World's Smallest Violin

Chapter 4: I Come Seeking Knowledge

It was a Sunday. Draco could tell because, for the second day running, Ted had not disappeared to wherever he usually went during the work week. Other than that, things were mostly the same. Draco had fallen asleep earlier than usual the night before, his mind on his conversation with Nymphadora, and when he woke up he thought he had an answer. As a bonus, he was also awake for breakfast.

"Morning," Draco said, sidling up to the table and taking some toast, eggs, and bacon from the serving platters.

"Good morning, Draco," Ted replied in a chipper, morning person voice. "There's coffee and tea in the kitchen if you want it."

Draco ignored this intelligence, though he felt that he could sorely use a cup of coffee, and selected an orange.

"Aunt Andromeda," he said, peeling his orange with a detached air, "you must meet a lot of people..."

"I heard your conversation with Nymphadora last night," Andromeda responded, spreading marmalade on her toast. "You're not here to spy on us. Guess again."

Draco scowled and tucked into his breakfast. Eventually, Andromeda and Ted returned to their conversation from before he arrived, a discussion of the articles in the day's Daily Prophet that Draco allowed to float around him without taking in any of it, at least until Ted came upon a summary of the week's Quidditch scores and let out a cry of dismay.

"Would you look at that! How do you lose by five hundred points?" he exclaimed. "I'm telling you, if the Arrows can't get their side together they'll be out of the running for the British Quidditch Cup before they can sneeze."

In spite of himself, Draco could not help but appreciate the timeliness of this news. His own favorite team, the Wimborne Wasps, was bitter rivals of the Appleton Arrows, and, unless he was mistaken, the two teams were set to play each other that very afternoon. Draco could not help but think that having his own Quidditch team run Ted's off the pitch might help alleviate some of his frustration.

Andromeda must have noticed his gleeful expression, because she turned to him and said, "Draco, have you left the house since you've been here? It's not far to the village, why don't you take a walk today? It's mostly Muggles around here, though, you'll have to change." Of course he would.

Draco had given up being surprised when he discovered that his cage was larger than he thought. Anyway, with no wand and no Muggle money, he could hardly escape, it was still a prison.

"I'll give you some spending money," Andromeda said, rifling through her purse. She handed over a ten pound note. Draco took it, mind whirling, but he was missing two essential pieces of information for his calculation: a sense of the cost of Muggle public transportation and any notion of where he was relative to his home in Wiltshire.

Andromeda and Ted spent the remainder of the meal suggesting places to visit in town, prompting Draco to finish up sooner than he might have ordinarily.

Outside, Draco adjusted the lay of his shirt and set off to the left. His Muggle clothes were well tailored but seldom worn and slightly too warm for the current weather. He was not used to the fit of them. With no clear direction in mind, he wandered along, making note of street names as he passed them so he would be able to find his way back. Eventually, he happened across a collection of shops lining a narrow street, selling clothes and books and records, along with a few restaurants. Draco passed by them all in favor of a nearby park.

There was a wide open field where people were kicking and throwing balls around and an area with slides and swings and screaming children. Draco found a shady tree and sat down beneath it facing the ball players. He tried to ignore the happy sounds of children at play, which was particularly grating to his perpetual foul mood.

Draco spent a few minutes watching a pick up football game materialize, but quickly grew bored with the ground-based sport and his thoughts began to wander. He was beginning to think that he should have brought along his most recent book after all, but he could not figure out why Nymphadora had thought he would enjoy To Kill a Mockingbird. He must not have been paying much attention to it because he was nearly half way through and could not remember a single mockingbird in the story, much less one that gets killed.

Then a dog accosted him.

"Well, Toby seems to like you, anyway," said a female voice from above. "That or you're just in his favorite spot. Mind if I sit down?"

"Ugh?"

She took that as a yes. "Name's Mallory."

"Draco."

"Like the constellation?"

Yes, like the constellation. So she was a geek in addition to being annoying.

"Pleased to meet you," Mallory continued, holding out her hand. Draco did not take it. "You some kind of hypochondriac or something?"

It was as good an excuse as any and Draco allowed her to believe it. He tried to think of the last time he had gotten into a conversation with a Muggle and came up empty. He also could not think of a single instruction from his parents on how to handle such situations. Wizard law forbade him from even explaining why he did not want to talk to her. Really, his only option was to leave.

"I haven't seen you around here before, Draco," Mallory said. The dog finished inspecting the perimeter allowed by his leash and settled down to watch of pair of people nearby, who were tossing a Frisbee back and forth, his tail twitching with interest.

"Visiting," Draco muttered.

"You don't talk much."

That hardly seemed to matter; Mallory was handling both sides of the conversation admirably.

"Where are you from, then?" Mallory asked.

"Wiltshire."

"Stonehenge, neat."

