Pride and Honor

The Prefect meeting room on the fifth floor of Hogwarts was silent except for the gentle breathing of one young man. The lights were dimmed, casting him into shadow, yet the darkness could not mask the pale blond hair and the intense grey eyes staring off into space over his hands- the hands that were in a steeple like position with only his fingertips touching, resting against his mouth. Scuff free loafers rested on top of the table in front of him, legs crossed at the ankles. He looked slightly rumpled with his tie loosened around his neck and his robe practically falling off of a shoulder. A piece of hair fell into his line of vision, but he did not move to brush it away.

It was moments like these that made Draco Malfoy appear more human than usual, with one emotion making him feel more vulnerable than the last, and thoughts so deep that to speak one it would bare his soul in a way he never had before. The thoughts running through his head now were definitely of the bared soul variety.

Ever since Professor Dumbledore had mentioned the Pageant the night before the words "pride" and "honor" had echoed throughout his head, first in the Headmaster's voice then in his own father's. To enter into this Pageant would surely soil the Malfoy name, but to win the Pageant would be something completely different. It was something that not even his father could deny respect to.

Draco had always suspected that while being the second highest ranking student in his class, right behind that bloody Hermione Granger, that the position of Head Boy had not been easily offered to him. He knew that it was his name and the principles that his father had drilled into him since he was young that had kept the offer from being genuinely presented to him at the end of the last school term. No one really wanted a snobbish boy who believed that Mudbloods and Muggle born wizards and witches were inferior to purebloods.

His title as Head Boy was hard earned in his opinion and something that he was not easily going to give up. Yet, it wasn't enough, not in his father's opinion, who had been aware all summer long of the debate going on at Hogwarts about his son and the Head Boy position. That was why Draco needed to enter himself into the competition. He needed to prove that he was the best at Hogwarts and all of Britain, and it was something that only he could earn. His father could not use his influence to sway the judges into picking his son because the Pageant was based on talent alone.

If there was something that Draco had besides the family name, it was talent. He just had to prove it to everyone else, especially his father. Draco was worth the family name and more. Pride and honor were his trademarks, and for once he deserved to receive those on his own, using his own abilities.

The door to the Prefect meeting room opened and the six Prefects followed by the Head Girl walked in and took their places around the table. At Hermione's hard glare, which Draco promptly returned, he casually lowered his feet to the ground and sat up straight in his chair. He looked around the table, noticing the abundance of wretchedness surrounding it, excluding the two Slytherin Prefects of course.

Derek Cassidy, fifth year Ravenclaw, was a little boy for fifteen, hardly looking as if he had a backbone to him at all. Sixth year Hufflepuff Eloise Midgen, the girl who had tried to charm off her acne a few years ago and failed at it sat next to her older Hufflepuff counterpart, Muggle born seventh year Justin Finch-Fletchley. Marcel Flint, the youngest brother of Hogwarts graduate Marcus Flint, was the second fifth year Prefect and a Slytherin. Then of course there was little spitfire Ginny Weasley who sat between Hermione and Blaise Zabini, a seventh year Slytherin.

Draco was amazed at the difference between the three girls. In his opinion, Hermione couldn't hold her own in a competition between the two other girls even if she tried. Ginny on the other hand, there was something about the softness of her features in the dim lighting, the little ringlets outlining her heart shaped face that made him appreciate the little beauty that he saw. He was, after all, a lover of all things fine, and no matter his dislike to the girl and her family he could not deny her that one thing. Blaise was more of an exotic beauty compared to Ginny. She definitely possessed the Slytherin resourcefulness that he found attractive in any woman.

When Hermione began to speak, Draco lazily moved his eyes away from the two girls and feigned a look of interest. While he was interested in the Pageant itself, he was certainly not interested in hearing the Head Girl prattle on about nothing.

"I spoke with Professor McGonagall today and she gave me an outline that the Ministry gave to her that we need to follow during the days leading up to, and of course, during the Pageant itself." She began to pass around copies of said outline as she continued to report what she had been told. "Besides the regular Prefect responsibilities, each one of you will be assigned to a certain task during the competition. I know that some of you may enter, but rest assured your task will not interfere with your competing."

Papers rustled as the students began looking through the packet they were handed.

"The Pageant will be held in less than two weeks, so it is imperative that we complete our tasks to the best of our abilities. There isn't much left to say because everything is covered in the packet, so unless Draco has something to add, we can conclude this meeting."

