Draco Malfoy's Perspective

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Hurry up, Ramsey."

Two months into the year, Violet abruptly took a step backward–and trod on Crabbe's toe. He yelped in pain, and she strode off at the same pace as before. She could hear Goyle and Draco laughing, and heard the curse. Smoothly she pulled her wand from her robes and pointed it over her shoulder, thinking the countercurse since Crabbe wasn't worth her actually speaking it.

"Break up with Pansy, did you?" Goyle asked. Violet turned her head slightly; Pansy had just passed Draco with a hearty "humph!" and he'd rolled his eyes.

"Couldn't stand her anymore. She's an awful piece of work, that one."

Violet spun on her heel, and came face to face with the trio that had skidded to a stop. Theresa stood slightly behind Violet to protect her if she needed to. "You aren't dating anymore; that doesn't give you leave to say horrible things about her."

"I thought you hated her," he drawled, confused as to why Violet would defend Pansy. Pansy herself had stopped under the guise of looking in her book bag, but everyone knew she was listening.

"I might. But I'm not horrid, so I don't gossip about her. You're as immature as a first year girl! Never speak so badly about people, Draco, or I'll hex you." Her tone was venomous.

He narrowed his eyes. Draco. She'd called him Draco. Why did that feel familiar? It shouldn't. He could only remember her calling him Malfoy, or by his full name. But it was too familiar to be a false memory.

Violet seemed to see the speculation on his face. She turned and walked away, leaving Draco and his minion-friends standing there alone.

"Draco? You alright?" Crabbe said. "I thought we were going–" Goyle elbowed him in the gut. "Hey! What's the big idea!"

"Shut up, the both of you. Goyle, keep an eye on Vi-olet." For some reason, saying her whole first name felt strange on his tongue. But why? What had she done to him in the few days at his house that made him so clueless about her? "I want to make sure that she doesn't know anything."

"Better than standing guard as a little girl. I get to observe fit girls instead." Goyle smiled smugly and slipped into the crowd on its way to dinner. A few minutes later, Crabbe and Draco vanished into a disappearing room floors above them.

Halfway through dinner, Theresa nudged Violet with her elbow. "Goyle's been watching us."

"I noticed. And where's Malfoy and Crabbe?" She'd slipped up earlier. She'd called him by his first name. She'd only done that at his house, and she didn't want to stir up his suspicions.

"There's Crabbe. He looks disoriented. Think Malfoy took him for a duel, and Crabbe lost?"

Violet watched Crabbe shake his head and slip into a seat beside Goyle. "No. He isn't bandaged or in a cast of any kind. If he duelled, he would be hurt."

"Fair point." Theresa nodded. "Then why is he disoriented?"

"Potion, or a well-aimed dizzy spell. Those have been going around like cornish pixies." She shook her head. "First years. They don't understand the enormity of our situation right now. Hey!" She shouted down at a second year raising her wand. "If you're about to do some silly, useless spell, put down your wand!"

The girl lowered her wand, looking guilty, and picked up her fork.

Theresa smiled. "She didn't even realise you weren't Head Girl, or a Prefect."

"Older kids are generally more intimidating, no matter their status."

Then Violet fell silent as she finished eating, and before Theresa had finished, she stood up. Theresa looked up. "Where are you going?"

"Oh, I fear Malfoy's bitten off more than he can chew alone. I'm going to find him and laugh at him." She rolled her eyes. "I'm going to do my homework. It's due tomorrow."

"Alright. I'll be down in ten minutes."

The dungeons were warmer than usual. Violet absentmindedly wondered if they had gotten new house elves before pulling out her Potions book. She had to read twelve pages and summarise it in at least ten inches.

As dinner was still in full swing, she was the only one in there. A few minutes later she heard someone come in though, and assumed it was Theresa. "You were quicker than expected."

"What?"

Her hand clenched on her quill and she sighed, turning around. "I was expecting Theresa."

"The blood traitor."

"She's a Halfblood for your information!" Violet exclaimed, getting defensive as she always did when blood status was in question.

"Calm down, Ramsey. I was simply stating a fact." Ramsey. It was safe. It was a teasing name, not her first name, not a nickname. Draco could use it without feeling strange.

"Halfbloods are considered blood traitors at birth. If you're trying to poke fun at the fact that she is a friend of mine, and I'm Muggleborn–"

"Why would I do that?" He smirked. Violet hesitated in a retort. Not because she could think of anything to say–there was plenty for her to say–but because that smirk was forced. Not easy. Something was wrong. He looked tired.

He walked down the boys' hall and vanished into his room. Violet stared down that way for a while before resuming her schoolwork.

~

The next morning Violet got mail. It was Elder's response. Finally! She'd waited long enough! Violet flushed with anger. She'd begun to think that he wasn't ever going to respond.

Dearest Violet,
It would be my pleasure to host you over the holidays, and the following summer, although I don't yet have the availability to do so. By the holidays I should. I've been thinking of arranging a meeting place, and now that you're going to live with me it seems only reasonable that we should meet before then. Please respond with the date of the next Hogsmeade weekend; I will meet you in the Three Broomsticks at noon. Don't worry about finding me. Simply wear this, and I'll find you.
Love, Elder

In the envelope and behind the letter sat a broach. It was silver, with gems in it the colour of Slytherin house. They were small gems, and several of them. It was arranged to look like a snake. Whoever this had belonged to had been in Slytherin. And now Elder was giving it to her.

Pinning it to her robes, Violet looked up at several gasps. Girls were leaning forward to get a good look at it. "Who sent you that?" one asked. She had never before spoken to Violet.

"Someone important to me, and someone who is none of your business."

"Are those real emeralds?" another girl asked. She was a gold-digger. Past ambitious; she would murder for thirty Galleons.

"None of your business," she repeated. Slowly the prying eyes turned away, although glances were still snuck. Violet wrote a response once she received the privacy.

The next Hogsmeade weekend is four days from now. If that's too soon, the following is the last weekend next month. The broach is lovely. Who's was it before you gave it to me?
Violet

Theresa asked later, as they walked to class, who had given it to her. "Elder. He wants to meet with me, and the broach will let him know who I am."

"Ah. Clever." She smiled. "When are you meeting him?"

"This weekend, if it isn't too soon for him."

The next day she got a letter saying that that weekend would work perfectly, and Violet smiled. She would finally meet Elder, so mysteriously named, and find out why he had contacted her. Why he hadn't told her his name. Why they'd never met before. And best of all, she'd find out why he was so protective of her.