A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys. I know it's a little slow but I've got big plans for this story, they're just taking a little while to unfold. I hope you enjoy!
There's no one around, he thought to himself. I could just do it, right here. It could be so easy.
He stared at the impatient girl in front of him, arms crossed with a puzzled look on her face. He even waited for more than a moment after she briskly passed by him. He could whip around and hit her in the back, she would never see it coming…
But instead, he let go of the tight grip he had on his wand, and began walking towards the Slytherin dormitories. He couldn't do it tonight. He had plenty of time, right? Furtively, he snuck back into the commons and up to his bed, where he slipped under the covers silently. The snores of his bunkmates kept him awake if only for a moment, but he hadn't been sleeping lately and nothing could stop him from sliding into a fitful rest.
"I need you to do something for me. A… task, if you may." The voice ripped through the silent air, and it seemed to echo for a few moments before it fell dead once again. The boy stared down at his knees and didn't say a word. Instead, he sat on that couch that had once felt so inviting, but was now rigid underneath his unmoving body. The man in front of him seemed to frown a little, and his blood-red eyes grew even cloudier.
"This is not a question of whether you would like to or not," the voice bluntly told him. Other men and women in black cloaks and hoods murmured harshly to each other.
The boy cleared his throat a little, not even sure if he would be able to talk. He tried his best to keep his eyes on his trembling hands, but they somehow veered off course to stare at the dead body at his feet.
"What is the task, my… Lord?" the boy replied as strong as he could. The sound of the word "Lord" was fresh and strange on his tongue. He didn't like it at all. The man before him smiled; his lips were thin and they cracked when they parted to reveal teeth that had definitely seen better days. He always seemed so utterly pleased when he heard the word "Lord" being directed towards him. Sliding his tongue over his pointy teeth, he stared down at the boy.
"I need you," the man began, his tone dripping with impiousness and desire, "to kill."
Draco woke up in a cold, streaming sweat. He sat up abruptly and looked around, relieved to find that he was still in his dormitory, where he felt he had just snuck into just moments before. Had he really been asleep for so long? Feeling rather nauseous, he swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood, wobbling a little. He wished that he could go back to the way it was, when this didn't happen often, and when his sleep was usually thoughtless and undisturbed. But the nightmares never left him. He wondered why these nightly visions were becoming less dreamy and more like a memory.
He had this one often, though. It was almost an exact replica of the moment when the Dark Lord inquired a favor, but this nightmare seemed to last for much longer than the memory itself. Mumbling to himself, he paced around his dormitory for a few moments, careful to keep his steps light so he didn't wake the drooling brutes around him. After a few moments, he sat down on his bed with a thunk and buried his face in his cracked hands.
How did I get here? he wondered to himself as his fingers slowly moved across his smooth forehead and into his hair. He felt an overwhelming sense of paranoia in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't help it. Suspicion was his right-hand mate, always following behind him, hidden around corners, coming out when he least expected it.
Flopping back onto the bed, Draco slipped his hand under the second pillow and grasped his fingers around a smooth, metal surface. He pulled it out from under the case; a small, silver pocketknife with the initials A.D.M. Abraxas Draco Malfoy… it had belonged to his grandfather. He died when Draco was ten, from dragon pox, but Lucius had told him that his grandfather planned to hand this down to Draco when he entered his first year at Hogwarts.
He ran his thumb over the smooth surface, before taking a good look at the Slytherin emblem on it. Cunning, witty, astute… that's what a Slytherin was supposed to be, right? So why did he feel like a coward? He clasped his fingers around the case of the knife once again before slipping the blade out and examining it. A green aura surrounded the edge, causing Draco's face to glow a little as he stared down at it. It was a tiny knife, but Draco knew it had some magical properties to it. He just had no idea what they were... he hadn't tried it out yet.
Retracting the blade, he pushed it under his pillow once again. Sometimes, it made him feel a little better to clutch it in his hands and feel the cool metal on his sweating palms. The pride of a Slytherin, not a Death Eater, flowed through his veins when he held it.
Sighing in content, he let his head sink into his pillow once again, and he was asleep soon after, praying silently that he wouldn't dream of that memory ever again.
