Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

By the time it was dinner, Draco had accomplished several things.

One, he survived the dueling lesson, and dare he says it, actually learned something. The horror!

Two, he returned to the Common room with no extra fights or arguments under his belt (so proud) and took a nice, long, hot shower.

Three, while reviewing everything he learned, he came to the… most disturbing conclusion that Mister Mad-eye Moody, was using the heel flicks that had just been taught to him. Subconsciously, at that.

…To his knowledge, there is absolutely no reason Mad-eye should have such a subconscious reaction during dueling. Auror robes were specifically designed for mobility!

Oh right, and also four, he made it to dinner on time.

Sitting at the Slytherin table, Draco glared hatefully at Moody.

Let’s see… first calling Him the Dark Lord, potentially wanting me dead, weird tongue thingy that seems new, ridiculous recovery speed…now exhibiting dueling practices that an Auror shouldn’t. 

It’s simply impossible that Alastor Moody would exhibit all these traits. Therefore… he isn’t Alastor Moody.

Shocker.

Working off of that crazy hypothesis, then the odd visitor in the dungeons might also be fake-Moody. The weird voice, if he remembered correctly, rasped about ‘running out of time’, ‘the traitor’, and mentions of a ‘he’ who’s depending on the speaker.

This just gets odder and odder.

The person, supposedly fake-Moody, was almost definitely in Sev’s stores. Which could mean that fake-Moody either wanted to steal potion ingredients, wanted to talk to Sev (probably about a potion), or was there for another completely random reason. ‘Him’ was probably… Him , if this theory holds. Which would make fake-Moody a Death Eater.

But what about the traitor? What is he running out of time for?

The traitor could be Sev… if it isn’t, then there are no clues pointing toward who it could be.

Mystery dual voice? The way that Fake-Moody is masquerading as Moody.

That’s too many Moods in my thoughts. I proclaim that Fake-Moody shall now be called Bob.

Hence-! If this theory holds true: Bob is potentially a Death Eater using a potion to masquerade as Moody, in that case, he’s probably also-

Huh. Might be a female. Bobette? Bobe? 

Whatever.

Bob might also be the one to enter Potter into the tournament because why wouldn’t he be every year something HAS to happen-!

I would be annoyed except it has nothing to do with me, so I’m free to ignore it if I wish.

Except a Death Eater was potentially undercover in the school, scheming to kill a schoolmate of his. It’s Potter , yeah, but still, someone who he’s known for over three years. 

“Draco, mate, dinner’s ending.”

“Oh?” A look around confirmed that everyone was leaving. “Alright, go ahead without me Theo, I’m going to talk to Snape before heading to the Common Room.”

“Sure, about what?” Theo hovered hesitantly around him while Draco gathered his belongings.

Pausing a little, Draco glanced up to smile reassuringly, “Nothing much, just a few thoughts regarding the most recent essay assignment. I want to know if I can avoid mentioning a few of the more boring points.”

What a horrible lie.

“Ah, okay. See you later.”

“See you…”

Shaking those thoughts away, Draco speed-walked down the corridors. He was on a mission .

***

“You think Moody is a Death Eater spy?!”

“I know it sounds odd, but it’s one of the only ways that everything that happened this year can be explained!”

“You don’t think Potter will scheme to put his own name in the goblet?”

“I-” Now confusion was settling in, “ You think Potter will put his own name in the goblet?!”

Severus scowled darkly at his obvious befuddlement, “Why wouldn’t he? He’s a fame-seeker, a craven bastard-”

“But not-! Not like that . Besides, Potter on his own would never be able to cross Dumbledore's age line.”

For a second, Severus looked like he was prepared to argue further, just to prove that Potter could, in some ridiculous way, get his name into the Cup. Thankfully, he did not.

“Alright, I will admit, potion ingredients have gone missing, and they do match the ingredients needed for Polyjuice potion. I had just thought it would be Granger and her friends again.”

“Great! Look into it and see if-” Draco stalled to a stop, “Ah, Granger?! When?!”

“Ha, winter break of second year,” smirking, Severus continued, “She accidentally used cat hair, and had to check herself into the Hospital Wing. Don’t know what they tried to use it for, but she was stuck like that for weeks.”

Slowly mulling it over, Draco thought he might remember such an event, but it didn’t particularly stick out. 

“Alright, anyway, just check if Moody is actually using a Polyjuice Potion, and I’ll…” Glancing at the clock, Draco winced to himself, “run back to the Commons, it’s late.”

With a wave, Severus dismissed him.

Chapter Text

A few days later, Pansy tracked Draco down in between classes.

“DRAY-CO~!”

Freezing in the middle of the hallway, Draco hesitantly turned around.

“Hi, Draco darling!” Pansy sang as she skipped up to him, “What’s this about a meeting tonight?”

A what now?

I never called a meeting??

“Darling,” Draco began, “I believe you are mistaken-”

“Nope!” Pansy giggled as she looped her arm through his, “I heard that word from a couple of Muggleborns- Anyway, Zabini definitely told all of us to gather tonight, said you’ll hold a meeting.”

The fuck?

Zabini again?

“…I’ll go find him.”

“Sure hope you do!” Extracting herself, Pansy flitted away while warning over her shoulder, “The gossip vine is having a field day!”

Gossip-oriented as she may be, Pansy cares in her own way.

Just as well, the next class was Charms and he had it with Zabini .

***

It was unfortunate that Charms was actually a fun class since Draco kept becoming distracted and forgetting to grab hold of Zabini. Most of the class had passed before Draco got a chance to breathe and think.

Luckily, Zabini doesn’t sit too far away. Not too far for a tossed note anyway.

[Hey, are you using my name to gather all the Slytherins in a meeting tonight?]

Note written, Draco debated slightly with himself before deciding to fold it into the shape of a small sparrow. Another simple charm and it’s fluttering its way to Zabini.

Waiting with bated breath, Draco watched as the small creation bumped itself into the other Slytherin before automatically unfolding.

“Now now class! The Tracking Spell shouldn’t be used to stalk people, gather illegal information, spy-”

Ugh, this again.

A problem with managing a population where everyone is entitled to a wand, that is, a potentially highly dangerous weapon, is that everything has to be micromanaged.

Every single spell gets a speech like this… and then on the other hand every single law has a million loopholes.

Thwack

Before Draco could think, his hand had lifted to catch a scrunched-up piece of paper.

After unfolding it, Zabini’s response was found below.

