Title: Captivated
Pairing: Draco/Undecided (see last chapter for instruction)
Summary so far: Instead of taking Harry's hand, Draco escaped the Fiend Fyre caused by is trusty sidekick using the Vanishing Cabinet. Unfortunately, he was captured by forces unknown (yet) and was rescued by Storm and Cyclops.
Warning: See last chapter -.-'.
To Tabet: Hopefully this chapter will answer your questions.
Chapter One: The School for the Gifted
Draco woke to the agitated tones Scott and apparently, Storm as well. From the snatches of conversation he caught up front, Scott thought he was a detestable spoiled brat and that made Draco grinned because he was. Storm, however, was annoyed with the constant whining that Scott was doing and Draco agreed. Yawning, he stretched his arms, fingers and toes, and was surprised by the flex of his magic did inside his core.
Interesting. He stretched again and found his magic following his every move, providing strength and soothing every twinge and ache in his unused muscles. Mentally, he wondered if he could transfigure the coat on his lap into proper clothes. Oh my.
His mouth fell open when the magic abruptly rushed through his score, transfiguring the coat in his lap into a long-sleeved, white button up, long black slacks and his exact pair of Dragonhide boots. Exactly what he was thinking about. Draco grinned. This surpassed what he had hoped for. At first, after whatever the Vanishing Cabinet did to unsealed his magic, he was just happy getting it back and was resigned to look for a wand or other to focus his magic. But now, his magic was responding just as if he had his wand.
Wandless magic! He mentally crowed in glee. Take that! Golden-Boy! His mouth curved in a very smug smile as he gave himself a cursory glance in the reflective surface of the Blackbird as he pulled them on. His eyes were drawn to the smooth, unblemished surface of his left arm, right beneath his elbow where his Dark Mark was supposed to be.
Without it, he was free. Taking a deep breath to cure his shakiness, he gingerly touched his arm, up and down to make sure it was not an illusion before smiling softly to his reflection. The Dark Mark could be removed, Severus can be saved. Smoothing a hand through his hair to untangle what little tangle there was, he padded to the front of the plane.
Storm was the first to notice his entrance and Scott only stopped talking and followed her gaze only after he came to stand behind them. Draco's eyes, however, were glued to the windows in front of them. "Are we in the air?" And judging by the clouds rushing by, quite fast as well.
"Yes," the woman answered while Scott zeroed in on his newly transfigured clothes.
"Where did you get those?" he asked.
"I've never been on a plane before." he said. "Its quite nice." Though he preferred flying his broom more, but watching clouds pass by at impossible speeds are always nice.
Scott looked slightly flushed and agitated at being ignored while Storm merely looked amuse. "How are you feeling?"
"Perfect," Draco replied as he reached out and brushed his hand against the window before returning to meet her gaze. "Thank you for asking Mademoiselle Storm."
No one was immune to the Malfoy charm and Storm was not an exception as she smiled back at him. She clicked several buttons and flicked several switches before turning in her chair towards him. "Just Storm, please. Draco right? Do you have a last name, Draco?"
"Malfoy is my family ma'am." He replied. "My full name is Draconius Lucius Malfoy."
Her eyebrows rose and something flickered in her eyes. It disappeared within seconds and she smiled at him. "Quite a mouthful. Scott here tells me you don't have a power, is that so?"
Chuckling, Draco nodded. "Nothing I would consider power, my dear. Though I do have a few magic tricks up my sleeves."
"Really?" she said. "Would you show me sometime?"
Draco grinned and he settled into one of the seats behind her. "I would be gladly to, my dear Tempest." If I stayed long enough. Since no one felt as though this conversation needed to continue, Draco was content to watch the clouds disappear by through the windows, ignoring Scott indignant expression. When it was apparent that they were losing elevation, he spoke up again. "Where are we landing, may I ask?"
"No," Scott grumbled.
Storm shot him an admonishing look before glancing back at Draco. "Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters."
"Our last stop?" Draco pondered out loud. A school? For Mutants?
"Yes, if you wish," Storm replied, glancing askance at Draco.
"We'll see won't we?" Draco smiled amiably at her.
As they landed, Draco thought the school was quite similar to Hogwarts, not in size or majesty but in purpose; it was a place to educate Mutants, as Hogwarts educate young witches and wizards. In size, it was maybe a tenth or a twentieth the size of Hogwarts (comparable to the Malfoy ancestral home in Wiltshire) and its construction appeared relatively new compared to Hogwarts thousands of years of history. As they entered the school though a back landing strip that lead through a mountain to directly underneath the school, Draco could not help but marvel that the Muggle technology that surrounded him. Surely, he was very, very far from the Wizarding World. His eyebrows rose several times at the weird instruments and utensils that Storm and Scott used as the Blackbird came to a stop.
Silently, he followed the two Mutants off the Blackbird to a large room. From there, they commute through another box, which moved them upward and they got off when the box's doors slide open at B1. There, he was ushered into another room, a bit similar to the room he woke up in but filled with various electronic instruments lined up against the wall and a bed in the middle.
