Omnia Mors Perimit

Until this morning, Draco had been pitied by his fellow house mates, for being cursed by Weasel King's vicious little sister. All right. Perhaps there had been some sneers within the sympathy, but the key term in this context was sympathy. Until this morning, he had been nothing but popular. He was Draco Malfoy, for crying out loud! Fabulous at Quidditch! Handsome to the bone! Rich beyond imagination! He was Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy's only son! That had been a mark of honour until this morning!

He had been woken up shortly after dawn by his mum. For a moment, he had thought he'd be dreaming, because his mother wouldn't set a foot into the school if she could help it, and she must know that the silly curse hadn't injured him that badly. But she was real, and so was what she told him, though he was still very much in denial. She had looked more distressed than he had ever seen her, and very quietly, she had told him that - no, he still couldn't believe it.

Some other students in the Infirmary had been awake, too, and all of them had stared at her in awe, because that's what she was - plainly awesome. They hadn't been able to overhear her dreadful communications, or that tiny Ravenclaw Second Year would not have whispered after her leaving again, "That's your mum?"

He had numbly nodded, then pulled his pillow over his face and bit into it, hard. She had come personally because she didn't want him to hear the bad news from someone else - bless her - and had hurried away again to dress down the idiot that called himself their Law Wizard, and perhaps see his father. If she was extremely lucky. In that moment, he hadn't grasped her full meaning. Everything she had said after 'Your father has been arrested as a Death Eater' hadn't penetrated his mind anymore, he had been stuck on this bit alone.

Arrested?! His father?! Arrested?! His father...?! Even in his state of shock, he had been aware that being arrested with a Death Eater mask, next to his infamous aunt and You Know Who himself was another league of arrest than for just trespassing the Secrecy Statutes, or jinxing a muggle. On the other hand - come on! This was still the same Lucius Malfoy that all those dunces had been so keen on to admire! Anyone with half a brain could have figured out what sort of magic Lucius Malfoy preferred! And? Had they cared? No! The glamour, and what was more, the generous donations had sufficed to make Malfoy sr. as popular in the world as his son had been popular among his fellows.

Had been. The course of the morning had shown that there was - at least - an interruption. Professor Snape had shown up to inform Vince that his father, too, had been arrested. Despite their stinging curse marks he had asked the two boys to follow him to his office, where Theo Nott had been waiting already; Snape had explained everything that Narcissa Malfoy hadn't mentioned due to the brevity of her visit. A dozen Death Eaters had broken into the Ministry of Magic, among them Draco's dad, Crabbe sr. and Mr Nott; they had tried to overwhelm Potter and some of his friends - what on earth they had been doing there he could not, or would not say. Unnecessary to mention - Potter had been lucky and escaped, his mates had been injured but not very badly and would soon show up in the Infirmary as well. At some point, Dumbledore and some others had come to save Golden Boy, as always, and Dumbledore, that big fat ass hole, had cast a spell on eleven of those twelve Death Eaters. The Dark Lord had come then, making his return official, but he had not freed his followers, and by now, they had all been taken to Azkaban to wait there for their upcoming trials.

Draco wanted to appear calmer than he truly was. He wished he could show the same unfathomable face as Theo. At least, he was cooler than Vince, who looked like a fish on dry land, opening and closing his mouth incessantly and slightly hyperventilating, his eyes bulging, his fists cramped. Get a grip, mate. You're not helping anyone like this.

"Do you understand what this means?" Snape asked now. Theo nodded, Crabs shook his thick head - Draco shrugged vaguely. He hadn't come so far in his musings. What did it mean? "Now that the Ministry is aware of the Dark Lord's return, we are facing war, gentlemen. You are too young to remember the last time, but I'm sure your parents have told you a thing or two. There'll be mass hysteria. A rift within the community, and fierce hatred against anyone linked to the Dark side. I'm afraid this also includes you, being the sons of your fathers."

Theo sniggered and sneered. "So what? I couldn't care less."

"Yeah!" Draco nodded, at last.

Snape gave him a pointed glance. "Be careful, Draco. You aren't used to universal contempt. You might not like it."

"That's all just temporary anyway! The Dark Lord will rule again and we'll achieve satisfaction!"

"I'd advise you to keep a low profile nonetheless."

"What about you, Sir?"

"Me?" He gave a little smile.

"Yes! What will you do now?"

The smile kept on curling the Professor's thin lips. "Luckily, the school and all of its inhabitants are unlikely to be directly affected by the current changes. So I'll continue to be your Head of House as always. If you make a cock-up, I have to punish you."

"But what d'you think?"

"According to number whatever of the Ministry regulations, I am prohibited to share my thoughts with any of the students, Draco. I am on probation, remember?"

This was basically the end of their conversation; Draco and Vince were permitted to return to the dungeons, equipped with a very potent ointment for their wounds. Really, none of them had any taste to be in the same room as Potter and his buddies right now. By noon, Draco was convinced though that being in the same room with Potter and his contempt was a walk in the park, compared to this. What was wrong with those people?! This was Slytherin! Their alliances were obvious, weren't they?!

