Thinking For Herself

Millicent Bulstrode spent the weekend after her mother's funeral at home. Most of the time was spent sorting out her father, who'd gone to pieces after his wife's death. Their plan to complete Stella Bulstrode's last fund-raising project for St Mungo's, though, seemed to drag him back to reality, and Millicent returned to Hogwarts on Sunday afternoon believing that he would be all right in the long run. Nippy the house-elf would have to be returned to her grandmother, and Millicent resolved to find someone prepared to run a few cleaning charms over the house a couple of times a week. She just needed to place an advertisement in one of the better ladies' magazines, like The Witch.

As she walked from Hogsmeade, where the Floo Network connection was, to the school, Millicent mulled over how much things had changed. The girl who'd boarded the Hogwarts Express the previous September was long gone; this Millicent was completely different. Oh, not much had changed on the outside. She was still tall and bulky, and her face would be lucky if an inflatable dinghy got put out to sea in its honour - it would never launch a thousand ships. The difference was, Millicent was starting to realise that there was more to life than blood and a small group of people who knew each other. There were many ways to be a good Slytherin, and Millicent knew she'd originally been placed in her house because of her attitude towards ancestry. Now she was feeling another sort of Slytherin-ness: the rock-hard will to achieve her aims. She was still a Slytherin, but now Millicent was learning the self-confidence that people like Pansy and Draco had possessed from birth.

She strode up the driveway with her back straight for once, steps bold and head held high. Her mother didn't sacrifice so much to have a daughter who spent her whole life bewailing her own inferiority. Millicent was going to be the best witch she possibly could, and no one was going to stop her.

Waiting for her on her bed was a tatty envelope. As she turned it over in her hands, Pansy came in and threw herself on her own bed, looking rather smug. On Pansy's nightstand was the most horrible Valentine's card Millicent had ever seen, featuring two snakes entwined into a heart shape. A strange realisation came over Millicent. "Open it," Pansy urged.

"Is this?.." The previous day had been Valentine's Day, which Millicent and her father had completely forgotten about, with good reason. Who could it be from? Maybe it's from Adrian, she thought, and squashed down the thought as soon as it popped into her head.

"Go on, open it. You've had a rough time, with the funeral and all. This should cheer you up."

Gingerly Millicent opened the envelope and pulled out a dog-eared card. It was inoffensive enough on the outside, having nothing but multicoloured hearts on. She read the message inside and blushed to the very roots of her hair. It was definitely not from Adrian Pucey; he was not that crude.

"Well?" Pansy was nearly squeaking with curiosity. "Who's it from?"

"Someone calling himself 'Ten Inches Solid Wood'," Millicent said incredulously. "Although I don't know if it's actually meant for me, because the recipient is 'Buxom Bouncy Babe'."

Pansy collapsed in a fit of giggles, and Millicent did the same. After a few painful days it felt fantastic just to laugh. Millicent didn't feel bad for enjoying herself, because she could imagine her mother laughing at the card too. "I bet..." Pansy wheezed, "He's more like three-inch willow, extra bendy!"

"You're the prefect," Millicent gasped. "Wand inspection's your responsibility. Oh! Oh, I hurt! Stop making me laugh."

"Show me the writing," Pansy demanded, wiping her eyes. Millicent handed over the card. "Well, it's one of our less literate housemates. Maybe we should watch the Quidditch team and reserves in training and see who blushes when you show up."

"The writing's so bad, it could be a Gryffindor," Millicent laughed.

Pansy's eyes widened as she mentally listed the boys in Gryffindor. "You don't know, do you? Potter was in Madam Puddifoot's yesterday with Cho Chang. It was all tarted up for Valentine's Day. They had a massive fight, Daphne reckons, and Cho stormed out."

"Potter and Cho?"

"And later he was in the Three Broomsticks with Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood. He puts it around a bit. Which one do you think was the gooseberry in the pub? Granger or Loony?"

Millicent grinned, "Maybe it was Potter, if he's got a thing for Cho."

"Oh, EEEEEW!" Pansy squealed. "Loony and Granger! You're one sick bunny, Millie."

All the same, when Pansy finally went off in search of Draco to go to dinner, Millicent carefully put the card in her trunk alongside the now-treasured letters from her mother. She probably wouldn't fancy the sender - she'd guessed either Crabbe or Goyle was responsible - but it was the first one she'd ever received. Before leaving the room she primped in the mirror. "Buxom Bouncy Babe," she whispered.

"I should think so!" the mirror replied. Millicent floated down to dinner feeling good about herself.

**

Vincent Crabbe loved The Quibbler. Its cheap paper pages took him to places he'd never been and showed him things no other publication dared to. After four-and-a-half years of school, Draco had not been able to persuade him to give up his subscription. Draco finally had given up trying after Theodore Nott, bored of the arguments over breakfast, had snapped, "Oh, let the big lug have his comic if he wants it - at least he's reading something."

