Never before had Draco looked forward more to being called to account in the Headmaster's Office. For the first time, no matter what Dumbledore decided to do with him, it would be a walk in the park compared to the alternative. He'd been in the Hospital Wing for five days and nights. The time for his meeting with the Dark Lord had come and gone. And with any luck the news of his protege's failure had reached the Lord's ears and he would bother no longer with recruiting him.
Draco doubted Potter had blabbed about his use of the Cruciatus curse, and even if he had, the scarhead had no proof. Dumbledore might hold Potter's word in high regard, but that would make little difference in the face of a grand Malfoy bribe. With his father's death, Draco had become one of the ten wealthiest wizards in Britain. And if necessary he'd spend every knut of that wealth to safeguard his person and name. But he highly doubted it would come to that.
Touching his scarred right hand gingerly (Madam Pomfrey had worked wonders but even she could only do so much), Draco stepped into the Headmaster's Office.
"I wouldn't be talking about circumstances if I didn't, don't you think?" Draco said, a slight smirk on his lips. "I expect you'll want to punish me, perhaps severely so as to set an example. And I'll apologise too, if that's what you want. Publically even. Whatever's needed to atone for my wrongdoings."
"If that's what you feel is necessary," Albus replied, narrowing his eyes behind his spectacles. "However, I would like to hear the whole fascinating tale from your own lips, if possible."
Draco was confident Dumbledore wouldn't try to look into his mind. He was too noble for that. And even if he did try, Draco was pretty sure he'd be able to keep him out. Occlumency had been part of his training with Snape. So lying came easily to Draco.
"There's really not much to tell, Headmaster. I'm sure you know Potter and I have not been on the best of terms. We rarely are. So we arranged for a duel, to clear the air as it were. It was illegal and if you feel the need to punish us for that then go right ahead. But Madam Pomfrey's patched us both up splendidly and I for one am quite happy to return to my studies."
Albus sat back in his chair and stroked his chin. "I have assigned Mr. Potter a month of detention," he said. "He admits to throwing you through a glass case, rendering you unconcious."
"Well," said Dumbledore, supressing a small smile. "Your duelling parter was remarkably unspecific about how his own injuries were obtained. I fear he does not have your ability to be subtle about such things."
Immediately, Draco rattled off the spells he had cast (save one). It was remarkably easy. For the last five days he'd played the duel over and over in his mind. He liked to think it had helped his speedy recovery.
"Expelliarmus, Sectumsempra, Incendio, Relashio, Levicorpus, and a few errant fists."
"Ah, good old fashioned hand-to-hand, I see," smiled Dumbledore in the way he knew was highly irritating to students of the Slytherin persuasion. "You must have quite a strong arm, to break bones, Mr. Malfoy."
"I get by," Draco shrugged, slightly annoyed by Dumbledore's grandfatherly smile. You were never quite sure whether the old codger was really naively happy about something or just faking it. It tended to be wiser to think the latter. "So, are we done here? A month of detention like Potter?"
Dumbledore sighed. "Very well," he said. "A month of detention, starting this week. With Harry. Someone will notify you when and where you are to begin. And Draco - if there is ever a time when you feel the need for a ready ear... my door is always open."
Draco doubted Potter had blabbed about his use of the Cruciatus curse, and even if he had, the scarhead had no proof. Dumbledore might hold Potter's word in high regard, but that would make little difference in the face of a grand Malfoy bribe. With his father's death, Draco had become one of the ten wealthiest wizards in Britain. And if necessary he'd spend every knut of that wealth to safeguard his person and name. But he highly doubted it would come to that.
Touching his scarred right hand gingerly (Madam Pomfrey had worked wonders but even she could only do so much), Draco stepped into the Headmaster's Office.
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"There's really not much to tell, Headmaster. I'm sure you know Potter and I have not been on the best of terms. We rarely are. So we arranged for a duel, to clear the air as it were. It was illegal and if you feel the need to punish us for that then go right ahead. But Madam Pomfrey's patched us both up splendidly and I for one am quite happy to return to my studies."
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"Expelliarmus, Sectumsempra, Incendio, Relashio, Levicorpus, and a few errant fists."
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