Chapter 2-new

Nothing ever stops all these thoughts and the pain attached to them
Sometimes I wonder why this is happening
It's like nothing I can do will distract me

Figure .09
Linkin Park

Word count: 4302

Aside from having to hide from his friends, the weekend was otherwise uneventful, he managed to brew another batch successfully and was pleased to know he still had a few bottles of firewhiskey left, just enough to last until the next Hogsmeade weekend, if he was careful. He had also been pleased to find that the asphodel root had been left untouched by Madam Pomfrey when he received his clothing from her.

An empty classroom had been put to use as his base of operations (aside from Myrtle's lair of course because the tales that were spread about it made it unoriginal though one could not be too picky) and he had been quick to transfigure a used bottle of Firewhiskey into a cauldron. After that he had assembled various other necessities such as a motar, measuring jars, a large wooden spoon that looked about to crumble to dust, all from the Potions classroom.

Draco could admit he had hesitated at the thought of ferrying all those items across the corridors of Hogwarts in broad daylight but the conundrum had speedily been resolved when he realised a Disillusionment charm was all he needed and proceeded to levitate the items to a fifth floor classroom. Of course he'd had to pretend he was just holding his wand at the ready each time he came across someone, and who's to say it was unwarranted with all the people that clearly wanted him dead?

Once everything was set up nice and cosy in the classroom that bore a heavy air of disuse for at least a few months, Draco got to work, grinding the dried asphodel root (courtesy of a handy Dehydrating Charm) to a fine powder then mixing it with juice from a sopophorous bean and essence of sedge which he had acquired from an apothecary in Diagonal Alley.

He recalled his trip to Borgin and Burkes and with it his mission. Draco bit back a curse as he began to stir the viscous purple liquid anti-clockwise. As much as he would just love to do it (complete the mission that is) at the moment, he rather thought it could wait a little longer. He needed this now.

It took most of the day to brew the potion which sufficiently occupied his time and thoughts. When he stopped, it was only to creep back to the Slytherin dungeons where he devested himself and climbed into bed, his roommates non the wiser.

Monday morning arrived too soon and Draco found himself awake hours before the sun was up with a sinking feeling in his stomach, somehow he got the feeling it would not be a good day. Getting out of bed was a difficult task and even then, he stumbled to the bathroom with two vials in hand, unable to think straight. He wanted to get out; out of his body which no longer felt like his own anymore, out of Hogwarts so he would not have to- he popped open the vial and drank from it before he could think any more. It was a bottle of firewhiskey which he had shrunk to the size of his finger. As long as he did not drink more than a pint, the burning liquor would continue to flow out of the vial, he need never return it to its original size.

It was a clever bit of magic he'd learned over the summer when he had needed a distraction to keep him occupied and away from the lounge where The Dark Lord had seen it fit to conduct his business from. Draco took the bottle from his lips and leaned against the bathroom door with a sigh as the suppressant began to do its work. He would give it about five minutes then he would take his potion. But he didn't. He drank two more mouthfuls before he put the vial away then knocked back the potion immediately.

{HPDM}

Harry Potter stumbled into the great hall about as gracefully as someone who'd forgotten to walk, his two best friends were already seated and having their lunch and he could see Ron's ginger hair amongst the other students at the Gryffindor table. Next to him was Hermione whose bushy hair somehow also stood out amongst the rest.

Professor Slughorn had kept him back after their first potions lesson commenting on the abysmal introduction to his write-up on the Draught of Living Death potion the class would be brewing in a week's time. He'd rambled on about how he'd expected Harry Potter to be a more skilled at Potions and suggested that perhaps he should begin taking on extra work for practice if he intended to get a passing grade in his N.E.W.T.s.

Harry had scoffed mentally at that, he may have been the Chosen One but unlike Hermoine he had a low tolerance for work, especially of the extra kind and when it came from people like Slughorn who he was beginning to see was not a very open-minded person. He'd politely informed the professor that he would study harder but could not take on any more work with his N.E.W.T.s coming up. He did, however need to leave otherwise he would miss lunch (and seeing as he'd already missed breakfast) he was not eager to remain hungry until evening.

