Chapter 9.

A/N: Sorry for late upload, I was feeling lazy and uninspired.


Draco let out a small sigh, before looking up slowly and meeting a pair of caramel coloured eyes from across the room. Hermione's pale face stared at him for a split second before she looked back down at her potion bubbling in front of her. He could still see the suspicion lingering in her eyes, and it annoyed him endlessly.

She wasn't alone, though. He'd been faced with suspicious glances, whispered accusations, and hateful glares recently. If you were in Slytherin, then you probably had the Dark Mark; at least that was the consensus amongst most of the student body.

He didn't care though. He was used to it by now. With fear, came distance, and with distance came freedom which he felt was very rare for him to experience recently. He was sick of hearing about death, attacks, the Dark Lord. When he was alone, with people too afraid to come anywhere near him, he could pretend that nothing was happening. He could feel normal again.

But when he was in class, or walking to the dungeons, he could feel the stares. He watched as Hermione sprinkled ingredients into her potion, and Neville looked flustered beside her. They were paired up, and he had noticed that she'd done all the work on their potion.

He glanced to the chair beside him where Nott was tiredly chopping ingredients, before letting out an annoyed scoff. The other teen didn't hear, or chose to ignore it. Draco was doing most of the work on this potion too, because Nott had been out late last night again, doing some task for the Dark Lord.

Blaise was absent from class today, and would probably be in the hospital for the rest of the week.

Unfortunately, Nott's little adventure had put Draco in the spotlight. He'd been questioned by Professors and was asked to provide an alibi. Pansy was happy to help him provide one, but he felt angry about the whole thing now. Why had he agreed to let Nott use his name?

The bell rang loudly, signalling the end of classes for that day. They cleared their work benches and exited the classroom. The other students were chatting excitedly, happy that it was the end of the week, but Draco just wanted to sleep. The worst part was knowing that he couldn't do that unless he wanted to see the ghost of Mrs Granger again.

"Do you want to come to the lake with us?" Nott asked, as he sidled up beside Draco, matching his steady pace. "I've got a bottle of Firewhisky in my trunk, we can sneak back in with the cloak."

Draco considered it. It would be a relief to forget everything that was going on at the moment, and drown his sorrows. But alcohol meant sleep, and sleeping meant those bad dreams.

"I'll pass," he responded in a flat tone. "I've got some stuff I need to work on."

He knew Nott wouldn't question his vague response. The other boy just gave him a knowing look and nodded.

"Alright, let me know if you change your mind," he said, before heading down the corridor with Crabbe and Goyle.

Draco decided to grab more coffee from the kitchens before heading to the dorms. By the time he got there it was empty, to his relief. He took off his tie and threw it on the floor, before sitting glumly on his bed.

He'd taken the time to research how long the human body could go without sleeping before it failed completely. Ironically, he'd found the answer in the muggle literature section of the library. Eleven days was the longest, but he knew he couldn't last that long. It had been two days...or was it three?

He rubbed his hands through his hair. He was already starting to lose his mind. He felt alone.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was rummaging through his bedside table, and grabbing out old Quidditch magazines. He grabbed a bundle of ten or so, and pulled them out onto his lap. Something fell from between the pages of one, and onto the floor.

He picked up the offending item, and stared at it. It was that frilly red pair of knickers. He bit his lip, as he stared at them, proof of his own sick thoughts and failures.

He shoved them in his pocket, grabbed the magazines and made his way out of the dungeons.

The Hospital wing was eerily silent when he entered it ten minutes later. Most of the beds were empty, except for one young kid who was holding a tissue to his nose, and another bed at the other end of the room with the curtains drawn.

Draco made his way to the secluded bed, and opened the curtains. Blaise looked up curiously for a moment, before his expression contorted into a glare.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" He snapped moodily.

Draco noted the bandage on his arm and leg. Had they been broken?

"I came to see how well you defended yourself," Draco replied, his eyes fixed on the various potions on the table beside Blaise. He wondered if there was any Dreamless Sleep there... "Not very well, it seems."

Blaise's face turned a bright shade of red, and Draco could tell his comment had only angered him more. Good.

"Just fuck off," Blaise hissed. Draco rolled his eyes.

"I only came to bring you these," he dumped the magazines on the table beside the potions. Blaise eyed him, confused.

"Why?"

Draco shrugged. "Mainly just as an excuse to see how bad they got you. You really are naive, aren't you? The Astronomy Tower? Really? Did you think I wanted to kiss and make up?"

Blaise turned away, his expression one of brooding annoyance. Probably at himself.

"I didn't think you'd go that far," he admitted after a moment. "I thought you wanted to talk. Hermione said-"

Draco narrowed his eyes at the mention of her name. "She said what?"

