The Goblet
The arrival of the Beauxbatons is, for lack of better words, amazing.
Pegasuses drive shining white chariots into their landing spot, a mass of white wings and blue lace that no one can quite tear their eyes off of. A burst of stunning blue magic later and a giant carriage is standing in the once empty grounds, full of windows no one can see through and blue-gold spirals that spin their way to the top where the glistening Beauxbatons symbol shines for all to see. Golden roses and periwinkle lavenders wind their way across, a light blue door springs into life, a handle that appears to be made of flowers twists open. It’s immaculate, clean, gorgeous, perfect. One by one, beautiful people file out, coming to stand in a perfect blue line, uniforms pressed and polished, looking like marble statues as Madame Olympe Maxime emerges, walking in graceful steps down to greet Dumbledore.
Draco’s never been more jealous in his entire life.
In the line up he spots Fleur, but he can’t quite get to her now.
Because, unfortunately, the Durmstrang are breaking through the surface of the Black Lake.
It’s cool enough to capture his attention.
How can it not, a giant boat popping out of the sea is very much something to witness. Water rolls off the dark wooden ship like it couldn’t be anywhere else. Men, that Draco does recognize as attractive, slowly stop rowing as the boat comes to a halt. He kinda wishes they’d take off those big burly coats, but to their credit their over the top flips to shore are kinda interesting. Unfortunately, they don’t have time to magic the sweat and grime off their uniforms before the vessel opens and Igor Karkaroff is stepping off, looking every bit the asshole Draco remembers from his father’s study when Lucius was tempted to send him there.
Draco’s so, so, thankful his mother had thrown a fit over the whole thing.
Igor greets Dumbledore like he’s doing the man a favor and Draco decides then and there that he's awful.
Sure, he’s still annoyed with his Headmaster over the whole Putting an Innocent Man that just so happened to be A Relative in Azkaban thing, but he and Severus are the only people who can look at Dumbledore with that much disdain and get away with it.
The two Headmasters follow Dumbledore in the school, their students marching behind them, and only after the last traces of unfamiliar uniforms are gone can Flitwick get his class back under control.
“Settle down! We haven’t finished-”
Why bother, honestly. No one’s paying attention, not after that.
Blaise turns to him, “Are you sure I can’t flirt with your cousin?”
Draco hits him with his notebook and turns to watch Flitwick sigh and resign himself to the fact that any productiveness has long since passed. On the plus side, Draco’s been done with his assignment. He’s rather good at charms.
They’re released early, or rather, Flitwick kicks them out after his awakening. Draco hands in his work with a smile and joins his friends and the rest of the school in excitement.
Today’s the day, afterall, anyone who’s not excited is fucking mental.
Blaise and Pansy drag him and Millie back down to the dorms to change because “We’ve been wearing the same outfit all day! We can’t meet new people in this!”
Which means he and Millie also somehow end up with new clothing.
Not that he’s complaining, of course.
Pansy’s managed to either sneak in or make a tight, dark, short dress that glimmers when she moves and demands to be noticed under her robes. She’s forced Millie into a similar dress, only her’s is green satin and less like a second skin.
Draco’s just happy he doesn’t have to wear heels.
Blaise busted out the big guns, pressed black slacks that are a little too tight for comfort, but hey, his ass looks great even beneath his outer robes that he will definitely be leaving off on ‘accident’. Draco’s told to throw his shirt on the floor because it doesn’t go with the pants that Blaise picked, Pansy rummages through his drawers while Millie sits on his bed and plays with LuLu.
“How come your room is so much nicer than the others?”
Draco shrugs, spritzing himself with something that smells like mahogany teakwood. “Snape felt bad that Crabbe and Goyle are assholes?”
“Don’t let her lie to you,” Pansy pops out from his closet, “We have the room almost to ourselves with how much Daphne is gone.”
“That’s-hey! Watch what you're throwing, those are my favorite underwear!”
Pansy rolls her eyes and disappears again as Blaise appears from their bathroom.
“What do you think?”
