Verbum bono
Chapter 7: Verbum bono
“…fever skyrocketed! I was only gone maybe half an hour…” definitely the voice of Madam Pomfrey.
“What could have caused this?” A delicate feminine voice whispered softly.
“I’ve never seen anything like it, there’s no sign of infection and the wound is completely healed, but his body isn’t maintaining his temperature properly,” the mediwitch answered, puzzled.
Draco slept.
…
“Draco, my love, please wake up,” a familiar girlish voice pleaded, but the words sounded all wrong.
His brain went fuzzy again.
…
“Malfoy, I’m sorry…” he couldn’t make out the rest between the sobbing but he warmed at the feathery-light touch he felt on his cheek.
“You should be sorry, Granger,” he tried to say but only a grunt escaped. He tried again.
“That bloody stupid chicken is what did this to me—well that and using the pocket watch to see if you care about me,” again nothing came out except for a groan and another grunt, but he was grateful she hadn’t heard the second part as it was more of an internal admission.
“Malfoy? Are you awake?” He still couldn’t see her but he felt her shift against the side of his bed as she left to fetch Madam Pomfrey.
Still unable to work up the strength to open his eyes, he felt the mediwitch’s presence at once. One of her cold hands flew to his forehead, checking his temperature, while the other waved her wand over him from crown to toe, casting a diagnostic charm. He felt the glow over him, but still couldn’t see the colors that would surely be popping up all over it.
“What do those mean?” Granger’s voice asked respectfully.
“I’ve never seen that color on the diagnostic before—always shades of green for healthy, the darker and more vibrant, the better; then yellow for simple maladies such as a headache, light bruising, or sprains, the closer to green, the less severe, and the more orange or gold it gets, the more severe; then finally, shades of red and pink indicate something severe or life threatening.
“The purple spot in the center of his chest is his magical core, see how it radiates out underneath the rest of the diagnostic?” Madam Pomfrey went into full professor-mode and Draco tried to smile as best he could.
He knew Granger would enjoy picking his mother’s brain someday about all of her newfound healing knowledge. It was a very prestigious sect of magical practice. Granger would even make a great Healer if she worked on her bedside manner a bit…
“I’ll need to consult with someone about the blue flashes, although they seem to be getting smaller even since I’ve cast the diagnostic,” Madam Pomfrey said, mostly to herself.
“They almost look like—“
“Yes, dear?” The mediwitch paused in her bustling to inquire about any theories the bright young witch might come up with.
“Nothing.”
The room fell silent again, aside from Madam Pomfrey’s buzzing about the infirmary until she finally closed the door to her office—purportedly making a Floo call to consult with an expert on Draco’s condition.
“Draco, can you hear me?” Granger whispered close to his ear. If he’d had the energy, he would’ve jumped from the tickle her breath caused. He tried to squeeze her hand, which had been firmly tucked in his since the matron had left them alone, but he only managed to twitch one of them. Luckily for him, she took that as a positive sign and kept talking.
“I think the blue lights on your diagnostic look like the blue light from the time turners. Have you used yours lately?”
Draco tried to squeeze her hand again, this time two fingers twitched.
“Okay, then did you try to go back more than four hours?” She asked somewhat condescendingly.
He tried to yell at her, “fucking of course not, Granger!” But only a grunt came out.
“Sorry, I had to ask,” she offered contritely. “Have you used it more than you were supposed to?”
He grunted again.
“Okay, last question, for now then: do you know what happened?” She whispered again.
Another grunt. The small witch squeezed his hand in hers. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”
…
Thursday morning saw Draco finally released from Madam Pomfrey’s firm grip. She couldn’t find any more reasons to hold him hostage, now that he was awake, his wound closed over, fever dissipated, and flashing blue lights long gone from his diagnostics. For all intents and purposes, Draco Malfoy was healthy once again. His right shoulder and torso were still quite sore, and he carried a few strained muscles, but compared to the agony he had been suffering from the previous few days, he would gladly take the aches and run. If he never set foot in the Hospital Wing again, it would be too soon.
