Summary:"You know what," he began, staring back piercingly into her dark brown eyes, "I hate you too."
He saw in a momentary lapse, fire burning in her eyes, all the satisfaction within her at hearing these words. and without thinking, he leaned in and closed the distance between them with a kiss…
A/N: summary too cliché? Read on…
Disclaimer: I own nothing but he plot.
--
ShadowBall
Chapter-1: Wrath Of The Dark Lord
The Dark Lord lived alone, far far away from the rest of wizard kind, in a place only he could see and understand, in a world of his own creation – in the Realm of Shadow, behind the Sun. it was a place untouched by time and space, where the spirits of the half-dead roamed about in search of their afterlives, and where the cursed spent their eternal sentences. Untraced by wizard kind, the Dark Lord had reached this place with the most advanced of magic, giving himself away one by one – the pieces of his soul, now hidden and destroyed. The Horcruxes.
The remaining bits of him resided in his body…a shadow.
He remained uncaught till today, a piece of living, thinking darkness.… because a shadow can never be caught.
The circular room rotated slightly as mist rolled in through the many open doors. The sky shone in through the open top, making the white statues glisten silver.
Lucius was on his knees, shaking as he sobbed uncontrollably into the ground. He could hear the shadows whisper around him, say the things he never wanted to hear…about his family, about him…about his failed mission...
The others were with the authorities, some dead, some injured. He had failed them all. Of course, Bellatrix had managed to escape somehow. But him…he had been caught red-handed by the Dark Lord himself. What was he to do now?
He knew what was in store for him and his family, a melancholy voice inside his head chanted the unending melody to him.
The shadows mixed and merged with the pale light from the moon. They played around the room, knocked at the doors, at the walls. He thought he could quite distinctly hear a woman laugh…
The mist wrapped itself around him so tight, he couldn't breathe. The shadows whispered so many things, torturing him until there was no space in his head for anything other than the bare truth; that he was going to be murdered in a matter of seconds.
He heard the cold, cruel voice of his master, coming out of the shadows like a purposeful snake. "You've failed me again, Lucius…"
Breath chilled in the air, Lucius tried to speak. "I-I'm very sorry, master- I tried."
Tears began to seep out of his eyes, onto the frozen ground. Every tear shed only made realization sink in deeper into his mind.
"A fifteen year old boy too much for you?" hissed the voice in the shadows, "perhaps there's always someone who can do it better than you. Bellatrix has even proved herself…which makes you quite useless…"
At the mention of the last word, Lucius was thrown back by the shoulders. He crashed against the wall and laid panting and bleeding on the ground.
"The promise about Draco, I have not forgotten," said Lord Voldemort, playing with his wand between his fingers. "He shall pay on your behalf….isn't that how you wanted it?"
"I never wanted to see my son in your hands," said Lucius through gritted teeth, trying to stand up again. His hands fumbled over the body of the statue and gripping it, pulled himself to his feet.
"But you should have thought of that before you let Harry Potter escape…again…"
This time, the familiar sneer in his Lord's voice had disappeared, replaced with cold, hard malice. The shadows seem to grow darker and darker around him, shutting out the moonlight completely.
"in another two years, I will take away from him everything…everything that he owns and loves," said the voice, "I will destroy your son, Lucius - thoroughly … and its just a matter of time until he rejoins you. You and your wife. In the paradise you will soon go to."
With those words, darkness fell and shadows seized the night…
Some say we can chase away shadows. Light a candle, and the demons go away. But do they really?
When the storm blows and the fire dies out, the world belongs to them.
Every night…
Every time you close your eyes…
Remember, a shadow can never be caught…
()
He could hear his mother's beautiful voice singing him to sleep. He could also hear the apprehensive silence of the outdoors, creeping in through the open windows of his large bedroom.
The stars shone brighter than ever, twinkling down at him from the cloudless, prussian sky. Their silver beauty emerged out of the shadows, then faded back in again, teasing him. His little hands reached out to them, yearning to take them in his palm and hold them forever.
The jewels from his mother's neck glinted in the soft light, Draco stared entranced at them, putting his thumb back into his mouth. If only he could reach it…he stretched his hands.
