Draco felt the oatmeal run down his throat in globs that were almost impossible to swallow. His breakfast was going down like glue, and it was all because of them.
All of them.
They were sitting at their own tables, seemingly minding their own bloody business, but Draco knew better.
He knew better because the new issue of the Quibbler had been delivered to the school. And they would talk. Because Lucius Malfoy was once again on the cover of the magazine.
Damn his father for doing this to him again!
Draco sighed and turned his complete concentration on ignoring those who would talk about him. In spite of the fact that he had an almost uncontrollable urge to turn around and glance at the Gryffindor table to see if she was there yet. The last time he had checked, the table had only been occupied by mudblood Granger.
So, he acted like he was alone in the great hall, and soon those voices and the slight giggles and whispers melted into one low buzz around him.
And everything was fine too, until his reverie was broken by a slightly out of breath Pansy Parkinson, who plopped her tray down in front of him and gave him a quick, overall glance.
“What’s with you, Malfoy?” she asked quickly. He sneered at her and rolled his eyes.
“You,” he replied nastily. “Bothering me when I’m trying to study.”
The dark haired girl laughed meanly.
“You? Study?”
“Yeah, so sod off.”
“Lying is so not your strong suit.”
Draco rolled his eyes and then let out a short breath.
“Parkinson, you really just need to shut up,” he finally said. She shook her head at him and then pulled out a copy of that dreaded magazine.
She watched him, and saw his jaw twitch, but other than that, Draco Malfoy appeared cool as ice. She smirked at him.
“I’ll bet you’re steamed at your father, then,” she said lightly, but there was a level of understanding and knowing in her violet eyes. Draco took a calming breath as she scowled down at her.
“And you would know this how?” he asked tightly.
“I know because you are sitting there ready to bloody explode,” she said simply.
Draco decided to give up. It was unfortunate that some people knew him too well for his own good. His silver eyes narrowed as he stared down at the magazine with undisguised hate.
“Just when everything around here reaches a level of normalcy that I find comfortable, my dear father has to stir up the pot again,” he snapped at her.
Pansy didn’t say anything for a few moments.
“So, is it true?” she asked him, her eyes somber for the moment. “That Vol- He Who Must not Be Named is returning?”
Draco sighed with annoyance.
“Look,” he said evenly, his eyes flat. “I don’t know. I haven’t read the damn article, I don’t want to. In fact, I want to forget that I ever saw it,” he said, his cool voice rising in caliber. “I want things to be back the way they were before all this started! It’s not too much to ask,” he said coldly.
His dark haired companion shrugged as she lazily flipped through the pages of the magazine. Her face was one of slight boredom mixed in with a bit of amusement. After a few moments of silence in which Draco was able to gather himself again, she spoke.
“How is it possible that you don’t know if your father is telling the truth or not?” was Pansy’s question. “You are his son after all,” she added.
Draco stifled a nasty sound in his throat.
“Don’t remind me,” he said with droll. His eyes darted across the table at the article and then up at her inquisitive face.
“It’s a tabloid,” he said flatly. “Only a half-brained git would believe the crap they print in there anyway. Merlin knows why my father would want his thoughts and opinions printed in such a worthless excuse for a magazine anyway,” he added snidely.
Pansy stifled a nasty giggle.
“Oy, Malfoy!” A voice rang out above the breakfast din, and Draco closed his eyes, trying to gather himself once more.
“Is it true? You believe us to be half brained gits for believing what we read each month then?”
It was starting. He turned slowly, making sure that he was cool and collected.
It wasn’t one of the nasty Gryffindors. Wasn’t Granger, with her know-it-all attitude. Or Potter, who lived to torment him. Nor was it Ron Weasley, Potter’s eternal, and quite stupid, sidekick.
It wasn’t any of their friends either.
It was Ernie MacMillan. Someone whom Draco hadn’t ever though about hating.
It wasn’t just the Gryffindors who were wondering now. Who were gleefully watching him as he stood to face the dark haired boy who was staring at him full of questions.