The previous day, his father had written to Draco to inform him that he had spoken to the school governors and they agreed whole-heartedly that Hagrid had overstepped, especially the first class of the new term. There would be quite a few meetings and votes in the near future to determine the next course of action. Naturally, just as Granger had accused, Lucius was asking for Hagrid to be sacked and for the hippogriff to be “dealt with” as the letter stated.
Draco mused what exactly “dealt with” meant, as he dreamily wandered to the dungeons for double Potions with the Gryffindors. Madam Pomfrey had insisted he keep his arm wrapped in the sling for a bit longer, and Draco obliged, as it was his only condition to get discharged. As he entered the Potions lab, he formulated a clever ploy he was sure Snape would willingly go along with to torture the Wonder Twins.
The blonde Slytherin dropped his bag down in an open seat, which to his enjoyment was right behind Potthead and Weaselbee. Draco smirked at the idiots before turning to Pansy, who had rushed over to dote on him.
“How is it, Draco?” simpered Pansy. “Does it hurt much?”
“Yeah,” Draco said mournfully, putting on a brave sort of grimace before winking at Greg, Vince, and Theo when Pansy had looked away.
“Settle down, settle down,” said Professor Snape idly.
The two morons in front of Draco scowled at each other; Snape wouldn’t have said ‘settle down’ if they’d walked in late, he’d have given them detention. Draco knew they were thinking how unfair their lives were down here in the dungeons. If only Potter lived a day in my shoes, he’d know the real meaning of “unfair”.
They were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Draco set up his cauldron right next to Dynamic Duo, so that they were preparing their ingredients on the same table.
“Sir,” the blonde called, “sir, I’ll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm —”
“Weasley, cut up Malfoy’s roots for him,” said Snape without looking up.
The Weasel went brick red.
“There’s nothing wrong with your arm,” he hissed at Draco much to his satisfaction. This is well worth it sitting in the Hospital Wing for a few days.
Draco smirked across the table. “Weasley, you heard Professor Snape, cut up these roots.”
The ginger seized his knife, pulled Draco’s roots toward him, and began to chop them roughly, so that they were all different sizes.
“Professor,” Draco drawled in a snobbish voice, “Weasley’s mutilating my roots, sir.”
Snape approached their table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, then gave the other boy an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy black hair.
“Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley.”
“But, sir —!” The red-head started to argue as he had spent the last quarter of an hour carefully shredding his own roots into exactly equal pieces knowing full-well the potion would not work otherwise.
“Now,” said Snape in his most dangerous voice.
The resentful Weasel shoved his own beautifully cut roots across the table at Malfoy, then took up the knife again.
“And, sir, I’ll need this shrivelfig skinned,” Draco laughed maliciously.
“Potter, you can skin Malfoy’s shrivelfig,” said Snape, giving Potter the look of loathing he always reserved just for him.
Potter took Malfoy’s shrivelfig as Ron began trying to repair the damage to the roots he now had to use. The raven-haired boy skinned the shrivelfig as fast as he could and flung it back across the table at Draco without speaking, who was smirking more broadly than ever.
“Seen your pal Hagrid lately?” he asked them quietly.
“None of your business,” the sidekick jerked, without looking up.
“I’m afraid he won’t be a teacher much longer,” Draco offered in a tone of mock sorrow. “Father’s not very happy about my injury —”
“Keep talking, Malfoy, and I’ll give you a real injury,” snarled Weasley.
“– he’s complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father’s got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this” — he gave a huge, fake sigh — “who knows if my arm’ll ever be the same again?”
“So that’s why you’re putting it on,” said Potter, accidentally beheading a dead caterpillar because his hand was shaking in anger, “To try to get Hagrid fired.”
“Well,” Draco answered, lowering his voice to a whisper, “partly, Potter. But there are other benefits too. Weasley, slice my caterpillars for me.”
A few cauldrons away, Longbottom was in trouble. His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid green, had turned —
“Orange, Longbottom,” said Snape, ladling some up and allowing to splash back into the cauldron, so that everyone could see.
“Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn’t you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one cat spleen was needed? Didn’t I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?”
