A/N: So, me and my two lovely friends (Bruhaeven and Le Reqiuem - check out their writing!) are in this writing prompt challenge.. so this is the second piece of the summer (for me, at least).
Anyhow, the story takes place during The Half-Blood Prince. It's kind of a play on the sectumsempra bathroom scene, except it takes place before that happens, and there's also a lot more people... I'm not very good at explanations, just read it, it's less complicated that I'm making it sound :)
Prompt: Wild hearts can't be broken.
"Oh Christ… I can't do this. I can't do this!"
It was barely a whisper, but it had all the fury of a howl.
Amidst the leaking dripping, he could hear the faint sound of sniffling.
He was sitting on the cold tile floor, back against an equally cold wall. His head leaned into its hard tiles, and he squeezed his tired eyes shut. With an anxious sigh, he pressed palms into his sockets, trying desperately to dispel the images, the sounds, the ideas that were assaulting him.
He could see them all clearly – everyone he'd ever loved, everyone he'd ever admired or respected… His mother, his father – they were all lying before him, screaming and retching in pain. Their eyes had taken on a ghostly, blood-curdling milk hue. Their faces wrenched in gruesome expressions of agony. Their bodies were twisting and distorting with every crash of liquid energy that hit them; over and over, crash after crash, until finally – Avada Kedavra.
"This is how you will pay, for what you have failed to do…"
Suddenly, it appeared before him, horrifying and putrid. It was the face - the one he'd been seeing in his dreams, in his nightmares, every time he closed his eyes. He found himself staring into its crystalline blue eyes as the hot, dank breath escaping from the malformed perversion of a nose hit his own sweaty face. The mouth slowly opened, revealing jagged, rotting teeth…
"Oohhh…Wooahhhh, ahhhhhh!"
Draco leapt to his feet, surprised by the sound in his ear - not to mention the shock of the cold, clammy feeling he got from the spirit's hand on his shoulder.
He looked over at Moaning Myrtle, who was slowly floating up from the floor to hover before him.
"Why the long face, Malfoy? Was somebody mean to you? Or did you just come here to tease p-p-poor M-moaning Myrtle?"
She smiled, exuding a creepy, melancholy aura. She stared at Draco, inquisitive, and began inching closer and closer, and then –
Her cold hand touched him again, sending another set of shivers through his body.
His eyes narrowed and he gave her his best glare.
"Get lost, Myrtle. No one wants to hear your blubbering… And keep your slimy mitts to yourself!"
She ignored him, instead pushing her hand onto his white shirt, almost pressing it right through, and whispered in his ear:
"I know why you come here to cry."
Draco took a step back. He reached forward to push her away, but instead his hands fell right through her transparent form.
"What're you trying to get at, you skanky bint? I'm not the one who's always pissing and moaning about…"
She giggled, ignoring him again, and continued - reaching again for his face, his sunken eyes.
"It's not to hide from the others – oh, no. Myrtle knows – Draco comes to hide from himself! 'Can almost pretend it's poor Moaning Myrtle who's sniveling around the bathroom, can't you?"
Draco looked at her - frozen for a second - before pulling away.
"I-I don't know what you're talking about – I'm not the one moping and bawling!"
Myrtle wrapped her elbow around his, as best she could without any real substance, and moved so that she was standing beside him.
She pointed with her free hand.
"Are you sure? Mirrors don't lie."
Malfoy followed Myrtle's colorless hand to their reflection above one of the leaky sinks.
His eyes were rimmed in a pale red, and the deep purple circles below bore into face. It looked like he hadn't slept in ages, and to be honest, he could hardly remember what it felt like to get a good night's rest – one that didn't involve dreams of contorted flesh and broken bones.
He watched the reflection, as a thin, skeletal hand reached up to stroke a sunken cheek. His cold fingers swept over the stretched skin. He felt a wetness there, almost like a tear.
Suddenly, Draco's eyes grew wide, giving him the wild look of a depraved animal. He was crying.
"Uh-huh… No one ever listens to poor Myrtle. Not ever, ever, eve-..ahhhh! Wooahhh!"
Myrtle's spirit went back to her usual wailing and Draco watched as she spiraled upwards towards the bathroom ceiling before disappearing altogether.
As he wiped his face on his sleeve - trying to erase any trace of weakness, his breath catching on a final hiccup - he heard her disembodied voice float back down to where he stood.
"Better hurry – friends are on their way!"
Her giggle echoed before eventually disappearing as well.
Draco stood there, still for a moment. He was trying to process the entire scene – the images, Myrtle, the tears.
His tears…
The sound of footsteps and voices hit his ears, but he understood Myrtle's warning just a hair too late.
They were right outside the door.
"Hermione – why do we have to do this?"
"I told you, Ron, I heard something – I-it sounded like someone was crying…"
"It was probably just Myrtle trying to drown herself in the toilet again… Maybe this time she finally got it right –"
"Ron!"
The door slammed, and Draco spun around.
Mortification hit hard.
