Protection

Protection

Chapter 2

Draco Malfoy hated being in his father's greenhouses. It was too bright, too green, and too hot for comfort. To top it all he had to be a charming and gracious host to his mother's annoyingly deaf friend, which meant he had to talk loudly: "Don't yell at me, boy! I am most certainly not deaf!" and "What did you say just then, dear?" He also had to wear his stuffy and most formal robes, and grin and bear the heat like a man.

I wish these bloody holidays would be over already...I'd give anything for 5 minutes in the chilled common room!

"...and these are the Blistering Bamboos your father procured from...?" Mrs. What's-her-name asked.

"China, Madam. A very rare breed found in the more rural parts of Southern China," Draco replied with a charming smile plastered to his face, while his hands itched to roughly wipe the sweat from his forehead and scratch his sweaty hair.

"Well, I suppose your Father could lend me a few shoots, now, couldn't he? For me to er... plant in my own greenhouse, of course...." She looked at him eagerly.

"I suppose I could ask father," Draco replied, not willing to agree without his father's permission and fearful of incurring his wrath.

I'd rather face Voldemort or get married to a mudblood than face my father after giving away his possessions without permission!

"I suppose you could, dear. Let's get back to your mother and her enchanting little tea party now, shall we? She mentioned passing around your cute baby pictures!" she said in a sugary voice.

Draco smiled, offering her his arm.

This was going to be a very long afternoon.

**************************************

During dinner, Draco broached the subject of the blistering bamboos to his father.

Lucius Malfoy, as usual, refused. Draco, as usual, continued eating without missing a beat. Narcissa just ate in silence.

After dinner, Draco retired to his room. His father had given him a lot to think about in the past couple of weeks. His recruitment as a Death Eater in training was a mere few weeks away.

Before the summer holidays, when his father had been "released" from Azkaban, the prospect would have excited him to the point of acceptance. However, after coming home and having a first hand view of the sorry state of affairs, he stepped back mentally and gave the situation a once over.

Was he evil? Yes. On a scale of one to ten was he a One: Evil conniving bastard to steal candy from a two-year-old, or was he a Ten: Evil conniving bastard who killed said two-year-old and then stole the candy?

Definitely NOT!

This set him thinking. What, then, could he possibly do to get out of this bloody mess?

And the answer had come to him as though it was the most obvious thing sitting right in front of him and how silly of him not to notice!

Write to Dumbledore.

So write to Dumbledore he did. And here he was now, three days later, anxiously waiting for a reply. If his owl had been intercepted, there would be no question of Death Eater in training. Only death, period.

Therefore he paced his room. It had become a habit for the past three days since he had sent his owl to Dumbledore. If anyone had asked, he would simply say it was an owl to Pansy. There was no address on the envelope, but his faithful bird knew where to go and whom to go to. Placing his trust in his bird, and with nothing else to do but wait, he paced.

After ten minutes of fruitless pacing, he heard a familiar tap tapping on his window.

FINALLY!

He walked over to the window and opened the latch. A completely grey owl swept in with a letter in its beak. Without the Hogwarts seal.

What...?! Blaise?

He walked over to the owl, which had landed on his study table, and plucked the letter out of its beak. He locked his bedroom door, then walked into the bathroom and locked that door too, and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. With a snap he broke the seal on the letter - a simple sticking charm - and shook out the parchment. He immediately recognized the handwriting.

Wondering what Blaise could possibly write to him about, he started reading.

Draco,

How are you? I hope your summer is going well. Mine is trundling along. Although mother says it's good to have me back, I don't believe her for a minute! She's just sad that I'm messing up her party schedule. Did you get your O.W.L. marks yet? I didn't. All this suspense, it's frightful!

I can't wait to get back to the chilled common room, the heat is killing! Did you decide the subjects that you want to take in sixth year? I want to drop Transfiguration, it's a nightmare! However, apparently it's important to all our future careers. I don't think I'm going to take Herbology, though. What do you think a journalist wants to do Herbology for? Would you be willing to join me in Defense Against the Dark Arts, though? Lord, you know I can't stand those bloody righteous Gryffindors on my own. Help me to decide. I hope you tell me what subjects you're signing up for. What subjects, do you think, can be of any use in the future?

Write soon! Reveal all your subjects to me so I can do the same that you are!

Best,

Blaise!

Draco stared at the letter in disbelief.

He read it again and made absolutely no sense out of it. Blaise was his best friend, but definitely not a letter writer. He never wrote during holidays. Someone who was too lazy to use a floo network would look suspicious suddenly writing a letter. He read it a third time. Still, it made no sense. Frustrated, he decided to answer Blaise's letter and give him a piece of his mind. He walked out of the bathroom, sat at the wooden study table, pulled out a piece of parchment, and dipped the quill in the inkwell.

He was just about to write, when he realized that Blaise had received the Dark Mark last week. Something struck him as odd and he couldn't help a nagging feeling at the back of his mind. Picking up his friend's letter and pointing his wand at the pale parchment he whispered, "Reveal!"

Slowly a few of the words on the letter darkened. He read the letter for the fourth time, and this time it made perfect sense.

Draco,

How are you? I hope your summer is going well. Mine is trundling along. Athough mother says it's good to have me back, I don't believe her for a minute! She's just sad that I'm messing up her party schedule. Did you get your O.W.L. marks yet? I didn't. All this suspense, it's frightful!

I can't wait to get back to the chilled common room, the heat's killing! Did you decide the subjects that you want to take in sixth year? I want to drop transfiguration, it's a nightmare! However, apparently it's important to all our future careers. I don't think I'm going to take herbology though. What do you think a journalist wants to do herbology for? Would you be willing to join me in Defense Against the Dark Arts though? Lord, you know I can't stand those bloody righteous Gryffindors on my own. Help me to decide. I hope you tell me what subjects you're signing up for. What are the subjects, you think can be of any use in the future?

Write soon! Reveal all your subjects to me so I can do the same that you are!

Best,

Blaise!

Blaise needed help. And the only help Draco could count on was Dumbledore's. He fervently hoped that his headmaster would hurry up and answer - he didn't like to think of the other alternative. If he refused the Dark Mark, he wouldn't be looking at a decent future.

He looked up at his parents' picture on the wall above the desk, and his father smirked at him.

Make that any future.

**********************************