A Whispered Confession Can Change Everything

Chapter 8

Draco ventured shyly out of his room at breakfast time, face pink with embarrassment. In a small area in the corner was a table and two chairs. Albus was calmly sipping his tea, looking over his glasses at the pale boy, “Come sit with me, Draco. There’s plenty to choose from.” Sitting down slowly, the young Slytherin quietly selected a Danish and started to shred it, picking at it but not eating. Frowning, “You really should eat.”

Shrugging to himself, eyes on his fingers, “I’m not really hungry.” That was a complete lie, his stomach growling at him in irritation but he needed to figure out how Albus would react to his not following orders and no matter what the result he was going to follow through.

Albus realized with quiet clarity Draco was already testing his boundaries a bit and he had no doubt were he to let this slide matters would only get worse as Draco would push as hard as he could until he did get a reaction. Reaching for his own Danish and carefully applying jam, “Eating is not an option, Draco. If you’re sick I’ll escort you to Madam Pomfrey, otherwise you will eat.”

Draco blinked at him in surprise before slouching in relief and reaching for a fresh role. Dumbledore could see that his reinforcement seemed to comfort Draco and he made a mental note of that. The two of them sat in companionable silence for some time, blue eyes observing the boy to realize that the facts of his home life aside, he really didn’t know that much about him. From his room he’d gleamed his love of dragons and potions. From last night he knew he was scared of the dark, but that was about the extent of it.

When Draco sat back with a satisfied sound Albus gathered his thoughts, “Draco, let’s sit for a moment and talk.” Grey eyes looked up questioningly but followed over to the sofa, curling up in the corner, facing the Headmaster. Albus took up position on the opposite side, leaning back and studying the cautious boy, “Do you have any other interests besides Dragons and Potions?”

Draco paused for a moment, shocked by such a question. No one ever wanted to know about him, using what they knew of his father and mother to assume things about him, “Er...I, uh, I like Quidich.” Albus nodded quietly, patiently. Licking his dry lips, “I play chess very well...and I read all the time.” Albus noticed these were mere surface answers but he decided he wouldn’t push too hard. Draco was frowning in concentration for a moment before just blurting out, “Why did you help me if you hate Slytherins?”

Albus raised both eyebrows in shock, “I don’t hate-...”

Leaning forward insistently, “Yes you do. You and the other professors favor every house over us. Sev is the only refuge we have. McGonagall was only too happy to give me detention with her precious Gryffindors in first year. She was even smiling when she did it. You gave the house cup to Gryffindor by giving them all those points so that we lost to them. All of you are only too happy when I’m humiliated and I don’t understand...” He shook his head in frustration, “You’ve not taken to the political arena so I don’t see how helping a charity case is advantageous to you.”

Shocked to the core, “Is that why you think I did this?”

Shrugging, “Why else would you?”

Albus closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts, “Firstly, neither I nor Minerva hate Slytherins and I must apologize if that is the impression we have given you. While we do not approve of the attitude and manner in which you interact with some students, that does not reflect on whether we approve or disapprove of you. I will admit that the house cup award may not have seemed fair to you but it would be difficult to balance the points Slytherin earned without taking into consideration what Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, and Mr. Weasley did for the school-...”

Scowling, “So give us equal points and make it a tie. Don’t top them off with Longbottom so they squeak by with the win.”

Albus realized Draco held a lot of resentment against Harry, Gryffindor and he as Headmaster for that, “Were there any other instances where you felt I was less than fair?”

Gaping, “You’ve got to be kidding. I’ve got two years worth of instances where Slytherins are treated differently, usually badly, by other Professors. And since you’re Headmaster it’s your job-...”

Draco cringed instinctively, clamping his mouth shut for letting it run away from him. He couldn’t believe he’d said that. Albus steepled his fingers and touched them to his lips, thinking to himself before nodding, “You are right, it is my responsibility how the professors interact with the students. Although your abilities to taunt the Gryffindors would be severely stifled should I make everything truly equal.” Pondering this to himself, “Yes, there would have to start being heavy penalties for the use of words like mudblood and Severus would have to immediately desist what goes on in his potions lab...if we’re being completely fair.”

