Normal Raquel Dodd 8 43 2003-04-28T00:19:00Z 2002-12-06T07:31:00Z 2003-05-13T09:12:00Z 1 5360 30553 254 71 35842 10.2625 Clean Clean MicrosoftInternetExplorer4
Chapter 8
Ginny sat watching the celebration going on around her and tried to join in, but she failed. She was glad Gryffindor had won, but since leaving the Pitch and seeing a figure who could only be Professor Lupin's companion, Elizabeth Morgan, following Draco, she had been worried and a little fearful. What did a grown woman want with him, and why had Lupin been unconcerned by her disappearance, but slightly startled by Ginny's enquiry? Did this have anything to do with the explosion or the werewolf attack? And if it did, was Draco in danger? Was she in danger? The questions whirled around her head, and she found herself in no mood to celebrate.
She looked over at Ron, Harry, and Hermione, who'd been mysteriously late for the party. I wonder why, she thought resentfully. They'd probably gone to meet with Lupin, who probably knew something. She noticed he'd disappeared quite quickly after her last question to him, and since the Fantastic Trio were always in the thick of things she had no doubt they'd gone and had some secret meeting with him. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps she could try asking them, just once more. Maybe she could convince them that she could be trusted, especially after the attack by the werewolf. If that didn't prove something, she wasn't sure what would. But right now was hardly the time, especially since they were laughing and joking with everyone so happily. Maybe later on in the evening when things quieted down, she'd approach them. At the moment she just felt like being alone, and decided to go for a walk. Getting up, she crossed to the portrait behind as many people as she could. She didn't want anyone asking her questions, she just wanted to leave peacefully.
Once outside, Ginny wondered where to go. It was still early afternoon, but there wasn't much going on now that the match was over. Perhaps she could walk over to Hogsmeade? But students weren't allowed to go alone. The trips were only allowed on condition that you went with your house mates, as a group. She sighed and settled for sitting by the lake. Walking down the stairs, she made her way over to the front doors and stepped outside.
The leaden clouds were thin and strafed, like brushstrokes on a gloomy painting. Ginny walked slowly, savoring the wind as it stirred her hair and bit her cheeks. The usual sitting spot for her and Susan was a short distance away, and as she headed for it, she heard a female voice emanating from under a small copse of trees.
"…like filthy pigs. I wonder how anyone can stand to be in the same room with them, I really do. You'd think that their mother could afford to invest in some fashion sense for them!" Pansy Parkinson tittered at her own joke, and Ginny silently ducked behind a large oak as she approached the copse. She saw Draco standing stiffly, arms folded while Pansy clutched at his shoulder and continued to prattle.
"And there's that girl Rosella, she's in our House. A third year, I believe. Well, I saw her attempting to wear make-up the other day, and I simply had to advise her not to do so anymore. She looked positively clownish, she really did! Even Millicent noticed, and that's saying something. But it's like I always tell Millicent, those of us who are truly superior must help the others. That Rosella doesn't have a lot of influence, being a foreigner. Her parents don't even move in the right circles! I was thinking I should talk to her about that…"
Pansy droned on in this manner for several minutes, not even waiting for Draco to reply. Not that he would have, judging from the blank look on his face. If he was hearing a word of what she was saying, Ginny would eat toadstools. She felt a kind of grim satisfaction seeing this. Even when Ginny was arguing with him Draco was at least paying attention. Top that little Pansy, she thought. Ginny felt a stab of guilt at eavesdropping like this, but she was intrigued. It puzzled her the way Draco simply stood there and let Pansy talk her nonsense when he clearly had no interest in what she was saying. Why didn't he just leave? Was he somehow obligated to stand there and put up with Pansy's irritating diatribe? Ginny stared at him closely, trying to read the thoughts behind his rain-gray eyes but failing. For once his expression was completely closed off, and Ginny felt her heart soften towards him. Whatever was prompting him to stand there and put up with Pansy's stupidity couldn't be good or right. Ginny suddenly thought of the notion she'd always had of rich people only marrying other rich people. What little she knew of Lucius Malfoy made her think that this might be the case here. Her instincts told her that Draco didn't want this, yet he was standing there and allowing Pansy to talk and talk. To someone as unbelievably stupid and shallow as Pansy Parkinson this amounted to encouragement, and Ginny had no doubt that Draco was aware of this. But why put himself through it now, especially since his father was miles away?
