Normal Raquel Dodd 2 1 2003-05-13T09:18:00Z 2003-05-13T09:18:00Z 1 4848 27634 230 64 32418 10.2625 Clean Clean MicrosoftInternetExplorer4
Chapter 10
Draco stared out over the water, trying to empty his mind of the events of the last week. He'd been attacked, almost kidnapped, cut from the Quidditch team, and had had a verbal confrontation with his father that was pointless and enraging. What more could possibly happen? He had a feeling that if things got any worse he'd fall dead from the stress alone!
His muscles ached with stiffness and his stomach burned. Madam Pomfrey had told him that he was developing an ulcer and he needed to relax. How in Agrippa's name was he supposed to relax when he was trying to fight off werewolves, vampires, and his father all at the same time? The nurse was mixing a curative for him and had told him to return in an hour, and as he rubbed his middle absently he silently willed her to hurry up.
He blinked as a shout of laughter broke in on his thoughts, but he quickly regained himself and tuned out the sound. He really should leave this spot; go to his room or someplace quiet. But he didn't know of any quiet or secluded place on the grounds because he'd never needed one before, and he didn't want to be alone in his room at the moment. Memories of the previous night still burned like fire in his brain, even though they were vague and half formed. It was so strange to think he was capable of such mindless rage, such horrific destruction. It made him think of ancient barbarians entering their battle frenzies. What was the term? He wondered. Then he remembered: Berserk.
Earlier in the week, his father had arrived to see that Draco was safe, which had surprised Draco to no end -- especially seeing how Lucius had seen fit to drop a Freezing Menace on his son only that Monday. Draco's face burned and his heart squeezed painfully as he remembered how the first day of the week had gone…
The green envelope had arrived by special owl delivery right to the common room door. He hadn't known what it was initially. But he'd accepted the envelope and examined it curiously. It had his name and house on it, but no other identifying marks. Flipping it over, he saw that the wax seal was from a post in London. Slipping his thumb beneath the wax, he'd been about to break it when Frieda Lawson's voice had rang across the room.
"A Freezing Menace," she'd exclaimed excitedly. "Who sent it to you? Is it from your father?"
Draco had frowned at her, but hadn't wanted to appear ignorant. So he'd fished his way through his reply.
"My father would send me a…Freezing Menace only if he thought I needed one. Do you think I need one, Frieda?"
The dark haired, horse-faced girl had smiled then, and something about that smile set Draco's nerves on edge. "Do you know what that is, Malfoy? I don't think you do, so why don't you open it for us?"
Draco might have allowed himself to be goaded into it, but the obvious excitement in Lawson's eyes made him uneasy. He decided his room would be a much better place. He'd carefully slid his thumb from beneath the wax seal and pocketed the envelope, tossing a careless smile to Frieda as he walked towards the stairs.
"I think I'll keep this particular treat to myself. I do so love leaving you breathless!"
His parting comment had surprised the silly girl so much her beady eyes had nearly popped from her head, which had made him smile with cold delight. But his smile faded once he reached his dorm. Crabbe and Goyle were just about to exit for the common room, and Draco tersely commanded them to meet him in the Great Hall. Once they were gone, he removed the envelope from his pocket and studied it again.
Except for the emerald green color, it was unremarkable. It was addressed in gold ink, directly to him:
Draco Malfoy, Slytherin House
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Who could have sent him this? What was it? Remembering Lawson's reaction, Draco was wary of opening it. He pulled out his wand and passed it over the envelope. He knew many detection spells and tried six of them. Five of them didn't detect anything out of the ordinary, but the last spell seemed to freeze up. Instead of his wand giving off a soft green light to indicate that all was well, it gave off a white light. Draco stared, feeling a chill. That had never happened before!
If an explosive or other booby trap was detected, his wand was set to give off a red warning light. If the object was safe, then his wand would flash green. Never before had it flashed a white light with this particular spell, and Draco had no idea what that meant. He was too familiar with the consequences of dark spells to rashly open the envelope now, but his curiosity was overwhelming him.
He thought of Lawson's reaction. She had been excited, anticipating something eagerly, so he didn't think it was life threatening. But he had to be sure.
There was one more spell he thought to try. It was a Sender Detector, and allowed the spell caster to vaguely identify the person who had sent the object. If that person was unknown to you, you could at least buy time in deciding whether or not to open the package. He passed his wand over the envelope, murmuring the incantation and watching apprehensively for the result. After a moment, a tiny, smoky tendril rose from the envelope and formed itself into the Malfoy family crest. Draco nearly dropped the envelope in surprise.