The bumbling dolt was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of tears. “Please, sir,” said Granger, “please, I could help Neville put it right —”
“I don’t remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger,” said Snape coldly, and she went as pink as the boy next to her. “Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly.”
Snape moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear.
“Help me!” he moaned to Granger. Draco momentarily felt sorry for the boy. He somehow had managed to gain favor with Theo, and that meant something to him. Draco, himself, had been on the receiving end of Snape’s ire far more severe than Longbottom ever had, seeing how professors can’t attack students in the sense that he had done so, but being berated on a daily basis must be taxing. On the other hand, Longbottom doesn’t seem to do much to make the situation better—he screws up nearly everything he touches…eh, Granger can set him to rights.
“Hey, Harry,” said Seamus Finnigan, leaning over to borrow Potter’s brass scales, “have you heard? Daily Prophet this morning — they reckon Sirius Black’s been sighted.”
“Where?” the two Gryffindors next to him jumped quickly. Draco listened in, hoping for a lead to help with his little side project. Narcissa had also written to him while in the infirmary, and he hadn’t forgotten what she’d asked of him.
“Not too far from here,” said Seamus, who looked excited. “It was a Muggle who saw him. ‘Course, she didn’t really understand. The Muggles think he’s just an ordinary criminal, don’t they? So she phoned the telephone hotline. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone.”
“Not too far from here...” Weasley repeated, looking significantly at Potter. They turned around and caught Draco watching closely. “What, Malfoy? Need something else skinned?”
I swear to Salazar if those two find him first, I am going to murder them! Why on Earth would Potter be trying to find someone he thinks is going to kill him? I’m going to nip this in the bud right now.
Draco’s eyes were shining malevolently, and they were fixed on Harry. He leaned across the table. “Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Potter said offhandedly. Draco merely smiled back.
“Of course, if it was me,” he said quietly, “I’d have done something before now. I wouldn’t be staying in school like a good boy, I’d be out there looking for him.”
“What are you talking about, Malfoy?” said the ginger boy roughly.
“Don’t you know, Potter?” Draco breathed, his pale gray eyes narrowed.
“Know what?”
Draco let out a low, sneering laugh. “Maybe you’d rather not risk your neck,” he said. “Want to leave it to the Dementors, do you? But if it was me, I’d want revenge. I’d hunt him down myself.”
“What are you talking about?” Potter spouted angrily.
Reckless Gryffindors.
At that moment Snape called, “You should have finished adding your ingredients by now; this potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clear away while it simmers and then we’ll test Longbottom’s...”
Greg and Vince laughed openly, and Theo shot Longbottom an apologetic look, watching Neville sweat as he stirred his potion feverishly. Granger was muttering instructions to him out of the corner of her mouth, so that Snape wouldn’t see. The Wonder Twins packed away their unused ingredients and went to wash their hands and ladles in the stone basin in the corner.
Draco walked to stand next to Pansy and Theo’s table while they packed up, taking a few steps back to listen to what his own ‘tablemates’ were whispering.
“What did Malfoy mean?” Potter muttered to Weasley as he stuck his hands under the icy jet that poured from the gargoyle’s mouth “Why would I want revenge on Black? He hasn’t done anything to me — yet.”
“He’s making it up,” the Weasel whined pathetically. “He’s trying to make you do something stupid...”
The end of the lesson in sight, Snape strode over to Longbottom, who was cowering by his cauldron.
“Everyone gather ‘round,” said Snape, his black eyes glittering, “and watch what happens to Longbottom’s toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don’t doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned.”
The Gryffindors watched fearfully. The Slytherins looked on in entertainment, aside from Theo and Draco who were slightly hopeful in Granger’s fast tutoring skills. Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville’s potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor’s throat.
There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small pop, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape’s palm.
The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown.
“Five points from Gryffindor,” said Snape, which wiped the smiles from every face. “I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed.”
Draco smirked at the lost points for his rivals, and bait taken by Potter and Weasley, but overall shared in Theo’s relief that Longbottom’s toad would live to see another day. The pair joined Pansy on the walk up to the Great Hall for lunch. Theo and Pansy shifted ahead of him in the corridor, and Draco slowed when he saw Granger tuck herself into an alcove.
