Plots
Chapter 8: Plots
The rest of November passed without much incident. The winds heightened around the castle, and a chill sunk into the bones of nearly every student that couldn’t be shaken.
Since he couldn’t spend his time flying, and his friends seemed to have dropped the snooping in relation to Potter and their professors, Draco spent most of his time in the library practicing new spells and reading as much advanced material he could get access too.
He often noted her and her rigorous studying. He would sneak peaks at the titles she would grab and, often, they were of a higher level and much more intriguing than their assigned schoolwork. He had finished all the assignments for the rest of the term, earlier that month, but had taken a page from her playbook and started learning ahead.
One day, near the end of November, the rain had been relentless and Draco had curled up in his favorite window seat in the library. It was near the back, and students rarely came back that far unless passing through to the Restricted Section. He had a mug of hot chocolate with him and a warm apple fritter wrapped in his Malfoy-monogrammed handkerchief. It was a struggle to keep the treats hidden from Madam Pince but it was most certainly worth it.
He had been watching the rain and enjoying his sweets until he got a strong whiff of cinnamon, parchment, and honey—her. He knew without even looking, but he looked anyway. Her bushy brown hair had been pushed back into an elastic that looked as though it could snap any second.
She had a quill held between her large teeth and a stack of books nearly toppling over her head. Draco sighed. He would regret this, but she was honestly going to hurt herself, or even an innocent bystander if she wasn’t more careful.
Draco lithely got up from his perch and approached her from the front so she wouldn’t see him coming. He grabbed the top half of her stack and turned to set it on her usual table. He didn’t speak a word, he simply turned and moved to go back to his own nook, but she stopped him.
“Malfoy?” She squeaked.
“Yes, Granger?” He drawled, feigning disinterest.
“What did you do that for?”
“Is that not where you were going to sit? It’s your usual table, right?” He motioned to her corner table which she did, in fact, spend nearly all of her time holed up at.
“Well, yes, but—“
“I believe the phrase you’re looking for is ‘thank you’, Granger,” Draco smiled genuinely this time at the girl before turning back to his own books.
She clearly didn’t know what to do with his second grand gesture. Whispering, so that no one else would hear, he heard a barely audible “thank you” leave her lips.
Draco simply nodded, and when he looked up from his own book, he saw the titles of a few of hers: Alchemy: Ancient Art and Science, Introduction to Alchemy, and Alchemical Properties and Proponents.
So some light reading today, then. He chuckled silently to himself. At least she had a wide range of magical interests. Alchemy wasn’t even subject matter until N.E.W.T. level studies in sixth year. Draco shrugged and made a mental note to look through the books as well at some point if he was ever to beat her in more of their classes.
He stayed in his nook until she left some odd hours later—leaving only once the letters and lines began to blur together illegibly.
…
She had left her books behind that day, so Draco had no choice but to snatch one of them up for his own quick reading. She had left a few bits of parchment with notes on them stuck between a few pages. Most of the notes were between pages about an alchemist named Nicholas Flamel. Draco read through the few chapters she had noted and recognized that he was the maker of the Philosopher’s Stone.
Draco had heard about the rumored object before—it was widely coveted among the elite families for increasing their families riches and of course the part about living forever. His own father had begun a low-profile search for it as a young man, but it had fallen to the wayside when ‘work’ matters had taken over, or so he said.
The young Malfoy really wasn’t all that sure about his father’s ‘work’. He seemed to take a lot of meetings and travel often. His mother didn’t even appear to know half of what his father was doing—if he wasn’t so clearly in love with her, Narcissa might’ve suspected her husband to be cheating. As it were, Lucius doted on Narcissa every chance he got and brought her treasures and wonders from every trip he took without her.
All that Draco could be certain of was that his father had some rather shady dealings, as did Mr. Parkinson, Crabbe Sr., and Goyle Sr. Mr. Greengrass, however, worked at the Ministry, where Lucius spent much of his time lobbying for his own interests. Nott Sr. had just as vague of a career as Lucius did, in that neither of their sons knew what they did, and Blaise didn’t really even have a father.
The blonde Slytherin found himself back in the commonroom as a result of his paternal musings, and joined his friends. Tracey and Blaise were clearly making fun of Greg, who was being a rather good sport, mostly because he didn’t understand half of what they were saying. Crabbe was openly staring at Daphne with hearts in his eyes, while she tried to ignore the ogling, locked in conversation with Theo and Pansy about Quidditch. Naturally the girls were insisting the Holyhead Harpies were a better team than Puddlemere United based on gender alone.
