Chapter Seven

Alessandria could not believe her eyes. Her best friend and arch enemy in death grip. She did not know what to feel. Whatever feelings of disgust and hatred she had were overshadowed by immense fear.

"Grab my hand, Michael! I'll pull you up!" A voice shouted, full of desperation.

"Are you crazy? If you don't let go we're both going to die!"

Shouts and screams filled the air. Alessandria could not comprehend what was going on - the two of them, holding onto each other for dear life, the weak rocks, the slipping of hands, the falling away of two lives. She felt her eyes go wet and a shriek escaped her throat, and then everything went black.

Alessandria shot up in her bed into a sitting position, cold sweat running down her temples. Her heart was beating so fast as if she had just finished a marathon. The nightmares were coming back. She felt a single tear fall down her face, but that was just a tiny fraction of the pain she felt in the inside. The pain never went away. Their deaths took place years ago, but the pain was still as fresh. It felt as if the nightmare grew hands and rip the bandage off her heart, and fresh blood was oozing out.

She looked around the dormitory, and all she could hear were soft snores and deep breathing. All the Slytherins were fast asleep. Alessandria checked her watch. It was three a.m. in the morning. No one should be awake at this time. 'I need to get away. I need to do something to take my mind off the nightmare.' She thought to herself. Quietly, she got out of bed, opened her trunk to retrieve some old letters from her mother, and stole out of the dormitory into the common room.

As she approached her usual corner in the common room, she noticed something different about it. There was a human figure sitting at her table, with hair which looked silver in the dim light. The person's hand was limply closed around an empty bottle, while his hand was used to prop his head up. The man was rubbing his face, soft groans coming from his throat.

'Draco Malfoy, drunk,' Alessandria thought to herself, which was coloured with disdain. However stoned he looked, he look awake though.

"Draco? Are you awake?" She tapped him on the shoulder.

"Huh? What?" Draco answered groggily, rubbing his eyes. "Who-who are you?"

"Alessandria."

Awareness crept into Draco's face and his mind cleared a little when he realized he was talking to Alessandria. "Oh hi, San. Erm, take a seat. What are you doing awake at this time?"

She rolled her eyes inwardly. It had been about a week since he asked if he could call her 'San'. "I might ask you the same question, Draco." Alessandria quietly pulled a chair out and took a seat. "I didn't know Hogwarts allowed their students to drink…" She peered at the label on the bottle before continuing, "Firewhiskey. Draco, surely you know better."

"Tomorrow's Saturday. No one will care very much that I drank tonight. Why are you awake?"

Alessandria pursed her lips. Should she tell him? Maybe she should tell him a little bit, at least to explain why she was awake. "I had a nightmare and I couldn't go back to sleep."

Draco looked at her, and she could see his expression clearing. Alessandria had to give it to him. He knew how to hold his liquor. Firewhiskey was no joke.

"Tell me about it?"

"No, it's fine." Alessandria looked away. She could not even bear to think about what happened, and much less have the words coming out of her mouth. Then, a thought came to her. "Why were you drinking?"

Draco contemplated this question. He knew why he was drinking, but would it be wise to tell her? He wanted so much so share his burdens with her but that would be very selfish of him. This internal debate carried on in him for a while, with Alessandria waiting silently next to him. 'She's a pureblood and I'm guessing her parents aren't here. As long as I don't let it slip that she exists to him, she should be fine.' Draco reasoned with himself. Finally, he told her.

"I received some news yesterday. You know, you-know-who, right? The Dark Lord?"

Alessandria nodded slowly, fear suddenly prickling in her heart.

"My father told me yesterday that I am going to be a… Death Eater. I was just downing this news with Firewhiskey." Draco stumbled to get the words out. In the first hour or so when he got this news, he could not help but revel in the fact he was chosen by the Dark Lord. However, as he heard rumors of what he had to do, he just felt overwhelmed. He felt doubtful of himself. He did not think he could do that if that was really what Voldemort wanted him to do.

Draco looked up at Alessandria, and upon seeing the grave expression on her face, he quickly added, "Don't worry, you're a pureblood. You're safe."

Her expression did not change. It was as if she did not hear his words of assurance. Obviously, Alessandria heard about Voldemort. It was not possible to exist in the wizarding world and not know who Voldemort was. She never felt directly affected, though. Having lived in Asia for so long, Voldemort did not seem to be a big part of her life, especially since, as Draco said, she was a pureblood. However, if Voldemort really knew how she felt about blood status, she did not think that she would be as safe as Draco thought she would be. Things were going to be different, since she came to Hogwarts. A shiver went down her spine. Alessandria was not about to tell him that, though.

Plastering a fake smile on her face, Alessandria forced the words out of her mouth. "Yeah, I guess I'll be fine." She cringed inwardly, knowing what he meant, and hoped fervently that he would change the topic.

Draco could see through her fake smile. Now, he finally saw firsthand what Blaise meant when he said that she had the strangest expression when she talked about blood purity. The two of them just looked at each other, both waiting for the other to say something. The silence was deafening. Draco did not seem to have a good sense of self-control everytime he was around Alessandria, so before he could stop himself, he blurted out again without thinking for the hundredth time.

"I think I like you, San."

Alessandria, having heard this statement many times back when she was in Azalea, gave Draco a patronizing smile. She knew what the boys wanted. They wanted to get laid by a hot chick and then boast to their friends. They would ditch her, if they got what they wanted. She knew how to handle these boys. The best cure for such playboys was to give them a taste of their own medicine. Draco would be no different.

"Oh? Really? That's nice, Draco." She changed her smile from patronizing to lazy and slightly seductive. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently. Alessandria looked up at him and purred, "It's really late. I should get back to sleep." She let go of his hand, patted it, got up and went back to her dormitory.

Draco's mind was a haze. He could still feel the touch of her soft skin on his hand. It was more intoxicating than ten bottles of Firewhiskey. The way she looked at him, her voice… Draco kept on replaying it in his mind. He did not want to forget that look on her face. It warmed him and made desire course through his veins.

He did not sleep until two hours later. He went to bed but just lay in it with his eyes closed but mind awake. Draco could still feel the effect she had on him, but a small voice at the back of his betrayed the blissfulness that he felt.

'What did she mean by, "Oh? Really? That's nice?"? What does that mean?'

Draco did his very best to push that unpleasant thought out of his head. He wanted indulge in the feel of Alessandria hand against his forever, undisturbed. He knew it was pathetic, considering there were other girls around who would give him more than their hand, but this was Alessandria.

The fact that she was so untouchable made the challenge so much sweeter.