Traitor: A Draco Malfoy Story

eighteen

I sat in the prefect's bath, letting smells of the rose-scented bubbles permeate my senses and the hot water relax my aching ankle muscles. Moaning Myrtle sat next to me, mimicking my movements as I massaged my neck, trying to break up the knots and release tension. "I've never had someone let me stay with them," she said. "It's nice to have a friend in death. I never had friends in life..." she trailed off, starting to wail loudly.

"Myrtle, we talked about this," I said, closing my eyes. "No wailing, please. We need to express our feelings in other ways."

"Oh. Right." She pouted.

I'd met Myrtle after the duel, when I'd gone to the girl's bathroom on the third floor, not wanting to draw attention to myself with my limp or scrapes by walking into the common room and up to our dorm bathroom. She'd popped out of the sink as I'd washed the blood from my scraped knee and scared me almost half to death. But something about her reminded me of myself; cut off from everyone, abandoned. I'd come to visit her during the lunch breaks every day since.

It'd been almost four weeks since what had happened. I felt bad keeping Jenna out of the loop, especially when she was one of the few people that knew my secret. But I didn't want to put her in danger because of that. What happened with Malfoy and my task from Umbridge proved that it wasn't just me who was in danger if people found out I was a Muggle. It was everyone who knew. Especially if all supremacist purebloods were as trigger-happy as Malfoy was that night. 

I kept to myself now, participating only as needed in class, making sure I sat next to a Hufflepuff. I was addicted to their kindness, and how they didn't ask questions. They were more helpful than the Slytherins, who could tell something was off. They were better than the Ravenclaws, who only ever looked at me disgustedly at my lack of knowledge. Even Ashton seemed uneasy around me. And I avoided the Gryffindors at all costs, their sickening optimism about literally everything was not contagious at all.

Umbridge had continued to ask me about the first-years every day since she had given me the roster. After a week of talking to some first-years and crossing random names off, I gave the book back to her apologizing for any disappointment. "There's no one that could be a Muggle," I said, my apologetic tone as fake as my smile. "The information you got must be wrong." She looked put out, but she didn't question my research.

Now, the castle was empty with everyone at Hogsmeade. I couldn't go. Turns out, the whole parental permission thing was a little hard to come by. Jenna had seen how on edge I'd been lately, and even though she hadn't pressed me about it, she'd told me about this upstairs bathroom on the fourth floor. I would be eternally grateful to her for that. She's kept so many of my secrets...I don't know how I could ever repay that debt. I started taking hot baths after an hour of ballet, just to unwind. Giffard also supported the bath idea, and we chatted whenever I went up to the Astronomy Tower. It was kind of sad that one of my closest friends here was a painting, but he was always kind, though the other paintings peered at my tired figure dressed in a black leotard and wrap skirt.

"A bubble bath does great things for a wizard after battle," he always said. "And a battle is quite like a dance." He was definitely right.

The bubbles were almost gone, a few stragglers hanging on by the edge. I pushed myself up to sit on the ledge, toweling off my face and sighing heavily.

"The others will be coming back soon. You should probably get dressed and get out," Myrtle said.

"Thanks for sitting with me again."

"Same time next week?"

"You know it."

I finished drying off and slipped my clothes on, waving goodbye as Myrtle dove into the toilet closest to the wall with a splash.