Atlas Malfoy and how history repeats itself

Part 16

"Polyjuice potion." Hermione reads, "Allows the drinker to turn into anyone for a temporary amount of time."
"Do you mean me and Harry could turn into Crabbe and Goyle?" Ron scoffs. Hermione grimaces as she skims over the instructions, "Yes, but I've never seen a more difficult potion."
"Take my liquid luck," I say, handing her the vial. She slips it into her robes as I add, "Well, how long will it take?"
"A month-"
"A month?" Harry splutters, "But if Malfoy is the heir, he could attack half the muggle borns in the school by then."
"I'll bond with him over that month then." I roll my eyes as Hermione says, "Well, actually, that'd be considerably helpful."

I should keep my big mouth shut. No thanks to Severus putting me in a sour mood, I decide to skip the quidditch match. I don't think I have ever cared about quidditch, and I am not about to start because my best friends like it. Ron fills me in on the way to the infirmary, "Slytherin were hammering us. Honestly, I was dreading seeing any of them in the halls. But, let me carry on. Suddenly, Harry is being proper targeted by this bludger, and then Harry and Draco disappear under the match. It isn't long before Draco is flung off his broom, and he lies on the floor for ages. He has to be dragged off his first ever match, and is literally being screamed at by your dad. Then Harry gets the snitch, but has a nasty break in his wrist. Then Lockheart tries to help and oh god, its awful, but he gets rid of ALL THE BONES IN HARRY'S WRIST. And that is why we are here."

I grimace at the sight of Harry's arm. We talk for a bit, but I head out the infirmary with Draco. He says, "What do you want?"
"I heard about what happened," I say, "And about Father's reaction."
Draco scoffs, "How did you bare Father? Being his favourite now is awful. On my back, permanently and now, well now, I'm in on all the stupid plans that... that have been made. I just can't do this anymore. Do you want to come to our table at breakfast?"
The change of attitude shocks me and I say, "Oh, yeah, no sure. I'd love to eat with you. Just one small favour, you'll tell me the truth?"
"I can only tell what parts of the truth I want to. Goodnight Ats."
"Night Draco."

He hasn't called me Ats in a while. It's nice being close again, even if I get an absolutely horrific sleep. I practically have to drag myself to the hall, where Draco has actually saved me a seat.
"Morning," I say, nodding to Pansy. She glares and Draco says, "Morning Atlas. Anyway, what did you want to know?"
"Nothing," I say, shaking my head, "I just wanted to say that Pansy, your hair is looking amazing today. Did you do something new to it?"
With that, Pansy goes off on her hair routine, which progresses to skin routine, which then goes on to her telling me all about how easy it'd be do straighten my hair with a small bit of magic. I nod and listen as Draco says, "Too bad it looks a lot like Aunt Bella's does."
I roll my eyes and say, "Yes, I look like Aunt Bella, but at least I'm blonde. Can you image how awful it'd be if I looked exactly like her?"
"Aunt Bella? Bellatrix Lestrange?" Crabbe asks. Draco flings round and says, "Yes, idiot. Obviously Bellatrix. Honestly, I assumed you had at least one braincell. Clearly you share half. God knows who has the other half. Anyway, just come into the common room anytime. I'll let you in whenever."

The meal is rushed, as Draco has the duelling club to get to. I skip it and I'm unfortunately filled in by a terrified Fred, "A parselmouth. Your best mate is a parselmouth."
Harry barges in and says, "I bet loads of people here can do it?"
"Loads?" I scoff and suddenly I'm filled in with a few more worse details. Apparently Harry was egging a snake on to attack a boy? Or at least, that is how it sounded.

Later on that night, I sit alone in the common room. I realised an awful thing a few years back, told mum, and then was told not to let anyone know. I'm a stupid old Metamorphmagus. I can do what I like, when I like, and nobody can tell me I'm wrong. I'm not very practised, but it's fun to do when I'm alone. A little voice says, "A Metamorphmagus?"
I spin round to see a young, blonde girl stood. She continues, "I can do that too."
Her hair flashes a fiery red and she smirks, "How old where you when you found out?"
"Seven," I say, smiling. She races round to sit next to me and says, "Same here. What do your friends think of it?"
"I haven't actually told them..." I say, doubtfully. She says, "You should. Be proud of it. Embrace it. My name is Abigail. I'm going to bed. Goodnight Atlas Malfoy."
"How do you know who I am?" I ask as she gets up. She walks to the stairs and says, "I think you would be surprised to know how well known you are among first years. You help us with our work. We like you."

Christmas arrives too early for comfort. I miss out on the conversation about who everyone is changing into, but they seem prepared. Hermione and I sit, and the boys join us just in time. Hermione snatches the hairs out their hands and shoves them in three cups. I grimace as they all take a sip.
"I think I'm going to throw up." Ron says, sprinting to the furthest cubical.
"Me too." Hermione gasps. Harry doesn't need to say it. His face shows it. And then it shows Draco's little friend. I say, "Guys, this might be a bad time to say that I'm a Metamorphmagus. I can turn my hair colour, type and everything about me different. Anyway, Hermione? Come on!"
"I- I'm not going!" She yells, "But you go ahead. Don't waste time."