"Do you know what this is?" asked his mother, leaning down so that he could feel the stones. "Its true green opal. They say wearing your birthstone ensures prosperity and good luck."
Thoughts in his little head were only just forming. He found the stones charming, but nothing compared to the beauty of his mother's eyes…he looked into them, searching, and found all the love in the world waiting there for him.
When his father had entered, he was fast asleep in his cradle. Narcissa kissed his forehead and drew back as Lucius stepped forward.
His eyes shone with the same love as he looked upon his son.
"I can't believe he's already a year old," he said, smiling silently at the baby's cherubic face. "He's growing up so fast."
"Yes," said his wife, "too fast if I may say so…"
Lucius turned to her, unmistakable sadness showing through his eyes.
"You fear he'll become just like me, don't you?" he asked her.
She turned around and said, a little apprehensively, "it is decided, isn't it, Lucius?"
Lucius grimaced and looked down at the sleeping child. No, he thought, Draco was much too innocent to follow his path. He would make sure he sees past the haze of darkness he'd brought into his life, pass through it, if need be. But never would he allow his son to end up like him.
"I wish you'd be around for him," said his wife hesitantly, staring into his cold, grey eyes, "you know, to lead him all the way."
She took his hands in hers, and stared down at their child.
Lucius nodded silently, placing his arm around his wife and without uttering a word, promised he'd never allow his son to go the wrong way and to be there whenever he needed him, so that they could live happily as a family and together build faith that would get them through the dark times ahead…
()
Seventeen years later…
It was the middle of September and Hogwarts saw a fresh new term within its castle walls.
Hermione Granger was tiresomely trying to pay attention to her history of magic teacher who had chosen the day to begin the tedious lesson, "Ways of the Misfits," a detailed narration about dwarf lives.
While the professor droned on, the afternoon sun climbed to its highest perch in the sky and sent heat waves through the classroom, making it difficult for the students to fight the impulse to sleep.
Even Hermione, top-of-the-class student who loved her classes more than anything else in the world, wished she were elsewhere. Her concentration, quickly ebbing away under the heat of the blazing sun, made her long for a refreshing break under the shade of the willow by the lake with her two friends, Harry and Ron.
She watched her fellow students engage in their own follies: Parvathi was staring out the door, hoping for distraction in the form of tall, muscular team players. Harry was rocking back and forth in his chair, crumpling paper balls within his fist and tossing them into the waste bin at the corner. Ron was fast asleep at his table, drool hanging from his open mouth.
The Slytherins who shared the class, like the Gryffindors, were using their time for equally useless purposes. Pansy Parkinson sat staring at Draco Malfoy's blonde hair and caressing it lovingly like it was some new dress she'd love to try on. Draco, perfectly unaware and uncaring of her fawning attention, talked animatedly to Blaise.
Hermione stiffened at the sight of the blonde: she'd once thought him very handsome. His eyes captivated her with magic of their own. Grey shaded eyes, glinting in the light, like silver undercurrents in a misty ocean. She would have admired them had their expression not been so cold and deceiving.
The moment she turned to the other side, Draco's gaze was on her. He scarcely listened to his companion's babbles. His eyes were focused on the brown-haired, brown-eyed Gryffindor and he really wanted to know what was on her mind when she stared that way at him.
"Draco," said Blaise, placing an arm on his shoulder and following his gaze, "see, I know you think she's hot, but she's got bodyguards twice your size and your strength. Plus, she's a muggle-born."
Draco tore his gaze from the girl, feeling strangely taunted. Raising his eyebrows and ignoring the color coming to his face, he asked Blaise, "do you really think I'm that stupid - ?"
He never found out what Blaise thought because at that moment, McGonagal appeared at the door, asking, "Excuse me, Binns, may I borrow Potter, Granger and Malfoy for a moment please?"
Draco looked up at the ghostly professor who nodded and at once, got up and went outside, relieved to get away from Blaise and stretch a leg. Harry and Hermione joined him outside, both looking extremely relieved to have a break from the boring history lesson.
