✼¹ 

     I woke up to banners and posters all over the castle. They were draped on every wall, every noticeboard. Slapped outside each classroom, on the lockers in the Quidditch changing rooms, loose pieces slotted under the Common Room doors when we were asleep.

     EQUAL RIGHTS FOR SQUIBS, HALF-BLOODS & MUGGLEBORNS, they read in big, black lettering. STOP THE INJUSTICE!

     The Slytherin common room was in an uproar. "Who did this?" screeched Elizabeth Avery. "Must be one of those fucking Gryffindors," Thomas Carrow growled . "Well, obviously!" raged Edmund Bulstrode, bulging neck spilling over his collar. "Who else would it be?"

     They clamoured in front of the fireplace, carping on about 'the audacity and absurdity of these extremists', flyers clutched in their frantic, waving hands. I swiveled around, praying I would find the two people I was looking for, but there was only Ronnie. She was leaning languidly by the stairwell with crossed arms, and the twinkle of satisfaction in her eyes confirmed my suspicions.

     I found Bas and Cissy in the Great Hall, conjoined at the hip, tearing through their croissant and eggs. Anger roiled in the pit of my stomach as I strode up and tapped Bas on the shoulder. "Bas, I'd like a word with you, please."

     Bas chortled airily and dabbed a napkin to his mouth. "Good morning to you too, Lucius."

     "A word," I repeated through gritted teeth.

     Bas threw the napkin down and stood. "I'll just be a moment," he said to Cissy, and I looked away as he planted a kiss on her cheek.

     We wedged ourselves in a hidden nook a few paces away from the Hall. I unfurled the poster and snapped it taut in front of his face. "Mind explaining what the fuck this is?"

     He peered at it. "Looks like a poster to me."

     "A poster that you and Cissy made. Posters. And you've put them all over the school, too. Beth Avery said they're even in the girls' lavs! Have you completely lost your wits?"

     "Only a little," chuckled Bas, swatting my arm away.

     The flames of anger licked higher, threatened to spill from my throat. "Is this all a joke to you? Do you know what the Slytherins are saying about the person who did this? You may be able to do stupid things and get away scot-free, but what about Cissy? Have you spared a thought for her?"

     "A joke?" Bas echoed. "No, Lucius. A joke is when I ask you why the Diricawl crossed the road. A joke is when I tell you a gnome and an Erumpent walk into a bar. This," he flicks the poster with the back of his hand, "is changing the world."

     I could only blink at him in disbelief. He pushed himself off the wall and stepped forward. "Secondly, I couldn't give a fig what the Slytherins are saying. They're all the same - an ignorant bunch of fools so far removed from reality they wouldn't be able to recognise privilege if it slapped them across the face, so don't come preaching to me about what the Slytherins are saying or the stupid things I'm able to get away with, because you are a Malfoy as well, born of noble blood and with a silver spoon stuck up your arse. This?" he snagged my hair in his fingers. "This is privilege, Lucius, don't you understand?"

     Bas's ears had turned a milky red. He advanced with fire in his eyes, forcing me backwards until I could feel the coldness of the stone wall dance up my spine. "And how dare you imply I don't care about Cissy? I love her! Why else do you think we're doing all this, huh? It's for a better world. For her. But I suppose you're too childish to understand."

     "Cissy is a Black, she doesn't need a better world," I argue. "And neither do we. We're Malfoys. Our worlds turn regardless of what's happening outside of it. Why should the lives of Squibs and Mudbloods matter to us?"

     Bas hit me: a light smack across the cheeks with the backs of his fingers. "Who taught you that disgusting word?" he demanded as the sting bloomed under my skin. I felt the humiliation more than the pain; it spurted something within me, bigger and stronger than anger.

     It was hate.

     "Nott," I said defiantly, balling my fists so I wouldn't be tempted to touch my face. "Is he wrong? Is their blood not tainted with that of half-bloods and Muggles?"

     "And are they not human?" Bas's voice boomed like thunder. "Do they not eat the same food, drink the same water, breathe the same air as us?"

     "Yes," I said, as loudly as I dared. "But they shouldn't."

     Bas's mouth fell open. His eyes flashed, the emotions passing through like the sun chasing the moon; surprise to anger to disappointment to pity to sadness. Then he collected himself, straightened up, and smoothed his robes. "If you're so determined to be on the wrong side of history, then I can't help you," he said. "But when this all comes to a head - and trust me, it will - five, ten, twenty years from now, I"ll see you on the opposite side of the barricade. Just remember, Lucius,'' he jabs a finger at my chest, "you chose your side."

     He stormed away, leaving me in the corner shaken and breathless. I leaned against the window, cooling my cheek against the icy glass. The wrong side of history? If Bas thought the pure-blood families would ever concede to having Mudbloods run our world, he was sorely mistaken.