Objectively, Draco knows his best friend is kinda hot. They’re far too close to family for anything to ever come of it, but he has eyes and raging hormones and even a blind person could spot Blaise on a street and whistle. His pants are just as tight as Draco’s, flexing muscles that neither of them should have with the lack of Quidditch. Shirt pristine as always, a dark olive that goes so nice with his dark skin, tucked in and fitted so that his arms are very much on display, despite it being a sweater.
Pansy pops back up just to grin. “By Merlin, I think you might be hot Zabini.”
“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all year for those who are not like my siblings.”
Draco laughs, his same thought, before Blaise turns and glares at him.
“What happened to your shirt?”
“Doesn’t match!” Pansy calls from the closet.
“We’ll be late if you don’t hurry!”
Draco takes a quick look at his watch and sighs. “Winky?”
She appears with a bow on a stool, knitting something that looks a lot like one of his old sweaters. “Master Draco?”
“Can you help Pansy? She’s looking for something and we’ll be late-”
Winky has a shirt in her hand before he can finish, handing it over as Pansy peers out of his wardrobe.
“You found it!”
Winky raises an eyebrow. “I just be thinking what would go nicely with Master Draco’s pants and figures is all.”
Pansy wipes a non-existent tear from her perfect face. “Finally, another with taste that aren’t awful.”
“Hey!”
Millie doesn’t even bother, perfectly content to stay out of it with a purring LuLu.
The shirt is a simple silver silk. Pansy makes him leave the first two buttons undone, rolls up the sleeves because “It’s about the arms, Draco!”, and tucks it in. Finishing his outfit off with a belt Winky hands her and her black dragon skin shoes, it’s Blaise’s and Millie’s turn to cat call him.
Pansy surveys her handiwork before smiling. “Why, Draco, I dare say you belong in Witch Weekly.”
“Or in some poor soul’s wet dream.”
Millie throws a pillow at him, Draco laughs, reaches down to pick up LuLu and the five of them make their way to the Great Hall.
They’re the last people to show up from Hogwarts, which suits him just fine because at least all of the school turns to stare. He picks up some heavy lust, some jealousy, and a lot of appreciation as they make their way to the Slytherin table.
Draco manages to catch Harry’s eye as he sits.
If the boy looks at him like that every time he dresses up, he’ll have to be Pansy’s doll more often.
He manages one wink that turns Harry’s face an interesting shade of red before the doors open and Draco almost squeals.
Sure, he might be a bit biased because Fleur is a Beauxbaton, but there’s no denying how breathtaking the students are. Twelve students file into the room, singing a song he suspects is so pretty because at least one- probably more- are part Veela. There’s something about those who go to the Academy.
No matter their hair color, it’s all shiny and flawless. No matter their skin color, they’re all perfect and glowing. No matter their weight, they all are models. Backs straight, skirts and slacks uncreased, smiles perfectly white and dazzling.
Something about that Academy produces the most beautiful people he’s ever seen, and in the middle of them all is Fleur, blond hair like his own going straight down her back and ending in little curls. Different from the other blondes because she is radiant, full of pride as though there is no one but her in the room.
When they were younger Draco called her his role model, and that stands to this day.
Their song is over far too quickly, and they file themselves away to the side to make room for the others.
Every last one of them is fit as hell.
Durmstrang enters the room with fire blazing, and Draco’s tempted to make a joke about them all being hot. They flip, roll, chanting something without words that sends a thoom through everyone there. And in the middle is Igor, Viktor Fucking Krum, who is also fit as fuck, and someone Draco’s never seen. He lets himself appreciate how tight Krum’s uniform is before giving the stranger his full attention.
They’re almost as tall as Severus, with long blonde hair that rivals Fleur’s. Slicked back, cascading down like a waterfall. There’s a white beauty mark on their left cheek that contrasts with their skin. Darker than Blaise, but with the glare of Severus and the fashion sense of Pansy. Their pants are high waisted and dark, revealing several curves that blend perfectly with the cream sweater barely visible beneath the dark overcoat thrown across their shoulders. Their eyes scan the room without moving their head. Turquoise pierces him, he has half a mind to throw up his occlumency shields before they’re gone, fading with the rest of the students to the side so Dumbledore can give his speech.
