Chapter 9: Pansy Malfoy (Draco)
Draco really wished he hadn't glanced over at what Pansy was writing during Defense Against the Dark Arts. They were supposed to be copying instructions from the text book fifteen times onto their parchment. It was literally the most ridiculous thing he ever had to do (not to mention top ten most boring things he ever had to do). Maybe that was why he glanced over at what his girlfriend was writing on her parchment. Or maybe he just liked to punish himself.
Mr. and Mrs. Draco and Pansy Malfoy
Draco luvs Pansy (Oh, great. His girlfriend couldn't even spell love correctly)
Pansy Malfoy
Then there was a list of strange names with his last name tacked onto the end.
Muffy Malfoy.
Crispin Malfoy. (What the heck was a Crispin?)
These couldn't have been... but they were... oh, yes, they were. Pansy was naming her and Draco's children. What was wrong with this girl?
“What are you doing?” He found the words spitting from his mouth before he could stop them. Pansy's eyes lit up as she tried to cover the evidence on her parchment. Professor Umbridge let out a high-pitched, obnoxious little squeak.
“Mm-hm.” She tiptoed toward them, her froggy face looking particularly sour.
“Mr. Malfoy, there is no talking in my class.”
“Sorry, Professor.” He hated having to apologize to that sad excuse for a witch. He wouldn't have admitted it if his life depended on it but he'd even take Granger over that candy-floss pink freak.
Professor Umbridge smiled. She was appeased. At least until she caught a passing glance of what was on Pansy's paper.
“Miss Parkinson. What's this?” Umbridge snapped the paper away from Pansy. Draco was going to kill Pansy. “Let's read what Miss Parkinson has been writing while she should have been working.”
All the eyes in the class turned toward them. Blood rushed to Draco's face. He had never been so angry in his whole life. Professor Umbridge read every word on that piece of parchment. Even the name Crispin Malfoy. The whole class burst into laughter. Even Potter. Especially, Potter. Well, everyone was laughing but Granger. Why wasn't she laughing? Maybe she was doing for him what he had done for her the other day. Being nice when given the chance to be cruel.
No. That couldn't be. She was probably just planning a better, more effective way to make fun of him.
Professor Umbridge laid the piece of parchment on her desk and then her beady little eyes stared at Pansy. “Detention.”
Pansy's mouth fell open. She had never received detention.
Detention? That was the best toad-face Umbridge could do, detention? Draco was starting to think that Flich's idea of hanging people by their toes in the dungeon was spot-on.
Draco endured the rest of class absolutely mortified. Pansy didn't seem the least bit concerned about the ultimate embarrassment she had just caused him. She was chewing on her lips and furiously taking notes. All she cared about was he stupid detention and that made him angrier than ever.
When class was over, Draco grabbed his stack of books and tore out of the classroom without saying a word to Pansy and ignoring the chorus of snickers that played alongside him.
He hurried out into the vacant hallway trying to put as much distance between him and everyone else as possible. He stopped when he heard a voice calling after him. Draco should have just kept walking.
It was Granger. Fantastic. Just what he needed.
“Are you okay?”
Draco turned around and snapped. “I'm bloody fine. What do you care?”
“Everyone was harsh in there and I just wanted to... to.”
What did she want to do? Why was that Gryffindor Know-It-All even talking to him?
“Rub it in.”
“No. Repay you for helping me the other day.”
Draco huffed. “There's no need for that. I don't want your sympathy anyway.” He turned to leave but her voice caught him again.
“Fine, Malfoy. Have it your way. Oh, and good luck with her.”
Granger spun around on her heel and marched out of the corridor. There he was again. His old self had to re-surface. And why did it only seem to come out when she was around?
Draco slunk off into dormitory, hoping not to find anyone.
The room was dark and dreary, a cold, dusty scent in the air. It made him miss Malfoy Manor and that was hardly any better. Draco had received another owl from his father and afraid it was telling him he was being elected treasurer of the You-Know-Who Fan Club or something, he had held off on opening it. But he figured he was in about as bad a mood as he could get, Might as well get it out of the way.
Draco peeled open the letter and read the words.
Draco,
Your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will be starting an Inquisitorial Squad. You will be joining.
Father.
Even worse. He was being asked to join Umbridge's Fan Club instead. He would almost (almost) take the snake-tongued psychopath over her. Still he knew he had no choice. His father would never let him say no.
It had been three weeks since he had spoken to Vinewood. Ever since she turned down meeting him he hadn't been able to write her. He didn't really know what to say. All he knew then was that he needed her.
Dear Vinewood,
I'm sorry I haven't written you. I've been busy and just... confused. But I really need your advice. You always know what to say to me. Have you ever felt like you wanted to stand up for yourself? To tell people to just back off? That you were going to be whoever you were and even if they hated it they would just have to live with it? What I wouldn't give to have the nerve to do that! But even as I write this to you now I know I do not. I will give in as I always have to be what they, what he wants me to be.
Still here,
Silverhawk
