Chapter Seven: Surviving Without Oxygen

When you know someone is dying right in front of your eyes, what do you do? Do you help them? Ignore them?

Most of the times, you ignore them. You don't know what to do—what could you do? You can't do anything, that's the thing. Without being convicted of murder—because you know if you were going to do something you would kill the person who is killing the one you hold so dear—it's quite impossible to do anything.

It's not like you can tell someone—what would that do? Sooner or later it would get around to the convicted, and the victim would end up in an even worse state. And then you tell a teacher, who would tell the highest teacher immediately, and how would they approach it?

So you ignore them. You act as though it's none of your business when in reality, it's actually not. But the thing is, it actually is. It's my business that Ron's getting hurt.

And I know I should do something, but again, what can I do? All I can do is watch. Watch as he gets dragged deeper and deeper into the dark damp world of hell. Rock bottom is way up top from him, and he is completely alone.

And no matter how hard I try, I can't help but think: What if I didn't go along with what Potter asked? Then Ron would have never found out about Potter's ways, and Potter would never've been like this.

It's my fault.

Self-pity is a coward's act. I've been called a coward allot.

I'm almost at my limit. I want to destroy Potter—I want to pull out my wand and roar Avada Kedavra.

Murder is nothing new to me. I'm at the point where Blaise is having to grab my arms and keep me from running after him in the halls.

I can't stand it! Ron is always with him, yet he doesn't look at anyone! He stares at the floor, walking right beside Potter who usually has his armed draped around Ron's shoulder, pulling the redhead into him possessively. He doesn't talk at all, like, never. When the teachers ask him questions, he doesn't say a word or look up. And Potter just sits there, smirking like an idiot, watching as Ron gets pelted with detentions and extra assignments.

And....the marks I see on Ron's body...

Squeezing my eyes shut, I set my quil down, taking in a big breath of air. My heart pulses hardly against my chest, and my lungs are being resistant to air. I shudder, trembles running up and down my spine.

I open one eye, and I see Blaise standing there, gazing at me with a inspecting look. Theo is sitting in his lap, head bowed, eyes zipping like lightning left to right across a large book.

He glanced up at me for a second, then shifted right, looking up to Blaise. The millisecond he saw that Blaise's eyes were on me, he turned back to the book without a second check.

My left forearm prickled dangerously, and I drew in a tired breath. It was like pin needles being buried repeatedly into my arm, and it was nothing fathomable.

Taking a large breath, I blink slowly, then pick up the quill again.

My head screams every time I see those retched bite marks and scars. It makes me want to blow something up, and yes, it makes me want to kill someone.

I know you would definitely disapprove of me killing, but what does that matter? You—Ron— used to disapprove of people who didn't tell the truth in dire situations, and now? Where has he gone? Where have you gone? What happened to you? I want you so much, but you cant even stand to disobey Potter...but I'll never give up. I made that promise to you. There's no unbreakable vow in need because I will always be there for you. Always.

Another electric current-feeling pain zapped my arm, and I finally gave it up. I couldn't stand the pain any longer. Both mentally, and physically. Setting down the quill, I closed the book, leaning back in the dark green chair.

The slytherin common room is far to dreary for my likings...always was. Nothing interesting or happy about it. Just gloom. Slumping in the seat and raising my feet up to the fireplace, I groan, rolling my neck.

I hear it snap in many places, and I know that I'm still extremely tense.

"I feel like ripping off my arm," I murmur.

No one replies.

I pout, looking at Blaise and Theodore. The slimy bastards are making out.

"Oh God!," I whine, grabbing a black pillow and throwing it at them as I sniff. The pillow hits Theo in the face, then falls into his lap.

The two look at me with questioning gazes.

"Get a room!," I yell. I am really not in the mood to see my two best friends making out, especially while I'm being haunted by Voldemort and Ron.

"We would," Theo says, his head tilting to the left. "But then you would be lonely."

"Would not," I hiss, folding my arms across my chest.

"Would too."

"Git!," I cry angrily at Blaise.

Blaise shrugged it off, kissing Theo on the cheek. My heart clenches and trembles as I watch them be so perfect, so beautiful.

Me and Ron would never be like that...

Suddenly, Pansy appears out of nowhere, her hands on her hips as she glares daggers into our skulls.

Blaise and Theo ignore her. Their lucky.

"Hey, Dray," she says, "Do you think Longbottom is getting cuter?"

I snort at the question—Longbottom? Cuter? What?

But now thinking about it....he has gotten quite pretty. All the baby fat he had is now portioned out well, and he's quite tall and thin. Not like Theo, who's thinner a twig(literally, you can see almost all his bones(Blaise apparently loves running his hands up and down the bones)), and now his cheeks actually look, I don't know, adorable. Especially in the winter, when they turn red from the coldness just as his nose and the tip of his ears. Getting better with the stuttering, also. Not that afraid of Snape anymore that much.

"I don't know," I say with a shrug. "I guess."

"I need a serious answer, Dray."

I stare at her for a while, and I see the desperate plea in her eyes. I sit up, placing my hands by the fire to un-numbify them. "Yes, Pansy, he's cute. Though all that goes to waste when you look at the clothes he wears."

"So all I have to do is get him new clothes?"

"Yeah. But...Wholly shit." My eyes widen and mouth drops. Pansy bites her lip. "You fancy him! You fancy Longbottom! Longbottom!"

"Dray, shut before I hit you! You said he was cute!"

"He is but...Longbottom?!"

I can hardly believe that she actually likes someone as clumsy and stupid as that dolt. Pansy has always been in angry, mischievous, self-righteous person who hates everything. And to fancy the pure-hearted skinny, clumsy, kind, passive-aggressive Neville Longbottom. Well...he has gotten prettier...

"You're the one who likes that weasel!," Pansy roars, clenching her fist tightly. "Potter's fucking lap dog!"

She had crossed the line.

I stood up, but suddenly, Blaise has my shoulders, holding me back as he massages them deeply to calm me down.

Me and Pansy glare at each other, before I push Blaise off me and stomp out of the dungeons.

I'm livid.

"FUCK!," I cry, slamming my foot into the wall. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! FUCKING FUCK!"

Why did I do it?

"FUCK!" Thump.

Why did he do it?

Thump.

Why, why, why?!

"Are you just going to stand there and throw your foot into the wall, or do something about it?"

I snap my head around, my foot immediately falling back to the floor. Snape is standing right beside me, gazing at me challengingly.

"What?," I hiss.

Snape rolls his eyes. "Your letting Potter take advantage of you."

"No I'm not."

"Yes, Draco, you are."

"How," I ask, folding my arms over my chest. "Please confide in me how I'm letting Potter take advantage of me."

"Well, right now, your kicking the wall and screaming a quite repulsive and inappropriate word. All because he's playing around with Mr. Weasley."

"He's not playing around with Mr. Weasley," I growl, pointing down the hall in a random direction. "He's fucking abusing him! ABUSING. How can I not—"

"Yet you do nothing to stop it," Snape says monotonously.

I stare at him. His lips girl back into a grin. "Oh, Draco, Draco, Draco. How childish you are."

I blink.

"Your letting Potter win when you let him abuse Mr. Weasley, you know this, yes?"

"What can I do?"

"You can beat the living shit out the boy, take Ron, tell Dumbledore, and then have the boy possibly sent to Azkaban."

I'm speechless. Merlin I'm an idiot.

Review?