Ginny let her eyes drop to the ground, remembering her encounter with Draco in the kitchens. He'd been rude, but their parting words had been more than polite and the emotions she'd felt stirring in her breast had not abated. She raised her eyes once more and stared at him in a way she'd not allowed herself to do before. His hair was plastered smoothly to his skull, its silvery sheen more noticeable in the gloomy light of the afternoon. His features seemed sculpted from ivory, fine boned and perfect, his slightly arrogant expression giving him an air of worldly knowledge and strength. He was tall, and she doubted the top of her head reached higher than his chin. Her eyes dropped to his hands, studying them as they rested on his arms. They were beautifully molded with long, slender fingers and manicured nails. She remembered when she'd pulled him out of the Tower, remembered feeling his sleek muscles against her. She raised her eyes to his face again, and at that exact moment his gaze fell on her.
Ginny went stiff with shock, her heart pounding and her face flooding with heat as Draco's eyes widened slightly. She was afraid to move lest she call any more attention to herself, but didn't think she could stay there much longer without dying of embarrassment. She felt her mouth open, as if to voice an excuse for her presence in this clearly private conversation, when Draco did something that shocked her even more.
He smiled at her.
Not obviously, as Pansy was right next to him and would have seen it. Just a small ghost of a smile, exactly like the one he'd given her when she'd left the kitchens that night. The pounding of her heart doubled, and she found herself feeling confused and flattered all at once. She smiled back, wondering what was happening to the safe and ordered life she'd led before now. Here she was, smiling at Draco Malfoy, falling in love with her brother's worst enemy.
The thought wiped the smile from her face and Ginny felt panic spread through her, shoving all other emotions aside. She backed away from the tree slowly; her eyes still locked with Draco's and her mind a jumble of confused memories. Draco Malfoy, standing in front of the silver letters which proclaimed that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, his face flushed with excitement. Draco, buying his way onto the Slytherin Quidditch team, tossing the vile insult of Mudblood at Hermione. The time he'd pretended to be severely injured by Buckbeak so the Slytherins wouldn't have to play Quidditch in inclement weather; the time he had attempted to goad Harry into tracking down Sirius Black himself, when everyone was convinced of Black's guilt as a murderer. And worst of all, his callousness at the news of Cedric Diggory's death, and his pleasure at the rebirth of Voldemort. What was she thinking? She didn't, couldn't love someone so hard-hearted! It was insane, she was insane!
Tearing her gaze from Draco's puzzled eyes, Ginny ran back to the castle.
************
Draco watched in some confusion as Ginny ran to the castle as though being pursued by a dragon. He wasn't sure what had happened. One moment they were smiling at each other, his heart flooding with a now familiar warmth that he only felt in Ginny's presence. Then suddenly she was looking at him with fright, backing away as if he'd sprouted fangs and fur. I didn't even do anything this time, he thought dazedly.
"Draco, are you listening to me?" Pansy's voice interrupted his thoughts and caused him to start.
"Not really," he replied absently, wanting to go after Ginny but afraid to as well. Would she welcome him or curse him? What had caused her smile to fade so abruptly? Did she, perhaps, return his feelings? But how was that possible when he didn't even know what those feelings were? A stinging smack on his arm caused him to turn angrily to Pansy, who was glaring at him.
"How dare you ignore me like this?" she snapped, her face going red with rage. "Do I have to owl your father again?"
"What?" Draco snapped, his anger rising with this revelation. "Owl my father? That was you?"
Pansy changed her tone at once. "Draco, darling, I know it was terrible of me to complain, but I was getting worried about how distracted you've been. I told your father that it was probably your studies, but you've just been so irritable and mean lately. I only asked him to talk to you for your own good."
Draco turned fully to Pansy, his expression furious.