"She said you might want to talk about what's going on with you," he shook his head, annoyed. "She practically forced me to go. She obviously doesn't realise that you're in much deeper than teenage angst or family issues. Or how much of an arse you are." He added, snidely.

Draco could hear his teeth grinding in his mouth.

"If you tell her-anyone-what I am," he warned, "you wont make it to the hospital wing next time."

Blaise stared at him for a moment, before rolling his eyes. "Get out, Malfoy."

He hesitated for a moment, before he eventually complied. He left, feeling much worse than he had before. He felt angry, tired and, most disturbing of all, guilty.

He didn't know why he made his way to the library afterwards. He didn't have any of his books or homework with him, and even if he wanted to study, he wasn't certain his tired, bloodshot eyes would be able to read anything anyway.

He wandered the aisles aimlessly for a while, until he spotted her seated alone on the other side of the aisle he was loitering in. She was scribbling down notes, her messy curls falling in her eyes every now and then.

He suddenly realised why he'd come there. He was angry, anxious, and frustrated, and she had always made such a delicious target, with her eyes flashing fiercely, and her cheeks reddening as she fought back.

He knew he couldn't just approach her, though. He couldn't seem so desperate.

He stared at her, willing her to look at him until eventually he saw her shiver, and scan the room until her honey eyes landed on his. They immediately flashed with anger, and it was hard for him to control the grin that wanted to burst out at the sight.

He turned, instead, and walked further into the abyss of endless books, until it was dark, cold, and he was alone. He pressed his back against the History section, and waited. He knew she would come.

He didn't have to wait long, because after a moment, he heard the light clip-clop of her shoes on the stone floor. He tried to suppress the strange urge to laugh when he saw her enter the small space of shelves, her face looking almost comically annoyed.

"What?" She snapped, her voice held it's usual pompous tone.

He raised his brow at her quizzically, "You followed me."

She opened her mouth, before closing it suddenly. He could see her face reddening in the darkness.

"You were staring at me," she informed him, uncertainly. If the way her hands were wringing the hem of her skirt were any indication, she was nervous.

He shrugged casually. "I stare at lots of people." This game was fun; watching her squirm was priceless.

She looked up at him, and he could see her jaw clench.

"Well, since I'm here I should probably tell you that what you did to Blaise was despicable, Malfoy. You may not be friends any more, but he trusted you."

He rolled his eyes. Oh, here we go. This is not the path he wanted to go. She was not meant to be confident enough to berate him.

"He wasn't even going to meet you," she continued, her voice strong. "I told him he should go. I thought that maybe you were ready to talk to somebody about what is going on with you. But you don't seem to let anybody in, and that just leads them to the wrong conclusions."

He eyed her for a moment. It was strange. He didn't really know Hermione Granger, and had only really had negative interactions with her, but she seemed to give a shit more than most of the people he was supposed to call friends. He didn't really inspire the best emotions in people, but he often preferred keeping people at a distance anyway.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, his voice low and dangerous.

She bit her lip, and he tried not to look where her teeth sank into the soft pink flesh. She seemed to be tossing up whether to stay and speak, or just walk away. Eventually, she let out a small huff.

"It doesn't matter," she relented. "I refuse to be the one to fuel those rumours."

There was something in her expression that made him think she had more to say. She turned to leave, but he quickly grabbed her arm. She froze at the contact for a moment, her eyes turning up to his.

"Say it," he told her. His voice void of any emotion.

She looked away once more, before turning back to him fully.

"People are saying," she began, her voice hesitant, "that you've taken the Dark Mark."

He stared at her face, as something inside him welled up. Something that scared him. He wanted to tell her. To tell someone. Someone who didn't see it as an honour, but a mark of filth on his skin. Someone who might understand how many times the urge to scratch the delicate skin on his forearm off had hit him in moments of shame.

"And if I had?" He asked her, dancing dangerously close to the edge of something he couldn't come back from. She stared at him for a moment, before her tongue moved out slowly to moisten her lips.

"I would ask if you had a choice," she replied slowly.

"And if I told you I didn't? Hypothetically, of course." He reminded her, though he was certain she was no longer talking hypothetically.

"Then I'd ask if you know who killed my parents."

It was like a bucket of ice cold water being thrown in his face, he stood off the shelf and shoved his hands in his pocket.

"We're talking hypothetically, Granger." He reminded her again, maybe a little more strongly than he should have. "I'm a Malfoy. We don't worship others, they worship us."

She nodded slowly, but there was a piercing look in her eye, and he wondered if he'd opened Pandora's box by pushing for her to talk, and giving credibility to the idea. He was desperate to change the subject, and the feel of lace on his fingers gave him something to grasp onto.

"I have a proposition for you, Granger," he told her after a moment. She crossed her arm's and looked at him suspiciously.

"And what would that be?" She asked. He was glad that she had seemingly forgotten the previous subject.