"Finite Incantatum!" he whispered, and the tiny replica disappeared.
His father had sent it, it was the only explanation. Slowly, Draco slipped his thumb beneath the wax seal and broke it open. Immediately a green smoke billowed out, surrounding Draco. It had a strange, sweet smell, like warm honey and clover. He felt a heavy lethargy steal into his limbs, and his eyelids grew heavy. He tried to stand, thinking wildly that his father was trying to poison him, but he only managed to stumble forward and land on the floor, face first. He struggled to sit up, feeling an icy numbness creeping into his limbs, and managed to push himself against his bed for support. All the while, the thick green smoke swirled around him. Then his eyes unfocused and he heard his father's voice began to whisper in his mind.
"Boy, when I tell you to do something I expect it to be done immediately and without question! I do not tolerate defiance from anyone and I'll bloody well not tolerate it from my own son!"
Draco thought he might be going mad. Lucius's voice was as clear as if he was speaking directly into Draco's thoughts, soft but menacing and filled with an icy fury.
"I have been informed that you are refusing to cooperate as far as Miss Parkinson is concerned, and you are risking my best liaison to the Ministry itself. I'll not have it! Her family is essential to my plans for you and our continuing expansion of power, and if you think I have any intention of allowing you to ruin that, you are sadly mistaken!"
Draco felt his lungs struggle with the effort to breathe through the icy cold that was enveloping him. He could see that his misted breath was tinged with green, and his heart hammered in fear.
"How dare you do this to me? That Parkinson girl is no different from any other idiotic gold digger, and if you don't like her you can bloody well learn to buy your pleasure as I do! I have already sent an owl to Snape with orders to pull you from the damn Quidditch team, and if you don't learn to conform to my plans I will make you sorry you were ever born to disgrace my existence!"
The last words of his father echoed thunderously through his head, and Draco feared his skull might actually split open. But as the echoes died away, the numbing cold very quickly receded from his body, leaving Draco gasping and shaking weakly against the mattress. Even now, days later, the memory caused cold sweat to break out over him, the words "born to disgrace my existence" echoing in his mind and causing his hands to clench around his lower arms. He stared grimly, unseeingly out over the lake, unaware that Ginny Weasley was observing him. His face set painfully as he recalled struggling to regain feeling in his legs. When he had been able to stand, he'd run to the bathroom, splashing water on his face and retreating into one of the stalls. Fear had subsided fairly quickly to be replaced by anger, humiliation, and pain. So this was what a Freezing Menace was -- a more fearful and insidious type of Howler. Draco had sat in the bathroom stall for hours, not budging until Crabbe and Goyle had come looking for him. The same thoughts had whirled through his mind again and again. When have I ever done anything right for you? When was I ever good enough, or smart enough, to make you proud? When have you ever looked at me and just loved me?
No one had mentioned the Freezing Menace except Lawson, during lunch when Draco finally came out of the bathroom with Crabbe and Goyle. She'd had a knowing and malicious smile on her face, and Draco felt his emotions boil into a murderous rage. Turning fully to face her, he'd calmly asked if she'd like him to demonstrate the effects for her. She turned her face haughtily away, but didn't pursue the subject.
Pansy had displayed good sense and avoided him. Draco would have been happy to leave it at that, except for what happened the next morning…
He'd raced out of the common room Tuesday morning, telling Crabbe and Goyle he'd meet them in the Great Hall. He didn't want to be around if another green envelope arrived, and hopefully it would explode on its own before it could get to him. No sooner had he sat down to scrambled eggs and sausage, however, when Snape appeared at his elbow.
"Mr. Malfoy, please come with me," Snape had said quietly. Draco had risen, a puzzled look on his face, and followed the Potions Master back to the stairs leading down to the dungeons. Draco had wondered what Snape would want with him, and had grown steadily more nervous as they'd descended past moving tapestries of sour faced wizards wearing robes of black and green, and paintings of witches who appeared almost ghastly as the gloom deepened. Draco had felt a chill wrack his frame that wasn't entirely due to the falling temperature of his surroundings. He suddenly remembered what his father had said about sending an owl to Snape. He'd wanted to halt the Potions Master then, but his voice refused to work. He'd wanted to stop walking, but his numb legs somehow seemed charmed to keep moving forward. Snape hadn't stopped until they arrived at his office, and as he closed the door, Draco had known beyond a shadow of a doubt what was coming.