The professor had grudgingly let him leave.

On his way to the great hall, Harry caught whispers about Malfoy's accident in the Forbidden Forest a few days ago. No one really knew much else except that he'd been found unconscious by Hagrid in the early hours of the morning (though what the gamekeeper had been doing in the forest at that hour was also unknown) and had been taken to the hospital wing. Of course, it didn't stop people from fabricating stories as to what happened, they were cruel and remorseless (as Malfoy often was) and Harry could admit to having listened in when Lavender Brown invited the entire common room to listen to her version of the 'Daily Dirt'.

He was not, however, so naïve as to believe any of the stories and had been waiting ,rather shamelessly, for someone to corner the Slytherin so they could get the truth out of him but he had not been seen for the entirety of the first week or the weekend. It did nothing to quell the rumours however, if anything it seemed to fuel them. Even now, Harry's eye involuntarily searched the Slytherin table for the boy but could not see him amongst his friends.

It was odd in itself as Malfoy loved to make a show of everything from his importance right down to the fact that he had his admirers eating out of the palm of his hand. Usually it was quite irritating to watch but with his absence the Slytherin table seemed like a herd of lost sheep mourning the absence of its master; life went on but it was not the same.

"Harry," Ron said dragging him out of his thoughts. He motioned for him to join them and Harry did so, instantly forgetting about Malfoy.

"You alright, mate?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, fine. Why?" he asked.

"Well, for one you were just standing there glaring at the Slytherin table, not that they deserve any better," he added. Had he? Harry certainly hadn't noticed looking at the Slytherin table that long, he only recalled looking at it when he was trying to spot Malfoy and it had taken only a few moments to see he wasn't there. "And also, you seem a bit flustered."

"Er..." he began not really knowing what to say.

"He didn't get you again did he because I tell you that slimy git needs to be brought down a peg or two and I'd be happy to do it too," said Ron dropping his fork and rolling up his sleeves.

Once again, Harry struggled to find a proper answer. He didn't want word of Malfoy 'getting him' to spread round the school and he was quite sure some fifth years down the table were listening over the sound of talking. He shot Ron a reproachful look but Ron had already returned to eating his beef stew furiously.

"What did Slughorn want?" asked Hermoine shutting her copy of The Standard Book of Spells: Grade Six.

Harry was grateful for the change in topic and proceeded to tell them what Slughorn had wanted in between mouthfuls of fried rice and pumpkin juice because he certainly wasn't looking forward to a DADA lesson with Snape on a hungry stomach. "Professors these days," Ron uttered in disgust when Harry mentioned the extra work at the same time as Hermoine said, "You should have said yes, potions isn't exactly your best subject."

"I can get by," he said.

He hadn't exactly failed it in his O. and Snape had been brutal to him during his lessons, perhaps with Slughorn he could hope to pass. Hermoine seemed to be thinking along the same lines as she left the topic well enough alone. Ron let out a loud groan and stuffed all the food on his plate into his mouth earning a scowl from Hermoine and a curious look from Harry.

"What?" he asked before Hermoine beat him to it.

"I've just remembered, I haven't finished the essay Snape assigned on Countercurses."

"You've got to be joking," Hermoine exclaimed. "You said you'd finished it when I asked."

"Yeah, what've you been doing all weekend?" asked Harry.

He immediately knew from the shade of red Ron's expression had turned that this was not a question he was comfortable answering. He swallowed past a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "I said 'more or less gotten it down' and besides, Seamus wanted a rematch, I couldn't exactly say no."

Hermoine rolled her eyes in exasperation.

Ron stood up, forgetting all about dessert, and rushed out of the great hall.

"Honestly, I don't know why I even bother with you two," she muttered.