Something about ‘no underage participation’ and ‘be nice to the other schools’. Nothing Draco pays attention to once he and Fleur lock eyes.
It takes all of two seconds after Dumbledore finishes for Draco to make his way to her.
“Darling!”
He’s going to get so much shit for speaking in French, but he couldn’t give a rat’s ass if he tried.
“Love!”
Fleur hugs him tight, “How wonderful to see you again! I did hope I would be one of the few selected, but one can never be sure.”
“As if they would pick anyone but you.”
She takes a second to look him over, “Did you dress up?”
“Perhaps. But, nevermind that, shall we go see Luna?”
“Luna?!” Fleur nearly blinds him with her smile. “I did not know she went here! Please, lead the way!”
Getting shit for being fluent in French is nothing compared to the dirty looks he gets for leading his cousin to the Ravenclaw table. Luna’s on her feet before he can get too close.
“Fleur!”
His cousins meet, embrace, and then he gets to watch Fleur cup Luna’s face.
“My dear! Look at how grown you’ve gotten! You’re such a beautiful young lady, your mother would be so happy.”
Not a subject Draco would’ve brought up for their first meeting, and Luna looks one more comment away from her Sad Look that always makes him want to burst into tears, so he slides his arms into theirs, walking them away from the Ravenclaw table in case one of those bastards happens to speak French.
“How is your sister, Fleur?”
No one makes a single comment as the three sit at the end of the Slytherin table. Pansy joins them, introduces herself, and spends the next few minutes introducing Millie and Blaise to the rest of the Beauxbatons that followed. Fleur tells Luna and Draco about Gabrielle, and then yells at them for not visiting as often.
“Honestly, Draco, your mother has been with us for the past few summers. She sent a note about not coming this past year, is everything alright?”
Draco smiles easily at her, “Mother just missed me is all. We spent the summer on our island, I’m surprised she didn’t invite you.”
“Please,” Fleur huffs, “The last time I went to that island I had to watch some asshole stab your snake, I do not wish to return and see the same happen to his cutie.”
LuLu looks up at that, having already made friends with his cousin, and purrs a little louder.
Draco could not agree more.
“Are you going to put your name in the Goblet?” Luna asks. She’s tucked away in the last seat, right beside Draco and across from Fleur, almost as though they’re trying to protect her, which they most definitely are.
Fleur reaches out to grab her hand. “Of course I am, Myōbu. Madam would not have brought me if she thought otherwise, but do not fret. I promise I am a competent witch these days.”
Luna flushes at her mother’s old nickname, the one they rarely use these days, and then lets out a little laugh.
“Does this mean you can finally see the pixies in the gardens?”
Draco makes a face, no matter what Luna says, he refuses to believe the little lights in his gardens are pixies. Fleur smiles.
“Not as well as you can.”
Luna grins, desert is severed, and Draco has the pleasure of seeing Blaise nearly put whipped cream on his nose in an attempt to flirt with a brunette in blue.
“I’m telling you, it won’t work.”
Wednesday rolled around too quick for anyone to notice, and with all the excitement of the Tournament, hardly anyone is remembering their classes.
Except for Draco and Hermione, that is.
The two of them are sat at one of the desks in the Gang’s room, instead of eating breakfast they pour over the other’s finished essays and try to figure out what the hell they’re going to do for McGonagall’s project. He feels a bit like he should go over the top, afterall she was the one who saved him from being a ferret and brought him to Madam Pomfrey when he couldn’t move.
A nice, well thought out and impressive project should show his thanks, but all he has is half-ass ideas and a brain that refuses to work with him.
So instead he’s proof reading Hermione’s Potions paper while she thumbs though his Charms essay. Flitwick still wasn’t happy with the Slytherins after last Friday, but it wasn’t their fault something was more interesting than his class.
Across the room Harry, Ron, and Millie are working through their homework after a stern lecture from Hermione herself about the importance of doing homework the day before it’s due. Pansy and Blaise have already finished, so she can’t yell at them much, but it does disappoint her to see how little his friends are willing to put into their completed work.
