The Stars are Projectors

THE STARS ARE PROJECTORS

Chapter 2: Dark Center of the Universe

Dry or wet ice, they both melt and you're equally cheated.

"What is it about people that make them so goddamned stingy about their trust?"

Quiet footsteps from the story above. Silence.

A sigh.

"I'm sure you know."

Silence.

"But I certainly don't."

The cat was looking at him thoughtfully, and from staring into the cat's eyes in a mesmerized state for the past few minutes, he knew that the cat was saying a lot. But he couldn't hear it. He couldn't understand it.

He often felt both calmed and frustrated by his cat's presence.

Draco was, as he did often, talking to Nita in the depths of the library. Nita always sat up straight and maintained eye contact with Draco as he spoke, and he was sure that she was indeed listening and understanding every word. She would even respond appropriately to what he said - for example, she would curl up in his lap when he was angry for a calming effect or when Draco was in a particularly thoughtful mood, as he was at the moment, she would become serious and look as though she was pondering his questions as well.

What had put Draco in his current mood was the message he'd received from his father a few hours before. It had been nearly a week since he met with Lucius in his study, and he informed him that he had decided on a new nanny. Draco had been angry at his father's words at the time of the meeting, but had forgotten them easily, thinking Lucius wasn't being completely serious. Perhaps he was concerned about Draco's behavior, but he wouldn't bother with the trouble of actually hiring somebody new.

But Draco was wrong, and Lucius was serious. It confirmed what a tiny voice in Draco's head had been whispering irritatingly over the past few days and making him feel the slightest bit uncomfortable.

His father did not trust him.

Draco was angry about this. Nobody ever trusted him. It wasn't as though Draco was some completely corrupt hooligan or anything. He was a normal teenager and deserved a little respect.

Draco's thoughts turned to his schoolmates. They had learned from the beginning not to trust Draco - he would do anything to get a rise out of people for his own benefit and disregard the wellbeing of others. There was nothing wrong with that, though; it was all fairly harmless fun in the long run. In most cases, anyway.

As they often, his thoughts turned to Harry Potter. Obviously Potter didn't trust Draco. But what would he do if he had Harry Potter's trust? Or Weasley and Granger's? Why, he could turn their lives inside out.

And what satisfaction that would bring.

He realized, though, that earning Potter's trust was impossible. He'd done too much damage already; that boy would never have a change of heart. Anyway, he was far too lazy to be nice to Potter - the cruelty came naturally and was enjoyable enough.

Draco realized then that perhaps his behavior did not really reflect that of somebody who could be considered trustworthy. The fact was, though, that whether or not he was trustworthy was irrelevant; he just wanted trust and was going to get it regardless.

"I wonder what kind of person Father hired."

Nita closed her eyes as Draco scratched the top of her head. He really did wonder, though; it seemed impossible for anybody to meet Lucius' fastidious standards.

Draco decided that it didn't really matter. A new nanny at this stage in his life was pointless and he could easily be ignored. He was just bothered by the fact that he had even failed to maintain the trust of his own father.

Plus, Draco would be returning to Hogwarts in a month. It would be another week before the new person arrived. Once Draco was gone, he wouldn't return until Christmas, and maybe after graduation, he could leave the manor entirely. There was really no point to that, though. The manor was the nicest home he could possibly ask for.

His father probably had plans for him after graduation, anyway.

Draco reluctantly abandoned his thoughts, deciding it was not really doing him any good, and picked up the book he had sitting on his lap.

"You realize that all the reading you do could eventually damage your vision, Draco."

Draco looked up, startled, to see his mother standing in the library doorway.

"Huh?" Draco managed to say.

Narcissa took a step into the library, looking around it with a scowl.

"You could strain your eyes over those worthless books. I hear that vision-repairing spells are both unreliable and unpredictable, so you might have to wear glasses. You'd be the first Malfoy in generations to have their appearance marred by glasses."

Draco closed his book cautiously, trying to calm down. He was quite flustered for a moment, mainly because he was rarely interrupted while reading.

"Just because you are born with good vision doesn't mean you'll always keep it, Mother. Eyesight deteriorates naturally as a person ages."

"Ah, yes," said she. "But it is a fact that even the most elderly of Malfoys have not had their vision fail them. Your grandfather told me that once. Why don't you do something useful, like come with me to buy new furniture for this library? It's disgusting. Look at that chair! It's practically falling apart."

The Malfoys on the walls were all looking at each other in alarm at the prospect of the library being redone.

