guilty, filthy, soul (Draco)

There was a cool breeze in the August air that made it clear she was back in England. Romilda Vane pulled her cardigan tighter to her slim body, feeling sad that she lived in a soggy, usually grey country. After having spent the last few weeks with her mother’s family in Italy, Romilda woke up every morning looking at her dark, sun tanned body and was reminded of warmer climates. As much as she loved England as her home, she really couldn’t wait to possibly leave and maybe relocate to a warmer climate. As she looked around with her big brown eyes and saw pale bodies everywhere, she couldn’t help but sigh and think how much prettier they would all look if they could all get a nice tan like she had.

As she walked along the cobble stone pathways of Diagon Alley, Romilda was thankful she took the sense to dress more casually today. As always, Romilda left her back to school shopping until the last minute, and the alley was crowded with new first years, worried parents trying to get anything and everything and the occasional shop keeper who walked outside to attempt to breath in the mayhem. It was weird for her to see these sights, for although she knew that she would be back in Diagon Alley, this was her last time to shop for school supplies. The brunette was finally entering her 7th year and things were looking brighter. No more Dark Lord, no more creepy or crazy teacher, no more…just general weirdness. Walking with her head held high, all Romilda could think was that this year—her last year—was going to be the best Hogwarts had ever seen. After all, she was leaving, and they were going to be missing a valuable student.

Rounding a corner, Romilda entered into a book shop and pulled a neatly folded piece of parchment out. Reading the list quietly out loud, she began scanning the aisles for books. Occasionally she became distracted by a book that seemed interesting, so she would pick it up and begin reading it for a few moments, before remembering what she came here for. She found a particularly interesting book on Italian wizard artists who lived as muggles throughout the Renaissance. “I’ll have to remember to come back and buy that,” she said thoughtfully to herself.

Finding two of her books she began walking down another aisle when a figure caught her eye. Blonde hair like that was noticeable anywhere. Romilda rolled her eyes and let out an audible “Ugh.” Looking up at the labels on top of the shelves, he was standing right in front of the section of books she needed to get to. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Romilda whispered to herself.

Taking a deep breath, Romilda made her way over to the section of books and casually passed the figure. She stood next to him for a moment in uncomfortable silence while she looked for her book before saying, “Aren’t you a little old to be doing back to school shopping, Draco?”

 It wasn’t as if Draco didn’t understand why people hated him, he did, and he didn’t blame them, he often hated himself for what he’d done. He didn’t need nor want anyone else’s input on things, even though he knew that wouldn’t stop them from giving it to him.  It was one of the many reasons Draco enjoyed books and bookshops so much lately, the books provided him with entertainment and knowledge, and the shops allowed him to have just a touch of peace for the most part, and that was enough for him.

The problem with this was that the shops weren’t always quiet, like now, everyone and their mothers, quite literally, were getting ready for the upcoming school term, and that meant that nearly everywhere he went, including bookshop aisles, he was usually mentally and visually being persecuted. It didn’t matter whether he knew who they were or not, there was a certain feeling that went along with those sorts of things, and he was no stranger to them these days. So when the wizard found himself perusing the shelves of a little shop, looking for books on potioneering and magical tinkering, only to hear someone muttering to themselves in disgust, presumably because of him, Draco wasted no time in cutting them off “ No, I am not kidding. I was looking at these shelves first, and am not done yet. You can wait just like anyone else.” Sure, it was short and a little terse of him to be so forward, but he got tired of letting everyone act like he was Voldemort himself. The ex Death Eater didn’t even bother to turn around to see who his heckler was, and frankly he didn’t care.

That was until she made it her business to continue harassing him. Of course it was Romilda blood Vane. He’d not had much contact with the girl during his time at Hogwarts, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t found her incredibly annoying and obnoxious. Draco could admit to being somewhat vane himself, but this girl undeniably took the cake. It was even disgusting to him, the man who had been raised to be as vain as his father. Back to school shopping, was that the best she could do after being the one to bother him?