On the couches are the twins, Ginny, and Luna, who are all done with their assignments and chatting about something that’s probably at least a little stupid.
Luna glances up from History Behind Family. “The Goblet is made of ancient magic, perhaps something other than an age potion would work?”
Hermione drops the papers in her hand.
“Tell me you’re not thinking of putting your name in the Goblet?”
She doesn't get a reply.
“Fred! George! That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever thought of! Luna is right, the magic of the Goblet is too complicated for something so simple! At the very least Dumbledore will have warded it against this very thing! Didn’t you listen to his speech at all?!”
Fred, no George, grins at her. “Of course we did,”
“We just don’t care.”
“It’s not fair to exclude us like this!”
“There won’t be another tournament for us to partake in!”
“So we just have to do it now!”
Ginny raises a single bored eyebrow, “But do you seriously think an aging potion will work?”
It doesn’t.
They all manage to sneak into the Goblet’s room at just the right time to witness the giant fail.
Fred and George clink their glasses, down them, and a few moments later they smile and hop into the circle.
For a second Draco almost thinks it will work. They’re in the circle, bowing to applauding Gryffindors, so it might as well work. But then George-no Fred- no, both of them put their names in. All is quiet and then the Goblet roars and the twins are suddenly Dumbledore’s age.
Draco couldn’t hold back the laughter if he tried. Even Blaise, the only one he managed to drag with him, is chuckling.
The twins blink at each other, then share a wicked smile.
“Oi! Now that we’re in our old age, maybe we can get our business license.”
“Please,” George huffs, “You can do whatever you’d like, my back is killing me!”
“Your back?! My back is on fire!”
“Well, you didn’t fall on your ass did you?! I’ve got ass and back pain!”
“That’s nothing! I’ve got- I’ve got heart problems!”
“I’ve told you for years, Freddie, that’s just called ‘emotional unavailability’.”
“I’ll show you emotions!”
Seeing two elderly twins roll about on the floor has got to be the highlight of Draco’s day.
But it’s nothing compared to the surprise that follows in the evening.
After dinner Draco promised to show Fleur around the castle, and since Blaise and Pansy were arguing about something in his room, Draco started with a less annoying place.
The library.
If he plays his cards right, he might even get some work done. School stops for nothing, not even the Triwizard Tournament.
“Is this your way of telling me I need to study?”
Draco snorts, plopping down at his usual table while she sits in front of him. “We both know I’d just tell you that. This is my way of telling you I need to study.”
“Explain?”
“I’m at the top of all my classes at the moment, there’s just this girl who’s nearly impossible to beat.”
Fleur gives him a look. “You? You’re having academic competition?”
Draco nods, taking out his Herbology textbook because it’s the only class he’s not currently beating Hermione in.
“Who is this girl?! She must be brilliant.”
“Oh she is.” Draco sighs. He takes a moment to look around for his favorite bushy hair and spots her a few tables away, head buried in what looks like Potions notes. He’s five points higher than her in that class. “Over there. You see the girl with the bushy hair? Her name is Hermione Granger, and she’s quite possibly the brightest witch of our age.”
He keeps his voice low, not many people are in the library, and none of them are purebloods so he doesn’t think they’ll be able to understand him. Not that he’s taking any chances. Anyone could speak French at any given time these days.
Fleur’s just looked over her shoulder when it happens.
Viktor Krum has somehow managed to sneak in unnoticed, which is a feat in itself considering the fanclub that’s been following him around, and is currently standing over Hermione looking weirdly nervous.
He clears his throat.
“Excuse me, Miss, would you mind if I sat with you?”
Hermione doesn’t even look up, mumbling something to herself and flipping through her papers so Krum tries again.
“It’s just that there are no empty tables….”
A lie. There are five empty tables surrounding Draco and Fleur, and three around Hermione’s area. But this finally gets the girl to look up. She blinks a few times, and then looks around before blushing.
“Sorry! Were you talking to me?”
Krum looks like a whipped puppy. “Yes….I was wondering if I could sit with you?”
“Of course!” Hermione smiles. “As long as you don’t mind me talking to myself, that is.”