Draco stood up. "Uhm, no thanks, Mother. Maybe I'll try to finish up some of my homework."

Narcissa was studying the sofa Draco had just abandoned.

"Well, alright, Draco. But take care. I'll refuse to listen to you when you come telling me you can't see."

A picture of himself in small, round glasses flashed in Draco's mind. It looked disturbingly like Harry Potter. He shuddered.

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Draco did go to his room, and did take out some of his school books and papers, but after staring blankly at it all for nearly 20 minutes, he decided it was really the last thing in the world he wanted to do.

Draco's room was feeling a bit stuffy, and the thought of the night air outside seemed inviting. After his shutting all his books and making a neat stack at the corner of his desk, he left the room and began the long journey down the flights of stairs and out through the door to the back of the property.

The Malfoy Manor consisted of a huge amount of beautiful property that was rarely enjoyed. The mansion itself, which sat in the front with the land stretching out behind, was gigantic, gothic, and intimidating. Draco himself went through stages when he was small where he was afraid of some of the various gargoyles that decorated the outside of his house, though he certainly wouldn't admit it.

Draco often found the daytime outdoors to be annoying, so he didn't venture outside often during daylight, unless to practice Quidditch. But he was, for some reason he couldn't explain, enthralled by the nighttime. He would sometimes get unpredictable urges to go and feel the cold breezes, or listen to the quiet night noises, or look up at the moon and stars with a sense of awe that he didn't dare mention at anybody.

Once Draco stepped outside and felt the cool night air, he felt refreshed. He walked a bit away from the mansion (until he was sure his figure was well hidden in the darkness from anyone looking out the windows), and lifted his head to look at the sky. Draco was often astounded by the amounts of stars in the sky. They all looked like tiny lights floating in a sea of black, and he tried to imagine what they looked like from up close. He imagined enormous flaming balls of gas. To Draco Malfoy, that was beauty.

Draco once had a close friend who knew everything, it seemed, about astronomy and such, and they would stay up late at night laying with their backs against the grass and looking at the sky. Draco listened to every word his friend ever said about the moon and stars; he was really the only person Draco ever listened to. But Draco's friend had disappeared into the depths of Durmstrang and emerged after one year a completely unrecognizable person. Maybe that's why Draco liked the nighttime so much - it reminded him subconsciously of something he could no longer enjoy. Consciously, though, Draco was so angry at his old friend that he managed to effectively drown out the memories of them together.

It was after a few minutes of looking at the stars that Draco became aware of a person standing silently at his right.

"You know, there's always been a lot of speculation about what the stars really are."

Draco jumped back a couple feet, and was so shocked, he couldn't even manage to make a sound to match his surprise.

It was an elderly lady, perhaps in her seventies, standing there with her head back and looking at the sky much like Draco was. Her hair was long, grey, and braided, and the dress she wore was a plain blue and looked rather old.

Once the initial shock died down a little bit, Draco, who had gotten used to wealthy style over the summer months, thought suddenly that a homeless person had wandered onto his land.

The lady turned and looked at Draco with a smile. "You must be Draco."

Draco stuttered for a moment. How did she know that?

"Who the hell are you?"

She didn't reply. A smile still stretching her features, she tilted her head and turned her gaze back to the stars.

"A young man I once traveled with - what was his name? Maxwell, I think. He told me the stars are little punctures in a long black sheet that the sun shines through while it hides at night. I found that a rather interesting take. What do you think, Draco?"

"How did you get here?"

Draco looked around desperately, as though searching for someone to take her away.

She was silent for a moment, though it didn't seem as if she was listening to Draco at all. Her gaze hadn't shifted.

"Myself, I've always thought that they're little holes that our lives are being played through - an individual star for every person. Like those things that muggles play films with."

"Projectors?"

"Yeah, that's it. And the stars are up there every night, just to tease us with their knowledge. They know everything about us, and what the future holds for us. I know they do."

Another silence between them. Draco had no idea what to do.

"So," she said, finally tilting her head back in Draco's direction. "What do the stars mean to you?"

Draco was so flustered (and uncharacteristically at that, which made him even more so), that he gave somewhat of a reply.

"I don't know!"

She frowned. "You don't know? You're awfully old not to. Were you trying to figure them out when I arrived?"

"No! I mean - I already know what they are."

"Oh!" The lady grinned and crossed her arms with movements that seemed to show great confidence. "What do you think, then?"

Draco began to feel a little irritated.

