Chapter 7
While he still jumped out of his skin often, Draco became more accustomed to finding the tortoiseshell cat everywhere he went. Since it helped him scare the Gryffindors, he even went to the trouble of finding treats for the needy creature. He carried them around in a spare potions flask.
The cat occasionally brought him a gift, usually a thoroughly defeated quill, or a large leaf.
That day, its spoils looked like a large, old chocolate frog.
He had a snack ready on his palm, his other hand scratching gently behind the cat's ear.
To his disgust when he looked down, the deposited gift on the ground turned out to be a real animal.
It took embarrassingly long for Draco to notice its slight movement - his attention remained mostly on the cat - but it was definitely still alive.
He carefully turned it over with the tip of his wand.
Upon a closer look, he could tell he'd even seen it many times before - it had to be Longbottom's toad.
"You really have it out for Gryffindors, don't you?
Such a clever cat." Draco rearranged his books to safely place the toad in his bag, after making sure it wasn't at death's door.
"I can't believe I'll have to speak to Longbottom because of you.
At least it'll annoy Potter when he finds out.
.. Let's keep the gifts inanimate from now on, okay? "
The cat gave no indication of understanding or an answer.
Draco spent most of dinner ignoring Crabbe and Goyle, waiting for an opportunity to speak with Longbottom alone.
If only he was planning to be mean, he would've simply marched up to the Gryffindor table with no second thought, but being nice to him would be very suspicious.
More importantly, it would be embarrassing.
Eventually, after most students have left, Longbottom got up too. Draco made up a vague excuse for his housemates, and followed him out, quickly pushing him into the closest classroom across from the Great Hall.
"Come with me." He ordered afterwards, leaving no room for objections.
Longbottom stumbled in with a surprised squeak and kept his eyes tightly closed, as if not seeing would protect him from being hexed.
"Calm down, if I was going to hurt you I would have already." Draco now regretted the handful of times he sent mostly harmless jinxes his way.
"Why did you..? What's going on?" He stammered.
"I found your pet." Draco began while pulling the toad out of his bag. "Before you say anything, a cat got to it. It seems fine, but you might want to let the Care of Magical Creatures professor check it over."
Before he finished talking, Longbottom had already rushed to him with a cry of "Trevor, you found him!" With no trace of fear or uncertainty left in his countenance, he pulled Draco's hands apart to see it, and excitedly picked it up.
That lighthearted joy was something Draco had almost forgotten, having chosen to instead put others down to make himself superior long before he felt a need to prioritise self-preservation.
Going spitefully against Potter's wishes suddenly lost its appeal.
Helping out just because he could bring that kind of joy felt like something he hadn't attempted in even longer than experiencing the happiness himself.
Should he apologise, he questioned himself as the boy in front of him looked the toad over.
Longbottom was hopeless on the best of days and definitely wouldn't be able to help Draco in a significant way, but that didn't mean he deserved bullying.
The regret he felt made him uncomfortable and uncertain about his actions.
He was aiming to change for the better this time around, after all.
"I'm... s-" the apology, however, couldn't make it past the lump in his throat. "Uh, you don't have to thank me." Draco turned around and left as quickly as he could, leaving a confused Longbottom behind.
Ever since the first year Slytherins got better at peer pressuring each other into actually learning, Draco almost started to miss keeping an eye on Crabbe's and Goyle's potions, or correcting Pansy's wand movement in Transfiguration.
He still felt proud to have made this change in their circle; now Slytherin was an even stronger contender for the House Cup.
He did, however, catch himself absentmindedly helping Longbottom out when he forgot to stir his potion or prepared an ingredient incorrectly.
"Wrong powder. Are you daft, in which direction are you stirring?
Crush it, Longbottom, don't dice." He called out careless mistakes whenever he noticed, which was more often than he would like to admit.
There was something addictive in showing off his own understanding by pointing out other's faults to them.
He wasn't sure if being helpful was the goal or merely a side effect.
Fewer requests for his help also left him with spare time in the dark, winter evenings.
He spent them staring off fearfully into the common room fire, or walking by the frozen lake.
Before long, it was time to leave Hogwarts for the Christmas Holidays.
His mother pulled Draco into her arms the moment he stepped off the train, and pinched his cheek as she let him out of a tight hug.
His father levitated Draco's luggage onto a cart in the interim.
He waved goodbye to his housemates, who also came home for Christmas as they made their way to the gate.
"Look at the state of these children. Their parents clearly didn't teach them the value of a neat and orderly appearance," Narcissa turned up her nose at a couple older Hufflepuffs running past them. "Not like you, Draco dear. I see you've been representing our family handsomely."
They took their time strolling to the nearest apparition point.
His father greeted him with subdued enthusiasm and immediately began complaining about Ministry incompetence around this time of year.
Apparently some overzealous assistant tried to get a promotion by breaking the statute of secrecy in muggle London.
The cleanup took a whole fortnight, and prevented him from seeing his acquaintances in the Wizengamot.
The Manor stood out from the surrounding white snow with lit candles in every window casting a warm glow.
Draco always loved this time of year and all the views that came with it.
He left the trunk for House Elves to collect, and stretched out on a sofa by the tall Christmas tree.
His mother had once again outdone herself with decorations, he thought while watching nutcracker ornaments battle mouse soldiers as snowflake ballerinas twirled all around the tree.
"Tell me everything, darling. Even the things you already wrote about, I want to hear it all. What did you do all term?" Narcissa cradled him into herself.
It felt good to have undivided attention of his parents like he used to, so he talked.
Over the days before Christmas, he spoke of the troll scaring everyone on Halloween, about study sessions with Crabbe, Goyle, and the other Slytherins, and his favourite lessons.
