Underneath It All + Draco Malfoy

one: the first time

Draco's.

Draco had always known that the task he had set out to do during his sixth year at Hogwarts would be no easy feat. Yet, by the second week of November, the little progress he had made was beginning to get to him.

Things that he had once cared so much about seemed so pointless now. He began to neglect his friends, and though he never put a spectacular effort into most of his studies, those faded into the back of his mind too. He hadn't even cared much when he had landed himself a detention for failing to complete two Transfiguration assignments. He had even had the chance to make up for the assignment during his detention, yet he hardly put any effort into it.

By the time his detention had finished and he handed in his sloppily written assignment, he dreaded having to go back to the common room. The other students that went to Hogsmeade for the day would be returning soon, and he had no interest in hearing about their day or having them feel sorry that he couldn't attend with them. As a result, he found himself taking the long way back to the common room.

By the time he stepped in, Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle were already huddled on a nearby couch, and his entrance made them all turn heads. Pansy jumped up. "There you are! Did your detention just finish?"

She made her way to his side, linking her arm with his. He swiftly snaked his arm out of it, and made his way towards the rest of them. He hadn't cared to look at Pansy's pout when he left her side.

"Finished awhile ago," he finally answered, just as he sat in a space in between Blaise and Goyle.

"You hear about that girl that got cursed?" Blaise asked.

The words piqued his interest, but he tried not to show it. "No."

"We didn't see it, but we heard it. Some Gryffindor girl apparently shot up into the sky on her way back to the castle. Screamed for the whole village to hear."

"She probably deserved it," Pansy said, returning to her previous spot beside Crabbe, still pouting.

Draco tuned out their conversation from then on, as it had turned into what he expected and they recounted their outing for him, as if he cared even a little.

After awhile, he abruptly stood up to leave.

"Where are you going?" Pansy asked him, and he thought he might just throw a fit if he had to hear her voice any longer.

"Patrol," he said simply, and made to leave the common room.

In truth, he knew what had really happened to that Gryffindor girl, and though he hadn't a clue about who she was, he hadn't intended for her to get cursed. As time went on, it felt as if he was withdrawing further and further into a hole away from the rest of the world. Most times, he convinced himself that he preferred it this way. But even though he could tune out the conversations around him, more often than not, he preferred solace.

He hadn't properly patrolled the halls since the new school year started, but it was a good excuse for when he simply needed to get away. Most times, he didn't know where he was going and wandered for the better part of the evening.

But tonight as he walked the halls, not stumbling upon any other students or even a professor, he felt the weight of the cursed girl on his shoulders. Eventually, he found himself on the fifth floor, standing in front of the entrance to the Prefects' bathroom. After saying the password, he stepped inside.

He had not realized that the bathroom already had an occupant. Not until the door closed behind him, and he noticed the bubbles drawn in the bath. He didn't see her immediately, not until his eyes went from the end of the tub closest to him onto the far side opposite him.

A girl sat there, covered well enough by the bubbles of her bath to hide anything he ought not to see. A few wet brunette strands stuck to the sides of her face, the rest of her hair tied back behind her. She seemed familiar, but he could not quite place it.

Then he realized that he had been dumbly standing there, and he stiffened. "I — Sorry."

        Draco moved to take a step back, but then she spoke. "You can stay. I was just finishing up."

        Awkwardly, he nodded. It was silly, how he hadn't even really needed to be there, and now he's found himself in such a foolish situation.

        "Well, can you turn around so I can get out?"

        Draco froze again — he realized how much of a fool he looked like, and stiffly turned on his heel to turn his back to her. Something about her intrigued him. She had just been walked in on, her privacy essentially violated, and yet she handled it so coolly. Perhaps if had an ounce of her strong front, he might have the confidence to carry out his task with success.

        "What brings you here anyway? The Slytherin bathrooms not exclusive enough for you?" There it was. Like all others, she saw him as the stuck-up snob that hated everyone. She was, of course, not without fault there. Draco had spent so much time acting that way, he knew he didn't make much of a case for anyone else to think otherwise. "You can turn around now."

        He did so, and when he looked at her again, he swallowed thickly. She was wearing a bathrobe made of black silk that reached just to her mid-thigh, and it was tied tightly around her waist. He looked at her from head to toe, but when he caught himself, he looked away again, suddenly finding great interest in the stained window with the image of a mermaid on it.

        "I could ask you the same," he muttered. She wasn't in Slytherin, that was for certain. But in the few times that he'd ended up here in his sleepless nights wandering the halls, he never ran into anyone here.

        "I like coming here to be alone. I know what people say about me," she answered simply. That's when it hit Draco — that's how he knew her. She was the niece of Selwyn, one of the lackeys that had escaped from Azkaban along with his Aunt Bellatrix. Then he recalled the article that was put out about Selwyn's brother denouncing his family's beliefs. That must have been this girl's father. He recalled being told to stay away from the Selwyn girl last January, after that article had been released. Better to stay away from blood traitors, he was told. He never even thought of it until now. He had better things to do than to worry about some girl he had never interacted in the last five years anyway.

        Draco watched as Astrid gathered her clothes that had been neatly folded by the side of the tub and began to make her way to the exit. Her shoulder brushed against his as she passed by him, and he suddenly found the courage to speak again.

        "Your uncle... he was always a loyal follower to the Dark Lord, wasn't he?"

        Draco turned to face her again, and her brows were furrowed as she hesitated to speak, and he wondered if he should have said anything at all. Perhaps it was a sensitive topic for her, or perhaps she detested all of it like everyone else did. He was about to tell her to forget it and drop the subject when she finally answered.

        "I don't know. I've never met him and Dad never talked about him... But if he was one of the ones that were freed from Azkaban, I suppose that says something about his loyalty, doesn't it?"

        He simply nodded in response, pondering on her response in silence.

        "Oh, and watch out for Moaning Myrtle. She likes to pop in around this time," she said, and with a final turn on her heels, she left the bathroom, leaving Draco by himself.

        Silly as it may seem, but Astrid's response left him a little disappointed. She knew nothing of the hardships that Draco's own father left on his shoulders, nothing of the pressure to make amends for someone else's mistakes. What brief hope he had, that someone might just understand his position, was gone — and Draco realized he was truly alone.