A half smirk rested on Draco's lips as Hermione tried to catch him off guard; fortunately for him hardly anything makes him fluster. "Well actually, I do have something to add." His smirk only broadened when Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "I believe that we should all be made aware of who is entering into this competition so that if a problem arises with a competing Prefect's task, someone else can take over."

The Head Girl's face fell into a scowl. She didn't expect an actual decent idea to come out of him. With her lips pursed, Hermione nodded. "Is there anybody planning on entering?"

Everyone at the table either nodded or voiced their positive answer except for Ginny, Hermione and Draco. The fact that the two Gryffindor girls were not entering did not pass by Draco, and he promptly jumped on that fact.

"Not entering Granger?" he taunted. "Surely you believe that you could win if you did. Or do you actually agree that you're too unattractive to even make a finalist?"

Hermione stood up and began collecting her belongings as she glared at Draco. "I am not entering not because I find myself 'too unattractive to' but because I will not have time to devote to it."

Blaise's Slytherin qualities perked up at that comment. "Of course you have to devote time to it Granger," she sneered. "Being appealing is not natural to you."

Ginny turned to Blaise, her brown eyes blazing in anger. "Oh, sod off Blaise. It's better to look ordinary than looking like some hussy."

Draco leaned across the table, attracting Ginny's attention. "Think it better to be ordinary do you? Maybe that is why no one can stand to be around you, especially Potter and friends," he hissed. "You're not remarkable enough for them."

"How come you're not entering Malfoy?" she angrily matched his hissing tone. "One would think after the lecture your father gave to you on the Platform about 'pride' and 'honor' that little Malfoy Jr. would be jumping to enter himself into a competition that promises just that."

"What of yourself Weasley? I didn't see your hand go up for entering. Afraid that you might not qualify because of too short robes and your family's disgrace? Sad, you really could have used the money. If not to buy new clothes, at least to buy new friends."

Chaos erupted as Ginny slammed her chair back using the force as leverage to propel her up onto the table to go after Draco. Her right knee barely touched the fine wood grain before she felt a hand wrap around her ankle to pull her back. Hermione reached out to grab her left arm but missed as Ginny wildly swung out, her fingers connecting to the soft skin on Draco's neck.

"Pull her back! Pull her back!" Blaise screamed from behind Derek who was holding onto Ginny's leg with all his might.

Hermione reached out again, this time grasping firmly onto the younger girl's arm and pulling her away. An emotion mirroring horror (for it couldn't be horror since it was happening to Malfoy) ran through her as she watched Ginny's fingers slide down the tender flesh leaving marks behind. Faintly she heard Draco cry out in rage, whipping himself around and covering the scratches with his right hand. Justin had made it around the table by then and was helping Derek hold Ginny down. Eloise stood in her spot at the end of the table, her hand covering her mouth.

Angrily, Blaise brushed past the group holding the angry girl and over to Draco to make sure he was okay. Marcel had a look of confusion on his face but bravely stood next to the Head Boy to protect him from any other attacks. Blaise managed to pry Draco's hand off of his neck long enough to notice that the scratches had drawn blood before he shoved her off and stepped further back from his fellow Slytherins.

"He's bleeding! You made him bleed!" Blaise yelled.

"Physical wounds are the same as emotional ones," Ginny retorted. "He should be glad that I didn't have my way and give him everything that he deserves."

Draco gingerly lifted his hand from his neck and the others in the room noticed that Blaise was indeed right; he was bleeding from the scratches on his neck. "Have your way with me Weasley? You only wish," he sneered. "Your attempts to get a hold of me are pathetic cover-ups for raising your reputation and making you more popular. Listen well Weasley because I am only going to say this one time. Any popularity that you receive from this or anything else in the future will be only temporary because you're not worth anything more than that. You are worth nothing."

Draco's grey eyes penetrated Ginny's sending all the anger and hurt inside of him into her. He knew how to push buttons, and he pushed them damn well. By the time he turned and started out of the room, Ginny was already shrugging out of Derek and Justin's grasp, not to come after him, but to wrap her arms around herself to try to make her as small as possible. Because that was what Draco excelled at, making other people feel smaller.

He could hear Marcel and Blaise trotting after him, but he didn't turn when they called out his name, didn't acknowledge anything that they said about what just happened. He had just realized that while it had felt good at the time to say all those hurtful things, the only thing it had done for him was to leave him feeling empty inside. Empty and hurting from the out-of-control emotions he had experienced moments earlier.