"What do I think? No, they're just stars! I mean, things like this are scientifically explained. I know what they are."

"Why do you bother staring at them, then, if you already know all the secrets they possess?"

"I don't know. I just know facts."

"I see." Now it was her turn to look annoyed. "What exactly makes a fact? What is truth?"

"It's proven."

"By you?"

"No!"

"Then how do you know? These so-called facts are boring, I think. If you can't be for sure, why not have a little fun?"

"I don't know! Who the hell are you, anyway?"

"Oh, I'm Heidi," she said at last, offering Draco her hand. "Your new nanny."

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Heidi Wegelin was born in Southern Scotland in the early nineteen-thirties and had the appropriate Scottish accent. She left home young and traveled throughout the UK for years, stopping to take on varying professions or even enroll in small Muggle universities to study music. Heidi was a devoted clarinet and banjo player, and kept her beloved instruments in her pocket (with the help of a shrinking spell, course) along with reeds in case she ever felt the need to play. She liked flowers and sculptures, but couldn't stand plastic products and Quidditch. All of this information, and much more, was presented to Draco in detail by the old lady before he even reached the steps to his house.

Draco took some offence to some of the things she said, particularly about Quidditch being a "sport for violent idiots," but couldn't manage to fit a word in between Heidi's. Draco was feeling more than a little irritated when he heard the brief silence behind him and quickly took the opportunity to break in.

"Listen, lady -"

"Heidi."

Draco had his hand on the doorknob.

"--Heidi, if you really are here for the job, I can take you to my father, but, truth be told, I doubt he really hired you, so you probably ought to go have a word with him and straighten this out..."

Draco had turned his head slightly to get a glimpse at the odd old lady as he opened the door, but his eyes met nothing. He spun around. There was absolutely nobody behind him.

No Heidi Wegelin, just the grass and trees stretching over the Malfoy property under a layer of nighttime darkness. Draco blinked.

Shrugging off his own confused thoughts, Draco turned and walked through the open door and closed it quietly behind him.

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Weeks passed without another word or appearance from his supposed nanny. Draco wasn't sure if he was crazy or if he had just had a confrontation with a crazy person, nor was he sure which was worse, so he mentioned what happened to nobody. Draco's thoughts became more preoccupied with the upcoming school year, anyway. The day before he would be making the trip to the train station and then to Hogwarts, Draco was feeling a bit confused. He wasn't sure if he felt happy or what about his last year at Hogwarts, so rather than think through his feelings logically, he grabbed his broom and went outside for a ride to get his mind off it entirely.

And it was at this time, of course, as Draco was dismounting his broom after a good half an hour of flying, that Heidi chose to appear again.

"You're a really fabulous flier, Draco!"

Draco jumped at the voice behind him, but was even more startled when he turned and his eyes met those of the old lady.

"I used to fly a bit myself, you know. Good relaxation and such. They also make a good, quick getaway when those riots and protests get out of hand! Oh, I used to be quite the protestor in my day. Do you fly for leisure, Draco?"

"Er, no. I play Quidditch mostly."

"Oh."

Draco looked the woman over. Her clothes were much neater, not to mention cleaner, than last time he saw her. Despite the little disappointment in her voice at Draco's reply, she still had a smile on her face.

"Uhm, Heidi, perhaps you should consider talking to my father before -"

She waved her hand knowingly. "Done already. He told me I could find you out here and we could become better acquainted."

Draco thought the last thing he wanted to do was get "better acquainted" with this old lunatic.

"Right, well, I start school tomorrow, so..."

"That's fine! I'll being seeing you during the holidays, I'm sure." She winked.

"I ought to go pack some more, then..."

"Right, off you go." She winked again.

Once in his room, Draco began absent-mindedly rummaging through his closet and drawers, checking to make sure he had forgotten nothing. Nita sat down gracefully on Draco's bed and watched as his hands sifted through the things in his bottom dresser drawer. When his hand came out with a small bag, Nita's interest seemed to heighten.

Draco smirked as he studied the leafs laying peacefully inside the shiny clear plastic. He had forgotten to ponder Luna's words and actions - though he guessed it didn't really matter. He doubted he'd ever be able to take his cousin seriously again, with the memory of how ridiculous she looked as she raged and yelled still fresh in his mind. Plus, thought was often just a waste of time.

He laughed quietly as he turned to his cat, bag still clutched in his hand.

"Have Muggles nothing better to do?"

The bag made the softest thudding noise as it landed neatly in the trashcan.

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