Next to the bed was a chair. Sitting on the chair was a tall, pretty redhead with a very nice complexion which was probably in her late teens. She jolted awake when the doors slide open and stood, causing Draco to faintly wonder if all the women in this place was destined to be taller than his own 156 cm.
Draco looked warily around before stepping inside. It even smelled like the room he was in but his training as the Malfoy heir prevented him from bolting. He did, however, eyed the bed with disdain. "You're not going to strap me down onto the bed and put something weird into me, are you?"
The girl looked slightly startled, her intense green eyes darting towards Draco. "Of course not!"
He felt pressure against his shoulder and his magic reacted before he could, sending Storm flying across the room to collide against several metallic shelves filled with various bottles and glasses. The girl rushed over while Scott tried to tackle him. Keyword, tried. Unfortunately, his magic reacted again without permission and erected a Protego shield, knocking Scott out as he landed quite roughly against it.
Oh Merlin… Forcing himself to be calm, Draco walked towards Storm and knelt down beside her. The woman was out cold. The girl was staring intently at him but after a moment, her mouth tightened to a frown as she opted for a physical attack. Again, her hand landed against a shield.
He met her eyes apologetically. "I really did not mean to do that. I'm not…doing this," he gestured at the shield, "on purpose."
The girl stared at him curiously now as he reached out to touch Storm, releasing a silent Enervate.
The woman's blue eyes snapped open and Draco quickly grasped her hand to keep her lying still. "Don't try to get up, did you hit your head?"
She gazed at him suspiciously.
Draco gave her a regretful look. "I apologize, I did not meant to do that. Forgive me my dear Tempest?"
While the redhead's eyebrows rose sky high, Storm eyed him but allowed him to help her get up. "Just don't do that again."
He spread his hand. "I make no promises but I will try, dear Storm. I honestly have no idea why that happened. My…tricks do not usually make themselves known unless I wish them to."
Storm gave him an unreadable look of annoyance that reminded him of McGonagall, but perhaps a lot prettier and less of a bitch. Her gaze was them drawn to the crumpled form of Scott on the floor and her eyebrows raised at him in question. Draco shrugged unapologetically and kneeled beside Scott. "He attempted to attack me. I reacted. He's not dead nor permanently damaged unless he hit his head harder than I thought."
Laying his hand on Scott's chest, he whispered another Enervate and stepped back as Scott shot up, looking around wildly with confusion. His eyes locked on Draco again and he let out another growl.
This time, his tackle was stopped by his sudden elevation off the ground and he hovered in midair, about a feet off the ground. "Let me down Jean, he's dangerous."
"Not until you stop trying to harm my patient Scott. He clearly did not mean to hurt your or Storm. You can wait outside while I check him out." the redhead replied. With a flick of her hand, she sent him flying out the doors and closed the doors. She gestured to the bed. "Take a seat." She commanded as she slipped on a tri-pronged object onto her neck. She stuck the first to prong with plugs into her ears, the other circular and metallic dangle between her breasts. "Off with the shirt."
With a raised eyebrow, he did as she asked. "I'm perfectly healthy."
"I'll be the judge of that." She replied. "Boots too." When he was about to undo his pants as well, she flushed and stopped him. "You can keep your pants on."
Storm nodded. "Might not look it but Jean's in her second year of med school and she's better than most doctors. Just sit still so she can make sure you don't die on us while you're here. Jean?"
Jean was frowning, her green eyes drawn together as she listened to his heartbeat, inspected his tongue, throat. And with a wooden hammer that looked suspiciously like a toy, she tapped several of his joints as Draco stared at her, trying to keep his confusion out. Bloody Muggles! "Reflexes are fine, his heartbeat is extremely weak, steady but weak. Perhaps from severe exhaustion but if that were true, he shouldn't even stand. There are signs of malnutrition but not terribly so. I'll make up an eating schedule for you. Now lay down." As he complied, she dragged a small, white, machine over. It composed of two parts, with one sitting on the ground with wheels attached, the other extended on a branch to hover over Draco.
A tingling sensation went over Draco as a fuzzy image of black and white appeared on the other wall opposing the doors. While he had not extensively studied healing magic, but he was quite sure that it was a picture of his skeleton.
"Healthy, if a bit underweight for a teenager," she glanced at Storm. "No younger than thirteen, no older than nineteen."
"Is that how old I am supposed to be?" Draco asked.
Jean looked startled. "You don't know how old you are?"
"No idea," he answered honestly, shrugging. "I don't know how long I've been in that place."
"Are we done here Jean?" Storm asked and when she shook her head, the older woman rose, tucking a stray lock of white hair behind her ears. "Well when you do finished, I'll be across the hall, making sure Scott stay out of trouble."
"He's healthy, like he claimed. I just need a blood sample to confirm that and we're done." Jean smiled, as if to an inside joke and nodded.
"Blood sample?" Draco echoed as the door slides close after Storm. "Why would you need my blood?" Muggle blood was nothing but a wizards blood can be used for several key rituals in summoning demons, making sacrifices, creating magical bonds, etc. Just the idea of the thousands of times that Muggle needles have been used to draw his blood or pump something into his veins set him on edge and his magic flared lightly in reply. "Do I have to?"