Snape had looked at him, a look of pity combined with a strange understanding. He began speaking slowly.
"Your father sent me an owl, and it concerned your place on the Quidditch team."
"You're cutting me out," Draco had stated with a quiet finality. Snape had nodded, not bothering to hide the matter.
"He says he fears your studies are suffering, and wishes to pull you so you can concentrate on your schoolwork," Snape replied, lips twisting with disapproval.
"That's not it," Draco had said numbly, "I'm being punished."
Snape had once more nodded, giving Draco a knowing look through narrow eyes. Draco had stared at the Potion Master's desk in an effort to fight off the feeling that he was going to vomit, and had noticed burns in the old wood. Wonder how long those have been there? He'd thought.
"Why are you letting him cut me?" Draco asked after a moment. "Can't you tell him I'm an important part of the team?"
"I already tried, Mr. Malfoy." Snape almost smiled. "I received the owl from your father early yesterday morning, and sent off my reply by express owl. He wasn't pleased by my contradicting his wishes, and as your parent he does have final say on whether or not you can play. I'm sorry."
Draco had nodded and quickly left the professor's office. He'd returned to the Great Hall to find Crabbe and Goyle stuffing their faces.
"Where were youf Dracob?" Crabbe asked, his mouth full of food. Draco glared.
"Kindly wait until you've swallowed before speaking to me!"
Draco had spent the whole of that morning in a daze, his anger boiling beneath a thin sheet of numbness. During Transfiguration, as he took notes on Animagi and their various methods of transforming, he'd happened to glance over and noticed Potter whispering conspiratorially to Granger and Weasley. What now? he'd wondered angrily. Did they perhaps know what Dumbledore had found out from that blasted Vampire? Dumbledore had yet to summon Draco for any reason, and he'd felt his numbness burn away as he stared at the Trio. Was it too much to ask that he be told anything that might make it easier to understand why he'd been attacked? Were they too damn good to share what information impacted him directly? Did they not give a damn about his life? He'd actually understand if they didn't, but hadn't they promised to share information?
Actually they hadn't, and Draco's fury boiled even hotter. He'd spent the rest of the class staring at his parchment, hearing and seeing nothing around him.
Afterwards, on the way to lunch, Draco had spotted Pansy with a group of Slytherin girls. She was the center of attention, giggling, chattering, and otherwise making an arse of herself, as far as Draco was concerned. He'd approached the group with a smile, thinking that he could at least settle one score.
"Draco," Pansy had simpered, "how lovely to see you."
Her idiocy never failed to awe him.
"May I speak with you alone, Pansy?" he'd asked, giving his most charming smile. Pansy had blushed. "Of course!"
What had followed had perhaps been unnecessarily cruel, but it had nevertheless been well deserved. Draco smiled coldly out at the lake's calm waters as he remembered. Sometimes in life, you can make wickedly satisfying memories…
Pansy had smiled as he led her outdoors to a small sitting area just off the entrance to the school. Not many students were outside, as lunch was being served, so Draco had been assured of acceptable privacy.
"What can I do for you, sir?" Pansy had curtsied slightly, giggling flirtatiously. Draco had dropped his smile then and allowed his anger to surface.
"You can drop dead for all I care," he'd growled, almost snarling at her. "You got your wish, Pansy. I've been cut from the team!"
Pansy had suddenly gone pale, her smile disappearing so fast it looked like it had been ripped away. She immediately began to give excuses, saying she hadn't realized what would happen. Draco had laughed in her face.
"You were very aware that my father would make me sorry, but I believe you're telling the truth about this. You never have used your brain for anything more useful than absorbing the latest fashion tricks. Which is about all you ever talk about, really!"
"Draco, how can you say that to me?" She'd suddenly started crying. "I'll owl your father, I'll tell him I was wrong…"
"Yes you were, but it's too late for that," Draco interrupted, feeling a vicious pleasure at the sight of Pansy's tears. "Actually, you weren't wrong. I really can't stand you, Pansy. Now do me the favor of staying as far away from me as possible!"
Pansy had let out a screech at his statement and pulled on his robes to keep him from walking away. Draco had continued laughing, yanking away from her while she continued to protest with her inane excuses. He'd finally halted her for good when he'd turned, brought his face very close to hers, and ground out, "I hate you! I always have, and I want nothing to do with you!"
