Christmas Break
Two days before the term ends and Draco is ready to slit someone’s throat. Across the courtyard he can hear the Weasley twins pulling at Potter’s leg, so loudly anyone within a five mile radius could probably hear them.
“Tell us, Harry, who’s your next victim? Gonna switch it up and go for a pureblood?”
Draco would have crushed the apple in his hand if Blaise hadn’t gently grabbed him by the elbow. “I know they’re infuriating,” he whispers as he walks them back towards the dungeons, “What their saying is insulting to every Slytherin, the mere idea of Potter being capable of something interesting is just that. An idea. But if you don’t stop looking like you want to murder him, we’re all going to be in trouble.”
“You say that like you don’t want to beat him with a stick,” Draco whispers back, sending a glare at the Slytherin hall for it to open.
“Oh I’d give up anything to hit him across the head one good time, just not when everyone is suspicious about everything. Besides, I only have two days left to beat you at Wizard’s Chess.”
Draco shoots him a half-smile, following him to one of the empty tables in the common room. “I can’t believe you’re still holding onto that stupid bet with Pansy.”
Blaise merely winks in response, “Anything for a bit of fun, Draco.”
And a ‘bit of fun’ is exactly what they spent their last day together doing. Pansy makes sure to force them into a longer breakfast, complete with lemon tarts and mint tea, promptly dragging them back to the dungeons for a games before it got too crowded. She left the two boys with the rest of their friends so she could spend time with her other friends, the rest of the Slytherin girls in their year. A wink and a few laughs later and they were making their way to the pitch, using snowballs as Bludgers and seeing who could stand the cold the longest; Draco won every round. By night Crabbe and Goyle were each to speak to their parents before staying, leaving Blaise and Draco alone in the dorm, piled under blankets and watching a book they had spelled to come to life. A story from a famous wizard writer- with real integrity unlike one of their professors- about a vampire and his noble deeds to save the world despite those who thought he was evil.
Blasie takes a bite of his chocolate frog, pointing to the characters haloed by wand light. “This bloody vampire reminds me too much of you.”
“What? Afraid I’ll eat you?”
“You’re already a bloodsucking leech, Draco, you can’t do worse than you’ve already done. I’m fairly sure the first years will be coming back with angry notes from their parents.”
“Ah, yes,” Draco raises his voice an octave, “ Dear Professor Snape, how dare you allow my darling, completely innocent child be harmed by a big bad twelve year old! I’ll have both of your heads for this! ”
Blaise matches his pitch, “ Headmaster, I cannot believe the violence you condone at your school! Five hexes, on the same day?! By the same spoiled brat?!”
“Well I have to make a name for myself somehow.”
The two share grins before Draco tosses his friend some pumpkin juice, “What better way to do that than sheer terror?”
“Really, it’s like you’re trying to mimic your father.”
A dark look passes before he can stop it, leaving them both unwilling to speak and nervous. Eventually, Blaise sits up slowly, “Listen, mate, I can’t pretend to know what’s going on, but if that’s what you’ve been so pent up about….you’re not your father. You have more respect than fear, shouldn’t that matter more in loyalty? Hell, I’m loyal to you, and it’s been a while since I’ve been properly terrified by you.”
“Are you suggesting there is something more important than loyalty? Or do I need to hex you before you leave?”
“Maybe, but we’re a little young to worry about that, aren’t we? There’s no need for you to be so worried so soon, relax for a few years, Draco, you deserve it.”
They turn their attention back to the moving words still acting out the book they’re a part of. Much later, once Crabbe and Goyle have returned, and they’ve passed into the fourth volume, Draco mumbled a ‘thank you’. His friends are too asleep to hear him.
----------
“I agree with Mr. Zabini. You are far too young to have these worries, but given our situation, it’s unavoidable.”
Draco kept his mouth shut, sipping his tea like it was the only thing that mattered.
He’d watched his friends and the hundreds of other students file out of the school from the Astronomy tower. Seeing them laugh and carry on, Blaise and Pansy no doubt sharing one too many inside jokes, hurt. Like a knife twisting inside his stomach. How come he didn’t get to be as carefree? Would he get to be happy once his father recovered from whatever hopes he had for the Dark Lord? He ignored the emptiness building up in him, spending time with Crabbe and Goyle who drilled him about the chamber and somehow ended up learning about how awful their classes were going, which led to a few days of tutoring and flying when the three of them got tired.