Ernie continued then.
“Quite interesting stuff your father’s been saying about You-Know-Who,” he stated. Draco dropped his arms to his sides and stood up straight, a sneer on his pale features.
“I suppose I’ll have to repeat myself again, for all those who missed it earlier,” he drawled in a bored tone. “It’s a tabloid,” he snapped, his voice cold and loud enough for most of the students to hear. It didn’t matter anyway. This is what they had been waiting for- most of them were silent.
All eyes were on the blond boy and Ernie MacMillan.
Draco continued, making sure he never lost his delicately gathered composure.
“Yes, a tabloid. A magazine with no truth to it at all,” he stated firmly. “They publish everything and anything for a story.”
A pause ensued, pregnant with anticipation.
He continued. “Did you read the bit about the witch from London who gave birth to werewolves after her husband accidentally slipped up doing a transfiguration charm? That was very interesting.”
The room was still. Luna Lovegood hid behind a book, still sitting in her corner. The female voice broke the thickening tension.
“But it’s not just in the Quibbler anymore!” A girl called out.
Draco turned to face the voice that had spoken.
Hermione Granger stood there, her feet planted wide apart on the ground, holding the Daily Prophet. Her green eyes bore into Draco’s gray ones and her small features were twisted into a look of determination. Behind her stood Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, and -Draco’s heart thudded almost violently- Ginny Weasley.
She had finally arrived for breakfast. Her red hair was shining fiercely under the lights of the great hall, and Draco was stunned momentarily. Ignoring the fact that his stomach had just done a summersault, his eyes returned to Granger once more.
She spoke again. “It’s here, in the Prophet,” she said, “The same scandalous things he’s been saying in the Quibbler.”
The paper made it’s way from Granger’s hand to MacMillan’s, and finally, Draco set eyes on the article that confirmed what Granger had said to be true.
The din in the room increased slightly, and had a note of alarm to it now. So, they all believed it to be true. Draco glanced back up at the small group that faced him. Ron was first to speak this time.
“So, don’t you think that all of us deserve to know what your father knows, Malfoy?” he asked rather loudly. “Shouldn’t you admit now that you’ve been lying? That something is going on?” he accused.
Draco steeled his jaw, but he didn’t respond.
“What about the latest, Malfoy?” Potter asked loudly, taking a step forward. “Voldemort really returning?”
Steel colored eyes met Harry’s green ones, but the taller boy would not speak.
“What about that rumor? You know, the one about your mum and dad splitting up because of his sudden interest in the media, and his public devotion to the death eaters?” someone called out.
Draco could not place the voice, nor did he care to find out who had spoken.
“Oh, but we all know that his mother is directly related to some of those death eaters, isn’t that right?” said a blond haired girl from the Hufflepuff table.
Draco could see Pansy wince from the corner of his eye. He tasted something bitter in his mouth and swallowed before speaking.
“My mother and father are none of your business,” he announced, his voice hard as iron. The two girls at the Hufflepuff table whispered to each other rather obviously.
Draco didn’t know them. He didn’t know who they were, or where they had come from, or what they did. He didn’t feel anything for them, so didn’t feel anything as he regarded them silently as they whispered to each other.
They were the same as all the bloody rest, anyway.
“And why you involve me in what my father chooses to share with the rest of this community-”
It was Ginny Weasley who stopped him in mid sentence. Her soft brown eyes stared into his, and Draco stopped speaking, his voice catching.
Damn.
She always did this to him. He could only stare at her, as the words he had been saying died on his lips.
“If it were true, though…wouldn’t you tell us?” she pleaded with him. “Something as important…as…as…what was published today?” she added quickly. She was standing slightly behind Granger, but in front of her brother.
Just watching him with those large, innocent eyes. She was reasoning with him. Without saying a word. Draco swallowed, but he was never able to respond to the small red headed girl.
“Why reason with him, Ginny?” Seamus Finnigan called out, standing up from his place at the Gryffindor table. “Why bother? He’s already evil, just like his insane father!”