People never failed to surprise him with their stupidity, it really was painful sometimes. Glancing at her quickly, to let the girl know he’d seen her, Draco didn’t even bother to look at her as he spoke, choosing to continue reading the backs of the books he’d pulled from the shelf “Has it ever crossed your mind that perhaps I actually enjoy reading and books, for the pleasure alone? I, unlike you, don’t need school as an excuse to read. I know that might be hard for you to understand Romilda, especially if you’ve been hanging around Cormac lately, he could lower your IQ.” He shouldn’t have provoked her, not because he was afraid of her, or her temper, but because he should have known that being rude was a habit he needed to change, but sometimes being rude was the only answer.

An audible laugh slipped through Romilda’s glossed lips and her large eyes narrowed at the older blonde boy. Really? The “I-was-here-first” line? Rolling her eyes, Romilda confidently stood next to him. “You’re pathetic,” she whispered under her breath. She meant it too—Romilda was not a normally mean girl, a little blunt at times, but rarely was she purposefully hurtful. However, Draco made that different. She couldn’t stand him and nearly everyone who was around during the battle knew what a waste Draco was. Come to think of it, Romilda couldn’t think of anyone who even really wanted to associate themselves with him. At least, not anyone who was worth anything in Romilda’s eyes.

Seriously though, why was he in Diagon Alley to begin with? He had to know that no one liked him right? No one could be that vain. Then again Romilda was always blind to when people seemed to dislike her.

Opening her mouth to fire an insult back at Draco about how she actually was a smart girl, she cut herself off when she heard Cormac’s name come out of his mouth. Again her eyes narrowed and Romilda had to fight back the strong urge to snap at the blonde boy. Taking a small breath, Romilda made a small “Hmm” noise at Draco before locating the book that she was in search for to begin with. As she pulled it off the shelf, the brunette purposefully pulled another book with it. The second book was heavier, a thick volume of something or other. As she pulled out the secondary book, she allowed it to fall, aiming it toward Draco’s feet.

“Oh I’d say sorry about that,” Romilda said, moving around Draco. “But my mother always taught me not to lie.” Unlike your mother probably did, the seventeen year old wanted to add. After only walking a few steps away from Draco, Romilda turned back to him on her heel, still upset about the Cormac comment. He was her boyfriend and Romilda was so taken with him, although she knew he wasn’t smart.

“Maybe before you try to insult someone’s boyfriend, you should put yourself in check and remember that you can’t even get anyone to be your friend anyway.”

With a flip of her brown waves, Romilda began making her way to the other end of the aisle, searching for the next book on her folded up piece of parchment.

It never ended with people like Romilda, did it? He couldn’t stand her, and so he saw nothing to be gained from trying to be polite or anything similar. Which made his snide remarks that much easier to spit out, right back at her “Yes, really. Because I was here first, and you’re a twat. Fairly simple really.” He still hadn’t bothered to look up bother to look up from the book her was perusing, the witch was so far from worth his time, it made no sense for him to acknowledge her otherwise. When she moved up to stand next to him, further encroaching on his space, he didn’t give her the satisfaction of moving or even looking up, only whispering back to her petty insult “Likewise” It was petty of him to respond in that way, but he didn’t care, Romilda Vane deserved everything she got, in his opinion.

The irony of the whole situation wasn’t lost on Draco at all. All these people were seemingly insistent on letting him know how much they hated him, without stopping to think he might already hate himself without their help. But that didn‘t mean he was going to play the bleeding heart, he didn’t want and wasn’t going to get any sympathy from anyone. These days he generally hated most people, and had yet to meet anyone worth any real share of his time. As he watched his latest insult hit home with Romilda, he couldn’t help but feel satisfied at the way she was so easy to rile up. He supposed that was a result of her own stupidity, and he wasn’t going to not take advantage of that because it might not be fair.

The ex-Death Eater couldn’t help but let a dark laugh softly escape his lips as he saw Romilda try and smash his toes with a book. As he easily stepped back, he looked up at her for the first time “That’s all you’ve got, really, Vane? Pretty pathetic if you ask me” He sneered at her then, having had it with any kind of politeness, even feigned “But then again, we’ve established that thats exactly what you are” running a hand absently through his hair, the man raised his eyebrows and gave her a look that let her know he wasn’t impressed with her insult, or her attitude “I’m surprised your parents could teach you anything, seeing how daft you are, I can’t imagine what they’re like. Must be ghastly having to claim them as your parents.” He grinned at her, a wolfish grin, now his sole objective was to upset her, she’d irritated him and now it was his turn.