He pulled the garment from his pocket, and took joy as the flash of recognition crossed her face, and a fierce blush coloured her cheeks.

"Why do you still have those?" She asked, her voice an octave higher than normal.

"I'm not just going to give up a chance at blackmail," he told her simply. He didn't feel the need to mention that they had joined him in the shower a few times.

"Give those back to me now, Malfoy," she ordered, lunging at the knickers in his hand, but he held them up until she could no longer reach them. She huffed in annoyance, and glared at him. "I'm Head Girl, I could just give you detention and take house points."

"You wont do that, otherwise you'll find them strung up above the entrance to the Great Hall with a massive sign that says they're yours," his grin was simply devilish. Her mouth dropped open.

"You...you wouldn't," she said, though shoe didn't sound confident in that statement. "You'd lose twice as many house points doing that, and serve twice as many detentions."

He have her a withering look, tired with the game already. "Do you truly think I care about that? I just need some fucking sleep. It's been two-no,wait-three days I think?"

A look of understanding crossed her face, and she seemed to relax slightly knowing what his intentions were.

"So you want Dreamless Sleep Potion?" She asked him.

He nodded once, "Yes."

She looked thoughtful for a moment, before letting out a long, strangled sigh, as though she were arguing with herself.

"Malfoy, look," she began, looking almost apologetic, "I can see that you need it. But I cant give you potions. I'm Head Girl. I...I cant break the rules like that."

He moved closer, bending slightly so he could catch her eyes properly with his own. There was a time when she would have flinched and moved away out of fear, but there was no fear in her eyes anymore. He was just a person to her now. Seeing him looking so terrible had made her realise that he was a human who suffered just the same as any other. That realisation bothered him, because he'd spent the past 6 years trying to make her, and people like her, think otherwise.

"I had a note from Snape," he told her, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt, "but Pomfrey wont listen to me. I can't eat. I can't concentrate in class. I'm failing every class but Herbology, and that's because it's a fucking ride."

She looked at the shelves behind him with a thoughtful expression, though he could tell she was listening intently.

"Malfoy...why are you asking me for help?" She asked after a moment. He furrowed his brow.

"I don't see anyone else around here with an endless supply of dreamless sleep," he said, as though it were obvious.

She tilted her head curiously, "And asking me for help, telling me how bad things are; me, a girl you've despised for years, is easier than just telling your parents you're not okay?"

He stared at her for a long moment. He didn't know what to say.

He had thought of the scenario many times in his head. He would sit down with his parents and tell them. His father would say something that would make him feel like a piece of shit, or worse not say anything at all, but just give him that look of judgement. His mother would worry. She would fuss. And that would make him feel weak and worse than anything his father could do. The thought of it flared his fragile temper.

"I'm not asking for you to fucking analyse me, mudblood," he snapped. The moment it left his mouth, he regretted using the word. It was a force of habit. He didn't even have any strength to put his old malice behind it. But he saw the moment her patient understanding flashed into unbridled anger.

"I think you should go see someone to talk about it, Malfoy," she said calmly, but he could hear her voice shaking with anger or some other emotion he preferred not to focus on. "Because no one around here seems to care. Including me."

She turned on her heel, and left him before he even had a chance to beg. Not that he would let himself reach that level.

He let his head fall back against the hard books behind him, his teeth grinding in anger. Fuck her. He didn't need that bitch anyway. He swung his foot back and kicked the shelf behind him, sending a few books toppling to the floor.


He sat in the common room with Pansy that night. She had prattled on about something he didn't bother to listen to, and when she pulled him out of the common room and into an empty dungeon classroom, he barely touched her. She had unzipped his pants insistently, and taken him in her mouth.

He found it hard to take pleasure from it, because her face did nothing for him, and thinking of Granger's face just made him angry. Eventually, he pulled her off him and left, wordlessly. He heard her crying to her friends later, but he didn't care.

He made his way to the kitchens a little later and fed his caffeine addiction in the hopes of staving off sleep a little longer.

He watched from an arm chair in the darkened corner of the common room as it emptied more and more. The last student headed to bed in the early hours of the morning, being a weekend, and Draco found himself feeling more and more depressed in the quiet glow.

By morning, he was convinced he was delirious. He couldn't see straight. When he saw the students filtering out that morning, he swore it was a bunch of dementors circling him. Their black cloaks billowing behind them as they left him watching anxiously.

He found the energy to go to breakfast, but not to eat more than a couple of bites.

He could see Nott watching his actions from beside him, as he attempted to scull a scorching hot cup of coffee with shaking hands. The other boy nudged him slightly with his elbow.

"What the fuck is going on with you, Malfoy?" Nott asked, his voice low and serious.

"Nothing," Draco responded. Nott didn't care; not really.

Nott looked away shaking his head, clearly angered. He ignored him, focusing on holding his cup without spilling scalding coffee everywhere.

