White Heather for Protection

Dragons and Snakes

"Relax," Heather said, when the boy paled even more than his usual fair skin tone. Clearly, the story had made its way around. She wondered, though, if whatever he'd heard was even accurate. "I don't make it a point of hurting children."

As expected, Malfoy bristled at being called a child.

"I am simply making a point that I don't take insults to my family lightly. Especially insults to my mother, just because of her roots. I don't know whether you have a legitimate reason for disliking muggleborns and muggles, or if you're just spewing the same nonsense your father does. Frankly, I don't care. I will not stand by idly as you besmirch my mother, just as you would not if your own family were the ones targeted. You should know how important family honour is. I would thank you to refrain from such slurs in the future."

"And your brother? I suppose you would like for me to bow to the Golden Boy's every whim like the rest of the world?" Malfoy scoffed in disgust.

Raising an eyebrow, she said, "Now, I never said that, did I? You've had your quarrel with Hadrian for years. I would not interfere with that. He can defend himself against whatever you choose to throw at him. My late parents however, I ask that you leave to rest. As for the Weasleys, I believe that is not my battle to fight. Fred and George have no compunctions about taking retribution from those younger than them."

The mention of whatever pranks the twins had planned for Malfoy made the boy look slightly fearful.

Believing she'd said enough, she stood from her seat. "I suggest you heed this warning, Malfoy. I don't dislike you and I don't want to have to back up my words with actions."

She paused by the door.

"If I were you, I would also carefully think what about your stance in the upcoming war is. Do you truly believe what your father says about those not of pure blood or are you simply parroting his ideals around the place? Look at Hermione, a muggleborn and one of the most brilliant minds of our generation. Dumbledore, a halfblood and arguably the most powerful wizard in Britain. With the way things are proceeding, we may very well meet on opposite sides of the battlefield and I wouldn't want you to be defeated while fighting for beliefs not even your own."

She left without a backwards glance to see Malfoy's reaction to her words.

~~~

Heather paused in writing her Transfiguration essay to answer a fourth year's question about boggarts. She liked to do her homework in the library because she could tutor others at the same time. With so many commitments on her shoulders, this allowed her to save a lot of time. Especially since Umbridge had taken the position, causing an exponential rise in DADA queries. She foresaw a record breaking low in Defence marks this academic year. Though hopefully not among those she was helping.

As she was going back to her own work, Heather felt him walk towards her table. She kept her head lowered, hiding her curiosity. He might not even be approaching her.

"May I have this seat?" was the question posed in that cultured tone she had come to expect from him.

Heather could feel the anticipation of the other students at the table, though she ignored them and nodded at the new arrival. "Of course, Malfoy." The fourth year beside her was practically vibrating with the urge to say something, but she was glad he refrained. She wondered what Malfoy was up to, coming to her after their chat the other night.

"Please, call me Draco. I believe I extended the invitation to you last year." The younger wizard smiled politely, though the intense look in his eye belied the casualness of his tone.

Ahh, right. The 'Hadrian Potter Stinks' badge incident. She hadn't thought he was serious about the offer, considering the circumstances. She hadn't returned the courtesy then, but perhaps she would now. It seemed like Ma- Draco was offering a truce. "Please call me Heather, then, Draco."