Be Careful
8: Who You Get To Know
By Anne B. Walsh
Draco managed a small smile, fueled mostly by his flicker of curiosity—if he doesn't bite anymore, does that mean he used to be a werewolf and he's not now?—but fear and worry eroded it away within a few seconds.
"I'm sorry," he said, looking down at the grass. "I didn't know. About the wards or the dementors." Please don't make me leave, it isn't me, I'm not evil, it's just this thing on me, I thought I wanted it but I don't and I know you won't believe me but it's true, really it is…
"And that is our fault, not yours. We should have told you sooner. Forgive us?"
The tone, as much as the words, made Draco snap his head up in disbelief. He knew falsehood and flattery, knew what traces they left in a voice, and there was no sign of them in what Lord Beauvoi had said. The blue eyes, too, were apologetic but met Draco's without hesitation.
I think he means it…
Belatedly, Draco registered he'd been asked a question. "Yes. I mean, I will. I mean—"
"I understand," Lord Beauvoi cut him off gently. "And thank you. Now, I think we should move indoors for the rest of the evening. I am sorry," he raised his voice to carry above the boos and indignant cries from the Quidditch players, "to deprive you of your game, but I would rather not tempt fate."
"No need to worry," said Percy, pushing forward with something in his hand. "The game's over."
Everyone, player and spectator alike, spoke up at the same moment. "What?" "How?" "When?" "But they didn't…"
"It's a bit irregular, I know," Percy said over the noise, "but the Snitch's inbuilt monitoring spells are very clear. One of the two Seekers got a finger around it, if only for an instant. This does count as a capture—the precedent dates back to 1883—and the game is therefore over."
He bent down and handed the Golden Snitch, its silver wings still flickering hopefully, to Draco.
I just beat Harry Potter at Quidditch.
Now I know this is a dream.
Draco closed his hand around the Snitch, looked up at his teammates, and grinned. "Well, what are you all standing around for? We won!"
"YES!" shrieked Meghan at the top of her voice, and the Green Team went wild. Neville and George thumped bats, while Ray, Jonathan, and Luna started doing a strange, sinuous dance around several members of the Red Team. Ray and Jonathan were hissing under their breaths, and Luna wove her body through contortions that had Draco frankly staring.
If this is what she's like all the time here, suddenly I see why Ray wants her.
Lord Beauvoi offered him a hand up, and he absently took it, still watching the dance. She's pretty thoroughly taken at this point, but maybe if I want her to have a sister, she will…
"Try looking closer to home," Lord Beauvoi said quietly. "You might be surprised what you find."
"Yes, sir. I mean, my lord."
Lord Beauvoi coughed, then cleared his throat. "There's no need for formality, Draco. Call me Moony, as your friends do."
"All right, sir—I mean Moony."
"Good catch." Moony smiled. "In another few weeks you may do it without a thought. At the moment, I think there are people waiting on you to start their celebration."
Draco nodded and turned around.
Harry was standing behind him, his right hand extended. "Good game," he said.
"Good game," Draco agreed.
They shook on it.
I like this dream. Can I stay, Mummy, please? Pretty please with chocolate on top?
Sitting off to one side of the largest parlor, Draco chuckled to himself at his little-boy inner voice. After all, even if he couldn't stay, he could come back, and that was almost as good.
But only almost as good. And I've never liked settling for second-best.
He amused himself for a moment, imagining how he could do it. Discover a spell that would keep him asleep and in dream-state forever, then set his bedroom up to look as though he'd been ambushed by Potter and his friends?
I'd end up in that ward at St. Mungo's. At least my body would. I'd be here…
Unless one of the Healers found the spell and took it off. In which case I'd have to explain why I didn't want it taken off, and I don't know if I could do that without making everyone think I was insane. And then, of course, they'd leave me there.
Draco shuddered. All right, bad plan. Better just keep things as they are.
"Are you cold?" Abby asked, sidling up beside him.
"No," Draco said curtly. "I'm fine."
"You look sad. May I sit with you?"
About to say no again, Draco stopped, uncomfortably aware of the pleading in the hazel eyes fixed on his face.
"Yes," he said. "But no talking."
Abby covered her mouth and nodded hard, then dashed away to find herself a chair.
She'll get bored and go away soon enough.
"What's so funny over there?" Harry asked, turning to look at the corner where Draco and Abby were gasping for breath.
"Dunno," Ron said, taking another bite of his ice cream. "I didn't hear them say anything."
"I think they're just looking at each other," said Ginny.
"Looking at each other?" Meghan sipped her tea. "What's funny about looking at each other?"
Neville shrugged. "They must think it is."
Across the room, Abby turned a moment too soon and caught Draco's eye.
"Apparently so," said Hermione, as Draco and Abby fell off their chairs laughing.
Not even waking up once again at Malfoy Manor could dampen Draco's spirits.
As long as I stay out of the way, I'll be fine here. And I can go back every night, see them all, help Mum set up our rooms. Lord and Lady Beauvoi—the lady of the house had matched her husband's request for Draco to use her nickname, and he thought eventually he'd manage, but for the moment ‘Moony’ and ‘Danger’ were a little hard even to think—had decided that since Draco would be coming and going at Fidelus Manor, it made sense for him and his mum to have a suite of rooms there.