He'd felt slightly better about things after that, but nothing could have prepared him for the next day…
Lucius Malfoy had arrived just before lunch at Hogwarts, while Draco had been in Care of Magical Creatures. He'd been quite glad to leave, since Hagrid had obtained several Occamy and one had started laying a clutch of eggs right in the middle of the lesson. The state of its distress before had caused it to try and bite whoever had gone near any of its three heads, but after the first egg had appeared it actually started slithering after the group that was studying it. Hagrid had donned a dragonhide glove and captured the three headed snake before it got too out of control, but its hisses had gotten louder, and it was obvious that it was about to expel another egg. If the message informing him of his father's arrival hadn't come when it did, he might have chosen to skip the rest of the lesson regardless.
He'd been summoned to Snape's office, and the memory of Monday morning made his stomach begin burning. Draco hadn't looked at his father at first, because no matter how angry he was, he was always intimidated by Lucius. It had always been that way. And the intimidation had made him try harder to please, yet it was difficult to try too hard at anything when it was obvious that Lucius didn't notice his accomplishments. His failures were all that mattered, and how badly they reflected on the Malfoy name.
Snape had discreetly left the room, and Lucius had looked closely at his son.
"Are you eating? You seem to have lost weight."
Draco looked up at this, and found his eyes locking with his father's. "I'm fine," he'd replied softly.
"Well, I had to see for myself. Your mother's ready to tear out her perfect coif over this, but you haven't been harmed, have you?"
"No, I'm all right," Draco had repeated, wondering what to say. His father had made the long trip to Hogwarts to see if he was all right, and despite Draco's decision to stop allowing his father to plan his life, he still felt grateful and a bit giddy that he'd come. Perhaps Lucius had found out what was going on.
"Do you know who's behind this, father?" Draco had asked. "I can't imagine why anyone would cross you this way, it's mad!"
"As to that, I haven't found out. But we have many enemies, many who would do much to prove I'm weak. You're safe here, however. Dumbledore has assured me that more protective wards have been placed upon the grounds as well as inside the school. And the Ministry's hard at work looking for that nest of Vampires-"
"What nest of Vampires?" Draco frowned.
"The one rumored to be lurking in Wales," his father had said, raising his eyebrows and staring off into space. "My informants knew about them weeks ago, of course."
"You knew about them but you said nothing?" Draco had asked after a moment of shock, trying not to sound angry. Lucius had turned to his son coldly.
"They had many tasks from many people set before them, and their allegiances are always questionable. I didn't know you were a target for anything, Draco, so no, I said nothing. But then," he'd smiled icily, "why would I?"
Draco had struggled to keep his expression unreadable. The burning in his stomach had increased, and he'd felt his throat close at his father's words. They made perfect sense. Why would Lucius Malfoy feel it necessary to inform the Ministry about a nest of Vampires, especially since they were most likely working for him? For the first time in his life, Draco had seen the danger of the path his father walked; how easy it can be to turn from hunter to prey. As he stared at his father, Draco felt a growing pressure building in his chest.
"What about….your Patron?" he'd asked carefully. Lucius's gaze had flown back to Draco instantly.
"He has other matters to deal with at the moment," Lucius had snapped. "Things are being looked into, boy. Stop your whining!"
The pressure in his chest had increased at these words. Stop whining? Oh, certainly father, it's only my life! But that's not as important as your secrets, is it? It had cost Draco dearly to keep his expression impassive, but he reckoned that he'd succeeded well enough. Lucius had then turned to other matters.
"So, have you had enough of being thrown off of the team?" he'd asked almost cheerfully, making Draco's heart twist.
"I've already been replaced," he'd replied woodenly.
Lucius had waved a hand airily. "They'll take you back, boy, and you know it. Most talented Seeker Slytherin House has had in many a year, and that's saying something. Of course," Lucius's voice had dropped a few degrees here, "it seems that Gryffindor's Seeker still has one over you."
Draco had looked directly at his father then. "Not anymore."
Lucius's eyes had narrowed and Draco had felt a grim stab of satisfaction, knowing he'd poked his father's reason. But then his father had leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper.
"If you want to play again, you can. Just stop this stupidity about the Parkinson girl. She might not be the best looking choice, but there are plenty worse."
Draco had suddenly felt lightheaded as he returned his father's stare. Start courting Pansy again and he could play Quidditch. It was that simple.
