Trigger warning - brief mention of sexual assault for minor character
* ° * ° *
Drew gasped, rushing to see whether Wilby had actually killed the idiot.
Screaming, Nott slammed onto the staircase directly below, thankfully stopping there and not plunging down all seven stories. He revealed himself alive by groaning audibly, and Drew turned to gape at Wilby.
He looked horrified, all his anger vanishing into the air, as void as his next words. "I...I'm sorry."
"Come on," she murmured, taking his arm.
They met Xavier on the sixth floor, who was rushing about urgently with cake frosting on his shoulder. He sounded worried, "What's going on, brats? I heard a scream." All at once, Drew felt immensely grateful that they had an attentive prefect.
"Theodore Nott fell off the staircase when it moved," she lied. "I think he's on the one between this and the seventh."
Xavier's jaw dropped, and instantly he was concerned. He spun and sprinted off to the stairways, the two second years right behind him.
The injured student was bleeding from his head and legs, and he had broken at least his arm, from what Drew could tell. Wilby kept his eyes away from the body, as if he didn't want to believe he'd been capable of hurting someone so much.
"Immobulus," Xavier said, waving his wand. Nott went still, and Xavier muttered something else, and Nott rose into the air.
They hustled to the Hospital Wing, and after explaining to Madam Pomfrey "what happened", stood in the corner of the dungeons.
"Are you sure he only fell?" Xavier asked lowly, staring accusingly at Drew.
"I didn't push him," she said evenly, almost upset that he had reason to think so, "if that's what you're getting at."
He crossed his arms, milliseconds away from giving her a year's worth of detention. "Then what did you do?"
"I pushed him," Wilby admitted before she could speak.
Xavier's mouth fell open for the second time. "What, you did?" Then he nodded slowly with understanding, "Oh, oh, of course — you're covering for her."
"I'm not," Wilby insisted, voice cracking. His emotion seemed to be returning, "He was...saying some things. I got mad."
"It was completely provoked," Drew agreed readily. The prefect had to understand. "Look, Wilby isn't passive for once. The only explanation is that Nott really pissed him off."
"Fine," Xavier grumbled, finally moved. "But don't do that again. We already have a monster on the loose, and I don't need more people in the infirmary. Also, don't sneak out after dark anymore. At least until the monster is caught." He stared them down angrily, "I mean it. No 2 AM snacks or duels in the middle of the night—"
"Alright alright," Drew waved him off. Then, because he looked ready to dish out some insults, she asked, "Where's Quentin?"
"Back at home," he snorted. "Why? You find him more bearable than me?"
"You just seem to miss him a lot."
"Of course I do," he growled through his teeth. Then he pivoted and marched away, "Don't give me any more headaches, hellion."
Drew gave Wilby a significant look, "Thank Merlin we have a wonderful prefect, huh?"
"Be quiet!" Xavier shouted from far down the hall.
"That wasn't sarcasm!" she yelled back.
There was no response, and Drew grabbed her friend, dragging him towards the girl's dormitory. "You, mister, owe me an explanation."
Wilby planted his feet, pulling her back. "I-I...we're going to your room?"
"You were literally in there this morning," she snapped moodily. "I honestly don't see why it should bother you now."
"It's a bit late," he tried again, casually avoiding her eyes, "I think it's better we talk tomorrow."
"We're talking now, Wilby"
"But...it's a long story."
She wanted to rip his green hoodie to shreds and burn it. "That's been your excuse for more than a year, and guess what? I'm tired! I'm tired of you changing the subject, delaying your explanations, and trying to make me forget you're keeping secrets. I know all your tricks by now, and I'm bloody sick of it."
He just stared at her, biting his lip.
"Sometimes..." she said faintly, but trailed off, deciding against what she'd been thinking since he'd first lied them out of detention, and then when she'd seen his determined gaze at the Quidditch Pitch when she'd fallen out of the sky.
Sometimes I realize why you're in Slytherin.
"Drew," he whispered, finally letting himself get pulled. "I don't want you to know this."
She stepped into the dim hallway, and she gestured impatiently for him to float himself over.
He did, and soon they were sitting on Cyndee's soft and made bed. Drew peered expectantly at him, but he wouldn't stop fidgeting. His leg was jittering and his fingers were tapping on the bedpost. She wondered if it was just a ploy to get her sympathy.
"Wilby." When he refused to look at her, she grabbed him by the chin and forced his green eyes on her. His face was truly too innocent for someone so haunted by something he kept to himself. "Do you really think I'm going to think of you any different if you just tell me? What could you have possibly done? I don't care if your father is terrible. It doesn't mean you are."
"I know...but it's just — your perspective of me is going to change." He tried to explain, "In your eyes...I'm not going to be innocent anymore."
Drew flashed back to an incident that happened just last month. Nott had whispered something to Wilby at the library. When she'd asked him what he said, Wilby had shrugged, eyes bright and nonchalant, "He was just insulting you."
It had been a perfectly reasonable answer, yet Drew's head had been screaming Liar liar liar. She had known he was lying.
Wilby was a liar, and a damn good one at that.
"If this is about your lying," Drew said slowly, "I know that already. You've lied to me a lot. But it was just to cover up something about your dad."
He flinched away, "Yeah."
"It's starting to hurt, you know," Drew confessed. It was the most brutally honest about her feelings she'd ever been. "It hurts having both of my friends keep their pasts a secret from me. Three, actually, if you count — if you count Eliza."
