Author: ICountCrows
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, setting, or much of the basis for the plot of this story. That is all property of J. K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, and Arthur A. Levine Books.
Summary: A POV story in which Harry and the gang return to Hogwarts for their fifth year. Harry is extremely vigilant this year because he feels responsible for Cedric Diggory's death, and Draco has gone through a transformation as well...
Chapter: Otto - Insomnia and Unsettling News
Chapter Warnings: None
Thanks: Reviewers emmy and shelldawn, emmy twice over for her review of my other story, Star-Crossed Lovers
Harry
I lay awake in bed that night and felt as though everything around me were dying. My world was crumbling and I was only fifteen years old. I recalled my bad feelings about this year and told myself I should have heeded them and thrown myself off a cliff instead of returning to Hogwarts. I had only been through the first day and already my predictions were coming true.
Dumbledore had said I was the "last breath". Well, what if I didn't want to be, damn it? I hadn't asked for this life. I hadn't asked my mother to die for me; I hadn't asked for the one wand that wouldn't work properly against Voldemort's; and I bloody well never asked for anyone to call me their "Last Breath"!
And yet, there I was, scared shitless because I had all of those things, and I didn't know what to do about it.
'Gods, life is unfair,' I thought mournfully as I rolled over. I grabbed my wand from my nightstand and waved it flimsily in the air, muttering "Tempus." The light flashed 2:38 a.m. and I groaned inwardly. Not only did I have absolutely no input on my own destiny, but I would also be dog tired when I was forced to carry it out.
I threw my light sheets off and pulled on a pair of pants over my boxers to pad down into the common room in. I grabbed my Transfiguration work from the bookshelf I'd conjured and placed at the foot of my bed with my now empty trunk and yawned on my way out the door. If I couldn't sleep, I might as well try doing something productive.
I spread my things out on the table and did something very...Hermione. I checked the syllabus. Wednesday's lesson we would be transfiguring construction paper into cranes. I figured I would get a head start and pulled a sheet of paper from my notebook. I pointed my wand at the innocent sheet of stationary and said sadly, "Charta Gruis."
By dawn I was surrounded by at least a hundred oragami cranes and one head of wild cabbage. (At one point I must have said "chara" instead of "charta".) Some of the little paper birds were twittering mutely under my silencing charm, and others hopping blindly off the table, attempting to fly.
The sun came up and I threw my wand on the table. I was getting nowhere and I was so tired I didn't feel like I could move. Nevertheless, the fire lit itself at promptly five o'clock and I forced myself to get up.
I'd slammed the Transfiguration book shut and started back up to my room when I accidentally stepped on one of my cranes. I rolled my eyes and muttered, "Mundare," and sent them all into the fire.
"Last breath my arse," I mumbled dejectedly as I climbed the stairs. "I can't even do a Fifth Year Transfiguration spell."
I entered our room, which was full of the normal five o'clock in the morning activities: sleeping and snoring. I discarded the pants I had donned only three hours earlier (God, was it just three hours? It felt like forever!) and fell onto my bed, waiting for the alarms to go off and hoping no one had noticed my absence from my bed. I doubted anyone had. They were all sleeping soundly in their beds when I left, they were all sleeping soundly when I returned, and I hadn't noticed any of them in the common room in between.
I sighed and waited out the minutes. I almost wished for the annoying tic toc of a Muggle clock to help me pass the time. Over the summer, I had grown quite accustomed to my insomnia and found that the lightly intrusive clicking of a Baby Ben could comfort me in the silence. Here, I settled for Neville's strangled snores and Ron's heavy, peaceful breathing in the bed next to mine. The rhythm occupied my mind for long enough that I could stop thinking about Cedric, Voldemort, The Last Breath, and all those bloody paper cranes until the alarms around me went off.
I yawned for show as Dean and Seamus popped out of their beds disgustingly perky, as always. We all muttered "Silencio" to halt the incessant buzzing in the air (well, most of it) and Seamus pointed his wand at Neville's bed to activate a simple charm that essentially pressed a Muggle "snooze" button.
I smacked Ron uncermenoniously with a pillow and stole his covers in our daily "Wake up, Ron" ritual, then grabbed my things and followed the others down to the showers.