More than anything what Draco desired was the respect that he would receive if he won the Pageant. Then he wouldn't have to resort to bringing other people down to feel any kind of emotion at all. That was the hard part in all of this, in everything that his father drilled into him. He didn't know how to feel anything that wasn't directly related to hurting someone else.

*

The two weeks until the Bicentennial Pageant of Witchcraft and Wizardry flew by in a mist of preparations, not only for the Pageant itself, but for the students who entered into it. No one knew what to expect since the last Pageant had been held two hundred years earlier and the witches and wizards who were still alive and participated in it happened to be the judges, so no information was being divulged. Every contestant was poring over books on Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions. All except for one.

Draco Malfoy strolled through the corridors before breakfast the day of the Pageant occasionally peeking his head into the classrooms that would be used for the different phases of the competition to make sure everything was set up properly. The only tasks that he had been given by Hermione were to check the classrooms before the Pageant began, and to greet the judges when they arrived later on in the morning. With half his tasks finished he headed into the Great Hall for breakfast.

The brief silence that fell onto the Hall when he walked in did not go unnoticed by Draco. Every day for the past two weeks wherever he went the students fell silent around him. It was not a surprise that what had happened inside of the Prefect Meeting Room had been leaked out, and the fact that no one actually involved in the incident spoke of it when confronted only made everyone else talk that much more about it. Some believed the rumor to be just that, a rumor (like the Slytherins), while the other houses were positive that what they heard was the truth. Either way, it did not go overlooked by anyone that since that night forward Draco Malfoy only wore turtlenecks.

He took his seat with his fellow Slytherins and began to eat. Conversation around him paused long enough to draw his attention. Draco looked up with bored eyes to the Slytherins around him. When all that he made eye contact with looked the other way suspicion rose inside of him.

"Well? What is the problem?"

A sixth year girl squirmed in her seat before speaking. "Rumor has it that you entered yourself into the competition."

Slowly an eyebrow rose on his face. It was true; he had entered himself into the competition, although, instead of signing up on the form with the rest of the students he went straight to the Headmaster and put his name in. It was better for him reputation wise, in school and out of it, to be as discreet as possible. How anyone found out about his entering baffled him.

"Really, now? Pray tell how you came about this information."

"So, it's true then?"

Draco's mouth closed into a firm line as his eyes glared into the eyes of the offending sixth year. "Who told you?"

"I overheard a Hufflepuff tell that Potter boy that he happened to hear the Headmaster tell Professor McGonagall that you were entering when he was standing outside her office."

He scowled at this information. If Potter knew then his fan club knew, and he could only wait for the remarks that they would make to him when he came across them. Thankfully he knew that not one of the Dazzling Trio had entered themselves into the competition, so any insults they threw at him he could return easily.

Of course, if a Hufflepuff told Potter they must've told someone else as well which explained the silence when he walked in. A Malfoy entering himself into a Pageant that promised to award everything they already had, how ridiculous. One thing he did learn over his seven years at Hogwarts, however, was that the thing that seemed to be the most ridiculous was often the one that was the truest.

"Well, is it?"

Draco slowly set down his fork and turned his complete attention to the Slytherins around him. All waited on the edge of their seats for his response. "If a Hufflepuff heard it from Professor Dumbledore himself, then it must be true because why would a Hufflepuff lie to Potter? Why would Dumbledore lie to Professor McGonagall? Now, if you will excuse me."

The Slytherins watched with confusion in their eyes as Draco set his napkin on the table and pushed back his chair. With his back even straighter than when he had walked in, he left the Great Hall. He could tell the moment when his fellow housemates thought he was out of earshot because their voices raised over each other's trying to voice their opinion on his answer. His jaw clenched at the sound and he quickened his footsteps so that he was out of the castle and standing on the front steps.

It was a beautiful autumn day, a slight nip to the air but refreshing nonetheless. The tension that had been steadily rising inside of him since the start of the term slowly began to melt away. He was tired of all the questions that were constantly thrown his way. First by his father wondering if he would ever be good enough, then by his schoolmates who wanted to know the whys of everything that he chose to do.

So he entered himself into the Pageant, what of it? He was Head Boy; he was definitely smart enough to fly through the competition. It also helped that he was very good looking and handled himself correctly in front of others. What did it matter that a little prat scratched him, or that he entered himself into a silly Pageant that could only ruin his father's name if he placed anything but first? He had his reasons for everything that he did, when would it be enough for others to know that?