The words were said with spite and hatefulness, but they were only half-truths. Draco took in a deep breath as he stared at the smaller boy. Seamus’ dark eyes were snapping in Draco’s direction. His eyes then moved back to Ginny, who met his gaze with apprehension.
He wanted to go to her. Something was pulling him in her direction, but his feet did not obey his mind.
He wanted to speak to Ginny, just them alone. Like the times he had been envisioning for as long as he had known her…He wanted to tell her so many things….but he couldn’t move.
Several of the students had now turned to stare at the highly agitated Seamus, who continued to spew his tirade against Draco.
“Do any of you actually think that he would…would….HELP us if something terrible was to happen to this school, or our community?” he cried out roughly. “I imagine he would only help those who wish to cause pain and suffering for all of us!”
Anger was an emotion that Draco struggled with. Above all others, it was the most difficult to control, and the blond boy was working diligently to master control of this particular emotion, as he had with all the others.
Draco had several goals in his life- and one in particular was to master the art of self-control. And a good sign of this mastering would be if he finally was able to control his rage around those whom wanted to evoke it.
This would not be one of those victorious moments. He felt a hand on his arm, and looked down to see Pansy shaking her head at him slowly. Her eyes clearly said what she didn’t speak- Don’t.
But Draco was beyond reasoning now.
Before Seamus even had time to grab his wand in defense, he had pulled his out and lunged forward, pushing Hermione and Harry out of the way. He felt his torso connect with Seamus’, and they fell to the ground roughly.
“I’ll show you evil, you stupid, nasty, insignificant little prat!” he hissed hatefully, raising his wand.
..........................................................................................
Minerva and Albus made their way down the stone corridor towards the great hall for breakfast. Most of the students would be there by now, and most of the faculty as well. Minerva’s mind still replayed the words of the article in the Prophet. She glanced at the headmaster with worry.
“Why do they allow Lucius Malfoy to say such things and print them for the public to read, and yet they do not arrest him and question him about the whereabouts of the death eaters or their leader?” she asked in a thin tone.
Albus pursed his thin lips, and his blue eyes met Minerva’s.
“They do not believe that Voldemort’s return is imminent, my dear.” he responded gently. “The ministry has chosen to believe that Lucius Malfoy’s words are just that. Words. To agitate and worry the general wizarding populace,” he explained. “He, although eloquently spoken, has no proof as of yet that there is any need to worry.”
Minerva took a breath and wrung her hands worriedly.
“But you are keeping an eye out, aren’t you?” she asked with hope.
“I am.”
“And you do not take much stock in what was written in the Prophet?”
“I do not.”
“But it is a reputable-”
“In spite of this, I still feel that the death eaters do not pose an imminent threat to any of us, Minerva.”
“Even though Lucius has continuously-”
The second time Minerva spoke, she was cut off not by Albus’ soft voice but by the raucous coming from behind the doors of the great hall.
The couple stopped and glanced at each other with wide eyes.
“What in Merlin’s name…?” Minerva gasped.
Albus pushed forward and entered the great hall and gaped at the sight.
There was violent altercation going on near the Slytherin tables. Sparks, words, and cries flew from both directions.
The headmaster recognized one of the boys as he was knocked severely back and fell over onto his side after a rather nasty attack from the other side.
The students were milling around, voice raised in agitation. Albus approached the closest student, Susan Bones.
“Miss Bones, what is going on here?” he asked sternly.
The girl looked on with worry before glancing up at him. She wore her hair in a perky ponytail, the ends of which she was fidgeting with.
“It’s Seamus Finnigan and Draco Malfoy, sir,” she mumbled quickly. “Draco attacked Seamus after an argument about the new article in t-the Quibbler,” she almost whispered.
Even though there were several professors looking on and trying to stop the fight, it seemed as if the two boys were determined to kill each other.
Minerva pursed her lips sternly as she hurried towards the large group of students at the end of the hall. Albus followed, and she gave him a knowing look.
