A Whispered Confession Can Change Everything

Chapter 6

Draco all but ran up the lawn to the entrance to Hogwarts, Minerva following at a much more leisurely pace. Albus was there as the blond boy hoped, eyes twinkling merrily at the boy’s expression of glee, “Look! Can you believe it? Look what she gave me!”

Albus knelt down, Draco skidding to a halt in front of him and proudly showing his violin. Raising a surprised eyebrow at the quality of the instrument. This was no mere beginners instrument but he let his questions go in light of Draco’s sheer joy, “Yes, it is most impressive. Now, Draco, have you eaten?” The blond boy silently shook his head, “Then why don’t you head down to the kitchens...I’m sure the house elves will prepare you something. Just tickle the pear and the door will open.”

A giggle escaped Draco, his expression looking more than a little horrified at his slip. He immediately took a wary step back and ducked his head, “I’m sorry.”

Frowning, “For what, Draco?”

Nibbling on his lip, wariness not fading, “I...it’s nothing. Sorry, sir, I’ll go at once.”

Draco walked calmly now, his happiness carefully contained and the Headmaster sighed to himself as he rose to his feet, “It’s seems Lucius’ conditioning is still very much a reality for Mr. Malfoy.” Albus glanced at Minerva, silently agreeing with her.

“That was quite an instrument, Minerva.”

The Professor nodded mutely, pondering something that had been troubling her. If only there was some way to let the boy know that it was okay to be a child, “Headmaster-...”

“Albus, Minerva.”

She gave a wry grin, “Albus, not that I wish to be forward about this but what is to be done with the boy?”

For his part, the Headmaster looked bewildered. He thought he’d been quite plain, “Done?”

“He can’t spend the entire summer in the dungeons with no one to keep him company. It’s bad enough we put his house down there. But to leave him there would unintentionally reinforce his separation from the rest of us.”

Albus nodded, walking slowly for the castle, “I am outfitting the rooms across from the Gryffindor tower so there will be room for both of us.”

Thinking of his violin, “Perhaps something near Ravenclaw would be more appropriate...”

“Minerva?”

Sighing softly to herself, pointing vaguely in the direction young Draco had walked to, “The boy has a gift for the violin.”

Smiling, remembering his own youth, happily playing a wooden flute out by the Forbidden Forest, “Ah, a
talent.”

“If one were to say that Mozart had a talent then yes, the boy has one as well.”

Albus gave her a startled expression, “Really?”

“He’s never touched an instrument in his life, yet he played that violin as if he’d been tutored since infancy.” Fidgeting, “I don’t think the hat chose wisely, putting the boy in Slytherin.”

Tutting to himself, wagging a finger, “The hat is never wrong, Professor. Were it to ever come into question, it might very well shake the very foundation of what this school was built upon.”

Squaring her shoulders and wringing her hands, “And were you not suspicious when the hat instantly placed him in Slytherin. It barely touched his head.”

He pursed his lips a tad, idly stroking his beard as he was prone to do when thinking, “The boy was where he needed to be, to survive his father.”

“And now?”

Albus sighed and closed his eyes, stopping for a moment. He stroked his beard thoughtfully a little longer before slowly opening his eyes, “In the bylaws of this school, it states that every student on the eve of their eleventh year will be brought to Hogwarts and sorted into their houses.”

Scoffing, “Of course, those turned eleven or near to it are first years so of course they would be sorted-...”

Placing a calming hand on her arm, “But Draco was sorted at nine. He is an exception to the bylaws. But they must be maintained so he must attend the sorting ceremony this year as it will be the eve of his eleventh year... and be sorted into his proper house.”

“Albus...that’s brilliant.”

Lightly touching her arm to lead her to his office, “I am known for having my moments. Now, why don’t you tell me about this gift of his...”

***

Draco followed after Albus a tad warily, holding onto his violin protectively even as they climbed the winding staircase. He hadn’t been to this side of the castle often, but quickly figured out they were in Gryffindor territory, “Sir?”

“Yes, Draco?”

Nibbling on the inside of his lip lightly, “Why are we in the Gryffindor side of the castle?”

The old wizard reached his hand back, prompted Draco up to his side, “My boy, this castle is for every student. There are specific areas where your house sleeps but that does not mean that a student may not walk wherever they please.”

Draco frowned a little at that, “Then why must we eat separately as well?”

Albus gave Draco a considering glance, looking a bit puzzled himself, “You know...except for the sorting and end of year feasts I don’t know.”

Something had been niggling at the back of his mind ever since he’d arrived for the first time but he’d never had enough curiosity to find out, “Sir, I know I’m just a student but...”

Albus stopped and gave him a kind look, “Draco, you are not just a student. You are an intelligent young man and my charge.” Nodding but still looking a tad perplexed, “Did you want to tell me something?”

Looking indecisive for a moment, “May I?”

Smiling and walking up the stairs, “You may tell me anything.”

“Why do the Ravenclaws have a secret library the rest of the students can’t access?”

Dumbledore nearly stumbled but caught himself quickly, “How did you know that?”

