Determined to find out as much as he could about the professor, he decided to fall back on the age-old adage of keeping your enemies closer. The next time he had his class, he made it a point to stay back. Crabbe and Goyle saw him lingering and looked at each other for direction until Draco waved them on, "You two can go – save me a seat at lunch."
Both their eyes lighted up and left greedily, already thinking about what they were going to monopolise from the tables. They've taken to nicking food from first years as they walked past, so they make it a point to delay their entry. It wasn't necessary because there's more than enough to go around, but they enjoyed the feeling of power it gave them.
"Draco," purred the professor, "aren't you headed for the Great Hall?"
"I just wanted a word," came the reply.
The professor fixed her dark eyes on him and there was something strangely familiar about her gaze which Draco couldn't quite pinpoint.
"Well?" Her curt prompt reminded him of his aunt whom he vaguely tolerated.
"I've given some thought to what we talked about and I-I believe the Dark Lord may have confided in you in regards to what he has tasked me to do."
Selgentar held her gaze, the downturn of her lips and silence made him soldier on, "You understand then, that my assignment requires that I employ some... espionage."
The professor leaned in and said, "I know all about your plans to dispose of the old man, but you aren't yet close to succeeding."
His breath caught in his throat, constricting his chest as he struggled to keep himself under control. Only a few people are aware of the Dark Lord's plan for Draco, and if she knew what they were, she must be telling the truth and is indeed the Dark Lord's secret weapon. The idea of this both enraged and scared him, but he was spoilt long enough not to let fear get the better of him.
"The Dark Lord has planted you here because he's sure I will fail, then?" He challenged.
"Now, now. Let's not speak ill of the Dark Lord. He has great plans for you," she responded slyly. "But you should understand that the Dark Lord is as careful as he is cunning. Can you blame him for having contingencies in place?"
"I will not fail him," Draco said, this time with defiance.
"I know you will try not to fail." She said in response.
Without a comeback, Draco turned to leave, but Selgentar grabbed his arm.
"Allow me to assist you."
He scoffed inwardly at her incredulous suggestion, thinking that if he wasn't going to let Snape – Voldemort's trusted right hand man – assist him, what makes her think he would let her? But he gritted his teeth and smiled while squinting his eyes so she doesn't see that it doesn't reach them.
"I would be honoured to have you by my side."
Gleeful at the success at convincing Draco, Selgentar beamed at the boy and said in a pleased tone, "Don't let me keep you from lunch, in fact, let's walk together. You can carry these."
She passed him a stack of parchment and he fell in step next to her.
"That's a good boy."
Along the way, Selgentar questioned him about his current ploy to get close to Hermione in order to gain better access to Dumbledore and what he was going to do once he succeeded.
"I guess I'll see what opportunities arise."
"Draco, that is the most inefficient manner of plotting. Surely you can come up with something better than waiting for the opportunity to present itself."
"You're welcome to try and complete my task for me." He said sullenly. He is only a sixteen year old boy. What the Dark Lord expects from him is more than what he is capable of, whether he wants to admit it or not. After all, Voldemort was sixteen when he killed Myrtle, a revelation that only came to light after his immense displeasure at Draco's father for losing his diary.
"Oh, no... As the Dark Lord has instructed, the undertaking is your responsibility. But be quick about it. The Dark Lord isn't known for his patience." She laughed.
Draco cast his gaze on her, wondering, not for the first time, how everyone followed the Dark Lord with such conviction when he has shown, time and time again, his ruthlessness, even towards his own followers. But it wasn't a question he would ever ask aloud.
He liked the idea that purebloods are better, but Hermione has taught him some about muggle society and if purebloods were similar to be aristocrats and superior in every way, why couldn't halfbloods or muggles be the working class? They didn't have to weed out all the common-folk in order to exist.
Believing that magic only belonged to purebloods was a belief he found harder and harder to stand by. It would be akin to muggles claiming all money belongs to the upperclasses and that anyone with a bit of gold on them would be killed because it means that they stole it.
Draco smirked at his train of thought and from the outside, it would seem as though he was pleased to be walking beside the young professor, who had a gleam in her own eyes.
"Figure it out quick, Draco." Selgentar said as they reached the Great Hall before relieving him from the stack of parchments he was holding by having them lift into the air before zooming away, presumably to her office.
Draco looked on at the retreating stack of papers with disbelief in his eyes. What was the whole point of him carrying it for her if she meant to magic it away?
"Females..." He muttered darkly to himself before finding his seat between Crabbe and Goyle.
"What took you so long?" Crabbe asked inquisitively.
"When did I start reporting to you?" Came the reply.
At this, the hulking boy gave a half shrug before reaching for another turkey leg.
Before Draco was assigned to kill his headmaster, he would've made some biting comment about their pigging out but the energy that went into putting others down have been redirected into the task at hand. But as it were, he ate in silence and meandered off, slightly disgusted by the display of gluttony that the two boys exhibited.
All he wanted was an escape and to speak to the quick-witted Gryffindor but his encounter with the Defense Against The Dark Arts professor has unsettled him. He couldn't see a way out of his predicament. If he continued his friendship with her, it would seem as though The Boy Who Lived was right about him, even if his intentions were entirely pure.
He played around with the idea of telling her about the professor, but that would only pull her deeper into his world, and the secrets that he harboured. He doubted that even Hermione could look past the fact that he was a Death Eater and was bound to kill Dumbledore.
Yet again, he found himself incredibly alone at a precipice. There would be no going back, no matter what he decided, and for just a moment longer, he'd like to stay right here.
YOU ARE READING
The Lost Timeline | Dramione | ✔
Fanfiction"Do not make the mistake of thinking I care what you think of me." She looked down and saw her book in his other hand. The unexpected kindness in the midst of poison was more than she could bear and she took it from him quickly before breaking into...