“This is the fourth fight that Draco Malfoy has gotten into over this nonsense, isn’t it?” she questioned. Albus nodded with seriousness.
“In a month, my dear,” he reminded with a bit of amusement. Minerva sighed.
“That poor child,” she said with sadness. “He doesn’t even realize how much his father’s involvement with the Ministry and his publicity have affected him.”
“And not for the good.”
“Not for the good,” she agreed somberly.
..........................................................................................
Draco lifted his wand again, his fist shaking from the effort pushed into the fight. He glared at Finnigan, who was lying on the ground, amid scattered food and pumpkin juice. Draco scowled, feeling blood run down his chin.
Damn.
His nose was bleeding! He would take care of that after he took care of Finnigan. He wiped his face haphazardly, as he came upon the smaller boy.
Now Finnigan looked scared. Not like before, when he had been so self-righteous and all knowing.
Who’s winning now, huh?
He moved closer, pointing his wand at his opponent.
Some of the girls let out cries of fear, but he ignored this, as he had ignored the efforts of his friends in stopping the fight.
As he had ignored the soft pleading of Ginny Weasley’s voice when she had pushed her way through the growing crowd to try and help Finnigan.
There had been something sad and hurt in those chocolate colored eyes, but Draco had ignored it.
He didn’t care. Not anymore. Not when they didn’t care.
Finnigan and anyone who crossed him again deserved this. Just like Fletchley had deserved it last week, and MacMillan two weeks before.
But before any curse could escape Draco’s lips, his wand effortlessly rose from his clenched fingers and he gaped in surprise, turning quickly.
Albus Dumbledore stood at the edge of the crowd, looking on with a disappointed expression on his withered face.
Draco stopped moving and put his hands down. He watched as Finnigan tried to stand up, but wasn’t able to. Lavender Brown hurried to his side and helped him to his feet, and then he proceeded to limp to the nearest table, his face contorted in pain.
Several of the students stood watching with horrified expressions, surveying the damage that had occurred. The din that had arisen during the fight had fallen again to almost complete silence.
The only sounds were heavy breathing from both Draco and Seamus.
Food lay scattered all over the floor and several wooden benches and one table had been turned over during the altercation.
Whispering erupted again from surrounding tables.
Hermione, Ron and Harry glanced at each other with surprise and worry.
Seamus was trying not to cry.
Albus sighed and glanced at the blond haired boy, who still had blood dripping down his chin and onto his robes.
“Mr. Malfoy, please come with me,” he announced in a weary voice. “First to the infirmary, and then to my office.”
He turned to Seamus.
“Mr. Finnigan, after Professor McGonagall takes care of this problem, she will assist you to the infirmary where Madame Pompfrey will take a look at that leg,” he said sternly. “I will deal with you later.”
Draco searched the floor and found his wand laying the mess around him. He quickly picked it up, and then moved towards the headmaster.
He already knew what was going to happen.
A stern lecture.
A threat of being expelled.
And two weeks of detention.
But he didn’t much give a rat’s behind. Draco surmised that if given a chance, he would probably have done everything the same way. They all deserved it anyway.
Stupid, muggle-loving, clueless know-it-alls.
He glanced down at Finnigan hatefully and watched as Sprout gently rolled up his pant leg to assess the damage.
And he felt satisfaction at the already forming bruise on his thigh. He sneered as he walked by, not feeling an ounce of remorse.
“Next time, I hope it’s your bloody face,” he cursed sharply. “You don’t deserve anything less for your smart ass tongue. Hope you keep it shut next time.”
He glanced up and hurried past the blur of students who were watching him. He saw a blur of red hair.
Ginny.
His heart stirred slightly and he turned his head, but couldn’t see her anymore. He could only see her eyes, the way they had pleaded with him.
Perhaps later he would try and talk to her. He needed to explain to her what had happened. Before they did.
His stomach lurched as the thought about this, and he knew he would have to wait. And perhaps she wouldn’t want to talk to him anyway…
He followed the headmaster out the door, feeling quite satisfied with himself. Just another day in the life of Draco Malfoy, after all.