     There was a reason the Slytherin pure-bloods were worshipped at school, why the professors bumped up our grades and let slide careless mistakes in our essays. It was the same reason why the person who poisoned Nobby Leach would never see the inside of an Azkaban cell.

     It was the natural order of things, an order that was in our favour, and I simply could not wrap my mind around why Bas wanted to change that.

✧

     Bas and Cissy got into trouble with Slughorn and McGonagall for their little campaign. "It's a respectable cause," I overheard McGonagall chastising them in her office, "But not one for students to concern themselves with. You're better off concentrating on preparing for your N.E.W.T.s."

     They were ordered to take it all down, every single banner, poster, and flyer. The walls were back to their bland, washed-out brown before lunch. They were also made to serve detention every single day for two weeks. What a waste of effort, I thought snidely. Besides, McGonagall was right. What were they expecting a regular student to do? Donate thousands of Galleons they did not have to a cause they neither knew nor cared about?

     That same day, Slughorn invited Alistair Nott and I to join the Slug Club. "Your father was a very honoured member," boasted Slughorn during my first meeting. "Very pleased with the man he's made of himself. Very pleased!"

     I, too, was very pleased as we dined on expensive meat and prized fruit in the privacy of Slughorn's office. If Slughorn admired Father that much, I would work hard to eke out that same level of respect for myself. For once in my life, I felt like I had something of my own that was untethered to the never-ending achievements of my brother. This was proof enough that the true measure of success was not grades or how many Quidditch matches one could win.

     Success was bestowed, not earned, and it soon became clear that I would be the one to carry on the Malfoy legacy, not Bas. Safe in the confines of my ivory tower, I watched as the school slowly, like the tides of an angry ocean, began to turn against him and Cissy.

     The banners and posters may only have had a few measly hours of attention, but their effect stuck like feathers on tar. Everyone had seen them, and McGonagall, stupidly enough, had tried to make an example out of Bas and Cissy by naming and shaming, announcing their misdeed to the entire student body as a caution against getting ourselves involved in politics beyond our juvenile comprehension.

     At first, no one dared speak ill about a Malfoy and a Black. But they did not bother hiding their pointed looks, either. Whisperings from the bunks grew louder and soon their distaste seeped into day-to-day conversations in the Common Room:

     "Did you see what they were wearing today?"

     "Who, you mean the Backstabbing Blondies?"

     From then on, their fall from grace came strong and fast. A reshuffling of the Slytherin Quidditch team was announced: Bas would be replaced by Edmund Bulstrode as Seeker. He was demoted to 'substitute Beater' - a position that did not exist before - and essentially rendered useless. Cissy lost her Slytherin prefect badge to Elizabeth Avery, the girl she had once told me she disliked the most.

     They found no solace in the half-bloods and Mudbloods either, the very people whose rights they were fighting for. "What does a Malfoy or Black know about our struggles?" they laughed. "Fucking uppity arseholes always trying to stick their noses in everything. They're only doing it to boost their own egos; don't trust a single word they say. It's a wonder how they can even speak through their mouthfuls of Galleons."

     I did not participate in the lampooning. I did not need to - they were doing more than enough. Bas, I felt no pity for. Served him right for hitting me and calling me childish. If I was truly childish, I would have joined in their jeering, lay in wait for him by the common room entrance to set off Dungbombs, shredded his homework behind his back. No, I was too important to join Bas's flogging at the pillory. I was busy spending my precious time in Slughorn's office sipping Elf wine with Hogwarts' finest.

     Amidst it all, Cissy clung on to Bas like no other, like he was a guardian angel sent to save her. This made me insatiably angry. Bas had manipulated her with his good looks and charm, ruined her life with a fucking rose. She deserved none of this, yet she would be willing to walk through Hell with him.

     Did she not know that Hell is no place for angels?

     Like Ronnie, the Bas and Cissy stopped going back for the holidays. Upon receiving only one son back home on Easter, Father had flown into a violent temper. "He is no son of mine!" he shouted so loudly I thought the crystal vases would surely explode. Mother sobbed and sniffled on her chaise, bracelets chinking as she pressed a silk-sleeved hand to her forehead.

     Father beat me in Bas's place. I hardly felt it, not the weight of his cane or the purple bruises after. I was far too pleased with how everything had turned out, because they started treating me like Bas had not even been born at all. They sent money and presents to only me, wrote letters to only me, spoke to only me.

     Just before Christmas break, a scuffle broke out between Bella, Ronnie, and Cissy. Bella had screamed at Cissy to come home, tried to drag her away. Ronnie intervened and pulled her wand on Bella. Enraged, Bella flung an inaudible hex at Ronnie. It was then a Mudblood wizard by the name of Edward Tonks stepped in, casting a shield charm so powerful it knocked Bella off her feet.