"Harry sees the snitch!" cried Lee Jordan with enthusiasm. Everyone in the crowd gazed in wonder as Harry zoomed past the stands, just barely nicking a first year in the head with the bristles of his broom. The snitch was right in front of him; whizzing and whirling around like a golden fly. Carefully, he clenched his legs around the thin broom and outstretched a shaky arm towards the ball as far as he could. It was right at his fingertips, all he had to do was reach forward a tiny bit more, and…
"He caught the snitch! Gryffindor wins!" exclaimed Lee Jordan. A large smile played across his face as Harry held up the tiny golden ball and cheered, causing everyone in the Gryffindor section to applaud and holler as well. He landed on the grass with a small thud, and was immediately scooped up by his team members and hoisted onto their shoulders. Shouts of "Potter! Potter! Potter!" filled the air as they made their way towards the changing rooms.
"Harry, that was phenomenal!" Ginny shouted as soon as his teammates put him safely on the tile floor of the changing rooms. She wrapped her arms around his neck for a hug. "They didn't stand a chance!"
Ginny pulled away from Harry and took a moment to look around her shoulder secretively before leaning in and giving him a peck on the cheek. Blood rushed to his cheeks faster than the flight of a whizzing snitch.
"Uh, heh, thanks," he responded, his voice cracking a little. She giggled nervously before pointing towards the girl's changing room.
"I've got to go, now. Good job again!" she shouted at him as she headed in the opposite direction. Harry merely waggled his fingers at her, clearly at a loss for words. He touched the spot on his cheek that she had kissed and smiled, before being practically tackled by Ron.
"Brilliant, Harry! Bloody brilliant!" said Ron happily. His face was flushed red as he continued, "How long was that game? Fifteen minutes? Slytherin didn't know what hit them!"
Harry could only laugh a little, feeling somewhat odd about the victory. It was true; the game had been extremely short. The Slytherin team seemed lackadaisical in their strategy and effort. It was almost as if Gryffindor had been playing against a bunch of first years in the middle of a lesson taught by Madame Hooch.
Meanwhile, Hermione was enclosed in a large mob of Gryffindors, still ecstatic about the outcome of the Quidditch game. Hurriedly, she pushed her way through the crowd and headed for the toilets, still out of breath from all of the screaming and cheering. She pushed a stall door open and locked it behind her, suddenly aware of the two other people in the bathroom. One had the recognizable, nasally voice of Pansy Parkinson, and the other was unknown.
"I mean, I haven't seen him in days!" Pansy exclaimed. "And I don't even know why he suddenly dropped out of Quidditch. He totally screwed our team over."
"Weren't you two an 'item'?" her friend asked, obviously finding that fact to be more important. Pansy sighed deeply.
"I guess," she replied idly. "But he doesn't even talk with me anymore. He doesn't talk with anyone, actually. The last time I saw him was on Tuesday evening after supper. But he wouldn't even walk to the common room with me. He said he would meet me in there, but he never did."
Pansy's friend made a 'hmm' noise, but didn't say a word. The washroom was silent for a moment; the only sound that could be heard was Pansy popping the top off of her mascara tube.
"You know what happened, don't you?" Pansy finally asked, sounding very grave. Her friend muttered a 'no'.
Hermione strained to look through the cracks of the stall to get a better feel of the conversation, but to no avail. Unluckily for her, Pansy was smart enough to lead her friend outside of the bathroom to reveal this bit of information. Hermione couldn't hold her curiosity; she burst out of the stall, washed her hands briefly, and ran for the door, hoping that they hadn't gone too far. They hadn't.
"Watch it!" Pansy exclaimed as Hermione pushed open the door and collided into her. Pansy's face contorted into that of disgust when she caught a glimpse of whom it was. Not even bothering with an apology, Hermione brushed past the two and turned a corner quickly. Maybe, just maybe, she would be able to hear a portion of the conversation.
"… So anyway," Pansy began, obviously annoyed by Hermione's interruption. "Apparently he's gone missing. Or at least, he hasn't been in to the Ministry and everyone claims that they haven't seen him."