"Potter, Granger, Malfoy, you three have heard of the Grimmauld's Inter-School Wizarding Challenge being held at Durmstrang this year, I suppose. Dumbledore had announced it the other day," said McGonagal, "we have decided that you three should represent Hogwarts as a team this year."
There was silence following her words, as the three of them stared wide-eyed.
Then, Hermione asked, breathlessly, "but professor, I thought this event was to span a few months and this is our n.e.w.t year. Wouldn't it hinder our studies?"
She paled as the professor said, "Well, from what I know, the tournament is likely to get over by February and yes, you may miss a lot of classes, but while you are at Durmstrang, books and study material will be mailed to you directly. Also, I do not think you three are completely incapable of handling your coursework alone for some time, though Potter should wean out his laziness."
"That's it then! Potter's going to fail his n.e.w.t.s!" smirked Draco, unable to resist the urge to strike at such a well-presented opportunity, "a tournament is a good enough reason for him to abandon all sane activity and go behind some blatant fame-swindling scheme!"
"Oh, and I suppose that's going to be affecting your image at Durmstrang, Malfoy?" asked Hermione turning on him coolly. "You won't get your deserving share of attention with Harry around. Pity."
Draco considered this and replied, "Oh, there's no need to pity me, Granger. My name is already well-known at Durmstrang. Given the present circumstances, I can only expect it to receive more than the deserving attention..."
"No one is going to go fame-hunting!" said McGonagal sharply as Hermione stiffened. "This is not child's play. What any of you do will affect each other, as you three are a single team, not three gifted individuals, each fighting separately for the Grimmauld's Cup. And when I say 'a single team', you must unite, put aside differences and think like you are one body and that you are representing the school. You must not give outsiders a chance to see you turning against each other or they will use it as a weapon to weaken the team."
McGonagal probably felt that she was asking a lot from them because she quickly added, "We will be leaving in two days time to Bulgaria. You will have two teachers, Serverus Snape (she rolled her eyes very slightly) and Hagrid, to accompany you throughout the journey and at Durmstrang. I can start making arrangements for your stay if you sign these." And she held out a notepad full of papers.
"Wait, don't we have a say in this?" asked Draco, as Hermione took the papers from her. "I mean, we have to – I have to live with these people," and he looked at Harry and Hermione with disgust, "for the next few months of my life!! I don't think that's really possible. I mean, if you think I'm going to take orders from filth-!"
"Dumbledore thinks you'll last, Malfoy, and his word is good enough for us," said professor McGonagal with a tight lip, and she handed Hermione a quill.
()
The idea of representing Hogwarts while being teamed up with fame-boy Potter and know-it-all Granger was most revolting mainly because of the following reasons-
Firstly, because he couldn't stand their outright honesty and disguised arrogance.
Secondly, because they'd eclipse his self-sustained bad boy image with all their wonderful 'goodness'.
Thirdly, because he'd have to cooperate and take orders from his nemesis which was totally unacceptable for his Malfoy status.
Fourthly, because he wouldn't be able to quarrel with or insult either of them for the sake of team unity – whatever that was.
And lastly, and most importantly, he'd have to 'share' the glory of the tournament with them in case they manage to bag the Cup.
He related these particulars to Blaise during the rest of their history class and was offered sympathies. They both decided that the best thing to do in such a situation was to make the best out of the present moment and try to shine as much as possible individually in the near future.
For Harry and Hermione, being selected for such a tournament was happy news, but their lively spirits quickly evaporated when it was time to break the news to Ron.
With Ron being stupid and highly sensitive, they feared that he'd take the news in the wrong way, and approached the subject with caution…
After class, Hermione walked up to him with Harry by her side and tapped him gently on the shoulder. "Ron, we've got to tell you something."
Ron reacted much in the way they had expected. His face colour changed as he congratulated them, and he then, sank into a moody state following the news that they were to leave in two days.
"But doesn't this mean that you two will be away like - for months?" he asked.
"Yeah, well…but the tournament is supposed to get over by February," said Harry assuringly. "It's just a couple of months. We'll be back in no time!"
