Imaginary
Chapter One
Now the day has come,
We are forsaken,
There's no time anymore.
Life will pass us by,
We are forsaken,
We're the last of our kind.
-Within Temptation
(Draco Malfoy)
Imagine yourself standing at a crossroads… well, not really a crossroads, more of an across-the-room. Yes, that's more likely. Anyway, imagine that across this across-the-room, or across the room if you will, that your rival is standing there, staring you down with that same glassy stare you're giving him. Well, I have not imagined it, I have dreamed it. I have dreamed that among so many other things.
I could feel every shift of my hands and feet, hear every water droplet hitting the cobblestone floor, spreading into that centimeter-deep river that was growing ever-so-slowly by the moment, by every little drop. Harry stood there, pale, thin, silent, for once, eyeing me with those emerald-olive-whatever-the-hell-the-color-is eyes. They stood out violently, sharply against the white and black contrast, the only color amongst his features that were actually starting to blend to a not-so-nice shade of gray.
I wasn't really sure what we were doing there.
A hiss filled the air, creeping around the walls, slithering through the room and reverberating amongst the water droplets on the floor. I shifted again, and I could feel that my palms were sweaty yet cold, freezing even. Maybe I was cold all over. My skin did feel a bit clammy. My breath was harsh, coming out in large huffs of air. I hadn't realized it right away, but my chest was hurting from such an effort of breathing, and perhaps my heart had been beating down the inside walls of my chest. Harry seemed to be having the same problem.
"P-Potter," my voice was more hoarse and strained and quiet than I remember. "W-what… is… happening?"
One step. He took one step. Thud. I gazed at that foot as it moved forward and made impact with the floor, almost in slow motion, small drops of water flying into the air and back to the ground in one small wave of movement.
"Malfoy," Harry said, his voice harsh and dark and fearful. "You need… to get out of here… now."
Confusion conquered my apprehension and my voice got stronger. "Potter, what's-"
Out short conversation was cut… well, short, when a large hiss interrupted me and we both almost instinctively turned our heads to the right (well, my right, his left). There was nothing there, but the hiss was enough, that loud whisper that almost said my name. I couldn't have been sure, but something in my heart said that my name had been mentioned. All of the sudden, I realized that it was not water we were standing on, not any longer. The floor was covered in blood. The deep red almost burned into my eyes and I screamed out. I wasn't really sure why. Perhaps it was the fact that I knew it was blood on the floor, or maybe I was questioning where it came from, or perhaps it was just a normal human reaction. I fell. And I was covered in it. It was sickening.
Silence.
I woke up.
Oddly enough, I was much in the shape I was in in the dream I had just had. Clammy, sweaty, frightened. I could hardly breathe. I found myself gasping and wheezing for air and yet I couldn't quite get it in my lungs, except for mere slivers of oxygen that passed through my esophagus that kept me just conscious enough to be completely, utterly miserable. I nearly fell out of my bunk and attempted to pull myself up, but my legs were shaking too badly, and my knees had found a position permanently buckled. I felt like I was choking. Choking on my own throat. I grasped the edge of a chair's seat, jerking the whole time, using it for some sort of support. I didn't know what was happening, but that little murmur, that threatening little sound of my name had me lost and, as you've probably already noticed, choking on my own throat.
"Draco, mate? What's going on over there?"
That voice… it seemed so very far away.
"Mate?" The sound of socked feet softly hitting the floor, and the sound of the footfalls moving closer echoed in my ears as if I wasn't really hearing them. "Something wrong?"
I could feel the fear building, the control I had dissipating into thin air (like the air in my lungs), and my eyes burning. Something was wrong. Something was so wrong. I wanted it to stop. I wanted it all to stop. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and gripped that chair as if it were the only thing holding me on the planet.
I don't remember screaming.
When I came to, Blaise was shaking me, almost a bit too harshly thanks to years of bullying. His almond eyes shone brightly in wand light and worry and fear plagued his features. I was lying flat on the floor now. I was still shaking, jolting a bit more violently every few seconds or so, but I could breathe, and that caught my attention first.
"Blaise," I sputtered, my voice sounding distant, and not like my own.
"Stick with me, mate. You want me to call a nurse?"
I gripped his pajama shirt with my left hand, clenching the cotton fabric between my fingers, and yanked my torso upright.
"Draco, man. Answer me. Say something. What the bloody hell happened to you?"
I looked at him with cloudy eyes. "I… don't… know."
…
I made Blaise promise not to speak of that night. I never saw a nurse. I never asked for help. I called it a night scare and went back to bed, nonchalantly as I could be of course, and it wasn't asked about the next morning, even when I picked at my food during breakfast. Hunger was the last thing on my mind.
In fact, I felt more like throwing up.
The Great Hall's sounds seemed to take forever to reach my ears. I sat in silence for awhile, then felt the chatterboxes of children and the boisterous clinking and clanking of flatware and the like begin to ease into my ears. I hadn't bothered much that morning. My outfit was in disarray and my hair hung lazily in my face. I wasn't much in the mood for morning grooming. My hands were still shaking a bit.
As much as that dream had scared me, however, I couldn't get it out of my head. My mind kept trying to whirl its way around the situation and look at it objectively, but my heart still hammered against my ribs as it flashed in my mind briefly every five minutes or so. I placed my fork next to my plate and stood, deciding that breakfast was done and looked up. My feet didn't carry me away.
Remember that across-the-room thing I told you about? It happened again.
Harry Potter had just stood, though he looked significantly fuller and warmer than I had seen him the night before, and probably a lot better than I looked at the moment too. We met eyes for a moment and the memory of my nightmare haunted me. I turned quickly away, breaking what I supposed was a met glare, or stare, or something of the like, and moving quickly out of the room and into the foyer, which, for the most part, was still pretty much empty. Most were still inside enjoying their breakfast. I heard the doors close behind me and sucked in a deep breath, telling myself that it had only been a dream and that I needed to stop scaring myself.