[Yeah, hope you don’t mind. It‘s about that debate I mentioned last dueling class.]

Raising his head, Draco stared at the back of the Bastard’s head.

Okay…  first of all, I make a beautiful origami masterpiece and he returns it in a ball?? Second of all, ‘hope you don’t mind’?! What kind of fucking upstart language is that?! Third of all, the debate? Does he think having the whole of Slytherin fight over their views is going to be in any way a good idea??!

Quickly writing another response, Draco eyed the wrinkled paper unhappily before surrendering and crumpling it into a ball again. A small flick of the wrist and Draco watched as it sailed over back to Zabini. 

“The Tracking Spell is pronounced Appare Vestigium, ah-PAR-ay ves-TEE-jee-um! Repeat after me!”

Oh? Appare is probably from the Latin word "apparet" meaning "it appears"; Vestigium is… Latin? meaning… "trace"?

This time Draco saw Zabini writing his response and flinging the note back at him. It was child’s play to snatch it out of the air.

Guess practicing catching a Snitch helps with catching notes in class huh?

On the note, underneath Draco's irritated message, was Zabini’s assurance.

[Don’t worry, I’ll start them off if you want.]

Tapping his quill against the table, Draco raised his eyebrows at the self-assured tone. Just how much respect does he have right now? Shrugging, Draco penned his reply.

[ Your choice, your mess. I’ll give you a few minutes. Don’t expect me to help. ]

Draco thought he saw Zabini glaring at him with annoyance later on in the day.

***

There was a certain sense of inevitable self-importance, looking down upon the gathered mass of students from high up above. Draco leaned against the railing at the entrance to the boy’s sleeping areas, with the staircase stretching down below him. Only a few torches were lit right now, so everything above the central Common Room was shrouded in inky shadows that kept him hidden. Below him, every single Slytherin was gathered around the central fireplace, and Zabini was attempting to gather orders.

None of them would have gathered like this if they thought anyone else had called the meeting. That simple fact brought Draco a feeling of pride, like a ball of power that swells in his chest.

This should be amusing.

“Everyone please! Sit down, quiet down, I have something to say.”

“Where’s Malfoy?”

“Who cares? Seems just like him to be late to his own meeting.”

“Can we start without him though?”

“Everyone! I have a few things to say-”

“That bloody bugger-”

“-waste of our fucking time is what-”

“-knows what’s this about-”

Chuckling slightly, Draco mentally made a small note to learn some sort of mind magic. Leaving chaotic situations like this untapped forever would be a pity. With some magic, he could either make things worse, or better, depending on his moods.

“ALL OF YOU SHUT UP. AND. LISTEN .”

Seems like he’s lost his patience finally.

“Alright, please, those of you who believe in Pureblood Supremacy, move to the left of the room.”

Wow. Smooth… Not.

For a second, everyone simply stares at Zabini in disbelief.

“Well! I believe in equality! So I stay here right?”

The brave speaker was very familiar, but Draco couldn’t recall her name just at that moment. However, her declaration did help Zabini get the students into motion, as several Purebloods hissed and snarled before moving away in disgust. 

Moving away to the left.

“Yes, thanks, Tracey.” Zabini grinned as he spoke, “My friends and me, we gathered together some information-”

“Malfoy doesn’t know about this meeting does he.”

The speaker was an older student, with dark, choppy hair, and smooth tan skin.

Heir Pyrites? I believe his father’s a known Death Eater in Azkaban.

“Did you trick all of us here for this stupid debate?”

“Ah, um no! Malfoy knows about this meeting, he-” Zabini stumbled over his words in surprise.

“Then where is he?!”

At this point, Pyrites had stood up and was moving forward to break into Zabini’s personal space.

That one’s a leader…

Quietly filtering out the argument growing downstairs, Draco retreated further into the shadows on the second floor. It was already quite clear that Zabini wouldn’t be able to hold onto the situation for long, so now there’s a conundrum. To help or not?

Shame, I was actually kind of interested in what he had to say. First time someone tried to make a put-together case instead of just screaming in my face. 

Raising his arms overhead to stretch out his back, the small kinks from leaning over the banister were worked out.

Not like I could help him too much though, reckon I'd get a Howler if father hears about this.

Eh, I might get a howler anyway.

Approaching the railing again, Draco swept his eyes over the spreading chaos. From up high, it was quite easy to see the three factions. Zabini and his friends go face to face with Pyrites and his, and then the rest of the house who don’t want to get involved in a fight.

The students were getting restless… Draco waited patiently for a spike in the volume. It would at least allow for a half-believable entrance to this mess.

“-psychology shows numbers that-”

“-scram and return to the holes you came from!”

“We live in these damned dorms as-”

“Then you should fucking leave the bloody-”

“YOU TWATS DON’T THINK WE-”

“JUST BUGGER OFF ALREADY AND-”

Smiling slightly, Draco straightened and absentmindedly fixed his tie.

“-SEE IF I CARE YOU COCK SUCK-”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!” Draco roared, making sure to put on a mask of pure annoyance.

Quickly, although not instantly, the students all quieted down. Most of them even stepped back further away from Zabini and Pyrites, who were placed solidly in the middle of the almost-a-fight-argument.

Chapter Text

“The Bloodtraitors and Mudbloods are reaching above their station!” Screeched Pyrites, gesturing widely. “They think they can prove they’re anything more than the mud beneath our shoes, that they’re worth more than a bloody crup to us! That they can- that they can hide behind you just because you’ve taken an inexplicable liking to the chocolate boy-”

“That’s enough now, heir Pyrites.” Draco cut in, the other boy’s rant was beginning to grow tiresome, and even a little uncomfortable.

“… Yes, heir Malfoy.”

Remaining atop the lofty platform, Draco made a small show of rubbing his temple and twitching in frustration.

It can’t hurt to… to listen. Whatever Zabini has to say, won’t change anything. But of course, politics make this just a little more annoying. Sorry, I’m afraid you’ll be thrown under the bus. Both of you.

“Well, after this mess, I have to say I’m curious to hear what you have to say Zabini.” Addressing the other boy, just a touch of mocking entered Draco’s voice. “After all… I assume you lied your way into gathering this audience.”

Ooo, surprise and betrayal. Sorry Zabini, can’t have myself painted in bad lighting. If it’s any consolation, Pyrites is also going to be taking the other half of the fall.