"Do you have any idea what my father threatened to do to me?" he hissed. "Let me quote, 'If you don't start showing proper behavior to our friends, I will not hesitate to pull you off of the Quidditch team!' Those were his exact words, and he knows how much I love Quidditch!"
Pansy had the good grace to blush. "Oh Draco, I'm sorry to have caused such trouble. But really," she looked at him slyly, "perhaps such warnings are necessary when you forget what's owed to the allies of your family."
Draco stared, taken aback by her gall. 'What's owed to the allies of your family'? The Parkinson's wouldn't have half of their power and influence without the Malfoys, how could she dare say that to him? There was only one answer, and it was the fact that Draco's father had already given his blessing to this match. Pansy wouldn't have dared such a bold move as to owl his father without being absolutely sure that she would get a favorable response. Her china blue eyes regarded Draco expectantly; obviously certain that this little reminder would be all she needed to pull him in line.
If he wasn't nice to Pansy, he'd be pulled from the Quidditch team. Lucius Malfoy never issued idle threats, and Draco was once again reminded that his life was to be lived for the glory of the Malfoy name and the furthering of the Dark Lord's power.
It wasn't really his life then, was it?
Turning on his heel, Draco stalked away from Pansy, ignoring her calls to come back. The fact that she wasn't pursuing told him she was going to owl his father again. It had worked once, and now she knew she had a powerful ally in the battle to force Draco to submit to her. He felt his face tighten, the muscles cramping horribly. His stomach clenched painfully as he imagined Lewis Halford delivering the news that he was to be cut from the team. The stupid prat will get a joyous kick out of that, he thought bitterly. It might happen as early as tomorrow, and he felt a helpless rage fill him. He didn't see where he was going; he just kept walking as his mind buzzed with disjointed images, thoughts, and feelings. Before he knew it, he was standing before the main entrance to the Quidditch Pitch. He stared silently for a moment, feeling his heartache at the thought of never entering the stadium as a competitor again. Then he slowly walked inside.
The stands rose around him as they'd always done, their emptiness and silence strange and a bit unnerving. He never noticed it during practice because he was too busy learning new moves and perfecting old ones. But now it struck him as wrong, because the seats should be filled with laughter and cheers. He tilted his head back and stared at the afternoon sky, imagining all the battles he'd fought up there. How many times had the thrill of flight energized him, inspiring him to fight his hardest for the Snitch? But even there he hadn't been free of the bitterness that caused him to compare himself to others. It had been years before he'd been able to stop trying to knock other Seekers off their brooms and just concentrate on finding the Snitch. He'd never been able to completely overcome the tendency, especially when he was facing Potter. Why? Because he was the Malfoy heir, and it was his duty to show off his superiority.
It suddenly seemed like the stupidest reason in the world to do anything.
Or was it because he'd never felt he'd done anything well enough to please his father, his mother, his teachers, and had been determined to humiliate others to get some kind of retribution? My life will be sacrificed to glorify the family honor, he thought. I will become a willing servant to the Dark Lord, working hard to gain power and favor. Marriage will be arranged with a suitable partner out of duty and the expansion of power, to the benefit of both families. Love is not an option, or even an issue. Happiness is not in question, because doing one's duty should bring happiness. This is my path, Draco thought, chosen by my father.
His rage threatened to choke him, and he never noticed the figure that entered the Pitch behind him.
He suddenly thought of Ginny, with her strong will, courageous heart, and generous nature. She wouldn't be forced to marry a man just to raise her family's fortunes, and she would never allow anyone to threaten her just because they thought she wasn't being a good enough Weasley. He remembered the fear in her eyes as she'd faced the werewolf, but she hadn't run. Draco was certain that, in her place, he would have. It shamed him, a beautiful girl possessing courage in measures he couldn't begin to comprehend. She would never allow Lucius Malfoy to rule her life.
And neither will I, he thought determinedly. The choice was his, he now knew, and he could either bow to his father's will or find his own path. That's what Snape meant, he realized. He was choosing to be free, to live his own life. And this choice was going to define his person for all time.