"Oh, and weasel," said a swanky voice from their back. It was Malfoy, determined to ruin Ron's mood. He smirked and said, "Spending months at a time at Durmstrang makes your girlfriend free to flirt with all the boys present there. Now, that wouldn't be good as there is no one else thick enough to date you-"
"Do you look for trouble, Malfoy or does it always manage to find you first?" asked Harry and he rewarded Draco with a freshly conjured jinx and an array of blister-like pimples across his face. "There now… don't you look pretty."
Draco raised his fingers to his face and touched his bumpy skin. "Damn," he muttered, as Ron began sniggering.
"Apologize to my friends right now!" said Harry, pointing his wand towards his face.
Draco smirked back at him, and turning to his friends, said, "And if I don't?"
Harry looked like he was going to send him another set of jinxes, but he was stopped well before by Hermione, who looked like she was in the mood to make a speech.
She lowered Harry's wand and said, "There's no need for an apology, Malfoy."
"Like I was going to, mudblood," he sneered back.
Turning to her friends, Hermione said rather loftily, "I guess Malfoy here still hasn't learnt that his words can do us as much harm as an ant can do to an elephant, and that any kind of apology is unacceptable. Harry, please don't trouble yourself with hexing him as he has not offended my pride or Ron's in any way. He has nothing else better to do than waste his time. You on the other hand can make better use of yours by doing some referencing with me in the library."
She gripped Ron by his robe and turned to Draco. "And I don't flirt, Malfoy," she said and walked out of the classroom.
Harry had an inkling to laugh, but he suppressed his smile and remained up tight for his own sake.
Prodding Draco on the back and whispering a threat, he then followed suite and exited the classroom, leaving Draco to swell in indignation.
On catching up with both Ron and Hermione, he patted the latter on the shoulder, grinning. "Well said, Hermione!"
"Oh, he was really asking for it," she told him, shaking her head.
Draco watched all this from the doorway of the classroom, his eyes narrowed down to slits.
He hated her. He hated them. He hated how they could walk around, defying everyone and everything. He hated the way she always stood up for herself. How she never bruised and never took anything to the head.
The Golden Trio, they were called, he thought despicably. He couldn't see what was so great about them, except that one had a stupid scar on his head that was thought to be of legend. Frankly, he didn't understand how one could surpass the Dark Lord so many times with just a stupid mark across the forehead.
And they were foul, disliking everything bad and honorable. They were proud, the three of them, always overestimating themselves and thinking too low of authority.
Draco's eyes darkened as he watched the three of them walk away. All around people seemed to accept them, admire them. In fact, he had heard that two of the trio had recently started going out, making their affair the stuff of every conversation.
Draco was so busy feeling jealous of the three of them that he startled when Binns came to his ears and said, "Mr. Malwick, may I remind you that you are in the way of my third year students who've got their history class this hour."
He glared at the professor and looked around him and was met by a line of third years standing along the wall, looking and pointing in his direction. He frowned at them and adjusting his bag, started for the commonroom.
()
Draco stood before the mirror in his dorm, carefully applying medication to his pimples when Blaise walked in. Blaise was at first surprised, then amused by the sight of the pimples, then, turned his expression softly and enquired as to its cause.
"Potter," muttered Draco sorely, leaving Blaise to guess the rest.
"Oh, he jinxed you?" asked Blaise, a grin creeping up his face. He then caught the look on Draco's face and dropped his grin. "Well, you must have insulted the girl…."
Draco stopped in the middle of applying his medication and stared at Blaise through the mirror. "How did you know that?" he asked.
There was a slightly triumphant look on the face he saw through the mirror.
"I didn't see you get jinxed if that's what you're asking," he said in a remarkably cool voice. "I just observe people and the pattern of things."
Draco now had his eyebrows raised. He opened a drawer and put away the medicine.
"See," explained Blaise immediately, "normally in situations when you insult Granger's friends, she steps up to stop them from jinxing you and tells them it's not worth it. But in situations when you insult her, she lets them take you, then, steps up and says it wasn't worth it. That's how I know why you always get jinxed."
"You figured this one out by yourself?" asked Draco, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Sure you didn't find it in a book or something?"
"you don't find things like these in books, Draco," grinned Blaise.
He then, fell back against his bed and asked casually, "so…you still thinking about her?"