“What did you think was iron-clad proof? What pitch did you create that you thought you could undo centuries of…” wisdom “…ideals passed down multiple generations?” Smirking, Draco moved to step down the grand staircase, “I’m curious. Do tell.”

Going down the stairs was a calculated move. While it may remove the physical aspect of a power imbalance, moving closer to the group also allows him to seem more approachable, and it’s easier to observe the details of the picture when you’re closer to it.

“Everyone, let’s sit down, shall we? Zabini, the stage is yours.”

While Zabini may want people to separate into two factions to keep things clear, Draco understood that it’s much easier for people to change sides when there isn’t a clear-cut line for them to cross.

“Malfoy! You can’t be serious! The vermin belong outside of our commons! Not- Not as-”

“Pyrites, sit down. It can’t hurt to listen, besides, a little debate would do wonders for my boredom currently.” Leveling a hard stare at the older boy, Draco counted another success for the day. With Pyrites’ enthusiasm, Malfoy was currently no longer the poster family for Pureblood supremacy. The link between fanatical movements like the Death Eaters and the idea of Pureblood supremacy was also cut.

While Pyrites’ father was a Death Eater, he wasn’t exactly well known. Definitely not as well known as Father’s Azkaban scandal or Aunt Bella.

“Alright Zabini. Don’t waste time now. Let’s… debate. ” Baring his teeth in a facsimile of a welcoming smile, Draco delighted in the new air of anxiety that positively clings to the other boy.

Yet he still squares his shoulders and begins speaking once again. 

Brave, and motivated . Or stupid and reckless?

It was quite a sight, Zabini standing alone in front of a couple dozen of sitting students. Some with hope, some with indecision, and some just waiting for a sign of weakness.

“As I understand it, your belief lies in the fact that a longer and purer magical heritage makes a person better than one with a shorter and or ‘diluted’ one. Some say because a long family line proves that the family is blessed by magic, which also creates the stigma that Squibs are somehow cursed. Others claim that a long magical line is what gives the person more magic and sometimes even innate talents like the Black family’s Metamorphogus ability.” Pausing, Zabini fidgeted a little as he waited for his audience’s reaction.

So far so good. Everyone can agree on what he had said so far.

“However, of the few studies that have been finished, none of them had, in any way, shown that family lines affect magical capability. The average Pureblood’s magic is just as powerful as the average Halfblood or Muggleborn. There is no difference!”

Amusedly, Draco watched Pyrite’s buzzing indignation. When the two locked eyes, Draco simply smirked and gestured loosely towards Zabini. 

Of course you’re allowed to refute him, won’t be much of a debate otherwise would it?

“-And most families had already moved past their belief in deities, so there should be no reason-”

“Except many families and communities still worship Lady Magic. And innate Talents like the Black family’s do exist, as you have pointed out.” Pyrites interrupts, his arms crossed and his back straight from his position on a nearby sofa.

From the back of the room, another voice pipes up, “Yet there has never been any proof that Lady Magic controls who receives Magic and who does not, was there? Lack of magic is not a curse, and the existence of magic may not be a blessing.”

“Blasphemy! Lady Magic is the manifestation of magic itself , and to believe the very existence of magic is not the greatest miracle-”

Oh dear… audience participation is great, but I’m not interested in a religious battle.

Sighing quietly, Draco yawned and stretched dramatically before declaring, “While the current topic is lovely, I think I’m more interested in how they’re going to explain Talents.” 

Grinning as he dropped his arms, Draco leaned forward as he continued, “While not many families have Talents, it is irrefutable that those that do were old families that passed it on generation after generation.”

“And yet there is nothing that claims they have to be Pureblood is there?!” Zabini declares triumphantly, “It’s a magical talent passed on through blood, yes, but it passes on just as well if the spouse is not Pure, perhaps even better! Nymphadora is counted as a Halfblood yet she is the first Metamorphogus in decades!”

Suddenly, it was chaos. Students jumped up left and right screaming out their own opinions, with more screaming slurs in frustration. Within it all, Draco sat frozen, his expression thoughtful. Underneath, however, there was a shocking chill spreading rapidly.

Well. Well… He’s got a point.

“It’s not the lineage that’s the problem here! Muggle-raised Purebloods meet discrimination as well. It’s a fear of having your own culture destroyed, not-”

“Muggles and their technology have no place in our society! The blasted objects interfere with the natural flow of magic!”

“Is it a fear of immigrants? How would people react to a wizard-raised Muggleborn?”

“Near the same way people treat Squibs probably-”

The argument was truly getting out of hand. Draco sat on his sofa, and watched with detached interest as the students around him, his classmates, either enter screaming matches or attempt to soften the growing frustration.

I could let this continue, leave now, and land everyone else in trouble. Allow everyone to tear each other apart.

The thought came unbidden, but Draco couldn’t help it. Everything was a mess . It couldn’t even be called a debate anymore. And yet… part of Draco wanted to let it continue, let the chaos run rampant and bask in the aftermath. But he was already involved, so there’s nothing to it. Unless he wanted to guarantee a Howler.

“I think that’s enough…”

Admittedly, his first few attempts were rather half-hearted.

“Zabini, you need to stand down!”

“Oh Merlin get back in your seats!”

Unfortunately, everyone was too preoccupied with their own personal fights to respect his demands.

Finally, Draco gave up on talking people back into order. He sighed as he moved to the middle of the gathering, reaching for his wand as he mentally made another note to learn Mind Manipulation Magic.

“-culture is part of who we are-”

“-protection of your own culture does not equate nor allow the discrimination of another’s-”

“-dirty scoundrels of hell-”

“-close-minded bastards. Fucking sexist as well as-”

BANG!

Keeping his wand raised after the small mid-air explosion he had set off, Draco graciously waited for everyone to gather their wits before speaking.

“I do believe that that is enough for one night.” Injecting as much venom as he could into his voice, Draco snarled at his gathered audience, “None of us are brainless, so act civilized for Merlin’s sake! Just a second ago half of you were a hair’s breadth away from throwing punches!”

Breathing in deeply, Draco lowered his wand while sweeping his glare across everyone.

“Apparently no one here knows how to debate , as I have hoped we would be able to tonight. So, instead, this topic will no longer be mentioned ever again.” Draco relaxed his stance, “Go to sleep you brainless idiots.”

***

Quietly, Draco slipped into his own bed. From what he could see, most students still remained in a state of frustration at the stalemate between opinions, however, none of that frustration was directed at him, which was really all he was looking for. It still worries him, however, that Slytherin House was beginning to mirror the actual political climate.