Sulking, “Then I guess we’ll leave it unfair.”

Still leaned back casually, “The point, Draco, is that your beliefs and opinions were not addressed
anymore than a Gryffindor’s desire to run headfirst into trouble. Perhaps I awarded points unfairly from your point of view, but concessions have been made for every house, though some are less obvious than others. As a Slytherin you have a private room since first year and access through your parents’ accounts to owl order. Even the seventh year Gryffindors have neither such luxury. The Hufflepuffs have direct access to their own private green houses and the Ravenclaws have their own library. As a house, as individual students we have tried to keep all of your different lifestyles in mind but I don’t believe everything will ever be completely equal.”

Nibbling on his bottom lip thoughtfully, “Oh.” There was no winning this argument and Draco saw that. The Headmaster was clever enough to see around every angle. And maybe he truly believed what he was saying. Only time would tell. Speaking of telling, “How did you know?” Looking down and fiddling with a button, whispering, “I didn’t tell anyone.”

Albus regarded Draco thoughtfully before deciding to answer, realizing Draco’s subject change was his way of conceding the point. He wasn’t disillusioned in the slightest, knowing exactly what he was asking, “You did tell someone.”

Blinking, thinking back with a frown before shrugging, “Not really. Just Myrtle but...she...told you??”

Eyes twinkling, “In her own way.”

Turning ashen in color, not believing, “If I kept my mouth shut none of this would have happened.”

“Not entirely. Your friend Miss Parkinson was so worried about you she went to Severus with her observations. That was how we figured out your wandering about the hallways at night. She was the only one to see you leaving the dormitories.” Looking over his glasses, speaking delicately since he was dealing with a child, regardless of how adult Draco sometimes spoke and acted, “If you hadn’t spoken this secret might have harmed you.”

“You mean he would have raped me again.” Draco lost all color completely as soon as the impact of his own words hit him. A tidal wave of nausea erupted from his stomach and he turned to the right before vomiting violently. Albus immediately spelled away the mess, holding the trembling body as he dry heaved before promptly bursting into tears. The Headmaster, even if he understood the reactions, was a little thrown by the radical mood swings and knew without a doubt Draco needed a quiet weekend more than anything.

Draco wound his arms tightly around Albus’ neck, holding onto him as his only lifeline. He felt the old wizard shift and gave a wordless cry, scrambling to not move. He felt arms wrap around him reassuringly, the Headmaster only getting comfortable and broke down even further than he thought possible. Sobbing with a pout on his face and a whine in his voice, “Why am I crying so much??”

Albus chuckled softly at the way Draco had asked his question, not his reactions, rubbing a soothing hand up and down the shaking back, “Because you haven’t until now.” Draco pulled back a little with a bewildered look. What was this crazy man talking about? He’d been crying off and on for a week now, “Let me ask you this...were you allowed to cry at the manor?” Silently he shook his head, “And that’s why you do so now. You’re crying because you know I’ll let you. I’ll actually encourage you to do so until you don’t need to anymore.”

Sobbing softly, “When will I not need to?”

Shaking his head, “Only you can answer that.”

Whining, “I want to stop...”

Speaking soothingly, gently yet firmly as only a parent can, “Don’t force it, Draco.”

Whimpering softly, “But it hurts...” He didn’t want to cry anymore. Crying forced him to think about it and thinking about it swirled so many thoughts of anger and betrayal and it just made him cry harder, repeating the bitter cycle until he was left exhausted. Plus his throat was getting all scratchy and his head was starting to hurt.

Shushing him gently, running a comforting hand over his head even as he continued to shake and cry softly, “I know it hurts. But you’ll feel so much better, I promise. Hold onto me as tightly as you wish and just let it go, Draco. I won’t release you until you’re ready.” If then, really. Not until he was certain the boy didn’t need it, “And to answer your other question...I’ve done all this because you needed me to, and its both as simple and as complicated as that.” Draco responded by holding onto him a little tighter.