All of them.
They were sitting at their own tables, seemingly minding their own bloody business, but Draco knew better.
He knew better because the new issue of the Quibbler had been delivered to the school. And they would talk. Because Lucius Malfoy was once again on the cover of the magazine.
Damn his father for doing this to him again!
Draco sighed and turned his complete concentration on ignoring those who would talk about him. In spite of the fact that he had an almost uncontrollable urge to turn around and glance at the Gryffindor table to see if she was there yet. The last time he had checked, the table had only been occupied by mudblood Granger.
So, he acted like he was alone in the great hall, and soon those voices and the slight giggles and whispers melted into one low buzz around him.
And everything was fine too, until his reverie was broken by a slightly out of breath Pansy Parkinson, who plopped her tray down in front of him and gave him a quick, overall glance.
“What’s with you, Malfoy?” she asked quickly. He sneered at her and rolled his eyes.
“You,” he replied nastily. “Bothering me when I’m trying to study.”
The dark haired girl laughed meanly.
“You? Study?”
“Yeah, so sod off.”
“Lying is so not your strong suit.”
Draco rolled his eyes and then let out a short breath.
“Parkinson, you really just need to shut up,” he finally said. She shook her head at him and then pulled out a copy of that dreaded magazine.
She watched him, and saw his jaw twitch, but other than that, Draco Malfoy appeared cool as ice. She smirked at him.
“I’ll bet you’re steamed at your father, then,” she said lightly, but there was a level of understanding and knowing in her violet eyes. Draco took a calming breath as she scowled down at her.
“And you would know this how?” he asked tightly.
“I know because you are sitting there ready to bloody explode,” she said simply.
Draco decided to give up. It was unfortunate that some people knew him too well for his own good. His silver eyes narrowed as he stared down at the magazine with undisguised hate.
“Just when everything around here reaches a level of normalcy that I find comfortable, my dear father has to stir up the pot again,” he snapped at her.
Pansy didn’t say anything for a few moments.
“So, is it true?” she asked him, her eyes somber for the moment. “That Vol- He Who Must not Be Named is returning?”
Draco sighed with annoyance.
“Look,” he said evenly, his eyes flat. “I don’t know. I haven’t read the damn article, I don’t want to. In fact, I want to forget that I ever saw it,” he said, his cool voice rising in caliber. “I want things to be back the way they were before all this started! It’s not too much to ask,” he said coldly.
His dark haired companion shrugged as she lazily flipped through the pages of the magazine. Her face was one of slight boredom mixed in with a bit of amusement. After a few moments of silence in which Draco was able to gather himself again, she spoke.
“How is it possible that you don’t know if your father is telling the truth or not?” was Pansy’s question. “You are his son after all,” she added.
Draco stifled a nasty sound in his throat.
“Don’t remind me,” he said with droll. His eyes darted across the table at the article and then up at her inquisitive face.
“It’s a tabloid,” he said flatly. “Only a half-brained git would believe the crap they print in there anyway. Merlin knows why my father would want his thoughts and opinions printed in such a worthless excuse for a magazine anyway,” he added snidely.
Pansy stifled a nasty giggle.
“Oy, Malfoy!” A voice rang out above the breakfast din, and Draco closed his eyes, trying to gather himself once more.
“Is it true? You believe us to be half brained gits for believing what we read each month then?”
It was starting. He turned slowly, making sure that he was cool and collected.
It wasn’t one of the nasty Gryffindors. Wasn’t Granger, with her know-it-all attitude. Or Potter, who lived to torment him. Nor was it Ron Weasley, Potter’s eternal, and quite stupid, sidekick.
It wasn’t any of their friends either.
It was Ernie MacMillan. Someone whom Draco hadn’t ever though about hating.
It wasn’t just the Gryffindors who were wondering now. Who were gleefully watching him as he stood to face the dark haired boy who was staring at him full of questions.
Ernie continued then.