"Draco?" He heard a hesitant voice chirp from behind him. He knew it was Pansy without looking. He considered ignoring her in the hopes she would leave him be, but he knew he would regret it when he was next in the mood and she was no longer willing to please him. He let out a small sigh, before turning his head to look behind him.

But he didn't see Pansy, not at first. Instead he came face to face with the bloody, contorted, screaming face of Mrs Granger, three inches from his own. He jumped out of his seat, dropping the cup in his hands, which smashed loudly on the stone floor, echoing loudly throughout the hall.

The entire Great Hall fell silent, as all eyes turned towards the Slytherin table. Draco blinked rapidly, his heart racing in his chest, and was met which the shocked and tearful face of Pansy staring at him. It was Pansy. Pansy.

He looked beside him; Nott was staring at him as though he'd lost it. In fact, most of the students in the hall were staring at him like he was either dangerous or psychotic.

He swallowed thickly, before stepping over the bench and walking briskly out of the hall.

He didn't know where to go. He had nobody that cared. No where he could be alone. He was afraid of being alone. He didn't want to see that face again.

He knew that since it was a Saturday, and there was a Quidditch match on, that he'd be mostly free in the library. He entered the quiet place, and wandered to some shelves at the back, his eyes struggling to stay open despite the unnatural amount of coffee he'd consumed.

He found the empty space in the History section, which was still quite dark, despite the morning sunshine coming through surrounding windows. He slid down the shelf until his body hit the floor, and he sat there until eventually his eyes flickered closed against his will.


Heavy footfalls on the stone floor woke him not much later. He knew he hadn't been asleep for long, and he found himself becoming annoyed because he hadn't had any dreams that time. He blinked up at the imposing figure, who turned out to only be Theodore Nott. He looked annoyed and impatient. Draco scowled.

"What?" he snapped up at Nott.

The other teen looked around the small area with a look of distaste. "I'm wondering why you're sleeping here in amongst the mouldy books like a bloody Doxie."

Draco grit his teeth.

"I'm fucking tired, obviously."

Nott rolled his eyes, before producing a small parcel from his robes, and holding it towards Draco. He took the torn up package with narrowed eyes.

"This came for you after you left," Nott explained.

"It's opened," Draco snapped moodily. Who had opened it? Had they known what it was?

Nott let out a tired sigh."It was Crabbe," he explained. "He thought it was a care package, the fat prick."

Draco cursed loudly. Nott sighed again.

"He's too stupid to know what it is," Nott told him, crossing his arms across his chest, and leaning back against a row of books.

Draco looked up at him, giving him a calculating look. Nott smirked.

"So, who crossed you so badly you want to kill them slowly and painfully?"

Draco looked down at the notebook in his lap. It was a dark crimson colour. Old leather. It had intricate patterns all over the cover, and the binding, which were gilded in gold. The pages inside were thick parchment. There were very few pages. Maybe twenty or less.

Once the first entry was made, a slow-burning curse would enter the body. Draco had read previously that it was unnoticeable for the first few days. The curse would move more quickly through the body, like a slow moving burn, with each page that was written on. But regardless,once an entry was made, the curse was in the body, and would fester until it eventually killed the host, though that could take years without continual entries. The downside; he had to ensure entries were made regularly. The upside; it was very unlikely that the curse would be tracked back to the book, or him.

"It's none of your fucking business," Draco hissed. He couldn't let Nott find out what his mission was. It could wind up getting him killed, or worse, he might offer to help.

Nott let out a sudden chuckle.

"Bloody hell," he said, sounding bewildered. "I'm not the enemy here, mate. I want to make sure you do it right, because even the sight of your harmless little girlfriend has you screaming in fear. You cant afford to fuck this up. You're already on thin ice with the Dark Lord."

Draco eyed the other teen for a moment, before looking away moodily.

"What happened with Pansy has nothing to do with this-," Draco insisted.

Nott held up his hands, stopping him mid-sentence.

"Don't worry, I'd scream too if that face of hers snuck up on me." He grinned for a moment, before his face turned serious again. "Regardless, I want to help you with your mission. Crabbe and Goyle are dunderheads. They're good to have around for intimidation, but they aren't much for company. We've been mates for a long time, Malfoy. Our families are close. We have the same ideals. The same beliefs. The same IQ." He added, with a chuckle.

Draco sighed quietly; he didn't really agree with that. He was starting to feel like he might be as different to Nott as black is from white. However, he listened to him continue.

"Crabbe and Goyle wont be useful allies in the future, but we can help each other. We can be the Dark Lord's highest-ranking Death Eaters. You could rub it in your fathers' face while he's grovelling at your feet. I know how much you want to prove yourself to him."

Draco looked up at him, a look of suspicion crossing his face.

"Why would you want to help? That's not your style."

Nott crouched down, letting out a long sigh.

