A/N: Yes, I know that Draco's not supposed a Divination-y type of person, but that's too bad. My Draco is.

Disclaimer: I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

The Stone Speaks

Ten: Torniquet Calls

DRACO

Draco found that a strange bubble was starting to form around him, and, as he sat down, alone as always, in Divination, the jeering and mocking laughter of the Hufflepuffs didn't sting him as much as it had used to. He dumped his bag beside his squashy gold cushion, and sat down upon it, preparing his body to fall further than usual through the air to reach the lower seat.

The other students had mocked Divination, called Professor Trelawney a fraud, and even gone as far as calling the students who took it frauds – but Draco liked it. He liked the thought that there was another parallel universe where everything about his world could be seen, and that, did he study hard enough, he could reach. Perhaps it was the idea of staying in the parallel universe forever and never being hurt again that struck his fancy; maybe he just liked the gold cushions in the classroom. Either way, Divination was one of his favourite classes.

"Hello, class. Ms. Abbott is absent, is she?" Professor Trelawney suggested, shifting her large glasses on her long nose. A few Hufflepuff girls nodded, and sat up straighter so to pay attention and be top in the class.

"Very well," Professor Trelawney said. "This year you will be studying advanced crystal-ball work. Get out your books, please. Mr. Macmillan, I know you've forgotten yours."

A short, pudgy boy with thick blonde curls frowned, and raised his fat blue textbook. "I have it here," he said.

"Oh." Professor Trelawney cocked her head at him, as though she couldn't understand why she had been wrong, and then swivelled, sweeping away towards her desk.

Humour pushed into Draco's heart; a time when he usually would have smirked was now an empty vacuum of a blank stare as he pulled out Beyond the Limits of Glass, by Ophelia Decrow. He hadn't touched it yet, which was unusual for him. Normally, the instant he bought it, he read it from cover to cover so that he was totally read up on the subject by the time the school year started.

However, this school year was very different, and again Draco was reminded of the hollow space in his heart where his friends, companions, and childish hobbies had once resided. He felt over fifty years old, deep inside his seventeen-year-old form.

Draco flipped open the first page and began to read the small, neat text of the introduction to advanced crystal-ball reading. His intelligent blue eyes scanned the writing quickly, and as he began to take the sentences in properly, he reached for his divination notebook. His fingers wrapped around the small spine before he remembered that his books were destroyed. He withdrew his hand uselessly, glancing around the small classroom to check that no-one else had seen his stupid mistake.

A moment of still passed over the class as they all read, and then Professor Trelawney stood, and Draco saw a precarious pile of crystal balls towering on her desk. Please, Trelawney, Draco begged in his mind, don't tell me that your Sight is so dim that you can't See that's going to fall and smash?

Draco's Sight was nothing to be at all proud of, but even he could see flashes of every single crystal balls smashing, and the silvery fluid draining through the thin floorboards.

"Ms. Fox, if you could distribute the crystal balls, please?" Professor Trelawney inquired, her glasses quivering with each syllable.

A tall, thin, quiet Slytherin girl with straight jet-black hair falling to her waist stood and strode to the front desk. She clumsily gathered the balls in her long arms and stumbled to the front of the desks, near where Draco was sitting.

"Oh, God," he muttered as he watched the girl's foot snag on the carpet. Almost in slow-motion, her eyes widened and then she fell forwards. Before his mind recognized that anything had happened, Draco was on his feet, long wand pointed at the falling crystal balls. "Immobilius," he said quietly, and the balls froze.

The girl landed face-first on the carpet, and as she sat up, the first thing she did was shoot a glare at Draco. "Thanks," she spat, "you almost smashed them all!" She stood, brushed off dirt from her perfectly-clean robes, and then handed crystal balls to each student.

Draco's mouth was set in a hard, angry line by the time the girl reached him at last, and took the crystal ball from her without a "thank you". He set it down on the small, wooden coffee-table and looked up expectantly at Professor Trelawney for further instructions.

"You will be given no instructions during the N.E.W.T exams. You will be simply told to either predict the examiner's future or See into his or her past. I give you no help," she told the class dreamily, "but to begin and look into someone else's thoughts."

Draco's shoulders sagged. Great. He didn't have a partner. Now what? I refuse to fail Divination simply because I'm too unpopular to have a prediction partner, Draco told himself firmly, and raised his hand. "Professor, I don't have a partner," he explained, "do you think I could pair with you?"

Professor Trelawney nodded absent-mindedly, and sat down opposite Draco. He focused on his teacher and then pressed two index fingers against the sides of the crystal ball – it wasn't what was instructed, but he found that it worked better.