A ‘Light’ side, a ‘Dark’ side, and a ‘Grey’ coalition. And where would that leave him? If he wanted to remain in power, he’ll either have to crush to opposition or play to both sides. 

Somehow crushing Theo and Zabini’s party seems needlessly cruel.

Flipping onto his other side, Draco pushed these thoughts out of his head and prepared for sleep.

***

The next day, the Headmaster declared that there would be a Yule Ball in honor of Yule and the visiting schools.

Oh jolly, we never celebrate any of the old traditions, and now once there are other eyes watching you decide on a Yule Ball?!

Draco highly doubted that the other students knew what a Ball looked like, or that they knew how to do a simple waltz.

But on a more important note, he needs a date.

It has to send a good image, but after the recent fiasco in the Commons… Perhaps I could go with someone outside of Slytherin? Whoever it is they must have a neutral stance.

Draco really didn’t want to accidentally make someone think he was interested and go through the whole it-was-just-a-dance-no-I-don’t-want-to-date-you speech. It was a real fucking pain sometimes.

Draco could feel an oncoming headache already.

Chapter Text

“-so I really don’t know who to take!”

Viktor really seemed like he was only half-listening, but Draco doesn’t mind, just as long as he’s allowed to continue chattering. Albeit quietly, he’s in the library again after all.

“This isn’t like the other Balls I’ve been to, those ones everyone knows not to take things at face value, and I could take whoever I wanted and ghost them after but this-”

“Why not take Daphne? She is your friend ja?”

Snapping his mouth shut, Draco blinked at Viktor in confusion before his mind caught up.

“Mate. I didn’t come here for solutions, I came here to complain.”

Scoffing, Viktor returned to reading his book.

“Mate I’m serious! When woes are woe begotten woe is I-”

“I have no idea what you are saying and I don’t care.”

“Aw, now that’s just cold.” Pouting, Draco sprawled out onto the table, “What about you? Ask Granger out yet?”

Instantly, Viktor flushed a bright red and averted his eyes.

“I- no not yet, I don’t even know if she’ll want to go with me-”

“Uh, not sure?” Draco raised both of his eyebrows as high as they would go, “Aren’t you two dating yet? Of course she’ll be expecting a nice romantic gesture.”

“I- I don’t know?” Viktor shrugged uneasily, “We hang out a lot and talk and it’s wonderful but we’ve never talked about whether or not we’re dating-”

Krum was interrupted by Draco’s smothered giggles as he curled up tightly trying to stop his volume from reaching too high.

“ Mate ! You are a disaster! Alright, you need to make some grand gesture-”

“Dray-co! I really don’t think that’s needed or appreciated-”

“Oh alright I see,” Waggling his eyebrows, Draco leaned forward, “So she won’t appreciate roses and chocolates and a speech about how wonderful she is in the Great Hall? Or is it you?”

“Well- I. Well, why are you curious anyway?! You don’t like ‘Mione!”

Shrugging, Draco rested his head on his palm, “I dunno, I’m bored I guess. And your romantic life is giving me seizures out of its sheer patheticness.”

“Do you have any dating experience?”

Mulling it over, Draco eventually shook his head. “Nah, I did fake a few though. Just to appease my parents and the few gossip-hungry newspapers. But I’ve never actually been interested in anyone… enough.” 

Viktor seemed to take a second to absorb that, “Enough…? Well but you still would not know how a real relationship goes.”

Smirking, Draco drew himself up confidently. “You’d think huh? Now, this is what you’re going to do…”

***

…

“Erm, your… eyes are… beautiful?”

“No no! Too cliché, and you phrased it like a question for Merlin’s sake! No, what color are Granger’s eyes? What’s something she’ll appreciate them being compared to? Or hell, knowing her, all you have to do is praise her intelligence!”

“So er, you… are a beautiful and intelligent woman?”

“Still phrased like a question, and it’s a bit simple. Hm… can’t believe I’m trying to teach you to flirt, and with Granger as well… Oh well, I don’t know, you two have any inside jokes?”

…

“Hermione, I really appreciate your strong will and intelligence, as well as your natural beauty.”

“Okay okay, a bit better, you can say that right before asking her out. But what about small talk? Small compliments you can slip in while normally chatting.”

“Oh mainata mu…”

…

“No! Absolutely not! Something like, hm… ‘your voice and face are like a siren’s call to me, I swear I could hear you even in a packed stadium’ – Okay a bit cliché, but this is about Granger give me a break – you could even tie it back to that national cup! Pretty sure you both attended.”

“But-”

“Yeah don’t mention the Death Eaters…”

…

Apparently, Viktor absolutely sucked at flirting. He stumbles over his own words so much that sometimes Draco doesn’t even know if he’s still speaking English! Eventually, Draco just gave up, and like how he views Greg and Vince, he just hopes that someone …

cough Granger cough  

…would appreciate their fumbling sincerity. 

“Alright, whatever. Hopefully your girlfriend – yes she’s your girlfriend – will forgive you for your horrible flirting skills. Then again I don’t think Granger will be great at flirting herself so…” Shrugging, Draco continued on, “You do you, and I better hear of some fabulous snogging by the time the Ball ends, ja?” Mimicking Krum’s accent may be a low blow, but Draco’s been itching to do so for hours .

“Well it’s late so I have to skedaddle! Bye!”

Blowing Viktor an air kiss goodbye, Draco turned and - no he did not run - left the library.

It’s time to find his own date now.

***

Daphne can be trusted… right?

No time like the present.

Deciding to simplify things for himself, Draco hurried to the Great Hall with confident steps. It should be dinner time now, which meant that, hopefully, Daphne would be there and he could ask her out. Grandiosely if she preferred it that way.

Shoving his way through the crowd of human traffic, Draco finally made his way into the similarly packed Hall.

Good! She’s here.

Sneaking up behind her, Draco smirked as he tapped her gently on the shoulder. As she turned back to him, he tilted his head towards a corner of the Hall.

Shall we speak in private?

At her nod, he offered his arm to her, and they meandered their way to an area with fewer ears listening in.

“Daphne, would you like to accompany me to the Yule Ball?” Draco asked, staring right at Daphne, with no trace of his usual flippantness. It’s better to be direct. “I mean this in a strictly political arrangement. Since your family is neutral, going with you would fit the current situation best.”

While Daphne tensed and seemed to think through the offer, Draco kept his gaze patient and focused. Admittedly through great effort.