As his thoughts reached this giddy height, he heard a soft noise behind him. Before he could turn, strong hands seized him, one clamping over his mouth, the other grabbing his waist and lifting him off the ground.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance Mr. Malfoy," a cold, accented voice laughed in his ear. Draco struggled to free himself, but the man's grip -- for it had been a man's voice -- was strong as steel. The stranger allowed Draco to struggle for a few moments, then began to laugh. The sound sent chills down Draco's spine, for the voice held a sibilant quality that Draco had heard only once before, when his father had had dealings with Vampires in league with Voldemort.
"I would like to ask you to stop struggling, Mr. Malfoy, but it's so amusing that I think I'll let you continue." The man began to walk with Draco to the far end of the pitch, where Draco saw two more figures emerge from the shadows, a man and a woman. The woman had short blonde hair and brown eyes, was of medium build, and wore a cruel expression. The man had very long, dark hair that was braided with feathers and an odd assortment of decorations. He reminded Draco of an ancient Celt. Unlike the woman, he looked worried. Both were deathly pale, their veins almost clear in the late afternoon light, increasing his suspicion that they were Vampires.
"Is this the boy?" he asked curtly. The woman laughed.
"Who else would it be? He fits the description perfectly. A fairly tall blond with gray eyes, hair plastered to his head." She pointed her hand at his throat and began to speak:
"Selo le Boca!" she cried, and Draco felt his throat tighten strangely. At a gesture from the woman, the man holding him uncovered his mouth. Draco tried to cry out, but no sound issued from his throat. Once again, the woman laughed coldly.
"Yes, I've sealed that loud mouth of yours, Mr. Malfoy. Can't have you giving us away, can we?"
"We should go," the man with the braided hair said. "They could be watching-DAMN!"
Draco was tossed roughly to the ground, his head held down as ropes were swiftly wrapped around his wrists and ankles. Somewhere beside him a magical explosion tore the dim afternoon's silence. The Vampires began to speak rapidly to each other, and then the woman cried out another spell. Draco looked up and saw a fireball erupt from her hands just before he was picked back up and carried a short distance to a large box, which he was unceremoniously dumped inside. He struggled against his bonds, trying in vain to holler out to whoever was attacking the monsters. But his voice was gone for the moment, and he doubted it would have been heard anyway as the magical explosions suddenly increased. What in the name of heaven was going on? Why was he being kidnapped by Vampires, why were they walking in daylight? Panic was pressing down on him, as was a strong sense of claustrophobia. He wriggled furiously and managed to get his bound feet from under him, then began kicking the box lid. To his surprise it flew right off, and the darkening sky met his gaze. Recovering quickly, he began to rock from side to side, tipping the box over after a few moments and wriggling out. He looked up to see two figures firing spells out of their wands at the Vampires. One of the creatures, the one who'd been holding him apparently, was lying unconscious on the ground. The other two were backing up, continuing to fire spells. Then Draco saw the unmistakable figure of the headmaster striding up behind the first two wizards, his wand pointed straight at the Vampires. The one with the braided hair turned wide eyes on the blond haired woman, speaking even faster than before. The woman launched another fireball, then turned and cried out another spell. A magic carpet suddenly floated to them, and they jumped on it while it was still a good five feet away. The woman turned and looked at the box, eyes widening when she saw it lying on its side. When she saw Draco, she pointed furiously at him.
"This isn't the end, Malfoy, we shall return for you!"
The carpet shot away, leaving the unconscious Vampire behind, and a confused, frightened, and furious Draco Malfoy glaring after them.
*************
Twenty minutes later, Draco sat in the infirmary watching Madam Pomfrey grab her wand and press it to the back of his skull. He winced slightly, feeling a knot forming where he'd struck his head while being tossed into that box.
"Reducio Doleo," she muttered, her magic instantly reducing the bump on his head to nothing.
Raising his eyes, he spied the two wizards who, along with Dumbledore, had saved him. One was Remus Lupin, and the other was a woman he remembered seeing briefly at the Quidditch Match. They were huddled in conference with the headmaster and Professor Snape several feet away. Draco couldn't hear what they were saying, but he was determined to find out.