Not skipping lunch I hope…
“Five points from Gryffindor because the potion was all right! Why didn’t you lie, Hermione? You should’ve said Neville did it all by himself!”
Granger didn’t answer, of course, she was halfway to whatever class she had at the same time as Potions. Weasley, the imbecile, looked around befuddled. “Where is she?”
Potter joined the ginger in his search for their friend. They were at the top of the steps now, watching the rest of the class pass them, heading for the Great Hall and lunch. Draco looked past the idiots who completely missed the blue flash from behind the tapestry across the hall.
“She was right behind us,” Weasley complained, frowning.
Draco passed them, walking between Vince and Greg. He smirked at the two Gryffindors who were still clearly clueless as to Granger’s whereabouts. It was satisfying to have such a huge secret with someone they thought they were so close with. In actuality, she and I share so much more than you ever will .
As he rounded the corner, disappearing from sight of the morons behind him, Draco nudged her elbow as he passed, giving her a wink. She smiled with a slight blush and a glow to her cheeks. She must’ve been running to get back to a nearby spot to where she would had been that wouldn’t overlap, as she was panting slightly. She was hurrying up the stairs away from Draco, one hand clutched her bag, the other tucked her time turner down the front of her robes.
A seam had split on Hermione’s bag. Draco honestly wasn’t surprised by the occurrence, though. She kept it crammed with at least a dozen large and heavy books. Why doesn’t she just turn back an extra hour so she has time to swap out her books and notes?
Draco joined Vince, Greg, Theo and Pansy for lunch. Even Daphne and Tracey sat slightly closer, the former giving Draco a short, sweet smile before ignoring the group the rest of the break time. Blaise also moved farther down the table, still not saying much, but that wasn’t out of character either.
“Did you talk to Blaise yet?” Draco asked Theo when he noticed their estranged friend’s proximity.
“He’s hard to get alone, ya know?” Theo tried.
“Seriously?” Draco leveled his friend with a glare. “I’ve gotten Daphne to start moving toward making peace, time for you to hold up your end.”
“You w-what?” Theo sputtered, spitting pumpkin juice toward Pansy who shot both boys disgusted looks.
“Daph and I are partners for Divination for the foreseeable future, no pun intended, and she seems amenable to getting the gang back together so to speak,” Draco shrugged, ignoring the daggers Pansy was shooting at him with her eyes.
“Oh, okay then, I’ll work on it,” Theo said, standing up from the table as he fidgeted with the sleeve of his robes.
“Where are you going? We just got here?” Pansy called, but the tall, lanky brunette was walking with purpose, not out of the hall, but to the other end of the table. They couldn’t quite hear what was said, but everyone at the Slytherin table and even a few Ravenclaws who were quick to spill the tea leaned in to try and make out what was going on. After a few words said by both boys, Theo extended a hand, which Blaise shook as he also stood. Encouraged by the positive reaction, Theo pulled the other boy into a quick, tight hug and they both started to laugh.
The entire Slytherin table (even the older years who usually couldn’t care less, and some of the younger years who would have no idea what was actually going on) cheered and whistled for the reunited best friends. Blaise followed him down the length of the table and the two sat across from Pansy and Draco, arms slung across each others’ shoulders. Waves of relief washed across the group of friends, and even Blaise and Pansy shared small nods of recognition.
Seemingly inspired by the show, and not to be outdone, Pansy stood too. She walked to where Daphne sat, talking animatedly with Tracey and Millie.
“Ahem,” she coughed slightly, tapping the blonde on her shoulder.
“Pansy,” Daphne eyed the other girl warily. It was one thing if she came to discuss mending broken fences, but it was entirely another if Pansy’s mean streak was making an appearance.
The smaller-framed girl’s face was a mask, but she quickly made her intentions known. “I’d like to be friends again, Daph, please? If Blaise and Theo can do it, why can’t we?” She nearly pleaded with her former best friend.
“Oh Pansy, I’m so sorry!” Daphne stood and nearly toppled the brunette as she crushed her in a squeezing hug.
“Y-you’re s-sor-ry?” Pansy choked out, trying to fill her lungs before she suffocated.