Drew's chest still caved at the memory of her. Some friend she was.
"I'm sorry," Wilby said instantly, and the two words drove a second knife into her because she couldn't tell if he meant it. People so often said that the truth could always be found in someone's eyes, but how in the name of Merlin are you supposed to see if someone's telling the truth just by looking at their organs?
And if he was going to explain, she had to make him. "Wilby, was your father a Death Eater?"
He closed his eyes, and his lip quivered. "Yes."
Drew exhaled. She couldn't mess this up. "And Nott found out somehow, and amused himself by threatening to reveal it. You do realize that it doesn't mean you're a bad person? You father's actions don't tell me anything about you."
"But I want to kill him."
A chill whipped through her, raising goosebumps all over her skin. Those were words that she never wanted to hear Wilby say. "In all honesty...he probably deserves to be killed. I'd kill him too, if I had to."
"Do you really know that?" he asked her, voice desperate and his eyes watering. "Would you really, truly kill someone? You say you would all the time, but could you?"
"If I had to," she repeated, feeling like it was the truth.
"I dream about hunting him down," he rasped. "I dream about torturing him until he can't even beg for mercy. And then I dream of stabbing him in the heart. Tell me I'm not a psychopath."
"But those are nightmares," Drew pointed out. "Aren't they? Those are your fears and your imagination. You're scared of being like that. You aren't...really that way."
He hesitated, "I pushed Theodore off the staircase."
"If you hadn't, I would've."
"No offence Drew, but I don't know if you're the best person to compare myself to."
"Okay, fair point, but you were horrified afterwards." She smoothed a crease in the hoodie over his shoulder, "And I think that says enough. Listen now, this is the first time you even lashed out. You've never done it before. Even Saint Potter's gotten into fights, I'll bet."
"Yeah," he said half-heartedly.
"Okay look at me," Drew grabbed his shoulders again. "Did you know he was going to fall off the rails? Or did you just push, without looking at what was behind him?"
He looked to the side, contemplating this. "I just pushed," he admitted. "But it doesn't matter," he rushed on before she could say anything, "you know, Death Eaters are known to have been really antisocial people at school."
Drew stared at him, not understanding, "You have me. And Cyndee."
"Yeah, well," his voice turned just a shade bitter, "you never called me your friend, and Cyndee might as well be the same as me. I spent my first term here alone, did you know? That's why I latched onto you the second I heard you broke it off with Eliza. Before that, you didn't pay attention to anyone but her."
She tried to digest all this new information. Wilby kept a lot to himself. "I'm sorry that I didn't talk to you enough. You are my friend, Wilby. The best one I've had, actually. Eliza...never was."
His expression seemed to soften, and he looked embarrassed, "Sorry for accusing you of pretty much being obsessed with her."
Drew tried to laugh, "Um, yeah." She sighed, "Maybe I was. Sorry."
Wilby actually laughed, "You can't apologize for having feelings."
"Shut up," she muttered. The words seemed to sour the mood.
He turned his head away, "I look nothing like my mom, you know. That means I'm going to look exactly like him when I grow up."
"Wilby, it doesn't matter."
"Sometimes, my mom freezes when she sees me. If I accidentally surprise her, she has to catch her breath."
"What did he do?" she asked finally.
A shiny tear traced a curved path down his cheek, clinging to his jaw. She reached out to gingerly wipe it off. She realized that she had never seen him cry until today. Even she had cried over Eliza one day, when the crushing feeling of losing her friend had finally caught up with her and smashed through her seething walls. Nobody had seen it, and she wondered how many students at Hogwarts had wept behind the curtains of their bed.
She let him collect his thoughts, not pushing him anymore.
"The February before I was born, my mom was attacked." He swallowed, "The man terrified her. He had a black snake and skull tattoo on his arm. He could do magic, and she was just a normal Muggle. She didn't stand a chance."
Horror seized Drew's gut, and she suddenly wanted to empty it out. She hadn't realized...the story was completely different from what she'd imagined. "I'm so sorry, Wilby."
"You know what happened," he sniffed bitterly. "Afterwards, he left her to die. It was a policeman who found her, bleeding everywhere. She never got her memory wiped."
"Where is he now?" she asked gently. "Was he caught?"
"I don't know who he is."
Drew got quiet. "Surely...your mom could identify him?"
"The only thing she remembers is pale skin and the Dark Mark. It's just — when she sees me, she can tell I look like him. But she can't conjure up his face whenever she wants to. We can't know until I grow up."
She wondered what it was like, knowing you were the spawn of a horrible attack from a serial murderer. Or knowing your own son was half of a serial murderer.
"We'll find him," Drew promised.
He looked at her disbelievingly.
"Someday," she amended. "When we're older. If it turns out he's alive and not in Azkaban, we'll put him there ourselves."
"Drew..." he looked so scared she wanted to hug him.
She decided that now wasn't the time to be cold with him, and wrapped her arms around his frail body, soothingly rubbing his back.
"I don't want to kill anyone," he cried, shaking.
"Wilby, you'll never have to kill anyone. I'll make sure of that. I promise."
The last two words made him cave, and he clutched her tighter, "You can't promise something like that."
Drew closed her eyes, swearing to herself that this was a promise she would do everything in her power to keep. "Yeah, well, too bad."