Pansy's voice was low, but Hermione knew her ears had not failed her. The friend seemed skeptical as she muttered something that sounded like, "Missing? Really?" Unfortunately, Pansy's voice was now in a whisper, and after long, it seemed as if the two gossiping girls had gone in separate directions. Hurriedly, Hermione power walked towards the common room, eager to share her news with Harry and Ron.
"Oh, hello, Hermione," Ron greeted her absentmindedly when she burst into the common room after having a particularly lengthy argument with the Fat Lady about the correct pronunciation of the new password "Flibbertigibbit".
"Great game," Hermione said to Ron and Harry, feeling rather flustered. She never ended up telling them about her run in with Draco a few evenings before, for her and Ron got in an argument the very next morning about her refusing to help him choose a potion for their project.
"Is something the matter?" asked Harry, still looking rather sweaty from the winning game. Sighing, she delved into what had happened that night she saw Draco, and the conversation she listened in on just moments ago.
"I saw that in the Daily Prophet!" Ron exclaimed, his face displaying a range of emotions. "Says that Lucius Malfoy has been missing for longer than a week, and no one knows where he is. The whole article was a bit fishy, actually. They don't seem to want to give out a lot of information."
"Lucius Malfoy isn't one to simply go missing, now, is he?" Hermione asked exasperatedly as she tucked a clump of bushy hair behind her ear.
"Where did you see Malfoy, Hermione?" asked Harry, changing the subject. "By the dungeons?"
"No, actually," she replied thoughtfully, racking her brain to remember exactly where he was. "I saw him just a few moments after I left…. He was on this floor."
Ron clicked his tongue. "D'you think he wanted to get into our common room?"
"No," said Hermione as she narrowed her eyes. "How could he, anyway? Even if he knew the password, the Fat Lady wouldn't let in a Slytherin."
The three stood there for quite some time, their faces scrunched up in concentration. The snap of a finger brought Ron and Hermione back to a right state. Harry whispered furtively, "The Room of Requirement is on this floor, isn't it?"
By eleven that night, Harry and Ron were already suited up in the Invisibility Cloak; only their heads were popping out of the thick fabric while they discussed their plan with Hermione. After finishing their homework, the three had decided to see if they could catch up with Draco and sneak into the Room of Requirement when he did. That is, if he was going to head up there tonight like he had when Hermione saw him.
Hermione had decided to stay in the common room for two reasons: because the trio had grown so much larger in the past few years that they barely fit in it together, and because she was, truthfully, a little scared of Malfoy. Out of the three of them, mudbloods were probably number one on his list of undesirables. She neglected to tell that to Ron and Harry, though.
At half past eleven, Hermione was whispering goodbye to them as they crept out of the common room and down the hallway. Careful not to make any noise whatsoever, they made there way towards the wall opposite of the Barnabus the Barmy tapestry and stared at the blank wall in front of them.
"Hermione said he was leaving here at around eleven thirty when she saw him that night," Ron whispered rather harshly, only to be shushed by Harry. For a while, they stood in front of the wall and waited, barely making a noise or moving a muscle. Then, they decided to sit a few feet in front of the wall. Nothing happened. They even tried pacing in front of the wall, thinking of things that Malfoy might need to get in there.
"It's getting late," Ron mumbled at around twelve thirty. Harry opened his mouth to respond, but stopped short. He suddenly couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching them. The hairs on his neck stood straight as he looked around, careful not to take any steps. There was no one there. Ron suddenly grew very stiff beside him as he whispered, "What is it, mate?"
"We should go back," he mouthed, as he pointed his thumb back in the direction of the common area. Ron looked at him confusedly. He was not the best of lip-readers.
"What?" Ron whispered anxiously. Harry shushed and muttered "c'mon" as he pulled Ron's arm in the opposite direction. Quietly tip-toeing, they re-entered the common room to find Hermione sitting in the exact same place they left her.
"So? What happened?" she asked immediately, wringing her hands together. The boys shrugged off the Invisibility Cloak and sighed, feeling utterly useless.