“I’ve been just awful to you! You apologized about a thousand times, and I know you didn’t do anything wrong to begin with, I was just so angry, ya know? And then when you and Theo kept hanging out I just got even madder. By the time I realized I was being stupid, I didn’t know how to say it without sounding, well, stupid…forgive me?” Daphne ranted, a tear tracking down her cheek, leaving a smudge of black mascara in its wake.
Unable to help herself, Pansy wiped the smudge with her thumb, then hugged the girl again. “Forgiven. But only if you forgive me, I didn’t exactly try very hard once we got back to school.”
“Forgiven.”
The four girls all happy-cried together, while the boys looked on in mild disgust and moderate confusion.
“What the bloody fuck just happened?” Theo whispered.
“Witches, mate, who the hell knows?” Vince said laughing.
The commentary earned all five boys reproachful looks from their female counterparts. “Do any of you ever speak without using foul language?” Millie demanded, her cheeks a bright red.
“Oh, come on, Millie,” Greg waved her off light heartedly.
“Don’t you ‘hey Millie’ me, you know I don’t care for all that,” the usually mousy girl huffed in annoyance at being dismissed so easily by her boyfriend.
Greg had the wherewithal to remain silent and look somewhat apologetic, though Vince and Theo did not. “C’mon Mills, get the stick outta yer arse!” Vince cackled, slapping his knee in laughter at his own joke.
The rest of the boys were unable to hold back and Theo burst out laughing, while Draco and Blaise chuckled quietly before quickly clearing their throats and attempting to look distraught at Vince’s proclamation.
“Vincent!” Millicent gasped in shock and hurt at the jab.
“I’ve had enough of all of you,” Pansy growled, her wand subtly sliding down her sleeve and into her palm. Only Draco and Theo noticed the action as she had caught them off guard over the summer with a few surprise stinging hexes. While the other boys ignored her, Pansy cast Verbum bono! with a quick twist of her wrist. All the boys turned toward Greg, Vince, and Blaise in confusion—they’d never heard of that spell before. The girls looked on in anticipation.
When nothing happened, Draco’s and Theo’s shoulders shrugged in relief and that’s when she hit them. Verbum bono! Draco felt a tingle on his tongue and his eyes widened. His eyes met Theo’s in panic, but they quickly found they were able to still speak.
“What did you do to us, Pansy?” Theo nearly shouted in his accusatory tone, drawing the attention of both Snape and Professor McGonagall. The latter must’ve chosen to defer to the students-in-questions’ Head of House as she did nothing and went back to her lunch. Professor Snape sent them a warning glare, not that they were in trouble, but if he was forced to come over there the consequences would be less than pleasant.
“Relax, Theodore, you boys will all find your mouths a little cleaner,” she giggled and Draco groaned, knowing exactly what happened.
“That’s not the spell for—“ Greg started to say, but Draco held a hand up to stop him.
“Hey Vince, what did you say to Millie again?” Draco asked the stout boy.
“I said she had a stick up her donut hole!” He started to laugh but it died off quickly when he realized the words that came out of his mouth didn’t match his voice. The entire end of the Slytherin table busted into riotous laughter. Tears were streaming down faces and cheeks turned bright red.
In between gasps, Draco tried to explain, “it’s a… clean…language…jinx!” He laughed even louder.
“Where did you even learn that?” Blaise chuckled, his eyes sparkling in amusement.
“Narcissa,” Pansy smirked. “No more cursing for you gentlemen,” she winked at Millie who grinned widely.
“What?” Vince shrieked in horror, “how long does it last?!”
“Two days max,” Pansy giggled at the boy’s obvious distress.
She should probably keep re-casting that on him for a while until he re-learns how to say an entire sentence without cursing at someone…
Theo was laughing even harder at the duress Vince had worked himself into at hearing he could be like this for a full forty-eight hours, and his arm very ungracefully swatted his glass of pumpkin juice to the floor. “Biscuits,” he muttered under his breath, and the roars of laughter gained new life.
