Pureblood, Halfbreed

Chapter Four

Ernie Macmillan looked up at the ring of nervous faces. The cards lay across the jury-rigged table top like an accusatory finger, gently shaking with the motion of the Hogwarts Express. Hannah Abbott flipped back and forth through her copy of Unfogging the Future.

"This can't be right."

"What does it say Hannah? I know what I think its saying but I want to be wrong."

"Well according to this, um," Hannah gulped and looked up at him. "It's got to be wrong."

"Damnit Hannah, what does it say!" Susan Bones hissed at her friend.

"It says, well put it this way, Voldemort showed up as 'storm on the horizon', what I'm seeing here is 'if you want to do something before you die, do it now'."

"A new dark wizard? Already?"

"No, more like a natural disaster. There is no malice, just raw destruction."

"Oh Merlin."

"We should tell someone about this."

"I think that might be a good idea."

Hannah sketched the lay of the cards on the white space of the textbooks title page, so she could recreate it for their House Head.

"Lets see how Professor Sprout reacts before we start getting terribly worried, I mean it could be in hand and we may have nothing to worry about."

"True."

Ernie started to clear up the cards and put them back into their case. His fellow Hufflepuffs still looked nervous but less so now that they had a plan.

"Trust in Dumbledore."

There were nods all round as the train began to slow for the approach to Hogsmeade.

"Definitely."

Chapter Five

Draco got out of the carriage at the foot of Hogwarts grand stone steps. Crabbe and Goyle were clearing space in the crowd and he held up his hand to his sister. Lucille put her hand on his, softly as a lady should, and Draco's throat constricted as she stepped down. His heart sped and he felt as if he had run for miles as they climbed the steps to the Entrance Hall. Crabbe and Goyle shouldered their way through the crowd. Draco's minions had turned out large, even for sixth years, and with one or two exceptions they out-massed all the other students. Lucille was gazing around at the school.

"Its wonderful, for a human building. The cat-people, of which I, Lucille Marianna Suzanne Malfoy, am the last, built the most beautiful cities that ever were with our unique crafts. I shall show them to you one day, Draco."

"That's nice, Lucille."

Head were turning amongst the students. Draco glowered back at them, his fingers tightening on the wand in his pocket. Just had to make it to the Great Hall and sit down. He was so tired. He had not slept for days now, tormented by Lucille. Slytherin table would be safe enough; none of his housemates would try anything on with a Malfoy, all he would have to worry about would be himself.

Through the haze of tiredness he realised they had stopped moving. There was a scuffle in front of him and squeezing around Goyle he found himself face to face with the last person he wanted to have to deal with.

"Potter."

A pair of flaming redheads and the one-woman brains trust were standing behind Potter. Ron Weasely adjusted his prefects badge and scowled at Draco.

"Your goons had nearly crushed this second year, what are you playing at?"

Granger and the Weasely girl standing a rumpled looking tiny Hufflepuff back to his feet. Draco's eye twitched.

"Get out of my way, I haven't got time for this."

A gathering circle of curious students was waiting - Malfoy-Potter was always a recipe for entertainment. Granger glowered, making sure the prefects badge on her robes was visible.

"Not until you apologise to..." She glanced back at the Hufflepuff, who looked like he wanted to sink into the ground.

"Rupert Copeland."

Copelands. Draco knew the name. Purebloods, a good family, even if this one was a Hufflepuff. All Draco wanted was to sit down and get some food. His ragged pride was not up to this nonsense. He sighed and forced himself to civility.

"Copeland, I apologise. Crabbe, Goyle, get moving."

Draco would have been heartily amused by the astonished look on Potters face at any other time, but now all he noticed was that Potter was still in the way.

"Are you alright Malfoy?"

Lucille leaned on his shoulder and Draco felt his eyelid twitch.

"Draco, whats going on?"

"Nothing at all, Lucille. Potter thinks he's Prince of the Castle and can hold up prefects for no good reason."

"Which one's Potter?"

Draco smiled for the first time in days. She did not know wizarding ways and he knew he would never be so grateful for that as he was right now.

"That scrawny one with glasses."

"Oh. How do you do, I'm Lucille Marianne Suzanne Malfoy."

Draco was too amused by Potters astonished expression and to tired to think through the ramifications as she introduced herself to all five of them. The Gryffindors all seemed stunned speechless, though little Rupert Copeland seemed thrilled. While they were still looking at each other in confusion, Draco swept past into the main hall, hearing Hermione's confused voice as he passed.

"But... but you don't have a sister..."

He smirked and kept walking. One - nil to him, and barely a shot fired, as his mad cousin Hawksmoor used to say.