"About Granger?" asked Draco.
"Yeah."
Draco was now deeply aware of his friend's piercing gaze. He stiffened and said in an equally casual voice, "no."
"She is quite a catch you know."
"She is not a catch and I betters not catch you saying that again."
Silence followed. Draco leaned in front to examine the scars left by Potter's hex while Blaise stared up at the canopy of his four-poster bed. Both of them of thinking about the same thing.
Draco's cheeks were still red and burning as he could not conceal the obvious guilt. Yes, he had been thinking about Granger. She'd been on his mind quite a number of times actually, he had to admit. It was weird, but he guessed it had something to do with the fact that there had been a lot of friction between his and her gang since his father went to prison for trying to kill her best friend.
"She's a nasty piece of work, you know," said Blaise, in accordance to Draco's train of thought, "she knows what she wants and will do anything to get it. Get too close and she'll rip you off your reputation…"
Draco thanked him for sharing this view point with him and said, "I'm glad that's the only thing she'll rip off. How's Pansy doing?"
"She's landed herself in detention again. Second time this week. We had to cancel out our anniversary date because of that. I can't feel sorry though."
"Remind me why you still go out with her."
"Because she's rich and her father's promised me a position in the ministry."
"you sure have class.."
A loud screech echoed outside the castle drawing Draco's attention to the window. There, flying through clouds was an eagle-feathered owl.
He at once knew whose letter it must be bringing and turned quickly to Blaise. "Did Goyle tell you about the duel he'd scheduled for the afternoon? The one that involves taking down some squirmy fifth year?"
"No, he didn't!" cried Blaise, suddenly sitting up very straight. Draco knew that his friend loved physical torture.
"It starts in five minutes," helped Draco, watching the bird fly closer.
Blaise left the room immediately and the minute the door closed, Draco went over to the window. The bird soared lower and lower until it flapped right into the room and came down on his desk.
Draco checked the room and stared apprehensively at the letter held in its claws.
The letter contained a single line:
Meet me behind greenhouse six twelve O'clock tonight.
It was clear that the letter was from his father. He recognized the handwriting instantly. It cheered him up, at the same time, brought with it a feeling a dread. His father had not contacted him for two years now. He'd gone into hiding immediately after his escape from Azkaban. Now, he was a wanted man. Wanted by dementors…
The relationship between him and Lucius had been altered in many ways since his infamous arrest in his fifth year. Draco no longer looked up to the man as his father. On the other hand, he learnt to despise Lucius - passionately. He grieved to be called his son, mainly because he understood the kind of man his father was – a cold, deceiving and infinitely selfish murderer who regarded power as the most important thing in the world.
His family members who'd taken the full blow of his arrest, came second.
Life had changed drastically after the arrest. Draco and his mother were subjected to much trouble with the widespread speculation and investigation following the arrest. Draco himself had to swear before the court that he was by no means a deatheater. Their home had been raided many times, the manor itself destroyed at one part.
But what did Lucius know of his family's misery? Why would he care?
Draco sighed and tried to clear his head. Thinking about the past wouldn't make things any easier.
If Lucius had decided to contact him, it would only mean more trouble. If he were ever found….Draco shuddered to think what would happen to him.
There were things to be done, he thought, crumpling the letter in his hand. He'd have to get permission to patrol the castle parameters from Snape and clear the area around greenhouse six before midnight.
()
Snape had never shown resistance in giving Draco permission to patrol, but today, he seemed to have made up his mind to bar him from entering the grounds.
"It is foolish to be outside at such late hours, Draco," he said, "especially tonight as Firenze has predicted rain and intense chill over the weather patterns in his crystal ball."
"I thought you didn't give a damn about divination, professor," Draco said, raising his eyebrows.
"I don't," he said with an air of unconcern. "But I do think Dumbledore would be highly suspicious if I let you out patrolling at this hour of the night, to a place that is most often deserted and uneventful, when your father is out on the loose…"
Draco's hair stood at its ends as he listened to the professor.
"You don't think my father's going to come to Hogwarts tonight, do you, sir?" asked Draco, trying to sound casual, "when there are so many people out looking for him? He'd be laying his own death trap, right?"
