Draco knew he needed to eat. He wondered when people would realize he wasn't. He'd lost about five pounds, maintaining a lot of weight from the constant water he drank, bitter as it was, because his throat was dry. He knew he was thinner. Looking in the bathroom mirror, he saw his face was thinner and his body was lanky, no longer confident. His skin was as pale as ice, translucent-looking but for the large purple bags under his eyes that had been there since the first day of school, and his hair, normally perfectly styled, was ratty and matted to the sheen of sweat on his forehead. He looked like he'd seen the Grim Reaper.
He sighed and turned on the sink, splashing the cold water on his face and shaking it off. He smoothed his hair back, but it looked even worse. He ran his fingers through it and it looked slightly better. He sighed once more.
He went to change clothes but he found his way blocked.
"You look terrible," Blaise noted, entering the lavatory, the door shutting behind him.
"Thanks," he muttered, moving to go past him.
"Not so fast." He held out an arm to stop Draco, crossing them when he was sure the blond wouldn't leave. "You really look terrible, Draco. What's been going on? You look as if you haven't slept or eaten for weeks."
"I haven't. Now, if you'll excuse me -"
"Why not?" Blaise demanded, stepping in front of him again.
He shrugged. "Food is unappealing and dreams are the same. If you don't mind, I'll be going now."
"Why are they unappealing -"
"What's the point of eating if you're empty anyway?" Draco snapped, his temper flaring. "What's the point of sleeping if you're tired when you wake?"
"By that logic, what's the point of living if you're just going to die?"
Draco paused and considered.
"To stop the people that never can die."
Blaise grimaced. "The only 'immortal' person is dead, Draco. Dead."
"So you're telling me it's better if we all just die off and leave the world uninhabitted by sentient life?" Draco shot.
"No!"
"Then we live for a reason."
"We eat and sleep for a reason, man," Blaise urged him. "Don't kill yourself slowly."
"That's what you were just arguing!" Draco spat, clenching his fingers into fists.
"Nobody wats you to die, mate -"
"Liar."
Draco put as much emphasis into the word as he could, and hissed it to create the effect of barely-concealed power. And then, when Blaise looked startled and worried, he realized he'd sounded just like Voldemort.
He shoved himself around Blaise and left him standing stunned in the bathroom, hurrying to his clothes.
When he was dressed in his suit, as was normal, he felt better. It hid some of the weight loss, but he supposed there was nothing he could do to hide the bags under his eyes. The other boys in the dorm were all still sleeping, and the light outside the window was nonexistent. He left the room for breakfast, which he'd stare at and end up eating one bite of.
The halls were empty. He was early, much earlier than he normally was. The early-morning feel wouldn't leave his toes, making him trudge along. He found it funny that he hadn't been sleeping sicne the first day of school, and yet Hermione couldn't go three weeks without it. He still hadn't slept -
Oh, GOD.
He had slept. He'd basically snuggled Hermione while he'd slept, too.
He paused in the hall. So the only time he could sleep was around her.
He hated feeling dependant on anything.
He changed courses abruptly, his feet carrying him back towards the common room so he could tell -
Damn.
He didn't have anyone to tell.
Goyle wouldn't even look at him, Crabbe was dead, Blaise was too concerned for Draco's liking, he hadn't spoken to Theodore since the war ended, Astoria always averted her eyes when talking to him, and Pansy was -
Why couldn't he stop his thoughts?
Angry, he stomped back onto his original path and made his way to the Great Hall.
"Early today," remarked Slughorn uncomfortably as they passed each other. Draco nodded, not bothering with a respectful smile because he'd only scare the man. He waddled down the corridor Draco'd just come from while Draco continued on his, determined not to think of anything at all.
He was almost to the hall when he heard it.
"Draco," it whispered, its voice wavery, whispery, luring him in. He stepped toward the statue of a knight he'd seen jump to life last year, and it repeated his name. "Come, Draco," it beckoned.
He was confused until the speck of his own gray eye flashed back at him from the inside of the knight's helmet through the slits.
As soon as he figured out what was going on, the knight transformed. Its rocky skeleton molded itself to that of a thick black cloak. It didn't look like a dementor, but he couldn't think of what else it could be. It slid toward him slowly from the middle of the air, the cloak billowing, though there was no wind, revealing nothing underneath the cloak but blackness. He stumbled back, and it accelerated its pace.