Those doors creaked open again, however, breaking the silence in one of the most frightening shrieks I'd ever heard from a door. I don't think I've ever noticed how much that door creaked until then. A few students began to pile out and go to class, passing me as if I were nothing but a ghost, looking through me, never at me. My feet didn't want to go any further. My body was focused on something entirely different. Of course, fate often throws things at you. Fate threw people at me.
Hermione Granger really needed to watch where she was walking. I suppose she was too infatuated with one of her friends (I really wasn't sure which by this point) to pay attention. I jolted and nearly swung at her, too riled up from my previous night.
"Watch where you're-" I started, but Harry promptly cut me off in grabbing my wrist before the fist attached to it made contact with Hermione's face.
That touch sent shocks through me, and I'm not speaking in a romantic sense. It hurt. In fact it almost burned into my wrist as if he was too pure to touch my soiled skin. I gasped and yanked my hand away from him. He seemed confused, gazing at me and then his hand and then back to me.
"Suddenly sensitive to touch, eh?" Ron Weasley growled obnoxiously. I had a feeling he was only getting brave to stick up for the girl that could probably kick his arse much quicker than he could kick mine.
I didn't really respond. I just looked at him like he was the crazy one.
"Don't you think it a bit wrong to even try to hit a girl, Malfoy? That's low. Real low." Ron crossed his arms defiantly.
"Ron, shush," Hermione muttered, eyeing me the whole time, much like Harry was doing.
They were making me nervous, so I turned and began to walk away, knowing running would make me all too suspicious. There was sweat running down my back.
"Don't you think you should apologize?"
That little bugger did get awful brave when it came to Hermione. Trying to show off, I suppose.
"Ron, just leave it alone-"
I whirled around quickly, and glowered at him. I felt like I had stabbed right through him with my eyes. He may have even flinched a little.
"I don't know who you think I am, boy!" I yelled out, but my voice didn't sound like my own. It came out rough and far more emotional than I had ever spoken. Harry froze and paled significantly. Ron really did flinch this time.
"Hey, Harry, you're going to be late for--" Ginny had come running up and her voice died away as she came into the conversation. "Oh…"
"Malfoy… are you… feeling alright?" Harry finally spoke in a quiet I-think-I-know-who-that-is voice.
The dream flashed again in my head, almost in Technicolor, burning into my fields of vision with brighter than bright colors and whites. I think my head jerked a bit at that point as I felt myself blinded by it. I grasped my forehead as a pain blossomed through it and died away as fast as it came. A worried, frightened silence remained.
"Decisions… decisions… how very hard they are to make."
I looked at Harry, even though I didn't want to look at Harry. And I looked at Ginny even though I didn't want to look at Ginny. Was I saying what I was hearing? It didn't sound like me at the time.
"Can you even begin to understand? It will destroy us. Choose or die. CHOOSE OR DIE. There can only be one victor. Choose or die."
My eyes were burning, but not as if they were teary. More like they were on fire. They were darting around the room, almost as if I were fighting with wherever they wanted to go. People were gathering around now, stragglers taking their time getting to class, the usual tardy people. And yet I couldn't look them in the eye. Only Harry and Ginny. They were the only ones. Harry took a cautious step forward, never backing down, just like heroes do.
"You… don't… want… this." He said, but it sounded different. "You must… fight…"
I jerked again, feeling the situation all too familiar. I wanted to speak, but I couldn't get the words I wanted to come out. It was as if a cold hand had wrapped around me and tied strings. I was a puppet.
"He… has… arisen," my voice spoke again. "And none will survive if against. Choose… or die…"
"Harry," a worried voice cried out softly.
"Fight this… Malfoy." He had closed the small amount of distance between us now, and reached out to me.
He touched two wary fingers to my forehead.
"What are you doing to him, Potter?! Potter!" That was Blaise. I could tell his voice from anywhere, even in the abyss I was currently trapped in.
"Let… him… go!" Harry yelled.
My eyes rolled back in my head as an unimaginable, indescribable pain blasted through every nerve on my body. I screamed out, stumbling backwards into strong arms that had suddenly appeared behind me. Voices were wafting in and out of my psyche, voices of students, voices of teachers, but mainly my own.
"CHOOSE OR DIE! CHOOSE OR DIE! CHOOSE OR DIE!"
It died away in the sound of a hiss. I collapsed to the floor, the arms helping me gently, yet forcefully enough to keep me from getting hurt. As if I wasn't hurt enough already. Then my eyes rolled back forward, glazed and yet somehow clearer than they had been. I remembered to breathe and began gasping for oxygen again. My eyes rolled around the room, confused. I had difficulty remembering what had happened.
"Wh-what?" It came out as more of a breath than a word, but it sounded like me again, so I didn't mind.
My eyes finally landed on Snape, who was above me, but not looking at me - calling for Madam Pomphrey I assume, then swivel over to Harry, who was kneeling on the floor with wide eyes, looking right at me. I gave him a look of what-the-hell-happened--I-know-you-know.
"You were… speaking Parseltongue," he said softly, shocked.
"No, Harry," Ginny said, her quiet, feminine voice standing out among the crowd in an almost icy fashion. "He wasn't saying anything."
End Chapter One
(Author's Notes: Well, I honestly don't know what this is. Seriously. I have no clue. I just saw Order of the Phoenix - which is probably the most amazing Potter film so far, and by far my favorite book of the series - and felt like writing something dark. Maybe this'll go somewhere. I like it. 7.11.2007)