Lucius congratulated him on making connections among other pureblood Slytherins and encouraged to keep it up.
"And then Terrence Higgs threatened to crash into one of the Hufflepuff beaters - they were too good at protecting their chasers.
We finished almost two hundred points ahead!
" He recounted their last match before the holidays.
"The team is well on the way for the Cup, it'd be even better if Potter's swallowing the snitch didn't count. .."
He hadn't realised just how much he missed his parents, not just from the start of the year. Their relationship was never quite as easy once the Dark Lord returned.
"I had thought keeping you in the country, instead of sending you off all the way to Durmstrang, would be good.
Yet we haven't had a chance to see you since September at all!
" Narcissa complained one evening. "I suppose at least we don't have to worry about the packages spoiling or letters getting lost like they might have in owl post customs. Although, you haven't been as prolific a writer as I would like in return, I must say. "
Draco had the decency to admit fault in forgetting to keep his mother company through correspondence. He promised better behaviour at least until they had to start revision for exams.
"Hogwarts appears to have really subdued you, Draco," Lucius remarked on Christmas Day, undoubtedly noticing his diminished enthusiasm when opening a pile of Christmas presents. "It's lucky the Sorting Hat didn't mistake your academic pursuits for Ravenclaw values."
"I heard somewhere 'what the mind doesn't understand it worships or fears', and I wouldn't choose either for myself, father." He countered, a little dissatisfied at the implication his behaviour wasn't Slytherin enough for his father's liking.
The Manor didn't keep them isolated from the world together for long.
Busy House Elves woke Draco on Boxing Day, focused on making all preparations for a celebration later that day.
He got up and headed to his recently set up study, determined to practice casing non-verbal spells he struggled to master before, while he had some time alone.
It was just his luck that the Notts arrived early on a day he lost track of time.
Draco was mid transforming a roll of parchment into a snake, when Theodore Nott burst into the room.
"Merry Christmas! Now this I haven't seen before. Are you holding out on us, Draco?"
"What are you doing here so early?"
"Your dad wanted to meet with mine before the evening. I was told to look for you here."
"And you found me. Season's greetings to you too, Nott."
"No need to be so cold. How are you doing advanced transfiguration when most of us barely managed a silver pin last month? Come on, I won't tell anyone."
While Theodore Nott was the least nosy out of all the Slytherins Draco knew, he wasn't an iron safe of secrets.
He didn't spill everything he could at the drop off a hat like some, but did what's sometimes even worse - used them for his own gain.
There was no way Draco would willingly give him the upper hand with such an important secret.
He raised an eyebrow with a challenging smirk instead.
"What, didn't your father teach you magic before school began? Mine must think I'm very promising, to teach me advanced things so early on. Frankly it makes everyday lessons easy in comparison." He drawled. "I could teach you some things, but I'm just not sure you're cut out for it."
"Oh come on, I'm doing almost as well as you in all subjects!" Nott bristled.
"I suppose I could show you a thing or two." He offered as a distraction. Only time would tell if Nott believed his story.
The rest of the guests arrived in no time, filling the halls with laughter and chatter with the backdrop of spelled instruments playing carols.
Crabbe and Goyle joined them for a quick game of Exploding Snap, which Draco only lost when the Greengrasses arrived late and needed to be greeted by the hosts.
Later in the evening, while waiting for dessert, everyone was subjected to Draco's barely practiced piano pieces.
Over the table, his father sang praises of his leadership, maturity, and dedication to his studies so early on. His opinion on these traits apparently had changed quite quickly with an audience, Draco thought.
"He's the top student this year, could you believe it?"
"I admit there is value in theory, but our Vincent prefers physical solutions for physical problems." Crabbe Sr. elbowed his son, looking unbothered by his academic performance.
"Well, it's not decided yet, and he's got competition for the spot." Daphne Greengrass grinned across the table. Draco knew she wanted to rile him up, but he mostly made peace with Granger being as good a student as him, if not better.
"Is that true? Who is it?" asked Crabbe's mother.
"Her name is Hermione Granger, she's been keeping up with me so far." Draco said. He had to reject views of pureblood superiority sooner or later, he'd seen how far they could fall because of them. The other first years shared a confused look - they didn't expect him to admit it.
"Granger... I don't know any Grangers," said Lucius.
"That's not surprising. She's muggleborn, father." The whole table fell silent, interrupted only by spoons clinking against porcelain plates. Eventually, his father spoke again.
"We don't count mudbloods as competitors."
"Why not? She already surpassed most of the year, including pureblooded witches and wizards." Draco continued on.
"You don't know what you're talking about, dear." His mother gently intervened. "This girl might seem bright right now, but will no doubt soon be outshined by those with pedigree."
"I don't think so," he insisted, remembering his own anger at Granger's aptitude.
"Well, even then she would be the exception which proves the rule." His father's voice held a tone of finality. The topic quickly shifted into safer territory, but Draco still saw the disappointment on his parents' faces, especially Lucius. He embarrassed them in front of important connections.
He stormed off and slammed his bedroom door shut once the final guests bid their goodbyes, not waiting around for questions he couldn't answer.
Draco didn't remember ever disagreeing with his parents before, even in the darkest of times.
He felt confused and conflicted. Looking back, he had always followed what he believed his father would have done in his place.
He never had an occasion or a reason to go against his family's wishes - well, except not identifying Potter and his friends at the Manor.
This time-travelling, possibly changing the future situation was something Lucius never experienced, however, and Draco couldn't imagine him in it.
If he were to continue being honest with himself, making decisions for himself felt both terrifying and empowering.