Chapter 2
"Honestly, Draco, you're bloody awful at anything that's not charms."
Gritting his teeth, Draco looked up from the Arithmancy scroll he was frantically trying to finish before the deadline. He'd managed to not miss any classes today, but the stress of his future prospects were finally flying at him like a Bludger out for blood. Pansy, who claimed she was going to help him with his assignments, was no help at all, just as Draco expected. She stopped by his room after dinner to chat, and now she was spinning her wand between two fingers, laying on his floor with her ink-black hair splayed out in all directions.
"Honestly, Pansy," Draco mocked back. "You're bloody useless for anything that's not snippy remarks."
Pansy sat up and rolled her eyes. "I'm serious. You are bad at everything except charms."
"Am not."
The brief moment of silence was so discomforting (Draco had been expecting a petulant "Am too") that he glanced up from his scroll.
Parkinson looked gleeful. Her wand lifted and aimed right at Draco from her spot on the floor.
Draco felt time grind to a halt.
Purple light streaked from her wand as she mouthed the words of some harmless jinx.
Before Draco even realized he had moved, he found himself pressed with his back against the wall, wand shaking in his hand and chest heaving.
An impenetrable shield charm glowed angrily between them, surrounding him from head to toe.
Pansy looked wide-eyed through the blue of the shield. Beside her white face, a black slash from the force of the rebounded spell had burned itself into the brick wall.
"I didn't mean to—I mean I didn't expect-" Pansy stammered as she got to her feet. Her hand stretched toward him. Draco swatted her away.
"Don't do that again." Draco let the shield fall, nearly collapsing onto his knees. He staggered to the bed, adrenaline still racing through his blood.
"I'm so sorry, honest," Pansy now looked horrified.
"Alright, don't care. It's fine." Draco felt the familiar tremors start up, starting from the tips of his fingers all the way to his chest. The thought of Pansy noticing the trembling filled him with panic. "Get out."
"Are you okay? Are you really fine? You look really pale." Pansy inched closer. "Did I scare you?"
Draco took a deep, deep breath and willed the wand in his hand to stop shaking.
"Pansy, if you don't leave my room in the next ten seconds, I swear I will hex you into next Sunday."
Pansy wrinkled her nose, a surefire sign he would be barraged with questions the next time she saw him, but she reluctantly agreed. Casting one last glance over her shoulder, Pansy quietly shut the door behind her.
Draco released the breath he'd been unknowingly holding. He sank onto the ground and pulled the blanket off the bed and over his head. Cocooned in its darkness, he tried to wait it out.
63, 64, 65, 66…
The ceiling was aglow with the orange light of torches.
Draco was standing against the wall in the dining room. His mother, to his left, gripped his hand tightly.
"What I don't understand is...how you have all managed to so greatly disappoint me again."
The room was brimming with Death Eaters, some of them propped up by their brethren, others clearly severely injured and yet still standing.
Draco tried not to breathe too loudly. He let the water in his mind expand, until the image of the pond stretched out so distantly it looked like the ocean's horizon.
Those dreaded red eyes swept the room, landing squarely on each anxious face.
"You...and you."
Thin, spindly fingers lashed out and pointed at the two elves standing in front of Draco. His mother's hand squeezed in relief, but Draco did not lower his guard.
"We are not knowing sir...not knowing..." One of the elves squeaked, its great brown eyes pleading silently to the crowd gathered around it.
The other elf remained silent and resigned, knees knocking in terror, knowing its fate was certainly death.
"An example to be made of you and a reminder to the rest—I will not tolerate your dismal and mortal failings."
Deep purple light emitted from the Dark Lord's wand, lighting the room. A flaying curse, Draco recognized.
The elves were screaming, a high-pitched, unbroken note that rang in his ears for nights to come. Draco was watching, his eyes trained on the scene in front of him, but in his mind, he was deep in the pond, surrounded by still, dark water. The stench of iron permeated the room.
The Dark Lord's wand flashed again and again. Occasionally, the spell ricocheted, or missed its targets. Draco did not flinch once, not even when the spell's light nearly brushed the curve of his ear.
The heat of the curse burned into the stone wall beside him.
When Draco came to, he was curled on the ground. His back was pressed against the frame of his bed so hard that he could feel two indents against his shoulder blades. Had he fallen asleep?
His hair was damp with cold sweat.
The deadline! Draco thought as he sat up. His Arithmancy scroll lay abandoned on the ground, and a glance out the door confirmed his fear. It was past midnight—the embers in the common room fireplace were barely glowing.
Draco sighed, pulling on a knit jumper. Might as well stay up and finish the calculations he had been doing earlier. His wand lit the room as he wrote the night away.
At five in the morning, Draco finally got up to stretch, his eyes swimming with theoreticals and properties and wandwork diagrams.
There was one last problem he had to write a proof for, but it had him completely stumped. Draco knew the library opened early; hopefully, he'd be able to find the textbook he needed.
When Madam Pince opened the doors to the Hogwarts Library at 5:30AM, she did not expect there to be any students waiting for her.
"Good morning," a deep voice mumbled blearily.
The hallways were dark, barely lit by the blue morning light streaming in through the windows.
Madam Pince peered at the figure, her apprehensive expression relaxing slightly when she saw it was only Harry.
"Well, then." She swept into the library, leaving the doors open.
Harry headed toward the Charms section. He had woken up in the middle of the night, remembering that he was still missing a section of his scroll on the origin of anti-theft charms.
The books in the Charms section were clean and dust-free, frequently used as almost every student in the school had, at one point or another, taken a Charms O.W.L or a N.E.W.T for the subject (unlucky for Harry, he was taking N.E.W.T Charms this year).
Harry squinted at the top shelf, where a thick tome was sandwiched between a textbook on anti-cheating charms and atmospheric charms.