Krum laughs easily, sliding into one of the free chairs. “Talking to oneself while studying helps many people, especially when the topic is interesting.”
Wrong thing to say, when Hermione gets going, she doesn’t stop. “Oh, it’s very interesting! Well, as interesting as Potions can be, right now we’re brewing Pepper-Up, and I know it seems a bit silly but by Godric could I use eight of them.”
The joke isn’t funny, but Krum laughs anyway, and Fleur turns back to him with wide eyes. “I think Krum might have a little crush.”
“You think?”
Draco turns back to his papers and hopes Ron doesn’t lose his mind over it.
He meets Harry in the Gang’s Room at a quarter to midnight and immediately tells him about Krum and Hermione.
Harry is, understandably, devastated.
“But! But Ron and Hermione have been-for at least a year now they’ve-”
“I know!”
“Godric, he’s going to be so upset….”
Draco tosses him a bag of jellybeans. “I just hope she’s the one to tell him.”
They’re in a bit of an odd position. Already on the floor for when Sirius finally gets around to calling them, lying on opposite ends of the same pillow. Draco rolls over to see Harry’s face, and it’s a little weird to see the boy upside down, but even weirder to feel his heart flutter when green eyes look back at him.
“Do you think he’ll ask her to the Yule Ball?”
“If Ron doesn’t get his shit together he might.”
Harry frowns, “Shit.”
Draco flicks his nose. “You think you’re in a bad spot? Pans is nearly done with her dress and has decided to make our robes too.”
“All of us?!”
“Not quite. I know Millie’s been roped into the whole thing, and she’s already gotten mine and Blaise’s measurements. Apparently she plans to add Hermione to the mix, which means she’ll be coming after you when she’s done with Ron.”
“What is she doing with his robes? You saw them, didn’t you? They’re bloody awful.”
Draco snorts, “She wanted to burn them, but Ron told her that it’s the family robes so she’s trying to fix them. Granted, I don’t think she’s been too focused on that with her own dress.”
“Do you know what it looks like?”
“Nope. I know it’ll be stunning, Pans is quite the perfectionist, but she’s refusing to show anyone.”
“Even Millie?”
“Even Millie.”
Harry runs a hand through his hair, Draco gets a whiff of something that smells like citrus, and then lets the arm fall between them. “At least we’ll all look good while making fools out of ourselves.”
Draco has an odd urge to hold the hand resting by his chest. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve just realized that Gryffindors don’t really do dancing.”
“Too busy gallivanting through raging fires and saving snakes?”
“Don’t forget trying to escape life threatening situations, making maidens blush, and poking fun at ferrets.”
“Oh, Merlin,” Draco groans,“don’t remind me. Snape is still pissed.”
“He should be! I still don’t understand why you won’t let him tell you mother.”
“What are we not telling Narcissa?”
The two of them bolt upright, smiling at Sirius’s face in the fire.
“Hi Sirius!”
“Evening, uncle.”
Sirius rolls his eyes in the fire, Remus’s head pokes up beside him. “What are we not telling Narcissa?”
Draco has a fraction of a second to glare at Harry before he’s diving head first into the story. He makes it way too dramatic, and full of colorful language that the two adults don’t even blink at.
Probably because they share Harry’s furry.
“How dare he!”
“To a student?!”
“The Moody I know would never do such a thing! Tell me Sniffles ripped him a new one!”
Draco smirks at the memory. “He wouldn’t let me be there for it, but he was still raving when I went into his office. Something about Moody being a ‘downright arrogant fuck’ and ‘if he puts his hands on another student’ Snape will ‘castrate him and hang him out to dry’.”
“I knew he had a backbone somewhere under that cloak,” Remus laughs.
Sirius and Harry look struck.
“What? I thought Snape didn’t care about his students!”
“What are you talking about, Harry? Professor Snape cares very much for his students, he just has a weird way of showing it.”
“Remus! Don’t defend that prick!”
“Hey!” Draco snaps, “That prick is my godfather and has saved my life-and yours!”
Sirius has the decency to at least contemplate this, Harry just stares.