***

Draco quietly played with his tomato soup, thinking to himself. He’d spent most of Friday crying a river but after he’d exhausted himself he found that Albus was right, he did feel better, if only a little. And this in turn made him trust Albus all the more, whether it was the old wizard’s intention or not remained to be seen. He really wasn’t hungry today but he forced down half a bowl and two crackers before he pushed it away in distaste. He wasn’t sure what he felt now.

He’d cried himself out yesterday, now his emotions were all gone at the moment. No sadness or anger or fear or anything. Just a big blank spot, waiting to be filled with something, but he wasn’t sure what. A gentle hand squeezed his shoulder, “Very good, Draco. You managed more than half.” Draco looked up and gave the Headmaster a tiny smile, a bit of happiness filling that empty spot.

An encouraging pat on the back before Albus moved into the parlor, choosing a book before sitting down to read. Draco wiped his mouth, softly calling a house elf before walking cautiously over and sitting on the sofa, “Albus?”

Albus looked over his glasses, “Yes, Draco?”

Taking a deep breath but wanting to get this out of the way, “What are your expectations for school?” At the older wizard’s questioning look Draco explained further, “Father had specific expectations for grades and ranking and I wanted to know what you expect of me.”

Albus nodded slowly before running a hand through his beard, “I expect you to try your best.”

Draco blinked twice before looking taken aback, “That’s all?”

“Of course, Draco.”

Sputtering, clearly shocked, “But...don’t you expect me to outrank the mudbloods or something. That’s what is always expected because I’m a pureblood and we’re better than they are and if I’m beaten by a filthy mudblood then I’m a poor excuse for a pureblood wizard.”

Albus managed to ignore the ‘mudblood’ comments only because he knew exactly where Draco had heard this. Directly from a horse’s ass, so to speak, “Draco, do you think purebloods are superior to muggleborns?”

His answer crisp and immediate, “Of course.”

“Why?”

Blinking, “Why else would they be called filthy?”

“Because some wizards are ignorant to the truth.”

Shaking his head a little, “But they have dirty blood. Mudbloods-...”

“Muggleborn, Draco.”

Swallowing at the firm correction, remembering himself now, “Right. But...why would they be called...that if it wasn’t true?”

Lifting a shoulder, “We often place horrible labels to that which we fear...and many people fear what they do not understand.”

“Mud-ggleborns don’t scare me.”

Closing the book he was reading, “Do muggles?”

“No!” But the way he exclaimed his answer was too quick and too loud not to be a lie.

Lifting an eyebrow, Minerva having quietly told him her suspicion, “Not even a little?”

Unconsciously pouting, “How would I know, I’ve never met one.”

Smiling slightly, “And you believe that all muggleborns are inferior?”

Nodding emphatically, “Yes.”

“Miss Granger?”

Crossing his arms, “She cheats in Transfiguration.”

Chuckling softly, “If I would consider one student above cheating it would be her.”

Glowering, “But not me, right, because I’m a Slytherin-...”

“Because I saw you do it.” Draco’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped, “I believe a certain Astronomy question-...”

“Okay!” He was turning a rapid shade of red, embarrassed by that. It had been the one time he hadn’t
looked over the material and glancing at Granger’s paper had been irresistible. He’d never been called on it so he’d assumed he’d gotten away with it.

Leaning back, “So if you believe muggleborns to be inferior, then so are their children...even those that would be considered half blood.”

Glaring, “If this is about Potter, we all know he’s your special golden boy.”

“I was referring to myself, actually.” Draco froze in surprise, “My mother was a muggleborn and my father was a pureblood wizard.” Raising an eyebrow, “Am I inferior to you?” Draco silently shook his head, not even hesitating, “Then if I am an exception to the rule, perhaps there is a flaw in the rule.”

Draco blinked slowly, thinking before grinning weakly, “Plus I would hardly say Crabbe and Goyle are superior to Granger in certain things. She may be a know-it-all but those two...” He shuddered at their complete ineptness.