"Because I see you as an equal. Your family is more influential then mine. I can help you now, and you can help me later when I need it. What do you say?"

Of course he knew there was a motive. They were Slytherin's after all, and ambition was a trait most of them shared. It didn't bother him because he knew he would have done the same.

"I'll make you a deal," Draco said after a moment. "If you allow me to do this on my own, without interference, I'll make sure all the important people know your name when the time comes."

Nott stared at him for a moment,before nodding slowly. "Alright. Just don't get killed before I can claim my end of the bargain."

Draco rolled his eyes, feeling much better that he would not have to put up with interference from Nott.

The brunette teen stood after a moment, dusting off his cloak.

"The match is about to begin; come on."

He dragged Draco off the ground by the scruff of his cloak, which annoyed him immensely. Draco hadn't planned on going to the match, especially after his humiliating performance this morning, but he knew it would help him stay awake.

As he walked down to the pitch with Blaise, his body felt heavy and weak. He didn't listen to what the other teen was saying, and everyone that passed him seemed to move in a blur. He knew he wouldn't last much longer without sleep.

It was ironic how he trusted Granger with the secret of his mental instability, and no one else. She was a pain in the arse, stubborn, and a know-it-all but he knew she wouldn't laugh, or worse, tell people. She had that annoying Gryffindor honour.

He could have gone to Snape, but Snape only gave him the Potions for the after effects of the Cruciatis. If he asked for them now, he would be questioned endlessly, and he couldn't risk showing his weakness. Not to Severus Snape; he wasn't to be trusted. It was a shitty situation and one he probably deserved for what he'd done.

"-Crabbe tried to hit on her the other night, but I guess sticking your hand up a girls skirt unprovoked doesn't work particularly well." Nott finished, and Draco glanced at him. He had missed most of the conversation, but heard that part loud and clear.

"That's why Crabbe's a virgin, and probably will be until he's fifty," Draco muttered, not particularly interested in the conversation.

Nott gave him a coy look, which made him curious.

"Was a virgin," he chuckled. "His Christmas celebrations changed that."

Draco felt a strong sensation at the words, and realised it was genuine disgust. He swallowed thickly.

"He raped a muggle?" he asked, knowing his disgust at the news was written plainly on his face. Nott nodded.

"I know," Nott agreed, mistaking the reason for his expression. "I wouldn't touch them like that either. But, Crabbe is as close to an animal as wizards come. The way he fucking eats food. Speaks. Sometimes I have to resist the urge to strangle him."

Draco merely nodded. How had all his friends grown up to be like this? Nott was a killer, Crabbe a rapist, Goyle was probably both. How could they do those things and still look at themselves in the mirror? It bothered him more to realise that, despite his ancient and noble blood, he was the weak one.

The weather was cold outside, and Draco regretted not wearing a jumper under his cloak. He wrapped it tightly around him, the journal heavy in his pocket as he walked beside Nott. The stands were filling up, with students dressed in either Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw colours. Most of the Slytherin's supported Ravenclaw.

As they walked to their stands, he spotted Hermione. She was with her two loyal guard dog's, but they seemed to be arguing about something quite animatedly. He felt a sharp tug of panic in his lower stomach. What had she told them?

"The others are over there," Nott pointed to a seat somewhere past a group of Gryffindors.

"I'll catch up in a second," Draco responded hastily. "I just need to ask McGonagall a question about our homework."

Nott rolled his eyes. "Oh, fine. I'll meet you there."

He waited for Nott to leave, before he made his way toward where the Trio were arguing. They were seated alone on the stands, which had yet to fill. Draco crept through a gap underneath, and made his way to the spot under their seats. He could see their shoes from below, but had to strain to hear them talking.

"-can't even think I would allow that! You two would be dead in a day without me!" Hermione snapped in a harsh whisper.

"We're only trying to protect you, Hermione," Potter said, as though he were trying to calm her. "You've been through too much lately...we don't want to put you through any more stress."

"That's not for you to decide!" She fought back. "If you're going to look for them, I'm coming!"

"She's right, Harry," Weasely chimed in. "We wont last without her."

That seemed to please Hermione as she didn't say anything else. He heard potter sigh. Draco was confused. Where were they going?

"Dumbledore doesn't know I'm planning on going, anyway," Harry told them. "He will probably try to stop me."

"What has he said about it?" Hermione asked, more calmly this time.

"Not much," Potter responded. "Just that he spoke to an old professor about them who confirmed everything, and that he has managed to destroy two so far. A ring and a journal."

Draco frowned. What had Dumbledore destroyed?

"And how many more are there?" Hermione asked.

"He doesn't know..."

"Great," Weasley muttered. "So we need to take down a bloody immortal evil wizard, and we don't even know how many Horcruxes he's made, or how to destroy them."