"I finished my essay long before time," Harry said thinking that was a bit not fair.

"Only because I had to drag you to the library to help me research," she said pushing aside her plate and leaving the great hall as well.

Harry sighed knowing she would come around. Being the top of the class- thus very organised- he could see how his and Ron's lack of attention to deadlines got on her nerves. She meant well, he knew that. The Great Hall had begun to empty as students languidly strode out in preparation for the afternoon classes.

Harry noticed a group of girls, who he was sure were from different houses, gathered at the Hufflepuff table where they alternated between hushed whispers and loud giggles. The Ravenclaws shot them disdainful looks over their books but did not choose to leave until they had finished their meal. There weren't that many Slytherins either but their table was by far the most silent after the Ravenclaw's save for a few murmurs. Harry found himself searching for the blonde again despite knowing that he would not be there, as expected, was no sign of him. An idea popped into his mind: going over to the Slytherins to ask but he quickly dismissed it.

It was ludicrous.

Not only would it be utterly suspicious (they were rivals after all not friends) but it was Draco Malfoy, a mean, spoiled, selfish, self-centred prat and he'd probably gone into the forest for something as stupid as a dare or to prove a point. So he finished up his lunch and rushed up to the Gryffindor common room to get a book he'd forgotten to pack. They had DADA with the Slytherins this year- the rumours would either be proven true or put to rest.

When Harry walked into the classroom, he noted that there was a very Snape-ish touch to it. Seeing as the post was declared vacant each year, most of the students had grown accustomed to the ever changing decor (which was in this case charts, models and the like). However, this year Harry could swear the room had been repainted a dull green colour designed to put students in the foulest of moods that could be mastered.

The layout was relatively similar to that of the Potions classroom only that the charts put up on the walls and the models that littered the classroom had more to do with the Dark Arts- and the defense against it- rather than proper brewing and genus names of rare plants.

Ron waved him over to the back of the classroom which was where they always sat, especially if it was Snape's class and Harry just managed to settle down as the professor strode into the room shutting the doors with a loud bang. His long black robes billowed behind him as he walked to the front of the classroom.

Snape looked round at the mass of Gryffindors and Slytherins with knit brows clearly conveying his distaste. "I had hoped to deal with a smaller class but seeing as this is not an elective, I will, for another year, have to contend with your bafoonery."

"More like we have to contend with his presence," muttered Ron pretending to open his book.

Harry snickered.

Hermione gave them a warning glare.

"Did you finish the essay?" he asked keeping one eye on Snape.

Ron nodded. "Yeah and just in the nick of time, I'd hate to think what-"

"Potter, Weasley!" snapped the greasy-haired professor. "It seems to me you find catching up on the summer's events a proper thing to do in my classroom. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Several accusing glances were directed at them, surely they could wait until later into the term to start losing points for the house.

"Each," added Snape with a nasty smile.

Harry could have wrung his neck there and then but forced himself to calm down, from Ron's clenched jaw he saw he was not alone.

When Snape seemed satisfied that he had ruined the class for them, he returned to the rest of the students whom he addressed regarding the year's syllabus at which point Hermione began taking notes fervently and Ron's head sunk to his folded arms.

Harry realised with trepidation that his days of enjoying Defense Against the Dark Arts were numbered.

{HPDM}

Draco had done his best to remain unseen for the better part of the day and for the most part it had worked, he'd skipped both breakfast and lunch in the great hall much to Pansy's dislike, she'd told him as much when she'd finally found him in the Quidditch pitch. She knew something had happened in the forest that he was keeping to himself but she was too good of a friend to push him for answers. "Make no mistake, Draco, I expect you tell me sooner or later."

He'd simply nodded because how else would he get the stubborn girl to leave him alone? And leave him alone she did but Draco did not miss the flash of concern in her eyes and that was what pained him most, she shouldn't care, he didn't need her to care. It would only make everything that much harder. But that was not his main concern now, he had Defense Against the Dark Arts with Snape in a few minutes and the man had owled him- he'd actually written a letter-warning him not to miss his lesson as he would not be let off for it. Slytherin had the lesson with Gryffindor this year and knew for a fact the sanctimonious brats would take it upon themselves to make the lesson a long and tedious one.