“Quite interesting stuff your father’s been saying about You-Know-Who,” he stated. Draco dropped his arms to his sides and stood up straight, a sneer on his pale features.
“I suppose I’ll have to repeat myself again, for all those who missed it earlier,” he drawled in a bored tone. “It’s a tabloid,” he snapped, his voice cold and loud enough for most of the students to hear. It didn’t matter anyway. This is what they had been waiting for- most of them were silent.
All eyes were on the blond boy and Ernie MacMillan.
Draco continued, making sure he never lost his delicately gathered composure.
“Yes, a tabloid. A magazine with no truth to it at all,” he stated firmly. “They publish everything and anything for a story.”
A pause ensued, pregnant with anticipation.
He continued. “Did you read the bit about the witch from London who gave birth to werewolves after her husband accidentally slipped up doing a transfiguration charm? That was very interesting.”
The room was still. Luna Lovegood hid behind a book, still sitting in her corner. The female voice broke the thickening tension.
“But it’s not just in the Quibbler anymore!” A girl called out.
Draco turned to face the voice that had spoken.
Hermione Granger stood there, her feet planted wide apart on the ground, holding the Daily Prophet. Her green eyes bore into Draco’s gray ones and her small features were twisted into a look of determination. Behind her stood Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, and -Draco’s heart thudded almost violently- Ginny Weasley.
She had finally arrived for breakfast. Her red hair was shining fiercely under the lights of the great hall, and Draco was stunned momentarily. Ignoring the fact that his stomach had just done a summersault, his eyes returned to Granger once more.
She spoke again. “It’s here, in the Prophet,” she said, “The same scandalous things he’s been saying in the Quibbler.”
The paper made it’s way from Granger’s hand to MacMillan’s, and finally, Draco set eyes on the article that confirmed what Granger had said to be true.
The din in the room increased slightly, and had a note of alarm to it now. So, they all believed it to be true. Draco glanced back up at the small group that faced him. Ron was first to speak this time.
“So, don’t you think that all of us deserve to know what your father knows, Malfoy?” he asked rather loudly. “Shouldn’t you admit now that you’ve been lying? That something is going on?” he accused.
Draco steeled his jaw, but he didn’t respond.
“What about the latest, Malfoy?” Potter asked loudly, taking a step forward. “Voldemort really returning?”
Steel colored eyes met Harry’s green ones, but the taller boy would not speak.
“What about that rumor? You know, the one about your mum and dad splitting up because of his sudden interest in the media, and his public devotion to the death eaters?” someone called out.
Draco could not place the voice, nor did he care to find out who had spoken.
“Oh, but we all know that his mother is directly related to some of those death eaters, isn’t that right?” said a blond haired girl from the Hufflepuff table.
Draco could see Pansy wince from the corner of his eye. He tasted something bitter in his mouth and swallowed before speaking.
“My mother and father are none of your business,” he announced, his voice hard as iron. The two girls at the Hufflepuff table whispered to each other rather obviously.
Draco didn’t know them. He didn’t know who they were, or where they had come from, or what they did. He didn’t feel anything for them, so didn’t feel anything as he regarded them silently as they whispered to each other.
They were the same as all the bloody rest, anyway.
“And why you involve me in what my father chooses to share with the rest of this community-”
It was Ginny Weasley who stopped him in mid sentence. Her soft brown eyes stared into his, and Draco stopped speaking, his voice catching.
Damn.
She always did this to him. He could only stare at her, as the words he had been saying died on his lips.
“If it were true, though…wouldn’t you tell us?” she pleaded with him. “Something as important…as…as…what was published today?” she added quickly. She was standing slightly behind Granger, but in front of her brother.
Just watching him with those large, innocent eyes. She was reasoning with him. Without saying a word. Draco swallowed, but he was never able to respond to the small red headed girl.
“Why reason with him, Ginny?” Seamus Finnigan called out, standing up from his place at the Gryffindor table. “Why bother? He’s already evil, just like his insane father!”