“Of course, I will accompany you Malfoy, perhaps we can coordinate outfits later this week?”

Keeping her thoughts to herself, oh well then.

Allowing himself a flirtatious smirk, Draco leaned in closer to purr an affirmative into her ear. 

“ Of course darling, but for now, would you mind a little public show?”

Daphne’s fingers tightened slightly against his arm again, but she still nodded.

Nervous? A very small show then.

Smoothly spinning Daphne into a dip, then lifting her and spinning her again in a simple, albeit fancy-looking, move, Draco dropped a chaste kiss onto her forehead. Separating dramatically slowly, Draco held onto Daphne’s hands and mentally considered dropping a knee. Too dramatic? Too subservient?

Small show. Small show. Don’t be dramatic.

Remaining standing, Draco pasted on another flirtatious grin, and this time, spoke loud enough for the entire Hall to hear.

“Daphne Greengrass, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the upcoming Yule Ball?”

***

I always love causing scenes.

Daphne was so obviously embarrassed, even though she wore her blush well. She said yes again, of course, and the whispers that ran amok in the Hall were enough to feed Draco’s ego for another few weeks. After that, he dropped another kiss, this time on Daphne’s cheek, and swiftly returned her to her friends still sitting beside the table. 

All in all, a resounding success !

The hard part came after . The consequences of shooting down Zabini in his previous attempt at equality meant that the… non-Purebloods… no longer welcomed him as much as they used to. Sure, Draco was sure that if he forced himself, they wouldn’t run him away and cause a scene (the bad kind), but it still created a rather awkward atmosphere. And not the type he liked.

Pyrite and his friends, on the other hand, were perhaps a little too eager . Their unnerving focus and honeyed words immediately make Draco’s uneasiness surface.

So Draco did what he decided was the best course of action.

He sat right in the middle of the table, with his back to the wall, and decided fuck the others they can arrange themselves however they liked. He would remain in the middle and he won’t be moving.

Chapter Text

On hiatus again, and up for adoption. I know I said I’ll finish, but Sophomore year sucks and I recently started planning out an original novel series, so… yeah. Im overworked.

Well, maybe not over-overworked, but still, apparently I have to start preparing my resume for college, and since here in Silicon Valley everyone is a fucking math genius I have to try extra hard to stand out. I need free time for that, and I would like to worry about less things.

If no one wants to adopt, which will prob be the case, I might update intermittently, but it will definitely be long waits in between.

im sorry guys, I really meant to finish this, even if it was started by a dumb kid who wanted to feel confident. The story grew on me, yknow? And I had so much planned, but oh well, gotta do things for that resume. “Wrote a 4 piece fanfic” just isn’t as impressive as “published _____”, so thats what im working towards now. 

Again, really sorry guys. I feel so bad ‘cause I promised I’ll finish, and even said in a comment somewhere that I really hate it when authors stop writing. Guess im one of those authors now lmao. But all I can think of now is stupid ass trig formulas and rotating conics, and I highly doubt thats the type of story anyone wants to read. So… this is more of a notice that this story may never be finished.

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Alright, hi everyone! So to update yall, QueenWinter has offered to adopt my story! WHOOO!!! I legitimately did not expect anyone to adopt, so this is great news! QueenWinter has also expressed that they wouldn't begin writing for a while, so if anyone else wants to adopt, they are free to do so. However, since there's already one person who's willing to adopt, instead of writing full-on chapters, I will be posting my already written but still unedited (sorry lol) excerpts of this story. They are by NO means in timeline order, just in whichever order I find them in. I may also attempt to comment on the excerpts!

Now, as according to the title, the random side-plot plot bunny I had:

Draco was too good at avoiding the responsibilities of the Ministry and of being a Lord, so when the Ministry runs into a big problem they foisted it on him. Said problem being: Some area (I'm thinking Egypt or India) demands for all their stolen artifacts/treasure to be returned, however in Britain all these artifacts are privately owned by rich Purebloods and they are unwilling to relinquish them. Draco is sent to deal with the problem.

Where was I going with this? When is this? I have no idea! It's a random plot bunny! Now onto the actual excerpt that I found sitting in my notes. 

For reference, this is in the version of the story where Lucius is sent to Azkaban following the Ministry debacle, and Narcissa is killed soon afterward before Draco even got the chance to properly grieve. Not to say that that's what would've happened if I had continued the story, there are quite a couple of ways I had thought this might happen. Anyway!

***

Dragging his tired body down the stairs, Draco listlessly trailed his fingers along the banister. The school year was finally over.

When he arrived at the dining room, Draco had opened his mouth, prepared for the ritualistic greeting.

Good afternoon, Mother, Father.

Except they weren’t there.

An empty dining room greeted his eyes, and the empty chairs were taunting.

They weren’t here.

Unbidden, a quiet sob bubbles its way up Draco’s throat. He collapsed against the entryway.

They weren’t here.

Odd, Draco thought hysterically to himself, that this would be what breaks him.

His parents weren’t here to dine with him. And it’s his fault.

A small shimmer of light. Dinner was served to the head of the table.

Another sob and another forced their way out. Clawing against the insides of his chest, pushing and thrashing. The first tear carved its way down his cheek.

Completely alone. In a dark manor.

His fault.

Stumbling across the room, Draco felt like laughing.

Hysteria rises like a tide, sweeping through the agony, guilt, grief, and pressure. Hysteria was safer. Hysteria wasn’t as painfully truthful.

Collapsing into the chair at the head of the table, his chair, no. Lucius’ chair. No. His chair? Whatever.

Draco laughed. And cried. Screamed, and roared. Cursed, and fell silent.

Exhausted, he limply sat in his chair, at the head of the table, and his dinner went untouched.

He sat alone at the dining table. Alone in the room. Alone in the house. And painfully, painfully alone with his thoughts.

***

Then my note below this said "Eating without realizing because of checked-out mind". Huh. Might write that later if I'm feeling angsty.

And that's the end of my first excerpt! Do yall like this format? Any other things you're curious about? 

OMG I suddenly remembered - I just finished Six of Crows and also started the online English version of the Lout of the Count's family. Like godamn!

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In a daze, Draco wandered higher and higher up the staircase. The headmaster’s office looked the same as last time.

But so much has changed.

Slowly creaking open the door, Draco straightened as he entered. This should be formal. Simple.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Mr. Malfoy?”