“But-he! Neville! He constantly picks on the boy! Not to mention how he treats the other houses! And he’s always mean and-”
“Harry,” Draco sighs, “Severus is anything but mean. Sure, he’s an ass sometimes, but he always looks out for his students. Do you remember first year when you followed him around and thought he was the one trying to steal the stone?”
“Yes?”
“He wasn’t. Obviously, he went down there to try and stop Quirrell several times, got beaten up pretty badly for it too. Ranted to Dumbledore about how stupid it was to keep the stone at the school in the first place, need I remind you that he was the one who kept you from dying in your first Quidditch match.”
“But! He’s never liked me-”
“Actually,” Draco doesn’t like the sheepish look on his cousin’s face. “That might be our fault.”
Remus snorts, “Might be? No, that's definitely our fault. Or, your fault, Sirius.”
“What did you do?” Draco asks, trying to glare but it’s rather hard to glare fully at someone who already looks guilty.
“Don’t look at me like, Draco! Technically, it was his own fault for calling Lily a ‘mudblood’ all the time! When he made her cry, well, James and I couldn’t just let it go, and for that matter I fully recall you and Peter being in on the whole thing too!”
Harry sits up straighter when his parents are mentioned. Draco and Remus notice and before he can demand the full story, Remus is telling it.
“Stop trying to hide it, Sirius. The truth is that we weren’t exactly kind to Snape in our school years. He was an ass, and we were assholes back. At first it was light name calling, but then James developed his crush on Lily in third year and well...it all went downhill from there. He started calling her mudblood, and we retaliated. Badly. We were bullies, Harry. The awful sort. And as such, Snape wanted us gone. I don’t blame him, we rather brought it on ourselves…”
Sirius sighs, “It was fifth year, and he started sneaking around. Trying to get us expelled, I guess, and when he started to go after Remus, well, I kind of snapped.”
“Kind of?! You laid a trap for him! I could’ve killed him, Sirius!”
Draco’s eyes widen. “What?”
“I….I might have told him where Remus disappeared to every month. He wanted to know so badly, and I didn’t actually think he'd go down there, but he did. And when I told James he demanded we go and check, just to be sure. I didn’t really think anything of it, but your father was right, Harry. I went too far, and I should’ve known he’d go….”
“That night,” Remus continues, “Severus walked in on my transformation. I would’ve maimed him if James and Sirius hadn’t burst through the door, and after that, well, all of us were out for blood. And I hate to admit it, but if I was bullied relentlessly for years by some jerk and then his kid, who’s the spitting image of him, walked through my classroom doors….I don’t think I’d react well, either.”
Silence fills the room for a few heavy beats, and the Draco clears his throat.
“Did you ever apologize?”
“Of course,” Remus replies without missing a breath, “The day I got my job at Hogwarts I went to him and, yes,he refused me the first few times, but I eventually got him to have tea and we talked. Not a nice talk, but one that wasn’t awful. I think he made my potions as an apology back, so by the end of the year we were okay before….well...”
“And you?” Draco turns his face to his cousin.
Sirius looks sad, almost as sad as he was the day he flew off on Buckbeak. “I’ve never really had the chance. I should. I think I might want to, but the last time we were face to face I was rather….preoccupied…”
Harry chuckles beside him, and Draco gives in to the laughter. He’ll write his mother and make her deal with it later, after all there’s no excuse for a grown man taking his anger out on a child. But for now he has to deal with Harry’s crossed arms.
“I still think he’s a giant prat. There’s no need for him to treat Neville the way he does.”
Draco shrugs, “Longbottom is awful at potions, and the one thing Severus hates more than those who don’t try are those who are too afraid to.”
“Neville isn’t afraid!”
“He’s been terrified since the first day of class!”
“Can you blame him?!”
“Yes! I’m telling you, all you have to do to get on Snape’s good side is try and not be an asshole, despite what you might think, he’s very impressed with Hermoine, and even you on some occasions.”
Harry looks at him like he’s just renounced sweets. But before they can get into an argument, Sirius is asking about the Tournament and the thought is lost. For now, at least, but Draco adds it to his List of Things to Fix Later, and yes, he will be having a long talk with his godfather about the whole thing at their Friday tea.