"Since you seem to know what's going on, perhaps you'd be so good as to share your information?" he said loudly, instantly silencing their talk.
The woman stared uncertainly at Draco, then at Lupin. Dumbledore nodded and Snape smiled slightly as he regarded his protégé.
Draco frowned at the woman in the violet robes. "I know you! You were at the match earlier today."
Elizabeth nodded. "I was watching you. We…"
She stopped speaking, looking to Dumbledore. The headmaster regarded Draco gravely.
"You are, doubtless, anxious to know what information we have on your attackers, Mr. Malfoy. I'm afraid their exact identities must wait until the person we captured is questioned. But I can tell you that you're a pawn in a game of revenge."
Draco stared at the headmaster, feeling shocked and a bit affronted. Who on earth would dare to attack him? Who would be willing to incur the wrath of Lucius Malfoy, a Death Eater who stood high in Lord Voldemort's favor?
"What are you talking about? Who's game?" he snapped, his gray eyes narrowing.
The headmaster moved towards him, raising a hand for silence. "I'm sorry Mr. Malfoy, but I must ask for your patience. I would like to question our captive first before I tell you anything. I have only half-formed speculations at this point. I have already owled your father about this, and the Ministry as well. They have dispatched an Auror and he'll be here before midnight."
Draco scowled, his gaze dropping to the floor as he felt frustration bubble through him at the thought of being kept ignorant while his life was being plotted against by unknown forces. Patience was not a virtue he'd ever cultivated, but he also knew better than to argue the point with the headmaster.
"Severus," the headmaster said suddenly, "would you be so good as to double check that the Prefects on patrol duty are avoiding the doors to the dungeon where our captive is being held? I don't want them charmed into setting him free."
Snape nodded, a slight frown on his face, and left. Draco felt some of his strength leave with the Potions Master. Snape had met them at the oak doors as Draco had been brought in by Dumbledore and the others, and had stood by him the whole time. Like a concerned father might do, Draco thought.
"Now, Mr. Malfoy, it's very important that you tell us everything they told you. It might mean nothing, but then again…" the headmaster gestured expansively.
Draco was about to reply when the door to the infirmary burst open and Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed in, heading straight for Lupin.
"Professor, we heard," Harry began breathlessly. "Are you all right?"
"It's all right Harry, please calm down." Lupin smiled reassuringly at them.
Both Hermione and Ron began questioning him and Elizabeth at the same time, their expressions showing much concern. Remus laughed and called for calmness again, while Draco stared incredulously at the trio.
"But what happened?" Hermione asked, still frowning with worry.
"Oh nothing," Draco spat. "I was nearly kidnapped by Vampires, but it happens all the time. No need to worry about me!"
The trio turned with surprise to Draco, not having noticed him before that moment because of their concern for Lupin and his companion.
"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry asked, frowning. Before Draco could think of something scathing enough to say, the headmaster stepped in.
"I think we can do without any more conflict this evening," he said quietly. "And I believe I gave strict orders for students to remain in their common rooms. I'm afraid this will cost Gryffindor five points."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione's mouths dropped and they hung their heads guiltily, while Draco smiled in satisfaction. Take that, you worms! he thought gleefully. Ron scowled poisonously at Draco.
Dumbledore turned to Draco once more. "You were about to say, Mr. Malfoy?"
"The one who grabbed me just said he liked the fact that I was struggling," Draco replied. "The man with the long braids asked the other two if they were sure that I was the one, and the woman said I fit the description of fairly tall, gray eyes, and…"
"Go on," the headmaster prompted.
"And blond hair," he concluded, not wanting to repeat what she'd said about his hair in front of his Gryffindor enemies. "Then the man with the braids said that we should go because 'they might be watching', and then you came. That was all."
The headmaster nodded. "Thank you Mr. Malfoy. That was most helpful."
Oh yes, Draco thought, how? He looked around at everyone in the room. The trio were frowning in various degrees of puzzlement, Lupin was regarding Draco with a curious mixture of concern and sadness, making Draco wonder what he knew. And the woman in the violet robes wore a somewhat hooded expression. Draco's gaze rested on her for a moment, struck by the air of mystery about her. She seemed to be looking right through him with her strange, greenish-brown eyes, and Draco felt a slight chill snake through his body. The headmaster's voice broke through his thoughts.