"Are you afraid of needles or syringes?" Jean asked tartly.
"Malfoys are not afraid of anything," Draco answered with a glare and realized he had fallen into a trap when she pulled out a contraption with a needle attached at the front. A syringe, he realized. While he did not try to defend himself against her when she tapped lightly on the veins in his upper arm, his magic resolutely refused for it to pierce his skin by creating a barrier about half an inch off his skin.
Jean frowned at him after a second needle was bent. "Draco."
He nearly wince from the tone of her voice because despite the lack of accent, she sounded like Madame Pomfrey whenever Crabbe or Goyle dragged Draco to the infirmary with the Weasel and the Golden Boy in tow. Swallowing his nervousness, he looked to the other wall and forced his magic to stay calm, to not react with a slight twinge tell him it had pierced his skin. A slight ache ran up his arm and he throttled the urge to bash Jean's head in with the metal basin sitting in the corner of the room.
"There, you can look now," she murmured, smoothing a hand over his hair.
Draco enjoyed the attention, even if he felt like a child in front of her and she was barely a few years from childhood herself. The last person who had touched him with care or comfort was his mother and it was years ago, before his father had made the decision to present him to the Dark Lord. She asked him several questions, about his childhood, his kidnapping and Draco answered as best as he could, sidestepping all subjects about his skills and abilities.
He had enough on his head right now, without the Ministry going after him for both affiliating with the Dark Lord and revealing the Wizarding World to these Muggles.
"All right, all done," Jean said, not liking the answers she got but couldn't get more out of the boy in front of her. She could delve into his mind, of course, but that was rude and with her current abilities, she preferred the Professor does it. He has a lighter touch and several more decades of experience. Draco won't be hurt or even notice the Professor's presence.
Quickly pulling his clothes back on, he arched a curious eyebrow when Jean presented him with several small plastic packages that labeled 'Nutrients Bars.' "Finish those," she said, tapping her feet.
"Now?" Draco asked, holding the bars in his hand. Once again, she gave the look and he unwrapped the bars and gingerly biting into the first bar. He found that he liked Muggle food, which while were not as well-made as Wizards, had a decadent taste of chocolate and peanut butter. What he did not expect was to leaned over the side of the bed and retched out everything he just ate after finishing half of the bar. "Was that supposed to happen?"
Jean was frowning again as she used both hands to grasp his sides, thumb pressing down onto various part of his stomach and lower chest. "Lay down." When he reached for the first button of his shirt, she added. "You don't need to undress for this part."
Draco watched as she pulled another machine over, this time, the hovering part sat a feet above his stomach and whatever it showed on the screen it was attached to, it made the pretty redhead frown even harder. "Oh dear."
"Something wrong?" Draco murmured.
The girl looked at him with something akin to pity. "You weren't kidding when you said they kept you comatose, aren't you? You showed signs as if you were starved, over a long period of time." her frown deepened. "How are you even walking?"
Magic. Draco answered silently as he shrugged. "I don't know."
Right after he answered, the doors slide open again and Scott poked his head in. His posture was more or less worried and a bit hostile towards Draco and the wizard couldn't blame him. Of course, it was purely self-defense. Scott, however, had changed into skin-tight, black leather suit with various yellow bands and an X over his chest. His glasses were exchanged for a single piece across his eyes. "What's taking so long? Almost time for the third class Jean."
"I'm sitting out on this one," Jean replied with a small, regretful smile. "Tell Storm I took him to Foley?"
A serious frown crosses Scott's face. "Something wrong?"
"Yeah there is, talk to you later?" Jean said, glancing cautiously towards Draco.
Scott nodded, his posture still wary as Jean took Draco's arm and lead him out of the room, pass Scott. Down the hallway, Draco let out a strained breath he had not know he was holding and allowed the redhead to steer him through the maze-like hallways not dissimilar to the prison he left. The only difference was the walls were painted and occasionally, a drawer or a piece of furniture decorated the side of the hall or sitting at a corner. All the metallic walls changed into wood after they exited the moving metal box she ushered him into.
It was decorated, more or less, like his home, with old paintings (unmoving) and armories (not as old) as did his home. They met no one as she made her ways up a set of stairs to a room with a single sign on the door that said: Infirmary.
She pushed open the doors and pulled Draco inside. "Are we interrupting anything?"
The room was sparse, with a bed in the corner, next to a desk in which a blond, blue-eyed man sat at, scribbling away with a fountain pen. Initially, he had a frown on his face but that changed into a bright smile when he saw Jean and perhaps curiosity when he met Draco's silver-blue eyes. "Hello Jean," he said.
"I'd like your opinion on a few things," Jean said, pushing Draco into a chair in front of the desk before staring intently at the man. They were talking with their minds, Draco realized with a tinge of bitterness, and that they were talking about him as well. He quickly swallowed and leaned back in his chair. Well, if they insisted on all this secrecy, then Draco supposed they can have their damned privacy to themselves.
Crossing his arms, he pictured King's Cross Station in all its sarcastic glory and allowed the magic to whisk him away.
Comments? concerns? Or other verbal abuse?