"Or so it may seem," said Snape, his black eyes flickering dangerously. They surveyed Draco for a moment.
"See, the point is I don't really trust you, Draco," he said in a sing-song voice.
Draco remained silent, his temper rising quickly. He stared down at the floor to avoid Snape's searching eyes.
"however, if you are that eager to waste your sleep then," said Snape, removing his gaze from him and fixing it on the quill and ink on his table, "I can give you permission to patrol the third floor corridor from where you can get a fairly good view of the greenhouses if you inch your neck out the window."
"That'll be good, sir," said Draco immediately, glad Snape agreed to the activity, though not the site. "I can finally catch the ones who've been stealing the nymph weed."
Snape's gaze had returned and he was looking at Draco with his lips curled in something of a smile. "I didn't know you cared about the school that way," he said.
"Its kind of my duty you know. I'm Head Boy," Draco emphasized. "This school is my home."
"Of course…" said Snape, "and I expect you to remember that at all times."
He signed a permission slip and pointed to the door.
"You may go now. And do remember to safeguard the towers...its got something of mine."
Draco rushed out of the dungeons at full speed, his face smarting under Snape's words. He walked out onto the lawns and set out to find a secluded spot to clear his head. There was one waiting for him under the willow tree by the lake.
A refreshing breath of wind caught him when he entered into the secluded lake site. The heat of the afternoon seemed to evaporate under the shade of the tree and the gale rising from the lake provided the much-needed relief.
He took off his shoes and sat down under the tree to watch the afternoon sun set peacefully over the water.
"I expect we'll be leaving by nine on Thursday morning and arriving by night. I've already written to my parents, giving them our Durmstrang addresses. They're so happy I got selected and they've sent their congratulations to you too, Harry."
Apparently, he was not the only one who was in need of some time out. Potter, Granger and Weasley were walking along the bank in his direction. He didn't need thinking twice to get up and leave.
"I wish they'd selected me too," grumbled a thoroughly depressed sounding Ron, "I'll be sitting here with Ginny, hatching eggs throughout the winter while you two party away in Bulgaria."
Draco almost laughed out at this woeful comment, feeling a genuine triumph at Ron's misery. He would be able to party the night away in Bulgaria…
The trio had chosen a spot by the lake, quite close to him and was covered by a large bush. Draco now felt no urgent need to shift his place as they were entirely unaware of him, therefore incapable of delivering fresh jinxes.
"Oh Ron, don't be so stupid!" scolded Granger, "we're not going there to party! We're going to be using all our free time towards studying and revising our portions, which I might add, should be learnt without help from a teacher. Besides, it's not going to be all fun and games. You remember Harry during the tri-wizard tournament, without a wink of sleep and desperate to just survive the tasks?"
"The only thing I remember Harry being desperate about was asking Cho Chang out, and her turning him down. And of course, I remember dear Viktor. Fancy meeting him there, Mione?"
"No," said a sore-sounding Granger. "Viktor's two years our senior and has probably left school."
"-unless he's failed a year or two…"
Someone chuckled.
Draco had almost forgotten about the Viktor character, but now that his name was mentioned, his face came hurtling back into his mind, bringing with it a few unpleasant memories: Viktor had always made him jealous. Tri-wizard tournament, international quidditch player, rolling in fame…
"Oh stop it, Harry!" scolded Granger, "you're both acting very stupid, you know that?"
Of course, he could never forget Granger's year-long affair with the champion. It was quite unbelievable at first and he had to look more than twice at the pair of them on the night of the ball to confirm that it was really Granger, the Mudblood, dancing with Krum'. He'd cringed then, but it was true that there was no one else who looked as stunning as her that night. He guessed that it had just been her lucky day.
"Can't believe Malfoy's your teammate though," said Ron, changing the subject of conversation and catching Draco's full attention. "What good can he be?"
"No good, really," answered Granger.
"Bet Dumbledore's trying to put him in some positive light after all the stuff he had to go through with the ministry. Probably thinks he deserves a second chance or something. Harry, you watch out. Lucius could have sent his son out to complete his mission."