Giving the witch his best bored look, and Malfoy drawl he sighed heavily before speaking “I don’t need friends to validate my identity like you so obviously do. I’m not looking for anyone’s approval.” His gaze had gone from one of cocky amusement to a stony, cold facade, and as he watched Romilda walk away, he went for the one thing he was sure could make her snap, and that would be satisfying, he’d had it with people like her “Try not to look so desperate next time, hmm? People might actually think you could read half the books you’re buying, and not just using them as a way to get into bed with all the boys” Turning from her, the man knelt and picked up the heavy tome she had tried to use to smash his toes and carefully placed it back on the shelf before grabbing the last of the three books he’d been intending on buying, and headed for another aisle, he’d buy them eventually, but for now he’d browse and maybe find some peace with all these books.       

If girls could growl Romilda would be roaring right now. She couldn’t believe what he just called her. Her face flushed with anger and she had to control herself to keep from punching the older blonde. It was rare that Romilda so deeply despised another person, but Draco was the exception. The younger girl couldn’t stand him—his snide remarks, his pureblood elitism, his whole involvement with the school two year ago, even his breathing pattern. Even before everything about his family and their involvement with everything came out, Romilda still hated him. They didn’t talk much in school, but Romilda knew enough about him through word of mouth and through watching his interactions with other students to make her decision about him. He was vile. Just the worst kind of person.

Turning on her heel, Romilda first let out a sarcastic laugh. She had way more up her sleeve—she always did. A bad temper will do that to you. She rolled her large brown eyes when he called her pathetic. Of all the people to call her that, she couldn’t even take the older boy seriously. Here he was during the busiest time of the year—back to school shopping—by himself and he didn’t even go to school and at a place where his very presence was likely to draw attention from anyone who knew what happened at Hogwarts. How lonely and lowly could one person be?

Turning to leave for the second time, Romilda was reeled back in when Draco started speaking. As she turned back to him, her eyebrow raised, curious about what he was going to say to her next. But as he continued to speak, Romilda began to grow angry. Inside, she could feel her rage growing, starting with a tightening in her stomach. Her body grew hot and it was taking all of her to keep from yelling at him right in the store. How dare he—he above all people—talk about her family. He had no right. Romilda’s family were good people, not like his.

“Well, at least my parents aren’t like yours,” she spat back at him. “At least my father isn’t one of the wizarding world’s worst criminals. At least my mother isn’t a spineless wimp who easily let everything happen at Hogwarts—and you better not try to tell him that she didn’t know damn well what was happening Draco.”

She began stepping closer to him as she spoke. “At least my family isn’t partly responsible for the deaths of school children. My family wasn’t public shamed in the newspaper as being Death Eaters. My family can walk down Diagon Alley without getting stares and have people whisper. You and your family, on the other hand are lepers of this whole community. No one wants to be associated with you or your family. You’re pathetic, Draco.” Romilda’s breathing was shallow even as her words shot out at him like venom.

“You have no one, Draco,” she snarled at him, now standing just inches from his face. “Your own father probably doesn’t even want to be associated with you, just like the rest of us don’t. So next time, before you insult me or my family, taking a good fucking look at yourself and your family, you worthless waste of life.”

Her loyalty could be her downfall, she knew that. But Romilda did not take insults to her family lightly. Her father was a muggle and that was hard enough to deal with at school two years ago. Draco, with his pureblood lineage didn’t have to go through the things Romilda went through, the senseless punishments she endured just because her dad wasn’t a wizard, so she was not about to let this ninny talk down to her about family life, when she knew his family was the worst of them all, despite bloodline.

No longer caring what the end result of this confrontation brought, the ex-Death Eater let a patronizing grin settle across his features, clearly enjoying her anger. Internally, he wasn’t all that amused by the reaction he was getting from the girl in front of him. Draco really just wanted her to go away, but he also knew that wasn’t going to happen, so he’d have some fun with it all instead. He barely batted an eyelash when Romilda rolled her eyes at him, and act as though she was dismissing him, he was under her skin and he knew it. He waited as he watched his latest jab strike home, making sure to keep his once regular air of indifference in check. Lazily smirking at her, the wizard watched as she worked herself up even further. This really was too easy.