It’s odd for a Friday in October to be so busy, especially when Halloween is still two weeks away, but, Merlin, Draco can barely catch his breath.
He arrives early to Transfiguration so he can have a chat with McGonagall.
“Mister Malfoy, how rare to see you here so early. You are aware that class doesn’t start for another twenty minutes, aren’t you?”
Draco resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead focusing on how anxious he is over this whole conversation, but, he has no fucking ideas and who better to talk to than the person in charge of such an outrageous assignment?
“Yes, I do hope you’ll forgive me for intruding, but I was wondering if I could speak to you about my project?”
McGonagall gestures to an empty seat. “Please, have a seat and a candy if you’d like, Godric knows all my other students take them.”
Draco selects one singular lemon drop, which makes her smile for some reason, and then sits. “I appear to be out of ideas, professor. I’ve written down dozens, but none of them stick, and quite frankly I’m not sure they’re good enough. You wouldn’t happen to have any recommendations, would you?”
He gets a thoughtful eye and a strangely knowing smile. “I, unfortunately, cannot hand you an answer to your issue, but I can give you some advice. This project will be something you’re allowed to keep, as such, my recommendation would be to make it useful. Something that could help either you or your friends. Something practical that you’d keep for a long time. Projects don’t make good decorations for my office, you know.”
Draco wants to ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean, but students are starting to arrive from breakfast so he goes to his seat at the back of the class and tries to think of something useful.
Naturally, nothing comes to mind.
Though he does keep trying to think, even as his friends drag him to DADA, where he doesn’t pay a lick of attention and ends up getting ten points taken from Slytherin. Oh well, he can earn them back in Potions.
At lunch all anyone can talk about is what’s going to happen at dinner.
Fleur’s taken to sitting with him, which means Luna is usually at their table too, which means he and his friends form a baracide between them and the others, just in case.
“Are you excited?” He asks as he picks at his salad.
Luna tries not to look sick, Fleur just seems gitty.
“Yes! I hope to get called on, of course, but even if I don’t it will still be nice to see my family, hm?”
That puts Luna’s mind at ease, but Draco is still desperately trying to come up with something for his project. Who cares about a death competition he’s not allowed to partake in? Not him, obviously.
In Herbology, Blaise rambles about how someone has clearly been tending to the greenhouses because Sprout has been busy, full of both compliments and complaints. Draco notes that Blaise clearly has a thing for plants, while also damming it all because he couldn’t care about them any more than he cares for the Tournament.
Flitwick once again gives up midway through class, seeing as no one is really paying attention, and since Draco knows Snape is free, he makes his way to the dungeons where the tea is already brewing.
“It’s like my brain has just up and left!”
“I daresay that happened a long time ago, Draco.”
He glares, he does, but Snape is too busy grading papers to notice and Draco really hates it when people ignore him, so he doesn’t even ease into the conversation. He belly flops and makes a horrid splash just because he can.
“Pay attention to me! We need to talk about Longbottom!”
That seems to confuse his godfather. “Longbottom? Why on Earth would we need to talk about him?”
“Because, I was talking with a friend-”
“Potter, you were talking to Potter.”
Draco narrows his eyes, “Fine. I was talking to Harry and he’s under the impression that you hate every single student that’s not me, and I was trying to defend you but he pointed out how you treat Longbottom and I rather think he’s got a point.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, come off it. Is it really necessary for you to bully him every time he comes into the classroom?”
“I don’t bully him, I merely engage in a bit of hard learning.”
“So you bully him. Don’t lie to me, I’ve had Potions with the Gryffindors since first year, I’ve seen literally every interaction. There was the time you tried to kill his frog-”
“I had the antidote right there, I was merely trying to make him take the class seriously.”
“That time you called his work ‘a tasteless mockery of the word disgraceful’-”
“Well it was-”
“And you made him cry on Thursday because he forgot one ingredient.”
“It was written down in his book! There’s no excuse for that! Literally, right in front of him and he still manages to screw it up? That boy has no hope for potions! He makes light of an art, Draco!”