Draco almost laughed out again, not because the topic of conversation was amusing, but because it was absurd! So absurd, it was almost scary.
"He's not going to try and kill Harry if that's what you're saying," said Granger loudly. "If he does, that'll be giving himself up to Azkaban at seventeen!"
"Voldemort killed at seventeen, Hermione," said Harry. "And I don't want to underestimate Draco or any of the Malfoys for that matter."
"Me neither," added Ron, "they're a rotten bunch, the whole lot of them destined to join the Dark Lord. Dad said that Lucius had plans for Draco. Plans that involved setting the dark mark on his skin."
Draco's ears rang with this news. False! How utterly false! Only he knew that Lucius never had plans of the sort. But the prejudiced world today seemed to think differently, no matter how many times his innocence had been proved. Weasley was one of those people who accepted hype unquestioned and spread about wild and untrue stories for plain revenge.
"We've just got to be alert…all the time," said Harry, "and keep a good eye on him. If Lucius was half the man I thought he'd be, he'd have entrusted his task to Draco…"
Draco's fists clenched with unexplainable anger. Keep an eye on him? What was he, a notorious convict or something? He felt disturbed. He could not fathom how he'd be spending the next few months in the company of people who thought that he was a mad man with murder on his mind…
()
Draco slipped out of his dormitory at eleven-thirty that night. After making sure that he was completely alone, he stepped out of the common room and made his way to the third floor corridor.
It was deserted when he arrived. Mist was floating in through the open window at the end. Draco walked up to it and stuck his head out. The greenhouses appeared like dark green mossy cakes in the grey mist that circled it. It was impossible to see anything past their rooftops.
Five minutes to twelve, and the mist had somewhat cleared, but it was still difficult to make things out.
He turned around to the corridor that lay in darkness.
Was he just imagining things or was there a man standing in the darkness?
He blinked.
There was a man standing in the darkness, he was quite sure of it. There was a silver outline in the shadows….and he…he was staring back at Draco.
"Don't shout," said the man and he moved out from the shadow.
In a single beam of pale moonlight glistened a familiar face. Long, pointed nose, raised cheekbones and piercing grey eyes, regal black robes. It was hard to say that his prison sentence had left any mark on the perfectly groomed and poised appearance of Lucius Malfoy.
All Draco's anticipation died the moment they linked eyes. It felt strange somehow to see Lucius after so long and not want to look at him.
They both remained silent, each wanting the other to begin the conversation. The silence was maintained until it became unbearably daunting to Draco's ears and he had to resist the urge to shout, "Why now?"
"Because now is when you truly need me," answered Lucius.
"Need you?" spat Draco, "why would I need you, Lucius? I've been spending the last two years trying to get away from you, from our past, setting straight the things you messed up! I don't need you to come and ruin everything again."
Lucius's eyes lit up fiercely. He stepped closer in the light, making the streaks in his silver hair glisten.
"I have no intention of ruining your present situation of happiness, Draco, however great that is," he said, "I doubt it'll be much considering all the stories going around these days."
"All because of you…" said Draco.
"Circumstances influence a man, Draco, in ways that are almost cruel," said Lucius looking unperturbed, "I am sorry if I have unwittingly taken away any part of your happiness, but we are indebted to the Dark Lord and he is our master. He gives us orders and we execute them, or we die."
"Then why aren't you dead?" Draco asked, hate and venom spitting out through his words. "it would do us all a big favour you know!"
Lucius's cool, emotionless façade seemed to have cracked a bit and he peered at Draco with almost a remorseful expression, his son's words having cut in like knives.
"does Narcissa too…?" he began hoarsely when Draco shouted, "yes, Lucius, she too hates you! You ruined her life just like you ruined mine!" he paused to watch his father's grey eyes glimmer darkly under his hood.
"very well," said Lucius slowly, his lips curling into a frown, "you asked me the reason for my being alive, if it isn't just to sustain my family. I know this will come as a bit of a shock to you… The Dark Lord, he has spared my life in return of yours."
