Note: that last chapter was quite a bit shorter than the first. Well, get used to it, because I'm going to Maine for a week with no internet, or very limited internet. So yeah. New chapter! Droiture's intentions are becoming clear....
I don't own Harry Potter, only Droiture and his ilk.
Chapter Three: Here I Come
Droiture stumbled on his way into Potions class, tearing his leg on a nail sticking out. He let out a strangled sound and dropped to stitch himself back together as a black tar-like substance oozed from the wound. Professor Snape looked down at him scornfully.
"Your first day, and already you're tripping over yourself. I'd watch myself, Mr LeReve. Failure is not tolerated in my classroom."
Droiture glared at him. "Funny. Mummy always used to say that too." He got up, took his needle and thread with him, and sat in his seat to continue.
"Today's lesson is on a Necrosis potion. Does anyone know what that is?"
Immediately Hermione's hand shot up.
"Anyone besides Miss Granger? No? Fine. Your answer, Granger?"
"A Necrosis potion is a potion that, if poured down the throat of the deceased, will give the corpse the ability to walk on it's own and perform very basic functions for a short time, but eventually it does wear off." Droiture's eyes shot open.
"Did you just say it gives the dead life?" He asked.
"Well, sort of. They're zombies, really. Un-dead. But I suppose...."
Droiture began shivering, acid streaming from his tear ducts. He got up and danced around the room, laughing maniacally. "So all I need is an endless supply of Necrosis potion and all my dreams, all my hopes and aspirations, they'll all come true! Annabella! My sweet Annabella!!"
"Mr LeReve, sit in your seat, now, or I will exempt you from the project and you will fail." Snape snapped angrily. Droiture dazedly returned to his seat, smiling widely.
"Now, as I was saying..... The Necrosis potion takes six months to brew properly, so this will be your project for the semester. Pair off and get to work. The instructions are in your textbooks, page 439." Hermione scooted her chair closer to Droiture.
"Why did you start dancing?" She asked.
"Right, I haven't told you. Well, it involves a sweet little six-year-old girl, an angry Daemon, and the Sin of Envy. I won't go into it fully now, but I will say that this potion is all I need to bring her back to me forever!"
"Annabella.... was she your daughter?" Hermione asked, knowing from her research that Daemons lived at the very least three times as long as humans did, and therefore Droiture, who looked to be (and unbeknownst to Hermione, actually was) 17, could very well be in his mid thirties or forties.
"What? No, no, of course not. I'm 17. Having a six year old daughter would be biologically impossible. Even Daemons can't father children at 11 years old. No, no, she was something more. It's hard to explain now, but I promise in time you'll figure it out. You're an intelligent girl. Come on, then. Let's get this potion made before Batman over there decides to come hovering over our shoulders." Hermione and Harry let out a snort of laughter, while Ron was baffled.
"Batman?"
"Muggle thing, Ron, never mind it." Harry said.
"Nanananananana nanananananana Potions! Potions!" Hermione joked, and Droiture laughed, his forked tongue revealed poking through his pink teeth.
"Right, right, potions, potions. Now we have to get this done, because this is the potion that will change my life! I need this, Hermione, you don't understand."
"You're right, Droiture, I don't understand. However, I can see that this is very important to you. Therefore I will comply with your wishes and let's get this potion started right. Everyone else is just starting as well, we might as well keep up with them, right? No sense getting a bad grade."
"Fuck the bad grade, grades are bollocks compared to what this potion is going to do for me!" Droiture exclaimed, scouring over the instructions. He glowered when he discovered they weren't in French. However, he realized it would have to do and put his wand away, as he was about to translate the page in front of him before remembering that Hermione read English. Droiture himself could read English just fine, but when reading a set of instructions, he preferred French. He'd have to listen to his lab partner on this one.
"Okay, it says to add three crushed scarab beetles, then drain the liquid."
Droiture followed Hermione's instructions to the letter, and his eyes lit up when his concoction turned the precise color of sea-foam green described in the textbook. Even his blind eye seemed to shimmer for a moment. He pushed his hair out of his face, to avoid getting it in the liquid, and rolled his good eye when several of the students gasped at his blind eye. He pinned his hair back with a rather old, and feminine, pair of pink butterfly hair clips.
"Yes, my right eye is blind, I know. It's my eye. Stop staring at me, you bloody gits, and get back to work before Professor Snape has your hides." Droiture snapped at them, stirring the potion.
"Alright, alright, students. You're done for the day. Class dismissed." Snape said. "Be sure to come back tomorrow to add ingredients." He said, hovering in the corner as the students filed out. "Mr LeReve, if I may speak for a moment...?"
"Yes, Professor?" Droiture said through gritted fangs.
"Your little outburst earlier cost you 50 points from Gryffindor, I hope you understand that."
"Don't worry, I intend to make back those points a hundred-fold." Droiture said.
"I've heard you can be rather.... impulsive."
"I've done a few things I regret, yes. Why, has my step-father contacted you?"
"Why yes, he has. He told me to be on the look-out for you. I hope you'll prove him wrong."
"I intend to fully."
With that, Droiture turned sharply and left.
Hermione caught up with him after class. "Droiture, may I ask why you have pink butterfly hair clips?"
Droiture fingered the object pinning his hair back. "It belonged to her." He simply said.
"Annabella?"
". . . Yes." Droiture refused to speak after that, even when Hermione pressed further. Soon enough, she gave up and Droiture took the pin out of his hair, and put it back in the pocket of his vest. Contrary to school rules, Droiture refused to wear the school robes that would cover his normal outfit, because he said "I have a reason for wearing what I do, and though the school may not agree with it, I have a right to freedom of expression and you will not infringe upon that right." No one bothered saying different. It was just too much work to argue with the young Daemon.
Droiture placed his hand over his breast pocket, clutching at it until his claws threatened to tear through the fabric. He let go then, and laid down on the sofa. His school work forgotten, he instead stared at the fireplace and reveled in lost memories.
". . .And the littlest... mermaid.... lived....happ- hap-ee...."
"Happ-i-ly, Anna, sound it out, ok?"
"Happily... ever... after... with the prince! Droiture! I did it! I read a whole book all by myself!"
"Good work, Anna! I say this calls for ice cream!"
"Yay! Ice cream, ice cream!"
"No, no, young dear, you'll ruin your dinner."
"But Droiture said I could! I read a book all by myself, Momma!"
"Don't listen to Droiture. He is a Daemon and is only trying to warp your mind."
"But Droiture said! He said!"
"No!"
Droiture snapped out of it and realized the common room had quickly filled up, and the first years were staring at him. "Oh, shove off, you lot. Can't you see I'm busy being nostalgic?" He snapped. The first years ran off, scared.
Dear Annabella,
I started making a Necrosis potion today. Do you know what that means? It means you and I will be together again, love. I can finally see your smile again. I am so sorry for what I did, but you already know that, right? I hope you do. I hope you do ever so much. I'm paired with a girl who reminds me much of you. She's beautiful and gentle, and seems to truly see the deep-laden good in me, if there is truly any left. I think perhaps she is your reincarnation, in a way. Except reincarnation is not perhaps the proper word. She was born before you.... But in any case, getting to know her may be my last chance at redemption for my past misdeeds. The other students think me odd for using pink barrettes, but I don't care. If I have anything that can remind me of you, it's those clips. Every day you wore them in your soft, orange hair. You always looked so cute with your curly hair, pinned up like that. It saddens me that I wasn't able to acquire a lock before... well, you know. All of your beautiful hair is probably gone now. Perhaps I will give a clip to Hermione, as a gesture of friendship.
Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again,
Droiture LeReve