Any other thoughts were discarded as a few carriages approached the castle. Draco stepped forward off of the stone steps and noticed that someone else did the same. He looked up surprised to see the Headmaster next to him.

"Professor Dumbledore, I wasn't aware that you were here."

Dumbledore smiled a gentle smile, one that Draco was sure was reserved for Potter and the Gang. "It is all right young Malfoy. I noticed that you were deep in your thoughts and thought it best to remain silent as you worked through them."

The corners of Draco's mouth creased downwards. "My entering the Pageant has been found out."

"I suspected as much. Is that what worries you?"

"No, my father worries me," he found himself replying. When he realized what he had said, Draco clamped his mouth shut, the muscles in his jaw working furiously. A Malfoy was never one to divulge any feelings that they may have, little as they could be. 'It was thought better to be uncaring than to show the world your weaknesses' his father always told him.

"I see."

Thankfully, the Headmaster did not say anything else. A part of Draco, however, wished as he went to greet the guests that Professor Dumbledore had said something more. For the first time in a long while, he actually wanted reassurance from someone other than the lost little boy inside of him.

*

It was mid-afternoon when Ginny peeked around the corner of the staircase from the girls' dormitories to investigate the Gryffindor Common Room. With the Bicentennial Pageant of Witchcraft and Wizardry going on some classes were cancelled so that the students who weren't competing could watch the events. Other than a few Gryffindors lounging out on the chairs by the fire there was no one else in the room.

Ginny scuffled over towards the portrait hole, her school bag lightly hitting her thigh as she did so. Just as she reached it, she heard the familiar laugh of her brother and froze. With wide eyes she watched as the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open revealing her brother, Harry and Hermione outside.

"Hullo Ginny!" Harry greeted as he slipped past her.

Ron ruffled her hair. "Gin, nice day for a game of Wizard's Chess?"

"Where are you off to?" Hermione asked.

Ginny's mouth opened and closed as she tried to figure out something to say. "Well, I was just, um, well, off to the library actually," she patted her school bag.

"Oh, I'll go with you then."

"No!" Ginny cried out. When the eyes of the three friends widened at her yell, she hastily corrected herself. "I mean, sure you can come along, but I have to, uh, stop off at, well, at Professor Snape's office, for a, um, a meeting, yeah, a meeting."

She practically laughed out loud from relief as the three visibly recoiled at the sound of Professor Snape's name. It was no secret that the three Gryffindors disliked the Potions teacher as much, if not more, than the dislike he held for them. Using him as cover had been one of the best ideas she'd ever had.

"Well, I could always wait outside until you are done with your meeting," Hermione replied.

Ginny's heart skipped a beat again at the older girl's offer. "Oh, well, I don't know how long it'll take honestly. Why don't I, uh, meet you at the library afterwards?"

Slowly Hermione nodded as if she suspected that the younger girl was up to something. After seven years of friendship with Harry and Ron she had become quite good at knowing when they were lying to her about something, and Ginny lied just as easily as the boys did (which wasn't even that easy). However, she obviously did not want her to come along wherever she went off to, so she would respect that.

"That sounds fine. I'll meet you there later then. Have fun in your meeting with Snape."

Ginny nodded her head frantically as she backed out of the portrait hole. "Great! Later. At the library. I'll see you." She stumbled over the last step out of the Common Room, but recovered quickly, a little nervous laugh escaping her. "Bye Harry, bye Ron."

As the portrait of the Fat Lady swung closed, Ginny turned on her heel and dashed down the flights of stairs to the classroom she was supposed to be in for the Transfiguration part of the competition. No one knew that she had entered into the competition besides Professor McGonagall and the judges. A part of her feared the reaction she would get from her brother and his friends for entering some silly "beauty pageant" as Hermione had called it, and the other half feared the comments she would receive from the rest of the school.

To be more specific, Draco Malfoy. He had proved to her two weeks ago that she couldn't stand his insults any longer. If he found out that she entered now, she could only imagine the reaction she would have to his taunts. She would probably end up in Azkaban at the very least.

Outside the room she was required to be in, Ginny ran her fingers through her loose curls and took off her robe, shoving it deep into her bag. Part of the competition rules required that anything marking which house you were in was to be taken off so that the judging could be fair and unbiased. She gave herself a final once over, smoothing out her pleated skirt and straightening her tie (which was in the school colors instead of her house colors) before taking a deep calming breath and walked inside of the room.

*

"Number one eighty two (182) please step forward. That is number one, eight, two."

