One More Year

Chapter Thirty-Two

Draco couldn't seem to shake the bad luck he was having today. From the moment he woke up, a deep feeling of dread had settled in the pit of his stomach and nothing he did could shake it. He had a terrible night sleep last night, he wasn't able to sneak out to see Hermione since Longbottom and Abbott were in the common room all night. He finally got to sleep and then woke up late and couldn't find his favourite green satin tie to wear with his uniform. Hermione was nowhere to be found when he finally got out of bed. He bit his tongue during breakfast and managed to spill hot coffee on himself. He received another threatening letter in the post. To top it off, the entire school was talking about Hogsmeade and he found himself wanting to go, even though spending the day with Hermione sounded nice too. But he knew she would actually make him study... a lot. Even the weather was perfect outside, a perfect warm sunny day, with a vivid blue sky, with just a light breeze, beckoning him to leave the castle. The only bright spot was at breakfast time, where he got to listen to Theo, mimic Blaise's recent date with Daphne where he made a total fool of himself. Even during the story though, Draco found himself periodically glancing towards the Gryffindor table to try and spot Hermione. He sighed finally relenting that she must have got a head start on studying and was probably in the library or the dormitory. As the library was closer, he figured he'd start there. He took a walk around before deciding that she wasn't there, and he would need to head up every staircase in the castle to get back to their room. He let out a loud sigh as he begrudgingly started making his way up the first staircase, when Professor McGonagall approached him.

"Mr. Malfoy, I'd like to speak with you in my office immediately please." She had an extremely stern expression on her face.

Draco followed the headmistress in silence. He hadn't thought his day could get worse, but he doubted she wanted to speak to him about anything good. They made their way up inside the stone gargoyle before entering her office.

"Sit," she ordered, motioning towards the chair in front of her desk. All the other headmasters looked on from within their frames in silence, stern expressions gracing each of their faces. He was surprised to see Professor Snape's portrait on the wall, it hadn't been there earlier this year when he visited this office.

Professor McGonagall followed his gaze and answered his unspoken question, "Mr. Potter felt that Professor Snape should be recognized for his actions during the war and as headmaster. He was insistent that his portrait be hung up. I will tell you that the board of governors were not pleased about this proposal, but Mr. Potter was quite adamant, and, in the end, they had to allow his request."

Draco nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off of Professor Snape who was looking severely at him.

"You may be wondering why I requested this meeting?" she asked, pulling his attention back to her. "It has come to my attention that you have been receiving threatening letters." Draco groaned. He had explicitly told Hermione not to say anything. Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows at him, "you understand that these letters should have been reported immediately and be forwarded to the authorities."

"I don't think it's that serious. My father has received similar letters in the past, and he has just destroyed them."

"That may be so, but I cannot allow any of my students to feel threatened or be in danger especially if I could do something to prevent it."

Draco exhaled, trying to think of a polite way to respond. "I'm not overly concerned about them Professor. I've destroyed most of them so there's nothing to pass on to the aurors." As if the aurors would want to help him. He knew they were angry that him and his parents had escaped Azcaban.

Professor McGonagall looked at him gravely, before relenting. "Very well Mr. Malfoy. However, I must ask that if you receive any more letters to please bring them forward."

Draco clenched his bag reflexively, thinking of the lone unopened letter inside. "Yes, Professor." He took his leave, glancing at his watch as he exited the office. He was late. He was really late. Hermione was going to be so upset. He sighed, as he started making his way back to the Common Room, not able to shake the ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach that he had been walking around with all day.

His mind drifted to the time he was seven years old when he was out shopping in Diagon Alley with his father. Draco had been feeling anxious the entire trip. His father, noticing his nervous behavior, asked him what was wrong. He said he just had a bad feeling he couldn't shake it off. He thought his father would just shrug it off or tell him he was being silly but instead his father stopped right in the middle of the street and kneeled down to Draco's level, looking him straight in the eye and said very seriously, "Draco, as a wizard the most important thing to learn is to trust your instincts. If something doesn't feel right, then trust that." His father immediately stood back up and apparated them back to Malfoy Manor. Draco never learned whether his instinct that day was right or not, but he always remembered his father's advice and trusted in it.

Perhaps it was coincidence or maybe a self-fulfilling prophecy. Either way, whenever this happened Draco tended to be more uptight, the hairs on the back of his neck would stand up. Every few seconds Draco would reach compulsively into his robes, checking that his wand was still there, eyes darting back and forth watching for anything out of the ordinary. He wondered what Hermione would think if he told her. Would she dismiss him as being superstitious or take him seriously?

He started up the staircase, the castle was abnormally quiet for this time of day. Almost every student would be at Hogsmeade by now. The younger students were most likely in their common rooms lamenting over being stuck inside. It was eerily quiet and Draco felt himself speeding up his pace. A floorboard squeaked behind him and he whipped around, wand at the ready, but not before feeling himself go stiff as a board as everything turned black.