Draco smiled to himself—how did he get so lucky to have a group of friends that so seamlessly flowed like this. He supposed that’s what happened when they all had similar upbringings, and their families crossed paths regularly. He also guessed that’s why they all ended up in Slytherin.
“Draco, where have you been?!” Pansy laughed out between sarcastic insults she was hurling at Theo as Daphne cackled along.
“In the library,” Draco chuckled along.
“What on Earth could you be reading now?” She whined, “You’ve already finished the reading for the whole year!”
“Well that’s an exaggeration, but I was reading about Alchemy, if you must know, Pansy.”
“Alchemy? What are you up to?” Blaise raised an inquisitorial brow.
“Oh, he’s probably just looking into the Philosopher’s Stone that was almost stolen from Gringotts right before we arrived at Hogwarts,” Theo shrugged.
The entire group of Slytherins went silent and stared at him like he had grown…well…three heads.
“Oh, come on you guys! The bank vault that had been broken into right before term started? It had already been emptied earlier that day? Am I the only one who reads The Daily Prophet?”
Draco broke into a loud fit of laughter and the others quickly joined in. “Theo—mate—what could have—possibly made you—think that’s what—was in—the vault?” Blaise choked out between laughs.
“My dad told me. He was the one who tried to break into the vault,” Theo’s face was somber. “He and a few associates tried to Polyjuice their way into the bank, but the Goblin informant they were working with told them it was empty, so they backed out, just as the Goblin raised the alarms.”
Draco’s jaw was hanging open in shock. The group of children was silent as they took in the information.
“So Daddy Dearest is still a career criminal then, yeah?” Blaise smirked. Theo chucked in response with a nod of his head.
While everyone appreciated the lightening of the mood, Draco wondered who these ‘associates’ were and if any of them had long, platinum blonde hair.
…
Draco had begun meeting with Snape weekly in his office after dinner every Friday. They would discuss Potter’s behavior in the halls and their shared Potions class. Then they would move on to Quirrell’s oddities, which the man had many of.
Draco never spent more than fifteen to twenty minutes meeting with Severus Snape, but the man never spoke to him with arrogance. In fact, he treated Draco almost as a mature adult most of the time. Feeling emboldened, Draco decided to bring up his most recent topic on brainstorming: the Philosopher’s Stone.
“Professor, not to get off topic, but I was hoping to ask you about something I came across in the library,” Draco was trying to tread lightly.
“Go on, Mister Malfoy, I can spare you a few more minutes.”
“I came across a book about Alchemy and it mention a Philosopher’s Stone—“
“And what about it?” Snape snapped defensively.
So he does know something about it…more than what’s in those books.
“Well, I heard a rumor that it was what was in the Gringotts vault that was broken into at the end of the summer,” Draco answered meekly.
“And where did you find that information?” Snape drawled, quickly masking his face with indifference.
“Well, Sir, Granger was reading about the stone in the library, so I began reading similar texts out of curiosity, and when I mentioned what I had read to some of the other Slytherins, Theo mentioned that was what he had heard.”
Surprise was splashed across Snape’s sharp features, but he said nothing for a moment—contemplating how much the blonde boy already knew and should know.
“Well, Mister Malfoy, seeing as you are rather adept at snooping, and Potter’s bunch apparently is already on the trail as well, you should know that the Philosopher’s Stone was brought to Hogwarts for protection.”
“So that’s what that beast is guarding?” Draco blurted out, putting the puzzle pieces together.
Again, shock registered on Snape’s face before he schooled his features once more.
“I should have assumed you would look behind the door after that night, am I to also assume your friends know about all of this as well?”
Draco nodded, “Just Theo and Blaise.”
Snape thought for a moment, “No one else is to know about this—for now.”
Draco nodded once more and left the office, taking it as his dismissal.
…
The blonde Slytherin spent the remainder of the weekend huddled together with his two best friends trying to work out the rest of the mystery. He recounted his meeting with Snape and they all agreed that the three-headed dog was guarding the Philosopher’s Stone under the trap door.
The three boys also concluded that it must be what Quirrell was after, but why they still weren’t sure. Their strange Professor didn’t seem the type to be after riches, perhaps he was afraid of death? The other mystery was why Potter and his misfits were trying to figure the same thing out—and how, or if, they even knew about the beast hidden in the off-limits corridor.