The Slytherin table was noticeably emptier than it had been at the start of the summer; Draco scowled at the stark evidence of the cost of Voldemort's destruction. Nott, Fenwright, Wrochester, MacInley, Greengrass, others who's names he hadn't known. Most of them buried alive in their homes during the attacks. Despite the gaps, the mood along the table was boisterous, many of the Slytherins who had been afraid to voice their objections to the Dark Lord now openly rejoicing his defeat. Draco noticed the slight hush that followed him as he walked to the end of the table where the sixth years sat and took his place, Crabbe and Goyle across from him, Lucille to one side.

Sitting down, all the momentum that had been keeping him going since the Hogwarts Express drained away and he struggled to keep his eyes open. The chatter of the great hall ebbed and flowed around of him as he stared across the hall. Lucille was prattling on about something or other in one ear. On the other side Blaize Zabini was talking to someone else and Crabbe and Goyle - well, the lights were on but there was still nobody home. The hall grew silent for the sorting and Draco struggle to stay awake as the first years were sorted, to cheers and shouts from their new houses. Then Dumbledore got to his feet to speak.

"Welcome, everyone, welcome back to those of you returning, and a grand welcome to those of you joining us for the first time. Everything else I have to say can wait until after we eat."

Food appeared all along the tables and everyone cheered and started eating. Lucille turned to Draco.

"Draco, I'm a vegetarian, because according to the ancient wisdom of the cat-people, of which I, Lucille Marianne Suzanne Malfoy am the last, eating animals is so very wrong."

Draco smiled grimly as he poured himself a large mug of coffee and began heaping demarra sugar into it.

"Well, Lucille, my darling sister, I think if you look on the platter in front of you, you will find it suitable to your tastes. The house elves here have never given me reason to complain."

"But Draco, how do I know they haven't used dairy products?"

"Lucille." Draco looked at her earnestly. Eat your damn food or I'll stab you in the eye, he wanted to snarl but instead he said "They may not be as ancient and wise as the cat-people, but in their limited field of specialty, house elves are quite competent. Trust them."

"Okay, Draco." She smiled and hugged him. "Its so nice having a brother to look out for me."

As Lucille turned back to the table and tucked into what looked to Draco like some sort of pasta bake, leaving him with a frozen smile and his hand clapped over his eye trying to still the infuriating twitch she had given him. Either she was subtly enslaving him to her will by robbing him of his higher faculties, or she had no idea of the appropriate level of contact between brother and sister. This was wrong. He should stop her. He should tell her to stop but he craved the feel of her and he was afraid that if he tried to act to drive her away, he would instead find himself acting on his deeply disturbing lusts.

Draco sighed and took a gulp of his coffee, letting it scald his mouth and throat. The pain focused him on the now, and he loaded his plate with food and set about eating. He would need the fuel. Listening to the talk at the table he found that unsurprisingly everyone was talking about the shocking events of the summer and the destruction of the Dark Lord.

Elizabeth Corbett, a pinch-faced girl with circular glasses, was loudly talking to her fellow seventh years just down the table from him.

"...good riddance! Frankly what was the benefit of have that serpent-loving nutcase tooling about the countryside slaughtering muggles? I'm no mud-blood lover, but honestly there's no need for that kind of gratuitous nonsense..."

"That's not the point! I'm not crying he's gone, I'm just saying he gave a reason for people to show some damn respect."

"Oh that's rubbish and you know it! People should fear you from your own reputation, not because you hide behind the Dark Mark."

"You're awful brave to be talking about the Dark Lord that way."

"Oh the 'Dark Lord' is it? Death Eater, are we Simon?"

"No, no, I'm not, that's not what I..."

"Lets see any of those Death Eaters move in daylight from now on. Without him to hide behind they're finished."

Draco saw her glance down the table towards him and scowled. Everyone acted like he was the heir apparent to Voldemort, which had been fine early on, but had gotten frustrating as hell when Lucius wouldn't let him in on anything, telling him to bide his time and keep his head down. Everything he knew, he found out despite his father, and the more he knew, the less thrilled he was at being mired so deeply in Voldemorts service. Draco felt inclined to agree with Corbett; muggles were to be despised and mud-bloods were to be kept out of wizarding society but life under Voldemort was hardly an improvement. Was there not a line in some muggle poem about better to rule in hell, than serve in heaven? That about fitted Draco's view. Life under Voldemort, for all its privileges, was enslavement to his whim. With him gone.... Well, before Lucille had turned up, Draco had thought the possibilities endless. Now they had contracted to makin it through each day without dishonouring himself.