He continued taking steps back until he was against the wall. "Incendio," he said, pointing his wand, but the flame licked the fabric uselessly. His hands trembled violently.
" 'That goes out,
With
One
Last
Breath...' "
Draco was startled to hear it speak in Hermione's voice and dropped his wand. He recognized the verse. The last verse of a Cathryn Martin poem. Divorce.
Hearing his wand clatter on the floor, the creature burst forward and the cloak began to extend, wrapping itself around his neck.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A silver otter pranced past him playfully, spinning and dancing in the air with a ribbon-like grace, and the cloak released him. The cloak faded into a black dust in front of him with a shriek that had his skin crawling, because he'd heard Hermione's voice warp like that in horror and despair, and it rang in his ears, beating against his temples.
The silver otter faded too, and footsteps rushed to him.
"Are you okay?" Hermione demanded, looking at his neck, and then her eyes flickered up to meet his, her fingers brushing against the base of his throat, causing the word Yes to park itself in comfortably. Her eyes were once again melting into his, the warmth of her body so near him he imagined again that her eyes were closing ever so slowly. He could swear she was leaning toward him, her body pressing up against his, her hand on his neck moving instead to his shoulder.
He craned his neck down, closing his own eyes.
What the hell was he doing?
He pulled back immediately. "I thought you had trouble with that spell," he said, incapable of making his voice harsh.
Her eyes were closed and the moment froze.
And froze.
Her heart and his were once again beating as one...
Her warmth was mingling with his...
Her hair tickled his chin...
Her breath washed oer his neck...
Her hand on his shoulder tightened...
He cleared his throat.
Her eyes flew open and she stepped back, leaving his shoulder once again cold and bare from her lack of warmth and his chest beating like a base drum.
"I thought I did too," she said quietly.
There was silence.
"It spoke in my voice."
"Yes." It hadn't been a question, but he had one. "What was it?"
"A lethifold."
"A what?"
"The Lethifold (also known as a Living Shroud) is a carnivorous and highly dangerous magical creature. Its appearance resembles that of a black cloak roughly half an inch thick, although it gets thicker if the Lethifold has recently digested a victim. It glides along the ground and other surfaces in an unknown form of locomotion in search of its prey, humans. It attacks its prey at night, when the target is asleep, and suffocates and digests it in its bed.
The only form of protection against a Lethifold is a Patronus. Other spells such as the Stunning Spell will not work.
The Lethifold is a very rare species, and can only be found in the tropics.
The first recorded survivor of a Lethifold attack was a wizard named Flavius Belby. Belby was on holiday in Papua New Guinea, and he managed to escape because he was not fully asleep at the time. He repelled the Lethifold with a Patronus Charm, something other people are unable to do because they are either asleep or Muggles (or both). It is impossible to determine the number of Lethifold victims, as they leave no clues of their presence.
Much easier to calculate is how many people have faked a Lethifold attack, for their own reasons. One known case of an individual attempting to fake a Lethifold attack was Janus Thickey, who disappeared in 1973, leaving behind a note reading 'Oh no, a Lethifold's got me, I'm suffocating'. Because of this and his empty bed, Thickey's wife and children began mourning him. However, he was soon discovered living five miles away with the landlady of the Green Dragon.
'Lethifold' comes from two roots: lethum, variation of letum, which is Latin for 'death', 'annihilation', 'ruin', and fold, which possibly pertains to the creature's cloak-like appearance. Lethi- is also similar to Levi-, which is reminiscent of levitation (an ability of the Lethifold) and levis, a Latin adjective, meaning 'light' (a quality that Lethifold also possess)."
Draco stared, mouth agape. "Damn, Hermione," he said.
She seemed startled. "You called me Hermione."
"Yes."
"Well..."
"Hermione!"
Viktor Krum turned the corner. "Are you ready?" he asked her, ignoring Draco completely.
"Um..." she looked at Draco, who shrugged. "Yes," he answered.
Viktor held out his arm and she took it. "By, Draco," she called.
Draco watched them go with a fix of emotions he couldn't begin to place or determine. But he realized, with some surprise, that he was hungry.
Why was it that Hermione forced him to live by doing things that had seemed impossible to him for over a month?
His stomach growled loudly, and he smiled slightly. He looked forward to cake for breakfast. iF he was going to eat, he was going to eat well.