girl. Came the response. Draco's scowl deepened, and the small group of Hufflepuffs that had been sitting in one of the carriages scurried away at his arrival, leaving it free for him and Dacia. 

He offered his hand to her, as he had been trained to do, and she studied it for a moment before taking it and stepping up into the candlelit interior. Draco studied the night around him for a moment, he had the inexplicable feeling that there were eyes in the shadows, watching him. Just as he had placed his foot on the carriage step, he froze. There was conversation coming from within. 

He had to stick his head all the way in to see who Dacia was talking to, and then finally, tucked away in the shadows of the furthest bench, was a girl wrapped in a black cloak. 

"We can find another carriage," he said hastily, looking at Dacia.

"Why?" She frowned back at him. 

Draco pulled himself inside, not wanting to be caught hovering on the threshold, and the carriage immediately took off as though it had been waiting for him to do just that. 

He looked between Dacia and the stranger, and although he would normally deem it improper to sit next to the person he actually wanted to speak to, there was something so off-putting about the stranger that he slid in next to Dacia, and tried to avert his gaze to the window. 

"It's so clever how they've enchanted the carriages to run on their own like that," Dacia mused. "Don't you think so, Maura, was it?"

"Yes, Maura Vanderblood, and no, they're pulled by vannas beng."

"What?" Draco could not help the outburst. He turned around to look at her in shock.

"What are vannasben?" Dacia asked politely.

"They - "

"You're a Vanderblood?" Draco said loudly, ignoring the look that Dacia was shooting him. 

The girl frowned and drew her face closer to the candlelight. Draco almost pulled back in response. He could not recall ever having seen someone so unpleasant. She was dirty, evidently impoverished and undeniably uncivilised. Her dark, lank hair was stringy and almost wet-looking where it clung to the hollows of her cheeks, which had a ghostly tinge of olive. Her eyes were the exact shade of black that Draco could only ever recall having seen in the sockets of the skulls found at Borgin and Burke's. And worst of all, her cloak, which looked as though it had been fished out of the Black Lake, filled the carriage with the reek of damp and mould. 

"Yes," She said flatly, staring at him unblinkingly. Draco could only remember feeling so unnerved by one other person, and that person had tried to kill him. She was only looking at him. 

"Come on," Draco whispered, grabbing Dacia by the hand, "Let's find another carriage,"

"What is your problem?" She snapped, yanking her arm back. 

"She's a - she's - you don't know what they are, do you?" Draco said, realisation dawning on him, of course, he thought, they're European.

"She looks like a perfectly normal witch to me," She huffed.

She thinks I'm just being a snobby blood-purist, Draco realised, she doesn't know, she hasn't heard the stories ... 

Caught in the horror of it all, Draco's eyes flitted to the Vanderblood witch and then back to Dacia's face. A split-second was all it took, her intense, black stare had reimprinted itself under his eyelids, and he stared hard at Dacia to try and chase the image from his mind but he could feel her presence in the carriage like worms under his skin. Draco Malfoy had never considered himself to be afraid of anyone, but he had never imagined that he would be stuck in an enclosed space with a Vanderblood witch. 

Stunned into silence, the remainder of the journey seemed to take longer than the six hours he had spent on the Hogwarts Express. Draco turned his head stiffly to look out of the black, unyielding window, his fingers once again itching to close around his wand. 

As soon as the carriage teetered to a stop, Draco had left, not bothering to help Dacia down from the steps. He walked as swiftly as he dared, the prickle on the back of his neck not letting him look back over his shoulder. The moment he entered the great hall he began searching for Theo and Blaise, dying to tell them about the Vanderblood witch. He found them sat nearer the back of the Slytherin table and slid onto the bench next to Blaise. 

"Vanderblood," he whispered, sounding out of breath.

"What're you cursing for?" Theo asked uninterestedly.

"No," Draco hissed, "They've let a Vanderblood witch in," 

"What do you mean?"

"How thick are you?"

"You mean they let one of - one of them into Hogwarts?" Theo clarified. "As like a Defense Against the Dark Arts test or something?"