When his regular copy arrived before lessons one morning, he seized it and ripped open the paper wrapping with glee. Blaise rolled his eyes at Crabbe's enthusiasm. "I'm going to marry Luna Lovegood, Crabbe, just so all your money comes to me," he sneered. "If you're going to throw it away, it might as well go to someone who could use it properly."

"You and Loony? What a fabulous match that would be," Pansy commented acidly. "It's a good job you've got your mother to turn to for advice - she's married a few duffers herself."

Blaise said nothing, but his eyes narrowed. Millicent focussed her attention on her bacon. Once upon a time she'd have been jealous at the thought of Blaise talking about marrying Luna; now she was glad Luna had the sense to steer well clear of him. If he started bickering with Pansy it would ruin the morning.

"Harry Potter," Crabbe mumbled.

"What? You think Loony's going to marry Potter?" Draco laughed.

"They were together in the Three Broomsticks together," Pansy mused.

"No, in The Quibbler." Crabbe waved his magazine, and they all got a good look at the cover. Urquhart grabbed it, pushed aside plates and spread it out flat on the table. Harry's interview was there for all to see.

Millicent drew in her breath. "Umbridge is going to go mental," she said. "Everyone knows she hates it when he tells those stories."

Draco laughed. "He's really digging his own grave, isn't he?"

"It makes sense, though," Urquhart said, quickly skimming the article for the facts. "Don't you remember Moody casting the Unforgivables in Defence last year? I wondered at the time how an Auror could get away with that."

Millicent nodded, "But if Harry's telling the truth..."

"Don't worry," Draco said. "If he is telling the truth, you still won't have anything to worry about."

Draco grinned nastily. Millicent looked over at Harry Potter. Professor Umbridge looked so angry she was virtually steaming as she stalked down the hall. I believe him now, Millicent thought. It all fits. That's why no one's found the escaped Death Eaters yet - they're with You-Know-Who.

As Umbridge berated Harry, Millicent gazed at her fellow students. Eloise Midgen was chatting happily to Susan Bones and Ernie Macmillan. She going to be so worried about her family, Millicent realised. If only I could help her. She's been so kind to me. Funny Justin Finch-Fletchley would be an obvious target for the Death Eaters; he was a Muggleborn in the most liberal and outward-looking of the four Hogwarts houses. Neville Longbottom, who'd believed Harry's stories from the start, wore the determined expression Millicent had started to notice more frequently, and was glaring at Umbridge as though she was a walking dungbomb, not that the teacher noticed.

Theodore Nott nudged her while her housemates were distracted by goings-on elsewhere in the hall. "Draco's right," he said in a low voice. "You're safe."

She'd never known what to think of Theodore, so simply nodded. She feared for other people too, people most of her housemates would never care about. Anything else Theodore might have said to her was lost amid Pansy's shrieks when Blaise 'accidentally' knocked a tureen of porridge into her lap.

Adrian's view of things, expressed during the lunch break, was rather different. They were practicing defensive spells in a deserted classroom, plus a few entertaining offensive ones that Adrian thought she should try. Millicent had been shocked to discover Adrian was breaking the latest Ministry decree by carrying around a copy of The Quibbler, albeit one bewitched to look like a copy of Practical Potions magazine. For some reason he was in a very bad mood.

"Draco's an idiot," he grumbled. "He's already getting cocky. He's been listening to stories about his auntie; he's acting like a junior Death Eater. I caught him picking on some poor little Muggleborn kid earlier - the boy was only a first year."

"Draco's all right," Millicent protested feebly. She wasn't so sure about that, in truth, and her opinion was based more on her faith in Draco than his actual behaviour. "Maybe the boy had done something wrong."

"It didn't deserve Petrificus Totalus with a tickling charm on top. That verges on sadistic," Adrian said.

Millicent shrugged. Since she'd started learning spells from Adrian and Pansy had become more involved with Draco, she'd spoken less to her classmates. She'd found she didn't mind the growing distance between them, but she didn't want to criticise her friends. Even when she disliked some of the things they did, she felt it would be mean to turn her back on them.

"No, no, more directly," Adrian said, grabbing her hand and showing her how to move her wand correctly. "You know, maybe it is a good job you're friends with Draco and his cronies. You're rubbish at defending yourself. You should go and buy yourself a Death Eater mask and get it over with."

"Don't you dare accuse me of that!" Millicent said, shocked, snatching her hand away. "How can you possibly think I'd ever do that sort of thing?"

"Why not? You'll just slip into it. You'll fall in behind them when Draco tells you to, or Pansy looks at you and wheedles 'Milliiiiieee'. It's what you do. I've seen you, tagging along with that look on your face that says you wish you were somewhere else, but you don't have the guts to get up and go. You won't hurt anyone, but you won't defend them either."

