Venom and Velvet

Hiding Place

 9. Hiding Place

Hermione looked at Draco as he stirred the Amortentia in his cauldron. She found herself wondering what it smelled like to him, then shook her head to rid herself of the thought. Hers, to her surprise, no longer smelled of grass and spearmint. Instead, it smelled like a pine forest and old books.

"Yes, students. Well, I'll be coming around to check your potions before the end of class, don't mind me," Slughorn announced conspicuously. He started to stroll around the room, pausing every few students to stir a cauldron or take a deep breath. He leaned down and slid something into the hand of a Ravenclaw girl Hermione didn't recognize. This happened once more before he reached the table Hermione and Draco were seated at. He slipped each of them a small piece of parchment and winked, then stood up straight and said loudly, "Very nice work, both of you. These potions look incredibly potent."

Draco and Hermione glanced at each other, his left eyebrow was raised quizzically. They unfolded the parchments to see these words:

You are cordially invited to a luncheon on this Saturday the Sixth of September at 11 o'clock in the office of Professor Horace Slughorn. Semiformal attire is expected. RSVP as soon as possible. Thank you.

Hermione scoffed. So he was still hosting the Slug Club. Should she go?

Next to her, Draco started to chuckle quietly. Hermione looked at him, confused.

"What's so funny?" She asked.

"Why the hell would he invite me to the Slug Club?" he said, his chuckles turning into genuine laughter. A few students turned to see what the commotion was.

Hermione waited until his laughter had died out before answering his rhetorical question.

"Why not? You're still a rich kid from a prominent wizarding family," Hermione said. "You know, they used to call you the 'Slytherin Prince,' Malfoy. Why wouldn't he invite you to the Slug Club?"

"Because my 'prominent wizarding family' is now the most hated family in the magical world," he raised his eyebrow again, as if to say duh. Hermione frowned at him, thinking. He wasn't wrong. The Daily Prophet had chewed up the Malfoys and spat them back out.

"Well..." Hermione searched for something to say but came up empty.

Draco's face had hardened, emotion once again disappearing from his face. Hermione felt her shoulders slump. Before she could come up with something to tell him that would bring back the softness to his grey eyes, Professor Slughorn announced the end of class and waved his wand, confiscating the bottles of amortentia from the tables.

"Wouldn't want any of you stumbling around blindly, pining after another student, now would I? I doubt dear Headmistress McGonagall would be thrilled with me if that were to happen," he chortled awkwardly. For some reason, Draco got the impression that something of the sort had happened to Slughorn before.

He rose from his seat, feeling Granger's eyes on him but not meeting them. Before he could leave, Slughorn called out.

"Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Granger, have you had time to consider my invitation?"

Draco bit back a sarcastic comment about how he'd made some other plans in the last five minutes.

"Yes, Professor," Hermione spoke up. "I've decided to turn it down, but thank you."

Slughorn looked positively flabbergasted. His mouth opened and shut, giving the impression of a rather confused walrus.

"Well I'm very sorry to hear that," he managed to splutter. Hermione gave him a courteous nod before gathering her books in her arms and walking out.

Slughorn shook his head violently. "Well, my boy. I'm sure I'll at least be seeing you Saturday?"

"Actually, Professor, I'm with Granger on this one. Thanks anyway," he said before he could stop himself.

After leaving the dungeon classroom, Draco walked the short distance to the Slytherin common room. He found it almost empty, strange for the time of day. Shrugging this off, he sat casually on the couch in front of the fireplace. He hadn't realized how exhausted he'd been. Before he knew it, Draco found himself back in Malfoy Manor. A cold, high voice called for him from a straight-backed chair at a long table. His heart racing, he approached the table. Suspended in the air over the black marble, a figure rotated slowly. When the figure's face came into view, Draco recognized it instantly.

"Longbottom?" He asked quietly. "Why is he here?"

A bone-chilling laugh echoed off the high ceilings. "You're going to kill him for me, Draco," it said.

"But why? He hasn't done any-"

"Do you dare defy me, boy? You dare defy the Dark Lord? You know the consequences, Draco."

From behind him, Draco heard footsteps. His father was there, staff raised to strike him. Draco was a child again. He ran down the corridor, slipping behind a tapestry where he knew he would find his hiding place, a small alcove tucked behind the fabric image of some castle that had belonged to his great-grandfather. He tried to hide but the footsteps were drawing closer. All around him, the cold laughter rang like bells.

"Malfoy!" A boy's voice started Draco from his sleep. "Merlin! Are you good? I though you were just asleep but then you started whining. You're crying."

Draco became acutely aware of the moisture on his cheeks and tried to wipe it away. His face was burning now. Here he was, a grown man, caught crying in his sleep. He looked around frantically, trying to count how many people had seen.

The boy noticed this and gave a small shake of his head. "Don't worry, man. There's no one else in here. They're all down by the lake checking out the damage."

"Damage? What damage?"

"The owner of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes sent a bunch of products to Peeves. It's the first time he's ever gotten a delivery. It was amazing. Anyway, you didn't answer my question. Are you good?"

"I'm fine. Forget you saw anything," he said, giving the kid an icy look. "Do I even know you?"

The boy allowed a flash of offense to cross his face before, in true Slytherin fashion, he set his face in stone.

"I suppose you don't. I'm Shawn. Shawn Morris, I'm a third year."

"You already know me, obviously. So, what... are you going to tell the whole house you saw the famous Draco Malfoy crying like a baby?"

"Wasn't planning on it, but if you keep acting like a wanker I probably will," he cocked an eyebrow challengingly.

Draco felt his own brow raise in response. Who was this kid?

"Fine. Nice to meet you, Morris," he said with an appraising look.

"Likewise," Shawn said before making his way to the boys' dormitories.