By the end of the lunch period, the Slytherins had earned glares from a few lingering Gryffindors, looks of envy from the Hufflepuffs, and smirks from the few Ravenclaws who knew what had actually transpired the last half hour. The group of boys had gone a few rounds trying to say various curse words and phrases to see what they came out as.
Theo tried for “tits” and it came out as “coconuts”, Vince tried “fucking hell” and got “ducking bell”. Greg gave it a shot and tried to say “bloody” and ended up saying “cuddly”. Once the laughter died down from that one, Draco and Blaise offered up “shite!” and “damn it!” and closed it out with “jeepers!” and “oh bother!”.
Satisfied with Pansy’s spell casting, the girls led the way to their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the year. Draco and Theo were more than a little nervous as Professor Lupin had been eyeing the pair of them specifically since they first met. Luckily for the blonde, he still needed to slip off and use his time turner to go back and sit through Muggle Studies. He wasn’t really sure what he had expected but it wasn’t that .
Professor Charity Burbage had given them some play to read aloud by William Shakespeare—even by medieval standards, the man seemed to simply make up his own words. Draco had to give it to him, though, if what Professor Burbage said was true, the man was a genius. Whether his writing was any good or not remained to be seen, but the man certainly knew how to make a few galleons—or pounds? Shillings? He couldn’t remember what the Muggles called it then. Supposedly the man had shaped the English language as they knew it, and that was enough of an accomplishment to draw the attention of a Malfoy.
Draco ran to the dungeons to swap out his books from the morning and grabbed his DADA and Ancient Runes books, and trotted back up to the landing he had originally hidden behind. He picked the empty classroom across from where he had disappeared from and waited, reading ahead for their Defense class, until he heard himself and the other Slytherin third year students approaching. From his hiding spot, Draco saw the blue flash and snuck out of the classroom, quickly joining his friends.
“I bet we learn about werewolves!” Vince said, his hands raised up in front of his face, imitating claws.
“Why on earth would he start at werewolves, mate?” Blaise rolled his eyes at their over-zealous friend.
“Vince, it’s not like Care of Magical Creatures, you’re not gonna actually see one even if we do talk about them—“ Draco was shocked to see his friend’s face fall at the realization, “why would you want to actually see one anyway? It’d kill you!”
“Ahem” a voice cleared behind him, and Draco slowly turned. He had a feeling he knew who had made the sound, but was hoping for the best. The looks on his friends’ faces as he turned were not promising.
“Draco Malfoy, I presume?”
“Yes, sir,” the boy gulped. He wasn’t sure why he was suddenly so nervous, he hadn’t done anything wrong, but his palms were suddenly sweaty.
“May I speak to you privately for a moment?” Professor Lupin asked with a genuine smile.
“I-I guess so,” Draco stammered as his friends quickly retreated into the Defense classroom.
“Walk with me.” The older wizard led him down the corridor and around a corner, just out of sight from where the classroom sat. When Draco looked a little concerned at the distance, the professor waved his hand around to accentuate the bare walls around them. “In Hogwarts, many of the walls do in fact, have ears,” he winked.
“I wanted to speak to you, Draco, about the way you have been treating Harry, and in the presence of myself and other professors, at that.”
“What’s it to you?” Draco spat, fuming. Of course this is about Potter. Everything’s about Potter.
“I’ll be completely honest with you, his father was one of my best friends when we were here, at Hogwarts, and I would appreciate it if you could at least try to maintain some semblance of peace with Harry this year.”
“Of course he was. Potter,” the blonde grumbled under this breath with an eye roll.
“But I will also be having a similar conversation with Harry.”
“Right, and I’m just supposed to believe that after you tell me his father was your best friend?” Draco scoffed, but realizing he was showing far too much emotion when it came to Potter, he let his Occlumency shield slip into place—his face a mask.
“Yes, and so was your mother—for the short amount of time we were both here,” Lupin said casually, watching Draco’s mask falter.
“My mother? What does she have to do with anything?” Draco whispered angrily, as though someone might hear and sully the good name of Narcissa Malfoy.
“She was my first friend at Hogwarts.” He answered simply before walking past a dumbfounded Draco. “And I can assure you, we won’t be talking about werewolves today.”