Draco stared back coldly, feeling anger course through his veins. He had been expecting something like this. He'd known that the reason for Lucius' survival after the failure of his mission was purely because he had undertaken something bigger…
Here, he saw the real man his father was – plain selfish, plain deceitful…
But Lucius was having other ideas. Watching his son change before him, he said, "...what I'm trying to say is, he wants you to join him and in return, spare yours and your mother's life from any danger. You know Narcissa isn't in very good health these days. Her time will soon come if you reject the offer that he'll soon make."
"Well, I reject it then, long beforehand," answered Draco, "mother'll be much more at peace when all this is over, when she sees you dead at the Dark Lord's feet."
Somewhere afar, Draco heard a door slam shut and the ghost of footsteps echoed through the corridor. Tensed, he looked back at his father who had sunk back into the darkness. "There's someone coming. You've got to go back. Can you apparate?"
"I can't apparate inside Hogwarts," he answered.
"Then how on earth did you get here?" Draco asked irritably. There was silence now in the far distance, then without warning, a spell shot into the air.
"Draco, I travel through shadows, I am safe," said his father, "its you who is not."
"What?" asked Draco, now thoroughly confused. "Shadows?-"
But his father refused to entertain his doubts at the moment. Instead, he caught him by the shoulder and dragged him to the light. "Draco, your life is in danger," he whispered, "this tournament that you've been chosen for, it's a setup. People are coming over to the dark side, one by one, and they will do their best to take you with them… If they succeed, you will be the Dark Lord's greatest treasure. But trust me, that's not what you want…"
There was a wild thumping going on inside Draco, like voodoo drums in his ears. "There's someone coming-"
Lucius was holding him so tightly, his fingers were digging in through his robes. He seemed desperate somehow. "You don't want to see yourself as a murderer do you?" he asked.
"No – of course not," replied Draco, a little uncertainly.
"Then stand strong, Draco," said Lucius looking into his light grey eyes, "for a lot of things are about to change."
A single jolt of yellow light hit the wall beside Lucius, missing him by inches.
Draco pushed him away, shouting, "go! Someone's coming! If you're seen-"
"I told you Draco, I'm safe and cannot be harmed," he repeated, "its you who is not."
He then did a very odd thing, something that would have made Draco laugh had he not been on the verge of being caught red-handed – he moved his hand to Draco's chest and placed it over his heart.
"Be strong, son."
Lucius took one last fleeting glance at his son, then moved back into the shadows.
And in a second, he'd disappeared into darkness like a wraith of dark emptiness.
At the same time, there was movement in the misty corridor and a black robed figure came forward: Serverus Snape looked livid, his wand stretching out at Draco.
"I know who you've been talking to," he snarled, "Where is he? Where is Lucius?"
The corridor stood empty, shrouded in mist, the open window letting in patches of moonlight from the night sky.
"I don't know," replied Draco, taking his chances. "Why don't you take a look around? Do you see him?"
Snape's face had gone very white. It seemed like he was trying to say something that was splitting his throat inside. "I know…." he told Draco very slowly, in a half-whisper, "that he was here tonight, and that you let him escape – again!"
Draco felt something pointed poke him in his throat. On looking down, he saw Snape's wand stuck to it.
"So, what if I did?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "You can't prove it."
The look on Snape's face changed from anger to desperate malice. "You're the same dirty blood as your father, Draco and believe me, you will go down the same dirty way… you'll be reporting to Dumbledore six O' clock tomorrow morning."
He shot Draco a look of burning hatred, then, turned on his heals and disappeared down the corridor.
--
A/N: I really don't like Snape. He's like a leech..
This story does contain a lot of supernatural elements btw. And you do want to know how our favorite pairs going to get together rt? Read on…
Next chapter:
"I was just finishing up anyways. You can have the table," she told him, putting all the books to one side.
"Granger, why're you trying to be nice to me?"
His question took her by surprise and she looked back at him a bit shamefacedly. "I'm not trying to be nice to you. I'm trying to be civil…"
"Oh, and why would you do that?" he asked, now really interested.
"Well, because…" Hermione sighed, "Because we'll be spending a lot of time together as a team in the tournament and if we don't stop back-biting and damning each other no end, we'll probably end up killing each other."
"-and that sounds interesting," concluded Draco with a false smile on his face.
R&R!