There was a heavy silence between Professor and student, before Draco said, "Darkness. It's just darkness. And shadows. Lots of shadows," he rifled through the glossary of his textbook, "mean nightmares. You have nightmares…" a swirl of grey crossed the shadows, "most nights. About…"

There Draco drew a blank. He could see slashes of pink and the vague outline of a white egg-shape, but combined, didn't come up as anything in the glossary. "It's not in the glossary," Draco apologized. "I can't finish."

Professor Trelawney smiled. "Well done, Mr. Malfoy. You have just caused the path of the future to change – instead of having many children, you will probably die alone and miserable."

Draco huffed. "Well, now that we've got that all cleared up," he commented dryly, "I still need something to do in the remaining ten minutes of the lesson."

The Divination mistress nodded. "Read your own future," she said mystically, and returned to her desk with a jangle of beads.

Draco grimaced to himself, and then pressed his fingers down on the sides of his crystal ball again. He fixed a mental image of himself in his head, and stared grimly into the glass.

There was a minute or two when nothing happened. And then he was somehow in the crystal ball, and all that he could see was his future…

A cold, high, cruel voice that Draco knew too well…

FLASH.

Dark snake-like slits for eyes…

FLASH.

A dazzling smile and a fancy hairstyle…

FLASH.

And then, red. Hair. Red, being pulled back into a ponytail, revealing a grin and round hazel eyes-

Draco was forced back into the classroom, and nearly rocked backwards off his cushion. Professor Trelawney was peering at him worriedly.

"Mr. Malfoy, class was dimissed two minutes ago," she informed him, wrinkling her eyebrows in a way of frowning and smiling at the time.

"Sorry," said Draco, tucking away his textbook, and leaving the tower hurriedly, spooked by what he had seen.

He headed towards the Slytherin common room, so that he could curl up on his big, familiar bed and think things over. His future involved Ginny. Why did this dawning realization make him feel ridiculously happy, but, at the same time, slightly naseous?

In the seventh-year boy's dorm, halfway towards his bed, Draco's arm suddenly erupted in fiery agony. He collapsed against his trunk, grinding his teeth together to stop himself from screaming; unluckily a shout escaped, and instantly there was a heavy patter of footsteps coming up the stairs to investigate. Draco wrestled himself to his feet, and, one hand wrapped around his forearm so tightly that it was almost a tourniquet, slammed the dormitory door closed. "Inpentrio," he hissed at the lock, and a thousand invisible locks closed over the door.

Draco staggered towards his bed, hoping to bury his head in his pillow and ignore life, but then his arm exploded in a new frenzy of pain, and he couldn't ignore it any more. He fell to his knees, ripping his sleeve up – the Dark Mark was glowing.

"Yes… my Lord…" Draco croaked weakly, staring at the hideous black skull-and-snake.

The fire.

Draco angled his head and saw Floo powder flames already licking at the cold hearth. He crawled towards it, and thrust his head through. Green was swirling through his vision as a million fireplaces whooshed past, and then he stopped, swaying dizzily.

He was looking at Bellatrix Lestrange's dining room. A crowd of Death Eaters looked calmly at him, and the Dark Lord spun in his broad-backed chair to face his youngest follower.

"My Lord," Draco said respectively, his voice still a painful rasp.

Lord Voldemort did not look happy. "Malfoy," he said coldly, "you have been at the school for a week now. Where is the Stone of Montol?"

Draco's stomach lurched. Oh God, I totally forgot. "I don't have it," he admitted nervously. Lord Voldemort's eyes stormed back into Draco's, and the seventeen-year-old said hastily, "but it won't be long."

"And why should I believe you?" Lord Voldemort snapped.

"Because…" Draco's mind scanned through possible excuses, before lying blatantly, "this is one of the Stone's side-effects. Ginny Weasley can't be touched. I have to… I have to weaken her first, or we could never get it."

The Dark Lord glowered. "How long will it take before she is weak enough to murder?" he demanded.

Draco's insides lurched at the m-word, and he decided to lie through his teeth again. "Ginny Weasley is strong by herself," he said, with what he hoped was a believable scowl, "and with the Stone's added power, she is very difficult to wear down. Nonetheless, the Stone will be ours soon, don't worry, my Lord."

Lord Voldemort glared, and then said icily, "Very well. Return to your job. I except her to be dead by Christmas, at the very latest."

"Thank you, my Lord," Draco stammered out past his reluctant tongue, and then withdrew from the Lestrange fireplace.

The young Slytherin reeled backwards, and he landed on his back on the stone tiles, staring vacantly up at the ceiling. His 'happy-bubble' had popped, and he was left feeling as though he might be violently sick.

A/N: Oopsies. Malfoy forgot why he was at Hogwarts… MURDERER! Please review !