"But why should I care about her looks, father? She's rich, well connected, and a pureblood too."
Lucius was too much an expert at sarcasm himself not to recognize it when it was being directed at him. He'd scowled at his son, his pale face flushing.
"I do not tolerate defiance, my boy," he'd growled. "I was hoping to teach you a lesson about life. Sometimes you have to compromise to get what you want!"
Compromise, that was all. Just court Pansy, accept her back, deal with her stupidity and inane babble, and he would be able to play Quidditch again, something he loved and already missed. He'd allowed his thoughts to drift back to Tuesday evening, when he'd snuck into the Pitch to watch the new Seeker, Phillip O'Brien, being trained. The boy was good for a Fourth year, but needed to work on his mid air turns. Draco had watched until his vision had blurred, then he'd run to the far side of the lake. His tears had been hot, his sobs had wracked his frame, and the pain had been unlike anything he'd ever felt in his life. It was then that he'd realized that he'd never loved anything before, except his mother. And to have it so cruelly snatched away because he'd refused to subject himself to the misery of Pansy's company made his temper flare. But he'd controlled it. It was never wise to openly defy Lucius Malfoy.
"Damn it, boy, what is there to think about?" his father had snapped when the silence had grown long. Draco had been unable to speak until that moment, and when he finally did, it had shocked them both.
"There's much to think about, Lucius," he'd replied stonily. "I don't particularly like having to bargain for my freedoms."
As soon as the words had left his mouth, Draco knew there would be hell to pay. Lucius's nostrils flared, and his already flushed face went crimson with fury.
"Indeed," he'd murmured menacingly. "I hadn't realized we were on a first name basis. Very well. Since you refuse to be reasonable, I am forced to add Hogsmeade visits to the list of privileges you will no longer enjoy. In addition, you will volunteer to tutor the younger students of this school who require it. I believe the minimum donation of time is five hours per week. That should put you in plenty of contact with the Mudbloods."
Draco had stared in horror. No Hogsmeade visits and tutoring? Impossible! But of course it wasn't. Lucius was punishing him again, and making sure it hurt. Draco had stood and tried to argue, but Lucius had responded by slapping him hard across the face, drawing blood.
"Clearly," he'd growled, bringing his face close to Draco's, "someone has been breeding disobedience and stupidity in you. But not to worry, I'll straighten you out."
Draco had stared numbly at the ground beneath his boots. His father had had nothing more to say, and had called Professor Snape back into the office to inform him of the new restrictions that were to be placed on Draco. It had taken every ounce of strength that Draco had still possessed to keep his trembling to a minimum, and not to burst into tears. But he'd done it. He'd been dismissed moments later, his father wanting to speak privately with Snape. No doubt Lucius wished to complain about his son's new lack of respect. Draco couldn't recall how he'd gotten through the rest of that day. Snape had excused him from the remainder of his classes, telling him to remain in his room and rest. But he had found that impossible, and had wandered every inch of the castle until dinner time, seeing nothing and hearing his father's voice echoing in his mind.
"Conform to my plans…born to disgrace my existence…stop your whining…someone has been breeding disobedience and stupidity in you…"
Draco's thoughts had whirled until the pressure in his chest was painful and the pounding of his blood was audible in his ears. Instead of heading to the Great Hall for dinner, he'd gone to his room and torn it to shreds. How, he didn't remember; he could only recall a roar of rage that must have come from himself. Crabbe and Goyle had later told him that they had gone upstairs to see how he was doing and had had to pounce on him to make him stop destroying everything. When Goyle had finally gotten a firm hold of Draco, Crabbe had run for Snape. Thankfully, there had been almost no one in the corridor at the time and Snape had effectively threatened those few who had witnessed the scene into silence. Draco vaguely remembered being whisked off to Madam Pomfrey for some minor injuries he'd inflicted on himself. Apparently he'd ripped some of his own hair out, and had dragged his nails down his face. But Madam Pomfrey had fixed it up nicely, and Snape had returned to the room Draco shared with his friends and fixed everything in the meantime. It had all looked normal by the time he returned. His whole body had ached for the next two days, however, and his concentration had suffered. He'd failed his Charms quiz on Thursday.
All in all, the whole week had been a disaster, and he wasn't looking forward to Christmas. He'd opted to stay at school, as he had no desire to be in close proximity to his father. His mother had owled that morning, pleading with him to change his mind. But he was afraid that if he went home now, he'd either kill his father or he'd kill himself.