Draco's blood ran cold. So that was how he'd done it. That was why he was immortal. He'd torn his soul apart and stored it away. Dracoonly knew about Horcruxes from a book he'd found in his family library years ago, but he knew they weren't common knowledge, or commonly used.

"Do you think Malfoy know's anything?" Potter asked. Draco held his breath.

"Harry, Draco's a git," Hermione told him. "I'll be the first to admit it, but...he's not evil. Far from it."

Draco was surprised by her response, and also that she called him by his first name.

"I'm telling you, Hermione, he's taken the mark!" Harry argued strongly. "Have you seen him lately?"

"Yes, I've seen how he looks, but it could be something else," she hissed.

"Listen to Harry, Hermione." Weasley insisted. "He's right. If Malfoy knows about the Horcruxes, he might know what they are and how to destroy them."

"Didn't you say something about fiend-fyre, Harry?" Hermione asked, and Draco silently thanked her for diverting the topic away from him. If only she knew they were right, but he didn't want to think about that.

He didn't hear Potter speak, but he assumed he nodded in response.

"Great," Weasley muttered. "So we might end up killing ourselves in the process! No thanks!"

"Shhh, Lavender's coming."

"Oh, crap."

"Sit down, Ronald. It's too late to run, she's already seen you."

Draco heard a groan. "It was worth a try."

"Won-Won!" A high shrieking voice cried out, and Draco took it as a sign to leave.

He snuck back out of the gap, and made his way over to his seat. During the game, his attention was diverted between the wizards flying above his head, and Granger who was seated across the pitch. He didn't know why she had defended him after what he'd said to her. It puzzled him, and at the same time it thrilled him. He found his arousal growing as he watched her, but was far too exhausted to seek Pansy out after the game, since he would have to explain his actions from the morning to her.


He spent the rest of the day with his friends in the Slytherin common room. After a while, they moved into the dorms and Nott pulled out the remainder of his Firewhisky, passing the bottle around the room. Despite feeling drowsy already, Draco felt that it wouldn't change much. Perhaps it would help.

It went down with a burning sensation, and warmed him up. After a few more shots, he was feeling a nice buzz where he could almost forget how much he hated his life right now.

He was listening to Crabbe tell a dirty joke when he started to drift off. He checked the clock. It was past curfew, but he was sure he could sneak to the kitchens and crab some coffee without being seen.

He stood, making his excuses, before leaving the dorms. He spotted Pansy in the common room and she tried to make conversation, but he waved her off on unsteady feet.

The kitchens were empty apart from one or two house elves. He drank his coffee quickly, but couldn't shake the dizzy feeling from his head. He blinked rapidly, trying to stop the world from spinning. Perhaps the Firewhisky hadn't been a great suggestion in his already sleep-deprived state.

On his way back to his dorms, he heard some movement nearby. He turned and saw a head of bushy hair slip past the corner, and into the entrance hall. He frowned. There was only one person hair that bushy belonged to...

He followed her into the Entrance Hall, but when he got there, she was no where in sight. He frowned. Where had she gone. He eyed the staircase and saw a figure with big hair on the second floor landing, walking up at a steady pace. How had she gotten up there so fast?

He continued following her. Each time he thought he could reach out and touch her in the darkness, she managed to be just out of reach. He called out to her endlessly, but she was ignoring him. Bloody stubborn Gryffindors. By the fifth floor landing he stopped to catch him breath, and watched her shadowed figure continue up the stairs.

After a moment, he began to follow. He had walked up four steps, before he stopped at the sound of a voice.

"Who's there?" A male voice called out. "Show yourself! You're out after curfew!"

Fuck. It was probably a prefect on duty, but he looked up and noticed Hermione had stopped at a point halfway up the staircase. In the pale candle light, he noticed she was dressed in muggle attire, which wasn't unusual.

She turned and looked at him, but there was something different about her face. She looked full of hate and almost...evil. She was just staring at him, her face mostly cast in shadows. Of course, she was still mad about his 'mudblood' comment. He didn't want to apologise, the thought made him squirm uncomfortably. He shouldn't want to apologise, not to her!

While all this was going through his head, he realised she hadn't spoken at all. She was just staring at him. It was unsettling.

He furrowed his brow. "Granger?"

Suddenly a boy appeared on the staircase above, and walked down swiftly. When he made it to the 6th floor landing, he stopped once he spotted Draco, and he swore there was a look of hesitation in the teens eyes.

Normally, that would have brought him great satisfaction, but he was too distracted to care.

"Malfoy," the boy began, his voice uncertain. He was a Hufflepuff and Draco recognised him as a 6th year student. "It's after curfew, you have to go back to the dungeons."

Draco took his eyes off Granger and turned to the boy. "I know it's after curfew, but I was just following your Head Girl, who is acting really fucking weird if you ask me."