The words were said with spite and hatefulness, but they were only half-truths. Draco took in a deep breath as he stared at the smaller boy. Seamus’ dark eyes were snapping in Draco’s direction. His eyes then moved back to Ginny, who met his gaze with apprehension.
He wanted to go to her. Something was pulling him in her direction, but his feet did not obey his mind.
He wanted to speak to Ginny, just them alone. Like the times he had been envisioning for as long as he had known her…He wanted to tell her so many things….but he couldn’t move.
Several of the students had now turned to stare at the highly agitated Seamus, who continued to spew his tirade against Draco.
“Do any of you actually think that he would…would….HELP us if something terrible was to happen to this school, or our community?” he cried out roughly. “I imagine he would only help those who wish to cause pain and suffering for all of us!”
Anger was an emotion that Draco struggled with. Above all others, it was the most difficult to control, and the blond boy was working diligently to master control of this particular emotion, as he had with all the others.
Draco had several goals in his life- and one in particular was to master the art of self-control. And a good sign of this mastering would be if he finally was able to control his rage around those whom wanted to evoke it.
This would not be one of those victorious moments. He felt a hand on his arm, and looked down to see Pansy shaking her head at him slowly. Her eyes clearly said what she didn’t speak- Don’t.
But Draco was beyond reasoning now.
Before Seamus even had time to grab his wand in defense, he had pulled his out and lunged forward, pushing Hermione and Harry out of the way. He felt his torso connect with Seamus’, and they fell to the ground roughly.
“I’ll show you evil, you stupid, nasty, insignificant little prat!” he hissed hatefully, raising his wand.
..........................................................................................
Minerva and Albus made their way down the stone corridor towards the great hall for breakfast. Most of the students would be there by now, and most of the faculty as well. Minerva’s mind still replayed the words of the article in the Prophet. She glanced at the headmaster with worry.
“Why do they allow Lucius Malfoy to say such things and print them for the public to read, and yet they do not arrest him and question him about the whereabouts of the death eaters or their leader?” she asked in a thin tone.
Albus pursed his thin lips, and his blue eyes met Minerva’s.
“They do not believe that Voldemort’s return is imminent, my dear.” he responded gently. “The ministry has chosen to believe that Lucius Malfoy’s words are just that. Words. To agitate and worry the general wizarding populace,” he explained. “He, although eloquently spoken, has no proof as of yet that there is any need to worry.”
Minerva took a breath and wrung her hands worriedly.
“But you are keeping an eye out, aren’t you?” she asked with hope.
“I am.”
“And you do not take much stock in what was written in the Prophet?”
“I do not.”
“But it is a reputable-”
“In spite of this, I still feel that the death eaters do not pose an imminent threat to any of us, Minerva.”
“Even though Lucius has continuously-”
The second time Minerva spoke, she was cut off not by Albus’ soft voice but by the raucous coming from behind the doors of the great hall.
The couple stopped and glanced at each other with wide eyes.
“What in Merlin’s name…?” Minerva gasped.
Albus pushed forward and entered the great hall and gaped at the sight.
There was violent altercation going on near the Slytherin tables. Sparks, words, and cries flew from both directions.
The headmaster recognized one of the boys as he was knocked severely back and fell over onto his side after a rather nasty attack from the other side.
The students were milling around, voice raised in agitation. Albus approached the closest student, Susan Bones.
“Miss Bones, what is going on here?” he asked sternly.
The girl looked on with worry before glancing up at him. She wore her hair in a perky ponytail, the ends of which she was fidgeting with.
“It’s Seamus Finnigan and Draco Malfoy, sir,” she mumbled quickly. “Draco attacked Seamus after an argument about the new article in t-the Quibbler,” she almost whispered.
Even though there were several professors looking on and trying to stop the fight, it seemed as if the two boys were determined to kill each other.
Minerva pursed her lips sternly as she hurried towards the large group of students at the end of the hall. Albus followed, and she gave him a knowing look.
“This is the fourth fight that Draco Malfoy has gotten into over this nonsense, isn’t it?” she questioned. Albus nodded with seriousness.