Dumbledore looked the same as always, sitting behind his grand desk. Books and various knickknacks littered the surface…

Tearing his eyes off of them, Draco looked the Headmaster straight in the eye and smiled.

“I wish to talk to you about my status as a Prefect. I want to resign.”

Calmly standing beside the guest chair, Draco let his eyes fall to half-mast and waited.

“…And why is that? Take a seat Mr. Malfoy, it seems there’s much to talk about.”

Sighing, Draco agrees wordlessly as he slid gracefully into the offered chair. He was, however, hoping that this could all be handled quickly and efficiently.

“With… recent news regarding my family, the upcoming tests, and my status now as the Head of two houses, I don’t believe I have enough time to handle Prefect duties on top of all that.”

Behind the table, Dumbledore’s eyes wandered around the room in thought.

“If you truly believe so, then I can arrange for a new student to take the Prefect badge. But… are you sure those are the only reasons?”

It’s a little freaky, how fast Dumbledore’s eyes can change from twinkly to piercing.

“Yes sir, I’m sure.”

A brief period of silence passes in the room. Draco did his best to hold the Old man’s gaze, despite wanting nothing more than to run away from the situation.

“… Do you know why I agreed with Professor Snape’s decision to make you Prefect?”

“…No sir.”

Smiling gently, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, speaking wistfully as if watching a fond memory play out.

“You arrived here as a young, naive, and spoiled child. That much, I think you can agree with now.” 

Draco allowed himself a small wince at that.

“Yet, you were also opportunistic, charming when you felt the need to, and a natural leader. Even as a first year, you commanded a certain level of respect from all the older students… I admit, part of the reason you were made Prefect was that I didn’t want to deal with an angry Lucius Malfoy, and another part was because even if someone else were the Prefect, you would have still been in control from the shadows. All the power, none of the responsibilities.”

Another beat of silence passed. Swallowing, Draco hesitantly spoke up.

“None of these… attributes relate to me anymore. Father can do nothing against you, and I no longer want this… power.”

A slight hum, Dumbledore bowed his head.

“Do they not? You’ve grown up, Draco, like children are wont to do. That doesn’t mean you changed completely.” Chuckling a little, Dumbledore adjusted himself in his seat. “Indulge me in this metaphor for a bit. Some of those razor-sharp edges of yours are blunted by the tragedies that fate has thrown your way. Originally, I wanted to smooth them out with responsibilities, but so much… on one so young… does more harm than good.”

A stiff nod. Where is he going with this?

“Maybe your spirit has been crushed. Maybe all you want is peace and quiet now. But I don’t think that’s the case just yet. You’re still quite similar to the eleven-year-old child that stepped foot into the Great Hall for the first time a couple of years ago. Can you, truthfully, stand aside while someone else takes the power and spotlight?”

Frowning just a little, Draco tilted his head to the side in confusion. I’m not qualified, why is the Old Bastard fighting this?

Continuing, Dumbledore prattled on. “You still have a lot of potential, Draco, and truthfully, I doubt that all of your sharp edges will ever be completely smoothed out. Which isn’t an insult, mind you, a bit of spirit and determination can bring you a long way. All I had ever hoped was that you’ll learn to wield it better as a tool, and not cut everyone that gets close to you. The past few years-”

“Shut up.”

“Pardon?”

“I said, shut up!” Draco glared down at his hands, unconsciously clenched upon his lap. “Stop talking like you care so much about me and my future. My father’s a proven Death Eater, and I fucking suck when it comes to responsibilities, do you care that little about Slytherin house?!”

“…And therein lies the real problem.”

A breath, in and out. In and out. No good comes from getting mad.

“Draco, do you believe yourself unworthy of leading? Is that why?”

Fuck, I wanted this to be simple and fast.

“…Yes. I made one too many mistakes that caused this big mess.”

Stubbornly lifting his head, Draco steeled himself again and vowed that he wouldn't break eye contact first.

Dumbledore, like always, smiled enigmatically.

“I will not profess to know what mistake you are speaking of, but I can wager a guess as to why. You’ve found some lovely friends in Mr. Zabini and Mr. Nott, but they have different ideologies compared to yourself, no?”

Dumbledore leaned forward now.

“You’re unsure of what you want, Draco. Rest a bit, and think clearly about what you truly believe. What you’re willing to fight for, to, potentially, lay your life down for. But no need to get that dramatic yet.”

A few chuckles that wracked his entire frame. “Come back next week. For now, simply rearrange your thoughts. What do you, Draco, not Lucius, not Blaise, not Theo, believe in. If you can figure that out… You’ll find it much easier to make decisions you won’t regret after.”

Chapter Text

Ok so, I struggled for so long trying to figure out what type of animal represents my version of Draco. The idea was that the Patronus would represent happiness, while the Animagus represents everything, not just joy, but all the bad parts about him too. 

Following that, I had this one scene planned over the summer after fourth year where Blaise would drag Theo and Draco into a nightclub, and Draco would be forced to use some minor mind magic to get them in after Blaise’s “bribe them” strategy didn’t work. Anyway, that would be the one night Draco gets completely hammered and stops worrying about everything, especially because The dark lord also just returned. That memory of freedom was going to be his Patronus memory. Since it’s freedom, I wanted it to be an animal that could fly, but also something delicate because Draco’s happiness, is unfortunately, delicate. It’s a time of war, and he’s doubting which side he should be on, real happiness would be hard to come by.

Hence, what came to mind were butterflies and moths. Butterflies represent transformation, hope, and faith, while moths represent change, transformation, endings, death, and the mystery of the night. The Patronus is supposed to be happy so I eventually went with the butterfly. Draco’s also really fucking dramatic though, so I went on a search for a big butterfly that would fit him, and eventually landed on the Ornithoptera Croesus, aka Wallace’s Golden Birdwing. The male wingspan can reach up to 150mm! That’s pretty big for a butterfly. I also just really liked the coloring, even though as a Patronus it’s supposed to jut be transparent blue. Anyway see for yourself:

I love it it’s beautiful.

Reason why I wanted to go with Moths was bc there’s this absolutely stunning moth called the many-plumed moths, they look like they’re made of feathers.

Anyway! Moving onto the Animagus!

I didn’t want to give Draco an Animagus that could fly, because ultimately he’s not actual a very free person, nor did I want to give him an aquatic animal because well… that wouldn’t be as useful in plot and Draco doesn’t really give off “beach kid” vibes. It’s been awhile so I actually forgot most of my reasoning and I’m STILL NOT HAPPY with the current decision. Feels a bit… too bland.