"No, you squib, like a student," Draco seethed.

Theo's eyes began combing the hall frantically and Draco turned to Blaise, who looked pale, which was about as bothered as Blaise could look about anything. 

"Should I write to father?" 

Blaise shrugged, "Wait and see, maybe they're not so bad,"

"I'm not waiting until I wake up cursed - or worse, dead." Draco spat, outraged at his friend's nonchalance. 

"What if they're in Slytherin?" Theo mumbled, still craning his neck above the heads of the students steadily filing into the hall.

"Then I'm definitely writing to father," Draco said decidedly. 

"Is the party still on tonight?"

"Of course, why wouldn't it be?"

"Because there's a fucking freak in the castle," Draco replied.

"Plenty of them about anyway," said Pansy Parkinson, sitting down on the other side of the bench next to Theo.

Draco groaned internally, wherever Pansy was, Daphne was never far, and he did not want to deal with that right now. 

"Sure there are," Theo smirked, looking her up and down. 

"Save it for later, Nott," She said bluntly, looking down the table at something.

Draco followed her gaze and nearly spat out his pumpkin juice. There she was, about ten students down from them, sitting opposite the boy from the train - Lorenzo. Draco narrowed his eyes at the pair of them.

"How -" he began when the headmaster stood up and silenced the hall. 

"Attention, students, attention," spoke Professor Rowle, his thin voice amplified to fill the hall. "It is time for the sorting,"

"How is that happening?" Draco hissed to the group of Slytherins once the headmaster had stepped back from the lectern, but no one replied as all heads turned to the front of the hall. 

Even from the back of the room, Draco could make out the impossibly small, pawn-like figures of the nervous first-years lined up before the sorting hat. The deputy headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, was shepherding them towards the stool that held the tattered old hat in front of the teacher's table. At the very back of the group, wrapped in black, was a figure that stood two heads taller than the first years. For a moment, Draco considered the possibility that it was a dementor because an unnatural chill had rolled over him, tickling the hairs on his forearms. But its greasy hair and firmly-planted feat gave it away: it was the Vanderblood witch. 

"That's her," he muttered in Blaise's ear.

Blaise gave a sharp intake of breath, "There is something odd about her, I will give you that,"

Draco wanted to smile in vindication, but the Vanderblood witch remained in his line of sight, rendering such a feat impossible. He held his breath throughout the sorting, waiting until she would take the hat. When the first years had been sprinkled out amongst the house tables, Professor Dumbledore squinted down at the last name on his scroll, looked up at the much taller witch in front of him and then said, "Wayman, Maura, sixth year,"

"No way, she's in our year," Theo whispered loudly from across the table, causing several heads to turn in his direction.

Blaise turned to look at Draco knowingly, there was no question of the teachers announcing her as a Vanderblood to the school, the mass panic it would cause would be uncontrollable. But if she was insisting on going around introducing herself as a Vanderblood, well then, on her head be it. 

Draco felt a chilling sickness creeping up from inside him. Please not Slytherin, not my house, not Slytherin, just stay away. 

The hat was placed on her head, obscuring her dark eyes. Draco found his own drifting towards where Daphne and Lorenzo were sitting, whispering quietly together. He felt his blood run cool with rage. This was something that was going to have to be sorted out at the party later that night. He pulled himself away from the scene, he couldn't show how it affected him, not here, not now. Not when there were much more pressing issues at hand, issues that concerned the very integrity of the school, their safety. An issue that was sure to be confined to some distant quarters of the castle, the Gryffindor tower, the Hufflepuff basement, anywhere that wasn't one measly stone wall away from where he slept. An issue that would surely be dealt with as seamlessly as any other - the marriage, the new girl, the murderous Riddle boy. 

The back of Draco's neck was hot. Almost mechanically, he turned his head, looking just past his left shoulder. At the very end of the table, staring straight at him, was Mattheo Riddle, with nothing short of violence dancing in his eyes. Draco blinked and yanked his gaze back to the front just as the hat yelled, "Slytherin!"