The Daily Prophet had printed an extra issue - the Dark Lord back, Death Eater activity in the Ministry of Magic, the names of everyone involved, oh, and - Dumbledore was reinstated as Headmaster. There was no student here that hadn't read it, that hadn't read what had happened to Mr Malfoy. And strangely enough, there was no more sympathy for his son, or support. No, now they stared at him, glared at him, or evaded his looks. They whispered and gazed over, and some First Year student darted away when Draco sat down opposite of him in the Common Room.

He withdrew to the dorm, unnerved. Greg and Vince were there, looking helpless. Greg was lucky anyhow, for some reason or other, his father hadn't been in the Ministry, and consequently, had not been arrested. Perhaps out of loyalty, he was as upset as his two friends, but talking to them was no use still. They were too dumb for any useful contribution. Lunch was plainly unbearable; Draco left the table after three bites. Snape had been right. He wasn't used to such open rejection.

Back in the dorm, he jinxed the curtains shut and lied down. Snape's ointment did a good enough job, easing his pains - those resulting out of his injuries. He slowly began to realise what had happened. His dad, his own dad, was in Azkaban. Oh Merlin! Azkaban prison had a reputation for being the most awful place on the surface of the earth, and in Draco's head, it was getting even worse. Poor dad! Poor mum, thinking about it! She wasn't prepared for something like this, surely!

This was outrageous! How could they dare putting Lucius Malfoy in jail, bloody hell?! So he was a Death Eater, yeah? And...?! Breaking into the Ministry, attacking bloody Potter - preposterous! Just the previous night, Draco had done the same, by order of the Ministry itself! This was all a mistake, and before long, those idiots would crawl in the dust and apologise for their errors!

Dumbledore had beaten his father - Draco had rarely felt such blazing hate in his insides, and thought that this was saying something. Normally, he had exclusively reserved this sort of disgust for Potter and his two chums Granger and Weasel Bee. But for the wizard who had dared to defeat Lucius Malfoy, he would of course make a generous exception. This foolish, stupid, silly old crackpot, this blithering jerk, this... Narcissa Malfoy had set great store in her son's education, one of her points being his mindful use of language. She would never have him swear or speak foul words in her presence, so now he cursed about that as well, lacking the proper insults to express his rage with them all, Dumbledore, and Potter, and Granger, and all the other prats that had been involved with his great father's undoing.

"Draco?"

"Get lost!"

"Open the curtains, Draco. Please!" This was Pansy; she must have been released from the Infirmary, too, but he simply couldn't deal with her now, insipid cow that she was!

"No. Go away and leave me alone!"

She obeyed, but returned at dinner time. He had refused to go up to the Great Hall, ignoring the funny noises that his empty stomach gave. As a matter of fact, he hadn't been eating properly since yesterday, but he wasn't hungry either. Still, when he saw her standing in the middle of the dorm, a big plate in her hands, he was a little bit grateful. She had brought sandwiches, strawberry tarts and slices of cold roast.

"You ought to eat something, Draco," she said tentatively.

"Says who?" he replied stubbornly, but couldn't take his eyes of the food.

She put down the plate on his bedside table, balancing it on a pile of books. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yeah. Bugger off!"

She nodded in defeat and turned around to go, but faltered. "I just wanted to say - I've heard - I'm so sorry, Draco!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes. But it's going to be all right in time. I'm certain."

She looked so earnest, so sanguine, so genuinely solicitous - he changed his mind without quite knowing why. He sat down on his bed and beckoned at her to do the same, while he'd pick a sandwich and listlessly try a bite.

"How was the mood in the Infirmary?"

"Weird... Did you hear? Professor Umbridge - it appears she's been attacked by a herd of centaurs," she said. "Try the roast, it's pretty good."

"A herd of centaurs?!"

"Yah... Granger's had her hands in it, I've heard, but - well, I don't really know."

"Centaurs?! From the Forest, you mean?"

It felt good to talk about something else, to take his mind off the real disaster. She would tell him that Potter was in the Infirmary, looking devastated; Professor Umbridge seemed to have sustained a nervous breakdown; Longbottom had a broken ankle and a squashed nose... They deserved it, with the possible exception of Professor Umbridge. As soon as she was on her feet again, she'd sort out the misunderstanding in the Ministry - because that was what Pansy saw in it. A dreadful misunderstanding, nothing else. No one right in their mind would arrest Mr Malfoy. Draco had never liked her half as much as in this moment, when she confirmed all his own notions.

Without noticing it, he ate everything she had brought. She volunteered to bring more, or if he'd like some of the cake that her mum had sent her...? Greg and Vince had returned from upstairs, looking greedy upon the cue 'cake', and Pansy hurried off.

"This is like the first person being nice today," Vince muttered, looking after her.

Greg grinned, but wiped that expression off his face at once. "I reckon she's not being nice to you or me, Crabs."

"Oh shut up. She's fetching cake for you, Greg."

"And do you hear me complaining?"

"You haven't got anything to complain about, mate. You're one lucky bastard!"

"Gawd, I know. How's Linny?"

Vince shrugged. Draco had the faint idea that little Belinda was by far worst off of all of them; she was only a First Year. On the other hand, he felt too crestfallen to bemoan anyone's fate but his own, and his dad's. Pansy returned with the cake, the other two boys wolfed it down and she turned to him again, smiling softly.

"Well - now what can we do for you, Draco?"

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Contritionem... Pride goes before the fall.