Christmas day dawned and the loneliness got under his skin. This was, after all, the first time he hadn’t woken up to house elves singing Christmas carols and the smell of breakfast that would be waiting after presents. No hugs and kisses from mother, no loving looks from his parents, not even a cup of tea to wake to. Draco sat in his bed for a long time thinking about the past. Now, instead of hugging him and bestowing a gentleness no one would ever guess Lucius possessed, he was more likely to get a threat and a painful grip on his shoulder. Now, instead of his mother swooping down and squeezing the life out of him before ushering him to his place beside the fire, she would be more likely to owl him from Paris, if he should be so lucky. The surge of emotions hits him like a Bludger to the head and leaves him dizzy.
As soon as the sadness let him breathe, he lugged himself out of bed to find Snape. Misery loves company, and it’s much less dangerous that way. Pleasant at first, simple ‘happy Christmas’ exchange between two people, a warmer atmosphere by Snape’s fire. They exchanged presents, a few of his godfather’s favorite chocolates and a pocket watch for him. After an hour of prodding and poking at the boy, he had finally caved and told Snape his latest bouts of emotions haunting him even in his dreams. The potions master didn’t take it lightly, telling him of all the ways to curb such sadness and even making him practice a few. At the end of their long talk, having missed Christmas tea, Snape pats his shoulder, almost affectionately. It shoots him back to three years ago, although it feels like a lifetime ago. The memory of his father, giving him the same tight smile, the same pat, on the same shoulder.
“Do try to enjoy your break, Draco. If the items from my storages indicate anything, you will. At least try to be careful, polyjuice potion is particularly hard to manage. If you need help, please come to see me. You deserve a little fun, and if you have to be someone else for it, I’ll keep it secret.”
Draco raises an eyebrow, “I thank you for your kindness, it really does mean more to me than I care to admit, but professor, I haven’t taken anything from your storages since we made the anxiety potion.”
Snape’s eyes narrow, “In that case, I recommend you go straight back to your domortary. Until the culprit is caught, this is a very big issue. Keep your eyes open, Draco, if anyone acts funny, remember they may not be who you think they are. Should you figure it out before me, I expect to be notified.”
Draco nods, like the good boy he is, and makes his way back to the common room, fully intending to read a book and go to bed, and then a voice he knows doesn’t belong in these parts of the castle hits him.
“I am a Perfect. Nothing is about to attack me.”
Turning the corner, he sees Crabbe and Goyle glaring at Percy Weasley, who makes the nastiest face at his friends. His friends who had kept their heads down and tried so hard for their grades, only to fail, getting told off for no reason. They’ve been through enough this year, he decides as he strides towards the group.
“There you are,” he makes an effort to keep his tone even, “Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time? I’ve been looking for you; I want to show you something really funny.”
It’s innocent enough that it leaves no room for question,some fun with his friends would actually probably be good for him, but the look Perfect Weasley gives him rubs him the wrong way, and with his morning, he can’t help but sneer. “And what are you doing down here?”
The fool shouts something, not that Draco bothers to listen. Instead he gives his best glare before motioning his friends to follow.
“That Peter Weasley…”he mutters. What an odd thing to see, someone not Slytherin in the dungeons, very suspicious…
“Percy.” Crabbe corrected. Draco cast him a glance, Crabbe never corrected him, usually it was the other way around.
“Whatever, he’s been sneaky around here too much for my liking. I bet he’s trying to take down the heir of Slytherin single-handedly.”
Neither of them laugh at his joke, another very weird thing. He brushes it off as them being a little too full to think, trying to ignore Snape’s warning in the back of his mind. They reach the common room gate, and just because he’s paranoid, he turns to Goyle.
“What’s the new password again?”
Goyle looks panicked for a moment, “Um-”
“Oh nevermind-I remembered. Pureblood.” This is not good. His friends are being very weird. Just last night he had asked the same question and Goyle had simply said it and they moved on. He was good at memorizing, which is why he was struggling so hard in Mcgonagall’s class. One can’t memorize pure skill. He marches in anyways, at least if he’s around other Slytherins he has protection.
