Imogen
Chapter 38

Copyright© 2010 by you know who

"Anyone seen Draco?" asked the Slytherin quidditch team captain, Montague. Their seeker had failed to attend the last practice, and Montague had spoken to him quite sharply in the common room, warning him that he must help them prepare for the team's next match. Montague was amazed that Draco had failed again to attend practice. It was cold outside, a steady breeze adding to the chill, and the quidditch pitch was almost empty. Aside from the six team members, a few spectators in the stands and Montague's girlfriend Patty Clearwater, the place was deserted. The other members of the Slytherin quidditch team looked at each other, and then back at their captain. Finally Goyle mumbled something.

"What's that? Speak up!" said Montague, his irritation mounting. Goyle repeated his remark, Crabbe nodding his head in agreement as his friend spoke.

"I think he said he'd be late, or that might not make it."

Montague's face showed his anger. Saying nothing, he bent down to open the box containing the quidditch balls, and the other team members mounted their brooms, ready to take flight. Usually they started with practicing certain set plays, and everyone knew where to begin, or so they thought. Montague pulled out the quaffle, and standing, addressed Crabbe and Goyle. "Off your brooms, you two. Twenty laps around the pitch, and twenty push-ups after each lap. Next time Draco tells you something that I, as the team captain, ought to know, you'll remember to pass it on."

The two beaters sullenly dismounted and headed for the pitch's perimeter, muttering to each other in low tones. Their insolent murmuring was audible to the team captain, and unfortunately for the Crabbe and Goyle, Montague was not someone to be trifled with. He put the quaffle back in the box.

"Crabbe and Goyle need some encouragement," he said to the remaining team members. "We'll help them move along by firing bludgers at them. Whoever gets the most hits on those two oafs will have butterbeers on me the next time we're in Hogsmeade." Pucey and Warrington grabbed bludgers and soared into the air, Bletchley close behind them. A few seconds later Crabbe's howl of pain marked the first hit.

"I didn't think Crabbe could move so fast," said Patty, slightly sickened by the way the boy's fat jiggled.

"Is that really necessary?"

Montague turned to see Snape, who had walked onto the pitch unnoticed. "Is there some purpose to the exercise?" continued the potions master.

Montague considered his reply. He was a somewhat unusual student, having long adopted a practice of being candid with teachers. Years earlier he had had an exchange with Snape along the following lines:

Snape: Mr. Montague, have you done your homework? You seem very ill-prepared for today's lesson.

Montague (standing before replying): Sir, I did not do the homework, and I am unprepared.

Snape (somewhat baffled): Surely you have an excuse of some kind.

Montague: I have none, sir. I spent the evening doing nothing useful, thinking I'd get up early and do the work then. But I slept in.

Snape: Detention, Mr. Montague. You do not seem very upset.

Montague: Would there be any point?

Snape: I suppose not. Never mind the detention. Just do your homework and bring it to my office after dinner.

This approach of Montague's served him rather well. On those rare occasions when he was unready, when he had failed to do what was required, the staff appreciated that he made not the slightest attempt to avoid the consequences of his actions. As a result, Montague got rather more leeway than the average student. Montague answered Snape's question with his customary honesty.

"From the perspective of improving one's quidditch skills, there's not a lot to be gained from hammering Crabbe and Goyle with bludgers while they run around the pitch - Oh good one, Bletchley! After all, the targets aren't even on their brooms and can hardly avoid been struck. But this is the second practice in a row that Malfoy hasn't attended, and those two idiots knew he wasn't coming, and didn't tell me. I can't punish Malfoy if he's not here, but I can make Crabbe and Goyle deeply regret the day they joined the quidditch team. Maybe next time they'll think to let me know when Malfoy is planning on skipping a practice. They might even give Malfoy the what for, so that he remembers to show up next time."

"Carry on, Mr. Montague," said Snape, leaving the pitch and heading towards the library. He had known that Draco had missed the last practice, and Snape had come to the this practice to see whether the boy would show up. Snape was deeply troubled that Draco was absent. It was true that as head of Slytherin, he dearly wanted his house's team to win the quidditch cup. The bragging rights in the staff room meant much to him, and Malfoy's absence was jeopardizing his team's chances. But Snape had a different reason entirely for his concern. Snape, thanks to Dumbledore, was well acquainted with the 'books' in Imogen's mind, and Draco's absence bore a clear resemblance to the behaviour that he was expected to exhibit in sixth year, when, according to Imogen, he would leave the quidditch team altogether, and thereafter work long and hard to allow death eaters into the school, resulting in great confusion and the death of the headmaster at Snape's hands. Snape and the rest of the Order were deeply suspicious of Draco's disappearance over the holidays and his delay in rejoining Hogwarts for the winter term. Snape had been able to learn nothing from the boy, for Draco had been too well schooled in Occlumency by his maniacal Auntie Belatrix for Snape to glean anything from the boy's mind. What could the boy possibly be doing that he preferred it to quidditch? Maybe - just maybe - Draco was working hard to catch up on the classes he'd missed during his unexplained absence. But it was just as likely that Draco was working to advance the Dark Lord's cause. Snape would know for sure only if Voldemort chose to take him into his confidence, but until then he would remain in doubt. Snape considered the possibilities as he entered the library.

No sign of Draco at the work tables. Snape wandered through the stacks, thinking that perhaps the disowned, now nameless teen was searching for a book. But there was no sign of him.

"Madam Pince," he said quietly to the librarian. "I am looking for Draco. Have you seen him lately?" The librarian confirmed that Draco had been in a hour or two before to sign out some books. Snape was curious to know what Draco was reading, and asked for a list. The librarian consulted her records, and wrote out in a neat, close hand the books Malfoy had signed out that day.

 
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