He knew he should have expected the next barrage of insults from Romilda sooner or later, but expecting them and hearing them from her were two different things entirely. Draco managed to keep his facade in place when the witch had started in on his family, he had no real sympathy for his father, particularly because he was the reason the dark mark was on his arm. Her mistake had been mentioning his mother, the only person in the world, he was convinced, who truly cared about him. In that instant the haughty expression slipped and gave way to something cold and stony instead. Draco found himself curling a fist around his wand, itching to pull it from his pocket and hold it to Romilda’s throat. He couldn’t do that here, or anywhere, really. Not if he was going to redeem himself from his own personal hell anytime soon. Squaring and setting his jaw, his thin lips pressed together in a tight line, Draco watched as she continued to get closer, while his hatred got stronger.

Finally, the witch was a few inches away from his face, still talking -- and thats when he snapped. He couldn’t an wouldn't take this from someone like her anymore, he wouldn’t let it go on. Stepping towards her quickly, Draco used his momentum to push the younger girl backwards, until her back was to one of the bookshelves. He was fine with playing games, but he was sick and tired of hearing everyone rip on his family. Especially when it was from the mouth of the likes of Romilda Vane and her friends. They had no right. Caging the girl in with his arms, but making a point to keep his hands off of her, Draco looked down at her. He made sure to get in her face just as much as she had been in his, before spitting the first of his retorts out in a cold, venomous whisper “ Listen here, Vane, you can say all you like about my father, but don’t talk about my mother that way. You have no right to parade around like the pompous priss you are, insulting others based off public opinion. You disgust me, muggle parent or not.”

He grew quiet for a moment, trying to reign in the anger and other emotions that often overwhelmed him when he thought about those very situations. Breathing evenly, the man let out a dark laugh, she wanted to paint him as a Death Eater, so why not play the part? When he continued speaking, his voice was cold, and void of any emotion other than haughty disdain “ I might be pathetic, Romilda, but I can at least say I survived this war, what did you do? Fight in the battle? Oooh good on you. You did one thing. You have no idea what I did or had to do, so why don’t you shut your stupid little mouth and run along? Because clearly you have nothing to contribute to society other than your mindless prattle” He was livid. It was taking every ounce of self control the wizard possessed to not do something he’d regret later.

With her latest comment about his father still ringing in his ears, Draco let his fist leave it’s place on the bookshelf before reconnecting with the wooden surface with an audible thud. Nobody knew how sensitive he was about his father and their relationship, and nobody would ever know. His voice raised a few decibels from its previously quiet whisper, all tact gone -- he replied “I’m a waste of life? Might be true, but at least I don't need to rely on my gender and acting like an idiot to get myself through school." He paused again, making sure he had made eye contact with her before continuing  "Could hurt you for saying something like that, though. Wouldn’t be such a waste of life then, hmm? You shouldn’t insult people who are clearly more capable than you. You’re nothing but a wretch” There was another pause, he clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times, his eyes devoid of any humor now "I might not live up to your exceedingly low standards, in fact, I'm sure I'm far above them, but at least I know I'm not a poor example of a wizard like you. Try dealing with your own failures before attacking others for theirs." And with that he spat out one final remark "Go to hell, Romilda." He was reeling now, and knew he had to leave before he let the witch push him any further. Stepping away from the bookcase, he eyed the girl with a disgusted sneer before turning on his heel, and making his way toward the end of the aisle. Today was not going like he had planned at all.   

The slim brunette felt her breath catch in her throat as she found herself pinned between the boy she hated and a bookshelf. For a moment her panic made her stomach lurch and she felt a fleeting sense of fear when she found his body too close to hers. She didn't like it--him being as close as he currently was, spiting words in her face. He wasn't exactly touching her, but he was too close to contact for Romilda's taste. She could feel the heat off his body and his breath on her face. For as brave as Romilda was with her words, she was caught off guard with his sudden action, but made certain he didn't get to notice her moment. Her face went cold and her normally warm eyes steely although she once again felt rage boiling inside her. Romilda's tan body was growing hot and she knew her cheeks were beginning to become red with fury.