“Wait here.” he barks, looking around for anything that would normally make them laugh. He mumbles something else, not really paying attention as he spots the headlines from the Daily Prophet. No wonder Perfect Weasley was in a mood. Having a parent under inquiry at the Ministry couldn’t be fun, he would pity the boy if he hadn’t been so rude to his house. He grabs it and thrusts it into Crabbe’s hands.
“That’ll give you a laugh.” He snorts, watching very closely for any reaction. If he could guess who was actually sitting in front of him it would help Snape later. Obviously it wasn’t his friends, they would be rolling with laughter or asking to sneak sweets into their nightly study session. Instead Crabbe’s face morphs into a loosely hidden anger, Goyle’s into sadness and guilt.
“Well? Isn’t it funny?” He asks as the paper is handed back to him.
All he gets in return is a pathetic excuse of Goyle’s laugh. Trying one more time, because Draco really needs his friends right now, not some impostor, he continues. Saying something about Arthur Weasley being stupid- and he’s not wrong. With how the entire family acts, no one would ever know their purebloods, his father had drilled it in his brain that the entire lot of them were the biggest disgrace high society had ever known. Judging by the look the frauds give him, they don’t agree.
“What’s up with you, Crabbe?” He snaps, hoping beyond all hope he can make whoever it is angry enough to leave so he can tell on them to Snape and then go the fuck to bed.
“Stomachache.”
The real Crabbe would’ve been complaining about it from the second they saw each other in the hall. He gives some comments about how they should go to the hospital wing, that’s a place they could easily be caught. When they don’t move he continues his bashing of Father Weasley. That somehow turns into a rant about Dumbledore, because the git had taken Fawkes with him on a trip for the day which meant Draco had no one to pet and hug, which in turn brought him to Colin Creevy, who was the youngest of all the victims and should be up with the rest of them, taking an annoying amount of pictures. He’d be thrilled to get a few shots of Potter’s Christmas. That thought leads down an entire different tangent.
“Potter” he mimics, “Can I have your picture Potter? Can I have your autograph Potter? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter?”
The whole thing had made him sick, but even worse is the fact that his ‘friends’ still aren’t laughing. He lightly calls them out on it, whoever they are, they obviously had never been around Crabbe and Goyal for longer than ten minutes.
“What’s the matter with you two?” And why the hell are you in my friend’s forms you creeps?
They laugh then, looking entirely too uncomfortable. Must not be the brightest, or the sneakiest then. Although Goyle is started to look a little green. That’s interesting… Maybe if he played that angle he could get some more clues.
“Saint Potter, the Mudblood’s friends” he says slowly, carefully, gauging the reactions, “He’s another one with no proper wizard training, or he wouldn’t go around with that jumped up Granger…..and people think he’s the Slytherin heir…”
That seems to strike a nerve, their eyes light up at the mention. Probably there for information, which is perfect seeing that he has none on the subject. Can’t leave them empty handed, plus this is a chance to clear out his house’s name. “I wish I knew who it was, I could help them…”
Help them straight into Azkaban, that is.
“You must have some idea who’s behind it all…” Goyle practically pleads, another mistake on the fraud’s part, they had this conversation last night too.
“You know I haven’t, how many times do I have to tell you before you believe me? Father won’t tell me anything about his ideas, but the whole school knows it was opened fifty years ago. Didn't you read about it in Hogwarts; a History? It’s all anyone could talk about before break...apparently,” his eyes search their faces for the next part, “the last time it was opened, a Mudblood died. ”
They both gulp. Good. Maybe now they won’t go poking their heads where they don’t belong. Just for good measure, and partly because he was still trying to piss them off, he adds “I hope it’s Granger.”
Crabbe jumps up at that, whoever Goyle is rushes to grab him. Good call on his part.
“Probably his stomach,” Goyle says, but the voice is turning oddly familiar.
Draco watches as they flee, noting that the two heads turn from brunette to black and red. Only two people in the entire school could be dumb enough to get caught while using a polyjuice potion. And only one witch was smart enough to make it and almost get away with it. He gives them a few minutes to get in the clear, and then heads back out to fill in Snape.
He’s in for a long night all over again.