They're only fourth or fifth cousins to her, nothing at all to me, but they still said we could stop there. Not to mention all the other people they're putting up for the next week, until Luna's ball. I'd say Father and Mother would never let it happen here—opening the house to a load of unrelated people—
Except they already are.
His mind pulled up the two sets of people for comparison, and he grimaced.
Do I really have to go downstairs?
The answer, of course, was yes, but Draco found ways over the next few days to do exactly what he'd planned—stay out of the way, make himself visible but not noticeable, part of the background and therefore unimportant.
I never thought I'd want to be unimportant, but when it's a choice between that and getting noticed by them… Draco nipped around a corner just ahead of Amycus and Alecto Carrow. Yes, I think unimportant is the way to go here. Pardon me, submissive little failure coming through, not worth anybody's time, don't bother about me…
He'd have to remember that one, Draco thought. It would go over well at what Ray and Neenie had called the green-room party.
"That's what you call the room where the actors wait in the theatre," Ray had explained, "and a ball's more theatre than it is anything else. Costumes, sets, music, dancing…"
"The only thing it hasn't got is a script, and it almost has got that," Neenie'd added. "There are things girls say to boys and things boys say back to girls, and ways you tell each other things without talking at all." She'd smiled, her eyes dreamy and far away. "I do love dancing. Especially the slow dances."
"Only with your Ickle Ronniekins," Ray had teased, and then run for his life as Neenie shrieked in outrage and flung a Knee-Reversing Jinx in his direction.
What would it be like to have a girl get that angry over me? Draco wondered idly, starting up the narrow back stairs. Pansy would have bit anyone who tried to get at me, but that's just because I was her property and she didn't want squatters. Now that I'm nobody or worse, she'll probably never look at me again.
He snorted. No great loss. Face like a pug and temper like a bulldog. I ought to be able to do better.
For an instant, wide blue-gray eyes and a wondering smile hung before him, framed with dark blonde hair, companioned with a soft and silvery voice…
And she'd look at me, why? She's Ray's girl. She has been since they were eight years old. They're practically engaged, for Merlin's sake! Think about something else. Something else…
What about this Professor cousin of the Beauvois’ Mum wants to introduce me to? Draco emerged from the stairs on the second floor, peered in both directions, and started for his own room at a trot when the hallway proved clear. She seems to think it'll be good for me to meet him, but she also keeps chuckling about it, and I can't figure out why…
The great entrance hall of Fidelus Manor was aglow with candles as well-lit and well-warded carriages and carpets arrived at the door, to be greeted by one or another of the family and shown to the ballroom. Danger was the last downstairs, due to an untimely accident above with the two youngest children, but no sooner had her feet touched the shining hardwood floor than she was hurrying across it to clasp the hand of a wizard some years older than herself, his thick black hair touched lightly with silver. "I'm so glad you could come!"
"The coming-out of the mother of my cousin's heirs to be—how could I miss it?" The wizard smiled at her. "How quickly time passes. It seems like only yesterday I was attending yours, in this same house. And you haven't changed a bit since then."
"Oh, do stop." Danger laughed, waving away the flattery. "Where's Minerva?"
"She and Molly Weasley disappeared together as soon as we got here. Probably off fussing about grandchildren." He frowned. "I wish she wouldn't worry so. Morgan's come through two births without trouble, Reggie's supported her every step of the way, there's no reason to expect anything unusual from the third one…"
Danger planted her hands on her hips. "Don't tell me you're attempting to understand women. You of all people should know it's futile."
"Yes, yes, very foolish of me." The wizard pulled a long face. "Still, I can't help hoping. We are all human, after all, aren't we?"
Danger laughed again. "Supposedly. I must circulate, but you'll dance with me at least once tonight?"
"Dare I hope for the honor?" He bowed over her hand. "The lady of the house, after all… your favor will be widely sought…"
"If I cannot spare one dance for my husband's favorite cousin, I am no lady." Danger dropped a curtsy in response. "Oh, one thing—if you happen to see a very fair boy about Ray's age wandering about looking lost, would you take him on your twigs for a few minutes until you can return him to Cecy?"
"Ah, yes, the dream-child." The wizard nodded thoughtfully. "I'd hoped to meet him, actually. Ask him a few questions, discern some of the differences between his native world and our own. Do you think I could?"
"As long as you keep those few questions to a few." Danger gave him an admonishing look. "You and Albus, you're exactly the same—one smell of a magical mystery, and you're hot on the trail, never bothering for the comfort of those around you…"
"Only a few questions," the wizard cut her off, his face solemn. "Fewer than ten. I promise."
"Good." Danger nodded and started towards the front door, where another family had just arrived.
"Of course," a quiet voice mused behind her, "if he showed no signs of anxiety, and if he agreed to answer a few more than ten questions…"
Danger whirled. "Tom Marvolo Riddle!"
Tom took a step back, laughing, his hands held up in surrender.
Danger hissed briefly at him between her teeth. "And don't even try to tell me what I said," she instructed him tartly. "I get it quite enough from my own children."
"Not from Remus?" Tom raised an eyebrow. "I would have thought…"
"Shoo." Danger flapped a hand at him. "Go annoy someone else."
Still chuckling, the Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry bowed once more and made a strategic withdrawal before a superior force.