I decided on the Eastern coyote because they have been nicknamed the “Coywolves”. They are legit a hybrid of wolves and coyotes, and look like mini wolves with longer tails. 

They are extremely territorial, which fits, very adaptable, and will hunt both larger prey like wolves but also eat scraps like coyotes. They also become independent much earlier than both coyotes and wolves. Idk, I think something about it just tickled me the right way. I don’t have a better idea currently either so…

Well, there you have it! I’m slowly de-cluttering my notes.

Chapter Text

Context: Theo and Harry are supposed to become friends somehow and Theo learns about the usage of blood quills in detention. :)

“WHAT.”

The commotion in the Great Hall finally drew Draco away from his conversation with Blaise, looking up, he had just enough time to see Theo sprinting across the length of the Hall and screech to a stop right before him. Slamming his hands down on either side. (from Gryffindor table to Slytherin)

“DRACO! Huff- What do you know about Blood Quills?”

“A- Blood Quill?” Blinking, and subconsciously straightening, Draco placed his fork down gently, his mind frantically searching through his memories.

“They are… rare, and also classified as Dark Objects, although technically not illegal.” He shifted slightly, “Ah… Also very expensive to manufacture. Made to sign contracts not important enough for an Unbreakable Vow, but too important to just be based upon trust and honor.” Now, he tilted his head quizzically, “Why do you need to know?”

His face scrunching up rather adorably, Theo jerked his head toward the rest of the Hall, “Come on, we can speak of this somewhere else. Although I think we should bring Potter along.”

“Potter?!” Draco exclaimed, “Now just wait a moment-”

“No! It’s important!” Theo grabbed Draco’s hand while nodding at Blaise, “I promise, not come on!”

_______________________________________

Context: I think this is supposed to be after Lucius Malfoy goes to Azkaban, although I'm cringing a lot while rereading this now because it makes Draco too overpowered. I'm cringing a lot in general rereading this stuff. 

The Slytherins were arguing again. (last chapter: It’s breakfast time)

Draco knew that this would happen when he decided to start ceding his control, but he didn’t expect the sheer chaos.

Conservatists covetously guarding their own power, doing their damn most to place another one of their own on the metaphorical throne. Liberals fighting for every single inch and stubbornly marching onwards on their metaphorical conquest.

It’s exhausting.

Add the two magics still battling it out in his head, his core, the stress of school, exams, managing his family businesses and estates, managing all his family members in Azkaban, and his Black side making a most unappreciated appearance, it’s no wonder Draco was beginning to contemplate mass murder just so he could rest.

Of course, he’s still respected in the house, he just doesn’t make all the decisions anymore. No one makes any decisions for him either.

He’s more of an… outsider now. Unconnected to the politics inside Slytherin, because he spends too much time on the politics outside of it.

“Right, as if we need to learn anything from the Muggles.”

“What about building off of them then? Combining electricity and magic maybe? Radio signals? Things like video-”

“Ha! They’re all just pieces of vermin that should be cleaned out.”

Please, I’m begging you. Be quiet.

“Ah yes, it was our ancestor’s mistakes that led to such an infestation in the first place.”

“I’ll have you know all muggles are sentient! It’s not like they can’t think or-”

“They are beasts, and that’s exactly what they are! No barren-”

Why, what did I do to deserve this torture. It hurts…

“I thought you inbred folks are into blood and all that! Not bloody-”

Perhaps the stress was finally catching up to him, or perhaps the argument that day was the proverbial last straw. But… wouldn’t just… destroying something be relaxing?

“ALL of you are just stupid fucking racists! And who knows, probably a few of you are sadists as well, wouldn’t exactly be surprised you sick-”

Please just let it end. My head hurts.

“And what does that make you mudblood? Half-beast, probably not even aware enough to understand what-”

Painpainpainpainpain-

“How dare you! We’ve been in school together for the past-”

“All the more time for me to learn just how thoughtless you are you bastard half-”

He can’t take it anymore. He can’t take it anymore. Can’t can’t can’t can’t. Not anymore because pain in my head pain in my bodypainpainpainpainithurtsandeverythingisloud.

Tooloudtooloudtoofuckingloud. Everythingshutupshutupshutup. SHUT UP.

Screaming.

Push out .

Screeching.

Just let it out let it all out.

More screaming.

Release… let it all out, the pain the frustration the stress the anger-

Chaos, it’s chaos around him.

Outoutoutoutoutoutout-

Flinging an arm out, he could feel the windows shattering into a million small, sharp shards, each one spraying outwards and landing in a tinkling pile below. A breathtaking show of frozen rainbows.

Throwing the other arm out, the ground beneath him rumbled and split. Long cracks forming between the previously impenetrable stonework. Lightening-like scars traveled through the earth.

It felt good. The release. The destruction.

Was he laughing? Maybe. He could hear hysterical laughter somewhere, as if floating by in a weak gust of swirling wind.

Taking another step forward, Draco reached up and tugged at the fallen debris. They swirled upwards in a stunning display, breaking, rearranging, and fixing itself over and over and over and over and-

“Draco! What’s-”

Hand. On me. Stopping. Me. Threat.

With a great snarl, Draco ripped himself out of the attacker’s grip, another slash of his magic and there was warm blood splattering over his front and left side. It felt nice.

Turning back to the rising smoke, grinning, he pushed more into it, more magic, more energy, more power.

It was as if his mind was finally resting, his thoughts were quiet, slow, calm. Not the rushing blasts it was before, battering his brain until no defense was left.

He couldn’t even see anymore, such was the thickness of the whirling destruction around him, but he didn’t care. He could feel, and that was enough.

***

Curled up in the middle of his own haven, the eye to his own tornado, Draco kept pushing out. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but it still wasn’t long enough. The two familial magics fighting inside him still aren’t exhausted, and he wants peace. Just some fucking peace inside his own fucking head is that-

Arms wrapped around him, and shackles pressed into his back.

Flinching violently, Draco was just about to rip the stranger’s fucking arms off before-

…Dad?

Underneath the magical suppressors, it was familiar magic. Connected with memories of sunny afternoons spent under the sun, of multiple lessons learned, of trust and control.

“Dad?”

Suddenly he was a child again, after his first spark of uncontrolled magic. The glee, the possibilities of the future all laid out in front of him… But also the stress, the expectations of being able to control it, of being good at controlling it.

“Dad…”

A soft, chaste kiss was pressed upon his forehead.