Well then, should they leave him no choice, he would not hesitate to hex them to the seventh circle.

The class went silent when he walked in, not complete silence- that was reserved for the likes of Potter- but much worse, the sort of silence that brought out the murmurs and hushed whispers. But he was a Slytherin and a Malfoy which counted for something so in a fashion that would impress even Lucuis Malfoy, he drew himself to his full height and walked to the side of the room occupied by Slytherins 'looking for all the world like he was navigating a dumpsite' Blaise would later tell him what with the way he'd wrinkled his nose at the Gryffindors.

He took his place at an empty desk before catching a flash of green. So Potter was watching him then, for some reason the realisation brought him none of the satisfaction it would have just a year ago. He was suspicious, not that he'd ever given them any reason to think otherwise, the Chosen One lacked the ability to leave well enough alone. Draco took a deep breath just as Snape walked into the room effectively quelling any last minute gossip, he was glad to find that the combination of firewhiskey and the Draught of Peace (with a few enhancements of his own) had created a heavy sort of calm that clung to him like a wet cloak.

He went through the motions of addressing the class about his expectations for the year, deducted a few points from Gryffindor as was customary then reattled off the syllabus from his head.

"You may begin by handing in your essays," he said as he scribbled something on the chalkboard not even bothering to look in Draco's direction.

As Draco had spent the entire first week in the Hospital Wing and the weekend getting drunk, he had no essay to present, so he merely fixed his gaze on the green grass of the Quidditch pitch, which was barely visible from where he sat, tapping his finger on the desk.

"Mr. Malfoy," he heard Snape say after a moment and he certainly took his time tearing his gaze away from the window.

"Mmm?"

"Your essay," he said pointedly.

Draco inhaled, paused then said, "I don't have it."

"Where is it?" Snape asked his patience clearly wearing thin. People began to fidget.

Draco felt a smirk lift the edges of his mouth. "Excuse me sir, I meant to say I didn't do it."

Snape glared at him and Draco resisted the urge to look away. He couldn't understand why he had spoken to him that way, usually he reserved the antagonism for less amiable teachers yet he could not bring himself to be sorry for it, the words had seemed to flow from his mouth unbidden. Perhaps it was a reaction to the bite affecting him in some unseen way.

He could feel his heart pounding. Being disrespectful to Snape was known to be quite a rush.

"Ten points from Slytherin," Snape declared. "And I expect to see you after the lesson."

Well, if they hadn't before, the other Slytherins hated him for sure. He felt like he could laugh but somehow he couldn't bring his muscles to do much more than twitch.

{HPDM}

"This way," Snape said pointing him through to his private quarters.

The lesson had ended five minutes ago as Snape had made a great show of gathering the pieces of parchment bearing the essays he had assigned until he was sure everyone was out of the class.

Draco was not sure what was coming but he had a feeling it would not be good.

Having been to Snape's quarters enough times prior, he stepped through the portrait hole after Snape murmured the password ('ad gloriam vola') and settled himself in the ratty blue armchair which was where he always sat when he came to see Snape.

Once the door shut behind him the Potions (Defense, now) master rounded on him.

"Have you lost your mind?" he hissed strings of greasy hair flying round his face.

He debated telling Snape he was using way too much Sleakeazy's.

"No, just my human life," he responded and for a moment he thought he saw something soften in his godfather's eyes but he dismissed it as the effects of combining alcohol and a slightly modified (yet more dangerous) Draught of Peace.

"Get up," the man said taking Draco by surprise.

He rose a little unsteadily, something Snape seemed to notice and dissect with narrowed eyes. Without warning the man placed a hand on his shoulder and used another to direct his face so he could examine his eyes. For a moment Draco feared Snape would notice something was amiss- his father would hear about it for sure, his godfather would think he was doing the right thing, acting under his godson's best interests.