Standing in the threshold, taking in his dirty robes, his frail form, and his tear-stained face, was the entire motley crew; Granger, Weasel and his dumb sister, Loony, and the legend himself, Potter.
The Mouth spoke first.
"Oi! If it isn't the littlest Death Eater. What are you crying about this time Malfoy – did the Dementors finally give Daddy a kiss?"
Draco could feel his face twist into a nasty sneer as he hissed.
"Why don't you keep your fat mouth shut about things you couldn't possibly understand, Weasley."
Ron smiled a bit, reveling in the pain on Malfoy's face. Of course, Draco thought, he'd be a lot less gutsy if he didn't have his friends to hide behind. Even so, their presence made him brave with his words.
"Or what, Malfoy? Where are all your Death Eater minions now, hmm? Looks to me like the Amazing Bouncing Ferret is out of his territory and outnumbered, today."
Ron had a smug look on his freckled face – he was so damn proud of that stupid nickname, never mind that it had been two years since Moody had transfigured Malfoy into a ferret. It wasn't even that clever – although, to be fair, it was a marked improvement from the primitive "Eat slugs!" insult that had landed him in the Infirmary Wing during their second year.
Draco couldn't hide his smirk as he remembered the green look on Ron's face as he'd started coughing up slugs.
Pathetic.
Of course, this only made the ginger even more frustrated, and his face began to flush as he fumed, apparently all out of witty retorts.
The tension between the two of them grew, as Draco's persisting grin caused Ron to quiver with contempt: Hermione stepped between the two just as Draco was slipping his hand into his pocket, reaching for his wand.
"Everyone just relax - Let's not get all worked up!"
Malfoy kept his glare steady, but slowly withdrew his hand, putting both hands in the air in a bored, 'I'm innocent' gesture.
He turned back around to face the mirror, muttering under his breath.
"Why don't you tell that to your hot-headed lover-boy, Mudblood?"
It just slipped out. Even if he had meant it, he wouldn't have been so stupid as to say it to his enemies while his back was turned.
Now that his family's mansion had become a haven for Dark witches and wizards, the word had just sort of crept into his every day vocabulary.
Of course, they didn't give him time to explain that.
Not that it would have made a difference even if they had. He was a Slytherin, and they were his enemies – their past prevented any sort of understanding.
They had past the point of no return, and even if Malfoy had sought redemption, he doubted they would have granted it to him. Not even Harry Potter, the would-be hero.
Speaking of the Golden Boy, he was on Draco in an instant, spinning him around and shoving him roughly onto the tile wall.
His wand pressed into Draco's neck, and he glared at his pale-skinned foe with a rage that confirmed his fierce loyalty to his friends.
Behind Potter, Draco could see the others – looking foul-tempered and vicious. He was amazed at how their body language had changed as a result of a single word: They were on guard now, their stances aggressive. Ron was in front of Hermione, whose hand around his waist looked like it was the only thing stopping him from charging Malfoy. The more attractive Weasley looked just as red as her brother, standing there with her long hair twitching with the dark energy charging the air.
The only one who had remained relatively calm was that loony Ravenclaw, though Malfoy was sure it was only because she was too distracted by whatever nonexistent creatures her eyes were tracking to realize what had happened.
Draco's eyes turned back to Potter who, despite having his enemy at his disposal, still hesitated. So like Potter, to act all goody-goody and merciful. A real caricature of heroism.
They glared at each other for a time.
Although Draco could probably have gotten to his wand and done some serious damage, he remained still.
Instead his face became slack, and he relaxed into Potter's grip.
He didn't want to get into this. Not really, anyways. He had enough to worry about.
"What are you gonna do, Potter?" he spat, his tone still hostile, but lacking the veiled threat that usually backed his words.
Harry's nostrils flared and he shoved the wand harder into Draco's windpipe.
"Don't you ever call to her that again, you hear, Malfoy?" His voice was low and even. "I swear to God, next time I'll kill you."
"I'm shaking in my boots, Pott-"
"You should be, Malfoy!" Ginny cut him off, rushing to stand next to Harry. "We know what you're up to and we're not going to le–"
Draco couldn't hold back the laugh, even though it sounded weak as it pushed though his crushed trachea. If only they did know what he was up to, or what he was going through…
Potter's eye twitched. "Shut. Your. Mouth. Malfoy."
He could only laugh harder, wheezing against the wand at his throat. It was manic – all of the frustration and anger, the worry and pain, it all escaped into this crazed, mocking laughter. His face hardened into a scowl and fury entered his voice.
"You lot! You have NO IDEA – You really don't! Do you have any clue what's going on outside of the perfect little haven you've dreamt up? You don't know the half of what's going on outside of all the pristine lies. You know NOTHING. Nothing." His laughter returned with a vengeance - an eerie hysteria that sent chills through his enemies.
"Shut up! Shut UP - you CREEP! Petrificus totalus!" Ginny's spell smothered his cackling as his lips sealed shut and his body stiffened. Potter released his grip, and Malfoy's paralyzed body fell to the ground so he was lying sideways, staring at five pairs of shoes.