     The revelation of Edward - Ted - Tonk's relationship with Ronnie was too much for Bella. We sat in the cabin alone that afternoon, and I listened patiently as she ranted about what a 'fucking disappointment Ronnie and Cissy were to the Black family name'. I sipped my pumpkin juice, made agreeing noises, nodded at the appropriate times.

     "Bella," I said when she had calmed down. "Don't you think we should do something about it?"

     She threw her hands up in exasperation. "I don't know what else I can possibly say or do to make them listen! They're impossible."

     "You may not know what else to say or do, but I may."

     "You?" she snorted. "Look at Bas! He won't listen to you, either."

     "No, not Bas," I said slowly. "I'm talking about Cissy. You've tried everything, but I haven't."

     "And your brother?"

     I shook my head. "Bas is beyond redemption, but I may still be able to get your baby sister back."

༻❁༺

     The tape stops, and silence plunges back into the room once more. Lucius stands to stretch his legs, but I cannot move. My body has melted into my seat as my mind races to guess what Lucius had planned.

     "Next week, Gabriella." I hear the knowing smile behind his voice. Next week, I repeat silently to myself. I shake his hand and he leads me to the foyer where Narcissa manifests herself from the shadows - the same Narcissa who plastered posters all over Hogwarts demanding equal rights for Squibs, half-bloods and Muggleborns. 

     How does someone go from that... to this?

     "Next week," I tell them when I step out, as if we haven't already agreed to meet every weekend.

     "Next week," Narcissa affirms, and the door shuts behind me.

     I stand on the porch for a moment, letting the early evening breeze whip against my face. Lucius's story is still fresh in my mind, rolling and turning and churning like enchanted bread dough. "Holy shit," I mutter out loud. I exhale, long and slow, before stepping off the landing and beginning my long walk down the driveway.

༻⚜༺

     "Has she gone?"

     My parents spun around, squinting into the darkness. "Yes, she's gone," my mother confirmed.

     "Good."

     "Where've you been?" Her question caught me mid-track to the drawing room. "You weren't here to greet her or see her off."

     "And why would I want to do that?" I hissed. "The less we see of her, the better. Don't need her snooping around any more than she already is."

     My parents exchanged glances. "You know, I quite like the girl," said Father. "She's got some pluck. Maybe... maybe her knowing isn't the worst thing in the world. If we play this right, all would be as it was."

     "Yeah, that's what you said when you forced me to identify Potter." I gestured around our desolate house. "Look where the fuck that got us!"

     "This- what the Prophet is trying to do- it's good for us," said Mother. The feebleness in her tone incensed me further.

     "Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" I bristled. "Is it just me or has everyone lost their bloody minds? Have you all forgotten the reason why we entered the fucking war in the first place? The real reason, not the bullshit excuses we fed to the press."

     "How dare you speak to us like that!" Father brandished his cane and I felt myself flinch. I hated that I flinched. "We're your parents, and you will see this project to the end whether you like it or not!"

     "Parents?" I laughed scornfully. "I'd say that's up for debate, don't you think?"

     My mother sucked in a sharp breath. Father raised the staff higher. I walked up to him and stood directly under it. "Hit me," I said. "Go on, fucking hit me. Can't be worse than anything else you've done."

     "Lucius, stop it!" Mother wrenched Father's trembling arm back down. "Enough of this! We're not like that, not anymore. I'm tired of running, of- of being ashamed! Aren't you?"

     "I am," replied Father as he stared me down. "Aren't you, Draco?"

     I clenched my jaw in defiance. Mother slipped between us and took my shoulders. "Draco, please understand. They'll find out eventually, which is why we have to tell them first. It's for our own good."

     Heat swarmed at the backs of my eyes. "No, Mother, it's for your own good. Yours and Father's. You've chosen your paths, lived your lives. What about me? What's to become of me?"

     She sighed. "I- I don't know, darling. But what I do know is that we can't keep a secret like that forever. And Gabriella, she- she will help us."

     "Help us!" I exclaim incredulously. "Mother, have you forgotten how they paraded outside our driveway, trapped us in our own home? Have you forgotten the things they were shouting at the gates? You cried your eyes out for ages because of what they were calling us in the papers!  Ainsley," - I point at the closed doors - "she's one of them! She's helping Skeeter weed out Death Eater gossip; this is her job. She doesn't give a fuck about me or either of you, and you'd have to be thicker than a troll not to see it! We're done. The Malfoys are done. What part of that do you not get?"

     Tears had welled in my mother's eyes, voice cracking as she pleaded: "No, we're not done. The world is still watching us, or else they wouldn't even want to do this story. They're watching us, and that has to count for something."

     I tore myself from her grasp. "Then they can watch us rot in hell."