"I'd never watch someone else get injured! Never!"

"Rot. It'll be like 20 years ago, when people closed their eyes and say because no one was hurting them, no one was being hurt at all. "

A hefty punch from Millicent sent Adrian crashing back into a desk, and then she ran from the room. She never wanted to see him again. She seethed with anger and shame all through Divination. He'd been referring to her parents, hadn't he? He could say what he liked about her, but she would never let anyone criticise them in such a horrible way. Even so, she knew that didn't excuse the violence. She felt she was as bad as the Weasley twins had been when they'd attacked Draco after the Quidditch match. She didn't deserve to have a friend helping her with her lessons.

She stared into the crystal ball and saw nothing but herself losing her temper over and over again. She even ignored Professor Trelawney predicting a glorious future for Pansy, and Pansy simpering at the revelations of enormous houses, expensive jewels and a whole Quidditch team of distinguished sons. Usually it made her jealousy flare up, along with the accompanying sense of guilt.

When Adrian didn't show up at tea time, Millicent was worried. On their return to the Common Room, she asked one of the other seventh-years where he was. The boy looked gleeful. "Pucey? Haven't you heard? He got into a fight. No one knows who it was with, but when a second-year class went for their Astronomy theory lesson, they found him knocked out cold. He's in the Hospital wing."

Without saying a word to anyone else, Millicent picked up Alfred, Adrian's tidy grey cat, and carried him to Madam Pomfrey's domain. Stepping into the ward took an astonishing amount of effort; she really didn't want to have to face Adrian. If he never spoke to her again, it would be all her fault. Putting her foot onto the clean and shining floor felt as difficult as trying to step onto glowing coals. She'd lost her temper, though, and it was up to her to straighten things out.

Adrian was tucked up neatly in bed, reading a Transfiguration textbook. Apart from a bruised forehead where he'd hit a table, he looked fine. She placed Alfred carefully on the bed. The cat immediately began kneading his master's legs through the hairy hospital blanket. Adrian scratched behind his pet's ears.

"I'm sorry," they said to each other in unison. Millicent was surprised, because she'd expected Adrian to be furious. He seemed to think it was nothing.

Millicent continued, "I shouldn't have hit you. It was wrong. Violence and losing my temper never solves anything. That said, I don't think you should have said that about my parents, especially when my mother hasn't been dead long. She had to keep her head down or she'd have been a target." She hung her head and waited for him to shout at her. She didn't often bother to defend her actions at all.

Alfred rubbed past Adrian's hands and butted Millicent's. "I completely forgot about your parents," Adrian admitted, "And I'm sorry. I honestly didn't think of your mother and father until much later. I was talking about my own. I was talking about myself. Sometimes I wonder what I'd do if Potter's stories were true... would I do nothing?"

"Oh." Did Adrian see himself as a potential collaborator? If history repeated itself, most people would be scared, and do as little as possible to stand out. It was human to want to survive, after all.

"Good punch, mind," Adrian said. "Girls usually slap. You've got a mean right hook on you."

Millicent flushed. Yet again, she had proved she was no delicate, fainting maiden. It's so good of him not to mind, but Adrian must think I'm horribly butch, she thought. "Have you told Professor Snape it was me?"

"No way. At the moment, everyone thinks I'm the victim of some marauding bloke. Probably a couple of those enormous Gryffindors. Can you imagine the taunts if people found out I was laid out by a girl?" They smiled weakly at each other. It was an awkward moment. Millicent turned to go, but Adrian grabbed the arm of her robes. "I meant it about the other thing, though, Millicent. If You-Know-Who is back, I can be neutral, despicable as it is. I don't have friends to pull me one way or the other. You've got Draco and Pansy, and everyone knows the stories about Draco's father, even if nothing was proved. You're going to have to decide if you want to go along with them - and if you don't, they'll turn on you."

"I've already decided," Millicent said. "I'm going to carry on being me. If they don't like it, they can't say they didn't know what I was like. If they turn on me, they're the ones who've changed. I'll still be me... it's not such a bad thing to be, I think."

Adrian watched Millicent go, lumpy and looming in her black school robes. Stubborn, faithful Millicent. Alfred chirruped after her. "You like her, don't you?" Adrian crooned. He'd started teaching her spells out of pity. Big, ugly, clumsy and half-blood: the girl had been a walking disaster as far as he could see, and he'd wanted to find out if he could improve her, if only for the sake of their house. He'd found an honest heart underneath it all. Millicent had a faith in right and wrong that was almost naive. Few other people in his house would have apologised for hitting him; most would have told him he'd asked for it. He'd wanted to laugh when he'd seen her reaction to his copy of The Quibbler; only Millicent could adhere to every school rule, even the most foolish. There was a kindness in her that only those who took time to know her would realise existed. Adrian scratched Alfred between the shoulder blades. "I like her too," he confessed.