Draco Malfoy's Excuses

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AN: Probably should've done this earlier, but sorry if anyone seems OOC.

This has been beta'd by the amazing xx ShamiksXa xx, so go check her out!

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Thankfully for the demigods, no one else was there besides Madam Pomfrey, so they could speak freely about what was happening. They opened the doors and walked over to Draco, who sat up when he saw them come in. He frowned internally, knowing he would have some explaining to do, especially when he saw Frank.

-

Draco scanned the faces of his visitors. Hazel actually looked worried, bless her heart. Frank was harder to read. He suspected that the Son of Mars was confused. Irritated might've been a strong word, but it may have been called for. Luna, as usual, had a far off, dreamy look in her eyes. He could only assume that all clear-sighted mortals were like this; she was the only one he had ever met. He took a deep breath before breaking the silence. "Am I safe in assuming that you all came here for answers?" Both Frank and Hazel nodded. "Very well, then."

"What happened in Care of Magical Creatures?" Frank asked, straight to the point.

"It's ... complicated." When they continued to stare at him, waiting for more of an explanation, he continued. "I didn't learn about your world until this summer. Before that, I was, well, I acted the way I did in class. And to avoid suspicion, I just kept doing it." He paused for a moment to try and find the best way to continue.

Before he could say anything, Hazel interrupted him. "It's okay, Draco. We understand." Frank looked as if he was going to object, but remained quiet. "Just try to be yourself around us, okay?" The Slytherin nodded, thankful that she was being this understanding: something that usually didn't happen with his housemates.

"I will."

-

When Draco came back to classes half way through Potions, Frank could see that he was acting quite terribly.

"How is it, Draco?" simpered Pansy Parkinson. "Does it hurt much?"

"Yeah," Draco lied. The way he was going about, no one believes that he could be associated with anything as tough as the Romans. Even though that was the point of the whole thing, Frank still felt he went overboard. When Professor Snape barely gave him a tap on the wrist he internally cringed. Either he was blind, or he really didn't care what happened, as long as they were Slytherin.

"Sir," Draco called, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm-"

"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," said Snape without looking up.

Ron became redder than his hair. "There's nothing wrong with your arm," he hissed at Draco. Draco smirked across the table.

"Weasley, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots."

Ron seized his knife, pulled Draco's roots toward him, and began to chop them roughly so that they were all different sizes.

"Professor," Draco drawled, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."

Snape approached their table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, then gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy black hair.

"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."

"But, sir - !"

Ron had spent the last quarter of an hour carefully shredding his own roots into exactly equal pieces, Frank had noticed.

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