Harry took a step forward, and kicked Malfoy roughly so that he lay on his back, facing the ceiling. He set a foot on Draco's chest, pressing hard against his ribs, and peering down at his emotionless face, whispered, "Malfoy, you can rot in hell."
He turned and went to rejoin his friends. Ginny looked down at him for a moment, her red hair fluttering around her face, twisted with anger. She spat on him, and then she too, turned to leave.
"Come on, guys, let's get out of here. We'll let somebody else clean up this trash." He stared at the ceiling, still unable to move, and listened as their footsteps followed her out.
Behind his blue eyes, Draco struggled, but his form remained motionless. Silent.
If he weren't in such a vulnerable position, the silence might have been a welcome distraction from his troubles.
As he lay there, he wondered vaguely who would find him first. Whether or not they would help him. It would probably be Myrtle, but she couldn't be bothered to help – she was always too busy griping over her own undead problems.
Then he heard a sound. Light footsteps on the floor. His heartbeat quickened slightly, a brief premonition of shame tingling through his body. Who was it?
He saw a flash of blonde hair and a blue and white tie….
Luna? Why was she still there?
She sort of danced over to where he lay – seeming to avoid certain tiles on the floor. She stood there, looking down at his face for a moment before squatting to get a closer look.
"Hmmmm…." Her face formed a curious look as she inspected him slowly.
"You know that they would forgive you if you wanted them to, right?"
Malfoy couldn't move his muscles to glare at her, but he hoped that the anger behind his eyes was apparent.
Evidently not, because she just kept on talking – a look of bemused puzzlement on her dreamy features.
"I know sometimes they seem a little… enthusiastic, but they're such lovely people. I know they would forgive you… All of them."
She nodded, confirming her own statement, but then the puzzlement grew thoughtful as she fingered one of her golden radish-shaped earrings. She looked up, thinking for a moment longer before finally murmuring, almost to herself, "Well… maybe not Ronald. He doesn't seem to like you very much, and he's quite… no, pig-headed isn't quite right, is it? Obdurate, perhaps?"
Malfoy let out a choked sound that might have been a laugh if he weren't jinxed.
"Oh! I forgot – renervate!"
Draco felt mobility return to his limbs and sat up, rubbing his bruised neck.
Luna stared at him, looking vaguely expectant.
"Erm… Thanks, Luna."
She continued to stare at him, and Malfoy shifted slightly under her unnerving gaze. She fiddled with one of her earrings, twisting it between her thumb and forefinger. After a long while, she smiled and spoke in her absent-minded manner.
"Last summer I went to the carnival with my father. We saw a Muggle show-pony run out to join a thestral that was standing just outside the tent. None of the Muggles saw what happened, of course, but I thought it was rather odd – don't you think?
Draco looked at her – What was she talking about? Was she daft, or something?
"What are you still doing here, Loony?"
Her face smiled softly at the cruel nickname, and Malfoy, like always, was surprised at how easily the insult slid off of her.
"Don't you want to come with me to find them?"
"What? Look - I have no idea what you're talking about… thestrals, ponies -
"Hermione, and Ron and Ginny and Harry. We can find them together, and you can apologize to Hermione. She's not that scary and I know you didn't mean it."
Draco looked at her. She was so naïve, so queer - but at the same time her eyes had a sagely gleam that disarmed him.
Finally, he sighed, letting out all his confusion and tension in that breath. He whispered softly, "Even if I…I don't think that they…"
His voice trailed off. Luna saw a brief glimmer of sadness, or perhaps fear in his eyes before the anger returned. His face twitched into a snarl as he tried to get a hold of himself.
"Yeah right, like I'd ever sink that low…"
Luna just kept staring at his cold, grey eyes. Her piercing gaze seemed to strip them of their defenses - she saw the sadness, the anguish that lay just beneath the surface. She saw his fear.
"Why not, Draco? What are you afraid of? Is it because - "
She reached out a small hand, her fingertips just barely brushing his face.
"Your face, it's covered in - "
He felt her fingers slide over a tear, and he growled, slapping her hand away.
"I wasn't cry-."
" –wrackspurts."
He stood up quickly, turning to face the mirror – a familiar angry glare greeting him.
"Get lost, Loony."
She stood up slowly, catching his gaze one last time in the reflection, and sighed.
"Poor Malfoy, should have stayed a ferret after all."
Draco spun around, ready to slap the loony bint. His eyes once again held their fury, their pain, their power.
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" It was a cross between a snarl and a sneer.
She just smiled sadly.
"Don't you know? Wild hearts can't be broken."
She thought she saw that soft sadness return to his eyes for just a moment, but behind the spots of blood rushing behind her own eyes she couldn't be sure. She reached her hand up to hold her face – hot where Draco's handprint was already turning red.
Luna took a step back, disoriented by the pain.
A hiccup caught in her throat, and Malfoy shoved her roughly to the ground. She looked up at his face as he stormed out of the bathroom.
It was cold, hard…lost.
ps. I disclaim everything that you recognize. also, reviews make the world go round, so leave some love folks :)