The Right Way to Be
Draco would be an idiot not to notice the madness shining in the eyes of the girl standing in front of him. That exaggerated, possessive desire was obvious in the happy smile she wore while standing there, pressed close to him, when from the very beginning Draco had never shown even the slightest hint of appreciation toward her.
But well, unlike Harry, who had experience playing with girls… well, not really. But at least he had more experience dealing with them. Though, to be honest, the only ones he ever truly spent time with were his aunts, his mother, and his friends. And none of them could exactly be called normal girls.
Still, setting aside the possible insult Draco had just thought about the people he considered family, he let out a sigh before hardening his gaze at Parkinson.
"Can you tell me who made you put my name in the Goblet?" Draco asked, getting straight to the point. He did not really want to have a conversation with this… thing.
"No one, Draco. I just wanted everyone to see how brilliant, noble, powerful, and perfect you can be. And I was not wrong from the very start," Parkinson said with a proud smile, almost dazzled by herself, her cheeks turning red. Like a girl hopelessly in love.
Draco tilted his head slightly as he crossed his arms, looking at her coldly.
"And you think I could believe something like that?"
"But it is like that," Parkinson replied, shaping a completely innocent expression. "I want everyone to see how incredible you are instead of hiding behind Potter all the time. He is not even worthy to stand in your shoes. He is just a simple half blood," she added, looking at him with adoration and a trace of anger toward Harry.
There it was. That word pure bloods loved to use. It had been a long time since he had heard it. Something he was actually grateful for, considering he had not ended up in Slytherin in the past.
Draco let out another sigh before stepping closer to Pansy. His face tightened for a moment, annoyed. Then he moved until they were face to face, looking directly into her eyes while drawing a smile that did not reach his own. And even so… he looked devilishly noble. Disgustingly handsome.
"Is that so? You wanted everyone to see me, right? But I think you are more the type who would want me locked away. Chained. So I could not escape," he said as he raised his hand and brought it near Pansy's chin, barely brushing it without actually touching her. That tiny gesture nearly melted her. "So… why put my name in so the entire competition could watch me?" he added with those cold eyes, that noble aura pouring from every part of his body.
Pansy seemed to breathe unevenly, opening and closing her mouth as if she could not hold the words back.
"Why do not you tell me?" Draco murmured, leaning a little closer to her face.
"I… I… I… no. I did not. I did not mean…," Pansy stammered. She was about to say it.
But suddenly, a deep pain seemed to pierce through her head. She shrank in on herself, clutching it tightly, while Draco frowned at the sight. Pansy looked at him with genuine fear before turning around and running as if her life depended on it.
However, she stopped for a brief moment, turning her face just enough to look at him directly.
"Remember, Draco… I only do this for you. So you can go back to being what you should have been."
And she left.
Draco frowned as his expression slowly returned to normal. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hand with it. He had not actually touched Pansy, but even that almost contact seemed to bother him.
"Tsk. Harry plays the playboy better," he muttered with mild irritation at his own performance, copying his best friend.
But his gaze grew thoughtful at Pansy's words.
"What I should have been?"
And he confirmed that his distrust had not been unfounded. It was only getting worse.
…
With the news of what had happened in Azkaban spreading across the skies through messenger owls carrying the most popular newspaper of the moment, The Daily Prophet, the incident traveled quickly everywhere.
Every house, every conversation, brought up the problem it represented.
Deaths in Azkaban. Even if they were convicted criminals. Many families, especially pure blood ones who had relatives in that prison, and curiously they were the majority, began sending massive complaints directly to the Ministry of Magic.
That caused deep chaos for the Minister, who wanted to bury everything before it came to light. But thanks to Rita Skeeter, once again, that proved impossible.
It did not only create problems inside the Ministry, with letters and howlers arriving nonstop, but many departments were completely obstructed by the number of people showing up demanding information. Especially those who wanted to visit their imprisoned relatives to make sure they were still alive.
Meanwhile, in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, Harry and the others were sitting in relative calm. More or less aware of the chaos inside the Ministry thanks to Tonks, who kept them informed in exchange for certain trades.
"It's always amusing to watch things blow up in their faces every time they do something stupid, is it not?" Daphne said with an entertained smile. "I honestly do not know what they expected. To hide the deaths of twenty people forever? Or to pray no one would notice? When has that ever worked?" she added, shaking her head.
"The Ministry needs a complete restructuring. From the foundations," Hermione said, also shaking her head. More than anyone, she understood the absurd laws that already existed. Or the ones clumsily being created, filled with so many loopholes they almost seemed intentional.
As long as the Minister concentrated all power, he remained the absolute center of every decision. Unlike a muggle governmental structure, the British Minister for Magic could act as president, judge, and executioner all at once. Which meant that if an incompetent minister took office, or a completely despicable one, all that remained was to wait for the destruction of the British magical community.
And Fudge had not proven himself to be the best minister to date. Just incompetent… and corrupt on top of it.
Harry nodded at that before glancing at Draco, who was clearly somewhere else, lost in thought.
"What is it?" Harry asked, turning toward his friend.
Draco looked at him for a moment.
"Nothing," he replied, shaking his head slightly before fixing his gaze on him again. "Being a playboy is not an easy task. Your job of deceiving girls is difficult."
"My what?" Harry said, staring at him in disbelief.
Daphne and Hermione watched them for a second before letting out amused laughs.
"Did you get anything out of Parkinson?" Hermione asked, completely ignoring Harry's offended expression as he was once again labeled a playboy, and this time he had done absolutely nothing to deserve it.
"Nothing useful," Draco answered with irritation, shaking his head. "Only that she might be even crazier than I thought," he added, glancing toward the Slytherin table.
From there, a gaze had been fixed on him from the very beginning. As if it never blinked. It was Pansy, who returned an overly affectionate smile from her seat.
"Ah…" Draco exhaled. "She said something about me becoming what I should have been. What do you think that means?" he asked, unable to fully grasp it.
Hermione and Daphne exchanged a look, clearly not understanding what he was referring to.
Meanwhile, Harry watched his friend in silence for a moment, as if connecting pieces inside his head.
"Well… I think it is obvious," he finally said, nodding to himself.
The three of them stared at him.
Harry drew a mocking smile.
"She wants you to become a Carrow. That is what you should have been, maybe. If your mother had not actually raised you properly," he said before standing up and giving Draco a pat on the back. It clearly sounded like retaliatory teasing for the playboy comment.
"Where are you going?" Hermione asked as she watched him leave.
"To deceive a girl on the way," Harry replied with an amused look before walking out of the Great Hall.
Hermione and Daphne simply sighed as they glanced at each other.
But then they noticed Draco's face.
Completely serious. Brow furrowed.
"What is it? You do not actually think Harry meant that, do you?" Daphne asked, studying him carefully.
"No," Draco shook his head slowly. "But it could have happened. Becoming like Carrow, I mean." He paused briefly. "But it is impossible. For me to be like him… my father would have to be alive."
He said it as if it were a simple fact.
And yet, the weight of those words was anything but simple.