Draco leans back in his chair, idly taking a sip of his tea. “All I want to know is why you’re so hard on him. It doesn’t have anything to do with the Old Days, does it? He’s just a child, there’s no need to take your anger at his parents out on him like you do to Harry.”
He wonders for a second if he went too far, Snape’s all but frozen and looks as though he’s preparing one of his nastiest sneers. But then, to Draco’s shock, Severus deflates.
His godfather mumbles something that vaguely sounds like ‘Merlin damn’, ‘fucking Ellie’, and ‘having morals’ as he rubes his forehead and then he sets his papers aside. Draco sits up. Apparently, this is a much deeper conversation that he thought it would be.
“You know I joined Dumbledore towards the end of the first war, correct?”
Draco nods, Severus told him about those days during his first year. They spent many nights in this very office talking about what it truly meant to support his father’s past, what it really means to follow Riddle. How he couldn’t sit by and watch his classmates either die or descend into madness, something about an old friend’s life being on the line had broken him, so he went to the only person he knew could help.
“I was reunited with many people during those days, and because I was a double agent, I had to watch many of them suffer...and Longbottom’s parents were one of the worst. Their son had just been born, and the Dark Lord- Riddle,” Severus rolls his eyes, “was defeated not too soon after. Bella…”
Draco jolts at his aunt’s name like someone had hit him.
“She had long since lost her sanity, but that night whatever hope she had vanished. She brought them to the last Death Eater meeting and tortured them to suicide.” Severus says in a quiet voice. “Some people can’t handle Unforgivables, and those two were always too kind….I couldn’t do anything to stop them...and every time I look into that child’s face all I see is…”
He can’t finish, but he doesn’t need to. Draco has a rare moment where he needs to hug his godfather, but he settles for setting down his tea. Snape’s mask hasn’t faltered once inside the school, and he doubts talking of the past will be the thing to break him.
“If you hadn’t been there, mother and I wouldn't be here now, would we?”
Severus doesn’t answer so Draco continues.
“If you can save a Death Eater’s wife and her son, then you can stand to be nice to Longbottom.”
“Nice?” Severus sneers, “You want me to be nice?”
“You’re really not the asshole you aspire to be, you know.”
“No, I am very much an asshole, you’ve just been around me too much to see it.”
“The joys of family,” Draco retorts dryly. Snape looks shocked, like he’s momentarily forgotten his importance, and then Draco gets to see one of his rare smiles.
“You should be getting to dinner.”
“As should you. Apparently, some type of important news is being disclosed tonight.”
Snape sighs, but he does stand up and lead the way out the door. “Your mother is still mad that I didn’t tell her.”
“Did you know?”
“As if that would keep her from being angry.”
They make their way to the Great Hall, talking about Narcissa and her annoyance that Draco might not be home for Christmas, but when they enter the room all thoughts of conversations stop.
The room is almost as pretty as it is during the holidays.
In the center is the Goblet, blue fire winking at anyone who looks too long. Banners from all three schools hang from the ceilings, candles float and cast shadows at any given surface. Draco smiles.
He really loves magic.
Dinner passes in excitement, only Fleur is forced to sit at the Beauxbaton table. Before he knows it, the desert is being cleared away and the excitement begins.
In alphabetic order the champions are called.
Beauxbaton goes first, and Draco holds his breath as the fire spits out a name.
“Fleur Delacour!”
His heart feels heavy, dread or excitement or both. Fleur smiles at her cheering friends, Draco makes a mental note to find out every single detail of the Tournament. His family is involved now, he has to know.
Durmstrang is next, and he’s not surprised in the least when Viktor Krum is announced.
But he does hold his breath again as the Hogwarts Champion’s name comes out of the fire. Dumbledore smiles, then announces to the world: “Cedric Diggory!”
The entire school cheers, Draco included because it’s Cedric and he can’t think of anyone better to represent them. Dumbledore begins another speech, and then the strangest thing happens.
There’s a sputtering noise, like something angry from the seven layers of hell.
A piece of paper spits out of the fire.
Dumbledore catches it with a frown.
Draco’s heart stops, his breath catches, and he looks across the room to see his Gryffindor’s shocked faces.
“Harry Potter?”