"I'm not sure what exactly it is you're hoping to see-" began Draco thanking Merlin his voice did not waver but the professor did not let him get far.

"What is it?" Snape demanded.

Draco frowned. "Really, Severus, I don't know what-"

"What. Have. You. Been. Taking?" he demanded shaking him slightly with each word.

His tone indicated he would not ask again.

"Nothing," he said and Snape's eyes narrowed in obvious disbelief. "Except Pomfrey's pain relieving tonics which taste about as good as slime."

They were also mint flavored.

Snape released him with a sharp jerk of his hand then but looked far from convinced and Draco knew he would have to be careful in the future if he wanted 'it' to escape his godfather's knowledge. After all, it wouldn't take long for an expert brewer to find out.

He took Snape's turned back as an opportunity to collect himself stuffing his hands into his pocket so that his godfather would not see that they were shaking. Overall, the Draught of Peace was doing its work well enough.

Expert brewing.

It was a pity he had to keep it to himself.

"Well, whatever that little display in my class was, I will not tolerate it," he said moving to his desk with a swish of his black robes. "Think about that before you speak the next time."

Draco dismissed it with a wave and moved to the chair on the opposite side of the desk.

"If I remember correctly, you wanted to see me," he said.

Snape nodded.

"I have began work on the wolfsbane potion," he said and Draco's face was suddenly expressionless. It could only mean he had not found a cure, not that he had been hoping much for it. "You will return here in two weeks to collect it then I will accompany you to the Forbidden Forest to oversee your... shift," he said the last word with no small measure of dislike.

"Is that all?"

"No," Snape said ignoring his impudence if only because he knew it would infuriate him further. "I have written to your mother and father, they will be seeing you this weekend in the headmaster's office."

His blood run cold at that and his throat suddenly felt very dry. He opened his mouth to speak but the words escaped him.

"I will take your quiescence as comprehension," he went on. "Be there by five."

Draco sat there unblinking for a moment before his lungs began to burn and he realised he was not been breathing. He could already see the scowl on his father's face... see his hands white with fury... hear his sharp words, how long would it be until the Dark Lord found out? What would he do to him then?

"Dumbledore wished me to inform you that you would not need to see him today. As it is, you may leave now."

"What about... The Dark Lord?" asked Draco swallowing past the lump that had risen in his throat. "Does he know?"

Snape crossed his fingers before him. "I intend to bring the matter to his attention as soon as possible."

Of course. It was better that way, wasn't it?

"I will do my best to soften the blow," Snape assured, "but I doubt he will very pleased."

Draco inhaled.

As though a thought had just occurred to him, Snape said, "Stretch out your left arm."

Draco's head snapped up. Why should he? Snape already knew what he would see there, he'd been there when The Dark Lord had marked his newest followers, what did he need to see it again for?

The impatient glare he received made him do as Snape asked.

A gasp escaped his lips.

Nothing.

His arm was as unblemished as it had been before he had been marked. Would this anger The Dark Lord? Would he insist on trying to mark Draco again? Would it work? He was glad to be free of the wretched thing (he had learned when they day neared that serving him was not as glamorous as he had made it out to be in his earlier years) but he couldn't help thinking of the implications it bore.

One step forward, two steps back.

"Hmm," was all his godfather said.

Draco however could still remember the pain that had courses through his veins that day... the high cold laugh of The Dark Lord... his mother's shaken expression, how she had turned her head away because she could not bear to watch. How his father had not even deigned to show up.

He got to his feet, somehow remembering to walk but he had hardly reached the door when Snape spoke.

"I hope you are aware that you may speak to me, Draco," he said almost silently, in a rare moment of kindness. "In confidence. You can tell me anything."

And it was more than he could bear so he left without looking back.

{HPDM}

*Ad gloriam vola- to glory I fly