Draco straightened from his leaning position on the wall opposite to the dungeon where the Potions competition was being given. The few students waiting for their turns watched with wide eyes as he walked into the room. Only when the dungeon door slammed shut did they began whispering back and forth to one another.

The first thing that Draco noticed upon entering was that there were no observers to this part of the competition. The room was empty except for a table in the middle with a caldron on the top of it, a smaller table next to it filled with ingredients, a judge who was standing in front of the table and another person who looked to be a Ministry official behind it.

"Number one eighty two?" At Draco's nod, the judge continued. "As you know, this is the Potions part of the competition. Anything that you may have overheard about what potion you would be brewing is false. Each competitor is faced with a different potion than the next one. With that said if you would please reach into the caldron and pull out what potion you have been assigned."

Draco reached into the caldron feeling around the cold bottom for a slip of paper. When his fingers brushed against it, he clasped it tightly into his hand and pulled it out. At the judge's command to read the slip of paper, he opened his fist.

"Veritaserum," he breathed, suddenly understanding why the Ministry official was there. He was to make the most powerful truth serum which was controlled by very strict Ministry guidelines. To mess up the potion and give it to someone could very well cause them to lose their memory forever; and if it came out correctly, this wasn't one potion that he would be able to take home and show to his mother.

"You may begin," the judge commanded stepping away from the table, giving him enough room to work.

*

Ginny collapsed into her usual chair across from Harry, Ron and Hermione in the Great Hall later on that evening. The Transfiguration part of the Pageant had been harder than she'd thought it would be, testing her on things that she wouldn't learn until the very end of her seventh year at Hogwarts. Somehow she'd managed to pull it off, but it had left her exhausted and hungry.

"Hullo," she tiredly said to the three who watched her carefully. "Pass the bread rolls, please?"

"Did you forget something?" Hermione asked instead. "Such as meeting up with me at the library?"

Ginny gasped and covered her mouth with one hand. "I'm so sorry Hermione! I completely forgot about it. I just got so caught up-"

"I know you weren't meeting with Snape because I saw him ten minutes after you left. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to go to a meeting." Hermione picked up the bread roll basket and passed it across the table. "It's all right if you don't want to say where you're going out to, just don't lie about it."

Ginny picked a roll up and slouched in her seat. "I'm sorry. Truly I am. I just, I just wanted to keep this to myself."

Ron filled his sister's cup full of pumpkin juice. "Want to tell us where you were?" At the shake of her head, he frowned and continued, "Don't make me owl Mum and tell her that you're running off without telling anyone where you're going. For all we know you could be shagging with some boy. At least tell us who the lucky man is."

"Ron!" Ginny squeaked.

"Never mind him, Ginny," Harry said with a wave of his hand. "We all know you're not shagging some boy. Although," he wiggled his eyebrows up and down suggestively, "we are mighty curious to know what exactly you have been doing."

Ginny threw her unfinished roll at him. "Sod off Harry."

Harry caught the roll easily in his hand, as any excellent Seeker could, laughing. The laughter, however, faded when his eyes locked on something behind her. "What the hell happened to Malfoy?"

She turned around to see what exactly he meant. Draco was practically limping from exhaustion to the Slytherin table; dark circles rimmed his bloodshot eyes as if he had spent a long time working on something extremely difficult. A couple of sixth year Slytherin males jumped up from their chairs to help him to a seat, but all he did was shove them off and stand up straighter. His pose clearly spoke that he did not need help from anybody.

"He didn't look like that this afternoon during class," Ron remarked.

Hermione 'hmph'ed,' looking up from her meal to Draco for only a brief second before she turned her attention back to her plate. "I don't see why you guys care so much about the way Malfoy looks."

Harry shook his head, breaking his eyes away from the other boy. "It was just surprising, that's all."

"Sure, Harry. Pretty sure I'm going to have to ask you where you spend all that time away from us." She winked at him. "Just kidding, I know you're not interested in Malfoy. You're more of Crabbe's type, aren't you? What do you think, Ron?"

"Oh, no, more like Goyle," Ron nodded his head, a grin on his face. "Definitely Goyle."

"Blaise?"

"No, Millicent, absolutely!"

Ginny tuned out the friendly banter and concentrated on the man across the Hall from her. He did look awful, and that was not like Malfoy at all. Of course, what did she really know anyway? She was just a stupid Mudblood/Muggle lover who didn't have enough money for decent clothes according to him. Still, there was something disheartening about seeing him like that, not even she and all her anger towards him could deny that.