Atmospheric charms, Harry mused. That would have been helpful for the time they infiltrated the Ministry.
Harry took off his glasses and wiped the lens. He absently summoned the tome on anti-theft charms and thumbed through the glossy pages. Lost in thought, Harry nearly jumped a foot when he heard a loud sneeze from a few aisles over. To Harry's shock, Malfoy rounded the corner with his nose buried in a textbook, a stack of books floating behind him. Sheepishly, Harry put his wand away. He hadn't realized he'd even taken it out, and was suddenly glad Malfoy did not see it.
What was Malfoy doing so early?
Harry made an awkward motion at Malfoy, something in between a polite wave and a vague gesture, but Malfoy didn't even notice. The blond boy was deeply engrossed in his reading. Harry peeked at the spine, which read: Arithmancy: Numerology and its Applications.
Harry couldn't help feeling impressed. Arithmancy was the hardest N.E.W.T class, at least according to Hermione, who'd spent half the night cramming for an exam once (which was not something Hermione was oft inclined to do).
Harry considered striking up a conversation. Immediately, he winced at the thought. Harry tucked the charms book inside his robes and made a beeline for the desks below the window at the back of the library, where he was certain he could finish his scroll uninterrupted.
The sun had just begun to peek over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest when Harry heard a loud thump, and then voices cursing.
"Watch yourself! Bastard."
"Sorry, didn't mean to."
"Is that what your father said when they came for him?" a nasally voice sneered. "Oh no, I didn't mean to raise the Dark Lord! Take my wife! It was her!"
"Piss off."
"I would, but you being here is asking for it." The nasally voice twisted, becoming threatening.
Harry sat frozen to his seat, unable to do anything but listen.
"Look, Adderson, I don't know what my family did to you. I'm sorry. I am."
Harry's mind flashed to a memory of a Quidditch practice game against a Slytherin boy named Michael Adderson. Adderson was a Beater, a stocky, brutish boy from a year below them. Adderson didn't sound like a pureblood name, which was strange.
"You don't know? How about I give you a taste?"
"I said—"
Something crashed into the shelves. The sound of a dozen books raining onto the ground in the middle of a silent library was deafening.
Harry launched upwards, glancing around and hoping Madam Pince had heard. There was no way she hadn't.
"-blood on your hands, filthy fucking bastard—"
When Harry finally found the two, Malfoy was laying dazedly on the ground, surrounded by fallen books. A hulking figure was straddling him, fist rearing up for another punch.
"Stop!" Harry shouted, hitting Adderson with a stunning spell strong enough to knock him out for a day or two.
Adderson flopped to the side. A scowl was so deeply etched into his face that even while stunned he looked furious.
Madam Pince was still nowhere to be found. Harry felt a familiar frustration rising up inside him.
Harry hurried over to Malfoy, who was struggling to push Adderson's limp body off of him. A crimson trail of thick blood ran from Malfoy's nostril and down over the side of his cheek. The beginnings of a dark, mottled bruise was forming around Malfoy's right eye.
"Alright?" Harry blurted out automatically, heaving Adderson's body to the side.
Malfoy's grey eyes flicked to him, a guarded expression on his face.
"I'm fine," he said, pulling himself to his feet. "Come to finish things off?"
Harry watched as Malfoy swayed in place. Malfoy took a step forward, still holding onto the bookshelf next to him when he stumbled. The entire shelf came crashing down.
Without thinking, Harry caught Malfoy. Malfoy's head butted into his shoulder, blond hair briefly obscuring Harry's vision.
He smelled faintly like sandalwood and parchment.
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Harry let go of Malfoy as if he'd been branded.
"Don't touch me," Malfoy snapped, shoving Harry away. "Put away the books before Madam Pince finds us."
Harry was still standing there, face burning as Malfoy repaired the shelf with his wand.
"I'll get someone-" Harry started to say.
"No. I'll get blamed."
Harry frowned. "I heard Adderson start it."
Malfoy sighed in exasperation. "You don't get it, do you? There's no fair and unfair, there's only what people will want to believe."
"It's not right," Harry said without thinking, still frowning. He sent the books back to their place with a wave of his wand. "These are still school grounds and there are rules."
Malfoy sighed again and rubbed his face, smearing the blood around.
"Hell," Malfoy stared at his now red fingers and mumbled to himself. "Is my nose bleeding?"
"Yeah." Harry tilted his head. "And you're gonna have a shiner tomorrow morning."
"I'm a wizard. I don't get shiners." Malfoy rolled his eyes and nudged Adderson with his foot. "What do we do with him?"
"Just leave him. He'll wake up," Harry shrugged. He didn't necessarily blame Adderson for wanting to pick a fight with Malfoy, but the whole exchange had rubbed him the wrong way.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Malfoy's face darken as he picked up his Arithmancy scroll. Blood had mixed in with the ink at the bottom. The edge of the paper was torn. It was easy to clean up an ink spill with magic, but bloodstains were notoriously difficult to remove. Except Harry had spent half a year learning how to remove blood stains from clothing while on the run—parchment wouldn't be too different, would it?
"I can fix that."
Malfoy didn't have time to react. Harry pointed his wand at the paper and watched as the bloodstains began to shrink, swelling inward until it was a tiny dot of red on the page. The ink remained untouched.
For a moment, Malfoy looked so relieved that Harry had to hold back a smile.
"Oh thank Merlin, I was up all night—" Malfoy stopped mid sentence. The relief that showed before, plain as day, slipped back into an expressionless mask. "Thanks."
"Er, I've got class," Harry said as he heard students beginning to enter the library. They'd probably missed breakfast by now.
Malfoy had already turned away and was shelving the last of his books.
Harry fled the library with his finished essay and an uneasy feeling in his chest.