Velleity | Dramione

VII - Parallels

POTTER IS GONE? POTTER IS GONE! You fool! How could information like this just "slip past" you? Now, thanks to you, we have no idea where he is. How do you expect us to kill him when we don't know where he is?
Find out where the hell he's gone. Remember, the longer it takes you to figure out, the longer you'll spend at Hogwarts.
Signed,
Lucius

Draco groaned. His father was furious. So furious in fact, that he didn't even address the letter to him. Draco was in some deep shit now.

How was he going to find Saint Potter? Especially since Hermione was already suspicious of him. She was supposed to be his way in. He supposed he could get information out of Weaselette, but frankly, she scared him.

Another idea popped into his head, and though it literally pained him to do so, it might be the smartest idea he's got. He'd just have to get close to Hermione—make her trust him and use it to get information out of her. 

He would have to become her friend.

Draco wanted to hurl. He knew it was the only reasonable way. No one would suspect a thing. At least, he hoped they wouldn't. But he also knew he couldn't in hell pull this off on his own. 

Draco didn't have friends. He had Crab and Goyle—of course, they were at his beck and call like puppies and that made them more like servants. He always knew he was too good for them anyhow. Pansy was repulsive, though he hardly knew anyone more cunning. Astoria was convenient—practically in love with him and all. But it wasn't as though he actually cared for her. 

There were, however, two people that Draco almost considered friends. Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. He was wildly jealous of the fact that they'd received their Dark Marks before him, but for some reason, he couldn't hate them.

He didn't understand the feeling at all. 

So, he did the only thing he could think of doing. He pulled out a piece of parchment and and a quill and wrote:

To: Nott and Zabini
Don't you dare laugh at me when I tell you this. I need your help. My parents have sent me to Hogwarts as a spy for the Dark Lord, and I've come up with a plan to get that information. In the wake of Potter's absence, I didn't know how I'd get that information. However, Granger got left behind. I think she knows where Saint Potter and Weasel went.
The only way I can get information out of her is if I get close to her. That's where you come in. I don't know the first thing about making friends—and you twots are the closest thing I've got, so get your asses down here and help me become friends with Granger.
Sincerely,
Draco

That was just about the dumbest thing he'd ever wrote. But, it was too late now. His owl grabbed the letter and dashed out the window. Draco couldn't wait. In no time, he'd get the information and his Dark Mark. And then, he'd get to watch the mudbloods burn. 

༒༒༒

Three short days later, they arrived. The two Slytherins were met with confused stares and whispers—Much to Blaise's distaste.

"What are you all staring at?" he asked. "You should be happy. The party's finally arrived!"

The students kept staring and Theo used that as an opportunity to do some sort of dance. You never could have guessed they were Death Eaters. 

Draco sauntered down the hall towards them. "Friends," he said, arms open in invitation. He gestured for them to follow him and the three made their way to his room.

"So it's true, then?" Blaise asked. "McGonagall really dismantled the house system."

Draco nodded. "Blame the mudblood."