"I missed you at dinner," he drawled with a displeased tone in his cold voice. She was quiet as she lay motionless on the couch. She did not feel like explaining to him what had happened. It was a pitiful story that she wouldn't waste on anyone's ears. He sensed something was wrong and kneeled beside her at the couch. "Flay," the way he sang her name made her smile involuntarily. It was a weak smile but it was all she could give. She reached her arms out to him. He balked momentarily before realizing this wasn't the time for inhibitions and quickly assumed her in his strong arms, sweeping her up off the couch and into his lap as he sat where she once lay. "What happened?" he muttered softly in her ear, "Tell me Flay, please," he begged. Her weak arms hung limply over his wide shoulders and her head rested heavily against his neck.
"Don't leave me," she said it in such a way that it almost seemed like a question. She needed his touch, needed his affection, needed to feel needed. He understood and held her in his warm embrace. He would never let her go.
"Did he hurt you?" he questioned cautiously as if the question itself could wound her. She cringed and took a shaky breath. Quiet sobs raked her fragile body and he held her tighter. When her wet tears penetrated his shirt and touched his chest he pulled her away from him, "What did he do to you, Flay? What's the matter? You have to tell me." He couldn't bear to see her in so much pain. It almost frightened him, disconcerted him; he had never seen her cry before and it shook him to the core.
She gave a bark of laughter, "It's nothing. There's nothing to worry about, I'm just a little shaken up." He scowled because he knew better: simple things didn't shake her.
"You know what your problem is Black?" he hissed her fake surname acidly, "Everything always has to be a one-man show with you. Merlin forbid if someone should offer you help or guidance; you won't have any of it!" He held her tightly in his anger.
"It's not worth the bother," she insisted.
"You're so pigheaded it's ridiculous," he growled in her ear. "You know you need me and you know I can't help if you don't let me. Tell me what I can do."
She had a quick answer for that, "You can shut up and lay here with me." She felt his grip loosen as he sighed in exasperation. "Just be," she said like it was the simplest thing, an action that he should know perfectly well how to do. But simply being was not as easy as it seemed, especially not in situations as such. He was at the same point as before: clueless. He still knew not what to do.
"What are you going to do about your mother?" he didn't dare say the woman's name out loud in the school in case anyone should be eavesdropping, the portraits included.
She groaned and it made her seem a little less insensitive and little more human, like a real person with real emotions and not a cold-hearted weapon raised for the purpose of destruction alone. "To be honest, I haven't given it much thought. I spoke to her earlier tonight when she told me about the portkey but it had been about a week since before then. We were alone tonight: none of the others came," she hesitated to continue. "He was pleased with the information I gave him, although granted I hardly spoke two words about it," she paused, reliving the pain that had only happened a couple hours ago. "He asked me about you, about us. You know how he favors us. He wasn't particularly satisfied with what I had to offer that time." His silence encouraged her to keep going. After all, this had been what he wanted from her. "You know, the Cruciatus curse isn't as bad as everyone makes it seem," she gave that same barking laughter again and it held a bitingly sarcastically and dry tone. She felt him grimace, his face pressed into her neck, like gravity seemed more effective on the corners of his lips. "Don't frown, Draco," she said softly, "It ages you."
"I'm sorry. I wish I could ease the pain. I know how it is to be under the Lord's wand," he mindlessly caressed her shoulder, drawing circles with the flat of his thumb.
"It's not so bad really. I thought it would be worse," she couldn't ease her on pain but the least she could do was make him feel better about it. Hers was mostly physical anyway, soreness from the ordeal that would take days to pass even though she already felt exponentially better. She was still healing from the encounter she had with the giant squid although she didn't let on about it. She used various basic spells to hide the blade thin cuts and bruises that were almost gone but still a sickly yellow against her tan skin. She couldn't hide the stiffness in her leg that had lessened as the days passed that she spent bedridden, but now the pain was sharp and unyielding.
"And what about the assignment?" he asked in an attempt to avoid discussing the unforgiveable curse she had been subjected to.
"It's simple. By the end of the year I will have him exactly where I want him and our Lord will be very pleased with me. It will be essentially up to you though so try not to fuck everything up. Okay?" she smiled but they both knew it was the truth. The completion of the assignment would lie solely in the hands of Draco Malfoy. God save the queen, if he messed this up he'd be in for some real heat.
But for now he didn't want to think about it. The pressure of his approaching ten-foot parchment essay for potions was already weighing heavily on him. The paper was due in a week and he hadn't even written his name and the topic yet. There was still time to bribe another student to write it for him. "Come sleep with me," he said. He managed to keep the hopeful tone out of his voice but she knew he wanted there with him.
He helped her stand and took her hand, guiding her carefully up the stairs to the seventh year boys' dormitory. Crabbe and Goyle were snoring heavily. Blaise was silent in his sleep and his chest only rose and fell the slightest bit. The two Slytherins made their way to Draco's four-post bed, heavy black material hung like curtains all around it. Apparently she wasn't the only one capable of those simple charms, or at least she wasn't the only one who thought to utilize them. "Those better be clean sheets," she whispered in his ear with a cheesy grin. He smirked back at her and helped her undress down to her shirt and underwear. The pain that coursed through her body greatly limited her movement. If she moved the wrong way too quickly it would feel like an explosion erupting from her core and pulsing through her muscles.
He climbed onto the lifted mattress with her, soft black sheets engulfing their lean forms. They shifted until they found a position that worked. They faced each other, legs intertwined and faces close to one another. He examined her peaceful face in the moonlight that bounced off the black silk curtains. It was a serenity that he wasn't used to seeing on her face. To him, she was beautiful and nothing in the world, magic or muggle, would ever change that.