Oh, his mother? Was that his weak point? Romilda's lips curled in a smirk as she thought to herself that his mother wasn't any better than his father. "Oh mommy dearest I'm sure didn't know about any of this," she said softly, coldly at him. "Please. She probably knew about everything and didn't have enough of a spine to do anything about it, if she truly does care about you. You have to be pretty stupid if you think she wasn't playing her part all along." She knew she was talking out her ass. The Gryffindor didn't know anything about the older boy's mother, but she didn't care. Romilda had a habit of judging people and lumping them together. As far as she was concerned, each Malfoy was just as bad as the other, regardless of what this blonde prick thought or said. His next comment caused Romilda's eyebrows to raise. Although she didn't fight in the battle, she was a skilled potion maker and helped Madam Pomfrey brew and make multiple quantities of healing potion and other remedies. She let out a cold laugh at the boy. "No Draco, while you and your family and friends were killing my schoolmates, I was helping to cure them," she said rather calmly for the state of rage she was in. "You see, I'm not a killer."

As he let her out of the tight spot he had her in and turned away, Romilda's body visibly relaxed just for a moment before he punched a shelf too close to her. The brunette let out an audible squeak, her eyes once again laced with fear. What the hell, she thought when he pulled his fist away. Her mouth grew tight as he spoke, she wanted to say so many things to him, but her words were getting caught in her throat and tangled in her mind. Oh, she was stupid? Sure she knew she flounced around, but the brunette was surprisingly studious and her grades had always been admirable. Too bad no one knew beauty and brains could go together. As he turned and walked away, Romilda felt herself shaking with rage. Her eyes narrowed on the blonde figure walking away from her.

Taking a few quick steps, Romilda cut him off. She took only a moment to gather what she was going to do, but she felt her leg raise and swiftly connect with his crotch. It was a low blow, she knew but she didn't care. "I'm surprised if that hurts you, considering I didn't think you had any balls," the brunette spat at him with anger.

You see,I’m not a killer.

It made his stomach roll. Draco knew and understood that the general wizarding public tended to see all Malfoy’s as one. It was something he’d given up on caring about a long time ago, except on that one point. Nobody knew, or maybe nobody cared, he wasn’t really sure, but he’d hadn’t killed anyone. Hadn’t wanted to, never wanted to. Yes, he’d raised his wand at Dumbledore, but he couldn’t go through with it. Everything he’d done, had been on Voldemort’s orders, with the exception of the things he’d said in his early school days. The things he had said were his own, even if they were parroted from his father and his friends. But to be called a killer, was something that knocked the wind right out of the ex-Slytherin.

It made him glad he’d chosen to walk away. He might’ve disdained Romilda Vane, but this was the first time Draco had actually been tempted to follow through on one of his threats. She had no sense of propriety or even decency. Maybe she really was that stupid, whatever the case Draco didn’t care. Not anymore, now at this point he simply wanted to grab his books, pay for them and leave. It was satisfying to know that she wasn’t dumb enough to not take his anger seriously, but all in all, this was the exact kind of thing that Draco had been hoping to avoid, run in’s with people like her. They weren’t positive things in the first place, and someone like Romilda tested his patience and the control he had over his temper, which was something he’d been working at ever so slowly since the war.

He might’ve been angry, and irritated, and insulted, and a number of other emotions, but Draco Malfoy had dismissed Romilda Vane. He thought he’d done fairly well considering the circumstances, hell, he was even being the bigger man by walking away, even if it was out of contempt rather than anything else. He was focused on paying for his things and then going home to read and nurse a glass of something strong. But his thought process was interrupted swiftly by the surprise of Romilda cutting him off. He didn’t have  anytime to react before he had dropped the few books he’d been holding and was instead holding his crotch. The witch had kicked him in the crotch! Al he could focus on was the pain, and trying to breathe through it. The wizard felt more like curling up into a fetal position until he could move again, but knew that wouldn’t do at all. His face scrunched with pain, the platinum blonde got to his feet, collected his books and pushed past his assailant “And I can think of many things that would hurt you Vane” he snarled. He had to get his things and leave, or he was certain he would end up doing something he’d regret to one Ms. Romilda Vane.