“In a month, my dear,” he reminded with a bit of amusement. Minerva sighed.
“That poor child,” she said with sadness. “He doesn’t even realize how much his father’s involvement with the Ministry and his publicity have affected him.”
“And not for the good.”
“Not for the good,” she agreed somberly.
..........................................................................................
Draco lifted his wand again, his fist shaking from the effort pushed into the fight. He glared at Finnigan, who was lying on the ground, amid scattered food and pumpkin juice. Draco scowled, feeling blood run down his chin.
Damn.
His nose was bleeding! He would take care of that after he took care of Finnigan. He wiped his face haphazardly, as he came upon the smaller boy.
Now Finnigan looked scared. Not like before, when he had been so self-righteous and all knowing.
Who’s winning now, huh?
He moved closer, pointing his wand at his opponent.
Some of the girls let out cries of fear, but he ignored this, as he had ignored the efforts of his friends in stopping the fight.
As he had ignored the soft pleading of Ginny Weasley’s voice when she had pushed her way through the growing crowd to try and help Finnigan.
There had been something sad and hurt in those chocolate colored eyes, but Draco had ignored it.
He didn’t care. Not anymore. Not when they didn’t care.
Finnigan and anyone who crossed him again deserved this. Just like Fletchley had deserved it last week, and MacMillan two weeks before.
But before any curse could escape Draco’s lips, his wand effortlessly rose from his clenched fingers and he gaped in surprise, turning quickly.
Albus Dumbledore stood at the edge of the crowd, looking on with a disappointed expression on his withered face.
Draco stopped moving and put his hands down. He watched as Finnigan tried to stand up, but wasn’t able to. Lavender Brown hurried to his side and helped him to his feet, and then he proceeded to limp to the nearest table, his face contorted in pain.
Several of the students stood watching with horrified expressions, surveying the damage that had occurred. The din that had arisen during the fight had fallen again to almost complete silence.
The only sounds were heavy breathing from both Draco and Seamus.
Food lay scattered all over the floor and several wooden benches and one table had been turned over during the altercation.
Whispering erupted again from surrounding tables.
Hermione, Ron and Harry glanced at each other with surprise and worry.
Seamus was trying not to cry.
Albus sighed and glanced at the blond haired boy, who still had blood dripping down his chin and onto his robes.
“Mr. Malfoy, please come with me,” he announced in a weary voice. “First to the infirmary, and then to my office.”
He turned to Seamus.
“Mr. Finnigan, after Professor McGonagall takes care of this problem, she will assist you to the infirmary where Madame Pompfrey will take a look at that leg,” he said sternly. “I will deal with you later.”
Draco searched the floor and found his wand laying the mess around him. He quickly picked it up, and then moved towards the headmaster.
He already knew what was going to happen.
A stern lecture.
A threat of being expelled.
And two weeks of detention.
But he didn’t much give a rat’s behind. Draco surmised that if given a chance, he would probably have done everything the same way. They all deserved it anyway.
Stupid, muggle-loving, clueless know-it-alls.
He glanced down at Finnigan hatefully and watched as Sprout gently rolled up his pant leg to assess the damage.
And he felt satisfaction at the already forming bruise on his thigh. He sneered as he walked by, not feeling an ounce of remorse.
“Next time, I hope it’s your bloody face,” he cursed sharply. “You don’t deserve anything less for your smart ass tongue. Hope you keep it shut next time.”
He glanced up and hurried past the blur of students who were watching him. He saw a blur of red hair.
Ginny.
His heart stirred slightly and he turned his head, but couldn’t see her anymore. He could only see her eyes, the way they had pleaded with him.
Perhaps later he would try and talk to her. He needed to explain to her what had happened. Before they did.
His stomach lurched as the thought about this, and he knew he would have to wait. And perhaps she wouldn’t want to talk to him anyway…
He followed the headmaster out the door, feeling quite satisfied with himself. Just another day in the life of Draco Malfoy, after all.
To Be Continued.
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