"Nothing," Ron commented, scratching the back of his ginger head. Hermione's shoulders fell drastically as Harry flung himself onto the couch.
"So he didn't show up, then?" Hermione asked. Harry fingered the silky cloth of the Invisibility Cloak as he shook his head. For a moment, he considered telling the others about the eerie feeling he felt while standing there, but he decided against it. It was probably nothing.
"Should we try again tomorrow?" Ron asked.
"Yes. But this time, I'm going too," Hermione stated defiantly. The boys didn't disagree, and just moments later, they were saying their 'goodnights'. For now, their investigation would have to wait.
"All right, everyone!" bellowed Professor Slughorn the next morning in Potions class. "I trust that you have all chosen your potions for presentation?"
The class gave a collective mutter.
"Excellent!" Slughorn exclaimed, clapping his pudgy hands together. "I will be coming around the classroom to record what you have chosen! Now, go gather your ingredients and start practicing! It must be perfect by the time you present."
Everyone hurriedly scrambled towards the small ingredients cupboard at the front of the room. Well, everyone except for Ron and Crabbe (who was already asleep).
"Students! The ingredients will restock themselves, there's no need to shove!" Slughorn shouted over the yells and cuss words coming from the front of the room. The hysteria died down as everyone returned to their desks with arms full of vials, beakers, tongs, animal parts, and anything else that they needed. Ron was busy flipping furiously through his own textbook to notice that Slughorn had arrived at his desk and was looking down at him expectedly. Ron gulped.
"Erm, hello sir," he greeted his professor. Slughorn smiled airily at him.
"What will you be brewing for your project, Mr. Whizzly?"
"Uh, um," Ron stammered, deciding on whether he should correct him on the pronunciation of "Weasley," or quickly blurt out the name of a random potion so Slughorn would go away. He did neither of those things. Instead he just stared up at his teacher blankly.
"Have you chosen a potion?" Slughorn asked with a concerned look on his face. Gulping, Ron gave one last pleading look at his textbook, as if the name of a potion would just blurt out of it. When it didn't, he shook his head solemnly. "I see… Well there happens to be one that I believe no one has claimed yet, Whizby."
"Really? Thanks, sir!" Ron exclaimed. Slughorn gave him a sly smile before scribbling something down on a piece of paper, folding it carefully, and placing it in the crease of Ron's textbook. Hermione, Harry, and a few other classmates huddled around him as he opened up the paper. Draught of Living Death was written clearly on the small sheet.
"Draught of Living Death… sounds cool," Ron muttered. Hermione snorted a little. "What? What is it?"
"Only the most difficult potion found in our textbook!" she exclaimed with a blunt laugh. Ron frowned and ripped up his paper, blowing the little tiny pieces all around the classroom.
The class spent the rest of the hour huddled over their cauldrons, wincing as they poured in what they thought was the right amount of their ingredients. Billowing smoke of every color filled the room, as did a rather pungent smell coming from Ron's cauldron.
"I don't think it's supposed to do that," Harry joked as he stared at the dark orange substance swirling around the pot. Ron shoved his arm and mumbled cuss words under his breath.
"Well, I'm not the one making a love potion like a… like a sissy girl!" Ron retorted. Harry scowled and looked down at his bright magenta potion. It smelled like fresh laundry and coffee beans, but at least it was better than Ron's.
At the other side of the classroom, Draco Malfoy sat hunchbacked at his cauldron. Many thoughts were swimming through his head as he stirred the contacts of his pot unenthusiastically. A memory-erasing potion. Why hadn't he thought about it before? It would make it so much easier… kill, and then forget about it. No guilty conscience, right?
He sighed a long, hopeless sigh. He wasn't ready for this. Hurriedly, he flipped to a dog-eared page in his textbook. The words Mors Mortis stained the page like black coffee. Trailing his index finger along the ingredients list, he mentally checked off the ingredients he could grab from the Potions classroom. There were quite a few ingredients that he would have to find himself, but that was not a problem. He had no time to waste; he would have to start brewing tonight.
A/N: If you don't remember, the Mors Mortis potion is from the previous chapter, in case you were confused! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you think!