Draco Malfoy and the House of Black

The Rat and the Dragon

Draco thought making it until Saturday before telling Hermione about Black spoke admirably of his discretion, even if it came out rather unceremoniously.

She'd come to listen to him and Dean Thomas sitting in the Gryffindor common room that Saturday, pretending not to be interested as they pored over the football magazine Thomas had gotten, and made plans to try out the West Ham football Draco had sent Thomas for Christmas, once the snow melted a little. And it wasn't a minute after talk over by the fire turned inevitably to Black, attracting Thomas away from them, before Hermione's idle fretting about Black made him whisper, "He is innocent, though, you know."

Hermione gave her most wan look. "Like you're such an expert. How would you know?"

It probably wasn't worth the satisfaction then, to lounge back and say, "Because he told me."

But it was satisfying.

What was not so satisfying was the positive klaxons that sounded above them when Hermione tried to drag Draco up to her dorm with her, drawing the whole common room's wincing attention. "What are you doing, Malfoy?" one of the Weasley twins called. "No boys in the girls' dorms, don't you know that?"

"I thought that rule was just for Slytherins!" Draco called back, and Hermione looked at him puzzled. "Because we're bigger sluts," he added helpfully. She grimaced and dragged him clean out of Gryffindor, presumably in search of a less noisy spot to murder him.

They ended up in the trophy room, beside Draco's award for Special Services to the School, while Draco told her of his new acquaintance with the man the entire school was surrounded by Dementors in protection from. "So what you have to understand, Striker," Draco began, "Is that really, if you look at it objectively, I never would have found Grimmauld Place if your family hadn't taken me to Islington, so it is somewhat your fault-"

"Frankenstein!" she shrieked incoherently. "Frankenstein!"

"But," Draco went on charitably, "I will take responsibility for visiting Grimmauld Place again, where I happened to make the acquaintance of my Uncle Sirius, who may be less well-groomed than your Uncle Gary, but has the merit at least of having no small children called Will-"

"Yes, no children," Hermione said through gritted teeth, "Because he's been in Azkaban-"

"Striker, you have to realize, even before I knew he was innocent, I didn't consider Uncle Sirius my worst relative. Or my second-worst relative. Or third, if we're not strictly counting blood- there is my Uncle Rodolphus- why is your wand out? I swear I haven't been Imperiused-"

"Explain," Hermione said with impressive venom in her voice, "Concisely. Or I will hex you, Draco Malfoy, and I do think the Instant Scalping Hex would not be out of question."

"Okay," said Draco, and took a deep breath, conjuring them cushions. She sat down on the ground with him warily, and he began. "So basically, yes, I went back to Grimmauld Place without you, but I had a good reason. Do you remember when you asked why Aunt Bella hadn't been blasted from the family tapestry? I got this obsession in my head that I wanted to do it..."

When Draco finished his long and rambling explanation of the process, including his myriad confusing justifications of its importance and possible effect, she looked less judgmental than he feared, but more understanding than he would have liked. "It's her," she said abruptly, "Your aunt, she's your Boggart, isn't she," and Draco's fingers, stroking fretfully at his wand in his pocket, tightened on it as he nodded. "After Nott said it was obvious, Harry spent so long trying to puzzle out what yours could be, but he never guessed that. Though I hear Ron suggest it once."