Omnia Mors Perimit

The evening of September the first had for some years now been an occasion for grievance on Narcissa Malfoy's part. After having her baby at home for eight weeks, she had to part with him on this day, and each new year it had been as hard as in the previous. This time, it had been even harder. When she had formerly been comforted by her husband's soothing words, she was all on her own now, trying her best not to be depressed, but failing.

She was eaten up by anxiety, wondering whether she had made deep enough an impression on her recently stubborn son. She hoped he'd be sensible, that he'd do nothing rash, that Severus would watch over him. Inexpertis enim dulcis est pugna. The sheer madness of this whole scheme offended her greatly; it was so obvious that it would never work out, no matter what, no matter how. Either Draco would be killed by Dumbledore when this one defended himself, or he would be executed by the Dark Lord for failing. No optimistic soul by nature, Narcissa utterly despaired now. She wanted to help her darling, but there wasn't anything she could do.

Another thing that mortified her had been Draco's cold good-bye. He had insisted to have his trunk sent to London and go by Floo Powder himself, undoubtedly to prevent her from coming with him. She had opened her mouth to say that she would, if he would really have it that way, but he had interrupted her, drawling, "Do not trouble yourself, Mother. I know how much you despise going by Floo, and you can trust me to find my way to the station by myself. I'll see you again on Christmas."

Instead of hugging her, he had bowed, beckoned, and was gone in the next moment, stepping into the fire as if he were just going over to Gregory's place for a game of cards. Either he wasn't aware that this might well be the last time for them to meet, or he didn't care at all, whatever it was, it had only increased his mother's anguish. Severus had promised to keep her informed, bless him; as things were now, she'd sooner receive a letter from his Head of House than from her own child.

In the last two weeks, she had tried to lure him into telling her what he was up to, but he hadn't betrayed his designs with a single word. Hopefully, he had a design to start with and didn't merely boast - if he imagined he could face Albus Dumbledore like that, he was as good as dead already. The Dark Lord himself would not dare to face Dumbledore, as she had preached over and over again... Oh, if only he had listened!

While his mother was fretting for his sake, Draco was perfectly at ease. Pansy was grooming his hair and had just fed him with grapes and strawberries, he was going back to Hogwarts, where he would accomplish what no one before him had accomplished - in short, his life was great, and dare someone claiming anything else!

Zabini returned from that petty little meeting with the new Potions teacher. Must have got some nice glasses of Scotch there, because he could hardly walk straight and toppled, crashing into Greg. Draco squinted over, blinked, and giggled.

"Oi, watch your feet, mate!"

"Take your hand away, you big fat oaf!"

"Who's the oaf now, prettyboy?!"

Draco thought he had seen something - a butterfly? A big butterfly - or a Fugitus? Whatever. "So, Zabini, what did Slughorn want?"

Zabini gave a dispirited little snort. "Just trying to make up to well-connected people. Not that he managed to find many!"

Haughty son of a bitch. "Who else had he invited?"

"McLaggen from Gryffindor -"

"Oh yeah, his uncle's big in the Ministry."

"- someone called Belby, from Ravenclaw -"

"Not him, he's a prat!" Pansy cried, rolling her eyes and accidentally plucking one of Draco's hairs.

"- and Longbottom, Potter and that Weasley girl."

Oh come on! He pushed her hand away. "He invited Longbottom?!"

"Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there."

One of these days, this arrogant prick would get what he deserved, too. "What's Longbottom got to interest Slughorn? - Potter, precious Potter - obviously he wanted a look at the Chosen One... But that Weasley girl?! What's so special about her?!"

"A lot of boys like her. Even you think she's good-looking, don't you, Blaise? And we all know how hard you are to please!"

"I wouldn't touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like!"

What. An. Idiot. Not because of his assessment of little Red Riding Hood - but Zabini truly thought he was a gift for every pretty girl coming his way. To annoy him some more, and also because the topic strangely stung him, Draco drawled indifferently, "I pity Slughorn's taste. Maybe he's going a bit senile. Shame, my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favourite of his. Slughorn probably hasn't heard I'm on the train, or -"

"I wouldn't bank on an invitation. He asked me about Nott's father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he heard he'd been caught at the Ministry he didn't look happy, and Nott didn't get an invitation, did he? I don't think Slughorn's interested in Death Eaters."

Yes, Zabini was definitely on the list of people to deal with. Draco laughed angrily. "Well, who cares what he's interested in? What is he, when you come down to it? Just some stupid teacher. I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what's it matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or not?"

Predictably, Pansy wasn't exactly happy with that statement. "What do you mean, you might not be at Hogwarts next year?!"

"Well, you never know. I might have - er - moved on to bigger and better things." Gee, his mum wasn't always wrong - he'd sooner or later have to learn to keep his mouth shut, damn it!

"Do you mean - Him?!"

What the hell. Everybody in that wretched school thought he was the up-coming Prince of Darkness anyway. "Mother wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don't see it as that important these days. I mean - think about it - when the Dark Lord takes over, is he going to care how many OWLs or NEWTs anyone's got? Course he isn't. It'll all be about the kind of service he received, the level of devotion he was shown."

"And you think you'll be able to do something for him?! Sixteen years old and not fully qualified yet?!"

"I've just said, haven't I? Maybe he doesn't care if I'm qualified. Maybe the job he wants me to do isn't something that you need to be qualified for," Draco said in cold reserve and shot him a withering glance. If Zabini wanted to stand in for Narcissa Malfoy, he'd have to rehearse his lines a bit better! "I can see Hogwarts. We'd better get our robes on."

They all rummaged for their trunks, and out of thin air, Draco thought he had heard a kind of cough. For a minute, he thought this had been Zabini's cat, but Aoki wasn't there. He had an idea... But - no, he wouldn't make a paranoid fool of himself in front of the others. Everybody left, he sent Panse away, let down the blinds and took his time. He whirled around like his aunt had shown him, hurling a Petrification spell into the general direction of the luggage rack. Sweet victory - he had been utterly right! Because Potter crushed down from the rack, half-wrapped into that Invisibility Cloak of his.

"I thought so! I heard Goyle's trunk hit you - and I thought I saw something white flash through the air after Zabini came back... 'Twas you blocking the door when Zabini came back in, I suppose?"

He had Precious Potter at his mercy - bless the Dark Lord, bless aunt Bella - but within the elation, he wondered if... No. "You didn't hear anything I care about, Potter. But while I've got you here -" With an incomparable feeling of righteousness, he stomped onto Golden Boy's face. The sound of the breaking noise was quite disgusting and so was the blood, but boy, it was worth it!

"Now let me see..." For a moment, he contemplated to take Potter's cloak - an Invisibility Cloak was something very special and he had harassed his dad for ages to get him one. But he could be expelled for stealing, and an expulsion was like the only thing he wouldn't risk. Instead, he pulled the cloak over his immobilised enemy. Yes, yes, the idea was brilliant!

"I don't reckon they'll find you till the train's back in London - see you around, Potter... Or not."

He inhaled deeply, with relish, aimed well to walk over Potter's hand on his way out, and felt better than in any other moment since his dad's arrest, including when screwing Pansy. This year was going to be his year, oh yes!

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Inexpertis... The inexperienced crave for combat.