"Now, if that is all, the four of you may return to your common rooms."
Draco stood to go, pausing for a moment to watch the trio take their leave of Lupin and the woman, and then headed out the door.
He walked slowly along the corridor, pondering the events of the day. Two attempts on his life in as many weeks, or so it felt. Time was beginning to lose its meaning for him with all the confusion and fear he'd been suffering. Was it that way for Potter, he wondered? Did the days just start to melt together as he worried if Voldemort was going to strike, combined with studies, exams, and worries about people he cared for? People like the former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He felt a ripple of frustration and envy as he recalled how they'd burst into the infirmary, heading straight for their favorite professor. They hadn't seen anything except their hero until Draco had spoken. Is that what it's like when you care about someone? he wondered. Do you lose all sense of what's around you, focusing only on the person in question and their safety, their health their well being? It didn't sound pleasant. How could a person function like that? How could they live their own life if they were too busy being wrapped up in someone else's?
Then he thought of Ginny Weasley, with her fiery red hair, flashing eyes, and sharp tongue. He had a feeling it wouldn't be too difficult to get wrapped up in her. He paused at the top of the staircase leading to the Great Hall, staring thoughtfully down into the shadows. Ginny had been another distraction of late, and he wasn't sure if he liked that or not. Every time he passed her in the corridors he felt an unsettling warmth rush through him. If he happened to look into her eyes, then the feeling was more like drowning. Hell, he was already wrapped up in her, considering how she seemed to commandeer the majority of his thoughts whether she was present or not! But he didn't resent it, not really. She was beautiful, courageous, intelligent, funny, honest -- everything that was genuine. Everything he'd never thought a person could be, because he'd judged everyone by his father's standard. Those who took power when it came their way were strong, and those kind and compassionate souls, like Dumbledore, were idiots. But he'd seen and experienced Ginny's strength, her own brand of power. It was the power to charm a man with her soft eyes and honest wit, to wrap his soul around her fingers with a bold determination that had charged unflinchingly to his rescue. Was he being an idiot? What did he really know about her, after all? Did it matter?
Draco sighed and rubbed his eyes. Dumbledore had proven far from weak himself, and wasn't the headmaster's presence at Hogwarts the one thing that had kept Voldemort away? His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the infirmary door open and close and the trio's voices approaching the stairs. Draco backed away into the shadows, straining to hear what they were talking about.
"…doesn't make sense," Harry was saying. "Why would anyone want to kidnap Malfoy? His family's right in with Voldemort." Draco saw Ron cringe at the mention of the Dark Lord's name. "It would be like crossing the Dark Lord himself! Lucius Malfoy would use every resource he has to get his son back, and it would more than likely start some kind of war between the Death Eaters."
"I'm sure war is pretty common among that lot," Hermione sniffed. "But I see what you mean. To the person starting all of this it would be a bad move, and more likely to get them on You-Know-Who's bad side."
"Maybe it's someone trying to bring them down," Ron said thoughtfully. "You know, on our side, but we don't know about them."
"If that's the case, Weasley," Malfoy drawled, "don't you think Dumbledore would know about it?"
The trio stopped in shock as Draco stepped from the shadows, smiling coldly.
"What do you want?" Ron growled.
"Well, Weasley, I have an aversion to being plotted against so I thought I might grill someone who has any sort of information." Not strictly true, but Draco thought he might as well take advantage of this opportunity.
"An aversion to being plotted against?" Harry laughed. "You'd better leave the school then, Malfoy, because there are probably a hundred plots against you being dreamed up on any given day!"
"Eat dung, Potter!" Draco glared. "I want to know what information you do have, because I don't like the idea of being attacked by the undead and I know the three of you always have an ear to the ground."
Ron grinned. "Try asking nicely Malfoy, and we'll think about it."