By Sunday, Blaise had deduced that Potter and his lackeys must have found the room when Filch chased them around the third floor during the Trophy Room incident. Granger was certainly intelligent enough to have unlocked the door.
Draco would’ve paid galleons on galleons to have seen Weasel piss himself in front of a giant three-headed dog. Sadly, his imagination would have to suffice.
The trio gave Snape their findings before class, and were instructed to keep their eyes and ears open for anything they heard at home over the approaching Christmas holiday. The new assignment from the Potions Master inspired Draco to invite a few friends over during the holidays.
…
One frosty morning mid-December, the snow was falling in large fluffy flakes, and still Draco was in a rather foul mood. He had lost three rounds of Wizard’s Chess to Theo the night before, and had to give up his beloved stash of apple tarts for their bet. The students were all filing into the dungeons for their weekly double-Potions class with the Gryffin-brats and deciding it had been too long since he had started a confrontation with Potter and his Weasel, he decided to bait them.
“I do feel so sorry for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they’re not wanted at home.” He looked at Potter as he spoke and ever the followers, Crabbe and Goyle chuckled along. However, Potter continued what he was doing and ignored them.
He would just have to try harder then if Potter wouldn’t take the bait. Draco spent the rest of the period making small, snide comments aimed at Potter, Weasley, and once he even commented on Granger’s study habits, though it wasn’t really an insult in his opinion.
After the class was over, and the students were filing out of the dungeons, a large fir tree was blocking the exit. Ah yes, the big oaf was lugging in Christmas trees .
The ginger was offering help, as if he could do anything but carry a twig of the giant tree the large man was carrying.
“Would you mind moving out of the way?” Draco asked, polite and precise to the half-giant. He turned to the red-haired boy with disdain however. “Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose – that hut of Hagrid’s must seem like a palace compared to what your family’s used to.”
Weasley dived at him just as Snape came up the stairs.
“WEASLEY!” Snape commanded, and he let go of the front of Draco’s robes.
“He was provoked, Professor Snape,” said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. “Malfoy was insultin’ his family.”
Draco rolled his eyes and sneered over at Weasley.
“Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid,” said Snape silkily. “Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn’t more. Move along, all of you.”
Draco let Goyle push past the tree first and followed closely behind him to avoid being stuck by the needles, with Crabbe bringing up the rear.
Satisfied with the trouble he’d caused, Draco ate his lunch in peace, enjoying some time alone. At least he thought he would be alone. About halfway through his meal, Pansy, Daphne, Tracey and Millicent waltzed into the Great Hall and surrounded him. Pansy and Tracey sat on either side of him while Daphne and Millicent sat across from him, leaving no room for escaping.
Draco groaned outwardly, and gave Pansy an exaggerated eye roll. “To what do I owe the pleasure, ladies.”
“Oh honestly, Draco, don’t be so dense!” Pansy hissed. “Do Theo or Blaise ever talk about any of us?!”
He was utterly confused. “What do you mean, Pans? They only make fun of you guys occasionally, and it’s never anything personal—just making fun of girls in general—“
Pansy cut him off, “They make fun of us?!” she shrieked at him painfully.
“I…uh…I need to go pack.” Draco stood quickly and made a run for it, but a Hufflepuff bumped into him with his trunk, sending the blonde careening into the wall. The boy made several apologies as he dragged the trunk behind him, in too big of a rush to even stop.
Draco stood up straight and smoothed the wrinkles that had appeared down the front of him. He pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen out of place and turned to leave the hall again, trying to ignore the tittering coming from the very witches he was trying to escape.
He paused.
Her voice lilted into his ears, and he couldn’t help but focus on it. She was talking with the half-giant and the Wonder Twins (seriously, Theo was the best at comical nicknames).
“We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that’s all.”
“Unless you’d like to tell us and save us the trouble?” Potter interjected. “We must’ve been through hundreds of books already and we can’t find him anywhere – just give us a hint – I know I’ve read his name somewhere.”
“I’m sayin’ nothin’,” said Hagrid flatly.
Draco had heard enough. She had just confirmed their suspicions, although it appeared Potter’s little gang was a few steps behind him. For once.
Before he could draw their attention, he quickly darted through the door and hurried back to the dungeons. Snape would want to hear about this, and he still needed to pack his trunk for the holidays.