The Joys of Being a Gryffindor || Harry Potter

SIX

She seemed stricken by his answer, her mouth falling open. "None? Not even your parents?" Again, her eyes darted to the other two, who were still silent behind Draco. He wondered what they'd, or more likely Weasley, had told them about his parents; perhaps that was why she'd stopped talking to him.

He felt himself flush a deeply unattractive crimson, though whether it was anger or embarrassment, he wasn't certain. "No. They... they haven't spoken to me since the Sorting Ceremony, except to say that I was to stay here for Christmas."

Hermione's face fell, and all of a sudden, she looked stricken. "But that's... that's so mean! Because of your house? I thought they'd - Ron said..."

Draco's eyes narrowed, a thought occurring to him. "Said what?" He spun around to face the other two; Weasley's cheeks were flaming red and Harry looked guilty, though Draco wasn't sure why he would be guilty. "What did he say about my parents?"

There was silence for one awful moment, and Weasley looked as if he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. Finally, Hermione spoke, though her voice was timid. "Ron said that your parents doted on you. That's all." Draco was certain that that wasn't all he'd said, but she continued anyway. "But I don't understand why they'd stop talking to you because of a school house. I thought they loved you."

Draco bristled, suddenly irritated. "They do love me. Of course they do, they're my parents. They're probably just busy. And besides, their only heir being sorted into Gryffindor has probably been really hard for them, too. It makes sense."

He could tell that Hermione saw right through him, though whether it was by his defensive tone or his expression, he didn't know. "But you're their son." She said gently, as if he were a dangerous creature that needed taming. "Why would they stop speaking to you?"

For some reason, that only made him angrier. "Why did you stop speaking to me?"

She fell silent in an instant, her expression both ashamed and embarrassed. Her eyes flickered away from him to the wall, and she swallowed.

"Actually, Malfoy... that's my fault." Came a voice from behind him.

Draco turned to face Weasley once more in disbelief, to find that the other boy was now standing as well, looking determined. "I told her about your father and his... beliefs. I told her she shouldn't be friends with you, because of what your family think of Muggleborns, and what they call them." He paused, before saying quietly, "Um...I shouldn't have done that. I'm... I'm sorry."

Draco stared at him. He felt, if he was being honest with himself, betrayed. Which was entirely ridiculous given that they were barely friends and that their families hated one another, but it was how he felt nonetheless. Hermione had been his one friend, and Weasley had taken that away from him.

And Hermione. She'd - she'd stopped being friends with him because Weasley had told her to? What made Weasley so special to her? He would've thought she of all people understood what having no friends felt like. And yet she'd stopped talking to him anyway.

He looked between the three of them silently, unable to think of what to say, his mind racing. Would he always be judged for who his father was? He'd always thought he wanted that, but now he wasn't so sure. Without another word, he turned on his heel and left the common room.

He immediately felt stupid upon reaching the Astronomy Tower. What would storming out achieve? He should've stayed there and given Weasley, and maybe even Hermione, a piece of his mind, the way Father had always told him not to. A Malfoy does not confront, Draco; it is beneath him.

They must think even less of him now than they did before, if that was even possible. The Malfoy heir: stuck up, snobbish and childish now as well - even cowardly!