Draco squirmed inwardly. He should have known this would be nothing to them. Just because they had been talking about him didn't mean they were actually concerned, it just meant they were puzzled. The reality was that they couldn't care less if he was torn to pieces by a werewolf or drained dry by a vampire. They hated him almost as much as he'd always hated them, so what was the use of even asking? It sounded like he was begging them for information, and that was humiliating.
"Fine," he said, turning on his heel and running down the stairs. He hadn't gone more than a quarter of the way, however, when he heard Harry call to him.
"Malfoy, wait." Harry ran down the steps behind him, and Draco turned in surprise. Of the three of them, he'd actually always thought that Hermione would be the one to offer him sympathy if he'd ever needed it. Not out of any liking for him, but because she was the one who stuck most rigidly to some kind of honor. But here was Potter, coming after him and looking at him with an almost grudging concern. It was a little bizarre. He narrowed his eyes as Harry regarded him and waited to see what the scarred moron had to say.
Harry took a deep breath before speaking. "We don't know exactly what's going on, but we know from Professor Lupin that a student at Hogwarts is rumored to be the target of a plot to find the weak spot of a traitor. But who the traitor is, and whom he betrayed, we don't know. Dumbledore might, but if you knew him the way we do, then you'd know he isn't joking when he says he'll get back to you when he has more information."
A traitor, Draco thought. "What does this have to do with me?"
"Use your brain, Malfoy," Hermione said in exasperation as she walked up behind Harry. "Who is the only student that's been overtly attacked so far? You! Obviously you're someone's weak link. The question is whose?"
"I know that Granger. That's what I meant," Draco snapped irritably.
"Your family has a lot of enemies," Ron observed dryly as he also came over to them, "but can you think of anyone who hates your dad enough to risk the wrath of You-Know-Who?"
Draco stared at them. "No. Everyone who's anyone associates my father with Voldemort's favor." Draco took a perverse pleasure in seeing Ron cringe again. "You're right about our having a lot of enemies, but it would be the height of idiocy to attempt anything against me. Like you said, my dad would take care of it. And in case you hadn't noticed, I don't have too many friends that could be associated with me, making that whole 'weak link' argument pretty ridiculous."
"Not really," Harry said thoughtfully. "What if they're talking about your father?"
Draco stared in stunned amazement at Harry. "All right, I think you must have gotten your brain knocked loose during the last Quidditch match! Why in the world would my father betray Voldemort? We owe him everything, or so he says every time he lectures me on why I have to join- ."
Draco abruptly fell silent, but it was too late. Now it was the trio's turn to stare. Draco hadn't meant for that last bit to slip out, but he couldn't take it back now. Harry's eyes narrowed and Ron frowned in confusion, suddenly blurting out, "What, you don't want to?"
Draco couldn't stop the flush that spread over his face. "Never mind," he snapped. "Thanks for the information. See you around."
Once again, Draco turned on his heel and ran, leaving Ron to mumble, "He's nutters! Or maybe we are for telling him anything."
Draco tuned out their voices, running down into the dungeons. He passed the Slytherin Prefect and didn't hear the boy's greeting because his head was buzzing with more questions than ever. Who on earth would want to kidnap him, especially for revenge? Voldemort was a master of revenge, and even if Draco were to be killed, he doubted his father would shed too many tears. There was too much that was dead in Lucius Malfoy to feel anything like real grief, even for the loss of his son. Draco knew this as clearly as if he'd been told it, and it was somewhat painful to realize that he wouldn't be missed much, except by his mother. But he now knew that he felt just as little in the way of affection towards his father, so he didn't try to pretend it bothered him. And Voldemort wouldn't care too much either, in the end. Using his considerable influence and resources to do anything on Draco's behalf would merely be a favor to his most valued follower, a favor Lucius would have to repay a hundred times over. It was always that way with the Dark Lord. He scratches your back, then you scratch, rub, sand down, and polish his. The mental image that thought conjured up made Draco chortle reflexively.
His smile disappeared a moment later, however, when he remembered that his life was in danger. Someone wanted to either kidnap or kill him. Perhaps both. His only hope now was to stay alert and rely on the headmaster's protection, a thought that was almost repugnant to his haughty Malfoy nature.
The only thing worse would be to have to rely on Potter.