But it was wrong. The magic was wrong. Wrongwrongwrongwrongwrong.

Another push out, and a soft click, then his father’s magic was rushing back towards him. Distantly, he could feel the shackles drop onto the ground, could feel the chaos around him slowly dissipate as he was centered. As he pushed the Malfoy magic towards someone who could actually wield it.

“I’m here, Draco. Rest.”

So, he did. Softly, quietly, almost unnoticeably, the magic around him fizzled out. He wrapped his own arms around his father’s neck, hiding his face into the crook of his shoulder.

Safe. Please. Rest.

“So, Draco Malfoy. An explanation would be extremely appreciated.”

…Amelia Bones. (Should this be in this chapter?)

Chapter Text

Context: I have no idea what the context for this is. 

“Are you Purebloods actually nobility? ‘Cause I heard a lot of Lord this, Lord that these few months, but no actual titles.”

A few snorts and giggles escape the gathered students.

“Well~” Blaise drew out the syllable, “This is a rather complicated thing, Draco, ya wanna take one for the team?”

Laughing quietly to himself, Draco winked at the gathered audience.

“Goodness! Well then, everyone prepare for: Pureblood history 101!”

Stretching languidly in his seat, he quickly mulled over the best way to begin.

“King William the first conquered England, and Armand Malfoy, my ancestor way up, was with him. Everyone knows King William, right?” Glancing around, Draco shrugged right after.

“Doesn’t matter regardless, anyway… Yes, we were once considered nobility. Then, the Statute of Secrecy in 1692 was officially put into effect, and all of us had to withdraw from the muggle world. The… records from that time are all sketchy, but a whole bunch of mind-altering spells were probably used.”

“Tell them about Lucius the first!” Astoria crowed, “it would certainly put things into perspective.”

A fresh wave of tittering spread across the gathering of high society children.

“Right,” Suppressing his own giggles, Draco turned to the others, “Lucius the first sought Queen Elizabeth the first’s hand in marriage. For context, Queen Elizabeth ruled between 1558 and 1603-”

“So already you can tell that the Malfoys were definitely high society in the muggle world back then, to be able to propose to the Queen.”

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Context: After the end of 5th year when all the death eaters went to Azkaban. Since Draco is already a Lord in this story, there's pressure on him to reduce their sentences etc. 

Abruptly shooting to his feet, Draco stormed away from the other newly named Lords and Ladies.

Why can’t they understand? We won’t win, our parents have to stay in Azkaban.

“Malfoy, where are you going?!”

Turning, Draco saw Theo, now Lord Nott, panting with anger, desperation. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes wild. Draco pitied him, his whole life he only had his father, and now his entire world was ripped from him.

“There’s a chance, we, together, could re-file for-”

“No.” Draco cut in, he was tired, they wouldn’t understand. “There isn’t a chance.”

It almost seemed as if Theo had transformed over-night. The quiet, shy, bookish boy, now a raging monster, impossible to reason with. He snarled and spit, anger now solely directed at Draco.

“You! You cold-blooded fiend! How dare you speak of betrayal?! How dare you turn your backs on us!”

He already tried to help, but they wouldn’t listen.

Rolling his shoulders back, Draco glared right back at Theo. They were making a scene in the Great Hall, but Draco couldn’t make himself care one damn whit.

“No, I’m being practical. Look at the evidence! There’s no possible way we could convince anyone our parents were innocent. And even if you did manage to garner enough votes, you would start a political war that we would not win!”

Compared to Theo Draco’s voice was soft, but his own desperation also bled through. He needed them to understand, they have to.

Getting their parents out of Azkaban with Wizengamot votes alone… People would panic, they would see the amount of power their coalition has, if they could force something on that magnitude to happen.

But Theo wouldn’t listen. He was grieving, and in his grief his only goal was to liberate his father. Tears were now streaming down his face, and in his eyes, Draco could see that he truly believed Draco had betrayed them.

Pursing his lips, and stoically ignoring the painful tug on his heartstrings, Draco continued, even softer this time.

“Look, they won’t die tomorrow, they won’t die next week. Right now, our job is to steady our own feet, figure out the next plan.”

Completely still, the Great Hall’s silence became a force, pushing more stress onto anyone and everyone. Draco tried to implore Theo to listen to him with his eyes. He already said everything he could, Theo had to make his own choice now.

Draco watched as Theo sniffed, watched as he squeezed his eyes shut, watched as he hunched his shoulders and seem to grow impossibly smaller.

They were all children forced to grow up too soon, too fast. And it showed.

But then Theo forced himself to stand up straight, to open his eyes, showing the world how deeply it had wronged him. His voice had gone quiet as well, but in it a suicidal determination bled through.

“I already have a plan, and I’m going to see it through.”

With that, Lord Nott turned his back and stalked out of the Great Hall.

(After argument with Theo add more transition. Theo said their parents going to Azkaban was Draco's fault in the first place bc he's the one who allowed Harry to leave Umbridge's office)

“Draco, please, say something.”

Sitting on his bead with his curtain drawn up tightly, Draco did not feel like saying anything.

“C’mon, please.”

“…What do you want me to say, Blaise?” Pausing, he curled up tighter into a ball, “Theo was right. I made a mistake.”

A sigh.

“That’s not entirely true. If it weren’t for us, you would still have been wholeheartedly on the Dark Lord’s side.”

Snorting, Draco tilted to away from Blaise and allowed himself to fall onto his side.

“I made the wrong call, allowed Potter’s cronies to join him in the battle. If they weren’t with him, none of our parents would have been caught.”

Shuffling from outside.

“You don’t know that. Maybe what got them caught isn’t related to the fight at all.”

“What else do you think it could have been about?!”

Stuffing his head back into the ball, Draco breathed in deeply before continuing.

“Look. I… I appreciate your attempt at honey-coating the truth. But really. It was my mistake. Just… just give me a few hours. I’ll be out and ready by then.”

Another sigh.

“Draco… I don’t need you to be ‘out and ready’, I just wish for you to be okay. Don’t force responsibility onto yourself if you aren’t ready for it. Theo, he’s just really stressed right now, please don’t hold it against him.”

Footsteps receding.

Grumbling, Draco grabbed a pillow and curled around it.

People expect me to hold the responsibility, what am I to do? Tell them to screw it?

…It would be a miracle if the others even listen to me after today anyway.

(The scene where Draco tries to give up prefect privileges go after this scene)