Shrugging, “I’m a Slytherin. I lurk.” But Draco wasn’t done there, two years worth of questions practically tripping over his tongue to escape and for the first time believing Albus would be safe enough to ask, “And why are the classes so different? In grammar we were taught to read and write but there were other classes for incompetents. Or independent courses for those advanced. Most of the time I could go to the library to look up what I pleased but now I have to sit and be bored to tears with spells and instructions I already know. Granger too, I would think, since she’s memorized everything.”

“Ah, but memorizing the book and using the spells are two different things, Draco.”

“Well, yes, but I know how to do the spells. Charms is a joke, I already know how to do most of Godfather’s potions up through NEWTs and I’d rather stay as far away from Care of Magical Creatures as I could get.” Albus gave Draco a considering look. He’d been talking about changes, perhaps this would be the best method. A little diversification depending on a child’s strengths. And the education board had been eagerly awaiting his proposal of changes.

“So, if given a choice, you would like to see advanced levels on all courses, perhaps even separate from simply being pushed up a year?”

Draco felt he was being patronized and flinched to himself. He should know better by now than to question adults. It always got him into trouble. Looking down, “I know it’s too much to ask for. There aren’t enough professors and I understand that. But...Zabini excels in History of Magic, I in Potions, Pansy in Transfiguration. Advancing us a year in those areas would be alright but I’ll still be bored.”

Albus stopped at the landing, “Draco, impossibilities aside, would you think it would be a greater benefit to offer advanced courses, independent study, or a separate curriculum for those that can keep up?”

Taking a deep breath before shrugging and answering honestly, “All of them.” Albus raised an eyebrow but the blond continued in earnest, “Potter sucks at potions. Remedial would be too hard for him. The same for Longbottom. Being muggle raised it’s little wonder he doesn’t blow himself up. They need one on one tutoring and quite frankly I think Severus scares the piss out of them. Granger, Pansy, Zabini could all do with advanced work. One or several years advanced, I don’t know. Granger can work independently but Pansy won’t unless she’d been put to it by a Professor. I can work either way but like I said, taking fourth year work is still boring for me.”

Albus stroked his beard, at first not seeing Draco flinch away as if expecting a slap for his honesty. It took him a split second to see it, letting his hand fall, “Draco.” His voice was soft but urgent and with trepidation Draco looked back up. He wanted to wrap this boy up in a comforting hug but knew he would not react well to being touched right now, “I want you to understand this. I will never strike you...and honesty is not a punishable offense. Quite the contrary.”

Swallowing and shaking a little, “I was impudent.”

Kneeling down so he could be eye level with the lad, “No, Draco. You asked me a question and responded honestly to my questions. Your tone was not disrespectful and your thoughts were sincere. That is what I expect from you and any student in this school.”

Face pinched, “But father always says-...”

Albus nodded, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder and speaking firmly, “Your father is not always right.” Draco looked at him, stunned, before ever so slowly nodding as if the concept were something new and foreign. And maybe it was. His grandmother had often told him it was never wrong to ask her questions, too, “Would you like a hug, child?” Draco looked up silently, still trembling all over and not all that certain but felt himself nod. Arms opened and he wordlessly huddled against the Headmaster, feeling those arms wrap around him protectively and suddenly he felt completely safe. It quickly ingrained in his mind that Albus equated safety.

He leaned his head against a shoulder and closed his eyes for a moment, sighing as his frantic heartbeat slowed down as the panic in his mind stopped. He felt tears burn his eyes a second before they flowed and he buried his head into Albus’ shoulder to hide. Running a soothing hand along his back, “There is nothing wrong with tears, Draco...sometimes they’re the only thing that can heal.”

Voice muffled, “It’s because I’m weak.”

Shaking his head slowly, moving in a rocking motion slightly which seemed to help the blond boy greatly, “Crying is never a weakness. Those that can cry are some of the bravest souls in the world. Tears are what you need to feel better and don’t ever be ashamed of that, Draco. By Merlin, you’re just a little boy. You’re allowed to cry.”

Sounding offended even if his voice was clogged with tears, “I’m not a little boy!”

Squeezing him gently with a hug, “I’m afraid you still are for some years to come.” Draco pulled back, embarrassed and heat racing up his cheeks. Again a handkerchief all but appeared in Albus’ hands, wiping his face dry and Draco silently mused the Headmaster must keep an endless supply, “Better?” Draco nodded mutely, eyes on the ground. Patting him lightly without comment, Albus climbed to his feet and led the way, opening the door and leading Draco down the corridor to a portrait, “Perhaps we should develop a test, to see where a child’s strengths and weaknesses lie.”

Draco jerked a little, realizing Albus had effortlessly picked up on the last strand of their conversation. Looking wary, realizing the old wizard was a lot smarter than he let on. Shrugging but still thinking, “Maybe one that could tell you what year they’re in, level wise.”

Albus led Draco to his side, “My boy I think you’re on to something. Ah, yes...this, Draco, is sir Phillip Eisen of the Royal Elven Guard, back in their day.”

The portrait of the proud looking elf bowed ever so slightly, “Password?”

“Interior fânum...which means?”

Draco grinned, tears forgotten. He’d always loved Latin translation, “Inner Sanctuary.”