----------
In the end, apparently Granger had royally messed up her personal potion, and after sneaking into the hospital wing to catch a glimpse at what the hell that meant, he almost felt pity for her. Snape did give the trio a copious amount of homework out of pure anger though. He did not smile like a teenager with a crush when he saw Blaise and Pansy in the common room, but he did hug them both and take a few years off their lives when he told them how his break had been.
“Really? Potter and Weasley? Polyjuice? To get in Slytherin? Who do they think they’re trying to be?”
“Trust me, I was equally as shocked.”
Pansy’s face distorts into something rather ugly, “I’m surprised you didn’t hex them into next week.”
“Please, everyone knows better than to actually hurt Potter. Dumbledore would have their heads.”
They’re walking back from the Astronomy tower where they had spent a few hours sharing stories about break. Pansy got new robes, all the chocolate she could dream of, some makeup her mother swore was the best wizarding kind had to offer, and a trip to the Bahamas. Blaise was similar, although he got a new broom and a collection of wizard fiction he fully intended on watching late at night. Draco had gotten his owl with presents the day after Christmas, filled with trinkets from Paris, a new ebony comb, and a diamond necklace his mother had the other part to. His father had sent him new robes and a silk scarf. He may have considered throwing them away before putting them both on and facing his friends.
Lunch called them down to the Great Hall as they all forgot about breakfast, but the sound of running water made them stop.
“What in the hell?” Draco moaned, taking the next step forward and splashing in water leaking from a bathroom.
“Who in their right mind would flood this bathroom? Moaning Myrtle is going to kill them.”
Blaise matches Draco’s expression. “Moaning who?”
“Seriously? You two don’t know about her?” At their blank faces she lets out a sigh, “You would be hopeless without me, do you know that? Everyone in the whole school knows to stay out of there. Moaning Myrtle owns the place, and is really rather nasty. As soon as you go in she’s crying and screaming until you leave. Legend says she died fifty years ago in one of the stalls, she had been crying because she was bullied, and stays in there to cry for the rest of eternity. It’s sad if you think about it.”
Blaise rolls his eyes, “Come now, Pansy, you shouldn’t feel bad for a ghost. I bet she flooded the place for attention since no one visits her.”
“Either way…” Draco grimaces at his soaked feet, “Someone should let the teachers know, I’ll go tell Snape and meet you in the Great Hall.”
“Are you sure?” Pansy says at the exact time Blaise offers, “We can go with you.”
He waves them both away, “Please, you’re hungry from your travels. I won’t be long, do save me something from Crabbe and Goyle if you can.”
They both nod as he walks away and hides behind a corner until they’re gone. Then he goes back towards the way they came, right to Dumbledore’s office. The old man is waiting for him, like he knew it would happen, a baby Fawkes peers at him as soon as he enters and derails his thoughts.
“Fawkes! I missed your burning?” He makes a beeline for the creature to pick him up and gently pet him.
“Hello, Draco, it’s good to see you too.”
The boy turns around with a big smile, Fawkes burrowing into his warmth. “Sorry, Headmaster, I did actually come here to see you, I just can’t believe I haven’t come and seen Fawkes since his rebirth.”
“He’ll be full grown again in a week, the next one won’t happen for a longer time.”
“Is it painful for them?”
Dumbledore rises to join them away from his desk, “No, fire rarely harms Phoenixes. He enjoyed the treats you got him for Christmas, I never thought to let him try berries, he usually prefers magical plants.”
Draco grins, “I dunno why it occurred to me, but white strawberries are very good, I wanted to share.”
“A kind gesture that will be rewarded, no doubt. Have you come to discuss them with me?”
Realizing that he’d gotten very off topic, Draco shakes his head. “Actually, sir, I came to ask about Moaning Myrtle. Her bathroom has flooded, and I had no idea about her until Pansy told me, but I’d like to know the full story.”
Dumbledore grows quiet, somber enough that Fawkes raises his head and chips out a small song of comfort that brings the spark back into tired old eyes. “I’ll brew us some tea, then. I suppose I should send for Severus, it’s time I told you both the story. There is no hiding from the past when we need it to fix the future.”
“You’ve been hiding something from us?”
A sad attempt at a smile leaves him struck with dread. Anything that makes Dumbledore sad is either a very big deal, or a very big threat.
“Not hiding, Draco. There are some things even I find difficult to relive.”