The boy scrunched his face in confusion. "Hermione's not on duty tonight, Malfoy."

Draco rolled his eyes. Wow. They were really scraping the barrel with those Hufflepuffs. "I gathered that since she's not in her uniform, but why is she allowed to be out, but I'm not? If she's not on duty, she should be in her common room too."

He eyed Granger to see what her reaction would be to that, but her expression hadn't changed. It was starting to unnerve him. She was just staring at him.

The boy shrugged looking unsure, "I haven't seen her tonight, but if I do I'll make sure she goes back to her common room."

Draco sputter uncharacteristically, before scowling at the teen. "Do you have a vision problem, you idiot?"

The boy clenched his fists by his sides. "Watch what you say to me, Malfoy! I'll take house points."

Draco rolled his eyes, before crossing his arms. "Then take them off both of us, because she's out of bed too!" He pointed at Granger's face.

The other teen stared at him for a moment, and then to the place his hand was pointing.

"Have you been drinking?" He asked after a moment. "Or taking hallucinogenic potions, Malfoy?There's no one there."

Draco's head shot up to the Hufflepuff prefect, his eyes squinted in annoyance.

"What? She's right there. Standing right fucking there! Don't try to play tricks with my head!"

He was already questioning his sanity after the incident that morning, he didn't need any more doubts.

The teen swallowed thickly, looking fearful at his outburst. "I...I'm not trying to mess with you, Malfoy. There's no one there."

Draco was breathing heavily, as he frowned at the teen, before he turned his eyes back to Granger. He stared at her with wide eyes, and he watched as her face contorted before his eyes, and he was no longer looking at her face, but a much older face that looked so much like hers. Her mothers.

His breathing was shallow, as he took a step back. His eyes focused on hers. They were dark, and full of blood.

"Are you alright?" The prefect asked cautiously, taking a step down toward him.

The movement caused Draco's eyes to flicker off the ghostly figure, and to the teen, which was a mistake.

The second he looked back, he saw those dead eyes only an inch from his face, black and bloody. He jumped away, surprised and terrified, but his unsteady footing caused him to fall backwards. The fall felt like it took forever, because his wide eyes were fixed on that dead face.

In slow motion, he felt his back hit the stone on the 5th floor landing, and his head flung back with a resounding 'crack' from the force of the fall. His vision was spotty, and he could feel the warmth of blood on his head.

He could hear the prefect panicked cries echoing around him, and after some time he heard footsteps racing from somewhere on the stairs. His vision was barely straight, so he couldn't see who it was, but he felt himself being levitated off the ground.

The whole time he could see the shadowed figure of Mrs Granger watching him.

"Leave me alone," he screamed at her, desperately. "Stop!"

"You're injured, Mr Malfoy," he heard an authoritative voice speak. "We need to get you to the Hospital Wing!"

He tried to move, but he felt hands holding him still.

"I need to get away from her. She's going to kill me," he drawled out in an almost unrecognisable slur. He was in so much pain. He could feel himself floating, but didn't know where he was.

"I think he's delirious," someone said. "I fear he may have injured his head badly."

The floating sensation continued, and he could still feel dead eyes on him.

"He was saying weird stuff before he fell," he heard the Hufflepuff prefect say. "I think he was hallucinating. He smells like he was drinking."

He heard some rustling and clanging, and felt his body being lowered onto a soft mattress.

"Go and get Professor Snape, child," a feminine voice said. It sounded like Madame Pomfrey. "He will need to contact his parents."

Draco opened his eyes again, and he could see the dark figure at the end of the bed. It was watching him like a bird watching it's prey.

"Get her away from me!" He cried, groaning as his head throbbed painfully.

"There's no one there-"

"She's been there this whole time," he slurred. "I killed her so she wants to kill me!"

He heard bustling around him, but he couldn't take his eyes off her.

"You're delirious, child." Pomfrey cooed. "There's no one there. You haven't hurt anyone."

"Malfoy?" He heard a familiar voice speak hesitantly from beside him. For the first time he took his eyes off the figure.

He turned his fuzzy blurry eyes toward he sound, and saw Blaise standing somewhere nearby, but he seemed to be floating from side to side, unsteadily. Draco blinked rapidly, before turning back.

When he did, he let out a glass-shattering cry, because the figure that was at the end of the bed, was now straddling his chest, her hands coming closer and closer to his face.

"GET IT OFF ME!" He cried, his body flailing about uncontrollably and he tried to get away. He was breathing in gasps, and his heart felt like it was beating so fast it might suddenly stop.

"Help me hold him down!" Pomphry cried. "Get a calming draught!"

He felt numerous hands holding him, but he couldn't make out who they were, his eyes were steadfastly focused on the bloody pair in front of him. White hands getting closer and closer to his face.

He struggled more, fighting uselessly against his restraints.