I was pleased to see as we walked through the common room that at least my cleaning spell had worked and there were no more tell-tale chirping paper cranes on the floor, but my eyelids still sagged and my head pounded with exhaustion.
It was going to be a long day.
Draco
I awoke refreshed and temporarily stress-free. My romp with Servito had helped me...release my frustrations...until late into the night, and the fact that he didn't charge me put me in an even better mood. I almost felt as if I could take on a little less than half of the world. (I never was too ambitious...)
I rolled out of bed as soon as the sun came up and did a little early morning hexing. Crabbe was to wake with a collection of pimples on his forehead that spelled his name, and Goyle...well, he was in for a "little" shock when he hit the showers. I grabbed my load of grooming tools and made for the empty bathrooms grinning. I liked getting there before everyone else. The water was hot and there was privacy, something I needed a lot of and didn't get enough of while I was at school.
I left the bathroom steaming an hour later - hair perfectly gelled, eyebrows perfectly plucked, and robes perfectly magnificent - sneering arrogantly at anyone who crossed my path. I was in an exceptionally good mood. I strutted on my way back to the dorm.
"Hi, Draco." Pansy pounced on me as soon as I entered the common room, but I was too pleased with my appearance, my lay from the night before, and myself in general to let it bother me.
"Quit stalking me, Parkinson," I drawled evenly without turning my head. "You're never going to get any." With that I was on my way down the stairs to my dorm room, thudding loudly in a particularly cluky pair of shiny new dragonhide boots. (Even if my father was a perpetual arsehole, he did buy me all the illegal dragonhide I wanted. His son did have to look nice and rich, now, didn't he?)
I passed the squibs on the way downstairs. Crabbe was angry as all fury, which was only making his disgusting "facial accessories" more noticeable, and Goyle was looking quite pale and...inadequate...if I may assume something like that.
Another plus to getting up early: I had the bedroom to myself while the squibs were in the shower. I entered the deserted room and reached down into the false bottom of my trunk and pulled out a book I'd managed to swipe from my father's library two summers earlier, Le Cose che Le Donne Odiano. It was a light-titled dark arts spellbook containing potions and charms to be used on women who insist on lavishing a man with their unwanted attentions. I had been working from it since fourth year, trying desperately to reduce Pansy's seemingly undeterrable attraction to me. It didn't seem to be working.
I had just begun reading about a very promising spell that involved not destroying but transferring the woman's attraction to another man when I heard a light scratching noise at my door.
I opened it to Nuntio, who came soaring in above my head and perched on my desk. He was carrying a letter, which I took rather ungratefully and flopped on my bed to open. The telltale Malfoy crest donned the seal, and I knew it was from my father. 'What could he possibly want?'
Potter must die. We'll be in touch.
My eyes passed over the words normally, but my breath caught in my throat as I read it once, then twice, and I exhaled as I read it a third and final time. It felt like my heart dropped into my stomach and every passage to my lungs had been cut off. My fingers clenched shakily around the piece of parchment, then dropped it suddenly as though they had been scalded.
Potter must die glared up at me from the cold floor where the words had landed, and I felt suddenly sick and dizzy.
I couldn't understand it. Why did they want him dead? And why were they involving me?
My stomach lurched and I groaned in anguish. "They" were the Death Eaters, and it was over for me. They were closing in, capturing their prey. They were cutting off all possible escape routes and resistence was not an option. This would not be a request; this would not be negotiable. They would have me work for them whether I wanted to or not. They would have me as a Death Eater with the Dark Mark or without. I was in too deep, and now they wanted Harry dead...
Harry - my last breath...
********** * **********
Well, there you have it. Harry and Draco aren't really getting off to a wonderful start this school year, are they? How will it continue? You'll have to wait and see. But in the meantime...
- How will Harry cope with all this new pressure?
- Will Draco come clean to Harry about the Death Eaters' plan?
- Or will he crumble, and be a pawn of the Dark Lord?
Are you guys enjoying this, by the way? I realize we've not gotten any lemons yet, but I'm a plot-first kind of girl. If there's anything I can do to make this more enjoyable, though, let me know. Reviews are great, even those with criticism. Don't be afraid. I don't bite!