Taboo

Mere hours later, students poured into the castle, filling it with incessant chatter. Harry, Ron, and Ginny were among the first to return to Gryffindor Tower, where they found Hermione asleep on the couch.

"Hermione?" said Harry, tapping her on the arm.

"Oh, hi, Harry," she said, yawning. "Did you just get back?"

"Yeah, but why are you sleeping here?"

"Huh?" She glanced at the book Malfoy had considerately placed on the ground. "Oh, I fell asleep reading," she lied, grateful that Malfoy had thought of an excuse for her.

"What's that smell?" said Ron, sniffing the air suspiciously.

"What smell?"

"I think it smells nice," said Ginny.

"Oh, that," said Hermione, thinking fast. "My parents sent me some French perfume for Christmas. I was trying it out." She made a show of smelling the sweater she was wearing. "It's really strong, isn't it?"

"Yeah," agreed Harry. "I'm going to put my stuff upstairs." The three of them carried their trunks up to the dormitories.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She self-consciously sniffed her arm. She hadn't noticed it before, but there was a faint scent of pine needles and coffee that Malfoy had left behind. She rather liked it.

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Malfoy heard the other Slytherin boys thundering up the stairs. Pretending to have just woken up, he stretched and went down to the common room.

"Did you just get up?" asked Crabbe in his raspy voice.

"Obviously," said Malfoy, faking a yawn.

"What did you do while everyone was gone?" asked Goyle. "Must've been dead boring."

"Sat around mostly," he said. "The place was empty."

"Why'd you stay then?" Blaise Zabini had just entered the room. "You missed out on an incredible New Year's party. There were a couple of gorgeous girls."

"That's too bad," he said with a bored expression.

"What's the matter with you? Normally when I say 'gorgeous girls' you go crazy."

"I already have one," said Malfoy, smiling to himself.

"But you hate Pansy," said Blaise, dropping his voice to a whisper.

"I'm not talking about her," he said disdainfully.

"You're seeing someone else?" Blaise shook his head disbelievingly. "Man, she's going to murder you."

"You're all invited to my funeral," said Malfoy nonchalantly. He retreated upstairs to take a shower.

"He must really like her if he isn't afraid of telling Pansy," mused Blaise, staring after him in awe. The majority of Slytherin boys were intimidated by Pansy. Malfoy was the only one brave enough to date her, much less dump her. "I wonder who it is."

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The next morning, Hermione sat down at breakfast with the rest of the Gryffindors. She scanned the room for Malfoy, but didn't see him. I win, she thought gleefully, spooning brown sugar into her oatmeal. The Great Hall was brimming with people when all conversation came to an abrupt halt as students and teachers alike swiveled in their seats. She sat there gaping open-mouthed with the rest of the Hall as Draco Malfoy sauntered towards the Slytherin table, clad in only bright pink boxers with silver hearts stenciled on them. The Great Hall erupted in whispers as he calmly sat down.

"Pass the bacon," he said. Nobody moved. "Um, hello? Bacon, please."

Shakingly, Goyle pushed the platter towards him. The rest of the table was still staring at him, forks paused in midair, halfway to their mouths. They ogled him as he ate, chewing his bacon placidly.

"Mr. Malfoy!" said Professor McGonagall, striding over to him after recovering from her shock. "What is this meaning of this?"

"Of what?" He blinked at her, stirring his coffee.

"You know full well what I am talking about, young man!" she scolded, shaking a finger at him. "This is outrageous behavior!"

"Indeed," said Professor Snape, appearing at her side. "Thank you, Minerva. I will deal with him." She left the table, still shaking her head in disbelief. "Draco, come with me."

Shrugging, he wiped his mouth and followed Professor Snape to his office in the dungeons.

"Put this on." A cape was thrown at him. He caught it and draped it over his shoulders, shivering in the chilly dampness. "What do you mean by this? Are you purposely trying to disgrace yourself?" Malfoy shrugged. "Who put you up to this? Don't force me to use Legilimency," he threatened.

"We were playing Truth or Dare," he confessed, looking down at the cold floor.

"So to play this silly game, you must subject yourself to humiliation?"

"No," said Malfoy, shaking his head.

"Then why did you agree to do this completely ridiculous thing? Is there some sort of prize involved? Gambling, perhaps?"

"If you forfeit, you lose," said Malfoy simply.

"So you did this to win a foolish game?" sneered Snape. "How very noble of you. I'm sure your father--and especially the Dark Lord--would approve of your sacrifice."

"I don't care what they think!" shouted Malfoy. "I'm sick of listening to other people, I'm sick of losing! Is it wrong to want to win for once?"

"Insolent boy," said Snape, nostrils flaring in anger. "Detention next Saturday. Two o'clock, my office."

Malfoy flung the cape to the ground and fled from the dunged, his vision blurred by tears of frustration. He barreled through the hallways and the portrait hole and dived onto his bed, curling up into a ball. He didn't care that he was missing Potions. He just wanted to be alone.