He felt someone pour a potion into his open mouth, and he choked it down. The effect was immediate, but instead of calming him, he felt lethargic and powerless against fighting. The hands got closer, and just before they touched his face, he blacked out.


He awoke to the sound of arguing from somewhere nearby.

"He should have been getting the appropriate potions!" He recognised Snape's voice, bellowing loudly. "He had my permission!"

"You are not his parent, or a health professional, Severus!" He heard Madame Pomfrey argue back. "He was abusing the potions!"

"Look at him!" Snape growled. "He was so sleep deprived he had an hallucinogenic episode, and nearly broke his neck! He was under our protection and we failed him. It should have been taken more seriously."

"Now, now, Severus," he heard Dumbledore's concerned voice chime in. "we cannot change where we failed, but only hope to do better if it happens again. We need to focus on how we can help him now."

"We can help by giving him the potions he needs to get through the day!" Snape snapped impatiently. Draco swallowed thickly, realising how dry his mouth was.

"Do you believe he needs to see someone from St Mungo's?" Dumbledore questioned further.

There was silence for a moment.

"No," Snape said after a moment. "I'm sure his family would prefer not to have the rumours questioning his mental health going around. I'll get their confirmation regardless, but I can almost guarantee that will be the answer."

"Their son's health should be more important then rumours and gossip," Madame Pomfrey chided.

"We are living in delicate times, Poppy," Snape reminded her. "Weakness can mean the difference between life and death."

She let out a huff, as though she didn't really agree with that. "Regardless, he should speak to someone. This can't have just been because of sleep deprivation. He hallucinated that someone was trying to kill him. He said he'd killed somebody. He needs help."

"He will get help, Poppy," Dumbledore told her gently. "Severus has agreed to act as a mentor for the boy. To give him someone to talk to."

"With all due respect, Albus," she began, sounding unmoved, "Severus is not trained as a medi-wizard. It may not help him."

"The boy has been through a lot," Dumbledore began,his voice sounding closer now, "but Severus is family. He will want to talk to someone he can trust."

Madam Pomphrey huffed again, but didn't speak anymore. There was silence for several moments, before Dumbledore spoke.

"You must excuse us, Poppy," he said quietly. "Severus and I have much to discuss."

Draco listened as two pairs of footsteps left the Wing, and silence descended on it. He opened his eyes, blinking as they adjusted to the light.

"You're finally awake," he heard Zabini say from the bed beside him. He wished he hadn't been put so close to him. Apart from them, the rest of the wing was empty. Draco ignored him.

"That was a pretty terrifying break down, mate," Blaise said, chuckling to break the tension.

Draco turned to scowl at him. "I didn't have a breakdown!"

His head ached from the movement, and he regretted it. His whole body ached, but he did feel more rested than he had in the past week.

Blaise watched him for a moment. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"You saw with your own eyes, didn't you?"

The Italian hesitated. "Yes...I didn't think you were struggling that bad. If I'd known I would have-"

"Would have what?" Draco interrupted, sourly. "Helped me? I don't need your help, Zabini. You're a blood traitor, and I don't want to associate with you."

Blaise shifted, so he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Oh right, I forgot," he snapped, "you're a fucking coward. Never mind."

Draco felt his face heating, and was about to swear at the teen, when Madam Pomfrey came over.

"Oh! You're awake, dear," she began in a motherly tone. "You look hungry. Let me get you boys something to eat, and then it's more rest for both of you."

Draco narrowed his eyes at her tone. He didn't like being babied.

She bustled off, and came back with two bowls of porridge and some toast. Draco ate the food bitterly, occasionally scowling at Blaise from beside him. The other boy looked sulky. Draco knew that they would have to talk eventually, but being on different sides of an eventual war didn't help.

Blaise was allowed to leave that afternoon. He dressed behind his curtain, and as he was going, he dumped the pile of Quidditch magazines on Draco's side table.

"I guess karma is a real bitch, huh," he said, causing Draco to scowl at him.

He left without another word, and Draco glared at his back until he disappeared out the doors. He laid back on his soft pillow, and stared at the ceiling.

He needed to get his shit together. If he was going to be a Death Eater, he needed to move past the guilt, and get used to killing and torturing, like Nott and Crabbe were. If he was so opposed, well, he was going to have to make other plans.

He wondered vaguely if Dumbledore knew he had taken the mark, but he doubted it, because he wouldn't be allowed back into Hogwarts, would he?

He was also worried because he hadn't wanted his parents or the Dark Lord to find out how weak he was, but now they probably knew.

He heard the sound of bustling, and looked up to see Madam Pomfrey heading his way, and he practically sobbed with happiness at the sight in her hands. She was carrying a tray of potions, and he detected the Dreamless Sleep like a Niffler sniffing out diamonds.

At least that was one positive in his life. He wouldn't have to see those dead eyes anymore; at least in his dreams.