Stonehenge was the site of the first settlement of magical folk in Britain, all the old wizarding families could trace there ancestors there and many never left the general area.

"Never seen it," Draco muttered.

Draco risked a glance at her from the corner of his eye. She seemed to be about the same age as him, or perhaps a bit older, and a few ideas floated unbidden through his mind, but on the whole he did not think her very attractive, though he could see how someone else might.

The moment the dog had been waiting for arrived: the Frisbee floated past the hands of the nearer player and into catching distance for an agile dog. He sprang to his feet and Mallory only just caught hold of the leash in time to keep him from bounding off.

"Sit!" she shouted. "Stay! Heel!" But the dog continued barking and pulling against his leash until the Frisbee was retrieved and play resumed.

"Obedient," Draco observed.

"I'm the only one he doesn't listen to. Isn't that right you furry lump?" Mallory replied. "I'm just house sitting while his owners are on holiday. Wanted to earn a few quid before I go off to University. What school are you going to?"

"Um," Draco faltered, realizing far too late that he should have been prepared for that question.

"Well, clearly it's made an impression on you. Anyway, I suppose I've bothered you enough." Mallory got to her knees.

"My father's in prison," Draco blurted out before he realized what he was doing, but every witch and wizard in England knew that, he felt already that he was wearing a sign with this information around his neck, why should he not tell this Muggle?

"Blimey," Mallory breathed, sinking back to the ground. "What did he do?"

Draco was slightly surprised that this news did not send her running.

"He got caught trying to steal...something from a... a government building."

"No offense, but it sounds like he might have had it coming," Mallory replied.

If any wizard had said that, it would have been enough to send Draco into a towering rage, but for some reason, this time, it did not.

"I expect it sounded like a good idea at the time."

"What was he trying to steal?" Mallory asked.

"It would take too long to explain," Draco replied. Also, he did not know.

"Do you have someplace else to be?" Mallory pointed out, looking prepared to settle in for a lengthy tale.

"What's it to you?" Draco snapped.

"You brought it up," Mallory muttered.

In no mood at all to explain, Draco stood up and walked away. After a few steps he briefly considered going back and apologizing, but instead he walked slowly back to the Tonks residence.

Ted answered the door and Draco's knock then hurried back to the sitting room and sat hunched in front of the wizarding wireless, listening intently. The Quidditch match was just beginning. By the time Draco changed back into his robes and returned the Wasps were already up thirty points.

"You're a Wasps man, I take it," Ted said, catching Draco's look of glee.

Draco hesitated, weighing his options, but this was too perfect an opportunity to brag for him to pass it up.

"My father is good friends with the owner. He's made many generous donations so we get box seats whenever we like."

"So you like them because your parents told you to and you get to spend your summers following them around," Ted inferred. "Illuminating."

"What's your fascination with the Arrows, then?" Draco muttered, irritated that Ted had taken such a view of the matter.

"They play fair, clean games, even when their opponents don't," Ted replied.

"Clearly that doesn't win matches," Draco pointed out.

"Sometimes it does, and even when they lose they do so with their heads held high," Ted said. "Even when things are going badly for them, they never give up. In my book, that counts for something. And there you go, it pays off."

The Arrows had just scored, bringing the score to ten to seventy. Draco could not understand what he was so excited about.

They settled in to listen and, in Draco's case, pen another letter, though he quickly realized that listening to a Quidditch match requires a rather different level of concentration than watching it, and his options were to either abandon any hope of quick progress on his letter or lose track of the game for minutes at a time. By the time Ted turned off the wireless and declared, "You got us this time," Draco had only written a few sentences.

Nott,

How long do you reckon we'll have to wait until our fathers escape from Azkaban? I can't imagine having a worse summer. At least your mother didn't banish you to live with your Muggle-loving relatives. The smell around here is awful.

Draco read these lines with satisfaction, though if he were truly honest the Tonks house did not any worse than anywhere else, in fact it was far better smelling than some places he had been, it was just the sort of thing one said. He continued writing.

It's too bad that Dumbledore disbanded the Inquisitorial Squad, but at least I'm still a Prefect, so I can terrorize a few first years and Gryffindors that way. I'll leave the Ravenclaws to you.

Here things got tricky. What Draco really wanted to know was new information on the Dark Lord's current strategy, and an idea of when he might be able to join the Death Eaters, but he could not ask so plainly. Even if Andromeda and Ted did not insist on reading his mail, there was no insurance that it might not be intercepted at a later point. He considered this for a moment, then put quill to parchment.

Any news concerning our common purpose? I'm eager to join the cause, and I'm sure you are, too.

Signed,

Malfoy

P.S. The Wasps just won another match. How do you fancy the Kestrels now?

Draco read the entire letter once more, deemed it satisfactory, rolled it up, and took it outside to Quicksilver.