"Well, you win some, you lose some," he said to himself before fury overwhelmed him.

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Hermione kept glancing anxiously at Malfoy's empty seat during Potions. "I wonder how they're punishing him," said Hermione, nervously slicing roots.

"I hope he gets expelled," said Ron rather maliciously.

"They surely wouldn't expel him for that," said Hermione dubiously.

"His behavior was quite shocking, but you're probably right," agreed Ernie, who was sharing their table. "They wouldn't expel him. Perhaps just a few detentions."

"His father could probably get him off the hook," said Ron, crushing his caterpillars with more force than necessary.

"How was your Christmas, Hermione?" said Harry, trying to change the subject.

"Oh, it was alright," she said, caught off guard by the question. Ron mumbled something. "The castle was pretty empty."

They got onto the topic of New Year's and spent the remainder of the hour listening to Ernie explain his resolutions in great detail. All of them were quite relieved when Professor Slughorn dismissed them. After lunch, they left for Transfiguration. Malfoy was nowhere to be seen.

Back in his dormitory, Malfoy lay facedown on his bed, worn-out from his tantrum. The room looked as if it had been ravaged by a hurricane. Books, parchment, quills, and other belongings were strewn across the floor. The bed sheets trailed onto the ground and the pillows were thrown haphazardly about. Malfoy had shut himself in the dormitory all day, refusing to come out for classes or lunch. His stomach growled loudly, but he ignored it. He figured he would sneak down to the kitchens later. He heard people coming up the stairs, but made no effort to move.

"Whoa," said Blaise, stopping in the doorway. "What happened?" He picked his way across the floor and poked Malfoy in the arm. He didn't move. "Uh, hello? Are you alive?"

"Mmf," said Malfoy, his voice muffled by the mattress.

"Did someone attack you?"

"No." He lifted his head an inch from the mattress and let it flop down again. "I did this."

"Why?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Um, okay," said Blaise, cautiously making his way over to his own bed and dumping his books in a pile. "Dinner's in half an hour. Are you coming?"

"Maybe."

Shrugging, Blaise left Malfoy alone in the dormitory. Several minutes later, Malfoy raised himself up from the bed and slowly moseyed around the room, putting things back in place. An hour later, he forced himself down the stairs and went to dinner.

"...and he was just lying there on the bed," Blaise was telling Crabbe and Goyle.

"Was he hurt?"

"No. I don't know what was wrong with him. The room was a total mess..."

Malfoy sat down silently at the edge of the table and mechanically pulled a plate toward himself, staring at it blankly.

"See?" whispered Blaise. "He's acting all weird."

"Uh, aren't you going to eat anything?" inquired Goyle, pointing to his empty plate. "You must be starving." As Malfoy reached for the potatoes, he lifted his head and saw Hermione looking at him with concern. Then a large potbelly obscured his view.

"There you are, m'boy," said Professor Slughorn amiably. "Heard you weren't feeling well today. You missed an important lesion. You'll have to make it up next Saturday."

"Can't," said Malfoy bluntly. "Detention."

"Oho!" said Professor Slughorn. "That's unfortunate. The Saturday after, then." Malfoy nodded. Slughorn squinted down at him. "You don't look so well. Been studying too hard, I suppose." Chuckling, he moved away.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy," said Professor McGonagall, who had heard their conversation. "You'll have to add me to your busy agenda. I shall be expecting you in my office the Saturday before the Hogsmeade trip."

"Yes, Professor," he said in a monotone. As soon as she left, Malfoy stood up.

"Where are you going? You haven't eaten anything!" Blaise called after his as he walked away from the table. On his way out of the Great Hall, he met Hermione's gaze and gave her a meaningful look. He climbed the stairs and went to the Room of Requirement to wait. Fifteen minutes later, the door opened and Hermione came in looking apprehensive.

"Draco? Where have you been all day?" She sat next to him on the floor. "You look terrible."

"I've been in my dormitory," he mumbled.

"You weren't in Potions or at lunch. I didn't see you in Transfiguration either. I was so worried!" She hugged him tightly. "They're not expelling you, are they?" she said, releasing him.

"No. I just have a bunch of detentions. No free Saturdays until Hogsmeade."

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have made you do that dare," she said ruefully. "I feel awful."

"I wanted to do it. Don't blame yourself."

"Was Professor Snape very harsh? I saw you leave with him."

"No...not really," he said. "He just...mentioned my father...how he would be ashamed of me." Malfoy had almost let slip his task given to him by Voldemort and Snape's involvement in the plan. He sighed. "I'm just so tired of losing all the time. I wanted to win something, just once, even if it was something stupid like Truth or Dare. Because it would be my victory," he said, his face hardening. "Not someone else's. Only mine." He looked at her, cold fury and tenacity shining in his eyes. She shuddered on the inside, frightened by his expression.

"I understand," she whispered, clasping his hands in hers.