The sound of laughter broke in on his thoughts once more, and he exhaled impatiently at the interruption. He pulled his thoughts back and tried to make sense of what his life was becoming. He suddenly remembered Snape's words: "Your choice, once made, will define your person for all time. Whether that leads to success or regret is entirely up to you."
The decision was more difficult than he'd ever thought it could be. With the rebellion that had been brewing in his heart against Lucius, Draco found his very identity in limbo. What did he want? If he was no longer set upon pleasing his father, to whom would he turn for guidance?
He still had Professor Snape as a friend. But as much as he respected and admired the Potions Master, the man wasn't his father. Although very little that could be called real affection had ever existed between himself and Lucius, there had nevertheless been a bond. With a sinking heart, Draco realized that, as the bond continued to fray, he was becoming more lost. And for the first time in his life he had nothing but uncertainty and fear in his mind.
Quite suddenly, he thought of Potter. The Boy Who Lived had essentially been on his own since his parents had been killed. He'd been raised by his Muggle family, true. But the tales Draco had heard said that he'd been abused and neglected by them. He was doing splendidly now, though, and had been since coming to Hogwarts.
Draco's eyes narrowed as he thought of his most bitter rival. Harry Potter, who always saved the day, who never failed to trample on school rules to figure out a mystery, then got rewarded for it. If Potter hadn't been around, Draco was sure he'd be the top student in school. The opportunity to die in the Chamber of Secrets had been only one of the things on the list of dangerous happenings Potter always seemed to stumble into, and yet somehow he'd always triumphed. And those triumphs had eradicated any chance of getting Hagrid or Dumbledore sacked, not to mention getting rid of the Mudbloods, and-
And Ginny Weasley would have been killed.
The sudden remembrance of this fact brought Draco's anger to a halt. He realized he was doing it again, reacting with hatred and bitter emotion in response to something Potter had done, just because it was Potter who'd done it. This wasn't about Potter, this was about Draco, his father, and the rest of his life.
Once again, a peal of laughter broke in on his musings, and Draco turned towards the sound with a snarl-
And saw Ginny Weasley, arm in arm with Caleb Anderson.
Draco froze in shock, his face suddenly relaxing as it went slack. Ginny was with Anderson, and she was apparently happy about it!
Draco's frown returned as he watched Caleb speaking airily to Ginny, saying something like, "never mind the details." Anderson was leading her towards the carriages, falling in behind a group of students headed to Hogsmeade. What was she doing with that idiotic prankster? Where were Weasley and Potter? Where was Granger, or at least Dresh? Was she actually going to set off alone with Anderson, without her friends' knowledge?
And why the hell was she hanging on his arm?
Without realizing it at first, Draco began walking towards them. The carriages were filling up fast, but the couple was at the back of the line. Draco quickened his steps, then began running to catch up. By the time he reached them, they were boarding the final carriage, only the two of them inside.
"What are you doing?" Draco blurted, gasping from his last minute sprint. Both Ginny and Anderson turned to him in surprise.
"Hello Mr. Malfoy," Caleb grinned. "Lovely day for a visit to Hogsmeade."
Draco glared at Caleb, who continued to smile in an unruffled manner. Ginny frowned, halting her progress into the carriage.
"What is it, Malfoy?" she asked.
Oh, back to Malfoy, are we? he thought angrily. "I was just wondering where you were going," he snapped.
"Hmm…not as bright as your hair would indicate, are you?" Caleb smirked, causing Draco to scowl.
"I know where you're going, idiot!" he yelled.
"Please," Ginny shushed them, then looked at Draco. "Did you want to come along?"
Caleb's smile suddenly vanished. Turning to Ginny, he began to try and shove her into the carriage. "I'm sure Mr. Malfoy has plenty of other things to entertain himself with."
Ginny, taken by surprise, stumbled into the carriage as Caleb scrambled in after her. Just as he was about to close the door, Draco reached out and caught it.
Caleb forced a smile. "Mr. Malfoy, the carriage won't work until I close the door."
Draco stared at him a moment, then looked past him at Ginny. She was rubbing her backside and looking at them both with irritation, her bright red hair falling around her face like a cloud.
He wasn't supposed to go to Hogsmeade.
Pulling the door open, Draco leapt inside.
"You don't mind, do you?" he smirked at Caleb. Anderson scowled as Ginny stifled a giggle.